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thevillainswhore · 23 days

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A Forbidden Invitation

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

Word Count: 11.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. The puppy eyes.

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

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

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

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

“Becca!”

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

“He invited me?” you asked, surprised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You did do anything he asked.

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

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

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

You were aching for him.

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

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

“Babe!”

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

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

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

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

Had a three hour drive really gone by that fast?

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

Who the fuck was this girl?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

J.B.B.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see you’re working hard.”

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

The sight was a difficult one to swallow.

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky,” he corrected gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For once you weren’t thinking of Rebecca.

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

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

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

“Dad! Where are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You so desperately wanted to feel special.

Just like he made you feel back in the summer.

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

You were so fucking tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes! Please!” you cried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, what?”

You hiccuped. “Yes, D—Daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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fudgecake-charlie · 4 months

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"They think I’m the least dangerous person in this car, do they? Well, they’re about to learn very differently."

Decided to redraw a moment from On the Getaway Mile by Odaigahara on AO3/ @droidofmay !

This may have taken a ridiculous amount of hours condensed into a few days and I went through it drawing cars and car interiors, but this was an absolute blast to do :D I hope I've done the fic sort of justice.

Process shots and long comparison rambles under the cut!

Welcome to my secret lair!!

I spent roughly... 18 hours working on this, the majority during this week and over the past three days, so I need to share my toils with people <3

Character/car references and page thumbnails! Featuring an incorrect scene placement and bad camera position. I reread the scene and placed it properly in the actual page. I hate drawing cars!! I was actually the most worried about panel placement when I started this— I was a guy who only did non narrative/illustrative panel pages and layout-less comics, but it wasn't that bad with a script! I could separate beats into panels, note which panels should be emphasised/larger, and assembled that into a page.

If you compare the fic with this comic, you can see how much dialogue I edited and moments I cut out. I couldn't fit it all on without having to draw even more pages, I wish I could though! Poor Mumbo only gets one line here. I'm so sorry my darling man <3 I also gave him a slight cyborg design because his implants are really important for his character and I needed some way to visually show that, even if it's not canon/mentioned.

The colouring method for this was really fun! It's similar to my aggie rainbow painting method but with less steps, hence narrow value range. It looks pretty and gets the vibe across well though.

Rapid fire points!

I was planning to do 3 different fic comics! Not anymore!!!

This is absolutely for the hotguy comic zine applications. <3 "Can I try rizzing you up // PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE" /ref

I drew page 2 first, then 3, then 1. I think you can tell!

Mumbo is sitting on the wrong side and should have his seatbelt on. He's also not carrying the stolen laptop as described.

It's explicitly noted that Mumbo cannot scan Grian like he can with Scar. Whoops!

Transmissions from the Foundation are via Mumbo and Scar's implants, but I couldn't think of a good way to portray that.

Despite guns and weapons being mentioned, I somehow didn't get the opportunity to draw a single one.

I love hand lettering. I also hate it! I will continue to do it.

Here are the no colour pages as a thank you for scrolling <3

#goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #superhero au #I don't know what the typical cw tags are for no casualty car incidents but let me know and I'll tag it #same with the hostage mentions #cw gun mention #art out the oven #[scheduled]#with all my heart pls reblog if you can bcs i spent so long on this 🥺

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propertyofwicked · 27 days

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speed demon - LN

warnings: speeding + dangerous driving, references to sex

short fluff :) fewtrell!reader -> can be read as a stand alone or an extra to the secrets series!

my take on a BTS of the quadrant athletes video with willne and bambinobecky :) p.s hey caitlin i know ur reading this

lando’s girlfriend was a concerning driver. growing up in the english country side, especially with her racing-mad brother max, she became very accustomed to driving at insane speeds down backroads, learning where the swerve potholes and where all the cameras were. honestly, put her in an f1 car with a good song and watch max verstappen crumble.

her brother and his friend could speed around race tracks, y/n preferred real roads.

the only flaw in her driving ability arose when lando, who notoriously hates being a passenger, sat to her left, gripping any hard surface he could as his girlfriend threw her car around a corner.

“y/n, angel, you know i love you - but why do you drive like you had somewhere to be 10 minutes ago?”

“this is a good song,” she answered with a shrug, which only confused him further, yet she slowed down, glancing at the man besides her, “it’s got a good bassline. you literally drive at like 200 miles an hour and yet you’re getting stressed about me going 80 on an empty road?”

“the difference between you and me is that i wear a helmet when i drive that fast.”

“no one is stopping you from putting a helmet on in my car, lan.”

“erm, i think the national speed sign meaning 60mph should be enough that i shouldn’t need to wear a helmet in your car y/n.”

“god you’re so dramatic, lando - has anyone ever told you that?”

“yes. you. the last time i complained about your driving, you little speed demon,” he said, finally laughing quietly at the situation.

in fact, they were late. they were supposed to be at a quadrant shoot in 10 minutes, but still needed to pick up will and becky from the station near to the warehouse they were filming in. when they finally reached the station, lando jumped out of the car to meet them, leaving y/n to sit in silence, queuing a few songs for the short journey to the shooting location.

“y’alright y/n?” will asked, climibing into the back seat of her car, becky climbing in from the other side.

“i’m good, thank you will. how are you?”

“im good, however i’ll let you know how i feel after ive experienced your driving,” he joked, earning a guilty chuckle from lando who was buckling himself back into the passenger seat. her hand rose, slapping his arm lightly.

“hey! my driving is not that bad.”

“let them find that out for themselves, angel,” he responded, dramatically rubbing his arm, feigning pain. she ignored him, shoving the car into gear before jamming her foot onto the accelerator, the loud engine loud enough to wake the dead.

when they did arrive at the shoot, will had gone silent, his face paler than usual. becky was still smiling and chatting, but her face conveyed the same level of fear as wills. the group of them walked into the warehouse, where max was already waiting.

y/n walked up to max, taking him in a small embrace before stepping back to let him greet the rest of the group.

“will? you good man? you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” max said, taking a step back to look at the man a second time.

“yeah, yeah, im good,” he responded, smiling sheepishly. y/n absentmindedly played with her car keys, the jingling of her key rings raising max’s attention.

“lando let you drive? jesus, no wonder will looks like he needs a fresh pair of trousers,” max laughed, doubling over.

“why does everyone think im such a bad driver? i have not crashed once. never. not a single crash. the same cannot be said for you or lando, max,” she exclaimed, beginning to feel offended at the accusations.

“in all fairness, lando warned me. i thought he was joking when he said she loved the accelerator more than she loves him,” will replied, the colour coming back to his face as he smiled. max shook his head at his sister again, before directing will and becky round to the sofas, running them through the plans for the day.

y/n felt a warm pair of arms snake around her body from behind, lando’s head coming to rest on her shoulder. he turned his head to look at her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

“im not actually a bad driver, am i?” she mumbled to him.

“no angel, people are just jealous of your sheer ability to drive at dangerous speeds and do it safely,” he responded, he meant to be sincere but y/n could feel the sarcastic undertones.

she shook her head at him, pulling away from his embrace, but his hand reached out, latching onto hers, before pulling her back into him. this time her chest melted into his, her head tilting to glance up at him.

“i hate this scarf,” she announced, but stretched her neck up to presses soft kisses along his jaw.

“ouch. why? i like it.”

“’cos it covers your neck. i love your neck,” she said, smiling up at him again.

“i know you do angel. your love for my neck is the reason i have to wear a scarf for the shoot today,” he said, laughing, his hands moving from her back to push loose strands of her behind her ears. a blush rose up her cheeks at the memory of the night before, as her fingers moved to pull the scarf down slightly looking at the bruises beginning to darken on his skin.

she hadn't meant to, but she had found herself on top of him last night, legs straddling him as his pushed up into her. with max only a room over, she needed to find an outlet for the noises she wanted to make and his neck fell victim.

“whoopsies. but im sure the lando girlies would love to see you with hickies.”

“i’m sure they would,” he said, grinning at her still and nodding slightly, “im sure your brother would love it to,” he added sarcastically, glancing over to the man in question who was now handing becky a script.

she tutted in response, pulling his scarf back up to covering his neck. lando’s head tilted down to look at her again, using his hands on her jaw to pull her face up closer to his. his lips pressed soft kisses to her forehead and cheeks before finally planting a soft but quick peck to her lips.

“lando did you want to stop getting it on with my sister and come and do your job?” max bellowed from across the room, pulling the two apart.

lando decided he should probably drive the two of them home that day, and let max take the others back to the station, but the moment the car moved off from where it was parked, he stalled the engine.

"formula 1 driver but can't drive a manual without stalling it. that's embarrassing - now who can't drive?" she joked, laughing at him as he restarted the ignition.

"still you," he replied bluntly, his foot slamming down on the accelerator sending the car flying across the car park.

"please don't destroy my car," she begged quietly at the sound of her engine about to take off, "a man i quite like bought it for me and id hate to make him angry when he has to buy me new tyres."

"ill just buy you another car," he joked as he returned to the speed limit of the road ahead, his hand moving from the gear stick to rest on her thigh, grabbing lightly at it.

"you're not a bad driver, you know that, don't you angel?" he said after a few minutes of silence. he'd admit that she wasn't the best driver, but she was still skilled even if slightly reckless.

"i know," she said, her voice still heavy with the annoyance from everyone's teasing.

"you would be great at karting, you know?"

"stop it - i spent my entire childhood trying to avoid karting please do not bring it into my adulthood," she begged, albeit jokingly.

"why did you avoid it? im sure max would've loved to race with you," lando asked, glancing to his side to look at her face, her head leaning on the door panel.

"it was max's thing, i guess. i didn't want to do what he did. i wanted to be my own person. i still do," she said with a shrug. lando's hand moved from her thigh to grab hers, pulling it up to his face to press a kiss to the back of it.

"i'm glad you're unapologetically you. i don't think i could cope with two max's in my life. or two of you for that matter."

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister

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yasmeensh · 10 months

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A Master Study featuring Zelda II: The Adventure of Link. In which Link hangs out with the two Zeldas post-game (Who do you think became the Queen of Hyrule?)

This was a difficult piece, but I'm happy with it!

Based on 'The Chess Players' by Jacques-Clément Wagrez (1902)

Information on inspiration and process under the cut!

Original piece: "The Chess Players" by Jacques-Clément Wagrez (1846-1908).

The moment I saw this artwork I immediately thought of Zelda II. One of the women is wearing a medieval-esque red velvet dress, and she looks a lot like the design I made for the cursed princess Zelda!

I thought it would be very fitting to reimagine this artwork in a Zelda II context, so I went ahead with it! doubles as a master study and LoZ fanart.

I learnt a LOT from making this piece! Since I worked on it digitally, I got and made brushes that acted as close to traditional brushes, and I also worked on the entire piece in one layer. So whenever I made a mistake, I'd have to paint over. No return. But it was a big learning experience! Learnt more about rendering silk and velvet by observing how they are painted and blended in the original.

Here are some WIP shots! It took a long time to get to where it is now xD It was difficult to finally pen down the right proportions and placement. I probably should've done a grid copy, but I opted to just eyeing it out all the way through. It was... hard. (lesson learnt?)

I read that in a lot of older pieces, they are made in greyscale, then flat colours are overlaid on top. makes rendering much easier. and it truly has! I probably should’ve rendered the greyscale version even more. Since there were still a lot of mistakes that I had to rework and adjust while colouring.

Very fruitful experience overall, and I’m just happy to make a grand-scale Zelda II artwork xD I’ve never seen one so I made it!!!

#please check the cut!!!!#loz #legend of zelda #Zelda 2 #Zelda II #The adventure of link #master study #atelier hylia #shoutout to my atelier hylia friends for their support #this was a difficult one #very glad to have an artist community I can turn to for critiques and support <3 #Jacques-clement wagrez #I should pair this one up with my other zelda 2 master study and sell them as prints huuuhuhuhu #but I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO START #catprint?#if anyone has experience with selling prints dm me ;-;

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 6 months

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rosé | f. odair

(final part of red wine)

part one, part two

summary: in the final part of the red wine series, secrets are revealed, and miscommunication threatens to tear you and finnick apart.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, blood, minor injury, mentions of forced prostitution, swearing,

notes: i’m sorry this took so long to come out y’all. thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this mini fic <3

word count: 4.1k

Finnick believed he had made a lot of smart decisions in his life—like rigging a net made out of vines to ensnare tributes in the arena, accepting secrets as a form of payment from his patrons rather than material goods, and mastering the art of seduction to manipulate his way out of various difficult situations. However, shutting you out was not one of them.

Half an hour had passed since the incident on the staircase landing. He lingered within the mansion’s extravagant walls, where other guests mingled and dined on a range of bizarre delicacies. He couldn’t eat a thing. His stomach churned at the image of your hopeless expression as he walked off. The expression he caused.

It had to be done. That is what he had been telling himself. It had to be done, otherwise, everyone in the Capitol would learn of his feelings for you. Snow would find out and most likely punish you for interfering with the arrangement he had—the sale of his body. And Finnick was very aware of what happened to people who disrupted the president’s plans.

Partygoers would have already begun to spread rumours of the scene in the courtyard. Hopefully, it would just be chalked up to a simple argument between friends. Friends. The label borderline disgusted him. You don’t fall asleep to the thought of someone and think of them the moment you wake up if you’re just friends. Nor do you look for them in every room you walk into.

Even now, Finnick was scanning the lavishly decorated banquet hall for a glimpse of your pure white gown, despite being the one who walked away. It was an instinct at this point. But there was no one in the room wearing white but him; his matching half was still outside, blending in with the winter snow. Or maybe gone home.

One colour did catch his eye though. A vibrant, almost tacky red, worn by a woman who was strutting towards him, her chin held high with pride. Finnick noticed the material of her floor-length gown. Silk. She was wearing your old dress, only the colour was incredibly off, and each hem was lined with red fur, conforming with her implanted whiskers. That was when he realised who the woman was.

Her ensemble was entirely made out of fur that clung to her body, complementing the whiskers that were embedded in her face which made her look feline.

“Where’s your dancing partner tonight?” she asked, her voice low and seductive.

The bright saturation of her dress was almost blinding as she stopped in front of him. He held back a grimace and plastered on a smile even faker than her voice. “She wasn’t up for it this time,” he lied.

“Well, everyone knows she’s out of touch with our way of life,” she said. Finnick ground his jaw, struggling to maintain his façade. Words could not explain how condescending these people were. “This dress is an adaptation of one she wore quite a while ago. Such a plain thing. I only liked the colour and bodice. The only way I could wear it in public was if I spruced it up.”

He thought back to the dress you had worn. Nobody had even come close to how phenomenal you looked. Where others needed extravagance and flounce to stand out, you only needed a simple red dress. Yet here this woman was, thinking she had the audacity to call you plain.

“I noticed. It’s very… striking.”

“Thank you, darling,” she purred. There was a predatory gleam in her eyes, like that of a wild cat about to pounce and devour its meal. “I was waiting for the perfect occasion to wear it.”

His forced smile twitched. “You’re certainly turning heads.”

“Did I turn yours?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Truth be told, Finnick hadn’t even remembered her existence until she walked right up to him. Obviously, he couldn’t tell her that, so he told her that she did. For a long period of time, they bounced back and forth, complimenting and flirting with each other, never dipping below the surface into a real conversation. Not that he wanted to anyway. Not with her. The only person he longed to conversate with was now out of reach.

The woman started talking about colourless topics such as the latest fashion trends in the Capitol and her opinions on the victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, all of which made Finnick wish she would just gouge his eyes out with her sharp claw-like fingernails. He couldn’t do anything but stand, smile, and agree. Doing anything else would result in Snow staying true to his very detailed threats

As the conversation continued, his attention began to drift. He surveyed the outfits of everyone in the room, amusing himself by deciding whether or not each person was making a fashion statement or tragedy. Only one person claimed the former title—the one in white.

Finnick watched as you entered the room. The giant golden chandelier cast down a bright light which caused your skin to glow with radiance; its glare enhanced the brilliance of your white dress. This brief moment ignited a fear in him that you had died in his absence because there was no way a mere human being could look so angelic.

“Finnick?” the feline asked, but her voice barely registered in his brain.

Captivated. He was utterly and completely captivated. One after the other, sudden realisations conjured in his mind. The first—there wasn’t a life worth living ahead of him if you weren’t by his side the whole way, and not as a friend or a fellow victor, but as his partner. His lover. The second—he would never let any harm come to you. He would keep you safe from Snow’s clutches, from the Capitol, from anyone who would put you in danger, even if it meant the two of you had to disappear into the vast forests of Panem.

And lastly, he was now absolutely certain that the woman in front of him could never compare to you, nor could anyone else in the ever-expanding universe. You were a basic human necessity to him. Without you, his heart might as well stop beating. Your laugh, your smile, your kindness, your unwavering support—every part of you kept him alive.

“Finnick?” the voice that went disregarded hissed again.

With a half-empty wine glass in hand, your anxious eyes searched the room. Finnick wanted nothing more than to sprint over, pull you into his arms, and cast away every trouble plaguing your mind. He couldn’t. Almost all eyes were on you, yet you hadn’t even seemed to notice. Only one person finally seemed to gain your attention, and that was Finnick, standing in the middle of the room, his eyes locked on yours.

The neurons firing in his brain signalled him to move and he did. But just as his legs started to walk, a forceful hand jerked his face to the side and a pair of harsh lips were crushed to his. Glass shattered on the marble flooring. Momentarily paralysed from shock, Finnick stumbled backwards, briefly catching the twisted triumphant smirk on the woman’s face before whirling around.

Your face was frozen with devastation; his heart dropped. Splatters of red wine had stained your gown, pooling in a crimson puddle of glass shards by your feet. Quiet mocking chuckles and whispers echoed around the room. Oh, if only he had his trident; they wouldn’t be laughing then.

An Avox rushed forward, attempting to clean up the mess, but you had crouched down with them.

“No, please,” Finnick heard you say to the Avox as he strode toward you. “Please don’t. I can do it.”

But delicate hands and glass shards never mix well. You gasped in pain. A jagged fragment you collected had sliced into your palm, creating another crimson pool in your hand.

Finnick’s strides quickened, eventually leading him to stop and kneel beside you. He wordlessly took your hand in his, cradling it as he inspected the damage. Blood coated his fingers, but he didn’t care. He might as well have cut your hand himself. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for him.

Pink blush overtook your face. For once, it wasn’t because he made you flustered or bashful, but because you were humiliated. He knew how much you disliked attention; now you were at the centre of it. Beside you was the Avox, tending to the mess of broken glass.

“Could you bring me a first-aid kit, please?” he asked with a polite smile.

They nodded and silently left. Finnick returned his attention to you, applying pressure to your wound. Your gaze was lowered, unwilling to meet his own. There was more to your demeanour than just embarrassment. There was sadness. Disheartenment. Neither of which were present when you walked in, only appearing after the feline woman had kissed him.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you whispered, eyes unmoving.

The Avox returned holding a medical kit; Finnick thanked them, taking the box into his hands. He climbed to his feet, hesitating before offering you a hand up. Much to his relief, you accepted his assistance. And then, without a word, you began walking towards the nearest exit with apparent indifference to the engrossed eyes following you.

Finnick didn’t bother to conceal his icy glare toward the crowd as he trailed behind you and exited the room.

*******

Pain of a thousand unrelenting bees stung the broken flesh of your palm. Even the slightest movement of your fingers sent waves of throbbing agony up your arm. But it was nothing compared to the brutal ache of your heart.

You had entered the mansion in search of Finnick, determined to mend the crack in your friendship before it crumbled completely. What you got instead was humiliation and heartbreak. What you saw was another woman kissing the man you loved, whilst wearing a horrible adaptation of your red gown no less.

The air had been sucked from your lungs. Believing he would kiss you on the dance floor in the courtyard was nothing more than a fantasy, a dream, a pathetic fool’s wish—every term under the sun that defined something not real. At least now you understood why he was acting so differently. Because he had found someone else and that someone wasn’t you.

A lump formed in your throat and you knew tears were approaching. As if your night couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

Your feet carried you down a long corridor, far enough away from the banquet hall that listening ears and prying eyes were unable to reach. Finnick still followed behind you, though you weren’t sure why he bothered. How could he explain what you saw with your own eyes? Plus, the last thing you wanted was for his new romance to think something was going on between you and him. Only in your dreams.

Unsure of your destination, you decided to enter the first room you came across. It turned out to be a lavishly decorated library, walled with large wooden bookshelves which were filled endlessly with novels and historic paraphernalia. Sitting within the bookshelves was a stone fireplace.

The door closed as Finnick entered behind you, the silence so loud that the crackles from the fireplace reverberated through the room. Your hand still throbbed something awful so you looked down, taking in the gruesome sight of your dress. A stranger might have thought you had just murdered someone. If it were televised, it would have been deemed acceptable.

You sniffled, wearing a small bitter smile. “I ruined Snow’s pretty white dress.”

A few moments passed before Finnick replied. “Red always was more your colour,” he said, his tone anything but playful.

Ahead of you was a great wall of windows; in the reflection, you saw him staring back at you with an unfamiliar expression. His brows were pinched upwards, pronouncing the lines in his forehead, and the corners of his mouth drooped in a slight pensive frown. He didn’t look like the Finnick you knew. This Finnick looked pained. Anguished.

You dropped his intense gaze and ambled across the room. By the lit fireplace was a cushioned stool which you sat down on, eyes staring into the flickering flames. If you were lucky, maybe your dress would catch alight and whisk you away from your troubled life. Okay, perhaps the thought was a little morbid, but so was a broken heart. Of all people, why did you have to fall in love with Finnick Odair?

Cautious footsteps followed behind you, coming to a stop beside your feet. Without your acknowledgement, Finnick crouched down, eyeing the bloody mess of your hands with concern. His gaze lifted to yours, which was still on the fire, and he sighed.

“Let me take care of your hand,” he murmured.

Before you could refuse, you realised contracting an infection was worse than giving in to your stubbornness. So, you nodded.

Finnick opened the first-aid kit and began tending to your wound; his touch was so gentle it was like he was piecing together a broken china cup. Using an antiseptic gauze, he attempted to clean the damaged skin, whispering apologies whenever you winced in pain. After carefully applying a dressing, he began wrapping a bandage around your hand.

You stared into the orange flames, wondering how he would explain to that woman why he left her behind. You wondered when their relationship started and why Finnick continued to shamelessly flirt with you in her absence. You wondered if their relationship would be the end of your friendship.

“Are you in love?” you quietly asked.

His hands stilled at your sudden words, then he continued wrapping the bandage. “Not with her.”

He secured the binding with medical tape and climbed to his feet, placing the supplies back into the kit on a small side table.

Brows drawn together in confusion, you turned to look up at him. “But I thought—"

“Things are much more complicated than they seem,” he interrupted. There was a clear vase of white roses on the table. Finnick toyed with the petals, caressing them between his gentle fingertips. “No one understands me better than you do, and there is no one in this world I trust more. But… there are still things I’ve been keeping from you.”

The troubled expression on his face melted into one of vulnerability. This was a new appearance for him. Finnick was known nationwide for his radiant confidence and charm; he never let his guard down. You have had difficult conversations before, such as discussing each other’s hardships and innermost secrets, but none of them seemed to affect him like this.

“Everyone knows about my visits to the Capitol,” he continued. “How I spend nights with different people every time as if it’s all a game for my pleasure. But it’s not true. It’s not my game I’m playing.” He began walking over to the wall of windows, overlooking Snow’s gardens. “There’s a part of it that no one knows about.”

You rose from the stool, beginning to take slow steps towards him. “Which is?”

The fire flickering behind you deepened Finnick’s features. It intensified the shiny bronze of his hair and enhanced the defined contours of his face, making it easy to see the muscles in his jaw clench with apprehension. He stared out the window so intensely that you were sure his usual green eyes were blazing with their own inferno.

Even full of angst, he was painstakingly beautiful.

His chest inflated with a deep breath. “President Snow… sells me to the Capitol.”

Horror washed over you in monstrous waves. Sells? Only one explanation appeared in your head as to what he meant. You remained silent, praying he would prove your assumption wrong.

“After I won my Games, he saw my success as an opportunity to please his citizens. He began offering me to potential buyers—'admirers’ is what he called them—who soon became my regular customers. They would use me however they liked. Some would pounce on me the second I stepped through the door. Others were relatively tamer. Kinder. They would have me take them on dates or watch a movie with them, but one way or another, it all ended the same way at the end of the night.” He sucked in a sharp uneasy breath before continuing. “Then there were the rare few—the ones who treated me like I was nothing more than a ragdoll for their amusement. They did things that were… unspeakable.”

Nausea churned in your stomach as your mind conjured sickening images. It couldn’t be true. You refused to believe that human beings could stoop to such levels of atrocity to make one person endure so much cruelty. Then again, you lived in a world where children were sent into an arena to fight to the death on live television.

Finnick looked like he was holding himself together by a thread. Every word he confessed shattered your heart into a million pieces. How could this have happened to him?

“I’ve tried to refuse but Snow threatened to harm the people I care about—my family, my friends. After I met you, I knew you were added to that list.” He finally turned around to face you, his eyes filled with such anguish, it shook you to your core. “The Capitol owns me, Y/N. Body and soul.”

Despair riddled your entire body. As you stared at him, the image of a teenager appeared in your mind—eyes sea green and hair a fiery bronze. He was just a boy when it started. A child.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” you managed to whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to know.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“Less of you? Finnick,” you said softly, stopping in front of him. Your eyes beckoned for his; you needed him to look at you, to really take in your next words. “There isn’t a single person alive I think more highly of than you. No one even comes close. Can’t you see? Just having you in my presence makes me feel whole. You make me whole.”

Tears glistened in his eyes as they flickered between your own, absorbing every reassuring word you said into his mind, his bones, his entire being.

“You have brought so much into my life,” you continued. “So much good. And I would never have made it to where I am now without you. So please, don’t ever distance yourself from me because you think I will judge you. I won’t and I never will.”

As the room stilled with silence, a lone tear rolled down Finnick’s cheek. His Adam’s apple bobbed, revealing the sob he was keeping restrained within his throat. And then a smile started to grow on his face, small at first, but then it stretched wider and wider, deepening those dimples that you adored so much.

You knew that your words had touched the deepest parts of him. That you had managed to convince him ‘less’ could never be a word used to describe him. He was more. More kind, more genuine, more caring than almost all of Panem.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered in awe, looking at you as if he were witnessing the birth of the universe. “Sweetheart, you’re incredible. Do have any idea how rare that is for a person to be? I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve someone like you in my life, but I swear I’ll do whatever I can to keep you. And if—” His gaze drifted, seemingly wrestling with a decision in his mind— “if that means I have to share all my secrets with you, then I will.”

“Have you got any more secrets, Finnick?”

He returned his attention back to your face. The indecision from moments ago had disappeared and was replaced with certainty, which was underscored by a sort of tenderness that settled in his features.

“Just one,” he murmured. He paused, observing the universe before him and wondering how on earth he got so lucky to have the privilege of having it staring right back at him. “I’m in love with you.”

Electricity shocked your heart like someone had placed a defibrillator over your chest and hit charge. Love? You? He was?

“What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have told you everything. Even if saying this means I’m risking everything between us, I can’t keep it from you any longer. God, sweetheart, I love you so much it fucking hurts. I always will, even if you never feel the same.”

Somehow in the span of twenty minutes, everything you thought you knew came crashing down. First, your heart was broken by the thought of Finnick kissing another, and then it was healed. And then it broke again as he voiced his arrangement with Snow. It could never fully heal again while Snow was alive, not with what he was forcing upon Finnick.

But Finnick pieced together every piece he possibly could with his confession, one heartfelt word of declaration at a time.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. His eyes held a mixture of anxiety and hope for your response. Time seemed to stretch out as you tried to find your voice. How do you declare your love as powerfully as someone who just bared their soul to you?

An emotional laugh bubbled up your throat, your eyes brimming with tears. “You idiot,” was what you said, the words spoken with utmost adoration. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Finnick’s eyes widened in amazement and a brilliant smile broke across his face. Before you had a chance to react, he had moved towards you in one swift step, pulling you into his arms and crushing his lips to yours in a powerful, passionate kiss.

Your hands were quick to cling onto him, desperately terrified that if you let go, he would vanish into thin air. Every ounce of yearning and hidden affection from the past year poured into this one single moment, into the movement of your lips against one another, and the feeling of your hands cradling each other’s bodies.

Emotions were running high. You could taste both your own and Finnick’s tears as they streamed down your faces, salty and palpable with affection. The sheer relief of finally being free to express your love was so unimaginable that you felt like you would be crying with happiness your whole life.

Finnick’s hand cupped the side of your jaw and he lowered his head, deepening the kiss as much as he physically could to make up for all the time he wasted. His lips were soft and adoring, savouring the sweet taste of your lips on his. His other arm tightened around your lower back, pulling you even further against him.

You felt like you were melting into his embrace and happily, you would have. It felt so right, so safe to be held by him. The world outside the library no longer existed; there was only Finnick and you. Your hands settled on either side of his jaw, staining his skin red from your blood-soaked bandage. You knew he wouldn’t care—the blood belonged to you.

And that is how you spent most of the night. In the library, in that one spot by the windows, in each other’s arms. At some point, you ended up sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, both covered in red and feeling blissfully content. Your back was leaning against Finnick’s chest, his arms wrapped around your middle as he occasionally pressed his lips into your hair.

You toyed with the fabric of his sleeves, your head leaning against his collarbone as you watched the flames once more.

“If Snow ever finds out…” you murmured.

“He won’t,” he reassured quietly. “I won’t let him. He’s taken too much from me; he won’t take you too.”

You turned your head to peer up at him, wearing a teasing smile. “Can’t live without me, Odair?”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “Never without you, sweetheart.”

Once again, Finnick’s lips were on yours, conveying every ounce of immense love he felt for you through his kiss. The only time either of you broke apart was to whisper sweet declarations of your devotion and reverence before returning to each other again. This was when you felt most complete.

When you felt whole.

tags: @queenofspades6 @powellssaturn @bellamybellamyblake @heroinhchicblog222

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fluff #sam claflin #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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wonderlandwalker · 4 months

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After All These Years | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: You think he no longer cares, and he thinks you're better off without him. But the reaping for the 75th hunger games puts a dent in both of those thoughts

Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, insinuations of smut, kissing, once again not proofread

Requested by @rottingpeache: absolutely need to see enemies to lovers with finnick. “I really don’t like you.” “And I really don’t believe you.”

Word Count: 1k

A/N: No clue if this is actually enemies to lovers or just a poor attempt at it. I'm gonna go take a nap now but there is more coming cause the requests sparked something in me again so thank you to everyone who sent them!!

None of you had expected it to happen, how could you? But you've learned by now there is no point in fighting it either. So when you heard Mags’ name being called out and you volunteered in her stead, you suppose it was simply out of habit. In a world like this, the only thing that makes you feel like you are surviving is helping others do the same thing. As you stepped forward you could see the cameras zooming in on your face, trying to capture every expression you were making. You saw the cameras do the same for Finnick. Years of being in an unwelcome spotlight had made his poker face almost unbreakable, but the small furrow of his eyebrows and the twitch in his gallant smile told you everything you needed to know.

It wasn't until the next day that he first spoke to you. Over the years you would see each other, of course, you would talk. But at all the events and all the parties you did nothing more than exchange pleasantries. But now he came out of your peripheral vision and cornered you against the wall behind you with his broad arms.

“What were you thinking, this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done.” His demeanour seemed angry, he seemed serious. But you had no reason to match it, you just wanted to get under his skin like he got under yours.

“Be careful what you say, you might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.” you wondered if he remembered, if he remembered the night you had spent together so many years ago, it had been the best night of your life, and you had no idea if he even remembered. If he did, he didn't let it show.

“Did you even think it through? You survived the arena once, and only barely, what makes you think you’ll make it out alive again.” His voice was a low rasp, and if you didn't know better, you'd say he sounded upset. But you knew better, Finnick had shown you his true colours when he started avoiding you, and you did remember that.

“I wasn't thinking, how could I? All I could think about was Mags having to go through it all again, you more than anyone else know she deserves better.” you were looking him in the eyes now, and it took all of your willpower not to melt. “My games weren’t that long ago, I did it then and I’m still here, I can do it again.” He stepped closer to you, eliminating the remaining space between your bodies, his chest against yours, and you could feel his heart skip a beat as he spoke.

“Exactly, I was there, and it damn near broke me too. I was there to piece you back together. But I won’t watch it happen to you again, I can’t let it happen. Because what if I’m not there this time, what if I'm not there to put you back together.” There was a stark contrast between his face and his voice. As you looked at him you saw his eyes soften, and it gave you a glimpse of the Finnick you once knew. But his voice was still filled with anger, and it snapped you back to reality.

“And how would you know what I can and cannot handle.” You were challenging him now, but he had you matched.

“Because I know you. Even if you don’t believe so, I know what youre like, I know how you think. You might believe I forgot, that I ignore you and go on with my life as if nothing happened. But if you were to actually think for one second you would see that I’m simply doing what's best for you, I just want what’s best for you but now you’ve gone and ruined all of it in one day.

You’re at a loss for words, because maybe he was right, maybe you had gone and messed up everything with a single sentence at the reaping. But maybe everything was finally making a turn for the better, because for the first time, he was telling you he cared. And you’re thankful to finally see his thoughts shine through, but you’re overwhelmed too. So you turn around, you turn away from him, wanting to escape the confrontation. Except he’s not letting you go, not this time

“I really don’t care what you think Finnick.” You weren’t sure if you believed your own words, but you needed to get away from him.

“And I really don’t believe you.” You tried shrugging him off again, and you were about to turn away from him when you felt him grab onto your arm and pull you into him. As you looked up you could feel his eyes fixed on yours.

And so you do the only thing you can think of, you do the thing you want most in this moment right here, you kiss him. You tell yourself that consequences be damned, because even if he will hate you for it, even if you’ll regret it later, at least you have this one moment to get yourself through it, at least you didn't let your fears of losing him completely win this time. You kiss him as if everything will be okay, because when you feel his lips start to move in sync with yours, it is.

For a moment you think everything will resolve itself and you and Finnick can live together in a small house near the beach. For a moment you forget how much you hate him for everything he put you through. Because in this moment, if life could be like this moment, you’d forgive him for all of it. And you don't know it yet, but he’s even more scared than you are.

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mistiell · 1 year

Text

Let me put my Lips to Something

Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Summary: After learning about his aversion to touch, you tone down the physical affection. Spencer finds himself missing your touch, and after weeks of yearning, he’s had enough. He decides it’s time to fix this.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, it gets pretty steamy towards the end but nothing graphic so I don't think this needs age restricting lmao

A/N: Part 2 to “I’m Starvin’, Darlin’”. The feedback on the last part motivated me to finish this in like, a single sitting lmao. Hope y’all enjoy! :)

P.S. My requests are open so if you wanna send something in for Spence, I'll do my best to get to it quickly!

Part 1 - Current - Part 3

Spencer hadn’t realised how much he wanted — how much he needed — your touch until you stopped. Where there was once that warm, tingly anticipation whenever he made you laugh, there‘s now a strange absence left in its wake. Where there used to have been a bump or a squeeze, there are awkward smiles and nervous glances. Like a line of dialogue without end quotations, left to hang in the balance while the author considers what should be said next.

It’s killing him.

He’s come to realise that this want extends beyond the bounds of anything that could ever be considered platonic. He wants more than your touch. He wants you.

He craves you, finds himself remembering the way your arms felt around him the last time you hugged him. Finds himself fantasising about how it would feel to be the one to take you in his arms. How it would feel to be the one to hold you; to cradle your face between his palms and lose himself in your kiss; to let go of his inhibitions and drown himself in the depths of your affections.

He wants your time and energy. He wants your attention and praise. He wants to be the one to make you smile and laugh so hard your stomach hurts. He wants to be yours, and he wants everyone to know it.

It’s only been three weeks since that night at the bar, but even so, he feels like if he doesn’t figure out how to tell you how he feels, he might very well lose his mind. You’re right across from him all day, five days a week. It’s torture. Perhaps he’s being dramatic, but at this point, he’s well beyond caring.

The problem is, how on earth is he supposed to go about confessing to you? He’s never been suave or charismatic. He’s awkward and dorky and breaks a sweat every time anyone even remotely attractive looks his way. He’s never felt this intensely about anyone before, never desired anyone this way before. Sometimes, late at night when he’s finally tucked himself into bed, he attempts to calculate the probability of you ever wanting him in the way he wants you.

In his pessimistic mind, that number is despairingly low.

“Spence?” He startles at the sound of your voice, snapping his head up to look at you.

You’ve worn a different lipstick today. It’s a little darker than your usual colour, a rather glossy, rosier shade of mauve. He thinks he’s seen it somewhere before, and the name pops up from somewhere in his memory.

“Rum raisin.” He mumbles, staring intently at your lips and wondering briefly if it would transfer if he kissed you.

“What?” You cock your head at him with an amused sort of confusion.

He blinks once before clearly his throat, “Oh, um, your lipstick.”

You raise your hand so your fingertips hover over your bottom lip as you smile at him, “How’d you know?”

“I saw it in a drugstore once.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “Your memory never ceases to amaze me, Spence.”

His heart swells as he smiles sheepishly, “Thanks.”

You hum before gesturing to two big boxes of files that are sitting on your desk, “Could you help me run these down to records?”

“Oh, yeah.” He’s quick to cross the short distance to your desk and purposely picks the heavier of the two boxes.

The trip down to records is a rather tedious one as of today. The elevator is out of order so you have to take the stairs from the sixth floor to the third.

“Do you like rain?” You ask, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re looking out water speckled windows at the stormy street below.

“Yeah.” He leaves out the part that the possibility of power outages and the darkness that accompanies them unnerves him greatly.

You turn your head to smile at him as you reach the records room, “Me too.”

He opens the door for you before you have the chance and lets you go in first, letting the door shut behind him. He follows you into the room, weaving between shelves and stepping over boxes that have yet to find their places. He watches you skim over the yellowed labels, your lips twitching as you read them off in your head.

You find the spot you’re looking for and make a sound of satisfaction before bending at the waist to slide the box into place, your skirt sliding a little further up to press against the plush flesh of the backs of your thighs. His gaze wanders up the length of your body and stops at your chest. From this angle, he’s able to see the curve of your breast and he swallows hard. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, feeling ashamed for ogling you like that.

Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he sees the lights flicker and when he opens them, he finds he’s not able to see much more than when he had them closed.

Shit.

“Damnit, the power’s out.” You curse, taking the box from him and slotting it in next to the other.

He takes a deep breath. The dark isn’t as frightening with you there in front of him, but that familiar anxiety pricks his chest and settles heavy in his gut.

“Spence?”

He wonders when the emergency lights will come on. Maybe they’re already on in the hall. He feels along the wall and shuffles back over to the door. When he tries the knob, he finds it locked. Now he’s panicking a little.

Well, maybe a lot.

There’s a clap of thunder outside that’s so powerful that he feels it in his chest and he jumps, breath catching in his chest as he screws his eyes shut as if it’ll make a difference.

“Spence?” You call again softly, “Are you okay?

“Y-Yeah.” He stutters.

“You don’t like storms?”

He shakes his head before realising you can’t see him, “No, not really.”

“Me neither.” You whisper, and he hears the shuffling of your clothes as you shift your weight between your feet and huff a breathy puff of nervous laughter, “I don’t like the dark either.”

“Me neither.” He echoes, wetting his lips briefly as he considers how to comfort you despite how anxious he is himself.

Carefully, tentatively, he reaches for you in the dark and takes your hand, just barely brushing his thumb over your knuckles. Your skin is soft and warm, and he attempts to find your face in the dark as he murmurs ever so softly, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” You reply just as softly, squeezing his hand.

It’s a little unsettling not being able to see you. He can hear you breathing, and having your hand in his feels so nice, but he wants you closer.

“Can I…” He trails off, but tugs at your hand so you’ll step a little closer. He swallows his nerves, “Can I distract you?”

It’s a lame excuse, but it’s all he can come up with on the spot.

“Distract me how?” He can hear the smile in your voice and it encourages his steadily growing confidence.

He pulls you closer, and you step further into his space. He places a hand on your waist, and you don’t recoil. In fact, you come a little closer and set a hand on his chest. You slide it along the length of his shoulder and up the back of his neck to thread your fingers in the hairs at the base of his skull and he shudders, lips parting to sigh softly. Your thumb settles just behind his ear and strokes the skin there tenderly and he can’t stop himself from leaning down to gently bump your nose with his, giving you plenty of time to pull away, to tell him you don’t want this.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask so innocently, breath fanning over his lips in a steady rhythm as his eyelids flutter shut.

“Please.” He breathes, leaning in to meet you halfway.

Your lips meet his timidly and his heart stutters in his chest. There’s a second where you pull back to let him breathe, let him get used to the feeling. His eyes open a sliver, just enough to make out the edges of you in the dark as his brain catches up with his body. And then the shock passes.

And he devours you.

The hand that was on your waist comes up to cradle your cheek as he brushes his tongue against your bottom lip in a silent request. You grant it, opening up to him to let him roll his tongue against yours. You stand on your tiptoes and lean further into him, returning the kiss with a fervour he wasn’t expecting but welcomes happily. He can taste your lipstick and is pleasantly surprised to find it tastes a little like vanilla.

There’s a push and pull of tongues and teeth and soft little sighs as he dares to slip his hands down and pull you flush against him by your hips, revelling in the breathy moan that slips from your throat and meets his mouth. He pulls away only to kiss sloppily at the corner of your mouth and down your jaw. He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, smiling against your skin when you gasp and tug at his hair. Mouthing at your skin, he searches until you whine and shudder after he drags his teeth over a particular spot and focuses his attention there.

He sucks a nice bruise into the spot, some primal part of him driving him to mark you up and claim you as his while he has you here. He bites a little too hard and you hiss, making him pull back and search for your face in the dark.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“Mm-mm.” You hum before immediately capturing his lips again, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing the moan that escapes him.

He guides you by your hips until he has you pressed against the door, sliding a hand down the length of your thigh before slipping it up past the hem of your skirt to grab greedily at your flesh. He hikes your leg up by his hip and you hook your knee around it to pull him impossibly close.

His touch is tender even as he practically swallows you whole, thumb stroking the side of your thigh where your skirt has ridden up. He rolls his hips up against your experimentally and you whine, urging him to do it again. This is what he’s wanted — craved — for so long. You’re warm and soft in ways that his imagination could have never replicated. He’s dizzy, drunk on your kiss, on your touch, on you.

He’s attached himself to your neck again — the other side this time — when the lights flicker on, startling you both into looking up at the ceiling.

The room is filled with nothing but the sound of your combined laboured breathing, and when he looks back at you, he finds your face flushed and your lipstick smudged. You look back at him and he notices your pupils are blown wide as you suddenly smile and start giggling.

“What?” He chuckles, letting go of your thigh so that you can stand on your own two feet again.

“Rum raisin looks good on you, doctor.” You laugh, thumbing the remnants of your kisses off of his bottom lip.

He kisses you once again, smiling against your lips.

You tug him back and laugh again, “You’re making it worse!”

He does it again, and again, and then peppers kisses over the side of your neck until you’re giggling something awful and have to scrunch your shoulder to your ear to keep him from tickling you.

“Spencer!” You squeak as quietly as you can and he pulls away laughing.

Your giggles die down, and then you’re both left in a silence that isn’t awkward, but isn’t quite comfortable either. He has to say something, but what?

“Hey, would you, um,” You start, glancing down at his lips and biting at yours nervously, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Just us?”

He blinks, wanting to pinch himself to make sure this is actually happening, “Like, a date?”

You nod. He blinks again before practically beaming at you.

“Yeah.” He nods, attempting to correct the smudged edge of your lipstick with his thumb, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Saturday? Five o’ clock? We can do whatever you want.”

He nods again, “Sounds good.”

“Good.” You smile, leaning up to kiss him, your touch so saccharine and gentle that his legs feel like jello beneath him.

The doorknob jiggles suddenly and he instinctively reaches to help you button up your blouse a little more while you fiddle with the collar until it covers the rather obvious hickey on your neck.

“Hey, are you two still in there?” Derek calls from the other side as you attempt to help Spencer fix his hair to no avail.

“Uh, yeah!” He calls, clearing his throat after his voice cracks up an octave, “We accidentally locked ourselves in.”

“Here.” You bend to slide the key under the door, and this time, he stares unabashedly, “That’s the key.”

The knob jiggles a little more before the door opens, and when it does, Derek eyes the two of you suspiciously, “You guys okay?” He locks eyes with Spencer and smirks, “You seem a little winded.”

“Yeah, we’re okay.” You smile, hastily walking out, “The boxes were just heavy. Plus, we had to walk all the way down here.”

“Yeah, okay.” Derek says, though it’s clear he isn't convinced. When you get a little further ahead of them, he claps Spencer on the back with a bright grin, “About time, loverboy!”

“Shut up.” Spencer shoots back, though he can’t help the smile that creeps up on his face.

This is not how he expected his confession to go, but — as he watches you walk down the hall a little ways ahead of him with a renewed pep in your step and your hair a little dishevelled — he is so glad it went the way it did.

———————————————————————

Edit: I had a couple people request a part 3 (Possibly smutty, but we shall see), and I'm curious about whether or not y'all would want that? Just let me know in the replies/reblogs. :)

Update: Part 3 is posted and linked at the top of this post :)

Taglist:

@louderfortheback @theblaxkbird @marimorena06 @special-forces7 @lolilkkk

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

Text

VICTORS SPOILS

pairings: dark!finnick odair x fem!capitol!reader

warnings: obsession, following/stalking, creepy behaviour, naive/younger reader, age gap, (reader is 19 and finnick's around 25), non-con touching and kissing, manipulation, bj mentions/insinuations, sex mentions, prostitution mentions, finnick lowkey preying on you - descriptions of brown reader (i was self indulgent since i’m indian 😁) condescending/nit picking mother and pushy parents!

summary: a victor should be celebrated! a victor should get what ever they wish, even if it’s a sweet capitol girl who misplaced her kindness in someone who was in desperate need of reprieve and distraction.

a/n: ITS MY BIRTHDAY!!! HERES A GIFT FROM ME TO YOU ❤️GUESS WHO MADE HER OWN LITTLE HEADER GAHH!! i tried my bestttt - ive been away for a littleeee!! sorry babes <33 it was like 3am and i cooked this up in my head before opening my brewing pot (notes app) and jotting it down - NOT PROOFREAD

the hall was so loud.

they always were at capitol parties. your mother and father always dragged you along, stating that a young lady should be getting out, meeting people, friends, becoming well versed and established in the capitol. and that they wouldn’t always be here. “you need to learn to be alone, fend for yourself and stand your ground. how are you gonna do that if you’re always trying to keep to yourself dear?” your mother sweetly smiled as she looked over you, “i think you still have time to change that dress, not the most flattering sweetie.”

you scoffed as she walked away ever so elegantly. you looked over yourself in the mirror, the green dress was gorgeous, to you at least. but the blue dress your mother had chosen was breath-taking, as much as you hated to agree with her opinion. so you bit your tongue and put the chosen dress on.

mother knows best right?

the sun was setting with an especially beautiful array of colours to which you figured no one would really notice you were gone if they were all focused on something else. there was probably a screen upstairs which you could watch something on. a few things to eat and drink then you’d head up there.

finnick was glancing over to you the whole night. you’d worn blue, and he’d taken it as an ode to him. you hadn’t looked over at him yet but your leaving of the party seemed like an invitation to him to finally introduce himself.

as you settled down on the plush couch you felt all your tensions melt away. but finnick wouldn’t leave you alone for long. “i’m sorry i didn’t know this was occupied.” finnick looked sad and you had no clue why, so being as nice as you are had you opening the room in invitation to him. “no, no! i just wanted to get away from the party. you’re welcome to sit with me finnick.” it felt odd to you for some reason, calling him by his name as if he was a friend. you’d only ever seen him through screens and from afar yet he looked as amazing as always.

“are you sure?” you nodded and smiled, moving down the couch to make room for him. he sat down, respectful of your space. he looked drained and you felt the same way. “tired of the party?” you asked as he smiled and nodded, “a lot of people asking a lot of questions.” you spoke, “everyone has something to say or ask. my dad told me he got three men asking for my hand. we haven’t even been here for two hours. it’s like being in a room with vultures. and if i do accept i’ll just be, nothing. someone stuck to the side of some ugly guy who just wants a pretty face.” you didn’t know what it was about him but you felt as if you could tell him anything.

and he sat, and listened. nodding his head and adding it where appropriate. it felt, nice. having someone actually listen to what you said rather than just asking what you were wearing. he was nothing like what you expected. you’d heard the whispers. that he was a playboy, he was with and had been with multiple women and men over the years. and that he liked it, the gifts, the people, the uhm, other aspects.

“but you, i’m sure you have people to meet, scope out.” you wanted to curl up and die as soon as the words left your mouth. “no! oh my god, i do not mean it like that. you- i- you should not feel ashamed of what you like. i am so sorry- i didn’t mean to imply-” god would you stop droning on? finnick pressed his lips into a thin line, “hey it’s okay. you’re fine. in all honestly, i know everyone has mis-conceptions of me.” you took his place in attentive listening as he explained the truth.

the threats, the people pawing at him, him being sold from fourteen.

you were crying. it all sounded unbelievable and unbearable for someone to go through at such a young age, his life was ruined all because he was pretty, desirable. no child should even have to think of such things let alone experience them. and rather than you comforting him, he was sitting with his arms around you. he was too good to be true.

“i- no i’m so sorry that happened to you finnick. i had no clue, no one does. you are such an amazing person, from the little time i’ve known you. you don’t deserve any of this. how could you get away from this? we could- we could expose snow we could-” finnick cut you off with teary eyes, “there’s nothing we can do. trust me, if there was i would have tried. but i think, if i got married perhaps. i’d have a reason to stay away from the captiol. we’d live in district four, in peace.”

the idea was pretty decent, you’d give him that. and you couldn’t help your heart running a little faster at the prospect of potentially marrying him. you were already fast friends, at least you’d marry a friend? even if he potentially loved someone else or you loved another.

“what if- if you married me?”

he’d hoped you’d say that.

“you’d do that for me? seriously?” finnick faked shock as you nodded, “we’re friends, i’d much rather marry you than anyone else here to be honest. we could be happy.” you smiled as he wiped away his last tear. “y/n, that’s an amazing idea.”

your wedding was marvellous.

your parents pushed out buck after buck, no expense spared for their little girl. as if they actually cared for you. your wedding dress was white and pristine, courtesy of snow. your brown hair in curls and your brown skin glistening. but you added blue accents for finnick, or you thought you did. it’s not like he pushed for you to wear the things he bought by incessantly reminding the makeup artists and helpers that you were marrying the finnick odair, his wife deserved nothing but the best.

you stood infront of a friend, smiling, happy to be marrying a kind soul.

he stood in front of the object of his affection, his desire and love.

in the first few weeks you were undeniably happy, finnick was as sweet as ever and respected you. it was your best outcome. but overtime you seemed to notice changes in his behaviour. when you’d want to go out into town for dinner he’d always have an excuse up his sleeve.

“there’s roadworks towards your favourite restaurant honey. maybe another time?”

“apparently they’re all booked out, maybe in a few weeks time?”

“wouldn’t you rather have a home-cooked meal? i made your favourite sweetheart.”

it began to annoy after the sixth time. “it can’t always be busy can it? we use to go all the time, and it’s not like they’d refuse you finnick. what’s going on?”

“i give you everything you could ever want. why the hell do you want to go out so much? am i not enough? are you- are you seeing someone?” finnick slumped in his seat.

your eyes widened as you rushed over to him, settling on your knees as your hands were placed on his thighs, “finnick how could you say such a thing? i would never do that to you. i swear there’s nothing going on, i just, i’m bored. i’d like to go out with you, explore your district with you, meet new people with you.” finnicks eyes burnt into yours. this is certainly not how he first wanted to see you on your knees, but at least you were whining.

“yeah? you like me? you promise there’s nothing going on?” you nodded dumbly, “yes yes! nothing i promise.” finnick looked down at your hands in his lap, “how do i know you’re not lying?” your hands were on his knees as you straightened your back, coming closer to his eye level, “i promise finnick. you are my husband, i’m with you. i’ll do anything to prove it to you.”

finnick was fighting off every muscle in his cheeks to not start grinning whilst the sad look on his face was breaking your heart, “yeah? anything?” oh this was going to be good. your cheeks were flushed as you heard the words come of out his mouth, “undo my belt sweetheart, show me how much you mean it.” wavering hands hovered over his belt buckle as finnick relaxed into his seat, it couldn’t get better than this right?

wrong.

every time you asked to go out, to meet a friend, to go to the capitol he’d always sulk. and the night would end with you on your knees, him on his to make you forget, or the two of you tangled in sheets.

finnick was finally happy, he had the girl of his dreams after such a long period of sadness, of exploitation and terror. fake smiles and lingering eyes.

he finally got something out of the games.

and his gift?

the victors spoils.

#dark!finnick odair x reader #dark!finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair x fem!reader #hunger games x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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I blame @valeskafics for reviving my zuko brain rot with that modern!Zuko post! How dare 💜💕

If there’s one thing that you’ve come to learn about Zuko and that’s the fact that he doesn’t own clothes made to keep him warm. He has a plethora of jackets but they’re the thin kind of jackets that wouldn’t protect you from even the smallest of chilly breezes.

When you asked him about this when you first started dating, he only shrugged and said ‘I run too hot for those fleece jackets to ever feel the need to own one of them. I’m warm enough for the both of us as it is.’ Which is true. Zuko ran abnormally hot for a normal human being but that was one of the reasons why you loved cuddling up to him when it’s cold.

‘What happened to those warm blankets you normally bundle up in when you’re cold?’ Zuko asked as you proceed to cuddle yourself deeper into his side.

‘I just happen to have found something better in keeping me warm.’ You replied cheekily as you pressed a kiss to his cheek before you burrowed your face into his chest. Zuko sighs as he looks away from you to hide his flushed cheeks from sight as he smiled dopily, still not entirely use to an over abundance of affection directed towards him in a positive and healthy manner.

‘So what I’m hearing is that I’ve been demoted to your personal body warmer?’ He says rhetorically.

‘Think of it more as a promotion from my extremely warm boyfriend to extremely warm boyfriend who doubles as a personal body warmer.’ You replied, tightening your hold on him as you leeched more warmth off of him. ‘Don’t you find it dangerous?’ Zuko asks as he opened his palm to a small flame. It was practically harmless in your eyes, but Zuko always ingrain into you of the destructive power that even the smallest of flames possessed.

‘No.’ You answered honestly as you reached a hand to hold the back of his own that housed the small flame, enticed by its beautiful colours and flickering image with every movement being made. ‘Not really because I trust you more than I probably trust others.’ You added softly as you looked over at Zuko who was already looking back at you with a soft look in his eyes and an even softer smile. ‘Sounds like you should reevaluate that if you’re willing to put your trust in me.’ He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘No I don’t think I will ever want to reevaluate who I put my full trust in.’ You told him truthfully as you helped close his hand, extinguishing the flame as trails of smoke drifted upwards, only to dissipate before it could even reach the ceiling. ‘I’d like to think I am a sound judge of character and I defiantly don’t regret saying yes when you asked me out.’ You then kiss Zuko on the nose and felt his breath hitched in his chest. Zuko always has the cutest reactions to many things, but when it came to being some love and affection, those reactions were the ones you happen to love the most.

‘Then I hope to never make you second guess your choice to trust me with your heart.’ Zuko replied with a smile as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

‘You never do, now be a good personal body warmer and let me leech off your warmth some more.’ You joked as you snuggled yourself into him and felt him place his arms over your waist, rubbing the skin that had been revealed when your nightshirt raised up a little, causing you to sigh under his touch as sleep slowly began to weigh heavily on your eyelids.

#zuko imagine #zuko imagines #zuko x you #zuko fanfic #zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #atla x you #atla imagine #atla imagines #atla fanfic #atla x reader

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ssweetleaf · 3 months

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million dollar man.

summary: you’re sick of seeing people talk down to robert, so you show him just how much you respect him.

robert fischer x afab!reader

includes: SMUT, rob’s asshole dad, kinda subby!daddy rob though there’s no daddy kink in this one, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, a really terrible ending because that’s all i’m good at

✩

“You ready, honey?”

The foyer sparkled around you, big marble pillars and stupidly shiny chandeliers all gleamed at you, causing your eyes to squint and your mouth to open in awe.

Everywhere you looked there were people, all dressed up in their formal attire— cinched waists and satin gloves paired with crisp waistcoats and bow ties, old money, new money, it didn’t matter, as long as they had a good seven digits within their net worth they’d be considered a part of the festivities.

And that’s where you realised you didn’t quite belong in that room, with those people.

“Honey? You listenin’?”

You shook the fog from your brain, eyes flitting to him. Robert. Your Robbie, handsome as ever in his suit, tailored to fit him just right, his tie matching the dark wine colour that was your dress. The dress he had got you and left on your duvet as a surprise. You couldn’t begin to imagine how much it had cost him.

You smiled up at him, small and not quite reaching your eyes.

“Sorry, Robbie,” your eyes fluttered to the floor, “just nervous is all.”

He stepped closer to you, big palms raising to cradle your cheeks, squishing them slightly and running his thumbs along the soft skin.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said, full of sincerity, his eyes so blue and glistening. “S’no need to be nervous, sweet girl.”

You nodded, all bashful now, leaning into his kiss when he pressed a chaste one to your lips.

Robert hooked his arm out for you to take, leading you inside the ballroom with high ceilings and waiters that held trays full of champagne. You took a mental note to snag one of those flutes whenever you had the chance, you needed a bit of liquid courage.

Being Robert Fischer’s arm candy meant staying at his side at all times, with an arm hooked round your waist or a palm to the small of your back, any little touch to tell anyone that ogled— you were his.

His girl.

“Robert, you’re late—” standing straight and proper was his father, peering at him in a look much akin to distaste, not bothering to give you so much as a glance.

You saw Rob’s jaw tick.

“I’d like you to meet Thomas, he’s shown to be quite useful in the business, I’m sure you could learn a thing or two…”

Straight to business. Straight to the insults. The same old same old, shaking hands and discussing terms and money that you hadn’t a clue about— Robert’s teeth were gritted, hand gripping your hip to sate and ground him.

“Lovely to see you as always, father,” he spoke, sarcasm swirling on his tongue, blue eyes swarming and darkening at the mere sight of his own flesh and blood.

The conversation went on for a while before Thomas piped up, gaze settling on your figure, roaming and ogling, staring for far too long at your tits.

“And who’s this?” He asked, eyes never leaving yours. You felt uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly and hugging yourself closer to Robert.

Rob’s brows furrowed, a possessive arm tightening around you further.

“This is my girl-” he looked down at you, fondness and so much adoration swirling in his irises, mouth quirking in a smile when you settled your own gaze upon his.

“It’s about time you settled down,” his father spoke out before Rob had time to utter your name, “but believe me, doll, run while you still can.”

You frowned.

“He’s useless, I tell you. Absolutely useless—”

“I think that’s quite enough.” You took hold of your lover’s hand, tugging him along, “if you’ll excuse us.”

Robert followed along like a lost puppy, letting you tug on his hand and guide him to the nearest available bathroom.

The sparkly green tile gleamed at you as soon as you walked through the door, pushing him through and clicking the lock shut.

“What’re you doing, honey,” he stuttered, swallowing thickly when you pushed him up against the counter, smoothing your palms along his lapels and down his chest.

“No one gets to speak to you like that.” You muttered, frowning, and he smoothed at the furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb, smiling slightly.

“S’alright, baby,” he began, cutting himself off when he saw you shaking your head.

“No, it isn’t,” you spoke, firm and to the point, hands moving to cradle his jaw and cheeks, skin smooth and shaven, so pretty to look at. “do you hear me?”

He chuckled, pressing his hands to your hips, swaying you gently, attempting to soothe you.

“I hear ya, sweetheart—”

“Robert, I mean it.” You swiped at the skin underneath his eyes, palming his delicate skin and marvelling at how pretty he was. Oh, how vulnerable he could be when he was with you.

You stared at each other for a while, eyes flitting over every blemish and dimple, savouring the sight as if the world was coming to an end, shifting to a close.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a chaste one, so soft it was barely there, leaning in close, your lashes fluttering against his cheek bone.

“Let me show you.” You muttered, pressing another kiss, a firmer one, to his lips now, then another, far more desperate. “Let me show you, Robbie.”

“Honey,” his chuckle was nervous, voice cracking and eyelids fluttering closed when your mouth mapped along the sharp line of his jaw. “honey, not here— n-not now.”

You pulled back, an over-exaggerated pout playing upon your lips before you leaned in, mouth pressed to his ear, tongue flicking against the shell when you uttered into it.

“Please, sir.”

He whimpered, broken and whiny, and you could feel him against your belly, already hard and throbbing when your breath fanned along his neck.

“Okay,” he sighed, almost dreamily, bucking his hips against you and holding onto you tight. “Alright, darling, you know I’ll do anything for you.”

He was breathless, seeing stars, sucking his lip between his teeth when you lowered yourself to kneel in front of him, hands smoothing along his thighs, the expensive material of his Italian suit glided along your palms, smooth and elegant before you found what you were looking for.

A bulge tightened his trousers, stretching the fabric, barely being able to contain the sheer size of his big cock, you were sure if you left him any longer a wet spot would form.

“Please, sweetheart,” he was the one saying please now, petting at your hair and smoothing down the tresses, chest heaving at your kneeling form, looking all pliant though he knew you were the one in charge.

You pulled at his belt, tugging it through the buckle, the leather squeaking when you grew impatient with it, wanting it off. Then you unbuttoned him, drawing down his fly, pushing them down along with the tight constriction of his boxer briefs, letting them pool at his ankles.

His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach, a long pearlescent string of pre-cum sticking to his skin, mouth-wateringly so.

“So pretty,” you cooed, reaching up to take him in your hand, girthy and long, everything you’d ever need, your fingers barely being able to touch from the thickness. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, darling—” he whined, breathy and muscles tensing. “all for you.”

You hummed, leaning forward to kiss at his tip, stroking him with your fist, slow and sensual, grinning as his breath picked up.

You licked along the length of him, along that thick vein that throbbed hotly, sucking his balls into your mouth one after the other, leaving the stain of your lipstick along his flesh, before taking his cock down your throat, hearing him moan and whimper at the suddenness of it all.

“Oh, that’s it,” he whined, thumb smoothing along your cheek, “good girl, s-such a good, sweet girl.”

You hummed around him, swirling your tongue around him and trying to take him as deep as your throat would let you, gagging around his cock, tears slipping from your heaves.

Robert felt his chest swell, the sight before him so pretty, suckling at his cock, your tears glistening from the light of the bathroom’s chandelier, so lucky he could call you his. His girl.

The ring box in his suit pocket felt heavy when he stared at you.

You took him further down your throat, salty tears slipping down your cheeks, leaving your eyes all sparkly and glistening, gagging around his cock every now and again, the sharp tug that Robert inflicted upon your tresses a big indicator that he greatly enjoyed the constriction of your tight, warm little throat.

“Yes, that’s it, my sweet girl,” he whimpered, hips mindlessly bucking with each downward thrust of your mouth. “So good to me, take care of me so well.”

Hell, if anyone decided to walk past the door to the bathroom they were situated in, they’d get an earful— the crude sound of sloppy sucking and his airy whimpers resonated around the echoey room. Someone was bound to listen in.

You had half a hope that Thomas was outside the door, listening to the sheer pleasure you inflicted on your boy.

“Baby,” he stuttered, whining and pawing at your hair and cheeks, desperate and leaking onto your tongue. “Can I cum? Oh, please, darling, let me cum.”

You took your mouth off him, letting your hand take over, slowly stroking him into your fist, thumb flicking over his head, so sensitive, you thought.

You pouted up at him, somewhat mockingly.

“Don’t you wanna cum inside me, Robbie?” You stared at him, whatching him heave and buck, cheeks all flushed and forehead sweaty, such a pretty, pathetic sight. “Was looking forward to it all night.”

You continued your pouting, adding a little whine to your speech, watching him nod exuberantly and stroking your cheek with his shuddering palm.

“O-of course, baby— wanna cum inside you, just wanna please you.”

You smiled, pressed one last kiss to the flushed head of his tip before standing, moving to lean over the counter, back arched and ass in the air, swaying at him teasingly.

His palms smoothed over your backside, ruching the skirt of your dress to reveal your pretty panties, a pretty shade of pink, a wet spot saturating the fabric that covered your cunt.

He groaned, grabbing a handful of your hips, kneading the flesh between his fingers. He gazed at your reflection in the mirror, taking his bottom lip between his teeth when he saw your pretty tits spilling out of your bodice.

“What’re you waiting for, Robbie? Haven’t I been a good girl?”

He nodded, still so red in the face, leaning over you to press his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin; a form of an apology.

“Yes, dear, you’ve been such a good girl. Always deserve my cock, always.” He hummed, pulling back to tuck his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, pulling them to the side and exposing your glistening pussy, juices dripping down your thighs and clit throbbing hotly.

Rob huffed out a breath, cock jumping at the sight before him, before gripping himself at the base, gliding it along your slit and bumping the tip against your clit, tapping it lightly before repeating the process.

“Hurry,” you whined, pressing yourself closer against him, wiggling your hips, the movement causing the ridge of his cock to slip inside your hole.

He pushed all the way to the base, panting like a dog and gripping at your skin, etching finger-shaped bruises into your flesh.

“Feel so perfect.” He whimpered, feeling you clench, trying to adjust to his size, the thickness of his cock stretching you out impossibly— you felt as if he was in your throat.

It wasn’t long before you gave him the go ahead to move, the subtle sting of his size still apparent, though the jolts of pleasure completely overshadowed the discomfort.

You were squealing into your arm, moaning like a porn star with every thrust, squeezing him and hitting your ass back in time with the buck of his hips.

“S-so wet, baby, so fuckin’ pretty, creamin’ all over my cock, aren’t you?” You nodded, yesyesyes, so obscene, you began to cry, heavy sobs heaving from your lips at the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Y’the only one that can make me feel this good, Robbie,” you moaned, blindly reaching back to find one of hands, clutching onto it and weaving your fingers between his. “M’all yours, Sir.”

His voice cracked when he whined out, squeezing his eyes shut smoothing a hand over the fat of your ass cheeks.

“Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “baby, m’gonna cum already— m’sorry, sweet girl, just gotta fill you up.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, clenching and quivering around him, feeling the thick veins and ridges that ran along his length thrusting in and out, in and out. “Need it, want you to put a baby inside me, you’d make such a good daddy, Robert.”

His brain short-circuited at your crude words, hips stuttering and eyes going all starry and glossy as he came. Quick ropes of cum painted your walls, sticky and thick, and even with how sensitive his cock felt he continued to fuck his seed into your spasming pussy, your own orgasm washing over you with his filthy sounds.

Not a drop of cum was left to waste, all of it pushed deep inside, and once he was far too overstimulated to be inside you any longer, he stuffed his fingers inside you, plugging you with the Fischer prodigy and hoping with flushed cheeks and a beating heart it’d take.

All he wanted was to see you all round and full with his children. And soon the ring he had bought would be situated pride and place on your ring finger.

Soon.

#robert fischer imagine #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer blurb #robert fischer smut #inception x reader #inception smut #cillian murphy blurb #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader

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