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jeanbie · 3 months

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FANTASIZE ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, fem!human!reader, semi-public sex, piv sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, breeding kink, cumming inside, glowy cum | wc: 16k | ♬

note: i've been promoted to: avatar writer. my first time writing for it (def not my last!) lemme know what u think ;-) also his smirk in the header....GET INSIDE ME

★ ⏤ fantasize | all the time (if you were mine)

⏤ It's official - Jake is sick and tired of Norm giving him shit. While he can't claim to know as much about Pandora as Norm does, there's still a few things Jake can afford to do to piss him off even more for the fun of it, and it just so happens that Norm's sister works as a scientist in the lab - which to Jake spells perfect revenge in its simplest form.

It’s official — Jake has had enough of Norm’s bitching and whining.

For the last two months, Jake has endured a lot, more than he ever asked for or wanted; whether it was Neytiri on his ass about becoming an Omatikaya and never missing a single beat of training for it, Grace nagging him about video logs, or even Norm giving him so much shit over every single thing he didn’t spend three years learning in simulations and classrooms — he’s sat and listened to all of it without complaint.

Jake has never once fought back, never once raised his own grievances about how tedious and time-consuming everything actually is on one man’s shoulders, and yet it all keeps coming.

The worst thing is that he can understand all of it to an extent. There’s a necessary need for attentiveness when learning the ways of the Omatikaya, and the longer it takes, the worse his chances get with the rest of the clan. The video logs? They’re not that important, Jake thinks, but it keeps Grace off his back for the small kernel of time he actually spends in the real world and not inside of his avatar.

But with Norm, Jake can’t seem to understand what is actually bothering him enough to be so goddamn bitter about every little thing.

Of course, he’ll never fit into Tom’s shoes, not in the way everybody expects him to. He didn’t spend three years of his life learning how to control an avatar or how to function on Pandora — every day is quite literally a learning experience, a practical education that neither a lab nor a stuck up prick like Norm can teach.

And, while he’s on the subject, Jake actually thought Norm would be a decent ally, at least until he almost died and got saved — with reluctance — by the daughter of the Olo’eyktan and somehow ended up being thrust into learning their way of life.

Nobody seems to remember the giant part of the story concerning how he almost got devoured by an oversized dog in the process.

Instead, Norm wants to bitch about how Jake knows nothing, and treats him like a genuine idiot. Jake might be a few years short of being educated on the Na’vi, but he’s not stupid. He can still do stuff, stuff that Norm can’t; but reasoning with the man is like trying to convince the Na’vi that the Sky People are actually friends and not foes, and it’s pretty obvious that that’s never going to happen.

When Norm begins his daily ritual of berating Jake on his lack-of knowledge regarding the Hallelujah Mountains that surround their shitty little containment, Jake’s willing to sit through it and take it like a champion.

Norm starts weaving his conspiracies to the cluster of scientists about how Jake is a terrible candidate for joining the Omatikaya clan and that all he cares about is sucking up to the Chief’s daughter — not true, by the way, for Neytiri can only stomach being near Jake because she has to and on rare occasions, he can do something absurdly dumb to make her laugh — and Jake begins to mentally tap out of the debate, rolling his eyes to the side and sighing as he watches you duck your head through a low archway with a bowl of slop in your hands.

Jake watches you for around three seconds before the lightbulb flickers alight above his head.

And then he grins.

It’s hard to believe that you and Norm are related — Jake can’t find any similarities between the two of you. You’re incredibly compassionate and communicative, never letting Jake suffer in his silent struggle of stupidity, and not to mention you’re incredibly beautiful; whereas Norm is just… Norm. A bitter, angry, red-faced man who does a piss poor job at hiding his insatiable jealousy of how wasting your life in a classroom or behind a book actually means very little in the grand scheme of achieving your goals.

Example A: Jake of the Jarhead clan, ex-military, future Omatikaya. Cross-reference to Norm: sad loser. Jake signs his name on the mental essay he’s compiling as Norm drones on about culture and ignorance and narrows his gaze on you as you close in on the group.

Jake’s actually always liked you. You’re a no nonsense kind of woman who loves science and the Na’vi, and, unlike your brother, you actually treat him like an equal. Even now, as you slip next to him and lean back against the low metal work-surface, you meet Jake’s gaze with an eye-roll and smile, and his grin only widens from it.

Oh, how he loves that you like him. Although you spend so much time engrossed in your work and documenting on paper whatever Jake recites from his daily activities within the clan, Jake happens to know that you like him, and in hindsight, it’s never been a secret. For the first time, Jake lets himself consider the possibility of that being just another reason for Norm to suddenly despise him, but the idea warms his stomach rather than churns it.

“I can totally see Jake ruining all of our chances at building bridges by just burning them all together,” Norm huffs, folding his arms and wrangling a dirty glare in his direction. Jake welcomes it with the same smile that’s been blooming over his face for the past two minutes, which worsens Norm’s mood.

“I don’t see you building any bridges, either,” you say to Norm. “Jake’s been more valuable to this program than you have as of late.”

Norm bristles. “One of us has actually been doing research while the other is trying to seduce an Olo’eyktan’s daughter—”

“Jake’s doing field research, Norm,” Grace says, her eyes still glued to her microscope. “And he knows better than to seduce anybody when we haven’t properly studied the relations between Na’vi and avatars yet. And there are bigger issues at stake right now.”

��I can get results on that if you want me to,” Jake offers.

“No, Jake.”

Jake shrugs. While Norm continues his tirade against Jake’s rather noble endeavours with the Omatikaya, he turns his gaze back towards you and lets his mental clogs turn.

At this point, Jake thinks that even if you agreed with some of Norm’s points, it wouldn’t make any difference. There is absolutely nothing he can do to please Norm, and so maybe he should just stop trying. Then again… There’s something hideously funny in how worked up Norm gets when somebody jumps to his defence, particularly you.

And considering most of Norm’s insecurities come from seeds he planted all by himself without any concrete evidence to support most of the points, Jake knows that anything he does from here on out will drive Norm into a slow burning insanity.

“Is it because I’m in a wheelchair?” Jake asks suddenly.

Norm huffs. “Of course not. It’s because you don’t take any of this seriously. Everything is a game to you. All of us here have spent years building up to this assignment while you read a manual and called it a day.”

“What? I’m serious. I’m one of the best avatar drivers here,” Jake says smugly. Grace finally looks over with an irate look — something tells him he wasn’t supposed to tell everyone that she had told him that.

Norm’s face turns a whole new shade of pink.

“I’m also a quick learner. The Omatikaya are trusting me more and more each day, so while I go out there and find out valuable field research for this program—” Jake looks at you with a deliberately sweet look and you laugh quietly, “—you can stay here and look at plants and mud and cells.”

“You probably don’t even know what a cell is.”

“Sure I do. Where they lock up all the bad guys.”

Norm opens his mouth to say something more, probably missing the joke like he does every time, but this time Grace swirls in her chair and sighs loudly, looking between the two of them like they were children.

“Alright, ladies, you’ve measured your dicks at equal length. You’re both doing good work around here, so Norm, why don’t you just let Jake go back to doing his work with the Omatikaya and you can just get some rest. Jesus, you’re both making everyone miserable, it’s affecting my work ethic…”

“Yeah, sweet dreams, Norm,” Jake calls, and Norm gives him a filthy scowl before snatching his things up off the desk, holding them secretively to his chest as he stomps towards the back room lined with their bunks.

Jake feels the dark and evil energy follow him out the room and then he finally looks around the lab in disbelief.

“Jake, go, you’ll be late, don’t keep Neytiri waiting,” Grace reminds him, switching off the bulb to the microscope and stretching her arms as Trudy claps her hands and silently announces her retirement to the bunks after Norm. “Don’t forget to make a log when you get back. Don’t let him forget, will you, Spellman?”

Grace looks at you with a look that suggests no room for negotiation. It was an order. She collects her things, claps Jake on the shoulder and grabs a cigarette from the net by the archway and takes it with her towards her separated bedroom.

When the door to her little cubicle rattles shut, Jake shakes his head with a quiet laugh and rolls himself forward, giving you room to assemble your own work station where he had just been.

“Staying up late tonight?” he asks you, taking a swig of water before pushing one of the buttons to the link unit, waiting as it whirs to life.

You settle your stuff down and walk towards him. “Yep. I actually do have some work on cells to finish up.”

Jake’s lips quirk. “Not your usual ballpark, is it?”

“No, but there’s not really a surplus of Na’vi around here to communicate with,” you say in reply, rummaging with the unit to help Jake into the gel pack mattress. Usually he dismisses the help, but when it’s you helping him get comfy, then he’ll stomach his pride and accept your kindness. He’s surprisingly light, as normal, and you frown.

“Don’t forget about the real world, Jake, you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he assures you. “You need anything while I’m out?”

Another thing that will shave a few years off Norm’s life — Jake bringing you things, extraordinary and otherwise unattainable when stranded in the mountains things for you to study and report. You hum thoughtfully at the offer, pushing his head down softly when he wriggles restlessly, a little to eager to get to whatever he’s doing in the forest tonight.

“If you happen to cross paths with a tsawksyul, a simple cutting would be appreciated,” you tell him, opting for something a little more simple than normal, considering Jake’s busy these days training. “If you don’t forget while you’re busy seducing daughters, of course.”

Jake’s grin returns, if not out of genuine amusement then just to see you smile in return and do the little head-tilt thing that Jake’s discovered he adores.

“Not my thing. More into scientists,” he tells you, watching in the final moments before you shut him in the pod at how you shake your head and turn yourself away from him.

There was no rejection. No refusal. Just a smile.

A smile that sets his plan into motion.

No wonder Norm is always in a terrible mood. You find that his notes on the cells found in the mossy undergrowth of the forest is as chaotic as it can possibly be, which has left you using Grace’s Bible on Pandora botany as a guide and squinting to find the connections between his barely legible notes.

It’s basic knowledge that when cells die and a genetic material begins to unfold, a charge of energy is released; this concept has been the fundamental structural point to Norm’s notes on the moss and how each step at night causes a ricochet of expanding light, but there has to be something more than everybody is missing. Even in Grace’s book, there’s not enough information regarding how it works; if it’s connected to Eywa, if it is a response to another organism, whether it breathes and lives as its own entity.

Alongside Norm’s notes, you very sparingly begin to make an analysis of the communicative features of Pandora plant life, and begin jotting a vocabulary to use in a later research assignment, when a sudden knock against the glass above your head makes you jump quite literally up and out of your seat.

The Hallelujah Mountains are so isolated from the rest of the human population on Pandora and used rarely by the Na’vi during the night, but you distinctly make out Jake’s looming form standing outside with a smile on his face and relax. His skin is a bioluminescent explosion of colour, and for a moment you’re struck dumb staring at him until he waves his hand as if beckoning you outside.

You throw a cautious look over your shoulder, but the lab is silent and still. With that in mind, you reach for one of the exo-packs and shrug on your cardigan hanging on the back of the chair you were just on and hesitantly begin to make your way outside.

Very sparingly have you been outside of Site 26 to explore, and never once on your own. Grace has drilled into you the strict importance of respecting the laboratory rules and curfew, and if you’re going to wander outside after hours in the name of research, then please, wake her up too.

But you won’t be alone out there, not when Jake is waiting for you outside.

Jake drops to a squat in anticipation when the airlock doors to the lab force open with a wheezy breath, and he sees you cautiously step out and secure a button on your cardigan in place. The gesture almost makes him croon. He rarely sees you at night since he’s learned the value of getting rest in between his adventures in his avatar, but now he can’t believe what he’s been missing out on seeing past his bedtime.

You look tired, your hair out of place and messy, but he recognises your attempt to look more alert when you step towards him with a slight bounce.

“Hey, tìyawn,” he calls to you, as you stare up at him even whilst drawing near. Thanks to the crouch, you’re about eye-to-eye, and he watches your expression widen with wonder as you map out the illustrations of light across his nose and cheeks, before sweeping to his forehead, then his neck, and then his bare chest.

“Hey, yourself,” you laugh, finding his eyes again as they glow in the low light. The Pandora skies are littered with stars and balls of unimaginable white light, but even the surrounding forest gathering around the lab to protect it from the harsh dropping winds of the mountains are pulsing with purple light, every single shrub and leaf and plant glowing with life.

Jake stares at you for a moment before producing a gift from behind his leg. You take it from him with a wide and gasping smile.

“No way!”

“Way,” Jake says, watching you handle the flower with so much care that one might assume it would break with your touch. With the way Jake was swinging it around on his way up here, he’s actually shocked that it’s still in one piece, but something in the way you respond to everything Jake does or brings tells him that even if he’d brought a portion of it, you’d be just as pleased.

“Thanks,” you say, turning slightly as you tell him you’re going to put the tsawksyul in the lab for safe-keeping. But Jake reaches his arm out to trap you from leaving, cocking his head to the side with a soft smirk when you round back on him curiously.

“It’s not gonna die if you leave it out here, it’s a flower,” Jake tells you, jerking his head in another direction. “Wanna look around with me?”

You pause, and he can tell you’re genuinely conflicted. Grace said not to leave the vicinity under any circumstances out of respect for the Na’vi and the lab rules. But she also said not to go outside without her, and here you are.

“Grace will be mad if she finds out I’m gone,” you tell him slowly.

“Probably.”

“And Norm.”

Jake feels a rush of something at the mere mention of your brother, and his tail swishes against the rocks behind him.

Jake leans closer to you. “Well, him I don’t care about.”

Mindful of the plant in your hand, you gently push Jake’s chest back until he rolls on his heels, unable to fight the smile on your own face.

“…Where will we be going? I can’t go far just in case Grace wakes up and comes looking for me.”

Jake tilts his head up to the sky and to the top of the mountain peak that houses the lab. From his own experience scouting up there, Jake knows there’s a small incubation of trees that offers a compelling view of the entire mountain range, as well as offering a minor collection of plants he thinks you’ll die over once you see.

But that just wouldn’t be as evil as what he originally had planned. He then rolls his head towards the small section of trees that border the back of the lab, close to where the bunks are, and he then looks back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We’ll stay close,” Jake promises.

You hesitate once again and guiltily look at the lab. It’s not like it’s going anywhere…

“Alright,” you sigh, looking back at Jake and watching his smile widen as if he’s just obtained a great victory. There’s no room in your stomach for suspicion to grow — it’s overrun with butterflies when Jake points his head in the direction of the snug tree line and holds out his finger for you.

You stifle a laugh and reach to hold it, setting the tsawksyul on the ground tucked under the same window he just scared you from and join him on the slow walk to wherever he means to take you.

Being with Jake has always felt easy, but being with Jake’s avatar is practically uncharted territory. It’s a struggle to remember that it is actually the same man you like so badly back in the lab, the same guy who deliberately rams your ankles with his wheelchair just to watch the way you catch yourself as you fall, the same guy who you think uses you as a factor to piss off your brother but in a way that you find strangely attractive.

Now, he’s an almost ten foot Na’vi leading you in the whimsical dark towards a cluster of trees, and you don’t know how to begin separating the feelings you have for Jake from the feeling of nerves you feel around his alter ego.

You can barely make out Jake’s face all the way above your head, not until he feels your stare and looks down at you beside him. There’s a similarity in his human expressions with his Na’vi ones, which is fortunate considering there was a time where you thought the avatar looked more like Tom than it did Jake. Now that they’re one in the same, and now that Jake is in front of you in his avatar form and the feelings you have for him are still lingering, you’re beginning to accept the likeness between the two of them.

“What did you do today?” you ask him, referring to his ritualistic training with Neytiri.

Jake hums thoughtfully. “Nothing compared to Norm, I’m sure.”

At that, you laugh. “I’m seriously asking, Jake.”

“Alright… Neytiri has me reading the signals of the forest whenever we go hunting,” he explains sparingly, seeming not in the mood to talk training now that you’ve reached the lay of forest near the back of the lab. He surveys the setting and the space between the lab and the fringe of leaves and bushes and nods, as if satisfied but then pulls you deeper into the thrush of leaves.

“She says everything’s connected,” he continues. “She also says I’m a terrible shooter.”

“You’re missing your shots?” you tease. Jake turns back to you with a grin that you honestly walked into when you asked.

“Not all of ‘em.”

After the short walk, Jake is finally satisfied with the burrow of bushes and rocks that outline the small selection of forest behind the lab, and he looks up to once again gauge the distance and is pleased when the lab doesn’t look too far away. Jake hears you rustle and sit on one of the low rocks with your knees to your chest, and then drops to his usual squat in front of you, arms rested on his knees, gently fiddling with his fingers.

“How’re your cells?” he asks, but you’re so busy gazing at the forest around you and the stars above your heads that he fears you’re not even listening. Jake instead settles for watching you.

He knows he’s in over in his head when even his avatar likes you. Jake’s had nowhere near as much experience navigating his way around how to use this body than the other drivers, let alone time to understand the signals his body sends him or the feelings different things have to him, but he can tell the difference between being you friendly and not, even when he’s not totally familiar with how it all works. And on top of that, there are so many random variables to being Na’vi to get his head around that he never even thought of until Neytiri or Grace filled him in on what the hell was going on with his body at certain times of the month.

He’s stupid sometimes, true, but not totally naive. Jake recognises the tug in his chest as he looks at you — he feels the same thing when he’s in his human body. He’s no expert on Na’vi, never claimed to be, but he feels there must be something instinctive in the way he feels for you and the way his avatar senses it. And with Norm’s fresh-faced hatred in full flush whenever Jake makes that fact known, he’s not at all surprised that those feelings have suddenly become so full frontal now that he’s had enough of Norm’s bullshit.

“It’s amazing out here,” you say, to Jake but also to the wind as you completely crane your head up to look through the cracks in the branches and leaves. “Don’t you ever wish Earth had looked like this?”

“I haven’t really thought about Earth since I left,” he confesses, shuffling closer to you while you’re occupied with mapping out the stars in the sky.

“Not once?” You look down at him. If you’re taken aback by the sudden closeness between you, you hide it well.

Jake shrugs. “Nothing I need is there.”

Fair enough. You stare at him for a moment and think about that before agreeing.

“Me too.”

The branches above your heads sway in a gentle breeze and Jake watches you hug your cardigan around yourself before asking, “So, why’re we here? Did you wanna show me something?”

“What, the stars not enough for you?” Jake looks up to the sky.

You laugh quietly. “I’ll never get enough of them, actually. Beats the lab ceiling by a long shot. Looking at the stars through the window’s not the same… I wish I didn’t have to use this mask—” You throw him a playfully exasperated look, “—I wish I had an avatar.”

“Why don’t you?” Jake’s never asked, never thought to ask. But you’re the only scientist in his close collective of scientist ‘friends’ who doesn’t actually drive an avatar, and is instead limited to just studying everyone else's.

“It was never really my thing,” you explain, settling comfortably atop the rock and throwing the glances to the sky away to focus on him. Like the lab, they’re not going anywhere, and the ones tattooing Jake’s skin are far more interesting. “Okay, that’s a lie. I think the avatars are fascinating, just like the Na’vi, but sometimes you take what you’re given when you’re given it. Norm has always had to be better than I am, always one step ahead. Plus, our inheritance only stretched as far as to cover the contract costs of one avatar driver.” You laugh, “And Norm’s older.”

“Damn, so we just got stuck with Norm,” Jake comments, only to make you laugh again, which thankfully works. “I’d have a better time out here if it were you and not him.”

“He’s actually very insecure about that,” you tell him, watching his amusement grow without knowing the exact reasons for why. “He always goes on about how your avatar is much more built. I guess Tom was just more athletic and the avatar reflects it, I don’t think Norm’s used so much as an elliptical since high school… Anyway, he’s very vocal on how unfair the avatar program is in that regard.”

“You agree with him?”

Jake’s fingers ghost across your ankle.

“One: he’s my brother, and I’m not going to answer that question honestly. And two: let’s not forget who the avatar is modelled off. Tom was very handsome.”

“Growing up, I was always the pretty twin.”

You hum. “I couldn’t tell.”

Jake’s never ever considered the fact of you knowing his brother well before he died. He’s never had to think about it before, not until now, but he pushes the thought away and falls back into the thoughts of what he came here to do in the first place.

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

He watches your grin widen. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

Jake creeps forward slightly, and this time you notice, moving your toes back further towards your bum on the rock while Jake continues his close creeping.

“I think you’re a very pretty woman,” Jake murmurs. “Beautiful, even.”

“Norm’s not here to get mad at you for saying that,” you remind him.

“‘m not saying it for Norm to hear.”

You feel Jake’s hand sliding to wrap around your ankle and you shudder when he smooths his way up to your calf. You’ve never interacted with any Na’vi like this before, never felt their skin pushing against your own. With a glance down at his hand, you frown and work your way back up to his face, his eyes lit up in the dark.

“It’s not fair that you’re using your avatar against me right now,” you mutter, making him laugh through his nose and bring his body closer to the round edge of the rock. He considers it progress when you remain rooted in place once his hands run up the length of your legs to your waist.

You watch his nostrils flare slightly as he observes you, which only makes you feel more nervous and trapped here.

“All I’m doing is talking,” says Jake.

You scoff at him. “Does all your talking involve hands on the waist, Sully?”

He shrugs. “Only with really pretty people.”

Jake’s ears prick when you sigh and look back up at the stars. He doesn’t move his hands, but he senses your body tensing beneath his touch, smells the change in your body as he speaks. He’d love that part of being Na’vi a lot more if he knew what those changes meant exactly, and he can’t figure it out even as he stares at you intently.

His thumbs smooth from left to right, feeling the nub of your ribcage with every stroke over your tank top and tries to level his face into one of absolute neutrality when you look back down at him.

“What are you doing, Jake?”

Not what he was expecting you to say, if he’s being honest.

“Nothing,” he says.

“You’re being weird,” you reply, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. It has the opposite effect, and you watch him struggle not to smile. His hairline raises when his brows do, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes when you figure him out, “Did you actually bring me out here just to flirt with me?”

He does nothing except look at you, as if the answer is painfully obvious and you’re stupid for not realising it sooner.

You sigh loudly. “Jake, I’m sorry that you didn’t get the memo like everybody else, but you didn’t need to lure me out the lab in your avatar if you wanted to get my attention.”

His thumb continues to move and his eyes drop slightly.

“I wouldn’t say I lured you out here,” Jake replies. You watch his eyes zero back in on yours and you fight your body against the urge to wrap up and hide from him.

“You can’t be that stupid, I refuse to believe it,” you laugh disbelievingly, which makes him raise his brows questioningly. Even with a layer of plastic obstructing your face from his, Jake can’t get over how pretty you look. “You have to know that I like you even when you’re not a big blue alien.”

Jake’s grin widens, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “I know. You’re really bad at hiding it.”

“Okay,” you say, feeling under your cardigan for his hands and attempting to wrestle them away, but he doesn’t budge. You laugh again, as if the whole thing is genuinely funny for you, “then you can always make your thoughts about that known when I see you in the lab. In person.”

“I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t in there if I had the chance,” Jake tells you, moving his hands but only to sandwich them between your tank and your skin. The feeling of his palms flat against your stomach makes you jump slightly and reach for his wrist.

“Please. I see you every single day.”

“Yeah, and your brother, and Grace, and Trudy,” Jake points out. “I can’t get a second alone with you. What would you have me do, make a move with your brother breathing down my neck about it?”

“You could just be upfront. Save me from looking like an idiot.”

“Come on, baby, let’s be real.”

The smile he has on his face is unmoving, and you search every corner of it to find signs of his sincerity falling and find nothing. But something feels wrong.

You’ve spent close to two months in the long shadow drawn by everything else in Jake’s life, and considering Jake’s newfound role of future Omatikaya warrior, you feel that the time he spends in your company has become less and less. So now that Jake has decided to pick up on whatever signals you were sending him and respond to them, you assume it’s all in the name of good fun to piss off Norm.

Feeling Jake’s hands creeping up your body in the middle of the Hallelujah Mountains and with no older brother here to glare at either of you, you’re rethinking everything you thought you had figured out.

“I don’t get it,” you say finally.

Jake just laughs quietly. “You thought I just rammed my wheelchair into your feet for fun?”

“You mean to tell me that was your way of showing interest?” you ask unconvincingly.

“…Nah. I liked watching you fall, though,” he grins. Jake picks himself up from his squat and looms over you like a shadow, watching you fall back onto your forearms as you stare up at him. He sets one knee between your legs and leans down slightly, breathing in deeply in a way that has you thinking he’s actually sniffing the air around you.

“Honey, I’m all kinds of obsessed with you.”

You blink. “You certainly gave nothing away.”

“I bring you shit all the time.”

“I’m a scientist, I didn’t know you did that because you liked me. I thought it was just because I wanted better samples than Norm.”

“I mean, that definitely helped motivate me to find everything.”

“You never even told me you liked me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Okay, well, tell me tomorrow when you’re awake and not all…big,” you frown.

Jake chuckles. “You don’t like me now, or something?”

“I definitely never said that. I just want to hear human Jake Sully tell me how he feels without using his avatar to try and win me over.”

Jake’s tail swishes behind him. “You prefer the dummy in the wheelchair?”

“I like your wheelchair,” you tell him quietly, running your hand up his arm as he pins you flat against the boulder with a hand on your stomach.

“I don’t,” he murmurs. “I like being like this. I like being bigger than you. I like smelling how much you like me.”

All of a sudden, your legs swing shut around him and you look at him in disbelief.

“Freak.”

All he does is smile.

“Come on, Jake, I actually don’t have time for this,” you say around a groan, trying to move against him but failing miserably. An exasperated smile falls on your face. “Really? What are you even trying to achieve? You’re seducing me with your avatar?”

His ears twitch and he angles his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Why am I getting the impression that all of this has something to do with Norm somehow?” you sigh in reply, but Jake notices the way you fall relaxed underneath him, and he has the feeling you’re in no real hurry to get anywhere else tonight.

“Well, it might have something to do with it,” Jake confesses, his voice lower than it was before as he draws his nose close to you and takes a deep inhale. The feeling of his braid flicking down from his back and brushing against your thighs makes you shudder, not to mention the feeling of his snout against your collarbones. “Really, I just want to spend some time with my girl while I got the chance to.”

Whatever you want to say or have planned to say dies away when you feel Jake’s lips wander and press against your sternum.

Sighing, you shift your hands to his arms that have you pinned down and carefully squeeze. “Good luck with that, Sully.”

He runs his tongue flat against your skin and hears you exhale through your nose, a noise of satisfaction muffled by your closed mouth, and all at once, Jake’s decision is final.

He is going to fuck Norm’s sister.

And he’s going to rub salt on Norm’s wounds by doing it in the way that will piss him off the most.

Jake kisses his way down the length of your body, his hands moving around your figure like a sculptor until his hands find their way to your thighs. Though oversized and covering most of them, Jake’s hands circle around the width of your thighs and he strokes his thumbs across the inside skin of them, all while laughter bubbles in your chest.

All of this is just so absurd. If someone had told you this morning that Jake so much as liked you back, it would have taken some convincing, but if they had gone as far as to suggest he’s be attempting to seduce you in his avatar in a little chunk of forest behind the lab you pretty much live in, you would have laughed at the delusion of the thought. But now, there’s no denying the very tangible view of Jake’s Na’vi hands pressing down on your thighs, his eyes staring up over the slope of your body as you pick your head up to look down at him.

“This is crazy,” you gasp.

Jake’s teeth reveal themselves against the stretch of skin he was just pressing kisses onto, his smile widening as he speaks. “You don’t want to, baby?”

You weigh your options. It’s either leave and go back to the lab and hope that Jake follows through on his apparent feelings for you in the morning… Or you can relax and enjoy.

“Jake…” You pause for a moment. You want to enjoy it, and you feel the pool of desire deepen inside of you and know it’s a sensation Jake can most likely smell.

He’s still your Jake, still the same guy you dote over when he remembers he has a life outside of being Na’vi. The only difference now is that he’s blue, and mobile, and double your size in every definition of the word. And suspiciously attractive, but you don’t know for certain if you think that because it’s Jake or because it’s actually true as a fact. But you just can’t help but wonder if Jake’s climaxing feud with Norm is the only reason he’s pinning you to a boulder in the forest and kissing your stomach.

“You’re not just doing this to piss off Norm, are you?” you ask, feeling serious all of a sudden. The only way you know Jake notices is from the way his ears flatten against his head and his eyes grow round with concern.

In the light, his tail flicks from side to side in the way you recognise most Na’vi do when they’re nervous, and you fight the urge to look away from him when he stays quiet for a second, thinking of what to say in a loud silence.

Of course he’s doing this because he knows it will piss Norm off if and when he finds out. As soon as Norm catches a stinking whiff of Jake on your body when he’s in his own avatar surveying the mountains, there will be nowhere for Jake to run or roll off to and avoid Norm’s volcanic rage. But he knows as well that this is a long time coming — that he’s been chasing circles around your feet for the fun of it, and now the chance has come for him to bring what he’s buried to the surface and shape it into something more.

Jake very carefully thinks of what to say. “Knowing that if I fuck you right now it will piss off your insanely annoying brother makes me want to do it more. But if the only reason I was fucking you was to piss him off, then I’d be doing it in front of him.”

Your brows raise.

“Okay, that came out wrong,” Jake says quickly. “My point is… I go crazy thinking about you. And everything I think about doing to you can be made possible when I’m, as you said, all big.”

“But… Norm—”

Jake groans, all smiles. “Oh my god, can we please stop bringing up your brother for a sec? It’s a huge turn off.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any sexier, either,” you point out, “but I’m just thinking—”

“Don’t think,” Jake tells you. “This is the one time you don’t have to think about anything at all except for how you’d like me to take care of you.”

Jake returns his face to your stomach as you blink furiously, a flustered feeling creeping up over your body at the bluntness of his words. If you thought he was playing around, you’re officially convinced when his hands tighten around your thighs and he spreads them apart, pinning them down against the boulder he’s made your bed for the night. You inhale a deep breath when Jake’s thumbs dip underneath your shorts, bunched around your inner thighs.

“I suppose it would be like killing two birds with one stone…”

Jake laughs against your skin. “Jesus Christ, Spellman, quit talking so much. Who knew you were such a yapper?”

“Am not,” you protest.

You shudder when he plants another kiss on your abdomen, pings the fabric of your shorts back against your skin with a sharp sting and he grunts with a nod.

“Okay,” Jake agrees, his ears high and tail swishing playfully. “Now take off your cardigan.”

Still watching Jake on your forearms as he hooks his fingers around the waistline of your shorts in an effort to pull them down, you wrangle a sigh of protest and lift your lower body up for him, all whilst reaching for the buttons on the front of your cardigan.

You breathe heavily as you mumble, “Do you really need to take off all my clothes, Sully?”

“One of us is halfway there, honey, and it’s not you,” replies Jake. His golden eyes watch with intent as he pulls the shorts down the expanse of your legs with your underwear in tow. As you shudder with the breeze fanning between your legs, Jake takes a big inhale and stares.

He barely moves an inch once the shorts and panties are in a bunch around your feet, but you busy yourself by sweeping a look at Jake’s own attire, or striking lack of. Between his legs hangs his tewng, a simple and sparsely intricate item of clothing that leaves little to imagination when it comes to what is growing between his thighs.

It’s standard attire for the Omatikaya, but you’ve never seen it up close, and never on Jake himself. It hits you then that he’s still in his entire hunting gear, as if he finished up with Neytiri and brought himself here right away.

Jake’s thighs clench as he finally moves, readjusting his footing in his dropped squat; to him, this position has become as natural as breathing, but you stare at his thighs bulging and wonder how he’s not in agony from it alone.

Jake looks up at you after his allocated time spent analysing the spot growing wet between your legs and you gulp, feeling almost nervous.

“Well, you’re gonna be an Omatikaya soon. One of the consequences is wearing your little g-string everywhere.”

His head leans to the side as his amusement grows. “It’s called a tewng, genius.”

That makes you laugh, and say in a melodic and sweet tone, “I know.”

But Jake bites back with the same sweet tone as you and says, “Then shut up,” and you comply. It’s the least you can do for him when he smooths his big hands back between your legs and up close to your cunt.

Pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee, Jake inches his hands further, relishing in a deep breath as he returns to staring at the spot just inches from his fingers. From his perspective, you are hideously tiny; given the obvious lack of research on Na’vi and human sexual relations, Jake isn’t totally sure you’ll be able to withstand what he wants to give you.

Worth a try, though.

Jake’s chest rises and falls as he stares in wonder at your pussy, the scent divinely pronounced, and he runs one of his fingers between your folds and up, collecting the juices on his finger as he rounds your clit in a rather observational manner.

You bristle, your legs instinctively trying to close — all the good it does, as Jake pushes them back open. His eyes flicker back up to yours, as if assessing his next steps, before he lowers his mouth to your cunt and without doing you the kind service of looking away, stares at you as he spreads his tongue flat between your folds.

His actions earn him a strangled moan of pleasure, and his ears twitch in satisfaction. The feeling of his tongue against you is strangely addicting, rough and soft at the same time, warm and wet and enough for your hips to lift.

“Jake…” You gasp, feeling your eyes close, half with the pleasure of it all and also sheer embarrassment.

Like a predator watching its prey, Jake never looks away from your face and the way it twists, your jaw hanging open as he licks your cunt. With the size of his head alone, his tongue virtually covers every corner of your pussy with no difficulty, leaving you with no untouched itch, no ignored stretch of wet skin.

You can’t even bear to look down at him again, and you toss your gaze up to the stars as they twinkle above, blinking, conspirators to your escapade. Biting down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning too loud, your hips slowly roll up and down as Jake sucks around your clit, his big hands working overtime to keep you from wriggling away entirely off the rock and to the ground.

“Oh, god…”

Between your legs is a flurry of warmth, a tingling feeling rippling down to your toes. After five dry years, it comes as no real shock that even someone’s tongue could be ripping this kind of response from you.

“You good?” Jake murmurs.

“Mmh. Hot,” you rasp. It doesn’t help that there’s an exo-pack warming your face with every deep breath you take. Jake moves his mouth from your cunt momentarily as if trying to hear you, watching with curious eyes when you bite back another noise which stirs as he slides his finger towards your entrance.

“This mask is really ruining my vibe right now,” you groan, your voice so throaty and strangled that Jake has to fight a smirk. He fails miserably.

“Take it off and hold your breath,” Jake replies; a laugh rumbles from his chest when you lift your head to scowl at him.

“It would frighten people if they knew how much of a genius you were.”

Jake hums, his eyes glistening as he cocks his head, “I’m incredibly humble.” Then he wastes no more time talking and sinks his finger into you.

He sinks in with plenty of ease, your wetness guiding his finger all the way in to the knuckle and you choke back a strangled sound; one of Jake’s fingers feels like two of your own, the stretch unfamiliar but not unwelcome after your dry spell of five cryo-stolen years.

Jake grins widely and inches his tongue back between your legs, swiping it over your clit and forcing the moans out from hiding in your throat.

You turn your head to the side, sparing a glance at the distant laboratory. You can only hope you’re not loud enough to startle your sleeping colleagues and brother.

“Eyes down here, Spellman,” Jake mumbles, his voice vibrating across your pussy and pulling your eyes back towards him. Tears spring to your eyes as he looks up at you, working his fingers in and out of you slowly while matching his licks to the tempo.

His tongue is slightly rough and textured, each lick leaving you feeling almost ticklish. A rush of warmth pulls from your cunt up to your neck, and your thighs tremble around his head with a flushed squeeze, but Jake doesn’t seem to mind; he pulls your one leg further apart with his other hand and slips in a second finger, the stretch of your hole making your back arch with a half pained, half pleasured moan.

“Jake!” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his mouth, his fangs brushing across you. He has the nerve to laugh all of a sudden, pulling his mouth away after pressing a sloppy kiss to your clit. “Jesus, fuck, Jake—”

“Goddamn, you are a yapper,” Jake comments, and you glare at the almost human look of pure smugness on his face, his chin coated with saliva and juice.

“Fuck you,” you huff, feeling the absence of his tongue immensely, despite his continuously moving fingers. Jake’s fingers are thicker than they looked from afar — it feels like you’re full already, but you’re not willing to confess that to him. He already looks far too proud with what he’s doing.

You suppose, now that you’re thinking about it, Jake’s had years to become familiar with a pussy; he seems to be back between your legs with a certain hunger for you, the taste of your juices sweeter than he initially expected.

His fingers are coated in juice, slipping into you with no resistance and curling his fingers up to make your hips lift once more. He almost wants to make a comment to fluster you, to tell you how insanely good it feels for your cunt to be quivering around his fingers, welcoming him up there as if you’d prepared for them beforehand. Jake parts his fingers inside of you, stretching you out, his mouth comfortably attached to you.

His ears twitch when you let out a wobbly cry — actually, he’s not sure if you’re crying for real or not. His eyes follow your hand as it creeps down to the hood of your pussy, just above his nose, and he pulls his mouth away for a split second.

“No, no, go back,” you pant, and like a dog given a command, Jake pulls his soggy fingers out of your cunt and pushes his head back between your thighs, satisfied by your own pleasured sounds when he does.

Jake hooks his arm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the sloping boulder while he uses his other hand to keep your legs wide apart. You forget all about modesty and self-control and open them as wide as you can for him to help, your hand stroking the top of Jake’s hair as he burrows his way back between the wet spot he was devouring.

You suck in a tight and high-pitched breath when Jake’s tongue shifts from left to right over your clit, the feeling of his tongue strange and almost like a vibration. Your hips lift from the boulder again and shift up and down — Jake’s barely even trying, barely broken a sweat, but when he glances up at you he’s both amused and surprised by how twisted in pleasure you look. All he can see is the underneath of your jaw tilted to the sky, and one of your hands curling up around your tit under your tank top.

Jake guides his arm from trapping your abdomen up to push the bottom of your tank up above your wrist. There’s no way he’ll let you gatekeep the sight of your tits when he’s the one making you touch yourself in the first place. His eyes are wide with excitement when you fist the fabric of your tank and yank it up above your boobs, the curve of them bouncing with the quick movement of your hand.

Jake groans into you, his tail curling up high. Jake’s tasted a lot of pussy in his life, but he doesn’t know what exactly you’ve done to taste so good to him. He momentarily convinces himself that it feels different because he’s in a whole other body — it must just be because he’s big and strange and he’s been fucking you in his mind for a while now that you somehow feel ten times better than anyone else he’s ever been with.

The pool of warm juice between your legs leaves you incredibly soft and squishy, like a tìhawnuwll that he has to remind himself he can’t just sink his teeth into.

It could be because you’re Norm’s sister. Could be because you usually appear so big when he’s resorted to sitting down all day, but now you’re helplessly tiny underneath him, trapped by his arms and head. Or it could just be because he’s an idiot who quashes his feelings rather than gives in to them.

He blinks. Your hips are so high off the boulder that Jake has to bring his arm back down to hold you in place. The less you squirm, the more drawn out he can make it, but he’s acutely aware of the tremor in your legs, the impatient rutting against his lips, the painful hardness under his tewng.

“Sweet,” he grumbles. The word leaves you flustered, and the heat brewing like a bomb against his open mouth begins to rise through your body again. You forget to be quiet as you let out a high-pitched moan, feeling your toes curl in your boots and you desperately finger at your nipple, rolling and tugging on the hardened nub of flesh as Jake pins you tighter against the boulder. He laves his tongue down your cunt towards your entrance, the warm tip of it pushing to the tightened hole that Jake wants more than anything to squeeze himself inside.

“Mf — Jake, come on,” you whimper.

One of his thin brows raises. “You seduced yet?”

“Fuck off. Yes.”

You feel the rumble of his laughter against your pussy. Jake presses a kiss against it and then moves his mouth to the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“I never let a woman go without making her cum,” Jake says, his voice muffled against your leg. He feels you quiver beneath him, and his grin widens. “You wanna at least cum first, right?”

“Please, Jake—”

A startled cry of pain rips from your throat when Jake gently sinks his teeth into your leg — Jake knows his own strength and pulls back before he can draw blood, glancing at the red outline of his teeth imprinted into your leg, a ridged ring of saliva in his wake. Your head is lifted entirely to gape at him, and he looks at you with a coy expression.

“Did you just bite me?”

He smirks. “Accident. Sorry.”

“Yeah right.” Your legs shift slightly around him, but Jake can smell the twisting agony of pleasure leaking out of you — he’s never been more thankful for his Na’vi body and its strange sense of smell than he is now, to be able to pick up on the need you try to hide from him, a scent he actually understands. Normally he can admire your determination, but right now, he’s more concerned with finding out how to break down your walls and unravel you the way he knows you’ve been wanting him to for the last two months.

He smooches the bite one more time, his ears pricking when you whimper out a sort of desperately small sound and say, “Come on, Jake. You got me out here, don’t torture me about it.”

“Me eating your pussy not enough for you?” he asks smugly. He knows it would be more than enough — call him conceited, but he’s sort of an expert on it by now.

You don’t say much, nothing worth noting, at least. Jake’s ears are tall as he lifts his head slightly, but his thumb continues to rub up and down your slit, carefully smoothing over your swollen clit almost sympathetically.

“Please,” you beg in such a small and desperate voice that Jake smiles at the sound. You see his eyes flutter, half-lidded, as he cocks his head to the side until his temple is against your knee.

“Hm? You just wanna say please and get it over and done with?” Jake mutters. “You can’t take any more of my fingers?”

“Don’t be a prick,” you whimper. “You want it, too.”

You feel that unkind heat simmer over you again, but not for the reason you expect. Jake blinks at you lazily, like an unimpressed cat, and then you watch as his eyes curve into crescent moons, the slint of gold virtually glowing in the Pandoran night. Then, the fucker smiles again, looking so smug that you feel embarrassed somehow, caught under his gaze.

“Yeah, I do,” agrees Jake. “I’ve been wanting you a long time.”

“Then, come on,” you urge. Something excited claws at you, and you feel your heartbeat race when he lifts himself slightly. “Come on, big guy. You got me out here, you win.”

He swells with pride, pleased by what is leaving your mouth in a flustered flurry.

“You think you can take me all by yourself?” he asks, his hands coming to rest on your knees as he turns his gaze back to the clenching hole between your legs. Jake looks almost thoughtful as he stares at you, as if analysing. “You could only just take two fingers.”

For such an intelligent woman, Jake finds himself amazed when you look anxious about that statement. What, do you really think he’ll just give up and go? Jake doesn’t care if it takes all night to get himself up your snatch, because no matter what, he’ll get himself in there.

He sniggers when your mouth flounders like a little fish, your tank sliding with the angle of your body back down over your tits, but then he tuts and reaches back to pull it up. In fact, he decides it’s better off, and he uses one finger to pull the whole thing up to your chin, and lets you suffer in an anxious string of actions — you tug the tank up over your head, eyes wide, lip pouting.

“Wanna try?” Jake asks, if not to speed along the increasing agony of his hard cock tenting under his tewng then just to put you out of your misery. “Or should I go back for seconds?”

“Jake…” Your chest rises and falls as you gape at him. He went through all the trouble to get you here, and although you never expected to look at Jake’s avatar and feel a throb between your legs, you can’t even look at him without feeling overcome with the terrible, pressing desire to squeeze whatever weapon he has under his loincloth into your cunt. Jake watches your eyes look down at the darkness between his legs, to the pretty band of string tied around his middle, and then looks back at you with a sickeningly sweet expression.

“Aw, honey. You want me to fuck you?”

It takes an incredible amount of effort not to scowl at him. Jake is lucky he looks so attractive with your arousal around his lips, otherwise you’d be up off the boulder and marching back to the labs for being so unbelievably full of himself.

But even though he’s double your size and consumed by a cocky smugness from being able bodied and towering over you, you can’t think of enough reasons to warrant your leave. The only things on your mind are how much it’ll hurt to get him inside you, and how good it’ll feel once he is.

“That’s why you brought me here, after all, isn’t it?” you murmur, your lips curved slightly when he bows his body over you, his hands flat against the boulder on either side of your waist. “You’ve been thinking of me, right? Oeyä sayrìp tsamsiyu — you must have thought about this every time you went and found me a flower, right?”

Jake’s smile turns wolfish. “Yap, yap, yap.”

You all but whine underneath him. It is so unbecoming of you to be so desperate for something that you resort to writhing like a brat, but with Jake just straddling over you without doing anything, you feel the eager feeling of want coiling in your lower stomach. Your hole clenches around the air, as if trying to feel for Jake’s fingers again, and you lift your hips up off the boulder as if to entice him.

He barely even looks down at you, which only infuriates you more.

For a moment, you wonder if the only reason he lured you out here was to satiate a desire of his own; maybe he just wanted to prove that he still had what it took to make a woman beg for him — though he needn’t have tried so hard, considering you’d have writhed and whined for him just as much, if not more, had he just made it known that he knew about and returned your feelings sooner.

But having you touch him in an impossible silence in the shared bunks pales in comparison to now, to having you look so small and soft and inviting; for you to beg for him, to let yourself be ravaged by him in all of his strength. Why would he prefer to have you while he feels useless when he can make the most of the strong, brawny and big body his brother passed down to him?

Jake breathes deeply through his nose and chews on the inner skin under his lips. You watch in the dark as his tail coils, his ears flat, until he lowers his body down like he’s doing a press up and pushes his nose against your sternum.

“You smell so pretty, baby girl,” Jake mutters, pressing a kiss against the skin sloping between your tits. Biting your lip does little to suppress the moan that spills out when Jake cups one of his hands around your breast, and you hold the back of his hand as he gently squeezes.

The hanging cloth of his tewng brushes past your pussy and you jolt in surprise, just in time for Jake to bring his mouth down over your other boob. The sheer size of Jake dwarfs every feature of yours, but something about your tiny size only excites him more.

With his lips wrapped around your tit, you try your hardest to muffle another moan at the feeling of his tongue toying around your nipple, desperately trying to find something to focus on that isn’t the absurdly good feeling of Jake’s mouth or the tewng brushing past your pussy every time Jake rocks his hips backwards and forwards.

You clench your hand over his, feeling your legs squirm around him as his sharp teeth scrape against the squishy curve of your breast. Fear should rip through you when you feel his teeth tighten around the top of your tit, but it doesn’t; instead, a rush of warm excitement burns you from the inside out when Jake’s cheeks hollow, sucking a purple blot into your skin.

“Hey—” you say cautiously, but the damage is already done. It’s as if Jake’s determined to make you the same shade as him; the mark he leaves is blooming and bright, and he looks all too proud of himself when he looks up in acknowledgement of your voice. His tail thrashes excitedly.

“Leaving that so everyone can see what you were doing when they wake up,” Jake explains, licking a strip from the swelling bruise to your neck for good measure. “My dirty scientist.”

That is if you ever make it back to the lab in one piece.

Feeling the pleasure spreading across your body, you’re half contemplating staying here on this rock forever, hoping that Norm or Grace never come back here looking for samples only to find your corpse. You’re overcome with a conflicting contrast of emotions — you suddenly feel so exposed, so unraveled, half guilty for encouraging Jake to shove his big blue fingers up your crotch, and even guiltier about the fact that you want more from him.

“Enough. Come on,” you huff, and Jake dips his attention back to the rutting of your hips, the glossy shine of your arousal. “While I’m wet.”

“You really think I’m gonna let you dry up before I can get inside you?” Jake asks, as if the idea is beneath you both. “Have some confidence in me, Spellman.”

“I do. Full confidence. So, come on, gimme.”

Jake grins; he leans his weight up on one knee and in the light, you can just about see the protruding point of his tewng and feel your desire pooling. It’s only when Jake undoes the string around his waist and frees what hides beneath that you start to feel your body tense unexpectedly; it is beyond you how Jake has managed to keep the spear he calls his cock hidden for so long, and even more unthinkable as to how it will fit inside of you.

You stare at it with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Jake holds the base of it with his hand and assesses the space between your legs again. When he guides the tip to your folds and strokes himself up and down, you feel your heartbeat quicken and your legs turn like jelly.

“You like it?” he asks, ever so sweetly, as if it’s a new gift brought back for you to enjoy. In a way, it is a gift, something for you to sample. Jake’s body seems to vibrate with nothing short of delight at the speechless state his dick has left you in — and he hasn’t even put it in yet.

“Big, right?” he continues to ask, a smirk on his face.

All you can say is, “how do you walk around with that thing?”

He barks out a laugh, his head tilted to the stars as his smirk widens. Jake then pushes the tip against you again with his thumb, choking down his amused sniggers as he drags himself up and down your cunt, and more than anything, he wishes he could see your face better in the moonlight. Luckily, Jake’s spent hours staring at you in his wheelchair to be able to piece together the smudges of your features he can see in the reflection of light hanging over the front of your mask. And what he can’t see, he’ll hear, and what he’s not satisfied with not seeing he’ll seek from you again later.

“It’ll be a tight fit,” Jake thinks out loud, prodding the tip of his cock against your entrance and looking up at you once you whimper, “but I know you can take it.”

“I dunno… Looks kind of big—”

“You can fit it in,” he tells you confidently.

But now you’ve seen it, you’re slightly nervous. “What if I can’t—?”

“You were just begging me for it,” Jake says pointedly. “While I’m wet, you said.” Then, he leans forward so that the wide slope of his nose is pushed against the front of your mask. “I don’t care if it takes all night trying. I’ll help you fit it all in, okay?”

You breathe in sharply, feeling your hips grinding up against him. Jake tries to find sympathy for you; he supposes that if he were you and some ten foot Na’vi was trying to burrow his cock between his legs, he’d be apprehensive too.

“Just…” you rasp, watching him desperately, and he waits kindly, though his tip is on the verge of being swallowed by your cunt. Your legs tremble when he smiles at you, one hand on his cock, the other flat against the boulder. “Just go slow, okay?”

The way he looks at you is as if you’ve just said something stupidly endearing. “Sure thing, Spellman.”

Jake does his best to keep up his presented facade of coolness, but you feel so warm and wet, his arm begins to shake as he supports his weight on the boulder, grunting when he aligns his cockhead with your hole and very slightly pushes in. Even though he only just had his fingers up there, he can feel your pussy resisting, and it’s only the tip.

Your mouth hangs open with a pained whine, the stretch uncomfortable but in spite of it, you arch your back as if trying to feel more of him inside of you.

“Easy,” he chuckles, very slowly pushing more of himself into your pussy. The noises from your mouth grow louder, and something proud purrs in his chest. His tongue pushes against the inside of his lower lip as he smirks, teeth showing, as he makes an almost amused groan. You’re insanely tight, and unbelievably squishy and wet — and hey, it’s been five years for him, too.

“Yeah,” Jake groans, pushing his hips further and pulling out, each stroke gentle and tentative. He wants more than anything to go rough, to make you mewl and cry and curl up against him, but the tearful look on your face makes him reconsider. Each time he sinks in a little bit deeper, softening the resistance of your walls as they make room for him.

It takes an incredible amount of self restraint to stop himself from shoving all of it in at once; you’re so tight, the tightest pussy he’s ever felt closing around his cock, and easily the best. Jake closes his eyes for a second, honing in on the squeezing clench around his cock and the unnerving, uncharacteristic silence leaving your gaping mouth.

“Talk to me, Spellman,” Jake groans, inching deeper inside. His ears perk again when you cry as he sinks in deeper. “Say something.”

“You told me I talked too much,” you manage out, admirably trying your hardest to remain quiet despite the pushing twelve inches of Na’vi cock up your cunt. Jake’s barely even inside of you; more of his dick is out than it is stuffed inside.

“I love hearing you talk,” replies Jake, even though he had just poked fun at your ability to talk someone’s ear off. Had he known it would swear you into silence now, he’d have never said anything. What Jake wants now most of all is to hear your voice again, hear your pleasure, your instructions, your pleas.

Hearing you slip out a high pitched moan when he pushes more of his cock inside of you feels like a reward almost.

“Could listen to you yap away all damn day,” he murmurs quietly, his eyes finding yours behind the glaze of the exo-pack. “I know you’ve always got something to say, so why’re you so quiet all of a sudden?” Jake’s grin brightens when you manage to suck in more of his length, “Talk to me, baby, tell me what you want, hm?”

“Just… Put it in,” you whimper, and his eyes widen excitedly.

“You said to go slow.”

“I know what I said, but I need more.” Your eyes are so blown open he’d laugh if it didn’t look so goddamn sexy. “Please, Jake.”

“You sure?” he croons.

“Mm. Please — come on, please—!”

Jake snaps his hips forward so quickly that more than half of dick disappears inside of you, and the primal noise that leaves your mouth takes Jake completely by surprise.

“Fucking shit, mama,” Jake groans, his voice rasped as he bows his chest over yours, dropping to his forearm on the boulder as he adjusts to the warmth enveloping him. “Holy shit.”

You swallow a deep breath, your hands gripping tightly to Jake’s shoulders which forces his eyes to your face. He can make out the distinct shimmer of tears under your eyes, and he brushes his fingers across the side of your neck, tapping you to bring your eyes open and searching for him in the dark.

“You with me?” he asks, chuckling slightly. “You good?”

“Oh my god,” you squeal, cunt clenching. “Wait—”

“Breathe,” Jake says quietly, pressing a kiss to the swollen bruise he sucked into your skin earlier. “You can do it, pretty girl.”

“Keep moving, it hurts when you just stay still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, his hips falling back into a slow rhythm to keep you adjusted to his twitching cock. It’s almost disturbing how easily you’re taking him now he’s forced more of his length inside, how wet and responsive you seem to be as he sinks deeper into you.

At first, Jake goes slow, familiarising himself with every noise you give him, every twitch and shift in your body, every clench around him. You feel the smooth ridges of his cock kissing your insides, the sensation unfamiliar and strange but so fucking good. He snakes one hand under your back when you lift up off the boulder; his large palm is flat against the arch of your spine, his fingers curled around your hip.

You look like a toy underneath him, something he could easily just hold with one hand and fuck himself up into.

His hips snap again, faster than he intended, and more of his dick disappears inside of you. You could easily take all of him if he took his time getting you to that point, but the warmth wrapping around him like a glove is so sinful that he can’t think of anything less appealing than going slow. He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth and squeezes your waist with his hand; one desperate little cry from your mouth later, and Jake forgives himself for having waited so long to get you in this position, to fuck you stupid.

It’s been so long since Jake’s been able to fuck a woman like this, and for his first time since his accident to be with you, of all people — well, Jake could think of no greater victory, no better reward for all the shit he’s endured so far.

He stares down at the gap between your legs, watching as his dick vanishes and reappears with every rock of his hips. You’re taking it so well, like a champion. Pride blooms in his chest — he’d expect nothing less from his woman.

Pulling your hips down slightly to meet him as he thrusts up, Jake shoulders the control and moans in a low tone, pushing until he feels your body seize underneath him. Then, he pulls back, falls back in, and gets himself comfortable.

The stretch no longer burns the way it did, but you feel as though you can barely breathe as Jake ruts his hips up. He’s so big in every definition of the word. He doesn’t seem to notice nor care about the deep indent of your fingernails in his shoulder; he seems entirely devoted to gaining momentum, creating his own pace with his ears flat against his bowed head.

“God… Jake,” you moan, feeling the slight point of the boulder against your shoulder blades and his hand squeezing your middle as you finally speak, after what feels like eons of silence to Jake.

He latches his gaze to the rise and fall of your breasts as he fucks you, his breathing heavy. “Oh, you like that?”

Ever so slightly, he hastens his pacing, eliciting a tearful sob from your mouth. “Mmf—”

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

His stomach churns when you laugh, albeit with a strangled kind of tone, and clench around his cock again.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“So’re you,” he points out, lifting his chest slightly to glance down at your stomach. It should be criminal how turned on he feels by the sight of his own dick outlined in your lower tummy — it should be criminal how insanely good it feels knowing he’s fucking a part of you nobody else has before. You’ve lost all self control as you decide to let yourself be noisy, which Jake is all too pleased to hear.

Peering down at your hips, you marvel at the sight of Jake’s frightening length pushing up against your stomach. It looks just as weird as it feels. Jake hisses and runs a hand across the spot his dick is hitting.

“Feel that?” he asks. He knows you do. It’s a stupidly dumb question, but you whine at it all the same. “I told you it would fit. Look at you, taking it all, no problem.”

“Mhm. Feels good; so, so, so good, Jake…” Your body feels limp and tingly, and you let your head fall back so your gaze is pointed up at the sky. Even as you blink dazed up at them, they have the striking appearance of Jake’s skin, the dark blue wash of sky with littered balls of bright white light. The image of him is printed on your mind, and no matter where you look to avoid his gaze, you find him again.

Jake shifts. Keeping his dick sliding in and out of you with more of an upbeat rhythm than before, he bows his chest back over yours and brings his ears close to your ear.

“A perfect fit for my perfect girl,” he mutters. He becomes so reliant on his one hand on the boulder when he uses the other to hold your leg up around his waist, bringing forth an entirely new burn from the stretch of it. His breath is warm on your ear, making you shudder. “How long you been waiting for me, baby?”

You scoff disbelievingly, trying to think of something to say despite your mind being both full and empty at the same time. All you can think about is the building pressure in your tummy.

“Long,” you offer, snaking a hand up his neck to the back of his head.

Jake licks his tongue across the arch of skin connecting your neck to your collar. “Thinking of me with your fingers up your cunt at night, huh?” His hand squeezes around your middle when you begin to shift with his thrusts further up the boulder. Even with your loud cries in his ear, Jake can hear the squelching wetness around his cock, the tightening spasms around his length bringing him closer to giving in to the dull ache in his own stomach. “Bet you wheelchair Jake Sully couldn’t make you feel like this. Next time you get off to the thought of him, I want you to think of what we’re doing right now, about who’s got you feeling this way.”

“How…how do you even know about that?” you gasp, half pleasured by his thrusting and half horrified by the revelation that Jake might have been privy to the fact you masturbated with him in mind when everyone went to bed at night.

Actually, he didn’t know. But he sniggers smugly that his teasing jeer turned out to be true.

Jake presses a kiss to your collar and peppers a line of them up until he is thwarted by the mask covering your face. Peering down at your face hidden behind it, Jake gives you a sad pout and says, “I wanna go fast.”

“I…” you start, his hips already moving and you feel the heat simmering below again. Anymore from him, and you’ll be finished, cumming all over him. “I don’t think… I’ll — I’m gonna—”

“Then let’s get it done,” he says with as much finality and refine as he can muster before he picks himself back up, finding the energy he had before to pin you down against the boulder. You keep your leg wrapped around his waist as he sets one hand down over your tummy, the other on your shoulder, and then the real fun begins for him.

Jake isn’t ignorant to the twisting ache inside of him — like you, he knows he probably doesn’t have that much longer until he’s completely tuckered out and ready to fill you up. What can he say? It’s been a long time, and he doesn’t have the same kind of stamina as he used to. You’re tightening up around him in anticipation; it’s like being gripped in a vice.

He pulls his hips back and then pistons himself back in with so much speed that you almost fly up off the boulder in surprise. Too fast, he thinks, so he gets accustomed to a regular fast pace and sticks to it loyally. In return, he’s rewarded with a litany of pretty sounds, your hands curling around his arms, desperately trying to hold on.

“Yeah, oh yeah,” Jake groans, feeling your cunt fluttering around him as he fucks in and out, slipping in and out of your wetness as if he owns it. The hand that’s pressing your shoulder slips to your throat, and while he doesn’t squeeze, you claw your fingers around his and feel his grip tighten ever so slightly.

“Fuck!” you squeal, clamping your eyes closed suddenly. “Shit—Jake, baby—”

He moans at that, really moans. A ringing rises in volume in his ears as his thrusts grow more rapid, relentlessly smacking his hips up until he slides all of his dick inside of you.

God, you’re fucking perfect — he can’t name many women, if any at all, who could take a dick this size with as much ease as you are now. But the increasing pressure in your tummy is so overwhelming that you’re not even too aware of the size of what’s getting comfortable inside of you. All you know and understand is that in the next three seconds, you’ll be seeing white.

Jake’s name falls like a mantra from your lips, and he looks at you in surprise to see that you’ve very bravely opened your eyes to stare at him, although the tears lining your waterline and smeared down your cheeks make your stare look ten times more attractive to him. He almost wishes he hadn’t looked — his hips stagger slightly and he growls, the noise earning him another whiney moan from the undone woman beneath him, the woman he’s committed to filling with his cum and making his.

“I—!” You say nothing — you don’t even have to. Jake feels your cunt strangling his length like a goddamn fist, and by the buffering look of pure ecstasy on your face, he’s fairly certain all of those things mean you’re about to cum.

“Yeah, mama, cum for me,” Jake coaxes. “Lemme feel you.”

The warmth around him clenches, and all of a sudden, your body seizes with a jolt, your back arched so high off the boulder that it leaves him hitting entirely new angles inside of you, pushing your orgasm to a new level.

For you, it feels like you’ve been blown up. Your entire body is consumed by a blazing heat, your legs going immediately limp as you cum around him. Jake’s eyes instantly shift to your quivering hips, to your cunt still swallowing him up, the white dribbles of cum leaking down the length of his cock. He watches the small cluster of glowing freckles decorating his dick disappear behind a rolling drop of your cum and his jaw goes slack.

“My girl,” he crows, his head bowing as he eagerly fucks into you a few more times, muttering the same thing as he does: “Oh, my girl, my pretty girl—”

The hand around your throat rips itself away only to squeeze into your hips, as though Jake intends to leave fingerprints there once he’s done. He grips you tightly and with a monumental and low, throaty moan, he snaps his hips one final time and feels a tug in his tummy.

You probably feel him cum before he does. Jake seems caught up in his thrusts while you register the unmissable burst of warmth inside of you, ropes of cum spilling out as if his sole intention were to breed you, stuff you full of his seed.

In actual fact, Jake just wanted to fuck you silly, fill you with boat loads of cum, and bask in the evil satisfaction of watching Norm smell Jake all over you, claiming you as his.

“Mm—fuck, Jake!” you rasp, squeezing your little hands around his wrists. The feeling is enough to bring him up to the surface he was drowning under, the ringing in his ears dulling as he catches his breath and opens his eyes, staring down at the embarrassingly wet mixture of cum and juice between your legs.

He stays inside of you for a moment, his dick still hard and even more pronounced up your cunt than it was before, and it’s as if his eyes are unfocused in absolute awe as he observes the sight of you stretched open, locking him in place greedily.

It sinks in that you managed to fit all of him in, that he just used his avatar to fuck you in the forest behind the lab. You. Norm’s sister. The object of his desire. The woman of his literal dreams.

Jake lets out a loud and heavy breath, a sigh of relief, and rubs his palms up and down your stomach gently. Despite having had him fucking you just seconds before, you feel a heat flush over your face when he looks up at your face, sweaty and tear-stained under the exo-pack, and he grins wolfishly.

“You’re incredible,” he laughs, which makes the act of looking at him feel ten times more rewarding. Your body warms with the praise: all you’ve wanted was for Jake to like you back, and now, to be full of his cum and knowing he thinks you’re incredible… You laugh with him.

A few disbelieving laughs later, and Jake finally moves his hands under your thighs and slowly pulls himself out of you. The bump of each ridge along his length knocks past you, and Jake stifles a howl of laughter at the whiney, high-pitched moan you make as his cock pulls out of you with a slick, wet pop. He cranes his head slightly to watch his cum pool out of you and you pick yourself up on your forearms, looking for his dick between his legs to have a final peek, a good look at him covered in your cum and his…

Your eyes widen. “Your cum glows.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “What? Scientist of Pandora didn’t know Na’vi cum glowed?”

“I haven’t exactly had a selection of Na’vi men or women to tell me that it did!” you reason, your eyes still marvelling curiously at the shiny soft blue stain over the hanging fruit between his legs.

He hums, poking a finger against your folds and smirking when you flinch. “Hm. Put that in your research notes. Wanna take samples?”

“Fuck off,” you laugh, keeping your legs wide as you struggle to sit upright. The discomfort between your legs is suddenly making itself known, and already the cum around your pussy and thighs is drying, sticky and thick. “Jesus, Sully. Look at me.”

“I know,” grins Jake, his eyes soaking up the image of you. “You’re fucking sexy.”

You roll your eyes with a twisting smile. While Jake seems incredibly fascinated with the marks he has either left accidentally or on purpose over your body, you groan and roll your shoulders. Frankly, you wish Jake had just thrown you down on the grass and fucked you there — in hindsight, the boulder had been a bad idea and you know it will come to haunt you in the morning.

Lazily, and yet with a rush of shame and exhilaration, you glance back at the lab, sitting in the curve of moonlight and caged by bioluminescent flowers and shrubs, each glowing vibrant spectrums of cyan and purple and lime.

“You’re the luckiest woman alive if nobody heard you yapping,” Jake says playfully, rising upright to stretch the agonised muscles of his legs. “You’re so noisy, honey.”

“I apologise for not thinking too much about the volume of my voice,” you drawl sarcastically, your eyes still glued to the glazed thick glass windows looking into the back of the lab. Anxiously, you glance at him, “Was I that loud?”

He gives you a tight, sympathetic smile. You frown.

“You weren’t quiet yourself, you know,” you grumble, feeling the pinch in your back ease slightly.

“Yep.” And he seems smug about that fact, for reasons beyond you, although you wager a guess as to why he seems proud all of a sudden.

As you shuffle awkwardly off the boulder, you wince as you lean for your shorts and panties, dropping a little look at the sliding dollop of cum slipping out of you.

“You gotta keep it in there,” Jake says.

“Jake, as soon as I stand up and walk around, it’s all gonna come pouring out anyway.”

His lip curls with disappointment as he watches his cum drip out of you onto the edge of the boulder, splatting on the wisps of grass around your ankles. It’s a good thing he’s full of copious reserves of cum to give back to you another time.

“Can’t wait for Norm to get a whiff of me,” Jake tells you, and you fight the urge to sigh and roll your eyes, because of course — of course that had been a motive for the gallon of glowing blue sperm Jake just squoze into you. “The look on his face when he figures out I’ve been breedin’ his little sister—”

“I have never been more thankful of the fact that Na’vi and humans can’t reproduce together. Hand on my heart, I mean that.”

You slide your shorts and panties back up your legs and reach for your thrown tank top. The inconspicuous smudges of green from the boulder across the back of it fill you with a puny drop of dread — you’ll just pray really hard to both God and Eywa that nobody pays it any mind.

That and the bulbous bruise on your tit, the bite on your leg, the finger indents on your hips.

“I was doing that thing you were doing. Killing two birds with one stone,” Jake says as he searches the ground for his tewng. “Fucking you ‘cause I wanted to and fucking you because I know wanting you is gonna piss off your annoying big brother.”

You had said that, hadn’t you? And even though the entire scheme of Jake wanting to scorn your brother so badly that he has to use you as a human fuck-toy seems ludicrous, you can’t deny the very minuscule jolt of thrill it gives you. It would be fun to piss Norm off a little bit. He has been a total arse lately.

“Norm’s all you think about,” you tease. “You sure you don’t like him instead?”

“Shut up.”

Jake hands you your cardigan with an amused smile, his tail whipping to and fro happily.

“Your coat, ma’am.”

“Love how you only have one thing to slip back into,” you point out as you take the cardigan from him, and he reaches for the tewng and chuckles. “You could’ve just lifted it up.”

“Could’ve, would’ve, didn’t,” he replies.

There’s an uncharacteristic silence between you both as you climb back into your clothes, and while Jake fiddles with his tewng with his tongue between his lips, you look back at the lab and sigh.

Somewhere in that lab is the man you’ve been thinking of for two months — Jake in his human form, lying in a link unit as he takes control through another body. You wonder what he might think when he wakes up: will he come searching for you in the dark? Come kiss you, tell you how he feels?

Jake creeps up to you with an alarming light foot, and the feeling of his hand on top of your head makes you look up suddenly.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.

“You,” you sigh, looking back at the lab. “Are you going to follow through with tonight when you’re back as yourself, or is this an avatar Jake exclusive?”

“Come on. You still want that loser in there?” Jake feels his heart tug — he doesn’t know if to feel offended that you’re still thinking of someone else, or flattered because that someone else is technically him, the real him, the version of him that Jake hates the most.

“You’re so mean to him,” you grumble. Then pause, and add, “To you. That’s literally still you in there. If anything, doesn’t that make me look a little bit obsessed?” Jake gently pushes your head as you fall into a slow walk in the direction of the remote lab. “Wow. Actually, I just realised that’s true.”

“Finding out that you liked me was the only reason I started spending more than five minutes at a time in the lab,” Jake tells you.

“Who told you?”

You both accept a short silence as you stride past the wall that most of the bunks are built against, and you feel an anxious knot forming in your stomach when the clearing at the front of the lab expands into view.

“I meant it when I said you were horrible at hiding your crush on me,” Jake reminds you.

Right.

The tsawksyul Jake found you is thankfully still where you left it, and you slip out of Jake’s touch to fetch it from under the window, but when you turn to him, his eyes are pulled back across the miles of suspended mountains.

“You have somewhere else to be?” you call.

His top lip curls into a half pout as he says, “Not now. But tomorrow I’ve got to do some hunting. If I make a clean kill, I start my iknimaya.”

“Impressive,” you comment, twirling the tsawksyul between your fingers. “You… Will you be gone long?”

Jake hesitates for a moment. Is he reading into it, or are you looking a little bit more crestfallen now you know he’ll be gone for a little while longer?

“Why, you wanna go again?” he asks with a laugh.

“Respectfully, I think my vagina is broken and I need to lie down,” you quip, making him laugh even more. “I was just…curious. If you’re gone too long, I’ll be asleep before you get back.”

Jake creeps towards you and drops to a painful crouch. He’s definitely going to feel the cry and protest in his legs in the morning from being haunched for so long. Still, he frames your face with his hands and takes a long look at your face.

“I’ll roll past your bed extra quietly,” he promises.

You snort and push yourself away from him. “Safe travels, big guy. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Peering up at him, you breathe in the sight of him one last time as he nods once and rises to stand. The long shadow drawn by his lithe figure falls over you.

“Affirmative,” he states. You look up at him for a second and smile. Did it take having his cock in your stomach for you to realise how pretty he is like this, or have you known all along?

“Go,” you tell him, nodding towards the edge of the cliff before turning to the door. Over your shoulder, Jake scoffs a laugh and turns on his heels, his eyes scanning the mountain range as he approaches the edge.

The bravery you had before died long ago and you quickly twist the air-lock to the door and force it open, your heart in your throat. You don’t look back at him, even when he looks back at you with an endearing smile on his face.

The lab is deathly silent when you slide back inside. You were half expecting someone to stir at the sound of the door sealing shut, but if anyone’s awake, they make no effort to show it. Tip-toeing to the small bathroom, you very hurriedly go about your business and wipe away the eternal flood of cum from between your legs. With the amount Jake just put inside you, you’re fairly confident that even a human with an average sense of smell could sniff him all over you.

The long stalk back to your bunk is made silently and carefully. Norm is fast asleep on the top bunk he unhappily shares with Jake, the aforementioned’s bunk empty and cold, the link unit whirring quietly. Just the sight and sound of it makes you unnaturally nervous, and you turn to speed towards your bottom bunk and peer at Trudy. She’s out like a light.

The thin blanket is pulled to your chin once you settle in the sheets, and you refuse to accept that it’s cowardice you feel when the sound of the link unit slowly begins to fade and Jake hauls himself out with a pained groan. You remain very still as he fumbles for his chair, though you fight the urge to get up, help him and while you’re at it, kiss him until he can’t breathe.

You hope your acting has improved since your terrible attempts of hiding your crush and try to make it look as though you’re asleep, but the distinct sound of rolling wheels makes its way towards where you sleep; you steady your breaths so it looks like you’re out of it, and perhaps Jake will fall for it this time.

Your stomach tightens when the wheels stop next to your bed, and you’re uncomfortably aware of the set of eyes staring at you curled up and facing the wall.

Jake’s hand brushes the back of your head gently, and you’re not sure if that means you’ve been caught, but then you feel Jake’s fingers brush a section of hair away from your neck and nearly sigh at the feeling of his mouth pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. It is so sweet, so fond and gentle, and annoyingly quick. He pulls away and the sound of wheels roll towards his own bunk.

Every sound he makes feels like it’s right in your ear.

You almost wish you’d rolled over and took his face into your hands. But Jake’s smooch against your nape feels like a stolen secret, something shared between only you two, something special.

No matter, you think as you wriggle to get comfortable. He’ll be there in the morning. And it’ll be the man you’ve wanted the entire time who wants you back who receives all your stirring desires.

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x human reader #avatar (2009)#avatar x reader #na'vi x human #avatar the way of water #avatar driver jake sully #human jake sully #norm spellman #jake sully smut #avatar smut #smut #ittojean #jeanbie

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Text

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: your BeReal for the day is, perhaps, a little too real

contents/warnings: smut (18+, minors dni)

There's no mistaking the notification that chimes on your nightstand. It's BeReal, the unique sound lets you know, and you're not in the best position right now to answer it.

You're in the best position, period. You're sprawled out against Aaron's silky bedsheets, the fabric soothing and cool against your flushed skin. You're sweaty, hot, and bothered, your cunt begging for more as Aaron drives his cock repeatedly through your sopping folds.

"Fuck," You hiss, partially at the feeling of Aaron's teeth scraping at your collarbone, and partially because you panic at the sound, "Aaron, my- gimme my phone."

"Don't you think this is a little more important?" He grunts, nearly knocking his skull into your jaw as he lunges for a kiss. He takes you by surprise, and you're nearly pulled away from your urgency to post when his tongue practically slips down your throat.

You nearly gag on it, and your nails take a break from scratching up his back to weave through the short strands of hair at the back of his neck. It's not long enough to tug, but he huffs at the feeling of your nails scraping across his scalp, and rocks his hips into yours slightly faster.

"Oh, fuck, Aaron," You pant when he finally lets you breathe, burying his head in your shoulder to bite at the skin there instead, "Aaron this is so hot, I wanna- please, I wanna post it."

"No face," He instructs, and you're more than happy to choose a different area of his body to focus on, "Don't need Garcia figuring us out."

The moans that escape your mouth, albeit muffled by Aaron's own, are so pornographic that you're paranoid they'll somehow be captured in the photo you snap. When you finally get your hands on your phone you aim it at Aaron's back, as well as the red stripes left by your newly manicured nails, and snap a photo. Then, with the front camera, your jaw that's been sucked sore by Aaron, and in the corner of the shot, his short black hair and strong jawline nestled against your skin. You keep it just as he's instructed, vague enough of a profile so that your coworkers shouldn't be able to figure out that it's him, and his post without a second thought. You feel the buzzings of replies soon after, but you're no longer capable of caring about them while they vibrate against your nightstand, much happier to focus on Aaron's relentless jackhammering into your pulsating cunt.

Gathering in the conference room the next day means that you get a lot of shit-eating grins. You'd expected it, what with the soft porn you'd posted, and you're surprised when even Rossi offers you his congratulations.

"Nice going, kiddo," He knocks elbows with you, and you laugh sheepishly.

"You saw?"

"Morgan filled me in," He nods, "Garcia was the first one to know, of course, but it spread very quickly."

You don't have it in you to be embarrassed in front of your team too badly. You're all adults, and they're more proud of you than anything, even if Reid's smile is extra awkward today.

"Just be glad Hotch doesn't have the app," Emily laughs, and for a moment you forget that they don't know you're together. But you play it off with a wry smile towards her as your Unit Chief walks through the door, and you're happy to let your attention drift to him as he speaks.

His tone is authoritative, like always, and you fight to stop something from stirring between your legs. You tune into what he's saying instead, something about a double homicide in Kansas, and that helps dissuade any distracting thoughts you might have had.

"-and those pictures are... not on the monitor." Aaron narrows his eyes at the black screen, and Garcia nearly breaks the remote trying to get it to respond.

"Sir, I'm trying! I'm sorry," She frets, mashing all of the buttons at once in her panic, "It's not working, I- I think the batteries might be dead?"

"I changed them two weeks ago," Hotch shakes his head while taking the remote from her, stepping up towards the monitor to fiddle with the buttons beneath it, "It's alright, Garcia, it's not your fault."

He cranes his head down to peer at remote in his hand, intent on making sure no acid has leaked from the batteries, but when he does so, the back of his neck is no longer covered by his shirt collar, and it's bright red.

There's clear marks from your nails, red streaks that haven't faded in the mere hours they've been left alone and probably won't for another day. It barely takes any time for a room of profilers to connect two and two, and Penelope's position as technical analyst doesn't hinder her realization.

Your hand shoots over your mouth as the rest of your team exchanges incredulous gasps and jeers, all looking rapidly between you and Hotch. He turns to raise an eyebrow at them all and his eyes land on your bashful grin.

"Remind me to rub some aloe on the back of your neck when we get home," You mumble sheepishly, and there's only more scandalized comments made about how you two go home together.

Aaron's jaw clenches and he sighs defeatedly at the realization that you've both been caught, a hand flying up to cup the back of his neck.

Everyone waits with bated breath to hear what he has to say for himself but he can't manage to muster up anything to save the awkward situation.

"We'll look at the details on the jet," He grumbles, setting the faulty remote on the counter and snatching his bag off of the ground beside his chair, "Wheels up in thirty, and we never speak of this again."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut

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stvolanis · 3 months

Text

Now i know you better

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Fem!Sinner!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGSTTTT, mean!Alastor, cheating w/ Lucifer, probably inaccurate time line idk, foul language,this is honestly kind of poorly written I’m sorry, manipulation, abuse, Alastor owns Readers soul, toxic relationship, possessive!Alastor, pet names, brief mention of suicide

NSFW WARNINGS: dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, choking, forced cream-pie, degradation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, knotting, humiliation, blood if you squint

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It wasn’t your fault that your grave was dug the moment you stepped foot into the fiery pits of hell.

It wasn’t your fault that it was dug by Mimzy when she introduced you to her dear friend, the Radio Demon who, oh so casually, casted peoples screams for hell to hear.

Mimzy, known to drag people into her messes when shit hits the fan, had deeply embedded you into an on-going war with one of the various overlords, simply by seeking a place to lay low for a few days. You didn’t expect Alastor to show up, that damned smile engraved onto his face.

And it most definitely wasn’t your fault that you laid in said grave.

He was charming, and charismatic. A lethal combination when a sense of confidence and dad-humor was thrown into the mix. The way you met wasn’t the most ideal, especially when he basically bombarded through you, inviting himself into your wrecked home to find Mimzy himself without a word.

His smile, then, seemed aggravated. He did little to hide the annoyance she had somehow caused him, and the way his voice grew in static when he spoke showed that. He was scary when you had watched his figure enlarge, his once normal, slim body now turning into a tall, beastly, and lanky figure with protruding antlers and dilated pupils.

Dread set into your core that day when he directed his wrath towards you. His tall frame stalking over you, a hand quickly shot to your throat. Your back hit against the wall as you were lifted from the ground, gasping for breaths of any air you could possibly get.

His breath was drug out and uneven as his chest moved up and down at a surprisingly slow pace. Even though he seemed to be filled of fury and unease—he had a sense of control over his calmness to an extent. Eerily, he had glided his mouth along your neck, inhaling your scent.

A harsh groan, almost as if he were in pain had slipped past his lips. It rumbled deep in his chest, and your eyes watered as your vision began to fade. Only then, did he release you and let your body fall to the floor. You held your throat gently as you finally got what you were begging for.

“Maybe you’ll listen, since sweet Mimzy won’t.” He began, his voice deep and contorted with static and brute. “You will fix the mess she created, and restore what was mine to begin with. Your soul will be mine until you have fulfilled your duty as said.” He finished.

Your mouth gaped. He had presented it to you like you had a choice in the devastating matter, but you knew better. You sobbed as your curled into a ball, and watched as he raised a hand towards your frame that wracked with sobs. “Hush now, girl. You will be under my care so long as I’ll have you.” He ushered with a grimace as he watched you wipe your nose with your wrist.

You longed to object. To scream and yell out that never in a million and one light years would you ever agree to such a thing. Your freedom was yours alone, and you liked to keep it that way. He’d have to drag you through hell and back for you to allow that to happen, yet as you took his sharp hand into yours, it was all said and done.

A bright light consumed you, and just for a moment, you thought maybe it was the light shower everyone talked about up in heaven. The bright beacon of a light so blinding that cleansed you of all your wrong-doings, took away all your pain and replaced the emptiness with a euphoric feeling of content.

Warmth spread throughout your body, and that moment of hope ended when you felt thick, heavy metal of chains cling around your throat and wrists. Alastors smile haunted you. It crept up on you in your dreams, and ate away at the only good things you had left to hold onto.

The life you once cherished, even in hell, soon faded away till it was nothing but a faint distant memory of someone you once knew that was yourself. It was replaced by an evil demon, in the form of a gentleman who disguised plots and alterier motives with wide smiles and laughs.

but again, you knew better.

The person you once were was stripped from you, and you were bare before him to bend and mold how he saw fit. And so, he did. You became his his underboss of sorts, a quiet and submissive being who did as told. They always said behind every powerful man, there was a woman. And it was you. Everyone got the good side of Alastor, yet it was you he took his frustrations out on when the day was said and done.

It was you who endured his aggressiveness when everyone was fast asleep in their bedrooms, dreaming of a better life you knew you’d never receive.

You were his lap dog, and his favorite toy to play with whenever and however he wanted to. It was unofficial, and confusing to others, but you somehow managed to find yourself in some sort of situationship with Alastor. You were his. body, mind, and soul.

You tried your best to please Alastor, constantly seeking his approval that he so generously bestowed upon others. You chased your tail around, and ran in laps, jumping through hoops just to earn a small nod in approval for him.

He wasn’t always bad. He cared for you, in his own fucked up way. He cared in way that he would never let something bad happen to you, and would protect you at all costs. You were his delicate little flower, how could he ever allow anyone who isn’t him to inflict any kind of harm onto you? He’s a bitch, but to an extent.

He loved you, yes, but only when he was in the mood to love you. When he loved you, he’d hold you close to him when you were perched on his lap in the hotel lounge. He’d whisper sweet nothings to you as he kissed along your neck, making giggles vibrate through your chest. He’d run his fingers through your hair till you fell asleep against him at night after a particularly hard day.

And on days when he knew he went to far, his classic water works he only had in store for you would come into play. He couldn’t bare his favorite toy hating him. He didn’t know how to deal with the colder shoulder and short-answer responses from you. It aggravated him that only you could get under his skin without doing much, so when you were heavily upset, only then would he drop down to his knees and kiss the inside of your thighs lovingly.

Tears would align his eyes, but his smile never once wavering, and beg for your forgiveness. He’d tell you how much he loved you as he rubbed your sensitive bud, and wash away your worries with so many orgasms, you forgot why you were mad at him in the first place.

Yes, he owned your soul and tended to be abusive, but he wasn’t heartless.

He’d tell you he’s sorry, and that he’d never hurt you again. It’s always a lie, and each time you allowed yourself to stupidly believe it.

But the truth was, you didn’t know what else to do. You hated to admit it, but you were nothing without him. You spent so long shaping yourself into the person he wanted and needed you to be, that you forgot how to be yourself. You forgot what your previous hobbies were, or what else made you happy besides him. Your world revolves around him, and without him, it felt like your world was coming to an exaggerated end.

So, you put up with it. Each and every time.

It wasn’t till today, the day of Charlie’s fathers arrival to the grand hotel Alastor managed to put together and run, that you’d ever seen him so genuinely with any sort of nerves.

The moment Lucifer walked in, in all his glory, Alastors personality took a flip. He went toe to toe with the ruler of Hell himself, all because he was afraid of someone who he knew had more power than him. But Alastor wasn’t a weak man, not at all, and that’s why he made it his mission to piss off Lucifer as much as he could.

You’d never seen him this way before. With you? Yes, but with other people? Never. He was cunning and every word he spat at Lucifer dripped with malice and confidence. Alastor knew he couldn’t beat him with power, so he hit him where he knew it would hurt. His family. Specifically, the only one he had left.

What Alastor didn’t expect, was for Lucifer to become completely and utterly smitten with you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s been all smiles and giggles with you.

He listened when you talked, even the little small words or sentences no one cared to listen to. His lips against the top part of your hand when you first met was the only thing that circled your mind for days. His lips were plush and warm, soft and tender. It was a contrast to the kisses Alastor left you of pity and forgiveness.

He was sweet, and undeniably handsome. He made you feel ways you’d never felt before. He made you feel like you had a choice. A voice that wouldn’t be spoken over and genuinely listened to. He was charismatic, in a way like Alastor, but it was real. His smiles were real, as were the sweet nothings he said to you.

For weeks, you snuck around with Lucifer. At night, when Alastor was fast asleep, you’d sneak out from under his watchful arm and find your way to Lucifers room. His arms were more welcoming, and warm. His kisses sweeter than honey and his love as gold and bright as they come.

His voice was soft, and vibrant as he hummed against your ear. The fingers that raked through your hair were gentle and soothing, calmed you to your slumbers that comforted you through the night. His smell was intoxicating; cider and musk, like an orchid full of ripe apples. The two rosey spots on his cheek shined in hue when you’d enter the room.

I didn’t take long for Alastor to notice. He want a dumb and oblivious man. He was a ruthless overlord who couldn’t afford to look past the little things. He noticed the stares that the two of you sent when in a room full of people. The lingering touches no one else noticed when you brushed passed each other.

And most of all, they way you’d slip from his grasp in the dark of the night like he was stupid.

He knew, of course. He knew the whole time. And he let you let yourself believe that there was any other choice besides him. He allowed you, from the goodness of his heart, to feel a speck of the freedom you longed for. He let you grasp it and cradle it with all your might, just to draw you back in by the chains that shackled you to him for eternity.

He liked knowing that he controlled you. It fueled the god complex he had, knowing that no matter what you tried to do, you’d always be his. His to love, his to fuck, his to torment.

He mocked you for it, too. Rubbing it in your face that you were chained to him for as long as you’d live in hell. Suicide crossed your mind a few times, the only way you saw yourself out of it—yet, you knew that no matter what life you had next, you’d still always belong to him in some way, shape, or form.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that you could never be happy. Should’ve known that Alastor knew the whole time. Yet you were naive enough to think you were smart enough to go behind his back with a person he detested the most. The one person who could easily kill him with a blink of an eye.

Alastor would never say it out loud, because he knew deep down that he would never win against Lucifer. So, he did what he does best, and he took it out on you.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different from any of the other nights you left Alastors bedroom.

You lay in another man’s arms, his chest rising and falling beneath you as soft breaths slipped past his pale lips. Lucifer looked especially beautiful like this. His white skin glistening in the dull lighting of the room, and his streaky blonde hair ran through messily against the plush pillow.

You wished you could stay in this very moment forever. You’d rather spend an eternity admiring Lucifer for all his greatness, than suffering in Alastors darkness miserably.

You never told Lucifer about the way Alastor treated you behind closed doors. You knew that if you did, Alastor would be dead without a second thought. It crossed your mind a few times, obviously. How could it not? It was your only way out. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alastor wasn’t always like this.

He wasn’t always a bad person towards you. In the beginning, he tried to make you as comfortable as possible. He made you happy, and lively. His presence didn’t make you want to cower away in a corner, and his stare made you flush red, as bright as the color of his hair.

After all he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt shoot through you each time you looked back at Alastor asleep in your shared bed. He never cheated on you. The one of many things he’s never done, yet here you were, every so happily cheating on him. You felt like a two-timing snake, and you knew if he found out that he’d feel betrayed.

With that thought, you slipped from under Lucifer’s heavy arm, watching with soft eyes as he muttered under his breath at the loss of your warmth against him. You kissed his cheek and whispered a goodbye as you exited his room, softly shutting the door behind you. Your finger glided along the walls of the hallway, all the way till you found yourself outside of Alastors room.

You inhaled deeply, reaching for the doorknob, twisting it ever so slowly. Your entered the dark abyss of the room, shutting the door softly behind you with a wince as it creaked lightly. Damned this old ass building.

What you didn’t expect, was for Alastor to press against you from behind.

His breathing was uneven, and sharp as his chest still moved up and down slowly. You froze. You felt your dead heart stop as if you were alive. It seemed like oxygen didn’t exist anymore as you gaped, jaw slightly fallen slack as your eyes lined with tears. Your body shook as his hand traveled to the bed of your throat, craning your neck back to meet his eyes painfully.

“A-Alastor—” you gaped. He clicked his tongue. “Hm, silly girl. You really thought I was unaware of your whore-ish activities?” He chuckled out, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Wait, please—” you began, but you didn’t get a chance to think of what to say next as he slammed your back onto the bed.

You tried desperately to crawl away from him, but within a second, chains tied you down to the bed frame. You wracked with sobs and please of despair. He stood silently for a moment, watching the way you crumbled so easily without him even having to really do anything.

“How dare you.” He hissed out after a moment. Climbing on top of your tense frame, he pinched your cheeks together and watched as tears ran down your cheeks pathetically. “I give you everything you could possibly need. I make sure you’re alive with a roof over your head and out of the clutches of hells streets, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping around with men?” He growled through his sharp teeth.

His smile was formed still, but more into a scowl of displeasure. His antlers were grown and prominent as he began to shift to his demon form that you hadn’t seen since the first time youd met him that fateful day. He was like a rabid animal, drool slipping through the cracks of his jagged teeth as his body became large and monstrous.

This was it. This how your soul would finally be put to rest. By the claws and bared teeth of a monster with the facade of a charming, hotel manager. Not the way you’d want to go out, but hey, at least your were gonna get out of it, right?

Or so you thought.

His claws, sharp as knives tore through your shirt, ripping it off of your figure and discarded onto the floor. Your white lace bra on display in front of him. Your pajama pants adorned with cheesy pandas torn to shreds alongside your favorite sleeping shirt. But all you could think about was the abnormally large bulge hard and prominent against your inner thigh.

God, you hated yourself. You danced along the line of lust, fear, and hatred. Hatred for him, mostly. You hated that you loved Lucifer—yet your body yearned to be used and played with at the hands of Alastor.

The sweet sex, praises and butterfly kisses Lucifer showered you was amazing, but this—this was different. The way Alastor fucked you was different. Yes, he was rough and fucked hard—but this was his way of showing you that he loved you. It was peculiar, to say the least. A man so easily able to use his words to fluster anyone couldn’t look you in the eye to tell you that he loved you.

So he fucked you like he hated you. But you knew what he meant.

His finger hooked under the middle of your bra, effectively slicing upwards to cut it in half. Your breasts sprang free, and your nipples hardened under the tense, cold air. You squirmed as his breath fanned against them, his long tongue shooting out to lick against them tenderly.

He played tricks on you. It was his favorite game. Giving you false hope. Dangling things he knew you longed for in front of you, only to yank it right back. Killing every last good thing you had left till you had absolutely nothing but him.

So you should’ve known better than to trust his soft tongue kitten licking your nipple. His sharp teeth bit down—hard enough to draw specks of blood around it. You yelped out in pain as your eyes lined with fresh tears waiting to be spilled over. The pain was dreadful, but god, did it feel good.

Alastors thumb trailed to lower, tracing down to your stomach till he reached your cotton panties, dampened with your arousal. “What a slut. Getting off on this. You should be ashamed of yourself, darling.” He mocked out with a cunning smile. He didn’t think twice before ripping your panties off.

He fumbled for second with his pants, unzipping them before letting them reach low enough just to pull his cock out. “Now, I’m gonna fuck this cunt till I’ve had enough, and after that, you’re going to go into the small-dicked-duck fanatics room with my cum dripping down your thighs and tell him just how good I fucked you.” He growled out, his hand finding it’s way back to your throat, squeezing tightly as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Alastor, please just listen—i” his cock bullied is way into you. Long, and thick. 9 inches of pure, heavy meat sat snugly inside of you, playing with your insides. He was perfectly trimmed, and his balls heavy balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each agonizingly perfect thrust he delivered into you.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You moaned out, head thrown back as your hand clenched onto the chains that bound you to your bed post. “Tight little pussy. Tell me, does he fuck you like this, baby?” He panted out as he watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He always thought you were the prettiest like this. Underneath him, writhing in pleasure, cock drunk and hungry for him. The only time you didn’t resent him. The only time you wanted him. He cherished this, not that he would ever say it out loud.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He said, slapping the side of your face harshly, leaving a painful sting behind. You whimpered at the familiar impact. “No, Alastor!” You all but screamed out as his cock kissed your cervix.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly, and the smell of hot sex was in the air. A distinctive, vile smell. Your body was lined with sweat, as was his, and your breasts bounced each time his hips met flush against your ass. All you could think about was him.

He consumed your thoughts, plaguing your mind. You couldn’t escape him. And as of right now, you weren’t sure you even really wanted to all along.

Some sick part of you enjoyed this relationship you were in. The part that liked to be put in your place, and told what to do in return for praises of affirmations. A relationship that never got boring, and always kept you on your toes no matter what. Traumatic? Definitely. Toxic? 100%. But, this is what you had to endure. The least you could to was learn to like and deal with it.

You clenched down tightly onto him as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly, his dick hitting every right spot, including the little nerve of your g-spot inside of you. The angle he had your hips positioned in hit it better, and he could tell you were close when your cunt began to pulse around him.

“Please, please, I’m gonna cum!” You babbled on and on, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you. He chuckled as he pulled your head up by the root of your hair, just enough to have your lips crashing down onto his. “Fucked you stupid, honey, i know.” He cooed out against your lips.

He tasted bitter. Like whiskey and old cigars, mixed with a strange tea refreshment. It was an odd combination, but one that suited him indefinitely. His tongue swirled and glided against yours as they fought for dominance in a sloppy, and surprisingly passionate kiss. One that said what he didn’t have to out loud. ‘You’re mine’. He won the fight for dominance, and he sloppily suckled your tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was nasty, sloppy with saliva dripping down your chin and a few cuts on your lip from his sharp teeth clashing against them, but it was the least of your concerns as he rested his forehead against yours, nearing his end.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Nice and full so everyone will know in dues time just who the fuck you belong to.” He growled out through clenched teeth. You shook your head back and forth, your eyes widening with fear. “No, don’t! Please don’t!” You begged, on and on, but to no avail.

His thrusts became harsher, and more demanding. Chasing his high aimlessly as you begged and moaned out his name underneath him. It was then that you felt it. His cock balls deep when you felt it began to swell up inside of you.

You gasped in shock as you were stretched painfully to your limit, the bulge in your lower stomach large and prominent as he pressed against it, triggering your orgasm. Your juices flushed out of you and all over his lower abdomen, and he groaned at the sight. You clenched down onto him impossibly tighter and he felt like he was gonna lose his mind.

“Pull out. Please pull out.” You desperately tried to reason with him, but he didn’t care as he sat snug inside of you, his knot finally emptying inside of you. It was warm, and you could feel it drip down your ass when his cock finally fell flaccid and limp, slowly pulling out of you.

“Maybe now, you’ll learn your lesson. You must be a fool to think that anyone could ever love you like i do.” He said, shaking his head. He bit his lip with a satisfied smile as he watched his mounds of cum pour out of you. “Milked my cock so well.” Was the only praise that slipped past his lips the rest of the night.

He didn’t allow you to clean yourself, only letting you thrown on a pair of panties from the drawer in his bedroom. Your inner thighs were slick and sticky with his warm, salty cum. “Run along now, dear. Come back when you’re finished.” He said in a singing tone, knowingly.

A flame rose in your core of embarrassment as you waddled out of the room, the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs growing by the second. It was humiliating, doing the walk of shame down the hallway, all the way to your now past lovers room.

A soft knock was laid on his door, and after a silent, dreaded minute of standing there, his door fell open. There you stood, in nothing but panties. Bite marks around your nipples and your neck prominent with a lingering bruise from the grip he held on your neck. His eyes trailed down to the cum slick between your plush thighs.

His eyes widened.

“The fuck happened to you?”

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freedomfireflies · 6 months

Text

Reckless*

Summary: The third part to Knockout*

The one where Harry secretly gets paid to fight, but you're the one paying the price.

Word Count: 9.2k (...no comment)

Content Warning: 18+, violence, mentions of an abusive ex, mentions of blood, smut

Harry’s fist instantly snaps closed around your hand, subtly but pointedly tugging you back. Seeming to want to put a bit of space between you and the man standing before you.

“Oh, do you…know each other?” you ask slowly, glancing between the two rather curiously.

Jesse offers nothing more than a raise of his eyebrow, redirecting his attention back to Harry as though encouraging him to respond.

Harry merely grits his teeth. “We used to. Long time ago.”

It’s hardly an answer, somehow just as frustratingly vague as you expected, yet you nod, nevertheless. “Ah. I see.”

Jesse’s smile somehow stretches a bit bigger. “Are you working today?”

“Uh, no. Just…came by for the keys,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other almost nervously. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Thought I’d…maybe stick around a bit? Catch up?”

Harry’s grip gets stronger.

“Besides, today’s pie is apple, yeah?” he asks. “You know it’s my favorite.”

You force a tight-lipped grin and a hum of acknowledgement before the three of you fall silent. Continuing to stand by the door to the diner as the rest of the room continues on with their lunch. Their soft murmurs and clinging cutlery like white noise in the background of the conversation.

You clear your throat. “Okay, well…I’m gonna…I’m gonna tell him goodbye, and—”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” Jesse says, waving you away before returning to the counter. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be right here.”

The last word has hardly left his mouth when Harry suddenly spins on his heel and drags you back through the door. Pulling you into the parking lot without so much as a goodbye before leading you around the side of the building.

“Harry,” you murmur hesitantly, almost cautious of his rather silent reaction. In the little time you’ve known him, you’ve never known him to be this quiet when he’s upset. Or this well behaved. “What’s wrong, what is it?”

He continues his furious stride until he’s brought you both into the alley. Releasing you in order to run a hand through his hair with a strained, “Fuck.”

You slow to a stop and stare at his tensed back. “Harry?”

A long pause. Deafening and loud enough to lodge your heart in your throat.

Finally, “How do you know him?”

“What?”

“Fucking Jesse, how do you know him?” he repeats, somewhat viciously.

Your head tilts. “We…I mean we’re friends, but we…we used to date. For a while. Couple years ago. Why?”

He turns, and the pinching of his features together makes your stomach twist. “Was it him?”

“…Harry—”

“Was it…him?” His eyes flick to yours. “The one you fucking told me about. The one who treated you like shit, the one who fucking threw things at you. Was it him?”

You’re almost surprised he remembered. After all, the revelation of your last relationship had been quite a while ago. An off-handed comment made one stormy night as you sat together in his favorite booth, talking about the past and exchanging odd traumas.

But he does. He remembers. And he’s looking at you like your answer is going to break his heart.

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your chest. “Yes.”

Your voice is small. Timid and weak, nearly carried away with the wind. But it reaches him, nevertheless, and his expression guts you.

He steps back. Trying to get away, either from you or your admission. The truth he can no longer stand to be so close to.

“Why?” he whispers, and your lashes flutter. “Why did you…why would you keep him in your fucking life after he…”

You offer him the same answer you’ve offered everyone else. “I don’t know.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and takes another step. Glancing over your face as if searching for more than you have to give. “Cherry…”

“I know.” You can feel the tears already working their way to your waterline. “I know, but he’s…he’s trying to do better. He’s trying to change—”

“Oh, that’s fucking bullshit,” he scoffs, hands shoving into his pockets almost vengefully. “No, that’s bullshit. He’s not…guys like him don’t change. They just get better at hiding it.”

Maybe he’s right. But it stings to hear. “I…yeah. I know. But we’re just…we’re friends. We don’t talk a lot, just when he needs help.”

“So he uses you?”

“No, he…” You hesitate. “I don’t know. I don’t think he means to—”

His vile scoff cuts through the rest of your excuse, and perhaps it’s for the better.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, fingers itching to reach for him. You feel naked without his body against yours. “I should have…I should have warned you. Or told you, I just…I didn’t think—”

“Are you safe?”

You stop. “What?”

“Are you safe?” he repeats, a tad softer. “When he’s around you, do you feel safe? Do you know that you’re safe, and that he won’t…that you can leave? If you need to?”

You consider this for only a moment before nodding once. “Yes. He’s never…it’s never been like that. He’s just…he gets very angry. And sad. And I think…a part of me wants to help, I guess.”

His expression drops ever-so-slightly, as if wounded. “I know, Cher.” He moves closer to you once again, and you feel like you can finally breathe. He places his palm against your cheek and brushes his thumb beneath your eye. Wiping away the first tear. “You always give your kindness to those who don’t deserve it.”

You take hold of his wrist and bite back a sigh. “Everybody deserves kindness.”

“Maybe.” His voice is quiet. Labored and thick. “But maybe you deserve it more.”

There’s something…heavy in the way he speaks. In the way he feels. As though he’s carrying the entire weight of his world – and yours – on his shoulders.

You know there’s more to the story. More to this anger that’s so prominent in his heart and more to his background with Jesse. You want to ask, want to understand.

But if he wanted you to know, he would have offered.

Maybe he thinks he’s sparing you. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting you in the only way he can, and you feel grateful for him. Grateful for this subtle, unspoken act of intimacy and protection that you’ve become so familiar with in the time you’ve known your handsome stranger.

You choose to have faith in him. In what brought you to him.

“I have to go,” he says now, dipping down to brush his forehead to yours. “Cause if I don’t, I’ll fucking kill him.”

You smile to yourself, but a part of you knows he means it. “Okay. Will I see you again?”

His other hand slips around the back of your neck, keeping you close before he exhales a shaky breath and brings his lips to yours. Kissing you hard and with a thousand unspoken promises. “Of course. M’never gonna leave you, sweet girl. Swear it.”

And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

You kiss him until you can’t breathe, clinging to his hoodie as if begging with him to stay. To keep himself close to you.

And when he eventually pulls away, you nearly crumple to the ground.

“Okay,” he whispers, reaching back to slip his hood on. “Okay, I gotta go. Or I’ll never leave.”

You touch your fingers to your lips and nod once. “I know. Just come back, okay?”

He grins, and it’s wickedly delicious. “Always.”

With that, he turns around, and disappears down the alley. Rounding the corner of the building before disappearing from sight.

Leaving you exactly where he found you, only a few hours ago.

With a heavy heart and weary mind, you make your back into the diner and toward the man still waiting for you.

Jesse has never scared you. Annoyed you, but never scared you. He’s been in your life far longer than you care to admit, ever since you were just kids. And maybe that’s why you keep him around. Because a part of you believes you owe it to the people you used to be.

You loved him. You really did. He was cute, charming, witty. He made you smile, made you laugh. He listened when you talked, said all of the right things. Of course you wanted to believe him when he said he’d do anything to make it work.

His anger had taken him away from you. Had changed who he was. Or perhaps merely highlighted who he’d always been.

He was the one to end things. Claiming he could never offer you the life you deserved. That until he had his temper under control, he couldn’t be with you. You had agreed to remain friends and help him when he lost his way.

He seems to lose his way a lot these days.

And maybe that’s the part that scares you…just a little bit.

“Hey, sugarplum,” he calls once you enter, grinning brighter than he has in weeks. “You all right?”

You nod as you join him near the counter, hands disappearing into your pockets as if to hide. “Mhm. Are you?”

“Absolutely.” He leans over to nudge his elbow against yours. “Feel like it’s been forever.”

“Jess, I saw you last week,” you can’t help but laugh.

“I know, but that was last week,” he argues coyly. “Which is like a lifetime ago.”

And even if there’s a part of you that feels cautious of him, there’s also something so familiar about his company. The sound of his voice, the way he laughs. His effortless ability to remind you of the way things used to be.

Despite how it ended, you can’t help but feel calmed. Your muscles unwinding as you grow a bit more comfortable in his presence.

“Ha, very funny,” you tease, stepping closer as though drawn in by his charm. “Well, if you’re waiting for the apple pie, that’s not until tomorrow.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to come back.”

The conversation lulls as the two of you smirk at each other, and for the first time in days, you don’t feel so on edge.

“Fine,” you agree. “But you can’t come back to the kitchen with me. Not after last time.”

He pretends to pout, but it only makes you smile. “Oh, come on. Everything was going so well up until the flour incident.”

You reach out and shove his shoulder playfully, and he laughs. “All right, enough. Why are you really here?”

“I told you, I wanna catch up. Clearly I’ve missed a lot.”

The mention of Harry is like a sharp needle to your blissful bubble, popping you free of his spell until you come crashing back to earth. “Right. How, um…how again do you guys know each other?”

“Oh, we don’t. Not really,” Jesse explains, shrugging one shoulder up almost casually. “We used to go to the same gym. Spot each other now and then. But we never really knew each other, I guess.”

“Ah.”

“Was kind of surprised to see him with you, though,” he adds. “But good surprised. I told him he should come check out the diner, and I’m glad to see he listened."

Harry’s previous mention of how he found you suddenly clicks, and you nod, eyes drifting toward the floor. “Yeah, he…he seems to like it here.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He seems oddly thrilled by this. “And I guess you two are…?”

The implication brings a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you quickly shake your head as you step back. Almost as though guarding yourself from his question. “Oh, no, we’re…we’re just friends. Or we’re…yeah. Friends.”

His brows furrow but he’s smiling. “Are you…sure about that?”

No. “Yeah. We don’t…we don’t really know each other that well, is all. We just…we like to talk.”

“I see.” He studies you for a moment, somewhat curious. “I’m glad he found something here he likes so well.”

The heat in your face begins to burn. “Yeah, he…he really likes the pies.”

Jesse hums, expression mischievous. “Yes. The pies.”

You force a laugh and nudge him again. “Okay, enough. I should…I should probably get back—”

“Wait,” he interrupts, slipping off the stool in order to get closer, “is there…any chance you’d fancy a drive? Thought we could go around the block a few times like we used to. Just…listen to the radio and people watch.”

Truth be told, the offer is compelling. Because you know if you go home, all you’ll do is worry. About Harry, about Jesse. About all the things you wish you could do for them but can’t.

Maybe a distraction is what you need. One day where you aren’t expected to fix everybody else’s problems but your own.

So, you nod. Tentatively but with a small grin that makes Jesse’s entire expression light up.

“Great,” he chuckles before nodding his chin at you. “So…do you want me to drive? Like old times?”

Your answer is to dig back into your pocket for the keys before tossing them over. “Think you already know the answer to that.”

He laughs again and spins the ring around his finger. “Then let’s hit it, sugarplum.”

It’s almost too easy to settle back into your old habits. To follow him to your car, hop inside the passenger seat, and allow him to take you away.

And it’s nice. Comfortable and…safe. Windows down, music loud. The two of you singing along with every bad song that comes on. It really does feel like it used to, and for just one evening, you forget about everything else. And you let yourself just…be.

The two of you drive around the city until the sun goes down. He tells you about his new job at this fancy law firm and you tell him about this new recipe you’re working on for the diner. You talk, and you laugh, and you sing until your stomach hurts.

You forget. And you’re okay with that.

“Okay,” he finally declares not much later after a quick glance at the clock. “I know you have to get back, but I just have one last thing I want to show you.”

Your brow raises. “Oh? What?”

“A surprise.” He begins to grin, almost wickedly, and it makes you smirk. “It’ll just be a quick little detour, and then I’ll have you home. Promise.”

You consider this for only a moment before sighing. “Fine. But just for the record, I hate your surprises.”

He merely winks before taking a left and leading you both out of town.

The further you go, the darker it gets. This part of the city appears to be rather neglected, with very few lights along the street to guide you. The buildings are rundown and abandoned, there’s police tape over half the doors and boards across half the windows.

Sketchy would be putting it mildly.

Yet Jesse appears undeterred, swinging into one of the large, unkempt parking lots where a collection of cars are already gathered.

“I don’t…understand,” you begin slowly, glancing around the dark space in search of answers.

However, instead of answer, he merely puts the car in park, tosses you the keys, and hops out. “You’ll see. Come on.”

Despite your hesitancy, you choose to follow, trailing after him as he begins toward one of the shabby buildings just up ahead.

There’s a strange sort of itch crawling its way up the back of your neck. Blossoming into your cheeks until you feel a twinge of apprehension.

But Jesse walks ahead as though he hasn’t a care in the world. Nonchalant and relaxed, leading you to the door.

Then, he knocks twice, stops, and adds three more.

A beat passes before there’s a sharp, electric buzzing. Immediately followed by the sound of something rather heavy before the door suddenly swings open.

Your breath catches.

The inside of this disheveled building is divine. Luxury drips from floor to ceiling, a rather stark contrast to its exterior. There’s fresh paint on the walls, towers of champagne in each corner of the room, and a crowd of men and women dressed to the nines in their most elegant and expensive outfits.

But there’s something off. They’re yelling, and cursing, and cheering. Raising their glasses while shouting at something happening in the middle of the room.

And that’s when you see him.

Even from this distance, you’d recognize him anywhere. The soft, sweaty curls matted to his forehead. The blood that drips from his mouth and jaw. The tattoos and marks that glisten from his chest – the same tattoos that you saw for the first time only hours ago.

Your stranger. Landing hit after hit to the man standing just opposite him inside the large ring.

You don’t move. You don’t think you can breathe. You can’t think straight or understand…and then Jesse throws his arm around your shoulder.

“Let’s go have a look, yeah?” It’s posed like a question, but he’s already leading you toward the crowd before you can decide on your answer.

Your heart is in your toes as he slips through the collection of onlookers. Pulling you to the front until you have a near perfect view of the violence happening only a few feet away.

A perfect view of him.

You’re not sure how long he’s been at it. Clearly long enough, if the new cuts and fresh bruises are any indication. He doesn’t seem to notice you, instead throwing his arm toward his opponent before ducking down to miss the strike back.

You hear yourself gasp as you recoil away from the forceful blow, nearly hiding yourself beneath Jesse’s arm while he laughs.

“What’s the matter, sugarplum?” he hums. “Thought you’d wanna see what your little boytoy gets up to when he’s not with you.”

You can hear it now. The vindictive sneer hidden beneath his charming chuckle. And that uncomfortable itch begins to burn as you pull yourself back in order to see him. “What?”

Jesse nods toward the boxing ring. “You see, when he’s not with you…he’s quite busy. Beautifully and spectacularly fucking me over.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Do you know what this is?” He raises a brow. “Do you know what he really does?”

“He…he fights. He gets paid to fight.”

“Right. And who do you think pays him?”

And that’s when it happens. That’s when the final puzzle piece clicks into place, and you understand. You see the whole picture laid out in front of you, and it wears his face.

“You.” It’s a strained, timid whisper that’s buried beneath the loud, vulgar hollering.

Jesse nods. “Exactly. I pay your boyfriend to beat the shit out of anyone dumb enough to get into that ring with him. And all he has to do…is fucking win.”

The cheering grows louder in your ear as he steps closer. Forcing your attention to split between the two men.

“But I have a problem,” he continues. “You see, Harry can win a fight in his goddamn sleep. He never loses. Ever. That’s why I pay him so much fucking money. That’s why I’m his sponsor.”

Your stomach twists.

“So, imagine my surprise when he suddenly started to lose. Night after night. Over and over. Constantly and consistently losing fights he should have been able to win with his fucking eyes closed.”

There’s something trapped in your throat. The room is spinning, and there’s a ringing in your ear that just won’t quit.

“And then I find out…he’s fucking throwing them.” His hand finds your hip and he turns you toward the ring. “Every goddamn night, he throws the fight. Because, for some reason, he seems to think that these fights are up to him. He thinks that he gets to decide who wins and who loses.”

He leans down now, lips hovering near your ear while his voice settles into a rather malicious hiss.

“But the only person that really loses…is me,” he sneers. “Because if he doesn’t win, then I lose a shit ton of money on him. And I don’t really think that’s fair…do you?”

You suck in a quiet breath right as Harry steps back to avoid a massive swing before landing his own blow just beneath the man’s jaw.

“So, I wondered. Wondered why the switch. Why he’d suddenly be willing to lose so much money and allow his ass to get kicked into his throat…for nothing.”

He leans back now, and your lashes flutter.

“And then I found him…with you.” He tsks almost teasingly while his head cocks to the side. “Seems my best fighter has found himself distracted. Pussy-whipped by a pretty face that serves him fucking pie. And he thinks that if he throws the fights…he can save you.”

A set of knuckles connect with Harry’s left cheek, sending him stumbling back while you suck in a sharp inhale and turn away.

“So…I want you to watch,” Jesse tells you, snaking an arm around your waist in order to keep you in your spot. “I want you to fucking see what you’ve done to him.”

Your features twist into a fearful grimace as you drag your eyes back to the ring. Watching as Harry swipes the back of his hand across his mouth to clear the blood before surging forward. He swings and it’s a miss. Arm flying over the other man’s shoulder before he’s shoved toward the rope.

He’s losing. A few more strikes to the face and you’re almost sure he’ll pass out.

And you don’t understand. Can’t comprehend any of this. Why Jesse brought you here, why Harry does this to himself, and why you’re somehow a part of it.

They lied. They both did. Harry looked you in the eye and told you he didn’t know Jesse. Even when he knew about…all of this.

Jesse being involved in some sort of illegal fight club doesn’t surprise you. Perhaps it should, and yet, it might be the least surprising thing you’ve learned so far.

But Jesse being Harry’s sponsor…being the one who pays him to do this to himself, who gambles on Harry’s very life…

Another strike is laid to his jaw, forcing Harry’s head to snap to the side.

And he sees you.

You watch the realization pass over his face in real time. The way his eyes widen and his lips part.

He stumbles back from the blow, catching himself on the ropes before Jesse tightens his hold on your hips…and Harry looks over.

The rage that settles into the lines and details of his features is evident. The way his teeth grit together, the way the veins in his neck strain against his skin, the way his fingers flex by his side.

He must understand why you’re here now and he channels this understanding and rage into his next hit.

He spins to the side, flings his arms around his opponent’s waist, and yanks him down. Throwing him so hard to the floor, you’re almost surprised he doesn’t break his spine right down the middle.

Half of the crowd cheers while the other half yells in disappointment.

But Jesse merely smirks.

And you realize that this is what he wanted. To use you as a tool in his game. A pawn for his pleasure until Harry’s hand was forced.

Harry rears back only to raise his fist into the air. Over and over, he lands his knuckles to the man’s face. Hit after hit after hit until there’s blood everywhere. Dripping from his knuckles, the man’s nose, his mouth.

He doesn’t stop. Even long after he should, and the man has gone limp. He goes and goes and goes until the referee has to physically step into the ring and drag him back.

And the fight is declared over.

They grab Harry’s wrist and sling it into the air, raising his arm in victory while the room hollers their support.

Your heart is racing inside your chest, going far too fast, and you feel a rush of blood to your head. Your knees are shaking, and your hands feel clammy, and you can’t breathe and why won’t that ringing in your ear stop?

“This is what he’s good at,” Jesse murmurs to you now, lips ghosting down the shell of your ear. “This is all he’s good for. And he fucking knows it.”

The room begins to disperse while Harry is led out of the ring and into the shadows on the far side of the building.

Your eyes and your heart go with him.

“So, you’re gonna do what you do best,” Jesse continues. “You’re gonna remind him why he has to fucking win. Because if he throws one more goddamn fight…I’ll fucking kill him myself.”

With that, he releases you, and turns around. Disappearing into the crowd before you can stop him.

You stand there, in the middle of this extravagant room, and you stare at the ring. And the blood stains on the mat. And the shadows that dance across the floor from the chandelier on the ceiling. The collection of empty glasses and empty promises that are scattered about the vast space.

Then, your feet are pulling you toward the door Harry disappeared into. Taking you to him, despite everything else. Because even after all of this, you want to help him. To make sure that he’s okay, and…and fix him. Somehow.

The door leads to a hallway that leads to what you can only assume is a locker room. It’s empty when you arrive, although you aren’t too surprised. The other fighter was taken to the opposite end of the building, and the people who led Harry away don’t seem to be around.

You hesitate for only a moment, attempting to decipher if you truly feel safe being alone with him after everything you’ve seen in the past 24 hours.

But the answer is obvious.

So, with a deep breath, you brave a step inside.

The shower is running. Steam already beginning to dance through the air as you pass by the collection of lockers and benches. Looking for any sign of him. Your stranger who perhaps isn’t so strange anymore.

You see his clothes tossed toward the floor. See a trail of scarlet streaks leading you further into the room and toward the showers just around the corner.

And you don’t hesitate now as you step past the wall in order to see him.

He’s standing beneath the stream of water, one hand braced against the wall as he stares down at the floor. Watching the blood disappear down the drain.

And he’s…beautiful. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him – all of him – and you feel your breath hitch as you step closer. Allowing your eyes to travel along his tall, tensed frame. From his curls to his thighs and everything in between.

“Harry?”

Your voice snaps his head up, and he turns. Instantly pushing off the wall in order to fully face you.

“Cherry, you can’t be here,” he breathes, and it’s almost lost beneath the heavy stream of water. “Can’t be in here, it’s not safe—”

But you’re already moving closer, toeing off your shoes and tossing your jacket aside before stepping inside the showers.

His lashes flutter, the muscles in his stomaching quivering as he leans back. “Cher, I mean it. You can’t…I can’t let you see me like this.”

You step up to him. Ignoring his protests and the water pouring from the ceiling, you step up, you put your arms around his shoulders…and you hold him.

At first, he goes still. Deathly still, almost bracing himself from your touch. Afraid of what it means.

Then, he settles. Understands that you only want to help, and slumps into your embrace while his face buries into your neck.

You reach up and run your palm down his head. Carding your fingers through the wet curls before squeezing the back of his neck. “You’re okay.”

He takes in a sharp inhale, arms snaking around your middle. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says again. And his voice breaks like the cracks of a sidewalk.

You merely hold him tighter. “But I am.”

And there’s so much to say. So much to understand and question, but right now, he just needs you to hold him. To let him know that it’s okay – that he’s okay.

That you’re not going anywhere.

You stand there for what feels like hours. Until your clothes become soaked, and your fingers begin to prune. But you keep your grip on him tight. Offering nothing more than soft murmurs of, “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He’s angry. So very angry, and you can feel it in the way his muscles twitch beneath your hands. Can hear it in the shallow breaths he takes and the clenching of his jaw.

He’s trying to keep himself together. For you. But he’s moments away from slipping, and you can only hope you’ll be able to bring him back.

“Harry?” you whisper, scratching your nails down his bare shoulder.

His head shakes. “No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.”

“Har—”

“No.” He leans back, lip curled up into a snarl. “No, I can’t…I fucking can’t—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, taking hold of his wrists to keep him close. “Okay, I understand—”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says for the third time. “You aren’t supposed to be here, and I can’t fucking believe he brought you.”

“I know. I know, but I’m okay. It’s okay, I promise—”

“What did he say?” His eyes flick between yours. “What did he say to you?”

You feel your insides twist as you squeeze his hands. Taking a moment to find the right words. “He…he wanted me to see what you really do. And…to tell you that you have to win.”

His brows stitch together. “What else?”

“Nothing,” you lie. “Just…just that.”

And maybe he doesn’t believe you. Maybe he knows there was more to Jesse’s threat, but it doesn’t matter because he’s tugging himself out of your grasp and turning toward the wall before you can argue. Sending his knuckles straight into the tile until it cracks.

You gasp, quickly surging forward to pull on his arm in protest. “Harry—”

Surprisingly, he allows you to yank him away, but he doesn’t look at you. He keeps his venomous glare on the drain, chest heaving with uneven breaths.

But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you guide him back to you, and lift his hands. Studying the torn skin of his knuckles closely with a sigh. “Harry…”

The wounded waver in your voice makes his expression soften, and he allows his shoulders to roll back. Releasing a bit of his rage. “It’s okay. M’okay, Cher—”

“No,” you argue softly. “No, you’re…”

You can’t find the words. Can’t find the right thing to say that explains this anguish in your heart. That lives within your chest.

So, instead, you bring his ruined hands to your lips, and you hold them there. Kissing the stained, battered skin while he sucks in a quiet breath.

And you don’t care. About any of it. About the fights, or the lies, or the threats. You don’t care what he really does or who he really is.

You just want him to be happy. To be safe. No matter what that looks like. No matter what you have to do to make that a reality.

You want to kiss away his scars, kiss away his pain. Take it and make it your own. Carry the weight he’s been trying to carry all by himself.

You don’t want him to be alone. You want to keep him, you want…

He watches you. Keeps his eyes glued to nearly every inch of your face as you do this. And something changes for him. You aren’t sure what.

But he sets his anger free before slipping his fingers from yours in order to take hold of your face.

And he kisses you. Pulls you to him almost desperately before pressing his lips to your own.

It’s soft, and sweet, and so deliciously him. Gentle despite everything else you’ve seen from him today.

He steps forward, subtly pushing you back. Again and again until your back meets the wet, tile wall.

He holds you there almost hesitantly before straightening up and deepening the kiss. Slipping his tongue in beside yours and savoring everything you have to offer.

And you let him take whatever he’d like. Allow him to have all of you as his chest meets yours and he cages you there. Hungry kisses now moving for your neck.

His touch travels to your hips, nails curling into your shirt as though resisting the urge to grab hold. And you smile as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. Breath hitching at the way his thigh brushes against yours.

You drop one hand to his chest. Allow the tips of your fingers to dance along the swallows on his collarbone and toward the muscles in his abdomen. Careful to mind his stitching and new cuts.

And he seems to remember now that he’s completely bare to you, his mouth falling still against your wet skin as he steadies himself.

Quickly, you stop yourself from going any further, settling atop his stomach before nosing under his jaw. “You’re so beautiful, Harry.”

He says nothing, lips ghosting across your pulse point before pressing in deep.

“All of you,” you whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

His lashes flutter shut while his arm loops around your back. Face burying in your shoulder as though to hide, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed or enthralled.

Either way, you gingerly ask, “…may I touch you?”

There’s a quick pause before he nods. Only once, and then he returns to leaving an array of kisses to your throat. Nipping at the skin until you smile.

So, you continue your search, moving your hand toward his hips and down until you feel him.

And the moment your palm brushes against his cock, you both gasp. Straightening up almost attentively before settling back into the pleasure.

Your thumb finds his slit and he curses. Hands tightening around the fabric of your shirt, keeping you against the tile as if he’s worried you’ll disappear.

“Shit,” he mumbles, palm moving to your cheek. “Baby, you know you don’t have—”

“Shh.” You wrap your fingers around the tip before smoothing down. “I want to. Please?”

When he says nothing, you stop, and it forces an instant groan. His body seeming to have made the decision for him.

“Yes,” he finally says, nodding again but quicker. “Shit, yes, Cherry. Can do whatever you want. M’yours.”

And it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

You chase after his pleasure as though your life depends on it. And perhaps it does, but you certainly don’t mind. Because his grunts and pants are deliciously addictive. And you could spend the rest of your life touching him if it meant you’d get to hear just one more.

And maybe now you understand why he’s also so determined to do the same for you.

You run your hand up and down his cock, squeezing the tip before moving lower. Palming at his balls before dragging your touch back to the top.

He does his best not to rush you or overwhelm you. Resisting the urge to buck his hips closer in a desperate attempt for more.

Instead, he focuses his attention on you. A role he seems much more comfortable in.

He kisses you everywhere he can. Your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, your neck. Below your ear, along your collarbone, and down the dip in your shirt.

Then, his fingers slip down to your jeans. Absentmindedly fiddling with the button before he whispers, “Can I touch you, sweet girl? Wanna make you feel good, too.”

And who are you to deny him?

“Always,” you whisper back, releasing him for only a moment so he can wrangle the wet material down your legs.

Once he has, he straightens up, and runs his palm along the inside of your thigh. Indulging in the feel of your skin while you take him back in your hold.

And it’s strangely beautiful, this dance you do. The synchronicity of teasing touches and playful strokes that leave you both breathless.

Anytime you gently tighten your fist around him, he curls his finger inside your walls. And anytime you brush at his slit, he brushes at your clit.

You both share a smile when you realize, and Harry laughs before nuzzling his face back into your neck. Tugging your skin between his teeth to muffle his groan.

“You have no idea how badly I needed this,” he says. And it’s a faint thought, perhaps not meant for your ears. “Fucking need you, baby. Always.”

Your head drops back against the wall. Your body already growing sluggish under the weight of undeniable euphoria he inflicts.

“You always have me,” you tell him. “I’ll do whatever you want—”

“Shit.” He yanks your chest to his, mouth painting warm, wet kisses along your skin. “Don’t say that. Don’t, or I’ll never stop.”

You grin. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

You go faster. Finding a pace he seems to enjoy and zeroing in. You want him to cum – need him to cum. To offer him that release and that promise of more.

And it works. His tattoos rise and fall under the weight of his frantic gasps for air. He’s tipping over the edge, just needing a final push, and you want to get him there more than anything. Want to see what his face looks like when it’s overcome with pleasure. When he’s releasing into your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt. Want to feel him, know how his body moves when it’s spent.

“Please,” you murmur, almost anxiously as you work him closer. “Please, Har…let me feel you. Wanna feel you cum, please.”

He moves to squeeze the back of your neck before his hand disappears into your hair. Gently but pointedly tugging on your roots. “Baby—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, you can cum. Can cum for me—”

“Fuck.” He jolts forward, fingers slipping from your cunt. “So good to me, sweet girl. So fucking good to me. Don’t deserve you. Never deserved you—”

“Yes,” you nearly whine. “Of course you do, Har, please—”

He cums with a soft groan that bleeds into your throat. Woven between his kisses and flicks of his tongue to your skin, and it’s everything. The warmth, the feel, the implication. It covers your hand, and wrist, and even parts of your thighs.

And you watch it drip down toward the floor almost regretfully, but you’re mesmerized. Addicted to something you only just discovered, and desperate for more.

But he gives you no time to reminisce, instead moving his mouth to yours in order to show you exactly how much it meant to him.

“Knew you’d be good,” he remarks playfully, nipping at your bottom lip before squeezing your waist. “Fucking knew, yeah?”

You release his cock as gently as you can before smoothing your palms up his chest and into his hair. Tugging on his curls in order to bring him closer. “Just for you.”

He smirks to himself before leaning back to study you. Glancing over your body as though in search of something. And the longer he looks, the angrier he appears to become.

Then, he mumbles, “He fucking touched you.”

Your heart wrenches. “…Har—”

“He touched you,” he says again, bitterly, and almost to himself. “He fucking put his hands on you and he made sure I saw. Wanted me to see, and now…now I can’t see anything else.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt a panic like this. “Harry, please—”

He crouches down, large hands curling around your thighs and pulling them as far apart as they’ll go. Which, admittedly, isn’t very far because of the jeans still pooled around your ankles. But he doesn’t mind, instead staring at your legs rather thoughtfully.

Finally, he looks up.

“I need to wash him away,” he whispers, and your stomach leaps into your throat.

“What?”

“I need to wash him away,” he repeats softly, moving closer to ghost his lips along your hip. “Need to erase him. Need to clean him off you.”

Your fingers twitch by your side, and you aren’t even sure what to say. Because the look in his eye is unrelenting, and you can see how badly he wants this.

“Okay,” you exhale. “Okay, erase him. Make me yours again.”

And this is all he needs to hear, wasting no more time before smoothing his lips and his hands along your thighs and waist. Repainting every inch of you with his touch. Washing away the metaphorical marks Jesse left when he held you and replacing them with his own.

Even if it’s not inherently sexual, it’s the most erotic and wonderful thing you’ve ever experienced. The way he feasts on your flesh like a man on a mission. Nipping and licking at you just to make you whimper. He’s nowhere near your clit and it doesn’t even matter because he’s so divine.

The heat of his mouth on your cool, wet skin. The way he gingerly kneads at your ass in an attempt to comfort you. Tenderly pulling you closer as though you’re somehow still too far away.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” you hear him sigh, and it makes your insides tighten. “M’so fucking sorry for doing this to you. For bringing you into this.”

Your expression drops while your head shakes. “You didn’t. You didn’t, I asked. I asked to be a part of you, and I don’t regret that.”

But it’s like he can’t hear you over the sound of his shame. Instead kissing you softer as if to apologize. “It’s my fault. Should have told you the moment I saw him. Should have taken you with me. Shouldn’t have left you with him when I fucking knew—”

“Hey.” You reach down and take hold of his hair. Yanking his attention to you. “None of this could ever be your fault. Do you understand?”

He seems to ignore this as well, nudging his nose against your hip with a crestfallen expression that makes you want to scream.

So, you tug harder, forcing his head back and his eyes on yours. “This is who Jesse has always been. You didn’t change that, and you never will. And I know that. I know him. I know his heart and I know what he’d do to hurt me.”

His lips part, as if going to speak, but you merely tighten your grip in an unspoken order to remain silent.

“And I know you,” you continue. “I know that this is who you are. All of this. The fighting and the bets and the torture you put yourself through. And I know that you would never hurt me. That you have always done your best to protect me, even if I didn’t know what I was being protected from.”

His hands begin to drop down your legs and toward the floor, an act of complete submission.

“This is not your fault,” you repeat earnestly. “You are not responsible for Jesse’s intentions, and you’re certainly not reasonable for mine. And I need you to know that. Okay? You have to know that. Because I have never felt safer than I do with you.”

His features remain unchanged, and you wonder if he heard anything that you said at all. If he understood and internalized your instance. If he’ll believe it.

And then—

“I love you.”

You feel your pulse skip inside your chest as you suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“I love you, Cherry.” He says it again without pause, without a moment’s hesitation. Proving that it wasn’t a mistake or a trick of the mind. He really said it. And he meant to. “And m’so fucking sorry it took him for me to realize it.”

You aren’t sure what to do. What to say or…what to think, but he’s already shaking his head and offering you a small smile before you can decide.

“I don’t want you to say it,” he says quickly and quietly. Slipping your hand from his hair in order to press his lips into your palm. “I just want you to know. And I wish I could have done it differently, but…I do, I love you. And I will do everything I can to prove that to you.”

You want to tell him that he already has. Want to tell him a lot of things that maybe you shouldn’t, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

He merely kisses your hand before moving back to your thighs. Looking for your permission to continue.

Breathlessly, you give it to him.

With a soft grin and great care, he extends his tongue and slowly drags it up your clit. He’s not rushing this time. He’s enjoying it. Allowing himself to indulge in your taste and your feel as you slump against the tile and let him.

He leaves a trail of apologies and promises along your pussy. Kissing, sucking, and flicking until you squirm. And he’s so focused, so dedicated to your orgasm. To making you understand how badly he needs you.

And you do understand. More than you’ve ever understood anything else.

“Love to see you, baby,” he murmurs after a moment, now running the tip of his finger between your folds and down. Taunting you with the intrusion yet not giving it to you. “Love to see this pretty pussy take me.”

You whine pitifully before he finally pushes in. Allowing your walls to beckon him closer until he hums.

“Can’t wait to see you take my cock,” he muses, thrusting the digit once or twice before bringing a second into play. “Gonna watch you stretch for me. Gonna just sit and watch this sweet, little hole take me in. Get me nice and warm. Till I’m soaking in you. Fucking drenched—”

“Harry,” you whine, overcome by a rather euphoric rush that makes him smirk. “Harry, please—”

“What, sweet girl? You like the sound of that?” He ignores your cries and flicks his tongue against your clit. “S’okay. I do, too. Think about it more than I should. Think about you and this tasty little cunt till I’m fucking my fist in the shower.”

The lewd image that’s painted in your head makes your toes curl, and you imagine you’d give anything to watch.

“But it’s not nearly as good as when you do it,” he says coyly. “Won’t ever be able to picture anything else but your sweet, little hand wrapped around my cock. Making me cum like a good girl.”

He adds a third finger, and your vision goes hazy.

“And this,” he breathes, fucking into you a bit faster. Until the sound of your arousal bounces between the walls. “Replay this in my head every goddamn day. The way you sound when you take my fingers, take my tongue. S’fucking beautiful, Cher. The best thing I’ve ever heard.”

You believe him.

“Wanna listen to you forever.” He laps at you like he’s dying of thirst. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you. Wanna fucking hold you and never let you go. Never let anything hurt you. You’re the only good thing in my life, sweet girl. Need you to know.”

You aren’t sure if the tears in your eyes are from the pleasure or his admittance, but they fall from your cheeks almost mercilessly. And you can’t even wipe them away because, in some strange sort of way, you enjoy it. This pain and this angst that comes with the man on his knees before you.

“You’re mine, yeah?” he asks next. But the lustful undertone is gone. He’s pleading with you now. Begging you. “Not his, but mine. Always mine.”

Your agreeance comes before you can question it. “Yes…yes, I’m yours. Yours, I promise—”

He groans into your cunt like he’s never been happier. And the reverberation down your thighs and across your clit nearly ruins you. “Say it again. Say it again, baby, please—”

“I’m yours. Just yours, Harry. Not his. Never…never his—”

“Fuck.” He pulls on your thigh in order to bury his mouth into your pussy. And you almost wonder if he’s actively trying to suffocate himself. “Again. Again, Cherry—”

“Yours.” The word drips from your tongue like honey from a honeycomb. “Just yours. Don’t wanna be anybody else’s.”

His entire face is nuzzled between your legs, and it almost kills you. Because he’s so beautiful. You’ve never seen or felt something so ethereal, and you can’t look away. Even when your eyes are desperate to fall shut, you force your attention on him. Watching as he mouths at your clit and drives in his fingers until it hits you.

You nearly collapse onto the floor, but he refuses to let you. Keeping you upright before you can go slipping down the wall and cementing you to his tongue in order to drag you through to the other side.

“Mine,” you vaguely hear him hum, and your heart flutters. “Always mine.”

When he’s sure you’ve caught your breath, he straightens back up, and takes you in his arms. Kissing you and holding you and keeping you safe. Making sure you understand that he wants more than your orgasms. He wants you. Even without the explicit words, you know his true intentions. Know where his heart truly lies, and you settle there beside it.

Moments pass before either of you speak again. Instead listening to the sound of the running water hitting the floor.

And you’re afraid to be the first to break this tranquility. Because you know once you do, you might not find it again. Jesse’s threat still lingers rather prominently in the forefront of your mind. And you’re terrified that every time you look at Harry…you’ll remember.

“Cherry?” he whispers minutes later, and your pulse jumps.

You bury your face in his neck, bracing yourself from whatever he might say next. “Harry.”

He nuzzles his cheek against the crown of your head and sighs. And you can feel the heaviness of the breath leave his body. “I don’t know what to do.”

The vulnerability makes your throat run dry, and you subsequently tighten your arms around his middle. “Don’t have to do anything.”

“Cherry—”

“No, just…we’re okay,” you insist. “It’s okay. You just…you’ll win. You’ll keep fighting and you’ll win, and we’ll be okay. And I won’t have to lose you.”

A beat. “But what if I lose you?”

“You won’t. Never.”

“But he knows, Cher,” he murmurs. “He knows, and he’ll use you to hurt me. He’ll drag you into this as many times as he fucking wants, and he’ll use you. And I can’t let him – I won’t let him.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care what he does, he doesn’t scare me, Har—”

“But he fucking scares me.” His volume rises until it can carry over the shower walls. “All right? He terrifies me. Because now he has the one thing I can’t fucking…”

Your eyelids flutter before you take hold of his hand.

“And he wants to play this stupid fucking game, and I won’t let him,” Harry continues. “I won’t let him use you or threaten you, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Okay, but you’re the one with all the cards. Right? He’s shown his hand. He’s shown how desperate he is. He can’t do anything to me if he really wants you to listen—”

“You don’t know him like this,” he nearly scoffs. “You don’t know what he’s willing to do—”

“Harry—”

“I can’t…I can’t,” he seethes. “I can’t get him out of my fucking head, and I can’t let him win. I won’t let him win.”

He’s unrelenting. Unwavering in this insistence and you feel as though your insides are being twisted around a knife.

All he has to do is win. All he has to do is let Jesse believe he’s still in charge. And he’ll be okay. You’ll both be okay.

“Harry,” you try again. Softer this time, hoping to reach him. “We’re gonna be fine. Okay? It’s you and me. We’ll be all right. We have to be.”

His expression instantly drops before he dips down and lays his forehead to yours.

He says nothing else. Offers no more ideas or excuses. He simply exists in this belief and the serenity it provides.

Even if he knows it’s not strong enough to stand on.

“Okay,” he finally mumbles. “You and me.”

And it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. Because for the first time all night, you see the way out. You see a future where he can be who he is, and you can be who you are, and it can still be all right. Where you can be together and be free of any threats and complications and just exist in this little world you’ve created.

A world outside of the diner and the backseat of his car. A world where he offers you more than his orgasms but his secrets, too. His life. And you need that. You need it more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

He leads you out of the shower not much later, digging through his things before offering you his hoodie and sweats to wear home.

And there’s something so intimate about wearing his clothes. The way the tattered fabric feels against your skin. The way it smells like his cologne and the shampoo he must use. The way it fits your frame as if it was always meant to, keeping you warm despite the frigid air that greets you when you step outside.

You offer to drive him home, but he refuses. Insisting that it’s better if you don’t know where he lives, at least for right now. And you don’t have it in you to argue.

He makes you promise to lock your door the moment you get inside the car, and to lock your apartment door the moment it’s closed. You vow to do both before dragging him closer for a kiss.

And he gives it to you. He gives you five kisses, in fact. One on the forehead, one on each cheek, one on the nose, and finally…one on your lips.

When he lets you go, you feel empty. Lost. As though a part of you is missing, and it aches the entire way home.

In fact, it aches for the next two days until you can finally see him again. And you busy about your shift, watching the clock like a hawk until midnight finally strikes, and you fly through the kitchen doors. Ready to see him and fill this gap in your chest.

But for the second time this week…booth 505 is empty.

Instantly, the blood drains from your face. All the way down to your toes, and almost feel faint as your shaky legs carry you to his table.

However, the moment you’re close enough, you catch something just out of your peripheral, tucked just beneath the sugar dispenser. Something that most certainly wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

A note.

With furrowed brows, you slip the folded napkin free and bring it closer. Straightening it out until you can make out the haphazard message scrawled across in black ink.

Meet me at the station after your shift.

Don’t tell Owen.

Next Part:

~ Uppercut*

Previous Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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littlejuicebox · 6 months

Text

Astarion talks in his sleep.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav (Shadowheart is our lovely supporting role though.) Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3, "good/spawn" Astarion ending, all fluff Rating/Warnings: PG / Very mild if any game spoilers but nothing related to major content or scenes Word Count: 900+ Notes: Inspired by this post here!

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Astarion talks in his sleep. It’s something you’ve never mentioned to him, because it’s mostly when he’s having a nightmare about Cazador or some other horrid trauma from his past. You'd quickly determined it not worth bringing up, for fear of embarrassing him. Plus, if you were being honest, part of you found it rather endearing... especially the lighter drabble that would escape his lips. Delighted giggles, little purrs... it could be overwhelmingly adorable, on occasion.

In fact, the first time you ever heard him say he loved you was in his sleep. Then you'd waited weeks… anxiously, impatiently, unbearably for the revelation to come out while he was awake, under his own terms.

But tonight, the talking and tossing isn't cute. The vampire writhing in bed disturbs you, and your eyes flutter open, catching the smallest glimpse of daylight between the thick, tightly drawn curtains and shuttered windows of your bedchamber. You'd just fallen asleep, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't the slightest bit annoyed.

You idly try to figure out the date. Adjusting your schedule to the night life was… difficult; you often lost track of dates nowadays. But somehow you manage to remember that it's been nearly six months since you all saved Baldur's Gate; six months since Astarion had been returned to a creature of the shadows. Six months you've been in the house provided by the city as you two adjust to whatever normalcy you are able to conjure up and figure out your next steps. You were a strong proponent for the Underdark; Astarion was not quite sold.

At first you think the silver-haired elf's tossing and turning is a night terror… it’s been nearly two weeks since the last one. He’s overdue. You ready yourself to pop out of bed and grab your calming herbs to steep a quick sleeping draught. But then you hear him, soft and garbled, laced with thick strings of sleep.

“Will you marry me?”

You turn to stare stupidly at the elf, eyes piercing through the blackness of your room; his face is obscured, you cannot tell if he’s awake. “…what did you say?”

Silence. A long, unbearable stretch of silence where your heart is pounding into your throat, practically rattling around your chest cavity at the sudden shock. And then he’s snoring again, and you’re left with your brow furrowed and robe half pulled onto your shoulder. Well, so much for your sleep.

You meander down the hall to the kitchen, where Shadowheart has several jars and plants strewn across the table. She’s practically taken over the kitchen since Gale left, not that you particularly mind, since she’s also taken over the cooking.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?” She asks, spotting you out of the corner of her eye, not lifting her focus from the mortar and pestle in her hand.

“You won’t believe what Astarion just said in his sleep.” You murmur in dazed response, walking over to the cabinets and rummaging through the contents. You grab an old kettle and fill it with water, turning to look at the cleric.

“Gods, what was it? I’m quite thankful to be out of the camp... his night terrors woke all of us up at one point or another. It's no wonder you’re struggling with the schedule adjustment.”

“He said, ‘Will you marry me?’” You respond, almost giggling at how silly that sounds in retrospect, as you place the kettle on the stove.

Shadowheart pauses. One, two, three beats of silence. “Shit… well, I guess the cat is out of the bag now.” She murmurs with a shrug, before returning to grinding her herbs.

“Wh-what?!”

“Oh, come off, don’t be daft! You had to expect it would be coming sooner or later. Gods, your love is almost sickening… it was sickening, having to hear it all the time... once again, so thankful for the separation of these walls.”

You are frozen, your hand still holding onto the kettle as you appraise your friend. Shadowheart is right. You knew a proposal would come sooner or later… you just figured it would be much later. Astarion was still struggling; more often than not you woke to him in tears or in the throes of a sleeping fit. Countless calming elixirs and teas had been drawn up by you and Shadowheart in the last six months. Truly, you hadn’t thought he was thinking that deeply about it... you hadn't been, if at all. Gods, you two still didn't even know where you were headed after leaving this city-supplied house... the lease was up in a few weeks' time.

“I guess… well, I suppose I didn’t think he was ready.” You sigh, lighting the stove and sitting across the table, watching the cleric as she works.

“Oh, trust me, he’s ready. And he's certain. Perhaps not about anything else... but definitely about this. He's been writing to Gale for weeks trying to source a particular ring." Shadowheart responds, now pouring the contents of her grinder into pouches. "Just promise you'll act like it's a surprise when the time comes... he's been talking about it for a while. He's put a lot of thought into things."

"When will it be?"

Shadowheart laughs, the edges of her eyes crinkling as she flicks her gaze toward the ceiling. She’s now cinching the sachets and sorting them all into a nearby basket. "Now that I'm not telling you. I've already given away too much."

You try for a few more minutes to pry the information from your friend, but she remains tight-lipped. You even threaten her with detect thoughts, though you both know you'd never go through with it. Finally, a whistle from the kettle beckons you back to the stovetop, and the conversation is halted as you ready your tea and aim to go back to bed. You might not know when your love is going to pop the question, but you do know that when the time comes, your answer will be a resounding yes.

Click here for Part 2

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fluff #astarion fluff #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 fic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 imagines #astarion imagines #i feel like shadowheart would be my best friend IRL

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d10nyx · 3 months

Text

don't hold your breath(nobody's home)

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, uncle-niece incest, non-con, loss of virginity, very minor blood description, forced alcohol consumption, alcoholism from leon ofc, reader gets slapped, age gap, guilt, one threat, fingering, p in v, non-consensual creampie, crying, idk leon feels entitled cause his brother sucks, reader hinted at having nice tits idk

a/n: sorry if this sucks ass... my motivation for writing has been non-existent w real life stuff n all the drama so... i feel like this is awful but here we are. title from razzmatazz by idkhbtfm... not proofread i'm sorry </3

word count: 1.9k words

Leon knew he had a drinking problem. He just hadn't realised it had gotten this bad. He couldn't even get his dick up with viagra anymore. He frowns as he looks down at the brunette he was planning to fuck, tempted to try and just push it in soft.

He ends up just kicking her out to drown his sorrows. He wasn't dealing with this shit tonight, not when he was seeing his asshole brother tomorrow. Pretty wife, perfect kids. His job pays better than Leon's ever will, and he didn't need to undergo years of trauma. Lucky bastard.

Leon does what he does best that night and drinks enough whiskey so he can pass out without worrying about the nightmares coming to ruin his night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He hasn't seen you in a good six years. You were still playing with dolls and shit when he last visited. Makes him feel stupid when he brings you a plushie as a gift. Clearly he forgot how time worked, cause he still expected you to be thirteen. You still hug him and say thank you, sweet as ever. When his brother said he'd be watching the house and looking after you, he didn't expect to see you so... grown. Too old to need a babysitter, really. Even if your parents are gonna be gone for a week.

He gulps as his hands settle on your hips, trying to prevent you from pressing against his hardening cock. Down boy. At least his dick still works. It just took his college-aged niece to get it up. Doesn't help that you've got your tits smooshed against his chest.

Therapy was gonna be a doozy this week.

He could only pray that this doesn't turn into anything. The last thing he needed was his dick being the thing that got him thrown into prison for doing something stupid to you, no matter how cute that body of yours is. That's a new one, he thinks, mentally slapping himself for even thinking about touching you like that. He'd never do it, of course. That's sick, and he knows it. He's just so frustrated. And you're hot. A total babe. Somehow, you managed to get a better rack than your mom. Must be the Kennedy genes coming in. Leon's got tits for days.

He knew he had a drinking problem, but he never thought he'd lose himself this much. He never thought about hurting anyone. He's not a bad guy. It's just that every time he tried to be with someone, he just couldn't get his body to react the way he wanted. That's what the oxytocin was for, he thought, already thinking about taking a swig of whiskey from the flask in his pocket. If only that fucking stuff worked on him. The part of his brain that controlled his cock seemed to be permanently on vacation, and his wires clearly got crossed somewhere if he wants to fuck his own blood.

Whatever. He could get through a week alone with his niece without any trouble. He's faced worse monsters than the ones making themselves present in his mind right now. He'd keep his distance, and all would be okay.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That didn't work. Of course it didn't. You were just as clingy with him as you were when you were a kid, following him around like a lost puppy. He's convinced he's clutching the glass of whiskey in his hand hard enough to shatter it as you curl up against his side. His cock is throbbing, and he seriously hopes you don't notice how the fabric of his jeans is getting a little strained.

You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you.

Fuck this.

He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, ‘cause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.

“Leon… Leon, what're you doing?” You force out, small hands pressing at his chest as if you'd be able to knock him off. Cute. He'd fought creatures six times your size. You didn't stand a chance.

He starts undressing you, and you start writhing and crying, hitting his chest with clenched fists. He swallows the lump that builds in his throat, wiping the tears that fall down your cheeks.

“Shh… it's okay, I'm… I'm gonna take care ‘f you.” He murmurs, his voice slightly slurred from how much he'd drunk. You cry even harder when he presses a finger into you, making the guilt rise up faster in him. That's not fair. He's being nice. God didn't bless him with much, but at least he gave him a fat cock. You should feel lucky he's prepping you. Not making him feel bad.

“Hey.” He warns, shoving another finger in just to shut you up. You finch when he scissors you open. Poor thing. “That's enough. One more complaint for you, and I'll just force myself in.”

Shit. Now he really does feel like a monster. He's not drunk enough to handle the pure terror on your face at his words. He fumbles on the coffee table with his free hand as he lazily pumps into you with the other. Glass? No. Bottle.

Maybe you need some, too. Get you nice and pliant so you'll take his dick without bitching. Not a bad idea. He twists the cap off with his teeth, gulping some of the liquid down himself. He takes another mouthful before leaning down to kiss you, spitting the liquid into the back of your throat. He keeps your mouth on yours even as you try to jerk away, making sure you swallow it.

You really are adorable as you start coughing and spluttering. Such a sweet thing, you probably hadn't even drunk before. He lifts the bottle to your mouth, pouring some more into your mouth before setting it down, covering your mouth. “Swallow.”

He starts thumbing at your clit as he fingers you, relishing in the ways your whimpers turn into soft moans, your hips bucking against his hand. He manages to coax an orgasm out of you with a few more touches, a big smile spreading across his face.

“There we go, sweetie. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?” He coos, unbuttoning his jeans. The sound of the zipper has your eyes widening in horror, and he tuts softly. “What're you giving me that look for? It's your turn to take care of me now.”

There goes the begging and pleading again. It has his brows pinching together as a frown tugs at his lips. You really are his brother's kid. So goddamn ungrateful. He just took care of you, and now you just want him to… what? Fist his dick in the guest room?

He smacks you so hard your head snaps to the side, your breaths coming out in short gasps. You look better like that, tears stinging your eyes but your body completely limp. He can see the fight draining out of your eyes.

“I was gonna be nice.” He mumbles, brows furrowing as he lines his tip up with your entrance, forcing himself inside in one thrust. He groans loudly, shuddering as your tight heat envelops him. His eyes look down, locked onto your cunt as he fucks into you with long strokes. He freezes when he notices blood. He's not sure if he's happy or disgusted that he's your first. No wonder you put up such a fight.

You keep weakly begging him to stop, but your pussy is gushing all over him. It's not his fault he can't stop – you're giving him the hottest look he's ever seen, and your puffy cunt is so fucking greedy for his cock, sucking him back in everytime he starts to pull out.

“S-sorry… I'm so sorry…” He grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts, groaning at the sound of your punched out moans as he drives into you with as much force as he can muster. You almost sound like you're enjoying it, but you're still fucking crying and he can't take it. His heart hurts.

“Baby, please…” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see the betrayal on your face. His arms tremble as he holds himself up, sloppily fucking into you. “I'm sorry… just stop cryin’, please…”

Every time his hips smack the fat of your ass, you're moaning out a ‘please’. With his eyes shut, he can pretend you're begging for more. That you like this. That is, until you start saying ‘stop’. He winces, but the movement of his hips doesn't falter.

“Fuck, baby… please stop begging.” He pleads, throwing his head back as his tip kisses your cervix. He whimpers as it makes you tighten around him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot each time he fully sheaths himself inside of you.

“I-I can't stop…you feel so… fuck. So fucking good. M'so close.” He groans. He can't even find the strength to pull out anymore. He buries himself balls deep in your cunt, grinding himself into your tight heat.

“L-Leon… please.” You say weakly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as panic sets in, your hands pushing at his chest. “Y-you gotta pull out, you can't… you can't.”

“What?” He breathes out, cracking his eyes open to look at you again. He looks genuinely confused. Why would he ever pull out when you felt so good? He can't bring himself to. “Baby, no. I'm cumming inside of you. Can't pull out now.”

That seems to bring your fight back. You start struggling under him again, punching him with all your strength. Luckily, that's not a lot. Especially when you're sluggish from your first time drinking and getting fucked. It's Leon's lucky day.

“Shit, baby. Don't look at me like that.” Or do. He's gonna cum if you keep staring up at him with that wide-eyed expression. “No need to be so scared, princess. I just… shit. Can't help myself.”

Doesn't take longer than a minute after that for him to finish. He buries his face in your neck, whining as he cums. His cock kicks inside of you, the warmth of his release filling every inch of you. You start sobbing all over again, slumping weakly against the couch.

He lies on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the couch. He pets your hair like you're a doll, his fingers carding through your hair.

“I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. I'll be so good. Do whatever you want. Didn't mean it.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek over and over as if he's trying to get you to relax. He keeps it up until you fall asleep, wrapping you up in his arms.

When you wake up in the morning, you're fully dressed in your bed. You almost think it's a dream until you feel the dull throbbing between your legs.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy #tw dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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bunny584 · 2 months

Text

OBSESSED: SHOKO feat THE BOYS (FINALE)

A/N: Well, well, well. Oh how the tables have turned, dear reader. It’s not so easy — juggling two special grades and their personal physician…is it?

S/N: This is it. The pièce de résistance. I was…this is…NO ONE LOOK AT ME AFTER YOU READ THIS. No idea the word count. Long af, though.

C/W:….the trio is their own content warning lol. Mature. 18+, MDNI.

Part I, Part II.

Is this…a dream?

This must be what it feels like to hear Domain Expansion, Infinite Void.

White static coats Shoko’s brain. She’s breathing underwater. Thinking in molasses.

It’s a miracle her legs are working — they’re currently trailing behind you and the boys, back to her apartment.

Her eyes are working, too — they’re attached to the dress rippling and bouncing off your ass. Your hips are a hypnotic pendulum. Swinging back and forth.

Back and forth.

The tailwind from your strut is a bad actor.

Every so often teasing your cotton panties that won the lottery. Kissing up against your pretty petals. Riding along the plump curve of your mounds. Accentuating the intoxicating swell of your hips.

It’s paralyzing.

You are paralyzing.

Satoru’s hand is curled around the back of your neck. His azure glow is so pristine, so bright it refracts off your gorgeous cheekbones. Dampening his Limitless and intensifying his Six Eyes.

Because the first to taste a meal is usually one’s eyes…right?

Shoko can nearly hear the depravity ringing between Satoru’s ears.

Then there’s Suguru.

An arm is draped around your waist, capturing and releasing the hem of your dress every few seconds. Mindless movements. His sniper-like gaze focused on the apartment door at the end of the hall.

Cool. Calm. Collected.

One would think, if you don’t know Suguru well enough.

His normally, perfectly repressed cursed energy surrounds him. Flickering into the air like campfire embers just waiting for the next gust of wind to erupt. Amethyst and graphite swarm around her best friend — the only indicator of his disintegrating self-control.

20 steps left until she is expected to produce door keys. The only thing standing between everyone and you.

This is it.

This is the moment. The one chance you get at ‘doing it right this time.’

15 steps.

There are no more wishes granted. No more genies stuffed into bottles, or whatever. This is it.

10 steps.

Get your shit together, Ieiri.

Do not squander this on the sidelines.

Shoko wires around the three of you. Stepping ahead to slot the frivolous piece of aluminum standing between her and her wet dream.

The apartment door flies open. Satoru’s hand moves on autopilot — deepening his grip around your neck.

His conscious brain recedes. Triple distilled, unadulterated need moves in like a tropical storm.

Silky strands of your hair plaited in his fingers.

Wide, warm eyes locked into his.

Tiny slit in those pouty, siren lips of yours.

He will dismantle you. Piece by fucking piece.

Until you’re a babbling, sobbing brook beneath his fingers. Apologizing for being such a cocktease.

“Satoru…?”

There’s a change in your voice.

Fear? Nerves?

Prey finally realizing who is next on the menu?

Satoru is staring. Fully aware of how disarming his eyes can be. Born with godlike vision and somehow the only thing he can see in the room is you.

His greed is a threat to National Security. DEFCON Level 1.

His mouth ghosts yours. Barely registering Suguru encasing you from behind. Trailing his palms along your thighs.

“Safe word, princess.” Satoru maps every ridge, every teeth indent on that gorgeous bottom lip.

“For when you need to tap out.” Suguru augments Satoru’s command. Gentle nip at the tip of your ear and you moan. Bitten back and clipped.

“Such pretty sounds,” Shoko’s voice is distant. Breathy. Coated in Cabernet.

“I..don’t—”

Satoru slices your protest in half. Rolling your bottom lip under his teeth. Biting and licking his way across your pout. At the same time Suguru drops his mouth to your pulse point.

“Don’t what, sweetheart?” Suguru murmurs into your neck. A filthy fucking whine escapes your lips and Satoru’s fingers go to your nipple.

Hard. Pert and neglected. Desperate for attention.

Just like you.

The way you’re panting into Satoru’s mouth. Listless and loose, bending into Suguru’s presence behind you.

“He gave you an order, baby.” Suguru’s smile is so tender. Almost torturous against your oversensitive skin.

“Don’t…ah..don’t need a safe word.”

A weak declaration against Satoru’s kiss. Earning yourself a sharp twist of your sensitive buds. And gifting him a kitten squeal that makes his cock twitch.

“Ohhhh Suguru, Shoko. We have a brat on our hands.” He muses, hovering his lips over yours. Satoru pets the steel rod between his legs. Already dewy with his arousal.

You are so beautiful, trying to resist their coordinated touch. The sound of Suguru’s large hand palming your ass reverberates throughout the room.

“I’ll teach her some manners.”

Suguru’s voice trails down your spine. Slow and sickly sweet. Like maple sap dripping down tree bark mid spring. He caresses the hot sting from his spanking.

“I—I have manners.” Voice as small as your frame engulfed between the 6’3 counterparts.

“I won’t ask again, princess.” Satoru tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. And Suguru continues sucking kisses into your neck, marking his territory.

“Uh..mmm..god, S—“ Your eyes flutter closed. An earnest attempt to stay present. And not settle into the fuzzy, warm submission they are baiting you into.

“Safe word, now.”

“B—um. Blue? Blue.” Your resolve is about as rigid as cotton.

“Blue?”

“Well that’s not fair.”

Shoko and Suguru’s incredulous reactions intertwine with Satoru’s smug chuckle. A dusty rose high on your cheeks.

You know why you chose Blue. Everyone else does, too.

“Blue, huh?” Satoru presses a soft kiss on your lips.

“To match me? Noted, baby.”

Shoko melts into her couch. Her heartbeat rattles around her skull. With short, ineffective breaths that taste like full bodied red wine. Wet heat surges around her lace thong.

The way you’re writhing between her best friends’ hands is sinful.

Gazing up at Satoru like he is Vincent Van Gogh and the Starry Night above you is the product of his paintbrush.

Incoherent as if Suguru’s fingers put the Sun to bed. Whimpering his name like a prayer.

Adorable, girl.

God isn’t going to save you here.

The pads of Shoko’s cool fingers nearly sizzle against her puffy pleasure point. Slick coating her with just one, two, three long stripes against her sticky folds.

“God...fuck..bring her to me.” The grit in Shoko’s tone scrapes along her voice box. Matching the aggressive pace of her fingers against her needy cunt.

The boys lock gazes with their third. Cavalier smile tugging against Satoru’s lips. Suguru’s brow touches his hairline.

Ladies, first.

“You heard her.” Satoru snakes your arms around his neck and hoists you around his waist in one fluid motion.

“S—sato—“ He bullies his tongue back into your mouth. No more protesting, gorgeous.

Slow steps towards Shoko, so he can drink from your well. A sweet, delectable spell dripping from your lips. And if Satoru doesn’t wake up tomorrow morning after eating your forbidden fruit, then so be it.

Suguru lets himself watch you from a short distance.

His hand can’t stop rubbing his cock. Shamelessly tugging his heavy rod. Burning your little expressions into his mind’s safe. The way your eyebrows come together at the center whenever Satoru bites your bottom lip. Your desperate grabs for air against his relentless kiss.

“Hi, pretty.” Shoko drawls the moment Satoru settles you down on her lap. Her thigh digs into your soaked, gummy core. Glazing her skin with your drool.

“Hi, Sho.” Still panting from Satoru’s embrace. So fragile. A harsh breeze could shatter you to stardust. And Shoko pulsates around nothing.

One hand is firm on your hip. The other tracing mindless shapes on your chest. Leaving a poetic cascade of goosebumps in her wake.

Reflexively, you go to caress Shoko’s shoulders only to be caught by Satoru’s enormous grip. Whipping both of your wrists behind your back. While his other hand toys with the erection straining against his pants.

“She didn’t give you permission to touch, did she princess?” He drops his tone into the shell of your ear.

“Oh, I—“

“Manners, gorgeous.” A gentle reminder in between smearing kisses along your neck. Shoko hooks her index finger along your neckline. One tug and your mouth-watering tits come into full view.

“Fucking, hell.”

“God, baby.”

“Perfect…fucking perfect.”

Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s praises crash into one another. God took his time with you. Sculpting a fucking masterpiece.

To be praised.

To be worshipped.

To be taken.

Used.

Filled.

“Shoko. I want to hear her.”

Suguru’s command is guttural. Fist snug around the base of his cock. Shameless about the tears of precum falling down his shaft.

Shoko’s fingers work their way down to your pulsing clit. You preen into her touch. Pretty, tiny gasps against her cheek.

“Let it out, baby.” Shoko coos into your ear. Thumbing little circles around your clit.

You bury your face into her neck. Delicious ache swelling between your legs. Grinding along her slender thigh. Honey seeping around your clothed cunt.

“S—sho, mmnngh..fuck..” Desperation fans Shoko’s neck. Bucking your hips with your hands restrained.

“There she is.”

Suguru’s fist slams to his hilt. Now close enough to cup your perky mound. Rippling and bouncing with every jolt. Feathering his finger over your pebbled bud.

The sudden touch and velvet voice above you drags your gaze upward.

And Suguru nearly cums in his hand right then and there.

Misty eyes, drool covered lips. Breathy pants. Angelic features rewritten by lust.

“Suguru?”

“Such a good girl. Keep fucking her thigh like that, baby.”

Throaty praise in return. Suguru rips his hand away from his angry length. Staving off his finish.

Not yet.

They’re not remotely close to being done with you yet.

“She’s so responsive.” Satoru chimes in. Releasing his grip on your wrists.

Your hands fly to Shoko’s face. Melding your mouth with hers. Leaking precious sounds, from your lips and your sopping wet core. His hand kneads your neglected breast, pinching your nipple every so often.

Satoru and Suguru palming at your tits. Shoko fucking your mouth with her tongue. You humping Shoko’s leg like a dog in heat.

It’s too much.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashes into your groin. You nestle into the crook of her neck. Grasping at her thick, brunette locks.

“S-sho, I’m close, I’m—mmgh..”

“It’s okay pretty,” Shoko husks. Her thumb at a perfect rhythm and pressure.

“You can cum, baby.” Suguru rasps, tugging at your nipple at the same time Satoru smacks the supple flesh he was petting.

“Oh fuck oh fuck—“

The delicious sting from their touches sends you over the edge. And the wire seated deep in your stomach snaps. Hips stuttering to an abrupt stop.

The room stills. Satoru, Suguru and Shoko studying your micro movements through your peak. So quiet that the walls have to lean in to hear you and your lovers breathing.

Six eyes laser into your body. Everyone’s appetite for you simultaneously tripling.

Satoru swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Subconsciously aware of the pool of saliva forming. His manhood mirroring the trail of drool running down his mouth.

He’s always been a fan of dessert.

“I need to taste you.”

“And I need a front row seat.” Shoko nibbles at your cheek.

Satoru lifts and spins you around on Shoko’s lap in a matter of seconds. You, still gummy and compliant from your orgasm spread your legs weakly over Shoko. Earning you a chorus of praise from your lust-drunk lovers.

He drops to his knees. His blushing, weeping tip in hand. Pushing your sodden panties to the side. While Shoko cradles your thigh in her hand, holding you open for her best friend.

Your rose blooms in front of him. Dewy with your slick. Candied scent holding all of Satoru’s senses hostage.

“Look at how pretty, she is.” He breezes against your swollen pearl. Your petals quiver, and his dick leaks.

“S—Satoru..please.”

Satoru’s head is spinning. Entirely drunk off of the sight of you like this. Choking back his own pathetic groans.

His tongue licks a long stripe up your ripe folds. And your taste pollenates his mind for an eternity. An addict with his chosen vice.

Your hands magnet to his snowy halo. The melody you sing from his kisses and licks could sink any ship. Echoing in Satoru’s and Shoko’s groin.

Shoko is in a complete haze. Molesting herself numb at the way you undulate against Satoru’s eager tongue. Pitiful little mewls that are worthy of a platinum record.

“Feeling good, gorgeous?” Shoko eggs you on. Quickly sinking into her own threatened orgasm.

“Y—yes..mmgh so..god..” Paper thin squeals from your lips.

Crystals line your eyes in response to Satoru’s tongue fucking in and out of your pussy. Suckling your clit. Figures of 8, and 8 and 8 again until your mind is mush.

Except Suguru refuses to let you get lost at Satoru’s sea. He grips a handful of your hair, whipping your head in his direction.

Both you and Shoko tilt up to see Suguru’s driveling manhood at your eye level. Veiny, heavy. So clearly abused by his hand. Volcanic eruption in his hooded gaze.

“Hands on my cock, baby.”

Barely above a whisper, but somehow your body recognizes his authority.

And you seem genuinely shocked by your visceral obedience. Immediate acquiescence to Surguru’s will.

An approving grin teases Suguru’s lips. Your hands are comically small wrapped around his length.

God, he could split you in half.

Heavy eyelids from Satoru’s agonizing touch, you’re mystical. Gazing into Suguru’s eyes like his soul is nothing but an appetizer. Yours to swallow, digest, play with.

“Ask nicely.” Suguru grunts, as your eyes rake over his leaky cockhead. Longing for a taste.

Satoru and Shoko come to a hush. Her fingers slow. Satoru forces himself off of your folds. Somehow knowing the next words to roll off your tongue will shift their brain chemistry, permanently.

Palatial lashes fan your utterly fucked-out gaze. Swollen lips millimeters away from Suguru’s blunt tip.

“May I suck your cock, please?”

Filthy-nasty-dirty-fucking-vulgar noises fill the room, while you swirl Suguru’s cum covered head around your tongue.

“Fuck. Your lips baby.” He hisses, his hips piston into your pretty, accepting mouth.

“So messy, princess.” Satoru murmurs into your swollen cunt, slipping his fingers past your tight ringlet.

Beautiful gurgles around Suguru’s shaft. Crystalline streams of spit glazing your puffy tits.

You buck into Satoru at a similar, haphazard pace that he strokes his thick rod. Shoko sinks her teeth into your shoulder.

“G-gonna c..gonna—“ high pitched, broken warnings spill from your lips. Just as a blinding wave of electricity surges down Shoko’s legs — curling her pedicure inward.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

Suguru’s decadent baritone sends both you and Shoko over the hot edge. A cacophony of huffs and whines, coating the walls in your shared ecstasy. Spraying your essence all over Satoru’s face.

He’s slow to stand. Savoring remnants of your peak. He and Suguru exchange sordid glances. Sharing the same thought.

Pretty little doll.

Loose limbed and spent in Shoko’s lap. Hair mused. So deeply entrenched into sub space you’ll need to sleep it off of to come to your senses.

A work of art, you are.

But not quite broken, yet.

“It’s our turn now, little one.” Deep and measured. Thick with want. Suguru lifts you by your arms off of Shoko’s lap.

His back lays flush against the couch. You straddle his muscular lap. Satoru stands directly behind you.

Suguru’s manhood is rigid. You’d have to impale yourself on him to get any closer. Similarly, Satoru’s length makes itself very present along the curve of your spine.

“Look at me.” Satoru’s throaty demand comes from above your head.

Obedience is the only language you can currently speak, so you tilt back. Soaking in the celestial boy behind you. Closer to God than Man, from this vantage point.

“You want to taste yourself, baby?”

A rhetorical question from Satoru, but you still bobble your head in an eager yes.

“Such a desperate little puppy, aren’t you?” Suguru mocks you, taking one of your puffy nipples into his mouth.

“She is.”

Satoru affirms in between spearing your mouth with his warm muscle. Kissing the breath directly from your lungs until you’re air hungry and clawing at his neck. Leaving red streaks on his pale skin.

Shoko has since poured herself another glass of red wine. Settling herself on the long arm of her couch.

‘Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything they do to you in the the most permanent part of her mind.’

Dèjá Vu.

But this lifetime? This reiteration of events? It’s fucking sublime.

Shoko’s lips curl into a cheshire smile against the rim of her glass. Hedonistic on every single level known to man and she wouldn’t have it any another way.

Her eyes flicker down to where Suguru’s hands are eclipsing your hips. And Satoru’s hands are cradled into the small of your waist. Hovering you over Suguru’s cock. The weapon of mass destruction that it is.

“Suguru…Suguru it won’t…” Beautiful little panic ascending in pitch.

“It won’t, what baby?” He teases. Eyes fixed on you like the apex predator he is.

Crimson erupts from the tip of your nose to the tips of your ears. Fluttering away from his quicksand gaze.

“What’s the matter, pretty? Don’t tell me you think you can’t handle—“

“I can handle it—I can…handle it.” You cut Satoru’s taunt down, convincing absolutely no one in the room— including yourself.

But the shred of pride you have left comes forward. Bracing your hands on Suguru’s flexed shoulders. Digging little crescent moons into his olive skin.

He can barely bite back the groan in his throat when your wet heat drags along his cockhead.

Twitching around your opening.

Feigning for entry.

“Go ahead, little one.”

“You can do it, baby.”

“Oh FUCK..GOD.” Your volume is nothing in comparison to the fire incinerating your plush walls. Stretching your womanhood in a way that’s ungodly.

Suguru is blinding.

Flashing lights. Black spots in the visual field. Floaters everywhere kind of blinding. The prior encouragement from your lovers did nothing to soften his blow.

Knowing this would be the result of you trying to work his inhuman length inside yourself, Suguru buries himself in one side of your neck. Satoru mirrors his action on the other side.

Gentle adoration. Tender kisses. Light caresses to dull the pain.

“Such a good girl.”

“I knew you could take it, princess.”

“You’re doing so well for me, pretty girl.”

Suguru rocks his hips in a slow, dreamy pace. Back and forth. Encouraging your body to reset around him. And the pressure. The delicious fucking fullness from his cock is mind numbing.

“R—ready.”

Barely loud enough to register. But Suguru could hear your red blood cells colliding with one another in your veins if you keep him next to you long enough.

“Eyes on me when I’m inside you, sweetheart.”

“Yes sir.”

The smile on his lips is no where near as tantalizing as the smile in his crushed velvet eyes.

And for a moment that is going to be on cinematic repeat in everyone’s mind — Suguru thrusts into you like a man trying to repopulate earth. Never once letting you break his eye-contact.

Melodic sounds of bodies smacking together ring throughout the room. Beautiful ripples of flesh, like soft waves during low tide. Your wet sex colliding with his. Him locking you into place because nothing else exists at this moment.

Both Satoru and Shoko’s jaws are slack. Satoru can’t even bring himself to stroke his length thrashing wildly in his hands.

This is hypnotizing.

A motion picture worthy of an Oscar.

You can feel Suguru recreating the shape of your soul. With each thrust. Deliberate. Deep. Ensuring that he will be a part of you, permanently.

“God, ngh Su—fuck..purple..” unintelligible words, incoherent sounds. You’re grasping at rescue from this pleasure.

“Hah..” Suguru’s serrated breaths kiss your lips. “Try again.”

“Suguru, please. I’m cu—I’m pink..pink.”

“Wrong color, princess.” Satoru’s husks above you. Tears of his thick cum streaming steady down his shaft.

Suguru’s bucks into you relentlessly now. Chasing the high you both are riding. Shredding what consciousness you have left. Not that you wanted it, not that you needed it.

“Fuck.”

Suguru’s hips come to a screeching halt. Floating over Shoko’s cushion. Painting your warm walls with his seed. With you filling his lap with your dew. Delirious, choppy intakes of air between your lips and his.

Momentarily forgetting your audience, you instinctively fall into his chest. Every single muscle in your body, suddenly without tone.

Satoru’s mouth is ajar.

Still not completely comprehending the fact that he just came — hands free — watching his best friend rail the conscious mind out of you.

“Blanket, Satoru.” Shoko quietly nudges from her position on the couch.

She can’t blame him for being stunned in place. Her mind is still reeling at the dessert her eyes just feasted on.

“Come here, baby.” Suguru murmurs. Working himself out of you, while Satoru drapes you in Shoko’s throw.

“Thank you.” A tiny chuckle escapes your lips. Cozying into Suguru’s arms. They should be proud of your manners.

And as if you said your cheeky thought out loud, your three lovers break into soft laughter.

“Wait here.” Satoru presses a chaste kiss to your damp forehead. Disappearing into Shoko’s bathroom a moment after.

A small sigh of relief tumbles out of her when she hears the familiar sound of bath water running.

Satoru must’ve done this before. Once or twice.

Suguru, too.

Judging by the way he’s whispering sweet affirmations in your ear. Lulling you to sleep. In his warm, safe embrace.

She’s never seen her friend like this.

“Girls! Bath time!” Satoru beckons from the bathroom.

His voice rustles you out of your post coital daze. Nestling deeper into the crook of Suguru’s neck. Shoko watches the way his eyes rest on your flushed face; stroking his hand along your arm. Intermittently pressing kisses along your hairline.

An enchanting, glass doll they were so eager to shatter just a moment ago.

“Ready, baby?”

Suguru murmurs into your ear. And Shoko just knows he’s hoping for a no. Silently praying for more time with you, pliant in his arms like this.

“Mmhm.” Your puffy lips curl up into a sleepy smile. Glossy-eyed, when you finally pull your heavy lids open.

Suguru’s breath catches in his throat.

Shoko’s heart rattles around its bony cage.

How do you do this?

How do you make it so easy to trip and fall so hopelessly in love with you with a bat of an eyelash?

“…I get it guys, but the water will get cold. And that would be a shame. Because this bath is, perfect.”

Satoru teases from the bedroom doorway. Startling Shoko and Suguru out of the trance you unintentionally put them in.

“You don’t have to carry me!” A half-protest bubbles from your lips when Suguru stands with you wrapped up in Shoko’s favorite blanket.

“Shhh, let me do this sweet girl.” He coos, for your ears only. Navigating around Satoru’s lean stature.

Shoko follows closely behind him, itching for her alone time with you.

“You’re going to let her feet touch the ground, Suguru?!”

Her sarcasm is followed by light-hearted laughter settling around your bodies.

The four of you in tandem like a world class orchestra. Shoko is already lamenting waking up from this dream.

“Not if I can help it.” Suguru sets you down on the kitchen sink. Nudging enough space for his muscular hips between your legs.

He cradles your chin in his hand. Taking as many butterfly kisses as you’ll allow.

“Mmm, goodnight, Suguru.”

His name rolls sweet and soft off of your tongue. Like a dark chocolate truffle, and suddenly Shoko wishes her name was Suguru.

Satoru does too. Judging by the way he yanks his counterpart away from you. His eyes caress your face before his hand does.

“How are you feeling, princess?”

Hushed and saccharine. Doting. As if a decibel too loud is akin to Hollow Purple. Circling his fingers around your thighs.

How foreign.

Shoko can almost taste Satoru’s concern. Attentive in a way that’s inconceivable.

From her vantage point, she watches you ensnare Satoru in those big, helpless doe eyes. Tempting him to fuck the living daylight out of you (again) but also handle you like a butterfly with a broken wing.

“Just a bit worn out, pretty boy.” Said with a dreamy little laugh. And Satoru would chase your voice into the clouds if he could.

He drapes your arms around his neck and you’re putty in his hands.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He grazes the corner of your lips with his. A dull, insistent ache welling between Shoko’s legs.

You’re irresistible like this.

“Unless you want us to wear you out, again.”

“Satoru!” Your tiny, ineffectual fists slam against Satoru’s pecs. Making the trio even more fond of you.

Their muse.

“Alright boys, I can take it from here.”

Unhurried but finite, Shoko shoos her best friends out of the bathroom. Not before Satoru can steal one last kiss from your swollen lips.

In a matter of minutes Shoko is settled in a sea of warm, eucalyptus bubbles. The light sheen of essential oil grazing her skin, still glimmering with remnants of love-making.

Her eyes ride the dips and swells of your alluring lines.

Balmy skin decorated with lust-drunk imprints from Satoru, Suguru and herself. Hand prints. Tiny crescent moons from fingernails. Ellipses of bite marks. A kaleidoscope of red, blue, deep purple. Living, breathing residue of the desperation — the need — you so easily draw from them.

“Such a pretty girl.”

You flush under Shoko’s praise. Newly stroked desire bubbling in the back of her throat. You’re so full of averted gazes and warmed cheeks. Twiddling your thumbs. Tentatively shifting a few paces away from the bathtub.

So shy, now. It’s adorable.

“Come here, baby.” Shoko curls her fingers inward.

“Okay.” Your response high and thin. Feet moving without resistance.

Obedient little doll.

Shoko’s wet dreams couldn’t even come up with a vision this decadent. You’re an oil painting. Soft on the hands, even softer on the eyes.

You nestle in the warm waters between Shokos legs. Her nipples pebble against your supple flesh. Resting the back of your head on her chest. A lock-in-key fit.

Comfortable, serene quiet sheaths the room around you. And Shoko is soaring.

“I like you like this.” She presses a small kiss against your temple.

“Like what?” You whisper.

Shoko’s hands travel up your navel, cupping your sensitive tits. You arch into her touch. Kitten mewls escape you. So responsive.

“Soft.” Your nipples stiffen between her thumb and index finger.

“Vulnerable…a little broken.” Shoko continues. Catching your needy gaze. Pupils blown to full moons. She hovers her lips over yours. Already parted, hanging open. Ready to receive.

“Shoko.”

Such a beautiful, pitiful little whine. Tilting your chin up, chasing Shoko’s lips. But she maintains the minimal distance. Instead, kneading your mounds. Drawing a gorgeous melody of whimpers; squirming beneath her ministrations.

“I like being the one to put your pieces back together,” Shoko teases, dropping her tone. And you draw her in like a moth to flame.

Shoko’s lips slot into yours with ease. Puzzle pieces meant to fit. She swipes her tongue over yours. Nibbles along your puffy bottom lip.

You’re delicious.

And panting, when Shoko finally pulls away. Aurora borealis in your eyes. Sparkling. Expansive.

And even though you are putty in her hands right now. Docile and pliant, hanging on every brush of a finger, every kiss. Shoko is falling.

Free falling.

Without a safety stop in sight.

769 notes · View notes

sadienita · 7 months

Text

SKZ Reaction - You Refer to Him as Your Husband

bf!skz x reader

Contents: mention of drinking

You think it'll be cute to introduce your bf as your husband instead.

Chan

Makes him weak in the knees. The man nearly drops to the ground upon hearing the word “husband” pass your lips. Nevermind the fact that he already refers to you as his spouse in his mind and has been for months now. In that moment he wonders if you can read his mind, or maybe he’s been talking in his sleep? He will be a mushy, lovestruck mess for the rest of the day, clinging to you and grinning and taking it as an opportunity to start introducing you as his spouse to everyone. When you’re cuddling in bed that night he will ask if you mean it and he will start planning the wedding in his head the moment you say yes.

Minho

A cat-like smirk would turn up the corner of his lips but otherwise he gives nothing away. Well except for the red tinting the tops of his ears. His arm would pull you just a little closer and you know him well enough to tell from that that he liked it. He won’t say a word about it but it did make his heart race in the best way possible and he’ll give you a little more affection all day. In quiet moments just between the two of you he starts referring to you as his spouse from here on out, always with the same, cute grin.

Changbin

It’s so so incredibly obvious that he wasn’t expecting it. There’s a moment of shock before a massive smile spreads across his face. He practically squeals while he wraps you in a tight hug, very much confusing the person you just introduced him to. He doesn’t care. Literally nothing else matters. He’s your husband now and there’s no going back. He will refuse to respond to you if you try to call him anything else. If you ever introduce him as your boyfriend again he will cry.

Hyunjin

Pure shock. He's staring at you with wide eyes as you act like you didn’t just say the most life altering phrase he’s ever heard. He loves the way the word husband sounds coming off you lips. It’s perfect actually, like it was meant to be. When he finally comes back to his senses he gives you the same treatment, telling everyone that you’re his spouse and enjoying the way it makes you just as flustered as it did him.

Jisung

It honestly scares the shit out of him. He’s racking his brain for any memory of getting married. Did you two do something on a drunken night that he can’t remember? Did he somehow forget his own wedding?? You’ll have to pull him aside and ask him if he’s okay because he looks so incredibly stressed and he asks if he forgot about marrying you. It’s honestly so cute and you just kiss him and tell him you were just being cute. When he recovers though he will mumble that he kind of liked it and you can do it again if you want.

Felix

Literal instant heart eyes. Such a big smile graces his face but otherwise he tries to remain as chill as possible while inside he’s giggling, kicking his feet, screaming into a pillow. Literally cannot stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. He will not let you go and he will be stopping on the way home at a jewelry shop and telling them you’re engaged just to see how the rings look on your finger and which one he should get for you when he really does pop the question.

Seungmin

He’s so smug about it. Plays along but as soon as you two have a moment to yourselves and he's chuckling at you and calling you a simp as if he’s not just as whipped. Even if he won’t admit it though he absolutely loved it and it made him all soft inside. Much later when you’re cuddling and he thinks you’ve already fallen asleep he’ll mumble to you about how nice the word “husband” sounds when you say it and promises to make you his spouse one day.

Jeongin

He wants to be so cool and tease you about it but you caught him off guard. His face blushes crimson and he gets all shy and giggly about it, squeezing your hand and asking why you said that. He’s literally so soft over it and he can’t hide it. Even when he tries to tease you about being obsessed with him he’s giving you the most love struck gaze you’ve ever seen and he stumbles over his words. Late that night he asks you so quietly if you really wanna marry him and literally melts when you tell him yes.

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winterarmyy · 11 months

Text

And You're Mine

How grumpy chubby alpha!bucky finally found his omega

Summary: In which Bucky, the big, scary, 'undesired alpha' was tricked into a blind date where he met his precious little omega.

Note: Read the prequel here 《 Must Be Fate 》

Words: 4.7k++

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, a/b/o dynamics, self-deprication, body shaming, tiny bit of angst, fluffiness, bucky has a size kink (if you squint), horny-ass bucky has lots of dirty thoughts, vivian being a digusting bitch, protective y/n, even more protective bucky and overall wholesome.

P/S: Ahhhhhhhhh!!! My first omega-verse fic; i have no clue what I'm doing. This is mostly self-indulgent but if you come across this and somehow interested to read it then I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Bucky momentarily shuts his eyes, slightly titled his chin upwards, as if that'll help the boiling blood within his nerves to cool down.

Steve had expected that his best friend would be a little bit annoyed with his decision to trick him into agreeing to this suprise date but he didn't expect him to get this pissed, "Come on now, Buck. I promise you're gonna love this one."

"You said the same shit everytime!" Bucky almost roared in the middle of the crowded carnival, but he held back with a muted growl.

Ever since he lost his left arm on a rescue mission during his time in the Special Forces Unit, the society had deemed him to be "lesser than" despite the alpha title he was born into.

You would've thought that serving your country for about 6 years of your early 20's would be enough of a reason to make up for the so called "lacking", but no.

Apparently, his heroic contributions, his Sargent rank, and his literal blood, sweat and tears meant nothing when he returned home as an amputee.

Even if he came back with the medal of honor, pinned on the fabric of his uniform, right on his prideful chest; they didn't care. A defected alpha is as good as dead, especially in this modern, competitive society where its a lot more difficult to find a mate.

At first Bucky was optimistic, he didn't let them get to him.

He believed that his mate is out there somewhere, waiting for him, as he is for her.

After Stark Technologies offered him to join their research for under the Prosthetics and Orthotics Division, Bucky was lucky to fully revived his left arm in a form a vibranium prosthetic.

Even then, as time passed, the venomous whispers eventually managed to seep through; like any other poison, it is lethal to his mind.

And Bucky stopped trying to be an alpha. His pride was maimed and he let himself wallow in self hatred; letting his insecurity consume him. Eventually quite literally ate his pain away.

They said that he was rubbing salt to his own wound as now he was not just an amputated alpha, he is also a fat one at that.

With his alpha reputation being at its worst, his chances of finding a mate also went down hill.

"This one's gonna be different. Trust me." Steve claimed.

Bucky doesn't know why Steve seemed really convinced. But he wasn't having any of that, he rolled his eyes into a glare, "And how's that?"

Steve's blue eyes sparked as optimism lit on his face, "Well, first of all, she's one of Peggy's closest friends and.."

"Oh great, now you involve your omega into this." Bucky let out an unfiltered scoff before sarcastically exclaimed, "Just fantastic."

Steve growled at the mention of his mate, "Watch it, Bucky." He warned.

Bucky's drilling glare remained the same as Steve's alpha challenged his.

It's not that Bucky is against the idea of Peggy or any other omega helping him in any way. But, Steve had been annoyingly persistent with these set ups and he was sick of it. Perhaps he was a bit petty bringing Peggy into the conversation but he really was just tired of this.

Steve's scowl gradually soften before he continued his reasons, "...And, your date is actually the one requesting for a set up with you."

And that definitely caught Bucky's attention. Steve could see it, especially when Bucky's ears perked up a little and his ever-lasting frown loosen at the tiniest amount.

Steve smirked triumphantly, "Specifically you."

For moment, there was a hesitation on Bucky's side; and there were only the chaotic atmosphere around them. From the screaming of the riders on the roller coater to the giggles of children at the nearby courasell.

Steve really thought he managed to lure Bucky but he was caught by surprise when Bucky replied, "You'd think I'd fall for that crappy excuse of a lie? No. I'm leaving." Bucky turned on his heels.

"I'm not lying." Steve stopped him as he held on his arm, "Hey, you're gonna break her heart."

"Break her heart? How about mine? Just how many more heart breaks do I have to endure? How much more disappointment do I have to go through?"

Bucky gathered his palms into fists as he recalled all the mean, insulting words his past lovers had thrown at him and all those time he wasted on waiting for his dates to show up.

Just before Bucky planning to lash out, a voice interupted his thoughts "Hey, sorry for being late." Peggy came just in time.

Though it was just her; no sign of his so called date around.

An unexpected sting spreads within Bucky's chest. Of course she would stood him up too. Why was he surprised?

Steve pulled his omega into a tight hug, "Hey, baby. Where's y/n?" He asked.

"She's went to the bathroom." Peggy replied before taking a peep towards Bucky, "She got really nervous when she saw you. She might take some time to calm down. She thought its better if you know." Peggy explained.

On one side, Bucky can feel that sliver of hope creeping in. He look down to where he was supposed to see his feet, but unable to see them as now they're blocked by the round of his soft tummy. That's when the dark thoughts clouded his mind.

Was she just feeling nervous or was she regretting her decision?

After a short back and forth explanation, Peggy swept Steve away and had left Bucky on his own. She claimed that the line to the haunted house will double if they wait any longer. But, Bucky knew that they just wanted to leave him and his date alone.

Like every other date before, Bucky was emotions was all over the place; nervous, scared, intrigued, excited but what's different tonight was he also felt angry and annoyed. Which was not a good thing to feel on a date.

So he went to a Whac-A-Mole machine near the spot where he was supposed to wait for his date. He had to hit something. He just had to. He need to let his anger out one way or another.

His gloved hand gripped tightly on the wooden handle as he waited for the next round. Smack after smack, next was harsher than before, he did felt better. But even if the fire was out, the ashes were still burning.

As he was fixated on whacking the shit out of the moles, a particular scent invaded his nostrils. A sweet-smelling scent; something between a mix of cotton candy and butterscotch-caramel nuances.

It should be normal to smell this at a place such as a carnival; but the food stalls were all the way on the other end of the venue and this scent was too strong, too potent, to be that far away from him.

Bucky just had to stop as he relished the pleasant smell; it was truly a sweet and warm gourmand scent that ushered him in and out between nostalgic memories and pure raging lust.

That was when he heard a voice coming from his back, "You must've been really bored waiting that you started without me." She sounded amused when she let out a quiet laugh.

Even before Bucky had the chance to turn around he knew he was fucked; she just had to have the most captivating scent he had ever smell, and the most beautiful-sounded laughter he had ever heard.

What a foul torment to do to an alpha.

When Bucky turned around, he would've missed her if he wasn't paying enough attention on the lower area of his view.

And there she stood, in all her glory of ethereal beauty; small and sweet-looking in an off-shoulder sundress that does nothing but tempt Bucky to leave his mark all over her exposed skin. A simple necklace adorned with a gleaming stone that shines much like her eyes. A shy smile that may have just triggered some dark thoughts in Bucky's mind on corrupting the poor little thing.

"James, right? I'm y/n." she introduced herself but when Bucky's gaze fell on her rosy lips, all he could think was how bad he wanted to bite and suck on them just see if it'll get redder than they already were.

He was too focused entertaining on his inner beast's thoughts that he just stood there in silence, frowning intensely at the sweet little omega in front of him.

Y/N took his unresponsiveness as a sign of anger, so quickly apologised for her tardiness, "Sorry for making you wait so long. When we..i mean I. When I saw you, the nerves started kicking in." At least she tried to, despite stuttering in the between her words.

Fuck, she's such a pretty doll but above all, Bucky just wanted to protect her from the world, provide for her with anything she deserves, treat her like an absolute queen, worship every inch of her being like his own personal goddess and jesus fuck these urges came in stronger than he ever experienced.

With the lights coming from behind, Bucky's face was in the shadows and Y/N misterinterpret his spell-bound, diluted eyes to something else.

Y/N's brows creased in hesitation as she wonders if Bucky was still mad, "Uhh... oh shit" then her eyes widen in a false realization, "Is the something on my face?" She frantically searched for her phone in her bag.

And fuck does that big doe eyes of hers just casually seduce Bucky to think of how she would look when she's taking his cock in her mouth. She'd be so fucking pretty.

She knew she should've used her phone's camera to re-apply her lipstick instead of the cracked mirror at the carnival's bathroom, "The mirror here is f--"

Yes, Bucky would want to breed her so good that she would always be full with his pups.

She's undeniably... "Perfect." Bucky finally spoke after what seemingly feels like forever.

His voice was laced with a hint of territorial grunt that Y/N was not able to catch what he said, "Hmm?" She titled her head to the side, eyes pleading for him to repeat.

It took Bucky all of his mental strength to hold back his alpha urges when he repeats, "You're perfect, doll. Just absolutely perfect." A cheshire smile decorated his handsome face.

Did he meant to say she look perfect? Well, yes but no. He clearly meant she was perfect, her whole being. But Y/N took it as the prior, "Thank you." She smiled sweetly as her cheeks warmed.

Bucky definitely noticed the slight indent of her left dimple. And he wondered how would it felt against his fingers. "Adorable." He thought as his smile grew wider.

Y/N had been waiting for this moment, to finally had a chance to have this man even for a day, especially considering she had the biggest crush on this stranger that helped her a year ago.

One time she might just had met her potential mate was that one time she had to be dosed with shit tons of scent blockers. And that might just be reason why Bucky may not remember her but that's fine. She had one more chance with him tonight.

After that encounter, his scent, his voice, his presence lingered in her mind longer than she anticipated. At least until the moment Peggy showed a photo her alpha that had Bucky in it.

She grew hopeful and had been pestering her to set up somehow set up date with him.

When the time finally comes, she couldn't help but to fell into panic, "Did I introduce myself? I'm y/n" she completely forgot that she already did that.

Bucky let out the most adorable laugh before he reminded her, "You very well did, sugar." His hand move so naturally to tuck the strand of her hair behind her ear as she fell into utter embrassement.

"I'm Bucky." He finally introduced himself.

"Bucky?" Y/N outwardly questioned. She thought his name was James, as Peggy said it was.

He hummed softly as he nodded, "The name's James Bucky Barnes." He explained. "Just call me Bucky, yeah sugar?" He duck his head to peek on her redden face, "...cause I can't guarantee my behaviour around you if you keep calling me James." He quirked his eyebrow as his teasing grin spreads.

Oh, he was definitely and unashamedly insinuated something quite unholy there.

Bucky straighten on his back as he offered his arms, "Shall we, then? I would love to know more about you, sweet 'mega."

No matter how infatuated Bucky was with this lovely little omega clinging to his arm; a part of him was also on a defensive mode.

His insecurities gets the best of him when he believe that all of this was just an act, a cruel prank that fate has set up for him or maybe he was just having a ridiculous dream, knowing how pitiful his reality was.

Despite his gentle smile and longing gaze that's lingering on Y/N who was having the best time of her life as her bright eyes sparked at the vibrant and colorful firework show, deep down, he couldn't help to think that sooner or later, all of this will end like it always does.

Another heart break he needed to endure.

But, she was truly an angel. She was everything he could ever hoped for, everything that he could ever long for.

He can't belive that she would spend even a second of her time with a defected, fat, angry looking alpha such as himself.

Maybe this won't be just another heart break.

Maybe this would be the cause for him to actually break beyond repairable.

And she would be the catalyst.

"Thank you for today, Bucky. I truly enjoy my time with you." She confessed with a sincere appreciation and admiration towards him. She shyly broke their eye contact as her finger fiddled with soft fur of the teddy bear that Bucky won for her.

It reminds her of him so much that she insisted that he need to win it for her.

So he did.

His alpha couldn't help to puff with pride. "Omega's happy because of us." But his lips remain shut with a loving smile curved on it.

The dimple on her cheek appeared again and this time he didn't stop his hand from reaching out. Though they were gloved, he still let himself feeling the pleasure of grazing his fingers along her cheek, through her dimple and stopped underneath her chin.

Bucky pulled her closer as he dipped down to her level. Warmth sparked in Y/N's chest, as if the fireworks show magically transferred within her instead, "Buck--"

"Bucky?" A women's voice interupted their moment. "Bucky is that you?" She called again and her familiarity had caught both Y/N and Bucky's attention.

"Oh my god! It is you!" her ecstatic tone might have fool Y/N for a second there.

Maybe she's a close friend of Bucky, but when she saw the colors from his face drained quite drastically, she might need to hold on to that thought.

"Vivian." Bucky's tone changed into something Y/N couldn't put her finger on. Sorrow? Anger? Regret? She wasn't sure but it was not a positive response.

The claimed omega sauntered closer and peered towards Y/N with a glint of judgment in her eyes, "And I see you managed to trick another one, huh?"

That triggered a scarring spot within Bucky.

He could still remember the way she accused him of luring and tricking omega to be with him. Apparently, she couldn't stand being him during intimate time especially during his ruts.

And one particular moment when his rut was at its peak and she couldn't stop herself to turn into an unforgiving monster.

"I can't believe I fell for your charms. Then now I need to deal with this." Vivian looked away, unable to look at her boyfriend, hot and bothered, bare and in pain.

Bucky pants and groan as Vivian continued to insult him from the corner of him room, "Look at you, Bucky! You look fucking pathetic!" She yelled as she angrily pointed her hands towards him.

He turn to his side facing her, and curled his body to manage the raging pain of wanting to stick his cock into something. Vivian was to busy ranting that she couldn't see the fire in Bucky's grilling frown.

"You can't expect me to touch you now especially with your big fucking belly spilling out like that. God, you're sweating like damn dog and you fucking reek!" Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled in disgust before she continued, "And don't get me started with that wretched arm of yours."

That's it. Bucky was not having any of it anymore. He was seconds away from slamming Vivian's face to the wall as his primal alpha needs to aggress were also heighten in his rut.

"Then, get the fuck out of my house, you useless annoying bitch." Bucky growled through his pain.

Vivian was not able to catch a breath as her mouth hang open in shock. Bucky never been that harsh with her but honestly it was about time he did.

"Don't even think of coming back." He warned as she closed the doors behind her.

Unknowingly leaving Bucky's heart bruised and battered.

That was almost a year ago. Bucky gave her the benefit of a doubt as he thought maybe she would change once she find her the love life but apparently she is as vicious as ever.

The tall blonde continue to linger as she asked, "Did you know? About that arm of his?"

Y/N didn't know what she was talking about but she didn't want to entertain this woman, especially when Bucky was clearly uncomfortable with her presence.

Though her silence only lead Vivian to speculate, "Aww, you poor thing, you don't know, do you?" Her mockery was getting worst, "It's fake, honey. He lost his arm many years ago." She flicked Bucky's left arm with long bird-like nails; or claws, that seemed more accurate.

Bucky caught the way Y/N's eyes briefly glanced at his covered arms then his gloved hand. What was she thinking then? Does she think that he was defected? That he is a damaged goods?

He couldn't help to let his mind wonder to the worst case scenarios and to make the unpleasant situation even worse Vivian slightly tugged Bucky's jacket to the side.

Revealing his round and plushy belly, "And fuck did you get bigger?" She sneered as the ruthless insult continue to spill.

"Shut up." Y/N's broken silence caught them off guard.

Vivian scoffed, "What?"

Y/N piercing gaze landed on Vivian's hand still tugging Bucky's jacket. She harshly grabbed her on the wrist, didn't care whether if her nails would dug into the woman's skin.

"I said..." The air felt heavier, only for Y/N to shove more force to it when her voice dropped a few octaves down, "Shut the fuck up before I tear your throat apart."

How dare she insult her alpha, especially when Y/N was right there with him.

"Are sure you want to do that?" Vivian's alpha suddenly stepped in. Even though he clearly was not interested in the matter a few seconds ago.

Y/N took a step forward, "Try me." She dared him.

"I might as well fuck your balls up while I'm at that, huh? Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about subduing your insolent omega."

Oh, she meant what she said; its especially clear when the growling started to peak a presence through her voice.

The taller was bright red, with embrassment and anger, "You're talking to an alpha. Know your place 'mega!" He forced his alpha command on her.

She fought back as much as she could but of course she was forced to submit. When the alpha tried to reach for her, that's when Bucky blocked his way.

Bucky's demeanour completely changed into something different. His meek presence vanished and now turned into a pure and primal rage. Good thing was he contained it quite well so he won't cause a scene but his gaze degrades the one before him.

Though the alpha was slightly taller but Bucky was certainly bigger and being a veteran, of course he'd be stronger. One wrong move, he might get a chance to meet the grim reaper sooner than he'd expect.

It felt as if Bucky was towering over the alpha, as he challenged him to come a step further, "Touch her and you're dead." Bucky let out a deep, murderous growl as he threatened.

The alpha was about to protest but was forced into a frozen state as he look into Bucky's sapphire eyes; there was something ominous about it, something dark and dangerous.

Being overwhelmed by Bucky's strong scent of rage, Vivian quickly pulled her alpha away, "Let's just go... They're not worth it." She coaxed, and the alpha agreed.

Before they leave, she managed to slip a last comment, as she wishes luck to Bucky, "Goodluck keeping this one." She thought she was being sleek when she whispered so quietly but Y/N heard that just fine.

When Y/N snapped out of the alpha command, she grunted, "I'm gonna kill her." What a menancing look in those coffee-stained eyes of hers.

Bucky only softened to her threatening aggressions, "No, you're not " he rubbed his hand to the sides of her arms, trying to calm her down.

Which failed miserably when she replied, "Watch me." She spun around, eyes searching in the crowd, trying to spot a glimpse of the rude couple.

"Hey hey, omega." Bucky quickly catch her before she could walk further, pulling her back to his chest, both of his arms securing her waist, "Calm down. Shhh shhh." Bucky let out a calming rumble from within his chest, coaxing her softly, "Killing is not necessary, sugar."

Despite her tensed body were starting to relax, her mind certainly wasn't, "And why the hell not?" Her small hands gripped onto the fabric of Bucky's jacket on his arms.

"No one deserved to be treated like that." She whispered softly as Bucky continued to kiss the top of her head, mumbling quiet 'I know, doll. I know'

"You don't deserve to be treated like that, Bucky." Her voice shivered despite her efforts to conceal them.

Bucky loosen his grip and turned her to face him. His loving gaze took in every single one of Y/N's sweet features; from her teary eyes to her redden nose and pouty lips.

He wanted to kiss each of them, in hopes of making her feel better. But he doesn't want to take any chances as he had already made a bold move to hug her from behind and kiss her head prior.

Bucky looked down at his dark midnight glove, and Y/N took his lead. Before she could say anything, Bucky started pulling each one off. Revealing his calloused right hand and a shiny black and gold prosthetic on the other.

He can't see her reaction to his vibranium arm, but he imagined the worst. He took in a shaky breath before he spoke, "Alpha is supposed to be perfect. They supposed to be capable. So that they can provide and protect their omega."

He paused as Y/N wrapped took both of his hand in hers but then continued regardless, "And I am far from being perfect or ideal. I lost a limb and gained pounds in return. I can't hide that fact."

"But I swear to god y/n, I never intent on tricking you or using you, in any way." In the end, Vivian's gaslighting effect of Bucky was still stronger as ever.

Why couldn't he see that there was nothing less about him.

"It's pretty." Y/N titled his left hand back and forth, watching the glow on the gold lines reflect the lights of the carnival; each move create random sparkling dots on its smooth surface, it looks like stars.

Bucky didn't understand at first until she looked up at him, with eyes gleaming with mixture of intrigued and infatuation, "It's so pretty, and Bucky..." She reached her hand to his face, gently rubbing her thumb on his stubble jaw, "You're beautiful. All of you." She confessed.

She carefully pulled her hand away from his cheek, and grabbed his left hand with both of hers, allowing it draw near to her lips before she placed a loving kiss on it, "This arm," Then her hands caressed the softness of his tummy, "this body," before they stopped at his chest where his beating heart resides, "this heart. Every single part of you is beyond beauty itself."

Bucky frowned as he find it hard to believe and Y/N knew that, "I mean it, Bucky."

A short chuckle left her lips as a thought run through her mind, "God, you'd be running scared, if you know half of the things I would love to do to you."

Bucky bit back a smile as he let his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

Y/N continued as she held onto his hands, "But, above all Bucky, you are the sweetest man I've met." There was nothing more sincere than her words, "Yeah I know we just met and what not, but if I can see that just in one night, imagine if I get to know more of you tomorrow or the next day and next week?"

Her grip on him grew stronger as she reminded him, "Don't let an impudent omega or anyone even, convice you otherwise."

"Because Bucky, you are as lovable as a person can be." She placed his palm on either side of her cheeks, purring as the sensation on skin felt so right, "And I am absolutely honoured and proud to be standing here with an alpha like you." She smiled like she was the happiest omega on earth.

And Bucky could not control the overwhelming joy within his thundering chest as it bursts with endless fluttering butterflies. He had never felt such comfort, such reassurance in his life, especially after returning home from the army.

Flickers igniting as he leaned in closer and closer until their lips touched, tentively for the first time. The smell of her cotton candy and caramel, so sweet and so soft, it was almost dizzying, but he was more than thrilled to let it consume him.

Y/N briefly parted her lips to let him in and leaned into the kiss, wanting more of the delicious sensation of his lips, his tongue on hers. Bucky wanted nothing more than devour her, memorizing of every single moan that fell into his mouth.

It felt so right; it was exactly was his soul had been yearning for and more.

Breaking the kiss was the reminder to both of them they need air to breath, and Bucky rested his forehead on hers as he took in everything that just happened.

While Y/N found herself completely drunk to the feeling of love within her body and soul, she whispered dearly as she scatters most tender kisses all over Bucky's face, "You're so pretty. So perfect. So... mine."

And that caught Bucky in another spiral of confusion; she could see it in face especially with his sapphire eyes being as wide as they were.

She giggled amusingly before she proposed, "Will you be mine, James Bucky Barnes?"

God, he was supposed to be the alpha here. But what can he say, his omega is quite a special one.

He breathed a relief sigh, "Yes." Leaned in for a quick taste of her lips before asking his a question of his own, "And you're mine?"

Her nose crunched as she booped its tip on his, "Always." She replied. Bucky could feel her smile against his lips and so does she.

Unbeknownst to the happy couple, a few feet away from them was Peggy who was busy clicking her camera away, trying to get the best shot she could out of the couple while Steve was trying hard to hold back his proud sniffles as he stood guard near his omega.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Sooooooo what you think? Feel free to give feedback I love reading your thoughts!

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