#is there anyone still reading these tags. hi there
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In a Red Dress
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.
Word Count: Over 3k
Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.
Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.
It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.
“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.
And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.
“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”
Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”
Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?
At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.
“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”
“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”
You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.
“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”
Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”
“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.
“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”
Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.
“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”
You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”
Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”
“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”
Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.
“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.
You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”
His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”
You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”
“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”
“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”
Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.
Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.
Right?
Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”
He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.
Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.
“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”
“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”
His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”
His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.
You loved him, too.
Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.
“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”
The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.
Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?
You wouldn't mind either way.
“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”
“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”
“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”
“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”
“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”
You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.
“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”
The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.
“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”
Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.
You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.
“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.
“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”
Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.
He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”
You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.
His cock made your mind down, but your pussy made him run his mouth.
“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”
“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”
Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.
“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.
You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.
“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”
You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.
You could give him one more.
“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”
He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.
The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.
“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.
He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”
“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.
“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.
“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.
“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”
Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.
You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.
He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”
You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”
And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.
Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fandom#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky fanfic#sebastian stan#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x fem!reader#the winter soldier
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Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3
Different Up Here
Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k
anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, rimming, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly
If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.
"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"
Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.
"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."
A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.
"Heh, that's a new one for out here."
Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.
"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"
"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."
"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."
You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.
That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.
Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.
"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"
Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.
"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."
You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.
"No, no no no no no. Just..."
The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.
"... fooling around... y'know?"
Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.
"Oh... oh darlin'."
He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.
"I don't think you're ready for that at all."
You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.
"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"
"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"
"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."
Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.
"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."
"Why? Sex is sex..."
You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.
"... Isn't it?"
"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."
The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.
"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."
His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.
"No, sir."
"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"
As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, sir."
You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.
You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.
And luckily, he seemed agreeable.
"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"
Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.
It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.
"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."
"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"
Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.
"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."
His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.
"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."
"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"
Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.
"Well, it's something like this."
He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.
Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.
Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.
"Well?"
"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."
"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"
He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.
"You like that? Like it rough?"
"I think... I think I like both."
"So, something like this?"
He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.
You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.
"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."
Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.
"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."
His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.
"Did they make you feel good?"
"No."
You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.
"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"
"A little..."
Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.
"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."
His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.
“And what about these pretty lips?”
Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.
“They touch these lips, huh?”
You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.
“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”
As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.
“Do it slowly though.”
Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.
“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”
You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.
“Turn around though. You face that way.”
The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.
“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”
A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.
The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.
It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.
“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”
His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.
“Don’t you dare, little lady.”
“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”
He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.
“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”
“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”
“I absolutely will not.”
Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.
Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.
“I am warning you, missy.”
“Cooper… I can’t stop…”
You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.
“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”
“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”
Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.
“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”
“Cooper…”
“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”
“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”
“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”
The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.
“Come on, darlin’, come on…”
Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.
As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.
“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”
You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.
“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”
As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.
“Alright then, get onto your knees.”
Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.
You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.
It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.
“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”
The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.
He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.
“Can I taste it… you?”
Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.
“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”
You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.
A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way. Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.
Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.
“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”
He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.
“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”
You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.
“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”
It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.
“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”
Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.
He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.
“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”
You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.
Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.
And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.
“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”
He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.
“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”
“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”
“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”
You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.
Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.
“Bigger than before?”
You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.
“Better?”
“Mhm…”
“Speak up, darlin’.”
With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.
“Yes… it’s better.”
“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”
Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.
“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”
“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”
Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.
“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”
You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.
“Ah… Cooper…”
“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”
There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.
“A little…”
Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.
His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.
“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”
He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.
“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”
You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.
“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”
With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.
“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl… good girl…”
It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.
And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.
You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.
“Did I say you could get up?”
Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.
“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”
Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.
“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”
Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.
When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.
“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”
“M-more?”
More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.
“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”
#fallout#fallout amazon#if this flops I’ll nuke everything by the way this fuckin behemoth stressed me out so much lmaooo#x reader#finnie writes#cooper howard#the ghoul#fallout fic#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard fanfiction#cooper howard one shot#cooper howard smut#cooper howard imagine#fallout tv#fallout tv series#walton goggins#cooper howard x fem!reader
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𝝑𝝔 an: so i got like 3 requests ab jealous cool bf sukuna x loser gf dynamic but i won’t be able to tag em since you know they were sadly anonymous. i decided to combine them into 1 fic hehe, hope you guys like it!! read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!
cool boyfriend sukuna doesn’t get jealous, alright? he is not insecure or anything like that, he trusts you and you trust him so it doesn’t matter to him if someone tries to woo you or something. but you can be a little dense sometimes since you haven’t experienced a lot of the things people usually do in their teens.
still, he likes to think that you’d be smart enough to reject anyone who tries to make their advances toward you, albeit he is sure if you do it will be in a very polite and a sweet way, much to his dismay. but it’s just the way you are and sukuna loves his loser girlfriend.
but he doesn’t know what’s going on through your mind when this happens;
“do you wanna maybe go out tomorrow?” some guy from your class asks you, a nervous smile as he awaits your answer. you continue collecting your things into your bag and look up at him with a small smile, naively thinking he wants to study or talk about your shared classes.
“sure!” you chirp and then briefly glance at the door of the room only to find your boyfriend standing there, hands in his pockets and a deep frown on his face as he stares at you two.
the guy in front of you almost jumps in excitement from your answer, stuttering out that he will text you later and leaving the room.
“what did that nerd want?” sukuna asks you as soon as you exit the class, his arm taking it’s usual spot on your shoulders.
“oh, nothing much, just asked if i wanna go out tomorrow.”
at that, sukuna’s steps come to a halt as he squints at you with a confused look. “and you said..?”
“i said ‘sure’.”
he exhales deeply before hits the back of your head with a disgusted look on his face, ignoring the way you stare at him in bewilderment, hands flying to rub the spot. but he doesn’t give you time to process anything, tugging you into one of the empty classes and locking the door.
“sit.” sukuna orders, leaving no room for complaint as he lifts you up to sit on one of the desk, planting his hands beside your thighs on the surface as he breathes heavily.
“‘kuna..?” you ask, unsure if you should even say anything while he’s angry at you.
“are you dumb?”
you pout, brows pinching together as you look up at him in genuine confusion, “why?”
“the dipshit asked you out and you said ‘sure’?”
“we were just talking about the lecture so i thought he wanted to study together.” you look down at your lap, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt nervously. “i didn’t realise he meant it like that.”
as mad as sukuna is, he can’t resist that sad little pout on your face; the way your eyes get all wide and bottom lips juts out defensively, cheeks puffing a little. and he is sure you’re not lying to him because he knows you.
he moves away from you, taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts and calm down.
“are you mad at me, ryo?” you ask innocently, hand instinctively finding his to tug at his fingers so he doesn’t move too far, although a bit unsurely. “‘m sorry.”
“i’m not mad.” sukuna intertwines your fingers, pulling you into himself gently. his other hand suddenly finds your face, squishing your cheeks together roughly as he shakes your head from side to side with a sinister smirk. “pull shit like that again and i’ll kill ya.”
“ow, ow— sukuna!” you whine, trying to peel his hand of your face, but he doesn’t let go until he kisses your plumped lips a couple of times. “you’re so jealous!”
that wipes the smirk off his face very quickly.
“i’m not, loser.”
you poke his cheek with a bright beam on your lips, “you are, heh.”
“gettin’ cocky, aren’t you?” he pushes your face away with his palm and steps away from you, leaving you to trail after himself with small giggles escaping you.
suddenly sukuna smirks, his arm around your shoulders tightening it’s hold, “i’ll still beat the shit out of him tho.”
“sukuna, no!”
#— miya writes!#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x you#sukuna ryomen x you#jjk sukuna#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you
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— getting a +4 ... ★ with: jjk!
#pairing: jungkook X reader. #synopsis: your boyfriend may not know how to lose in 'uno' #tags: is literally jungkook fingering you during a uno (and yes his friends are at the table) #wc: ~400 #notes: i'm a little sick :( wrote this just so i wouldn't disappear
⚠︎ english is NOT my first language, i just write for fun, if you don't feel comfortable with grammatical mistakes DONT READ!
you gasp when you feel jungkook dragging your pantie to the side and putting one finger inside you without any warning.
you know that your boyfriend is a kinda crazy and you like it, but you never thought that he would fucking you while you play uno with yours (and his) friends.
when namjoon put a ‘+4’ card you just put another one in the same way, making your boyfriend draw 8 cards, and he just ask to you take the cards for him, while he puts other finger inside you.
you gasp again, moving the leg trying the close them, but jungkook won’t let you do that.
he curves his fingers, staying a little rougher.
"god" you moans, the others boys at the table looking at you.
“are you okay?” jimin asks.
“yesssss, sure, just… i think i will win’’
‘yes, thats my girl!” jungkook says, kissing you, so he puts his third finger.
“t-too much!” you moans again, your body sweating.
crazy, jungkook is fucking crazy.
“what? the game? oh c’mon, that’s funny!” hoseok says when he puts other +4 card on the table.
“she is just a little shy, because she knows that she will win” jungkook jokes, going harder with his fingers.
you bite your lips, trying to close your legs again, but jungkook still fucking your hole with his finger.
“stop, or all the boys will know that your pussy accept me anytime!” jungkook says in your ear, giving you a soft kiss on the cheeks.
when a 'reverse' card is placed on the table, jimin makes jungkook draw +4 card again.
and with that he presses his thumb on your clitoris, going faster with his fingers and putting the fourth.
you can hear the 'ploc' his fingers make, but you don't care anymore, not when you cum, screaming his name as you officially win the game.
“what that fuck is hap-”
“she just getting a +4 too, relax” jungkook laughs.
all the guys at the table see your eyes rolling and your body shaking in jungkook's hands. you can't even feel embarrassed, because in the next second, jungkook shows his hands to the guys.
your juices all over his fingers
“you know… i always win, guys” he jokes…
you breathe heavily, recovering from your recent orgasm
“so...does anyone want to suck my fingers? she has a such great taste…”
you think that yout boyfriend is just joking, but you blink and jimin is suck his fingers…
and after him, seokjin does the same.
oh god...
⸝⸝⸝
🍰 support me on ko-fi
#★... lulli writes#bts x reader#bts x you#bts smut#bts#bts x fem!reader#bts x y/n#jungkook x you#ao3#jungkook smut#jungkook imagines#jungkook scenarios#bts jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x leitora#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#jk x you#jk smut#jk x reader#jk
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I just wanna see that smile
wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss
a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!
Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since.
Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something.
Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile.
Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy.
Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy.
Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers.
“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck.
Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page.
“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”
“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.”
Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around.
Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there.
“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him.
“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.”
The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive.
Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm.
They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.
“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?”
Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.
“What are you worried about?”
“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor.
“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual.
“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.”
Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back.
“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.”
“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”
“Yep.”
He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands.
“You’re serious.” Eddie says.
“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases.
“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?”
Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.”
Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.
“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?”
The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull.
Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear.
“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”
fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.
#steddie#steddie fic#steddie fanfic#steddie fanfiction#steve harrington x eddie munson#eddie munson x steve harrington#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#myblurbs
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Instinct
Synopsis: Astarion and Tiriel have a very busy night after a battle and have to deal with unexpected consequences.
Tags: smut, breeding, hurt/comfort, some emotional angst
It's not exactly a breeding fic since neither Astarion nor Tiriel planned to have a child, but the shameless smut ended with unplanned pregnancy. And now they have to deal with what comes next.
Bonus: you will learn why Astarion calls Alethaine 'princess'
Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Tiriel won’t let them take her home from her.
She has never had one. Always a stranger, always a wanderer, but Daggerlake became her home. A place that welcomed both her and Astarion, thanking them for saving the townsfolk from a nasty fey pact.
Ever since then, Tiriel belongs – she has had a roof above her head and friends among the townsfolk. And even Astarion can relax because the town has a vast underground part where he is safe in the shadows without having to hide.
And those bandits decided they could take it away from Tiriel?
They should have thought better!
Tiriel steps over a dead body. The fight is over and so is her rage. She single-handedly finished off a dozen of these men and women who didn’t know who their enemy was.
But her body wishes for more – more fight, more blood, more rage.
She looks around trying to see Astarion, but he is nowhere to be seen. It’s night and Astarion rushed to the surface part of the town letting the people of Daggerlake protect their homes and families while he, a full-fledged vampire, was going to show those bandits they had chosen the wrong town to attack.
Suddenly, someone grabs the fistful of her hair forcing her to gasp.
“Astarion?”
She looks at him and innate fear pierces her. They've been together for twenty years, but Tiriel hardly remembers him looking like this.
He looks like a vampire.
Like a vampire on a hunt.
His eyes glow red, and his clothes are soaked in blood. His skin feels feverish and his pupils are dilated.
Tiriel knows it’s him but she also can’t suppress her fear. He is a predator, a hunter, a vampire. Should he be her enemy, she won’t be able to protect herself.
He pulls her closer and kisses her. Tiriel feels the blood of a dozen dead enemies on his lips. His strong hands squeeze her and she knows he will fuck her right here among the dead bodies in the streets of their hometown if she allows it.
Tiriel answers him with the same passion – he wants to be a dangerous vampire? Good to know – because she can be a wild warrior girl who takes what she desires.
But Astarion isn't in the mood for being dominated, and he drags Tiriel back to their home – anyone who would see them right now would think this an assault, not a prelude to lovemaking.
Astarion pushes Tiriel behind the gate. As he closes it, Tiriel gets a sudden idea.
If he wants to be a predator tonight, she should let him play till the end.
She drops her ax on the ground and rushes inside the house – there aren't many places to hide but she is going to let him chase her. And maybe fight a bit.
“And where do you think you are going?” He growls. His voice sounds different and even scary. Nothing more intimidating than a blood-drunk vampire.
“Such a terrifying vampire needs to hunt his prey,” Tiriel laughs.
“Don’t tease me, wild girl!”
She rushes to their bedroom, but before she even manages to think about her next move Astarion jumps on her from the ceiling, pinning her to the floor.
And then he starts ripping her clothes off.
Tiriel roars and pushes Astarion with all her remaining strength. He pulls away but only for a moment before sinking his fangs in her neck. She gasps from the sudden pain but still tries to knock him down.
With every moment her movements become weaker and she finally stops resisting letting Astarion ravish her body.
He pulls away studying her face.
“On your knees.”
Tiriel abides. Her shirt is ripped and shows off her breasts.
“Good girl,” he mutters, getting rid of his own clothes. His cock is painfully hard and Tiriel cannot think about anything but having it inside her.
He approaches her, tugs her by her shirt’s collar, and pushes her to the bed. He tears the rest of her clothes off and bites her again.
Tiriel’s world shrinks to these two things – pleasure and pain.
Astarion doesn’t waste any time and penetrates Tiriel, causing her to yelp.
His thrusts are rough and so are his touches.
Tiriel, drunk with her own rage, keeps fighting back – she scratches his skin, tugs his hair, tries to push him as if he was assaulting her and every one of her movements makes Astarion wilder, rougher, scarier.
She manages to get away from under him, but he immediately presses her chest-down into the bed. Now, he fucks her from behind placing his blood-hot palm on her back.
Slap.
His palm leaves a red print on her butt and Tiriel gasps.
“Astarion-” Tiriel mewls as he leans to wrap his hands around her chest. He pierces her shoulder and keeps moving roughly.
He comes with a guttural groan and kisses Tiriel so intensely she is afraid to suffocate.
And instead of pulling away, he proceeds to fuck her again.
This time, he is very gentle and his eyes don’t glow anymore.
“Astarion!” she gasps when he bites her breasts.
“Delicious,” he mutters, licking the droplets of blood from her sensitive skin.
His second orgasm comes simultaneously with hers and she clenches around him forcing Astarion to stay inside her.
Astarion sees it as permission for the third round. He sits up and places her hips on his lap.
She squirms riding her orgasm and cries out something incoherent, but it seems like Astarion isn’t going to stop any time soon.
Tiriel has a weird feeling his heart is beating.
“Such a good girl,” he hisses. “And all mine.”
“All yours.”
Astarion moans in her ear and she feels his seed leaking down her sore thighs once again.
As it happens, Tiriel feels the world fading away, and the last thing she sees is Astarion’s red eyes.
**
When Tiriel wakes up, her body is sore and her skin feels disgusting. The mess between her legs has caked and the bite marks all over her body itch.
She gets up and gasps with a sudden pain – her body is covered in bruises, and she doesn't know which of them are from her enemies and which are from her lover.
Probably teasing Astarion was a bad idea.
She needs to bathe.
Tiriel puts her legs on the floor and notices her clothes folded up carefully.
And repaired.
She smiles at the thought that all these hours of her sleep Astarion was right there sewing and watching her. He loves watching her sleep. When she asked him about this habit before, he confessed that he didn’t see a point in looking at anything else but her.
Tiriel opens the door of the bathroom – Astarion sits in the hot water with a book he puts down the second she enters.
“Careful, darling, entering like that. I might want another round.”
“I can barely walk. Spare me, my lord.”
Astarion chuckles and tugs Tiriel into the bathtub.
“How much did I sleep?”
“Almost a day.”
Tiriel sits beside him and Astarion places his head on her chest.
“You know, everyone would think we should be less passionate two decades into our relationship.”
Astarion kisses her shoulder. “You are not getting any colder.”
“Oh no, you love me only for my body warmth! And what if some vampire turns me into an undead?”
Astarion doesn't answer immediately. A decade ago this joke would offend him so much he wouldn’t have talked to her for the whole day – but the nightmares and terrors of his past life have been left behind.
“Then we would lie in each other arms in front of a fireplace, forever young, forever beautiful”
She caresses his ears and he nuzzles her collarbone.
Then Tiriel looks into the water.
“How much did you drink yesterday?”
“A lot.”
Tiriel sighs and straddles his lap, feeling his hardness between her legs. Astarion doesn’t hesitate – a second later, she is already rolling her hips as his cold cock gets warmer inside of her.
“You know… You feel much better… when you are like that,” she admits. “Cold, no heartbeat. That’s more to my liking.”
**
Tiriel feels awful. It seems like her own body is revolting against her.
“Go to see the healer,” Astarion asks. “Tiriel, honestly, if you don't go yourself, I will drag you there.”
“Tyrant.”
“And you behave like a child! Gods, sometimes I forget I am 200 years older than you!”
Tiriel looks at him and frowns. “You are not.”
“Tiriel, you are my sunshine and my love, but your lack of cognitive abilities is beyond me. How old were you when we met?”
“Thirty-six.”
“Good. By that time, I had been enslaved for 200 years and I was turned at 39. I am more than two centuries older than you.”
Tiriel wants to say something, but she vomits again.
“I'm just sick! Aaah!”
Astarion pulls her up and slings her on his shoulder as if she were his war bounty.
Despite all her efforts, she can’t free herself and accepts her fate. Thankfully, it's rather late and most of the townsfolk are asleep, though she notices a jealous look from a baker.
“Put me on the ground.”
“Let them see what real relationships look like. You know that the blacksmith’s daughters asked me where they can find vampires like me?”
“Hope you didn't send them to the Underdark?”
“I told them I am one of a kind,” Astarion slaps her butt. “But we need to remind these people who we are.”
Astarion stays outside as Tiriel enters the healer’s hut – its owner, a halfling woman, looks at her with annoyance.
“What happened, Tiriel?”
“I am fine! My husband forced me to visit you.” Tiriel describes the symptoms. “I think I got food poisoning.”
“Food poisoning… Tell me, Tiriel, when was the last time you bled?”
Tiriel ponders. Her cycle has always been irregular –- a common thing among half-elfs. Humans are the most fertile race in Faerun, whilst elves are known to see their rare children as gifts from gods. So, Tiriel’s rare menstruations are unexpected obstacles, not something she should endure once a month.
And besides, she sleeps with an elf AND a vampire.
“I don’t remember. Maybe last winter.”
The healer hands her a tiny bundle of herbs. “Chew it. But don’t eat.”
The taste is so gross that Tiriel almost vomits again. She spews it on the floor - and the herb slowly changes its color to black.
“What’s the fuck is that?”
“Tastes like bile, doesn’t it? Oh, why do I have to go through all of this… I knew it couldn’t end well when we invited you two to stay here. You are pregnant.”
“I am… what?”
“You are pregnant, Tiriel.”
“With all due respect – my husband is a fucking vampire! I think his ability to fuck a child into anyone went to the grave along with his breathing, heart beating, and food preferences!”
“I am sure I’ve heard of half-vampires. Now go! I have more urgent patients to take care of. You know, it was a bad idea to use the innkeeper like a battering ram!”
Tiriel leaves the hut feeling as if she was just hit with something heavy.
“Tiriel?” Astarion looks worriedly. “What did she say?”
Tiriel is so scared she wants to cry. There is something inside her, something alive and growing – she can think of her husband as an elf all she wants, but right now she carries something half-dead inside her. Something unnatural. Something… that belongs to the shadows more than to the realm of mortals.
“My sweet, what is it?” Astarion demands. “What happened?”
And Tiriel confesses.
“Maybe… is it a mistake? She could have made a mistake! Gods! No, it can’t be…” He panics.
“Too much blood,” Tiriel says.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve drunk too much, remember? I could hear your heartbeat. You were almost alive…. And I…” Tiriel hesitates. “I have my period once a year. It probably was the day when I could conceive.”
Astarion shakes his head. He gets anxious. Scared. She knows this face too well.
“Astarion!” She tries to grab his hand, but the vampire is too fast. In a moment, he disappears in the tunnels. “Astarion!”
Tiriel stays alone in the streets. She sniffs and returns back home, so quiet and silent.
She can’t imagine Astarion leaving her, but she also can’t imagine herself pregnant.
Maybe he is right, the healer could have been mistaken. She needs to wait. Yes, Tiriel needs to wait.
Astarion doesn’t return in the morning. He doesn’t return the next day. Tiriel feels terrible – she can barely eat or walk. The very thought of going after her husband feels exhausting – she just wants to lie in her bed without making any coherent movement.
She also constantly cries – Tiriel tries to justify it with the feeling of loneliness, but deep inside she knows the answer.
These are the mood swings a pregnant woman endures.
**
Astarion has never felt so shitty and pathetic in the last twenty years.
He despises himself for his fear and doubts.
His nature demands him to run. To leave and never return. Whatever Tiriel has inside, he can’t deal with it. He can’t be a parent. He doesn't want to become one.
Two centuries of enslavement – only twenty years of freedom. And now what? Will he be stuck raising a child? Which might be born so deranged and ugly it will be barely a sentient being.
He can run. He can disappear and leave Tiriel. She is a beautiful brave woman, the moment the townsfolk realize Astarion is gone there will be a line of men and women courting her.
Even with a monster child.
He walks through Secomber, a sleepy town on the border between the Sword Coast and the High Wood. It took him two days to get here and now he tries to make up his mind.
And what if it’s not his? Tiriel is so loyal and loving, but what if she wanted someone warm, someone who didn’t drink her blood? She could have gotten drunk and picked a man for a one-night stand.
No, it’s not like her.
Astarion is just a pathetic coward who can’t bear responsibility.
He has to come back. He can’t abandon the only person he ever truly loved and who never abandoned him even in his darkest hours.
But he is still afraid. He is paralyzed.
Suddenly he hears a loud cry.
He turns around and sees a human girl, maybe four or five (he still has issues with understanding human age, always assuming someone is younger than they are). She sits on the side of the road, her dress, a tiny copy of an adult one, is dirty, and her knee is bruised. The girl sobs as tears flow down her cheeks.
A weird feeling stirs in Astarion’s undead heart. A desire to console this child, to do something to stop her from crying. She is so vulnerable, so scared… and where the fuck are her parents, or whoever is responsible?!
The door to the tavern opens and a young man rushes to the girl.
“Daddy, I’ve fallen down… and…” She cries, wrapping her hands around his neck.
“That’s all, right, princess,” he answers, stroking her back. Suddenly the man turns around and notices Astarion. “Are you looking for something?”
“What? No, I just heard the cries.”
“Well, she cries so loud she can be heard in Daggerlake. If you need a room, there is another inn on the western side of the town. We are out of beds today.”
Astarion shakes his head. No. He is going back. The sunrise will meet him in the woods and he will hide in a cave. He will be back to Tiriel in two days, begging her to forgive him.
Because he can’t live without her. And he…he wants to experience what is coming next.
“Princess… An interesting pet name,” Astarion chuckles. The girl has already stopped crying and now she watches the vampire with curiosity.
“Yeah, we are far from nobles,” the innkeeper smiles. “But she is my only daughter and who are girls to their fathers if not princesses?” with these words he kisses the girl’s forehead and enters the inn, closing the door.
**
Astarion walks inside the house. Tiriel is fast asleep, he can hear her breathing. The kitchen is messy – it seems like his half-elf wife was hungry all these days but didn’t have any strength to clean the mess.
Astarion comes to the bedroom and lies beside her. Tiriel opens her eyes and touches his cheek with tender fingers.
“I knew you would be back.”
“I am sorry. I was scared.”
“I was, too. But I can’t run away from what is inside me.”
“I know, love. I will never do this again”
Tiriel places her cheek on his chest. “If the child is half-undead, can I ever carry it?”
“I don’t know.”
They lie in silence holding each other in their hands.
“You know… I’ve been deprived of mortality,” Astarion says. “Everything normal was taken away from me. And yet I am here. Married. With my own house. Free to do anything I want. When I was in Secomber, I saw a man with his daughter. And you know, I just… wanted the same thing. To carry my own child in my arms. Because it’s a normal mortal thing and if so, I will be no different from that young innkeeper who calls his baby daughter ‘princess’.”
Tiriel caresses his cheek. “I need to go to that innkeeper and ask if he needs anything for returning my husband to me.”
“You need to see the girl. Such a lovely little creature,” he smiles.
“Ours will be lovely too.”
Astarion elbows up. “Tiriel… we are going to keep it, aren’t we?”
Tiriel sighs. She did think about terminating, Astarion realizes. In those dark hours when he was hiding like a coward.
“I want to keep it,” Tiriel says. “Besides… I am still a half-elf. It’s not like miscarriages are rare among my race. Let’s see how it works out.”
Astarion smiles and finally relaxes enough to meditate.
Druids hate the undead because, unlike nature, they can't change. He will prove them all wrong. His life is changing and he is too.
In the best and scariest way possible.
He puts his palm on Tiriel’s flat belly. Somehow, he is sure they are going to have a girl.
--
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Unwanted: Chapter 30, Epilogue - Pt. 2
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader
Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mild sexy stuff (Just some very light hand business. Very light.)
Word Count: 1.1k
Previously On...: You moved out of the Tower :(
A/N: This is it! The last part! You guys. I can't even. It's been a magical journey, and I'm so honored that I got to take it with all of you. I'm scheduling this post on Thursday in my office, and I'm fucking crying, because you've made this more than anything I could have ever hoped for. I love each and every one of you, so fucking much. Thank you for coming on this adventure with me. Thank you for loving Pocket. Thank you for sticking with Bucky and not throwing knives at him and his stupidity. Just, fucking THANK YOU. You are all amazing, beautiful people, and I could not have done this without you. Thirty Chapters, One Hundred Fifty Five Thousand, Four Hundred and Fourteen Words, and more to come. Bucky and Pocket's journey is not over! POOKIE LOVES YOU SO MUCH.
NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates
Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!
Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!
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Not even twenty minutes later– it was actually almost pathetic how close your new place was to the Tower, really– you were opening up the door of your brand new penthouse apartment. It was more extravagant than any other place you’d ever laid your head, and when Tony’s realtor had first shown it to you, you’d balked at the opulence of it. But Tony reminded you that you’d been shot, after all, and had almost died once, then actually died, all in the span of a few days, and after that, on top of everything else you had already endured in your life, wasn’t it time you treated yourself to something good? Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford it. So, here you were.
“Honey, I’m home,” you called out softly to the enormous, empty space. It would still be some time before the movers finished loading up and delivering everything from the Tower, and then you were going to have a lot of furniture shopping to do. Toeing off your shoes, you padded your way across the apartment to the terrace. Opening the glass doors, you stepped outside. You walked to the edge and rested your elbows against the railing. Taking a deep breath, you admired the view of the city before you, the Tower just a block away. Looking across, you could easily make out Tony and Pepper’s apartment. Waving at breakfast, indeed.
You felt a pair of strong arms slink around your midsection, tugging you into a broad, warm chest. “Thought I heard you come in,” Bucky said, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder.
“Hey, baby,” you smiled, reaching back to caress his face with your hand. You turned in his arms so you were facing him. “I missed you.”
Bucky laughed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I only left the Tower two hours ago,” he said. “But I missed you, too.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, pouring every ounce of love and affection you felt for him into the motion. “I can’t believe we finally did it,” you grinned.
“Took us long enough,” he mused back, but then turned thoughtful. “Probably would have happened a lot sooner if I hadn’t–”
You brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Stop. We agreed not to talk about that, remember? Dr. Whitmore said we can’t move forward if we keep hashing out the past, and I just want to move forward, with you.”
“Sorry,” he murmured, but you just smiled and kissed him again.
After you’d been released from the hospital, you and Bucky had had a long, emotional discussion about the future of your relationship. The only way you’d ever stand a real chance, you’d both decided, was if you committed to couples’ counseling and complete and total honesty. Bucky knew he didn’t deserve yet another chance from you, and you probably wouldn’t have given him one if you hadn’t loved him so fucking much. But you’d actually died, and you couldn’t stand the idea of wasting any more time without him. Now, after nearly a year of doing the work, both on your relationship and yourselves, you felt your connection was stronger than ever. And besides, when it really mattered, Bucky had proven, in the most definitive way, that he would pick you over Jade Carthage.
“So…,” you said once the kiss had been broken and you began playing with the hem of his shirt.
“So, what?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow at him suggestively. His eyes widened as he caught your meaning. “What? Here? Right now?!”
You tilted your head and looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster, given how completely un-innocent your current thoughts were. “Yeah, right here, right now. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough, baby?” You trailed a hand down the center of his chest and his breath hitched. “Almost a full year, spent using my fingers, pretending they were you, never feeling full enough? Never getting off as good as I got off with you? It’s been so long since I felt you inside of me, Buck. So long, it fucking hurts.”
When you had decided to give your relationship a real reset, one of the rules you had established, with the advice of Dr. Whitmore, was no sex. You needed to establish emotional intimacy and boundaries once again, without the complications a sexual relationship would bring. She had even suggested you both try to date other people, to ensure that this was the relationship you both truly wanted, but neither one of you could bring yourselves to do it. And now, here you were, almost a full year since the last time you’d been together, and you were desperate.
Bucky groaned at your words and you knew he was this close to giving in to you.
“Come on, baby,” you purred, reaching down and slowly unbuckling his belt. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to be inside of me?” You slowly began nibbling at his jaw, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin and letting it flood your senses.
“Always want you, Pocket,” he growled, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you flush against his hips. You let out a low moan when you felt the evidence of his arousal press into your stomach through his jeans.
“Then have me, Barnes,” you whispered, carding your hands through his hair. “Have me on this balcony, have me on every fucking surface of this apartment, as many times as you want.”
Any remaining sense of resolve Bucky may have possessed snapped, and he was on you, sucking on the skin of your neck as he rutted his hips against you, and it felt so. fucking. good. to feel him like that again. His hand dipped into the waistband of your pants, where he found you wet and eager for him.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growled into your skin as his fingers slipped through your slick folds to toy with your clit. “All this for me?”
You groaned as you felt one finger gently breach your entrance. “Only you, love,” you moaned. “Only ever you.”
You both froze when you heard the sound of the elevator ding, and Bucky quickly withdrew his hand, popping his finger into his mouth to suck away the evidence of his actions.
Grunting in frustration, you looked around him to see the elevator doors open and the movers begin to unload dollies of boxes from the Tower into your new apartment.
“Fuck,” you whispered. “So much for reunion sex. I swear, I’ve got blue balls, Barnes”
Bucky grinned at you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before redoing his belt and heading over to help the movers. “This’ll only take a little while, doll,” he winked at you. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together to make up for lost time.”
<- Previous Part / The End
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu bucky barnes#james barnes
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hi!! i really love your writing and i would love if you could feed me with a request (only if you're comfortable with it, ofc) 👉🏼👈🏼 what about a leon x reader where reader is passing through a very tough depressive crisis and is really not fine mentally speaking — and leon just try to help and comfort them through this? 👉🏼👈🏼
anyway, thank you for your fics, they really helped me these days 😭💗
Anchor
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GNPartner!Reader
Summary: It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. He shouldn't be there and you shouldn't have opened it.
Warning tags: hurt/comfort, angst, leon almost died, reader is suffering with anxiety due to past events, can be read as platonic or romantic (you choose)
Writer's Notes: hello! first of all, im sorry i took so long to write this request for you. i changed some stuff and i hope you don't mind (reader is still depressed). thank you so much your kind words and i hope this fic serves as comfort for you!! <333 stay safe anon!
for more painful leon's fics, check my masterlist. i have some happy ones too :)
It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. It is the third time that week only, the fifth of the month.
It starts when you don’t appear at work after two weeks since his return, and no one knows where you are. HR informs you are sick, which means you are still alive somewhere in the world, just sick. Okay, but sick with what? Sick how? Are you in the hospital? Do you need any help? Leon knows you don’t have family around, like him, and you are pretty much alone - like him.
So, as any regular worried friend would, he calls and texts. He wants to hear your voice and guarantee that you don’t need help and have everything you need. That you truly are okay. No answer. HR has guaranteed him you are not dead, but what if you—no, he shouldn’t think about that.
The next step is going to your house. He knows where your address is and wouldn’t be a complete weird appearing there in the afternoon. No answer. Leon won’t be a creep as far as looking at your windows, at least not yet. He won’t go as far as busting your door and checking how you are feeling because he needs to confirm you are okay. You might just not be home.
On the second visit, Leon got awfully close to kicking your door. Before he could do that or even knock, he saw a shadow pass over the window. Though Leon told himself he wouldn’t, he looked inside just in time to see you disappear to the second floor. So, at least you are really alive, Leon’s body filling with relief. It could have been a bad case of flu, and you don’t want to contaminate anyone.
One more week passes, and he visits your house two more times. Those times you didn’t even bother to hide yourself, lazily lying down on the sofa in a way Leon couldn’t see your face (oh yeah, now he is definitely peeking out your windows). So you are genuinely ignoring him or truly sick with some contagious disease. Maybe Covid?
The fifth time he knocks on your door, it is 1 am and Leon is deeply not only worried but bitter. He was sitting in his apartment alone, wondering what you had and why you didn’t open the door for him. You two are colleagues, and Leon would dare to go as far as to call you his friend if anyone asked. How many times have you brought him soup while he was sick? Brought him meds, kept him company? Checked on him until he was finally all better?
It would be only fair if he did the same.
Leon grabs his keys without even thinking: You will open the door for him tonight. And if you don’t, well, he will kick it open. To hell with the civil approach.
-x-
All the courage slips away from his body when he notices the kitchen’s light on. Leon can’t see anything inside since you decided to make his life harder and close the curtains. So, instead of kicking that door until it’s down, Leon goes back to the gentle approach (like the idiot he is): he knocks.
The door opens not even ten seconds later, and Leon blinks, surprised. You are there. You, not a trick of his eyes: a fluffy and long blanket covering your body, only your face peeking with a familiar expression Leon recognizes immediately - he had seen in his own mirror before.
“You won. What the fuck do you want?” Those are the first words to him in weeks.
“May I come in?”
You ponder for a moment, your eyes red, and Leon wonders when you last slept. You walk away, leaving the door open, and Leon follows inside, locking the door behind him.
Your house isn’t in the best state. He had been here before and thought you weren’t the most organized person (“I can find myself in my own mess, Leon.”). The mess had grown too much from normal. There were tons of take-out boxes on the kitchen counter, pizza boxes, and fast food bags. At least you had been eating—not the best food ever, but feeding. He could work with that.
And the bottles—oh, those Leon would identify anywhere. You weren’t a heavy drinker, and you mentioned plenty of times you didn’t know how he liked whiskey. Now, there were countless empty bottles of whiskey, beer, and vodka, so much so that the place looked like a bunch of frat boys had a party just the night before and didn’t bother to clean.
Leon follows you to the living room as you fall onto the couch. An old Simpsons episode plays on the TV screen. There are still some bags and bottles on the floor, but fewer. Your eyes focus on the TV, not really watching or paying attention to him. Leon stands there, keeping a safe distance from you and gathering what to say.
“I came to check on you.” Leon starts, his eyes glued on you. “You haven’t called or texted me back. The HR said-”
“I am sick. I wanted to be left alone.”
“I know, but-”
“I could complain about this to HR, you know? It could be considered an invasion of privacy, and you could lose your job. “
“I was worried about you.”
“You saw me in the window that day, didn’t you? I’m alive and breathing. Now get out.”
You hide your face in the sofa, conversation clearly done on your side. It feels like an impossible battle to win. Leon then tries again, “Do you need anything?”
“No. Get out.”
He sighs, turning on his heels. Leon wants to say you can call if you need him, any time, but Leon knows you wouldn't. This is an impossible battle to win, Leon realizes as he starts to leave. But then he freezes, a memory piercing his thoughts. Leon comes back to the living room, your face still hidden.
“No.”
“What?”
“I am not leaving. Not before I know what is wrong.”
“I am sick.”
“Yes. So I have heard.”
You don’t turn to look at him, and that’s fine. If you want to be stubborn, so could he. Leon can wait. The episode on the TV finally ends, and as the familiar opening plays in the background, you slowly turn in his direction, one eye appearing first, then the other, as if expecting Leon would be gone by now. Unlucky for you, Leon S. Kennedy didn’t give up that easily, especially for his friends.
“I don’t know what you are feeling, but I know that face.” His voice manages to sound neutral.
Of course, he does. Of course, your partner, the legendary D.S.O veteran, would know. You, just a newbie, would have no idea what he went through, but Leon didn’t seem the kind of person to crumble for anything. Leon would probably be fine if you were the one to get shot, not him. He wouldn’t have panicked, he wouldn’t have started crying, screaming for someone to help them, losing themselves in a sea of despair and pain.
“Hey…”
Blood. So much blood in your hands. You are useless, you can’t help him as Leon’s face loses color-
“Hey.”
He deserved someone better—someone much better as a partner—not you, a weak agent who thought you were strong enough to stand by his side. Oh, how wrong you were.
Leon calls your name, more urgent this time, and your line of sight is filled with the face of the man you considered your friend right at your path—concerned blue eyes, his hair tickling against your face. His forehead is in concentration, the faint ghost of a beard, as he speaks soothingly. “Hey, look at me. You are safe. Deep breaths, come on.”
The visions mix as you blink: Leon losing blood in your arms, unconscious, back to being safe, his worried eyes staring at you.
Your rapid breathing noise fills the room, your heart wanting to burst as the pain spreads over your body, the pain worse than being stabbed or punched. You keep your eyes on Leon - he is fine, he is safe, he is well, he is worried sick about you- as he continues to nod and tell you to breathe.
It takes a while, Leon’s hands on your shoulder as you finally calm down, the tears rolling freely from your eyes.
“I am sorry.” You manage to whisper. “I am so sorry.”
“You are safe. We both are safe.” Leon declares, and you take that in. Right now, yes. But what about tomorrow? What about-? “Hey, eyes open at me.” When had you even closed them? “Come on. There is no one else, just you and me. And we are safe.”
You nod, not arguing back. Finally, you sit down, and Leon takes two steps back. “Water?”
“I think there are some in the fridge,” you reply, cleaning your tears. Leon leaves and quickly comes back with two bottles, unbottling them for you. You shake your head, but Leon insists, and you drink in small sips, the cold liquid refreshing your dry throat. When was the last time you had any water? Or took a shower? Or slept?
Finally, you give him space on the couch to sit. Leon doesn’t, and you point your head to your side, and he sits, keeping a safe distance from you. You two say nothing for a while, simply looking at the TV to watch Bart Simpsons on his shenanigans.
“I am sorry.”
“Would you stop that?” Leon sighs back, frustrated.
“No. I am sorry.”
“Fine. I forgive you. Are we good now?”
“No.”
“I knew it wouldn’t be,” Leon replies with a sad smile.
“You could have died, and I didn’t-” Leon says your name, but you continue “-let me finish. I didn’t help. I didn’t move. I did nothing.”
Leon didn’t want to talk about this, knowing it was inevitable. The day he took a bullet for you: not one, but two. Leon noticed before you, his reflexes quicker than yours. It was his responsibility anyway.
You only watched, shocked, as the bullet pierced his leg, then his chest. You didn’t move or flinch; you just froze, your hands closing and opening nervously as Leon fell right in front of you. You had been fortunate that the backup team had arrived on the other second, finding in the middle of the swarm of bullets a screaming you protecting Leon with his own body, all training thrown out of the window. You two should have been dead. Life had given you and him another chance, since no other vital organ or vein of Leon had been damaged.
You don’t remember much after except asking for your resignation that same day and getting a “No” as an answer. So you decided to get on sick leave until some higher-up got tired and fired you.
“I did nothing.” Leon tries to interrupt you again, but you continue, “You could have died, and I did nothing.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault.”
“What? Of course, it would!”
“No, it would not.”
“Can you fucking stop trying to make me feel better?” Your tone is so angry, so vile, that Leon almost flinches.
Death is always in the back of his mind. Every time he is out there, he could die. He is expandable; they all are, but he couldn’t just let you die. You a much smarter version of what he once was during Raccoon City. The same bravery, but not foolish as his. Much sharper. Leon knew why he got paired up with you in the first place, the irony not completely lost in him.
It would have been fine if Leon died that day he protected you, but not okay if you did. Not on his watch. Not now, not ever.
“I can’t help it,” Leon replies, a sad smile on his lips. “I can’t help it, especially when a friend needs my help.”
A friend?
Do not grow attachments. Wasn’t that your first lesson? It had been hard to be paired up with a man who hated it at first, then to learn how to laugh at his silly jokes or admire how far Leon would go for anyone. For anyone, except himself, stupid brave man.
You open your mouth and close it, simply lying against the sofa with your eyes closed.
“So, let me help you?” His voice is warm and inviting.
It would be best if you said no. You should kick this man out of your living room, out of your life, and never go back to that stupid job fighting an endless battle that would end with you dead or someone you cherished dead. You don’t know how Leon does it, but as you open your eyes, his blue eyes look straight at you awaits in hope. Waiting to comfort you, support you to the best of his abilities, and be your friend.
The pain is still there, vivid in your soul and mind, but there is hope. Right there, in that tiny spot you gave Leon S. Kennedy. That’s why you shouldn’t have opened that damn door, you realize, but it is too late. You limit on nodding.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy fic#leon kennedy fanfics#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy imagines#request#requests#asks#ask
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Gift of Belonging
Luffy x GN Reader
Life didn't have a purpose without Luffy.
Warnings: Fic from my 100 followers poll!!! can be read as either platonic or romantic, mentions of self deprecating thoughts but nothing too severe, just some short, feel good, reassuring hugs from our favorite straw hat-wearing captain <3
Taglist:
@bokutosbiceps | @luffy0s | @surgeonoffish
You were at the end of your rope when you joined the straw hats, but who wasn’t? You weren’t special in the grand scheme of the world’s most infamous pirate crew. You couldn’t compare to the tumultuous lives of the rag-tag bunch that had quickly become your lifeline, you had nothing on being the child of an abusive royal family, or the last survivor of a decimated nation, or the unfortunate witness to the killing of a friend or parent, or a literal god. You weren’t a cyborg or an animal or a reincarnated being hundreds of years old. You were just… simple.
And yet, the Straw Hats made you feel accepted.
They made you feel wanted.
And no one had wanted you more than Monkey D. Luffy.
You still struggled to accept the boisterous boy’s words when he welcomed you aboard his grand ship. You had put up an argument, insisting that you would only get in the way, that your strengths paled in comparison to the rest of the crew, that you had no business being a part of the inner circle of one of the Emperors. But not a single eyelash was batted in the direction of your plight. Simply endless stares of patience, waiting for you to finally bite the lure and climb up the gangway and officially join the Straw Hats. And when you finally did, Luffy had said the words that had stuck with you since then.
“I don’t care who you are. You’re special and you deserve a spot in my family.”
It was as if the world opened up around you for the first time. Instead of seeing your surroundings in black and white, colors infiltrated your retinas in ways you had never experienced. Suddenly, the sunshine that beat down on your skin felt like a pleasant hug from the world, rather than a punishing burn against your weary being. Food you ate and drank every single day tasted extra good because it was always cooked with love and affection, the flirtatious cook not caring at all where you had come from. Luffy and his crew made it known from the second they met you that you were deserving of love, respect, and friendship.
And you couldn’t lie… the first few days were overwhelming.
The Straw Hats were loving. They were really loving, and their unique ways of showing they appreciated you were slowly building up in your veins like a disease until one night, when you were on watch, you cracked.
You broke down.
You sat on the stern of the Thousand Sunny, gazing out from the white-painted railings and over the vastness of the dark ocean and seamlessly blended in with the sky above you, the only light shining on you being from the twinkling stars millions of light years away. Quiet, salty tears flowed down your cheeks, your shoulders clenched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, sniffling into the collar of your shirt. You loved your crew, you really did. You began to realize that you loved them more than you ever loved anyone else in your life, and that thought somehow scared you. Like you were unprepared. Like your heart had been so deprived of love for your whole life that the overabundance of it in such a short time caused your brain to short-circuit. And you cried. You weeped on the Sunny’s back deck, into the calmness of the night.
Until the sound of clopping flip-flops climbing the steps to where you sat alerted your attention, causing you to freeze up, holding your breath, wishing your tears could evaporate away.
“Hey, what are you doing up here alone?” It was Luffy, his usually exuberant voice a rare form of calm as he approached you. He wasted absolutely zero time in plopping himself onto the hard deck beside you, extending his legs and holding his arms out, hands behind his head.
You stayed hunched into yourself, trying to hide your shame in your hands.
“Hey… are you alright?” he asked, his voice somehow even softer.
A faint sniffle from you was all your captain needed to hear. He sat up with a start and grabbed your shoulders with his calloused hands, yanking you around to face him. Your eyes were wide with shock at his actions, but you stayed frozen. It’s not like you could run anywhere, the man was made of rubber.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, an intense stare that bored into your skin. “Did someone say something to you? Did someone hurt you?”
You shook your head, wiping your tears away on your arm. You took a deep, shuddering inhale before finally forcing your shoulders to relax. “No… no one said anything to me.”
“Then why are you crying?”
Luffy, despite not being overly emotional in normal circumstances, was scarily good at reading people. It didn’t matter if you couldn’t outright say what was bothering you, he would eventually figure it out with that convoluted tunnel system of a brain. His adorable lips curled into a pout as he analyzed your face, picking apart every twitch of your muscles.
You inhaled once more, turning your face away from him slightly. “I’m just… not used to this.”
“Not used to what?”
His questions, and the feigned clueless tone of his voice almost made a smile crack onto your face. Another talent of Monkey D. Luffy: he was like a wrecking ball for the walls you built up around yourself.
“I’m not used to… this.” Your hands circled around you, gesturing to the ship, causing Luffy to finally drop his hands from your shoulders. “Being a part of a crew. You guys are… too nice to me.”
Luffy was ready with a response immediately. “We could never be ‘too nice to you.’ That’s impossible. We love you.”
Your lip quivered slightly. “That’s what I’m not used to.”
“Being loved?”
There it was. You feebly nodded. “Yeah. That.”
Your captain scooted across the deck closer to you, if that was even possible. He was basically flush against you at this point. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm bear hug, his fluffy black hair tickling the skin of your cheek. “We love you because you’re special to us, we don’t need a reason for that,” he described. His voice faltered, as if he wanted to say something else, as if he was trying to add to his words. Instead, he squeezed you into him, closing his eyes as he felt your muscles grow limp. ‘We love you, but I love you more.’
“I just wish it was easier for me to accept that,” you whispered into his shoulder, struggling to hug him back.
Luffy’s embrace didn’t relent. If anything, he tried to pull you in closer. The force of his hug made you lose your balance on the floor, falling over on top of him, your chin hitting his shoulder. But he still didn’t let up. He held firm, squeezing you as if you would fade away into dust if he let go.
“Luffy–” you wheezed against his skin.
“What?” He sounded completely oblivious. “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t feel sad anymore. No more crying,” he demanded. “Captain’s orders.” His last sentence held a hint of playfulness, the smile he surely wore on his face coming through the sound of his voice.
He must have been contagious, because your own grin slowly grew on your lips. After what felt like hours, you finally reciprocated his hug, curling your arms under him and letting yourself finally relax in his embrace. You knew Luffy had odd ways of showing he cared, but this was definitely unexpected. Unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated. His presence emitted a warmth akin to summertime air, his existence like the calming breeze of the open ocean that wafted around you and circled you in comforting drafts. Luffy never judged, never wavered, never ceased to let his crew, and now you, know how truly grateful he felt to be able to live his life with his favorite people.
You made a slight movement to stand up, but Luffy’s arms tightened their hold around your back. “Not yet,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna stand up yet.”
“Is this how you comfort everyone on the crew?” you asked, your voice coming out muffled as you spoke into his neck.
“Hmm… not necessarily. Everyone’s different. Chopper really loves hugs, and Zoro lets me hug him, but sometimes Nami and Robin can take them or leave them. Usopp likes hugs but doesn’t like to admit it.” A smile crawled to your face as your captain rattled off the preferences of your fellow crewmates, the ways in which he perceived their unique and individual personalities bringing a comforting reassurance to your heart. “I feel like you really like hugs, and you clearly needed one right now.”
You bit the inside of your lower lip, trying to bite back the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes. The tension escaping your body dissipated in large waves, leaving you with nothing but warmth and comfort in the arms of the man who had surely saved your life.
And for the first time since officially joining the Straw Hats, you began to feel truly, unconditionally loved. It was miraculous. All it took was a single hug from the nicest, most selfless person you had ever met.
Someday, you’d be sure to return the favor for Luffy, even if he wouldn’t accept.
#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#one piece x reader#op x reader#monkey d luffy x reader#luffy x reader#monkey d luffy#luffy oneshot
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𝙎𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙢 | sᴏᴜᴘ
Read part one here - Squirm...
screencaps and gifs : @din-jarring they are amazing, literally brainwashes me every single time she posts, love you pook 🫶🏻
Pairing: dark!Raider!Joel Miller x dark!Raider!Tommy Miller x dark!Raider!Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader
Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, VIRGIN READER, UNprotected sex wrap it before you tap it kids,food, hunger, kidnapping, degradation, praise, mean!Joel, toxic!Joel, mean people, toxic people, fear, waterboarding (with soup), choking, gagging, talks of sex, talks of anal sex, voyeurism, being held down, ripping off clothes, groping, kissing, spanking, crying, begging, masturbation M and F, Death threats, Guns, Gun insertion (mouth and vaginal), stripping, cum, cum description, hand jobs, blowjobs, orgasm,cum play kinda, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME
Summary: Caught and brought to a new place you meet new faces and feelings.
WC: 4.2K
A/n : Sorry, I was a little late to post pt 2, but enjoy 🫶🏻
He had brought you to a house that barely felt like a home, its cold and unwelcoming atmosphere, a stark contrast to any sense of familiarity. The faces inside offered no solace, just a chilling reminder of your isolation from the man who had violated you. You pushed away thoughts of the horrifying event, trying to focus instead on the bowl of soup before you. Hunger gnawed at your insides, but the thought of not nourishing yourself felt like a silent protest against your dire circumstances.
Seated beside you was the man who had taken you, his presence a constant source of discomfort and fear. It struck you suddenly that you didn't even know his name, adding to the weight of your unease. To your left sat a woman with long brown hair, older than you and marked by scars. You stole glances around the table, avoiding prolonged eye contact with anyone. In the midst of the bustling room, a man's striking resemblance to your captor left you feeling unnerved. You resisted the urge to dwell on the chilling familiarity, instead turning your attention elsewhere.
As you sat there, wrestling with your own inner turmoil, your captor's impatience grew palpable. "What's the matter with you? Why aren't you eating?" he demanded, his voice sharp with irritation.
You flinched at his tone, feeling his eyes bore into you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I-I'm not hungry," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Not hungry?" he repeated, his voice rising with anger. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your head back roughly.
Pain shot through you, and you couldn't suppress a gasp of pain as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. "Joel, calm down," the woman beside you interjected, her voice firm but gentle. "You don't want to scare the girl too badly."
Joel's grip on your hair loosened slightly, but his anger still simmered beneath the surface. "Fine," he growled, releasing you with a shove that sent you reeling. "But don't think you can defy me and get away with it."
You swallowed hard, trying to steady your trembling hands as you reached for the spoon, your appetite vanishing in the face of Joel's wrath. It was just another reminder of the power he held over you, a reminder that escape seemed increasingly impossible.
Joel's anger seemed to intensify with each passing moment, his frustration boiling over as he glared at you. "Eat!" he barked, his voice echoing through the room.
Trembling, you forced yourself to take a spoonful of the bitter soup, struggling to swallow it down past the lump in your throat. The taste was nauseating, but you dared not refuse, knowing the consequences would be dire.
As the man who resembled your captor, Joel, leaned in closer, a chill ran down your spine. His eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made your blood run cold. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice sharp and demanding.
Panic surged within you as you struggled to find the right words. You glanced around the table, seeking a lifeline, but found only unfamiliar faces staring back at you. Joel's twin sat across from you, watching the tense exchange with keen interest.
He noticed your fear. "I'm Tommy. What's your name?"
Feeling the weight of Joel's wrath bearing down on you, you stammered out a response, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I'm..." After Joel yelled at you, you gave him your name, hoping to appease him in some way.
Joel's eyes narrowed as he watched you, a dangerous glint in his gaze. "It's not hard to behave, is it?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Now eat your soup and stay quiet."
His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you obediently brought the spoon to your lips, forcing yourself to swallow another mouthful of the bitter concoction. Each swallow felt like a battle against the rising tide of fear and revulsion.
As you struggled to maintain your composure under Tommy's scrutiny, a sudden text message from the woman beside you caught you off guard. "What's your plan for her?" it read, and before you could react, Joel shot you a smirk.
"Well, Tess..." he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "I fucked her in the van, and the damn thing bled so much she was probably a virgin. But you see, she's real tight in the pussy. I wonder how tight she is in the ass.”
The crude words sent a wave of horror coursing through you, and you felt your heart pound in your chest. The laughter that erupted from the rest of the table only added to your sense of dread.
"NO!" you cried out, unable to contain your fear and revulsion any longer.
Ignoring your protest, Joel turned to his men with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Leave. All of you, except Tommy and Tess," he commanded, his voice cold and commanding.
The men exchanged glances before filing out of the room, leaving you alone with Joel, Tommy, and Tess. The tension in the air was palpable, and you had a nagging feeling that something bad was about to happen.
With a cruel grin, Joel grabbed your arm roughly, his grip like a vise as he forced the bowl of soup to your lips. "Drink it," he growled, his breath hot against your face.
You recoiled, the bitter taste of the soup making you gag, but Joel's grip only tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh painfully. "I said drink!" he hissed, his voice dripping with malice.
Tears welled in your eyes as you choked down the revolting liquid, each swallow feeling like a betrayal of your own dignity. Joel's laughter echoed in your ears, mocking your suffering.
He didn't stop, continuously pouring the soup into your mouth, the liquid spilling down your chin and soaking your clothes. You coughed and sputtered, struggling to breathe as he relentlessly forced you to consume it.
When the bowl was finally empty, Joel shoved you roughly onto the table, your ass in the air, the dried remnants of his cum and your blood staining your dress and leg from the van. You struggled against him, but his strength was overpowering, pinning you down with ease.
"Look at her," he sneered, his hand gripping your hair as he forced your head up. "A pathetic little whore, just begging for it."
You whimpered, the humiliation and shame crushing down on you like a weight, suffocating you. You felt dirty, violated, and utterly helpless in the face of Joel's cruelty. All you could do was pray for it to be over soon, to escape this nightmare and find some semblance of peace.
"Tommy, Tess," Joel's voice sliced through the air, authoritative and unyielding. "Hold her down."
Tommy hesitated, his expression conflicted as he glanced between you and Joel. "Joel, come on, man. This ain't right," he protested, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Tess scoffed at his hesitation. "Oh, please, Tommy. It didn't work on the last girl Joel brought home. What makes you think it'll work on this one?" she interjected, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Tommy's jaw tensed at Tess's words, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "Yeah, well, no shit it won't work now," he muttered under his breath, his bitterness palpable.
With a resigned sigh, he reluctantly reached out to hold your arms down, his touch firm and unyielding. Despite his initial resistance, there was a chilling resolve in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the brutality of their actions.
You instinctively tried to wriggle free from their tight grip, but their hold was unyielding, suffocating in its grasp. Joel's hand trailed between your thighs, his touch invasive and mocking. "Did I forget to rip these?" he jeered, his words dripping with contempt. "Or did you put them back on so you could save all my cum that was dripping out of your pretty pussy?" With a swift tug, he tore at your panties, the fabric ripping with a sound that echoed through the room.
Your breath caught in your throat as Joel's lips trailed from your calf to your lower back, his touch igniting a firestorm of revulsion and fear within you. His hand slid up your dress, each movement leaving a trail of dread in its wake.
Before you could protest, his palm connected with your exposed flesh, the sharp sting of his slap reverberating through your body. "You need to learn, sweetheart," he growled, his voice dripping with malice. "What I say goes."
As the sting of his slap lingered on your skin, Joel's grip tightened, his dominance palpable in the air. "Count them," he commanded, his voice cold and commanding. "For every spank, I'll give you a rule to remember."
You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in as fear coursed through your veins.
"One," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, as the second spank landed with brutal force.
"Rule number one," Joel's voice cut through the air like a knife, his tone chillingly calm. "You belong to me now. Your body, your mind, everything. Remember, sweet pea, I control whether you live or die."
"Two," you whimpered, each strike sending waves of pain through your trembling body. Fear gripped you tightly, knowing that Joel held the power to end your life in an instant. But in that moment of terror, a glimmer of relief washed over you as you realized he spared your life.
"Rule number two," Joel's voice was a sinister whisper, his breath hot against your ear. "You speak when spoken to. Your voice is mine to command."
The relentless rhythm of his slaps echoed in the room, each strike sending shockwaves of agony through your body.
"Three," you gasped, tears stinging your eyes as the onslaught continued.
"Rule number three," Joel's words were a cruel taunt, his laughter mingling with your cries. "Your desires mean nothing. Your only purpose is to obey."
The sound of his hand meeting your skin became a symphony of pain, drowning out any semblance of resistance.
"Four," you choked out, your voice trembling with each syllable.
"Rule number four," Joel's voice dripped with malice, his grip tightening as he relished in your suffering. "You forget who you were. There is only me, and there is only now."
The world around you seemed to blur as his assault persisted, each strike eroding away at your sense of self.
"Five," you managed to gasp out, the agony threatening to consume you entirely.
"Rule number five," Joel's words were a final decree, his dominance unyielding. "You will learn to love the pain. It's the only thing you'll ever know."
The onslaught of blows came faster now, each strike landing with brutal precision, leaving your flesh ablaze with searing agony. You squirmed helplessly against the iron grip of Tommy and Tess, your cries stifled by the relentless assault.
Joel's laughter cut through the air like a knife, mocking your pain as tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat and blood that trickled down your back.
"There's a good girl," he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "Let it out. Let me hear you scream."
With each strike, your resolve crumbled, your spirit shattered by the merciless brutality of his punishment. You cried out in anguish, the pain consuming you whole as Joel's cruel laughter echoed in your ears, a haunting reminder of your helplessness in the face of his relentless dominance.
As the onslaught of blows began to slow, Joel's strikes became more calculated, each one landing with precision on your already battered flesh. The pain was excruciating, every impact sending waves of agony coursing through your body.
"Enough," Joel commanded, his voice cold and commanding. "Let her go."
Tommy and Tess released their grip on you, allowing you to slump forward, your body trembling with pain and exhaustion. Joel pulled you into his lap, his jeans rubbing against your raw, beaten skin, sending fresh waves of discomfort radiating through you.
"Good girl," he murmured, his tone disturbingly gentle compared to moments before. "You're learning. Remember, what I say goes. Always."
Joel's gaze shifted to Tommy as you squirmed uncomfortably in his lap, desperately seeking a spot that wasn't ablaze with pain. "Tommy, fetch my pistol," he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.
Tess and Tommy exchanged shocked glances. "Joel? Before we've even gotten a turn?" Tess protested, her voice tinged with apprehension. Fear clenched at your heart at the mention of the pistol. You didn't want to die.
"I didn't say to shoot her, goddamn it, y'all are sensitive," Joel snapped, his frustration evident in his tone. He sighed heavily before continuing, "Just get comfortable, and you," he grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze, "it's not supposed to be comfortable. Now stay still."
Tommy hurried off to retrieve the pistol, while Tess positioned themselves in front of Joel's chair, obediently following his orders to watch. You sat still, trying to suppress the sobs threatening to escape as you braced yourself for whatever came next. As Tommy handed the pistol off to Joel and positioned himself next to Tess.
Joel's laughter filled the room as he accepted the pistol from Tommy, his eyes dancing with sadistic amusement. With a menacing smirk, he pressed the cold metal barrel against the neckline of your dress, causing your breath to hitch in terror. The fabric stretched under the pressure before snapping back into place, sending a shiver of fear coursing through you.
Glancing between Tommy and Tess, Joel's expression dared them to act. After a tense moment, Tess stepped forward, her hands confident as she reached for the hem of your dress. With a swift motion, she began to peel the fabric away, revealing the vulnerable skin beneath.
Meanwhile, Joel moved behind you, his fingers deftly unhooking your bra with practiced ease. As the garment fell away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, Joel's gaze hardened. "No touching," he commanded, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "She hasn't had my dick in her ass yet, so there's no point in sharing yet. Just watch."
Turning his attention back to you, Joel's eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your blood run cold. "Give them a show," he ordered, his tone dripping with malice. With a cruel grin, he began to trace the path of the gun along your skin, sending shivers of fear down your spine.
With every inch of exposed skin, Joel's sadistic grin widened. He traced the contours of your body with the cold metal of the pistol, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Such a pretty little thing," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "All naked and vulnerable."
As he continued to torment you with the gun, his words grew more depraved. "Bet you're wondering what I'm gonna do with this," he mused, his tone filled with sickening excitement. "Maybe I'll use it to fuck you in the ass."
Your heart hammered in your chest as you braced yourself for whatever twisted game Joel had in store. The weight of the pistol against your skin felt like a ticking time bomb, each moment dragging out the agony of anticipation.
"Maybe I'll use it here," Joel's voice dripped with malice as he suddenly pressed the cold, hard barrel of the gun into your mouth. The metallic taste was overwhelming as you complied with his command, the weight of the weapon heavy on your tongue. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and a rush of adrenaline flooded your veins.
Glancing over at Tess and Tommy, Joel's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure at their reactions. Tommy's hands were shamelessly buried in his pants, indulging in his own depravity, while Tess, stripped down to her bra, caressed her breasts with a sickeningly soft touch.
Returning his gaze to you, Joel's grip on your neck tightened, forcing you to look upwards. Your throat constricted around the gun barrel as he pushed it deeper, eliciting a gag reflex. His laughter echoed through the room, a chilling soundtrack to your degradation. "Come on, take it. Come on," he taunted, his voice laced with perverse excitement.
With a cruel twist, Joel abruptly removed the gun from your mouth, leaving you gasping and coughing for air. The taste of metal lingered on your tongue as you struggled to regain your composure, tears stinging your eyes from the violent intrusion.
Ignoring your distress, Joel's eyes glittered with amusement as he admired the effect of his torment. "Pathetic," he spat, his tone dripping with disdain. "You can't even handle a little gun in your mouth."
Joel roughly turned your head to face Tess and Tommy, positioning you back-to-back with him, creating an unsettling image of depravity. Tess had her hands buried in her pants, mirroring Tommy's lewd actions. Meanwhile, Joel's touch grew more invasive as he groped your body with the cold metal of the gun, each touch sending a shiver of revulsion down your spine.
"You like that, huh?" Joel taunted, his voice dripping with contempt as he pressed the gun teasingly close to your trembling body. "Bet you've never had anything like this before."
You squirmed uncomfortably under his touch, feeling exposed and vulnerable as he continued to taunt and degrade you in front of Tess and Tommy. The weight of their lecherous gazes only added to your sense of shame and helplessness.
Joel's grip tightened around the gun as he abruptly thrust the cold metal barrel into your pussy without warning, causing you to gasp in shock and pain. The sensation was overwhelming—a mix of burning agony and icy coldness that made your entire body tense with discomfort.
Despite the searing pain that coursed through your body, there was a perverse and unsettling sensation that accompanied Joel's crude violation. It was as though amidst the agony, there lingered a twisted form of pleasure—a dark and forbidden allure that sent conflicting waves of desire and revulsion washing over you.
As the cold metal of the gun's barrel plunged into you with each merciless thrust, there was an undeniable arousal that stirred within you, mingling with the anguish and fear that consumed your senses. It was a sickening realization, one that filled you with shame and self-loathing even as your body betrayed you with its traitorous response.
Each jagged edge of the gun's barrel seemed to ignite a primal fire within you, awakening sensations that you had never dared to acknowledge before. Despite the brutality of Joel's actions, there was a part of you that craved the twisted pleasure that he elicited—a part of you that hungered for the forbidden ecstasy that danced on the edge of pain.
Amidst the torment, your body pulsed with unfamiliar sensations, a tumultuous symphony of pleasure and agony that left you trembling on the edge of surrender. Every gasp and moan that escaped your lips was a testament to your body's betrayal, succumbing to Joel's relentless domination.
As the gun's barrel thrust into you, each movement ignited a storm of conflicting emotions within you. Pleasure and pain intertwined, blurring the lines between ecstasy and despair. It was a descent into madness, a journey into the depths of your darkest desires, where every sensation threatened to consume you whole.
As the pressure of Joel's grip on your face intensified, his fingers digging into your cheeks, you felt a surge of panic rising within you. You desperately tried to look away, to escape the lewd scene unfolding before your eyes, but Joel's iron grip held you in place.
Tommy and Tess, lost in their own world of ecstasy, moved with a frenzied urgency, their bodies writhing in pleasure. Their hands roamed feverishly over their skin, eliciting moans of delight that filled the room. The air crackled with anticipation, heavy with the heady scent of arousal.
Meanwhile, Joel's touch on your clit sent bolts of electricity coursing through your body, each stroke igniting a firestorm of sensation. You gasped for air, your body trembling with a mixture of pleasure and pain.
"You enjoying this, huh?" Joel's voice dripped with sadistic amusement, his words laced with cruelty. "Such a filthy little slut, aren't you?"
Your heart raced as Joel's fingers continued their relentless assault, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he thrusts the cold metal barrel of the gun into you with a force that stole your breath away.
"Please...stop," you gasped, your voice strained with desperation. "I feel...I'm gonna pee."
The sensation was overpowering, a torrent of pleasure flooding your senses, leaving you gasping for air. You cried out, a primal sound of ecstasy mingling with the moans of Tommy and Tess, who watched on as if entranced.
Joel chuckled darkly, his eyes alight with sadistic glee. "You're not gonna pee, sweetheart," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "You're gonna cum."
Tommy leaned in closer, his eyes glazed with lust as he watched your writhing form. "Damn, she's really getting into it," he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tess nodded in agreement, her fingers tracing lazy circles over her own body as she watched the spectacle unfold. "She's a natural," she murmured, her voice tinged with envy.
Meanwhile, Joel's grip tightened on your body, his touch both rough and possessive as he continued to manipulate your pleasure. "That's it," he coaxed, his tone sickeningly sweet. "Give in to it. Let it consume you."
As the waves of ecstasy crashed over you, you felt a sense of shame wash over you. But amidst the shame, there was also a strange sense of liberation, a feeling of being utterly and completely consumed by the moment.
The room fell silent, save for the soft, rhythmic grunts of pleasure emanating from Tommy's direction. In the shelter of Joel's arms, you watched as Tommy's release painted his shirt, his outstretched hand halted by Joel's stern intervention. With a deft motion, Joel retrieved the pistol from its slick haven within your body, aiming it unwaveringly at Tommy's head.
"I said no touching," Joel's voice was a low growl, his eyes flashing with dangerous intent. Tess's moans were abruptly cut short as she, too, succumbed to her climax. Joel rolled his eyes in exasperation, his patience wearing thin. "Both of you...leave. NOW!"
As Tommy and Tess hurriedly obeyed, Joel's demeanor shifted, his hand gentle as it patted your head. It was a startling contrast to the violence moments ago. "You see, if you follow my rules, I protect you," he explained, his tone almost soothing. But as he gestured with the gun beneath your chin, the underlying threat was impossible to ignore, casting a stark shadow over his words.
"Now, it's time for you to show your gratitude," Joel's voice was cold, his eyes boring into yours with a predatory gleam. "You owe me, and you're going to thank me properly."
His demand hung in the air, heavy with implication. You felt a chill run down your spine as you realized the extent of his control over you. With trembling hands, you struggled to find the words to comply with his twisted request, knowing that defiance would only invite further punishment.
He guided you to the table, settling you onto the worn wood surface. The ache from the red marks on your ass made you flinch, but Joel silenced you with a gesture. "Shh..." His finger pressed gently against your lips. "I'm going to show you how to please me. Watch closely and learn.”
Joel unfastened his belt and let his pants drop to the floor, revealing his nakedness. He then took your hand and spat into it. "Make sure there's some wetness. If it's dry, it won't feel good," he instructed, his voice low and commanding. Guiding your hand with his, he began to stroke up and down his impressive length. His cock was large, the weight of it filling your hand as you struggled to wrap your fingers around it. "See, it's so simple," he grunted softly as he moved your hand along his shaft.
As you followed Joel's lead, your hand moved rhythmically along his length, slick with saliva and your own nervous sweat. His breath hitched with each stroke, his eyes darkening with lust as he watched your tentative movements. You focused intently on his reactions, trying to gauge what pleased him, all the while feeling a mix of revulsion and fear churn in the pit of your stomach.
Despite the discomfort and fear that pulsed through you, there was a strange sense of power in the act, a twisted form of control that you wielded over him. You couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline that surged through you as you brought him closer and closer to the edge, each stroke of your hand pushing him towards release.
And then, with a guttural groan, Joel's body tensed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reached the peak of his pleasure. Hot streams of cum erupted from him, coating your hand and spilling onto the floor below. As he finally released, you felt a sickening mixture of relief and disgust wash over you, knowing that you had played a part in satisfying his twisted desires once again.
#the last of us#joel miller fanfic#fanfic#tlou#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel tlou#sinfulmindjoyfulthoughts#joel miller smut#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller fic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller tlou#joel miller the last of us#dark!joel x reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#raider joel#dark joel miller#dark!joel miller#the last of us smut#joel miller x tess servopoulos x tommy miller x fem!reader
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Sundown: Chapter 2
WC: 1,3k
Relationship: Pre-relationship SwissAlps
Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, Fluff, Dancing, First Kiss
Swiss is smitten.
He realized it around ten minutes after Mounty left him in his room that first day.
Read chapter 1 here or on AO3.
Read chapter 2 under the cut or on AO3.
Swiss is smitten.
He realized it around ten minutes after Mounty left him in his room that first day.
He is fucked.
That first day was over a month ago and he doubts he’s ever willingly stayed at one place for so long. His…arrangement with Mounty was working, though, he was helping whenever, wherever and however he could and in turn his horse was getting food and water and he got to sleep in a nice bed. But most importantly he got to spend time with her.
He wasn’t complaining; far from it.
In the last weeks he’s met a few more people somewhat similar to the barmaid. His brain is a little slow, taking in how people can be so different, so unique, but he’s doing his best and his…friends—he thinks he can call them that—are understanding and happy to spend time with him, too. That’s not something Swiss is used to.
They have a little team now—he, Mounty, and a cute throuple that the barmaid introduced him to a few days into his stay; Dewdrop, Rain, and Phantom. They are more or less around Swiss’ and Mounty’s ages, and they live together in one of the brighter, more lively houses in the little town.
Phantom’s somewhat of a local doctor—having taken over his older brother when he left to get better education out in the world. Mounty sometimes helps them by making special herbal teas for their patients. As Swiss learned, Phantom is non-binary, which…confused the man at first, but he thinks he gets it now. They are neither a boy, nor a girl, and that’s easy enough to grasp now.
Dewdrop is a resident horse-carer. He’s a stable boy, veterinarian, farrier, and a cowboy all at once. Anything related to horses—it’s Dewdrop’s job. He’s also like Mounty, but the other way around (as Swiss is explaining to himself).
Rain, on the other hand, is like Swiss. He’s just…the default, in terms of gender. His job in the town is a cook in a pub next to Mounty’s saloon. That’s why it was Rain who Swiss met first—he just came over for a drink after work one evening.
They all liked each other and Swiss was truly happy spending his time with the four of them. He never had friends, not anyone he could just…be with.
He still didn’t tell any of them who he really is, though, or rather who he’s known as. Not because he doesn’t trust them—he’s surprised to find that he actually does trust them already—but because he’s worried that they’d stop looking at him like they do now. That it would be them losing trust in him.
Swiss hopes it will come to sharing his story, but not yet.
He doesn’t want to or need to worry about that now. He rests against the bar—in the very same place that he ended up the first day—and sips on his whiskey. Neat, of course.
There’s a small party in the saloon—the occasion is unknown to Swiss, but he enjoys the atmosphere. It’s a small crowd in there, but it’s not crowded enough for Mounty to be working her ass off. Swiss is eternally grateful for that, for being allowed the sight of her smiling brightly and loudly laughing and dancing alone without a care in the world.
Part of that would change if only the man wasn't such a cunt.
There’s nothing he wants more in the moment than to get off of the squeaky stool, walk over to the empty-ish space where Mounty’s swaying to the music, grab her and twist her in his arms and lean down and–
He takes a sip of his whiskey.
Swiss stares at her for a while, barely blinking. He’s only snapped out of his trance by Phantom padding over to him and draping themself over his back, their chin hooked over his shoulder. “Whatcha sulking over?”
“What? Oh, no, nothing. I’m just tired.” he shrugs and smiles. He is a bit tired, he was cleaning the stables earlier, so it’s a valid excuse.
Phantom isn’t having any of it, though. They’re more than a little bit tipsy and they scoff at his lie, “Nuh-uh! You’re yearning.”
“I–” Swiss hesitates at being so bluntly called out. He sighs, “Yeah, I guess I am.”
The other sits on a free stool next to him, effectively blocking the view of the dancing barmaid as they hover their face mere inches from his and stare into his eyes. It’s just a little bit unsettling.
“What…?”
“Why are you just sittin’ here and being a little bitch?” Phantom asks and Swiss nearly chokes on his drink. “You ain’t a little bitch, do something!”
“Tommy, I don’t–I don’t know if I can,” he chuckles sadly at himself. Pathetic. “She’s just…fuck, she’s perfect and I’m…I don’t know, but I’m nowhere there, ya know?”
“Bullshit,” Phantom sing-songs. They spit on him a little as they do. “I’ve known Mounty for a few years now and I’ve never seen her like that, she’s the happiest she’s ever been, man! Ask Dew, he’s known her for a decade, he’ll tell you the same. Just go for it, what do you have to lose?”
Swiss thinks about it. Phantom is somewhat right, Mounty seems to be happy, but he doesn’t have much comparison. And what does he have to lose? Well…not much, truth be told.
The man shakes his head, takes a big sip of whiskey and pushes Phantom back to stand up.
“Go get her, cowboy!” they call out after him.
The saloon isn’t big enough for the crossing from the bar to the dancefloor to be long, but Swiss still starts to sweat on his way. What is going on with him!? His eyes are fixed on how Mounty’s hair reflects the light and how her eyes glint and how her skirt spins as she twists.
Swiss has to shake himself out of it to not make even a bigger fool out of himself. He saunters up to her—plastering his signature grin onto his face—and reaches out to brush his fingertips against the flowy fabric of her dress. She stops her spinning and the sudden halt makes her stumble over her feet and fall right into Swiss’ arms.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he chuckles, looking deep into her fresh-grass-green eyes. Both of them blush as Mounty straightens up, but Swiss doesn’t let go of her waist. There’s a question in his eyes and as he puts his other hand in front of the barmaid in an invitation, she takes it without hesitation.
Swiss smiles so hard it hurts as they start to dance.
They don’t talk, but they don’t need to—their shared movement is enough. They laugh and spin and laugh and twist and they’re both the happiest they’ve been in a while, even if the other isn’t quite aware of that.
Swiss is worried about the song coming to an end, not knowing what Mounty will do—not knowing what he will do—but all that is forgotten when the barmaid presses her chest against his and smiles even wider than she already was. The man’s chest hurts and his heart pounds as he makes a very impulsive decision that can very well get him kicked out of there.
He tightens his hold on her and bends her whole body backwards as he kisses her with all the emotions that have been bottling inside of him for weeks. Mounty doesn’t flinch and doesn’t pull back—just clings to his arms and kisses him back.
Somewhere behind them Swiss hears clapping and a whistle that sounds suspiciously like Phantom’s.
.
.
.
edit: nono gave us art again!!!
#hypnone writes#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#swiss ghoul#mountain ghoul#swissalps#swissalps' sundown
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LUCKY
carl grimes x reader
tags: angst but then fluff !
masterlist here!
─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───
When the apocalypse started you’d lost all your family and were on your own for what felt like ages but you eventually found someone who made you feel safe and her name was Natasha. She was a stranger but she used to be a mother and had lost her son at the start. She’d protected you like you were her own; like you were blood.
She was everything to you, but she left too soon. She was attacked by a walker and you did everything you could. You got bit in the process and got so choked up over the fact you knew you’d die within the next twenty four hours, you let Natasha get swarmed. You ran away as fast as you could, basically sobbing. That night after finding shelter you patiently waited for the infection to take over. You couldn’t take the easy way out, you were too scared. Nothing happened for about two days straight when you realized, you might’ve just been lucky.
Ever since Natasha, you swore to yourself you’d never let anyone you cared for die like that again and you’d make sure of it with your immunity. Granted you could still get ripped to shreds but you knew you’d never let it get that far. Not after seeing what happened to Natasha.
After that, you traveled long and far, eventually finding yourself at a large gated community with a sign at the front that read “Alexandria Safe Zone.” They had let you in very kindly. You struggled to bond with anyone there, most of them had been there since the start and never had true experience in the world around you. Except Carl.
He, to you, was the most normal of all of them; your definition of normal at least. He’d seen it all, his whole group did but he was different from his group. He’d grown up in the apocalypse just like you. It wasn’t just a part of your guys’ lives. It was all you could really remember. It almost makes you feel bad for his baby sister. She’d never know what the world was really like.
So you two grew closer. You’d go out into the woods to ensure you’d never forget. You read comics, listened to music, anything that you could think of. It never occurred to you that maybe you should tell him about your immunity. You hadn’t told anyone before and you knew if you kept bonding like you were then he’d figure it out himself. You didn’t want to take the risk of him telling someone else, you don’t know what would happen to you.
You tried to ignore the topic as much as possible, you only have ever worn long sleeves and did whatever you could to ensure they would never see it. Carl had just assumed you were mostly comfortable that way so he never mentioned it.
One morning the two of you decided to go out to the forest to read. Although you’d heard talks of a horde of walkers that were supposed to travel through that day, you didn’t really listen. The communities horde tracking system wasn’t always accurate as it would usually be a couple days ahead.
You guys walked through the forest, your hands interlocked as you looked for your spot. You approached your fallen log and you settle into the ground as Carl begins to dig through a large black box filled with anything to entertain you both. “What do you wanna read?” He asks, focused on rummaging through the pile of comics. “I’m fine with whatever. Maybe Deadpool if you want.” You reply, also digging through your bag for the pretzels you had packed for you two.
He finds the comic and sits back next to you and you lean into his shoulder while you read. You loved this, reading with him. His presence helped you forget everything you wanted to. Losing your family, watching Natasha die, getting bit. Everything washes away when you’re with him. You focus on the comic for a while until you heard the irritating noise of walkers nearby. You completely forgot the warnings you’d heard this morning.
The both of you stand up and Carl tosses the comic back in the box. You look around to see that there’s a small horde. On a regular day you would go hide in the hallowed tree trunk behind your log but the walkers had already noticed you. “Shit. We’re just gonna have to take them.” You tell him. He pulls his knife from his belt and you do the same, preparing for the next step.
You handle a few, unfortunately not quite easily. Some of the skulls weren’t too soft and also you got quite a bit of blood on you. You handled about six of them, Carl handled 9. There was one final walker that you handled before you two could take a breath. You turn to Carl with a content look, almost proud of the work you accomplished. He nods and you’re interrupted by another walker which seemingly came out of fucking nowhere.
The walker pushes into Carl and your immediate instinct is to pull it off of him. You grab the walker just below its neck and before you know it, its teeth plunge right into your forearm. You didn’t know it but Carl’s heart completely shattered. His eyes went wide and he helped get it off of you. Your knife shoves into its chin and it’s finally dead.
You let it fall to the floor and for some odd reason, tears begin to flow from your eyes. It was too close of a call but you’d survived, Carl had survived. You were relieved; relieved that you’d saved someone from the fate Natasha had faced.
“Y-you’re bit.” He mutters. You look to him and wipe your tears, smiling slightly. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. How could you be smiling? “Why…what’s there to smile about?” He asks, his voice still quiet. You roll your sleeve up from your other arm, showing your old bite wound. He steps closer to see it and he gently runs his fingers over it.
“I-I don’t understand how’s that…” His voice trails off and he looks back to you for any answers.
“It’s from a while ago. I’m immune. I know I should’ve told you earlier but I didn’t know how, I didn’t know what people would do to me.” He looks back down at your arm before his hands move up to your shoulders. “I would never do anything to hurt you…I wouldn’t let anyone do anything to you.” You nod knowingly and look back at the floor as your tears continue to flow. “Why are you crying? You’re gonna survive.” His hand moves up to wipe your tears off.
“I guess I was just scared of losing you.” You explain. He tilts your chin up to look at you before kissing your forehead, leaning his on yours afterwards.
“You’re not gonna lose me.”
─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───
a/n: yall it felt like going to WAR to get this shit out omg i literally couldn’t finish writing it for the life of me bc i’ve been soooo unmotivated BUT I FEEL BETTER NOWWW so i’m down to take even more requests i think i have one left in my inbox that will be worked on today and tmr and will probably be posted tmr :> THANK U ANON FOR THE REQUEST IT WAS PERFECT!!! (sorry for the ending being so shitty fhndnfnfnfn)
#carl grimes#the walking dead#twd#carl grimes twd#carl grimes fanfiction#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes x fem!reader#carl grimes x reader#carl grimes x y/n#carl grimes the walking dead#the walking dead carl#twd fanfiction#fanfic
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Seven Sentence Sunday 💜🖤🩶🤍
Tagged by @tizniz @thekristen999 thank you 🩷
Here we go with a later chapter of where things are getting a bit clearer for Eddie in his journey. Sharing this because the chapter I’m about to post for How can we dance when I silenced the song is a bit 😞 for poor Eddie.
Buck is casting glances his way again, he’s obviously fighting the urge to come talk to him. Obviously Eddie is always happy to talk to Buck but right now it won’t be about anything simple, with a face like that it will be about ‘The Book.’ That’s how Eddie thinks about the paperback sitting by his bedside.
‘The Book’ - a gift from his friend that changed so much. He’s not really ready to talk to anyone about it yet , it’s still new still private and his. He’s still thinking about what he thinks he’s learnt, is learning about himself. Things shifted in his head as he read through the chapters, devouring each one, then turning to the internet to find out more, to find out everything about these new words and ideas.
@monsterrae1 @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @loserdiaz @bi-buckrights @rogerzsteven @fiona-fififi @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon @weewootruck @stagefoureddiediaz @wikiangela @elvensorceress @ronordmann @lover-of-mine @watchyourbuck @loveyouanyway @honestlydarkprincess @daffi-990 @underwaterninja13 @diazsdimples @eddiebabygirldiaz and anyone else who wants to share 💜
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per aspera ad inferi ; chapter one
[aka: the university ghouls fic]
aeon & dew (ghost band)
general | gen | 1.7k words | alternate universe (university), transmasc aeon, slow burn, general domestic niceness
tagging @midnight-moth for the biscuit tin idea that makes an appearance in this chapter and also for cheering this au on <3 same goes for @divine-misfortune and @ghoultrifle, thank you for indulging me in my university ghouls rambles and adding to the brainrot <3 i hope this first chapter lives up to your expectations :)
snippet and ao3 link under the cut !!
He smiles awkwardly and looks down at his lap. “Thanks, Mum…” He tightens his grip on the biscuit tin that’s resting on his knees. The two of them spent all of yesterday afternoon in the kitchen together baking batches upon batches of his favourite chocolate biscuits to take with him. The tin on his lap is filled to the brim but it’s barely half of what they made together, the rest are in a selection of reusable plastic containers, the idea being that once Aeon has eaten the biscuits he’ll be able to use the containers for storing things or bringing his own lunch to places instead of buying it. He takes the lid off of the tin on his lap and brings it to his nose, sniffing deeply. Chocolate. He’s sure over the next few weeks, he’ll come to associate the smell and taste of these biscuits with home and his mum but he doesn’t mind, there are much worse scents to associate with home, he reasons. He picks one of the biscuits up and silently offers it to his mum without looking away from the tin.
He doesn’t need to hear the smile in her voice to know that she’s glancing over at him briefly with that ever-knowing look in her eye. “Thank you, love. You should have one too, chase those nerves away with chocolate-y goodness.”
“I’m not nervous,” he lies, pointedly ignoring the weight of his mum’s gaze—the heaviness thankfully lessened due to the fact that she’s mostly focussing on the road. “...Okay fine, I’m a little nervous,” he admits, not that he needed to, given that the two of them already knew it, but it’s nice to speak the words out loud to an actual human for once. Up until now the only ‘person’ he’s admitted it to has been his favourite stuffed toy in the nights leading up to his departure, which, no matter how many different ways he thinks about, makes him feel ridiculously childish, despite the fact that he’s currently on his way to start university. He knows that lots of people his age and older still have stuffed animals and plushies of all varieties but he’s never met anyone that still talks to them in the way that he does. It doesn’t bother him much usually, but the fact that he’s going to be sharing a room with someone he’s never met before—someone who might judge him—is beginning to affect him more and more the closer he gets to campus.
“I can hear you thinking over there.” His mum’s voice breaks through the beginnings of his internal spiralling. “What’s going on, hun? Talk to me.”
“I’m just nervous about meeting my roommate,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing serious.”
[read the rest on ao3 !!]
#IT'S HERE IT'S HERE IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEEE#university ghouls#aeon ghoul#phantom ghoul#nameless ghouls#the band ghost#husband writes
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Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 4
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader
Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,
Word Count: 741
Previously On...: Steve made some confessions.
A/N: Finally, resolutions!
NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates
Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!
Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!
Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43
Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc
You sat there, staring off into space for several moments. You couldn’t believe that had just happened. Was there no end to the number of times a super soldier would betray you?
Bucky cleared his throat after a few silent minutes. “I’ll… I’ll leave you alone now, doll,” he said. “‘M sure I’m one of the last people you want to see right now.”
He made to leave, but you called him back. “Buck, no,” you said. He turned around and looked at you quixotically. “Stay. We’re not done.”
He swallowed, then nodded, coming back to sit in the armchair next to your bed. “Yeah, okay,” he said.
“Did you mean what you said,” you asked, looking up at him. “Back in Atlantic City? When you said you were self-sabotaging?”
Bucky narrowed his eyes at you in confusion, as if that was the last topic of conversation he expected you to bring up right now. “When, uh… when you broke things off, for good, after Russia, I started seeing Raynor a lot more frequently. Like, two hours a day, every day,” he offered. “I needed to understand why I kept ruining things, especially when you make me so damned happy. It didn’t make sense to me.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, didn’t make much sense to me, either,” you told him with a smirk, but he didn’t catch it.
“She told me, and I’m paraphrasin’ here, that, despite all the progress I’ve made, I still haven’t forgiven myself for the things I’ve done as the Winter Soldier,” he said, fidgeting with his metal fingers. “And, because I haven’t forgiven myself, I can’t see myself as being worth being loved, being happy. So, I did things, behaved in ways that proved I shouldn’t be. Like a, uh… ‘self-fulfilling prophecy,’ she said.
“She said that I created a loop, a cycle, where I kept makin’ fucked up decisions because I kept expectin’ to fuck up,” he continued. “Like, of course I hurt you, because I was scared of hurting you, if that makes sense? She said Carthage was like a mirror. When I sought validation from her, I was really seeking it from myself. I don’t necessarily know if I buy that,” he chuckled humorously. “Feels like it lets me off the hook too easily, but the doc seems to think it makes sense.”
You nodded, considering his words. “I thought you said she was a shitty quack,” you said after a moment.
Bucky looked at you questioningly. “I did.”
“Sounds to me like you owe her a ‘thank you,’” you said, smiling at him. “What did she tell you to do about it?”
Bucky shrugged. “She called me a fucking dumbass, to start. Told me real love isn’t about whether or not you think you’re worthy of someone; it’s about working to be worthy of someone, to keep striving to be the best version of yourself for them. She said I needed to learn how to be honest, with you, and myself, to let you know when I’m struggling, to open up so we can help each other carry our burdens, and not hide mine away because I’m afraid.”
“She sounds a lot smarter than you’ve ever given her credit for,” you teased gently.
Bucky snorted. “Never let her hear you say that,” he said. “I won’t hear the end of it.”
“Can I ask you a question?” he said, after a moment of silence. You nodded. “Did you mean what you said, in front of Carthage, that you wished we could start fresh? Build something new? Something better?”
You nodded again. “With my whole heart,” you told him.
Bucky seemed to take a moment to contemplate your words before he stuck out his hand.
“‘M Bucky,” he said.
You scoffed playfully. “What the hell kind of name is ‘Bucky’?” you asked with a grin.
“I dunno,” he said with an answering grin of his own. “What the hell kind of name is Pocket?”
You grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled him to you, slotting your mouth over his and feeling his smile against your lips.
“POCKET!” you heard Tony shout from behind the closed door. “He’s been in there long enough! The people demand to know! What the ‘F’ Is It?”
You and Bucky broke apart from your kiss, foreheads pressed together as you both laughed. Yeah, you thought with a smile, the two of you were going to be okay.
<- Previous Part / Next Part ->
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu bucky barnes#james barnes
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can we maybe get curt cockwarming bucky,, but he’s just unable to sit still and is being all bratty about it since he wants to get off but bucky won’t let him 👀
This is not the one and only cockwarming ask I’ve gotten! And anon, while there is some gentle kinda cockwarming in this… there’s a lot more happening too…. Because like I’ve said before. I need a muzzle.
(I kinda just did whatever I wanted.)
Top punk baby princess Curtie in this.
Bye
This has been very sloppily edited. It’s pure smut and filth if there’s any weird errors just ignore them and love me for my flaws.
I blame @swifty-fox for a lot of what is in this. But also I blame myself for being the one to write it. 🫶🏼
Look at their beautiful art for our baby Punk Princess Curtie!!
Here’s their art tag. They spoil me daily 🩷
☣️THIS PARTICULAR DRABBLE IS LONG AS ALL FUCKIN HELL AND IS A MESS. ☣️
Because there was no specifications made, this is yet another addition to our Lucky Charms AU!
If you’re not LOCKED IN for THESE THINGS, do not read : Curt and Rosie arguments, injuries and mentions of blood, lowkey blood play, TOP CURTIS, bottom Bucky, Sub Bucky turned Dom real quick, crying, whining, spit, kinda cockwarming? I tried for the circumstances I swear, Daddy is used a few times . Oh. And Green Day.
I definitely have more cockwarming requests. So a cute and sleepy cockwarming drabble will probably happen eventually.
Bucky’s place wasn’t close to campus, but if Curt managed to catch a lift from Rosie or one of his girlfriends, then he’d manage to bribe them into dropping him off near the skate park which was only about a fifteen minute ride away from Bucky’s, if he was really putting his back into it.
He’d gone a week without seeing either of them, and while FaceTime was certainly one of the greatest modern inventions to exist, it didn’t do anyone justice — either the bar Curt was in was too loud, Bucky couldn’t figure out how to add Gale successfully to their call or Curt was balls deep in an essay about the Navier-Stokes Equations and Computational Fluid Dynamics while the other two had free time.
“I can’t go all the way to his place, Curt. I got work in like — fuck. Twenty minutes.” Rosie stared at his watch, gaze fluttering to land on Curt who stood in front of him, batting his lashes as he held his board at his hip.
“C’mon, Rosie. You’re arrangin’ bouquets all day, not protecting the government from cybersecurity attacks.” Curt stepped forward and tapped his nose. “At least not yet, Mister Digital Forensics.” His lashes fluttered again. “How ‘bout the park, then?”
When Rosie told Curt he’d gotten a job as part-time florist downtown, he’d laughed right in his face.
Ain’t no way!
Rosie stared straight at Curt, his lips tugged into a solemn line.
Wait — yo, forreal?
“I’ll — fuck — hey, Monday I’ll get you a coffee. How’s that, hm? For your troubles.” Curt made his voice sound sweet, stood before Rosie with his headphones around his neck, a loose tshirt hanging to his thighs, cutoffs revealing his scabby knees.
He blew an obnoxious bubble with his gum into Rosie’s contemplative face.
A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders sagging under the weight of resignation as he realized that continuing this argument with Curt would consume more time and energy than simply giving in. "Fine," Rosie conceded, his tone exhausted. "But you owe me a muffin, too.”
Curt flashed him a smirk once he’d plopped into the passenger seat of Rosie’s old Bronco where nothing but FM sports radio played through the muddied coaxial far older than them.
They chirped at each other for a little while about sports. None of which Curt knew a thing about besides what Bucky had told him. “Well, B says they got a good season ‘head of ‘em.” Curt popped a bubble between his teeth again, fingers fiddling with the too-loose trucks of his board to tighten them.
“You listen to everything he says?” Rosie shot a sidelong glance at Curtis, a brow risen. “It’s almost like you have no singular thoughts these days.” He continued, though he shouldn’t have. “Bucky this, Bucky that.”
The radio statics, but drones on.
That’s baseball for you folks. The Kawasaki kid has ice in his veins! One swing of the bat can change everything.
“I got plenty’a thoughts of my own.” Curt grit his teeth but forced his jaw to relax the moment he heard Gale in the back of his head, reminding him right away that his first reaction is rarely ever his best.
Relax, Curt. Take a deep breath. It’s nothing to get all bent out of shape about. Tell me a few things you can see. What do you taste? What do you smell? What can you touch?
Redbuds blooming in early spring, spent bubblegum, the leak in Rosie’s busted exhaust, the textured and worn down urethane of the wheels on his board.
“Hardly.” Rosie drummed his fingers over his steering wheel absentmindedly, reducing himself to the songs in his head since the radio in his car failed to work half the time. “You think he’s gonna keep you around when you’re graduated? Or, god forbid, you turn twenty-six and Ruthie doesn’t pay for your health insurance anymore? Officially too old for Attorney at Law, Bucky Egan.”
They hadn’t talked about Gale all that much besides the fact that he and Bucky often worked on case studies together and were usually working the same if not similar court dockets — a good friend who he certainly hadn’t dropped to his knees for.
“Fuck off with that.” Curt waved his hand at Rosie, his head shaking in disbelief and his expression one of grand theatrics. “Ain’t mine or nobody else’s fault you ain’t been laid in months. Maybe if you weren’t such a fuckin’ downer, man,” he pulled his shirt up to tighten the shoelace threaded through his belt loops. “You been on my back about it now for a while.”
“Well, all you do is talk about ‘em.”
“And, so what!?” Curt tapped his board a few times over the dashboard to taunt him and make a big, loud fuss. “You goddamn leech! You suck the fuckin’ life outta me, Robbie!” Curt was huffing through his nose, red in his cheeks and far from remembering the things he could see, taste, smell and touch. “You know Nora calls you Rosie Raincloud?” He was being venomous now, his fangs deep in Rosie’s flesh. “‘Cause you fuckin’ smother us with it, Robert. We hardly know what to say to you these days.”
Rosie had stomped his foot over the brake in one of the picturesque neighborhoods, nestled in a dreamy suburban wasteland, so different from the city.
His chin wobbled and his gaze denied Curt the satisfaction of seeing it reduced to a puddle — that hurt, but he could only really blame himself.
It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a swing at Curtis Biddick and got hit back twice as hard.
“You don’t gotta say nothin’.” Curt swung the passenger side door open and jumped out, his head sticking into the window for one last twist of the knife in Rosie’s chest. “Coffee shop ain’t even fuckin’ open on Mondays.”
Rosie peeled off, leaving Curt to hop on his board and kick his legs as hard and fast as he possibly could, his headphones tugged back over his ears and the volume turned up as loud as it could go.
City of the dead, at the end of another lost highway.
Signs misleading to nowhere
He tried his hardest not to think about how he had acted, and the things he had said to Rosie — in truth, Curt was better equipped to handle what Rosie had been saying to him since after all it was his own opinion, which he’d reserved the right to.
Curt didn’t need to scream at him the way he did, or bring up Rosie’s sudden knack for draping a wet blanket over every conversation.
It didn’t get them anywhere.
His mind drifted so far away and his chest heaved with ragged breaths as he kicked his legs to the beat of the drum line in the song he listened to.
Angry, sloppy, reckless.
He stopped to take out some energy on the railings of concrete neighborhood staircases, finding his inability to make it down all the way in a front side a new irritant to focus on instead of the guilt he felt for hurting Rosie before his shift at the flower shop.
Until sunset he occupied his mind — or, until his exhausted body had failed him for the last time and sent his face into concrete. “I hear ya.” He mumbled at the sky, assuming it was all karmic as he reached into the grass nearby to grab his phone which had flown out of his pocket the first time the railing swiped him right between his ass cheeks and straight to his tailbone.
His body ached, his screen was cracked, there was glass in his thumb.
He hardly announced his presence anymore, fucking up the gate code a few times due to the shakiness of his fingers and dropping his keys to his feet while he attempted to unlock the front door, a wild and unabashed string of cocksuckingmotherfuckingpiecesofshit falling from his lips once he’d kicked the door closed with the back of his heel, limping into the kitchen to nose around for a snack, although he had really expected Bucky to be on his second glass of wine by then, his iPad an inch from his face as he browsed the internet for a new dinner recipe.
“Hey,” Bucky called from the garden where he lounged in his tightest swimming shorts — the ones that showed off the thick muscle of his thighs and the curve of his toned hips. “Hey!” He’d been calling to Curtis from the open French doors that lead to the pool, the sun still too bright to realize Curt was bleeding from an unknown source on his face with his headphones still blaring music into his brutalized eardrums.
Where have all the bastards gone?
The underbelly stacks up ten high.
“Dammit, Curtis.” Bucky got up from where he was laying, riddled with irritation that Curt didn’t come squealing into his lap like he always did, attacking him like a sucker fish on any bit of skin he left visible.
His footsteps weren’t detected by Curt that peeled a string cheese layer by layer, half of his body reaching into the fridge to find something else to eat. “If you’re gonna use my money for things like this, at least give me the satisfaction of -“ he’d reached to pull Curt’s headphones away from his ears which had inadvertently caused Curt to whip around, bright blue eyes starkly contrasted by the flow of crimson that stained his lips and neck.
This wasn’t the first time, nor the last.
Still, Bucky let out a sigh as Curt continued to feed himself strings of cheese, blinking up at Bucky as if nothing had been out of place — though, even John would admit, this got easier each time.
“What was it this time?”
Curt sighed, his shoulders shrugging. “Don’t even remember.”
He was so lost in his own thoughts about his fight with Rosie that he could hardly recall what he had landed and what he hadn’t — he had no notes to give himself and nothing he could set his intentions to improve on later.
He threw his body around for four hours and got nothing out of it. And, not to mention, he may have lost a friend.
Bucky shoved his face in Curt’s neck once he’d pulled him nearer, so damp with sweat and radiating heat like the surface of the sun. So bright, so warm, so absolutely gorgeous. “Need to keep all your braincells the way they are.” He murmured, drawing in the scent of him while his lips pressed kisses to the salty heat on the soft flesh of his neck.
Curt still felt sore about what he’d done to Rosie but with Bucky in front of him like this, his hands groping his sides to pull him closer, it grew more and more difficult to think about anything else. “C’mon, m’fuckin’ filthy, Bucky.” He whispered, his voice barely there.
“Oh, I know.”
The sun continued to set beneath the hedges in the garden and the breeze that blew through the open doors had cooled him down enough, but Bucky had done very little to stop his sweating — his palms splayed over the softness of Curt’s hips, the small of his back, the curve of his neck. “You need me to kiss it all better, don’t you?” Bucky could taste the metallic sting dance over his tastebuds. “Need me to lick you clean, hm?”
Curt had still felt the hot sting of anger in his belly, the annoyance with himself for getting it all wrong, the frustration of having no control over what he said, his emotions, and how he reacted to them.
He pushed himself forward, chest to Bucky’s until he was backed into the center island, his skin stained down to the neck of his tshirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” The blue of his iris had darkened like the deepest parts of the ocean — the most dangerous. “Can’t wait to have me down your throat, huh?”
Bucky could hardly suppress the expression coloring his features as a searing chill trickled over every inch of his body. “Fuck,” his palms flattened again over Curt’s sides and down to the curve of his ass where he grabbed two handfuls, pressing his body closer and closer. “Look at you.”
He looked fucked up on himself, mesmerized by his own power, his own influence — Bucky was the softest, warmest putty between his bloody fingers. “Been thinkin’,” Curt grabbed Bucky’s jaw, forcing his lips to part as his own grew inches away. “When you cut your finger. Made me think, ya know — it made your face get all screwed up, made you whine a little.”
Bucky had sliced his finger clean open on a new set of knives Gale got him for Christmas months ago, the blades still sharp as the day he brought them out of the box.
“Think you can make me whine?” Bucky’s voice had drawn itself deep into his chest, teased by Curt who leaned himself in as if he’d finally give Bucky what he wanted, a true taste of what he knew he was missing out on, just to pull away a flash him a grin with front teeth slicked with blood.
“I can do anything.” Curt chirped back.
He pressed his hand into Bucky’s chest again, the other cradling his jaw as he walked him backward and himself forward, a wall behind them eventually where Curt slotted his leg between Bucky’s thick thighs. “What’s the over under?”
Bucky liked to gamble with his work buddies on Saturdays.
Curt would sit by idly near a high stakes poker table or the screen where Bucky and his friends would bet on ponies and he’d drink boozy milkshakes and flirt with the cocktail waitresses he had no interest in for a couple complimentary vouchers for the buffet where he only used the soft serve machine or the gift shop where a collection of cute coffee mugs were sold, and he had his heart set on acquiring them all without spending a dime.
“Not a chance.” Bucky tilted his head back against the wall, his narrow gaze fixed on Curt who hooked his fingers over the waistband of Bucky’s swimming shorts. “I don’t make bets on thoroughbreds without a track record, baby.”
Curt had yet to reveal this particular side of himself.
Sure, he was tough.
He’d bust his lip, his ass or his nose and get back up giggling. He’d fall off and get right back on. He’d argue his side of the story, he’d stand firm in his beliefs.
But he’d never claimed to be dominant in the way he’s portraying now.
The fact that he could wasn’t so much a shock, it was that he chose right then to do it.
“Smart man.” Curt shoved his fingers into Bucky’s mouth, holding him still with his thumb curved beneath his jaw. “On your knees.” He hooked his fingers a little tighter and guided Bucky down to where he balanced on his haunches until his knees fell forward, forcing him to sit on his folded legs where Bucky stared up at him expectantly.
So fucking beautiful.
He already knew what to do, as he’d done it for Curt plenty — his cutoffs were shucked down to his ankles and kicked across the room, his bloody tshirt following suit. Bucky had a hard time figuring how he’d be the one whining instead of Curt until he felt the familiar sensation of tiny fingers threading through his thick brown waves, tugged a little tighter than ever before.
“Go on,” Curt whispered in a shallow breath, “Get me wet for you.”
Bucky could hardly believe his ears, the shock drawing him quickly to obey a Curtis who was typically mounting himself over Bucky right about now, spouting off about how Bucky’s cock is so big and how he can feel it in his tummy.
He worked his tongue over every curve and vein of Curt’s cock only for hips to be drawn closer to his face, his eyes brimming with a sudden surge of cock-teased tears, “Fuck,” Curt grumbled, the blood drying now over his still damp and glimmering skin. “Look so fuckin’ hot with a cock down your throat.”
Rather quickly the spot in Curt’s belly where he held his rage earlier was replaced by the butterfly feeling of having Bucky’s mouth on him — until, of course, Curt had coaxed him into position atop an expensive area rug in the living room, knelt between his thighs once he’d removed Bucky’s slutty swim shorts from his hips.
“Didn’t know how pretty ya’d look like this.” Curt took in the sight of a pink-cheeked Bucky, his thighs spread and his cock achingly hard, curved deliciously over the little trail of hair beneath his bellybutton.
He’d yet to let out a whine, but if he didn’t feel Curtis closer to him soon, he’d be waving a white flag as he went down with the ship. “Kiss me,” it came out in an almost bashful plea as his eyes scanned the lips before him, the dull dried blood brought to life again each time Curt licked his lips. “Please.”
“Ohh,” it was an almost taunting coo. “Got your manners, huh?” A dribble of spit slid past Curt’s parted lips and between Bucky’s spread thighs, his cock slicked gently past the hole that tensed at the sensation. “Relax for me.” Curt whispered, his hips grinding his length against Bucky’s which already twitched. “Show me how good you are.”
Bucky hardly knew if he was able to be good, but he’d try. “Please.” He whispered again, though he was careful not to allow his desperation to show. “Just fuckin’ kiss me.”
Curt rolled his eyes, spitting again but that time it was at Bucky’s chest, tinged pink from the blood still lingering on his tongue. “You don’t make the rules, John.” He basked again at the sight before him — glowing cheekbones, parted lips, hands reaching to spread the dampness Curt had spat onto him around his chest and into his own mouth.
“Not when I got you lookin’ like this.”
It seemed Bucky had leaned into it, his body still tense but his eyes soft as could be.
Curt rut his hips between his cheeks, a rumbled string of groans bubbling from his loins as his right hand milked a couple little pearls of precum from Bucky’s cock that throbbed beneath his grip. “Y’like this, don’t you?” He whispered softly, his usual playfulness still dripping over every word; sticky sweet.
“Yeah, baby.” Bucky gasped, still willing his gaze to focus on what was before him although he was hardly able to discern if it was real or not. “Gonna fuck me?” He felt another sting of anticipation dance over each notch of his spine.
Curt grinned deviously, little body slotted between Bucky’s thighs that could easily overpower him but wouldn’t dare. At least not yet. “Need to get you ready for me,” he reached forward, his fingers slid gently into Bucky’s mouth and over his soft, warm tongue.
It wasn’t long before Curt could hardly stave off his excitement, fingers gentle but prodding against Bucky’s hole that took a finger to the knuckle easier than he’d been expecting, a gasp following suit. “Fuck,” Bucky whispered, his hips instinctively twitching at the unfamiliar sensation. “Fuck — fuck, fuck,”
A second finger, a third.
Lube from a drawer in the coffee table slicked over Curt’s thick fingers as he worked them into Bucky whose brows furrowed, pillowy pink lips parted as gentle huffs escaped them.
“Talk to me, Daddy.” Curt whispered, knelt down between Bucky’s thighs like a predator sizing up its prey that just so happened to be twice the size of himself. “Do I make you feel good?” His fingers worked Bucky open while he pressed rough and starved kisses over his thighs that twitch every now and then.
“Yeah, baby.” Bucky sucked a breath between his teeth, his heart flipping in his chest once Curt’s fingers had found his prostate.
He held in a whine that crept up on him in the very back of his throat and Curtis could tell. “Such a good fuckin’ boy, Curtie. Fuck —“ Bucky threaded his fingers through Curt’s hair, chest heaving once his fingers found a rhythm.
Curt could hardly believe his eyes, falling in love again with a new version of Bucky he’d never met before — all soft hues of pink and deliciously tanned skin, lips glistening with spit and his gorgeous eyes half-hidden behind eyelids that fluttered. “You look so pretty like this.” He mouthed at Bucky’s balls and the base of his cock, pressing sweet kisses against his sensitive skin.
Bucky could hardly deny himself what he wanted anymore as he whispered a gentle plea, “Fuck me.”
Curt hummed between his legs, sitting up slowly to observe yet another angle once he’d carefully withdrew from Bucky altogether to line their hips up, his cock eventually replacing the fingers that gripped Bucky’s thighs instead to spread them wider. “Think you’re ready?” He leaned his chest over Bucky’s, chaste kisses pressed against his open mouth.
“Mhmmm.” Bucky mustered, their kisses hot and wet and sloppy — uncoordinated and needy. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than this. “Put that big cock to use for once.”
An interesting spot he was in to be making snide remarks, Curtis thought, and so he gave him exactly what he’d wanted.
He lined himself up nice and gentle before snapping his hips forward, pulling Bucky closer by his thighs once he’d abruptly buried himself within the tight, wet heat before him.
And there it was.
A long winded whine that started low and gentle had died out high-pitched and breathy right into Curtis’ mouth who continued to lick, kiss and nip at Bucky’s wet lips. “Oh, listen to you.” Curt drawled, allowing John to adjust before his hips had found a slow rhythm, watching as the man beneath him writhed.
“Gonna have you fuckin’ cryin’ for my cock all the time now, hm?”
Bucky choked back a whimper he couldn’t even pretend to hide, desperate and sweat slicked hands grasping onto Curt — anything to hold. “Feels s-so— fuck, baby - “ he could hardly form a coherent thought once Curt picked up his pace, hand hardly big enough to wrap around Bucky’s throat but he kept a tight grip, nonetheless.
Bucky still felt a little shy about this.
A little out of place.
Eventually, the unfamiliarity and pain had quickly tumbled and grew larger into an indescribable pleasure once Curt’s hips had little to hold back any longer, fucking into Bucky relentlessly who took it like he’d been meant to all along.
Uh-uh-uhs were forced out of him, his thighs spread wider and his eyes managing to focus again when he began to pant like he was reaching the finish line.
Curt was so far from done with him.
“Ah-ah,” he withdrew abruptly, watching Bucky writhe again and attempt to pull him back in. “I got you all worked up, don’t I?” His hands smoothed over Bucky’s damp curls, tugging gently. “Takin’ my cock so good, never knew you were such a fuckin’ —“
Bucky sucked in a deep breath and used his legs to flip Curtis onto his back, knocking the wind out of him.
“Think you’re tough now, huh?” He still looked like a fucked-out mess, his eyes half lidded and his heart pounding in his chest. “Had your cock in me and forgot how easy Daddy can have you gagging for him.”
Curt tried to push Bucky’s hands off of him, his cheeks still slathered in dried blood turning pink beneath the mess. “Had you close-“ his rebuttal was quickly snipped once Bucky had slicked his fingers in with lube and brought them between Curt’s cheeks, hooked into him and pulling him closer.
“Get the fuck off me.” Curt tried to put up a fight but his body had been betraying him as his thighs spread for Bucky, his feet lifted from the floor as he moaned at the roughness of it, a punishment it seemed for denying Bucky the pleasure he’d been so vulnerable to receive.
“Nobody takes it like my baby does,” Bucky basked in the familiarity and the tightness around his fingers that hammered into Curt until his thighs were shaking and the back of his knees dripped in sweat. “Isn’t that right?”
Big, fat tears had once again revived the dried blood that had smeared itself over his face by then, every moan that rattled out of him tumbling into a choked sob. “Fuck you.” He whined, his white flag waved with confidence as he went down with the ship Bucky had since abandoned and yet he still managed to put up a fight. “Mother fucker.”
“Oh, that’s not how good boys behave, Curtis.”
Fingers were replaced with Bucky’s cock, Curt’s features softening at the familiar sensation, the one thing he’d ask for on death row.
This is his truest Last Supper.
There was no movement by Bucky, though.
He buried his cock deep into Curtis, swearing to himself that when they were just like this, he could see the bulge of his cock in Curtis’ little belly. “You know what happens when you’re bad, don’t you?”
“I wasnt!” Curt barked, desperately trying to withdrawal from Bucky and snap his hips back again. “I wasn’t bad - I- I wasn’t-“ he was a mess of tears again, the emotions of the day crashing down on him in a heap. “You fuckin’ cocksuckin’—“
The exam he failed, his fight with Rosie, his busted face, and now this.
“Nah,” Bucky held Curt’s thighs to his chest, his cock staying right in its place, not an inch of movement. “Gonna stay just like this until you can show me how sorry you are.”
There, Bucky realized, was his place.
He had never minded being vulnerable with Curtis — in fact, vulnerability was his strong suit.
At first, he was the worst out of the two when it came to expressing his feelings, his thoughts and his emotions.
In the end it was only ever because of the judgement he feared of receiving for loving Curtis. Someone younger than himself, more reckless, with more life to live.
“I’m sorry,” Curt sniffled loudly, a puddle of old blood, tears and a runny nose that threatened to bleed again, the drip metallic and sour in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry — I - I’ll never be bad again, I promise.”
They both knew a lie when they heard one.
“I’m so good for you.” Curt arched his back, anything for a little friction against his suddenly neglected and angry looking cock. “Look at me — I’m all yours, Bucky. Every part of me — I—“ he sobbed again, reaching down to touch himself but he was abruptly denied, his wrists held above his head. “Fuck me till I can’t fuckin’ breathe.”
Bucky felt sick for being so turned on.
A whimpering, whining, crying Curtis before him with a hot and hard cock that leaked beautifully against the little trail of hair below his bellybutton. “Oh, my pretty baby.” He cooed, reaching forward to wipe his crybaby tears away and granting him just a bit of movement when he did. “I couldn’t let you forget, honey — look what I’ve done to you.”
Curt tried again to surge forward and gain an upper hand, but it was disastrously useless.
Bucky was far stronger than he, even despite being fucked open just a moment ago. “Dunno what I’m gonna do with you.” He murmured, pulling away from Curtis at once and bringing him gently to his feet, holding him against the wall where Bucky felt he’d be doing his knees and Curt’s back a favor once he lifted him up off the ground and around his waist.
It was brutal after that, and for once Curt was unsure he could handle it. “Too much! T-too much,” he whimpered, but Bucky could hardly be bothered. “It’s too much — I can’t-“
If it was truly too much, Curt knew what he needed to say.
A safe word was set in stone the first time Curt had passed out and hit the floor, his brow split open.
All he cared about when he came to was finishing, though — even with an almost-crying Bucky and Gale in his face, worried beyond reason.
“Yes, you can, baby.” Bucky groaned, knowing full well Curt’s orgasm was dependent on the completion of his own.
Didn’t matter how much Curt was fucked.
If he wasn’t full of it, he just couldn’t get off.
A rather endearing blessing, but a curse just the same.
“I can’t Bucky, I can’t.” A wreck he was — and Bucky loved reducing him to such a state. Babbling, whining, his voice strained through the tears he choked on. “S’too much.”
Luckily, it was enough to sputter Bucky’s hips forward, hips rolling into Curt to milk his orgasm while Curt’s hole fluttered around his cock, his little body pulsing as he threw his head back against the wall where he thumped a few brain cells loose.
Bucky reached up to hold the back of his head, clicking his tongue. “There you go, honey,” he whispered gently to a Curtis whose body trembled through an earth shattering orgasm, “Let it all go, baby. Look at how much you’re givin’ me.”
Curt’s body was covered in sweat, blood, tears and now a splattered mess of his devotion to Bucky — hot and wet; sticky and so fucking sweet.
Bucky plopped them both onto the couch, Curt’s body wrapping around him and refusing to give his cock back despite it growing softer by the minute. “I love you.” He hiccuped into Bucky’s neck, the emotions flooding back to him once he’d been dumped right back into his reality — the one where he failed his test and more than likely lost a friend. “So much.”
“C’mon, Curt. Y’know I love you more than anything.” Bucky smoothed his hands over Curt’s damp curls, pulling his face away from the curve of his neck to look at him. “What’s goin’ on with you?”
He couldn’t talk about it now.
Just wanted to be here, in Bucky’s lap, the warmth of their love still burning inside him. “Later.” He whispered, sniffling loudly. “I’ll tell you later.”
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