Tumgik
#*sees two old very fucked up men + starts vibrating*
nosesitter · 8 months
Text
Help, I’m stuck!
| Father in law!Joel Miller
3.9k words
Tumblr media
a/n: let me real quickly clarify no I don’t wanna fuck my FIL I just wanna fuck Joel Miller, this came to me in a completely different way but I added another idea in and made this! I hope y’all love it cause as I post I’ll be writing an add on cause FIL Joel was something I didn’t know I needed. It’s niche but someone has to write it, also PLS let me know if you want anything specific I love writing blurbs for people 🫶🏻 not even Joel miller I love hot characters, masked men, mean men, thot men, BIG BURLY HAIRY MEN!! Joel will talk more next part I just could only get him in at the end
⚠️: Father in law!Joel Miller, reader has an onlyfans, no Sarah but Joel does have a grown son, age gap not specified for reader but Joel is 55, no outbreak, it’s definitely dub/con, mentions of alcohol and drugs(don’t do any without me), recorded sex, small anal and food play?(it’s just a line you’d probably glaze right over it), f masterbation, unprotected pinv, toys, creampie, use of sweet pet names 🫶🏻and then the word slut is tossed around a couple times, reader can fit in a dryer lmfaooo never thought I’d type that
“The whole ‘stuck inside the dryer’ that could be fun.”
Two years ago you started an only fans. Your husband loved the idea of it. Hyping you up, filming the content, giving you ideas. He loved coming home seeing you dressed up, camera ready to record the homemade videos, it made him insane, causing him to go hard and give it his all only to throw in the towel after your wet cunt milks him of his release 30 minutes after hitting record. It became a full time job for you. Once you started it was hard to stop, pulling one orgasm out of you opened a Pandora’s box of animalistic lust, in the past you’ve been called a nymphomaniac. It was a blessing and a curse to be so horny all the time. After videos with him you would let him rest, kissing him goodnight then heading to the guest room to make solo content. Your trusty pink vibrator and thick realistic dildo helping you reach your climax 5 more times before you call it a night then head to bed to edit and post the content.
Your husbands words ring through your ears as he opens a bottle of wine for you. ‘Stuck in the dryer’ it was simple really, trying to think why you’ve never thought of it before. Tonight you’re having dinner with your father in law, Joel Miller. The grumpiest old man you’ve ever met. In the two years you’ve been married you’ve seen him smile a few times, once when the two of you met, another at your engagement, and then the night of your wedding as you were leaving for your honeymoon, very quickly he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a big hug ‘welcome to the family’ he whispered when he pulled back a drunken smirk was plastered on his face. there was something about the whole interaction that sent a shiver down you spine. After the honeymoon he was over, a lot. Finding things around the new house to fix. Always mumbling to himself;
‘them new contractors don’t know what they’re doin’
Walker entertained his dads need to be helpful and useful and so did you. So to return the favors you’ve banged out dinner and dessert for the man. As you’re setting the table there’s a loud knock at the door. Walker grabs the door and smiles big when he sees his father pulling him into a manly hug, both of them patting each others back three times. “Welcome in dad! Yeah, she’s in the kitchen just finished up.” You can hear Joel’s voice ask for you, maybe it was the sip of wine you just had but hearing his voice made your legs… buckle.
His boots stepping across the hardwood floor, crossing the threshold into the dining room. Standing next to the set table, one hand on your hip the other holding your generously full glass of wine. This has to be the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on Joel’s face.
“Hello there sweetness ,you do all this for me?” Pulling you into a side hug his big warm arm going around your waist. tightly. yours going around his shoulder as you rest your head on him for a brief second. You pull back but his one arm lingers around you a little while longer.
“Well we just wanted to say thank you for working so hard to help fix up the place.” He sets the 6 pack he brought with him on the table grabbing one of the bottles and twisting off the cap and wrapping his lips around taking a big gulp. There’s a sudden dryness in your throat and you swear you can hear yourself gulp when he pulls the bottle away and runs his tongue across his bottom lip to gather the excess.
“Let’s eat, honey I’m hungry!” Walker says and the three of y’all sit down and begin to eat. One thing about Joel is that he’s a vocal eater, meaning he will moan and groan if the food is good. He loves your cooking, says it’s just like his ma’s even brought his brother Tommy over for him to have some too. You’re surprised he’s not here either. So when Joel stabs his fork into the baked chicken you were making earlier it comes as music to your ears when he lets out a throaty growl. Legs crossing even tighter now causing you to reach for your glass of wine.
When everyone finishes with dinner you head back into the kitchen to grab Joel’s favorite, your mixed berry pie. Quick on your heels is your husband. As you’re closing the oven he comes behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pressing kisses into the side of your neck. “Mm I keep imagining you on your knees inside the dryer.” He mumbles into your ear his breathy whisper making you giggle from its ticklish feel. He presses himself into the back of your ass the dress you’re wearing is already thin enough so you can practically feel the outline of him on your skin. Grabbing the pie again you quickly get out the kitchen and back to Joel.
“Everything all good, sweetness?” Joel asks seeing your chest and face red from your husbands advances.
“Oh it’s nothing just talking with Walker about the dryer, we might get a new one.” Walking back out the kitchen Walker points his beer at his father exclaiming.
“No need to fix this one dad, we’re just gon’ replace it.” He tells him and Joel just holds his hands up as you’re cutting him a slice of pie. Your hand raises to stop him from scarfing it down so you can add the whip cream on it. You shake the bottle and you can feel the eyes of both miller men on you as you shake a little too hard causing some to spray out. The spurts of cream landing on your chest and falling onto your hand.
The whole scene comical for your husband but absolutely stunning for Joel. You just laugh while your fingers gather the white cream off your chest and into your mouth. He’s looking up at your while he sits in the chair completely dumbfounded by the scene in front of him. He prays he doesn’t need to get anytime soon because the both of y’all will see his complete hard on for his daughter in law.
“Well dig in Joel, it’s your favorite!”
———
It’s midnight by the time you finish cleaning up. the bottle of red wine sitting empty in the recycling bin and your husband on the couch barely awake. You wake him up and lead him into the bedroom, getting him under the covers and pressing a kiss against his lips before he whispers goodnight and a quick love you. You head into the bathroom and strip yourself of your dress, bra, and panties. Then head into the guest room grabbing your camera and putting it on the tripod set up in the corner. Laying back in the bed you start slow at first. Hand slowly trailing down your chest, ghosting lightly over the swell of your breasts. Squeezing your tits together, thumbs rubbing over your hardening nipples. Your head whips around as you begin to think about your husband and how you love to sit on his face, the feeling of his mustache on your clit. Trying to work yourself up more you think about something else, maybe about how he fucked you on the back patio, him laying on the chaise while your hands hold onto the arms rests. His hips rutting into you while you hover over him.
As your hands reaches your clit like a flash of lightning there’s a brief imagine of Joel. when he was cleaning the gutters, it had been raining for weeks and it was so humid that when he came over within 10 minutes he had stripped himself of his flannel and under shirt. Standing on a ladder one leg bent the other straight as his hands were above his head, the humidity causing beads of sweat to trail down his tan broad arms and causing his gray wife beater to blacken. The whole scene made you rush back inside, heading into the kitchen to try to forget by making him fresh squeezed lemonade.
Your hand pulls away with guilt but theres a gush that comes from you, putting your hand back between your legs your fingers gather the arousal that pours out of you. Sitting up you grab your dildo from the bedside table and begin again. Tapping the head of it against your clit the teasing causing you to moan. One hand holds the dildo while the other spreads yourself back for the camera your fingers opening up into a ‘v’ as you rub the side of the dildo along your exposed cunt. Gathering your wetness so you can slip in the thick fake cock. The dildo has more girth than your husband. His dick was long but it just didn’t give you the stretch you wanted. Pushing the tip in you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you slowly push more in. A couple seconds pass and you can feel the toy bottom out inside you stretching you out perfectly while also lightly bushing against your cervix.
Slowly you begin to move it getting used to the stretch. To edge yourself on, your fingers go to your nipples tweaking and rubbing your arousal over them causing the air to hit the wetness sending a chill through you. Your hand goes for your neck lightly pressing yourself into the bed, then another flash of Joel with his thick hand wrapped around the whole bottle. it was tiny in his big ruggedly hands. There’s a loud moan that escapes your throat and your hand holding the dildo between your legs begins to thrust faster. Now you can’t help but think of him as the sound of your gushing cunt gets louder, it’s fucking pornographic. Another image of him and it’s when your husband surprised you with a hot tub and you found Joel in it when y’all came from your honeymoon. He was red with embarrassment even though he asked his son if he could use it. You remember him getting out, water dripping down his salt and pepper covered chest the heavy drops falling off his body and his swim trunks getting stuck to his big thighs, the outline of his cock was far bigger than your husbands.
A very loud moan comes from your mouth one last time and you’re looking between your legs at the arousal squirting out of you. Your head tosses back into the pillows as your hips go crazy bucking up and into the bed. Pulling the dildo out of you and winching at the emptiness you now feel. Your shame is coating the bed and running down your arm. you swing your legs that feel like noodles over the bed and head into the bathroom to wash off the thoughts of your very hot father in law.
———
There’s a bubbling nervousness in the pit of your stomach as you set up the scene. Camera set up on the tripod, the laundry room cleaned up to look like it’s never been used, and the pillow you set inside the dryer for you to bend over on. You decided to dress up for the part wearing a tight see through tank top, shorts that a too small your ass is hanging out no doubt but the real kicker is that you’re not wearing any underwear so when your bent inside the dryer they ride up causing your whole vagina to be exposed to camera view. Knee high socks and a pair of converse. it’s about 10 minutes to 12 so you decide to loosen up by smoking a little before your husband comes home for lunch.
Heading home baby see you soon!
Walker doesn’t work too far away so you finish up the joint you rolled and head back inside to your place in the dryer. You can hear his truck pull up, the engine dies and the driver door closes, your phones dings a couple more time but you don’t check it. Quickly you press record and get on your knees and head first into the dryer.
The front door opens and you begin.
“Help, I’m stuck!” You shout out before he could get out a hello causing his rushing footsteps to come past the dining room and into the laundry room. You can feel his presence behind you but what you didn’t expect is the catcall whistle that came with it.
“I got stuck in the dryer, please help me!” You plead with him wiggling your ass around, your hungry cunt wrapping itself around the crotch of your tight shorts. His hand comes down and slaps your ass hard you’re thrown off by the force he gives you but he must really like this idea since he suggested it. A deep growl comes from his throat and you can hear him getting on his knees right behind you.
“Just get me out please!” Pretending to plead with him. Walker usually talks but he’s quiet today you think nothing of it. He presses himself against you feeling the cold buckle on his belt on the back of your thighs. The roughness of his jeans as he grinds himself into you. You move forward slightly but his hands grab your hips holding you in place as he continues to grind into you.
One of your hands try to go for his belt behind you but he’s quick to slap it away. He leans back on his knees and pushes you more into the dryer ass hiked up higher. He begins to pull your shorts down to your knees and slowly trails his fingers back up your exposed legs back to your ache between your legs. “If you’re going to eat me out move the camera closer.” Breaking character for a moment you tell him and then you hear shuffling and then the sound of your tripod being picked up and set closer to the dryer.
His left hand spreading your cheeks apart the other has his finger ghosting lightly over your entrance. Suddenly there’s a harsh feeling of Walker spitting right where his finger begs to be. His middle finger pushes inside and begins twirling around inside of you. The sound of wetness and his finger pushing deep into you makes you moan out loud the echo of it escaping the dryer. Still having your cheeks spread he adds another finger this time, his ring finger. The force his hand is giving you gets faster and faster then he starts to make a come here motion with his fingers. The stretch of his two fingers alone have you white knuckling the pillow. Then his lips press a light but wet kiss to the other hole that’s getting no attention. The feeling of his mustache right on you pubic bone makes you giggle a little then his lips lower and you can feel the prickly sides of his cheeks against you. He forgot to shave this morning. You like when Walker lets his little facial hair grow out. His beard is patchy just like his fathers but you love the look. His fingers curve inside of you again and suddenly you’re about to cum.
“Fuck baby, I’m so close!” Panting out. The force from his hand gets faster and harder causing your body to shake as he begins to pound his hand into you. One of your hands goes behind you to grab his wrist. His other hand grabs your arm and holds you tightly there as your body begins to convulse violently. With your hand back behind you, you can feel your orgasm approach, well you can definitely feel it. You start squirting again the feeling of your orgasm shooting at walkers clothes. He’ll have to change before he can leave. Your arm still being held in place while his other hand begins to grab at his belt buckle. The sound of the zipper going down, then his tip slides right between your folds. Back arches from the contact you want more.
“Please fuck me.” You beg, ass wiggling around trying to find his dick so it can just slip right in but he stops you with his big hand giving each of your cheeks a few slaps. Your free hand goes behind you to stop the spanking but he’s quick to grab it and hold it with your other hand. You can feel his bare dick twitch behind you, just dying to be inside of you like a compass pointing right into your cunt. Before he pushes himself inside of you his fingers grab at the wedding ring right on your finger sliding it off and hearing the metal hit the top of the dryer. Confused but you decide to not ruin the moment with a simple question.
His fingers grab at his base to straighten his cock out and almost immediately upon penetration you know this isn’t Walker. Your head turns slightly to look behind you and you can see the recognizable green flannel that belongs to your father in law, lower part of it soaked with your arousal. His big broad hand holding both your arms back, veins poking out of his flushed red neck. His bottom lip sits between his teeth, his eyes catching you staring right at him.
“Poor little housewife, begging for her father in laws cock.” As much as you want to push him away, scream, fight, and cry for your husband your eyes just roll right back as he bottoms out inside of you. He’s the perfect size, the perfect girth, he’s perfect right inside of you and he knows it too. His free hand goes for the tripod taking the camera right off and moving it closer to his dick that’s moving slowly all the way out then slowly all the way back in.
Your mind isn’t thinking about where your husband is or how he might be standing at the door watching the whole scene happen before him instead you’re thinking about every vein you can feel on his cock, how stuffed you feel, how his balls slap right up against you, the mound of black and white pubic hair he has and how ticklish it feels grinding against you. The whole situation is fucked, how can you even go back to your husbands skinny dick? How can you ever look in your father in law in the eye after this? There’s a hard slap at your ass followed by Joel’s hand grabbing the skin at your hips.
“Such a good little slut.”
The coil in your lower stomach feels hot to the touch, your body smushed into the dryer the metal indenting into your skin. Your knees get closer together causing your pussy’s grip on Joel to get tighter around him. His hand lets go of both of yours as his thrusts get sloppier, he’s going to cum inside of you.
“Uh uh baby, you’re gon’ take this and you’re gon’ love it.” Both your hands try to push yourself out the dryer but joel just raises one of his legs to kneel beside you blocking your body from moving anymore from him. As much as you don’t want this your hand can’t help but wonder to your clit. Joel’s notices this and puts his hand over yours, your two small fingers and his two big ones rubbing all over your clit. The pressure is so much that you squirt again, your climax is grotesquely satisfying, tears begin to flow out your eyes as Joel moans very loudly, he sounds like he hasn’t had an orgasm in years and you just let the beast out the cage.
Following your release Joel gives you one last thrust practically shoving his cock inside your cervix, spraying hot cum all inside of you it feels like you’re full, so full of Joel’s cum. Body shaking around him milking him of everything he can give you. His thrusts get slower but you’re pressing back into him hard just chasing the high of being stretched full. His hand that’s still on yours slaps your clit and you’re coming again in an instant. He laughs at your desperate body as he looks down at his cock to see the white ring on cream sitting around base of him. Slowly he pulls out, his body goes limp and he lays against the washer right beside you.
Finally out the dryer you catch your breath and look at the red light blinking on your camera. You stop it the video and it saves it. A big part of you wants to delete this and curse at Joel for taking advantage of you like that, a small sluttier piece of you wants to watch it again while you suck joel clean. You just set the camera to the side, not deleting it yet. You and Joel just look each other in the eye while he begins to put his dirty dick back in his pants. he zips up and then gets up groaning like the old man he is in the process.
“You better get cleaned up, don’t want my boy to see his slut wife with his dads cum in her.” You sit on the floor at his feet just watching him grab his bag of tools and leave. Your phone dings and you wonder if it’s Walker telling you to move out cause he saw the whole scene.
Got fucking pulled over I was too excited to head home and fuck you! :(((
Just gonna head back to work :( hungry and horny see you tonight baby
While you look at those texts, one pops up sent 30 minutes ago from Joel
Hey darling I’m gonna head over and check out that dryer for ya, see you soon!
———🏠💍👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻
Like, comment, reblog, validate me 🫶🏻
0802
649 notes · View notes
jjongslutz · 4 months
Note
https://x.com/g_md_ri/status/1732039176810598622?s=46&t=2pfgV1Et_rAi2rt9FOuB4g
I’m sorry but he’s so seems cold and reserved cool guy on campus who secretly has a heart of gold. always melts when he sees his princess (you) and loves spending time with you and in between your thighs 🥹❣️
Tumblr media Tumblr media
HE DOES ☹️
the rich heir, son of the CEO of the top company in the country; everyone either wants to be him or be with him, but he pays them no mind always burying himself in his studies - he only has a few friends, too, all with connections through their parents which really reinforces his stuck-up image
your friends hate him. "he's so annoying, right? he clearly doesn't even care about anyone, yet all these people are practically throwing themselves in front of him so he doesn't need to step in a puddle or something..." one snickers. the other jumps in, "god forbid he ruins his new shoes!"
little do either of them know, jay'll pull you into an empty lecture room later on when you're alone - so desperate to see you because the two of you have been so busy lately :(
grabbing ahold of your hand, he guides you to the top of the stairs, finding seats at the back in case someone walks in.
"i've missed you so much, princess," he says as he watches you settle yourself in the chair, already knowing what's to come
"i missed you too," you giggle at his wide eyes. you open your legs while your hand plays with the ends of his hair, serving as guidance to your core.
you conveniently chose to wear a skirt, which gives him such open access to what the two of you want most right now. his fingers trace small circles on your clothed cunt, a smirk forming on his face as he watches the wet patch growing underneath his touch
he pushes the material to the side before you start squirming, equally as impatient as you are. he dips two fingers into your sopping hole, rubbing his thumb over your clit to ease the stretch. he looks up at you with doe eyes, "you look so beautiful today, princess."
you blush at his kind words mixed with his sensual touch. "jay..."
"what?" he chuckles. "i can't compliment my girlfriend?"
his fingers push and pull in and out of you gently as his eyes travel over your body in its entirety with an expression as if he's seen all seven wonders of the world. he might as well have.
when you're comfortably stretched, letting out soft moans, jay leans down to your core, lapping his tongue over your clit, his fingers rolling into your pussy at a slow pace.
your hand finds its way to his hair, not pulling, but slipping through his strands.
"fuck, jay."
he pulls away for one agonizing moment. "feels good?"
you throw your head back in faux-frustration. "yes, it feels good. dumbass, don't stop."
the vibrations of his laughter against your cunt bring you closer to where you want to be. naturally, your hips roll into his movements as they quicken to match your needs.
within minutes, you're coming undone under his touch, jay humming at the sweet taste of your juices.
if this was the first time you've done this, you'd ask him if he wanted you to jerk him off - not as if you don't want to either. but he'd deny it as always, saying that all he wants is to make his girl feel good.
the two of you sit together in the empty lecture room for some time after that. talking and chatting about whatever, just enjoying each other's company.
then, the appalling sound of your alarm rings. "i should head to my next class," you announce unenthusiastically.
jay pouts. "see you tomorrow?"
"you have that company dinner, remember?"
"oh, right," his frown sours. "i'll skip it, i rather spend my evening with you than greedy old men."
you laugh at his intentions and agree unseriously, getting up and taking your bag with you.
he walks you to the door, but stays back for a while after you leave the room.
it doesn't matter to you that your relationship is kept very lowkey, adds to the excitement - sneaking around, keeping secrets.
394 notes · View notes
rubberloved · 7 months
Text
Femdemic
A longer caption based on the Femdemic universe
Tumblr media
“Wakey wakey sleepy head. Ahh ahh just relax. You’re just in a special straitjacket while I finish up my work. It’s okay, you can squirm if you want to. It’s made of a very special, tight, strong latex. You can move however much you want and it’ll just cling to your body. Don’t worry, I’ll peel you out eventually.
Have heard about the Femdemic? Surely you must have! A clever guy like you. Surely you read the papers? Men randomly going missing, sex crazed bimbos turning up. Isn’t it just… exciting?
I’ve had my eyes set on you for quite a while now. The son of one of the biggest bankers in the country. All that money and power and you’re all trussed up by little old me. You see, since the outbreak, I’ve identified a little opportunity for myself. There are lots of silly, powerful, womanising boys everywhere. This is a little chance to teach them a lesson.
So, remember two days ago, you were out partying. Not a care in the world. Well, you took a girl home. A beautiful thing in a lovely pink PVC miniskirt and bandeau top. Only, she wasn’t a girl. She was an infected. Believe me, it didn’t cost much to get her help. I told her I’d buy her lots more pretty, shiny things and guarantee her lots of guys to fuck. She was so excited. Hard to believe she was once a dick swinging lawyer in the macho world of finance.
Well you lapped up her attention, took her home and fucked her, didn’t you? I checked the messages you sent to ‘the guys’. Apparently she was a ‘slut just begging for it’? Tut tut. To be fair, she probably was. I bet it was the ride of your life. Well, while you were shooting your load, she was passing on the Femdemic virus.
I gave you a couple of days to incubate. How did it feel watching your body start to change? All those invasive little thoughts creeping in. Did you pretend it wasn’t happening. When you finally ventured out for help, I just had to swoop in, knock you out and bring you here. Now I’m going to record your little change and send it on to the world. How does that sound?
Look what’s happened in a couple of days. All that gym work just gone. Poof. Your masculine body shrinking down to something far more feminine. No more chiseled jaw or sharp haircut. Here, if I lower the mirror you can just stare at your pretty, new face.
Mmm and how does it feel when I move my hands over your delicious new thighs? So soft and warm. What do you think I’d find if I unzipped the zipper? Would there still be a dick there? I bet the anticipation is killing you too.
Imagine if I streamed all of this to your socials. How weird would it look against all the pictures of you partying with paid bimbos on boats and in clubs?
Ooh I can definitely see your boobs now. Imagine what daddy will say when he sees them. Two perfect mounds jiggling on his son’s chest. Do you think he’ll be shocked or just stare like all the other guys?
Hush now. I know your father would pay money to get you back. That’s not the point though. This is about sending a message. The time of gross little men like you is over. Thanks to this little outbreak, I can fix you all.
I wonder if adding a vibrator would make you transform quicker? Shall we try it? Or what about if I got one of your friends in to play with you? Don’t tell me you’re not excited. I bet the mental changes are already kicking in. How many times have you found yourself thinking about riding a dick? Placing those lovely new delicate hands of yours on the muscular chest of a real man. Your hips grinding forward and back, edging him towards release. That tingle of anticipation, rising from your perfect pussy, through to your nipples, your fingertips and finally…
You can have all of that soon enough. Aww are you sweating because of all that latex, or have I got you excited? Don’t worry, you look perfect. I caught it all on camera. I can add the pictures to the album I’m creating.
Now hold still while I tie the vibrator to you. I want to see how you react. I’ll do you a deal. If you beg for a real cock while the camera is running, I’ll message one of your friends to come over and have some fun. Let’s see if you can resist it.”
153 notes · View notes
bowieandqueen11 · 5 months
Text
Dylan Lenivy With A Protective S/O Would Include...
Tumblr media
Request: Dylan from the quarry with an s/o who’s like really strong. Like wrestle bears strong (or in the quarry case wrestle werewolves strong) and is very protective. Like i mean picking Dylan up and running or taking hits for him.
I genuinely love Dylan so much time to work through my writer's block for him bby!! :)
Warning: Strong language, mentions of blood/ injury, mentions of guns and werewolf attacks!
(I do not own the Quarry or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @moafleco.)
☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°
Dylan Lenivy: darling boy, absolute light of my life!! I full on expected to come into this game and have Max be my favourite because I loved Skyler Gisondo in Booksmart and Night at the Museum 3 but Dylan really side swept my ass here and stole my heart I've got to be honest.
You can bet your ass during the whole Werewolf Attack night at Hackett's Quarry, Dylan will use whatever battery is left on his phone sending you cheesy texts just to check in and make sure you're okay. Be ready for your phone to ding about a thousand times a minute, until Kaitlyn finally cracks and shoves it, still vibrating, into one of the cubbies in the nurse's office.
'Hey sweet... baby-heart! Wait that sounds weird let me start again. Hellooo there sweetheart!❤️🥰 just wanted to make sure ❓that you’re still alive! 💘😖 and not ripped apart! 🤞❌ anyway love you please don’t get eaten by a swarm of bears!! 🐻😘'
Ryan had the joy of reading that one over his shoulder in the radio shack, and the groan he emitted was so loud they both ended up having to pitch over each other and duck under the table because it drew Caleb back up onto the roof.
The poor guy keeps peering out between the slats of the radio shack window like a scared meerkat popping up from behind towering rocks, thinking he can see you float past in a mist of lucent white, weaving through the treeline. He keeps pacing back and forth, back and forth sweating buckets because he's so terrified, and so ashamed that he's cowering in here while you may be in danger out there. Even Ryan's awkward offer to let Dylan borrow his earphones for a while: to sit with his knees drawn up to his chest in the corner and just breathe for a minute while Ryan kept watch, was met with an uncharacteristic sharp intake of breath and manic shake of the head.
So when you come bursting through the rickety door: drenched from head to toe in Nick's metallic reeking blood and propping Chris Hackett's shotgun in your arms, neither of the two men know what to do. But when a crash of lightning makes the full moon glowing behind your head shudder, making the pulsating umbra shrouding your head seem all the more monstrous, Dylan suddenly does.
The man starts screaming in a key that only dogs had a chance of hearing.
When he finally realises that it's you and not - you know - the 'Hag of Hackett's Quarry', and he's spent enough time bent over with his hands resting on his knees trying to catch his breath, the nervous butterflies in the pit of his stomach suddenly turn into somersaults. You came back for him. You came to save him. You care for him that much: love him that much, that you were willing to risk your own life just to try and save his.
Even though he's known you since you were seven years old: even though the two of you had met all those years ago during your first week at this very same camp, catching each other's eyes and waving as he bundled up to Chris' office with a brand new tape player he had restored in his arms, and you helped one of the younger girls pull her luggage out from the back of her parent's van, the true extent of how much he could fucking love someone hits him like air freshener to the face.
Even though the two of you used to sneak out of your bunks and meet up at midnight in the Shady Glade, bumping down beside each other on the dewy grass, constantly craving each other’s company. You made him blush one night, when you suddenly grabbed his hand and intertwined his growing fingers over your smaller ones, pointing up at the moon, and the glowing stars, not realising the little side eye, euphoric look he would give you. 
Even though his heart had flipped over there and then: greedily gorging and festering in his chest, even though he had spent years stifling the feeling until he learnt that he was lucky enough to have it returned, it still shocked him to realise you didn't see him as a waste of space. As a spent joke.
And then his hand gets bit, and everything changes. It must have looked at least a little bit funny when it happened, considering there was not a chance in hell you were about to let any mystical creature drag off your poor boyfriend. As soon as Dylan got swung up to the roof: screaming and begging for you and Ryan to get him down, you jumped onto the desk and latched yourself on Dylan's back like koala bear. Your legs are quick to wrap around his waist until your heels kick up onto the slats, your arms wrapping around his waist until you manage to reach past and grab onto thick handfuls of warm... oozing fur.
With a swift punch to the snout, the two of you fall unceremoniously to the floor in a resounding crash. You managed to cover most of Dylan's moans during your fall by cradling him into your stomach, taking most of the brunt of the force. The poor guy for a moment just curls up on top of you in a state of wide-eyed shock, the side of his cheek heavy as he smooshed it against the side of your jaw. It's almost domestic: almost sweet, as he tugs his legs up between your knees and hides his eyes by turning his head into the curve of your neck. It's the same manner in which he wakes up every morning, hiding himself by nestling himself into you every time the sunrise comes falling through the dusty cracks of the Quarry's alpine blinds and makes him jolt awake.
This time, though. This time is far worse. Because then he starts laughing: a hoarse, shaking, unnerving noise that seems to seep through your throat and make you choke on your tongue. You do your best to grab onto his biceps as he starts shaking, his hands beginning to ball into your shirt as the reality of what's just happened to him settles in.
This man has seen enough horror movies in his life. If he's going to die, he wants to do it lying here in your arms.
Before he knew what was happening, he's being lifted up into your arms bridle style and rushed out towards the pool house. The whole way there, despite the agonising pain he's in, he keeps pressing his lips into your collar bone and giggling like a school boy caught head over heels by his crush. Even when your hands finally slip off from underneath his knees and you gently perch him on the edge of a sink, he's still cradling the side of his head on his neck and looking down at you as if you hung every star in that unbridled sky. It doesn't matter if you're trying to use a cloth to clear some of the blood from underneath his eyebags, or using some bandage Abi found in one of the pool lockers, this man is too busy trying to spend every second he has left as him enraptured by you. That means you have to work with him biting his bottom lip and smiling wonkily as he dodges the cloth and instead grabs onto your fingers, pulling them to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles one by one languidly. He looks so soft - so goddamn soft as he nudges his cheek against your intertwined hands, letting them rest against the side of his face.
He gets really fidgety, and it's then that you suddenly understand he's asking for a reassurance kiss: for the knowledge that you're not going to leave him. He’ll never say it outright, because deep down he’s too embarrassed and touch starved to admit it, but you can always tell. He has so many give away signs: he starts looking down at the floor, taps his feet against the tiles and fidgets his hips back against the porcelain, plays with his fingers by threading them through each other until you lean up to kiss the tip of his nose, and then he just beams with pure, unbridled happiness.
'You're so beautiful, you know that?' Even with the tendrils beginning to twist up his forearm, even half delirious with the stress of what had been happening that night, even thinking he's about to die he's still thinking of you. Worried about you. Desperate for you to know, that it's always been you. That it's all you.
'Dylan... I love you too, but if you keep putting yourself in danger to save everyone else I'm going to kick you into Lake Septimus ass first, okay?'
'Look, I've never met the guy, and although I'm sure he's lovely you're the only person I want to fall ass first onto', he replies, trying his best to hide how his eyes were starting to burn: how his eyes were beginning to crinkle with the effort of stopping his face contorting in pain by cupping your cheeks with his large palms and pressing a lingering, needy kiss against the side of your mouth.
'Ew. Gross, guys.' You turn your head to raise an amused eyebrow at Kaitlyn, but she only shakes her head and turns her attention back to the knitting gash on Nick's leg.
He seems to spend half of the time hiding behind your back! Like, you can just feel the slight tremble as his slender fingers touch your shoulder, and then the growing shadow against the lodge chimney as he jolts behind you. He's trying his best, bless his heart, even though the way he tucks the jut of his chin into your shoulder blade and grabs onto your biceps restricts you from shooting off Caleb when he comes clambering up the stairs towards the two of you.
But also even though he knows you're super bad ass he is 100% ready to launch himself, full-body starfish jump, in harm's way at the first sign of danger. Such as when Emma comes jumping out of the minivan, and Dylan straight away launches you away from him and nearly bearhugs her to the stony ground. Thankfully, you manage to tear off a branch from one of the encircling pine trees and strike the werewolf off Dylan; a near home run hit had her scrambling off into the woodland again as fast as her four legs could carry her. For a moment, your boyfriend just lounges against the dirt, shaky breath only interrupted by the sound of his wincing as he begins to flick pebbles off the deep scratches lining his elbow. Then, before you can even blink, he comes scrambling on his hands and knees towards you like a prowling predator, before melting into you. His arms are quick to lock behind your hamstrings; Dylan doesn't even bother to get up off his knees, he just shoves his head into your bellybutton and refuses to move until he can feel your fingers card through his scalp.
'Oh my god!', he finally starts, once you begin to unlatch his rusted fingers from around his legs by pulling at them one by one. 'I can't believe you never told me!'
'Told you what?'
'That you're secretly the sports coach! I knew Jacob was too much of a butthead - I just knew he was too busy playing hookup to look after the kids. That's the real tea from this summer.'
For real though - it doesn't matter where you are: turn around and Dylan's on your heels like your own personal walking, talking, screeching shadow. You have a bet with Kaitlin on whether he's managed to build a teleporting machine during his free time in the radio shack, because you could be down scouting the kitchen and he could be up looking at the weird family pictures in the lodge's attic, but at the first sound of any kind of howl he's there. You barely have time to duck down behind the counter before your boyfriend has made you jump out of your skin; he's standing right by the freezer (how tf did he manage to get all the way there without you hearing him??), completely out of breath and holding a cast iron skillet in his hands like a baseball bat.
'What?', he shrugs down at you with a tired smirk, putting his free hand on his hip and wiggling them a little. 'My mom always told me that it's better to be prepared than to catch anything unexpected. And I'm not letting you get bit too.'
'I'm... not quite sure that's what she meant. But thanks, sweetie.'
The nickname has his face burning a deep-set roseate for the next thirty minutes.
And then the two of you meet Laura, and this man's world just turns upside down. You turn down her offer to join her in trying to find Chris Hackett and end all of this for good, but from where Dylan was sitting on the bench next to the rattling window, he missed out on your reasoning why. He missed out on how you'd admitted that your sole focus: your one care now was to make sure that Dylan was safe. That you cared about him more than anything, and Mr. H could go to hell as far as you're concerned. You had to make sure Dylan survived the night.
Dylan's eyebrows crumpled when you came, cross armed, to unsteadily take a seat next to him again. He was too nervous to ask what the two of you had agreed, so he just fiddled with his thumbs and let the idea that he was holding you back darken his thoughts.
That he was a hinderance. That he was an annoyance.
He doesn't know what else to do, so as the two of you head out to the Hackett scrapyard in search of a new rotor arm, he takes up every silent moment by cracking wise. It starts to worry you - the way he can barely touch you. How he holds his hands in near claws against the meat of his biceps: how he barely lets his leg brush against yours before he jolts away again as if electrified. He even seems anxious when you reach out and grip onto his hand, his hold limp and loose as he lets it sway uneasily in the growing gap between your bodies.
He's just so afraid that if he lets go now, you'll be letting go of him forever. So he doesn't want to hold on at all. He feels it will be easier this way: kinder to you, to feel as if he's just drifting off with the breeze, a fond memory of long summers spent at some strange, long forgotten Quarry.
But you know him far too well not to register the full-blown panic behind his eyes as he dares to take a glance over at you. So please, shove this guy up against the nearest trunk of a tree, hold him up by shoving your knee in-between the seams of his thighs, and kiss him silly until all he can do is saunter off with a dopey smile and a brain so far up in the clouds all he can do is laugh rather than string together a sentence!!!
Literally I feel like this would heal him. Give this poor bby the love he's so desperately craving.
Straight up hefting him over your shoulder and carrying him away from Caleb in the scrapyard. The confused look on Kaitlyn's face as her head slowly turns to follow the set of you sprinting past with a screaming Dylan folded over your back like a snapped ruler is mfcking hilarious I'm not going to lie.
You refuse to leave him in the crane. Not even when he's gouging into the balls of your shoulders, crying and yelling and begging you to leave. To run. To get the hell away from him while you still can. Between his tormented yelps, you do your best to grab onto his face despite how forcefully his body's contorting. Despite how his fingernails are starting to cut into your skin and send blood blooming out in wispy tendrils across your shirt. You just place your thumbs up against the darkness obscuring the sides of his eyes and try to keep Dylan looking at you. To try and make him understand, to try and make sure the last thing he saw before he turned was you not leaving him. Not Ever.
104 notes · View notes
adviceformefromme · 1 year
Text
When love is a loosing game… So your quest for love has resulted in meeting the most toxic, good-for-nothing, hurtful, damaging, requiring therapy (post encounter with said persons), leaving you emotionally, physically and financially in the gutter. These are all signs of loosing in love, and you the best thing you can do when you’re in this situation is focusing on a winning strategy. 
Rule number one. Stop the chasing. Stop the obsessing. You don't want be attracting love from an empty cup. Redirect your energy to your own love story, your own passions, your own hearts desires. This is going to elevate your energy so you’re not attracting from the gutter. You start attracting from a place of higher love. Self love.
Rule number two. Reinvent yourself. If you’ve had a lifetime of failed relationships it’s time for a new look. Start seeing a new reflection in the mirror. Let go of the old you, start seeing yourself as someone who wins, who loves their reflection when they look in the mirror, someone who is confident, someone who is totally in love with that they see. If you’re not there yet do the fucking work, change your wardrobe, your hair, whiten your teeth, get the Invisalign. Whatever it is for you. Switching up your image and becoming as confident as possible is going to elevate your energy. 
Rule number three. Start focusing on what you can give and let go of what you can get. A lot of failure when it comes to love is because we're focusing on so hard what we can take from the other person, seeing them as an ATM, or how we can use their body for our needs. This is low vibration energy and is going to keep us in the gutter when it comes to love. What do you have to offer in a relationship? Are you loving? Do you have an expanded mind, interesting conversation, are you an asset yourself? Do you radiate loving energy or are you toxic yourself? Start thinking of the person you want to show up as, and let go of the take and focus on the giving. 
Rule number four. Stop withholding your heart, your voice, your truth. Every time you fear speaking on how you feel you’re sending out a signal to the universe that your words are not important, that staying small is more important than being seen. How is your true love ever going to see you if you don’t allow yourself to be seen? So what if you fail, or embarrass yourself. Is it not more important to be true to your heart and live with no regrets than keeping your heart closed and playing small, keeping you away from the very thing you desire? A loving connection? If you can’t speak your truth and say how you feel are you even ready for a lasting love? 
Rule number five. Stop ignoring the RED flags. Focus on compatibility, understanding values, lifestyle match. These points are all to be established in the dating phase. Instead of smiling like a Cheshire Cat on these dates, getting swept away by the ACT that these men (and women) put on during the dating phase. Start dating with your A game. Suss out if it’s worth entertaining the guy that calls his ex ‘crazy’, or that hates eating out when this is what you absolutely love. Start being smarter, move better, and learn to win when it comes to love. 
102 notes · View notes
nothought-headfull · 10 months
Text
Where I personally stand on headcanons for COD men. Don’t argue, I won’t budge, make your own headcanons okay.
Price: Probably makes dad noises when he sits or stands just due to the amount of wear and tear the job has done to his body, even being in good physical conditions. Probably snaps crackles and pops too (same dude). But I don’t see him as an old old man. Don’t think his visions as shit as so play it off to be, if he has glasses it’s probably some mild script from squinting all the damn time plus like a mild astigmatism. Also I think he smells musky and burbony but in more in the context of cologne scent notes rather than literal bourbon. I don’t see him as the kind to drink on the job.
(And now for a break bcs I rambled :) )
Ghost: Autism coded (not literally diagnosed but very similar), yes that’s just to make me feel better for when I stare into the void like he did in the car with Ale and Rudy. Probably thinks two fish in a tank is peak comedy for a while. I can see him having scars on the body and face but I personally don’t think they’re quite as extensive. Will admit I haven’t read the comics (bcs I’ll cry probably), so that may not be canon complaint and I’m willing to admit that. I also feel like based on the way homeboy firmly grasps everything that recoil and vibration from weapons has a tendency to lock his hands up or make them stiff.
Gaz: man is gorgeous, clearly takes pride in his appearance and selfcare. Wouldn’t be surprised to find out man has like a 12 step routine or something. His hair is beautiful his stubble is beautiful. I will sing his praises until I die. I love a man that enjoys selfcare and does a great job while doing it god damn. But I also get some adhd vibes from him, the way he goes 0 to 100 in some missions and then goes back to acting appropriately. His focus is in multiple places at once and he probably has the most chaotic internal monologue second to Soap.
Soap: and on that topic we have our most feral demolitions specialist (I love him.) I feel like he cracks jokes to lighten the mood, and can’t handle when folks on the mission are business only (and in hindsight really appreciates two fish in a tank but felt bad he didn’t in the moment). Honestly I was surprised in game how many times Soap could manage to put metal in the microwave and laughed that he considered it an option to distract. It was great. I want my mind to operate on that sort of level of engineering and pure chaos. Also feel like he’s accidentally given himself chemical burns on at least two occasions or didn’t handle C4 correctly and started itching. If I remember correctly it’s sort of like touching fiberglass? I could be wrong on that.
Alex: Most beautiful facial hair in game (sorry Price). the mustache details are just beautiful. I feel like out of the field he’d be the guy to use beard wax and care products. Like he puts a lot of pride into that but not in the full hipster look way (no disrespect, just not the vibe I catch.) I personally hate the way facial hair feels but I know he takes damn good care of it and it’s gotta be soft. I will not back down on this one bite me.
Alejandro: This dude looks like he smells fucking phenomenal. His hairs prettier than mine for fucking real. Also I’m willing to bet like he smells like a combination of musk, cedar, and eucalyptus. But I’m willing to lean into it that he may have citrus of some sort or cinnamon in those cologne notes. I can’t decide which is better in this situation. Even breaking him out of prison he looks god damn fine and put together. He’s beautiful. I adore him
Rudy : seems like the kinda guy to always be out together, the hair has product in it for fucks sake. He’s perfect. Like every detail of him screams I love looking good and I love doing it and honestly he’s so right for that. Multi step hair are guy. What the hell is 3-in-1 product? He doesn’t know that.
42 notes · View notes
littlegodzilla · 2 years
Text
Hiii
A new chapter from my mini series!!
I hope you'll like it!!
Enjoy!!
Your Name Masterlist.
***
Your Name.
Mini series part 6.
Daryl Dixon x Reader.
Warnings: TWD gore. Bad language. Alcohol.
Words: 3290
Summary: Merle is gone and the camp is full of Walters so is the best moment to search for another safe place.
Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @thefemininemystiquee @green-eyedladywrites @hail-yourselves @ruinedbythehobbit @xxtinasxxblog @ravenwings73 @spenciepoo338 @b-tchymoon @minervadashwood @darylssluttt
***
Tumblr media
≈≈≈≈
Part 6.
Days have turned into weeks since you arrived at the camp, there is still suspicion towards Daryl and Merle, but they aren't too friendly either, you have heard Merle on several occasions planning to steal their supplies and weapons, but Daryl doesn't seem completely convinced. Right away you noticed that there were two clearly defined groups among them; the women took care of the domestic chores: washing the clothes, preparing the food, taking care and educating the children, the men on the other hand defended the camp, carried the weapons, went out to explore and forage for food. The women couldn't move from the camp except to go down to the small lake at the bottom of the quarry where they had a small clothesline prepared for when they did the laundry. It seemed a little old and outdated to you, but not everyone was like that, Dale a very friendly older gentleman always tried to help when he wasn't on duty, Glenn when he wasn't going down to town to survey the area and forage for food, was also with you and helped you, Shane, Ed and Morales were more reluctant to interact with you, Shane paid attention to Lori and Carl, a woman and her little boy who at first you thought were his family, but one day you overheard Carl talking about his father and Lori told you the story.
"Shane is a good friend of the family." She had told you.
"Yeah and a good human vibrator." Merle had replied to you when you told him.
"Don't say that, he's not that good looking either..." Even though you knew your words were a lie.
"I mean she fucks him every time the kid doesn't see them."
"Come on, that's not..." You shut up and frown. "What does it matter? She's a widow, she can do whatever she wants."
"Sure, but clearly the kid doesn't know that, otherwise he wouldn't be 'the family friend'." Merle says with a twisted laugh.
"Shut up, there's nothing wrong with it."
But it starts to when Rick shows up at the camp days before with the scouting party that had gone down with Glenn to the city. The atmosphere is rarefied, there is surprise, joy, elation, but also nervousness, confusion and anger. A husband back from the dead, a divided wife and a displaced lover.
Merle is certainly going to love this.
Your smile freezes as you realize Merle isn't back with them, everyone seems exhausted and nervous to be home again. But Merle is not with them. You approach the group and greet Glenn.
"What about Merle?" you ask worriedly, everyone is silent and it distresses you. "W-what happened to him?"
"He... we had complications, we had to leave him behind..."
"Did he get bitten?" you ask frightened.
"No, he got violent and I was forced to leave him on a roof." Rick interjects, telling what happened. "It was my decision, was he your partner?"
"Oh my god no, he's... he's a friend." You shrug. "His brother, he and I came to this camp together and I know he's a dick, but it hurts anyway."
"I'm sorry..." He apologizes and you shake your head.
"I'm sure your motives were justified."
"What are we going to do when Daryl finds out?" Dale asks that night as you all quietly eat dinner by a small fire.
"I left him there, I'll talk to him." Offers Rick hugging his son.
"No, I'll talk to him, it will be easier to calm him down." You tell him and Rick looks at you unconvinced.
Talking to Daryl the next morning is complicated, he comes in from hunting, tired, sweating, chasing a deer that some infected have finally eaten, so he's pissed. When he calls Merle and gets no answer he confronts Rick and Shane, you don't have time to intervene before Shane overpowers him and knocks him to the ground with a choke hold. You gasp in fright running towards them, when they release him Daryl seems to have calmed down, but he is humiliated too. The words of the rest of the people in the camp don't calm him down, when he feels your hands on his arm he pulls away as if they burn and walks away.
"I asked you guys to let me talk to him." You say annoyed and walk behind the Dixon. "Daryl wait."
"Lemme, I'm ain't in the mood."
"Merle's not dead." You try to make him look on the bright side. "And I hear Rick wants to come back for him. They made a mistake, that's all."
"That's all?" He turns so sharply that you slam into his body, you recoil, watching his scowl and how he chews his lip to stifle anger. "They left him on a rooftop, chained up like a dog, if those dead people don't eat him alive, he'll be killed by the heat, he'll die of suffocation and starvation. But it's okay because they've decided to come back for him, is that what ya wannna tell me? They shouldn't have left him there in the first place!"
"You know your brother, I'm sure he put them in a complicated situation..."
"Why yer defendin' them!?! My brother and I have saved yer princess ass many more times than they have, why are y'okay with them leavin' him to his fate?"
"I'm not okay with it Daryl, I'm just trying to understand the situation, they're going to come back for him, they've realized their mistake, is that not okay with you?"
"No, it ain't work for me. We should never have stayed here." He growls and walks away again.
"Where are you going now?"
"With them." Is all he adds.
***
As they prepare the van to head back to town in search of Merle, the more nervous you feel, you pace back and forth biting your index fingernail. You don't want Daryl to go too, you know he can be violent like his brother, that he doesn't like to follow orders imposed by anyone either. You don't want to lose him too.
"Daryl..." You call out to him as he gets out of the back of the van.
"Ya gonna stay here."
"But..."
"And for once in yer fuckin' life yer gonna listen to me. Ya.stay.here. Ya hear me?" his voice is low, dark, he's breathing hard through his nose, he's angry and the last thing he needs right now is to have to deal with you. "Well, we're leavin' or what?" he yells to the rest of them getting back into the van and closing the cargo door.
It's only been half an hour since they've left, but you feel totally uneasy and desperate, you don't like that they've gone back for Merle, you don't like that Daryl has gone for Merle.
"Can I ask you a question?" You hear Amy's voice suddenly and you turn to look at her. "Is Daryl your destined mate?" She asks you and then points to the sleeve of your t-shirt that is pulled up and you can see the name on your skin. "Is that why you're traveling with them?"
"No!" You quickly pull down your sleeve and look around. "It's not because of that, we know each other because we used to live in the same town, it has nothing to do..."
"He doesn't know?" The surprise in her voice draws the attention of the rest of the group and you look at her in despair.
"It's not him." You insist. "Please don't say anything..."
Luckily for you, Amy never gets around to telling anyone, although you would have preferred that things hadn't ended up like this. The camp is attacked that same night by a group of infected. There aren't many, but there aren't too many weapons around, Shane tries to get everyone to safety along with Dale and Jim, Ed has been bitten in his tent and Amy has been attacked on her way out of the caravan. It's only a few minutes the whole situation turns into absolute chaos, when you feel a tug on your shirt and Daryl's body appears in front of you shooting in all directions along with Rick and the rest of the group that had left.
Slowly the night and chaos gives way to the next day, things aren't much better, the bodies of the infected and those who have not been able to defend themselves in time are scattered all over the camp, Andrea refuses to move away from her sister. Jim has been bitten. Ed is transforming and Carol tends to him under Daryl's watchful eye.
Merle hasn't returned.
"W-Where's Merle?" you dare to ask Daryl when everything seems to calm down a bit.
"Alive, that son of a bitch stole our van and ran off. He cut his hand to free himself." He grunts and you look at him in horror.
"I'm sorry..."
"Yes, ya should be, if it wasn't for ya, none of us would be here now." He barks and walks away again, this whole situation is getting on top of him and he's starting to get overwhelmed. He's always been his brother's shadow, now he's free.
What can he do?
His words hurt you, on another occasion you would have ignored what he has said, as usual, you would go along with the course of things, the atmosphere would calm down and you would be fine again, but now you can't, because you know he is right. If you hadn't run into them at the supermarket, they wouldn't have taken you with you, you wouldn't have tried to negotiate staying at the camp with Shane and the others and now you wouldn't be in that whole shitty situation. You sniffle loudly through your nose wiping away your tears when a gunshot startles you and makes you turn around.
Someone has tried to get too close to Andrea and she has fired to keep their distance. Her sister's death has broken her heart and she is having a hard time mourning.
"Best thing to do is move camp." You hear Shane and Rick talking. "Get us out of here to a safe place. A military base, there would be supplies, beds, a safe roof over our heads."
"Or we can go all the way to the CDC, Jim is infected but hasn't shown symptoms yet, maybe they can cure him."
"That's crazy, Rick." Lori interjects.
"We have to try, we can't let Jim get infected." Rick insists. "We'll take the cars, we'll drive there together, it won't be hard."
It sounds risky but you have to admit that Jim deserves a second chance if there really is a cure. You all get ready to get out of there, Morales doesn't go with you, he's afraid for his family so he decides to find another way on his own. Rick sets out to lead the group of vehicles, you and Daryl ride the bike, you hold onto his waist and lean against his back, it's Merle's bike, and you start to believe that Daryl is riding it just to take care of his brother somehow.
The ride to the CDC is rough, Jim can't take the ride, apparently all the rattling the trailer generates is like it's breaking his bones, you stop because the trailer has overheated and Jim has decided that's as far as his journey has gone. You all say goodbye to him, even Daryl seems uncomfortable and affected by his loss, it's been a real roller coaster two days, first Merle, the camp full of infected, having to decide who dies and who doesn't, now abandoning Jim like that. You try to hide your tears, but it's too hard. You gasp hard when you feel Daryl put an arm around your shoulders and lean you on his shoulder trying to comfort you. You appreciate his gesture by letting a few more tears flow free down your cheeks before the caravan is back up and you all get going again.
Daryl feels a strange conflict within him. All these people didn't know each other at all before the dead walked and now they seem like one huge family, they care for and protect each other no matter what, Rick leads them wanting to save them, asking nothing in return except for his family to be safe. He doesn't understand why so much trouble for people he doesn't know? He growls because he might ask the same question of you, why is he protecting you if you're just giving him trouble? His gaze falls on you, still pressed against his body, he chews his lip and then turns away from you.
He is not able to understand.
***
Arriving at the CDC is no joy either, the place is littered with dead people, lying in the street, the smell of death and putrefaction is agonizing. The dead start to surround you but finally the doors of the place open and you manage to feel safe after a long time. Dr. Jenner is skeptical to receive you, which is totally normal, before you can settle in he does several tests and blood tests to make sure you are not infected. You quickly pull up the right sleeve of your shirt and he looks at you doubtfully.
"On this arm the doctors have always had better results, I have very shy veins." You try to joke, everyone is there, nor can you let anyone else see your name.
The man as a scientist and doctor doesn't ask too many questions accepting your excuses. Andrea gets a little dizzy when he takes her blood and you explain that you haven't eaten anything decent for days and that you've been through a lot of stressful situations in a short time.
Jenner smiles and to your surprise when he takes you underground there is a huge banquet waiting for you in one of the rooms. That's not the only surprise, there are rooms and showers with hot water for everyone. It's been so long since you've felt the soft touch of your skin free of dirt that you've forgotten what it's like. Everyone enjoys a shower, you wash up a bit leaving your clothes hanging in the shower and change into some clothes you borrowed from Carol at camp. You are so hungry that smelling like sweat a little longer, you don't mind at all.
Dinner is nice, you can tell even Jenner is grateful to have company, the food almost makes you cry, your taste buds adapted to the little squirrel meat and canned meat now makes the whole thing a fucking feast, there's wine and whiskey and Daryl is trying to get Glenn drunk and that makes you laugh.
You're a little drunk too, you're sure.
***
Little by little people leave the room where the food was, you need a shower, clear your mind and sleep, but on the way to your improvised room you discover the small library and game room that Jenner has there. The kids have already gone to bed and everything seems quiet so you dare to try your luck. You grab the darts on a shelf and try your luck throwing one at the dartboard. This one sticks embarrassingly into the carpet of the room and you hear a snicker from the doorway, you turn and discover Daryl watching you, in his hand he still has the bottle of whiskey.
"In my defense I'll say I'm drunk." You grunt and he walks towards you, from between your fingers he steals one of the darts and almost without looking throws it. He misses the bullseye, but at least he's hit the dartboard. "Snobby..."
"Is there anythin' y'know how to do well?" Daryl slurs the words due to the blood alcohol, his eyes are fixed on you, his pupils dilated, a soft film of sweat decorates his forehead.
You stare at him and before you are aware of your actions, you have stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the lips. Of course the hunter's reaction is abrupt and violent. He pushes you away from him urgently, pushes and his brow furrows tightly, he rubs his lips with his arm as if you might infect something off on him and touches his temple as he yells at you.
"Are ya out of yer mind!? yer a bitch, Merle was right!" He spits angrily and storms out, slamming the door violently.
Your heart is racing, you don't know how you could have done that, kissing him was crazy, what did you expect? You don't even know why you did it. Ashamed you go back to your room to take a shower and feel the alcohol leave your body, humiliated you feel some tears rolling down your cheeks, how are you going to look at him from now on, why do you always have to complicate everything? You turn off the shower water and go back to the room, you take your underwear and cover your body with the blankets that Jenner has offered you, the bunk bed is small, but it's been so long since you slept in a comfortable place that you immediately fall asleep.
**
Daryl bites his lip so violently that he has to stop when he feels the taste of blood on his tongue, if he keeps this up he's going to tear his skin off completely. He hasn't gotten into bed yet, although drunk, he's not so drunk that he can't think. And he can't stop. It would take more than a bottle of whiskey to knock him out.
But that's not what's keeping him awake. It's the kiss. Your kiss. Why did you kiss him? Did you really want to? Was it the alcohol controlling you? Because Daryl had seen you drinking during dinner and how your manner was slowly changing. He had thought it was funny and that's why he sought you out to tease you, but he never thought things would take such an unexpected turn. His lips still burn from the memory and his body reacts. He may not have been with many women with all his senses at work, but he knows what they are, he knows how they work, or at least he thinks he does and he's certainly pretty sure he likes them.
But why would you be interested in him?
Fed up with not being able to get you out of his mind, he gets up from the chair where he had plopped down and leaves your room, everything is in semi-darkness, people have already gone to bed, even Dr. Jenner. He walks slowly to your room and when he finds it he opens the door trying not to wake you up. You are asleep with your back to the door, curled up on your bunk. Slowly he walks over to you, your damp hair spread on the pillow, your body half naked, only covered by the blanket up to your waist, he can see your back, your shoulders. He swallows hard as he circles the bed, your face is calm, relaxed into a totally sleepy grimace, nothing seems to disturb you and yet he is unable to sleep because of you. His gaze slides down your body following the quiet movement of your chest as he breathes. His whole body reacts when his eyes dart to your tits, trapped in that tight bra, squeezed and squeezed between them, his mouth goes dry when he discovers one of your nipples peeking shyly through the garment. However his gaze catches something uncomfortably out of the exciting sight. He turns his head slightly and discovers a black spot on your forearm. He licks his lips and leans in for a better look. Her pulse plummets, all the excitement in her body coming to naught. He holds your wrist carefully and caresses your skin with his thumb.
D.ixon.
"Huhm?" you mumble then opening your eyes. You need a second to remember where you are, you raise your head and discover that you are still in your room at the CDC, relief and anguish invade you equally as that horrible disease that turns people into zombies is not a horrible nightmare. On the other hand you have the feeling that you were not alone, but the room is empty. You shake your head dismissively and curl up, falling asleep again.
**
To be continued...
***
I hope you liked it!!
See you in the next chapters!!
161 notes · View notes
soapppp · 9 months
Text
CW: nsfw
Soap grew up in a big house with lots of people in, which was alright and made him feeling loved and never lonely, but it has the side affect of making him Ito feel seen. His needs were met but his wants were often ignored in favour of his younger, more dramatic siblings. His teammates figure this out quickly and make sure to note the small things he does if only to watch how his face lights up and a small smile sits on his face for hours afterwards. It’s when he starts to become more sexual with them all that it really comes into play. Praise is something he adores, but he never had to wait for that, it was being the centre of everyone’s attention that really got Soap worked up and blushing beat red. When Price and Ghost fuck him over Price’s desk, he feels like he’s in a pitch black room with a dozen spotlights lighting him up as they fuck him from both ends than at the same time. Gaz loves to overstimulate him, but it’s when he gets the idea to take a photo of him blissed out and shamelessly save it as his Lock Screen that Soap feels a warmth flood his mind. Alejandro and Rudy jump at him when he very confidently (see: Shyly) asks them if they would be willing to ‘play’ with him. Soap would quickly learn it was because the two lovers both like to dominate and praise and being able to pleasure Soap between them for a whole night was basically heaven. It’s unsurprisingly Nikolai’s idea after a rare visit from him that becomes a routine thing to do when Soap isn’t feeling good or validated. Using their own private rec room, they remove the old TV and replace it with a bench with a single, large dildo onto it. Soap is shy and blushy at first but quickly works himself up to take the toy in full, sitting down and letting out whimpers as Price and Gaz kiss along his body before Ghost gently ties a vibrator to his cock on the lowest setting. They then all sit on chairs next to him while fisting their own cocks. Soap rides the toy as the four (sometimes three, sometimes six) men compliment him and talk to him about how good and beautiful he looks. Every time the play session will end with them all cumming on Soap’s body then all helping him clean up before setting him up on the couch with his favourite movie and cuddles while snacking on crackers and apple juice. Soap floats in his headspace and come sour of it feeling loved and protected and usually still full of his biggest toy.
43 notes · View notes
sobsicles · 3 years
Text
claire's not expecting them to be at the door. she blinks at the sight of four men all huddled on the stoop with flowers and what appears to be bags of food flowing from their arms. jack is peeking above a bouquet, beaming at her.
"who's at the door?!" jody calls from the kitchen, her voice muffled by the sound of grease popping and the clanking of pans and spatulas meeting over and over.
"god," claire calls back, because she likes to think she's funny.
there's a beat of silence, and then jody's sticking her head out the kitchen. the moment she sees them, she breaks out into a grin and saunters over, shoving the spatula in claire's hand as she chatters away.
"what's going on out there?" donna asks as claire escapes back to the kitchen to poke at food jody is apparently willing to burn just because the winchesters decided to show their faces today of all days.
"judgement day," claire says dryly.
donna shares a look with patience. "haven't we dealt with that already a few times?"
"only by association," claire admits, "but i wouldn't put it past them to bring it along with 'em now. the boys are here."
"oh, isn't that nice?" donna chirps, already popping up from her chair. "i didn't know they were stopping by today."
"wonder how sam's doing," patience agrees, wandering out the kitchen right along with donna. claire can hear everyone cracking up and talking in the living room.
trust the winchesters to shake things up just by showing up. can't have one goddamn day, can they? well, that's not true. in their case, as far as claire is concerned, they're shitty for showing up and shitty for not. someone has to knock 'em all down a peg or two, so she might as well be the one.
"what did that chicken ever do to you?" kaia asks teasingly as she sidles into the kitchen and stops by the stove, hip-checking claire out of the way to take over.
"the boys are here," claire informs her.
kaia raises her eyebrows. "like, the boys as in the winchesters, or is this a milkshake pun?"
"i can only be so gay, sweetheart," claire says, shooting her a flat look.
"raise the bar a little. could be gayer. you can always be gayer," kaia teases, reaching out to sneak her hand around claire's hip, her eyes bright with amusement.
"you know what? you're right," claire agrees and immediately tries to cop a feel while kaia laughs and dances out of range.
jack appears in the doorway. "hello," he says, whispering for some reason. "claire, i need your help."
"no," claire says, not even glancing at him. she continues to try and put her hand up kaia's shirt, just to see her laugh.
"can i borrow twenty dollars?" jack asks.
"no. aren't you god?"
"yes, but i don't get paid to be."
"well, sucks for you. borrow money from cas," claire mutters, settling in behind kaia as she focuses on the food on the stove, swatting lazily at claire's roaming hands.
"he'll just borrow money from dean."
"borrow from sam."
"he'll just borrow money from dean."
"borrow from—wait, why does it matter if it's from dean? just borrow from him."
jack huffs. "i can't. i need the money for dean. i have a card, and i read online it's customary to give money with a card. also, will you sign it?"
"you got dean a card?" claire asks, craning her head around to stare at jack skeptically.
"yes."
"don't tell me it's for what i think it is."
"mother's day," jack confirms unironically.
claire wheezes out a laugh. "oh my god."
"there's a pen in the catty on the fridge," kaia says, clearly amused.
"yeah. yeah, this is—yeah." claire chokes on more laughter and stumbles towards the group of pens in the magnet container on the fridge. she waggles her fingers at jack, clearing her throat, lips twitching. "hand it over, beanstalk. you're a fucking genius."
"oh! thank you," jack declares cheerfully, passing over the card. "so, can i borrow twenty dollars?"
"hell no," claire says. she braces the card against the fridge and swallows down a laugh. sam has already signed it. this just gets better and better. happy mother's day, old man, aka the secondary source of my mommy and daddy issues. you're going for gold with this double-whammy, she writes.
"but i need it," jack insists, staring at her with wide eyes.
claire shrugs. "tough break, kid. what, cas doesn't give you an allowance? is it just me, or are dads getting stricter these days?"
"i didn't think about it in advance," jack admits sadly. "i want to do it right for the holiday. it's mother's day, claire."
"i'm well aware. sorry to break it to you, kid, but last I checked, your mom's as dead as mine," claire tells him, her voice flat. he frowns and she forces herself not to feel bad. everything that sucks for him sucked for her first, so her sympathy levels are a little drained. "father's day will roll around eventually, and you've got a long line of those, so wait your turn."
"i've already done something for my mother today," jack says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "i visited her in heaven."
claire snorts derisively and passes the card back over. "must be nice."
"it was," jack agrees, completely missing the point. "i really can't borrow twenty dollars? i'll pay you back."
"nah," claire says. "who cares anyway? wait, why is dean the mom?"
"well, castiel is my father."
"ah, so it's about them having the hots for each other, then? really, kid, you coulda just made dean your step-dad."
jack blinks. "they have the...hots for each other? you mean sex. they have sex?"
"you know what?" claire points at him with her free hand. "i'm not gonna burst your bubble on that one. you've got enough issues on your own without wondering if mommy and daddy still have a spark, so I'm gonna leave that alone. i've got five dollars. take it or leave it."
"deal," jack says immediately.
money is exchanged, and jack looks like he's on cloud nine. claire's just stoked to see the expression on dean's face when he gets the card. it's a homemade card and everything, nothing like the two claire, kaia, patience, and alex got for jody and donna.
claire helps kaia finish up the chicken, which promptly gets set aside to wait on the rest of the food in the oven. sam wanders in at some point to drop off the food they brought. dessert, by the looks of it. pies and cakes that go in the fridge. it's kind of them, but claire would shoot herself in the foot before she ever admits it.
she lets kaia tug her into the living room where everyone is already at, rolling her eyes at how cheered everyone seems just because the winchesters happened to grace their doorstep. really, they all suck.
but also—and claire will never admit this, not even to save her own life—it's nice to see 'em again. it's nice that they've come to celebrate the day in jody and donna's name, giving them flowers and such. it's nice that they hang around for a bit and don't bring the world crashing down on everyone for the duration of their stay.
and, well, it's nice to see cas, too.
he perches up next to the couch that claire is squeezed on with alex, donna, kaia, and jack. kaia is practically in her lap, but claire is secretly glad for the excuse. while everyone talks and has conversations across one another, cas focuses entirely on her.
another thing claire will never admit is how reluctantly pleased by that she is. it warms her. stupidly, it turns soft and gooey in her chest that he automatically gives her his undivided attention over everyone else, even jack. but, then again, it's not cas' day, so she doesn't have to look too close to that feeling. it's mother's day, so it's not about him.
when the food is ready, they reconvene in the kitchen, and that's when they crack out the cards and gifts. claire is practically vibrating with laughter before jack has even brought his card out. before that, though, she smiles softly and strokes kaia's thigh under the table as jody and donna read their cards and chuckle at the messages, their gazes warm and their smiles sweet. they look happy. they deserve to be.
"okay, last one," claire announces, grinning at jack. she's starting to think she likes this kid if he's an agent of chaos like this.
and okay, maybe she hates him a little in abstract, but in detail, she finds that she does actually like him. you kinda just wanna put him in your pocket without meaning to, she's learned. there's too much to explore with the whole psuedo sibling thing and parents that aren't parents, as well as parents that are but didn't choose to be, only he did choose one of them, and it wasn't her. it's complicated, but underneath it all, there's a vibrant love there that she can't look directly at. sometimes, she despises that she's included in it; yet, just the same, she's thankful that she is.
"oh hell," dean mutters, swinging his gaze between alex and patience. "one of you...ya know? did we miss something?"
claire snorts.
"what? no," alex replies, grimacing. "i have no idea what claire's talking about. claire, what the hell are you talking about?"
"jack?" claire prompts in a wheeze.
"here you go," jack chirps, holding out the card to dean, beaming. "happy mother's day."
the expression on dean's face is somehow even better than claire imagined. she howls with laughter while sam buries his face in his hands, his shoulders jerking. cas squints at jack, and jody's eyebrows fly up at the same exact time that donna grins.
"is this a joke?" dean sputters.
"no, no, nope," claire chokes out, nearly fucking crying with laughter. "happy mother's day, dean."
"you gotta take it, man," sam agrees, clearing his throat and biting back a smile as he bobs his head dutifully towards the card.
dean fixes sam with a flat look and snatches the card. "you're all so fucking—sam, you signed it?!"
"happy mother's day," sam says, his mouth pinched, visibly trying not to laugh.
"do you like it?" jack asks earnestly. "i made the card, sam signed it first, and claire provided the money."
"i—" dean stares down at the card, then heaves a sigh and looks up at jack. it's clear to him that—out of everyone—jack is clearly taking this very seriously. he offers him a weak smile, then swallows. "yeah, s'great, kid. thank you. sam, you are dead to me. claire, i will be spending this on something you hate. cas, this is somehow your fault."
"yup, sounds like a mother to me," jody declares, holding up her beer with a smile.
"welcome to the club," donna agrees, holding hers up as well. "everyone else annoys the shit out of you, but you love 'em anyway."
dean sighs and clinks his beer to theirs.
1K notes · View notes
divine-mistake · 3 years
Text
it's messy inside, let me take your coat
Summary: “I can make you a drink,” you offer, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest, staring at him, “or I can come over there and you can kiss me drunk instead, ‘cause I’m already halfway there.”
Characters: Bucky Barnes/Plus-sized (f)Reader
Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut, female nudity), strong language, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of fluff, soft and nervous Bucky Barnes, original female character friends, one-night stand, body insecurity, anxiety
Word Count: 8723
A/N: This story was written for @eurynome827 and her 2k follower challenge with the prompt "Mimosas and Bloody Marys at brunch." Thank you for hosting and congrats again on your milestone!
main masterlist | AO3
Tumblr media
“Cheers!”
The flutes clink together, orange juice sloshing and spilling and dripping down the glasses and onto the table as your giggles fade into the background noise of the café’s patio. You tip your head back as you drink, mimosas bubbly in your throat like your own happiness, threatening to pour out of you and dribble onto your shirt, already tipsy.
“God,” Carissa says, throwing herself back into the metal chair, “I cannot wait to have his babies.”
Beside her, Kora claps. “I can’t wait to be an aunt! I’m going to spoil them all so rotten you’re going to want to throttle me by the end of it.”
“Spoil them all you want, I’m having eight of ‘em.”
At that, you go ahead and polish off your drink, carbonation stinging your throat, and while you set the empty glass down your hand goes up in the air, signaling the waiter for another.
Sara points at you. “I’m with her.” She makes a face at Carissa. “If you have eight kids I will make like your dad and bounce.”
Kora slaps her on the knee but the four of you descend into laughter anyway, and it’s easy and light and beautiful, like always. Washington D.C. can be pretty in this way—iron-wrought fencing and fancy metal tables and red patio tiling. Good food, better mimosas, best friends. There’s a breeze in the air that’s calling for autumn, scattering cloth napkins sitting in laps and spreading the scent of fresh baked bread.
The bags at your feet carrying your new shoes for the winter wedding that’s approaching rustle. That feeling isn’t just D.C. It’s excitement and love and adoration, too.
Carissa, bride to be, catches you in her gaze. “When are you going to finally settle down, huh?” She gestures across the table at you with her half-filled mimosa. Everyone else looks at you too, waiting for your response.
You shrug. “You’re having plenty of babies, I don’t need any.”
“I don’t mean babies,” she says. “I mean a human, a connection, something that isn’t an empty apartment.”
“You need—no, you deserve—someone to take care of you!” Kora adds. “You’re always taking care of everyone. Don’t you want someone to, y’know, take care of you?”
“I have plenty of vibrators in my empty apartment.”
Sara snorts, covering her mouth. The waiter delivers another round, thank god.
“What do you want me to say?” you ask, sighing. “You’re just bothering me ‘cause it’s wedding season and you want to set me up with your weird—”
“He’s not weird,” Carissa interrupts. “He’s tall and he’s mysterious which is exactly your type.”
“She’ll find someone when the time is right,” Sara says. “Just ‘cause we’re happy with our boyfriends doesn’t mean she needs one to be happy.”
“Thank you, Sara, my one-true-best-friend-in-the-whole-wide-world.” You force your glass against hers in a loud clank, turning the heads of all the patrons on the café’s patio before taking a gulp. Your face is already getting a little hot, the alcohol hitting you. This is why you aren’t allowed to pregame before you go to brunch anymore.
“We’re not trying to force you,” Kora starts, but her mouth is pulled into a concerned frown. “We really do just want you to be as happy as we are, that’s all.”
You smile at her. “I know.”
And you do know. You understand. It’s been years now since you’ve had anything real—anything worthwhile, to be specific. At some point, the relationships slowed down. Boyfriends became friends with benefits when you were working on your masters. Friends with benefits became ignored booty calls at two in the morning when you started your dissertation, on the road to get your doctorate. Now, you’re lucky to go home with someone from the bar, and they never, ever, come home with you.
It’s okay. You aren’t lonely. The right person just hasn’t landed in your lap, and maybe that’s kind of because it’s not open, but it’s just ‘cause you’re busy. You’re busy. Passionate. Need to change the world.
Love can wait.
The next mimosa is finished and you’re feeling a little fuzzy.
“I’m happy for you,” you tell Carissa. “I’m happy for all of you, and I’m happy with my life, and I’m happy that we’re all together and we’re celebrating and I’m happy that you all care about me enough to worry but I’m perfectly fine with how things are.”
Carissa smiles, but it’s got too much teeth. “I could set you up with Kie—”
“No, no setting me up with Kieran or Harry or Josh or anyone. But especially not Kieran.”
You’d already fucked him once and it wasn’t worth the experience.
“Fine! Fine.” Carissa busies herself with her drink. “No setting you up with Kieran.”
“Good. Now let’s talk about the reception!” You pull out your phone and open the planning spreadsheet, smiling. “So I called the venue for you about the tables…”
This is easier. Planning Carissa’s wedding, helping support her, being excited for her—that’s easier than talking about your love life. If anything, this is your love life. Taking care of the people you love, your best friends, having fun and being together and romanticizing the time you spend with them. It’s not just mimosas over brunch and a green spreadsheet for wedding planning. With them, it’s the wind in your hair and the sun making your eyes sparkle and the alcohol making all your insides feel effervescent.
It’s love. It’s perfection. It’s your own brand of happiness.
And sure, maybe it’s a little defensive, but this is easier than loving someone and trying to make them love you. It’s easier.
“Whose dress are we still waiting on?” Carissa asks a little later, mouth full of avocado and bacon and looking very un-bridely.
“Mine,” Kora says, a little guiltily. “It’s at the tailor getting taken in—again.”
“I have mine,” you pipe up, wiping your mouth of jam. “And god, do I look like a full course Michelin star meal in that piece. Like, we’re talking ass for days, legs for days, tits for—”
“Excuse me, ma’am, excuse me.” A man, towering over the café table makes himself known, dressed in dark clothes and wearing a look on his visage that you can’t name.
“—days,” you finish, swallowing hard.
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt,” he says with a smile, “but I’m raising money for uh, breast cancer awareness, and I was hoping you would donate and sign up for uh, a marathon we’re doing.”
You blink. “Sorry,” you tell him, “but we don’t carry cash on us.” With a small smile, you nod at him, your eyes passing over your friends and looking around the café to see if any of the other patrons have noticed what’s going on. None of them look bothered.
“Not even for breast cancer awareness? C’mon, girl.”
“We don’t carry cash,” Sara repeats with a deadpan, but her eyes don’t meet his.
He doesn’t look at her either, content to stare at you, and your skin crawls.
“What about signing up for the marathon?”
“Fine,” you snap. Anything to get him to leave you all alone. “How do I sign up?”
“You give me your phone number and I’ll text you the details.” His grin is a little wider now, edging a little closer to where you sit at the table. You’re regretting that third mimosa. You aren’t on your game. The panic running through you is covered in a champagne haze.
You scoff. “No way.” Immediately you grab your purse, digging through it, and you slam a handful of loose change onto the table in front of him. “Here—a donation. Now please leave.”
His face twists into a scowl, but he scoops the money off the table and pockets it.
“You don’t have to be such a bitch,” he suddenly says, and anger courses through you until you shoot up from your seat, chair skidding behind you. He’s tall—much taller than your short stature. But, fuck it, the alcohol’s dimming the fear and fueling the need for you to protect your friends.
When you glance over, Carissa is already gathering the bags, eyes wide. Kora has her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to make herself smaller, ready to run. Sara’s phone is in her hand, 9-1-1 already dialed.
And still, no one in the café is doing a goddamn thing.
“Excuse me?” You glare up at the man.
“I just wanted your number, you fat bitch.” He sneers. “No wonder you’ve got an attitude, you obviously don’t get laid.”
Really, you can sit there and say it isn’t the fat comment. It’s not the insult. You’re used to that, with your overly-generous curves and your soft jawline and the fact that you’re wearing a skirt showing off the cellulite running through your thighs like a creek and a crop top that lets everyone peek at your stretch marks. You’re used to it.
And, really, you could handle this better. You certainly have before ‘cause this isn’t the first time you’ve been hustled or the first time some creep has hit on you. Old men have been slapping your ass in public since you were sixteen. You’re hot, you get it. If you saw yourself on the street you’d want a piece of your own goddamn ass, too. It comes with the territory, but it’s gross. And it’s sad but you’re used to it. So it’s not him calling you a fat bitch.
It’s the comment about getting laid. It’s sore as fuck.
You grab your would-be fourth mimosa and drench him in it, the glass slipping from your fingers and shattering upon the patio’s tiled floor in an instant.
“Slut!” The man lunges for you and you jump away, bumping into the table and losing your footing. You fall to the ground as glass comes crashing down around you, spilling sweet-smelling alcohol all over you. Ouch. Your friends scream, but you can’t take your eyes off him.
And then a gleam of black and gold blurs past you and grabs the creep by his neck, throwing him down. Now, a tall, wide body dressed in a dark hoodie is blocking you, guarding you, sheltering you.
“Try it,” Mystery Savior says.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Carissa chants, calling your name.
Your hand is sticky when you wave her away. “Get out of here, I’m fine. Just go. I’ll meet you—meet you at Kora’s.”
“We’re not leaving you!” Sara shouts, but something, maybe adrenaline or fear or fucking champagne, is running through your blood vessels at high speed.
“Just go!” you scream back at her. “I’m not fucking kidding, go!”
Because if there is one redeemable thing about you, it’s the length you’ll go to keep the people you love safe. And Mystery Savior might have just choked a creep out for you, but he also choked a creep out for you, and that’s enough to get your heart pounding in your ears. You don’t know who the good guy is—if there even is a good guy here.
“Fuck,” the creep curses, but it comes out raspy as he grasps at his quickly bruising neck. “You’re a—” he wheezes, “—you’re a murderer!”
Mystery Savior holds up his hands, and that’s when you see it. The black and gold of a vibranium arm just peeking out of the sleeve of his hoodie.
This isn’t a murderer. Not a Mystery Savior either. This is James Bucky Barnes, the Avenger, holy shit. Definitely good guy. Probably. He’s reformed, the news talks about it.
“Caught me,” he says, voice monotone. “What are you gonna do about it?”
If you weren’t currently sprawled on the ground, covered in mimosa, and panicking wildly about whatever is unfolding right in front of you, the very buzzed part of your brain would really appreciate the smoothness of Bucky’s voice when he said that, the cool, calm, collected delivery.
You’ll file it in the back of your mind for when you go back to your empty apartment.
“That fat ass ain’t worth it,” the creep chokes out, scrambling to get up. As soon as he’s on his feet, poised to take off, Bucky moves faster than you could have imagined and grabs the guy by his shirt.
“I don’t think so, buddy.” You can’t see his face, but you think Bucky might be smiling.
A portly man, a little shorter than Bucky, pushes through the gathering crowd, eyes wide and panicked, face red, already sweating. When you glance at his golden nametag, it reads: Jason, Manager. Cool that the manager showed up this late. If Bucky hadn’t stepped in, you’d probably be in a pile of limbs on the ground by now. Also—is he going to comp your bill? ‘Cause at this point, you’re starting to think you deserve it.
Okay, not a good time to be distracted.
“Thank you for getting him, sir,” the manager says, a little breathless. “Winter Soldier, sir.”
“It’s Bucky,” he says, and then he shoves the creep toward the manager. “Not sure why you didn’t step in before he got violent.”
Exactly! Why did everyone just stand around and do nothing as some six-foot man hustled the four women sitting beside the street? You glance around again, seeing your friends have disappeared and now, both the wait staff and other café patrons, are crowded around your table. It’s a little unsettling how no one cared to even look at you until everything escalated.
As the manager grabs the creep and hauls him off toward the street to wait for the cops, Bucky Barnes relaxes his shoulders and turns toward you slowly, and it’s—well, for lack of a better word—it���s beautiful. He’s beautiful.
He looks nothing like the superhero in the pictures. Here, with the D.C. sun hitting him unabashedly, his slate eyes like glass marbles, the lines surrounding them wrinkled in concern, his tongue darting between his lips to wet the skin where his teeth bite down, a habitual sore, his short locks ruffled by the breeze or maybe the fight or maybe he just wakes up perfectly rumpled, here he looks like a man.
“You okay?” he asks, somehow nonchalant and still worried, and he holds out a calloused hand to you.
Or, well, maybe Bucky had been watching. And maybe that’s enough.
God, you don’t even know this man outside of his Avenger persona, the headlines you read on the news, the pictures you see on social media, but there’s just something about him that makes you want to trust him. Like he guarantees safety, and you know that no one, least of all an Avenger, can guarantee safety. Even if that’s their job.
Stop feeling safe around him.
But you take his hand anyway, his long, thick fingers folding over your own like he means to swallow them, and Bucky pulls you up as though you weigh nothing. In fact, he does it so easily that you crash straight into him with a yelp and his arms instantly slide around your waist to catch you as your knees go weak, buckling beneath you.
When you look up at him, your hands trying to find purchase in the material of his hoodie, he’s staring down at you with the hint of a smile.
“Thanks,” you say, quiet and a little stunned.
His lips crack a little wider. “No problem.”
For a few seconds longer than deemed socially appropriate, you stare at Bucky, captured by the changing color of his blue-gray eyes. And then, as if god is slapping you on the back of your head, you blink and remember that you are covered in alcohol and currently pressed against the chest of a superhero, and your eyes go wide as you quickly push away from him.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I’m disgusting—you probably have orange juice all over you now, fuck.”
“Hey,” he says, his flesh hand wrapping around your upper arm to steady you, “it’s okay. Seriously though, are you alright?”
You open your mouth to say something and then shut it again when you realize nothing sounds like the right answer. Bucky waits patiently though, peering down at you, his grip a little more grounding than you wish it was.
“Yes?” you say, but it sounds like a question. “I mean, maybe? I’m—It’s not like I’m not used to this happening. I’ll be fine.”
Bucky frowns. “Used to it?”
You shrug. “Not all men are superheroes. Most don’t have good intentions. And I’m not even that pretty, can you imagine what other women deal with?”
It slips out before you realize it, the self-hatred you keep at bay.
“Not pretty?” Bucky’s face twists into something confused. “That guy assaulted you just to get your number. I’m not saying it’s right, but if you think you aren’t pretty, well that’s just wrong.”
Oh god, what are you supposed to say now? So stupid. If you had just kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have forced an Avenger—a really fucking hot Avenger—to give you an awkward compliment and now you have to scramble to figure out what to say. If you deny the compliment, you’ll look ungrateful. If you accept the compliment, that’s too egotistical. Too into yourself.
You’ve backed yourself into a corner here, and Bucky’s on the other side of the ring.
“Look,” he interrupts your inner monologuing, running a hand through his hair and glancing away, “if you don’t mind me saying it, you’re—well—you’re gorgeous. I hope you know that.”
Your mouth falls open and you stare at him, nervous energy radiating off him, and when his eyes shift back to yours he coughs.
“I mean, don’t take that the wrong way. I’m not—I’m not trying to hit on you after what just happened, I promise.” His eyes go wide, then, and he throws his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. “That’s not to say I’m not! Not hitting on you. I mean, shit, I just think you’ve gotta be the most beautiful dame—woman, sorry—that I’ve seen in years.”
There’s something soft about it, something sweetly suffocating, like buttercream frosting in the back of your throat, about his nervousness. The gentle panic, the way his eyes go back and forth from the ground at your feet to your eyes like he’s checking to make sure he hasn’t said the wrong thing, but he just keeps putting his foot in his mouth like it’s a magnet to metal. It’s endearing. It’s real.
“Do you want to get a drink with me?” you blurt out, and Bucky blanches. “I know it’s only, like, noon but I need a drink. And I owe you. For saving me.”
He relaxes at this, another one of those small smiles easing its way onto his face, and his shoves his hands into his pockets like he wasn’t just panicking two seconds ago about calling you a dame, which if anyone else had done, you would have socked them in the mouth, but he’s like one-hundred-and-six or something and you kinda get it.
“The drinks you’re wearing ain’t enough, doll?”
A laugh breaks from your mouth and he lights up, grinning.
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You can’t help the smile splitting your own lips. “Sure, make fun of the girl who just got hustled, easy prey.”
The way he looks at you is burning.
“I’m Bucky,” he says. “James Bucky Barnes.”
“I know,” you say with a laugh. When you give him your name, he almost looks like he wants to try it out, but he keeps it on his tongue like he’s tasting it instead.
“So, a drink?” he asks, a little cautiously.
“I’d like that.” Then, you look down and curse. “But I’m gross. I really need to go home and change.”
Bucky nods, but a look of disappointment crosses his face, there and then gone again, just enough to make your heart tighten into a painful brick weight atop your chest. Everything in your brain is saying no, don’t do it, don’t do it. But your heart hurts and it hurts for him, a man you’ve only met in news articles and awkward interviews until now, when he’s saved you from being slapped around by some creep or worse, and god, you have such a soft heart sometimes and it’s gotten you in trouble before but you can’t just ignore it.
“Do you like Bloody Marys?”
His eyes meet yours again and you’re drawn into the storm that swirls in his irises once again.
“Never had one,” he admits. “They don’t look much like a drink.”
“Well, if you’re interested, I have the stuff to make a really good one at home. And then I could change and clean up a little and still y’know, thank you for saving my life? I mean it’s not much, but—”
“Yes,” he says, his voice as sure and steady as it was earlier when he was in hero mode. “That sounds great.”
Oh, you’re fucked. You’re so fucked.
Tumblr media
The walk back to your apartment isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s not easy. Bucky walks beside you like a forcefield, using his body to guide you through the throng of people walking along the streets without even touching you. He reminds you of a sheepdog. The thought almost makes you laugh more than a few times during your stroll.
He walks with his hands in his pockets most of the way, especially his metal one. And he isn’t much of a talker, not that you mind as long as he keeps answering the questions you’re asking him, like what kind of food he likes and what he thinks about sphynx cats and if he likes memes—of which his answers consist of anything, what the hell is that and why is it naked, and a resounding yes.
Bucky asks some of his own questions, though they are few and far between and a lot more cohesive and meaningful than your own. He asks about how long you’ve lived in Washington D.C., about what you do for a living, and about your friends.
“Why did they leave you there?” He’s staring at you when he asks, brows sharp and furrowed.
“Because I told them to,” you answer. “I didn’t want them to get hurt or anything. And I’m kind of the person that if I’m yelling, you better listen ‘cause I’m usually yelling for a good reason.”
He nods like he understands, but his lips are pressed flat. “They shouldn’t have left you.”
You shrug. “I wanted them to. I would’ve been more pissed if they hadn’t run off and gotten tangled up in the middle of everything.”
“You’re a good person,” he says, still looking at you. His face is softer, that hint of a curve in his mouth the only sign that anything’s changed.
You give him your own smile. “Maybe.”
It’s only once you get to the front door of your apartment that things shift and your stomach rolls, heavy and fluttering light all at once, a not-so-familiar-anymore anxiety chilling your skin. The keys in your hand jingle and you aren’t sure if it's because your fingers are shaking or not.
“It’s not much,” you say, beckoning him inside, “but y’know, it’s enough for me.”
Bucky steps through the door with a reverence, a caution, a carefulness that strikes you right in the heart. He looks out of place for a minute, like he’s never entered an apartment before. And then, as you kick off your shoes, losing the extra inch of height, smiling and gesturing for him to do the same, there’s something in him that snaps and bends and his shoulders fall, relaxed.
He toes off his boots, leaving them by the door, and suddenly there’s a different air in the apartment. Almost intimate. Comfortable.
Stop it. You don’t even know him.
“Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything? A glass of water or something?”
Bucky shakes his head as he follows behind you, slowly, his eyes roaming over your space. It’s really not much, you know that. A little more than a box with a bathroom and a bedroom attached, what with the living room and the kitchen being “open-concept,” a word you’re pretty sure was invented to sell tiny apartments for more money. You don’t even have a table to sit at—just a couch to plunk down on while you’re eating.
“I’m alright, doll,” he says, running a hand over the soft cushions of said couch. “You go change, I’m fine.”
As soon as you disappear into your bedroom, the door locked behind you, you lean against the wood and let out a sigh. This is awkward. What the fuck were you thinking? Asking an Avenger—Bucky Barnes—back to your apartment for a drink? A bloody mary? Who are you trying to kid?
It’s been years, literal years since you’ve invited anyone back to your apartment. In fact, you don’t think anyone besides your friends has even stepped foot inside. Maybe they haven’t even made it to the door.
Why would you invite him here?
In frustration, you strip your dirty shirt off and throw it onto the floor, shimmy-ing out of your skirt and kicking it toward the hamper just as well. You sort through your drawers, looking for something comfortable to throw on. Or maybe you should wear something nice? Something that looks similar to what you wore to brunch. But Bucky’s dressed in jeans and a hoodie. But he also looks like a modern god in just that.
Fuck. You are fucked. Why did you ask him back to your place for a drink? What did you think would happen?
You throw an old band t-shirt over your head and pull a black pair of loose shorts up over your hips, cursing when you realize they don’t even hit mid-thigh. Does that seem suggestive? Is Bucky going to think you want to fuck him if you walk out in these?
Do you want to fuck Bucky?
No. No. This is not what this is about. You invited him over because you owed him a drink and because you needed to change and because he seemed so damn sad when you said you couldn’t go out for a drink. So you asked him to come home with you. Oh, god, that’s so complicated. What have you gotten yourself into?
Stop. Just stop thinking.
But—you have to admit it to yourself—you want it. You want him.
Your friends’ earlier words repeat in your head. A human, a connection, something that isn’t an empty apartment. They aren’t wrong for thinking that it’s something you want. For most of your life, you’ve lived thinking that you shouldn’t need someone. But isn’t it okay to want someone? You’re tired of being alone. Bucky Barnes is the first man that’s been in your empty apartment since you moved in, and maybe it’s a bold move, but you know what?
You throw yourself out of your bedroom, probably looking a little too frazzled, and you quickly comb your fingers through your hair as nonchalantly as possible to fix the flyaways. Bucky’s sitting on your couch, looking lonely, his hands rigid on his spread knees.
He looks like he fits there, on your sofa, in your empty apartment.
“Look,” you say in a breath, catching his attention. When he looks at you, his eyes sweep over your body like he’s never seen a woman before; shy, timid, a little nervous, but there’s something else there. It’s the same thing that’s heating your insides right now.
“I can make you a drink,” you offer, leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest, staring at him, “or I can come over there and you can kiss me drunk instead, ‘cause I’m already halfway there.”
Bucky’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then a cocky grin is curling his lips up, his face brightening the entire apartment. You don’t know if your body is warm because you’re embarrassed at your own daring or because Bucky Barnes is so beautiful it’s criminal, but you know that there’s static and stretch in your limbs and desire pooling in your belly. Liquor and lust are chasing away whatever fears you had before.
“Really?” he asks, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that reminds you of what a fucking flirt he is, or that he can be, and you think butterflies might be taking up residence in your tummy.
“Really,” you mimic, wearing your own charmed smile. Bucky lets his head fall to the side as he looks over you, then crooks one metal finger at you, beckoning you to join him on the couch. With as much confidence as you can muster, you stride toward him, putting a little swing in your steps. Maybe you look crazy doing it, but it’s enough that his eyes flicker down to watch your hips, and it sends a thrill through you.
“This isn’t like me,” you tell him as you sink down beside him, as close as possible while still giving him space to bolt if he needs to. “I don’t invite strangers over to my house like this.”
He smiles and it’s warm and big and easy. “I’m glad you did,” he says.
God, his eyes are pretty. “Me too.”
With Bucky’s thigh pressed against yours, his hand resting dangerously close to one of your bare knees, knuckles brushing your skin every time he shifts, you’re melting into his touch and you don’t care. It’s intoxicating—not the alcohol, which you swear should be wearing off by now, but him.
“I don’t do this often,” you say again, like you need to defend your bold behavior.
“Does that mean I’m special?”
“I think so,” you murmur, only loud enough for him to hear being this close.
Kinder than you thought possible, somehow simultaneously suave but still a little nervous, and yet authentic to a fault, Bucky Barnes is a thousand and one contradictions. Nothing like you ever thought he’d be. And maybe that’s what gives you the courage, the thought that someone so hardened could be so soft. That someone who looks like him, chiseled and striking and like a charcoal sketching on stark paper, could turn red at your innuendos and your charmed quips. That there’s a chance he could be attracted to you.
This—This is the connection you’ve been waiting for. The person who makes you feel like this. Tipsy when you shouldn’t be tipsy anymore.
“I know we barely know each other, but I really, really want you, Bucky.”
Your shoulder is pressed to his shoulder, your chest nearing his chest, your chin tipped up to stare at his eyes, his nose, his parted lips. Bucky stares down at you, his Adam’s apple dipping and bobbing as he swallows hard. Your lips curl, threatening to giggle. He’s so damn cute. How can someone like him, an Avenger, a super soldier, look so cute?
But the hand at your knee finally creeps up your skin, his hot palm glossing over your bare thigh, resting a little higher than a friendly touch would go. He presses indents—not too hard, but not too soft—into your plush, silken flesh.
“You do?” he asks, tongue darting out to wet his lip and you want to follow it back into his mouth with your own.
To answer, you push closer, your hand coming up to drape across his neck, a little off-balance as you sit up on your knees.
“Mhm,” you hum, and that’s all he needs to grasp your thigh roughly and drag you over him, seating you upon his lap as a squeak of surprise flies from your lips. His hands fall to your hips as if your body was made for him to hold and suddenly you’re looking down at him and he’s looking up at you instead, and god, he’s staring at you like you’re heaven and earth and everything he ever needed to be saved.
“I want you too,” he says, exhaling as if you’ve stolen all the air in his lungs.
“Then will you finally kiss me?” Your nose brushes his and his breath ghosts over your mouth.
Bucky’s lips surge up to meet yours, swallowing the last sounds of your words like it’s the first drink of water he’s had in years, cool and refreshing and tinged with smoke, something uniquely him.
As your hands thread through his short locks, desperate to hold onto him in any way, his fingers begin to curve over your ass. You rock into him, pressing against him harder, sucking at his plush lips as his tongue skims over your top lip until you grant him entry. Bucky kisses like he’s trying to taste every single part of you and it sends waves of pleasure through your belly and to your core, where you grind down until you feel his hardening length beneath you.
Immediately, you start to strip him of his hoodie, divesting him of that layer to feel the soft shirt beneath—but only barely because it’s hell trying to pull his hands away from where they’re touching you.
And he’s touching you everywhere. His fingers roam over every generous piece of your body. The silken planes of your thighs where he’s pushed your shorts up, the wide canyons of your hips, the bumpy hills of your waist where your stomach is too big and too soft and where he slips his mismatched hands under your shirt to trace the lines of your stretch marks. It isn’t long until he brushes by the band of your bra and then he’s tugging at the hem of the shirt, pulling away from your lips long enough to rid you of it.
You take the moment to rid him of his too, and then you’re both topless, still sitting atop his lap and panting from lack of air. No words are shared between you before Bucky is capturing your mouth again. It’s only passion, frenzied and hot and wanting.
His fingers fumble with the hooks of your bra blindly as your teeth sink into his bottom lip, nipping and giggling and tangling your tongue around his. As soon as you hear the snap, you lean back and Bucky pulls it off you, flinging the offending garment somewhere else in the apartment.
Now, with your naked chest completely bared to him, you wait for it to happen. For his eyes to dart away, for the apprehension to cross his features, for the disgust to set it. The real reason that it’s been so long since you’ve invited someone into your empty apartment—into your empty life.
You’re scared.
Like you’re expecting the blow, you close your eyes and brace yourself, but you don’t cover up. You’ve learned not to cover up. You refuse to make yourself smaller, or prettier, or more tolerable for people. It’s why you don’t get entangled with one-night stands anymore, why you don’t ask strangers to come home with you, why you don’t let your girlfriends set you up with anyone. Because you refuse to make yourself something you’re not just to fit in, and that’s what always, always ends up happening.
Bucky touches you and it makes you flinch, his vibranium fingers a little chilly against the soft, warm skin of your stomach. He touches you and it’s electric, but you don’t open your eyes.
You’re too afraid to look and see the disappointment in his gorgeous blues.
His hands skim over your rib cage, sliding around the sides of your waist, his thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts. You shiver at the contact. He continues his trail upwards, but then he lays his palms on your shoulders and caresses over your neck, his fingers finally finding the edge of your soft jaw to cradle your face. A shaky breath leaves you.
“Look at me,” he whispers, closer than you thought.
And no matter how much you’ll berate yourself over it later, there is something so safe about Bucky Barnes that your lashes flutter and your eyes open, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, staring at you with those stormy sea eyes half-lidded and glazed over with lust, his pink lips parted in awe, and you gasp at the intensity that strikes right through the center of you.
“You’re…” he trails off, swallowing nervously again. “Doll, I don’t think I know a word in English that describes you.”
Bucky presses forward, his chest brushing against your hardened nipples, stealing your breath and then sealing your lips with a kiss that isn’t like before. This kiss isn’t needy or wanting or filled with teeth and tongue and desperation. This time, his mouth moves with yours as if he’s trying to spell out a thousand words in twenty different languages to tell you how he feels, his lips leading yours in a dance that isn’t worried about an audience or the music or if you step on his toes.
When he pulls away, you wonder if your mouth is as swollen as his.
“You’re perfect,” he says with a finality in his tone that almost makes you collapse into his arms.
Then, Bucky wastes no time and captures a nipple in between those swollen lips, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud noise in surprise. His metal hand finds your other breast, thumb stroking over the bud until you’re arching further into him. As his tongue traces patterns around one nipple, his fingers tweak and twist and pull its sister, and your hands grasp his broad shoulders in an attempt to hold on.
Finally, he presses gentle kisses over your rosy buds, all worn out by his touches, and then circles your breasts with more kitten licks and grazes of his teeth. Bucky’s hands settle at your hips again, fingers grasping your skin like he can’t get enough of the feel of you. He’s trying to imprint your body on his palms.
“I need to have you, doll,” he says all breathy as if he isn’t the one absolutely drenched right now. “Please. Please,” he asks so softly that you wonder if this is the man who even came to your rescue today, all tall and brooding. When you grind down on his lap again, feeling his hard cock beneath his jeans as he lets out a groan and tightens his grip on your waist, you realize you’re not the only one feeling the tension.
Still, there’s something cheeky left in you and you reach out to swipe your finger across his nose, effectively booping it cutely. A grin splits your lips.
“You need me?” you ask teasingly. “What if I need you instead?”
It’s like it sets something ablaze in him or something, ‘cause as soon as you go in for another kiss, Bucky stands up from the couch, his hands cradling your ass as you shriek and wrap your legs around him in reflex.
“Oh my god—”
“Now you’ve done it,” he grunts, burying his face in your neck to pepper kisses all over the stretch of skin that encompasses your shoulder, your jawline, even up into your hairline by your ear.
“Oh my god, put me down Bucky, I’m—you’re gonna drop me, I’m too heavy!”
“Heavy?” He chuckles against your throat and the vibrations almost make you shudder in pleasure. God, what is this man doing to you? “Darlin’, I don’t think you know the meaning of heavy.”
Bucky flashes you a wide, almost predatory grin, and you wonder where that soft, nervous boy went.
“If I wanted to,” he says, his voice low and steady, “I could fuck you right here, in the middle of the room, for hours.” He must feel the shiver that goes through your entire body because he’s laughing again. “But I want to fuck you into your mattress if that’s okay. Can I do that?”
Your throat feels dry when you whisper, “Yes. Please.”
He punctuates your plea with a heated kiss to your lips, his tongue tasting the citrus and bubble from your mimosas, the alcohol long since worn off. It’s all him that you feel, all him that intoxicates you, and all him around you as he walks you into your bedroom, not even straining under your weight, and dumps you onto the middle of your sheets.
There, he cages you, hovering above you to kiss down your body, already intent on tearing your shorts off.
“Bucky,” you whine. In the afternoon light streaming through the single window in your room, his eyes are a startling color you wish you could name, all clear and confident and crystal and god, god, his fingers are already exploring the slit of your core so lightly it makes you flush and want to hide, your inner thighs sticky and coated in your own slick from how hot he’s made you with such simple touches.
“You want me?” he asks as if he doesn’t know.
“Yes,” you hiss in pleasure, body writhing beneath him. Bucky leans down to kiss the shell of your ear, his tongue blazing a hot trail that makes you moan and buck your hips up to meet his, but he won’t have any of that.
“Good,” he says, “‘cause I need to have you, and I don’t plan on letting you go ‘till I’ve gotten everything you’ve got to give, doll.”
That nervous Bucky, all awkward smiles and panicked glances and sweet lines, he’s gone. In his place is this Bucky, assured and charming and suave and smooth and making your eyes roll back into your head until a scream is threatening to burst from your lips unless he swallows it with his own kiss, which he does, over and over again.
“I’m gonna ravage you, darlin’.”
You aren’t sure which one you like better—but is it greedy to say both?
Tumblr media
As the light of a new day spreads through your apartment, you awaken easily, softly, but painfully. Someone’s pulled the blankets up to your chin and tucked them around you, and the thought leaves an empty feeling inside of you. When you stretch, every part of you burns deliciously, a memory from the hours spent in bed, on the couch, on the fucking counter after you’d eaten and he still wasn’t satisfied, and then again in bed.
And now, looking over at the space beside you, he’s gone. His clothes are gone from the floor. There’s no sound echoing in the building. He even left you tucked in, for god’s sake.
Your apartment is just as it always has been—empty.
With a groan, you kick the covers off and plant your feet on the floor, willing yourself to get up. The ache in your muscles is nothing more than a pleasant memory, an unpleasant reminder of the marks he left on you, his absence.
Stop it. You shouldn’t have even gotten attached to him in the first place. You knew what this was, and he did too, and it’s no wonder he’s gone this morning.
Get over it.
You swipe an oversized shirt from your dresser and throw it over your head as you stride out toward the kitchen, content to go pantyless for the day after the abuse you put it through last night. Yawning, your eyes screwed shut in another big stretch to warm up your overused muscles, you hear him before you see him.
“Mornin’, doll.”
Like that, your eyes snap open and he’s there, standing in your tiny kitchen in nothing but last night’s boxers, looking fucking glorious in the spotlight of the warm sun that’s streaming through the room and highlighting the counters.
“Bucky?” you ask, but it’s a little loud and a little shrieking, something you don’t intend. But all he does is smile at you, metal fingers tapping the plastic countertop, so at ease he just looks like he belongs there.
“I thought I’d make you breakfast but you have nothing in your fridge,” he jokes, leaning back against the drawers and crossing his arms over his bare chest.
You shift, embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah, I need to go shopping.”
A long stretch of silence fills your apartment and you’re unsure of what to say in order to break it. Bucky’s clearly watching you, drinking in the sight of your love-marked body, bruises peeking out of the hem of your shirt that barely skims past the tops of your thighs, and you remember you’re wearing nothing underneath.
And he’s here, right here, and you really aren’t sure why. It seems the two of you have almost switched places. Where Bucky was nervous and shy at first, he’s now confident and comfortable and you’re left with heated cheeks and a tongue-tied in knots. Whatever boldness that came over you all yesterday has fled.
It’s left a deep pocket of insecurity inside of you.
“Why are you still here?” you ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, like you don’t care, but your voice shakes a little. He’s too far away to really tell, but you think a flash of hurt passes over Bucky’s brow.
“‘Cause you still owe me a drink,” he says as if it's obvious, a small smile still sitting so prettily on his mouth.
You blink, a little confused, but shuffle closer. “Bloody Mary?”
“Yeah,” he says with a deep breath, his grin growing bigger the closer that you come toward him. “Will you still make me one?”
You nod, toes finally crossing into the kitchen, and then you and Bucky are staring at each other. There are scratches left like the bones of a graveyard on his arms, and you’re almost sure if he turned around they’d cover his neck and back just as well. Seeing those reddened marks, similar to the bruises he’s left on you, makes you relax your shoulders just a little.
“Do you need help?” he asks, eyes sweeping over your barely covered form.
“No,” you say, heading to the kitchen which is little more than a countertop, a stove, and a fridge. “But you can keep me company.”
So this is what happens in the morning after. Bucky leans against the counter next to you, watching you with a burning intensity that nearly matches last night’s, and you pull all the ingredients out and line them up next to two glasses and try not to falter under his gaze. He looks at you like you’re this fascinating thing he needs to study and it bothers you, but only in the best of ways.
“Do you always stare this hard at your dates?” A smile plays at your lips as you crack open the tomato juice.
He doesn’t look away. “No,” he says, but he sounds unsure. “Is this a date, doll?” There’s something in his voice that you can’t figure out, faintly hopeful, fairly confused. Vaguely surprised, even.
You shrug. “Maybe.” Especially after all of yesterday, you would hope he thought so.
But Bucky shakes his head. “No.”
Ow.
That hurt more than you were expecting it to. Calling yourself his date had only been a joke meant to lighten the mood, ease him up a little, cure the tension swirling in the room. You guess you should have expected it, though. You owed him a drink—he didn’t owe you a date. It wasn’t supposed to be a date, anyway.
All you had done was sleep together, for fuck’s sake. This is why you hate morning afters. This is why you would have preferred it if he had been gone when you woke.
But was that even true? Because the relief you felt when you found him waiting for you in the kitchen was immense and hard to understand.
You open the bottle of vodka a little more forcefully than you intended.
“When we go out on a real date,” he continues, and your eyes meet, “I’ll be taking you out and treating you.” A slow grin crawls over his face that reminds you of his wicked mouth and what it can do and the sight makes your heart beat and beat and beat, faster and faster, like the wings of a hummingbird, quick quick quick.
“When?”
“When,” he affirms.
“That’s bold of you,” you say, popping ice cubes from a tray into the glasses.
“Maybe,” he says, “but I know what I want now.” Bucky shifts a little closer to you, his vibranium arm brushing by the bare skin of your soft one as you try and focus on not spilling the juice, but you can smell him and he smells like cedar and bergamot and smoke and clove. A smell that consumed you whole last night, surrounded you, drowned you in it.
He’s so close you can feel him inhale.
“I’ve lived a long time not knowing—not getting to decide—what I want,” he admits, his voice low and quiet and soothing your nervous heart. “So you can call it bold, but I call it right.”
The sincerity in his voice makes your hands still and you look up at him, eyes wide. In the soft white lights of your tiny kitchen, sharing the tight space with him so close, Bucky’s eyes are thunder and rain and lightning all at once, peace and chaos both, promising release and the sweet scent of earth and oil afterward.
“You don’t even know me,” you whisper.
Bucky leans closer. “But I want to.”
He’s so close, too close, close enough that he can surely hear the rhythm of your heart, unsteady and racing just for him. You could surge forward and kiss him, stake your claim once again on those pinkened lips that have held your attention from the first time you saw them, feel the stubble of his jaw rub against the soft peach fuzz of your own, let it remind you of how it felt against the apex of your thighs as he made you cry out over and over again, breaking on his tongue over and over again.
It makes you feel dizzier than any alcohol ever could.
But Bucky reaches over, past you, and takes one of the glasses from your hand, warm fingers brushing over your cooler ones. He holds it up, toward you, gesturing for a toast. With a swallow, hardly glancing away from his slate eyes to grab the other glass, you tap your Bloody Mary against his with a soft clink.
He watches you over the rim as he takes his first sip and you think he might be smirking. Then, he darts toward you and takes your lips in his own, tasting of spice and tomato juice and perfection, all Bucky, all for you.
When he pulls away, too quickly, he rests his forehead against your and looks down at you, staring into your hazy eyes.
“Will you let me stay?” he asks, like he doesn’t know what you’ll say. The soft, nervous Bucky is peeking out from behind his confident visage once again, his voice hopeful and frightened and the hand that’s gliding beneath your shirt and over your waist more timid than it was last night.
There’s a million things you can say. You can tell him to take you out to brunch instead. You can tell him you’re too busy. You can tell him that this was a one-night stand, it was only ever meant to be a one night stand, and that it was fun but you can’t afford to get attached to him and god, you know you’re going to get attached to him if he stays and that scares the ever-living fuck out of you. You can tell him that it’s messy here, inside your empty apartment, inside your empty heart. You can tell him that he could take up residence here. You can tell him so, so many things.
“Yes,” you say instead, and Bucky laughs against your mouth when he kisses you hard once more.
1K notes · View notes
Text
Smooth Like Butter
Tumblr media
Welcome back to the second part of the one-shot series No Time for Love, where rich girl! Y/N is sent on marriage dates with wealthy bachelors in hopes of a match. Enjoy <3
Genres: smut, fluff
Tags: lawyer! Yoongi, rich girl! OC, hard dom! Yoongi, consent!!!!!!, brat! OC, hand kink (oc’s), sir kink, use of a remote vibrator, mouth fucking, colour system, aftercare
Warnings: exhibitionism kink (Yoongi’s), Yoongi and OC have a four year age gap, OC is 23, Yoongi is 27, unprotected sex (use protection IRL!)
WC: 3895 (3.9k)
You heard from your father that tonight’s date was a bit of a handful but well, so are you.
You’re not that intimidated when you hear the man is a top lawyer at a prestigious firm, most people that would meet your father’s criteria for an acceptable son-in-law tend to be intimidating. But having grown up wealthy and frankly, spoiled, you know better. There are people who hide behind their parents’ names and wealth, and others who can hold their own. You are the second type. You have a talent, truly, for driving off all the men who try to “win” you over and marry you for your family’s money. It doesn’t take much, just acting stupid enough that they start to doubt if you can even stroke their ego. Of course, it’s not anyone else’s business that you’re attending one of the most prestigious colleges in the country.
You’ve even taken the CEO of an entertainment company head on, you doubt a little tight ass lawyer will have much of an effect on you.
It’s a tacky choice, going to the movies. Granted, it’s a very nice, upscale movie theatre in a newly constructed part of town. The seats here are the bed-like kind that two people can lay in together, booked by your father’s secretary to undoubtedly cause some “romantic feelings” to spark up. Well, you’ll see about the romance but if the guy’s hot, you might get caught up in something else tonight. And who could blame you, an overworked and tired 23 year old? College is exhausting, you don’t have the time to cater to older men. And like they say, all’s fair in love and war, so what’s wrong with consensually getting laid and making a run for it the morning after? Nothing, if anyone asked you.
You wait against a pillar, holding a large box of popcorn and a small pack of chocolates. You’re dressed cutely today, in a floral blue dress and white heels. You even styled your hair and makeup cute. You heard from a cousin of yours (who is also a lawyer) that Min Yoongi is a real looker. So despite the four year age gap, you dressed up tonight. Better safe than sorry, right?
“Miss Y/L/N?”
You spin around, putting a smile on your face. You come face to face with a tall and handsome man, his bangs carefully styled so they fall neatly over his forehead. He gives you a smile, polite but also like he knows he’s hot, and that he definitely noticed you checking him out. No worries, you also saw him eye the supple skin of your thigh as you shifted from one foot to another. He likes legs. You think, smirking internally. Good thing I didn’t skip leg day last week.
“I’m sorry to be late, we have a lot of clients currently.” Min Yoongi humbly flexes, holding out a Rolex clad hand. You want to laugh in his face. If he wasn’t so hot, you’d hate him instantly for saying that. You accept his hand delicately, pretending to be so innocent that you can’t even hold a guy’s hand. In your experience, tough guys like him enjoy the cutesy act.
“Nice to meet you.” You reply coyly. “And no worries, I completely understand. It must take a lot of time to defend your clients in court.” You say flirtily.
Yoongi’s smile falters. “I’m a corporate lawyer, not a criminal one. We don’t often go into court to defend our clients.”
You smile. “Oh, a corporate lawyer! No wonder my father thought you’re so intelligent.”
Yoongi catches on to what you’re doing and smirks. “I hear you’re not too bad yourself, Miss Y/L/N.”
Your smile falters. The smile on his face says he has definitely heard the name of your college. Uh-Oh. You are too young to be married to a stuffy corporate lawyer, no matter how drop dead gorgeous he might be. So, you decide to switch tactics. You take a step closer to Yoongi. “Oh, you can just call me Y/N. Of course, if I might call you Yoongi in return.” You giggle.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. Like, actually rolls his eyes. You’re so offended you break character. Was that not cute? You’ve charmed at least five different guys with this technique. Instead, Yoongi smiles down at you. “We might have an age gap, but I’d prefer to remain polite with you, Miss Y/L/N, seeing as we’re still strangers.” He says the last part like he intends to get closer to you eventually, but the way he’s eyeing you like you’re the snack in this theatre says the opposite.
“I see.” You smile, knowing exactly where this is going. You’re lucky you picked an evening show. You had texted Yoongi a half-hearted question about if you’d be having dinner together before, which Yoongi left unopened, no pretentious shit. You like this guy already.
You and Yoongi find a double seat near the left-most part of the back. This movie isn’t an overly popular one, a thriller that the critics raved about but the audiences found lacklustre. The theatre is more than half empty tonight, and the only people here have decided to take seats closer to the front because of it.
You knew some teasing was bound to happen when you took the spot closest to the wall, but you don’t know exactly what you’re in for.
Yoongi takes off his coat and lays it over your lap to be gentlemanly, then slides in right next to you. He’s all sweet talk but direct as anything when he wraps his arm around your shoulders like he has always done it. The two of you start eating the popcorn you’re holding as the lights dim and the ads play. “Is this alright, Miss Y/L/N?” Yoongi asks, knowing damn well it’s fine.
You turn to him and lick the butter off your lips without breaking eye contact. “I’m not sure.” You say, smirking.
Yoongi chuckles darkly.
As the movie goes on, you and Yoongi start to make commentary under your breaths about the characters. You bet on who the killer will be.
“I’m sure it’s the main guy’s brother.” You insist to Yoongi for what must be the fourth time. The film is just over halfway done, and your shared popcorn is nearly gone.
“I bet we’ll find out in like five minutes.” Yoongi tells you. He points at the screen, where one of the side characters is starting to act suspiciously. “It’s totally her, she has been weird since they found the badly hidden knife.”
“You’re not thinking logically, Yoongi-ssi!” You tell him off. “Her boyfriend disappeared at the start, I bet she’s being threatened by the killer. If it was her, she wouldn’t freak out if they found the knife, it’d be too obvious!”
Yoongi smirks at how hard you’re trying to figure it out. “It is too obvious. That’s why no one watched this movie.” He whispers.
“Then why’d you bring me to see it?” You whisper back.
Yoongi looks down at your lips, licking butter off his own. “You know why.” He replies simply, turning back to the scene. Then, he mutters so quietly even you can barely hear it. “Wanna make a bet if I’m right?” He asks.
You nod. But Yoongi looks hesitant for a moment.
“Can I touch you?” He asks under his breath. When you nod, he frowns. “Verbally.”
“Yes.” You whisper back.
“Are you familiar with the colour system?” Yoongi asks. You nod. “Tell them to me.”
“Green for go, yellow for pause, red for stop.” You answer, slightly confused.
Yoongi’s hands travel down your waist, making you shudder, but they still completely at your hips. “Can sir touch you, baby?” He asks, entirely serious now.
“Yes sir.” You answer, captivated by his dark eyes.
Yoongi turns back and continues to watch. You want to ask him what the loser has to do when he squeezes your shoulder. The suspicious side character shows up on screen behind the main character, wielding another knife. You sigh as she kills him and the scene changes. The movie will be over as soon as the main lead’s girlfriend figures it all out. But in the meantime, you owe Yoongi.
“What do I have to do?” You pout.
Yoongi dips his hand in the empty popcorn container, fingertip brushing the bottom. When his hand comes up empty, he looks you in the eye. “Oops, my hand’s dirty baby.” He says innocently.
Your stomach starts to feel hot with the telltale feeling of arousal. Even if no one can see you, sucking someone’s fingers in a cinema is a crazy thing to do. “Don’t worry, they’re washed.” Yoongi tells you sarcastically, even though both of you know that’s not why you’re hesitating. But damn, Yoongi’s hand is pretty. The fingers are long and veiny, and well, you’d like to be acquainted with them. It would’ve been more fun in private, but you have never been one to back down from a challenge.
You open your mouth slowly and tilt your head back so he can get a good look. Then, you stick your tongue out just a little, as if making a special place for Yoongi to place his fingers.
Yoongi chuckles as he sticks his fingers in your mouth. You close your lips around his two long digits. You swirl your tongue around them, getting all of the butter and then some. “Like that, baby?” Yoongi whispers in your ear. You nod. He pats your head with his other hand. “Such an illogical little baby, guess I have to teach you, huh?” He mocks you, not giving you a second of peace as he pushes his fingers in deeper. You weren’t ready for that, and so you choke loudly when his fingers brush the back of your mouth.
Immediately, a few people turn their heads. Luckily, Yoongi had already withdrawn his fingers by then. “Oh shit, babe. Here’s a drink.” Yoongi says loud enough for the others to hear. You glare as he passes his drink to you and rubs your back as you drink it. The few heads that have turned return to the screen.
You look down and see the noticeable bulge in Yoongi’s pants. You smirk. “Never thought a lawyer would be into shit like this.” You comment in his ear, placing a hand on his bulge easily.
Yoongi leans in and unashamedly sucks a hickey on your collarbone. You jolt when his hand slides up your thigh, then he tucks a thumb between your thighs, right over your clit. “I didn’t think someone as illogical as you could attend such a prestigious university either, baby.”
You pout. “I only said that in the moment. Let it go.”
Yoongi rubs your clit through your panties, making you writhe. You know he can feel how wet you are through the wet patch on the lace. “You think you’re the one calling the shots here?” He murmurs in your ear. When you don’t answer, he rubs harder. You fight a moan, heaving from the effort of not making a sound. If Yoongi kept rubbing, soon a wet sound would echo in the cinema and then you would get banned for life.
“No sir. I’m sorry.” You reply, and Yoongi takes his hand off you.
You watch as Yoongi takes the small packet of chocolates from you and opens them. He takes one of the round chocolates and places it on your tongue. As you chew, Yoongi runs his thumb over your throat. “Not yet you’re not.” He whispers, then presses a kiss to your neck.
Yoongi alternates between eating the chocolate and feeding you. He gives you the last chocolate even though it’s supposed to be his, but you find out his motive quickly. “Babe, I have a bit of chocolate on my hand.” Yoongi tells you, perfect at lying with a straight face. He holds his thumb up.
You take it in your mouth and lick it clean without looking away from him. Yoongi pulls it out, then leans in to kiss you lightly. “Good girl.”
🖤🖤🖤
Once the movie is over, you and Yoongi are the first pair out of the cinema. Yoongi throws away the snack wrappers for you, then grabs your hand to bring you outside. He puts on his long coat to hide his erection and you pray no one notices how hard you’re blushing.
Once you get to his car though, the two of you return to how you were. You slide in the passenger seat of Yoongi’s luxury SUV, and Yoongi places his hand on your thigh again as he reverses out.
Yoongi leads you back to a high rise apartment without a word, having figured out by now that this is a regular thing for you. You’re a little impressed at how chill and non-judgemental Min Yoongi is, though you think it might have to do with how horny both of you are right now.
Yoongi barely waits until you have your coat off to pull you to the bedroom, kicking the door shut. He pushes you up against the closed door, all tongue and passion as he licks into your mouth like you’re a buttery snack.
“Can I use a toy on you? They’re all sanitized.” Yoongi asks breathlessly when you break apart. “It’s a vibrator toy.” He clarifies.
If you didn’t think marriage was a hoax, you would’ve married him on the spot for saying that shit.
“Yes sir.” You reply.
Yoongi’s gaze is dark and unfiltered now in private. “All clothes off. Lay on my bed, ass up.”
You strip quickly as Yoongi goes rummaging for something in his walk-in closet. You lay down in doggy style, face buried into one of Yoongi’s pillows and ass up. You jolt when you feel something cold against your bare vagina.
It’s lube. “Relax. I have to prep you first.” Yoongi says, before sinking one finger in. You sigh, the finger a welcome intrusion. It doesn’t take long until Yoongi has you worked up enough for two. You’re about to beg for a third when you feel the toy press against your entrance. It’s round, not like you expected. You gasp when you realize what it is. Yoongi chuckles, pulling one of your asscheeks back to push the toy in further. “I have to punish you for being rude earlier. Can’t have my sub talking back like that can I?”
“N-No sir.” You say, nearly screaming when Yoongi turns the vibrator on at full.
Yoongi walks around the bed and comes to sit in front of you. He is now naked too. You eye his hard and veiny cock, wanting it inside you instead of the vibrator. Seeing the desire on your face, Yoongi taps your cheek lightly like you’re a cute pet. “I’m gonna edge you for the backtalk, then you can have a reward. Got it?” He asks. You nod. He presses the head of his cock to his lips. “Since you like being dirty, you can suck me off until I decide you’re good enough of a girl to deserve my cock in your little hole. Understood?”
You nod, pouting from being punished but liking the idea of sucking Yoongi’s thick and leaking cock.
Yoongi starts the vibrator’s speed on slow this time, giving you time to ease up enough to take his cock. You wrap your lips around the head, sinking down until he’s nearly in to the hilt. You fight tears stinging your eyes, desperate to be good. “Good girl.” Yoongi moans, holding your hair back from your face. The vibrator slowly picks up as you bob up and down. Once you have a rhythm set, Yoongi decides to ruin you again. He grabs both sides of your face and pushes his cock all the way in and turns the vibrator up to high. You moan around him, throat clenching around him. “Fuck, so tight.” Yoongi curses, before turning the vibrator off.
He pulls out to let you catch your breath. Once you have, you open your mouth and he dives in more roughly this time.
“What’s that? Are you saying something babe?” Yoongi mocks, thrusting down your throat again. This time, he has his hand on the remote, alternating it from medium to high and back again. You now have tears streaming down your face. Yoongi wipes them for you. “Poor little slut. Should’ve thought first before you called sir ‘illogical’, huh?”
He pulls out and you gasp for air. Yoongi grips your face and makes you look up. He smirks at how fucked out you look. “Too much for you?” He mocks. Then, he notices you taking extra time to catch your breath. The teasing stops immediately. “Colour.”
“Green, green.” You tell him breathlessly. Yoongi turns the remote vibrator off. You writhe. “Green, sir!” You call out.
Yoongi observes the tear tracks running down your face and grins. “No, I think we’re good here. I can’t have you getting too comfortable with your punishment.” He kneels between your spread legs. He swipes two fingers through your vagina, holding them up as they glisten. Then, he smacks the fingers against the inside of your thigh, which is also covered in a thin sheen of precome. “Want me to eat you out since you sucked me?” Yoongi says bluntly, not caring that he’s being crude. It would be such a turn off if Yoongi wasn’t so damn hot.
“Please sir.” You say, holding your arms out.
Yoongi chuckles. “You’re so cute.” He says, laying you down. He kisses you deep, moaning at the taste of himself on your tongue. When he parts from the kiss, a long strand of saliva follows. He watches it snap against your chin and then wipes it with his thumb. “Messy little slut, aren’t you baby?” He asks, loving how worked up you get by his dirty talk.
He kisses your nipples, biting them once each to elicit a wanton moan out of you. Then, he brings a pillow to place under your hips and then lays down in front of you. You thrust forward as Yoongi turns the vibrator back to medium, then starts eating you out, pinning you down with his strong hands on your hips.
“Nn, Yoongi…” You whimper after a few minutes. You look down to see Yoongi watching you sharply. Without a word, Yoongi ramps up the vibrator’s speed. You feel your orgasm building, but you want to come with him inside you. “Please sir! I want you inside me.” You beg him.
Yoongi pulls off. “What’s that, pretty?”
“I n-need you inside. Please.” You beg, and Yoongi laughs meanly.
“Are you gonna be a good girl?” He taunts.
“Yes! Really sir!” You plead, still crying. “It feels too good, ‘wanna come.”
Yoongi shuts off the vibrator and pulls it out of you. He runs his hand up and down your clit, checking how wet you are. Then, he dips his fingers back inside to stretch you. He pins you down when you try to arch up, warning you: “If you want to come, you better be polite.”
So you lay completely still, legs spread as Yoongi aligns himself to your entrance. You sigh in relief as Yoongi enters you, bottoming out relatively soon with no pain. Yoongi smirks down at you. “Anyone ever called you a brat?”
You chuckle. That’s an unusual question. “Isn’t it obvious?”
To your surprise, Yoongi lets your attitude slide just this once. “Just curious.”
“The answer’s no, Mr. Corporate Lawyer.” You tell him, winking. “They actually tell me I’m smooth like butter.” You wink at him.
Yoongi pulls back and slams in the entire way, making you forget your own damn name. “Funny. People say the same thing about me.” Yoongi smirks, watching you try your damn best to not come instantly.
With ease, Yoongi slides a thumb in your mouth, before picking up the speed ruthlessly. You whine, trying to keep up with the rapid pace. As Yoongi stuffs your mouth, he leaves dirty hickies all over you.
“Hhh, sir. Please!” You plead, digging a hand into Yoongi’s hair. Your voice is raspy and desperate.
“Fuck, your voice.” Yoongi moans. “So rough from how I fucked your little mouth, huh?” He asks, picking up the pace of his thrusts. Yoongi grips your hips hard enough to bruise, pushing your thighs further apart. You whine Yoongi’s title out again and Yoongi leans down, kissing you with full force. When he separates from you, a string of saliva follows, falling onto your neck. Yoongi licks it off your collarbone, making you moan at how messy it all is.
You whimper again as Yoongi rubs the head of his thick cock against your g-spot over and over again, smirking when he notices it. “Does my baby need it?” He taunts you.
You nod desperately. “Yes, sir, please!”
“Then take it.” Yoongi growls, crossing your ankles together and putting your legs on one of his broad shoulders. He swipes the thumb you had been sucking earlier on your tongue again, then starts rubbing at your clit. You arch your back off the bed, coming so hard your thighs shake. Yoongi fills you up a moment later, making you even wetter.
Yoongi pats your hair patronizingly as he takes his cock out. “Guess you’ll be nicer next time, huh, baby?” He smiles at you.
You scoff, making Yoongi laugh.
🖤🖤🖤
“Do you think we could get arrested for doing that?” You ask abruptly with the passenger side door still open when Yoongi drops you off at your apartment.
Yoongi scoffs. “You should be more worried about your hips.”
You repeat his words, mimicking him. Yoongi smirks. “Want a round two that bad?”
You roll his eyes. You most definitely don’t. The excitement and fear of getting caught in the theatre was contributing to 50% of your tiredness, and after Yoongi’s relentless teasing, you’re totally spent for tonight. You could hardly even dress yourself, Yoongi helping you shower and drying you off himself. You have a lurking suspicion that Min Yoongi isn’t as much of a fuckboy as he makes you think, just that he liked you specifically. Or maybe doting on a sub is Yoongi’s favourite style of aftercare. You don’t know, but you sure are grateful for the help.
“Answer my question first, Yoongi-ssi.”
Yoongi chuckles. “A friend owns that theatre. I asked him to turn off all the CCTVs inside that theatre.”
You are shocked. “You mean you planned this beforehand?!”
Yoongi flicks your dangly earring with his thumb and index finger. “Yes, I did. I googled your socials and thought you were hot. Sue me.” He admits begrudgingly.
You grin. “Maybe I should post a two-piece showing off the bruises you gave me tonight. I bet that would feed your exhibition kink alright.”
Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth. “Do that and I’ll seriously marry you.” He lies with a straight face.
You laugh, grabbing your purse. “See ya.”
You wait until Yoongi is gone to walk to the elevator.
Min Yoongi was smooth like butter. Any smoother and you would’ve fell ass first (although, considering the bruises on your hips, it sure does feel like that).
.
.
.
Requests are open 🖤
277 notes · View notes
astrohnova · 3 years
Text
𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?
Tumblr media
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ransom hugh drysdale thrombey x latina!camgirl!reader
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 2.4k
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 Ransom and you have a complicated relationship. But his fucking makes it simple.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 +18 ONLY. IF YOU’RE A MINOR, i’ll kick your ass and also block u. insults, explicit language, smut (sex toy use, filmed sex, filmed masturbation, dumbification, breeding kink, squirting mention, spit play, blowjob, rough sex (all consented tho) creampie, daddy kink, "bitch", "whore", "cumslut", "slut"), use of spanish phrases without translation. WHEN IN DOUBT, DON’T READ. THAT’S IT.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒
I’m new at writing so if I should add more tags let me know. Also, english is not my first language so it might be a little weirdly worded so just let me know and i’ll change whatever’s wrong. I’m sorry
If you reblog and leave me some feedback I’ll kiss your mouth. With tongue.
The new lingerie set you’d bought made you feel savage. You knew it was something that your followers would enjoy. You decided to appear soft and delicate today, a good girl. So you turned your camera on, and while you were waiting for your payers to come in, you were sucking a lollipop endearingly, to gradually rile up the people watching you.
The candles you had lit along with the perfume you had spread in the room, with the soft music sounding in the background set the ambient, and your hand was gloved sending goosebumps through every part of skin you caressed. You were just fueling every sense, aislating yourself from the real world. You put the lollipop down and laided your back onto the headboard of your bed, with the computer at your feet, your clothed pussy in the first plane for your followers to admire and the clothed hand making it’s way there.
You’ve bought this glove recently, it was a sex toy. Made of black latex and a different head on each of your fingers, along with different textures that would let you see the stars. You even put a vibrator inside the middle one, just touching the point of your middle finger. Every head was different and enticing. And the vibrations between your thighs, so close to you sensible cunt left you gasping. Your lips and eyes stand out from the mask that you had on your face, sensual and with the same color as your underwear.
You looked straight to the camera when you grazed the vibrator contained by the latex over your pussy, while you gasped and then moaned, laying your head back. You could hear the sound of subscriptions coming in, and you suggestively moaned before pulling your panties to the side with your uncovered hand and brushing the vibrator on your clit, whining lightly. Then you put one of your fingers inside of you, and moaned directly to the camera, while you rubbed soft circles on your clit with your thumb, your belly contracting gently, your nipples hardening.
You took your finger off and brought it to your lips. And before you kept the show going, you said “Thank you for the gift, I’m enjoying myself so much. I hope you get off too”. You inserted two fingers in your pussy and moaned out loud.
📷
He was watching you going down the street, completely mesmerized. Just like the other men and women seeing you. He was smoking, but the smoke got into his eyes, for not being careful; his whole attention was on you. He threw the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it.
“Que hermosa, mamita.” A cute man complimented you, and you smiled and winked.
“Gracias mi amor. So pretty yourself.” You complemented and left him with his mouth open. But compliments were responded to, and he was a beautiful man.
You were walking with so much confidence and all eyes were naturally attracted to your presence, in that dress that hugged you perfectly, in those heels that took you some time to accustom to but now you walked like on a runway. And those striking stockings that you were wearing. You really were feeling yourself, that’s what a good night of orgasms and money gets you, really. You had earned so much, just had a few video requests that you had to fulfill and this month's cuota would be filled. And with this new job you had landed, things were starting to get off for you and your family
He was about to kill all the tigers that were stomping in your way, looking at you the way he did. Thinking the same things that he did, incited by that fucking dress, that gracefullness of your soul, and the barm coat that flew with the wind as you ate the wole street up. He was meeting you on this old cozy bar, after seeing that video of you yesterday he was riled up and just needed to be inside your warm pussy this cold afternoon, maybe with the coffee that you were gonna drink while you argued still stained on your mouth, that he was going to pry from your willing mouth as you gasped against him, with your mixed spit going down your chin from the sloppy kisses that he loves, and your breathy whines that had him rubbing his crotch against your stomach. And he couldn’t wait to see if you were wearing the lingerie that he had bought you, with that color that highlighted your skin undertone and got his dick leaking precum. Last night you were glorious, and today you were a walking goddess.
“Hola, imbécil.”
“Now that’s not very nice, especially after all the money I gave you last night.”
“Mhhm. Others gave me more, papito.”
“That so?”
“It is.”
“I got something more that they can’t give you. And you’re driving me feral, walking like that towards me, flirting with other guys. I thought I made it clear that you were mine.”
“And I thought I made it clear that I was my own. Especially after last night, did you see me get myself off that hard? And after the video endend I got so fucking happy, so fucking horny with all the comments, the views, the pictures that I got that I went to sleep humping my pillow.”
“Pictures?”
“Oh yes, I got so many pictures of so many pretty cocks daddy”
“You were thinking of other cocks, slut?” He questioned, grabbing you by your arm and putting you against a wall as you laughed.
“Not only thinking, papi, I found this hot guy that was just drooling for me, and he made me drool for him so much. The sheets were so messy that I had to change them after he left.” He gripped your throat harder, just growling furiously.
“Fucking bitch, I’m gonna stuff my cock so deep than your throat to make you regret everything you just said.”
“But daddy, I haven’t told you the best part yet!” You bite your lip, seeing his predatory eyes that wanted to devour you entirely. And you kept going without remorse. “The mattress was so wet too. You never reached that, did you? You want me to think that I’m yours but I got others treating me better.” You pouted, all that you were saying was true and seeing this look in his eyes was such a sight. You almost whined from his look alone.
He grabbed you by the arm and took you to his car, getting on it just right before you on the driver’s side. Wildly driving back to his place to get you fucking stuffed
“You’re driving me insane, bitch. Did you fucking curse me?”
“I did, every dick that enters this sweet pussy, plastic or meat, gets obsessed.”
“Don’t talk like that, making me more horny.”
“I’m sure your hand can help you, guapo.”
“My hand? Are you kidding me? You put that dress on, that looks more like a fucking t-shirt, to come see me and then you leave me with my hand? No, fucking whore You’re giving me your mouth. I have to wipe that smug smile and that boy’s taste off your lips. So suck, vicious little bitch.” So you did, with the loudest and a porn-like moan you quickly undid his briefs pulling his cock out, sucking the tip first.
“Daddy, the lollipop yesterday got me thinking so much about your cock. I couldn’t wait to taste you like this again.” He grabbed you by the hair at the red light, roughly pulling you up to met his face, yours pleasure filled, with drool over your chin, the same that had dirtied his pants.
“You fucking slut, were you just drilling me up to make me get rough on you?”
“No daddy, I did fuck the boy. That was yesterday morning, and then yesterday night I found a little time to think about you.”
“Yeah? Now all you're gonna have in your head and your mouth is me.” He shoved his cock deep into you, and when you gagged he pushed himself further and kept you there. “”Breathe, make this nice for me. I know you can do it.” You could, you enjoyed this so much, your paties were drenched. And what would he do when he notices you weren't wearing the pair he bought for you. Hopefully, break you. You started moving your hips, moving some friction in your pussy, and tastefully wiggling your ass for Ransom to admire.
“That’s right, cumslut. I'll make your ass fire up later too.”
📷
You screamed sensually when he hit your ass. You were on all fours, head down ass up, exposed to Ransom. He was filming your glistening pussy and your delicious ass that bounced on his torso asking for more pain. Delicious pain.
“I’m gonna break you with my cock baby. But after you ask nicely. Your followers want to know what a whore you are.”
“Such a whore! I want your dick papi, you fuck me so good. I want you to leave me braindead, drooling, filled. Please, please, please papi. Cogeme, fuck me. Te tengo muchas ganas.” You whined so hard, so annoyingly empty and desperate.
“What a good girl, making daddy so happy. Here you go, cunt.” He put one hand on your ass and thrusted into you aggressively. He positioned the camera to capture your joy filled face and his hips slamming in you. He didn’t stop nor slowed down, and started rubbing your clit to make you man loader, and you started to move back against him.
“You’re such a greedy little girl, you want all of me. ‘Cmon, give it to me now.”
“Ah!” You opened your mouth in a silent scream when you came, wetting him with your fluids.
And he quickly turned you around, on your back with your legs spread to search for his own high. But you were so sensible you started to close your legs and tried to squirm away from him. But he grabbed your face and spit on your cheek.
“Don’t you fucking dare pushe me away. You take it. Open your fucking legs. Open them wide.” You did, and he used you like a doll, with your mind swimming in pleasure, in his gorans in your ears and his hair caressing your face. He came, pushing himself against you and spilling into the condom. He moved away from you and grabbed the camera, turning it off. Then you were gonna edit the video a little bit, cropping some parts to upload to twitter and the full part you were gonna send it to your special subscribers. You gathered yourself, going to the bathroom to wash yourself a little bit, and coming with a cigarette in your mouth, already lit. You threw yourself on the bed.
“We… We have to stop doing this.” Ransom turned himself to you, taking the cigarette out of your hand and smoking it.
“Baby, you say that everytime. And then you do shit like today.”
“I know. But it’s different now, Hugh.”
“What the fuck you calling me that for?”
“‘Cause I got a new job. Lisa’s personal assistant. And I don’t intend to be higher than all the employees you ask to call you that and then go ahead and disrespect them.”
“You don’t have to work for shit, baby. I’ll pay everything for you. You just keep making those videos and the rest is on me”
“What? Like a sugar daddy? No jodás.” You grabbed another cigarette for yourself, so this dipshit wouldn’t take it away from you
“I mean it baby, I can give you the world, just let me”
“I already have the world papito, and I got it all on my own.” He hummed, and his eyes lit up when you called him ‘daddy’ in spanish, in this intimacy. With your body still displayed for him, through which he roamed his eyes in.
“Papito?” He repeated with an accent. “Maybe I can make a mama out of you....” He burned the cigarette out and took yours off too.
“What the hell are you talking about?” You complained in a moan when he turned you around, on your belly with your hands by your head and his entire muscular, heavy and warm body sprayed out on you. He then pushed deep into you.
“Get off me, Ransom.” You complained in a gasp.
“But I’m so deep ‘side you... I just have to get this shit off me to fill you up.“ He still had his condom on, but he hurriedly got it off and dived inside you again.
“What?! Don’t you dare. Get. The hell. Off.”
“Don’t lie to me princess, you want me to fill this pussy. You’ll be a fucking queen, in my arms, being spoiled with my money. I’ll take care of you and all the kids you’re gonna give me.”
“Ransom…” Your accent was spilling, and your resistance was getting away from you, his words and promises stained in your brain. “Fucking dick.”
“Nobody takes me like you, gripping me like that. You’re just a whore for me, ain’t you? Want all of me.”
“Ah, Ransom, you’re so deep.” You whined, your belly contracting.
“What do you want, honey? I wanna hear you beg for it”
“I-- Please Ransom. Please, please, please llename. Por favor, papi!” You moaned when he started pushing into you again. Last round had been intense and you had little break, so naturally you didn’t last long. You came screaming Ransom’s name, free to do so without a camera in front of you. And he was so close too, his mind winded up with getting you pregnant, with images of your belly full, your tasty breasts with all the milk he was gonna drink. He was goraning so much, your pussy grabbing him so hard, pushing him farther inside of you.
“Are you gonna be a good mama for me?”
“The best, daddy! Just please, please fill me.” And he did, with the loudest groan. To then turn you around and start admiring your tits, your body, getting inside your head with compliments of the mommy you were gonna be. And all the videos you were gonna make with your horniness, with your huge titis and that round belly. How he wanted to cover you in cum and get it on camera to show that you were his, cause getting you pregnant just wasn’t enough. And after that, he went down to eat his leaking cum out of you and prepared you for the next round.
344 notes · View notes
Text
Secret’s Out
Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2
Tumblr media
Bruce was looking at his emails when Y/N arrived at the table.
She was breathing heavily and her hair was a bit messy, just further proving she had rushed to get there.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she huffed embarrassingly. “My shoot ran over and every one was moving so slowly.”
Bruce smiled. “Y/N. Relax.”
Then he stood up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.
The two of them hadn’t seen each other in over a month. Y/N had been traveling for work constantly. And between the vigilante life and Wayne Enterprises, Bruce was running on 2 hours of sleep on the daily.
“I need a drink,” Y/N finally sighed after she got situated.
As if on cue, their waitress dropped Y/N’s favorite drink in front of her.
Y/N eyed Bruce with surprise.
He just shrugged.
Sometimes Y/N forgot how much her father noticed literally everything.
“Thank you,” she told the waitress.
“You’re overworking yourself,” Bruce said with a disapproving look.
She rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re not one to talk, Bruce.”
“You deserve a vacation. I’ll pay for it. Pick wherever you want. Bring Jason. Or some friends.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Bruce…”
It was a warning.
From the very start of their unconventional father-daughter relationship, Y/N had made it clear that she could not be bought. And Bruce spoiling her made her extremely uncomfortable. Even now, she still tried to at least split restaurant checks with him. Bruce always won those battles though.
“I’ll take a vacation when you do,” she finally countered.
That sure shut him up.
“Hey, I actually brought you something,” Y/N changed the subject as she reached for her bag.
A moment later, she lightly placed a manila folder onto the table.
Bruce’s brow furrowed as he reached for it.
As soon as he opened it, he froze.
“I had to clean out some stuff and put things into storage,” Y/N explained. “I found all my mom’s photos. I figured I could make copies of some childhood photos for you.”
Bruce’s silence made Y/N nervous.
“If you don’t want them, that’s totally fine.” She started to reach for the folder out of Bruce’s grip with awkward embarrassment. “It was stupid–”
But Bruce quickly pulled the folder closer to him and stopped her from taking the photos from him.
“Thank you,” he announced.
It made Y/N quickly sit back in her chair, caught off guard by his sincere reaction and how he’d immediately become protective of the photos.
Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat. “Thank you, Y/N.”
He repeated to make sure she understood how thankful he truly was. And Y/N suspected the throat clearing was to hide his emotions.
Now she watched as Bruce slowly went through every picture. He took in every detail with a soft smile.
These weren’t just photos. These were all of Y/N’s memories that Bruce missed, that he could never get back. And he was savoring all of them.
Then Bruce paused and was fully smiling now.
“What?” Y/N asked.
She didn’t know why all of this made her so nervous.
Bruce didn’t say anything as he lifted a photo and flipped it to show her.
It wasn’t from her childhood.
It was a black and white photo of Jason. A candid from when he had escorted her around the slums of Gotham for her most recent gallery show.
After months of thinking about it, Y/N finally had decided she wanted to frame it and hang it somewhere in her apartment. 
Y/N’s jaw dropped with embarrassment and she ripped it from his hands.
“I was developing some photos at the same time as I was making the copies. Must’ve gotten mixed up in those,” Y/N explained too quickly, unable to meet Bruce’s gaze.
It made Bruce happy to know that Y/N didn’t have the same inability to love someone and let people in like he did. It was a relief that she didn’t isolate herself from it like he had. If her mother was still alive, Bruce would thank her for it. But if Y/N’s mother were alive, he would’ve never known about Y/N in the first place.
Their entire dinner was spent with Bruce looking at the old photos. He had at least two questions for each one. Some of them Y/N didn’t remember being taken. But most of them came with stories or a loving memory.
Y/N talked for most of the meal. But that’s exactly what Bruce wanted.
Furthermore, Bruce had nothing of value to update her on. Batman business had consumed his life as of lately, and he had made a promise to never involve Y/N in any of it. And Jason seemed to be on the same page when it came to his other life as Red Hood. 
Both men seemed determined to keep her safe and away from it all. 
Two hours later, Bruce was paying the check and helping Y/N into her coat.
“I’ll give you a ride home,” he muttered as they started walking out.
Y/N had learned by now to give up on those small battles. Jason was the same way when it came to making sure she got home safely.
As they made their way to the exit, Y/N caught a few stares from other patrons who were still eating.
“Do you ever get used to it?” She asked her father in a low voice.
“Get used to what?” He asked, genuinely unaware of what she was getting at.
“People gawking at you.”
Bruce glanced around and unintentionally glared at anyone who was staring at Y/N.
“It’s good that I’m seen in public…for obvious reason,” he hinted in a quiet voice, obviously talking about needing the cover to continue his life as a masked vigilante.
Once they were outside, Alfred was already waiting at the curb with the Rolls-Royce. He greeted Y/N with a hug and a kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her and Bruce.
When they got to Y/N’s apartment building, she said her goodbyes to Alfred. And Bruce walked Y/N all the way up to her door.
Even though Y/N insisted it was overkill and she could get up the stairs on her own just fine, Bruce had seen too many terrible things in this forsaken city. He could think of thousands of things that could happen to Y/N between the car and her front door.
Once Y/N realized that Bruce’s paranoia came from experience, she stopped trying to stop his chivalry and overprotective ways. She finally understood that Bruce had seen things that would prevent her from ever sleeping again. So if walking Y/N to her door gave him a little peace of mind, she wasn’t going to take that away from him.
Y/N turned to Bruce when they reached her door. “Thanks again for dinner.”
“Of course. I’m glad we could spend some time together. Thank you again for the photos.”
Y/N didn’t realize that Bruce was about to hang every single one around Wayne Manor. 
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Get home safe.”
——————
Y/N woke up wrapped strong arms, her body overheating slightly.
When she had come home from dinner last night, Jason had already left for patrol.
He hadn’t woken her up when he got back home, just proving how exhausted Y/N had been these past few weeks.
But it was the continuous buzzing vibrations of her phone that woke her up. When she brightened the screen, she saw that she had dozens of text messages and three missed called from Bruce.
“What the fuck,” Y/N whispered as she started opening them.
But they were all about the same thing.
Everyone had sent her similar articles from various gossip websites or news outlets.
BRUCE WAYNE’S NEW GIRLFRIEND IS FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER Y/F/N Y/L/N
BRUCE WAYNE’S FLAVOR OF THE WEEK
IS Y/F/N Y/L/N USING THE PRINCE OF GOTHAM TO FURTHER HER CAREER?
All of the headlines were joined with photos of Bruce and Y/N having dinner last night. Apparently other customers at the restaurant had snuck photos of Bruce greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Y/N could see how it would be misinterpreted as romantic and not familial or platonic. But it still made her sick to see the photos twisted in such a way.
Then there were paparazzi photos of them getting in a car together. Of course there were none of Bruce dropping her off and them going their separate ways. That would be just too convenient for the two of them. 
Y/N’s stomach dropped with panic.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she gasped without realizing it.
Jason immediately woke up. “What is it?”
Y/N ignored him and called Bruce.
“I’m handling it,” was how Bruce answered her call.
“Handling it? How exactly?” She challenged. “We can deny the rumors all we want. But everyone is going to keep tabs on us now, and they’re going to see us together again.”
Jason grabbed his own phone.
One of his brothers must’ve sent him a similar article because he rubbed his face in annoyance, finally understanding the situation. 
Nothing like your girlfriend being rumored to have a relationship with her father, who was also your mentor and adoptive father. 
“Y/N, it will blow over. It always does,” Bruce tried to calm her down.
“So what happens when I get photographed with Jason? Huh? They’re going to just say I’m cheating on both of you with each other or some fucked up shit like that.”
Bruce was silent, because they both knew she was right.
Y/N glanced at Jason, who was already waiting for her gaze.
She took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we should…Maybe we should just tell the truth.”
“You’ve never wanted that, Y/N.” Bruce tried to argue.
And he was right.
Y/N was terrified of being associated with the Wayne family. People would start believing she secretly built her career off of nepotism that no one was aware of. She also didn’t want that type of attention from the media and the upperclass of Gotham.
“I don’t think we have any other choice,” Y/N finally answered.
Jason reached for thigh and gripped it, trying to offer her some sort of comfort.
“Y/N, are you sure about this?” Bruce asked slowly.
“No. Not at all. But I’d rather not have the public think I’m dating my biological father.”
“OK,” Bruce sighed. “I’ll talk to my publicist today.”
“OK.” She bit her lip before adding. “Just…tell them the whole story.”
“Y/N, if you’re worried how it will make me look, don’t.”
“But I am worried about it, Bruce. They’re going to drag you for being an absent father. And none of that is true. They’re not gonna understand.”
“I’ll call you later with an update,” he told her softly before hanging up.
Y/N tossed her phone to the foot of the bed in frustration.
Jason watched as she buried her face in her hands.
“You OK?” He asked as he rubbed her back.
“No,” she answered honestly.
“Come here.” Jason pulled her into his chest.
There was no fight from her as he cuddled her tightly.
“This is a fucking nightmare,” she groaned into his shoulder.
“I know. But maybe it’s for the best,” he tried to reason with her.
“And what happens when they catch wind that I’m dating my father’s adoptive son? Huh?”
“We’re not actually related, Y/N.”
She pulled her face back so she could glare at him. “Yeah! We know that! But you do understand that people are going to see it that way, right? Like we’re gonna look like some fucked up incestual couple to them.”
“I don’t really care,” Jason finally told her.
“You don’t care?” She scoffed.
“No,” his answer and confidence didn’t waver. “I don’t give a fuck what people say about us, Y/N. If exposing the truth means we don’t have to think twice about going to events or even just going out to dinner, then I’m all for it. I’m sick of hiding our relationship.”
Y/N blinked. She never considered that their subtle relationship bothered him in any way. She was always a strangely private person, so it felt normal to her. But clearly Jason had been wanting to be a bit more public with their relationship.
“What if this changes everything?” Y/N whispered, not meeting his eyes.
Jason smirked at that and gripped her chin, lifting it up so she would look at him. “Some paparazzi and trash tabloids aren’t going to change how I feel about you, Y/N.”
Y/N laughed lightly at that.
“Maybe we should leave Gotham for a bit,” she offered. “Bruce won’t shut up about paying for a vacation for us.”
Jason nodded. “I think that sounds like a good idea. You’ve needed a break for awhile now.”
“Well…where do you wanna go?” Y/N asked.
“Doesn’t matter to me. As long as you’re there.”
She rolled her eyes and hit Jason in the face with a pillow. “God, you really are a sap.”
Y/N appreciated Jason always being able to make her feel better and feel supported. 
But even he couldn’t stop her from wondering...
What would life be like as a Wayne?
------------------------------
Father of Mine – Bonus Content
954 notes · View notes
ghost-like-pale · 3 years
Text
fuckin' perv
info: some gross guy thinks you're his, sapnap thinks otherwise. 》 female clothing/anatomy, they/them pronouns 》 irl + romantic 》 1.4k words
warnings: (sexual) harassment and assault, physical fighting, hurt/comfort, swearing
a/n: ty for the support on my last piece ♡ please enjoy
this blog it meant as a way of coping with trauma/mental issues, please don't report it. if you don't want to see what i write, please just block me.
——♤——
the evening sun shone an orange glow over the city. the chatter of the citizens rang through the streets past all the tall buildings, the cars and taxis making their way to their patron's destinations and the smell of your favorite restaurants wafted past the pavement. you've grown up in the city, getting used to it, yet never getting bored.
all of these memories made you think about your boyfriend; he was a real country boy - born and raised in texas and everything. it never failed to bring a smile to your face whenever he pointed out a particularly tall office or a pretty neon 'open' sign.
something he's never been very fond of is the people. specifically older men. they always had a certain look on their face as you walked by, making him swing an arm around your hip or slipping a hand in your pocket. he's always been quite protective over his lover. you didn't mind, though.
there wasn't much time to reminisce on your loverboy right now - you were going to see him today! your car broke the day before, so with great displeasure you had to take the bus. you hated public transport. everyone was so close to each other, the air was stuffy and there was always someone to make you horribly uncomfortable.
you pulled your mask further over your nose when you reached the stop. the small space was bordered by plastic panels and a poster for some music event, nothing of interest. the sound coming from your earbuds made your foot tap the the rhythm until the bus finally emerged from the passing traffic.
the ride was peaceful, which made you strangely wary - like a calm moment before the storm. you didn't mind the busride being quiet, but the feeling never shook.
after waving at the busdriver and thanking him kindly, you hopped off the vehicle onto the concrete pavement. three other people walked out with you; and old couple, one holding a walker and a 20-something year old man. the clicking of his tongue grew impatient as he got stuck behind the couple. after a moment the two elders managed to get off the bus safely and the man could finally get to his stop.
you didn't pay them any mind, you wanted to see sapnap as soon as possible. you kept walking at a brisk pace, growing more exited with every step. after passing and crossing a few streets you started to feel uneasy. feeling eyes drilling right through your back, you rummaged in your bag and pulled out a small handheld mirror and lip gloss. as you were applying your gloss you glanced behind you, scanning the faces you could catch from within you peripheral vision.
you were surprised to see the impatient man from the bus stop a few feet behind you. now realizing the situation, you hastily stuff everything back into your bag and start walking again, this time quicker than before. the stabbing look didn't shake, however.
you were getting more anxious as it got darker and the crowds became scarce. the destination was on the edge of the city, where there was nothing other than small stores and the occasional crappy apartment building. the pavement was easy to see if you looked down; no polished dress shoes, no sneakers, no stilettos, nothing. just the occasional group of chatting teenagers passing by or an overworked retail worker walking home.
with every frantic step forward he seemed to get one step closer. the sound of your feet tapping on the floor came to a halt as you arrived at a crosswalk with a red light. the man hummed an unorganized tune and stood behind you and casually waited for the light to turn green. everytime you'd move, so would he. the brief moment waiting in front of the crosswalk felt like centuries.
ding. the pole emitted a bright green and you sighed in relief. you rushed over to the other side of the street, making sure not to hit someone on the way there. as you were moving along you suddenly felt a hand on your back, slowly gliding down over your-
"what are you doing?!"
the panic in your voice didn't phase the man, though he did take his hand off your lower half and placed it on your neck instead. he slowly backed you into a small alleyway while muttering a response.
"calm down, cutie. it's just a hand."
you slapped his hand off yourself, losing the hope you had when you realized you were the only one with him on this block.
"let me go, you creep!"
this response to his 'compliment' didn't please him; he harshly grabbed you by the roots of your hair and pushed you against the cold brick wall of a corner store.
"listen here, bitch. you're gonna listen to me real good, and you're gonna obey everything i tell you, understood?"
you whimpered in pain, shutting your eyes and tears dipping at your chin.
"understood?!"
with another yank at your hair you mewled and nodded hastily. this seemed to satisfy him.
"good. now, let's have some fun, shall we?"
his hand rested on your thigh and gradually made its way up, under your skirt until it hit your underwear. the other was around your wrists, holding them both with his larger hands to the side of your head. his feet trapped yours, putting his weight on your toes so you wouldn't kick him.
"ngh-!"
"heh, can't handle stimulation, can you? guess this will be more fun than i imagined- ugh!"
the man was knocked back harshly, the hand that connected with his face quickly retreating to the body it belonged to. sapnap. the man felt his jaw, there was blood dripping off his lip.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO THEM?!"
sapnap boomed in anger at the man. before he could even think of an answer he was hit again by the same hand. sapnap was now right next to you, him seeing your trembling figure in his peripheral vision. once he was sure that gross excuse of a person was going to stay down he turned to you.
his entire body language changed; his arms turning from tense limbs into a welcoming place to rest in, his chest forming into a warm pillow to fall into, his eyes from a slaughtering rage into a kind and sympathetic expression. your tears were already flowing as you sank into his embrace. he engulfed you completely, shielding you from everything and anyone, soothing the intense fear and horror you just experienced.
"you're okay now, baby. i got you, i got you."
his tone was smooth like honey, the words pulling you further in his secure clutch. the screaming must've attracted a few people, because before you knew it your hug was interrupted by him gently loosening his grasp and lowering his voice.
"we should get home, we don't want this hellhole to become a exhibition. here-"
he unwrapped his arms and pulled his grey hoodie over his head and handed the clothing article to you.
"wear this, baby."
you accepted his hoodie and threw it over your upper body. when you were finished sapnap grabbed your hand and guided you out the alleyway and turning a corner. his car was parked a little further.
"i wanted to give you a nice ride through the outer city, but i think you'd rather be home, am i right?"
you nodded. your face was stung by the wet streaks on your face with the cooling air hitting your features. you eventually reached the car, sapnap sitting down into the driver's position and you plopping down onto the passenger seat.
the soft revving of the car's engine made for a nice background noise as you drove over to sapnap's house. you reached the destination quicker than expected. time didn't feel like it was passing at this point.
your legs refused to move, even when sapnap opened the door for you. sapnap, understanding the situation, picked you up bridal-style and carried you and your bag out the vehicle.
your body was weak, both from the late hours of the night and your vivid memory of what happened about half an hour ago. the mattress sank next to you as you snuggled further under the covers. sapnap radiated warmth, making you move your body towards him and latching onto him like a koala.
"rest, angel. we'll talk about it in the morning."
his voice reverberated in his chest, the vibrations bringing you comfort. his hand found a good spot on the top of your head, lightly pushing it into him.
"good night, (y/n)."
you hummed as a response before passing out. sapnapchuckled at your cute resting face.
"sleep well, baby. you deserve it."
thank you for reading. please don't be too harsh on me, heh
masterlist
504 notes · View notes
kkusuka · 3 years
Text
HQ poly Headcannons  pt. 2
Poly Headcannons <3  part 1 
pairs: Oikawa & Ushijima, Hanamaki & Matsukawa, Suna & Osamu, Kita & Aran, iwaizumi & Kyotani, and Oikawa & Kageyama
nsfw and sfw
Tumblr media
Oikawa Tooru & Ushijima Wakatoshi
Sfw
This was an interesting match up
Considering the fact that Tooru can barely stand sharing you sometimes, they seem to make it work!
You were most likely Ushiwaka’s girlfriend, and Tooru just couldn't stand for that
Well at first he didn't really know that fact
He met you in the stans after an Alders game that he 100% wasn't there to spy on Toshi or to see how much better he got, no way
But luckily, you the beautiful angel of light, sat next to him to cheer for Waka’s team!
So after the game when Tooru was flirting with you and you completely ignored him to go to your boyfriend, Oikawa was more than let down
And you ignored him for the brick wall???? He just didn't understand.
Now he wanted you more than he did when he saw you, even more so that you belonged to the bastard Ushiwaka.
After almost 8 months of befriending you, he finally weaseled into your relationship! And Ushiwaka was so whipped for you he let it happen!
But at that point, he was so whipped for you that he didn't even care that they shared you!
Your guy’s dynamic is a bit twisted and hard to get a good understanding of.
Where Tooru makes it painfully aware to everyone that the two of you are dating, Wakatoshi is like a silent predator
He’s silent but deadly, and you’ve known him for far longer. That means he knows what you really like.
It's simple, he let’s tooru take you on extravagant dates and all that meaningless stuff.
But Ushiwaka is always there waiting at home to cuddle and watch a ton of movies with, he even lets you climb on him and cuddle him like a big teddy bear
Nsfw
This is one of the pairs that I think you're fucked in
It’s a silent competition of who can wreck you worse
Unlike some other Oikawa pairs, I truly believe that Oikawa would top
But Wakatoshi is also a top, a big man who has big needs
This ends up with you most likely with a two cocks one hole situation
If not that, it's the classic split roasts or Eiffel tower!
Oh to have Ushiwaka reaming you with Tooru in your mouth, yeah it's not as peaceful and soft as it sounds
But it’s still worth it
It starts softly! Then they go harder to try and beat the other! Then they really just treat you like a fleshlight.
Thankfully Tooru knows good aftercare techniques
But you still can’t walk for a while
“You can cum for me, show Toshi why you like better, go ahead”  
“You stretch so good for me, even after Tooru’s turn, you're always so tight”
“Look at her little clit, did Ushiwaka not pay enough attention to it? That’s ok! Tooru’s gonna make it all better for you!”
Tumblr media
Hanamaki Takahiro & Matsukawa Issei
sfw 
Let's be real here, you met them at a spencers or a sex shop in a mall.
But it was a cute meetup!
After that, you guys just seemed to keep bumping into each other and became close friends
The initial relationship was started by Makki, he was the more open of the two so it made sense
And it’s been smooth sailing from then on
The amount of inside jokes you guys have is almost ridiculous, everywhere you go in the city you have a joke
You guys spend almost every waking moment with one another
One of their favorite things is to take you shopping, so you can do a little fashion show for them with anything you want to try on!
As in them make you try on revealing outfits for them
Dates normally would include random dinners at restaurants them a movie night/ sleepover
Like you guys would just stay up an fool around for hours on hours
They literally have no problems sharing and are always making sure you're perfectly ok with everything they do.
Nsfw
As expected you guys are very adventurous
Daddy Matsun got you and Makki covered
Well that's when Makki isn't trying to ream you into the couch
They both like toys, like a lot, a lot
Punishment is where the toys really shine, but you can't really call the toy punishment, punishment because you feel really good during it.
And it the most repeated thing you guys do
Mattsun’s the punishment dealer, so he’ll give you the biggest dildo that you guys have, no lube, he’ll tie your arms up and make you try to get down on it
BUT if he’s feeling a bit more punishing, he’ll set up a vibrator and set it to your little clit and turn it ALLLL the way up
But if that isn't enough, he will either let Makki in your ass, or the fuck machine will come out
They really love watching you try to get off, it does two things
1-  it gives them new ideas
2- it shows how much you need them, and their cocks in your little aching holes
This lead to them having you wear plugs in public, which moved to wearing a vibrator
Sometimes, they make you wear a mask, but under the mask
(come here)
(closer)
(closer)
They make you wear a ball gag under your mask
Good babies do what their daddies tell them too <3
“Look ‘Kawa, her hole is so tight she can barely fit both of us, just relax baby. They’ll get in, we’ll make sure of it”
“Makki, spread her legs wider, don't let her his from this”
“Don't make me gag you brat, you’re lucky Makki is in good mood, huh?”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Suna Rintaro & Osamu Miya
The way you got together was like love at first sight  
For both of them too
You met Osamu first, you were seated next to him at an Italian cooking class
You guys had joked around and he was so impressed by your cooking that he got your number!
(he won't tell you but he had already sent pictures of you to Suna, and he was doing it allllllllll night)
He immediately invited you to Onigiri Miya, where you met Mr. Rintarou
Who was already practically in-love with you just from pictures.
You were clearly drawn to them, they were so cool!
They made a big scene of asking you out too
They both took you to one of the best restaurants in the city and had a private balcony dinner
After dessert they took both of your hands and asked you, in sync nonetheless, you do wonder how long it took for them to figure out how to do that
Clearly, you said yes, and that was the first of the many great memories you have with the two!
Since they both have pretty busy schedules they can't always come to you, so you go to them!
Even if they assured you that you didn't have to work, that never stops you from taking up shifts and Onigiri Miya on Monday and Fridays, (sometimes on Wednesdays if Osmau relents)
Even when you do work, you make time to make and bring Suna lunch every time he has all day practice
(you make them both lunch every day, but they can get it themselves, they are grown men, and you serve no one)
Traditional dates are less common, you guys mostly just like to hang out with each other
Like 3 am cooking challenges and asking to get ice cream from the shop down the road
You guys also, when you can, just spend hours cuddling in your bed or on the couch just in each other's arms
(can you tell i’m uwu-ing)
Nsfw
For having a busy schedule you guys sure do have time to fuck
A common theme is having Samu fuck you when Suna watches
God, watching you fall apart around his best friends dick will never get old, so so pretty when you're all fucked out and begging for him too
Sometimes hell have you suck him off, but he isn't unstable he can wait his turn~
Osamu works just as hard as he does, he has to let oust some stress and, you're just so good at making them feel better
Remember the cuddling?
Yes, that's a guise to cockwarm you, let them relax you always feel so good and today was s stressful
I can tell you saw this coming but, Suna likes to put whipped cream all over you, it gives him an excuse to eat you out for hours and Osamu and excuse to have you naked and able to eat as much whipped cream as he wants
Do they like double penn.?
Yes, very much so ma’am.
Just know that you are stuffed at any available moment they can manage
*cough*  whipped  *cough*
“look she’s grinding into like a circus whore huh ‘Samu? go harder” 
“look into the camera baby, tell them all the things you’d love for them to do to you” 
Tumblr media
Iwaizumi & Kyoutani
This was an interesting one for sure
A senpais pretty girlfriend thing too
Iwaizumi knew Mad Dog had a crush on you before he did, and he did everything in his power to deny the accusation
The entire team could see how the second year was calm and behaved when you were around, so taking the high road
Iwaizumi came a with a plan: bring you and Kyotani as close as possible
All with consent firm you and knowing he was ok with anything that would happen
Suddenly inviting him to hang out with the two of you
Then it was letting him have you in his lap while you watch movies
And that progressed into letting him cuddle you after bad days, never  without Iwa of course
Everyone on the team could tell the effects that it was having on him, he was calmer and easier to get along with.
He even started listening to Oikawa when he spoke, it was like a miracle.
And k\Kyotani finally got enough courage to tell you!
(you had pretty much known, but wanted him to say it himself)
Thus began what I would call that “Kyotani learns how to love” saga
Dates were first, they both took you to a small field of flowers to have a picnic and when it got dark out you guys set up a sheet and watched a movie!
For the both of them being temperamental, they got along really well
(mostly because Kyotani hangs off nay words you or Iwaizumi say)
You also make the both of them lunch and some afternoon snacks for practice!
(and if anyone who sees you guys, they’ll never mention how odd the two angry boys look next to their sweet little princess)
Nsfw
Sir Iwaizumi holds the torch
He’s the main dominant force, though Kyotani tries oh he does
Yeah, hate to say it but you bottom for them, every time.
A big thing is when he lets Kyo get you alone (while he watches)
Yeah maybe he lets kyo take over every once in a while, he’ll let him have you
Iwaizumi love having you under him, putting you in the mating press while Kyo watches from a chair a vibrator tied to him, just watching until Iwa finishes and leys Kyo try and breed you
You guys have also dedicated hours to getting you stretch enough to take both of them in one hole, but if not that then one hole for each of them will do
As you could imagine, they both love marking you up
You always come out of sex looking beat up
Most of the bruises are on your neck and inner thighs, but the bites on your nipples and the curve of your ass beg to differ
Now the real question is when Kyo is being bad!
Feathery kisses all over him, that's not where he wants your mouth, lower go lower
Don’t leave him!
He always learns his lessons after hours of waiting Iwa breed you
You being bad?
No cumming for a week, they can play with you but unless you want the time to get longer you don’t even think about orgasming.
“Calm down Kentaro, it’s too early to break her, we just got started.”
“Yeah i let Hajime have you but you still belong to me too, don’t forget that”
Tumblr media
Kita Shinsuke  & Aran Ojiro
This was the perfect girl next door story!
Middle school aran was so thankful to have you calm him down after yet another Miya twins episode
So as the two of you grew up it was natural that you became friends with his friends!
Namely his bestfriends- Kita!
Who was practically at your feet the second you met
From first to third year, they both grew to REALLY like you
They were both ready to spend the rest of their lives with you and were prepared to share if you wanted that.
The day you guys all got together was when they lost to Karasuno at nationals
You guys went back you the hotel room and just sat, cooing how well they did and how great they were no matter the outcome
It wasn't out of the normal for them to be all over you, both of them got a hand, but Aran was nestled into your lap and Kita was snuggled into your chest
Nothing was planned either, at that moment they knew that it was their chance!
The look on their faces when you said that you felt the same!
From then on you were treated even more like a queen
Every Monday before school one of them gets you a bouquet of flowers for the week and the other comes up with a date idea!
You're involved in the dates cycle and that now have a pile of stuffed animals that you got them from things like festivals or the mall
Since your relationship started with a cuddle, it's a favorite between you guys
A movie and some take out. Making fun of the Miya twins, and when Kita won’t admit it, you guys watch a rom-com, where you and Aran laugh at Kita's confused face when he doesn't understand the joke
Even with all of that, the real favorite between you guys is staying after practice and just having fun while cleaning up.
They just wuvvv uuuuuuuuu <3
Nsfw
Even if Kita is the commanding voice, Aran id the driving force
Kita likes when you two put on a show for him
Not that it's hard, even if Aran wasn't half as good as he was, your faces could satisfy him until his dying days.
Speaking of shows, Kita is a dictator, which means punishments
One of his favorites is having you finger fuck yourself in front of him and Aran until you can't move
Another is tying you up at having you watch the both of them jerk off to seeing you try and get off by grinding on the sheets (which does not work)
Aran, whether he admits it or not, he took a page out of Suna’s book
His entire hidden photo album is of you either being fucked by him or sucking Kita off
He also has an entire recorded version do you guys fucking that he and Kita watch when you aren't home
When Kita does have you to himself he takes on the Dom/Sub kinda thing
Aka borderline pet play
You sit and listen to him and what he says like a good pet, and you get a reward!
He dresses you up in little white dresses and he has you kneel in front of him and cockwarm him while he works
When Aran has you alone he takes the chance toooooo
….
..
Breed you!
Like a good little girl!
You take his cum so so well, don't you!
Yes yes, you do!
“Don’t let her walk all over you Aran, breed her like a good cow” (i had to, I really did)
“You look so pretty stretched around my cock, you're a good breeding whore, right? Yes, you are!” 
Tumblr media
Oikawa Tooru & Tobio Kageyama
This was a classic “in love with my senpais pretty girlfriend” kinda thing
Kags didn't mean to
He had known you from middle school and had a huge crush on you, but he knew that was as far as it would go
But when you came up to him after the game with seijoh and told him that he would have better luck next time
It was the hug that got him and in true Kageyama fashion he just couldn't help the words that fell from his mouth
“Thank you, you're still really pretty, and I've always loved you!”
Silence………………………………….
He couldn't even apologize because Oikawa was already on you yelling at him about never letting you near Kageyama again.
Yeah you had calmed both of them down, telling Tooru that he was overreacting and Kageyama was harmless to your relationship
After a few days of silence, you had invited Kageyama to have a “talk” with you and Oikawa
It was really just talking about feelings and ultimately Oikawa admitting that he was willing to give it a try, but you were his first and foremost and that won’t change
But you were quick to realize that they were actually really good together
The rivalry between the two always kept you on your toes and fueled both of their superiority complexes
Dates were always happening all the time, anther constant competition for you to like one of them better than the other
It's mostly movies and take out but its a date nonetheless
One thing they love to do is try to teach you how to play, all the time they try to get you to hit their sets
Even if you're awful at it, they appreciate you trying to learn more about their greatest passion.
You also try to go to as many of their practices as you can manage, they really love having you there to cheer them on!
Nsfw
Ok so at first Kageyama had absolutely no idea what to do, so some exploring was mandatory
Finding out he was a switch was a happy surprise!
That leads to things going two ways!
You could have Tooru taking his throne in the bedroom and he commands his two peasants to do exactly what he wants them too
This can include just regular soft sex with your little tobio gazing and longing for him, while tooru watches
Or
Tooru will have the two of you grinding, Tobio with a cock ring and you a strict order to no cum until told.
Or maybe he’ll have the two of you ride dildos, tied up and making a pretty show for him
Or you could have Tobio dictating both of you
This is mostly having you ride him while Toru watches, but he can't touch
It also might be Tooru eating you out and kags in your mouth, fucking your face. <3
Whenever either of the boys wins something you take all the time in the world and worship him as he deserves!
“Aw! Tobio I know you can go faster than that! Oh ho ho, ~ y/n I know you aren't about to cum! I didn't give you the go-ahead! Hold on, baby!”
“Tooru you look so weak. You haven't even touched her and you're ready to cum.”
“You look so pretty under me, Tobio~ let me and Tooru take care of you!”  
1K notes · View notes
dorimena · 3 years
Text
𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖊
Tumblr media
𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; todoroki shouto
𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.8k
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; sex toy (egg vibrator), public sex, slight exhibitionism, dry humping, implied edging, cursing, cumming in pants, dom!reader, sub!character
𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; I tried keeping the reader as gender-neutral as possible, Todoroki just wants you to know how much he loves you, so if wearing a vibrator makes you happy so be it, if this were the first time Todoroki were doing this he wouldn’t have shamelessly allowed himself to cum, aka I’m thinking about doing something with this AU I guess
𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; This is for 🍦 anon’s ask about either Todoroki or Aizawa wearing a vibrator in a meeting. I decided to make him the son of CEO Endeavor, so this is a modern AU. There could be some errors around here, but I’ll check it out later. Sorry for the horrible title
Tumblr media
Todoroki loves you; he truly does.
Even at the beginning of your relationship, while he still had difficulties in trusting you entirely and accidentally brushed you aside in fear of being too attached or clingy, he’s always known he loves you.
He loves you in the mornings when you wake him up with such a tired yet peaceful expression.
He loves you in the afternoons when you’re cooking dinner in the weird apron Mina gave you as a housewarming gift. (Why cheetah prints?)
He loves you in the night when you massage his shoulders after a treacherous meeting gone south too fast, easing words of adoration and affirmation into his mind while you’re sporting a funky looking face mask.
He loves you anywhere, anytime, however you look, however you talk… He’ll do anything to keep you happy and know about his unlimited love and respect for you.
Even if it means he has to wear an egg vibrator inside of him during his dad’s meeting. The very meeting where it’ll be decided if his dad’s company merges with some young entrepreneur’s named Keigo or something. He can’t seem to remember.
Not like he really cares, anyways. He doesn’t want to inherit his dad’s company. But Touya decided to spite their father by starting up his own, Fuyumi seems pretty happy being an elementary school teacher and Natsuo is busy being a doctor.
God, the only great thing to come out of inheriting this lame company is that he’ll get to see you every day, any day, all the time.
You’re one of his dad’s best logistician coordinators, and while no one in this meeting room know you two have been dating for much longer than your professional career, he’s certain that your horrible rendition of a relaxed façade will raise eyebrows at why him, the youngest Todoroki offspring, is trembling under your stare.
It’s kind of weird bringing something usually done in the bedroom and displaying it secretly in public. Even more weird considering the room is full of older people, except for him, you, that Keigo guy, some secretaries from both companies…
Where was he getting at again?
Oh, right.
The egg vibrator in his ass being controlled by your evil hands (and cellphone) buzzing so teasingly in him, he can’t remember the young entrepreneur’s name. Or the reason why he’s even willingly here in the first place.
He’s trying so hard to keep himself quiet, knowing how god awfully vocal he can get when teased or played with just right. He’s pretty sure his bottom lip is really close to bleeding, or already is. And his palms situated on the dark oak and, in your opinion, ridiculously high-priced table surely have deep dents of his fingernails, maybe some accidental scratches.
O-oh no!
“Shouto? Are… you alright?”
Shit, did he say that out loud?
“Yes, and refrain from vulgar language.”
Todoroki let go of his lip, blinking at his father as he raised an eyebrow. Or so he hopes he did.
“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me, old man.” And he’s never felt so happy hearing his father’s resigned sigh before the meeting continues. It’s unusual for the man to drop a conversation.
His joy doesn’t last for long: the vibrator in his ass is suddenly more intense than a few seconds ago, reminding him why he even spoke out loud.
Pressing his thighs together in hopes it’ll help lessen the buzzing he can finally hear, he looks across the table to give you what is meant as a curious look, but ends up just making him look completely lost.
Was it a slip of your thumb? Was it a punishment? But why punish him if he’s doing this for you? Had he been bad?
Did he miss something when you two spoke about it during breakfast? Wait, was your toast too burnt-
“Ah-” He gasped in surprise, with a frantic and scared look in his eyes. The rhythm of the vibrations changed into one that wasn’t as constant, but it’s still very, very pleasurable. Reminds him of his heartbeat when you milk another fast handjob out of him before he has to meet up with his father.
“Shouto, are you sure you’re alri-”
“Y-yes, father. I’m f-fine. L-leg cra-amp.” Well, it could’ve come out less coherent, but it’s the best he can speak with gritted teeth and tense shoulders, all while holding back his embarrassing whimpers. It’s enough, again, to make the elder Todoroki look away from his ‘agonizing’ son, soon wondering if these meetings are beginning to bore and wear out the young future CEO and soon make him feel a familiar fear he had when Touya-
But who cares about Enji’s worries and concerns when you have a trembling Shouto Todoroki, whose face is beginning to turn as red as half his hair and eyes as wet as his bottom lip after being bitten mercilessly. You’re sure you can see some red, probably dug his teeth too much and tore the skin a little, but it’s pretty swollen regardless. Maybe his dick is too?
Oh! What if you suck his dick under the table?
No, then everyone will know how he’s so smitten with you, just some random logistician coordinator instead of some offspring of another CEO. Funny how the supervisors care more about Shouto’s relationship status than his own father.
So, maybe just switching back to the rhythm being a continuous hum and finish dragging your thumb up the screen so that the toy can reach its greatest ability?
Too easy, let’s drag it out a little.
But Todoroki won’t let you, not with how he’s caressing your exposed ankle with his shoe, eyes staring pathetically into yours, mouthing “need to, need to, need to”.
So soon? You’ve barely had your fun. You can’t blame him entirely, either.
That morning, the moment you showed him the vibrator you bought for him to wear, he was already whimpering softly, moaning pleas into your neck between every kiss, all while he pressed his hard on against your thigh.
But you didn’t let him do anything to get rid of it, sending him off to get ready, even if he left whining. (He knows better than to throw a tantrum.)
Maybe he’s still sensitive after making him hump your thigh before the meeting?
Yeah, definitely.
It’s pleasant to remember his whimpers of embarrassment that soon turned into soft moans of gratitude, letting you take control of how fast he goes and how hard, all while listening to you explain the toy as he tries not to cum so soon.
You didn’t let him cum (again) because of his father’s secretary calling him to ask where he even was as the meeting began some minutes ago. Oops.
Even if it ‘ruined’ the mood, he was still so excited, and you’re starting to think you can finally see it begin to also appear on his face.
You didn’t change the rhythm or intensity, so it should’ve been enough for Shouto to get used to it, but he couldn’t. Not while he realized, tensing his thighs helped him feel so much more, and his constant shuffling and accommodation on the chair should’ve alerted you or someone, but who would’ve even thought he was trying to fuck the toy possibly deeper inside of him?
He’s pulling himself closer to the table, bringing a tight fist towards his mouth to feign a cough.
He usually does this so that he is dismissed for a break that he’d take as an open invitation to leave. Not on your watch.
Just as he was going to cough, you finished dragging your thumb to the top part of your cell phone screen and watched as his whole body jolted, and even his knee and elbow hit the table.
The room falls to a complete halt, all conversations interrupted by the young Todoroki… moan? Did the young Todoroki just moan?
He doesn’t even realize what is going on with the way he’s trying so hard to stand up and leave. But his legs are too uncoordinated with how violently the toy is vibrating, mercilessly going crazy against his sensitive prostate that just sends more arousal to his dick. If he looks close enough, he’s pretty sure he’s already beginning to leak through his expensive suit trousers.
His mouth opens in complete shock, but with a familiar hand covering it from behind, he forgets about his surroundings temporarily as he pathetically yet cutely whimpers, wrapping his arms around his stomach.
Not like it hurts, just that he’s pretty close to making a bigger mess in his clothes. He’s not sure how he’ll feel about that, not with the way he just realized he’s still very much in public, very much in a meeting, very much in the same room as his father and soon-to-be subordinates.
That has him closing his eyes quickly, feeling himself becoming cross-eyed at how ridiculing this situation is more for his father than for him, and how you oh-so-accidentally brushed against his nipple to hook your arms under his to get him on his feet.
He’s not even sure what you’re saying at this point, everything being muffled by his heartbeat in his ears and loud buzzing taking over his senses and modesty. Something about him complaining about a stomach ache and how you’ll take him to his office.
The men with gray hairs are talking among themselves about how irresponsible Shouto is with himself, others praising how, even in an ill state, he still attended, Keigo watching the ordeal with an odd look on his face, akin to familiarity of the situation probably, and Enji Todoroki being completely lost but slowly feeling his anger rising by the commotion slowly becoming too loud for his liking and comprehension.
But it’s thanks to this distraction that manages to mute out, miraculously, his mewls of your name as his hips twitch wildly, knees buckling as his orgasm takes over his body in violent, clashing waves. His few hot tears are dripping from his chin as he shamelessly moans softly with every shock of pleasure, still trying his best to stand properly.
He doesn’t even get to finish riding out his high before being dragged out of the meeting room, pretty sure he hears his father’s yells flooding the hallway as you snicker in amusement and rub your thumb on the back of his hand you’re holding. Your other hand occupied itself with turning the toy off, eyes set on the elevator closing in.
“You did great, Shou. I’m so proud of you.”
Your praises always make him keen, but this one makes him moan the loudest today, his shaky hands finding purchase on your hips to press them flush against his. Doesn’t matter the curious wet spot on his crotch, all that matters is that you know how horny he still is.
“P-please? Please, y-y/n. I-I think I ne-need more. St-still hot!”
Now, who are you to deny the man who came in front of his father shamelessly?
576 notes · View notes