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slytherinslut0 · 6 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Seventeen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, DARK THEMES, Sexual Harassment, Asshole!Berkshire, Extreme Depictions of Violence, Blood, SMUT, PIV, Virgin!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Dom!Mattheo, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasm, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Emerging from the closet, you and Mattheo shared one more fleetingly charged moment, your eyes locking in a silent exchange laden with unspoken emotions. With a subtle nod, you both returned to your seats, seamlessly slipping back into the roles you had mastered--the poised Ravenclaw and the bad, rebellious Slytherin. The transition was flawless, but beneath the composed exteriors, a storm of emotions raged.

As the game progressed and the night drew on, your eyes locked with Mattheo's from across the circle more times than you could even begin to count--and as the rest of the room remained blissfully unaware, you were acutely attuned to the dance of hidden desires, an intimate connection that thrived in the shadows.

The game of truth or dare continued, growing more wild with each passing round, until most people involved became to tired to continue. In the midst of all of this, Emily and Tom seemed to hit it off, engrossed in their own conversation which seemed to have started before you had even returned from the closet with Mattheo--and as much as the sight was slightly confusing, you were profoundly grateful for the unexpected friendship between them. It undoubtedly relieved the pressure of having to engage with Tom.

As the night wore on, exhaustion settled deep within your bones. Berkshire, thoroughly intoxicated, was gently escorted to his dormitory by Malfoy, his usual disgusting arrogance now replaced by a drunken stumble. Despite the lingering adrenaline from the evening's events, weariness tugged at your limbs, pulling you towards the comfort of your dormitory.

While Emily and Tom remained engrossed in their conversation, you seized the opportunity to excuse yourself quietly. With polite smiles and casual goodnights, you bid farewell to the remaining members of the circle. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, your energy waning with every movement. The echoes of laughter and conversation faded into the distance as you navigated the familiar corridors, the subdued glow of torchlight guiding your way.

Taking a moment to escape the confines of the castle, you stepped into the tranquil courtyard, leaning against the railing and seeking solace under the vast expanse of stars. The night air embraced you, carrying with it a soothing whisper of tranquility. Breathing in deeply, you let the cool breeze wash over you, attempting to shed the lingering tension from your bones after the intense evening you had just endured.

And in the midst of your attempts to find serenity, the peaceful atmosphere shattered like fragile glass, stumbling footsteps making their way toward you. As you glanced over, you watched an inebriated Berkshire stumble his way into the courtyard, bringing himself dangerously close to you, his usual arrogance magnified by the influence of alcohol. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, fixated on you with a disturbing intensity.

"Shit...what do we have here?" he slurred, his words laced with drunken confidence. "A little bird all alone in the night...don't you know it's fuckin' dangerous to be out here all by yourself?"

Your disgust was palpable as you shot him a withering glare. "Save your pathetic lines for someone who cares, Berkshire," you retorted, your voice dripping with disdain. "The only thing dangerous is my dwindling patience at the mere sight of you."

"Why're you such a bitch, huh?" he slurred, his words carrying the stench of alcohol. His proximity was uncomfortably close, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be 'cause you secretly like me, right?"

Your jaw clenched, a mixture of annoyance and disgust bubbling within you. His words were as repugnant as his alcohol-laden breath. The tension you had been trying to relieve was now replaced by a different kind, a sharp pang of frustration at having to deal with his inappropriate behavior.

"I suggest you find your way back to your dorm," you retorted, your voice firm despite the rising irritation. "Your delusions won't make your company any more welcome."

Berkshire's drunken persistence grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, his obnoxious confidence seeming to inflate with every word you uttered. Before you could process it, he closed the distance between you, his movements erratic, invading your personal space. His clammy hand shot up, gripping your jaw with a force that made your teeth clench, forcing your eyes to meet his in a cruel display of dominance.

"Why won't you just admit it, huh?" he slurred, his words punctuated by the reek of alcohol on his breath. His bloodshot eyes bored into yours, his arrogance seemingly impervious to your clear discomfort. "You can't deny the attraction, sweetheart...I see it in the way you look at me when you think no one's watching."

Your patience snapped like a taut rope. Anger flared in your chest, hot and searing. With a swift movement, you pushed his hand away from your face, your voice cutting through the night with icy precision, a steely resolve in your voice that should have been enough to ward off any sane person.

"Let me make this abundantly clear, Berkshire," you said, your tone as sharp as a blade. "There is no secret admiration, no desire, and certainly no fucking attraction. You're nothing more than a nuisance, and I have no patience for your delusions. Now, back the fuck off before you regret testing my tolerance any further."

Despite your unwavering stance, Berkshire's drunken laughter reverberated through the courtyard, a disturbing echo of arrogance undeterred by your resistance. He jeered, taking another step toward you, his movements unsteady but determined. The cold, unforgiving metal of the railing you had been standing in front of pressed into your back as he cornered you, his breath reeking of alcohol and menace.

Panic clawed at your throat, but you refused to show weakness, your eyes meeting his with a defiant glare. "Berkshire, what are you-"

Ignoring your words, he advanced further, backing you up against the railing until there was nowhere left to retreat. Your heart thundered in your chest, the weight of his aggression bearing down on you. And then, in a moment of terror, he grabbed you, his grip surprisingly strong, squeezing tighter than you had ever expected. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers dug into your arms, pain flaring through your limbs. The situation had escalated far beyond your control, and the realization struck you like a physical blow.

"Let me go," you demanded, your voice strained but resolute, despite the fear tightening your throat. But Berkshire only tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your skin, his drunken gaze wild and unpredictable. "Enzo, fuck, stop..."

"Shut the fuck up," he growled, he breath grazing over your neck as he pressed himself against you. "You're such a fucking-"

Before Berkshire could finish that sentence, a familiar voice--one usually somewhat smooth and composed, cut through the air with a terrifying intensity.

"Berkshire…if you don't get your fucking hands off of her," the threat in his tone was unmistakable, a promise of unspeakable consequences if ignored. "I fucking swear-"

But Berkshire, lost in his drunken rage, remained heedless, his eyes glazed over with a dangerous mixture of anger and entitlement. “Shut up, Riddle…she fucking wants me…”

You caught Mattheo's eyes from over Enzo's shoulder, ones that once held a glimmer of restraint now blazed with an uncontrollable anger that seemed to ignite the air around him. His usual composure shattered, replaced by a raw, primal fury.

In a heartbeat, Mattheo closed the distance between him and Berkshire, his movements fluid and almost supernatural. His hand shot out like a striking serpent, fingers wrapping around Berkshire's throat like an unyielding vice. The grip was tight, a clear message of the danger Berkshire was in.

“I warned you,” he hissed, and with a swift, powerful motion, Mattheo ripped Berkshire off of you, sending him crashing onto the unforgiving stone ground, a stunned gasp escaping his lips upon impact--Mattheo’s throat was shredded with anger as he growled, “I fucking warned you…”

You stood frozen, your lungs burning as you desperately gasped for air, your vision swimming with a heady mix of fear and relief. Mattheo, his eyes ablaze with fury, descended upon Berkshire like a vengeful deity. His arm darted out, fingers clenching Berkshire's collar in one hand while the other transformed into a merciless fist.

“Stay the fuck away from her…you don’t fucking look at her, you don’t even fucking breathe near her…do you fucking understand me?” Mattheo didn’t wait for a response, the first punch landing with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating through the courtyard like a thunderclap. Mattheo jostled Enzo in his grip, practically spitting his words against his face. “No one gets to fucking touch her…no one except me…fucking no one…”

A momentary pause hung in the air, a fleeting heartbeat of stillness, before Mattheo struck again. And again. And again. He was possessed, every punch a release of the pent-up rage that had been simmering beneath the surface, each blow fueled by a primal instinct to protect, to defend, to punish the one who dared to harm you.

Berkshire's face transformed into a grotesque mask of crimson, his features distorted by pain and fear. The courtyard seemed to pulse with the rhythm of Mattheo's anger, the sound of his blows drowned out by the rapid thudding of your heart--and it wasn't until Draco Malfoy, his normally composed demeanor replaced by wide-eyed shock, entered the fray, that Mattheo's onslaught finally came to a halt.

Malfoy, his strength surprising for someone so slender, managed to pull Mattheo off Berkshire, the latter struggling like a wild animal, his rage still burning brightly, his chest heaving with exasperated fury.

"What the fuck happened here?" Theodore dropped to his knees next to his fallen friend, a mixture of concern and disbelief etched on his features as he met your stunned eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I..." you stammered, your voice barely audible, your mind struggling to comprehend the violence that had just unfolded before you. The shock had rendered you speechless, your throat dry and constricted, words caught in the whirlwind of your emotions. "Yes...I'm okay..."

While you attempted to spit out words, Mattheo's heaving form, still seething with raw anger, ripped himself free from Malfoy's hold. With a voice that carried the weight of his fury, he spoke on your behalf, the words sharp and cutting through the air.

"Berkshire thought he could lay his fucking hands on her is what happened," his voice was cold, each word laced with contempt. "After I warned him...I warned him how many fucking times..."

Mattheo's aura, once magnetic and enticing, was now a tempest, an embodiment of wrath that crackled in the air around him. The atmosphere seemed to vibrate with his intensity, as if the very stones beneath your feet could feel his fury. It was a chilling reminder, mostly to you, that beneath the composed facade, there was a force to be reckoned with, a protector who would stop at nothing to shield you from harm--and that thought did inexplicable, disgustingly shameless things to your fucking body.

Draco Malfoy, his usual cool composure momentarily shaken, stepped away from Mattheo, his eyes assessing the situation with a discerning gaze.

"Let's get him to the hospital wing," he suggested to Theodore, his voice cutting through the tension. Nott, too, recognized the need for immediate action, nodding in agreement, before briefly meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry about him...there's no way he hasn't learned his lesson now...fuckin' sorry little prat..."

You nodded in response as the two of them lifted Berkshire, supporting his battered form between them. As they glanced between you and Mattheo, it was as though a silent understanding passed between Draco and Nott. Their glances met, a knowing look shared, acknowledging that there was something more beneath the surface of this situation. They sensed the unspoken connection, the invisible thread that bound you and Mattheo together, but they chose not to pry. Instead, they respected the unspoken boundaries, allowing the complexities of your relationships to remain your own.

Meanwhile, Mattheo turned his attention back to you, his eyes a tumultuous blend of emotions, the storm within him slowly subsiding as he registered the shock lingering in your eyes. With a soft yet determined expression, he stepped closer, his presence becoming a comforting shield against the aftermath of the confrontation that had left both of you shaken.

"Raven, I'm so fucking-" he began, his voice thick with regret and unspoken apologies.

"I'm fine, Mattheo." You cut him off, your heart pounding in your chest, the sight of his breathless, bloodied and dishevelled form doing dangerous things to your cunt--and you knew, more than anything, you just wanted to be alone with him. "Please just take me back to your dorm."

His brows furrowed in confusion, but the desperation in your eyes didn't leave room for questions.

"What-" he started to inquire, but you took a step closer, your neck arching slightly to catch his dark, penetrating gaze.

"Take me back to your dorm," you repeated. "Please."

Upon hearing the raw desperation in your voice, Mattheo nodded, his fingers gently finding yours as he immediately led you down the hall and through the empty corridor to his dorm. The moment he pushed the door open, allowing you to step inside, it felt as though the temperature in the room had increased to a million bloody degrees. The air was thick with unspoken tension, a potent mix of fear, desire, and the undeniable pull that had always existed between you, intensified now by the events of the night.

As you cautiously stepped into his dorm, your eyes were drawn to the familiar sight of the astronomy book lying open on his desk. The memory of the last time you had been in his dorm flashed in your mind--the same book, sitting untouched on his desk, an odd object in the midst of his carefully curated chaos.

"Why do you still have this out?" you questioned, your voice laced with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Mattheo hesitated, his stormy eyes locking onto yours in a moment of vulnerability.

"Can't a man indulge in the mysteries of the stars whenever he fancies?" he retorted with a smirk, attempting to deflect the gravity of the situation. His voice carried a hint of playfulness, but the tension beneath the surface was palpable. "Or perhaps stargazing is an art reserved solely for beautiful little ravens, hm?"

"Is it because of me?" Your stare bore into him, a mix of curiosity and suspicion flickering in your eyes. “Is it because of me that you have this book?”

He didn't deny it; instead, after a long, silent moment, he simply nodded, almost impenetrably, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a silent admission, a confession that hung heavy in the charged atmosphere of the room. In that moment, the undeniable pull between you became almost tangible, the invisible thread connecting your hearts growing stronger, defying the boundaries you had desperately tried to impose.

You stepped toward him. "Did you miss me, Mattheo..."

Mattheo met your gaze, his expression enigmatic yet stoic, a mask of his usual arrogance and charm slipping back into place. His silence lingered for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Then, in a voice that held a depth of emotion he was trying to conceal, he replied, "Maybe I did, Raven..."

You moved closer, the air crackling with need as you closed the distance, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally stood before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you dared to reach out, your fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm, and beneath your touch, you could sense the subtle tremor that betrayed the restraint he was exercising. Your breath caught in your throat as you tilted your head, your lips hovering just millimeters from his.

"Don't be shy, Mattheo..." you murmured, teasing him with your fingers as you trailed over his jawline. "Why don't you show me how much you missed me..."

Mattheo's jaw clenched under your touch, his dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that matched the simmering desire between you. You sighed when his hands, strong and possessive, found their way to your hips, pulling you closer with a magnetic force that left you breathless. His restraint wavered, the barrier between temptation and surrender growing thinner by the second.

"Salazar fucking save me..." Mattheo's voice was a raspy whisper, a plea and a challenge rolled into one, his vulnerability veiled behind a facade of arrogance. "Who the hell are you..."

You leaned in, your lips hovering dangerously close to his, your eyes locking onto his with a daring intensity.

"Sorry to break it to you, Riddle," you purred, your voice a seductive melody that echoed in the charged space between you. "But I'm afraid not even your maker could save you now..." a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your breath mingling with his. "Better start counting your blessings..."

"Blessings, huh?" Mattheo's lips curved into a half-smirk, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'd much rather count the seconds until I can taste those sweet fucking lips of yours..."

His words sent a jolt of desire through you, your heart pounding in response to his brazen confidence.

"Gods, you really are a changed man, aren't you?" You murmured, fighting your smirk as his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. "You were never one to wait for permission before..."

"Raven," his voice was a low, raspy whisper, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter. "You're really testing my fucking patience here...and you should know I'm not a patient man..."

Your smirk grew, heat flushing your cheeks, your fingers tracing a tantalizing path along the underside of his jawline, now, teasingly slow.

"Maybe I enjoy testing your limits…maybe I want to see how far I can push you..." you muttered, your voice laced with playful defiance. "Or perhaps I just like watching you squirm, Riddle...perhaps I want to hear you beg for me..."

Mattheo's patience snapped like a taut wire, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and desire.

"Look at you, huh...all fucking smug..." he growled, his voice edged with playful frustration as he peered down at you. "You've kept that pussy from me for over two fucking weeks and now you want to tease me like this? Did you forget how bloody fast I can make you crumble for me..."

Your defiant facade began to crack under the intensity of his gaze, a shiver running down your spine.

"Gods, maybe I did..." your voice barely above a whisper, the defiance replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "Maybe I need you to remind me..."

"Shit...there she is...there's my good fucking girl..." he murmured, his tone a mixture of reverence and desire. "...tell me what you want, Raven..."

A sigh of satisfaction slipped past your lips as his hands tightened their grip, his touch searing into your hips as though he was trying to hang on to his last shreds of willpower. With a trembling voice, you met his dark, penetrating eyes, wetting your lips as you let yourself drown in their depths.

"You," you whispered, your voice a husky admission. "I want you."

He exhaled. "Then fucking have me."

In a whirlwind of desire, his lips crashed onto yours, sending your senses into a frenzy. Your eyelids fluttered shut as both of you inhaled sharply through your noses, trying to catch your breath amidst the electrifying kiss. His hands, strong and possessive, tangled in your hair, pulling you closer with an urgency that matched the racing beat of your heart. Your lips parted in a soft groan of surrender, inviting him in, and his tongue slipped between your teeth with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

His lips moved over yours, claiming every inch as though he needed you to survive, and your fingers found solace in the dark waves of his hair, gripping them tightly. Mattheo responded with a primal sound, a low grunt of satisfaction that resonated between your entwined bodies. With a swift motion, he spun you around, his lips never leaving yours, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees met the edge of his bed. The kiss deepened, his mouth exploring yours with a deliberate slowness, his fingers continuing their sensual dance through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, melting the space between you.

Mattheo's tongue danced a tantalizing dance inside your mouth before he withdrew, leaving a lingering connection between your lips. In that moment, silence enveloped both of you, rendering you nearly motionless, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what to say, think, or do. You felt the undeniable hardness of his arousal pressing against your belly, causing a flicker of anticipation to ignite within you. Your hands instinctively moved towards the hem of your shirt, but he halted you with a gaze as hard as stone.

"No," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Let me."

A flush of scarlet painted your cheeks, but you nodded in silent consent, your throat tight with anticipation. His fingers bunched the fabric of your shirt, lifting it up and off of you. As you raised your arms, granting him permission to undress you further, he completed his task with deliberate care. The fabric landed on the floor with a soft rustle, discarded and forgotten, while his eyes roamed over every newly exposed expanse of your skin.

It was a ritual you knew you’d never tired of, the way he looked at your body as if it was a masterpiece, a gift he hadn't been prepared to receive.

Under the intensity of his gaze, a cascade of warmth flooded through you, your skin tingling with awareness. His hands skillfully moved behind you, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He pushed it off your shoulders, the fabric gliding down your arms, his fingers skimming over the surface of your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question, before gracefully sinking to his knees in front of you. His warm breath ghosted over your belly, holding your stare as to ask for permission before he hooked his thumbs under the rim of your pants and panties, peeling them down your thighs, revealing your sensitive sex to him--inch by torturous inch.

A shiver rippled through your nerves, sending a thrill down your spine as his molten-gold eyes held yours with hunger that seemed to consume everything in its path. His gaze didn't waver for a single moment, even as he expertly removed your shoes and tossed them aside carelessly. As he rose, his palms trailed over the contours of every curve, his touch igniting a trail of electric sensations in their wake. He towered over you, a commanding presence that left you breathless, and one of his hands delicately cupped your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip with a gentle intensity that sent your heart racing.

"Lie back," he murmured.

Your fingers quivered with anticipation as you nodded, succumbing to the electric tension in the air. Slowly, you eased yourself back onto the mattress, adjusting your position so you could lie flat against the soft bedding.

Mattheo prowled around the perimeter of the bed, his intense gaze scorching your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Each step he took seemed deliberate, his movements exuding a raw, primal energy. After a moment, he paused, his fingers deftly working on the buttons of his bloodied dress-shirt. With a fluid motion, he peeled off the fabric, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest. His pants followed suit, dropping to the floor until he stood before you in just his boxers.

From this angle, the sight of him made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch in your throat. The raw masculinity and confidence he exuded was both breathtaking and overwhelming, leaving you yearning for more as he loomed over the bed, the outline of his throbbing cock straining the fabric of his boxers doing unspeakable things to your body--the sight of it against the background of hard, tense muscle made you clench, and you bit your lip to hide a moan that was sneaking its way out of your mouth.

And even though you knew he noticed, he said nothing, even as his knee dropped into the mattress, even as he shifted, crawling over you, until he hovered above you, looking more fucking angelic than he ever had before, looking like a man filled with devotion, passion and need.

"Mattheo..." fear was mixing with the pull of lust. You'd never seen him like this. "Matty, I--"

"Shh," he said, pushing a strand of hair away from your temple. "Relax for me, princess..."

You drew in a shaky breath, and nodded--and his lips pressed into yours, plush and wet, before he moved, leading a tingling line of kisses down your cheek, to your jawline, to your neck. Leaning in, he caressed your throat with his warm mouth and you gasped, back arcing into him. In response, Mattheo purred, laying layer after layer of soft, wet marks on your sensitive flesh. One large hand slid down your arm while he kissed his way to your breast, nuzzling his cheek into the valley of your chest before drawing a nipple between his lips.

A cry escaped you, your hips bucking into his abdomen. "Oh, Gods..."

"Shh," he said again. "Relax, angel..."

The nickname he called only made you want to writhe more. Your mind internally fucking screaming with need. Taking a deep breath, you nodded anyway.

"My angel," he repeated, planting slow, soft kisses on your stiffening bud. "My fucking sweet little angel..."

He took your nipple into his mouth again, moaning while he suckled it swollen, his hands painting pleasure on your swathes of naked, aching skin. You whimpered, nibbling on your lip to silence any sound, hands slowly slithering their way through his messy, yet beautiful fucking hair. As you tightened your grip on his strands, a groan slipped past his teeth, and he flicked the tip of your peak with his tongue before releasing it, mouth making a hot trail along your navel, his hands massaging up and down the outside of your thighs.

"You're doing so well," he whispered into your stomach. "You're so fucking beautiful..."

"Matty..." you whined, his words creating a storm of bliss in your chest. You didn't know what else to say.

"Keep being good for me..." he kissed his way to the mound of your pussy, holding a rumble in his chest as his lips grazed the top of your slit. "Are you ready?"

Are you ready? He just fucking asked if you were ready. As you gazed at him, his pink lips glistening with saliva, eyes smoldering with desire, the answer became crystal clear.

"Yes," you said. "Yes, I'm ready."

Without further hesitation, Mattheo lowered his head between your legs, your entire body jolting in pleasure as he licked a broad, flat band up your sex, feeling your fingers twirling in the curls of his hair. His mouth was hot and eager as he showered your folds with deep, heavy kisses, sending shivers of delight throughout your entire being. Mattheo's hands held your thighs in place as he slicked his strong tongue in between your slit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your core. Your eyes were fixed upon him, unable to look away from the sight of him worshipping your cunt with his mouth.

"You taste incredible," he cooed, leaving soft kisses along the crease of your thighs. "You know that I thought about this little pussy everyday, don't you?"

Your breath hitched. "Y-you did?"

"Mmhm."

He returned to working his tongue along your inner-folds, gathering your juices along the tip, humming while he swallowed--he was deliberate, taking his time to memorize every bit of your pussy, to draw as much cum from your core as he could. You whined, your clit desperate for attention.

"Matty..." you pleaded, "please..."

Mattheo's gaze met yours as he hummed, sealing his lips around your swollen nub. The intensity of the pleasure collided into you, causing a wracking sob to escape your lips as your eyes closed in ecstasy. His grip tightened on your thighs, tugging you closer to his face. As he sucked on your clit, he gradually built up the pressure, block by block, pushing you towards the peak of orgasm.

Your hips relentlessly rolled into him, urgent moans filling the air as you fell further and further toward overwhelming bliss. "Fuck, Mattheo...Gods..."

His hands left your thighs, exploring your body, gripping and kneading any inch of flesh they could find, until they finally rested on your breasts, thumbs tracing small, gentle circles on your hardened nipples.

"Oh, fuck," you said, "fuck, fuck..."

As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, any words leaving your lips devolved into incoherent wailing. You teetered on the edge, straining against a wall of unrelenting bliss that threatened to overtake you completely. Then, with two hard sucks, Mattheo eased you over, drawing out your climax long and slow against his mouth. Ecstasy consumed you, numbing your skin as your limbs shook and trembled. Every sensation was intensified as he pulled you through wave after wave of pleasure, groaning as your juices coated his lips, your core throbbing and pulsing at his chin.

It felt like an eternity before he finally released you, dragging his tongue up the top of your slit as he panted and gasped for breath alongside you. The aftermath of your intense orgasm left both of you struggling to regain your senses.

Your head rolled along the mattress, lids fluttering open, hands petting at his hair. "Fuck, Mattheo...that was..."

"Shh." He licked his lips, gaze liquefying your center, and returned his focus to your belly, kissing a steady path to your sternum, his hands still stroking at your skin. "I need you to know how much I missed everything...and I mean fucking everything..."

"Oh," was all that left your mouth, teeth pinching your lip when it began to tremble.

"From your perfect fucking tits to your filthy little mouth..." one hand started to palm at your breast, the other still gliding up your side as he inched forward. "From those delicious fucking thighs to that pretty little pussy..." he was at your neck, now, rasping into it, the heat of his body enveloping you. "Every inch of you is fucking perfect...fuck the drugs Raven, you are my insatiable goddamn addiction..."

Every syllable that escaped his lips seemed to caress your very soul, igniting a wildfire of longing within you. His words were like a spell, weaving around your heart and wrapping you in a cocoon of desire. You craved him in a way that transcended the physical, a hunger that went bone-deep. It wasn't just the touch of his skin against yours that you yearned for; it was the merging of your essence, the melding of your souls into an ethereal dance of passion. You wanted to dissolve the boundaries between you, to lose yourselves in a realm crafted solely for your bodies, where every touch and sigh was a symphony of fervor.

And as you met his gaze, there it was, in his eyes--an unnamed emotion that pulsed between you, an unspoken truth that bound you together in a way words could never encapsulate. It was a force beyond reason, an irresistible pull that drew you closer, time after fucking time again.

"You once called me a plague but fuck...you have no fucking idea..." his voice, raw with desire, clawed its way out of his throat. "I haven't even fucked you, Raven...how the fuck have you done this to me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, fingers instinctively curling in his hair. "Do you want to?..."

Mattheo hesitated, as if time itself hung suspended. His eyes searched your face, seeking the truth in your words, and then, he answered, his voice a low rasp,

"Of course I do..." he breathed. "But after what happened tonight-"

"No," you cut him off, your body moving restlessly beneath his. "After what happened tonight, I only want you more...I've never fucking wanted you so fucking badly, Mattheo...it was you who defended me, not Tom, not Zabini, you...it's always been you..."

Mattheo's jaw tensed, his eyes darkening, his chest heaving. "You want me to fuck you..." he said, as though he was trying to make himself believe it. "You want me to take your virginity..."

You nodded, a silent confirmation of your desire, but Mattheo's fingers found their way to your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle, yet firm. He held your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation, any uncertainty.

"Say it, Raven," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "You know I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to take your virginity."

Your breath caught in your throat, his proximity overwhelming your senses. With a shaky inhale, you met his intense gaze, your voice coming out as a mere whisper, "I want you to take my virginity, Mattheo."

"Fucking hell..." he breathed, the desire in his tone making your core scream. "You know that means-"

"I'm yours." You cut him off. "Even though all of this could fuck up my entire future, I don't care...I'm yours...I submit my sanity to the disaster that is sneaking around with you, Mattheo...I don't want the safe option, I don't want soft or subtle...I want dangerous, I want messy, I want sins...I fucking want you..."

"Salazar fucking save me..." he breathed after a long moment of staring at you, shifting himself to pull down his boxers, his throbbing cock springing free, smacking against his belly. "You really are a little fucking devil..."

You clenched at the sight of his dick, head glistening with precum, twitching insistently as he shifted, looping an arm under your neck and cradling your head, his face nestling into your neck while his other hand directed the head of his dick against your wet folds, slicking itself along your wetness, your entire body tensing at the foreign sensation.

He was so fucking big...you weren't sure if, "are you even going to fit...you're so fucking-"

"Shh, Raven." Mattheo huffed against your neck, angling back to meet your eyes, that devilish smirk plastered across his lips. "I'll make it fit."

At his words, you clenched again, unable to deny the intoxication of his primal arrogance, his eyes fixed on your face as he angled himself at your core now, the anticipation radiating off of him only fuelling your hunger, sending thrills through every inch of your body.

"Relax," he breathed, eyes boring into yours, the hand behind your head keeping you in place. "And look at me...I want you looking into my fucking eyes as you feel yourself stretching out for me..."

With a nod, you held his stare, and slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself inside of you, inch by inch, letting you gasp and wince while his thick length stretched you open, until he was fully sheathed within your tightness. The sensation was overwhelming, stretching you to your limit, beyond anything you ever thought possible, and Mattheo only seemed to grow harder with each gasp that left your lips. With him completely seated inside of your cunt, you felt him pulsing at the hilt, felt his already urgent need to cum inside of you. But instead of moving right away, he jerked you closer to his chest, his lips softly grazing yours as he brought his hand to cup your jaw.

"Are you okay?" His voice was torn, shredded, nearly unrecognizable.

You nodded, holding his eyes. "I'm okay."

"Shit, Raven..." a deep groan left his chest as he exhaled, pulling out and plunging back in as slowly and carefully as he had the first time. "You're so fucking tight...fuck..."

You mewled--between the passion in your chest and the newfound sensations between your legs, your head was spinning, something was close to bursting. His skin was so hot against you, and you gripped him tighter, another moan leaving your chest, chin shaking beyond your control, the pleasure and pain commingling in your mind as you surrendered to his skilled touch--Mattheo stared at you through it all with gleaming eyes before he smothered your lips with a kiss, burning and short.

"Is this what you wanted?" The low thunder of his voice melted in your ears, and he murmured your name. "Tell me..."

Your fingers dug into his skin, your voice torn between gasps. "Yes, Mattheo..." you mewled. "It's all I've wanted."

He leaned forward, lips feathersoft on yours, kissing you, still easing his cock into you with careful rolls of his hips. The grip at your head soothed your scalp--and you could feel it, could feel yourself blending with his body as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you, could feel your pulses pounding in pace, could feel the unspoken, intangible harmony coiling in your blood.

"Who else can make you feel like this, hm?" His embrace constricted you, now, stilling you while he rocked deep into you, stuffing you full, his free hand travelling down your belly, grazing over your clit--and you choked, whimpered, limp in his arms. "Tell me who this tight little pussy fucking belongs to..."

The pleasure was overwhelming, earth shattering, entirely all encompassing. Your lids fluttered, your brain spinning. "Oh, Gods...oh my fucking-"

"Look at me, Raven..." he ordered, voice torn. "Look at me or I'll stop."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, nails biting into his skin, heart pounding in your throat as you felt your sanity dangerously fucking close to shattering, your entire body encompassed in a pleasure that you've never known, a pleasure that only Mattheo fucking Riddle could give you, one that burns you from the inside out, one that shatters every inch of your resolve, leaving you bare before him.

"Tell me..." he whispered, his fingers twirling your clit. You could tell he was close, too. "Fuck...fucking say it…”

"You," you mewled, lost in the melted chocolate swirls of his irises. "It fucking belongs to you, Mattheo...fuck...only you..."

"Shit..." he groaned your name, sucking at your shoulder, tongue leaving hot lines on your neck. "You love being dirty for me..." his fingers whirled your clit faster. "You love being my nasty little slut, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, Mattheo..." you wailed, body trembling beneath him. "I love it..."

"Fuck--" A feral kiss bruised your lips, his cock splitting you with long thrusts. "That's it..." he muttered your name against your mouth. "Cum--cum for me, let me feel you..."

You shattered. "Gods--Matty! Fuck..."

Euphoria rended you wide, tearing at the seams of your sanity, and you fractured, convulsing with the sheer strength of your climax. Your walls spasmed around his dick, milking him hard, and Mattheo held you, mouth meeting yours as he came, hips hitting you with every rush of rapture as he quickly followed after you, spilling his release inside your cunt. This seemed to last for minutes, the aftershocks of bliss rippling through your bodies at once while you remained there catching breath, still connected.

You were wilted, spent, a collection of skin and cum and sweat, and when Mattheo finally pulled out, he slumped down on the mattress beside you, pulling you back into his chest, nothing but the collective sounds of your exhausted panting filling the air, neither of you willing to move even though you knew you couldn't stay here all night--but your drooping lids didn't care, your body succumbing to slumber without giving you a choice.

And as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but question how a boy who once had been the bane of your fucking existence, had now become the centre of it.

———————-

Find eighteen here->

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theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass · 6 months

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I’ll save you a seat | L.N.

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando Norris is just that kind of guy who would save you a seat <3

Warnings: fluff<3

Word count: ~1K

You're the new face at McLaren, a bit of an outsider in a world of high-speed machines and the intense camaraderie that comes with it. Shyness becomes your loyal companion as you navigate the bustling Formula 1 scene, trying to find your footing on this elite team.

Whenever there's a function, a meeting, or a casual gathering where the whole McLaren team needs to sit down and talk something out, you often find yourself standing next to the door. It's the one place where you feel most comfortable, the place that allows you to maintain a safe distance from the boisterous conversations and the daunting glances of your new colleagues.

You watch from the shadows, trying to absorb as much as you can while hoping not to draw too much attention to yourself.

But, unknown to you, someone has been watching you closely, someone who's intrigued by your quiet presence. Lando Norris, the talented and charismatic driver, has taken note of the newcomer who always seems to be on the periphery. He's decided that he wants to change that.

One day, as you enter the conference room and lean on the wall next to the door, Lando is there, making eye contact with you. You're caught off guard, and your heart races as you wonder why he's looking at you. Maybe he's not actually looking at you, so you quickly glance around, seeking the source of his attention.

"Y/n, come here, there's a free seat," Lando calls out, breaking your self-imposed isolation. His voice is friendly and inviting, and you're not sure how to react. Your heart flutters as you slowly make your way towards the empty chair beside him. Sitting down, you're enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions as the meeting begins, Lando's presence beside you comforting and disconcerting in equal measure.

And so, the cycle begins. You walk to lunch with your teammates, the bustling cafeteria filled with lively chatter and the clinking of utensils. But amid the noise, your eyes always find a pair of familiar blue ones on you, the ones belonging to Lando Norris. He spots you, gives a friendly wave to join him, and you can't help but smile.

The seat next to him is always saved for you, a silent promise of friendship and inclusion in a world that was once daunting. You exchange small talk and laughter during those moments, gradually growing closer through the little conversations you share sitting beside one another. As time goes by, you begin to feel more at ease within the McLaren family, thanks to Lando's warm gestures and kind heart.

Late one evening, after a particularly lengthy conference at the McLaren headquarters, Lando offers to drive you back home. It's a kind and unexpected gesture that catches you by surprise. As you both sit in his car, you work up the courage to ask him something that has been eating at your heart recently.

"Why do you always do that?" you inquire, your voice tinged with curiosity.

Lando glances at you, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Do what?"

"You always save me a seat," you explain, your eyes searching his for an answer. "I don't know... just because."

"Just because what?" you presses, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"So you wouldn't stand alone next to the door, and... yeah that" Lando hesitates to tell you the second part.

"And?" you urge, voice barely above a whisper.

His heart pounds, and he take a deep breath before continuing, "And because I like having you close to me."

"Aww, that's cute," you say with a soft, genuine smile, "I like having you close too."

Lando can't help but smile back, his feelings now exposed. He's been hoping that you'd pick up on his intentions, and your response reassures him that you feel the same way. Before you know it, you've arrived outside your house.

You're parked outside your house, the dim streetlights casting a warm glow on the two of you. Lando turns to you, his eyes filled with sincerity, your last words echoing in his mind still urges his question, "Really?"

You meet his gaze with a loving smile and a heart full of affection. "Really," you affirm, placing tender kiss on his lips, a silent promise of the love and happiness that lies ahead. After the kiss, you exit the car, your heart feeling lighter than ever, and Lando watches you with a contented smile as you walk toward your home, knowing that your relationship has just taken a wonderful new turn.

"Y/n," Lando calls out as he exits the car.

"Yes, Lando?" you respond, a sense of anticipation in your voice.

You barely have time to react before he softly pushes you against the door and kisses you passionately. It's a moment of raw emotion, the culmination of the time spent growing closer and the unspoken feelings between you.

"Will you be my girlfriend when I ask you?" Lando finally manages to say between breaths, his eyes filled with hope.

"Aren't you asking right now?" you reply with a playful smirk.

"I did not spend two months devising a plan on how to get close to you," Lando chuckles, "just to ask you to be my girlfriend at your apartment door."

You tease him, "Does this mean I'll have to wait another two months for you to come up with another brilliant plan of how to ask me to be your girlfriend?"

Lando grins and leans in, "Sweetie, you best believe I've already picked out the flowers for our wedding day. You won't wait long, I promise."

With that, he seals his promise with another sweet, heartfelt kiss, and you know that this is just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

A.N. very much inspired by the line from "Lover" by Taylor Swift, which reads "And at every table, I'll save you a seat".

P.s. Lando's race yesterday was so good! I was crying, laughing and rolling on the floor by the end of it! Glad to see him doing so well<3

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff

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eamour · 2 months

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a radical change.

radical change requires radical action. i am not indicating any physical act but rather an act done in the mind. if we aspire to change radically, we must radically BE and HAVE within imagination. we are compelled to satisfy our inner self and save our own personal reality.

imagination as the real self.

"you are now an outer reflection of inner identification."

this is a principle that everybody who wants to successfully manifest needs to understand: your true self is IMAGINATION. what you are physically, you have been mentally first. we are not pretending, not trying to sound spiritual, we are simply stating something factual. you can only ever be imagination since imagination is your purest form of being. it’s the place where all things come to fruition.

the personal reality within.

knowing that imagination is our real self, our inner being, that means that we may decorate it the way we want. we can make it as beautiful and as ugly as we please. as a consequence, your inner reality does not obey nor surrender to outer circumstances. the rules and restrictions of the outside do not apply to imagination, nor is your inner world bothered by the limitations of life. meaning, to ensure a change of reality from WITHOUT, you will first have to affirm a change of reality from WITHIN. there is no way around it.

to change radically.

the medium through which we experience is the same medium through which we change — it’s FEELING. an assumption is a feeling. to assume that you have or do not have your desire is a feeling. it’s a state of mind. a mental state that reveals your inner self. to change self radically, you need to assume radically. you need to FEEL radically.

the importance of drastic change.

from what i have learned in my own manifestation journey, it is so important to drastically change. to desire the impossible and to dare to asssume it, for courage is necessary, means to step out of your comfort zone. it means to prove the law's credibility and functioning for yourself. otherwise, it's always going to be "coincidence", "luck" or "it would have happened anyway". when i choose to make radical things happen by radically changing within, i won’t go out and seek for answers outside of me. i will understand that i am CAUSE and i am the EFFECT.

be the change.

a little change of mind can only result in a little change of reality. that being so, a bigger change of mind has no option but to result in a bigger change of reality. and your inner self can only identify with what you identify with. thus, you are always in charge, always in control. so why not be the change? again, you can only ever experience the PRESENT, the very NOW in imagination. for you to see changes NOW, you are obligated to change NOW.

"all the mind asks is, 'what do you want?'" — edward art.

with love, ella.

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markresonates · 7 months

Text

two hot

summary: for some reason, your body requires more than one alpha to satiate your needs in heat, leading Mark to seek assistance from his best friend when you unexpectedly start going into heat in public.

pairing: alpha bf!Mark x omega!fem reader x alpha!Haechan

other: alphas Jen & Jis lil voy

genre/trope: porn w/ lil plot, tiny fluff bc i'm soft; omegaverse, fake medical conditions as a plot device; (eventual poly, not jealous love tri)

word count: 8.8k

a/n: so here's that markhyuck omega heat sex threesome idea i mentioned a while ago...per usual, it’s longer than i said why am i the way i am i'm splitting it into two parts w/ pt 2 up soon!

warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), cock warming, manhandling, exhibitionism & extremely public, voyeurism, humiliation, lil dumbification, overstimulation, degradation & praise, spitting, stomach bulge, cum inflation, knotting, oral fixation reader, breeding & creampie kinks; sweet hard dom Mark & hard dom Haechan, super sub reader [ note – heat sex is categorized as dubcon; therefore, read at your own discretion ]

You thought you had more time. You should have had more time.

About an hour into your new Introduction to Astronomy lecture, your waning attention span is fully disrupted by a suspicious wetness you feel between your thighs. You uncross your legs and casually glance down, heart dropping when you discover a small pool of glossy slick in the middle of your lecture hall seat, heralding the start of your heat.

it’s official: life fucking hates you.

Rationally, you’re aware of the fact that you need to formulate a plan but as you shift in your seat, your train of thought is derailed by the sensation sparked between your legs. You clench your jaw and grind your teeth together, forbidding your mouth from vocalizing the shred of gratification you get from squirming in your seat.

Of all the damn days to pair a bodysuit and a pleated mini skirt, this day has got to be the absolute worst. But of course it had to be warm enough today that you felt comfortable showing more skin. In your mind, it made sense to seize the favorable weather before the last remnants of Summer disappeared into a chilly Autumn, but now you’d rather be bundled in three thick layers and sweating buckets than vulnerable in your current attire.

While you arch your back and discreetly grind against the messy chair, the bodysuit stretches, progressively sliding up your abdomen, and bunching at your waist. The damp material tugs on your hood, a second later, your clit is subjected to rough stimulation directly. Intense tingles ripple through your core from the sensitive spot. Even with your lips pressed together, you can’t suppress the tiny high-pitched squeak in your throat.

Renjun angles his laptop towards you, quickly typing out are you okay?

You freeze your body. Giving him a terse nod, you rid yourself of the unwanted attention and resume the lewd activity. It takes a mere 30 seconds for your folds to eat up the narrow strips of material that once covered your intimate parts, giving your slick pussy a wedgie. It’s uncomfortably restrictive, and yet, simultaneously a massive turn on.

You should be more concerned but the torturous pressure feels too good to stop, restraint briefly suspended again in a pleasured daze, chasing the desired pulsating sensation. Your eyes pop out of your head hearing the small metal snap of your bodysuit’s crotch region pop open, exposing your panties underneath and instantly bringing you back to reality.

Jisung ducks his head near your ear. “Hey, what’s that-?”

“What’s what?” you immediately cut him off, worried he heard the same noise.

He hums, pursing his lips. “What’s that smell?”

“uh, well…”

You gulp, so mortified that it’s impossible to meet his eyes, embarrassment warming your cheeks, your heat cranking up the bubbling sensation within you.

This shouldn’t be happening. You’ve documented your heat cycle since the day you started taking suppressants years ago. If you left it up to nature, your heat would be a seasonal affair. Now, thanks to the convenience of modern-day medicine, taking one daily pill significantly lowers your heat cycle frequency to biannually.

It’s always been consistent enough that you could pinpoint the exact 48 hour period in which it would start. In fact, a series of predetermined dates are highlighted on your desk calendar for when you’re supposed to be in heat: over four months from now.

Your scent is detectable in two ways: if someone were to press their nose directly to your scent gland, or the significantly more potent way, through the profuse slick secretion omegas produce in heat.

And given the fact that you’re practically sitting in a puddle of slick at the moment, panic is knocking at your front door with fever. Any alpha in a ten foot radius will soon smell the arousing nectar leaking out of you.

Fortunately, you’re in the last row of a half empty lecture hall. Rather than a dozen alphas, it’s a handful of the closest ones that’ll be raising their noses to get a whiff of the fragrant aroma floating through the air, two of those alphas being your friends.

Jisung sniffs around curiously, even going so far as to lean forward, over where Jeno is sitting directly in front of you.

“Hmm, it’s, like, sweet and fruity. Do you smell it? Like raspberries…or maybe strawberries?”

Renjun stops typing notes on his laptop. “I don’t smell anything.”

Figures; betas like Renjun don’t detect omega scents until they are at the absolute peak of their heat, and even then it wouldn’t be very strong.

“Also, for your information, raspberries and strawberries aren’t berries.”

“Wha- Really!?”

“Yeah. Most fruits that end in ‘berry’ aren’t actually berries, botanically speaking.”

“Um, Renjun?” you try to grab his attention in a hushed voice, failing as a result of Jisung talking over you at the same instant.

Besides your first heat, you’ve always been well prepared. You take preventative measures against potential alphas who may smell you and want to take advantage of a heat-drunk omega.

Your typical protocol entails remaining holed up in your dark room. The mini fridge by your desk is fully stocked with four days worth of food and beverages, the air conditioner is on full blast, curtains and blinds drawn closed. Your door is secured shut with three bolted locks too.

For your past few heats, Mark has locked himself up with you as well. Being an omega, it was of vital importance to find a trustworthy alpha that wouldn’t savagely take advantage of your heat-induced instinctual nature to follow an alpha’s orders. The whole reason you submit to Mark is because you know he would never take things too far. For your past two heats, Mark was knotting you until his exhaustion proved overwhelming, and he physically couldn’t use his big dick any longer. Basically, your alpha can’t go far enough, for some indiscernible reason.

Based on the increasing amount of slick and the new ache in your core, you’d estimate you have less than an hour before your heat will seriously start affecting your senses. There’s a reason you keep track of your heat cycle, and it’s to avoid horrendous situations like this one.

You’re struck with uncertainty and a minor sense of helplessness, facing your worst nightmare alone. At the moment, you don’t have Mark by your side, protecting you from other predatory alphas, ensuring you eat and drink something when you’re too out of it to do so yourself; and most importantly, pleasuring you to take away the pain that comes with your extreme heat cramps.

You need Mark.

Mouth beginning to water, deep in your filthy thoughts, you don’t register the conversation around you. You imagine him taking care of you in this very lecture hall, bent over the sturdy wooden podium at the front of the class.

You’re preoccupied and perplexed, a fraction of you developing a peculiarly strong craving for a knot – any knot. Considering how fast your heat crept up on you in the first place, you have every reason to believe this craving will continue to intensify. You feel ashamed to admit it, but at this rate, you might just find yourself allowing any alpha to knot you.

Jisungs face scrunches up in disbelief, hearing another botanical fun fact. “No way. You’re trying to tell me bananas are berries? I don’t believe you.”

Jeno snorts, barely peering over his shoulder to throw his two cents into the hushed conversation. “Why are you arguing with Renjun? When was the last time you ate a fruit?”

“I don’t know. When was the last time you didn’t fall asleep at 6 am?” Jisung grumbles, not-so-quietly as he intended.

If they weren’t in a classroom setting, Jisung would’ve hidden behind Renjun or grabbed something to shield himself from the other alpha’s wrath. Jeno fully twists his torso around, dawning a toothy grin that spells trouble for the youngest in the near future. He opens his mouth to speak but ultimately falls silent.

The lecture hall’s desks are the type that flip down to hover over half of your lap. With only your right thigh covered, Jeno’s eyes flick down to where you've been looking.

He zeros in on the source of the fruity scent Jisung was referencing. He drops his smile, licking his lips, dark pupils flashing candy apple red. The other two shift their attention to your lap in quick succession.

Initially, Jisung doesn’t see what they do from his position. His curiosity then leads the naive boy to bend his upper body down and inch forward. Finally granted a vantage point to peer between your legs, his face turns a shade that matches the berries he spoke of a minute ago.

“Uh, y/n? Are you, um, in-” Jisung stutters, his bright eyes locked between your parted thighs.

Both alphas stare, mystified by the sight of your drenched panties, the thin white material now see-through and doing nothing to stop you from making a mess in the center of the lecture hall chair. Lifting your head, you see Jeno’s pupils fully dilated, swirling with lust, and you imagine Jisung isn’t too far off, mirroring the older alpha.

You belatedly try to snap your thighs together but Jisung, of all people, latches onto your inner knee and keeps most of your seeping slit on display for them. His fingers digs into your soft skin in an uncharacteristically possessive manner, while Jeno quietly growls.

They’re increasingly aroused hearing a spurt of your slick gush from your core, discovering you to be turned on by your own humiliation. You softly whine, embarrassed beyond all possible belief.

“What happened to decorum, huh?” the beta scolds the younger alphas.

Jisung snaps out of it and rips his hand away so fast it hits his desk. “Ow!”

“Acting like you just presented and never smelled slick before? Ugh. Get a fucking grip, you guys.”

Renjun sets his phone on his desk, angling it towards you to show his screen and you tune out the apology from the frazzled boy on your right. “Hey, so I texted Mark. The good news is he’s on his way.”

You exhale in relief. “Okay. Wait, what’s the bad news?”

Renjun winces, reluctant to kill your newly kindled hope. “Well…he said it’ll probably take him a half hour to get here.”

“A half hour?”

You snap your tongue, loathing today’s dreaded turn of events. You squeeze your eyes shut to fight off the tears threatening to stain your burning cheeks.

“Oh, hold on.” Renjun scans the new message from your boyfriend, rereading it in his head, triple checking the text before delivering the additional details. “He said he’s…sending someone to get you? And they’ll be here in a dozen minutes or so.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “Who?”

“Dunno, he didn't say.” Renjun shoots him another text, asking for the identity of this mystery person he’s referring to.

You stare at his phone intently, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck and haloing your hairline. Renjun taps the dim screen to keep it from turning off.

As you impatiently wait for an answer, your old nervous habit of picking and biting your nails resurfaces. You peel part of your nail off and fixate on the minor self-inflicted sting for the sake of a distraction from your intimate regions pulsating with arousal, not to mention the graphic, x-rated imagery about how easily you’d bend over for alphas in your vicinity.

Renjun lifts the back of his hand to your feverish forehead, the worry on his face deepening into his soft features. “Don’t take this the wrong way, y/n, but why did you come to class if you were in pre-heat?”

“When I left my apartment this morning, I didn’t fucking feel like I was in pre-heat,” you hiss through clenched teeth.

You ring your head low and swallow your bad temperament as the harsh tone reaches your ears. You cringe, barely recognizing your own voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated because I don’t know what’s going on. I shouldn’t take it out on you though.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. You’re stressed out.” Renjun gives you a sympathetic look, equally as confused by your body as you are. “Well this explains why you wore that today.”

“What do you mean?”

Renjun clicks on the weather app to show you the temperature outside. “Because it’s cold today. But if you were really warm, the temperature outside wouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Ugh, oh my god. You’re right,” you reply, mentally slapping your forehead for not actually checking the forecast for today. Simply put, you believed you knew better, based on how warm your room felt when you got out of bed this morning.

You hold your abdomen and apply minimal pressure there, preparing for the onset of pain when your cramps start up, just like the bad habit responsible for the new drop of blood swelling at the tip of your finger.

Jisung is quick to dig into his messy backpack and procure a quick fix for any minor injuries. It’s clear that he’s trying to be as helpful as possible, still feeling terribly guilty for holding your thighs open and preventing you from hiding what was visible to him and Jeno through your thin panties.

You dab the blood with the folded tissue he hands you, and then wrap the blue and green, dinosaur themed band-aid around your finger. “Thank you,” you whisper to Jisung sincerely, touching his arm to express gratitude.

You don’t blame the guilt-ridden alpha too much. After watching your pussy leak slick through the soaked white material, it was only in his nature to want to breed an omega on the verge of going into heat. The baby alpha Jisung you know and love wouldn’t do that.

Renjun lightly taps the back of your hand when you pick the finger next to the freshly bandaged one. He clasps your hands together, preventing you from doing more damage to that hand, at least.

You frown at your hypocritical friend who himself hasn’t managed to kick the same bad habit as you. Nonetheless, you appreciate his comforting action.

“You know, I keep thinking why me? What have I done to deserve this?” You gesture at your thighs with your free hand. “And how am I supposed to last another however many minutes?”

Renjun pauses and sighs. “On second thought, maybe you should go now. It’s way stuffier inside, so it might be a good idea to go splash some water on your face in the bathroom first before whoever Mark sent gets here.”

You hesitate for a second. You're troubled by not only the mess you've made in your seat, but the continual trickle of slick, potentially painting a colorful bullseye on your wet cunt.

Alphas with practiced, keen olfactory systems can track a scent from a mile away, the express purpose to savagely use the needy omega they find simply because your kind is at its most vulnerable in heat.

You always knew that omegas drew the short stick in life, but it was only after you had observed Mark’s rut in person that you officially became envious of alphas. An alpha’s number one priority during rut, above food and shelter and anything in between, is to breed omegas.

They’ll brutally fuck a slick hole for multiple days, repeatedly knotting them until their bun-hungry alpha brain is sure that the omega will deliver them happy, healthy pups.

Nearly every omega and most alphas take suppressants, making the chances of knocking up an omega less than 0.001% if both partners are medicated. Though, regardless of their incredibly slim chances of conceiving, that does not dissuade a stubborn alpha in rut from attempting to produce offspring.

During Mark’s last rut, despite the primal need to dominate and fuck your brains out, oddly enough, his stamina weirdly didn’t match yours.

“Whoever Mark’s sending is supposed to get here any minute, so there’s no real harm in leaving a minute earlier. No one would try anything with you if you’re in a public setting like school,” Renjun assures you and gives your hand one last squeeze.

“Y/n?” Jisung works up the courage to gently tap your arm like you did his, giving you what remains of the travel size tissue packet that’s been in his backpack for nearly three years. “Don’t worry about the chair. We’ll wipe it off when you leave.”

Jeno guiltily turns around again and apologizes like the younger alpha. He then makes a generous offer to save you the trouble of waiting a second longer to leave for good.

“I can drive you home now, if you want, y/n. And, you know, if you feel comfortable enough being alone with another alpha…no pressure. It’s just the least I can do.”

“Um, thank you. I think, uh…”

Fifteen minutes ago, when you had no plan whatsoever and hadn’t been in contact with Mark, you would’ve taken him up on the offer, but Renjun is right. You know that a part of you is really craving a knot. However, you believe you’re lucid enough to handle going to the bathroom by yourself.

You don’t see yourself jumping at the first opportunity to sit on a throbbing alpha cock, bouncing up and down, pathetically begging them to fill you up with an excessive amount of cum, like you did before. Plus, you don’t want to attract even more unwanted attention if two of you were to stand up and walk out in the middle of the lecture.

“I think I’m good, Jeno. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be fine.”

You pick up your bag, tying the varsity jacket that Jeno generously handed to you around your waist. You head for the door, walking at a reasonable speed to not attract more attention than your scent likely has.

Jeno’s jacket conceals most of the slick running down your inner thighs, and you make a mental note to somehow make it up to him later.

You have almost reached the bathroom when, out of nowhere, you’re ambushed by an alpha, pressed face first against the brick wall of the science building.

Whoever it is had the sense to slip his hand in front of your heated forehead to break the blow against the wall and not crack your skull open on impact. Obviously, alphas don’t want a dead omega.

You can’t breed something that’s not breathing.

That’s basic alpha 101.

Your heart rattles in your ribcage, racing a million miles per hour. You wish you were allotted enough time to wipe up your slick before being attacked.

If only you had accepted Jeno’s offer to be safely escorted, then you wouldn’t be pinned to a wall, hands held behind your back by an alpha presumably relying purely on an animalistic desire.

To make matters worse, being dominated so aggressively triggers a surge of arousal from within your inner omega, the yearning for sexual fulfillment intensifying at a rate higher than in your lecture.

On instinct, tremendously touch starved, you grind your hips back, pressing your ass against the half-hard cock hidden in the alpha’s pants.

He leans closer to your ear, pulling the cherry lollipop out of his mouth to whisper in a deep, gravelly voice, “Did somebody miss me?”

You whimper, timidly, and he chuckles.

Something possesses you to tilt your head to the side, submissive and craving a knot so damn badly that you’re willing to bare your vulnerable neck for the alpha.

He hesitates, before nosing at your scent gland, shakily exhaling through his mouth. Presented with such an alluring opportunity, the alpha almost loses his cool, tempted to accept your invitation and take advantage of your omega’s baseline reflex to submit.

Practicing a degree of restraint that very, very few alphas in his unique position possess, he instead places a single soft kiss to the spot he knows is reserved for Mark’s teeth.

Mark…

You break out of your innate trance as lips that don’t belong to your alpha are still pressed to your neck, the gravity kicking in about what it means to allow a stranger to bite and claim you.

You can’t imagine what your life would be like as a double claimed omega, shared by two alphas, belonging to both Mark and the mysterious, possessive person behind you.

You catch him off guard by ripping away. You whip around, snapping your tongue when you finally discover the identity of your attacker.

“Argh, what the fuck, Haechan?”

You lean back against the solid wall, holding a hand over your chest as if your heart is on the brink of bursting through the slats of your ribs.

“Did you have to give me a heart attack? What happened to saying hello, hm?”

He snickers, a melodious, infectious laugh that makes you want to smile as well. This time, with tremendous effort, you hold your ground.

“What’s the fun in that, sweetheart?” he says, sticking the candy back in his mouth.

You wish you could chase away the butterflies in your stomach that are consistently conjured up when his designated pet name for you rolls off his silver tongue. You’ve seen Haechan flirt with countless girls, yet he’s always reserved “sweetheart” and “sweetie” for his favorite omega.

You can’t describe why hearing his pet names excites you, inappropriately so. Perhaps, you like feeling special to him in some way, his sugar-coated sweet tooth reserved for you and you only.

Mark knows all of this.

He would have to be both blind and deaf to not see Haechan’s effect on your body and pick up on the sound of your heart racing. His charming best friend is frustratingly swoon worthy, but Mark had never minded it much. A case can be made that Mark is the jealous type. It’s for this very reason you find it so curious that he allows Haechan to get away with openly flirting with his omega.

“Why are you even-?”

You freeze as he wipes a tear from your cheek, trailing the back of his fingers along the side of your face and down your neck. He wraps his hand behind your neck with his thumb pressing into where your pulse is fluttering rapidly, tucking the lollipop into the side of his cheek to speak.

“Shh, take deep breaths for me, baby. In…out…in…out.”

The alpha’s instruction marginally calms your nerves, your omega instincts compelling you to follow without question. You are obedient and malleable, most especially in heat, for Haechan and your own alpha, of course.

“Good girl.” His praise has you biting your lip, whining softly. “Renjun probably told you but Mark’s on his way. He sent me to take care of you first.”

“Oh,” you reply, dumbly.

You should have suspected that Mark would send him to pick you up. It’s obvious in retrospect. He trusts Haechan with his life; by extension, he would have total faith in his best friend to handle you too.

“Yeah, oh,” he mimics with an annoyingly charming curl of his heart shaped lips.

Haechan basically gets off on annoying people, although his form of teasing you differs from others. Plus, you never fail to give him the reaction he’s searching for, playfully rolling your eyes, quietly snapping your tongue, or throwing some weak comeback in return.

“Are you disappointed to see me, y/n? I know you're Mark’s princess but you’ll just have to settle for me this time.”

“Wow, how noble of you. My hero,” you reply, sarcastically. “Can we go now?”

“By all means, lead the way, sweetheart.”

Right on queue, you roll your eyes, just like he knew you would. You take a few steps in the direction he gestures to before the first heat cramp punctures your core. Luckily, Haechan catches your body as your knees buckle, doubling over in pain.

Haechan clears his throat. “Y/n, you should know that Mark didn’t just send me here to pick you up,” he says cryptically, unpocketing his phone.

He proceeds to play a voicemail Mark left him. You listen with pursed lips, furrowing your brow as you take in your alpha’s words.

You try to concentrate on the message, partially distracted by Haechan’s scent swirling around you, quickly permeating your skin and thoughts.

“Hyuck, you’re the only alpha I completely trust to take care of y/n like that…and by that, you know what I mean. And don’t be surprised if she, like, starts to beg for it. She can be realllly needy, trust me.”

There’s a spike in Haechan’s scent, reminded of his personal mission to hear you beg.

Despite not having kissed him, you can taste him on your lips. His all-encompassing spicy musk intensifies, melting into a subtle syrupy vanilla that clings to your tongue and stirs up a hunger for forbidden fruit. The cherry candy is no match to his natural scent.

“Oh! One more thing. y/n likes it a bit, um, rough when she’s in heat…so just keep that in mind. I’ll be there as soon as possible, dude. 40 minutes tops. Alright, see you then.”

Haechan looks at you, searching for a reaction, but instead, he sees your face contort painfully again.

“Sweetie, look at me.”

You turn your head, now within proximity to count all the pretty moles on his sun-kissed face, like sunflower seeds you’re tempted to taste and swallow by the handful until you’re physically ill.

“Do you want…”

You straighten your back again, a chill running up your spine as Haechan slowly reaches under your skirt. He drags his hand up the inside of your thigh. The tips of his fingers draw through the many lines of slick dripping down your legs.

“…my help?” he finishes in a tone deeper than you knew he could produce.

Your cheeks and ears burn with embarrassment, feeling another mini rush of wetness soak the utterly useless material covering your throbbing core. There’s no denying that you’re incredibly aroused by Haechan. He knows you know he can smell the gush of new slick you involuntarily released.

A strong sexual desire pumps through your veins, driving you up the walls. You’ve always been curious about what it would be like to have the alpha ruin you and use your body like a toy, but you’re not certain how much of that can be attributed to being on the verge of heat. For better or for worse, you decide that that’s a problem for future you to determine, and present you to toss out the window.

Tasting a mere crumb of Haechan’s touch wasn’t enough – you had to swallow him whole, and the only way you could do that is by giving him the pleasure of devouring you first.

“y-yes, please.”

Your answer is so faint that if he were any farther away, he wouldn’t have heard it.

Haechan suppresses a smug smile, pleasantly surprised to get your first “please” this soon after catching up with you.

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

His skilled fingers touch where you want him most, grazing over your clothed pussy. Anticipating some kind of pleasured noise, he holds your body close and pops the lollipop inside your mouth.

He scans your surroundings for a place nearby with any additional smidge of privacy. Locating a possible secluded destination, he steers your weak body in the direction of his choice. Haechan snakes a hand up the front of your skirt again, pressing his thick cock against your ass as you stumble forward.

Imagining how dirty you must look turns you on, the debauchery of grinding on someone in broad daylight while they have your skirt flipped up to rub over your wet panties has your vision blurring momentarily. Modesty is nothing but a vague concept in the far off distance, seconds away from disappearing over the horizon.

The next thing you know, your body is pressed against a cool hard surface, bleary eyed and craving the kind of high only a mind blowing orgasm can earn.

You vaguely recognize you’re behind the science building you came out of before Haechan ambushed you, escaping the bright rays of burning sun that were beating down on you by slinking into the secluded shadows with the golden, silky voiced alpha.

Your skirt rides up as he shoves a knee between your legs. He gets a firm grip on your hips as you grind down against his thigh, soaking the material of his skinny jeans, creating a wet spot in the denim with your slick.

“Wow, would you look at that? Baby made a mess all over me already. I bet you wanted that, huh? Rubbing your slick on me so people know you’re fucking two alphas?”

You remove the lollipop to refute his provocative claim. “I-I’m not fucking two alphas.”

“Ha, maybe…not yet, anyways. But you want to. Isn’t that right, y/n?”

Your mouth goes dry, tongue rough, throat scratchy like sandpaper. You part your lips to argue with him but nothing comes out. Instead, you insert the lollipop again, sucking on the shrinking round candy, a poor attempt at covering up your original intention.

“Exactly…now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Haechan places your clammy hands on either side of his shoulders to ensure you won’t lose your balance, then he lowers himself to crouch in front of you.

“Hold.” He lifts up your skirt, giving you the bottom hem so he can get down to business.

Haechan’s fingers dig between your clothed folds, feeling your slick leak onto his hand. The thin material pushes into your entrance in an unsatisfying way and you whine.

He tsks his tongue three times, shaking his head. “Just as I suspected.”

You don’t need a reminder of how wet you are, and yet Haechan still brings his hand up for you to see the wet webbing clinging to the tips of his spread fingers anyways. A small embarrassed noise escapes your mouth.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos, using his thumb to toy with your clit, “you look so adorable when you’re embarrassed. All rosy-cheeked and messy.”

Haechan slides your panties down your legs and you cooperate by stepping out of them, hands still anchored to his shoulders. He brings them to his face and licks off a great majority of the wetness that seeped out of you, peering into your soul as he does so. Your lips form a slight pout, missing his touch.

“Ha, Mark was right. You are a needy omega,” he teases and pockets your panties like a trophy he’ll proudly keep forever.

“What would Mark say if he saw his precious omega barring her neck for a total stranger?”

You softly moan a bit louder as he curls his fingers just right. Your knees wobble, struggling to stay upright.

The image of the alpha ravaging your body while Mark watches the act unfold, makes it difficult to focus on your surroundings, distracting you from the minor degree of shame in your chest.

You couldn’t care less about your indecent exposure at the moment either – you feel too good to care about anything.

“H-haechan…I want you…want you so fucking bad,” you breathe out, words slightly slurred with the round candy in your mouth.

Haechan’s cock twitches, picturing you in tears, your walls struggling to accommodate him. However, he is aware that behind a school building isn’t the most ideal place to take an omega in heat, especially considering the potency of your heavenly scent, steadily increasing.

Since Mark isn’t here yet, the least he could do is take you inside the building.

Your slick seeps into the frontside of Haechan’s clothes, clinging to his upper body for dear life as he carries you into an empty classroom. He sets you down on the lab table and observes the damage to his clothes.

“i-i’m sorry about that.” You lean back, peering down at your lap, nervously.

“Oh, baby…c’mere.”

Haechan cups over your knees and tilts forward to kiss your neck, sucking a dark hickey right next to your mating mark from his best friend.

“I like collecting these little spots from you.” He pries your thighs apart and draws closer to your bare pussy.

“It’s cute that your body can’t help but mark me somehow.”

He gets on his knees, darts his tongue out to swirl around your clit. His fingers prod your slick core and slide inside you, stroking your sensitive spot skillfully. The breathy noises he’s rewarded with are ones he’ll remember forever.

It’s astonishing how quickly Haechan figures you out.

He’s already in tune with your body, keenly aware of what makes you tick, knowing how to make you quiver and arch your back beautifully.

Not before long, Haechan has you shaking uncontrollably, squeezing your eyes shut, your short stuttered breathing uneven and shallow as your orgasm peaks, and you topple into an abyss of intense pleasure. The lollipop falls out of your open mouth, rolling off the black table.

You might as well be outside, stargazing in the dead of night based on how many constellations and galaxies twinkle and swirl behind your fluttering eyelids.

Haechan doesn’t let up on his efforts to overload your system with a tingly static sensation. Sobbing pathetically, you try to bat him away with what little strength you have, overstimulated and overcome with the sizzling heat frying your nerve endings.

He huffs and retracts his hands, wiping his mouth and the mess of dripping juices on your inner thigh.

“Okay, fine. I won’t touch you anymore!” he tosses his hands up in the air, melodramatic as ever.

“Finally,” you murmur, granted relief to catch your breath for the first time.

You’re heavily panting, linking your fingers together and resting your hands atop your head to allow better airflow into your oxygen deprived lungs. He steps back and studies you like a unique specimen for medical observation.

A few quiet moments pass before the dull cramps creep up inside you, not yet terribly painful but aching in a way that guarantees incoming sharp pains. You whimper for stimulation again, sending puppy dog eyes at Haechan.

“More…please.”

The alpha’s face is painted with mischief, taunting you by reaching for your body then abruptly stepping back to watch you sniffle, and rock back and forth.

Upon noticing your eyes starting to well up with tears, he ultimately gives in. Haechan curls two and then three fingers inside you, opening you up for his throbbing cock.

As much as he’d love to see you cry, he’s under strict instruction to satisfy and take care of you. He can’t threaten to not relieve the effects of your heat and tease you to the point of genuine distress.

“Aww, don’t cry, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

You let out a breathy moan and make grabby motions to the tent in his pants.

“Hm, does the cry baby want a knot?” You bite your bottom lip, nodding. “Yeah? Can you use your words? Or is there nothing going up there in that pretty little head of yours?”

He lightly taps your forehead twice, then slides that hand up to tangle in your hair.

You smile, shy and small, and, dare he say, adorable. “You- you think I’m pretty?”

One side of the alpha’s mouth curls up, amused that “pretty” was the only word that you clung onto. He rolls his eyes, teasingly.

“Of course you’re pretty, y/n.” Haechan removes his hand from your hair to take out his thick cock. “And only the prettiest of girls get this.”

With a newly unveiled salivating incentive, you immediately pull yourself together, spine straight as an arrow.

You stare at his shiny, precum-glossy cock with heart eyes, licking your lips as he gives himself a few jerks and produces more pearly droplets from his slit. He pushes you back against the lab table when you try to get to your feet for a taste.

“You can choke on my cock later, princess. I thought you wanted a knot? Or did you change your mind?”

“No! I-I do want it,” you frantically reply.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I really want it, Haechan, really badly.” He raises an eyebrow, expecting more. “Please…please, knot me. I wanna be filled with your cum. I’m begging you…breed me, Alpha.”

Breed me, Alpha rings in Haechan’s ears like wedding bells signifying the everlasting bond of a committed partnership. Hearing your sweet voice desperately begging for his seed, using the dominant title you only ever use with Mark, your real alpha, gets Haechan rock hard.

He savors every second he gets to be your alpha.

Satisfied with your eloquently worded, pitiful plea, he lines himself up. His shiny cockhead glides through your folds before breaching your dripping entrance.

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart,” the alpha whispers against your scent gland, his mouth sucking it softly.

You gasp as he drives his hips forward, forcefully pushing against your tiny hole until you’ve accepted his blunt tip, and sucked his fat cock inside.

Mark can smell you the second he drives on campus. He rolls his window down to take another alluring whiff, his right hand just barely gripping the bottom of the steering wheel while his left palms the bulge in his snug jeans, tenting obscenely.

Mind preoccupied, his tunnel vision blinds him from focusing on a single thing besides seeking you out and filling you with loads of cum as soon as possible. He doesn’t recall pulling into the parking lot, getting out of his car, or locking it. All he knows is that, within the blink of an eye, he’s rushed across the campus, his feet landing just outside one of the science labs housed in the same building as your astronomy lecture.

Yanking the door wide open, his wild eyes dart to where his best friend’s knot is locked inside his omega, rubbing your clit so aggressively after your third orgasm that you’re reduced to a twitching mess.

You don’t immediately recognize Mark’s presence, too lost in the intense buzzing sensation to even register that the alpha barged into the room.

Mark slams the door behind him and purposely leaves the door unlocked like Haechan did. There’s a certain reckless thrill that comes with the possibility of getting caught in a compromising position.

In contrast to the way he raced here, driving haphazardly and disobeying traffic laws, Mark slowly crosses the lab room towards your splayed body in a few, brisk strides. He removes his hard cock from his jeans with a lazy smile, stroking himself and licking his lips as you cry out.

Haechan flicks his chin up at Mark, greeting him happily. He makes a show out of pressing a slick-coated finger against your lips to silence you.

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta keep it down. You don’t want everyone next door to hear, right? They’d probably say ‘we should go check on whoever’s crying!’ Only to come in here and find their pretty classmate is a dumb little slut…with a cunt full of cum.”

You whine, leading him to push two of his dirty fingers into your mouth to shut you up. His smirks as you mindlessly suck on them like a binkie, shutting your eyes and humming pleasantly.

“She’s so pretty when she cries.”

“I know right?”

Mark makes a growling noise in the back of his throat as he rubs his hand over where he can see the faint outline of Haechan’s thick knot buried inside you, making your abdomen bulge. Both you and Haechan shutter, feeling a tingly sensation from the pressure your boyfriend applies.

“So, how’s she been?”

“Well, she-”

“Mar?” you weakly croak around Haechan’s fingers and he removes them.

“I’m here, y/n, I’m right here.” Mark wipes a lone tear of yours away and caresses your warm cheek. “How are you feeling, baby?”

“I’m…hot.”

“No objection there,” Haechan jokes.

“Why did you send Haechan?” you continue like you didn’t hear the alpha currently plugging you up with cum.

“Oh, y/n. You remember how you were during your last heat.” Mark stops stroking his cock and takes out a tissue to dab away the sheen of sweat on your feverish forehead.

“Actually, you were probably too far gone, huh?”

You blink up at him, tilting your head into his hand when he tries to wipe your cheek. If you’re being honest with yourself, you only recall bits and pieces, and none of those memories are exceptionally vivid.

“I didn’t know it was possible. Like, I looked it up and on average, omegas need to be knotted 5x before their heat breaks. But, y/n, seriously, I lost track of how many times I knotted you and it’s never enough. I couldn’t take care of you throughout all of your heat and it killed me to see you like that and not be able to help you more. You need more than I can give you, princess.”

He offers you a small genuine smile, his hand trailing down to palm at your exposed breast. Mark gently rolls your nipple between his fingers, hearing you quietly purr. “So Haechan was nice enough to agree to help me help you.”

“But Mark-”

“It’s for your own good, y/n,” Mark calmly tells you. “And didn’t Haechan make you feel nice?”

“Um, well, I-”

You gulp, ruminating on how you want to answer, whether you should tell him that another alpha made you feel as amazing as Mark does.

“Wanna tell me what it’s like to have his knot locked inside that tight little pussy of yours? I know you love being full of my cum. What about his cum? I bet you looove getting fucked full of his cum too, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I love being full of cum…your cum and-and Haechan’s cum.”

Mark smiles at your response and rewards you by pinching your perky nipple. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.”

You whine when Haechan wiggles his mostly deflated cock out of your tight core. “You really weren't lying when you said she gets super wet.”

“Hm, let me feel.” He hums, looking closer and dipping his fingers inside the dripping combination of your fluids.

Mark widens his nostrils and takes in the aroma of Haechan’s cum mixed in with your juices, his eyes flashing blood red.

It’s unfamiliar and vaguely off putting to smell his mate has been violated and fucked open by another alpha. Although, overall, the dominant sensation coursing through Mark is arousal, turned on by the thought of sharing your body.

“Nah, man. It gets worse, you’ll see. Her heat hasn’t even peaked yet.”

Mark addresses Haechan like you aren’t even here. To be fair though, during your heat you’re not all here anyways.

“W-worse?”

“By the end of her last heat, she had so much fucking cum in her, I don’t know where it was all going.”

“Ha, we got ourselves a little cum dumpster here,” Haechan snickers, sliding his fingers inside your cum dribbling cunt again.

With such an overflowing amount of slick and cum, if someone told you that the obscene squelching that fills the room is a soundbite from some high quality pornography, you wouldn’t doubt it. You croon as he curls them up just right, taking a moment to stimulate your most sensitive spot skillfully.

He retracts them sooner than you’d prefer and brings his fingers to your mouth. “Suck.”

A fat droplet falls on your bottom lip.

Mark rubs slow, comforting circles over your abdomen. “Go ahead, baby,” he encourages, leaning down to suckle on your neglected bud.

Earning Mark’s blessing, you obediently suck your own berry wetness and Haechan’s cum off of the alpha’s fingers.

“God, what a filthy slut,” he says once you’ve fulfilled his wish. “She gives in so easily, she’d do anything to get another load of cum.”

A weak sound of protest weasels up the back of your throat, disagreeing with the term he used to describe you. You expect Mark to disagree with his best friend’s crude statement, but he shockingly does the opposite.

“Tell me about it, dude. The whole time she’s always begging for a knot and more cum. I know a lot of omegas beg in the middle of their heat…”

Mark pets your head gently for a second, then snakes his fingers into your hair, giving it a brief yank.

If you weren’t on the precipice of your heat hitting full force, his sudden action would’ve caused you a decent amount of pain. But by now, your aching body welcomes any form of touch – the rougher the better. The demeaning terms trigger strobing excitement inside you.

“…but with y/n, it’s like where did my sweet omega go? Who’s this needy cumslut?”

Your bottom lip quivers, internally conflicted by your budding arousal. Mark looks down at you with pity in his eyes.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, “don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying it to be mean, I’m just telling the truth. You don’t know what it’s like trying to take care of you.”

You whine softly, your foggy emotional state making you feel guilty, even if the fraction of you that’s still of sober mind knows that you have nothing to feel guilty for. The seeds of insecurity take root in your head, questioning if he secretly resents being with you, if you’re too much of a burden that he wishes he wasn’t your alpha.

Mark reads the emotional turmoil brewing on your precious face, and to soothe the distress, he quickly leans over to kiss it away. He kisses down your face, lips lightly kissing your forehead twice, between your eyebrows, the tip of your nose and finally to your lips, much gentler than the hand responsible for the arousing sting on your scalp. Mark tastes the other alpha and grins anyways.

“I don’t want you to feel bad about it, y/n.” He brushes a few stray tears away from where they began to spill from the corners of your wide, glossy eyes. “I just wanna make sure you’re well taken care of this time.”

“Even without you, I can take care of myself well enough,” you sniffle, lying through your teeth, fooling no one, not even yourself.

Your hand twitches, wanting to prove a point but hesitating because you're not used to being watched by two sets of eyes.

“Go ahead and touch yourself, princess. I know you want to,” Mark tells you.

“R-really? Like, um…” You swallow the lump in your throat. “...in front of him too?”

You sneak a glance at Haechan, who, by the looks of it, is about ready to unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole any second now. You vaguely remember wanting him to do so not too long ago in your most fuzzy heated state.

“Yes, in front of me and Haechan.”

“Aw, sweetheart. I just fucked your pretty cunt and yet you still feel embarrassed?” Haechan pouts in mock sympathy. “That’s adorable.”

Mark exchanges a look with his best friend before turning back to you. “Be a good girl for me and demonstrate how you used to do it before we met. You can do that, right, babe?”

An adoring smile reaches his lips, eyes locking with yours. You could try to deny the lewd act, but above all else, you want to please your alpha.

Mark wants you to be a good girl, and that is exactly what you will be. You gulp, releasing a shaky sigh, and nodding timidly. Your mouth twitches up to mirror his sincere smile as best as you can manage.

“That’s my girl,” Mark beams.

Mark knows how to comfort you, pushing two fingers into your mouth to give you something to wrap your lips around. He gently cups the back of your hand and guides it lower while you’re pleasantly suckling.

You tilt back, propping your upper body up by extending your left hand behind your back. Folding your spread legs up and planting your heals on the edge of the wide black lab table, exposing your throbbing cunt to the alphas.

You trace your fingers through your folds, rimming your freshly used entrance before sliding two of them inside, moaning around Mark’s fingers as you follow his instructions.

Muscle memory of touching yourself on a frequent basis over the years takes charge, and within seconds, you locate your weak spot.

“There you go. Good girl.”

You mewl, your legs trembling every so often as you draw your fingers up to stimulate your clit. The muscles in your face are equally as prone to a visceral jumpy reaction as your lower half is.

Craving more, you lay your upper body back against the table, and switch hands to curl your left fingers in your abused pussy and rub quick circles over the hood of your clit, stroking up and down to stimulate every nerve around the electrifying spot.

“M-mar…” you whimper, drool trailing from your stuffed mouth. “Fuck-fuck me. Please, I n-need your cum now.”

Mark bestows a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “How about you show me how bad you want it, eh?”

You hop off the table and lower to your knees obediently, folding your legs underneath you and sitting back on your feet, hands placed flat on your thighs, spine arched to show the round curve of your ass.

Haechan whistles. “You sure did train her well.”

“Nah, man. y/n didn’t need training. She’s just a perfect omega.” Mark smiles, happy to show you off. He pets your head as you start to squirm and quietly whimper.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You part your lips, holding your tongue out to catch the spit that falls from Mark’s mouth. He hums, approvingly, watching you swallow it and open your mouth again. He pauses for a second before flicking his chin at Haechan.

“You want Haechan’s spit too?”

You glance at Haechan and release an affirmative noise a second later. Your core aches for further rough filling again. You rub your slippery thighs together, feeling more slick gush from your throbbing pussy, increasingly aroused when Haechan steps up to the plate.

He lets a string of saliva dangle from his tongue, slowly dripping into your mouth, and partially dribbling down your chin intentionally, simply because he wants to make a mess of your pretty face.

You're about to wrap your lips around Mark’s cockhead when all of a sudden, the sharpest pain stabs your abdomen. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, crumpling into a ball, squeezing your eyes shut, and nearly blacking out.

Mark kneels down and rubs your shoulder, lifting your head to look you square in the face. Worry colors his sharp features and shatters the heated, public pornographic fantasy.

“Shit. y/n’s cramps usually subside for an hour or so after getting a knot,” he mutters to Haechan. “I didn’t want to do this…but I don’t think we have much of a choice now…”

[hint for pt 2]

additional warnings: double penetration, spitroasting, oral (fem & male), face sitting, throat fucking, choking, somnophilia, squirting, sex toys, nipple play...i think that's it.

it’s 2023.

why did it take me this fucking long to write markhyuck x yn ?? i said i’d write for this pairing in FEB 20 FUCKING 21.

sorry for not posting in forever. since spring, i've been going through the trial and error phase of finding the right combination of medications for my fucked mental health 4x, and one of the biggest side effects i've experienced on all of them has been a loss of interest in things that used to excite me, which includes writing. that, paired with the lingering effects of long covid, has made it so that when i sit down to write, i often feel like i'm fighting with my own brain to construct a single linear thought.

the #1 motivation for writers is feedback and interaction. for me, knowing people enjoy my works and appreciate the time i put into something has a huge impact. i'd be really grateful if you shared this by giving it a reblog and would love to see you spam your thoughts/reactions in the tags or comments!

pt 2 is written out already, it just needs to be proofread. now...i'm not saying i WON'T post it next weekend, but comments, reblogs and feedback would definitely inspire me to finish it up on time.

okay 'tis all. thank you for reading and i hope you (yes, specifically YOU, beloved reader of mine who's reading this RIGHT NOW !) are doing well:))

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incognit0slut · 7 months

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SILENT PLEA

Part 1 of kinktober | main masterlist

Being a few feet away from your friends wasn’t going to stop you from seeking pleasure with your professor.

softdom!spencer x fem reader; Thigh-riding, teasing, semi-public, praise, age gap, power imbalance with teacher/student dynamic

words: 2,932

a/n: this one is dedicated to those who just wants to sit on his lap while being praised 🖤 (also i has to repost this bcs of some error it was so weird)

IT WAS HIS EYES. The rich, earthy tones of his irises with subtle flecks of amber and gold held a comforting warmth that seemed to radiate within, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You always found yourself captivated every time his gaze fell on you. It felt as if he had a secret language written in those brown orbs, one that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Or it might've been his hands. You always knew he had nice, well-kept hands but the more you examined them, the more you noticed how enticing they truly were. The size of them always surprised you, as well as the length of his fingers, but it was the veins running along the backs of his hands that really made you dry at the mouth.

Maybe it was the age difference. The mature lines on his face, those crinkle lines around his eyes whenever he smiled only adding an appeal to his appearance. And the way he carried himself with a sense of authority was definitely a factor, one that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

But perhaps it was just him. All of him. The way he stood at his tall height. The way he laughed at his own joke. The way he spoke in his lectures—the enthusiasm palpable in his voice as he explained the difference between a trigger and a stressor while mentioning he was going to put them in the finals, something he shouldn't have probably done.

It was everything about him. His unruly hair. His tailored suit. His charming smile.

And there was the way that he called you, addressing your first name in a room full of people, yet every time you were alone with him, you felt special. You were always his good girl.

"You're such a good girl for me, you know that, right?"

You knew, because every time you did as you were told, he gave you more. More than what you wanted, more than what you needed. He knew you inside and out, and as much as you hated to admit what you were doing these past couple of months was deemed inappropriate, you still couldn't help it. Everything about him made you crave more.

That was why you found yourself perched on his lap after class. It was wrong on so many levels. Not only was it unprofessional for a faculty member to be sexually involved with a student, it was also looked down upon to be in a relationship with someone almost twice your age. But temptation won over rational thoughts, and you had to admit, the professor you had a crush on ever since he introduced himself in front of the class, was really good at tempting you.

"Spence..." You sighed out, hips squirming along his lap. Each of your legs was on either side of his thigh, and you sat there, waiting for him to do something because you were desperate. How could you not when he had been eying you throughout this morning? The subtle glint of mischief wasn't lost on you when he spoke in front of you and your peers, and now that you were finally alone with him, you wanted his undivided attention.

Spencer's hands gripped your thighs as his eyes swept along your body. They momentarily paused on the low dip of your shirt, your cleavage visible for his own pleasure, before he glanced back up to your face.

"We don't have much time," he reminded, yet his hands were sliding up your skirt. And he was right, there wasn't enough time. Staying in his class after everyone had left wasn't exactly ideal, but it didn't stop you from locking the door before you practically climbed on top of him. You knew his next class was about to start in fifteen—no, thirteen minutes. You had already spent the two minutes waiting impatiently for him to touch you.

Now you couldn't leave this room without having a part of him. You needed him, every fiber in your body was screaming for him, and if you had to beg for him to comply with your needs, you would gladly do it in a heartbeat.

"Please." Your voice was barely a whisper, yet he still heard you loud and clear. "I-I need you."

Your breath hitched as his thumb stroked along the outline of your underwear and it took a lot of self-control for you not to whine pathetically. "Yeah? Tell me what you need then."

You paused, opting to choose the right words that wouldn't sound so vulgar because, with the way your body was reacting, you could only think of wild, explicit things. Your eyes settled on his face, sinking in the way he was watching you intensely, and your words abruptly stopped at the tip of your tongue.

"Go on, use your words," he urged. "Tell me what you want me to do."

You let out a trembling sigh. Everything about him was already consuming you, but the moment his hands danced along your sides, you knew you had to have more. Lust surged within you like a relentless tide, pulling you deeper into its intoxicating depths. It was a feverish, aching hunger that clawed at your insides, demanding satisfaction. The simple warmth radiating from his hands gripping your thighs just wasn't enough. So you braved yourself and leaned closer, resting your hands on his shoulders.

"I-I want you to touch me."

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "But I am touching you."

You looked at him through your lashes, biting down your bottom lip. "More," you pleaded. "Please."

He hummed a reply, his hands slowly leaving your hips before they trailed under your blouse, traveling up the length of your body before stopping right on your breasts. Your senses danced with anticipation, every nerve alert and quivering, as his hands cupped each flesh, squeezing them ever so slightly as you felt a thumb brush across a nipple over the thin layer of your bra.

"Like this?" All you could manage was a tiny nod and his smile grew wider. You couldn't help but buckle your hips when he rolled your nipples between his fingers, playing with them in a seductive tease.

"What else do you want?" He gently asked. You noticed the way his voice began to descend, gradually sinking into a deeper tone, and your eyes instinctively fell on his mouth. His lips were a perfect balance between fullness and subtlety. It was gently curved and so inviting that you wanted to feel the shape of them right against yours.

"I..." you started, your voice in a breathless whisper. "I want you to kiss me."

He let out a pleased sound, slowly sliding his hands out of your shirt. "I can definitely do that."

And then he was moving forward, pressing his lips to yours, caging you in with strong hands on either side of your face. You instantly melted like a puddle. You were ice and he was the sun, and the mere taste of him had your body dissipate in his arms.

He teased your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, lightly tracing the pink skin until your mouth parted in invitation. You moan quietly as the taste of him—faint traces of coffee and something incredibly sweet—greeted you. His tongue slid against yours, hot and eager to taste you as pleasure surged throughout your body.

Spencer slowly pulled away, trailing his lips down your neck before he sucked on the spot right under your ear. You could practically feel the smile against your skin as his hands traveled down your arms, holding you gently as he whispered, "Tell me what else you want."

The ache between your legs was too much to handle. A simple kiss was enough for your body to burn with lust. You needed the pleasure, you needed the release, and he was the only one who could give it to you. He was the only one who knew your body as if you were made exactly for him to ravish. Your eyes smoldered with an insatiable longing and your breath came in shallow, hurried gasps, each one a desperate plea for fulfillment.

It was now or never.

"I want you to fuck me."

He leaned back, if he was surprised by your choice of words, he didn't show it. Instead, he let out a sigh as his hands continued to move down your sides again. "Oh, sweetheart, it's not that I don't want to, but we both know I would need more than..." His eyes swept over the watch around his wrist. "...eight minutes to fuck you properly."

Your breath hitched in your throat, then you watched as the curve of his lip turned upwards into a teasing smile.

"But I can't leave my sweet girl all desperate like this, can I?" Then his hands were back on your hips. "Why don't you ride my thigh instead?"

Your face heated up at the suggestion while your mouth slipped out a desperate whimper. Your skin flushed with a warm, feverish glow, and the world around you faded into obscurity as desire became your sole focus.

You were hesitant, but you were also desperate to find your release, so your body started moving on its own, hips rutting against the roughness of his pants. Pressing the growing heat surging between your legs onto his thigh sent a shiver in your system.

Much to his pleasure, Spencer's mouth stretched out into a thin and permissive smile, unable to hide his satisfaction. "That's it," he praised, fingers digging into your hips. His raspy voice only made you burn with red-hot desire. "Keep going."

Following his words, you moved your pelvis. What started out lazy and slow soon turned into sporadic thrusts as you tried to cling to any friction, grinding yourself against his leg with such fervor. It was too much, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

Attempting to catch your breath, you buried your face into the crook of his neck to suppress your mewls of arousal as best as you could. But as he continued to massage your hips and manually move you back and forth on his leg, the effort quickly became useless.

"This feels good, doesn't it?" He murmured. "It's so cute how easily you get off with just my thigh, don't you think?" He said, giving your ass cheeks a firm squeeze.

You breathed his name as your eyes fluttered to a close. You grind your hips harder down onto his thigh, gasping against his lips when your clit caught on the material of his pants. Your toes curl as the fierce heat of pleasure overtook your senses. You were greedy with it, chasing after that spark as you rocked your hips steadily, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, and eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Doing so well for me," he whispered against your ear, hands gripping your hips as you rubbed yourself against his thigh quickly. He smiled when a soft, strangled moan escaped your parted lips, which encouraged him even more. "Look at you, drooling over my leg."

And just to prove his point, he pushed your skirt up along your legs until its material lay loosely around your waist. His eyes took in the sight of you. The way you were grinding against his leg frantically, the thin fabric of your underwear pressing between your throbbing cunt from the constant friction, slightly showing off soft, bare skin glistening under the light.

"So fucking wet," he mused, his tongue swiping along his lower lip as he watched you drenching him. "Just the way I like it."

It felt as if you were floating, so pleasurably dizzy it turned your head to mush. It was hard to keep yourself upright, eyes rolling back, body nearly giving out. And the wisest thing to do for you was to stop because you could imagine the mess you were making. You could also imagine the wet patch of your arousal staining his pants, visible for everyone to see.

"P-People will talk," you whispered between bated breaths.

"Let them." He rocked your hips forward, encouraging you to move faster. "Let them know your sweet pussy made this mess on me."

A soft, involuntary whimper escaped your lips. You rolled your hips again, and the beginnings of something heady and sweet swelled within you. But in that heat of the moment, a sudden hush fell over the room, and your heightened senses caught the faint sound of footsteps approaching from outside. Your body stilled, every muscle tensed, and your breathing became shallow as you strained to listen to the distant murmur of voices.

Spencer suddenly leaned closer and ran the tips of his teeth along the outer shell of your ear once he felt your momentum slow. "I didn't tell you to stop, did I?"

You shuddered in response and found your pace again, faster and longer, continuing to knead yourself against his thigh. But then the sudden jolt of the doorknob sent a bolt of panic through you.

"It's locked," a muffled voice echoed from behind the door. "Isn't class supposed to start soon?"

Your ears perked up at the familiar voice before a second voice chimed in, yet still holding a familiarity you also recognized. "Is he not here yet?"

A small groan escaped your lips. There was no denying who those voices belonged to. They were your friends, albeit not that close, yet you were still acquainted with them and the thought of having people you knew standing a few feet away from you while you continued to rut your hips against him was making your head delirious.

"Do you know them?"

You nodded helplessly.

"Then maybe you should keep your voice down," he suggested, holding you closer to him. "Don't want them to know what you're doing in here, do you?"

He noticed the way your body stiffened.

"Or is that what gets you off?" He asked. "Your friends standing a few feet away while you're grinding desperately on your professor?" His hand sits on your lower back, drifting down to the tops of your ass, forcing you to rut forward.

It was so, so wrong, yet you couldn't stop the pleasure coursing through your veins at the possibility of being caught. The knowledge that your friends were just outside, on the brink of discovering your intimate moment, added an exhilarating layer to your pleasure.

"Spencer," you whined. "Please."

"Naught minx," he mumbled. "I think I like seeing you like this."

Suddenly, he jerked his leg up, catching you off guard and you whined instantly, unprepared to counter the pressure pushing up onto your sore cunt. Muffled cries of ecstasy escaped your lips, your teeth clenched in a futile attempt to hold back your moan.

It didn't take long until a pulsating warmth began to radiate from the pit of your stomach. Each passing second brought a rising crescendo, a mounting tension that threatened to shatter your composure. You whimpered, thighs shaking slightly as you continued the abuse toward your clit, somehow the material of his pants made the stimulation even better and it almost caused you to lurch forward in shock.

"That's it, use me," he encouraged. "So, so good for me. My sweet girl."

Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your body quivered with a delicious ache. The intensity of it all was almost unbearable, and yet, you craved more, grinding yourself harder. Your muscles tightened, your breath quickened, your skin prickled with anticipation, and nothing could have prepared you for his next words.

"Cum on my thigh and I'll let you cum around my cock tonight."

That was it. You were instantly gone. The thought of having him stretching you was quickly engraved in your brain. The mental image of you spasming around his cock was enough for you to surrender into a blissful mess. The conversation outside continued and you made a concerted effort to keep your voice down, as waves of pleasure surged through you, causing your limbs to tremble and your muscles to spasm.

It wasn't until the sound of footsteps finally retreating from outside that a wave of relief ran through you, yet your breath still came in ragged gasps as he helped you ride out your orgasm and held you in place, making small ruts against himself with your spastic thighs gripping around him tighter.

"Oh my god—" he pulled you in for a kiss. Spencer's mouth devoured you, hot with a passion that made you dizzy. You whined into his mouth and bucked against him, little whimpers filling his throat. Then you felt his tongue on your bottom lip; you puckered your mouth, letting his tongue invade every corner of your entrance as a thrilling sensation shot right through your veins, finally riding out your orgasmic bliss.

When he finally pulled away, he watched as a string of saliva fell against your lips. He reached out and wiped the bottom of your lip with his thumb as his eyes glazed over your red and sweaty face. They flickered from your face down to your lower half as well as your equally drenched thighs. Yet despite the disheveled state of your hair and the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, you radiated a raw and untamed beauty.

Spencer always thought you were beautiful, but nothing could compare to the sight before him. Your once-pristine hair was tumbled in disarray around your shoulders, framing your flushed face. Your eyes, half-closed and smoky with desire, held an irresistible allure that seemed to draw him closer with every glance. Then there were your lips, kissed to a plush, inviting fullness, beckoned with a promise of lingering sweetness. You looked wrecked, like a hot, beautiful mess.

And he couldn't wait to ravish you tonight.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader

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leejenowrld · 1 month

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soft and slow sex with - nct dream reactions

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marvelstoriesepic · 2 months

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Still on the list

Pairing: Frat!College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye.

Word count: 14.1k

Warnings: annoyance to friends to lovers; panic attacks!; creepy man; angst and comfort; Bucky is a frat boy

author’s note: This took longer than I hoped, but I love it!

Masterlist

One minute.

One minute did it take for the class to end and yet it felt like an eternity.

You stared at the clock in anticipation, not paying an ounce of attention to what your professor was talking about.

Was he even talking?

Were you supposed to write something down?

You wouldn’t know.

RIING

Finally, the blissful sound of the bell pierced through the monotony.

You took your eyes off the clock in the far corner of the lecture hall, a sigh of relief leaving your lips and started packing your stuff.

“Alright class! See you on Monday! Have a great weekend.” Your professor exclaimed before walking out of the hall with a wave.

Amidst the chorus of thank you’s and see you on Monday’s and packing your laptop in your bag, alongside your pen and notebook (basically for small, unnecessary doodles, instead of notes) including your water bottle, you noticed Wanda slipping onto the bench beside you with her backpack draped over her right shoulder and an amused smile plastered on her face.

“Late again,” she teased.

You groaned. “Blame that slowpoke of a bus driver.”

“You know you can always ride with Pietro and me.” She nudged your shoulder playfully.

You offered her a grateful smile but shook your head. “It’s inconvenient for you.”

After being forced to live on campus for your first year of college you decided to get a small apartment to save some money and get the privacy you wanted and needed. Living on campus was expensive enough and with the small amount of money you got for working in a café and babysitting sometimes in the evening there wasn’t much left for you to enjoy yourself a little.

You never really enjoyed living in a dorm together with someone you didn’t know and sharing that same space. Your roommate for that first year was perpetually boisterous and tried dragging you to every party within a five-mile radius. Despite your initial resistance, you eventually succumbed to peer pressure. After enduring an eternity of loud music and plastic cups thrust into your hand, you found yourself in the grim confines of a bathroom stall, holding back your roommate‘s unruly hair as she retched into the toilet bowl. It was a moment of disillusionment that solidified your resolve to seek solitude and sanctuary away from the chaos of dormitory life.

Though you hated every minute of that day, in the end, you were glad you went, because it was where you met Wanda.

As fate would have it, Wanda found herself reluctantly dragged to the same party by none other than her brother, Pietro. Aforementioned guy managed to catch your roommate since she ‘accidentally’ slipped in front of him. She kept giggling with his arms draped around her and you apologized to him and Wanda though you knew it was actually really not your fault.

So while your roommate occupied Pietro you had a pleasant conversation with his sister. You clicked immediately.

“It takes ten minutes Y/n, it’s truly no big deal.”

“Well, I’ll keep it in mind! Thanks, Wan!”

You walked out of the hall and crossed campus together. Since you just had this one lecture today you signed in for a shift at the café you worked at and were just about to bid Wanda goodbye when-

“Maximoff!”

You didn’t make any attempt to even try not to roll your eyes.

Wanda turned around and so did you eventually, not concealing your dissatisfaction with the approaching guy, a scowl forming on your face.

Bucky Barnes.

Of course.

Now, there were a lot of things you tolerated. It was hard to rile you up, but Bucky Barnes? He exceeded every limit.

You couldn’t stand the guy. And he knew it.

He caught up to you girls and kept his attention on your friend.

“Hey, Wanda! You have a minute?”

Before she could react he turned to you, pretending to see you just now.

“Oh. Y/n! Haven’t seen you there.”

You wanted to punch that arrogant grin off his face.

“What do you want?”

“Well as I was gonna ask Wanda,” he emphasized her name with a playful drawl and turned to her, “You and your brother are coming today right? Sam got the drinks and we got a new beer pong table. We gotta initiate it correctly.”

Another eye roll escaped you as Wanda shot you a brief, amused glance before addressing Bucky. “Pietro’ll come. The party was the only thing he talked about this morning.”

“Perfect!” Bucky grinned. “You’ll come too right? You can have a plus one!” He nodded his head towards you while meeting your steely gaze with unwavering confidence.

“Nothing will get me to enter your stupid frat party Barnes!” you retorted dryly.

Bucky’s grin remained firmly in place, his cockiness bordering on infuriating.

“Well I’ll be there,” he declared, turning his attention toward you with a smirk.

You cocked your head. “There’s the reason why.”

A soft sigh from Wanda diverted your attention, prompting you to check the time on your phone.

“Whatever, I gotta go!” With a brief hug, you bid her goodbye.

“Text me later?”

“Course, Wan!”

You flashed her a quick smile before striding away, ignoring Bucky’s futile attempt to prolong the conversation.

“Where ya going?” he shouted after you.

“Work!” Your response was curt and you continued your way.

****

“That’ll be 4.75$.”

The girl in front of you swiped her card through the card reader and you placed the cup with her latte on the counter separating you.

You thanked her for the small tip and turned away when she left, to stock up on the coffee beans. You leaned down and grabbed the bag out of a drawer from under the counter as you heard the door to the shop open.

Your coworker went to the storage room to store the milk that came in a few minutes before and it wasn’t that busy so you were good on your own out front.

“Just a sec!” you called while opening the bag and pouring the beans in, standing with your back to the counter.

“All good! I’m in no hurry.”

You stilled for a second, almost pouring over the beans. Although you couldn’t see him right now you could tell he wore that shit-eating grin again.

You pulled the bag away harshly with a few falling out. You would take care of that later. Probably not though.

You put the bag aside, preparing yourself to turn around, and came face to face with the one and only Bucky Barnes.

Seriously?

Two times in a day?

You wiped over your apron and met his gaze. “What can I get you?” You tried feigning that kindness you were supposed to show your guests though you knew you could try more.

Not taken aback by your grimace and still slightly annoyed tone he leaned on the counter and pretended to contemplate what to get.

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him.

“I think I’ll go for a black coffee,” He grinned at you.

You uncrossed your arms to get to work. “Small, medium, large?” You were really trying to stay professional here.

“I’ll take it medium, doll.”

It wasn’t the first time he called you that, though you‘ve heard it come out of his mouth plenty of times to plenty of girls so you guessed he didn’t even recognize he was calling you that too.

You got to work while Bucky watched you intently, still leaning on the counter.

You hoped he would stay silent but guessed that thought was futile since he walked in here.

“So, you think about coming?”

“No.”

“No, you haven’t thought about it or no, you aren’t coming?”

“Both.”

It wasn’t the first time he somehow tried to get you to come to one of his frat parties. Be it through Wanda or Pietro or just blatantly asking you to come. You knew your answer every time. He should have known that too but he seemingly never stopped trying.

“Aww, come on doll! Already put you on the list.”

“Do whatever you please Barnes but I’m not coming,” you retorted while finishing up his coffee and sliding it across the counter over to him. “That’ll be 2.95$.”

Will Wanda come?” He didn’t attempt to grab the cup, instead he stayed rooted and looked at you.

“Don’t know. Maybe”

After that party your former roommate dragged you to, you avoided them at all costs and managed not to attend any other. Wanda sometimes came along with Pietro to get him back home after drinking too much. You considered coming along for moral support a few times but didn’t want to give Bucky the satisfaction of getting you to come. And Wanda always claimed she‘d be fine.

He leaned to take the cup of coffee and a milk pack from beside where you were standing.

“Alright well, you know where to go,” he slid over a 5$ bill. “Keep the change!” He lifted the cup a bit. “And thanks!” Giving you his signature smirk.

“Barnes that’s too much for a single coffee!” you protested and were about to collect his change but he was already halfway out of the shop.

“Keep it!” he threw over his shoulder and you looked after him a little irritated.

His persistence annoyed you to no end so why did your lips curl up in a smile, despite yourself?

****

You didn’t come.

It was nearly midnight and you found yourself nestled in your bed, the soft glow of your laptop illuminating the room as you rewatched a movie for the umpteenth time.

There probably would be a few things you’d like to do instead, but going to one of Bucky's notorious frat parties, will just never be one of them.

You couldn’t even really tell why you held such a grudge against the guy. He never really was explicitly rude or anything, yet there was something about his demeanor that rubbed you the wrong way.

Bucky Barnes had been a constant presence on campus since day one. Whether it was in the hallways or outside the building, Bucky was always surrounded by a rotating cast of admirers, girls vying for his attention. It became a familiar sight to see him engrossed in conversation with yet another girl, his charm seemingly boundless.

Amidst the flurry of attention and admiration that surrounded Bucky, there were moments when his gaze seemed to linger in your direction as if seeking to ensnare your attention as he did with others. You’d catch him looking at you in the hallways. You’d see him standing outside your lecture hall, although he didn’t even attend this class. However, you never attempted to acknowledge him and were set on keeping your distance.

In your second semester, you found yourself sharing a course with him. That was where he first initiated interactions with you. At first, it was a subtle passing glance, a nod, and a smile of acknowledgment, but soon his efforts to engage with you became more pronounced. It started with a request for notes when he wasn’t there the other day. And then there were times when you ran late and he saved you a seat beside him, sending you a wave and a charming grin.

But then you would watch him effortlessly flirt with other girls, letting them sit on his lap and whispering in their ear, you having the front row seat. You couldn’t pinpoint why his flirting with other girls left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it deepened your reservation, solidifying your decision to maintain a sense of distance.

Despite not sharing any classes with Bucky in your second year, he seemed determined not to let your lack of proximity deter his efforts to engage with you. His persistent attempts to catch your attention continued unabated - although you never gave him much to work with - seeming to find a way to cross paths with you all the time.

The first time he asked you to come to one of his frat parties, you were sitting in a small booth at a café near campus, nursing a latte and discussing your professors together with Wanda and Pietro.

You laugh. “Right? She once even gave-”

“Pietro! Hey, man,” comes his voice across the café and Bucky Barnes approaches you three.

You drop your smile and divert your attention to your latte as Bucky greets Pietro and Wanda.

“Y/n! Nice to see you.” His voice dripping with charm.

Upon hearing your name you lift your head and offer a strained smile, hoping to convey at least a semblance of politeness.

“Hi,” you answer lamely, not an ounce of enthusiasm found in your voice.

Bucky’s smirk deepens in response, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Your smile turns into a grimace.

“You coming tonight man?” he asks Pietro.

“Course Buck! I‘ll be there.”

“Great!” His attention turns to you.

“You girls are welcome too, you know.”Although addressing both, Wanda and you, he keeps his gaze on you.

“Yeah, no thanks!”

“We’ll think about it!”

Wanda sends you a glare, reminding you to stay nice. Though Bucky doesn’t seem fazed by your lack of interest, the boyish smirk still present on his lips.

“Well, I’d be happy to see you.”

You don’t even have time to answer him when a brunette, standing at the counter, calls his name.

You look in her direction though his eyes remain on you a few seconds longer until he turns away and bids his goodbye. Wanda and Pietro answer him while you remain silent, taking refuge in your coffee cup.

He was attractive, you gotta give him that but you never were someone to go after looks. There were so many more important things to see in people. Sure, you don’t know how he treated or saw his flings, or hookups, or whatever but you supposed you didn’t wanna know.

****

After you worked your ass off at the café during the weekend you were more than unpleased to be sitting in your lecture hall at 8 in the morning on a Monday. At least the bus was on time you supposed.

Wanda slid in beside you and put down a cup of coffee in front of you before unpacking her backpack.

“Oh god Wan, you’re an Angel!” You took a big sip and sighed dramatically.

Wanda snickered softly, organizing her notes.

“You know, Pietro told me someone was a bit disappointed,” she began and you looked at her confused.

“The party,” she continued but you just stared at her oblivious.

She sighed. “He hoped you’d come this time.” She studied you with a careful expression but you saw the corners of her lips turning up lightly.

You blinked. “Why would he think that?”

Wanda shrugged. “Well he’s pretty persistent,” She studied you some more and you began to feel uneasy, “You could give him a chance.”

“Huh?” you mumbled, caught off guard.

Turning toward you fully, Wanda leaned in slightly. “I don’t really know him that well, but he’s different with you. Pietro’s mentioned it. He’s never made this much effort with anyone else.“

Perplexed, you pondered her words.

“And honestly,” Wanda continued, “He’s a nice guy. I mean I get he’s got girls around all the time-”

You grimaced.

“-but he’s not the guy to lead anyone on or make someone feel worthless, I’m sure of it.”

That got you silent and you looked at her, pouting your lips in contemplation.

“He had a girlfriend once but as far as Pietro knows it didn’t end well. She moved away and they tried that long-distance relationship crap-”

You raised an eyebrow.

“-but she then started seeing someone else without telling him.”

You exhaled deeply, processing the information. “Alright well that sucks…sure…but is that a reason to use girls like that?”

“How are you so sure that’s what this is?” Wanda countered

Before you could respond, your professor arrived, saving you from further discussion. You were kinda glad he was on time cause you really had no idea how to answer that. You couldn’t know what he does with those girls. What he told them. How he treated them. How he made them feel.

Actually

You didn’t know anything about him at all.

****

Nearly two weeks had passed and you haven’t seen Bucky since he came by the café you worked at. Despite your efforts to push him out of your mind, you found yourself occasionally thinking about him or scanning the hallways for a glimpse of him.

Wanda got sick the day prior so you were sitting alone in class. After making idle conversation with some fellow students, you decided to stay back and finish up your notes.

You heard footsteps approaching but didn’t look up until someone settled beside you.

“That looks kinda complicated.”

Irritation bubbled up, but you were surprised to find you didn’t immediately feel the urge to roll your eyes all the way up to your brain at the sound of his voice. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, a sigh leaving your lips

“What are you doing here? This isn’t even your class!”

“Came looking for ya,” he replied, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

You returned your attention back to your notes. “What for?”

“Shouldn’t you be able to tell?” He grinned and bumped your upper arm lightly.

That was the first time he initiated any form of physical contact and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Another party, I assume,” you remarked plainly.

“Smart girl! Missed you the last time.”

“Then have fun missing me this time as well,” you retorted, not bothering to look at him.

You felt his eyes on your profile but didn’t turn to him.

“Well just wanted to let you know you’re still on the list,” he said, his voice laced with that characteristic smirk.

That dude really wouldn’t give up, would he?

Quickly finishing your notes and packing away your things, you draped your bag over your shoulder, ready to leave the hall. As you turned to go, you glanced back at him.

“I’ll think about it,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm, though deep down you couldn’t deny that small part of you, that was considering his invitation this time.

****

The party started by now.

Standing in your bedroom you wavered on the threshold of the decision to go to his party or not.

You found yourself grappling with uncertainty, questioning the motivations behind your sudden inclination to attend the party. Was it a twinge of guilt for his past misfortunes that nudged you towards empathy? Or perhaps a genuine curiosity sparked by the desire to unravel the enigma of his persistent invitations?

You pondered, your thoughts swirling. Perhaps this was all a game to him? Or maybe there was something deeper, something he needed to prove to himself or to others.

Yet, the idea of subjecting yourself to potential humiliation at a frat party churned your stomach. You had no desire to be caught in the whirlwind of debauchery and recklessness.

But Wanda didn’t really make him seem like the kinda guy to pull shit like that.

Though how could she be sure?

The sudden ringing of your phone shattered the swirling thoughts that had consumed you, pulling you back to the present moment. With a grateful sigh, you glanced down at the screen, Wanda’s name lighting it up.

“Hey Wan,” you greeted her while laying back on your bed.

“Hey Y/n. I assume you’re not at the party.”

“Nope, you know me.”

“Okay well, could I ask for a favor?” Wanda’s voice held a hint of hesitation.

You sat up. “Yeah, sure Wan, what’s up?”

“Pietro will need someone to pick him up later but I’m still feeling pretty shitty at the moment and…I don’t know I was thinking maybe-“

“You’re asking me to pick him up?” you finished her sentence, sighing deeply.

“Kinda, yeah,” Wanda confirmed sheepishly.

You chuckled. “Sure, I can do that Wan, no problem.”

You could hear the relief in Wanda’s breath. “Thank you babes, I owe you! You can take his car, I’ll leave the keys under the pot outside.”

“You don’t owe me anything Wan, I’m glad I can help! You stay in bed and rest, alright? I’ll take care of your brother,” you assured her.

After exchanging a few more words, you hung up and prepared to leave. Opting for a casual outfit you threw on some wash jeans and a shirt.

Considering you spent a good amount of time on spiraling whether to go or not it got rather late already and it still would take you some time to get to Pietros car and to the party.

You grabbed the keys from under the pot, got in the car and started driving. It had been a while since you made use of your license considering you couldn’t afford your own vehicle, but you managed.

As you parked the car and stepped out onto the pavement, the distant throb of bass pulsed through the air, a tangible force that seemed to reverberate through your entire being. With each step towards the fraternity house, the music grew louder, assaulting your senses with its relentless intensity.

You walked up to the guy standing at the door with a ripped sheet of paper in his hand. You assumed that was what Bucky referred to as list.

“Hey, uh, I’m here to pick up Pietro Maximoff,” you stated, hoping to avoid being drawn into the revelry inside.

The guy’s smirk was infuriating as he chuckled dismissively. “Oh I’m sure he’s a little busy right now.”

Suppressing a sigh, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his remark.

“What’s your name sweetie, you could always go in and join the party.”

“Yeah no I’m fine, I’ll just-”

“Wait, are you the infamous Y/n?”

You blinked. You were not entirely used to people knowing your name. You’d like to believe you were nobody. Whether on campus nor in general. So why did this random guy know your name and call you infamous?

You didn’t have to answer, instead the guy nodded towards the door, granting you entry with a casual wave.

“Come on in, Buck will be thrilled to see you,” he remarked, stepping aside to let you pass.

Feeling utterly disoriented and out of place, you stepped inside, your senses assaulted by the overwhelming cacophony of noise and the oppressive heat of the crowded room. The stench of sweat and alcohol hung heavy in the air, causing you to wrinkle your nose in disgust. With each step, the floor seemed to cling to your shoes, a sticky reminder why you avoided this for so long.

You tried to adjust to the flickering lights and internally scolded the person who decided those colors were a good match when you heard your name be called.

“Y/n?”

You weren’t surprised to hear his voice since it was partly his party but you were surprised he recognized you this fast since you just stepped inside. Was he watching the door?

His smile greeted you as he stood before you, and you were blinded for a second there.

“You’re here!”

“Uh, well I’m kinda just here to pick up Pietro. Wanda asked me to.”

Bucky’s smile faltered slightly at your words. Clearing his throat, he offered a tentative response. “Oh. Well, haven’t seen him,” he exclaimed, his gaze momentarily flickering away before returning to meet yours.

As Pietro’s slurred voice called out your name, you turned to see your friend stumbling towards you, a wide grin plastered across his face. He draped an arm around your shoulders, and you instinctively supported him, wrapping your own arm around his waist to steady him.

“What’re you doin’ here, princessa?” Pietro slurred, his words punctuated by a drunken laugh.

You laughed. “Came here to pick you up, Piet. Wanda’s still not feeling well.”

But Pietro, clearly undeterred by your explanation, attempted to pull you along with him, his movements unsteady as he swayed on the spot within your hold.

“Let’s get you a drink, princessa,” he insisted, his grip tightening around you.

Refusing to indulge his request, you gently guided him towards the door, ignoring his protests. As you turned to leave, you caught sight of Bucky, his jaw clenched and his eyes darting away from your close proximity.

“I guess thanks for the invite Barnes but this really isn’t my scene.” You gave him a tight lipped smile and turned to Pietro again.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the door you just disappeared behind.

****

Since that day at the party three weeks ago, Bucky had been somewhat of a ghost, disappearing from the usual campus scene. Despite not seeing him, thoughts of him seemed to linger in the back of your mind and you caught yourself looking out for him in the hallways.

You made your way to the restrooms between your two classes of the day cause you just had to drown yourself in coffee on your 4-hour shift in the café this morning.

After locking yourself in one of the cabins that still held toilet paper you heard the door to the restroom creak open and made out the hushed voices of two girls filtering in. One of them clearly crying.

“What’s wrong with me? He literally jumped in bed with every other girl on campus! Why not me?” the girl sobbed hysterically while her friend got her some paper towels from the dispenser.

You rolled your eyes at her antics and decided to just wait out until they left.

“I don’t know El, but Jake did say something about him wanting to change.” You could picture her gesturing quotation marks with her fingers at the ‘wanting to change’ part. And though you weren’t quite the type to gossip you held your breath and listened intently.

The other girl blew her nose while her friend continued.

“He hasn’t been to a party for the last, I don’t know, maybe three weeks or something. Just stayed locked in his room. That’s what Jake told me. Don’t know what to make out of it though,” the girl chuckled, “I mean it’s Bucky we’re talking about.”

As Bucky’s name entered the conversation, your ears perked up, and you felt compelled to listen. Thoughts swirl in your mind, multiplying like rabbits in a field. Was that night you picked up Pietro the last party he attended? Why the sudden disappearance into seclusion? Why would he lock himself in his room? Why did he dump that girl? You didn’t know who that Jake dude was but you weren’t sure if he was right.

You snapped out of your thoughts to catch the still crying girl whine again. “But I tried really hard Meg! I pinned notes on his locker, I smiled at him all the time, I sent him my notes from history per mail, the one time he didn’t come and I slipped my phone number into his backpack when he wasn’t looking-”

Suddenly you were grateful for standing right beside a toilet cause you felt the urge to vomit.

“-and he just straight up told me he’s not interested?!”

You heard the other girl, Meg, probably short for Meghan or something but why would you care, sigh. “I’m sorry El, but maybe he’s really just trying to become better than that.”

The crying thankfully stopped and was replaced by a scoff and an exasperated intake of breath. Personally, you’d describe it as overly dramatic but who were you to judge.

As the girls finally departed, leaving behind the remnants of their dramatic exchange, you released a sigh of relief.

After finishing what you came in here for in the first place you left the restroom as well and walked through the hallway on your way to your next class.

And as god, or the devil, or Mother Nature, or something the fuck else wouldn’t have it any other way there he was. Bucky was standing at his locker, taking a look at a pink piece of paper in his hand for only a second before crumpling it in his fist. You could only guess what it was.

He turned to the trash can to throw it in there and when he looked back up he met your gaze. His eyes lit up at seeing you, but nevertheless, you noticed the tired look he wore and couldn’t help but feel kinda bad for him.

Normally when passing Bucky in the hallway you wouldn’t spare him an attention spawn over two seconds but here you were giving him a somewhat genuine smile, a rare display of empathy, which he reciprocated immediately.

Even as you turned the corner and continued on your way, you couldn’t shake the sensation of his eyes lingering on you. You couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading in your stomach.

Bucky stopped asking you to come to his parties. As far as you knew he didn’t even attend them himself anymore. You shared with Wanda what you overheard in the restroom, and after confirming with Pietro, it became clear that Bucky was indeed making some significant changes in his lifestyle.

Bucky Barnes was truly an enigma.

Armed with insider information from Wanda, you learned that Bucky refrained from being seen with any girl for weeks and stopped planning and attending the frat parties. He seemingly even talked about leaving the fraternity altogether.

You don’t know what to do with those information but you did notice a shift yourself. You saw Bucky again two times since you passed him in the hallway a few days ago.

You were walking through the library together with Pietro and Wanda when you saw him sitting there in the far corner with his textbook open and a pencil poised. You stood and drank in the sight of him for a moment. His brows were furrowed deep in concentration and he lightly tapped his pen on his notebook rhythmically. He let his hair grow out a little, wisps falling onto his forehead. He sure as hell was a sight for sore eyes.

As if he picked up on your staring he lifted his head and looked over in your direction. The intensity of Bucky’s gaze sent a jolt through you, causing your heart to race as you hastily averted your eyes, feigning interest in the books on the nearby shelf. Despite your attempt to appear nonchalant, you could feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on you.

Stealing another glance in his direction, finding him still watching you, his soft smile a stark contrast to the cocky grin you were accustomed to. The corners of your mouth lifted ever so slightly without having your consent.

The sudden interruption of Pietro’s arm around your shoulders broke the spell between Bucky and you, snapping him out of his reverie. With a subtle shift in his posture, he straightened his back and lowered his head back to his textbook.

The other time, yesterday, you decided to join Wanda and grab something to eat at the canteen. As you stood in line with Wanda you were the one to feel eyes on you, prompting you to turn and find Bucky’s piercing blue gaze fixed on you.

Your lips curled in a smile and Bucky’s sweet grin in response sent a flutter through your chest.

To your own disappointment, you ended up sitting with your back to him throughout eating, though you pushed it aside.

****

It was a long day.

You had a shift at the café this morning and then went straight to Uni where you dragged yourself through your classes of the day. It was already starting to get dark when you walked around campus to get to your bus station.

This was your routine on Wednesdays but something felt weird. There was a shiver creeping up your spine and you tightened your coat around yourself, hugging your waist, as a response to that feeling of unease.

“Hey! Girl!”

Your heart dropped at the shout and although it came from behind you, you just knew it was meant for you. Unconsciously you picked up your pace, hugging yourself tighter and scolding yourself for not getting pepper spray.

“Hey, you! I’m talking to you!”

You heard quick footsteps approaching you from behind and let out a gasp as rough fingers grabbed onto your wrist, turning you to the man with that gruff voice.

He was tall. His beard, grizzly and grossly outgrown, held a few drops of whatever might be in the bottle he held in his other hand. His clothes were lumpy and held stains, dark eyes pierced through you.

“I’m sure you’re so kind to give a man some money for cigarettes, little girl, huh?”

You stared at the man in front of you, frozen out of fear. Your heart plummeted in your chest and you felt the hand around your wrist tightening. You swallowed thickly but your throat still felt like sandpaper. You wanted to talk but nothing left your mouth.

“Well if I don’t get money you could always pay me differently,” He licked his lips and his eyes roamed over your body. He got hold of your other wrist and you suppressed a whimper.

You wanted to yell at him to let you go. You wanted to kick him where the sun wouldn’t shine. You wanted to scream for anybody to help you. But you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, your voice lost in your throat.

“Hey!”

Another voice.

“Let her go!”

You knew this voice. It was oddly familiar, but you couldn’t comprehend how you knew it.

There was a figure approaching in long, fast strikes and you wanted to go take a look but the man still standing in front of you grabbed you even tighter, which led to another gasp exiting your lips.

You heard your name called and looked in the direction of the newcomer.

Bucky.

It was Bucky.

Relief flooded your body and you finally were able to take a controlled intake of breath again.

“Do you know this guy?” Bucky's concerned gaze bored into you and you shook your head weakly.

That’s all he needed to turn to the guy still having a hold on your wrists. “You let her go right now!” The dangerously low and calm tone of his voice and the way he was talking to you way softer just seconds before let you shiver and caused your head to spin.

The other guy scoffed and let your wrists fall to take a step back, holding his arms up in a surrendering kind of way. Bucky immediately stepped in front of you. “Relax man, did nothing to that girl!”

“You better want to stay the hell away from her or anyone else. I don’t want to see you here again!” Bucky’s voice was laced with a dark, threatening tone, his stance unwavering as he shielded you from the menacing stranger. Despite the age difference, Bucky’s intimidation factor was undeniable.

Said man scoffed and stumbled away a little. Bucky kept watching him till he was out of sight and turned to you in an instant. Not sure if you were okay to be touched, his hands hovered over your arms as he leaned down to catch your eye, his concern evident in every gesture.

“Hey, Y/n, are you okay?”

Your gaze remained fixated on his collarbone, unable to meet his eyes. Absentmindedly, you rubbed the wrist of your right wrist, where the man had gripped you, feeling the tenderness and likely bruises forming there.

“Doll please look at me!” he pleaded, though you remained stoic, your emotions tightly locked away. His worry was palpable, evident in the furrow of his brows and the hesitant hover of his hands, unsure of how to comfort you.

“Eyes up here sweetheart, please!” His voice was softer than you’ve ever heard. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you lifted your head, allowing your gaze to trail up his face until your eyes met his. There was a hint of panic in his expression, his eyes searching yours with such urgency, that it was almost overwhelming. You felt a lump form in your throat at the raw emotion reflected in his blue orbs.

“That’s it doll! Just like that!” He let out a breath of relief but never took his eyes off of you. He signaled to your wrists without breaking eye contact. “Can I take a look?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat tight with emotion, but you gave a slight nod, granting Bucky permission to inspect your wrists. Gently he took your right hand in his left, lifting your sleeve with the other to reveal the red and purple marks beneath. His touch was featherlight as he trailed his fingertips over your sensitive skin, but when you recoiled slightly, he pulled back immediately, murmuring an apology.

With your eyes trained on your wrist, you felt Bucky's finger under your chin to tilt your head up gently, coaxing you to look at him once more. “I’ve got you doll, okay? He’s gone. It’s alright!” he reassured you, a hint of fury underlying his voice as he recalled the man who caused you harm and left you in this state.

Taking a hesitant hold of your hand once again, Bucky brushed his thumb soothingly over the back, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you intently.

Despite your curt nod, you found yourself avoiding his gaze once more.

“I know it’s hard sweetheart but I really need you to say something. Need to make sure you’re okay. Can you do that for me?” Bucky’s voice was filled with gentleness, patience, and genuine concern, causing a lump to form in your throat.

Taking a deep breath, you mustered the strength to look at him again, your eyes glazed from the overwhelming emotions consuming you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Bucky heard you.

He squeezed your hand lightly and rubbed his other hand along your upper arm. “No need to thank me, sweetheart! I’m glad I was there!”

“Me too,” you found yourself saying, unable to hold back the gratitude flooding your heart. It was a miracle that Bucky showed up at the right moment, and you will forever be grateful for his intervention. The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been there sent a shiver down your spine.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he watched you with such fondness and adoration, your knees grew weak. You even managed to muster a small smile in return.

You took a deep, shuddering breath in, feeling the awkwardness settling in as you realized you had never been that close to Bucky before. Although you felt surprisingly grounded in his presence, you couldn’t shake the discomfort of the situation.

Releasing his hand, you rubbed your forehead, avoiding his gaze as you tried to find the right words. “Uhm...thank you, Bucky, really, but I think I’m just gonna…,” you trailed off, gesturing towards the bus stop in the near distance.

“Woah hold on now doll! I’m not gonna let you go home alone!” Bucky protested, shaking his head.

“It’s fine Barnes really! I’m just gonna call Wanda or Pietro. Surely one of them can come pick me up,” you didn’t really consider calling them but you’d feel bad for inconveniencing Bucky when he would be at his flat in a few minutes himself.

But Bucky was determined.

“No need to call them. I’ll drive you! Sam has a car and we’re just, like, two minutes away,” he pleaded, gaze so intense, almost forcing you to look away.

You sighed, feeling torn. “That’s really nice but I don’t wanna bother you furthermo-”

“Y/n you’re not bothering me! Never! Now please let me do this. Let me take you home,” he interrupted gently but firmly, his grip on your elbow a reassuring presence. You tried to conceal your lingering stress, but nothing could hide it from him.

“I-I can’t ask you to do that,” you murmured, your eyes shifting.

“I’m the one asking sweetheart. Please let me drive you home.” His eyes were hard to discern in the dim light, but the sincerity and concern in his voice were unmistakable.

With a sigh and a final look at the bus stop, you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered.

A smile spread on Bucky's face and he gently turned the hand on your elbow to the small of your back to lead you to the flat house.

As you approached the building, you recognized it from the brief time you spent at the party. However, without the thumping bass, overpowering smell of alcohol, and chaotic atmosphere, the place appeared surprisingly cozy in the dim light

Never once leaving contact with your back he guided you to a room at the end of the hallway. He knocked on the door softly.

“Took your sweet time man-” a guy - Sam, you assumed him to be - standing in the doorframe, stopped talking upon noticing you. A slow smile curled upon his lips. “Can see why.”

“It’s not how it looks like,” Bucky hissed quickly, talking through his teeth. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Sure, man,” confirmed Sam, reaching for a key from a hook beside the door. “Don’t be too late for class tomorrow,” he added with a wink.

A lump formed in your throat as you grappled with your thoughts. It was natural to assume Bucky would have certain expectations given his reputation. After all, he was known for his past behavior of sleeping around. The transformation he seemingly went through couldn’t happen overnight, after all.

You found it hard to believe that Bucky would take advantage of your vulnerability, especially considering how he came to your rescue during the unsettling encounter just moments before. Yet, despite this reassurance, your mind continued to wrestle with uncertainty, plagued by lingering doubts and fears.

Bucky could feel you tense beside him and shot daggers at Sam even when said guy already disappeared behind the door.

As he walked you to Sam’s car, Bucky held the door open for you, guiding you inside with gentle reassurance. Determined not to leave you alone for too long, he rushed around the front of the car to take the driver’s seat.

During the drive, silence filled the car as you tried to calm your breathing, focusing on the passing scenery outside the window. Your efforts to quell your anxiety were hardly manageable, due to the bouncing of your leg and your trembling hands, fiddling with the fabric of your jacket.

Bucky discreetly stole glances at you as he drove, noticing your nervousness.

15 minutes of driving later, Bucky came to a halt in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled yourself and before you realized what was going on Bucky opened the door at your side. You didn’t even notice him getting out of the car.

Feeling weak in your knees you got out of the car. Bucky walked you to your door, hands held by his side in case you needed him and his presence offered you a sense of comfort. As you came to a halt in front of your door, you turned your body to him, trying to muster up a smile. You attempted to convey your gratitude although that unease still lingered in your bones.

“Thank you, Barnes! For everything!”

“No need to thank me, Y/n. I’m glad I could help. Will you be okay though?” His concern was genuine, struggling to leave your side.

He looked so hesitant to leave you, it would have been adorable in other circumstances. You felt guilty for entertaining the thought he would take advantage of your situation. You even believed he would be relieved if you asked him to stay with you. You had to admit, the comfort his presence gave you was easing your anxiety, though you couldn’t ask him to stay.

You conjured up a smile. “I’ll be fine,” you assured him, unlocking your door. Bucky stayed rooted on the spot, returning an unsure smile, looking torn. “I’m gonna be okay, really! Get home safe, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, evading his eyes for a moment and taking a reluctant step backward, but he remained turned to you. After exchanging a quick goodbye you disappeared behind your door.

Bucky watched you climb the stairs through the small window in the door, his gaze unwavering even as the hallway inside turned dark again. He remained rooted outside, his thoughts consumed by concern for your well-being.

Bucky couldn’t shake the desire to talk to you again, especially since that night at the party. He tried so hard to muster up the courage, never having a problem in that department before, but he was a nervous wreck. Now, in an unexpected turn of events he did get to talk to you again, however, he despised how it had unfolded. Seeing you struggle to hold back tears, desperately trying not to break down in front of him, pained him deeply. It hurt to witness your shock, pleading with you to snap out of your state.

The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t returned, if he hadn’t forgotten his notebook, made him feel sick to his stomach. The mere idea of leaving you to face that situation alone was unbearable to him. Now leaving you alone so shaken felt inherently wrong in any sense, but he acknowledged he didn’t know you well enough to override your request that you would be fine. His instincts urged him to stay but he had to respect your words and your space.

Bucky seethed at the thought of Sam insinuating that he would use you in such a way. Sure, Sam didn’t know what happened to you and it wasn’t his fault Bucky had a reputation like that, but somehow it made him angry. You meant more to him than that. The mere suggestion of exploiting you for his own gain left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he silently vowed to prove Sam wrong by showing you the genuine depth of his feelings and intentions.

Girls constantly approached Bucky, attempting to touch him in the hallways or slipping their phone numbers into his locker, backpack, or books. Just the other day, a particularly bold girl even tried to write her number on his hand. Although she didn’t succeed, Bucky found himself standing in front of the sink for a while, scrubbing at his hand to erase any trace of her advances.

Bucky knew that he was viewed as nothing more than a means for physical pleasure. And he was okay with that, for an embarrassingly long time. The idea of being in a committed relationship and facing the responsibilities that came with it used to repulse him. His desires were simple - a brief encounter with no strings attached, followed by a swift departure, leaving no room for emotional entanglements. At a certain time, one smirk of a pretty girl was enough to jump into bed with her.

You were pretty too. Beautiful even. He acknowledged that day one. But never did he consider reducing you to a mere physical encounter. He noticed you in the hallways and felt intrigued, contemplating flirting with you just like he did with all the other girls. However, there was something different about you. He felt nervous around you, realizing that he cared about your opinion of him more than he cared to admit. He was strangely exhilarated at finding out you would share a class in second semester, trying to find a way to build some kind of connection with you.

That night, as you expressed your disinterest in frat parties, he felt the pull you had on him, without even knowing you well. The alcohol at the party suddenly tasted sour, the air felt stifling, the crowd too dense, the music too deafening, and the girls vying for his attention became an unwelcome intrusion. Their advances left him feeling an overwhelming sense of distress.

He found himself longing to leave his old reputation behind. He wanted something meaningful, something real, and the only person he could imagine it being with was you.

But right now?

Bucky’s heart sank as he got back to Sam’s car, feeling the strong urge to stay with you and ensure your safety. Sitting in front of the steering wheel and staring at your building, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be by your side.

You got stuck in your head after examining your bruised wrists and trying to cool down the swelling with an ice pack. Before your panic attack rendered you useless to do anything you managed to call Wanda and she talked you through it. You stayed on the phone with her until you fell asleep.

****

As you woke up, a familiar sense of unease settled over you, accompanied by trembling hands and a racing heart. The thought of facing another day filled with potential triggers made you hesitate. You did want to attend class, unfortunately though the looming threat of another panic attack weighed heavily on your mind. With a sigh, you made the decision to prioritize your well-being and called in sick, sending a text to Wanda to let her know.

As said girl joined you later, bearing notes and takeout, you found solace in her company on your small couch, eating and talking.

“So uhm,” Wanda began, seemingly nonchalant, but you knew her better than that, ears perking up. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you but after Science class, I met Bucky waiting outside the hall. He was looking for you.”

Your chewing slowed as you processed her words, eyebrows knitting together, looking at her.

“He came up to me, to ask where you were and if you were okay.”

You swallowed, a wave of panic surged within you. “You didn’t tell him-”

“No! No, of course not,” she interjected you hastily, words tumbling over each other in her haste to reassure you. “I just told him you weren’t feeling well and called in sick but I don’t think he really bought that.” Her smile was sympathetic.

Your appetite forgotten you let your fork clatter into the plastic container, your forehead finding its way to the backside of the couch with a groan of frustration.

Wanda’s light chuckle broke through your troubled thoughts. “He also asked me for your number,” she revealed, her tone surprisingly casual given the weight of her words.

“What?” Your head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Didn’t give it to him, don’t worry, though I kinda felt bad for the guy. He looked miserable.” Her voice tinged with sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Gratitude mingled with apprehension as you recalled Bucky’s unexpected kindness during yesterday’s ordeal. You remembered how his proximity seemed to ground you, warmth spreading through your body at the comfort he provided. You could still feel the lingering sensation of his hand on your back, even a day later. And yet, the intensity of those feelings scared you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls you had built around your heart.

“Hey,” Wanda called out softly, her words carrying a gentle insistence. “He genuinely seemed worried. And I’m not trying to get you to befriend him or whatever but…he really is a nice guy, Y/n.”

Your gaze was fixed on Wanda, contemplation furrowing your brow.

“Listen, I don’t know what your problem is with Bucky, but-” she gave you a careful glance, “-if I’m being honest, I don’t think you know it either sweetie.”

Wanda’s words resonated with a truth you had been reluctant to acknowledge. Bucky’s genuine concern had managed to pierce through the barriers you had erected, leaving you grappling with conflicting emotions. Why did you hold onto this grudge so tightly? Was it merely a shield against vulnerability?

As you reflected on Bucky’s actions, a sense of clarity washed over you. There was truly no valid reason to hold onto the grudge you had harbored against him. He truly had consistently shown kindness and concern towards you.

Recalling the instances where he had gone out of his way to make you comfortable, a wave of gratitude washed over you. From saving you a seat in class to rescuing you from a precarious situation with a homeless man to checking in on your well-being through Wanda, Bucky had proven himself to be a decent and caring person.

With a newfound perspective, you realized that perhaps it was time to give him a change.

****

The bus was late, as usual. Today, though, you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Your mind was still swirling with thoughts, and fatigue weighed heavily on you.

Wanda saved you a seat in class, checking in on you again and although you felt way better than yesterday, you couldn’t concentrate. The voice of your professor was merely a blurred murmur in the back of your mind.

With some time to kill before your next class, you and Wanda decided to grab a coffee. However, you barely made it out of your lecture hall before hearing your name called.

Heaving a sigh, you turned around and came face to face with an approaching Bucky.

He came to a halt, looking a little sheepish now that he was standing in front of you. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his hair a little disheveled, he cleared his throat, seemingly unsure of where to begin.

“I’ll head out already, Y/n. Take your time.” Wanda spoke up, giving you a quick hug before passing by Bucky and throwing you a wink over her shoulder.

Bucky cleared his throat again, shuffling on his feet a little before meeting your eyes. “So, uhm, are you okay?”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, touched by his concern. “I’m fine,” you assured him, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you, again!” You added quietly.

He waved away your gratitude with a casual gesture. “No need to thank me doll. I’m glad I could help.”

He smiled softly, biting his lip, though there was a hint of something more in his expression. Sensing he still had something on his mind, trying to figure out how to say it, you remained silent.

“Listen, uh...,” he began, clenching his jaw and avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to apologize for…well for being pushy about the parties and all. Shouldn’t have bothered you like that.”

You blinked, taken aback by his unexpected apology. “Oh, uhm…it’s okay Barnes, really.”

He shook his head, letting out a breath. “Nah, it’s not. This isn’t your scene, should have respected that.” He opened his mouth again but closed it right after, swallowing.

“Don’t worry about it Barnes, it’s alright, seriously.” A tinge of disappointment lingered within you. The realization hit you, that without his invitations to parties, he might not seek you out as often. He only ever did, when asking you to come to his parties. So it would mean he might not annoyingly interrupt you in class, or approach you on campus anymore. You scolded yourself for feeling that way but you somehow didn’t want to lose that.

Needing to take hold of your thoughts, you wanted to get away from here. Your lips curled in a smile. “Alright, uhm, Wanda’s probably waiting for me so-” You were about to turn away but Bucky called your name again.

“Hey, uh-” he seemed nervous, his voice wavering slightly and he cleared his throat, a hand coming up to run through his hair. “You could always come to me - I mean, the frat - when you’re here late. I can always drive you again. Make sure you get home safe.”

He felt bad for bringing up the topic again, but he wanted you to know that he genuinely cared and would feel better if you reached out to him. He would gladly drive you home again, hoping you’d consider taking him up on his offer.

Surprised once more, you blinked at him, processing his offer. You mustered up a smile. “That’s nice, really Barnes, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well, just know that I’ll be there if you change your mind,” Bucky replied, his tone sincere, expression soft.

You smiled again, nodded, and bid him goodbye.

Reflecting on the interaction, you couldn’t help but agree with Wanda. Bucky Barnes was a decent guy, held back by his reputation.

****

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the library, casting warm beams that danced upon the wooden tables and bookshelves. It was a stark contrast to the earlier rain, which had cloaked the world outside in a shroud of grey.

The faint whispers of fellow students, the gentle rustle of pages, and the occasional creak of wooden chairs created a soothing ambiance while you browsed through your textbook.

A groan from beside you, however, interrupted that. You lifted your head, diverting your attention to your friend sitting beside you.

“Why is all the information so scattered? Can’t find shit for this stupid paper.” Wanda exclaimed, her brow furrowed in frustration as she stared at her laptop screen.

As you chuckled and leaned in to help Wanda navigate through the vast sea of information on the internet, a sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to instinctively turn your head towards the entrance of the library. In walked Bucky, accompanied by the familiar figure of Sam. You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.

In the two weeks since your conversation, there had been a palpable change in the air whenever Bucky and you crossed paths. And that was a lot. You haven’t necessarily exchanged words but you grew more enthusiastic when seeing him, sending a smile his way, which he reciprocated immediately.

You were sitting in a café last week, nursing a latte, while having light conversation with Wanda and Pietro, as you recognized Bucky standing at the counter. Without thinking you lifted your hand and waved at him when he looked in your direction. His face lit up, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiled and eagerly waved back. He seemed to contemplate walking over to you, your hopes rising for a second, but his name called by the barista snapped his head away from you. After getting his coffee he sent another smile your way but left the café. Wanda and Pietro wasted no time in teasing you mercilessly after he was out of sight. The blush on your cheeks evidence of your embarrassment.

“God, this is getting ridiculous,” Wanda scoffed, amusement lacing her features. You turned to her, a hint of confusion littering your features, oblivious to what she was referring to. She nodded subtly to the side, her attention still fixed on her laptop screen. Following her nod, you spotted Bucky and Sam standing in the near distance, both seemingly focused in your direction.

Sam's face lit up with a mischievous grin and he started walking toward you girls, clapping Bucky on the back. Bucky looked visibly distressed, running a hand through his hair, before following behind.

Sam took a seat in front of Wanda and you, his toothy smile lighting up his face. “Ladies,” he acknowledged playfully.

Wanda laughed, continuing to type on her laptop. “What do you want Wilson?” she asked teasingly.

Sam leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Just wanted to say hi,” he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Bucky took a seat next to Sam, looking a little awkward. He shuffled a little, leaning his elbows onto the table.

“Well hi, then,” Wanda said, finally looking up.

As Sam and Wanda dove into a discussion about their research papers, exchanging ideas and sharing insights, Bucky and you found yourselves stealing glances at each other.

There was a warmth in Bucky’s eyes, a softness you still were trying to get accustomed to. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, you didn’t even try to suppress.

Bucky cleared his throat, looking solely at you. “What’s your paper about?” he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with curiosity.

You smiled, grateful for the new opportunity to engage him in conversation. “I’m researching the impact of technology on interpersonal relationships,” you replied, the initial awkwardness fading away.

Bucky nodded, his interest piqued. With that you delved into a light conversation, discussing your topic in more detail, diving into the various aspects you were exploring and the questions you hoped to answer. Bucky’s gaze never wavered, his attention fully captivated by your words. You noticed that whenever you tried to turn the conversation back to him, Bucky seemed more interested in talking about you.

As the conversation between Bucky and you flowed effortlessly, you found yourselves delving into deeper topics. Bucky’s genuine curiosity about you as a person was evident, and you felt a surge of warmth spreading throughout your body at his interest in getting to know you better. He asked about your hobbies, your favorite books, your dreams for the future - anything and everything he could think of to get to know you better. A spark elicited in Bucky’s eyes at some point, as if he found something in your words that resonated with him on a deeper level.

It felt like you talked to Bucky for hours though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour. The presence of Wanda and Sam had long faded into the background, as Bucky and you connected. To your disappointment, Sam and Bucky had another class and bid you girls goodbye, wishing you good luck with your papers furthermore.

Wanda held her mouth after they left but the knowing smirk in her glance spoke volumes.

****

Weeks passed in a blissful blur. Your encounters with Bucky on campus evolved into something more than just brief exchanges. Conversations became the norm, each one stretching longer than the last, until you found yourself losing track of time altogether, arriving late to class oftentimes. Whenever your schedules allowed it, Wanda and you would meet up with Bucky and Sam to grab some coffee.

The soft smiles filled with adoration that Bucky sent your way didn’t go unnoticed, even when he thought you weren’t looking. You also noticed the little gestures, the quick hugs, he never seemed to pull away from fist, the hover of his hand over your back when walking around campus with you. He pulled you closer to his side a few days ago, his hand gently gripping the sleeve of your jacket as you navigated through the crowded hallway. Your heart skipped a beat at that.

And then there were moments when he seemed on the verge of saying something before parting ways, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak his mind, but then thinking better of it and closing his mouth with a clear of his throat and a hand running through his brown locks. His former cockiness seemed to have given way to a newfound shyness. He was holding back, afraid to cross some invisible line but you didn’t know how to approach him on that.

You also didn’t know if you eventually could cross a line at this moment. Darkness enveloped the campus, casting eerie shadows that danced in the dim light of the flickering lampposts. Wanda and Pietro were out of town and you decided to stay a little longer and finish up your notes. A bad move on your part.

The once bustling grounds now lay deserted, devoid of the usual throngs of students. A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at you with every step. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind or the distant hum of a passing car. Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden threat, every rustle of the wind a whisper of danger.

You were thinking about the offer Bucky had made you a few weeks ago to go by his flat and let him drive you home again. You considered going to him but although he had made you that offer you didn’t want to inconvenience him. And just walking to his flat and asking him to drive you home? It seemed weird. But as your anxiety intensified and your hands started to tremble, you found yourself walking towards his flat on autopilot. The memory of your previous panic attack loomed large in your mind, threatening to engulf you once again.

There was a guy standing in the doorway with a cigarette in hand. You were approaching cautiously, not sure if this was a good idea.

“Hey, you lost?”

The sound of the stranger’s voice jolted you out of your anxious reverie, pulling you back to the present, momentarily breaking the spell of fear that had gripped you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you responded. “Uhm, actually I wanted...to Bucky.” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the uncertainty that still lingered within you.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, eyeing you curiously as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Huh,” he muttered, looking you up and down. “Guy hasn’t had a girl over in weeks.”

You cleared your throat, too caught up in your own anxious thoughts to care about the stranger’s assumptions.

“Well, is he here?”

He nodded, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Up the stairs, last door to the left,” he replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the staircase.

With a weak “thank you” you stepped past him and walked up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stood in front of his door, staring at it long enough to notice the cracks in the woods, marring it’s surface, splinters standing out. Your lip was held in a death grip, teeth biting down on it. With a hesitant breath, you finally mustered up the courage to give the door a soft knock, the sound echoing faintly in the empty hallway. As you withdrew your hand you hid the shakiness in the folds of your sleeves.

There was a groan on the other side of the door, as response to your knock. A lump burned in your throat and you played with the thought to just bold out of that house again when you heard the doorknob turning.

“Sam, come on man-” Bucky stopped talking abruptly upon seeing you. His eyes grew wide, eyebrows shooting up, surprise clear as day upon his face.

“Y/n? I-Wow, uh, I didn’t expect you here,” Bucky stammered, shuffling on his feet with his hand running through his disheveled hair in a futile attempt to compose himself. If your mind wouldn’t have been occupied with other things right now you would have found him adorable with his crinkled shirt loosely hugging his frame and hanging over some dark sweatpants, his unruly hair and flushed cheeks. But all you could do was swallow that burning sensation in your throat.

“Uhm,” you choked out, looking at you feet. “I-I’m sorry for bothering you, I just…I didn’t-”

“Hey, hey, doll, it’s alright,” he met you in the hallway, a hand coming up to your upper arm in a sense of urgency. He hooked his finger under your chin to lift your head. You met his eyes, your heart leaving your chest altogether. His face was twisted in worry, brows furrowed deeply, eyes so focused on you, the intensity of it washed over you like a wave. Your breaths still came in too elated, heart beating erratically. “Take some deep breaths for me sweetheart, follow my lead, come on.” He urged you softly.

With Bucky’s guidance, you focused on your breathing, drawing in slow, steady inhalations and exhaling the tension that had taken hold of your body. His thumb continued to trace soothing circles on his skin. As you followed Bucky’s lead, the erratic beat of your heart gradually slowed to a more steady rhythm.

“Atta girl, that’s it!” he whispered, rubbing his other hand up and down your arm. He nodded at you to keep breathing, eyes so intense it was the only thing you could focus on.

Standing directly in front of you and focusing on your eyes, he let your chin up to gently grab your other arm. “You wanna tell me what happened?” His low and gentle tone soothing you.

You took a deep breath, feeling ridiculous out of a sudden to stand here and burden him. “I-My bus didn’t come and-and I don’t know, I got scared I guess and…God I’m sorry Bucky I shouldn’t have come I-”

“Hold on a sec doll,” he interjected, brows pulled together further, concern dripping from his words. “You stayed on campus until now?” A confirming but weak nod of you let Bucky heave a breath. “There’s no need to apologize, sweetheart, I told you you could come, didn’t I? And god help me, I’m glad you did.”

He looked pained to some extent, but mustered up a warm smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes still shifting with uncertainty and your hands were still secured in your sleeves, the nagging thought that you were burdening him still lingering at the back of your mind. Your tense posture didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky and he pulled you in his embrace, engulfing you in a warm hug. He never hugged you like that before but with the way his arms around you tightened and he leaned his head against yours, he supposedly wanted to.

As Bucky held you close, his warm breath tickling your ear and sending shivers down your spine, he whispered words of comfort and reassurance that washed over you like a gentle breeze. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, all you could do was melt into his embrace and let the soothing cadence of his voice and the tenderness in his touch ease the knots of anxiety that had gripped your chest.

Bucky withdrew slightly to look at you again, his gaze filled with affection and tenderness. “You want me to drive you home, doll?” he whispered, maintaining the close proximity you two harbored.

As you pondered his question, conflicted emotions swirled within you. Initially, you had sought Bucky out precisely for this reason - to ask for a ride home. But now, something had shifted. The idea of being dropped off alone at home felt less appealing. Wanda and Pietro were likely unavailable, and you hesitated to inconvenience anyone else. Yet, the thought of being alone right now was equally unsettling.

Sensing your hesitation, Bucky gently lifted your head again with his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. There was a soft smile you came face to face with. “Sam’s not here for tonight…Do you wanna stay? It’s just us.”

The offer was tempting, but you couldn’t shake the worry of being a bother. “That’s nice Bucky, but I-I don’t want to intrude,” you murmured, matching his quiet tone.

“You’d never intrude, sweetheart! Don’t ever worry about that, alright?” His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you into his room.

You settled on his bed as he led you there and couldn’t help but steal a glance around the room. It was surprisingly tidy, save for a small pile of clothes scattered on the floor. Overall, the atmosphere felt organized and put together. Your eyes drifted to his desk - again, neatly arranged - where a framed picture caught your attention. In it was a clearly younger Bucky, with chubby cheeks and a toothy grin. Standing behind him was a man who bore a striking resemblance to him, his father you guessed. A woman was beside him, dark hair in a bun atop her head and a radiant smile, presumably his mother. Cradled in the woman’s arms was a little girl, short brunette hair a little disheveled, and with a pacifier in her mouth but a joyful grin on her face.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight of his family. While Bucky had mentioned having a sister during your conversation in the library a few weeks ago, he had never shown you pictures before.

Bucky entered your field of vision, settling down beside you with a glass of water in hand. He held it out to you and you thanked him gratefully, taking a sip.

You felt Bucky shifting beside you, wiping his hands on his sweatpants, betraying his nervousness. “Do you-” His voice was raspy and he cleared his throat, starting again, “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

You huffed out a laugh, throwing him a grateful smile. “I’m good, Bucky, thank you!”

A hesitant hand came to rest on your knee. “You let me know if there’s something, alright?”

“Will do, Buck!”

He gave you a look. “I mean it, doll!”

You chuckled, being surprised by how easily Bucky managed to ground you, getting you out of your nervous spiraling. “I know, Barnes.”

Bucky watched you, own lips curled in a soft smile. You returned his gaze, warmth spreading through you at the sparkle in his eyes. His hand remained secure on your knee, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your jeans, a gesture that made you yearn for his touch on your skin instead. The amount of adoration twinkling in his gaze made you weak. Seconds ticked by and you still were looking at each other. There was something in his blue speckles that couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else. A magnetic pull you were drawn to, holding you captive. You noticed his blues flicker down to your lips for a brief moment, and in response, your own eyes permitted themselves to wander to his. The movement of his thumb stilled on your leg, his hand laying flat and you could feel him leaning in.

Bucky often found himself lost in thoughts about kissing you. When the urge washed over him he imagined leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. But he had always held back, hesitant to take that final step without knowing if you wanted it too.

One time, when you two were walking together through campus, the wind was relentless, whipping your hair around your face as you tried in vain to tame it. Despite your efforts though, the wind was hard to go against and after the fifth failed attempt at trying to tame your hair, you started laughing, Bucky joining in. As he watched you, your hair obscuring your view, he couldn’t help the warmth swelling in his heart, the fondness that made his smile ache in his cheeks at the sight of your laughter. He found himself wishing to pull you close, to gently brush the strands of hair away from your face, and to kiss you with all the pent-up longing he felt. In that moment, all he wanted was to express the depth of his feelings for you in a kiss that would leave you breathless.

He often daydreamed about kissing you in the library. Surrounded by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows, you sat immersed in your studies, your face illuminated by the gentle light. You looked so beautiful, all he could do was admire you. If only you had lifted your head from your notebook, you would have seen the adoring smile that graced his lips. He longed to express his affection for you in the form of a tender kiss, holding you close and sharing a moment of intimacy amidst the quiet serenity of the library. But he couldn’t do that, so he took the chance and admired you from afar.

But the one time he almost really did it was the time you called him ‘Bucky’ for the first time.

You sit in your usual café, nursing a large cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting up to greet you with each sip. Bucky is seated in front of you, idly fiddling with the sugar packages stored in a box on the table. Your notebook lies open in front of you, pages filled with scribbled notes from your recent class.

After class, Bucky had caught up with you, asking what you were up to. You had mentioned grabbing a coffee and finishing up some notes, and he had decided to tag along. However, as you now sit together in the cozy café, it seems Bucky isn’t entirely pleased with the lack of attention you’re giving him, his relentlessness evident as he fidgets with the sugar packets in front of him.

He grumpily rearranges the sugar packages for the fourth time, his irritation palpable as you remain engrossed in your writing. You hear the crinkle of a sugar packet being opened.

“I don’t need any more sugar in my coffee, Barnes,” you warn him teasingly, without lifting your head from your notebook.

“Everyone needs a little sweetness in their life, doll!” he retorts with a knowing grin, tossing you a wink as you glance back at him. With a mischievous smirk, he lets the sugar cascade into your cup.

“Whatever you say,” you reply with a laugh in your breath, shaking your head in amusement before returning your focus to your notes.

You hear him open another package and let out a sigh. “You better not do that,” you warn again, eyes not lifting.

Another rip of a sugar packet catches your attention, and you perk up to see Bucky holding both open packages over your cup, letting the sugar pour in.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, the volume of your voice drawing glances from other café patrons, but you’re too focused on the playful banter to acknowledge them. “God, I can’t believe you did that,” you groan, pulling your cup closer to your side, in mock exasperation.

As your gaze locks with his, you’re prepared to scold him further but the look on his face catches you off guard. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, morphing into a beaming smile, white teeth on display.

Your eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“Thought I’d never get to hear you say it, doll,” Bucky laughs out, eyes sparking.

“What did I say?” you ask, puzzled by his reaction.

He leans forward, elbows resting on the table while his eyes remain fixed on you. That beaming smile is still plastered on his face, and his blue orbs seem to glow with amusement, sparking brighter than usual.

“You called me Bucky,” he points out, his voice tings with delight.

You took a deep breath in, regretting your slip-up. “Shit, I guess I did.”

Bucky now crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the back of his seat. He doesn’t seem able to stop the smile on his face. “If all it took was to annoy you then Imma keep doing that from now on,” he declared with a playful glint in his eyes.

Head in your hands you let out a groan. Bucky barks out a laugh in front of you and you reluctantly lift your head to look at him. You point a finger at him. “I’ll keep calling you Bucky, if you stop being annoying!” you propose, trying to stay serious but not being able to stop the corners of your mouth from lifting.

“Can’t say no to that,” Bucky conceded, smile growing fond, affection radiating from him in waves.

He never stopped annoying you but you kept calling him Bucky.

But now, as he sat in front of you, his hand resting on your leg, Bucky felt the familiar urge resurface. You were in his room, smiling at him, looking so beautiful, it took his breath away. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire, he knew he would never take that final step without your explicit consent, considering the circumstances you were here right now. Your state earlier left him uneasy and a nagging guilt was gnawing within him, thinking about that night he had driven you home and then left you alone that shaken. So he needed you to want this, to be sure you were okay. He felt sick at the thought of taking advantage of you in any way.

Thus, he did lean in but didn’t go further than a few inches, giving you the opportunity to make the next move or the space to show him you weren’t ready for that.

Your eyes darted to his lips once more, leaning in yourself. Your foreheads touched after some moments, noses brushing and you saw Bucky’s eyes flutter close, still not moving further. You took a few seconds before closing the gap and pressing your lips to his. Bucky let out a breath through his nose, slowly moving his lips in sync with yours. Again, he let you lead the kiss. His other hand made his way up to your face, the gentle touch of his fingertips brushing over your skin before tenderly cradling your cheek.

Eventually, you pulled away, opening your eyes but staying close to his face. Your hazy smile mirrored his, and he pulled your head back slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking back at you, fondness clear on his features. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers still caressing your cheek as his intense eyes locked on yours.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you held his gaze. “Yeah.”

After a few tender moments of loving touches and whispered assurances, Bucky handed you a change of clothes and let you use the bathroom.

Emerging from the bathroom, you were now dressed in a pair of his black shorts and a shirt, the fabric enveloping you in Bucky’s comforting scent. It made your stomach do flips, feeling at ease. A soft smile graced your lips as you took in the familiar aroma.

“I got another blanket, in case you got cold…,” he trailed off as he caught sight of you. His eyes swept up and down your figure, admiring how his clothes draped over your form. Though you couldn’t quite read his expression, the slight blush coloring his cheeks was enough to make you smile sheepishly in response. Bucky cleared his throat - he did that a lot around you - and turned away a little, composing himself.

There wasn’t much space in his bed you recognized as you settled in, but somehow you didn’t mind that much. Bucky sat down on the bed, looking troubled.

“Buck? Something wrong?”

Bucky took a breath, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he breathed out, an inner turmoil in his eyes, “I just…I can sleep in Sams’ bed. Maybe tha-”

“Hey,” you interrupted him softly, “I don’t mind Bucky, really! We can share.” He didn’t look convinced so you sat up straighter and heaved a breath, trying again. “And it would make me feel better,” you admitted quietly.

That did him in, breathing out a sigh and settling in beside you. Though he relented, he still was tense beside you, his muscles stiff. His shoulders were touching yours, so he felt you starting to shiver a little. His head snapped to you in an instant.

“Are you cold? Let me get another blan-” Bucky began, already halfway off the bed before you interrupted him once more.

“Hold on! I…uhm,” you hesitated, searching for the right words to express your request, “Could you maybe…cuddle me?” You fiddled with your fingers, a little nervous about how he would react.

To your relief, you heard him shuffle towards you, and soon you felt his arm wrapping around you. You smiled and turned, positioning your back against his chest. His other arm moved hesitantly under your pillow, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. With Bucky’s presence surrounding you, you felt a sense of security wash over you, easing any lingering nerves.

“Like that?” he breathed in your hair, a whisper so full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you breathed back, a sense of gratitude washing over you, “Thank you!” It wasn’t just a thank you for holding you in that moment; it was a thank you for everything he had done for you. It was a thank you for pulling you out of your anxiety - for saving you from a panic attack you surely would have endured if it wasn’t for him. It was a thank you for him offering his comfort and support in so many ways. And it was a thank you for inviting you to his many parties because although you never really went, it was the foundation of your current relationship.

And he knew. He knew the depth of your gratitude, the depth of your feelings. Because he had learned to read and understand you. Because he had learned to love you. And he would tell you when he thought you were ready to hear it. For now, all he could do was hold you close, squeeze you just a little tighter, and silently convey his unwavering support and profound affection.

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