#I feel like a lot of authors have done a lot to move away from that interpretation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thevillainswhore · 6 months

Text

A Forbidden Invitation

Pairing: Best Friend’s Dad!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Summary: You think a one night stand from the summer, the best fuck of your life, is a done deal — a single, heated encounter that now lives vividly in your memories. But you learn that your actions have consequences when you befriend a new student, starting in the new term, and she invites you over to meet her Dad.

Warnings: Age gap, flashback, betrayal of friendship, manipulation, coercion, reader has severe daddy issues and self esteem problems, derogatory names, daddy kink, praise kink, smut, kissing, nipple play, blowjob, throat fucking, choking, fingering, pussy slapping, p in v sex, squirting.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne

“Come on, babe!” Rebecca whined at the edge of your bed. “You’re telling me a weekend away from this shithole doesn’t sound good?”

It had been a whole hour of your friend begging you to come back home with her for your midterm break and while you usually had the patience of a saint, it was difficult to keep composed as she refused to back down to your unacceptable reasoning.

You sighed, finally closing your laptop with an inwards huff and coming to terms that you would not be getting any more work done. Blowing out a breath, you leveled your gaze onto her.

“Becs,” you treaded carefully, mindful of her feelings. “It’s very sweet of you. But, I really need to get my work finished.” Rebecca’s face fell sullen and you rushed to explain. “I just like my time alone, y'know? I concentrate better.”

Her brunette hair fell over her eyes as she bowed her head. This girl really knew how to put on a show and you playfully rolled your eyes at her dramatics. But as she lifted her head with a pout and her wide, shining ocean blues, you knew you were done for.

Oh no. The puppy eyes.

“Hey!” You pointed at her. “No—stop that! I’m not changing my mind.”

The intensity of her stare only worsened while she slowly gained on you. “But what am I gonna tell my Dad when he asks when you’re not there?”

“Wait.” Clarity hit you then and you held your hand up to stop your friend in her tracks. With a glare you questioned, “Did you already say I was coming?”

The guilty twitch of her eye said it all. “Maybe—“

“Becca!”

“I couldn’t help it!” she swore. “My dad invited you, I couldn’t tell him no.”

“He invited me?” you asked, surprised.

“Yeah. The day we met, he called to see how I was doing—asked if I had made any new friends.”

She shrugged. “We’ve moved around a lot ever since I can remember and trying to fit in somewhere…” Her voice suddenly grew quiet as she solemnly whispered, “I’ve never had a real friend before. You’re the only one who’s been able to stick around for so long and he really wants to meet you.”

The frustration embedded in you faded out to make way for the sudden ache in your heart. To your knowledge, Rebecca was a new student who transitioned to your college in the middle of the recent school year. Both of you had a couple of classes together and the first time you ever saw her still reigned fresh in your mind.

The doors to the auditorium crashed open as she stumbled in late and out of breath to her first class. Strands of her brown hair fell from the messy bun on the top of her head and her cheeks coloured bright red; it pained you to watch her embarrassment as a room of over a hundred stared at her, along with the professor. And so began your friendship when you rushed out of your seat to help her with her huge stack of books, ushering her to the back to sit next to you.

Since then the two of you had been inseparable. Rebecca was a genuine, lovely girl — sweet and a breath of fresh air to your college life. She never failed to let you know how appreciative she was to your kindness of friendship, so even though you had only known her for a short while, it felt as though she was a true friend; one who would be staying around for a while.

Sighing in defeat, there was no way you could decline the offer after hearing she had been gushing over you to her Dad. “Okay, okay—Fine. I’ll come— AH!”

You squealed as she leapt onto you, knocking you back against your mattress as she profusely thanked you while vibrating with joy. The giggles and uncontrolled laughter that filled your room masked the unexplainable dread knotted in your stomach. But not wanting to tarnish Rebecca’s excitement, you let go of your worries for the time being.

Going to the club alone wasn’t an activity you made a habit out of; you understood the dangers of your vulnerability to men who couldn’t take a hint.

However, that summer night — a hazy memory now in the present — forbade common sense and instead, threw it out of the window. Not to be seen again until you woke up the next day.

The stress of the week had gotten too much for you; too many assignments needing to be handed in at once, your parents bombarding you with passive aggressive texts about their ongoing disappointment with you and the cherry on top of it all, you had caught your boyfriend cheating on you with the girl he had sworn you had nothing to worry about.

So of course, that week in particular had tested you. But instead of moping around your dorm room, your mind unhelpfully persisted with the motion to get shitfaced drunk and allow future you to worry about your problems. In the moment, you thought that to be your most genius idea of the week — letting your hair down in a sweaty nightclub around people you didn’t know and not caring about the consequences sounded perfect.

In hindsight, it was probably one of your most beautiful mistakes.

You remembered it all clearly. The newfound freedom of not giving a fuck, the humid air with the bass of the speakers invading your ears — every small detail added to the atmosphere as you were in your own world in the middle of the dancefloor, erotically swaying your hips side to side and running your hands through your hair.

The short cocktail dress you had worn to make yourself feel good illuminated your curves while also giving you the liberty to dance without limit to your movement. You wanted to forget for a while — go crazy and let loose.

Which was why the stunning pair of cerulean eyes that pinned you down across the room from the bar was your ticket to a night of fun — everything you needed at the moment in time. From your vantage point, the stranger looked to be in his forties, but in the best way possible. His form was built, the right amount of muscle carrying his frame and his grown out brown locks tucked behind his ears. No one had ever looked more sexy to you.

Aware of being the center of attention to an attractive stranger, you smoothed your hands down from your hair, seductively over your neck, teasing your glowing skin and finally to your chest. You bit your lip when his hungry stare that soaked your lace underwear focused on your tits, overspilling from your dress and you watched, smug and exhilarated as the unknown man tightened his fist against his tight trouser cladded thighs.

Through the whole night, the delightful burn of his stare never left you. A brand was marked into your skin; a warning to everyone else that you were spoken for — only for the night at least.

If you ordered a drink at the bar, the stranger was a couple of seats down from you, greedily lapping up your figure. If you were sitting in the smokers area, catching your breath and cooling down, he was there too, leaning against the brick wall smoking a cigarette with his attention solely focused on you, no matter the amount of women who were not so discreetly throwing themselves over him.

Even at the end of the night, as you once again danced to the deep bass of the beat among everyone else, he watched you from his own corner, still as enamored with you as the first time your eyes met.

Adrenaline spiked your veins. It was addicting to be the object of someone’s desires, to be seen.

You had only spoken through heated looks and loaded glances, but he was unlike any man you had encountered before. Mysterious and cryptic. You were just as lost in him as he was into you and you couldn’t have cared less that he was obviously older than you. It was what you needed. He was what you needed.

The buzz from the few shots you had taken reached their peak and you decided it was now or never to claim what you so rightfully deserved.

With a bounce in your step, you strutted in your heels through the crowd of people, never taking your eyes off your prize and him neither. He licked his lips as you closed the distance, stopping just before you bumped into the tip of his shoes.

“Listen,” you spoke over the music, determined and resolute. “I’m gonna skip past the pleasantries and bullshit.” The allured stranger raised his eyebrow, intrigued. “You want me and I definitely want you. So, do you want to get out of here?”

Your bravery faltered slightly as you realised in his close proximity how direct you had been. While you were almost certain this stranger was as attracted to you as you were to him, the tiny seed of doubt that a mature man wouldn’t want to hook up with someone as young as you revoked your liquid courage.

But that worry soon disappeared when he gave you a fierce once over now you were up close. A raging storm of lust and desire clouded his beautiful eyes, wild and desperate to get his hands on you. Your breaths came in quick and heavy as he smirked so sinfully. The bastard knew he held so much power in the palm of his hands when his body towered over yours, the difference in size between you not hard to miss. There you could tell the fun had already begun.

The rest of the club became a blur as he brought his mouth down to your ear. You felt each slow and steady breath against the curve of your neck and you were sure even in the darkness, he noticed the goosebumps that littered your skin. “All I need you to know tonight is my name.” His voice was as sexy as you had imagined, a deep, rasped husk that made your legs weak. But it was his next words that almost made you collapse. “Because it’s the only thing you’re gonna be screamin’ for the rest of the night, darlin’.”

Your mind grew foggy at the next sequence of events. The hustle of getting into a car and fiercely making out in the backseat until you arrived at an upscale hotel. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were waiting impatiently at the reception desk and the next you were stumbling into a lavish hotel room, unable to keep your hands off each other as items of clothing flew across the room in your haste to get naked.

The two of you bumped into the array of furniture in the hallway, the thought of tearing away from each other's lips unbearable. Bucky, you learned was his name, was an amazing kisser, his tongue gently teased yours as he threaded his fingers through your hair and he kept a firm grip of your cheeks like he was desperate to keep you close.

“Fuck,” he slurred between kisses. “You’re so— fuckin’— gorgeous.” His eagerness to keep his lips against yours while complimenting you spun you for a loop, unfamiliar to this kind of intensity.

The clink of dog tags were the culprit to halt your motions while he kept on kissing you, traveling down the slope of your neck and to your shoulders to bite your skin. As he was occupied, you took your chance to admire his physique. For a man his age, he was jacked — a toned stomach with several abs sharp enough to cut and two deliciously slender grooves running underneath his trousers to a bulge big enough for you to let an unhinged moan escape.

His body was sickening, he truly had no business to look as good as he did for a man his age. But like hell were you going to complain when all the boys at college disappointed you time and time again. The bar was low and this man had already exceeded your expectations, he was only supposed to be an idea fit for your wildest fantasies. Yet, there he was, real and existing.

Time was of the essence and you wasted none of it as you ripped yourself out of his hold, left in only your underwear, and dropped to your knees without pause to hurriedly remove his belt.

“Oh, shit.” He gulped. “Baby— baby—you don’t have to do that—“

You hushed his assurances and batted away his hands that tried to pull you up without real effort. “No, I don’t have to. But I want to.” Fluttering your eyes, you looked up at him and slyly smirked. “Let me suck your cock. You just worry about having a good time.” With a wink, you unlooped the expensive leather through the buckle and dropped it to the floor, soon after working to unzip his fly and rid him of the offending trousers that stood in your way.

The material slid down his thick thighs and he was left stood in his underwear, black briefs tented from his hard cock. A frenzied need to soothe the urge to get your mouth around him took the reins when you instantly nuzzled into his crotch.

“Fuck me, you’re a needy little slut aren’t you?” He wrapped your hair into a ponytail around his fist, controlling your movements. Though, there was no reason to, eager as you were. You would have done anything he asked.

You did do anything he asked.

You hummed while suckling the tip of his cock over the material of his underwear, “Mhm.” He threw his head back and groaned like a wild beast while you admired the wet patch growing on the fabric before your very eyes. It was unhinged — raw. But your stranger of the night didn’t seem to care, too fucked out as his eyes rolled back from pleasure.

Unable to control your burst of desire, you suddenly shucked his briefs down.

Your mouth fell open at the sheer size of him, an audible gasp echoed over the silence of the marble walls. Never had you seen a dick as pretty or big before and the drool that had gathered in your mouth began to leak out the side of your mouth.

You were aching for him.

With a cocky smile, the man tapped under your chin twice to direct your head upwards. “Up here, darlin’—I want those pretty eyes on me when you take my cock.”

Immediately opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out for him, he chuckled breathily at the crazed look in your dilated pupils. “Well, aren’t you just the biggest whore I ever did see.” Grabbing his cock and pressing the tip onto your tongue, he began to slide it forward. “Good fuckin’ job I like ‘em that way. Now open up wide so I can fuck your throat, baby—”

“Babe!”

Jolting out of your memory infused dream with a shriek, you span your head around to Rebecca in the drivers seat of her car. “Oh, there you are!” she hissed, teasingly. “I called for you like ten times. Where the fuck did you go?”

You swallowed the dryness coating your throat and hastily sat up. A hot sweat had settled over your skin and you immediately grabbed your water bottle from the footwell and chugged it down.

Once you had cooled down, you glanced back at your friend, cringing at the raised eyebrow that meant you weren’t getting out of an explanation. “I, uh— I’m sorry I didn’t—um—get much sleep last night,” you lamely replied.

The unimpressed expression on her face told you she didn’t believe you. But you were saved when her face suddenly lit up with glee. “Eek! We’re finally here!”

Had a three hour drive really gone by that fast?

Looking out the car window, your eyes widened when you saw an estate, guarded by iron gates around the whole property, surrounded by acres upon acres of land. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, even when Rebecca began animatedly speaking with someone by the toll station.

Who the fuck was this girl?

Eventually, she pulled up to the house, passing the stone driveway with a water fountain in the middle and cut the engine off. “Come on, you. My Dad’s expecting us.”

You were in a daze while you opened your door, stepping out the car and taking in every inch of the property. You would have never guessed your friend, the most down to earth and humble person on campus, had a lavish lifestyle with all the trimmings. It was clear she didn’t feel the need to brag about her privilege and her nonchalant attitude about it only baffled you more.

The doors to the mansion suddenly swung open and what you could only have presumed to be a butler promptly rushed towards the car. “Miss Barnes, how lovely to see you again.”

Rebecca scoffed and hugged the man without hesitation. “Don’t be silly. You know you don’t call me that.”

Even with her sweetness, he remained as professional then ever and brushed by her to pick up her bags. “Of course, Miss Barnes. Your father is out at the minute, but he has left you a gift by the entryway table.”

With a high pitched scream, your friend ran inside without looking back. It was hard not to smile at her carefree ways and trying to shake the deepening apprehensiveness from the moment Rebecca invited you, you rounded to the boot of the car to grab your luggage.

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am.” The butler immediately stepped forward and swiftly picked up your bags along with Rebecca’s with ease.

“Oh, no that’s okay, honestly! I can bring them in no problem!” You tried detesting, not used to any kind of special treatment.

But it was no use as he kindly insisted, “There is no need to worry. Please relax and join your friend, I believe there is a gift for you too.”

Sighing, you yielded and eventually followed in your friend’s steps, twiddling your fingers anxiously while you walked into the foyer of the mansion.

Carefully crafted marble walls with what you could only guess were decorated with millions of dollars worth of extravagant paintings, lined up neatly up to the grand, spiral staircase where a round oak table sat in front of it.

You instantly spotted two gift baskets, difficult to miss as they were both filled to the brim with an assortment of treats and bright pink tissue paper.

Rebecca was already busy appreciating hers, taking care to read the note her father had presumably left her and gushing over the copious amount of sweet treats, new nightwear and a cashmere blanket, like this wasn’t a regular occurrence to her.

However, it was surprising to see you had also been spoiled; all of your favourites, intricately placed in the hamper. Your eye caught the note addressed with your name on and hesitantly, you reached out for it and unfolded the card — a simple yet polite message inside.

I can only apologise that I wasn’t here upon your arrival.

I’ve heard great things about you from my Becs and I sincerely look forward to meeting you when I’m home.

Please make yourself comfortable and enjoy the contents of your gift basket.

J.B.B.

“Oh, he’s the best,” Rebecca swooned, hugging the white blanket to her chest. “He said he got called into work for a couple of hours so he should be back tonight.

You exhaled, flitting your eyes over your new gifts. The information eased your nerves slightly — you were never any good at meeting parents, whether that be of friends or partners. The dynamic of a happy household wasn’t one you had experience with and the idea of ruining first impressions caused an anxiety you didn’t particularly care to revisit often. Especially now that Rebecca had come into your life — a friend you could absolutely see yourself building a strong bond with.

Realising you had been silent for too long, you spoke up, “Your Dad is very kind.” Your fingers inched forward and ran over the soft material of your very own matching cashmere blanket, it felt like you were touching a cloud. From the corner of your eye, you caught your friend suddenly looking sheepish. “What’s wrong?” you asked, turning towards her.

“I’m sorry about all of this.” She vaguely gestured her hand up in the air, to which you guessed she meant the sheer amount of money that screamed in your face. “I didn’t warn you and I should have. It's just that—” Rebecca’s eyes darted down and she crossed her arms over her stomach, shrinking in on herself.

You stepped closer, rubbing your hand over her arm for comfort. “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

She took a deep breath before lifting her gaze to you and shrugging. “I didn’t know if your intentions would be good if you knew about the money.”

“Oh, Becs.” Your heart ached at the obvious trauma from her past. Squeezing her arm, you attempted to uplift the sullen mood with some playful teasing. “I became your friend because I couldn’t get rid of you. Although, now it doesn’t hurt to know your family is loaded.”

Reluctantly, the smile grew on her face, turning into a bright grin she no longer could hide. “You’re awful.”

“Tell me about it.” You winked, nudging her hip with your own. “Seriously, you’re a good person and I’m your friend because I want to be. I couldn’t give a fuck if you’re rich.”

The muscles of her body relaxed and she quickly pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, babe.”

“It’s nothing, silly.” You squeezed her one last time before breaking away.

Rebecca sniffled, blinking away the onslaught of tears that were close to falling before cheerfully grabbing her basket. “Come on then, let’s go set up and order some pizza.”

Picking up your own basket, you followed your friend up to her room.

The few hours spent working on your assignments, eating pizza and listening to music flew by. Spending so much time with Rebecca actually turned out to be fun. You usually spent all your free time by yourself, respiting into a hermit because of your inability to enjoy friendly companionship.

But it was to your surprise that you found yourself not regretting agreeing to the trip. The thought of being back at your dorm, wasting your night away by sleeping, watching trash tv and succumbing to the vibator in your bedside drawer begging you to relive a night of passion now seemed sad as you glanced at your friend and the corner of your lip curled up.

That bubble burst quickly when a shout coming from the foyer echoed up to the open bedroom door. “Rebecca, sweetheart—I’m home!”

Instantly, her eyes widened and she shoved the laptop she was using off her lap at once, squealing with joy before leaping off the bed and running downstairs. “Dad!”

Your fingers twitched over the keyboard of your own laptop in anticipation, looking towards the door and sighing in resignation.

Decidingly, you thought it was best to give your friend a moment with her father. Not at all because you wanted to prolong the inevitable as long as possible.

But as a couple of minutes went by, the tick of the pink clock on the desk getting louder and louder by the second, you figured your absence would go noticed and so you begrudgingly shut the lid of your laptop to slowly begin making your way out of the room.

As you reached the balcony at the top of the staircase, you looked down just as Rebecca hugged her Dad tightly. An ache panged in your heart.

You weren’t close with your parents; neither of them checked up on you or asked when you’d be coming home to see them. They only contacted you when they felt like spewing their badly-hidden resentment towards you and the hurt you thought you had buried long ago began to make its way front and center.

You shook your head and cleared your throat. You wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t tarnish your stay with your friend over something so silly — or be scared to meet her parent. So with a deep breath, you glided down the steps.

Rebecca’s Dad had his back turned to you, which meant you only saw his thick head of hair, tucked neatly behind his ears and the muscles of his back straining against the white dress shirt he wore.

You were unable to pinpoint the exact reason a tingle started to form in your lower stomach, the sensation extremely familiar by now, but you immediately scolded yourself and pinched the skin of your thigh to snap out of whatever mood had caused such depravity. This was your friend’s father; get it together.

As you reached the bottom of the steps, your friend’s eyes locked onto yours and her whole face beamed. “Dad,” she gasped excitedly. “I want you to meet my friend.”

You steeled your features; the warmest smile you could manage with the straightest posture possible.

Time stood still when Rebecca stepped back to let her Dad turn around. Your emotions were all under control and you finally felt like you could do this.

But that was until your eyes met and your face dropped. Those blue eyes, those damn blue eyes, you would remember them anywhere.

Bile began to rise in your throat when he faced you completely. Suddenly, you were thrown back to that forbidden night that all started with the same man across the room by the bar, watching you like you were his last meal. Bucky.

You held back a loud gasp, aware that Rebecca was witnessing the interaction. Though, your blood ran cold when his lips lifted into a grin, one you knew a little too well.

The palms of your hands were clammy with sweat and your heart hammered inside your chest. You weren’t sure how to play this, the stifling silence had already been stretched out ridiculously.

Rebecca’s voice broke the quiet with an awkward chuckle. “Sorry Dad, we’re a little stumped. Exams have been kicking our asses lately and the drive over was long.”

Guilt crippled you then. While you could never have known the one night stand who invaded your thoughts daily would turn out to be your best friend's father, it still didn’t change anything — you fucked her Dad.

He finally took his eyes away from you to swing an arm around his daughter and laughed in fondness. “Don’t worry, I understand, Becs—you girls must be exhausted.” He then lifted his gaze back to you. “You must be the one she hasn’t stopped talking about.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. He doesn’t remember you? The lack of expression or recognition instilled a sense of hope within you.

Maybe he had forgotten about your night together — the low lighting of the club you met him at and the haze of alcohol hindering your senses as he took you to a hotel created a perfection concoction of forgetfulness you rationalised.

Eventually, deciding to act oblivious and hope for the best, you stammered up the courage to introduce yourself. “M—Mr Barnes. Thank you for letting me stay in your home.”

“Oh none of that, please.” A shiver raced down your spine, memories of begs and whimpers taunting your mind. “I’m James. But call me Bucky, darlin’.”

It took all the strength you had to trap the moan on the verge of escaping your lips. Yep, you definitely remembered that name.

Rebecca’s Dad stuck out his hand in front of you. “I’m very happy to meet you.” Your eyes darted between his hand and his face and then to your friend. Steadying your breath, you hesitantly placed your hand into his and felt his fingers tighten against yours. He shook your hand, his thumb gliding over your skin.

Tightening your lips in anguish, you replied, “V—Very happy to meet you, too.”

Bucky’s touch lingered against yours until you snatched your hand out of his when Rebecca hopped giddily and clapped her hands. “Oh, this is great! This weeks going to be so fun!”

You didn’t return the sentiment. This week was going to be your worst nightmare come to life — your biggest mistake being dangled on a string in front of you, only reminding you what a piece of shit you were.

“Okay, Dad. We’re gonna catch up on a little more work, so I’ll come find you later.” Your friend grabbed your hand that was limped by your side and started to pull you back up the stairs.

“Hard workers, ain’t you?” he laughed. “If you need anything let me know.”

“Thanks Dad, will do!” Rebecca shouted back down the stairs.

When you had reached the first landing balcony, you couldn’t help sneaking one more tiny glance at the one night stand you never thought you would see again. But your heart skipped a beat as you saw him already looking up at you and he slid his hand out of his suit pocket to wave at you before you disappeared.

You were sitting on Rebecca’s bed, waiting for her return when the inevitable happened.

An emergency she called it, when she slipped her feet into her shoes and swiftly threw on her hoodie, claiming an issue with her neighbour she absolutely needed to handle.

You had tried insisting on going with her, an extra pair of hands to help out. But she instantly pushed away your pleas, telling you not to worry and to focus on your work. That was Becca, a true sweetheart. But you wanted to strangle her then, scold her for leaving you in uncharted territory by yourself.

Nervous and on edge, you couldn’t concentrate on your assignment for the longest time. You consistently made quick glances to the open door of your friend’s bedroom, listened for footsteps upon the landing. Soon enough though, your nerves died down when nothing happened and it allowed you to focus on your laptop, finally becoming fixated on your assignment.

The only unusual thing that caught you off guard by yourself was the sudden heat of the house. You had built up a sweat in your hoodie and, unable to handle it, you took the fleeced material off in a swift flourish, leaving you in a tank top and shorts.

Other than that, you powered through, happy to be finally getting somewhere with your work. You weren’t even sure how much time had passed since Rebecca had left and the worry of how long it was taking her to come home slipped your mind.

Your guard was down while you hummed to the low music, lying on your stomach, back facing the door and typing away as you swung your legs in the air.

“I see you’re working hard.”

Yelping in fright, you almost fell off the bed, the deep grunt of Bucky’s smooth tone scaring you from the sanctuary of his daughter's room. You whipped your head around to see your friend’s Dad leaned against the doorway dressed in a tight black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his dog tags rested against his chest.

The sight was a difficult one to swallow.

It was instinct to turn around so you were facing him as you raced to shuffle up Rebecca’s bed — a danger, your mind cautioned, to have your back turned to a wolf.

He held his hands out in front of him as he walked towards you, as though taming a frightened lamb. “Hey there, it’s only me. No need to be scared.”

“S—Sorry. I was a little lost in my assignment.” You apologised as you scrambled to gather all of your supplies together, desperate to gain some space from Bucky. “I think I’m done for the night, though. So I’ll just go downstairs and wait for Becca—“

“Hold up.” Bucky sat on his daughter's bed, leaving little to no proximity between you to effectively trap you in. “There’s no rush now, is there?”

Exhaling shakily, you stuttered, “N—No— um, not at all, Mr Barnes—“

“Bucky,” he corrected gently.

“Yes, B—Bucky.” You struggled to test his name on your tongue, not having spoken it since your night together. “I’m so sorry.”

Rebecca’s dad just laughed, amused at your rambling.

A tension, seemingly only one-way, swallowed you whole, threatening to drown you. It was impossible to hold direct eye contact with his ocean blues eyes, ones that ran vivid through your mind in your nights alone filled with heated memories and your biggest — now new favourite — vibrator.

His voice snapped you out of lust filled haze. “Rebecca shouldn’t be too long. Poor old neighbour lost his wife a couple of years back and Becs—the angel she is—goes over to help him when he needs it.”

You could see it. She was the sort to not think twice about helping anyone in need and the thought eased your mind. “Well,” you smiled, hoping you didn't look as awkward as you felt. “That’s very kind of her.”

“That’s my Becs,” Mr Barnes proudly grinned.

The room grew silent once again. Picking your fingernails, you fought to calm the cold, harsh anxiety eating away at you. It still seemed as though Bucky couldn’t remember you, but a nagging feeling in your gut wouldn’t let that settle your nerves.

“I just thought I’d come check on you anyway, sweetheart. Y'know, make sure you’ve settled in nicely for the week.” He smiled while placing his palm on the bed in the small space between you, leaning his weight against it as he got closer.

“Y—Yeah.” You cleared your throat before continuing, keeping your answers short. “Mhm, I’m all good, thank you.” You smiled tightly, hoping Bucky would take the hint to leave, but alas your luck was short.

“What you been workin’ on then, darlin’?” He nodded to your laptop resting on your legs.

“Oh, not much.” You downplayed. “Just a written piece, nothing major— no wait!—” Bucky cut you off as he abruptly swiped your laptop from your lap, the cold ring on his pinky finger brushing against the bare skin of your thigh. Before you could even think of hastily clambering for it back, he already had your laptop open and sitting on his thick thighs as he began reading.

“A psychology major, huh?” Bucky smirked, eyes scattering across the screen to take your assignment in. “Impressive. You’re a very clever girl.”

Heat quickly rose up your neck, warming your cheeks as you were rendered speechless. A heavy ache between your legs left you squeezing your thighs together because of his praise — his words sent you straight back to the night against the hotel’s glassed windows he had brutally fucked you against while worshipping how much of a good girl you were for taking all of him.

Quickly, you shook the intense thought from your mind, scolding yourself for letting it happen an umpteenth time. “Really, it’s nothing,” you said.

Bucky stopped reading your work and looked at you intensely, enough to make you squirm. “You really shouldn’t put yourself down like that.” Placing your laptop on the floor, he smoothly shuffled closer to you. You couldn’t help but stare at the hand he moved into your vicinity. His touch as he laid it on the naked skin of your thigh sent a thrill through your whole body. “Hasn’t anyone ever praised you before, huh?”

His intricate voice, delicate and gentle soothed you and excited you both in equal measure. The previous alarm bells blaring in your head were non-existent when he squeezed the meat of your thigh so tenderly with his large hands. “I— um— I don’t—”

“Nobody told you how proud they are of you?”

Your eyes glossed over as the shield you had built for yourself started to dismantle. Bucky was right. You were lonely and tired and you worked so hard for little reward. Your parents didn’t tell you they were proud of you, nobody ever told you how good you had been.

Bucky’s hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb delicately rubbing over your lip. You melted into his touch too quickly. “Shh, it’s alright, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”

You willingly fell into a dangerous trap he had set out as your eyes fluttered closed. Your friend’s Dad’s caress was so familiar, even after so long — his scent intoxicating and his voice a melody to the scrambled mess in your head.

It didn’t occur to you then, the issue with Bucky inching more forward, almost until his chest was plastered to yours. The thought of his strange comfortability with his daughter’s friend wasn’t worthy of space in your head.

For once you weren’t thinking of Rebecca.

Until the slam of the front door ricocheted up the stairs and into her bedroom. “I’m home, Dad!”

Your eyes shot open and you gave yourself a quick second to get lost in Bucky’s gaze before you leaped up in panic.

You were half expecting him to also worry, to quickly dart out of the room. But instead he carelessly stood up from the bed along with you and combed his hair back with his fingers.

“Dad! Where are you?”

Pure terror. The fear of being caught in a compromising position with Bucky by your friend was overwhelming as your hands shook. Rebecca’s footsteps began to sound over the stairs and you closed your eyes, waiting for chaos.

It was only a couple of seconds after your stomach jumped in frightful anticipation when you felt her presence join you. “Babe, have you— What the fuck are you doing?”

Your stomach lurched. Slowly squinting an eye open, you saw your friend standing in the doorway looking at you in confusion. You steadily tracked your sight across the room, expecting to see Bucky. To your surprise, he wasn’t there anymore.

You opened your eyes fully, the fear easing away some though your nerves were still alight with edginess. “I don’t— I don’t know.”

“Um, okay?” Becca said wearily. “Anyway, have you seen my Dad, I wanted to talk to him before we head to bed.”

This was a chance, you inwardly thought. To tell your best friend about everything while your friendship could still be repaired.

But the probability of disclosing your secret and potentially ruining Rebecca’s life won out. “No. I haven’t seen him.” The lie tasted sour on your tongue and shame clawed its way back to the surface.

Your friend smiled brightly and shrugged. “No problem, I’ll go find him. I’ll be back to work on assignments in a minute.” She exited her room in search of her Dad.

You crumpled to the bed and hung your head in your hands, exhaling deeply. You’re a shitty person, the voice in your head supplied unhelpfully.

After a while, Rebecca had returned to her room and for the rest of the evening, you both worked on your respective assignments; her chattering away happily while you stared at the screen of your laptop blankly, adding nothing to the open document until the two of you decided to call it a night.

Unexpectedly though, instead of getting ready for bed together, your friend showed you to a guest room.

“Becca,” you laughed. “I thought I’d be staying in your room for the night. You know—with you?”

“Well, I told my Dad you liked your own space and he set up one of the guest rooms for you. It's no biggie.” She shrugged.

Right. Because of course you wouldn’t be staying with her when there were an endless amount of spare bedrooms on the first floor alone.

You cursed yourself in that moment, reliving your protests of spending the midterm break alone because of your need for space.

“Are you sure?” You tried again, the vulnerability of being by yourself without the buffer of Rebecca taunting you. “We could have a sleepover! Watch movies and stay up late!”

But she just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Girl, I know you are dying for a minute to yourself—to relax and decompress.” Holding your hand, she softly laughed. “I practically begged you to come here and you agreed. You’ve been more kind to me in the minute we met than most of my old friends over the span of the years I knew them. So please, the least I could do is give you a break during the nights.”

The guilt ate you alive; her selflessness and naturally good heart steadily chipping away at your conscience. Why the hell did she have to be so nice?

Putting on your best smile, you tried to rid of the nasty voice spitting venom inside your head. You slept with her fucking Dad, you whore — you don’t deserve this. Outwardly, you said, “I don’t deserve this, Becs. It's too much.” A somewhat admittance of the truth; the full story you would take to the grave, if only to keep your friendship intact.

“Oh, hush. Of course you do.” She pushed you away playfully into your new room. “Now go freshen up and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Clenching your hands in unexplained nerves, you wished her goodnight while she began to walk down the hall to her own room. “See you tomorrow, Becs.” The door closed with a click and you dropped your forehead against the wood with a loud thud.

You could do this, you reasoned with yourself. It was only for a couple of days, and as long as you stayed close to Rebecca and was not left alone with her father, you could ignore your inner thoughts — the vile, disgusting voice that simultaneously begged you to to crawl on all fours to him like a desperate bitch and be ashamed of your sins.

It wasn’t difficult to fall asleep. Exhaustion from the events of a long day and a shower with the most luxurious products you had ever used assisted you with that and you whispered an internal gratitude to the fluffy pillows you laid your head on for helping you escape reality before you closed your eyes.

However, you were awoken from your deep slumber when the rattle of your bedroom door knob interrupted your dreamless sleep. You had to fight the heaviness of your body as you sat up, rubbing your eyes with a groan before you tried squinting through the darkness to no avail.

The sudden thought of your friend coming to annoy you after all surprisingly made you crack a smile. “Becs?” you sleepily called out.

The latch of the door clicked as it steadily creeped open and you rolled your eyes at your friend’s antics. “If you’re trying to scare me then ha ha—very funny, dork.”

Your sight began to adjust, outlines and shadows soon becoming more clear but still a struggle to make out in the late hour.

Though there was no response from your friend. Silence shrouded over the room with only your small breaths to be heard.

You stared at the doorway expectedly, waiting for a response you wouldn’t get. “Becca?” you called out warily once more.

But that time, as the door clicked shut with a deafening loudness, a deep voice — one that definitely did not belong to your friend — answered. “Y’know, you look just as pretty as you did the night we met.”

Cold dread had every muscle of your body locking up. It became clear then that it wasn’t Rebecca that had entered your room. More so a tall figure, clad in only his underwear and his dog tags.

“M—Mr Barnes?” your lips quivered with panic. “What— What are you doing?”

Every clink of the metal around his neck haunted you with each step he made closer. You scrambled up towards the headboard, plastering yourself against the wood.

Pointless when he sat beside you on the bed, bending his knee to lean one leg against your thigh. The feel of his bare skin against yours burned.

“No need to be afraid, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled. “You know me, don’t you?”

You gulped. Sudden dizziness blurred his face to your eyes and the deprivation of your sight made his touch all the more electrifying when he swept your hair to the side and kissed your shoulder.

A shudder ran down your spine, the strap of your silk nightgown falling down your arm and stripping you of your only defense left against him.

“Mr Barnes,” you tried again, more pleadingly.

“What have I said about calling me that, hm? You know my name well enough by now, pretty girl. You’ve screamed it enough.” His tormenting laugh vibrated through you while he still peppered feather light kisses across your skin.

You begged your body to move, for your hands to push him away and your voice to shout for Rebecca. Alas, you kept to your place, still as stone.

“You can’t— you can’t be here,” you whispered shakily.

Bucky smirked. “Oh really? Is this not my house, sweetheart?” Your nipples pebbled against the silk material covering them as his breath cascaded goosebumps over your skin in its trail. “Been tryin’ so hard to restrain myself since I saw you again this mornin’. But I can’t fuckin’ hold back anymore.”

“You remember me,” you managed to choke out.

Bucky hummed, laving his tongue over the sweat building on your neck. “Like I could ever forget a girl like you.”

The knot in your stomach tightened, each press of his lips over your body immobilising you further. Bucky knew who you were, from the moment your eyes connected in the foyer. The reality set in then — deep and unsettling and delicious, all at once.

“I had to act like I didn’t know you, baby. Couldn’t have Rebecca finding out her only friend knows the taste of her Dad’s cock now, could I?”

You felt sick. Your mind raged in war between a guilty conscience and your own pleasure. To give in would be evil, so horrendously sick and twisted.

A single tear dropped from your watery eyes and slowly rolled down your cheek, the sudden saltiness hitting Bucky’s tongue and making him groan. “Fuck, don’t tease me already, baby.”

“She’s my friend,” you whimpered. “I can’t do this to her.”

Bucky looked up, a soft expression on his face. “Oh, darlin’. I love her too, really.” His lip curled up then, a wolfish gleam in his eye. “But I can’t go another minute without touchin’ you.”

Placing his forehead against yours, his hand traveled up from your thigh, all the way over your stomach until he reached your tits. You squeezed your eyes tightly closed when his forefinger and thumb pinched your nipple through the silk. “Doesn’t this feel good, hm? Doesn’t this feel right?”

Against your will, you released a high pitched keen. “Bucky.”

His chest rumbled in delight, a deep purr in your ear. However, your mind still bartered with itself, unrelenting in its inability to give in. “But what if Becca—?”

“She doesn’t have to know a damn thing, baby.” Bucky turned his head and bit over the pulse of your neck. “It’ll be our dirty little secret.”

Your head was filled with clouds, a fog smothering over any rational thought. Especially with the way Bucky began to sneakily slip the other strap of your nightgown down. He was mesmerising in his actions, his fragile touches that made you feel special.

You so desperately wanted to feel special.

Just like he made you feel back in the summer.

The evil voice in your mind hissed at you — dirty, disgusting, whore. The hopeful one became louder — lonely, unloved, tired.

You were so fucking tired.

The fight in you left. You were a goner, a sacrificial lamb while you tilted your head back to reveal more of you. The walls you so carefully crafted came crumbling down pathetically.

Bucky didn’t waste any time taking advantage of that. “There’s my good girl. Let it happen, baby.”

The moon shone through the window, becoming the only source of light in the darkness and its glow blanketed over the same features as the strobe lights in the club back in summer.

Fate hadn’t been on your side from the moment it cruelly introduced Becca into your life when it had already manifested your demise with her Dad. So who were you to try and change it?

Letting your body take control over your mind, you turned your head, grabbed Bucky by the back of his neck and crashed your lips to his — finally giving into temptation. His answering moan of shock and arousal made you more daring and you snuck your tongue into his mouth too.

Bucky ripped away, a string of saliva connected between your lips. “You still wear the same fuckin’ cherry chapstick,” he groaned, before squeezing your breast tightly. “Fuck—go lay your head at the end of the bed for me, sweetheart. Want that shit around my cock.”

With urgency, you rushed over to the edge of the mattress, lying on your back and making sure your head hung over the bed. Your view was upside down, warped while you watched Bucky stroll towards you with bated breath.

He stood behind you, all menacing and tall — you had never felt smaller in your life, though you liked the feeling with him.

The veins on Bucky’s forearm bulged from his skin as he brought his hand to your throat. Lightly, he caressed his thumb over the junction of your neck. “Do you remember how eagerly you sucked my dick last time?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the bob of it transcending under his large hand. “I— I do.”

He smirked down at you. “You gonna make me proud again, baby?”

Your eyes glazed over with neediness. “Please—Want to make you proud of me.”

His bright white teeth gleamed with his predatory smile. “Stick out your tongue for me, darlin’.”

Doing as he asked, you opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out, uncaring to how easily you obeyed his commands.

“Good job, sweetheart.” Bucky brought his hands up to his underwear and with a swift pull, his black briefs fell to the ground.

You preened like a cat at the sight of his cock bobbing into your view. The light casting in from the moon glistened over the underside of his dick, the purple head pulsing harshly.

Bucky pumped his cock slowly twice, a premature pearl of cum gathering at the head. “You ready for me, baby?”

Nodding your head hungrily up at him, you whined, “Uh-huh.”

Bucky positioned himself closer to you, your head hung between his spread legs. You waited in anticipation for him to inch forward and slide his length down your throat, but instead he tapped the head of his cock against your wet tongue.

The resounding slap caused you to rub your thighs together in agony, the feel of his heavy weight divine.

“Aw, babygirl,” Bucky teased. “You missed me that much you can’t help those tingles already, huh?” He tapped his length against you again and his eyes fluttered. “There’s more where that came from.”

The desperation to wrap your lips around his cock was overbearing and so you sealed your mouth around him, suckling the tip with a refound hunger.

“Holy fuck.” Bucky’s legs trembled at the shock of your sudden confidence. “Oh, just like that, sweetheart.”

You swiped your tongue around the bulbous head of his dick, moaning rabidly at his salty taste. Bucky’s natural musk was addictive and you tried to shuffle your body closer to take more of his length, but he quickly grabbed your hips to stop you. “Woah—slow down there. Daddy’s the one runnin’ the show tonight, not you.”

You let go of his cock with a pop. “Please, Daddy.” Your pleas were breathless as you panted for air. “Want all of you—please!”

Leaning over until his lips brushed yours, Bucky kissed you deeply before murmuring, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, I’ll make sure you take all of me.”

He stood back up promptly, giving you whiplash in your current state. “Now open that slutty little mouth. Wide.”

Hardly giving you time to do as he asked, Bucky shoved his entire length down your throat. Your eyes widened as you gagged around him.

“Shh, baby. You’re okay, relax.” Opposite to his brutal force, he brushed softly over your chin. “You can handle me. You’ve done it before, right?”

Breathing through your nose calmly was a challenge with his thick cock limiting your intake of oxygen. But you wanted so badly to fulfill Bucky’s wishes. So closing your eyes and willing yourself not to panic, you focused your breaths.

“There we go.” The pride in his tone was exhilarating. “Knew you could do it, darlin’.”

Bucky kept still for a few more seconds, allowing you to get used to the intrusion of the new position before he began to ease his cock out of your throat and gently push back in. “Yeah, you remember my cock don’t you, sweetheart? Your tight little throat feels so fuckin’ good.”

Your hands came up to grip the back of his firm thighs to ground yourself. You felt every inch of him glide down until his tip reached your windpipe and you coughed violently, sputtering around him.

“That’s right, baby. Choke on me.” Bucky upped the speed of his pace then and your nails dug deep into his flesh.

While his actions turned harsh and forceful, your pleasure grew and with your squirming, the skirt of your nightgown began to ride up your body without you realising.

Bucky did though, almost immediately. You couldn’t see how his eyes snapped towards the bare skin of your thighs and lower stomach and to his pleasant surprise, you weren't wearing any panties.

The sound of his laughter while his hips continued to pump into you made your nerves spike.

“My sweet girl,” he cooed short windedly. “You must’ve known I was coming, huh? Not wearing anything under that cute little outfit.”

You squealed, unable to say anything while sucking his cock, though the vibrations of your moans made Bucky’s thrusts falter.

“Fuck—shit, baby. I almost forgot how good you are at that,” he laughed. His hands traveled tantalising over your stomach until he reached the bottom of your nightgown. “Let Daddy see what you’ve been hidin’ from me.”

The silk material unpeeled from your skin as Bucky lifted it over your breasts. Your full body was on display for him and you fidgeted bashfully under his scrutiny. Your sight was compromised, your movements were limited and your thoughts were scrambled.

“Oh, darlin’. You’re a doll, ain’t you?” Bucky’s rough and calloused hands smoothed over your bare skin. He palmed your breasts roughly, just once before inching down to your lower stomach. “Now, you gonna show me what I really wanna see?”

It didn’t take you a second to spread your legs for him, the cold air hitting your soaked cunt.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Open those gorgeous thighs for me, I wanna see how wet my baby girl is.”

Bucky leaned over your body, pushing his cock even further down your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, but your body soon jolted at the feel of his finger sliding through your folds.

You screamed around his dick and tapped his thighs for a breather, which he so graciously granted. As soon as he tilted his hips to let his cock fall out of your mouth, you gasped loudly. “Oh my god— Bucky, I can’t. I can’t I can’t, please—”

Your hoarse voice was cut off when Bucky wrapped his free hand around your throat. “Shut the fuck up and take it.”

His cock laid against your cheek while he looked into your eyes. He forewent easing you into it and instead forced two of his fingers into your cunt. You were about to cry out until he shoved his cock down your throat again with a sigh. “Guess Daddy’s gonna have to keep you quiet—such a noisy girl.”

The clink of his dog tags with each thrust mixed with your gurgles around his cock, a mixture of your spit and precum bubbling around your mouth and running messily down your chin. The stretch of his fingers unprepared was painful and yet it blended perfectly into pleasure. “Mmph!”

“Yeah? You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky choked when he thrusted into your mouth at a particular angle. Taking advantage of his legs twitching erratically, you managed to release his dick and reach further back to his balls.

Wasting no time, you sucked them into your mouth while his cock slapped against your cheeks, smothering precum all over your face.

“Fuck,” he groaned, keeping the steady rhythm of his fingers pumping into your pussy. “You filthy fuckin’ whore—you just want all a’me don’t ya?”

You hummed while playing with balls, using your tongue to tease over his perineum. Bucky was losing his composure fast and the thrill of it made the knot in your stomach tighter.

But not one to be outdone, he ripped his fingers out of your cunt and slapped your clit, hard. You let go with a pop and squealed his name. “Bucky!”

You tried closing your legs, the sensation too overwhelming. Though it was useless with his strength as he held your thighs apart to carry on bringing his hand down firmly on your cunt. “I thought you wanted to play dirty, darlin’,” he growled. “Daddy’s just having some fun.”

Your body jolted with each slap delivered. You took it, even when the pain became too much and you thought you would pass out, until Bucky decided to give you respite. He left your pussy sore and aching as he lifted up away from you. A whine tore from your throat.

“That's what happens when you don’t do as I say.” You were manhandled up and into Bucky’s arms as he sat down against the headboard. He moved you around without a hint of struggle and placed you on his lap, facing away from him. “Good girls don’t disobey Daddy, do they?”

“No,” sighed. His hard, thick length stood firm against your ass, his dog tags soothingly cold against your warm back and you whimpered pleadingly while grinding back into him. “Want it in me.”

Bucky’s laughter vibrated through you. “Yeah, baby? Wanna bounce on Daddy’s cock?”

“Yes! Please!” you cried.

Gliding his hands around to your front, he pinched each nipple. “Well, I’m not stoppin’ you. Go ahead.”

You inhaled deeply, gathering all your strength to lift up on your shaky legs. Using Bucky’s thighs to hold yourself, you tilted your hips up until your heat skimmed over the head of his cock. “O—Oh, oh shit,” you stuttered at the sensation.

Bucky’s head thumped back against the headboard. “God—I’ve fuckin’ missed that cunt.”

His enjoyment allowed you the courage to balance on one hand while your other reached down to grip his thick length. A strangled noise rose from Bucky’s throat, but you ignored it and swept his tip through your folds.

“Look who’s gotten brave, huh?” Bucky laughed breathlessly while he played with your tits. “Not thinkin’ about poor Becs now are you, baby?”

Before the harsh retort could dig deep and make a home in your conscience, you shook your head and let his cock catch on your clenching hole. “Wanna be filled again.”

“Then do somethin’ about it, darlin’.” Bucky rested his chin on your shoulder and you both looked down to where your sex rested on his length. Your stomach sucked in with your uneasy breaths and after internally counting down, you dropped your hips.

“Fuck!” Bucky’s hands gripped your breasts tightly, something to help him through how good the slick glide felt. You did the same, latching on to his meaty thighs. “Shit.”

Your chests rose and fell in tandem, but the sensation of feeling so full made you tighten around his cock. “I need to move, Daddy.”

His mouth moved over your neck as he spoke, “Go on, babygirl. Milk Daddy’s cock.”

With his approval, you began to angle your hips up, letting his length slide out of you until the very head rested snug in your hole and then sank down again steadily. Your breath hitched while your head fell back onto his shoulder.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck—just like that. Keep going for me.” Bucky’s hands smoothed down to your hips and gripped them, helping you move over his cock.

“You’re so b—big,” you whispered. “Forgot how big you are.”

“Oh, I know. But you’re doing so good for me, aren’t you?” he cooed.

“Mhm,” your head bobbed lazily up and down with your motions. “I’m your good girl, right?”

Bucky grunted and made you bounce faster. “The best, baby. Such a good girl for me.”

His dick throbbed angrily inside you, its length scraping your walls and stretching you with its girth. The clapping of your thrusts grew louder, more depraved as you lost control from the divine pleasure. Had you been thinking more clearly, you would have been careful about your volume, but all your inhibitions went out the window long ago.

“Need more,” you slurred. “Wanna cum, but need more Daddy.”

“Shh—I know what you need, sweetheart.” Bucky slithered his hand down your stomach and to your heat. With your legs spread wide over his, it gave him ample opportunity to snake his fingers over your engorged clit and begin circling them.

You squeaked, instantly snapping your legs closed around his hand. “Bucky, wait!—”

But he forced your legs open and slapped your clit, making you jump with a shout. “Don’t you fuckin’ tell me to wait. You asked me for more so you’re getting more, you slut. What happened to wantin’ to make me proud, hm?”

You sobbed as a tear tracked down your cheek. “I— I do!”

“So then you’ll take it—won’t you?” Bucky growled against your ear.

Sniffling, you nodded, panting while bouncing on his cock. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You hiccuped. “Yes, D—Daddy.”

Bucky hummed in approval and began thrusting up to meet your stride. “That’s more like it.”

You took what he gave you while he fucked up into your pussy. The strain of your muscles was almost unbearable, but you persevered through the pain — to be the center of his attention, to be so utterly wanted felt too compelling to give up.

His thrusts were harsh, rough enough to have your toes curling and his balls to smack against your skin. All those sensations paired with his ruthless circles on your clit blended to build your impending orgasm. “I’m so close,” you gasped.

“Me too, babygirl.” Bucky grunted, biting into his plump bottom lip. “Gonna empty my load inside a’you.”

You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. “Please.”

Bucky’s hips worked overtime, a ferocious beast taking over in its haze. He brought his free hand up to your cheeks and squished them together. “Who’s Daddy’s little cumslut, huh?”

“Me,” you cried. “I’m Daddy’s cumslut.”

“Fuck yeah you are,” he snarled. “And now that I’ve got you back you’re not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.”

You were too dizzy to comprehend the weight behind his words, instead you slammed your hips up and down in time with Bucky’s movements, chasing the tightening in your lower stomach.

“You ready for me, darlin’?” he asked.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat. “Uh-huh.”

“Good. Now hold on.” Without waiting for you to reply, he grabbed under your thighs and lifted you. You were held up solely by his arms as he powerfully began to fuck you.

You became mute, mouth hung open on a continuous silent scream. The feeling was like no other; Bucky’s pure strength and huge length tore you apart, physically and mentally.

“Gonna,” thrust, “fill,” thrust, “this,” thrust, “gorgeous fuckin’ pussy.”

Your tongue lolled out of your mouth like a dog, drool dripping down your chin while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You were on the verge of cumming. “Close.” You had been reduced to one syllable words.

“I know, baby. I fuckin’ know—Can feel you,” Bucky gasped. “Let go for me, darlin’.” It was only when the angle of his hips changed and the head of his cock repeatedly nudged against your cervix that the balance of your orgasm tipped over.

“Hnng—Fuck!” You walls trapped Bucky’s dick in a tight chokehold as your thighs shook in a spasm. He continued to grind up into you, releasing his warm load into your pussy.

“Bucky!” you keened while your walls fluttered around his length. The rush was unlike any you had experienced before and an errant thought that any consequence was worth it to cum like that again swirled through your mind. “Made me— made me cum so hard,” you slurred.

Your high began to simmer down and you felt like you could regain control over your mind until Bucky’s hand came down onto your clit again. “One more,” he breathed into your ear. “Gimme one fuckin’ more.”

Your eyes shot open and you shook your head, rapidly. “C—Can’t,” you managed to croak. “Too much.”

You reached down to try and pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong. “I said I want one more.” Bucky held your arms to your chest then, beginning to rub your clit in fast circles.

An unusual pressure built up quickly and you panicked. “Bucky—something’s wrong.”

But he sucked over your neck, easing your worries. “You’re okay. It's okay, baby. Just let it happen, remember?”

You writhed in his hold, moaning salaciously. “I’m— I’m g—gonna cum again.” The feel of his cock still filling you, his cum seeping out of your whole which each dirty grind he made, the sensation of his tongue against your neck and his tireless fingers was all too much.

“Cum for Daddy then, darlin’.” A couple of circulations later and you screamed out in unimaginable pleasure. Your stomach swooped and the next you knew, a strong pressure forced Bucky’s cock out of your cunt. A rush of liquid sprayed out of you and covered the entirety of the bedsheets.

“There we are,” he grinned wickedly. “Exactly what I wanted.”

It felt like it went on forever. Bucky didn’t let up on his insistent rubbing. But as soon as the last juices squirted out of you, you deflated into his chest, breaths heaving with utter exhaustion. You were too tired to keep your eyes open, body boneless and overexerted. Your body jumped with aftershocks, tiny zings of electricity igniting your nerves.

Bucky finally slowed his fingers down to a stop on your clit. Your back rose and fell with his pants, each puff of his exhales hitting your sensitive skin and making you shiver.

“Holy fuck,” he laughed deliriously. “That was—fuck.”

Internally agreeing, you hummed, incapable of formulating words. Bucky’s arms wrapped around you while he placed a kiss to the back of your head and you enjoyed being surrounded with his warmth and comfort. “You were perfect, babygirl,” he mumbled. “Did so fuckin’ good for me. Made Daddy so proud.”

A wide smile curled onto your face as your eyes remained closed. You were falling out of consciousness, giving in to sleep fast.

“Let’s get you comfy.” You didn’t stir when Bucky began to lift up, or when he rearranged your form so he could carry your limp body in his arms.

Your body bounced with each powerful step he made. Vaguely hearing the room door open, a cold blast of air hit your heated skin and you shivered, snuggling closer into Bucky’s chest.

Your head swam with fuzziness. You couldn’t bear to open your eyes with their heaviness. But you felt as you were delicately placed onto a large, comfortable bed, stacked with pillows and fitted with dry sheets, along with Bucky’s delicious scent that tickled your senses.

A soft kiss was pressed onto your cheek, a firm hand curling around your waist and just before you could succumb to sleep, you heard his last words. “You get some rest now, sweetheart. We’ve still got a whole week ahead of us.”

You were sure the mortification would hit you in the morning. Pure regret sinking deeply into your skin and making you feel sick to the core.

But you also knew now that any chance of quitting your best friend's dad had been lost. Because Bucky was a guilty pleasure, a rush you couldn’t bear to give up — no matter the consequences and no matter who it would inevitably hurt.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot

2K notes · View notes

entitled-fangirl · 8 months

Text

It's like heaven.

Felix Catton x reader

SMUT

Summary: Felix can't keep his hands off his angel at the party. Smut later in the story.

Words: 1,676

Warnings: p in v, cursing, Oliver being a perv

Author's note: This is from an ask! Y'all are so creative, I love it!!!

Masterlist

18+ please!

.......................................................................

He was utterly speechless.

When he saw her, he was speechless.

She had wanted to surprise him, of course, shooing him from their bedroom when he was finished getting ready for the party so she could get dolled up.

Now, here she stood in a somewhat scandalous piece feeling beautiful, a halo placed on her head for the theme.

He simply stood in the doorway, his jaw dropped.

She saw him in the mirror, whipping around, "Felix! I said to wait until I was done!"

He shook out of his stupor, moving towards her with a smirk, "I forgot my angel wings but JESUS am I glad I came back." He placed his hands on her waist, "I mean, look at you, pretty girl…" His eyes held a look of admiration and lust.

She stepped back with a giggle, "Not yet. I'm not done. Shoo, Lex…" She then turned around, moving back to finish her eyeliner in the mirror.

He pulled her towards him again, her back hitting his firm abs. His lips began to trace her neck as he looked at her in the mirror, mumbling, "…what is there left to finish, angel?"

She stood when she was satisfied with the eyeliner, turning around in his arms. "…just my shoes. And… I'm no angel."

He smirked leaning down to give a kiss, his voice a slight growl, "you're my angel."

The kiss was sweet and held a lot of emotion, considering how it was soon going to become something more. She pulled away, placing a hand on his chest, "…Lex."

He pulls away with a groan, "Forget the party, beautiful."

She laughs, "No! I got ready for this, Lex. Even if you don't like the birthday boy, we still have to go!"

He would always give in to her.

He smiles, leaning in towards her again, hands beginning to wander before she stopped him, "What's going on with you tonight?"

"You're just so fucking pretty. My pretty angel. Can't keep my hands to myself."

She reaches down, taking her hand in his before she pulled him out of the bedroom and towards the party.

…

She was sat on Felix's lap when Oliver opened the door.

Felix was sitting on the small table of the overly-crowded bathroom, the pretty angel balanced on one of his thighs. He sighed when he saw Oliver.

"Felix, can I talk to you for one second?"

She looked at Felix to gauge his reaction, seeing that his eyebrows was slightly raised. He then ignores Oliver's question all together, lighting a cigarette, his other hand on his girl's thigh.

Oliver cleared his throat, "You can't ignore me forever."

He immediately rebutted, "I can try."

"Felix, we need to talk." When Felix didn't move, Oliver became insistent, "Felix, come on!"

He sighed, reaching up to place the cigarette between his angel's lips. She gladly accepts, "Look, man, I tried to be nice, but can you fuck off and bother somebody else?"

The others in the room chuckled at the interaction as they did lines off the table and floor.

Oliver stood in the doorway for a while in thought, his eyes now falling to the angel on Felix's lap. He observed her. Watched her watching him. He then turned, leaving the bathroom.

"Who was that?" Someone asked.

…

"C'mon, Lex. I wanna dance!"

She pulled him through the crowd by his hand, his wings getting hit as he passed by people, muttering quick apologies.

"Yes, angel, yes. I'll dance with you. Anything to get you close to me."

The music was blaring, the lights overstimulating, but they didn't care. They were two college kids in love, and nothing would stop them.

He pulled her to him, their bodies pressed close together as they began to dance.

A frown suddenly pulled to her face.

He leaned down, trying to whisper but having to yell to communicated, "Angel? Are you alright?"

She nods, her eyes staring at something in the distance.

He turned, following her gaze.

Oliver sat at the sidelines, hoarding a bottle all to him, drinking his problem away.

But it wasn't working.

Because he wouldn't quit looking at them.

And now they noticed.

Felix frowned as well, leaning down to her once more, his eyes not leaving Oliver's, "Fuck him. Don't let him ruin this for us."

She turned back to look at him, "I don't know…"

He laughed, "You got all pretty for me, angel! Let me enjoy it for the night, yeah? No need to worry about what's tomorrow's problem!"

She nodded, letting him pull her back to him.

As his hands began to wander, so were his thoughts.

God, she was pretty. He was blessed by the gods above for sending an angel so pure and kind as this one. His own little pretty girl. His pretty angel.

A song ended, and Felix reached down, grabbing her hand. He started to pull her away, and she wouldn't resist.

…

They walked out towards the maze, holding hands. They exchanged giggles as the alcohol kicked in.

When they neared the entrance, she stopped, "Do you know what you're doing, Lex?"

He nodded, "'Course, angel. Wouldn't take you here if I didn't." He kissed her head, pulling her once again.

They both entered the maze, happy and in love.

What they didn't know, was that Oliver had entered too.

…

What felt like hours later, and too many turns to count, the two lovers were now in a passionate kiss, their hands wandering over each others bodies.

He pulled away just enough to speak, "…you want me, angel?"

She nodded, "please…"

He pulled away completely, holding her jaw in his hand, a grin on his face, "I need to hear you say it."

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her voice soft, "I want you, Felix. Please."

That was all he needed.

They began to pull at each other's clothes, anything that would separate the two from each other.

She reached up to pull off her halo, but his hand grabbed her wrist, "Don't."

She smiled into the kiss, pulling at his tank top.

Now, maybe half dressed, Felix pulled her up on to the base of the statue, holding her in place. Their kiss never broke as he began to move his fingers further down her body.

Her mouth opened slightly in an intake of breath as his gently pressed a finger into her core.

He smiled, his voice soft, "You can take it, angel. Feels good, yeah?"

She could only let out a whimper as he began to gently pump it in and out of her.

He whispered in her ear the entire time, his voice slightly gravely with lust, "Good… doing so good… stretching you out for me, baby… sweet girl…"

When two fingers were added, she pushed her head into his shoulder to avoid making too much noise.

He found it all amusing, watching her eyes close in concentration as her throat made small noises in pleasure.

When she was finally considered ready by his standards, he gently pulled his cock out. It was already hard at this point. It had been almost the entire night after seeing her in the outfit.

He grabbed at her jaw again, "You're very sure, angel?"

She was a begging mess, her mind already mush, "please, Lex. Make me feel good, please…"

He smiled, "Anything for my angel."

He gently pushed his cock into her, both letting out a small hiss.

She grabbed his biceps tightly, her eyes strunched a bit, trying to relax herself.

His hand were on the bottom of her thighs, giving himself leverage, "… doing so good for me…"

He stopped when he bottomed out, giving her a moment to collect herself and adjust. He used this moment to kiss her neck softly, "God, being in you is like heaven."

And he began to thrust.

She let out small, soft little grunts and moans, her hands moving over his body in search of where to find relief. One hand eventually found his hair, pulling slightly as he let out a small, "oh, fuck."

Only the sound of skin pressed against one another was heard throughout the heart of the maze.

"You're my angel… such a pretty little angel, aren't you?"

She whimpered, his cock hitting her g spot just right.

"You're gonna cum for me, aren't you… ugh… good girl… cum for me…"

Her voice was barely heard, "…Lex…."

He grinned, his lips still kissing at her neck, "C'mon, pretty girl. You can give me one-"

Oliver's voice came from the bushes where they entered, "Felix…"

Felix stopped, staring at his sweet little angel, whose eyes were wide with fear. He sighed, "Oh, Jesus Christ!" He pulled his pants back to their original position, zipping them up. He turned around, covering her body with himself, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you?"

She placed a hand on Felix's back, her head peering over his shoulder, "Were you spying on us?"

"No, I wasn't." He began to walk forward.

Felix stood a bit taller, continuing to block Oliver's view. "Mate, let the fucking lady get dressed. You sick fuck."

Oliver held his hands up, turning himself around.

Felix quickly turned, helping his angel get redressed.

Once done, he pulled her to him, gently kissing the top of her head. He leaned towards her, whispering in her ear once more, "…go to the bedroom. I'll be there."

She nodded, her eyes filled slightly with tears. She walked forward, going to move past Oliver.

Oliver reached out a grabbed her wrist. He pulled her to him, "May want to fix that." He straightened the halo on her head, watching her nervous reaction, "Wouldn't want people to think you're naughty, do you?"

Felix stepped forward, his voice dark and threatening, "Oliver…"

Oliver let go of the girl, a slight smirk on his face.

She left the maze to go to the bedroom, having no idea Felix would never see his angel again.

........................................................

#fanfiction #felix catton fanfic #felix catton imagine #felix catton smut #felix catton x reader #felix catton #jacob elordi angst #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi #saltburn smut #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn movie #saltburn 2023 #saltburn

2K notes · View notes

babyleostuff · 1 year

Text

let me go | choi seungcheol

author’s note | tbh i had such a hard time writing for him BECAUSE I MISS MY DARLING CHEOL and i can’t stand the thought of him being in painnnn. i want him to be happy and healthy and i want him to be back with the boys, i hate it hereeee

“Stop moving so much,” Seungcheol whined, his words coming out slurred due to his cheek being pressed against your stomach.

“But I really need to go to the bathroom, Cheol,” you sighed, looking down at the blond mess that was crushing your tummy.

Ever since your boyfriend got the surgery done, he was even clingier than he used to be. Not that you could blame him, he spent most of his days alone in bed, so naturally his clingy side would shine through and he’d do everything he could to keep you in bed longer.

You saw how a couple of times he scrolled through the group chat and looked at the pictures the members sent with envy. He’d do anything to be able to get up from that damn bed and join them in the practice room.

“Darling, you really need to let me go,” you said.

His fluffy hair bounced as he shook his head and wrapped his second arm around your waist, to make sure that you wouldn’t slip away. Not like that was possible, he could tackle you with ease, even with a torn ACL.

You sighed, not knowing what to do. If you could, you’d gladly spend the whole day with him, but the both of you knew you had your own responsibilities and you couldn't just abandon everything for the next months just to stay with him (no matter how much you wanted to do that).

“Choi Seungcheol, let me go,” you said, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

“Don’t call me that,” he whined once again, nuzzling his head further into your stomach.

“Then let me go.”

“No. You'll just leave then,” he said, but loosened his grip on you. He lifted his head to look at you and he couldn’t have looked more adorable.

A well- known pout adorned his face, while his hair was a big mess and cheeks were rosy from sleep. Even though he looked like that everytime he woke up, an unusual hint of sadness was prominent in his eyes.

You put your palm against his cheek, leaning in to place a kiss on his exposed forehead.

That’s how he wanted to stay for the whole day - in your arms, enveloped by love and comfort, the only thing that made him forget about his knee and the pain he was experiencing.

“I have to go, Cheol,” you said, pecking his forehead once again. “But I’ll come back in a couple of hours. I always do, you know that,” you put a finger under his chin to lift his head up to your level.

“I know, darling,” he sighed, and lifted himself up to sit with a grunt.

You could hear your own heart breaking at the sight of him being so helpless. A week ago he was playing football with Mingyu and Jeonghan and now he couldn’t even sit up on his own.

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends.

“Stop,” you said softly, placing your hand on top of his. “I know this is hard for you, I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re feeling right now,” you gently ran your finger through his messy hair, soothing the previous tugging of his.

“But remember that you’re not alone in this and even though you can’t be with the boys right now, they're not angry with you. You didn’t let anyone down Seungcheol. Stop blaming yourself, it was an accident.”

His shoulders hung low, not convinced by your words. And it would take him some time to believe that, you knew that.

“I just miss the guys,” he said.

“I know. But they miss you a lot too, baby.”

As you sat in silence, a simple idea popped into your head.

What if you planned an extra monthly meeting? They could all gather at Seungcheol’s place and he would have a surprise, he’d certainly be happy with. If that didn’t make him feel better, nothing would.

“You can go now, you know,” he said quietly, avoiding your eyes.

“You know what? I’ll take a day off today.”

2K notes · View notes

plasticferal · 9 months

Note

can u plsss write a Matt smut where the reader is like obsessed with his teeth and then she kind of jokes ab licking his teeth but shes not actually joking and then u know the rest

take it or leave it | matt sturniolo.

authors note: this was so fun to write. here’s some kind of soft, lust filled bff!matt turned lovers.

warnings: fem reader, not obscene or 18+ but read at your own discretion. a lot of dialogue, light biting, mark leaving, explicit language.

you just can't stop staring at your best friend. all he's doing is chewing on a paper straw, swirling it around his soft drink. his eyes are glued to his screen, scrolling through his phone, both of his elbows planted on the dining table.

"i can feel you staring," matt talks with the straw still in his mouth, flashing his perfect teeth with a conceited smirk. you scoff, digging your fork back into the dessert that sits in front of you, to avoid the interrogation you feel coming your way.

"i didn't say stop," you feel his eyes burn holes into you, tone earnest and deep, just waiting for you to glance up at him again.

"wasn't even staring," you speak through a muffled mouthful of cake, not caring if he sees the food in your mouth. he's the closest person in your life, he's probably seen worse.

"real sexy, kid" he teases, staring at your mouth and chuckling as you cover it to swallow your food, flipping him off from across the table.

"no for real, what were you looking at? like be specific," he asks, placing his phone screen down on the table, shuffling in his chair and adjusting his posture. you raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what the hell he's on about.

"i can't just admire my best friend?" you sarcastically smile and bat your eyelashes at him, resting your chin into the palm of your hands.

"specifics, go." matt isn't having it, and you drop the act fast.

you ponder on your answer for a moment, or at least pretend to. you know exactly what you want to say but you don't need him getting a big head. well, bigger. he's a walking, talking, humble brag. especially around you.

"ah, okaaaay," you pout your lips with contemplation.

"your eyes i guess. they're pretty. you know that, though" you shrug, prodding at your dessert again, not having any intention on finishing it at this point. matt has you cornered with his new train of thought.

"boring, next." he deadpans, throwing his head back with an eye roll before looking at you again. he folds his arms over his chest, leaning back leisurely.

"fine. ah, your teeth. i'm like obsessed with them. is that a better answer?" you quip, grabbing your plate and pushing away from the table to make your way to the sink.

you hear matt behind you let out an audible "huh?" and can picture the confusion on his face. you don't know what it is about his teeth, or his smile in general. you just get stunned at how perfect they are, the way they just suit his face so much.

they just look like they could form the perfect bite in your skin. he's always chewing a new flavoured gum, flashing them subtly past his perfectly pink lips, and his breath always smells nice. it's weirdly inviting. all thoughts you absolutely shouldn't be having about matthew.

"hang on, rewind. my teeth?" there's an amused underlining to his response, and you just wish you could take back what you said, joke or not.

you rinse the plate off and immediately ignore him, drying your hands with paper towel before bee-lining for the bin in the small dark corner of the room.

"you got your answer, matthew. get over it," you exhale, tossing it into the black rubbish bag.

"no no, i'm not done with you yet," you hear his chair make a disturbing scratchy squeak against the vinyl floors with how fast he pushes his chair back, following where your body is moving.

you walk around the dining table in the opposite direction of him, but he changes directions to match yours. you collapse onto the couch, sitting cross legged and he falls into the spot right next to you, despite having the entire couch. your shoulders are touching and his knee his touching yours.

"you were staring at my teeth and now i need to know why," matt requests, leaning one elbow up on the back of the couch, facing you completely.

"i can't answer tha-"

"y/n" he cuts you off seriously.

"i don't know, okay? drop it, matthew." you push back with frustration, not understanding why he can't. it's either he's pushing your buttons on purpose or he can sense the subject easily taking a turn in a different direction.

"i'm not trying to piss you off. i just wanted know. sorry" his voice softens, and he shifts so he's facing the t.v.

you almost feel bad snapping at him, considering you instigated his reaction in the first place by not justifying it straight away.

you bite your nails, trying to avoid talking. it's so hard with matt. he just always brings it out of you. looking at him while he watches the screen ahead of you just makes you yearn to hear his voice again. he's so quiet for the most part that when you get him out of his shell you don't ever want him to stop.

"i've always liked your teeth. i don't know what it is. i wish i could explain it but i can't," you speak shyly, a very rare feeling around him.

you have literally shared every waking thought with this man. it just feels so different when it involves him personally. on a physical descriptive level. matt leans his head back on the massive couch cushion, giving you a lazy half grin, looking up at you through hooded eyes.

"do you just like staring at them or do you wanna like, touch them?" he flashes his teeth like a vampire, and you push his face away with a laugh, knowing he's teasing with good intention. he chuckles, pushing your own hand back into your body.

"you're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"not until i can wrap my head around it, no" he folds his arms over his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits and they disappear under his oversized hoodie, snickering at his own defence.

he looks you in the eyes, the same fiery stare he gives you when he's about to say something out of pocket, you can read him like a book.

"you wanna touch 'em?"

"matt," you scold, knowing whatever he has planned is just to keep this joke lingering. or what you think is a joke to him.

"i'm serious, let's see if we can get to the bottom of this little fetish of yours" he's so pleased with his words, grinning like an idiot as he nestles his face closer to yours.

"i'd get more pleasure out of it with my tongue," you chortle, then pause suddenly, not believing what you just said out loud.

you force your face to plaster a look on it that says 'i'm joking' but there's no part of what you just said that matt is taking comically.

"go on." matt replies.

"what's gotten into you, tonight?" you have a half simper half befuddled look as you lean back to make sure you're seeing him right.

making sure you're speaking to matt, not someone posing as him with how bold and absurd he's been acting for the past few minutes. he's always being flirtatious, in a bantering and unalloyed manner. this felt different, he's being a lot more direct. a lot less blithe.

"i am literally giving you one chance to do this and then i'm never bringing it up again. take it or leave it, y/n"

"open your mouth, then.” you say in a ‘i bet you won’t’ tone, not believing he actually will. you’re taken aback when he tilts his head up lightly, an innocent look on his face when he parts his mouth, creating a perfect oval.

“you’re seriously okay with this?” you ask, beginning to lean forward, tempting and just waiting for the moment he pulls away, or snaps his mouth closed. he nods, mouth still open.

you know him well enough by now to understand that when matt says he’ll never mention it again, he means it. he’s petty like that.

“fuck it, m’god” you mumble, cupping the side of his jaw, fingertips resting under his ear and being tickled by his hair, pulling him to you.

your breaths intertwine as you hover over his mouth, your lips don’t touch when you poke your tongue out and let it slide behind his top teeth and trail across the sharp edge, slowly, left to right. when you pull away, you observe him.

matt closes his mouth, sucking his teeth and plastering a thoughtful look on his face. you wait for his response.

“well?” you can only wait for so long before you’re trying to entice him to say something, anything.

he adjusts himself on the lounge, full body facing you at this point, if he was pushed up any closer he’d be on top of you.

“just like, out of curiosity. can you do it again?” he asks bashfully. he did say take it or leave it. so you take it, while he’s dangling it in front of you.

this time, you curve your hand gently around the back of his neck to guide his face. tilting your head slightly before pulling him in. you lick the back of the teeth again, even slower than the first time. you can feel matt holding his breath, and the taste of the root beer he just had still lingering.

matt takes a deep breath when you part from him again, flaring his nostrils slightly and sucking on the inside of his cheek. he looks confused, in a content way. but confused nonetheless.

you stare at him, memorising this look on his face. without breaking his stare with you, matt reaches for a pillow and throws it over his lower body, holding it in place. before he has a chance to set it onto his lap, you glance down to see the bulge forming under his black shorts.

“did you like my tongue in your mouth, matthew?” your words are jovial, but he turns away from you after you question him, looking quite literally anywhere else.

“no-i,i mean. fuck, i don't know. no." he rambles, response being faster than his brain can even register, not pulling out the best choice of words from his vocabulary.

“no? is that why you let me do it twice?” you tease, turning the table on him.

"you're right," he pauses.

"maybe we should make it three. for good luck." he looks back at you with a red hue on his cheeks, simpering smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he hugs the pillow on his lap.

"only if you ask nicely," you squint your eyes, and he rolls his.

"i'm not beggin' for it. no way." he shakes his head, boston accent coming through a lot thicker when he's defensive. it happens a lot, and that's how you know you have him cornered.

"your call, matty. take it or leave it." the front you're putting on for him is a fraud, having a gut feeling that it's the only cue he needs to surrender. he's silent for a solid minute.

"fuck, jesus, okay." he finishes, grabbing your face this time. he caresses your jaw, and his touch is so firm and so warm.

the pillow between your bodies is like a barrier, but he pushes up against it hard to bring you as close to his face as you can. you brace yourself for him to open his mouth again, but instead, your lips collide.

your eyes close instinctively and his soft, wet lips move with yours, taking your bottom lip between the kiss, and letting his tongue slide in and dance across your own. slowly he pulls away, fluttering inches over your mouth instead of distancing himself.

"i don't know, i don't know why i just-" matt is still touching your face through his panic-stricken words.

you don't even counter his sentence before grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him back to your mouth. you shove the pillow off the lounge in-between your bodies with your knee while shifting your body weight onto his lap, an easy transition considering how close you've been the whole time.

matt grabs your waist immediately, securing you on top of him and deepening the kiss. you feel your throat shake with his small, desirous moan into your mouth. you sink all of your body weight onto him and can feel his dick underneath you growing harder, heat radiating from between his legs.

the kiss becomes heavier, more desperate and messy, missing each others mouths and clashing your teeth, taking breaths for a split second before attacking each other's lips again. your nails dig into his shoulders and matt's hands lower, stationing on your upper thigh.

you're in such a state of disbelief but ignore every doubt or worry you're forcing yourself to have. you've mentally convinced yourself this is a dream. you're not actually grinding into your bestfriend's groin, making out with him and having his thumbs get closer and closer to your heat, feeling wet already at the friction.

matt kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek bone, the tip of your nose, then your jaw. he trails the kisses on your jaw lower and lower, grazing his teeth along your delicate skin until he reaches he crease of your neck just under your ear, and you lean into him as much as you possibly can.

"you like my teeth so much, wait until you see what they can do to your neck," he forces deeply against your skin, biting at your earlobe.

"god, matt," you exhale.

you feel a sharp, stinging suck to your neck, making you gasp. he pulls your skin into his mouth, tongue rubbing the area that he's suffocating in his bite. he pulls away, making a sharp sound when he lets go. he repeats the same thing just underneath his first bite, and your body is twisting and distorting in his arms. you tug at his hair with a warning.

"you’re gonna have to explain those marks." you tremble, yet not stopping him. he taunts a stifled laugh.

"don't care," he starts, pulling your shirt off your shoulder and sucking another deep purple mark on your collar bone.

"i'll spell my name out on your skin if i have to." it’s like he’s a trance, trailing his middle finger along the bites he just left before looking up at you with a dazed smile.

his chest is rising and falling prominently, both of you catching your breath after the intense session. matt gently presses his lips to yours again, and you lean your forehead against his. he grips at the bottom hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric.

"if i knew my teeth would get you on top of me, i would have let you lick em' sooner," he has a crooked, dopey grin on his face. you blush, flustered at his words.

"is this is insane? you don't think you're gonna regret it?" you're cautious with your words, voice gentle, head still leaning against his and your fingers playing with the hair creeping on the nape of his neck.

"i could never regret you." he shakes his head softly, making you smile and peck another gentle kiss on his lips. you know he means his words, and they make you want to melt into a puddle.

"smile for me quickly," you banter, holding onto his shoulders but pulling back to look at his face properly.

he covers his face with his big hands and you let out a hearty laugh, attempting to pry them off and begging him to stop hiding.

"matt! you'll let me shove my tongue down your throat but can't smile for me?" your stomach hurts with the laughter caused by the sheer fight he's putting up covering his face.

when you finally get him to drop his hands he has the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. smiling ear to ear, and eyes closed shut, putting on a show for you. he drops his face quickly once you've had your time to look, and has those signature tired and heavy eyes make an appearance once again.

you lean in, slowly, so slow. your face is drawing him in like a magnet, him following your moves to meet in the middle. he flashes his teeth once again, and you run the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip, feeling his teeth too, budging his mouth open.

"now you're just taking advantage of it," his raspy voice speaks, pulling you back to his mouth by your neck and leading with his tongue, letting it slide in and moaning into your parted lips. they finally sink into each others after teasing each other, seeing who falls into the kiss first.

your tongues fight for dominance and matt grabs the back of your neck hard, forcing you to stay where you are. you're tilting left and he's tilting right as you focus on breathing through your nose to stay attached to each other as long as you can.

you can literally feel matt take his time to explore your mouth, circling every inch he possibly can. he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard, making you gasp before pulling back and letting go, both of your mouths wet and glistening with each others saliva.

matt wipes your mouth with his thumb, applying enough pressure but still being gentle. he's staring at your skin before his eyes fixate on those marks he left earlier.

"oh fuck, they're pretty bad" he giggles, and you roll off his lap with a groan, slapping your hand over your neck as if to hide them from him. your legs drape over his thighs and you can feel him looking at you.

you hide from him by sinking into the lounge for no good reason other than you think somehow it'll make the marks disappear, or manifest that it does.

"i didn't even bring makeup to cover it," you fake cry, seeing how bad it could make him feel, but he doesn't budge. matt slaps your thigh as if to say 'i'm not buying it' then rubs your legs soothingly.

"you're not covering them up. i won't let you leave the house if you do, no other option." matt is demanding but lighthearted in his words.

"oh no, i can't leave, what a shame," you dramatically flail your hand to your temple like an old school movie scene, and matt pokes your rib to get you to snap out of it.

"if you ever want to see my teeth again i'd watch the dramatics, honey" and those words coming from him alone make you cut the act, flushing red and sitting up properly.

you don't know how he's managed to whip you into line, usually being the other way around, but you're not risking it.

you've somehow taken more than you could ever ask for from him, and you're still anxious that you've bitten off more than you can chew. no pun intended.

regardless, you're in ignorant bliss. you'll take everything you can get from matt, and more, if he's willing to give it to you. which at this point, you're sure he is.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff

3K notes · View notes

jobean12-blog · 11 months

Text

Payback is Sweet

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,113

Summary: You decide it's time Bucky experiences what's it's like to be you for the day.

Author's Note: I've seen a lot of these gender reversal tik toks where the girl pulls the stunts the SO usually does and it always makes me laugh so naturally here's Bucky getting his! HA! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you bunches Daisy my sweet🥰

Warnings: flirty, fun and sweet fluff

“Thanks for makin’ breakfast doll.”

You kiss Bucky’s cheek and then start to clear the dishes. He immediately gets up to help and loads the dishwasher, leaving behind a few random things that have to be washed by hand.

When he rolls up the sleeves of his Henley and begins washing them you slide up behind him and press your body to his. Your hands wander, grazing across the wide breadth of his shoulders before slipping under his arms to caress his abs.

His muscles flex under your touch and you lift his shirt, smoothing your fingertips along his warm skin.

He wiggles against you and when you move higher to pinch his nipples he let’s out a surprised hiss. You give his pecs a few good squeezes and then saunter off to the couch.

He turns to give you a perplexed look but you pay him no mind and scroll through your phone.

Later, when he’s bent over and onloading the dishwasher you walk by looking for a snack and smack his ass hard.

With a yelp he stands up straight and stares at you.

“Doll?”

“What’s up Buck?” you ask as you search for the cookies. “Have you seen the Oreos?”

He just watches you silently.

“Oh! Here they are!” you sing before walking off with your treat.

That same night after the laundry is done you walk into the bedroom with the basket and drop it to the floor, taking out your clothes to fold them. Bucky comes out of the bathroom and gives you a kiss then goes to grab his own clothes and do the same.

As he’s bent over and sifting through them you situate yourself behind him and grab hold of hips, pumping your own against them in a rapid motion. He nearly falls over in surprise and you have to stifle a laugh before you go back to putting away your own things as if nothing has happened.

You can feel his intense gaze as you move around the room but you do your best to ignore him.

After the laundry is sorted you fall onto the couch and search through Netflix for something to watch. Bucky plops down next to you and pulls you against him, snuggling closer.

“Anything good?” he asks.

“Not yet,” you answer and hand him the remote.

With the movie long over you shift in Bucky’s arms, slowly starting to wake back up and realizing you both fell asleep on the couch. He’s still passed out but you manage to lift his metal arm off you and sit up.

You spot your banana, left on the coffee table from earlier, and your lips spread into a grin. With careful and quiet movements you peel it and turn to face Bucky, laughing when you see his mouth hanging open with his deep breathing.

Without thinking you shove the banana between his lips.

He starts to choke and sits up in a flurry of wild movements and muffled curses. When he finally calms down and catches his breath he looks at you and then at the banana and then back to you again.

“Did you just….? Was that…? WHY doll?!??!”

You fall over in a fit of laughter, curling into yourself and unable to respond.

You can hear his huffs and feel his eyes but it only fuels your giggles.

“I’d like an explanation when you’re done doll face,” he states, tone serious.

That quells your laughter and you shoot up and glare at him with your finger in his face.

“YOU…. want an explanation mister?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing your finger to drag you closer.

His hands land on your waist and he pulls you into his lap. “Let’s hear it. I wanna know why you’ve been groping me all day…smacking my ass, feeling me up, putting stuff in my mouth, humpin’ me…and then walkin’ off to leave me hanging! I’ve had blue balls all day!”

Your mouth hangs open and you blink several times.

“Is this the part where I stick a banana in your mouth?” he asks with a smirk.

Your eyes narrow and you grit out, “you really don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?” he says, taking your face in his hands.

“This is what you do to me ALL DAY EVERY DAY!”

His eyebrows draw inward and he begins to protest but you give him a warning scowl.

He huffs and sits back against the couch, taking you with him. He’s quiet for a while, clearly playing back memories of his crimes.

“Well…” he starts, his blue eyes wide, “I mean…sure I smack your ass…but I love your ass.”

“Mm hm,” you say with pursed lips. “And?”

“And…it’s hard not to squeeze your boobs when you’re washing the dishes. Your hands are busy and mine aren’t and I love your boobs sooo…”

“Uh huh Buck.”

“And how do you expect me not to want to stick it in every time you bend over…it’s like putting it on display and asking me not do one of my favorite things!”

He’s getting more and more flustered as he continues.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And I’ve never stuffed my dick in your mouth without you wanting me too!”

You stare at each other, both trying to hold it together but when you see the corners of his eyes start to crinkle you break and fall into his chest with a laugh.

“Ok, I’ll give you that one,” you mumble before sniffing his Henley.

He laughs harder, tightening his hold on you and then kissing any spot of your skin he can find.

“Do I sniff you a lot too?” he teases.

“You do, but I think I sniff you more,” you giggle.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you burrow into him, inhaling his skin.

“Just wanted you to get a taste of your own medicine,” you whisper.

You pepper his cheek with kisses and sit up to look at him, frowning when you see his expression.

“Bucky?”

“Do you hate when I do those things,” he asks quietly.

“NO!” you tell him. “I love when you touch me.”

“Are you sure?” he says, looking worried. “It’s because you’re my favorite and I love to feel you and touch you all the time.”

“Of course I’m sure baby, don’t worry and I know,” you assure him. “Today was a lot of fun for me. I loved getting my hands on you. Think I’ll do it more often.”

You smirk deviously then kiss his pouting lips.

“Ok good,” he whispers, slipping his hand behind your neck to keep you close. “Because today might have been the best day of my life.”

@hiddles-rose @goldylions @randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @kmc1989

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

2K notes · View notes

dokries · 3 months

Text

seventeen when you block their kisses

pairing: seventeen x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.3k

warnings: kissing of course, mentions of tea in minghao’s, mention of a spider (though only in passing) in vernon’s

author note: hehe i wrote this anyway! thank you dori for requesting again 🫶 i’ve never written like this before, so i hope it turned out well, and you enjoy reading :D lots of love!!

masterlist

seungcheol (s.coups)

✦ pouts immediately and slumps, crossing his arms and looking away in protest.

✦ maybe he’ll try again but if you block him then too, trust me. he’s going to act like a kid having a tantrum and whine and mutter under his breath.

✦ “baby, why aren’t you letting me kiss you…”

✦ you end up smothering him in kisses until he grins and hugs you happily before pouting again, making you sigh.

✦ he’s not getting over it for a while for sure, and will hold it over your head forever.

jeonghan

✦ raises an eyebrow when you move away from him but leaves it at that, going back to his phone.

✦ doesn’t try again at all and knows what you’re up to, so he just sits just close enough where you can kiss him easily to test your patience. (and if you’re not joking, he gives you space and doesn’t initiate anything before you do to make sure you’re comfortable.)

✦ when you eventually do end up kissing his cheek, he smirks, pulling you into him.

✦ “i knew you couldn’t go too long without a kiss.”

✦ you grumble as he giggles and kisses you on the forehead.

jisoo (joshua)

✦ thinks something is wrong right away and asks you if he did anything to upset you.

✦ did he forget to do the dishes? he’ll do them right away. did he forget a day that’s important? he’ll make it up to you somehow, he promises.

✦ he stares at you with those big deer eyes with your hands clasped in his and you can’t stop yourself from grabbing his face and kissing him where his eyebrows furrow.

✦ he laughs in relief when he realizes nothing is wrong, and kisses you back on the cheek softly.

✦ “darling, i was so worried i forgot something—you scared me for a second there.”

junhui (jun)

✦ stares at you in concern before mentally listing off anything he might’ve done by accident, like joshua.

✦ he looks at you with his lil confused cat look and you can’t not kiss him on the cheek.

✦ even then, his face doesn’t change until he belatedly registers that you kissed him.

✦ he chuckles shyly before patting your hand, still slightly dazed.

✦ “woah you confused me…i thought you were mad at me or something.”

soonyoung (hoshi)

✦ looks at you in shock before cuddling up closer to you, staring at your face to analyze your expression as he frowns in concentration.

✦ “is something wrong? are you feeling okay? are you sick? babe…”

✦ his boba eyes win and you kiss him on the nose and he immediately grins, squishing your cheeks together as a punishment before kissing you back on the nose with the most outrageous look of adoration.

wonwoo

✦ is confused and stares at you with his head tilted. he doesn’t usually initiate anything so he doesn’t get why you’re refusing him.

✦ puts a hand to your forehead to check your temperature and senses nothing wrong, so he leans back in his seat on the couch beside you, the same expression on his face.

✦ eventually spaces out until you giggle and move over to kiss the side of his lips, and he turns to you and blinks before letting out a sigh of relief.

✦ “yeah, i have no idea why you blocked my kiss…that was confusing.”

jihoon (woozi)

✦ also someone who doesn’t initiate skinship most of the time and tilts his head in concern, swiveling back to face the computer screens in front of him.

✦ he starts to overthink everything he has or hasn’t done in the last few days, sneaking looks back at you to gauge your expression.

✦ eventually goes back to working on the song he started, expecting you to explain when you want to.

✦ when you come over and wrap your arms around his neck and place a kiss on his cheek, he turns to look at you. when you giggle, he smiles, patting your arm.

✦ “oh okay, i thought you didn’t want to be around me right now…i’m glad that’s not the case.”

minghao (the8)

✦ when you move your face away from him, he pauses, softly asking if you’re alright.

✦ when you don’t respond, he squeezes your hand reassuringly, and lets you be, sitting quietly next to you as he sips his cup of tea.

✦ he’s surprised when you kiss the hand that’s holding yours eventually, unable to keep him waiting longer.

✦ he smiles gently before teasing you, nudging your shoulder.

✦ “i can’t believe i don’t get to kiss you but you can kiss me. seriously though, you okay? maybe you should start on your tea, i’m sure it’ll help.”

mingyu

✦ pouts when you don’t let him welcome you with a kiss while you’re in the doorway of your home, and chases you around until he can finally put his lips to yours with a giggle.

✦ back hugs you until he gets answers from you and if this holding you isn’t enough, he starts to tickle you, and eventually you crack.

✦ he pretends to think before asking for another kiss as an apology, and grins when you oblige.

✦ “you really think you could get away from me without a kiss? well, i think not!”

seokmin (dokyeom)

✦ also pouts automatically, shocked as he pulls back from your face as he cuddles you.

✦ he frowns as he puts his hands on either side of your face to inspect it and see if you’re not letting him kiss it because you’re conscious of something. when he finds nothing, he grabs your hands, asking if you’re okay.

✦ and yeah, it’s hard for you to hold back—so you don’t, and you peck him on the lips quickly before moving back to see his reaction.

✦ his eyes are wide and he smiles slowly before pulling you close with a sigh of contentment.

✦ “i thought something happened, my love! don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

seungkwan

✦ immediately gives you a stink face with the worst side eye ever. what do you mean you don’t want a kiss from him? don’t you love him and his tendency to kiss you on the cheek all the time?

✦ he narrows his eyes at you when you don’t say anything and sighs, asking if something happened and if he can do anything for you.

✦ when he frowns in concern, you reach to grab and kiss his cheek with a giggle, and he groans before kissing you back softly, looking off to the side after. eventually, he cuddles closer to you and plays with your hands, mumbling under his breath about how you scared him, and how he’ll always give you reminders of much you mean to him so you’ll never forget—or stop him from kissing you.

✦ “don’t get me worried like that again, okay?”

hansol (vernon)

✦ tilts his head at you but doesn’t push it like jeonghan, though he does this because he knows you’ll communicate if something’s wrong.

✦ leaves you be and goes back to watch cat videos on the couch next to you, deciding not to leave so he can remind you that he’s always here for you, even if you don’t necessarily want him there—which is what he believes right now.

✦ you eventually move to snuggle against him and watch a cat try to do a backflip with him, and kiss the corner of his smile, and it only gets bigger as he takes your hand.

✦ “glad to have you back. anyway, have you seen that one video where a cat gets super scared by a spider and flops down onto their owner’s stomach—”

chan (dino)

✦ looks at you confused when you don’t accept his kiss hello, and you can see the question mark hanging over his head.

✦ also grabs your hand to ask if you’re okay, and scans your body to see if you’re hurt anywhere.

✦ he smiles when you kiss him after a few minutes of just him standing there and staring at you, determined to figure out what’s wrong.

✦ intertwines your hands so you can walk to wherever you’re going, and looks at you lovingly the entire time.

✦ “what? wow, you didn’t want me to kiss you first, and now i can’t even look at my favourite person in the world?”

606 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 3 months

Text

The Lost Haven (5/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, panic attack, violence, bad & morally unacceptable things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he got up from the pier and moved ahead, he felt like his head was going to explode. He clutched at the left side of his face, his artificial eye, feeling that, as usual when he panicked, his hypersensitive nerves made him feel a stinging discomfort and pain in his eye socket.

"Come. Let's take a walk." He heard a defiant, harsh voice in front of him and raised his gaze, surprised to see Daemon's silhouette heading towards him.

"Fuck off." He hissed, wanting to avoid him, but the man's hand clamped down aggressively on his arm, stopping him in mid-step.

"We need to talk about my daughter." He said, making his heart leap into his throat, cold sweat running down his back.

"What do I have to do with her?" He asked coldly, unable to look him in the face, staring dully ahead.

"Clearly too much. So?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, his free hand slowly moving to the back pocket of his trousers, to his penknife.

"– don't –" Daemon said.

He swallowed hard when he let go of him, turning away, moving with a lazy, slow step towards the shore. He followed him, looking around, Jace's concerned face watching them from afar.

"Don't worry. I told him to wait until we were done talking." He said, standing between the trees in such a place to be sure no one would overhear them.

"Something happened between you two eight years ago. I want to know what." He said matter-of-factly, resting the weight of his body on his left leg, looking around as if he was annoyed at being forced to converse with him.

He felt the heat of horror in his stomach at his question, as if he had been caught red-handed.

"My left eye happened to me." He growled, wanting to close the subject and get as far away from this man as possible. "Anything else?"

"My daughter put something on her mouth before we left. It must have had some glitter on it, because it sparkled. But when I saw her just now, she no longer had any lip gloss on." He said wearily, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as if to check his reaction, his gaze piercing and sharp, making his breath get stuck in his throat.

Oh God.

Oh my fucking God.

Seeing that he stood with his lips parted, looking at him like an idiot, Daemon chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.

"I knew she was hiding something." He muttered more to himself than to him. "How long has this been going on?"

What?

"What do you mean?" He asked, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought that his feelings, his sickening longing and desire might have been reciprocated by her.

Daemon looked at him with reluctance and sighed heavily.

"This thing between you two. What happened eight years ago?" He asked in a voice that indicated he was impatient and was not going to ask a third time.

He hated him with all his heart and despised him, but his directness, the way he saw what was elusive to others made him think, in a fit of desperation, that he had to get it off his chest.

That maybe when he finally told someone about it, he could move on at last.

"She was afraid of the dark and would come to sleep in my room." He muttered finally.

"You used her?" Daemon asked coldly, and he snorted, feeling a cold, unpleasant shiver run down his spine.

"I think you're completely out of your fucking mind." He hissed, not knowing what to do with his terror and his trembling hands, so he reached into the pocket of his jacket again and pulled out a cigarette, putting it in his mouth with an impatient flick of his hand.

Daemon stared at him wordlessly, watching as he lit it with his lighter.

"But something happened." He finally concluded, making him laugh involuntarily, taking a deep drag.

He shook his head, grinning broadly, not believing that he was having this conversation with this bastard, who was just waiting for his father to die to take over their business.

"Maybe." He hummed, letting out a puff of smoke through his nose, looking away into the complete darkness.

"You know she went to a psychiatrist? When she was in high school." Daemon said and he froze, his hand stopped in mid-motion towards his mouth. He swallowed hard, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

This is when she started posting pictures of herself with these boys, he thought, feeling discomfort in his chest.

"How did she get your phone number?" He asked, snapping him out of his reverie, making his heart stop for a moment.

"What?"

"She called you even though you're not on any social media and you haven't seen each other for eight years. How did she get your phone number?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, taking a drag on his cigarette and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I gave it to her."

"Why?"

"It's none of your fucking business."

"It's my business." He hissed.

Daemon took a step towards him, making him tense all over, ready to reach into the back pocket of his trousers if necessary.

"She's my daughter."

"She's not your daughter." He said coldly making his nostrils quiver in rage.

"You think blood ties are what make people family? Is that what your grandfather taught you? You know I used to work for him?" He asked, taking his cigarette from his hand, to his fury taking a drag on it before his eyes.

He was unable to respond, however, because what he said completely shocked him.

"Bullshit."

"Ask him. He took me in as a young boy, surely for similar tasks as you. Let me guess, you do the dirty work for him? Picking up cash from people who are late with their payment and making sure they will remember your warning well?" He sneered, hitting the cigarette with his finger, the ashes from it flew to the ground.

Daemon looked at him and smirked, seeing that he had turned pale.

Was he bluffing to get him off balance?

Perhaps he had been watching him and was now using it against him?

"You're using Jace for your own ends, and you're going to lecture me?" He growled through clenched teeth, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest, cold sweat running down his back.

Daemon snorted at his words, finishing off his cigarette, then threw it to the ground and crushed it with his boot.

"I gave him a choice: study and have a regular job, or work with me. He chose to work with me. What choice did Otto give you? Did he mention something about how you were already born in this world and will die in it? It would sound like him." He scoffed, putting his hands behind his back, sighing quietly.

He felt ashamed at the thought of feeling tears of humiliation under his eyelids, of feeling like a little deceived boy, someone's pawn, a dog his grandfather had let off the leash to bite someone who happened to get in his way.

It crossed his mind that he was not a human being to him.

"If you want to keep wallowing in this shit, be my guest, but stay the fuck away from my daughter or I'll kill you with my own hands." He hissed dryly and stepped around him, heading back to the building from which the loud music was coming, leaving him alone.

He drew in a loud breath as if he was suffocating and sat down on the sand, inhaling heavily, feeling that his whole body was shaking with fear.

Inhale and exhale, he repeated to himself, trying to calm down.

Inhale and exhale.

When he got up from the ground he just grunted and went back inside as if nothing had happened. His mother approached him, seeing his pale face and wide eyes.

"It's time for presents now. Did you bring what I asked you for?" She asked, clearly having in mind the books they had bought for his father, which he knew he wouldn't read anyway.

"– yes – yes, I'll bring them right away –" He muttered, noticing that his niece was not in the room.

He swallowed hard, heading for his car, escorted by the watchful gaze of his grandfather, thinking that perhaps she had gone home – he was relieved to see that Daemon's Mercedes was standing in the same place.

They were staying in hotel rooms for the night, he thought with disbelief and excitement, from which he felt ashamed.

He cursed under his breath as he closed the boot of his car and turned to see the figure of his grandfather walking towards him. He swallowed hard, correcting the packed set of books in his hands, turning his head away.

"So far there's been no bloodshed, has there? It's not so bad." He chatted him up with good-natured amusement, as if he wanted to make him laugh.

What choice did Otto give you?

Did he mention something about how you were already born in this world and will die in it?

Otto furrowed his brow, seeing the look on his face, and put his hand on his shoulder.

"I know how you feel at the sight of Luke. You want revenge. It's hard." His grandfather said calmly.

He snorted, shaking his head, realising that for the past hour he hadn't thought once about the boy who'd taken his eye from him.

He didn't give a shit.

He was small, scared, pathethic boy, nothing more.

What kind of opponent could he possibly be for him?

"It just so happened that I haven't had a chance to think about him. My head has been occupied by the people I've left behind with a few scars." He said finally in a manner from which Otto blinked, shifting from foot to foot.

"Are you overwhelmed by it? You can tell me." He said making him burst out in loud, unnatural laughter.

"Are you fucking serious?" He asked, and his grandfather shushed him, looking around.

"Keep your voice down. What's got into you now? We don't know how much time your father has left. We must watch our interests, for his death is coming whether we want it or not, and his passing will weaken us. Aegon would rather focus on running his brothel than real business, and I need you. You will replace me someday." He said, placing his hands on his arms in a way as if he was just giving him his blessing.

He stared at him in disbelief, feeling both horror and emptiness in his mind, convinced that it was Aegon who was about to take over the whole business.

The magnitude of everything that was happening around him so unexpectedly overwhelmed him, making it difficult for him to breathe.

I gave him a choice: study and have a regular job, or work with me.

"I want to study archaeology."

He heard the words leave his mouth, but he was sure it wasn't him who said them: they came out of his throat involuntarily, like the babbling of a small child.

His grandfather's reaction, the way he laughed in disbelief, shaking his head made him simply want to cry.

Otto saw it: saw the tear that ran down his face, saw his tightly clenched lips, saw his nostrils twitching with every breath.

"You're serious." He stated finally and sighed, closing his eyes.

"We'll think about it when things calm down. Maybe we can combine it with some part-time studies or night school. We'll find an understanding." He said, patting him on the shoulder, but he looked at him blankly, not seeing him.

He laughed.

It was his dream, and he laughed at it.

He stepped around him, wiping his cheek, returning to his asylum, his fortress in his mind, one that no one had access to.

His mother took their gift from him, along with a watch from Aegon and a set of fountain pens from Helaena and Otto, standing first in line to give Viserys a gift.

However, instead of focusing on his father, hardly sitting in his chair, his attention was focused on what his sister was saying to her husband behind his back.

"– she went to bed because she was feeling unwell – she said she had a stomach ache –"

"– our rooms are next to each other? –" He heard Daemon's voice.

"– yes – as we agreed – they are all double except hers –"

He swallowed hard at the thought that not only was she staying the night, but she was alone.

He thought, giving his father a gift from himself and his mother, forcing out of himself dry wishes for his health and prosperity, that he needed her like never before, that she would understand him.

She would not laugh at him.

He could still feel her plump, soft lips tasting of strawberries, and even the thought that Daemon knew he had kissed her could not make him give up the idea.

His mother insisted he stay another hour out of courtesy, so he surprised his older brother by demanding he bring them a bottle of whisky.

Aegon did so eagerly, pouring it into their glasses.

"What's the matter, brother? You seem shaken. Has the sight of your nephew roused you so? Or maybe your niece?" He asked, clinking his glass against his, tilting half of it immediately down his throat.

He took a loud sip from his glass, feeling an unpleasant sting in his chest at his words.

He did not answer.

Aegon scratched his chin, seeing the look on his face, the people around them getting drunker and drunker, dancing like it was the best night of their lives.

He couldn't believe how the people shaking this city could look so pathetic from the sidelines.

"Did you really kiss her? Then, eight years ago." He asked finally, and he froze, staring dully ahead.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, you know. Then, during our holiday. I yelled at you like some idiot, and now I think, after all, we were just little kids. I was a terrible son of a bitch." He hummed, spreading out comfortably in his chair.

"You still are." He said dispassionately, feeling a black, boundless void in his mind, involuntarily taking another deep sip of his whisky.

Aegon looked at him for a moment in thought.

"I was jealous. You left me alone with those idiots, her brothers, while you ran around and played in the sand by yourself. You didn't even ask me if I wanted to come with you." He muttered, already a little drunk himself, turning his glass in his hands, clearly sunk in his memories.

He sighed at his words and raised his gaze to the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Stop your bullshit. You humiliated me along with them at every turn. She was the only one who didn't do that and you're surprised it was her I ran away from you with? What fucking choice did I have? What do you all want from me? Hm?" He growled finally feeling that he was on the edge, that he was about to explode and something bad was about to happen.

Aegon swallowed hard, looking at him with big eyes, horrified.

"I'm sorry. For that joke with your boxers." He mumbled, lowering his gaze. "I regretted it later. But it was too late."

"Joke? You know what would be a really good joke? If our mother found out now that the club you so bravely run is just a cover for a brothel. That you fuck your own whores and don't even pay them for it." He said coldly with a broad grin, leaning his elbow against the back of the chair.

"Say, brother, wouldn't that be fun?" He asked, and after a moment stood up quickly, cursing loudly as Aegon vomited on the table.

His mother made him help his brother get to his room and together they walked to the reception desk, meeting his step-sister there.

"Reservation for Rhaenyra Targaryen." She said while his mother talked to the other woman about the room reserved for him and Aegon.

The thought that he was to sleep in the same space with him made him sick.

"Room 301, 302 and 303 – the key for room 301 was already handed out two hours ago." Said the receptionist. Rhaenyra nodded her head.

"Yes, yes, my daughter is already in her room, we just ask for the rest of the keys." She said.

He swallowed hard, feeling that his heart was pounding like mad at the dangerous thought that crossed his mind.

Room 301.

He carried Aegon into their room, which he had opened with a card earlier, and threw him on the bed like a sack of potatoes. He covered him carelessly with the duvet and sighed heavily, looking into the fridge, seeing a full bottle of whisky in it.

He pulled it out without thinking, opening the window wide, feeling that he was hot and cold at the same time. He unscrewed the cap from the glass bottle and took a few deep sips from it, sitting down on his bed.

Should he go to her or not?

She was probably already asleep.

Should he bother her after what he'd done to her?

What was he supposed to say to her?

Apologise?

There were no words, no sentences that could make up for the fact that he had not answered her for eight years.

He wanted to express his condolences to her after her father's death, but he didn't.

He was afraid that she would then want to renew contact, to meet up – he knew he wouldn't survive that, that it would all come back to him like a wave, that he would only ridicule himself.

He had never drank alcohol at such a rapid pace before, angry, sad, bitter, heartbroken, exhausted, always having to be the more considerate, cool, calculating brother when Aegon only lived from party to party.

He knew that his older brother, like him, could not cope with what was going on around them, with how brutal and ruthless the world they lived in was. He had witnessed several shootings in which people with whom he had been drinking shots of vodka the day before had lost their lives.

I want to study archaeology.

What the fuck had occurred to him to say that?

He felt an overwhelming shame that he had humiliated himself in front of his own grandfather, that he had shown that he was weak, that now neither he nor anyone else would respect him.

He took another loud, deep gulp of whisky at the thought, feeling the room around him become more and more blurred, his mind seeming to drift away and relax making his thoughts flow through his head like a river.

She tasted so wonderful: her lips. Her kisses were so sweet, tender, warm, moist. She must have kissed with her tongue before. With which boy for the first time? Probably with that fucking Robb, the hollow handsome guy from her year. He certainly didn't treat her well, otherwise she'd still be with him despite that photo on Facebook. Or maybe they were still together, only he didn't know it? She hadn't posted a picture with him in a year. They certainly weren't together. Fuck, how he hated him.

Had he managed to sleep with her before she realised he was a two-faced bastard? Or was she still a virgin? No, what he did to her didn't scare her, she must have had some experience. Was he tender to her? Had he prepared her well, made her all moist and eager? Did he do it slowly, did he make sure he wasn't causing her pain? Was he telling her how much he loved her, how good she made him feel?

He blinked, feeling that his cheeks were wet, that he was breathing loudly through his mouth, whooping with tears, that there were some high-pitched, squeaky sounds coming from his mouth as if he were a little boy.

I want to go to her, he thought.

I want her to hug me.

It turned out that getting out of his room and walking a small part of the corridor proved to be more difficult than he thought, because everything around him was spinning. He had no idea why he had taken his bottle with him, but he thought he felt safer with it.

Finally, he spotted the door with the number 301 in front of his face and knocked far too loudly, swallowing hard for air.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" He muttered, feeling himself lose his balance and fall to the floor with a loud thud. He hissed, moving to the wall, leaning his head against it.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He mumbled pleadingly, wanting only to fall asleep next to her, nothing more.

He closed his eyes and hummed when he heard a quiet creak, and then her voice.

"Come."

He woke up, looking at her surprised, at her sweet, innocent face, and picked himself up quickly, too quickly, losing his balance again, falling to his knees, dropping the bottle and its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He cursed, trying to reach for it, but her hands tightened on his arm.

"− no − leave it − come inside −"

He was delighted to find that as he collapsed on her bed everything around him smelled of her − his erection pulsed happily at the thought, pleased as he was. He murmured when she felt him pull his shoes off his feet, making him spread out more comfortably, and then reached into his leather jacket.

"− you'll be too hot −" She whispered, and when he opened his eyes he saw her face above him in the darkness, the warm look of her gentle eyes.

He involuntarily put his arms around her waist and pulled her close making her squeal, his hand running over her wonderfully soft hair and neck.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −"He muttered with delight, in his original intention just wanting to hug her, spreading his legs apart so she could lie between them, pressed against his chest.

However, out of some natural reflex he kissed her, and as their fleshy lips pressed against each other in a loud, dirty, sticky kiss full of their tongues, his cock bumped against her belly, betraying his arousal.

"− tell me to leave −" He mumbled between one kiss and the next, stroking her fragrant hair, her back and buttocks, thinking that he didn't want to hurt her, that he just wanted to feel her, just like he did that night eight years ago when he kissed her for the first time. "− tell me to stop −"

But she didn't say anything, neither when his hands slid under the material of her panties nor when his fingers tentatively sank into her hot, silky womanhood.

She was leaking.

She whimpered into his mouth, quivering all over in his embrace as he began to play with her throbbing entrance, merely teasing it with the tips of his fingers, feeling her hard nipples pressed against his chest, slowly building hot tension in his lower abdomen.

"− shhh − easy now −" He breathed out into her mouth delighted that she was aroused, that she was all wet and thirsty for him and his caresses. His thumb pressed and stroked her bud in circular motions while the rest of his hand roamed over her hot slit, throbbing with longing.

Instead of pushing him away, she kissed him deeper and bolder, making his swollen erection painfully hard, pushing impatiently against her abdomen. He figured he had to prepare her well first for what he wanted put inside her, so he tentatively slid the tip of his middle finger into her.

She moaned loudly into his throat as he began to tease her, sliding his finger in and out, her fleshy walls soaking wet, warm and rough.

God, how he wanted to feel her.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She cried out, against her words rolling her hips back and forth, falling and rising on his finger, making her moisture begin to leak onto his palm with a loud click.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped, soothing and hushing her like a small child. He stroked her hair with his free hand, hugging her to his chest, with the other fucking her eager cunt with his finger, rubbing his swollen manhood against her belly.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She pleaded, clasping her hands over his turtleneck, her blurry, pretty face red with exertion and desire, her sweet lips parted wide in lust while her eyes remained closed in euphoria.

We're going to fuck, he thought, sliding his finger out of her – he put his hand between their bodies, unzipping his trousers, sliding their material together with his boxers, releasing his long, throbbing erection, dripping with impatience.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered, holding the base of his length with one hand, the other directing her weeping cunt at the pink head of it, opening her wide with a low groan of pleasure, throwing his head back.

She was so warm, enveloping his twitching, fat manhood wonderfully on all sides, his beautiful, beautiful niece.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled into his mouth, spreading her thighs wide before him, letting him sink all the way into her flesh with one deep, slow thrust.

"− let me − I need you −" He mumbled, feeling like his cock was about to explode with arousal, imposing a fierce, violent pace on her at once, slamming into her with sure, greedy stabs of his hips, feeling like he'd lost his breath.

He concentrated only on that natural, primal reflex: thrusting, invading deep into her body, stretching her tight walls on the thick part of his erection, helping himself with his hands that held her plump buttocks in place.

His thrusts into her were more violent, deeper and faster than his slips out of her, slower and full of anticipation, and as his hips began their next movement, he sunk from the uncomfortable coldness of the room into the warm wetness of her spasming pussy again.

They both panted and moaned, trying to find a rhythm together, her hips bucking while her hands found a support on his chest, responding to each of his pushes, pounding into her throbbing cunt, clicking from her moisture, again and again.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting out crying, simultaneously terrified and delighted at what they were doing exactly as he did, her buttocks slapping against his thighs, sinking him into her warmth, giving his cock a sure, thirsty squeezes.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He breathed out, finding in his mind's eye that fucking her, being deep inside her, making love to her was a kind of breakthrough of sorts, taking at last what he had always wanted without regard for what he would feel tomorrow.

What he felt now was the only thing he wanted to feel for the rest of his life, and the thought of it made him feel a squeeze in his testicles indicating that he was close to reaching his peak.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks, spreading them apart with her moan of exertion, sinking into her as deeply as he could, thinking that he was about to come inside his own niece and it was going to feel so fucking good.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He whispered tenderly, pressing her face against his neck as she whimpered loudly, calling his name, her body shook with an orgasm so strong that her pussy began to clench hard around his cock, making his warm semen simply spurt inside her.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He muttered, closing his eyes, tilting his head back as his body shook with convulsions, experiencing the most powerful fulfilment of his entire life.

"− oh, baby −" He mumbled out, for a moment seeing only darkness in front of his eyes, completely besotted with pleasure, thrusting his hips into her for another moment with loud slaps of her moisture, feeling the remnants of his seed fill her womb.

Her womb.

Oh God.

What if she wasn't on the pill?

His drunken mind decided after a moment that it didn't matter in the slightest.

He was going to end it all, go study archaeology like she did, fuck her every day in his flat and have lots of kids with her.

Yes, he thought, feeling as calm as ever, recognising that this plan was perfect.

He hummed, pulling his leather jacket from under his back, covering their bare hips. He put his arms around her again, pressing his face against her temple, his lungs filled with the scent of vanilla, her sweat and her sweet wetness from which his thighs were all sticky.

The smell of what they'd done, how pleasant it was.

How right it was.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He mumbled and she just hugged him tighter, placing a soft, tender kiss on his neck, apparently not caring that his soft manhood was still gently throbbing deep inside her.

He sighed in relief, recognising that this was her answer, that she wanted to be his girlfriend again and have children with him in the future.

He closed his eyes and after a few minutes fell into a stony sleep, fulfilled and happy for the first time in eight years.

Throughout the night he could still feel the closeness of her body, her scent, her little hands embracing his waist. He pressed her face against his neck with one hand entwined in her hair, the other having slipped under her panties to feel her soft buttocks beneath his fingers, their legs entwined together on her cramped single bed.

It was so peaceful.

He woke up sensing that it was only dawn, not knowing for a moment where he was or what had happened.

The first thing he felt was her scent − he opened his eyes and then he saw it: his hand that was slipped under the material of her underwear, placed on her buttock, his unzipped trousers, her calm face pressed against his chest, sunk into a deep sleep, her hand lying on his heart.

They fucked.

He came inside her.

He had the best orgasm of his life with his own niece.

He swallowed hard, feeling that the remnants of the alcohol were still humming in his head, giving him a terrible migraine. He sighed, closing his eyes, resting his cheek against her hair, recognising that the fact that he felt no remorse after what had happened between them was evidence that he was completely out of his fucking mind.

He heard her murmur as she twisted in his embrace, snuggling her face into his neck. The knuckles of his free hand stroked her plump cheek as his lips kissed the top of her head, causing her to lift the gaze of her bright eyes to him.

They stared at each other for a moment in complete silence − her small fingers rose to his face, her thumb stroked his jaw, responding to his tender caress as he pressed his forehead against hers.

There was nothing they could say, he thought.

No words could describe what they felt, what they were experiencing deep inside themselves, what they wanted.

As she lifted herself on her arm, moving closer to his face, he reached out to touch her, and they soft mouth met in a warm, sticky, lazy kiss. Her moist lips pulled away from his with a quiet click only to cling to him again, again and again, their caresses slow, tender, full of understanding and a desire to comfort.

Their hands stroked each other's faces, her soft breasts hidden under the material of her Tshirt pressed against his chest, her scent filling his lungs completely.

He felt at peace.

He felt at home.

"I know it's wrong, but I don't regret this." She whispered between one soft kiss and the next, closing his lower lip between her mouth, sucking on it for a moment with his gasp of delight.

"Neither do I." He hummed, reciprocating by running the tip of his slick tongue over her palate, his fingers slipped under the material of her panties, digging into the smooth skin of her buttocks.

"Mmm." She purred into his mouth, enclosing his cheeks in her hands, laying on top of him, letting him use her body again to rub it against his throbbing, half-hard manhood.

"One more time?" He suggested, panting quietly, rolling his hips so that he was brushing against the space between her thighs, his hand from her buttock sliding lower again, checking her condition. He grinned under his breath as he felt her warm wetness under the tips of his fingers, sliding one of them slowly into her hot, throbbing flesh.

"− look at you − all sticky −" He gasped in delight between their one messy, loud kiss and another, their desire-swollen lips beginning to devour each other in the chaos of their tongues and teeth, her moans sweet and vulnerable, doomed to give him what he wanted.

"− you − you on top −" She mumbled, and he sighed, immediately turning her onto her back, slipping her panties off her hips in a nimble, quick motion.

He didn't want to take away her sense of security or expose her completely, so he decided not to undress her or himself, for now, just wanting to feel her again.

"− come here − just like that, spread 'em wide −" He praised her, releasing his swollen erection from his trousers, seeing how her thighs instantly opened out to the sides in front of him, showing him her glistening pink folds, from which his pearly semen leaked.

"− what a sight − I will make sure I've filled you properly −" He gasped, and she nodded, her hands clenched on the pillow on either side of her head, her mouth parted wide in a heavy, excited breath.

They both groaned pathetically as, with the help of his free hand, using the other to support his balance, he directed the fat, dripping head of his cock against her throbbing slit, pushing between her hot opening with a soft, slow thrust.

Her walls, hot and leaking with her moisture, made an involuntary resistance to the thickest part of his manhood − she whimpered quietly with effort, throwing her head back, spreading her thighs wider to make the task easier for herself and him, wanting to take it inside.

"− it hurts? −" He muttered, and she shook her head, clenching her eyes, struggling to fit what was just tearing into her body.

He leaned over her, as with a deep, lazy thrust of his hips he slid all the way into her with their sigh of exertion, feeling his erection pulsing all over, embarrassingly close to fulfillment now that he was sober.

"− I'm going to start moving now − okay? −" He asked, and she nodded quickly, raising her hands to his cheeks, pulling him close to her making, together with the movement of his hips, their lips join in a hot, tender kiss.

They panted into each other's throats, their foreheads pressed together as he imposed a sharp, slow pace on her, building the path to their fulfilment with each push, making sure he pounded into her at such an angle as to tease each time a little spot deep inside her, just above her entrance.

"− feels good? −" He exhaled, looking down at her, at her pretty, flushed face, at her hair scattered in disarray around her head, at her puffy, sweet lips parted in deep breaths, swollen from his caresses.

He wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting her, that she wasn't doing it out of fear but because she was just as desperate as he was.

"− yes − yes, Aemond, so, so good −" She mumbled sweetly, tilting her head back, letting him press his lips against her long neck, leaving hot, wet marks on her skin while her eager, slick cunt gave him a greedy, tender squeezes, sucking him deep inside her fleshy core. He moaned low feeling it, involuntarily speeding up, thrusting into her faster and faster with loud slaps of their hips.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her body rocked to the rhythm of his thrusts, coming out to meet him willingly, his swollen, throbbing cock all soaked in their shared wetness, making her little pussy click every time he opened her on the widest part of his manhood.

"− just like that − just a little more − your uncle is close −" He exhaled in delight, feeling the tension in his lower abdomen reach its zenith, his whole body tense, coming closer with each push of his hips to the fulfilment he so needed, the bed beneath them began to creak loudly.

His hands slid under her buttocks, clamping down on her warm, soft skin, squeezing them towards each other so that they pressed down on his quivering erection, making her almost painfully tight.

"− fuckkk −" He cursed, biting his lower lip to keep from making any loud noise, hearing her moans of pleasure, her body quivering in fulfillment as her wetness ran down from her pulsing folds onto the sheet beneath them.

He had to cover her mouth with his hand, hearing movement in the corridor around them, knowing that everyone was getting up to go to breakfast, but he only wanted one thing: to come deep inside her.

He sighed and groaned quietly, surprised how a strong shudder shook his body, his eyebrows arched in pain and pleasure as he felt his seed fill her again, again, again, again, making her his, only his.

"− you are my ruin −" He gasped, rolling his hips back and forth, sinking into her beloved, soaked cunt for a moment longer, feeling wonderful waves of hot fulfilment surge through his body.

He collapsed on top of her, panting heavily, together with her just lying there, trying to calm his breathing. He thought, cuddling his face into her welted, sweaty cheek, that being deep inside her felt somehow strangely natural.

Strangely right.

"Are you taking pills?" He asked finally, swallowing hard. He felt her body tense up, her fingers involuntarily clenching on the material of his black turtleneck.

"No."

He nodded, his thumb running over her cheek, wanting to let her feel that he had reckoned with that option when he did what he did.

Twice.

"It's your body. But know that I'd like to be the father of your child. Someday. You decide when. If ever." He whispered in her ear, placing a soft, moist kiss on her cheek.

He heard her swallow hard, clearly completely shocked by his words.

"I…I don't know what I'll do yet. I need to think about it." She finally muttered, obviously not knowing how else she could respond to his confession without offending him. He sighed quietly at her words, feeling a cold squeeze in his chest.

"Let me know when you've made your decision about...you know. Please."

"So that you won't answer me?" She asked in a trembling, breaking voice.

He raised himself on his arm, wanting to look at her face, but she turned her head in the opposite direction, her eyes glazed from tears, her quivering lips clenched into a thin line.

"I'll. I swear I'll. Hey. Hey, look at me." He whispered, cupping her cheeks between his fingers, gently turning her face towards him, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks as her eyebrows arched in pain.

She didn't believe him and he didn't blame her.

"I mean it. I swear. I…" He didn't finish as they both flinched when someone started pounding on her door with their fist.

"Open up." He heard Daemon's voice and immediately slid out of her, fastening his trousers in a hurry, terrified, her eyes big as she quickly grabbed the material of her panties and put them on her thighs.

"Wait a minute!" She called out, handing him his jacket and shoes.

"Hide in the toilet." She whispered to him and he nodded, immediately locking himself in the small room, trying not to make a sound.

Fuck.

After a moment, he heard her open the door, Daemon's voice loud and clear.

"Get changed, we're leaving immediately." He said.

"But why so sudden? I'd like to have breakfast. Has something happened?"

"Viserys is dead."

422 notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Six.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You finally start to appreciate the happiness that having a soulmate brings.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. so much fluff.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - the sixth installment!! thank you to everyone who voted in my poll - I listened, and decided to make this chapter as sweet as pie, because I think we all need it. it's nice to have a little break from the angst. just a liiiiittle break though. a tiny one. as always, thank you for all of your love and support and enthusiasm and patience and kindness towards this story. so much love for every one of you. <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

"Are you happy?"

You stretch your feet further into the sand and sit up, wiggling to get comfortable on the picnic blanket.

"That's a big question to start with."

Stella laughs and closes her notebook, deciding to take a different route than originally planned.

"I just mean... be honest with me. I'm not gonna be offended if you say no."

"Do you think I'm gonna say no?"

"Do you always have to answer my questions with questions?"

You tilt your head and watch her, smiling softly.

"I thought this was supposed to be an employee performance review."

"You're not my employee and you know it."

Both of you laugh, the sound whipped away by the sea breeze.

"Then what am I, Stella?" you chuckle.

"You're basically my partner. Come on, we've done all of this together. You helped me build this business from the ground up - I couldn't have done it without you."

You go to protest, so she continues.

"I think you should be. My partner, that is. Obviously there's logistics to work out, but it'd be fifty fifty. You and I, co-owners. It doesn't feel right to me that you're my 'employee'. I'm not your boss. We're equals."

Your mind is running a mile a minute, trying to process what Stella's asking of you. Being her business partner is an opportunity you know is rare and incredibly special - and it could potentially set you up for life - but you can't help but think about the fact it's a big commitment. About home. About Bucky.

"You don't have to answer me right now - I just want you to think about it. We always talked about opening up businesses of our own. I should have asked you to be my partner at the beginning, but honestly... I didn't know if you were gonna stick around. It kinda felt like you had one foot out the door when we started."

You take a deep breath, nodding.

"Yeah. I, uh - I think I did. Don't get me wrong, I was super excited, but the idea of moving away when I felt like I'd just got home was a lot to process. I'd just settled back there, and then I was gonna be packing up all of my stuff again and shipping myself across the country. "

"I didn't realise it was so tough for you, you know. I just assumed you wouldn't mind moving. I mean, you were always up for it, back at school."

"Things changed, after I graduated. I got home, and a couple of things happened and I guess it just... turned everything upside down. Home is different now. In a good way, I think."

"You're different now, too."

You look at her carefully, half attempting to read her mind.

"How do you mean?"

"You're... more grounded. More careful. You think through everything way more than you ever did. Almost like you've realised you're not invincible anymore."

There's a feeling, when you're young, that you're indestructible. Unharmable. Broken bones mend, cuts and bruises heal, hearts and minds forget about their aches if you give them long enough.

Then one day, that feeling is gone. And you realise that you're mortal - made of flesh and blood and bones that will one day be returned to the Earth, whether you like it or not.

Meeting your soulmate is like having that realisation again, but bigger. Again, and again, and again. You don't live for yourself, anymore. You live for them. The pain they'd feel if they lost you is unfathomable, completely unimaginable.

So you become more careful. Less reckless. You drive a little slower, take things a little easier, quit your dangerous hobbies and unhealthy habits. You need to be alive for as long as possible. And you know your soulmate will do the same.

That's how you can tell a Tethered person from an Untethered one. Ask two people to go skydiving with you, and the Tethered one will tell you no. They can't risk it. It's not worth it.

Stella's right. You have realised you're not invincible anymore. You're a little more cautious when you climb ladders, you don't balance precariously on the kitchen counters anymore. You look twice when you cross the street, and don't risk it if there's a car coming and you could maybe get across.

You're also painfully aware that Bucky's older than you. He'll be turning forty in less than two years. Sure, he's not ancient, but it does mean you'll have less time together than Lacie will with Cameron, for example. And that hard truth makes you live a little less recklessly, every single day.

"I guess I just... grew up."

You're honestly not sure why you don't just tell Stella about Bucky. You know she'd understand. But there's a part of you that feels protective over what you have - territorial, even. Your Tethering is sacred, almost, and you feel the primal urge to guard it with your life. To lock it in a box and keep it away from anything that could harm it. The less people that know, the less damage that can be done. Maybe.

"I did too. The world is kinda scary now we're not in that little culinary school bubble, huh?"

"Yeah," you laugh. "We thought that was hard. Little did we know."

"Take your time, thinking about my offer. But just know that I really, really appreciate the fact that you're here. That you believed in me enough to move across the country. It means a lot."

"Of course," you say, reaching across to grab her hand. "I always believed in you, Stella. I always knew you'd do something great."

"We'd."

"Hmm?"

"We'd do something great. The two of us. Together."

"I always knew that we'd do something great," you correct.

You're starting to believe that, as time goes on. You were born to do this. You deserve to live your dreams.

Let the happiness seep through, you'd told yourself.

It finally feels like it is.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"There's a guy here to see you."

Isabel pops her head around the door, grinning at you like she knows something you don't.

"Again?"

She nods, giggling.

"Let me guess... he's hot, tall, brown hair?"

"Bingo."

"Thanks, Isa. I'll be right out. Is it busy out there?"

"It's quieter than it was. There was a pastry rush this morning, but we're good now."

You laugh and hang up your apron, washing your hands quickly before making your way to the café.

You feel like you're having déjà vu, this situation oddly familiar.

Just like Isa said, he's stood waiting with his back to you, broad shoulders filling out his powder blue short sleeve button up.

You're excited to see Rafael again. You've been trying a new cookie recipe for his sister, and you're eager to get him to try it. You're mentally making a note to buy a nice box to put them in when you feel it.

The lights get a little brighter, the colours a little more vibrant. The tightness in your chest eases, allowing you to take a full, deep breath. You can suddenly hear the birds outside singing, melodies drifting through the open doors like a summer breeze.

The man turns around, and it's not Rafael.

It's Bucky.

You're moving before you can even process it, running and jumping into his arms. You inhale, revelling in his familiar scent. He's here. Your happiness has arrived.

"Surprise," he laughs quietly into your ear. "Miss me, honey girl?"

You beam a grin at him, pulling away to look at his handsome face.

"More than you'll ever know."

"Oh, I know. I feel it."

He places a hand over his heart gently, looking at you with pure adoration.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's been a month since your Mom's birthday. A month since I've seen your pretty face. A month too long."

You roll your eyes jokingly, so he continues.

"You don't mind that I'm here, do you? Because I'll go, if it's too much for you. I know me showing up unannounced is a lot to process."

"Don't go," you reply quickly, grabbing his hand. "I want you here, Buck. More than anything."

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, cradling your face in his warm hands. The background of the café melts away, the man in front of you the only thing that matters.

You pull away and smile at him, pressing your forehead into his gently.

"Come back to the kitchen with me. Let's get away from all the noise."

You grab his hand and pull him with you, ignoring the excited giggling from Isabel behind the counter.

Bucky perches against a counter, leaning back to allow you to stand in between his legs. You wrap your arms around his neck and peck his lips, stealing kisses in between giddy smiles.

"I hope you weren't expecting a day full of super exciting adventures. I've got a list full of stuff I've got to get finished by closing."

"Honey, I'm more than content to stay here and watch you work. There's nothing I love more than watching you bake."

You run your fingertips over his face carefully, gently tracing his features as you look at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't care what we do, as long as we're together."

You wrap your arms around his middle, holding him as tightly as you can.

"I feel like I hit the soulmate jackpot," you whisper.

"No one's as lucky as I am," he whispers back. "Now, come on. Let me see you work your magic."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky, it turns out, makes a damn good assistant.

Instead of just watching, he volunteers to help in whatever way he can. You set him onto weighing your ingredients, so you can focus on making and decorating. He takes his job very seriously, measuring down to the precise gram each time. You can't help but grin as you watch him concentrate, determined to get it right.

At lunch time, Isabel brings you both coffee and sandwiches, entering just as you're teaching Bucky how to properly fold in ingredients.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You could never. Isa, this is Bucky. Buck, this is Isabel. Our best waitress."

He holds out his floury hand for her to shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Isabel. I've heard a lot about you."

"You have?"

Her eyes light up as she looks at you, fighting the smile off her face.

"My honey talks about you all the time."

Isabel glances between the two of you, clearly trying to figure things out.

"And you two are..."

"Soulmates," you say at the same time as Bucky does.

Her jaw drops for a moment, before she laughs.

"Yeah. That makes a lot of sense, actually."

You roll your eyes at her lovingly before Stella's voice calls her name from out front.

"I better go. But me and you are gonna talk about this later."

"Fine," you laugh.

"Nice to meet you!" Bucky shouts after her, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I like that we're just telling people now."

"Yeah, me too, actually. I thought it'd be scary, but... it feels right."

He slings an arm around your middle, pulling you into his side.

"We've still got the two most important people left to tell."

Your muscles tense and Bucky feels it instantly, running his thumb in patterns over your hip gently.

"I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm almost ready, Buck. We can't avoid it forever. Next time I'm home, I think we should do it. We should tell them."

Bucky hooks two fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Are you sure? Once we tell them, we can't undo it. We'll only do it if you're one hundred percent sure."

"I'll be ready when the time comes. It'll be a huge weight off of both of our shoulders, which I think we both need."

"Okay then," he says, kissing your forehead. "Next time you're home."

Isabel clears her throat from the doorway, smiling sheepishly.

"I can't believe I'm saying this again, but... there's a guy here to see you."

You laugh, untangling yourself from Bucky with a kiss to his cheek.

"Send him through. Thanks, Isa."

The man you were originally expecting to see this morning walks into the kitchen, envelopes in his hand.

"Hey!"

"Hey, Rafael."

He gives you a quick hug, before waving at Bucky.

"Hey, man. You've gotta be the soulmate, right?"

Bucky chuckles, coming over to shake Raf's hand.

"Yeah, that's me. How'd you know?"

"Are you kidding? You can feel it the minute you walk into the room. There's like, electricity in here."

You laugh, hiking yourself up to sit on the counter. Bucky stands next to you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Here," Rafael says, handing you an envelope. "We're having a gala next month, for the charity that has supported my sister. We'd love it if you could come - and bring your date too, of course."

"I'd love to," you say as you read the invitation. "Do you need me to bring anything? You know I'll happily make something, if you guys need it."

"You would?"

"Absolutely! I could bring a cake, if you like? I haven't done a proper, three tiered cake in forever. I'd love to."

"That'd be... amazing. Seriously. We just want to raise as much money as possible."

"Of course. Thanks for these, Raf. How is she?"

"She's okay. She's getting a tiny bit stronger every day, and that's all we can really ask for."

You reach a hand out to squeeze his in support.

"You know where I am if you need anything."

"Of course. Thank you, so much. I've gotta run - I've got like a hundred of these invites to deliver. But I'll see you at the weekend?"

"For sure. See you, Raf!"

"Nice to meet you, Bucky."

"You too, man. Take care."

Isa shows Rafael out of the door, winking at you on her way out.

"Damn, he's handsome," Bucky laughs.

"Isn't he?" you giggle. "Nothing on my soulmate though, I'm afraid."

"Shut up," he blushes, leaning in to capture your lips. "You wanna get dinner when you're done here?"

"Yes, please. I'll show you around my new apartment too."

"Can't wait."

There's not an ounce of tension in your muscles as you finish up your bakes for the day, gliding around the kitchen while Bucky stands and watches your every move.

If you could pause time, this would be when you'd do it. You'd be content to live in this moment forever.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The minute Bucky walks through your front door, he inhales deeply. The entire place smells like you, cosy and golden.

"You like it?"

"It's gorgeous, baby. I love the windows."

He makes his way over to your kitchen, where the glass panes run from floor to ceiling. Sitting on the bench pressed against it, he takes in the view, savouring the feeling of the sun on his face.

You sit down on his lap, draping your legs over him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Nuzzling your face into his jaw, you press a kiss to the stubble, resisting the urge to lick the salt off of his skin.

"Come on," you murmur. "Let me show you my bedroom. The sun sets in that direction, so it's always beautiful in there."

You grab his hand and walk him across the apartment, swinging open the door to your room and pushing him inside.

He takes in the space for a moment before turning in your direction, striding over to smash his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers into his shirt and pull him closer, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth with ease.

Bucky leans in to trail kisses down your neck as he slips your shirt over your head, making quick work of unclasping your bra with skilled fingers. He grasps your chest in both hands, massaging gently as he nips at your throat.

"So fucking pretty," he murmurs. "Haven't stopped thinking about you since you left me."

You whine and unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. You're desperate to see more, desperate to feel his skin on yours, desperate to bare every inch of him.

Your fingers make deft work of his belt, sliding it from its loops and throwing it to the ground. You unpop his button and slide down the zipper, pulling his jeans off his legs in no time. You shimmy out of your skirt, leaving you both in your underwear.

The evening sun seeps through the window panes, illuminating the room in hues of orange and gold. The light hits Bucky's skin, making him glow in a halo of love and adoration.

He walks you backwards, wrapping an arm around your back to throw you onto the white sheets of your bed. Crawling over you, he settles in between your legs, pressing gentle kisses from your ankles to your inner thighs.

"The way you look when you come has been burned in my mind," he whispers. "Need to see it again. It's been too long."

He slides your underwear down your legs and wastes no time, diving into you like a man starved. He devours you, tongue never ceasing it's movements. His hands pry your thighs apart, one arm thrown over your stomach to keep you still. When your muscles start to shake, Bucky doubles down on his efforts, lapping and sucking at you like you're his lifesource.

"Oh, Buck, I'm-"

You see stars as you come, white and silver shapes flying through your vision. Bucky never stops, prolonging your release for as long as he can. When you go boneless, he ceases, pressing kisses to the inside of your knee.

"You okay?" he murmurs, moving so his body smothers yours.

"I'm good," you smile, leaning up to kiss him. You groan when you taste yourself, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Need you, baby. Please, Buck."

"You sure?"

You smile at him, cradling his face in your hands.

"Couldn't be surer."

He dips down to lick into your mouth once more, shucking his boxers off and throwing them across the room. Slipping a condom on, he lines himself up, eyes meeting yours.

"I need you more than I need air to breathe," he murmurs. "You know that, don't you?"

"Buck," you breathe. "I've been going crazy here without you."

He goes to speak, but stops himself, instead leaning down to kiss your forehead.

"I know," you whisper. "I know."

Bucky slides home in one smooth thrust, both of you gasping. One of his hands finds your hip, the other resting against your throat as an anchor. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms snaking around his shoulders.

"Fuck me, please."

"Fuck," he groans. "I'll be replaying that in my head forever."

You chuckle breathlessly, gasping when he draws his hips back and forward again. He sets an even pace - not too fast, not too slow. He has you right where he wants you, both of your bodies in perfect synchronisity. It feels like the stars have aligned. Everything's fallen into place.

Bucky dances his fingers from your hip to your clit, rubbing firm circles. He plays you like a violin, your muscles tensing as you get closer.

"That's it, pretty girl. Fuck, you're so good for me. You close, honey? Gonna come for me again?"

You nod frantically as he picks up his pace, hips colliding with yours. He groans as you tighten around him, head dropping to rest against yours.

"Come for me, honey girl," he whispers. "Please."

Your back arches as you find your release, nails scratching at the skin of Bucky's back. The pain tips him over the edge, spilling inside of you with a deep groan. He collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving.

"I think we're naturals at that," you chuckle hoarsely.

"You think it's the soulmate thing, or are we just that good?"

"I think we're just that good," you laugh, pushing him off your body so he lands next to you. You link your fingers with his, resting your head on his chest.

"I need a drink."

"I was just thinking that, actually. You wanna go out? Know anywhere?"

"There's a cute little bar that looks out over the cove - it has good food and good cocktails. You wanna go there?"

"I'd go anywhere with you," he affirms, pressing a kiss into your hair.

"I'd kill for a pineapple margarita right now."

Bucky sits up suddenly, bringing you with him, arms wrapped around you.

"Then let's go get my girl a pineapple margarita."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The golden lights adorn the beams of wood above your head, the deck illuminated in the gentle glow. The ocean waves break the shore in a comfortingly repetitive motion, a calming soundtrack to the evening. You sit across from Bucky at your table for two, the sunset casting orange hues across the horizon.

"It's beautiful out here."

"Yeah," you agree, smiling. "The view is pretty good."

Your eyes haven't left his, lost in the sea blue of his irises. He chuckles, running his thumb over the back of your hand where it rests atop the table.

"This is our first date, you know."

"Really?"

"I mean, we've been 'dating' this whole time - but we've never gone out and had dinner like this. Held hands and all."

"You're right. Our first date of many, huh?"

"Our first of countless," he grins, brushing his lips over your knuckles in a gentle kiss.

"Where do my parents think you are?"

"Visiting a cousin in Nevada."

You laugh, and the sound makes Bucky light up, electricity running through his veins.

"You're a scarily good liar."

"To everyone but you."

"I used to think I was a good liar. Until I met you, that is."

Just as he's about to respond, your waitress appears, two pineapple margaritas in hand. She takes your orders and leaves, smiling at you.

"Oh, shit. She forgot to give us straws. I'm gonna grab some - be right back."

You chase her inside, tapping her shoulder gently.

"Excuse me - could I get a couple of straws, please?"

"Of course. Sorry!" she apologises, handing them to you.

"Thank you! Your shirt is so cute, by the way."

"Thanks - it's thrifted! You're gorgeous, girl. And your boyfriend is stupidly hot too. You're a pretty couple."

You thank her and laugh, returning to Bucky with a grin on your face.

"What's got you smiling?"

"The waitress called you my boyfriend."

"Huh. As much as I love the commitment... boyfriend kinda sounds like we're in ninth grade, doesn't it?"

You throw your head back, laughing with your entire being.

"That's what I thought. There's gotta be a better word. Partner? No, that makes us sound forty."

"I am almost forty."

"Oops."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he can't wipe the blinding grin from his face. He takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture of you, admiring the way the breeze caresses your face as the setting sun beats down.

"Sneaky," you tease. "Let me see?"

He hands you the phone, letting you look through. You swipe right one too many times, and accidentally land on a picture of a blueprint laid out across a kitchen counter. His kitchen counter.

"Babe... what's this?"

You don't miss the way Bucky's cheeks heat up, blush creeping across his chest that's exposed by the V neckline of his blue button up. He stutters for a moment, before finding his footing.

"They're blueprints. Plans for a house."

"A house?"

"I want to build a house."

When you keep looking at him softly, he doubles down.

"I want to build a house for us."

Your breath hitches in your chest, the world going silent momentarily.

"You... you do?"

"My Dad worked in construction my entire childhood. I watched him build houses, apartment buildings, bungalows... everything. I've always wanted to do it, but never had reason to. Until now."

You squeeze his hand, urging him to continue.

"I've been planning it for upwards of ten years. But I'm taking it more seriously, now. Those blueprints are the final ones. It's all mapped out, down to the square inch. I've made some modifications for you, obviously."

He zooms in on the picture, pointing out areas on the plans.

"I've added a big island in the kitchen with a tonne of storage in it, for all of your supplies. I know you have that huge mixer, so I've made sure there's enough space for it to fit underneath with the doors closed."

You take a deep breath, lump in your throat forming unwillingly.

"Up here, there's a window at the top of the stairs. I've added a sketch of a bench which I'll upholster, so you can sit and read in the sunlight."

Tangling your legs with his under the table, you urge him to continue.

"I've also made sure there's a balcony off the master bedroom that overlooks the garden. I know how much you love sitting on yours in your apartment at home. There's probably like a hundred more little modifications for you, but those are just a few."

Tears are running down your cheeks freely, emotion escaping you like a flash flood.

"Bucky..."

"If it's too much too soon, please tell me. I won't be offended, baby. I know it's a lot."

"It's perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You jump up from your seat and around the table, throwing yourself into his lap to kiss him happily.

"I can't wait to build a house with you, Buck."

He grins at you, joy radiating off him in waves.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He blinks back tears for a second, processing the words he's been waiting to hear for what feels like an eternity.

"I love you too, honey girl. My pretty baby."

He leans in to kiss you tenderly, the rest of the world melting away. It feels like it's just the two of you, floating on cloud nine.

Suddenly, you get it. You understand why people say this is the greatest thing that'll ever happen.

It is. They were right all along.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

After several pineapple flavoured cocktails and a taco or four, you and Bucky take a slow stroll home, hand in hand along the sidewalk.

"You wanna have a sleepover tonight?" you ask, digging your heels into the ground to stop yourself from skipping with glee.

"Can't think of anything I want more," he chuckles.

You walk a little while longer, content to bask in the comfortable silence.

"Guess what happened a few days ago."

"What, honey?"

"Stella asked me to be her business partner."

He stops where he is, turning to face you but never letting go of your hand.

"Wait, really?"

"Mhmmm."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I was unsure, at first. But I'm going to do it. I've been thinking about this for a while, actually. We had to take a business class in culinary school, and I actually learned a lot. I've had a business plan for the future of the café drafted up for months. Numbers, locations, investors, everything. I'm really serious about this, you know."

He's gazing at you like you hung the moon, eyes bright and adoring.

You sit down on a bench, looking out over the coastal path. Bucky joins you, arm heavy over your shoulders.

"I can't stay here."

His head whips around.

"Baby..."

"I mean it, Buck. I like this city, I do, but I just can't settle. It feels like a placeholder until I can go home. And it's not fair to Stella, if it feels like I'm half in half out."

He goes to speak, but you're on a roll.

"I'm suggesting that we franchise the business. It's the logical next step anyway, it was just a matter of choosing the right location. I'm proposing somewhere a hell of a lot closer to home. To you. To my parents. And that means we'll have one branch on the east coast, and one on the west. We can start filling the middle, in the future."

"Are you... are you sure?"

"I've never been surer of anything, James Buchanan Barnes. I wanna start my life with you. Telling my parents, building a house, furthering my career. I'm ready, now."

Bucky grabs your face in his warm hands, kissing you with more passion than you ever thought possible. It's all the answer you need.

"I want you to read over my plan, when we get back to my place. But it's tight, Buck. I've been perfecting it for months. There's no way Stella can say no - I've made it so she won't want to. Besides, she just wants me to be happy. And this... this will make me happy. Happy beyond words."

Bucky stands up, wrapping his arms around your middle to bring you with him. He spins you around, laughing when you squeal in surprise.

"I'm so proud of you, honey baby. I love you so much."

"I love you," you grin. "More than I ever thought possible."

Bucky practically carries you home, both of you giddy on excitement and hope.

You wake up tangled in his arms, sunlight beaming down onto your skin through the open window. Happiness, you think. It's finally here.

Happiness. It's finally here.

tag list part one -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

1K notes · View notes

souryoong · 1 year

Text

say please | jjk (18+)

(thank you, @dearlyjoonie for the cute little banner!!)

Pairing: boyfriend!jk x reader

Genre: smut!!! (18+), established relationship, zero plot just sex.

Word Count: 841

Summary: you and jungkook fuck in the bathroom in front of the mirror.

Warnings: clitoral stimulation, teasing, fingering, making out, sweatiness (lol), sex in front of a mirror, foggy/steamy bathroom, begging, some minor manhandling, eye contact in mirror, unprotected sex, cumshot, reader gets teary, lots of whining, showering together henced at the end.

Authors Note: this is probably the quickest I have ever finished something in my entire writing career thus far. also, my first jk piece!!! sorry for making the girlies wait so long. hope you enjoy, and as always give me your thoughts!!

Want to be added to my taglist? Click here.

“Please…” Your voice was a barely audible whine as Jungkook’s fingers didn’t let up on your clit.

“Finish that sentence.” Jungkook looked at you through the bathroom mirror that was beginning to fog up. One of your legs hiked up so that your knee rested on the countertop. Both of your clothes are almost gone, thrown in piles onto the floor. “I want to hear you.”

His sentence was punctuated by his middle and ring finger dipping between your folds and leaving in an instant. You tried to lean into him and keep him there longer, but he pulled away; making you cry out in desperation.

The humidity from the bathroom was making your shirt that was hiked up to reveal more of your body to Jungkook stick to you. The body heat coming off Jungkook was not helping the situation, your back against his naked upper body.

You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, letting out a sigh. Jungkook leaned down, his voice right in your ear.

“Finish the sentence.”

You were sure that your wetness was about to drip onto the floor at this point because you could hear the noise from Jungkook’s fingers.

“Please. I need…I need…” Your voice breathy. “I need you. Your cock, your fingers, anything.”

“Good girl.” He pressed a kiss by your ear, making a chill run down your spine.

You let out an erotic moan when you felt his fingers inside of you again. This time fucking into you just how you like it; swirling to explore your inner walls.

“Fuck, I love your pussy.” Jungkook’s voice was low; somewhat muffled in your neck.

You closed your eyes, nodding to whatever he was saying.

He held your body against himself as he suddenly started going harder; knowing you liked it that way.

“Yes…Fuck.” You whined, slightly smirking to yourself as you grabbed onto Jungkook’s arm, your nails slightly scratching his skin.

“Fuck.” He grunted before pulling away from you, quickly pulling down his underwear, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

You sucked in a breath when you felt him teasing your entrance; practically dripping for him.

“Don’t tease me.”

Jungkook hummed in response, slipping the tip of his cock into you, then pulling it out. You leaned forwards onto the countertop.

“No!” You whined, trying to move back towards him, feeling the cold marble in contrast to your hot skin. “Please, please, please.” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so desperate in your life.

“You know I like hearing you beg for it.” Jungkook’s hands grabbed your waist to steady you. “But I think you’ve done enough, right?” He looked at you through the mirror again, locking eye contact for a few seconds. You nodded, biting your lip to suppress a whimper.

Your mouth fell open when he finally pushed his cock inside of you, bottoming out in the first thrust.

Jungkook groaned at the feeling, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts. You reached behind you with one of your hands to grab onto him.

“Fuck, right there.” You cried out, eyes starting to water. “Don’t stop.”

You were already so worked up, you felt like you could cum at any moment. Your walls were already clenching around his length.

Jungkook pulled your body up, your back against his chest, arms holding you tightly against him. You gasped at the sudden change in position, and Jungkook’s rhythm never changed.

“Fuck, you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jungkook was panting, his hot breath on your neck.

You couldn’t find the words, so you just nodded.

Jungkook started fucking into you harder; making you clutch onto him. You were being so loud now that you were so sure he was going to cover your mouth.

“Jungkook. Fuck.” You turned your face towards his as he watched you in the mirror, your body slightly trembling. You closed your eyes, brows furrowed and feeling like you’re dripping sweat – or maybe it was Jungkook. “I’m so close…”

“Mhm.” He turned and sloppily kissed you. “Tell me.”

Your orgasm crashed over you soon after; and you did nothing to stop it. Your pretty sure you let out a rather loud whine, because Jungkook quietly shushed you as he continued to fuck into you. He was still holding onto you as you probably would have fallen if he wasn’t.

“Jungkook…” You mumbled, starting to get overstimulated.

“Can I cum inside of you, baby?” Jungkook asked you, his face close to yours. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Please, please.” You nodded almost too quick, biting down onto your bottom lip. “Wanna feel you.”

Jungkook’s rhythm got sloppy right until he abruptly crashed his lips into yours. You moaned into his mouth when you felt him finish inside of you.

“Fuck.” You moaned against Jungkook’s mouth as he was still kissing you, your fingers ran through his dark hair that was somewhat damp with sweat. “What a mess…”

Jungkook hummed, beginning to kiss down your neck. “Tell me about it.” He slightly laughed. “Wanna get in the shower?”

Tags: @thepurpleghost @dearlyjoonie @thoughtfullysassysublime @yoongiscta @tinieretro @ggukzashi

#jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader

3K notes · View notes

letorip · 4 months

Text

casual

"i thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose, you said, "we're not together," so now when we kiss i have anger issues"

===+++===

pairing: natalie scatorccio x reader

summary: you and nat have been hooking up, but it seems the label of "no attachment" just seems to hurt you both.

warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of sex, friends with benefits with feelings, you're a little bit of a dick

word count: 4.6k

A/N: it's come to my attention a LOT of people have used the chappell roan song casual for nat and i want to say i legitimately discovered this after i started writing. i tried to make it different from the others but there's definitely similarities just because they're based on the same song, but i want it known this was not an attempt to copy other people and i think so many of the other authors are insanely talented and i love reading their works.

===+++===

“Nat I swear to god I’m going to kick you out of this bed if you don’t stop moving,” you groaned, smushing your face further into the pillow. The thin cloth casing smelled like her floral shampoo and cigarette smoke, and you pressed it with your nose to make it last longer, squeezing your eyes shut and drawing a slow, heady lungful.

Natalie scoffed at you, pinching your bare side gently with her soft fingers, and you squirmed with a laugh. “This is my bed and you’re hogging the sheets, jerk. I’m trying to get comfortable.” If you had more of a conscience about the whole thing, you would have felt worse about leaving her out in the cold air of the room in what little she was wearing, but you were having all too much fun.

“Mm,” you hummed in response, bunching her comforter up in your hands and tugging even more towards you with a mischievous smile, to the point where the entire thing was wrapped around you and absolutely none was left on Natalie, who you could hear shift on the mattress behind you.

“You have got to be fucking with me,” she said in disbelief, and you grinned. “Give it here,” she demanded, reaching for your burrito of sheets and you jerked yourself away with a laugh, rolling over to see her staring at you with narrowed eyes. “Come on, give me my comforter,” she said again, trying and failing to seem assertive. Nat never scared you like she scared other people.

You raised your eyebrows at her in amusement and stuck your tongue out, rolling back away from her. “Are you serious??” she asked, reaching for you, but you moved from her grip again. “Come here, you idiot,” she laughed, wrapping a hand around your clump of her bedsheets and climbing on top of you, straddling your waist with her legs so you couldn't escape.

You squirmed underneath her, trying and failing to break free. She was a soccer player like you, with strong legs so you could barely nudge her. "Are you done?" She asked with a beaming grin, hands next to your head on the bed to box you in. Her soft blonde hair fell around the both of you and you would have stopped for a moment to admire the view if an idea didn't suddenly pop into your mind.

"Hmm, let me think," you said, and Nat's smile immediately wiped away. "No," you said, and in an instant you shifted your weight, rolling her right off of you and onto the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

"Hey!" She called up from the floor, but you were too busy laughing. You sat up, tossing the sheets off to look at her down there in your triumph. "Jerk," she said, but not unaffectionately.

"Looks like you fell there," you replied, propping your head up on your hand and grinning from ear to ear.

"Aren't you funny."

"I like to think so."

She went silent for a moment, humming at your response and then just staring for a while, looking you over with an unreadable expression. You swallowed, letting her stare with a growing lump in your throat as you watched her eyes trace up your legs slowly from where they hung off the side of her mattress, landing on your waist and then trailing up again, to your chest for a while, and then finally up to your face.

The air in the room had been sucked out by a vacuum, and the two of you were left in a rising warmth and muggy heat. She stood up then, locking your eyes on hers and slowly walking towards you until she stood right over you, close enough to where you could feel her warm breath fanning down over your face.

Her own pale cheeks were flushed pink, and when her hands came up to rest on your shoulders your own went up to her waist, sliding your thumbs up further until they brushed against her ribcage. She shivered and tensed under your grip and you felt it.

Nat leaned down to you in a gentle way one would never assume would be her style, softly pressing her lips to yours. You sat like that for a moment, smiling gently into it as she clambered up to straddle your waist again, never once breaking contact. Her lips grew more hungry, moving against yours with a rising intensity and desire for more, softly breathing into your mouth and pushing on the bare skin of your shoulders.

Your hands moved down to wrap around the back of her thighs, holding her tight against you as she broke the kiss and moved down towards your neck. "Nat," you laughed in between attacks from her lips and small bites here and there. "We literally just did this. Like, not even thirty minutes ago."

"And?" she asked, going back to her business and moving her mouth to the space where your neck and shoulder met. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop yourself from groaning and instead to form words. "Your hands are so rough," she whispered in your ear, before retreating down again.

Your hands slid up from the back of her thighs. "Sorry. It's the tennis and the water polo," you rushed, a tad apologetic. But Natalie shook her head, pulling back and leaning her forehead against yours to catch her breath.

"Fuckin' rich people," she said, smiling. You nodded, reconnecting your lips together before you trailed your mouth down her neck and to her collarbone, leaving small kisses as you went. One of her hands came up, fingers grabbing and threading at your hair to hold you there. "Wait, you have a butler don't you?" she asked, but the last part was cut off with a breath as you sucked right over her pulse.

You rolled your eyes in amusement at the question, pulling away and raising your eyebrows at her. "You really want to talk about that right now?" Nat had always harboured a fascination with your lifestyle you failed to understand, but you indulged her when she asked.

"I'm just saying," she laughed. "What's his name? Jeeves?"

"Nope," you shook your head in amusement, already knowing how she'd react. "Reginald."

"Now that's hot," Nat joked, smacking you on the shoulder playfully before she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you tighter to her.

"Yeah yeah, get it out of your system, idiot," You shook your head, looking up at her where she sat over you. Light warmed over her blonde hair from the window behind you both.

"Mhm," she hummed, kissing you one last time before she pulled away. "You should probably go soon," she said, looking over at her alarm clock with a frown.

"But I like this position," you teased with a smile, hands back on her waist and slowly tracing patterns on the skin there. Her skin was soft and you dragged the pads of your fingers up and down, tapping gently and doodling random shapes.

"Yeah well, my dad will be home soon. I don't think he'd like seeing us in this position," Nat said back, clambering off of you with a smirk. You felt the weight off your lap the moment she was gone and had to stop yourself from grabbing her hand and tugging her back towards you. Damn her father. From what you had heard of him from Nat, he wasn’t too nice anyways.

But you stopped yourself, watching Natalie go, walking to the other corner of her room to where you had thrown her jeans earlier. She turned to you as she tugged them on. "You're going to practice tomorrow, right?"

You nodded. "Couldn't escape soccer if I tried."

Nat nodded, grabbing a nearby shirt and throwing it over herself. “Want to meet up after? Continue what we started?” She asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at her, shaking your head with a smile. “I can’t. My father is back from his business trip. We’re having my cousins over for dinner- it’s a whole big thing. Reginald is making a roast.”

“Okay,” Nat said, leaning back for a moment to think. "What about Lottie's party on Friday? You going to that too?"

"Couldn't escape Lottie if I tried," you said, throwing your head back against her bed and splaying out. Lottie Matthews held a special place in your heart as not only your neighbour but one of your best friends, and that meant being dragged to whatever social gathering she so desired to attend or host.

"Ooookay, so...would you want to maybe…go to Lottie's together?" That caught your attention and you froze, looking up to see Nat uncomfortably glancing around her room, arms crossed and mindlessly tugging on the ends of her sleeves.

"Uh...," you stuttered, propping yourself up on your arms and frowning. "I kind of already told Jackie I would go with her and Jeff. I thought you would be going with Kevyn and that one kid...so."

Nat nodded, looking down at the floor and frowning. "Yeah, it's... it's fine.”

“Okay…” you trailed off, watching her fidget. “Are you…?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Jesus Christ. It’s one party.”

“Okay,” you nodded. Nat was very clearly not fine, but you knew better than to push her buttons. She tended to explode upon confrontation, especially when she didn’t want to talk about it. You stood up, stretching your arms out and you could feel her watching you again, soft blue eyes looking over you.

“Listen,” she said, in a tone that was disarmingly sweet for Natalie Scatorccio. This was far from the tough girl who shoved you against lockers after practice or who argued with you about everything and anything she could. Her cheeks were flushed and she fidgeted with her fingers.

“When I said… earlier, when I said you had really rough hands. I like your hands. It wasn’t- I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Um…okay,” you replied, nodding gently at her. You had no clue why she was being so timid all of a sudden and it was a bit puzzling. You turned back from her to grab your shirt from the floor next to her bed, tugging it over your head and turning back. "Have you seen my shorts?" you asked, running a hand through your mussed up hair and attempting to tame it.

"Yeah," said Nat, still weirdly quiet. She held them up in her hand, outstretched towards you, and you walked over, grabbing them from her and tugging them on.

"Thanks," you smiled, pulling the drawstrings tight and going to get your socks. The entire time she just watched you, not saying much but clearly thinking a whole lot. "Are you sure you're okay?" you laughed. "Stop being weird, Nat. Just say it."

"Okay...Look, I know you said-" but she was cut off. From outside her bedroom down the hall, you heard the front door open and slam shut. Natalie's face went white in panic and she stood right up, running to the window and throwing it open without even a second to waste.

"NATALIE, GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!" the old, gruff voice called from her kitchen, and you knew this was a code red situation.

"Go! Go! Go!" She whispered at you, pushing you towards her window. "Get the fuck out before he finds you!"

"Wait, my shoes-" you said, hopping through the window and landing on the hot pavement in your socks. She laughed, turning back around and grabbing your sneakers off the floor, throwing them out the window and smacking you in the head, bouncing off you. "Ow!"

"Sorry!" She whispered, sticking her head out the window. "See you tomorrow?" Her eyes softened for a moment, looking hopeful.

"Yeah," you nodded, grabbing your shoes off the ground.

"NATALIE! NOW GODDAMMIT!" Her dad called again, and she spun around, heading for the door and leaving you outside her window. You didn't even bother putting your shoes on as you ran off in your socks, to where you had parked your car several streets down.

===+++===

It was always Wednesdays in the cafeteria when the food looked most disgusting. You didn't eat it, but Shauna did, sitting right in front of you with a plate of what was allegedly turkey and gravy, and you always wanted to poke it a bit with a straw and see if it would get up and crawl away.

"Stop staring at my food," she laughed, and you shook your head, gagging a bit with overdramatic performance.

"It looks like a science experiment.”

"Yeah, well not everyone can have their food packed for them, now can they? Not my fault I don't have a maid like Lottie or a butler, like you," Shauna said, gesturing at you with her fork.

“Sorry,” you winced.

"You can have some of my sandwich, if you want," Lottie said, turning to Shauna and pulling it from her bag. "The housekeeper makes too much for me anyways."

Shauna shook her head. "I'm really fine, thanks Lottie. It's not as bad as it looks. Tastes almost good, in a weird way.”

“Maybe you’re just weird,” you shrugged with faux integrity, and Shauna stuck her tongue out at you.

“Are you guys going out for track in the spring?” Jackie asked, arms crossed out in front of her.

“I am, yeah,” said Lottie. “My parents think the more sports I do, the more colleges I get into.”

“Mine too,” you nodded. “I’m doing track but only if it doesn’t interfere with spring tennis.”

"What are you going out for?" Jackie asked. "I'm debating if I should even go out."

"Yeah, you should go out," Lottie said. "Track is always fun. (Y/n) and I both do relay and high jump, but you could probably handle the hurdles or short sprints."

"You think?" Jackie asked, staring off in contemplation.

You nodded again. "You'd do just fine. It's no big deal if you already know how to run, and me and-"

"-Oh. My. God." All three of you looked over at Jackie, who had straightened up completely. She was staring off behind you, into the distance with her mouth a bit agape. You hadn't even noticed she had stopped listening to the conversation.

"What?" You asked, puzzled by her expression. "Something on me?"

Jackie nodded, smirking. "A certain someone's eyes are."

You rolled your eyes. "Do I even want to know?"

"Oh come on," Jackie said. "You already know. Nat. She keeps looking over here from her burnout table."

You frowned, turning around and following her eyes. Natalie sat on the opposite side of the cafeteria, at one of the round green tables in the corner near the vending machines. She was indeed looking at you, headphones over her ears and cassette player on the table. When she saw you look back at her, she looked away quickly, turning to Kevyn.

"She's, like, stalking you at this point."

You scoffed, looking back to your table. "She's not stalking me, drama queen. She's probably just looking around."

Lottie turned back to the table, shrugging. "I mean, she does keep looking over here."

"Oh, not you too," you groaned, facepalming.

Lottie held up her hands defensively. "I'm just saying what I'm seeing." Shauna sent you a sympathetic look from across the table, retreating to eat more of her turkey. When someone gave Jackie crumbs like this she was like a dog with a bone. True investigative journalism at its finest.

"You said you two are hooking up right?" She asked, leaning forwards and almost whispering the last part. You frowned, not entirely sure why she was acting like it was a secret.

"Yeah, we hook up. We're not together though," you answered her.

"But she wants to be," Jackie said, flat out like it was a statement and an obvious one at that. She looked back over your shoulder where you assumed Natalie was still watching you. You shrugged.

"Maybe? I don't know. She hasn't said anything to me, so."

"She follows you around like a lovesick puppy, it's genuinely so weird. I've never seen Nat in love before-"

"Woah, slow down. She's not in love with me."

"Come on!" Jackie said, laughing. "You can NOT be that oblivious. Nat practically drools over you all the time whenever you're doing tennis at the courts next door!"

"So? We fuck around. Becoming a thing hasn't been talked about by either of us."

"Tell her that, then," Jackie giggled. "That nutcase is stalking you, I'm serious."

"Stop calling her a nutcase," you glared at her.

"It's just funny," Jackie shrugged. "So the cool, stoner burnout girl fell for the valedictorian, jock, key club president whose parents own a third home in Long Beach."

"Drop it, Jackie," Lottie said from next to you, shaking her head in irritation. God bless Lottie. But Jackie smirked at you again.

"It's just funny. Romeo and Juliet. It's cute, really," she laughed.

"Shut up," you said.

From overhead, the school bell rang, and you stood to gather your things for the final period of the day, bumping into Lottie as she did the same. Jackie spun to you.

“I’m gonna go find Jeff! See you guys at practice.”

“Bye,” Shauna nodded, giving her a warm smile.

The three of you grabbed your stuff and headed for the chemistry lab, turning down the hallway and up the stairs.

“Sorry about her, you know how she gets about Nat,” Shauna said to you, turning as you walked.

You shrugged. “It’s fine. She just needs to take it out on me next time, and not Nat. Nat didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She knows, yeah,” Shauna said, shuffling the books around in her arms so they were easier to hold onto. “You said your dad is back in town, right?”

“Yup. He was in Tokyo for some business or whatever. I don’t know, it’s boring stuff, a merger or something.”

Lottie shuddered. “I still remember when he yelled at us for pieing that old groundskeeper. He's like, scary."

You laughed. "He's not scary. He's just a business dude. No nonsense. And you and I know we were nonsense kids."

"Would he care if I went to the dinner? My parents are having date night and Taissa and Van are busy," Lottie said.

"I mean, I don't think he would care. My mother insisted on making a whole thing out of it. Pretty sure she invited the new neighbours, the Roosevelts."

"Wait, as in-" Lottie stopped, beginning to grin.

"It's not funny," you said, rolling your eyes.

"What? What's wrong with that?" asked Shauna.

"It's nothing, Lottie is being stupid."

"Hey!"

"My mother keeps trying to set me up with their daughter, since she's on the golf team and likes science," you explained to Shauna. "She keeps trying to find me a match in our neighbourhood. Literally almost killed her when I said me and Lottie were just friends."

"Have you told them about Nat?" Shauna said. The three of you turned the corner, walking up to the water fountain you would hang out in front of right before class started. Shauna leaned back against the lockers nearby, and Lottie went for a drink.

"Uh, first of all, they would probably kill me, and second of all, we're not together officially or anything," you shrugged. "We mess around a bit, but we both say it's casual and give each other space. Nat's tough, she knows."

Speak of the devil. From where you stood leaning against a pillar, Nat walked by with some kid you didn't know, shooting a small smile in your direction. You just watched her go, giving her an awkward grimace and looking back to your friends.

===+++===

"Eyes open, Lottie!" Coach Ben yelled from across the field near the bench. You could see Misty and Trevor, the manager for the boys' team, in the distance next to him, watching the scrimmage.

"Here!" She yelled. Lottie spun on her foot, sweeping the ball right from between Daniel DuPont's legs and up to Luke Miller, who was being covered down by a kid you didn't know. He looked around desperately, eyeing anyone she could pass to, finally locking eyes with you and booting it in your direction.

You caught it with your chest, letting it fall and then moving forward until Nat could catch up, Jeremy from your English class hot on her heels. You passed it out to her on the wing, letting her take it up the pitch.

She dribbled it, keeping it away from Carter Avery. He was a real prick, with a nasty sneer while he played, and he kept yelling at her, chasing her down the pitch while she ran. You moved up along with Jackie, ready for Nat to cross it to you, but she couldn't make it.

You watched Natalie push forward, but Laura Lee was nowhere to be found, covered completely by Shauna, who was an amazing defender and kept her completely boxed out. Taissa was on you and Jackie, and any pass in Jackie's direction would've immediately let Taissa run away with it.

Instead, Nat turned to Carter, trying to bounce it off his shoe and out, but it ricocheted, knocking off her own cleats and out. "Out on Natalie!" Coach Martinez yelled. "Natalie, if you're going to pull those tricks it has to work, come on!" He said, throwing up his hands.

She nodded, but Carter looked pissed, stalking over to her. "Play some good soccer, why don't you?" He sneered, coming right up to Nat's face. "Pull that bullshit again and I'll show you what happens."

You rolled your eyes, walking over. "Shut the hell up, Carter. It's your throw in anyways."

Carter Avery leered at you, trying to seem tall. "Got something to say to me, (L/n)?"

You put your hands on your hips, glaring right back at him. "Yeah, maybe I do, Avery. There's a reason the girls are going to nationals and the boys aren't. If you played just as well as you talked shit, maybe it'd be a winning team."

"Fuck off," he said. "I don't need your shit, country club."

"You're gonna get it anyways," you glared at him. "Just as long as you keep being a quivering pussy."

"Bite me," he said back.

"Can we play some soccer? Hellooo?" yelled Jackie from behind you. Carter grunted, but didn't say anything else, grabbing the ball from the ground and stalking towards the sideline. You rolled your eyes but backed up to your position, just behind Nat so you could give her support. Laura Lee came up, ready, and you looked back to Lottie to make sure she was behind you when-

-BAM!

A soccer ball collided right with your face, knocking you right off your feet. If it didn't hurt so damn much you would've been impressed by how good of a throw it was. Instead, you were left looking up at the sky, feeling blood begin to waterfall from your nose.

"Carter!" A voice yelled. "What the fuck!?"

"Oh my god!"

"Jesus Christ!"

"A very worried-looking Jackie was hovering over you, blocking your head from the sun. You saw Lottie behind her in a moment, and then everyone was crowing around in a weird halo of concern and disgust.

Nat elbowed her way through the crowd and was right by your head. "Are you okay?" She asked you, insanely worried. Her blue eyes were shining and distressed, and her blonde hair fell around you again like it did in her bedroom. You managed a weak thumbs up and a smile.

"Yup. Never better," you mumbled in pain, and she laughed, shaking her head.

"So stupid."

"How do I look?" You asked her.

"Covered in bruises, dude," she replied, with a smile. You heard some movement in the background and then you were being made to sit up. It was Misty, right behind you, carrying some nose plugs, bandaids, and a first aid kit.

===+++===

They let you sit out for the rest of the scrimmage for obvious reasons, and you sat right on the patterned blue and yellow tiles that led to the locker rooms with an ice pack against your nose and eye, head resting right up against the wall.

You didn't know what they did with Carter and you didn't particularly care. The pain in your eye and your nose seemed to radiate through your whole body, and you squeezed your eyes shut. According to Misty it was a miracle you had avoided a concussion, but it wasn't a miracle for your nose, which currently sat stuffed with blood-soaked tissues.

From down the hall near the field you heard the heavy metal door open. "Hey," she said. You didn't move, trying to stop more blood from pouring out.

"Hey Nat," you replied.

"Carter is probably getting detention. Everyone knows it was on purpose."

"Coach Martinez can do that?" you asked.

"Apparently. He gave us this whole long speech and pretty much dissed the boys team for not being good. It was funny."

You smiled at the thought, nodding a little bit. "Remind me not to cross Coach Martinez."

"Will do."

"Is practice over?" You asked, opening one eye to look at her.

"Not yet," Nat shook her head. "I volunteered to check on you."

"My hero."

She rolled her eyes at the title, smiling in that cheesy, toothy way she liked to smile. You liked it when she smiled like that.

"Well, Carter's a douche," she said after a moment.

"I know. Kept on contemplating if it was worth it to knee him in the balls."

"You should've. That guy could fuckin' reproduce one day. There could be more, miserable, little clones of himself that other kids will have to put up with." Natalie walked over, sliding down onto the floor with you.

"Tell me how bad it is, would you?"

She winced. "It's definitely a 'black' eye. Your nose is busted, too."

"Great. My mother is gonna throw a giant fit about it, then," you groaned, imagining it now.

"Why?" She asked.

You laughed. "She's supposed to be setting me up tonight. Has this neighbour girl- Julie Roosevelt- picked out and everything for that dinner I told you about. She's not bad, she's at least nice, but I don't-"

You stopped talking when you noticed Natalie had tensed up next to you. She was staring at the opposite wall, looking absolutely beside herself. "She what?"

"She's trying to set me up..." you muttered. There was suddenly the overwhelming sensation you had just said something very very wrong. Nat stood right up, turning around to go back out the doors. "Nat, what's wrong? What did I say?"

She whipped back around to you, eyes watery, her bottom lip quivering a bit, in a way you had never seen Natalie either. "And you're letting her?"

"Um...I mean, I don't really have an excuse."

"Oh, you don't, do you? God, you're such a fucking asshole!"

"What did I do??" You asked her, standing up too.

"You really don't know?"

"No, Nat, I don't."

She shook her head, tears beginning to fall. "Go to hell, (Y/n)." With that she turned around, bursting through the metal doors. You were left in the hallway all alone, watching her go with a deep frown.

"Ahem," cleared a throat from behind you.

You nodded. "I know Lottie. I know."

===+++===

so this took awhile. first non jenna ortega fanfic of mine, so it's probably a little bloated, but i wanted to get it out there because there will definitely be a part two. i like nat so much and i love the show, and there will definitely be more nat and more lottie from me and shauna (?) but next will be a tara carpenter fic

#natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x y/n #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x you

520 notes · View notes

someonegoood · 6 months

Text

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 1 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which you have a fat crush on your brother’s best friend, without getting much success. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is my first work here but anyways i hope you guys like it ! maybe I'll do a part 2...

You watch proudly in his shirt as you clap in the game's first minutes, chanting while taking pictures of him.

The first half was pretty equal, with some shots from both teams but neither could score. You could see that Mason was getting nervous. He stopped his movements abruptly when the referee called for a corner and looked at the crowd, his eyes sparkling with tenseness.

He gazed down at where his family (and therefore also yours) was and licked his lips. You couldn't help but wonder what would your brother think of your little —huge— crush on his childhood best friend.

In the 34th minute, he passed the defenders and tried to score with a pass from Ben Chilwell, making the goalkeeper lose his balance and thus scoring.

You celebrated the goal screaming it to your brother's face and he couldn’t help but smile at you, happy that you were having a good time. Your cheeks were red after Mason approached the stands and celebrated the goal, dedicating a kiss to where you were.

And that was the effect that Mason Mount had on people, especially you.

Mason was your brother's best friend, you had known him for years. It was a stupid crush that all your friends grew out of but not you. You had to keep drooling every time he was near you, that being almost every day because your brother had him over to dinner nearly every night.

You remember the day the Mount family moved next to your house, a loud and proud British family— Debbie and Tony, Stacey, Lewis and Mason. The day after they had moved in, Debbie and Tony turned up outside your door, asking if your older brother was interested in playing football with Mason.

It didn’t take long for your brother to become close to Mason, both at the cusp of boyhood. Their friendship only bloomed from there.

After spending almost every weekend watching your brother and Mason training, to spending most afternoons around the Mount house playing, you felt like family.

You always found yourself drawn to the boy next door although he was away a lot of the time, playing different matches and training. Mason’s natural affinity and talent for the game, ensured the quality of his skills.

He was slightly older so no doubt he found you childish and would always moan when his parents made him spend time with you.

—Mom, not again! I don't want to play with her, she's boring! —Mason exclaimed with an expression of obvious annoyance on his face.

Mason's mother was the first to figure out your crush on the boy. She first noticed it when you joined the Mounts at a family dinner when you were around thirteen.

Both families were playing football, as usual, while the adults were preparing supper. When you had the ball you felt your body lean way too far back and Mason tried to act on impulse, stretching his body to catch you in time.

—Hold on to me! —Mason exclaimed, extending his arms towards you. However, the weight of the fall was too much, and in an instant, they were both on the grass, in some sort of mess.

—Mase, God, I'm so sorry! I dragged you with me! —you apologized, feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, turning them crimson red.

He brushed the grass off his jacket with an angry expression. —Well done. First minutes into the game and you're already annoying.

—Thanks for trying! —you laughed, shyly. When there was a long silence, you realized that Mason was not joking and was serious. —Sorry, I…

Debbie looked from afar at the little girl carefully while she kept her eyes glued to her son's. She watched her cute little cheeks tinted red as Mason scoffed and begged you to stay away from him.

Debbie would soon get used to it as she watched you fall in love with her son over the next few years.

Until your first boyfriend. An age difference of three years was not a big deal since it was a common factor among your friend's partners. You had recently turned sixteen years old and you thought that you had met the boy who could take you out of the charm that had her wrapped around Mase.

Lyon was older, he was eighteen years old, like Mason. You had met him at school on a spring afternoon. You walked through the school hallways, books clutched to your chest. A gust of wind caused some of the books to fly out of your hands, scattering them across the hallway floor.

Lyon was passing by and noticed the scene. He approached you with a smile and that is how the story started.

Your brother didn't approve of your new boyfriend. He knew that her sister just wanted to show his best friend that the age difference wasn't that important.

Being with Lyon was great at first. You knew that he was not the love of your life, but for the moment he seemed to play the role quite well, so that was fine with you. It was a Friday night and you and your brother were at a party at the house of one of your brother's friends.

You were downstairs in the kitchen while your friends watched you drink alcohol like there was no tomorrow. They realized something was bothering you, but decided not to mention it.

—Where is the lover boy anyway? —Spoke one of your friends.

Your lack of response was when they realized that Lyon was the reason for the sadness that was painted on their best friend's face. He abandoned you, once again. This seems routine, they thought.

You slammed your empty red glass against the kitchen counter, wiping the drip from your chin as you decided that was enough.

—I'll go look for him.

From the corner of the room, your brother wished you good luck and with courage, you stumbled through the party. The house was huge. Enormous windows covered the entire house. From the kitchen window you could see the river of lights going down to the beach.

And there he sat, on the stairs leading to the illuminated outdoor pool, Lyon. A thin blonde girl was sitting on his lap, probably older than you. She took the cigarette from Lyon's lips and placed it on top of her painted red lips.

Tears welled in your eyes as you returned to the house with your heels in hand. With all the bad luck in the world, as you returned, you heard in the background:

—Baby, relax. —You ignored your boyfriend's call as you made your way through the crowd to return to the kitchen, hoping that your brother was still there.

You made it to the kitchen before your boyfriend grabbed you by the back of your arm and pushed you against the kitchen island.

—Come on, I didn't even do anything—

—She was on your lap.

—It's not that serious, okay?—

—It's a big problem! I'm humiliated! —You shouted back, creating a scene you desperately wanted to avoid. Lyon's grip tightened around your arm as he tried to wriggle out of your grasp.

—Let go of me, you're hurting me. —That only made his grip tighten around your arms.

—Let her go, mate. —Your vision was too blurry to focus on what happened next, but you felt Lyon back away.

—Oh yeah?… and what are you going to do about it, Mount? —That's when the punches were thrown and Lyon was left hunched over holding his split lip. Your now ex-boyfriend was grabbed by someone else before he could lunge at who you assumed was your brother, but when you turned your head you saw Mason shaking your hand out of pain.

His knuckles were red and his eyes were darker than what you were used to.

—Let's go to the car. —Said Mason, you nodding your head. —Get in the car. —He said. His tone was strong, not what she was used to.

Still, the ride to your house was silent, you sitting in the front with Mase, while your brother passed out in the back seat. Faint English music played on the radio as Mason's eyes were firmly fixed on the road.

Mason finally spoke. —You really don't know how to choose them, don’t you? — You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because he was right and you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.

Mase rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.

Although he would never admit it.

—I got them! —You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Mason in the eye for the first time since the party.

—Thank you. —Mason didn't want to hear it. You were just her best friend’s sister.

—It's no big deal. —

—No… really thank you, Mason. —you smiled and Mason listened too, mainly because it was probably the first time you had called him Mason and not Mase.

After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back.

—Just... make sure the next one isn't a complete idiot, yeah? —he whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

That sentence broke your poor little heart.

549 notes · View notes

aspirationalpeony · 8 months

Text

Dark Horse

Summary: As a cameraperson on the Abbott documentary crew, you've always had a good working relationship with Melissa Schemmenti. One flirtatious night at her home sends you spinning as you try to figure out if this is really real—not to mention how everyone at Abbott seemed to know about Melissa's crush on you, long before you ever did. (See author's note at the end for prompt credit.) Content Warnings: Lots of smut, a bit of emotional confusion, and me having absolutely no idea how filming anything works. I just faked my way through it, very horribly. Oops! :) AO3 Link

It all starts with a late shoot.

It's just you and the mic guy and one other crew, and your camera trained on Melissa Schemmenti. She talks, in a way she's done rarely so far. A season and a half and she's always conscious of the stare of the lenses, quick to dart around a corner or cut herself off if she knows the opps are listening.

She takes big sips, almost gulps, from her wine glass. She leads you back and forth across her house, reaching over tables or pointing along walls to find a photo here, another there, and talks. "Me'n Kristen-Marie... This one—" pause for more wine—"from my college graduation." It's the two of them, almost mirror images of each other at that age, with a tall man whose lean face makes you think he has to be their father; on the other side of the girls is their Nana.

There's no trick in this photo: no wedding dress, no blood, no hint of drama between the sisters at all. They just look hopeful and desperately young. This feels private, that Melissa could have been so young—something that shouldn't be content for the show—and you feel an impulse to duck the camera away, hide her secret. When you look at Melissa again, she’s watching you; there’s a glitter in her green eyes you can’t interpret: not hostile, and not the look she gets when she’s hustling someone, either. The gaze she’s giving you is strangely soft.

“Whaddaya think?” she says, to you, not to the camera.

You swallow. Nothing you say will make it to the final cut, but the editors will hear your answer, so you can’t tell her she’s beautiful in that picture. “I think I’m lucky you’re showing me this,” you say at last.

Her eyes move over your face. You feel it almost like a touch, intimate and slow, and you aren’t making it up: her gaze stops at your mouth and hovers there. She bites her lower lip before she lifts her wine glass again for another pull. “Maybe I like ya,” she says. “Maybe you’ll get luckier.”

You’re still blushing when you wrap for the night. You sit on your couch at home—you’re always insomniac after shooting at night, your brain and body still buzzing with the work—and put on Netflix on low volume and you don’t watch, just feel your cheeks still burning, thinking about her lipstick on her wine glass.

Of course, the whole crew knows the story by the next morning. When you turn up, Pedro, your best friend on the crew, says, “Look at you! Dark horse!” and it makes your face sear with heat all over again. He lowers his voice, leans in and nudges you. “C’mon, nothing in the contract about that. You deserve a little fun. Let your Italian mama take care of you.”

You cringe. “Please,” you say, “never say ‘Italian mama’ to me again. Okay?”

“Just sayin’,” he says, and leaves it alone.

Of course, it doesn’t leave you alone. You’ve learned the best way to sneak up on a conversation with Melissa and Barbara is to come at it around a corner, so you’re hovering down the kindergarten hall, camera on the two women, when you hear your name, making you stiffen.

“You said that?” Barbara’s voice is incredulous, sharp. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’, really,” Melissa says, “she was on the clock, y’know.” The smile starts in her voice before it grows on her face. It’s a Cheshire smirk bigger and deeper than you’ve ever seen. “She got all flustered. It was cute. You think she knows I was shootin’ my shot?”

“I think you could have ‘shot your shot’ with a little more dignity,” Barbara says crisply. “Like an adult does. Politely. Pleasantly.”

“Soberly,” Melissa says. “Listen, if it works, it works. I just gotta find out if it did, y’know. Work. She’s kinda shy.”

“I didn’t know you cared for that.”

"What, the quiet ones?"

You have to pull away. You're going to miss the rest of the conversation, but your face is burning again, your heart is pounding, and you're grappling with the reality that Melissa and Barbara are talking about you, that you're subject enough between them to be chatted about so casually, that all this footage is... God, are you ever going to live this down?

You'll go shoot some Janine and Gregory. That's always a crowd-pleaser; the audience loves the sweet tension between them, the way the space between their bodies turns tangible the longer their eye contact holds. You try not to think about Melissa's gaze on yours last night. You try to do your job.

That goes as well as you might expect. Fifteen minutes into some uninspiring quiz-grading ("oh, I never fail anyone," Janine says, "I just give 'em a different colored star—they like the gold ones best, so—") Pedro comes to find you.

"Hey, listen," he says, "I need you to come take care of your Calabrian chili pepper."

"What?"

"You know, your spicy linguini. Your Italian ma—"

"Stop." Your head whips toward Janine at her desk and then back to Pedro. The only thing you can think of to say, your heart thumping all over again, is "She's Sicilian, not Calabrian."

"She's giving us nothing. You got to come do her talking head. She keeps trying to square up to Kai and he doesn't wanna fight her."

"What makes you think she won't fight me?"

He gives you a look over his glasses.

The change in Melissa is instant when she sees you approach. Those folded arms, her squared shoulders, her broad, foot-planted stance—it all melts. She leans into the wall, her head tipping, one booted foot lifting for her toe to play in idle lines along the floor, and, yeah. Whether you picked her or not, this is your Sicilian chili pepper, and you swallow hard as you approach.

"Heya, hon," she says, "who's this clown they got me workin' with? Don't they know I only do this with the professionals?"

You mumble a little as Kai looks between the two of you, rolls his eyes, and backs off.

"We were talking about her Friday night plans," Pedro says. "It's school game night and she's not going."

"Yeah, the kids are too easy to hustle," she says, "it ain't even fun. What, do I look like I wanna spend all Friday winnin' their, I dunno, their Yu-Gi-Oh cards?"

Now's when Pedro should prompt her, ask a question. You glance at him; he nods his permission. "Not sure those are a thing anymore," you say.

"Their Pokemon cards," she says. "Whatever. Point is, it'd be like taking candy from a... Jacob."

You don't look at her; you focus on the camera. It's easier than holding her green gaze. "Is that where you draw the line?"

"Gotta draw it somewhere," she says.

You can't help it. Cautiously you look up, try to make your voice neutral: "So how are you going to spend Friday night?"

She lolls her head to one side and looks at you. She sticks her tongue into her cheek. "Prob'ly practicing tricks," she says.

"Tricks?"

"Yeah," she says. "With my magic wand."

You don't really remember the rest of the interview. You sure you babble some other questions, and she gives you some smirking answers, but your head is full of white noise and a singular image: Melissa Schemmenti with a vibrator between her legs.

You're sure other things happen that day. Pedro definitely ribs you some more, you and Kai go get lunch and he complains for a while, Gregory and Janine have one of their not-flirting conversations where he draws up a tightly-plotted itinerary for game night, trying to prove it's possible to run a children's event without delays (it all goes back to his father, of course), at some point you go home and numbly resume your post on the couch in front of your TV screen, trying to make sense of it all.

That picture won't leave your head. You think of the look she gave you that night at her house—intimate, caressing—and how she'd look deep in her pleasure, drunk eyes half-open, her face pink, her hair wild. Does she get naked when she touches herself? She seems too impatient—more like a jeans around her thighs kind of woman—but for a night she's planning ahead—a night she's set aside, just for her pleasure...

Your head drops back and you shut your eyes to see her more clearly. You can imagine the scattering of freckles over her shoulders and chest, the shift of her heavy breasts and the hard peaks of her pink nipples—how does she like to be touched there? Maybe she grabs one breast while she uses the vibrator, plays with a nipple, imagining the rough, confident hand of a lover. You can see the soft field of her belly, the abundance of her hips, her thighs, picturing her cunt, the head of the vibrator against her clit—she doesn't tease, can't tease herself, you imagine, not Melissa.

You can almost smell her sex, you think, until you realize it's yourself you're smelling. Your cunt throbs. You could shove a hand into your underwear now and just take care of it, but...

Your small toy collection lives in a box under your bed. It's nothing fancy, but you do have a small wand vibrator. You peel off your trousers and underwear and drop onto your bed, back against the pillows, holding the purple toy in one hand. Does Melissa have one this size? Or a big, classic one, the kind that could buzz your clit right off? You click the toy on and draw it up your thigh. As it nears the sensitive crease between your leg and your sex, your thigh twitches without meaning to, your clit aching, and you think, okay, no foreplay.

You can't help but wonder as you delve the thrumming head between your folds: does she know you're doing this? Was that the idea—plant herself in your head, grow over everything, including your common sense and your inhibitions, until your whole world flowers Melissa? Could she be doing the same—getting a head start on Friday's plans—thinking of you, right now? You're normally quiet when you do this, but that makes you groan aloud. Your clit pulses.

How does she do this, on a school night, like tonight? Back to the image of her with her trousers halfway down her legs, her hand and her toy crammed into the space between the fabric and her body. You can't help but see her in the outfit from today, that green, clinging top, the black blazer discarded somewhere, slacks caught just above her knees, her hair mussed and tangling against the pillows as she works the vibrator over her clit. No playing games for her, either; just getting the job done, hard and fast.

You come, watching her in your head, her name on your lips; you hope she comes tonight, too, thinking of you, of what she’s doing to you.

The next day, Janine, Gregory, and Jacob are in hushed conversation by the supply closet. You pick an angle from just inside the nearest classroom and train your camera on the slight crack of the open door and you can hear them, even though they think they’re being quiet—classic them.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” Janine is saying. “I think it’s kind of nice.”

“I think,” Gregory says, “it’s like…” He pauses, picking his words. “Like watching a dog shake a chew toy.”

“I think it’s very brave of Melissa,” says Jacob, and your heart drops into your stomach. “Considering the historical era in which she grew up and started her teaching career, being openly bisexual in the workplace must be a very—”

“Please don’t let her hear you call her ‘historical’,” Gregory interjects.

“It’s cute she has a crush on the camera lady,” Janine says. (“Cameraperson,” Jacob corrects.) “I just want it to turn out nice. You know, the vending machine guy didn’t work out, so. And now he doesn’t stock Gushers anymore.”

“Maybe she’ll be a little more relaxed,” Jacob says. “A little more… Open, fun—”

“She’s not going to start liking you because she’s dating somebody.” Gregory, with characteristic bluntness.

“One can hope,” Jacob says.

“The camera lady—person—is so quiet, though,” Janine muses. “Melissa is so intense.”

“Bet that’s what she likes,” Mr. Johnson says, making them all jump. He steps out from the supply closet; he’s holding a Teachers Without Borders coffee mug you know has to be Jacob’s. He takes a long, slurping sip, making sure everybody sees the logo on the cup. “Melissa gets a sweet little thang to take care of. Camera lady gets an Italian mama.” He says it eye-talian. (Where is everybody getting this phrase from?)

“Please don’t say ‘Italian mama’ again,” Gregory says, giving you a little flush of vindication.

“Why not?” Mr. Johnson says. “When I was on tour in Rome—”

That’s enough for you. You decide the rest of the conversation can go unrecorded. You check the time and it’s nearly lunch—thank God, because you don’t want to make eye contact with any of them for a while; you don’t know how to feel about them all talking about you. You know it’s not you, really, they care about. It’s Melissa, her caginess at odds with how boldly, openly she’s been flirting with you, an attraction so obvious even the younger teachers that she’d never confide in can see it.

Something light and effervescent swirls in your stomach, but there’s a leaden weight there, too. Nerves. And desire. You let Pedro know you’re taking lunch and leave your camera behind, finding Kai a block down, away from the school, hitting his vape. He passes it to you and you take a pull, letting candy-scented vapor out of your nose. You don’t really smoke anymore, but anybody would need a little comfort under these circumstances, you think.

“So what are you going to do?” he asks.

“What?” You didn’t know Kai cared about that. “I mean, I guess I’ll talk to her, maybe give her my number, then see—”

“For lunch.”

“Oh.”

You get hoagies together, eating them over a public trash can, standing up. Back at the school you scrub your hands clean in the bathroom and duck Pedro and your camera and you find your way down the second-grade hall to the classroom that's usually the noisiest. It's quiet now: the kids are at the library doing a reading circle with the librarian. Maybe it says something that you know their schedule.

She's in there, glasses low on her nose, working. You pause just on the threshold of the open door. You try to piece together everything you know about her, to make it all fit into the person you see, just a small woman with a love of pleather and a never-ending supply of high-heeled boots, a baseball bat taped under her desk (you've seen it), a guitar propped in one corner of the classroom (does she ever play?), how now she's focused and reading with scrupulous intensity, doubling back on a sentence from time to time, her manicured hand coming up to twitch away a lock of red hair.

You knock on the open door. You see her hand pass under the desk toward the bat before she realizes who's standing there. She cracks a grin, lifting her glasses up to the top of her head. Her eyes travel up and down your body in another look that feels like a touch.

"I was wonderin' when you'd stop by," she says.

You give a little hum. You cross the room to lean against a student's desk, just opposite hers.

"No camera?"

"No," you say, "I wanted it to be just us."

"Huh." She taps her pen on her paper a few times. "You here to let me down easy?" She lifts her chin. The look she gives you isn't intimate now: it's far-removed and challenging, like the gaze of a duelist across a plain. You've seen this before, the way she starts closing herself off, armoring up.

You shake your head. There's a shift in her expression, but the walls don't quite come down. "I guess I wanted to ask what you want."

"That ain't obvious?"

"I mean..." Your arms come up, folding over your chest. "You know, I was here last season, when you were dating that guy... Hulk Hogan."

It surprises a laugh out of her. "Yeah, Gary."

"You asked him out and it was... Different. I mean..." You can't think of how to say it. At last, you say, "Do you take me seriously?" No, that's not it. "I mean, are you just trying to hook up with me? Because, I..." You're starting to burn up again. You rub the back of your neck. "That's not the kind of... Listen, you're beautiful, and sexy, but that's not what it would—I mean, to me, it—"

"You're so cute when you're all shy," Melissa says, sounding equally mystified and amused. She stands. "Look... Maybe I did this all wrong." She circles the desk. "Kinda treated you like a piece of meat."

"Just a little bit," you say.

"I take you serious, hon." She doesn't cross the gap between you two, but mirrors your pose, leaning on the edge of her desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Look, Gare was a nice guy. But he didn't have, you know... He didn't make me wanna..."

You think of Gregory's metaphor. "Shake him like a chew toy?"

Another laugh. "Yeah, that. And I guess I felt... You know, I'd kinda uncorked the bottle, datin' him, when I thought all that part of my life was done, and when you were at my place the other night, you just looked so good, and I just wanted..."

You smile, eyes down. The cold uncertainty is trickling away and there's warmth pouring into the spaces it's left behind. "Okay," you say.

"Okay?"

When you look up, she's moved a little closer. You can smell her perfume again, warmed on her skin over the course of a long day. You've had the privilege of seeing her in detail, so many times: the fine, thin skin around her eyes, the creases at the corners of her mouth that forecast her smile, the tiny hint of gray growing in at her temples, the mellow warmth of her green gaze, the slope of her nose crooking slightly to her left. It's different with no lens between the two of you, when you're close enough to touch.

"Yeah, okay," she says to whatever she sees in your eyes. She lifts her chin and drops her gaze to your mouth. It's a clear request.

You answer it. You dip your head; there's a moment where your noses nearly bump, but you change your angle, catch her lips with yours. There's a tackiness from her lip gloss and an incredible softness underneath. The warmth of her almost shocks you, vivid past your imagining. Her hand pets at your jaw; you feel the other curl into the collar of your shirt. She pulls you closer by the fabric and you gasp.

You renew the kiss, lips sliding over hers. Your hand rubs down her lower back. You can feel the divot in her spine where it meets her pelvis, just above the generous curve of her ass. Before you can overthink it, your palm is gliding over that curve, your fingers digging into its lushness, Melissa gasping against your mouth as you squeeze.

"Oh," she says faintly when the kiss is over and you're catching your breath. "Huh." Her look is glazed and a little bewildered.

"I, um, I don't want to send mixed messages," you say, "but about Friday..."

"Friday?" she echoes.

"Yeah." You bite down on your smile, watching her try to remember what the hell you're talking about. "I was thinking... I know a few magic tricks of my own."

"Oh," she says again. You watch her eyes spark with understanding, her smile appear slowly, then all at once. "I guess you could come over and show me your stuff." Her hands tighten in your shirt and pull you back in for another kiss.

"Hey, gimme your phone," she says, much, much later, when you're wearing more of her lip gloss than she is. "I want to give ya my number." You don't think before you're unlocking it and passing it into her hands. She lowers her glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose and thumbs her way around your phone, creating a contact for herself.

You have a flash of nerves—what if she opens your Instagram and sees all the stupid accounts you follow? A vision comes of her seeing all the dog-using-buttons-to-talk videos you've liked, her libido instantly withering... Then she's giving you back your phone and smirking at you, wiping at your lip with her thumb. "Might wanna stop in the bathroom before you get back to work, hon," she says.

When you leave her classroom, it's like floating; you've never felt so light. You stop in the bathroom and you wipe all the lip gloss off your smiling mouth. You catch yourself humming as you and Kai catch some footage of Ava pretending to organize game night, Gregory trying to involve himself, Janine admitting to a little competitive streak.

Your phone buzzes, chimes. "Sorry," you say to Janine and Pedro, who's leading the interview. You wait until you can lower the camera lens to check the notification. You always keep it silenced during the day—did Melissa turn the ringer on?

Italian Mama iMessage

Your face burns. You take a corner away from Pedro and unlock the phone.

Italian Mama You made me real happy

Your blush intensifies; something flutters in your chest. The phone vibrates in your hand as another message comes.

Italian Mama Don't know how I'm going to wait until Friday

The echo of your own thought in her words makes your heart flutter again. You bite your lower lip and type back, Me neither. An electric spark of daring moves you, makes you send her, Maybe I'll practice some magic just to make sure I'm on top of my game.

Is that too much? You hope not. You've basically made a sex appointment with her for Friday—sex appointment, you think, and wince at yourself, your own awkwardness; it's a date—and you don't—your breath hitches as three dots appear on your screen, showing that she's typing.

Italian Mama Oh yeah?

Italian Mama Better practice hard

You feel a pulse low in your belly. You're ready to type a little more flirtation when another message arrives and makes you gasp aloud, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth before Pedro or somebody else can hear you.

She's sent you a photo. It's herself pulling down the scoop neck of the hot pink blouse she's wearing today. You can see just the tip of her nose, her chin, the proud line of her soft neck, her freckled sternum, and, holy shit. She's showing you her breasts cradled in a bra made of black lace. And you stare. And you stare.

Italian Mama Little incentive for you

Your mouth is watering. You can see the rosy shadows of her nipples against the lace. You barely register yourself typing back, You're perfect.

Italian Mama Thought you'd like em

You're typing before you can stop yourself. All I'll be able to think about now is what I'm going to do to you.

Three dots appear, then disappear. Appear, then disappear. Your confidence wavers.

Italian Mama I want you to tell me

You've never imagined you'd be turned on in the halls of Abbott Elementary, but suddenly you're so aware of your cunt, you can't stand it. You're throbbing. You peer around the corner; Pedro isn't even looking your way, he's talking something over about the schedule with another producer. You have time. You glance up and down the hall; nobody except an aide going into a room at the far end.

Your fingers fly over the keys. If you stop to think, you'll psych yourself out, so you blurt out every thought, the iMessage equivalent of babbling—what you'd be doing in Melissa's ear if you could have her right now, in your arms, again...

You're so fucking sexy

I've thought about you so much

I touched myself thinking about you the other night

I'm going to kiss you until you go crazy and you're so turned on you can't take it

I'm going to undress you and I'm going to kiss every fucking inch of you

I'm going to play with you until you're begging

Do you like it rough or gentle?

Three dots.

Italian Mama Little of both

You're typing again in a flurry. You can feel your heart pounding, your breath coming in harder. You probably only have a couple minutes left to really make her feel it.

I'm going to be so gentle with you until you beg me to be rough

I want to bite you

Do you like being bitten?

Italian Mama Yeah

I know you do

On your neck, on your breasts

I'm going to bite your thighs before I eat you out

"Homie, you coming?" Pedro says, with the best and worst timing—and phrasing—he could possibly have.

"Yeah, one sec," you say, and you're proud of how your voice doesn't wobble at all. "Let me just send this. Sorry."

I have to get back to work

Italian Mama Fuck you

Italian Mama How am I supposed to teach like this

Italian Mama Come here and finish what you fuckin started

You laugh, breathless and surprised. You text her, YOU started it! If she hadn't sent you that picture... You scroll back up and look again. In the bit of her face you can see, she's smirking, because of course she is. The luscious curve of her breasts—you can almost feel them, what it would be like to drag your nose down between them, mouth at the soft skin...

Pedro's waiting. You send her a bunch of blowing-kiss emojis and put your phone away again. You're still buzzing with arousal, but you feel a strange satisfaction, knowing that Melissa is a few halls away, squirming behind her desk, thinking about all the promises you've made.

The day passes, somehow. It's a strange mixture of slow, syrupy boredom and electric, frenetic activity as more preparations are made for game night, and your phone periodically buzzes with another message from Melissa. Thankfully (for your pussy—you think it might fall off if it keeps aching like that), the two of you leave the subject of sex, and just talk.

She asks you your birthday, your favorite food. Where did you grow up? What's your favorite color? Each one makes you smile. You feel like you're on the receiving end of a Schemmenti interrogation, a mob boss with her goons behind her. You get her answers back in turn: July 19. (You respond in shock, You're a water sign??? and you can almost hear her voice when she dryly responds, I got no clue what that means, hon.) Pasta con sarde. Grew up here in South. Pink.

Your heart flutters with every new thing you learn. Even though you go home (and rub one out) alone, she's a presence with you, not just in your fantasies; you find you're texting her until you fall asleep, phone sliding out of your hand onto the bedspread. And when you wake up the next day, preceding your alarm by a bit, you find a text from her waiting for you, just a few minutes ago: Good morning, baby.

You levitate all the way through Thursday. You spot Melissa a few times that day, but it's a packed day for her two classes, so mostly it's in the hall as she marches lines of students to and fro. She gets you back for yesterday, though: pauses in the doorway of her classroom as she's filing the kids in after lunch, and gives you an up-and-down look of such searing intensity that your body heats, scalp to toes. She smirks before she vanishes into her room.

She makes you crazy. God, she's incredible. You're texting her every chance you both can get, though she's sparser while she's with the kids; it's all light stuff. Get lunch here today, she tells you, Shanae made beef patties, and when Shanae slips you a couple of golden-crusted pastries, you bite into them, smelling warm, floral curry, savory beef on your tongue, and think of how Melissa it is, feeding you from a distance.

That afternoon, just after dismissal, she calls, "Hey," to you from her classroom door. You try not to jump to attention. "I gotta do a lot of work," she says, playing with the strap of her Apple Watch, "or I'd ask you over, but..." Strangely, her eyes drop. It's a hint of shyness and it makes your heart patter, tenderness and affection for her pouring into your chest. "I was thinkin', why don't we go out and get, like, food or a drink or somethin' tomorrow? You know, before you come over."

"Okay," you say. Her eyes flick up and as soon as she sees your goofy grin, her shyness melts away, turns back into the smirking self-assuredness you're more familiar with.

"You pick the place," she says, knocking the wind out of you at once.

Oh, crap. You remember what it was like with her and Gary: he tried to take her to a shitty spot for their first date, and she flicked him away from her like a bug. She's challenging you, you think, asking to be impressed.

You can do that. Dark horse, right? "Okay," you repeat. "I'll pick."

She leans back against the doorframe. All at once she's in that lolling, casual, flirtatious posture that she assumes for you and only you, her face tilted up, gaze intimate and a little sly. "You headin' out? I get a goodbye kiss, or what?"

"Okay," you say a third time, and you can barely kiss her, you're smiling so widely. You take your fill of her, in every sense, one more time before you leave for the day, nerves and excitement and that thread of arousal all tangling together, like a knot of live wires.

You're texting her later, because of course you're texting her later. Do you want it to be a surprise?

Italian Mama I dunno

Italian Mama Surprises never seem to work out for me

That gives you a little twinge. You find yourself running the tip of your finger up and down the side of your phone, the way you'd touch her hand or her cheek, if you could. How about just this one? you ask. And if you hate it, I'll never surprise you again?

You wish you could see her face. It would help you know if she's resigned or wary or scared. You don't want her to be antsy or nervous going into tomorrow; you want her to feel like she makes you feel: like you've got balloons and not bones, like a wind could catch you and carry you off, you're so light and so happy.

Italian Mama Ok

Italian Mama I'm gonna trust ya

It makes your heart do its now-familiar flutter in your chest. It's like there's a bird in there, some delicate fledgling thing eager to start flying. It wants to soar, holding its precious cargo: Melissa Schemmenti's trust.

The next day. Friday. Friday. Somehow, the school day rockets past you. Game night preparations have gone disastrously, and it's time for a patented Ava save, with the help of Janine and Gregory.

"Wow, who could've guessed," Kai mutters to you, and fidgets in the pocket you know holds his vape.

Your hand fidgets in your own pocket, around your phone. You and Mel exchanged good morning texts, a few kiss emojis, promises to meet up before dismissal to solidify your plans, but you haven't had a chance to see her at all.

"I don't know," you say, "I think they'll get it figured out."

"I think she's probably going to use it to mine Bitcoin somehow," Kai says.

Honestly, that sounds plausible. You shake your head anyway and make an excuse and scoot past Pedro. He's not encouraging Ava to stream game night live on Instagram, per se, but everybody knows that will guarantee some Coleman-style silliness, so he needs to get her there somehow. (Can you mine Bitcoin through Instagram?)

You don't need to send any directions to your feet; they're already walking you toward the second grade classrooms. Mel doesn't have lunchroom duty today, so you know she'll probably be catching up on two classes' worth of quizzes, or restocking art supplies, or prepping the next lesson's props and tools. Her door is shut and you peek in through the window.

She's writing on the whiteboard, looking back and forth from a worksheet in her hand, glasses on her nose. You knock. When she sees you, the narrow-eyed look of interrupted concentration melts away; she gives you a smile that shows her teeth, the kind that changes her whole face, turning her girlish, almost a little goofy. It makes your heart melt.

You open the door. "Hey," you say as she puts her glasses on top of her head and caps the marker. Being in the room with her, after not seeing her all morning, feels like coming out of the cold to a blazing fire. "Uh, hi. You look beautiful today." Then, for the third time, stupidly, adoringly, "Hi."

"You missed me, huh?" she says, putting down the marker and paper. "C'mere."

As soon as you're in grabbing distance, she takes two handfuls of your ass and pulls you in for a kiss. You're lost in it for long, long seconds.

She pulls back after giving your lower lip a bite that makes you squeak. She tucks her hands squarely in the back pockets of your jeans, holding you against her. "You look beautiful today too."

"Thanks," you say, barely registering the compliment, the way you're chasing more contact, kissing the corner of her mouth, nosing at her cheek. She's so warm in your arms. She's wearing one of her tough-girl outfits, a blazer and matching top in military green, and you sneak your hand under the jacket, finding a little stripe of bare skin between her shirt and her slacks. You touch her there with a teasing trace of your fingernail.

She shivers. Is she sensitive on her lower back? You file it away to investigate later tonight. The thought of being able to have her all to yourself tonight—hours and hours—sends sparks skipping through you. You have to kiss her again.

"You think it's unprofessional, doin' this at work?" Mel asks you breathlessly when you part again.

"I don't know," you say, "but whatever Gregory and Janine have been doing is worse, kind of."

"Yeah, that's for sure," Melissa says, and gives you a third kiss; this time, the delicate muscle of her tongue laps at you, little frissons of heat that go right between your legs.

"I came to talk about dinner," you say at last, when you think you can survive without kissing her.

"Oh, yeah," Mel says, "right. What am I wearin'?"

"Uh..." You hadn't considered it. You're just going in your usual date outfit—a button-up, a nice pair of trousers. "Business casual?"

"Okay, easy. Do I get a hint where we're goin'?" One eyebrow goes up. Her gaze acquires a competitive glint, one you've seen a hundred times through your camera. "I bet I can guess it."

"Here's your hint," you say, "it's not Italian."

"Smart cookie," Melissa says, which leads you both into another kiss, and then another. "It ain't a sandwich shop, is it?"

"No," you say, "I can't beat cousin Rocco."

"Soul food," she says.

"No. I'll come pick you up, is that okay?"

"Yeah, come, like, at five. I gotta change and do my face and stuff." She leans back, giving you a squint-eyed look of scrutiny. "Tell me it ain't French."

"It ain't," you promise, and seal it with a kiss. "I have to go. I'm pretending to be in the bathroom."

"Oh, shit," she says, eyes going wide, "we gotta catch up on this freakin' math unit and I forgot, I haven't peed in, like—"

"Go, go," you say with a laugh, letting her extract her hands from your pockets.

When you return, Kai narrows his eyes at you. You shrug at him and you're ready to get back to work, when he reaches across and plucks something off your shoulder: a single red hair. Crap.

"Damn," he says. "Dark horse."

"What's up?" Pedro glances over at you two. Fuck, you don't know if you can take his teasing today—you know he'll want all the details, and you love him, but you want to just get through work and get to Melissa...

"Nothing," Kai says, and drops the hair. He gives you a nod.

You nod back, warmth and gratitude making you smile. He doesn't smile back—you don't think you've ever seen him smile, actually—but you think you see the corner of his mouth curve up, just a little, as he peers into his camera.

Dismissal, a quick goodbye kiss with Melissa, home to get ready. You're normally an all-black kind of girl—it's just easy—but you pause in your closet and find a pink button-up. It's a mellow, soft shade, the same color as a silky blouse you've seen Melissa wear.

You put on your cologne, you style your hair. You look at yourself in the mirror. It’s funny: this is the same face you’ve always had, but three days of Melissa have done something to you. Your eyes look larger, softer; there’s a smile on your lips, small but persistent, that’s been there all day.

You haven’t always been lucky with women. You have love in your heart—God, a lot of it. Sometimes it feels like the water of an ancient lake, going down almost infinitely deep, and yet somehow about to overflow. You spent years going around offering it to anyone who would take it, and once they’d drunk their fill, they just moved on, satisfied, never giving a thought to you, never thinking you might want something back, even just gratitude.

So you pulled away. You just hurt too easily: keep them at arm’s length, never close enough to bruise. The quiet one, the shy one; that’s who you became over time, knowing that if you gave out of your abundance, you’d only be depleted. No one’s ever filled your cup.

You find yourself chewing your lip, staring at yourself. You want this to be different. You want this to be something else. Can it be?

You park your car in front of Melissa’s and find yourself wondering: text, or knock? You’re starting to get out of the car when the front door opens, and a rush of surprise and pleasure comes at the thought of Melissa waiting, watching for you. Then your breath catches hard in your throat.

She’s wearing a little red dress that… “Wow,” you say, before she’s even close enough to hear. The square neck of the dress is cut lower than her usual wear, and shows an abundance of skin that makes your mouth water. There’s a princessy quality to the cap sleeves, a delicate detail that’s perfect for Melissa: blazing, challenging red, with a hint of sweetness. The hem stops just above her knees. The fabric shows her body in intimate detail, the delicate rounding of her stomach and the flare of her hips, straining across the perfect shape of her thighs.

Her hair is down. Even late in the day it has a bit of curl. Her green eyes are like gemstones in the early evening light. Her heels have got to be four inches, but she walks with the steadiness of a queen. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

You circle the car to get the passenger side door. “Hey,” she says, surprised, coming closer, “it’s pink,” and touches your sleeve. It’s not even contact with your skin, barely contact, period, but it sends tingles up and down your arm. “That’s my favorite color.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, grinning like a fool.

Her eyes drop—that hint of shyness again, that tenderness that makes your heart strain against your chest, trying to reach her—before they flick back up. “How do I look?”

“I could look at you for hours,” you tell her honestly.

"I'd kiss ya, but you'd mess up my face," she says. "Here, you get one." She turns and offers her cheek.

You're smiling as you lean down to kiss the offered skin. She's soft and warm, and you get the powdery scent of her makeup, the richness of her perfume.

"Now, c'mon, feed me," she says, and you laugh and open her door.

You drive. She's exactly the kind of passenger you expected: "Hey, check it," every time she sees a car nosing out past a stop sign, or "On your left," when you're trying to merge. "Hey," she barks when somebody cuts you off, a gesticulating, accusatory hand in the air, "cazzo, you wanna watch where you're fuckin' going?"

Melissa. Abrasive, loud, bossy, and you don't feel bulldozed at all. You feel charmed. The smile won't leave your face. You don't know if she could be more herself than right now, in your ancient Volvo, wearing the sexiest outfit you've ever seen on her, looking simultaneously bold and delicate and delicious, and hollering out the window like an angry truck driver.

She's checking her phone as you pull up outside the restaurant, and doesn't look up again until you're opening her door. "Oh," she says, surprised, looking at the place: it's a red brick building, no sign; just a single hanging red lantern beside a white door. You can see her trying to puzzle it out, glancing at you and back to the door.

"It's a bar," you explain. You open the door to your favorite izakaya. Low, golden light and warmth spill out with the Jrock playing over the speaker system.

Melissa cocks her head and looks at you curiously. You only notice that her hand's in her clutch purse when she draws it out again; you hear the rattle of her keys dropping back to the bottom. "Thought you might'a been about to take my other kidney," she says. "I was gonna fight ya."

You blink. It's one of those Melissa-isms, delivered in her dry voice, that you think might be a joke, but it might not be, either. "I wouldn't win if you did."

"You sure as hell wouldn't, baby," she says, and lets you hold the door for her as she steps inside.

You love this place. It feels a bit like your first apartment after you left home, a lot of exposed brick, shoddy white paneling creating an accent wall, and decor that's a little vintage, a little silly: a big, ornate mirror that might have once decorated a cheap theater, brass sconces for lights, Gojira posters in the style of classic ukiyo-e. There's booths on one side of the room and a mirrored bar on the other, with a wall of sake and Japanese whisky.

The hostess recognizes you, waves hi, gestures toward the room for you to seat yourself. It won't start filling up until a little later, so you have your pick of the booths; you take the side that puts your back to the door, letting Melissa have the sightline to the exit.

The low light flatters her. Any light flatters her, but there's something about the dim, intimate, golden warmth of it that makes you stare as she studies the menus, first the drinks, then the food; her eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheek, the curve of her lips carving lines there.

She looks up and catches you. The thoughtful twist of her mouth turns into a smirk. The question, though, isn't what you were expecting. "What made you pick here?"

Huh. "I..." You rub the back of your neck, dropping your gaze. "I really like it." That's a start, but not all of it. "I thought you might not have this kind of food all the time. I never see you eating it and I wanted you to have a nice change. And..."

"I come here alone a lot." You shrug. "I have... Good memories here." They are good memories: people-watching, trying new drinks and food, chats with the bartenders, a karaoke night where you fell in with a group of laughing, drunk women who all worked at the same office, who tried to persuade you to bar-hop with them until last call.

But it's always been you, alone; sometimes folded in with somebody else out of goodwill, sometimes noticed for your familiar face and your generous tips, spared a few more minutes of a busy mixologist's time, but always a separation, a glass wall between you and the rest of the room. No one's been on this side of it with you before.

"I wanted you to have a good memory," you say, finally. "I wanted to share it with you."

You glance at Melissa. She's watching you with a look you recognize. It's the one she gave you that night at her house—just earlier this week, but it feels like a lifetime ago. It's tender and intent. It's encouraging. Like she's watching a flower bloom.

"It's already a good memory for me, hon," Melissa says. Something nudges your ankle. It's her foot in its killer heel, gently insinuating between both of yours. You feel her knee against yours, your calves aligned together. She smiles at you. "We're here together."

Your heart does one of its aerial flips.

"You sure get shy for somebody who was talkin' about suckin' my tits before, though," she says.

You choke on nothing. Your face and ears burn. She laughs, her head dropping back, the light glinting on her saints' medals.

"Biting," you squeak, when you can get air. "We were talking about biting."

"Biting," she says, "right. How come you can say all that to me but you're nervous tellin' me you like a bar?"

It's not a bad question. You trace the grain of the wooden tabletop for a second or two, eyes down. "I'm used to giving other people what they like," you say. "I don't mean—it's not that I was lying or faking. No way. I meant it, I mean it, everything I say to you. So much, Melissa." You dart a look up to make sure she understands. "I mean, it's easy for me... For other people, I can express..."

Her hand finds yours on the table and stills it. Her manicured finger gently swipes along the curve below your thumb, down to the sensitive inner skin of your wrist, and traces slowly there, back and forth. She's giving you that look again, gentle and focused and intimate. "I get it," she says simply.

A rush of relief fills you, settling the rattle of your anxious nerves. You turn your hand over and hers settles into yours.

The server appears for your drink orders. You order the house sake, and Melissa says, "Yeah, me too." With your small glasses of sake, the two of you pore over the menu, picking a few things Melissa knows, a few things she's never had before.

The first few plates come out: shumai, hamachi, a bowl of spicy pickle. She gets pieces of toro, unagi, and salmon, and you get a roll and a plate of chashu buns. She gives those a look of pure lust.

"Take one," you say, and push the plate toward her.

She doesn't hesitate. At her first bite, she lets out a guttural moan that goes right between your thighs. You're suddenly much more aware of her ankle still caught between both of your own.

"You think I could get this recipe?" she says of the chashu after the bun has vanished.

"I think you can get whatever you want." Especially from you, especially if she keeps making those noises.

"I sure can," she says with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes.

You've seen Melissa eat before, scraping the last bite of salad out of a tupperware or sipping from a Stanley Tucci mug, but it's different like this, sharing a meal. You love watching her small, plump hands with her chopsticks, her drinks; you love her expressive eyes, the way they widen or flutter shut at a perfect bite. Everything she tries she makes you try—insistent, "Here, you taste," like you're not the one who's had the whole menu before, and you oblige, trying to taste it for the first time, like her, letting each one blossom over your tongue, letting yourself fall under her spell.

The bar is packed by the time you're through and she's nibbled her way through a couple of frozen mochi. "We gotta come back here," she declares as the two of you leave, hand in hand. "I wanna try more. You got good taste."

"Yeah, I do," you say, looking at her. It's full dark now, but the streetlights and the moon illuminate her, outlining her red hair in silver, the shape of her hips.

"You gonna take me home now?" she says. She moves closer. "You made a lotta promises, you know."

"I know." Your hands settle on her hips. She tilts her head up; you catch her lips, tasting the plum wine you two shared. It's your first real kiss of the night, and she's mellow, soft, delicious. Still, you tell her, "We don't have to, tonight. I want to, but I don't want you to think..."

"I know," she says, and gives you another kiss. "If I thought you were buyin' dinner to make me put out, I would'a had way more food." Another kiss. "Come on, let's go. Or maybe you don't wanna get lucky?"

You drive back to Melissa's place, her hand on your thigh the whole way. Back over the welcome mat that reads GO AWAY, into the picture-lined place where it all started over a glass of wine.

Melissa takes your coat and her own and gives you her back, hanging them up in a closet by the front door. "I can get you another drink," she's saying, but all you can see is the back of her dress: the silver line of the zipper running from collar to hem, almost invisible.

You move closer and she stiffens when she feels you there, your chest to her back. You gather her hair, move it aside. Above the collar of the dress you can see the line of her nape and the muscle where her neck and her shoulder join. You lean down and kiss it.

Breathing in, you can smell her perfume again, her makeup again. Now, her skin. It's a scent you couldn't begin to describe, something living and animal and sensuous. And her hair: warm, intimate, a little bit of hairspray. You kiss the side of her neck.

"You have no idea," you say quietly. You nose against the shell of her ear. Its soft cartilage is cold from the night air outside, but warming quickly, flushing pink as you kiss it. "You have no idea how gorgeous you are. You don't know what you've been doing to me."

You lift your hands and find the tongue of the zipper. Her breath hitches. You slowly draw it down. The rasp of it is loud between your bodies.

The band of her bra. Red lace. Down her back to the luscious curvature of her hips. You're holding your breath. Her panties are red lace, too, a high-waisted thong that hugs her belly and hips but, oh, fuck: leaves her ass almost totally fucking bare. Of course, in that clinging dress. Couldn't risk panty lines.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you say, and slide the dress fully off her body. It's a puddle of red fabric on the floor. You push her chest-first against the closet door and drop to your knees.

"Oh my God," she says weakly as you hold her hips and kiss your way up the back of one thigh, then the other. The flesh here is dimpled with cellulite, a mark of her perfect abundance. You nose over the curve of her ass and bite one cheek and she squeaks and gives a weak, "Huh," afterward, like she'd surprised herself, and you bite the other cheek and her hips rock back into you.

She's still in her heels. You're starting to smell her sex. You think about having her bend over and put her hands against the door and let you eat her from behind until her knees shake and give out. Fuck, you want to, but you've been making promises; you have plans.

You straighten back up, brushing kisses up the line of her spine. "I want to see your bedroom."

"Fuck," she says dizzily. "Okay. Uh..." She starts to step away from the closet door and for the first time all night, she wobbles in her heels. She gives a little growl of frustration that's so Melissa you can't help but laugh, making her glower your way as she toes out of the shoes.

She leads you up to her bedroom. The big bed is made, but there are plenty of signs of life: the vanity against one wall, scattered with makeup; the bedside table with a dog-eared book and a pair of her glasses; there's a bra tossed over the cracked closet door.

She turns to face you, unself-conscious, and grabs you for another kiss, deep, dirty, her tongue licking into your mouth. "Can't believe you wore my favorite color," she says breathlessly, and starts fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. "God, you look so hot."

Your shirt's halfway open when you get your mouth on her neck. She groans, hands loosening on the fabric. Soft, right along the line of her jaw, under her chin, down her throat where you feel a moan vibrate through the skin. "Harder," she says.

You stay soft. The hollow of her throat, her clavicle. You nose one strap of her bra. She whines, "Harder," and grips your hair.

"I told you," you say. "I'm going to make you beg." She gasps. Your cunt pulses. You wonder if the same thing happened in her classroom that day, if she sat at her desk squirming, little hitches of her breath betraying her.

You squeeze her ass and she sways into you. Your hands shape her hips, up her sides, over her back, feeling the landscape of it, the valley of her spine. You trace the band of her bra. It's so pretty, you almost don't want to take it off.

"Where's your vibrator?" you ask.

"Huh?"

"Your vibrator," you patiently repeat, and lean back. You see in her eyes when it clicks. She leans away from you toward the nightstand, pulling open the top drawer. Inside, there's a pack of melatonin gummies, a lavender and chamomile room spray, a mini bottle of Jack Daniels, and a hot pink wand vibrator. Her sleep aid drawer, you realize.

You pick up the toy. It has a good weight, and the silicone is almost as soft as her skin. You find the power button, click it on, and cycle with a few presses through the three strength settings. You settle back on the first one and test it against the inside of your wrist, feeling the rumble against the sensitive skin there.

You look up again and Melissa's sitting on the edge of the bed. She's breathing hard, staring at you, and she's blushing.

"Lay back against the pillows for me, baby."

She scoots back, gives you a challenging look, and spreads her legs. You can really smell her, a thick, rich, saline scent that makes your mouth water. The drawer's still open and you spot a small bottle of lube; you take it out just in case, then slide the drawer shut.

"You gonna get naked?" she says as you join her on the bed.

"Not yet," you say and kiss her again. And again. The vibrator sits on the mattress, turned off, and you want to make her forget it's there. You take your time, licking at the serrated edge of her teeth, sucking on her lower lip until she's whimpering.

You couldn't have imagined that sound coming from Melissa Schemmenti. You chase it, have to have it again. Her lipstick is smeared, almost gone. She keeps tugging on your hair as you kiss her, starting to squirm beneath you, saying things like "More," and "Harder," but not please—not yet.

She slides down against the pillows, laying herself more fully under your body, and the motion makes the vibrator roll down the mattress to bump her side. Her breath speeds up all over again, and her eyes flick from it to you.

You pick up the toy and click it on. "Keep your legs spread."

"Oh, fuck yes," Melissa says, then whines aloud when you touch the vibrator not to her clothed pussy, but to the inner crease of her thigh. "Fuck, c'mon."

"C'mon, what?" You trail the vibrator up the inside of her thigh, toward her knee, and back down again.

"You know—" her breath stutters when you switch legs. "You know what I want."

"And you know what I want."

That makes her moan. Her head drops back, her chest heaving. You lean down to kiss her sternum, to finally nose against one perfect breast, the way you've hungered for it since that photo. The lace of her bra scratches your cheek. You can feel her nipple through the cup, taut against the fabric. You bring the vibrator up and tease its rumbling head over that peak, making her shudder, then replace it with your mouth, letting her feel the heat and wet, just barely, still separated from you by her bra.

"God, fuck," she says, "fuck you," and you switch breasts, teasing her other nipple to aching stiffness. You nuzzle the skin that her bra offers up, the plump perfect roundness of her breast, part your lips, drag your teeth over it. She's so soft here, so much, and it's perfect. Your hand drops with the vibrator and you trace it over her hip toward her sex, making her squirm, as you busy yourself with soft bites and sucks.

You change your angle a little, propping a hand against the pillows so you can lean over her. Your body casts a shadow and her green eyes look up at you from beneath it, somehow both pleading and mutinous. You idle the vibrator back up along the waistband of her underwear and then slowly down toward her cunt, playing it over the plumpness of her mons.

"Fuck," she says, "fucking fuck you, okay, please," and you smile. "Please, I said please, will you fucking please—"

You bring the wand down over her pussy. Her head rolls back and she groans, starting to squirm. "Pull down your bra for me," you say.

"What?" Her voice, face, are foggy and vague, but after a few seconds she understands, lifting her hands to tug down the bra's cups, showing you her perfect breasts. They're begging for your mouth, and you promised her you'd give her what she wanted when she begged, didn't you?

You drop your head. Kiss over one breast, then the other. Mouth at the flesh—so fucking soft, so good against your lips, sucked into the wetness of your mouth. The tops of her breasts have a small scattering of freckles that you have to dust in turn with adoring kisses. Her hard nipple brushes your cheek and you draw it past your lips as you trace the wand vibrator up and down, from her clit to the entrance of her cunt, back again, never letting it linger.

You switch to her other nipple, leaving her breast damp and reddened from your mouth. Her head tosses back and forth against the pillows as she whines, squirms, moans, says, "Fuck," and, voice breaking a little, "You're still fuckin' teasin' me—please, please, I said it, please—"

The words, her need, are electricity surging straight to your aching clit. Your voice is a rasp to match her own when you lift your head and breathe in her ear, "You sound so good like this, Melissa." She gives a broken whimper. "You're so perfect. I'll give you more. I promise. I'll take care of you. Take your panties off for me, sweetheart."

With a grateful sob she lifts her hips and shoves her underwear down her thighs, no further. You flash on that fantasy you had of her, getting off after a school day, slacks and panties around her knees as she fucked herself. Looks like you were right.

"You might need," she starts to say, but you're already reaching across to pick up the bottle of lube. You click off the vibrator and let her watch you drip the lube over your fingers, slicking them up. She's panting harder and harder just watching you.

With your other hand freed from the vibrator, you can pull the thong all the way off her legs, leaning back on your knees to do it. You push one thigh then the other wide apart. Her pussy is plump and gorgeous, red and swollen, her own wetness gleaming from between her spread labia. You add to it: the softest touch of your fingertips against her sex, trailing up and around the peak of her clit, not touching it directly.

She makes a noise you can barely describe, a groan of misery and arousal and desperation. Sliding your fingers back down toward the heat of her cunt, slipping one slowly inside, watching her as you do it. Her eyelashes flutter, her lips parting. Once you're sure she's wet enough, you add a second finger. The lube and her own gathering wetness makes a slick, dirty sound as you begin to stroke inside her, all delicacy, all torment.

"Oh, fuck," she says, "don't stop, Jesus Christ, please, don't stop, I need it, I, I..." Now she's babbling, the way she's made you do, one hand fisted in the bed covers, the other grabbing your wrist. "I need it so bad, I need you to fuck me, I've been waitin', please..."

"You've been waiting?" It occurs to you that this version of Melissa, already begging, might be willing to tell you some embarrassing truths. "How long?"

"Since we met," she gasps. "Since—oh, fuck..."

Since you met? That was the very first day of shooting—getting all the establishing shots, the very first moments and interviews. She intimidated you—her and Barbara both did—but Barbara, at least, gave a little, showed a bit of herself to the camera. You remember how Melissa was, arms folded over her chest, cool and hostile with Pedro as he tried to coax her out, get her to introduce herself.

Her eyes had moved from him to you, looking past the camera. "You Sicilian?" she'd asked you. She smiled at you that day and it transformed her sullen, cagey face, turned her, however momentarily, sweet. "Italian?" she'd continued, then her eyes darted from you to Pedro, over to the boom mic guy, trying to get a read on all of you. "You from South?" Her smile vanished. Her voice tightened up again: "Okay, you guys workin' with the cops? 'Cause you gotta tell me."

You reward her for the honesty with a press of your palm against her clit. Her hips jerk up. "I remember that day."

Her head drops back again, her eyes squeezing shut. The words leave her in a breathless rush: "You were so cute'n I hated the cameras but whenever you were there I would just—and you were always so, you were gentle, and—I always knew when you were lookin' at me—"

"I was looking at you every chance I got." You watch her face as you begin to ease a third finger inside her. This one has to burn a little; you can feel her body, resistant at first, starting to stretch to take it, and you don't push; you wait to see her eyes open again, their needy, yielding look. She lets go of the covers to grab one leg under her knee and pull it wider apart to help you. You add a little more lube, just in case, not wanting to hurt her.

"I was always looking at you, Melissa." She stares up at you. There's a crease between her brows, her swollen lips parted; she looks stunned, overwhelmed, face pink, as you slide that third finger inside her.

"I was always looking at you," you repeat, and begin to gently fuck her. Her cunt opens for you and desperately clenches against your fingers, grasping and irregular, trying to keep you. "You're so beautiful. I always wanted you. I thought you were the sexiest, meanest—" that surprises a panting laugh from her—"woman I'd ever seen. You were so smart, so funny—you protected everyone, and you took care of everybody—" her eyes squeeze shut. "Let me take care of you now."

You reach over and pick up the vibrator. You click it on. Her eyes open again at the sound of its buzz. You press the button again, then a third time, bringing it to its strongest setting. Melissa's eyes are huge. She's panting, staring, knowing what you're about to do, and the look of vulnerability and desire on her face, her smeared lipstick, her messy hair, she's perfect, so perfect, and you need to make her come now.

"I need it," you tell her, holding her gaze. "I need it. Let me feel it, Melissa." You bring the vibrator to her swollen, begging clit.

A moment of nothing but her breath caught in her chest and her wide-eyed gaze on yours. Her pussy clamps down around your fingers and you feel the ripples of her orgasm start before she drops her head back and gives a wounded, animal cry.

You chase the waves of her climax, fucking her through them, coaxing them toward you; you rub the head of the vibrator along her slippery clit. Her head tosses back and forth on the pillow like it's too much, but her hand still grasps your wrist, keeping you right where you are, and her hips are working, riding your fingers.

"I can't," she starts saying when she can heave a breath back into her lungs, "I can't, I can't, oh, please—" you click the vibrator off and throw it aside; it nearly rolls off the mattress. You spread the lips of her pussy wide and you lean down and bite one shaking thigh, then the other, then seal your lips over her swollen, tender clit.

Fuck the vibrator: this is your new favorite toy. You play with it and play with it and Melissa comes again, or keeps coming, you're not sure which. One leg goes over your shoulder and her hips twitch and writhe until you have to hold her down.

"Oh my G—oh my God, oh, baby," then, just chanting over and over again, like you could ever tell her no again, like you can deny her anything in the world: "Please, please, please..."

Anything she wants. The whole fucking world, if it were yours to give. You suck and lick at her cunt as her hands find your hair and yank.

How long can she go for? How many times can you make her come? You want to know. You want to fuck her until she faints. But that's not for tonight—not without planning, not without her consent—so when she starts making airy noises that are weak and almost pained, you ease off, slowing your mouth and fingers, letting her come down.

You rub her hips and thighs and her soft belly, and give light kisses to the mound of her pubis. She stops pulling on your hair, grip going slack at first; then, as she comes back into herself by slow degrees, she scratches her nails gently against your scalp.

Kisses for her stomach, her ribs. "Here, baby," you whisper, and reach under her body; she lifts up so you can unhook her bra, sticky fingers brushing her skin. You ease it off and drop it to wherever her panties went. She's nude under you now, flushed all over, body loose and relaxed against the mattress; you pet every inch of her you can reach.

You cup her cheek. Her head turns into the contact. There's sweat gleaming along her hairline and her upper lip. Her eyes, mascara and liner blurred, open to meet yours; her gaze is bleary at first, then sharpens.

You expect another fuck-you, or a joke, or even a "thanks, I needed that," but what she says is, "Now you sit on my face."

Your mind whites out. It's possible you forget the English language for a second or two. When you're back from wherever your soul departed to, she's pulling on the buttons of your shirt, brow knit and wearing an impatient little scowl, yanking the last ones open. "What?" you say weakly.

"I said," Melissa says, fully herself again, no longer the begging, needy, squirming creature of minutes ago, "now you sit on my face. C'mon. Get this off." She grabs the buckle of your belt and works the tongue out of it with a metallic clink.

"I," you say, "I," and she drags your trousers down your legs. You have to lean back off her to get them and your underwear all the way off. Your shirt still hangs open, showing your bra, your bare stomach. She leans up to kiss your sternum with an open mouth, tongue flickering hot against your skin.

"I told you," she growls against your neck, "to sit on my fuckin' face," and there's no more of anything in your world but her, you scrambling up onto your knees, spread wide, her sliding down the bed to get under your cunt.

You falter for a moment; she grabs your hips and yanks you down. There's no playing, no teasing. She drags the flat of her tongue up the folds of your pussy and takes your clit into her mouth and sucks. Her green eyes are open and staring up at you and you see your own dazed pleasure reflected in them.

It takes about five embarrassing seconds before you come in her mouth. She moans loudly against you and tries to hold you where you are, but your legs are shaking badly; imagine if you broke her nose the first night, God—you lift one knee so you can get off of her and drop onto your back.

She follows you. Clambers on top of you intently but unsteadily, still wobbling from her own orgasms, and kisses sloppily down your stomach to get back to your pussy.

"Melissa—" you're gasping, and she's putting her tongue inside you, angling her head to get it in as far as she can. She licks, sucks, wraps her arms around your hips and holds you against her as you try to buck away. The wet noises of her mouth against your cunt are obscene.

You come again, and maybe one more time, you're not sure; your mind blanks again. When you can think, feel, process again, she's giving little kitten licks to your sensitive sex that send shudders up your whole body.

"Okay," you say. Your throat hurts a little—how much noise were you making? You clear it. "Okay. You win." You tap out on the mattress like a boxer. She's wearing a look of supreme satisfaction as she lets you go, her face covered in slick wetness, her makeup a disaster, her hair a messy tangle. She's so beautiful. Your heart does a now-familiar backflip.

She crawls up your body and flops onto her side next to you, curling onto your chest. There's long minutes of just you two breathing, the sound filling the room, a tingling starting in your pussy that you know is the herald of after-sex soreness, her damp fingertips tracing idly on your skin.

You start to smooth out her hair. It'll take a shower and a comb to really fix—maybe you'll suggest it. You trail your fingers down and follow the freckled curve of her shoulder, the roll of flesh on her side along her ribs, the dip of her waist before it opens onto the perfect field of her hips and ass.

Her eyes flick up to yours. They're softer and happier than you've ever seen them; the look on her face is gentle and content. You bring your questing hand up to cup her cheek. She kisses your thumb.

"I'm hungry again," she declares.

A laugh bursts out of you, full of affection. "What?" she says, clearly about to be offended, but before she can go any further, you pull her fully into your arms, wrap around her and squeeze.

You press your face into her neck and inhale, smelling her sweat and skin and sex. "You're perfect for me," you say into that warm curve, muffled against her skin. "You're just perfect." You peck a kiss onto her jaw and lean back to touch her cheek again. "Should we make something? Do you want pasta?"

She grins at you. It's that big, Cheshire smile you saw on her face a few days ago, telling Barbara about how she shot her shot, full of preening satisfaction. She leans in and brushes your nose with hers.

"I knew I picked right," she says, simply, happily. She laces her fingers with yours. "Come on, I got a robe you could wear. You like carbonara?"

She leads you off the rumpled bed. You can see you've left a blurry pink bite mark on one cheek of her perfect ass. She brings you a fuzzy shortie robe ("I like your legs, baby, lemme see 'em") and puts on a silk one herself, and takes your hand again as she opens the bedroom door.

You feel good. You're happy. You realize as she brings you to the kitchen, to the very heart of her home, that you're not alone anymore.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Author's Note:

I received the following prompt from an anonymous reader on Tumblr:

"can you write some fluffy smut for Mel x reader where everyone thinks Mel would be in charge in the bedroom because she’s so tough and reader is so shy. but actually reader takes care of Mel."

Back when Season 2 was airing, I saw a few fan posts saying that Lisa Ann had suggested there was a cameraperson on the crew that Melissa thought was cute, which led to the rare scenes where Melissa opens up to the camera. I'm not sure if this is accurate to what she said, but that idea has stuck with me. When I received the above prompt, it went into a blender with that thought, and this is the smoothie that resulted.

I hope I've done justice to this lovely prompt!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #as an FYI: this is my longest fic yet and may be easiest to read on AO3 :)

817 notes · View notes