#it’s too late for me to watch another one of these goddamn movies but I’m actually tearing my face off

[thelukesalvez]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Shattered

Request: ‘Can you do a Luke x Reader imagine where they get into a really big argument but somehow it ends in fluff / Luke comforting the reader? Thank you so much!’

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: minor blood mention

Luke watched you silently as you poured yourself a glass of wine. 

It was nearing midnight, but the both of you knew that this fight wasn’t ending anytime soon. At this point in time, you had almost forgotten what you were fighting about. Only that you were frustrated, and angry- really angry.

And Luke was too.

“I just don’t understand it.” Luke let his head fall. 

You scoffed, shaking your head at him. 

“What?” he barked, “I don’t!”

“That’s because you refuse to even try to see things my way. You only ever think about yourself.”

Luke’s nostrils flare as he spoke, a hint of malice to his voice. “That’s not true.”

“It is true!” You raised your voice, your emotions getting the best of you. “You were too wrapped up in yourself tonight, to have the decency to call or text me, to let me know where you were. Instead you let me just sit here waiting. ”

“I already apologized for being late tonight, what more do you want for me?” 

“That’s not the point, Luke!” You practically screamed. “I gave up my job, my family- everything for you. So that we could move here and you could join the FBI. I did all of that, just so what? I could be stood up? So I could be waiting for you the rest of my life, wondering if you’ll ever come home at all?”

He didn't even bother to lift his gaze to meet yours.

“Now who’s being selfish?” he sneered. “Women, young girls, were getting stabbed in Charleston, and you’re seriously mad that I didn’t make it home for date night?”

For a moment, the only sound came from the choppy inhale that escaped your lips. 

Then, a tense whisper, “That’s not fair.”  But you couldn’t help the pang of guilt spreading through your stomach.   

“It was a bad one,” Luke barked. “The plane just landed. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“There’s always going to be a bad case. And another, and another, and another. It will never stop.” 

“For Christ's sake!” Luke tossed his hands up in the air. “And I’m just supposed to what? Quit? Is that what you’re asking me to do? Will that finally make you happy? Will that make you stop interrogating me every night?”

His anger only made you more frustrated- frustrated that he didn’t understand all your anger and annoyance with him stemmed from the very fact that you missed him. Every goddamn minute he was away, you missed him with everything inside of you. Why couldn’t he just see that?

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” you said instead. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just love to play the hero, don’t you?  You can’t stand the fact that being good at your job makes you a shitty husband.”

Luke squinted his eyes at you. “A shitty husband?” he gawked. His lips tugged into a taunting smirk that only makes you angrier. “Right. Well let’s sit down and have that date now. What was it you had planned again? Spaghetti and a movie? Sounds romantic, really the kind of stuff to keep this marriage alive,” he yelled. His sarcasm bled through your skin and penetrated your body to it’s core.  

“You asshole!” You choked, lifting your fingers to your face. You hadn't even been aware that you had been crying all this time.

Luke slapped his hands on the counter, rattling the silverware still laid out. “You know, maybe I’d get home on time if I had something a little better to come home to!”

“You fucking–” you went to raise your hands up in frustration, but in the process you find yourself knocking into your glass of wine with force. A tug against your skin, and then a stinging sensation ripped through your hand before you even realize the glass has been shattered.  

“Damnit!” You screamed as the wine spilled everywhere. You slid down to the floor in frustration. The tears now falling down your face could be attributed to both Luke and the gash now evident on your hand. When you looked down, you saw the blood already dripping down your forearm and to the tiled floor. 

You tried to stifle the cries escaping your body, but it was no use.  You clutched your bloody hand while Luke quickly approached you.  

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice noticeably softer now. He grabbed the dish towel from the counter and stepped over the shattered glass to crouch down next to you. “Let me see,” he murmured gently. 

You tensed up at first and jerked your arm away. “I’m fine,” you sneered. 

But Luke was persistent. "Please don't be stubborn right now, I just want to look."

He reached out again, and once he was convinced you weren't going to tug your arm away again, grabs your wrist, causing you to expose your injury to him. You were forced to surrender under his touch with a sigh. 

Your body was still shaking from your sobs when he wrapped the towel securely around the cut, “It’s okay, it’s not that deep.”

You just nodded weakly, your sobs subsiding into sniffles. "I told you I was fine."

You watched Luke’s face intently. He frowned as he held pressure to your hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.   

You swallowed a lump in your throat and say, “Me too.” But you were still hurt, and Luke knew that.

So, he sank down onto the kitchen floor so that he was sitting beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of you. And there, in the safety of the shadows, Luke wrapped his free arm around your waist to hold you against him. The moment your body was met with the warmth that radiated from his own, you immediately felt a bit more at peace. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “I didn’t mean any of that.” 

You nodded into his sweater. 

“I was just angry,” he explained. 

Luke grounded you. He was the anchor that pulled you back together when everything fell apart. 

“I’m sorry too,” you whimpered. “I just miss you- like all the time.”

You felt exhausted from all that crying. When the room was filled with nothing except for your quiet sniffles here and there, you heard his voice again.

“We should get this cleaned up,” he motioned towards your hand.  It was throbbing intensely under his touch. The decorative dish towel you’d once loved so much was now stained with your own blood. 

You exhaled a shaky sigh and nodded, letting Luke help lift you from the floor. Your knees shook when you saw the amount of blood pooled on the floor from your cut, but Luke was there to keep a steady grip on your hip. 

“How’re we doing?” he asked, clearly noticing your shakiness and fatigue. 

“I’m... okay,” you whispered unconvincingly, your voice raspy from it all. You felt his lips pressing against the top of your head and staying there. You counted five seconds until he pulled away and gave your frame a squeeze before leading you carefully over the shattered glass and towards the bathroom.  

Luke instructed you to sit on the lip of the bathtub and to hold the dish towel in place while he collected bandages and peroxide.  

You watched him as he maneuvered around the bathroom and realized that you didn’t know what you would do if he ever didn’t come home. Despite the challenges and hard work it took to make your marriage work, it would be a million times worse if he wasn’t around. 

Luke kneeled in front of you, his gentle eyes connecting with yours before he spoke. “This will probably sting a little,” he warned. He peeled back the towel, muttering a soft, “sorry,” as the fabric stuck to your skin slightly from the dried blood. When he started to pour peroxide on the cut, you hissed, grabbing his bicep with your uninjured hand.  

“There you go,” he soothed as the stinging subsided. Luke finished by wrapping the area in gauze lightly. Once the bandage was on, you pulled your arm to your chest and rubbed it.  

“Thanks.”

Luke nodded, but then there was nothing but silence between you.  

After a few seconds you opened your mouth to speak, but Luke beat you to it.

“This is all so new. My job- the traveling. But we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, because you truly believed him. You always did figure things out.  

“I’m tired," you said, your eyes feeling heavy. “I don’t sleep well when you’re not home,” you admitted, a bit shamefully. You didn’t want Luke to think that you couldn’t function without him, and you knew it was possible he’d feel a little guilty that he wasn’t around much.

Luke nodded sympathetically. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed,” he suggested. He stood up and started gathering the bloody towel and peroxide from the floor. “I’m gonna go clean up the glass in the kitchen. I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

You nodded as you stood up before turning and heading towards the bedroom. 

About ten minutes later, when you had gotten yourself settled into bed in one of Luke’s shirts and a pair of sweatpants, you heard him enter the room. You slowly opened your eyes and watched him as he peeled his shirt off and wiggled himself out of his pants. You knew you were supposed to be sleeping, but you couldn’t without Luke’s warmth. So when you finally felt his body shift the mattress and his arms wind around you, you exhaled a soft sigh of relief, you wanted to live in his arms for the rest of your life. You heard him chuckle softly in response, his legs playfully intertwining with yours.

He stayed quiet for a long time, and for a second you thought he might have already fallen asleep, until you felt his lips linger against the back of your shoulder, followed by a low whisper.

“You’re my favorite thing to come home to.”

[frvnkcastles]

HOLD TIGHT FOR TOMORROW ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You just want to be comforted.

Warnings: Feminine nicknames, anxiety, implied PTSD, fluff, unspecified triggers

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: Another one based on a request :) This is something I relate to a lot, I always feel on edge and unsafe and force myself to stay productive. Maybe this will resonate with someone else too. Happy weekend everyone <3

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. All you knew was that there was an iron grip around your heart, suffocating you and filling you to the brim with an impending sense of doom, making you certain that something bad was going to happen. Again. It seemed, in fact, that only bad things happened to you. Why would this seemingly ordinary Friday be any different? One could argue you had been getting too comfortable as of late, letting your guard down, making you susceptible to any threats awaiting around the corner for just the right moment.

What those threats would be, you had no idea. All you had was a sickening gut feeling and the relentless inability to relax even in your own home.

As soon as you slowed down, the thoughts came rushing in. So, you figured, the solution was simply keeping as busy as you could. You first made a mission out of changing your and Frank’s bedsheets, and it was right in the middle of that menial task that he found you, leaning against the doorway to watch you.

”Need some help with that?” he asked gruffly, observing your fast-paced movements with an arched eyebrow.

You reacted quickly enough to alert him. ”No”, you spoke sharply, before realizing the venom in your tone and reeling it in. ”Sorry. I’m feeling a little off. But I’ve got this, baby, thank you”, you insisted with a weak smile, and nodding slowly, Frank stayed silent but took his time before he left you. You were clearly on high alert, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out — the thing that Frank couldn’t put his finger on, though, was what had triggered you.

After the bedsheets, it was arranging the kitchen cabinets. After that, folding the laundry into color-coded piles, then clearing the photo album on your phone. Whatever it took to avoid sitting alone with your thoughts and the nauseating feeling of just something being off, something being wrong. Relaxing wasn’t an option, and Frank sensed as much. He could count on one hand the times you had declined cuddling with him on the couch with a movie in the background, and yet, here you were.

It was when you aired out the idea of cleaning the toilet that Frank took your hand, stopping on your tracks. You turned over to him with a confused look, and he met it with a worried one, gently tugging you to sit down on the couch with him.

”What’s wrong, sweetheart? Can tell somethin’s up. Y’know ’m here for you, yeah?” Frank pleaded, tilting his head low so he could meet your eye, while his thumb gently caressed the back of your hand. He didn’t want to push too hard and risk you withdrawing even more, but when tears began welling up in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled involuntarily, he figured he had applied just the right amount of pressure.

”I don’t know”, you whispered with a sniffle and dropped your face against your palm. ”I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just feel wrong”, you managed before a sob rose from your throat, and shushing you softly, Frank scooted closer to you so he could wipe your hair away from your face.

”Hey, hey, you listen to me, there ain’t a thing wrong with you, aight?” he spoke sternly, not taking any arguments about it. ”You’re a goddamn treasure, sweetheart. I wouldn’t change anythin’ about you, got that?” he continued, and his words only making you cry harder, you leaned into his chest.

He couldn’t deny, he was feeling just a little useless, sitting there with you half in his arms. ”What do ya need, baby? Tell me. Anythin’ you want, you got it”, Frank promised, dead-serious about every single word.

You were at a loss for words for a moment, but eventually the emotion just bubbled up your chest, up your throat and out of your mouth in a sob. ”I just want to be comforted, please. I just… I need you to comfort me”, you pleaded, and shushing softly, Frank nodded while pulling you into a renewed hug.

”Okay, okay, baby. I’m right here. It’s gonna be alright, I promise. Everythin’s gonna be just fine. I’mma make sure of it”, he swore under his breath, caressing your hair while firmly holding your trembling body, making sure he was a stable constant that you could rely on.

”I know it feels bad right now, I know, sweet girl. But I promise, everythin’ is gonna work out. I’ll be right here to stand by you every step of the way. You don’t gotta do anythin’ alone”, Frank continued reassuring you, his big hands gentle as they ran down your hair and across your back.

You managed to stop crying, your breathing heavy as you leaned into him. ”I can’t describe it, I just—I feel like something bad is in the air. Like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I don’t know where it’s coming from”, you explained weakly, and smiling sadly, Frank nodded.

”I know exactly where it’s coming from. And it ain’t your fault. Sometimes… sometimes your head just pulls frustrating shit like this on you, but you haven’t done a thing wrong”, he reminded, gently tapping at your temple.

You took in a deep breath and nodded. You remained silent, unsure what to say, feeling like everything you spoke out loud made no sense — but to Frank, it did. He knew what it was like to have a suffering mind, one that was struggling to stay afloat and clung onto the littlest thing to keep itself so.

And that was why he didn’t hesitate to offer some help.

”Hey, lemme distract you, huh? We can take a walk and you can focus on holding my hand and breathing in the fresh air. Maybe a change of scenery would do you some good, hm?” he proposed, his eyes meeting yours as he offered a careful smile. Something about the sight comforted you enough to break into a similar expression, and agreeing to his plan, you bowed your head in a nod.

”That’s my girl”, Frank praised with a grin before leaning in to kiss your forehead. ”We’re gonna kick those thoughts away together, I promise.”

[qwertycake]

cute squishy platonic otp prompts :) very fluffy and good smiley face

FOUND THESE ABANDONED IN MY NOTES FROM 2021! Some of these are very specific so feel free to alter them to suit your situation/tastes. Some of these are more targeted towards the mundane “imagine this” scenarios which aren’t great for writing an extended piece about but they can still get your creative juices flowing. These are all geared towards platonic and squishy, but I suppose they could be used in other contexts too. Enjoy!

“You’re very good at that instrument, Person A, but please put it away it’s two in the fucking morning” AU

“We went out to stargaze but you keep saying that every cluster of stars is Orion’s belt and I’m starting to think you’re trying to impress me with the astrology knowledge that you don’t have” AU

“You walked into our house/apartment/whatever sopping wet from the rain because you forgot your umbrella, here’s a towel and I’m making hot chocolate by the way let’s watch movies” AU

“That’s a cute bouquet and all but why are the neighbours’ gardens barren” AU

“We’re playing smash bros together on the couch and I’m teaching you to play and you kick my ass and the worst part is that I wasn’t letting you win” AU

“The party’s over and we now have a ton of helium filled balloons hey what if we drank the helium and prank called people come on you know you want to” AU

“We went to a rocky beach and now have a rucksack full of cool rocks that we’re never gonna use” AU

“Look I know it’s two in the morning— hey stop asking how I got in your room that’s not important— I need you to make a Hot Wheels track with me” AU

“We both keep dream journals and are sharing our weird dreams” AU

“We’re performers waiting outside the venue because we’re tired of the loud noise and need a breather, also hey is your group also going to the McDonalds afterwards? I’ll see you there” AU

“We’re camping and a random dog/cat just waltzed up to our tent and we don’t know where their owner is so we have to take care of it in a really small space oh my god” AU

“We’re both isakaied away into another world but you became a cool mage and I’m just Some Dude” AU

“We’ve been trying to get this goddamn plushy from a grabbing machine for literal hours to the point where we broke it and the poor worker, person C, just walked up and unlocked the chamber and gave us the plushy out of pity” AU

“We’re at a library and I’m intimidated because everyone looks super stoic and serious but then you waltz up to me with a kids encyclopaedia of dinosaurs and ask me which one’s my favourite” AU

“We’re having a snowball fight but we both can use insanely powerful magic and end up wrecking havoc on the whole area” AU

“Oh your winter clothes got wet, here have my hat and gloves I don’t feel cold— in fact you know what let me warm your hands for you, give em here” AU

“I’m driving us home from the airport/ferry port/whatever and its late and we end up falling asleep in the car park of a service station. You wake up before me and buy me service station food for a three in the morning breakfast and it’s really sweet until we realise that we still have an hour to go before we’re home ugh” AU

“Can you catch the bus with me I’ve never caught it before and I need to get used to it” AU

“We’re astronauts and we’re going into space together and it’s really scary but you’re pissing me off already and we’ve barely gotten ready for launch fuck” AU

“We both crash landed from a plane into a woodland and are staying in an abandoned shack and chatting over a can of warming beans” AU

“We’re in control of making the new universe and we can’t agree on anything stop putting cat ears on the humans and take this seriously goddammit” AU

“I work at a drycleaners and you’ve been bringing your bodypillow/ahaego hoodie/whatever here for the past three days and I just want to know why please you’re killing me” AU

“There’s only one bed but we actually get gradually more pissed off at one another as the night goes on because you kicked me and I took the blanket and whatever until I cave and sleep on the couch, but you make me breakfast in the morning so all is forgiven” AU

“You look depressed here have a bathbomb go have a bath I insist do you want wine” AU

“You’ve never made a pizza from scratch before? Here let me show you how” AU

“You’ve never played hop scotch before? Here let me show you in public” AU

“You’ve never built a death ray before? Here let me show you— hey hold on stop screaming it’s pointed away from you it’s pointed away” AU

“Mario Maker: Endless Easy” AU

“Whenever we go out to eat you always tell the staff that it’s my birthday when it isn’t and I always get happy birthday sung to me and I hate you now pass me that slice of cake goddammit” AU

[cyraclove]

I have mad writer’s block with all of my wips right now so please have this drabble about Eddie going prom dress shopping with Chrissy that I couldn’t get out of my head

Eddie pops another handful of M&Ms in his mouth as he glances at his watch.

He locks eyes with the same saleswoman that’s been hovering around the dressing room for the last hour, shooting her a crunchy, chocolatey grin. Eddie chuckles to himself when she purses her lips in obvious disgust and clacks away.

He’s lost count of how many dresses Chrissy’s tried on. They might live here now, in this Dillard’s at the mall. At least there’s an Orange Julius and a Mrs. Fields nearby. Bright side.

Eddie’s still not entirely sure how he ended up at the mall watching Chrissy try on dresses. For prom. The prom that she’s going to with Jason Carver, her walking wiener of a boyfriend.

It’s probably got something to do with the fact that he’s stupidly, pathetically in love with her.

Another Blondie song comes on overhead and the hiss of the same perfume sample being sprayed for the hundredth time makes Eddie’s eye twitch.

God, he’s getting a cluster headache. He needs a cigarette, like, yesterday.

“How’s it going in there, Chris?”

There’s shuffling and the soft clink of metal hangers from behind the flimsy curtain in front of him.

“This one’s too…poofy,” Chrissy says, a frown in her voice.

“The purple one? I thought you liked that one.”

“No, this is the dark green one.”

“The dark gr—I haven’t even seen that one yet. C’mon out, lemme look at it.”

“No, it’s too poofy,” she insists. “I look like…like broccoli.”

Eddie tosses his head back with a laugh despite trying his damndest not to. He can’t see her, but he knows she’s got that little crinkle above her nose that she gets when she’s grumpy. He can hear it.

“You’ll be the most beautiful vegetable at the dance,” Eddie teases. The little grumble he gets in response tugs at his heart.

Chrissy pokes her head out from the curtain to look at him, gathering it around her chest. Eddie can see just a sliver of her bare shoulder. His stomach actually flutters.

“Eddie,” Chrissy sighs, “this is serious. If I don’t find a dress this weekend, it’ll be too late.”

Chrissy disappears into her dressing room again. Eddie hears a zipper and wishes that he was made of taffeta.

“I’m gonna try on the blue one,” Chrissy tells him. “You liked that one, right?”

“Chrissy, I like them all,” he says honestly. I like them because they’re on you, he doesn’t add.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. You’re gonna look great in whatever you pick.”

There’s a pause in the rustling of fabric. Chrissy’s face appears again, baby blues rolling above a little smile. Her cheeks are pricked with the slightest hint of pink.

“You have to say that because you’re my best friend,” she says.

Eddie looks at her a minute, his eyes on hers. The tinny Muzak from out in the mall fades away and all he can hear is his blood rushing in his ears, the thump of his heart against his ribcage.

He could just tell her. Right now, with that stuffy saleswoman glaring at them from behind the cosmetics counter.

He could tell her and then he’d get to take her to the dumb prom, and it’d be the best night of his goddamned life.

But he doesn’t.

“Go on and try the blue one on before they close the mall and we get locked in here,” he jokes. He shoots her a smile that she returns before vanishing again.

His head aches.

“I’m sorry I’m taking so long,” Chrissy apologizes. “I really appreciate you coming with me.”

“Hey, of course. Anything for you, Cunningham. You know that.”

“It’s just…I know this sounds so stupid, but I really want my ‘Wow’ moment. You know?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. “Uh, you may need to give me a definition for that one.”

“Have you seen Footloose?”

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Chrissy lets out a breath of a giggle. “Well, do you know the basic plot of the movie?”

“Think so,” Eddie muses. “Jesus good, dancing bad.”

“Essentially,” Chrissy laughs. “Anyway, there’s this part at the end after they finally convince the reverend to let them have senior prom. Kevin Bacon’s character—his name’s Ren—“

“Ren, okay.”

“Yeah, and he comes to pick Ariel up—that’s Lori Singer’s character. You know Lori Singer?”

“The blonde from, uh…Fate?”

“Fame. So, he comes to pick her up for the dance and he’s walking up to her front porch and he stops when he sees her standing there,” Chrissy continues, her voice airy, dreamy.

“And then he just…looks at her. Like he can’t believe that she’s real. That’s what I want.”

There’s a twinge in Eddie’s chest.

“Chris, Carver’s an idiot if he doesn’t—“

The end of Eddie’s sentence is snuffed out when Chrissy pulls back the curtain and steps out of the dressing room. His tongue is dry and his head feels fuzzy. The air leaves his lungs entirely as he takes her in, breathtaking in blue.

The neckline kisses her collarbone, sleeves fluttering at the edges at her shoulders. The shimmery fabric slopes along the contours of her body, coasting down the curve of her waist before splaying into the skirt.

Chrissy’s teeth dig into her lower lip as the corner of her lips quirk up. She shifts from one foot to the other, the wispy silk swaying gently just above her ankles.

“Well? What about this one?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, his heart in his throat. “I think that’s the one.”

[hawkins-losers]

Hey there! If you take requests, would you be interested in writing a super angsty Steve Harrington x fem!reader where they are together & crazy in love but the reader finds out shes infertile & cant give him the dream he wants. The ending could be fluffy or absolutely devastating, whatever you prefer 😂

And Steve’s dream was broken...just like that

-

With a heart heavy and tears blurring your vision, threatening to flow like the Niagara Falls, you walked home from your doctor appointment. The smile you had on your lips when you scheduled the appointment three days ago had dissipated, your doctor's ill fated words echoing in your head over and over.

‘’Miss Y/L/N, I'm afraid you might not be able to get pregnant.’’

You tried to pinch your arm, wanting to wake up from this dream - this nightmare -, but you were unfortunately already awake.

You must’ve fallen asleep after getting home because when you gained consciousness again, the front door was opening and Steve was back from work, bringing bags of takeout to eat while watching cheesy movies, your favorite Thursday night activity.

‘’Sorry I’m late, darling. The little shithead at the diner was being lazy and tried to bullshit me that he couldn’t fry more curly fries because they were closing in ten minutes - which was false, they close at ten. I know you prefer the curly fries with your nuggets so I had to give him an extra twenty to get him to fry another batch-’’ Steve interrupted himself mid rant, seeing you curled up on the couch with tear stains on your face.

He put down the bags of takeout and made his way over, concern all over his face.

How were you going to tell him? Since getting the news, you had been dreading to see the look on Steve’s face. You were upset and terribly sad about not being able to bear children, but Steve’s heart is going to shatter when you tell him. Having a full brood of Harringtons was his dream. He had been so happy when he told you about his vision for the future - your future. Although six kids sounded painful to birth and a handful to raise, it sounded nice.

Now, you couldn't even give him that dream.

Sitting beside you, Steve cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheeks where a stain of mascara had dripped. ‘’What’s got you crying like that? Is your grandma okay? You were worried about her last week.’’

‘’Grandma is okay, Steve,’’ you said, smiling through the pain in your heart. It was so sweet of him to care about your grandma.

‘’What is it, then?’’ he asked, brushing your hair behind your ear. His eyes scanned your face, trying to read you, but he couldn’t do it this time. ‘’I hate seeing you sad, hate it even more when you cry.’’

You felt tears building in your eyes again. ‘’Can you please hold me?’’

Steve wasted no time and pulled you against him, embracing you tightly. The familiarness of his faded cologne enveloped you, mixed with the warmth of his arms and chest around you. His mouth planted a kiss on the crown of your head and you wanted to break into shudders and sobs.

You took one last breath of your lover’s embrace, then pulled back. ‘’Three days ago, I thought I was pregnant so I took an appointment with my doctor and-’’

Steve’s eyes brightened, jumping to conclusion. ‘’Oh my god, are you-’’

‘’I’m not.’’ You shook your head. ‘’Not now. Not ever.’’

His eyebrow pulled together, confused. ‘’What?’’

‘’There’s something about my cervix,’’ you explained, repeating your doctor’s words without getting too deep into medical terms. ‘’I’m gonna need to do more tests, but the doctor is sure of one thing: I can’t get pregnant. If I do, which would be a goddamn miracle, he said it could be life-threatening and that the pregnancy would have to be terminated.’’

A single tear fell on Steve’s face, realizing he’ll never have six little nuggets to drive around the country in a camping-car during summers, and you watched it fall.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ Your own tears began falling silently, hating your damn body for not working properly.

Steve frowned at your apology. ‘’Why are you apologizing?’’

‘’For being unable to give you the life you’ve always dreamed of.’’

Steve’s heart broke for the second time tonight, getting what you meant. He cupped your face and shook his head, his glassy eyes looking right through yours. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but kissed you instead, putting all his love and passion into the kiss. 

‘’I love you, Y/N. With or without six nuggets.’’ 

-

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @Pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys  @lanalanabanana

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[caty-catts]

thighs and birthday | ksn.

pairing: sunoo x gn!reader

TW: none (I think) it’s just fluff that started kinda suggesting but got out of control and become a fluffy cheesy corny monster

p.s. you may also listen to this playlist - it was the one that i was listening while writing it hehe

You and Sunoo both had a weird fixation on thighs. If you weren’t laying on his lap or touching his thighs in any form, it would be only because Sunoo is laying between your thighs.

Sunoo’s best memories of his relationship with you were almost all when he was between your thighs. The deep talks while laying in the bed and listening to soft music and the pit-a-pat of the rain outside. The console games you played, the movies and cartoons you watched. The food you shared with and feed him. The mock fights you two had that started because one of you bite the other’s thigh. 

Those were the memories that helped Sunoo to go through a lot. All moments were full of warmth, laughter, sunshine (even in the rainy days) and love.

It was also why he felt so down lately. Since you went abroad, Sunoo missed so much the closeness you both had. Even if the video calls helped to appease the sadness he felt over the distance between you, it still wasn’t enough.

It was almost half a year since you left and soon your birthday. The call on the night before your birthday was speacially touching. Sunoo wanted to be the first to congratulate you and see your smile. He ordered flowers and food to be delivered to you before the call, so you were speacially touched when he called you. You both eat while on call and even had time to catch up before midnight in your timezone.

While he sang you happy birthday you both were crying. After saying a last ‘I love you’ before ending the call you had a clear idea in your head.

You watched the couple photos you had on the wall and felt even more confident in your decision.

***

Sunoo wasn’t expecting anyone home. The late night visitor had to wait while he went on a mission to find some pants to put on and open the door. He really had no idea who was on the other side. Was it a delivery? But he didn’t ordered anything, right? Could it be that you did the same thing to him that he did to you?

Between putting those goddamn pants and yelling to wait a little bit, he found time to message you asking if you ordered a delivery to him as he did earlier.

Coincidentally, you were online and replied fast that yes and urged him to open the door and to tell afterwards what he thought of your surprise.

When he opened the door, you were smiling still looking at your phone. He was stupefied. He openly gaped at you and couldn’t believe his eyes. To confirm that it was indeed you, he directly called you. 

You were laughing and crying at the same time seeing his reaction. When you felt your phone vibrating, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Hello, love. Do you like your surprise?”

He didn’t even ended the call. The phone thumped on the floor while he was already spinning with you in his arms. At this point both of you were crying and laughing because the happiness of seeing, touching, feeling each other so close after so much time apart was overwhelming.

“Y/N~~ What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be there for another six months?”

“I couldn’t help. I wanted you to be the last to wish me happy birthday. I really missed you, Sunoo.”

“I really missed you too, love. I’m so happy that you’re here.”

***

Obviously you played rock-paper-scissors to choose who would lay on the other’s thighs first. On a fluke of luck, you won and that’s how you fell asleep while Sunoo was massaging your scalp. When he noticed that you fell asleep he smiled and kissed your forehead. 

Then he moved you so that you were cuddling and kissed your forehead again and whispered “Happy birthday, love~” one last time before falling asleep the happiest he was in the past six months. 

[graysongraysoff]

02 for cat plssss

hi this was so much fun to write oh my god thank you so much 💕💞💗💖💗💞💕

Dear Diary,

I didn’t even think it was possible to be this happy!!! It’s so weird how a totally normal day can turn into the best day ever when you’re not even expecting it. Okay, maybe I’m being a little dramatic. I don’t know, though — I seriously can’t stop smiling, and that’s never happened to me before!!!

Yesterday Isaac and I had the place to ourselves, so we did what we usually do: we smoked and played GoldenEye and watched movies in his room. (I know it’s been more than a year, but I still can’t really think of it as my room, even though I’m the one who sleeps there. I mean, basically all of the stuff in it is his, still. I just feel like I’m borrowing it. Or like staying over at a friend’s. Not bad — just not really mine, you know?)

Anyway, we stayed up super late. Even once we turned off the TV we just laid in his bed and talked until like 4 in the morning. At first just stupid stuff, but as it got later we talked about a lot of serious stuff, too. He talked about his dad and I talked about mine, how he wishes his was still alive and I wish mine was dead, how we wish we could just swap one for the other. We also talked about church and Joseph and Levi. I don’t think I really realized how much Isaac struggles with all of that. Like, he knows it’s good that Levi was chosen to be the sacrifice when the time comes for the summoning, and he is really proud of him, but at the same time he doesn’t want to lose his little brother. Apparently when he told Joseph that he basically said he was just being too self-centered, but I don’t know. I obviously believe in what Joseph is doing, but we can’t all be as perfect as him. I haven’t known Levi nearly as long as Isaac has, but I still get sad when I think about him being sacrificed. And if Isaac was the one who was chosen, I don’t think I’d be able to keep from selfishly wishing I didn’t have to lose him.

But anyway, that’s not even the important part — I mean, it’s important, but not why this is the best day ever.

The important part is, Isaac always usually goes back to him and Levi’s room once we’re done hanging out, right? He never, like, “spends the night,” if you can call it that since we live under the same roof. But he fucking fell asleep right next to me!! Like mid-sentence, too, it was so cute, I seriously died. So of course then I didn’t fall asleep for like another hour because I was freaking out. Like, I have seriously dreamed about this before!!!! But also I didn’t know if we were like breaking the rules by sharing a bed. Miss Leila doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would get mad about that kind of stuff, but I didn’t really know. So I was kind of freaking out about that, too. Eventually, though, I also fell asleep, and when I woke up, we were legit fucking cuddling. I’m telling you, it was like a goddamn fanfiction. I was all curled up against him with my forehead pressed to his collarbone and he had his arms wrapped around me, and our legs were all tangled up. It was literally perfect. I like instantly closed my eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but Isaac woke up before I could, and he of course starts apologizing and pulling away and everything and I was like “No, it’s okay, it was nice,” and he just says, like. The nicest thing anyone’s probably ever said to me, even Joseph.

He said, “I just don’t ever want to make you feel unsafe. You don’t deserve to feel that way ever again.”

So of course I started crying like the giant fucking baby I am. And I told him, “I always feel safe with you.” Because I do. And that made him blush, which was cute.

“Still,” he said. “I…” Then he kind of laughed. “Well, I really wanted to find a smoother way to do this, but I guess I’ll just tell you. And I don’t know, maybe you’ve already guessed it by now, but I… like you.” He blushed even more — fire hydrant red. Then he shook his head. “No, that’s kid stuff — I love you. I do. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way back, but I just. I don’t want to do anything unless I know it’s okay.”

As you can imagine, that only made me cry even more. I’m sure it was so fucking gross. But he pushed my hair out of my face and wiped my tears and everything (again, a fanfiction) and eventually I managed to blubber out an “I love you, too,” which made him give this huge sigh of relief, which made me laugh.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asked.

“I probably have morning breath,” I said, covering my mouth with my hands as I felt myself starting to blush, too. “And I’m crying.”

He laughed. “I probably do, too,” he said. “Would it help my case if I brushed my teeth first?”

“No, I don’t want you to leave.” I cuddled back up to his chest again and wrapped his arms back around me.

And then, eventually, once I wasn’t crying so much anymore, we kissed. And we kissed and we kissed and we kissed, and I wish I was still kissing him!!!!! But alas, even us homeschool weirdos have to get out of bed on weekdays eventually.

I told him he doesn’t have to ask every time he wants to, like, hold my hand or something, and he agreed as long as I promised to tell him if I ever didn’t want him to do something. I don’t know, it’s kind of dorky, but also, like. No one has ever been so careful with me. Ugh, I’m going to start crying again, I need to wrap this up!!

All this is to say: Isaac is my boyfriend now. And that is why today is the best day ever.

[actualhumancryptid]

Taken from the wonderful @talldecafcappuccino

favorite color: Green. it varies which kind — emerald. Teal. at the moment I’m partial to the colour of Hannah Waddingham’s insanely stunning eyes.

currently reading: About to start ‘I’m glad my mom died’ by Jennette McCurdy. Currently reading ‘Respect for acting’ by Uta Hagen, which is one of those old-school standards that get recommended to actors. It’s been enjoyable, because I love hearing about different creative processes for artforms other than writing. But also, there’s a lot of useful things there to consider when it comes to developing deep, realistic characters.

last song: I’ve been listening to lots of late 90′s/early 2000′s stuff for a thing I’m writing. Can’t remember which one was last. Pink’s R&B singles from 2000, TLC Unpretty. Bomfunk MC’s Freestyler, the goddamn ‘thong song’ (not necessarily favourite songs, but ones I remember being endlessly subjected to and that are useful when setting a story in that year)

last series: I’ve been rewatching/trying to finally finish The Americans and I am on the final episode ever, I do not know what I am going to do with my brain when it’s over.Because it’s been an epic ride.  (probably start s2 of Kevin Can Fuck Himself so I don’t get it super spoiled)

last movie: Finally watched that Andy Samberg film ‘Palm Springs’ yesterday. I actually really enjoyed it, though the ending felt a little weak.

sweet/spicy/savory: Savoury. Chips, man. They’re just so good.

currently working on: Mostly original work right now. 1) A bit of a restart/revamp of an extended fiction project I shelved last year (I no longer say ‘novel’ because that word is just too fucking loaded with expectations). It’s been fun to write and seems to flow well so far. 2) Another bigger project is going well too, I’ll call it a ‘promising extended descriptive narrative project’ to avoid putting it under too much pressure, lol. For now, they’re both enjoyable to pursue.

Other than that, planning to write another romangerri Succession fic soon, when an idea hits me. What can I say. I enjoy writing witty, horny, morally bankrupt hot people right now. They spark joy.

tagging: @thisbetternotawakenanything @trying-to-get-somewhere-real @lordofseagulls @boglady and anyone else (particularly the new follows) who see this and feel like chatting about some of the things they like

[bruisingknees]

Tagged by @visualtaehyun 🥰 thank youu

1. Three Ships

Had to consult my AO3 bookmarks so I could narrow it down to just 3 (these are not necessarily my favorite ships, but they’re certainly up there!)

1. Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

A ship that really only works in fic and fanon cause canon was so atrociously bad and yucky lmao. Stiles is one of my favorite characters ever - he’s a perfect little gem - and him and Derek just work (in fic)

2. Aziraphale/Crowley

I mean… they’re perfect and I love them so much. I was late to the game with them and then just lost my entire goddamn mind over them.

3. Hira/Kiyoi

I watched My Beautiful Man in 2021 and then literally never stopped thinking about these two lmao!! They control my every waking moment.

(Honorable mentions: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson who I’ve been obsessing over a lot lately)

2. First Ship

As a really young 11 year old I was obsessed with this Dutch movie (and subsequent tv show) called Costa! about a bunch of hot Dutch and Flemish young people who worked as hosts in this Spanish club ansjsj. I was obsessed with the main couple in the movie.

3. Last Song

SUPERIMPOSE by ELIO in the car earlier!

4. Currently Reading

I just finished The Reappearance of Rachel Price by Holly Jackson this morning! It was definitely a fascinating read - you really get sucked into it and want to get to the bottom of the whodunnit. But it was also way too long and not a single character made a single sensible decision in that whole book lmfao

My next read will probably be Death In The Spires by KJ Charles. I got an email from her maillist on publication day and was beyond delighted to see she had a new book out! She’s probably my favorite author so I’m really stoked. She did say it’s not a romance though so I might try and squeeze in another romance first to scratch the itch but we’ll see.

5. Last Movie

I usually go and see a movie with my friend every weekend but because of circumstances it’s been a couple of weeks now 😭 the last one we saw was the new Ghostbusters one at the end of March

6. Currently Craving

Nothing much? Maybe the next episodes of 23.5, We Are and Deep Night? 😂

Tagging anyone who wants to ❤️ please tell me more about yourself!

[returntosaturn271995]

Wednesday, April 19th: Better, Faster, Stronger, Blonder

My hair cost $320 today because highlights are highway robbery. I found myself sitting in the chair writing in my notes app about the costs of beauty and how I should really get a tax write off for the amount of work I put in to be fuckable under the patriarchy. Also Sara Kashani called me while I was in the chair and we chatted about life and it was very uplifting. Kiera actually also texted me last night telling me what a good friend I am. Very sweet. I do have great taste in women.

James is apparently very sick and still a bad texter. Maybe I should look in to being lovable under the patriarchy. I re-opened Hinge. A guy asked me if I wanted to hear a song. Then I closed it and watched that movie where Billy Eichner dates an emotionally unavailable guy who takes testosterone and wants to be a chocolatier. 

God, I love Debra Messing. I just don’t want to end up Grace Adler. Although I am going to New York and have amazing hair so there are worst things I could be. 

I wrote a lot of standup today. The daily walk to the beach was done to “Panic! at the Disco”. I did a load of laundry because one can never have too many clean yoga pants and towels. Made myself apply to another job because I’m a sadist. Did a meditation on shame because I’m delusionally trying to deprogram that. And unrolled my yoga mat at 11:00 pm because I promised myself I would stretch my hamstrings today. 

I promised myself that I would be the kind of person who keeps promises. 

I promised myself I would change. 

And that is change. Huffing and puffing, newly done hair cascading, hamstrings pissed at another attempt at flexibility. I finished my smoothie and did the dishes. I woke up earlier. Like a goddamn lunatic. 

If you can’t try hard. At least try frequently. Addicts don’t quit forever, they quit a day at a time.

There’s a theory about Yin yoga that flexibility is gained by striking a stretch and then relaxing more and more in to it. Letting your body soften. Breathing in and out. My hands can around the bottom of my feet now, although toe to hand stretch can still go fuck itself. I had to go straight in to downward dog to get my calves. At 11 pm. At night.  

Because I decided it wasn’t too late. That there was a point. 

My hair and body really do look great. It’s truly a shame nobody is here to fuck me rn. Ah, well. Time for weed. 

Current Book: Dickens and Prince by Nick Hornby. I thought I would learn about these guys, but I probably should have been more familiar with their work before starting it. 

[pollencoveredman]

wrapped in a gold-silver sleeve

(cw: references to sh)

in dee’s mind, there’s nothing more infuriating than her “me time” being interrupted. her saturday night routine of watching shitty reality tv and getting hammered on cheap wine is her favourite part of the week, so when she hears a knock at the door during the good part where everyone’s yelling over each other and throwing bottles everywhere, she believes she has every right to throw a fit.

“goddamn it,” she grumbles to herself as she pauses the TV and walks to the door, brushing lint off her shorts. “this better be important.”

she nearly slams the door immediately when she sees who’s behind it. 

“dennis, what the hell?” she hisses, looking him up and down disdainfully. “what are you doing at my apartment? it’s late. shouldn’t you be watching a movie with mac or whatever gay shit you guys do?”

he scoffs, ignoring her little comment. “can i crash here for the night?” his voice is small, like a little kid talking to a stranger. “just this one night, promise. i’ll sleep on the couch and leave you alone.”

“absolutely goddamn not.” she says shortly, walking back over to the couch, not bothering to shut the door behind her.

“dee, wait, wait,” dennis whines. “please?”

“why can’t you sleep at your apartment? you set it on fire again?” she laughs to herself, eyes focused on the TV again rather than her pathetic mess of a brother, with his messy hair and mascara-streaked cheeks. 

he lets himself in, carelessly slamming the door as he slumps over on the ledge in the kitchen. dee opens her mouth to protest that he’ll wake up her neighbours, but closes it again once she realises she really doesn’t give a shit. 

“i’m mad at mac.”

“oh, jesus christ,” dee mutters. “save your voice; i don’t care what happened. just… come sit.”

dennis blinks, surprised she hasn’t kicked him out yet, and takes a seat next to her, bringing his knees up to his chin.

“god, dennis, you’re forty-one years old.” she scoffs, shuffling away from him and taking another swig of wine. “what are you doing, coming over to stay at your sister’s place, just ‘cause you got in a little fight with your roommate?”

he shrugs, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. 

“and what are you doing, wearing that in this weather? i know it’s late but it’s, like, 85 degrees out.” she eyes him skeptically, observing how flushed he is. “and i know you run way hotter than i do in summer.”

dennis stays silent, but the way his breath catches in his throat and how he pulls surreptitiously at his sleeves, how his gaze shifts away from dee, tells her all she needs to know.

“den,” she says softly. “you gotta stop doing that shit.”

he doesn’t say anything; just nods guiltily and swallows hard, fighting off the lump building in his throat.

“you eaten today?” dee knows she shouldn’t be surprised when he shakes his head, but dennis never fails to catch her off guard. she swears she’s a little mad, too. at him or herself, she doesn’t exactly know, but she’s pissed off. pissed off because her brother does this all the time, always when she and the rest of the gang thinks he’s getting better. pissed off because it might be her fault, pissed off about the amount of times she’s been dragged along to the hospital because of something stupid he’s done.

“alright, i’m getting you something to eat,” she announces as she walks to the kitchen, grabbing a bowl off the side and searching in her drawers for something. dennis winces at the sound of the metal clashing together, plugging his ears with his fingers.

“m’not hungry,” he calls over all the noise, repeating himself when he thinks his efforts go unnoticed. “dee, i said i’m not—”

“i heard you, i just think you’re full of shit.”

dennis sighs heavily, stretching out across the couch and burying his face in a throw pillow. he’s tired, exhausted maybe, but his momentary rest is interrupted when dee taps his leg harshly, the touch bringing him back to reality.

“scooch over, dick,” she mutters, setting down a bowl of peeled apple slices on the table in front of him. “just eat what you can manage. and go put one of my t-shirts on; you’re sweating like hell.”

dee unpauses her show as he walks off, sitting back with her umpteenth glass of wine for the night. sure, she’s totally annoyed about her self-care (for lack of a better word) being interrupted, but she has to admit she enjoys her brother’s company on rare occasion, even if he’s wallowing in self-pity like this. 

but she’d never tell him that, of course. she’d hate to fuel his ego, though on days like this it might be nice for him to hear something good about himself. 

dennis comes back in a minute later, wearing dee’s green “life is happy” t-shirt that’s almost comically oversized. 

“what?” he scoffs when he sees the look on her face, a mix of skepticism and confusion, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “i’m a fan of irony.”

she laughs sardonically as he sits back down, tucking his arms strategically under each other. 

“you don’t— you don’t have to, like, hide that stuff from me. i don’t care.”

“mac doesn’t like to look at it,” he says through a mouthful of apple. “half the reason i came over here.”

dee takes a deep breath. god, she can’t believe two men in their forties are this dependent on each other. that they care so much about every little thing the other does. it’s pathetic, really. 

“well, mac’s not here now, is he?”

dennis shrugs. they sit in relative silence for the next five or so minutes, bar the sound of the TV, and dennis sets the bowl back on the table after downing a few slices, leaning his head on the armrest.

“hey, c’mon, you barely touched that. you’re gonna pass out; eat a little more.” dee says, an edge of concern to her voice. 

“yeah, yeah, i will later,” dennis mumbles sleepily. “let me sleep first.”

she shakes her head, huffing. “fine, but just promise me, okay? i am not dragging your ass to the hospital this late.”

“why do you care so much?”

dee snorts. “‘cause you’re my brother, asshole, what d’you think?”

“i’m, like, a total dick to you. and you’re a bitch sometimes.” he pauses for a second, fidgeting with his hands. “stupid fucking bird.”

“well, yeah, you are a dick, and i wanna kill you most of the time. but, y’know, you’re still my brother, and i love you.” she mumbles that last part, as if it’s some big secret.

dennis rolls his eyes and fake-gags. “sap.”

“hey, shut up, i’m trying to be nice—”

“i know, i know, i’m kidding,” dennis says with a yawn, pulling down the throw blanket off the back of the couch and over his shoulders, burrowing further into his nest of throw pillows. “god. love you too.”

dee grins to herself as he drifts off next to her. he’s almost a perfect parallel of herself at her lowest, just minus the cigarettes and with a little more colour to his face. she knows how he’s probably feeling right now, and the knowledge he was never in on the plan to bring her down further makes her just a little more sympathetic than if it were mac or charlie. 

“g’night, asshole.”

[percontaion-points]

All Grown Up chapters 21 & 22

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 21

Then he recaptured my lips, walking us back to the bed.

Once on the bed, the shirt was irrelevant.

I really need to learn Italian.

Chapter 21 summary: So Dom and Chloe have their date. The start of it is pretty detailed, but then the author clearly got bored and skipped ahead to Chloe getting a text from him after she gets home. Now, I don't mind the skipping, since this isn't supposed to be the end-game relationship. But what I do mind is the fact that we still spent three pages on this date at all.

Leo shows up at the door, and tries to apologize. Chloe slams the door in his face after telling him “too little, too late.” She goes up to bed, but then Leo climbs in through the fucking window, intent on making a menace out of himself. He apologizes, saying he “didn't know what came over him”. Chloe agrees that they both carry blame (I'm not going to dive into this since it's obvious the book doesn't give a shit), and agrees to let bygones be bygones.

Chloe goes back to Seattle to continue going to college, but continues to casually date Dom. He invites her over to his house one night, and it's every bit as lavish as you might expect, including having a housekeeper and cook on-staff. They go to “watch a movie”, if you know what I mean. And despite how the author made it clear she doesn't give a fuck about Dom, we sure are getting detailed sex scenes.

Chapter 22

Why am I thinking about her when I have my gorgeous fiancé sitting

next to me? It shouldn’t bother me that Chloe moved on to someone else. I mean, I’ve done the same thing, right? Glenda means so much to me, and it's not fair to obsess over another woman.

It hasn't even been a year since he intentionally blew up his relationship with Chloe.

I realized then that I no longer knew Leo. He was no longer that beautiful boy I was once in love with.

Chapter 22 summary: We jump back to see Leo's thoughts about Dom dating Chloe. He's obviously jealous, and clearly not over Chloe. We get a graphic sex scene between him and Glenda that is so painful to read because he can't stop thinking about Dom fucking Chloe.

We time skip to Leo's wedding to Glenda. But despite it being his goddamned wedding day, he only has eyes (and a hard-on) for Chloe. Glenda... RUN. At the reception, Dom and Chloe say that they're recently become engaged. Like IDK how much time has passed, but that seems worse than Leo's six month rebound relationship.

Two months pass following the honeymoon. However, either Glenda isn't around because of her work or Leo isn't around because of his. One day, both of them are supposed to be home at the same time, but Leo comes home late because of a work thing with Dom. When he does get home, he and Glenda get into a huge fight over him not having been there... which is real rich considering that by Leo's admission, she's never around, either. IT HAS LITERALLY BEEN TWO MONTHS SINCE THEY GOT MARRIED. However, this is the beginning of the end for them, and they get into another fight over how he wants kids but she doesn't, and it seems to end with them continuing to not see each other for long stretches of time.

Then it's Chloe's wedding, and I'm already over how much not even the author seems to care about this.

We then randomly jump back to Dom proposing to Chloe. BAD WRITING IS BAD. Following this, she calls Roni, who is upset that Max put a bun in her oven. Then the narration skips ahead to the actual wedding. The narration regurgitates an Italian poem as wedding vows that I'm certain the author found online in Italian with an English translation. I cannot.

In the reception line, Leo tells her that she's beautiful. Except that the only thing Chloe can think is “how fucking dare he.”

[wkemeup]

Play Pretend (II)

summary: In the aftermath of Munich, Bucky struggles to go back to how things were before. But now that he knows how it is to love you, he's not sure he can. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.8k warnings: smut (18+), mutual pining idiots a/n: here is the final part! make sure you catch up at part 1 first! gif by @crispychrissy

Bucky couldn’t get the image out of his head for days after the mission in Munich. Pictures of you laying so beautifully beneath him, the slight curve of your lips as a moan slipped past, skin so soft it begged to be touched and soothed and worshiped. He couldn’t let go of how you sounded, how you cried out his name or the gentle whimpers spoken so sweetly against his ear. He couldn’t stop craving you wrapped so tightly around him, your hands caressing down his arms, his back, his shoulders, your unbridged desire to touch every part of him, even the parts he despised.

Memories that found him in his sleep in the early hours of the morning, in the shower when his legs were weak and tired, at the breakfast table when you strolled in wearing a t-shirt down to your thighs and the evident curve of your breasts bare beneath the fabric.

Bucky tried to push the thoughts away. He tried to stop thinking of what happened in that cold, abandoned Hydra base. He tried to bury that longing somewhere deep, somewhere he’d never be bothered by it again. But it always came back in the image of you in that cell.

It plagued him. It taunted him.

He wanted more.

He didn’t know how to admit it. Not to himself, and certainly not to you. So, he did his best to suffocate those feelings, those cravings for something real, but they still found their way to the surface.

They spilled over on movie nights with the team and Bucky would find himself inching closer to you, in the gym when he took just a second longer to lift his weight from your body after a winded match that ended on the surface of the mat, on walks around the compound when he found himself wanting to capture your hand in his own as your fingers brushed by.

Those feelings slipped from his smothering hold on missions when he watched your back far more than his own, when he’d missed an obvious target in an attempt to clear your enemy line and ended up catching three bullets himself. He lost composure whenever you didn’t respond on coms or when you’d stumble back onto the quinjet with an injury you’d been hiding. He dove headfirst into fires and threw his body up as a shield and spent every night in agony wondering if you knew that he’d give his whole life to you if you’d asked.

It made him stupid. It made him reckless. It might actually get him killed.

But it hadn’t started in Munich. No, that was just the catalyst of it all. Bucky had loved you long before that drug infiltrated his system and left the two of you in an impossible position. He’d managed to keep his feelings at bay for years; hiding behind quick witted jokes and friendly banter and a genuine friendship and it had been enough. Honest, it had.

Only, now he knew what it was like to be with you. He caught a taste of what it would be like to make love to you and he didn’t know if he could ever forget and move on. It had been weeks since Munich and it still felt like it happened yesterday.

He had to do something to keep it from consuming him, even if it broke your heart. Even if it broke his, too.

***

“What the hell do you mean you can’t work with Y/n anymore?”

Steve groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day of debriefing with about a dozen agents making demands he was unwilling to compromise on. This, separating his best team, was among them.

“It’s just not a good idea, Steve,” Bucky said, arms folded tightly over his chest as he watched Steve pace relentlessly down the conference room.

“That’s ridiculous, Buck.” Steve slumped into the chair beside his friend. “You two are the best insurgent team I have.”

“Just trust me. You’ve seen how I’ve been in the field lately. I can’t keep a straight head around her, okay? Not after—” Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away.

Steve sighed, hanging his head. “You ever gonna tell me what happened in Munich?”

Bucky’s lip was chewed raw; scars over broken wounds, teeth digging into painful cracks. It was a nasty habit he picked up after Munich. He wasn’t used to this kind of nervousness; a deep and unsettling feeling churned to stone in the pit of his stomach.

“Reassign me, Steve,” Bucky asked again, firmer. He could feel Steve’s eyes burning on him, tracing every inch of his face, searching for a tell, but he wouldn’t find one. Bucky was trained better than that. He knew to keep his features cold, stoned, even if his heart was pounding against his chest. He wondered it Steve could hear it, too.

The silence hung heavy in the air.

“Alright,” Steve finally conceded. He shook his head reluctantly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Bucky sighed a breath of relief, the weight of months filled with a longing he couldn’t tame and painful twist in his heart slipping from him in seconds. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Steve stood up from his chair, gathered the papers from the desk and made his way to the door. He paused just at the frame, turned around slowly to find Bucky had relaxed a little too much for his liking and added, “you’re going to be the one to tell her.”

“What?” Bucky scrambled out of his chair, nearly losing his footing and all composure as he stood to face Steve.

“You’ve been partners for years,” Steve shot back tensely. “She’s had your back on countless missions, saved your life on more than one occasion, and—come on, Buck— you guys are friends! The two of you spend every day together, even when you’re benched! You don’t want to give me an explanation? Fine. But you sure as hell owe her one.”

Bucky shook his head rapidly, hands clenching at the fraying edges of his t-shirt. “Steve, I—”

“Just talk to her,” Steve said, a heavy disappointment lingering in his voice. His lips parted, as if there were more he wanted to say, but decided against it. He hung his head, pat Bucky firmly on his shoulder, and left.

***

Had he always been able to hear his own heartbeat like this?

It was pounding in his ears, thunderous, deafening, and he swore just about everyone else on the floor could its thumping as he approached your room.

The door was open ajar with a small glimmer of sunlight streaming out into the dimly lit hallway. You were singly quietly to yourself – humming, maybe – as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring down onto your phone. You didn’t seem to notice him at the door. He knocked.

Your head popped up, surprised at the sudden intrusion and your eyes only narrowed upon finding it was Bucky standing below the doorframe. You looked at him for a moment before you turned back to your phone without saying another word.

He deserved that.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. He was still staring into the room through the small slit in the door.

You shrugged. “Depends. Are you still avoiding me?”

A sharp sting burned in his chest as Bucky tried to unclench his jaw. Truthfully, he had been avoiding you for days now. Ever since he made up his mind to ask for a reassignment. It didn’t matter if Steve shipped him off to Alaska or the Amazons or out into space with the goddamn raccoon; all he knew was that every minute he spent beside you was agony and he needed to get away from it – away from you – before it consumed him whole.

None of that was your fault. You didn’t know why he was suddenly too busy to spar on your usual weekdays or join the team for movie nights. He never told you why he suddenly started pulling away, cutting off all contact as if you hadn’t been friends for years before Munich.

“I’ve got something important to talk to you about,” Bucky replied, clearing his throat.

You sat up, sitting the phone down by your side as you recognized the tone in his voice. Clinical. Mission oriented. Business. He didn’t want it to sound so cold, but he wasn’t sure he could do this if it wasn’t.

Bucky stepped into the room, prying the door open gently with a slow squeak on its hinges as he closed it behind him. He’d been in your room dozens of times before, but somehow, in this moment, it felt like an invasion of privacy, like he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep focus. He took a few steps forward and gingerly sat on the edge of your bed, keeping careful distance as he wrung at his hands in his lap.

“I’m being reassigned.”

You furrowed your brow. He could practically hear your heart skip a beat.

“What? No. They can’t do that!” You shook your head, determined. There were traces of disbelief on your face – anger, too. Your hands gripped tightly into the sheets at your sides. “They can’t just reassign you, Buck. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Y/n, you don’t understand,” he started to say, but you were already on your feet, pacing around the room. It was how you calmed yourself when your thoughts were racing too fast. The stabbing pain in Bucky’s chest only seemed to dig deeper.

“I know the field has been messy lately, but that happens to everyone! They can’t split us up because of a few extra trips to the med bay,” you argued, wearing trenches into the carpet of your bedroom. You stopped abruptly. “Who gave the order? Steve? Tony? I’ll take this up with Fury if I have to, okay? I won’t let them—”

“Y/n, stop. Please.” Bucky hung his head. His right hand was red as his left clasped and tugged at the skin. He couldn’t find the courage to meet your eye but he could tell from the way you stilled that you knew what he was about to say. “It was me. I asked for reassignment.”

It didn’t seem to hurt any less though because your stance still faltered. It was barely noticeable, not to the human eye, but Bucky’s sensed were advanced thanks to his time in Hydra. He saw the way your body weight shifted just slightly, how your breath caught in your chest, the slight flicker of your eyes. Shock. Betrayal. Hurt.

“You said it yourself,” Bucky reasoned, trying to find excuses where there were none, “there’s been too many ER trips lately. I keep getting hurt.”

“Because you insist on using your body as human shield, Buck!” you retorted, arms flung out to the sides. “Just knock that off and we’ll be fine!”

Bucky shook his head, his lips curling ever so slightly though it didn’t touch his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it is!” you argued. You started pacing again. “Don’t be an idiot, Barnes. I’m not losing my partner. Go tell them you were joking or concussed and not thinking straight!”

“I’m not going to do that.” Bucky clenched his jaw. His right hand was starting to lose feeling from how tightly he was gripping it.

Why couldn’t you make this easy on him? You were supposed to be angry with him for ignoring you for the last week. You were angry with him and yet you still fought for him. He couldn’t make sense of it.

The pacing stopped again, though this time it came in slow, like a realization that found its way piece by piece until it melded into a visible image.

“Was it something I did?”

Bucky jumped up to his feet, instinctively wanting to walk towards you but you held your ground. He froze, standing several feet away.

“No,” he said firmly. “God no. You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then what?” You raised your arms out to the side in question. “We’ve been partners for years, Bucky. I’ve relied on you all that time to have my back, to keep me alive out there, and—and—” you groaned rather loudly, “you’re my best friend! You can’t just up and decide you’re done with me and move on!”

Bucky frowned. “That’s not what this is.”

You shook your head, arms folding tightly over your chest protectively. “Sure feels like it.”

The silence between you was unbearable. Bucky didn’t have a good excuse. You were right to be angry with him. He was abandoning you. He was a coward. He was running away from a painful situation to avoid facing it head on because he was terrified to lose you. Though, as you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, pulling them away a moment later to find a soft glisten of reflection in their wake, Bucky started to wonder that were already true.

“Oh God,” you exhaled, a heavy realization in your voice as you turned to him. Your shoulders slumped. “This is because of Munich, isn’t it?”

Bucky flinched. He tried not to, but you noticed. A look of absolute devastation crossed your features as your lips parted, sinking down onto your bed.

“I knew things were different after that mission. I mean, how could they not be?” You leaned over against your thighs, letting your hair fall down to shield your face where Bucky could not see. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have given in. You couldn’t consent with that shit running through your veins. Not really. So— fuck – I completely understand if you can’t be around me after I—”

“That’s not what happened,” Bucky interjected sharply, shaking himself from the fear coursing through him as he crossed the room to you. He knelt down beside your bed and waited patiently for you to lift your head and let the curtain of hall fall away from your face. “I could have fought it. It hurt like hell, but I would have survived it even if we… if we hadn’t…”

He let his voice trail off, his cheeks turning a slight side of pink. He sighed. “The point... is that I wanted to. I really wanted to. And that’s the problem.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused.

Was he really going to tell you? Wasn’t this what he had been trying to avoid? Throwing away years of friendship to confess deeper feelings he was all but sure you’d never reciprocate?

But there was something about the way you were looking at him. With tears glistening in your eyes and a grief he couldn’t quite place nestled into the lines on your forehead, Bucky began to wonder if walking away would give him any relief at all. He wasn’t sure he could ever leave this room again if you were left blaming yourself for his crimes.

Bucky slowly placed his right hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb gently along the dimple. Your eyes followed his movements, watching curiously until he found the courage to speak.

“We’ve been partners for a while,” he started, clearing his voice when it came out shaken. You nodded. “I feel like sometimes I know what you’re thinking just by looking at you and when we’re out in the field, even in the middle of chaos, it’s like you can tell what I’m doing before I actually figure it out myself. We’re really good together. Out there. It’s hard to find that these days.”

You didn’t say anything and for that, he was grateful. He needed to get this out before he shut down completely.

“I think we only got that good because we’re… uhm… we’re close, you know?” Bucky took a deep breath, releasing his grip on your knee when he realized he’d started to squeeze it a little too hard. Your hand was sitting on your thigh, but you’d inched it closer to his, enough so the tips of your fingers overlapped onto his.

“We’re friends.” Bucky paused at the term, deciding it wasn’t strong enough. “It’s more than that though. I trust you with things I wouldn’t even tell Steve. You were the first person I felt like I could be myself around. Not the Bucky that Steve remembers or the one Hydra manipulated. This one. Whatever that means.”

Your whole hand covered his now, as much as it would allow. He glanced up to find your fingers curling under his, a slight squeeze to tell him you were still listening. He exhaled another breath and the pressure in his chest felt a little lighter.

“What happened in Munich didn’t awaken anything or… or open my eyes to something I didn’t know was there,” Bucky continued, his eyes trained on your legs, unable to find the courage to face you. “I’ve known how I felt about you for a long time. I was okay with it. I learned to live with it and manage it because being your friend and being your partner was too important to lose. But…”

He felt your hands squeeze his again.

“But after Munich… I don’t know how to go back. I don’t think I can.” Bucky didn’t dare to meet your eye. He could feel the words slipping past his lips before he had a chance to pull them back in. A waterfall of confessions he couldn’t hope to control. “It’s why I’ve been so reckless in the field, why I keep ending up in the med wing. I can’t shove it down anymore and it punctures me right through the goddamn heart when I see you surrounded by armed agents or when there’s a weapon aimed at you and my instinct is to run towards you. Screw what happens to me.

“I know you’re good at your job,” Bucky stressed, shaking his head. “I know you can handle yourself and you don’t need me to protect you but… but I want to. I want to keep you safe and hold your hand when you’re getting stitches and curl up beside you at night just so I can remind myself you’re real when the nightmares get the better of me. I want… I want more than I should.”

He could hear the skip in your heartbeat, how it gradually picked up in pace the longer he spoke. Your breathing was shorter, too. Shallower. Bucky was certain it was all confirmation of the story he’d been telling himself for years.

“This… How I feel… It’s not good for us. As friends. As partners. I’m trying to do us a favor and just remove myself from the equation.”

Bucky still had yet to meet your eye. He’d turned to examining every detail he could find on the fabric of your sleep shorts, in the sheets you sat upon, in the divots and dimples and blemishes on your thighs. He wasn’t sure he’d have the resolve to leave if he looked at your face.

Several beats of silence passed by and Bucky wondered how it was possible you hadn’t lashed out at him yet. He expected you to be angry for driving a wedge between you with something as reckless as love and affection. He expected you to turn your shoulder, reject him for everything he was, because it was one thing to befriend the Winter Soldier, another entirely to love him.

Bucky slowly rose back to his feet, letting his hand slip away from your knee and your gentle hold on him fell away. He mistook your silence for acceptance, maybe even agreement. He cleared his throat, starting to back up towards the door.

“So, um,” Bucky said nervously, trying to fill the silence in his escape, “that’s why. I hope you can forgive me some day for all of this. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

Bucky barely had his hand on the knob when he heard the soft squeak of your mattress springs as you rose to your feet.

“You’re wrong.”

The sound of your voice startled him, enough to get him to look back at you before he could stop himself. Your hands were clenched at your sides, eyes red with tears, bottom lip chewed raw.

“Y/n, I—”

“You’re wrong,” you said again, almost angry and somehow that was a relief. It would make it easier for him to leave if you were angry, but you had different plans. “You’re wrong if you think you’re doing me some kind of favor by leaving.”

Tears were on your cheeks now and Bucky’s stomach lurched. This wasn’t what he wanted. This was agony.

He took a step closer to you. “You have to trust me, it’s not a good idea for us to—”

“You’re wrong,” you continued, cutting him off again as you rubbed at the tears under your eyes. “You’re wrong to assume that I don’t feel the exact fucking way about you and—and if you leave, Bucky, I swear to God it will kill me.”

Bucky froze. His heart stopped beating completely, might have plunged down through his stomach, broken through the floorboards and buried itself into molten lava and dirt, because of all the things he was expecting you to say, that was not one of them.

“Don’t do this,” you implored, voice a little broken, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t go.”

Bucky was at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this. He never even considered you might beg him to stay, that you might feel for him in the way he felt for you. It never once crossed his mind. It felt like a dream.

“I miss you.” Your voice was so small and still, it nearly tore him straight in half. “I miss how we used to be. I miss seeing you smile and your stupid jokes at the most inappropriate times in the field.” You laughed to yourself, under your breath, and even through the tears it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. But you sighed, the smile falling away. “I miss you when you’re not here. All the time. So much it hurts. I feel like I’m going out of my mind when I’m not with you. You’re my best friend, but I… I also… I miss Munich.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and you only caught a glimpse of him for a second before your face was in your hands, trying to shield yourself from him.

“I know it’s wrong,” you murmured, muffled by your palms. “I know it’s not right to miss a moment when you were in pain and made to feel something you didn’t ask for, but… I think about it a lot and... how much I want more.”

Stunned silence. Throat dry. Heart pounding.

“What are you saying?” Bucky finally found the courage to ask.

You lifted your head, finally meeting his eye and there was a relief there as you looked up at him. Your shoulders eased. A soft smile returned to your lips and it nearly melted him completely.

“The same thing you are, I think.”

He swallowed. “Oh.”

Bucky watched, near frozen, as you crossed the room, bare feet padding softly over the carpet until you were only inches from him. The space between you closing as your hands slid up his arms, resting against his shoulders, cupping at the sides of his face, just observing, just feeling. There was no venom in his veins and yet, Bucky felt electrified under your touch. His heart stammered in his chest as your fingers wove at the strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you told him and he wondered for a moment if he stopped breathing entirely. "No Hydra chemicals. No foreign influence. Just us, okay? You and me.”

Bucky nodded, a little stunned.

Slowly, you inched up closer to him, your eyes drawing closed until you were a breath from his lips. Just barely grazing upon his own, waiting, and Bucky let his hands slid up against your back, tugging you closed against him, and captured your lips in his own.

It was different than the first time in Munich, less rushed, less desperate, but instead filled with a longing that had spanned years between you, coated in affection and heartache and need for one another beyond anything a serum in a lab could fabricate.

Your hands wove into his hair, his arms pressing you firm against his chest, and it was like you were holding onto him for dear life. Your feet began to carry the two of you backwards, dragging Bucky towards the bed, and you yelped as your knees caught on the edge of the mattress, sending the two of you spiraling onto the bed.

“You alright?” Bucky laughed, brushing away the hair in your eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows caged around your shoulders; most of his weight laying upon you in the sweetest comfort of pressure.

“I'm perfect,” you replied, bright smiles and joy radiating from every pore. It was contagious.

“We can stop here, if you want,” Bucky offered sincerely. He was riding a high he never thought he’d ever experience and anything you’d be willing to share with him was a gift within itself. He’d kiss you for hours if you’d let him.

“And if I don’t want to stop?” you questioned, staring up at him with a hunger in your eyes. Your fingers trailed down his t-shirt, dancing around the hem of the fabric at his hips. “If I wanted to keep going... If I wanted you...?”

“I’m yours, sweetheart.”

A simple answer. A true one. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

Bucky knelt back, tugged on the fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades and pulled it over his head. You watching him as he tossed it to the corner of the room before he settled back down against you. Your hands ran along the lines of his muscles, over the scars and imperfections, and for once, Bucky didn’t shy away from the hands of a woman. It didn’t feel like a twist to his gut, he didn’t hold his breath. No – instead, it felt renewing, healing almost.

His hands slid under the waist of your shirt, inching it higher as he rand his touch along the curves of your sides, until you leaned up for him to help remove the fabric. It joined his shirt at the edge of the room.

Perfect and bare. Stunning in your nakedness. A privilege he never thought he’d be granted.

“You want to take a picture or...?” you teased him, noticing how long he’d been staring at you.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t temp me. Besides, I’m hoping I won’t need a picture to see you like this again.”

“Definitely not,” you confirmed, tugging him down to meet your lips again.

It was laced in smiled and laughter and ages of holding back from one another all rolled into one. A freedom of taking your time, of enjoying one another, and learning to memorize your bodies. Bucky would have wondered if he were dreaming if not for the way you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against his hardening cock – no dream could produce a feeling like that.

With his lips on your neck, Bucky played with the hem of your shorts, waiting until you lifted your hips just enough to give him the access to slid them down your legs, removing the last remaining fabric along with it.

Bucky kissed his way down your body, mapping a trail from your neck, to the hills of your breasts, to your ribs, to the comfort of cushion at your stomach, to the crevices at your legs and inner thighs. He paused for a moment, setting his cheek against your thigh as he drew his fingers between your lips, separating them to give access to the sweetest parts of you.

You flinched a little as he touched your clit, a gasp emitting from your lips as your hands curled into the sheets. Bucky grinned, encouraged by your reaction as he began to circle the pads of his fingers at your entrance. Listening for the subtle changes in your breath, the moans the slipped past, and the curl of your fingers, Bucky leaned in and wrapped his lips around your clit.

“F-fuck, Bucky,” you whined, hands snaking into his hair and gripping tight against his scalp.

He smiled at the feeling, at the way you cried his name, and he pressed his slicked fingers inside of you. Perhaps it was the haze of the foreign chemicals the last time he had you under him like this, but he didn’t remember you being so vocal, so sensitive to his touch. It was a rush and he had to keep himself from rutted up against the mattress as added a third finger, curling them just enough and massaging at the walls as they squeezed tight around him.

Tongue lapping at the wetness, sucking around the sensitive bud of nerves, fingers perfectly drawing out the high as it built at your core, it only took moments before you crashed. You cried out his name, legs wrestling against him in the sensitivity as he drew out the feeling as long as he could, moving slower and slower until you stilled under him.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, a laugh entranced in your voice.

Bucky grinned, pleased with himself as he crawled his way back up the bed to meet your lips. He didn’t bother to wipe the remnants of your high from his mouth and you didn’t seem to mind as you kissed him, certainly tasting yourself upon his lips, and it only made him want you more.

“You’re turn,” you smirked, trying to slide out from under him as you licked your lips, but Bucky held you down.

“Next time, okay?” he countered and you sunk back into the mattress with a pout on your lips. “I don’t think I can last if you get your mouth on me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” you teased, running your fingers down his stomach until he began to shiver.

“Yes,” he chuckled, swatting your hands away playfully. He winked. “I’m gonna die if I don’t have you right now.”

“Jesus, Buck, don’t even joke,” you laughed, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hey, someone's gotta,” Bucky grinned as he tugged down his pants, kicking them off to land amongst the rest of the discarded clothing. “If it got me here, I’ll happily make light of a fucked up Hydra breeding experiment.”

“Would you have told me if it hadn’t happened?” you asked, voice a little softer, peering out from behind your hands.

Bucky stilled, his grin falling into something gentler and he shrugged. “Don’t know if I ever would have had the courage. I never thought we’d be here. Never could have imagined you’d feel the same way.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Would you have said anything?”

“I don’t think I really knew until you threatened to walk away,” you admitted.

“Well,” Bucky sighed, pressing a trail of kissed along your collarbone as he settled between your legs, his length pressing against your thigh, “good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

“Better not,” you murmured against his lips as you drew his mouth to yours.

Then, as he felt the hitch of your breath against his lips, he sank into you. Stretching walls and guiding your legs to wrap at his waist to offer an angle that left your jaw slacked. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips parted, and Bucky felt a rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Even through the smoke filled haze of that serum in Munich, he’d never felt an ounce of the relief as he did in this moment. To be completely and entirely yours.

He felt you squeeze at his shoulders, urging him to move, and slowly, he rocked his hips against you. Slow and steady. Needy. Until your nails dug into his spine and Bucky couldn’t prolong the tender build up any longer.

Chasing and chasing; higher and higher. Bucky could tell you were close from how tight your walls were clenched around him. It took near everything he had not to come on the spot, but he held on, waiting, watching as your lips parted, as the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard slipped past, and you cried out his name.

“Oh fuck—fuck—Bucky, don’t stop.” Your breath was hot against his cheek. “I’m so close. I’m—ah—”

A hitch in your breath and your whole body seemed to fall slack. It only spurred him on. Hips snapped, fingers rubbing quick circles at your clit, until you were whining and shaking under him, until he was satisfied with the blissful look on your face and he let himself go.

He spilled into you, rutting his hips in a few final, lazy thrusts as he sank into the crook of your neck, panting. Dizzy and content, riding a high that extended beyond his body, Bucky hummed into your collarbone as he felt your nails draw patterns along his back in gentle sweeps. It tingled on his skin, send shivers along his spine, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You paused, just for a moment, before you resumed tracing the lines on his back, over muscles and scars alike. “Yes, Bucky?”

He could hear the teasing in your voice, the light-hearted laugh, the warmth that made him fall in love with you and his heart clenched. He wrapped his arms under your shoulders, the full weight of his body still pressing you down to the mattress, still buried inside of you.

“Promise me this is real.” An embarrassment crept up as he said it, though the drawing on his back didn’t skip a beat. “You and me. I’m not dreaming or stuck in my head. This is real, right?”

Your hands slid up along his shoulders to his neck, and then to the sides of his face as you guided him off your chest to meet your eye; more beautiful than he’d ever seen you, with a glimmer of sweat and an afterglow radiating in the smile lifting your cheeks.

“This is real, honey,” you told him, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips.

“Okay. Okay, good.” Bucky grinned, cheeks flushed in heat. He settled back against your chest, resting his cheek to your heart as you resumed drawing the lazy patterns on his back.

Perfectly content.

Warm. Safe.

Home.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[lavishedinjimin]

Hickeys 101 -> dilf!jjk

— synopsis: After Jungkook catches you messing around with another boy, he was determined to teach you a lesson you'll only learn from a father... well, step-father.

↳ pairing: dilf jungkook x f.reader

↳ genre: smut/angst

↳ rating: 18+

↳ word count: 8.6k

↳ warnings: step-dad jungkook, AGE GAP, all characters are in legal age, D/S, daddy kink, condescension, degradation, they’re both toxic and mean, mind manipulation, Jungkook puts OC in subspace, face fucking, spitting, usage of a belt, unprotected sex (ya’ll know the drill already!), little aftercare

A/N: this fic is not suitable for all audiences. If you are easily offended and are sensitive to the warnings stated above, this might not be for you. reminder that the events in this story are purely made up and fictional.

Living with no one else other than your profoundly distant stepdad during lockdown – where you can’t escape, where you can’t go anywhere – is much harder than this zoom class you’re attending. 

“I'm so exhausted,” you mutter beneath your breath, rolling your eyes to the back of your head for your brain hurts from your Econ professor’s infuriating voice. 

Most of the time you are shuffling endlessly from how uncomfortable the wooden chair in this dining area is. With your laptop placed in front of you, the blue light surely ruining your eyes, you tirelessly listen to the lecture as much as your brain could wield. 

But your attention span isn't as great as most people.

Completely losing your focus on the class after two minutes, you turn your attention to your stepdad working his way to the kitchen.

“Can you put a goddamn shirt on?” you huff, a tinge of irritation in your voice.

He passes by you with a swift glance. 

“How are you doing?” Jungkook asks, utterly ignoring your complaint. 

“Since when did you care?” You place your chin on top of your palm, stopping your urges to not look at his exposed torso. His sleeve of tattoos was undeniably eye-catching, but you were too petty to go a have a normal conversation with him. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, was used to your sharp tongue. He knew you didn’t like him ever since he started to date your mom. But now that he was technically your parent, he has all the right to correct you and put you in your place. 

“You know I don’t like that tone, missy.” Jungkook stretches out his words, sounding stern. But you just sarcastically laugh him off. 

As your stepdad was making some food in the kitchen, the class grew longer and more monotonous than ever. You were never the type to pay attention in class, and neither did it help that the school decided to move to online learning. Now you’re truly failing school. 

“Jung—dad,” you sigh, realizing that his exposed back can almost be seen on your front camera’s screen, “can you scoot back a little? They can see you on-cam.” 

“Nope.” 

Jungkook chuckles at the way you grunt as he continues to make his avocado toast. 

“Oh come on—” Jungkook teasingly shows the rest of his behind to the camera, not caring at all that your professor and classmates can see. “Give them a little show.” 

“No!” immediately, you close your camera before swiftly turning your head to his direction, “Can you just stop? Okay? I’m trying to pay attention and you’re not helping!” You yell, banging your fist on the wooden table. 

“I’m so tired, dad. Can you just go away?!” 

He replies with his back still facing you, “Maybe if you asked a little nicer than that, little girl.” 

With a complete shock to the words he used, you found yourself blushing in red while your eyes slowly expand. Your body's reaction from that single sentence was intoxicating. Your class was now forgotten and your professor's voice became white noise. 

“W-What did you just call me?” You didn’t expect your tone to be as soft as it seemed. 

Jungkook finally flips around to face you. He scans you, taking a good look at you as he crosses his arms together. 

You couldn't dismiss that the way he looked at you made you feel something. Something that you’ve never experienced before. 

“I called you little girl. That’s what you are, right?” he sneers, “A little girl who thinks she can talk to her father so impolitely.” 

It was like a cat got your tongue. You flutter your eyes, trying to think of what to reply. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue, “Tsk. See, you're rubbish in talking, Y/n. Once I start to put you in your place, you can no longer put on that bratty act on me.” He suddenly starts to walk over to you, putting you in a frenzy. You sit up straight, pursing your lips as you can't seem to breathe normally. 

You cannot believe what was happening. Your mind starts to wander off from reality, trying to figure out what he is trying to tell you. Why did his voice change the way it did? As he walks closer, you can feel the warmth of his body enveloping yours. It was a situation that you wanted to run away from, but at the same time, you craved. 

With your back to him, he places his hands to rest on the table in front of you. He traps you in your place, not letting you escape. Your breath hitch unexpectedly as he leans his face closer to yours. 

“Jungkook… go away f-from me.” A trail of curses echoes in your mind, for you wanted to sound intimidating and not like a little kid. 

Jungkook chuckles and clicks his tongue, “Then push me away, little girl.” 

Everything in your system freezes. As if you just had been tasered, you feel electricity shooting throughout your body. Jungkook adores your reaction. He’s older than you, he knows more than you; and he knows just how to make a woman as you melt beneath his palms. 

“Silent now, aren’t we?” he teases with a velvety voice, inching his face even closer to the curve of your neck. Strands of his hair tickle your neck as hot breath blows against your skin, causing shivers down your spine. 

He hears a little whimper from you, making the grin on his face growing wider. “Be. A. Good. Girl. For. Me,” he says through an award-winning smirk.  

But – of course – you will not let yourself lose. 

“No.” 

“No?” he stares at you, baffled. 

“Never in a million years,” a bitter grin appears on your face.  

Jungkook leans back and away from you. He was a hundred percent sure that he’s got you under his spell, but your reply got his mouth dry. 

“Yeah?” So, he’s resulting in Plan B. 

A hands-on experience. 

Slowly and delicately, he lifts his tattooed-covered hand and wraps it around your neck. “Mhmm, there we go,” he coos after hearing another sudden whimper, “Remember who you're talking to, little girl, got it?” 

Your palms start to get sweaty as you try your hardest not to moan. Jungkook grips your jugular tighter, making you hitch a breath. You can hear him grunt under his breath, knowing for a fact that this was turning him on as well. 

“Who are you talking to, huh?” he starts to get aggressive as he presses his lips right against the shell of your ear. “Tell me, little girl. Remind yourself who’s in charge. C’mon, can’t speak now, baby?” 

Baby. 

Your eyes automatically close at that, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “Daddy.” 

“Mhm, good girl—”

“Daddy,” you whine, “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, y-you’re in control.” 

‘Finally’, Jungkook thinks to himself with a large cocky grin on his face. He finally got you to submit. 

“Someone’s not as tough as they seem… I think I need to punish you for being such a fucking brat. What do you say?” 

The way he said those words right against your ear instantly made your panties wet. It was humiliating that you got turned on by your stepdad, but at the same time, it was hot. 

“Little girl… tsk, I need you to answer with your words and not with a desperate whimper.” 

He releases the grip he has on your throat and instead, elevates his hand so that his fingers can rub against your scalp. A tingling sensation runs through your backbone as he massages your scalp, feeling so overwhelmingly good that made you lean back against his hand, yearning for more. 

“Punish me,” you say in an almost audible whisper. “Do what you want, I don’t care. Please, please, please…” 

Jungkook takes a good look at you; your cheeks flushed, eyelids closed and your mouth slightly parted. It looks like you were enjoying this a lot – too much to be exact. 

The feeling was something else, something foreign that you honestly craved for such a long time. You and Jungkook had were never close, and you’ve never thought of him as a real father figure. After such a long time of not having a man to run the family, you didn’t know how to act around one. 

Within a second of realization that you were loving this too much, he removes his hand from you and walks away without saying anything else. You feel like you just got heartbroken.  

“W-What… why did you?” you stutter through a long exhale. Your eyes begged for him to come back, damn it – you were ready for him! 

As Jungkook walks away from the kitchen with his bare, muscular back facing you, he says a final time, “Take your studies seriously, Y/n. I don’t want you failing any subject.” 

You feel your shoulders slump down and your mouth purses into a straight line. You just got edged by your stepdad. 

Staying silent was, you thought, the right thing to do at the moment. You insatiably did not trust your voice, and there was nothing to say to him without embarrassing yourself. 

You glance at the clock on the wall just beside the refrigerator. As your classes were done for the day, and you have the rest of the afternoon all to yourself. Despite all of the unfinished homework that you currently have piled in your calendar, you still choose to watch a movie on Netflix and eat a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. 

And, of course, all this just to distract yourself from the bizarre shit that happened between you and your step-dad, and to divert your attention on something else other than how sexy he is. 

“Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you’re going this late?” Your dad stops you from stepping outside the door, grabbing you by the arm. You close your eyes for a brief moment, inhaling some air to let your senses calm down. The door was already opened, and all you had to do was to get out a little faster, and he wouldn’t have caught you. 

Perhaps trying to sneak out of the house was harder than you thought. 

Jungkook spins you around and makes you look at his dark eyes despite the dim lights of the entryway. He wears black checkered pajama pants and a white tank top, hair all messy as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. 

“It’s ten o’clock, and you’re supposed to be in bed,” he warns you with a strict tone. 

Snatching your arm away from him, you reply with gritted teeth, “I’m going out with a friend.” 

“Friend?” he scoffs, “I wasn’t born last night, Y/n. Where is he?” 

“He?” You slowly back away, taking tiny little steps closer to the door, “What do you mean ‘he’? I’m not going out with any guy, dad.” 

Jungkook rests his hips on one leg and eyes you up and down. Based on what you were wearing and the makeup that you have on, you looked like you’re about to give some boy the time of his life. 

“I’m not going to do anything I’d regret, I promise,” you whisper as quiet as the night sky behind you. “I’ll be good, daddy.” 

That was all it took for Jungkook to stop his tracks. You knew what you just did to him. The way how we reacted, how he froze immediately at his place, was the same reaction you had earlier this day when he did all those dirty things to you. Now he was in your shoes. 

As Jungkook looked like a dear in headlights, that was the time where you rushed off into the middle of the streets where Yeonjun’s car is hesitantly parked. 

“Quick, quick, quick!” you half-whispered, half-shouted as you closed the passenger’s door. Yeonjun laughs loudly while setting the gear up, preparing the car for a long, speedy ride. 

You look back and see Jungkook standing outside the porch, watching in awe as the car drives away from him. There was nothing funnier than seeing his stunned expression, for he couldn't do anything about your mischief anymore. 

“Is he angry?” Yeonjun asks, still giggling in his seat. 

“Yeah, he didn’t want me to leave,” You swing the seatbelt across your torso, securing it in the buckle. 

Yeonjun passes you a drink he bought for you from McDonald’s in which you gladly receive with thanks. “What’s this?” you ask before taking a sip. 

“Iced coffee. We’re out here for a long, long night, Y/n. See, I have one for myself!” he exclaims as he points to his drink sitting on the cupholder.

Yeonjun pulls down the windows so that you two can get a feel of the cold, fresh air of the starry night. Strands of hair would so often get caught in between your lips, distracting you from the relaxing scenario. 

Lifting your elbow to rest on the window frame, you ask him, “Are you sure this drive-in cinema is open this late at night?” 

“Of course, they’re open 24/7.” Yeonjun takes a quick look at you before returning his focus on the road. He smirks slightly, “We’re gonna have so much fun, Y/n. You won’t regret it.” 

You’ve already entered high-school when Jungkook met you. His first impressions of you were bashful and conservative, only showing your true nature around your friends. He thought you were such a warmhearted kid. He was only dating your mother at the time. 

But you’ve never really felt that he was a part of the family. His aura was never the nurturing ‘dad’ type, but rather, the ‘cool uncle’. He was never accustomed to kids, he’s the youngest of his siblings, so it was astounding that he’d ever married someone with a hormonal teen. 

Thus, as you’ve grown older, he’s slowly seeing your real side. Inch by inch, you're letting him see your colors and how you behave. A snappy and confident girl you are. You always have an opinion on things and you despise it when somebody gets in your way. 

That’s how your mother raised you. She taught you how to stand up for yourself and how to make yourself known, even though you sometimes overstep people’s boundaries.

Your mom was out of town for a trip with her office friends. She just landed a new job at the local government unit, and she was invited to their annual orientation. Which, if you were in her shoes, wouldn’t go to. But thankfully without her strict guidance, you can do whatever you want. 

Just say the magic words to your stepdad, and he’ll be putty in your hands. 

Consequently, Jungkook won't admit that he doesn’t like your attitude you put on him. He cares for you, he does. But if there’s ever a situation that you cross his limits, he wouldn’t hesitate to punish you and make it known that in the end, he’s older and you need to obey him.

Scared was a downright understatement. No matter how much you try to be brave and face whatever your stepdad might do to you as a penalty for ‘misbehaving’, you couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat. 

It was two in the morning, and your eyes are bloodshot red from almost having no sleep at all, besides the little nap you and Yeonjun took after watching a series of old movies in the drive-in cinema. You were wearing his sweater that he gave to you to keep you warm. 

“Thank you for tonight, Yeonjun,” you lean into the window frame, resting your arms on it. The yellow-haired boy smiles at you, his eyes wandering around your face as if memorizing every pattern of your features. He takes a final look at your bruised, swollen lips and hickey-covered neck before orienting his torso close to you. His face was an inch away from yours before he kisses you goodbye. 

“Try not to get caught,” he whispers against your lips with a cheeky grin. 

“You said that before, and I got caught,” you shrug while tilting your head to the side, “Say something else.” 

Yeonjun scrunches his nose. He uses his right hand to pinch your cheek endearingly, “Alright, then. How about… good luck with your stepdad.” 

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you release an exasperated sigh while closing your eyes. The two of you result in laughter, before giving him his goodbye.

Hurriedly, you rush around the house until you arrive at your bedroom window. Thanking your past self for slightly lifting the glass pane open beforehand, it was easy for you to sneak in without any faults.

The room was dim only because of the dawn lights outside. “Ah, finally,” you shut the window, hearing the loud ‘thud’ in contrast to the quiet atmosphere around you. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, hm?” 

‘Oh. My. God.’ 

It feels like you were in a horror movie. Jungkook’s cold voice sent shivers all over your body, running down your spine, arms, and legs. Frozen in your place, you gulp the ball that formed in your throat. 

Jungkook was sitting comfortably in your bed, one leg above another. “You know, little girl, I didn’t know how comfy this bed is. I might sleep in here with you sometimes.” 

“What?” you abruptly turn to look at him. He had a despicable smirk, knowing what he said has gotten on your nerves. “You will not sleep with me.” 

“Why not?” he doesn’t lose eye contact with you as he stands up, “You’re my baby girl.” 

Your breathing turned heavy as he slowly pushes you back into a concrete wall, not providing you any room to run away. “I-I’m…I’m what?” 

His eyes inspect your body up and down. You were praying to someone above that he wouldn’t see your hickeys, but it was all too late, and he knows you too much. 

Jungkook prods his tongue in his cheek once his menacing eyes stay on your neck. He looks straight into your eyes, before directing them back to those hickeys. 

“What is this—” your breathing snags from how rapid he was to press his body against you, wrapping his right hand around your jaw. He forcefully tilts your head to gain more access to your neck. Jungkook analyzes the deep red and purple marks on your skin, feeling oh-so disappointed in you. You turn squeamish from how tight he holds you, hearing how rugged the way his breath became, deep inhales and aggressive exhales. “What a fucking slut you are.” 

You feel your blood rushing out from your face, turning pale in a mere second of him saying that word to you. 

With a gruff, guttural voice, Jungkook doesn’t let you explain for he swiftly turns you around, pushing your frontside onto the cold wall. 

He holds the back of your neck and “I stayed up all fucking night waiting for you to come back home. Despite how fucking irritating and bratty you are, no matter how much you hate me, I care for you, Y/n. I fucking care for you, and I promised your mother that I’ll look after you.” 

You whimper when he tightens his grip once again, but you didn’t think about pushing away. 

“But here you are, not even cooperating with daddy.” 

“You’re not—”

Jungkook suddenly gives your clothed ass cheek a hard, loud spank. Your engrossed gasp captivated the room, and it sure did something to him. Jungkook, although he knows that you can’t see him, hides his growing smirk by biting his lower lip. He gives you a second spank, and a third spank, making your legs quiver and knees buckle from the pain. 

“P-Please stop…” you whine, your hands trying to reach behind you to grab his arms. 

“Stop?” he raises an eyebrow, “Wanna stop, little girl? You don’t like it when daddy spanks your ass?” 

However, you don’t answer. You don’t know what you want. The situation turned you on, and you know you’ll love the way your ass will burn afterward. Why stop now when you can enjoy it? 

Jungkook sees your mind was racing with thoughts, and he takes this as a perfect opportunity to drag you along with him to the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress and swings you over his knee. 

“Stop!” you yell loudly this time, trying to pry away, but he was holding onto you tightly. 

“Shut up,” Jungkook growls, his voice immediately changes into a much deeper, hoarser tone. He, once again, grabs your jaw and forces you to tilt your head up, making you look directly into his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, little girl. You do nothing but run your mouth all over this goddamn house.” 

Jungkook was angry. The pads of his fingertips dig deeper into the skin of your jaw and lower cheeks, causing your lips to form a pout. 

He clicks his tongue, “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. If you think that I’m going to let you go so easily, I’m afraid that you’re wrong, dear. I’ve finally gotten you between my teeth!” he exclaims sarcastically, although the sour tone of his voice makes you cringe. 

“You think you’re the shit, huh? Wanting attention so bad that you sneak out at midnight to fuck a disgusting pig. Am I right, Y/n?” 

“How fucking—” you shake and try to wiggle yourself out of his grip, offended by the words he said. You wanted to punch him yet cry at the same time. “How fucking dare you!” Facing him with tears slowly welling up in your eyes, “I-I do not— Yeonjun’s not… ugh!” You dig your nails into your palm from the raging frustration that was filling your mind and body. You kick your legs up and down, but Jungkook was not having it. He isn’t letting you go any time soon because he constricts your wrists together behind your back, tighter. 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook smirks menacingly, “Relax, little girl, relax. You’re safe now in daddy’s arms. Perhaps that Yeonjun boy has gotten in your head a little too much, hm? Don’t worry, daddy will fix your attitude.” 

Without hesitating at all, Jungkook pulls your skirt down, revealing your lace panties all to his eyes. His warm hand rubs your soft flesh, squeezing it here and there. He knows that you like it. He knows that you’re only keeping this little act up to seem tough. But he sees the way your eyes dilate whenever he says a word that triggers you, that triggers you in a way that’ll make you surrender to him. 

Take the kitchen scenario, for example. With one word, with a specific act, you were melting for him. He knows that you absolutely can’t get enough of him, and he loves to play with your mind. 

He was completely aware that it wasn’t Yeonjun or anything else that makes you act like this; acting like a little monster. It was all because of him; he’s the one responsible. 

And he’s the one who will fix you.  

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook’s tone turns softer, more delicate. He hits your ass once, twice, before cooing you with shushes. 

You slowly get hazy, the spiteful and bratty part of your brain switches off. A shiver runs throughout your system when he wraps his hand around your neck. Flashes of the kitchen scenario fill your mind; how submissive you turned for him so swiftly. Your consciousness knows that you’re doing it for a second time. 

“Where’s my good baby girl, hm? Where’s that little girl that I love so, so fucking much?” He says through gritted teeth at the last sentence, spanking your butt again. 

His thumb rubs soothing repetitive circles on your skin, disregarding how firm he was choking you. You close your eyes, sniffing a little, somehow feeling tranquility in his grasp. 

You release a pain-filled mewl when he purposefully presses his thumb against the giant reddish-purple hickey on your neck. Jungkook’s cock hardens beneath his sweatpants, forming an obvious outline as each second passes. 

He was enthralled by you. The way you move and the way you behave for him was addictive to see. “Yeonjun, huh?” Jungkook grins, “What’s this hickey for? Little girl?” Jungkook laughs as he lands another critical spank, causing your body to slightly jolt forward. “Is this his way of ‘marking’ you, hm? Claiming you as his own?” he doesn’t stop giggling from his own words, mocking you with a bitter attitude. 

“How pathetic, don’t you think? You allow yourself to be ‘claimed’ by a random dude you just met. Are you proud of yourself? Oh, I bet you’re very delighted that you’ve finally found attention from a boy.” 

He chokes you harder, pressing his thumb firmer against the hickey. The pain shoots throughout your body, making you quiver and close your eyes. However, you don’t respond. It was too humiliating to admit that his words were surprisingly true.

Without a warning, he hooks his index finger along the waistband of your panties and yanks it down. You sharply inhale through your nose, chewing down on your bottom lip as you feel two slender fingers play with your wet slit. Jungkook groans lowly from how wet you are, watching your pussy clench and unclench around nothing. 

“But you… oh you, Y/n—” he flips you back up and positions you to sit on his thighs, straddling him. Jungkook tilts his head and raises both of his brows, looking at you with disbelief. 

He exhales his words out, “You don’t know how to hide that skanky hickey of yours. Have you ever thought about covering up your hickey just as any other teen with a working brain, you slut?” 

Jungkook’s vicious, barbed words hit you like a truck. You look away from him, but he was quick to place a finger on your chin. He flicks his finger up, your head joining the gesture. 

As his tongue dances along with his plush bottom lip, he places his hands on your hips and squeezes thoroughly. His eyes rake your body up and down, your exposed cunt exposed to him. 

“Hickeys 101, Y/n. Conceal and disguise your hickeys if you don’t want to be caught,” he smirks, “but of course you wanted to be caught. You wanted all of this to happen.” 

“I don’t care.” You shake your head, trying your hardest to force a poker-face, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. His hands were toying with your waist, tapping his fingertips on your dressed skin. Why does he have to mess with your mind like this?

Sensual. Your stepdad reeked sex appeal and you hate yourself for loving it so much. His senses stick to you like a shadow you can’t escape, his aura addicting, and you want more of it. 

He pulls you closer, hands on each side of your face. His nose was a millimeter away from your own, and you can feel his hot breath fanning your face. That awful smirk doesn’t wipe off of his face. He looks at your lips, then back to your eyes. As much as he was admiring your beauty, you were doing the same. 

Jungkook was undoubtedly handsome. Perfect, strong features that no man in your liking can ever compare. His luscious, long hair with wavy strands here and there frames his face, encompassing his flawless appearance. 

There’s no way you will ever say no to him. 

He kisses you. Pressing his lips against yours, he kisses you so gently that you forget that he’s supposed to punish you. The kiss was tender and soft, a kiss like he would give to a girl’s first time. 

‘You’re kissing your stepdad, idiot.’ A voice at the back of your mind says. However, easily disregarding that conflicting thought, Jungkook pulls away before you can even take the kiss to the next level. 

“Little girl, oh, baby,” he laughs, “I’m going to hurt you. I’m gonna fucking bruise you until I can see tears in your eyes.” 

He easily throws you on the bed and he starts to strip himself down to his boxers. There was an evident fear written across your face, hugging your knees to your chest as you watch his dick grow beneath his underwear. 

“Take your fucking shirt off,” he growls, “Take everything off. Now.” His natural dominating presence allowed you to obey him quite easily. You did as you were told, keeping eye contact the whole time just to tease him. Sucking your bottom lip, you hide your sly grin. 

Jungkook stands tall from the edge of the bed, his honeydew skin being a perfect contrast with his dark hair. He palms himself through his boxer briefs, not having any hesitation at all. His eyes never leave you as you take off every piece of clothing from your body. You felt a little insecure, yes, but you gulp that nervousness down your throat. 

However, as soon as you took your top off, Jungkook caught a glimpse of more hickeys scattered all over your chest. This sight causes him to tilt his head back with an exasperated sigh. 

“Crawl.” He motions with his index and middle finger a ‘come here’ motion, “Crawl to me, little girl.” 

You get down on all fours and do as your told. He smiles with a content look on his face, but was soon replaced with a seductive gaze, “Did you have sex with that boy?” 

“W-What? No, I didn’t!” you answer quickly, shaking your head. 

His throbbing cock was right in front of your face. Aside from it still being covered with his underwear, you can spot how it twitches then are there. He holds your head with both of his warm hands, “Tell me, little girl. What are you?”

Your mouth gapes open but no word comes out. With your mind filled with lust and desire, you couldn’t understand what he meant. 

Jungkook pulls his cock out, but he doesn’t let you see it at first. He holds your head up and won’t even tolerate you taking a glance. 

“You don’t know what you are, huh?” he scoffs bitterly, “I knew you wouldn’t. What’s a girl like you anyway, right?” 

Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest. 

“Repeat after me, Y/n. I am a whore.” 

You whimper, pouting your lips. 

“C’mon, don’t say it’s too degrading for you, whore. It’s the bare fucking minimum for me. Don’t you want me to be proud of you?” 

Oh, he knows what he’s doing to you. He knows and of your weaknesses and he’s been using those against you. But you – you were naïve enough to notice that. 

“I’m…” you blink rapidly, “I’m a whore.” 

He snarks whilst stroking your luscious hair, “Louder.” 

Jungkook ignores your whines and waits for you with a quirked eyebrow. His patience was wearing thin and you were walking on thin ice right now. 

“I’m a whore.” You repeat loudly this time, the words sinking deep into your soul.

He leans down and slants his head, “And what do whores get, hm?” 

“I-I don’t know.” 

Jungkook wraps a big hand around his thick cock, aligning the tip in front of your mouth. You gasp. “They get their bratty mouths stuffed with dick.”

There wasn’t even a warning as Jungkook shoves his dick down your throat, making you gag and choke harshly around his girth. Jungkook growls deeply, his eyes rolling back to his head. 

Your saliva starts to drip down to your chin as he face-fucks you, not giving you the time to breathe nor to adjust to his long length. With one hand, he creates a makeshift ponytail and pushes your head farther down his dick. 

The whimpers you made out of protest didn’t even work, because the vibrations it caused pleasured him even more. 

“Mhmm, that’s right, struggle for me,” he moans, watching your eyes filling up with tears. “This is where you belong, whore. Right at your stepdad’s mercy and submission. You don’t get to choose what you want because I owe you. I control you.” 

Jungkook further fucks you as his hips thrust back and forth with no remorse. Gagging sounds fill the entire room and it just turns him on increasingly. 

“Look at me. Look at me!” he grunts as he pulls his dick out. He watches a single tear fall down your cheek, making his mouth form another devilish grin.

He leans down to grab something from the floor, but you don’t notice. 

“You’re such a mess, little girl. Just what daddy wants you to be.”

Jungkook takes his shaft and abruptly slaps your cheek with his dick. He hits your flesh a couple of times, humming in delight. 

In a swift, quick second, you suddenly feel a hard and raging sting on your right ass cheek from an unexpected impact. You cry out loud, shutting your eyes from the pain you experienced without a notice. 

His belt. 

The harsh leather material instantly caused redness on your delicate, soft skin. Jungkook whips you again, triggering a downpour of tears. You release incoherent noises every time he spanks you, for every hit was harder and sharper from the last. 

“You’re a naughty, irresponsible little girl.” He declares alongside another hit. He makes sure that each cheek was covered in red belt marks. His cock stands tall before you, drenched in your saliva as it leaks precum. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it and he takes this into account. 

Another hit, he puts all his strength in, making you inhale a sharp breath. Jungkook takes this shot to plunge his dick deep back into your mouth, pushing past your gag reflex as you struggle for air once more. 

Your pussy was awfully drenched and you can feel your wetness drip down from your slit and onto your inner thighs. You’ve never been this wet before, and it was insane that it’s all because of your unquestionably hot step-dad. 

It was like you’re in a porn video. No matter how rough he was fucking your face, you enjoyed it and you were moaning as he obliterates your throat. 

Jungkook pushes his cock deeper, your entire body twitching from the foreign feeling. “Stay there, stay there,” he rasps, “Stay there and take my big fucking dick down your little throat. Yes, that’s right, ohh fuck.” 

Every muscle in his body flexes as he tries to keep you still. "This is all you're good for, slut. You deserve to be used for pleasure from a man. You're nothing but a cockwhore." His biceps harden as he puts your head in place, abs tight. He leans forward and encloses your poor head with his strong thighs, securing yourself to his dick. 

With another crack of his belt onto your ass, you cry. Jungkook admires the sight of chaos he’s created. Once he was satisfied with the look of you, he pulls out. 

This is what he likes; messy and all wet. A string of saliva connects from your lips and to the tip of his dick. You try to catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling so sharply. Looking up at him with red, pitiable eyes, you give him a sullen expression. 

“You see what you did there, little girl? Hm? Now tell me again, what are you?” 

This time, you don’t hesitate. 

“I’m a whore.” 

“Yes, you are. Yes, you are, baby. You’re daddy’s little whore.” 

Your mind turns fuzzy once again. It was clear that you were not yourself anymore. If you weren’t drunk in lust, you wouldn’t let this happen and you absolutely wouldn’t allow him to handle you this way. 

But then again, it was too difficult to not succumb to him. 

“Cute little thing,” he murmurs beneath his breath. “Bet your pussy taste fucking delicious. Go on, turn around for daddy and let him see.” 

Your cheeks blush once you’ve obeyed his order and your cunt was exposed all for his eyes. Feeling a hand run down your sore ass, you whine as his fingers trail down your inner thighs, purposely ignoring your needy pussy. 

Jungkook was biting his lip so hard that he can almost draw blood. Ever so slightly, the pad of his thumb glides across your wet slit, lightly pressing against it. “Jungkook,” you whisper, wiggling your butt for more. 

“Oww fuck!” you drop your face on the mattress when Jungkook slaps your pussy unanticipatedly. Legs quivering in need, you bite down on the sheets. 

“Surprised that you don’t know how to address me, Y/n.” In a quick motion, he pushes two fingers inside your sopping entrance. 

Already feeling full, your back painfully arches as you attempt to take his fingers that were thrusting in and out so boldly. Suave movements of his digits caused a chill down your back, feeling too much euphoria at once. 

“What’s my name again?” he inquires before using his thumb to rub on your throbbing clit. 

“Daddy,” you reply quickly, not wanting to be punished further. 

“Good girl,” he chuckles, “that’s what a good girl should do; follow instructions without having to tell twice. You just love taking orders, don’t you? Huh?” 

“I-I do,” your face heats up immensely, stomach churning. 

Jungkook hums approvingly as he spreads your ass cheeks apart with his hands. You can feel the heat radiating off of his face as he leans into your cunt. With a bold lick of his tongue, your body shivers as the strong muscle toys with your folds. 

“Oh, please,” you moan, “that feels so good.” 

“Really now?” Jungkook gathers a bunch of his saliva and spits it down on your cunt, making it wetter and lubricated than it already was. He takes your clit into his mouth and sucks profusely, licking and biting here and there. The sound of your moans fueled his hunger for your cum, but he was not letting you go so easily. 

His tongue flicks your clit without mercy before inserting two fingers inside your hole once more. He feels your walls flutter around his digits, signaling your upcoming orgasm. 

He pulls away completely. 

Jungkook ignores your cries and how you bucked your hips to him, wanting more. He instructs you to lay down on the bed with your back against the headboard. Grasping the belt in his hand, you swallow the formed ball down your throat as you watch him crawl to you – like a predator hunting for its prey. 

“Pretty,” he mumbles to himself, eyeing you up and down. He kneels before you and grabs your neck, pulling you to him. If it weren’t for his lewdness and obscure actions, then you would say that his smile was sweet. But you know for a fact that his mind was thinking of different ways on how to torture you. 

Your eyes widen as he wraps the black leather belt around your jugular, using it like it's a dog collar and leash. “What are you – ohh…” Jungkook tightens the belt not enough to suffocate you, but enough for you to feel that it’ there. 

“Gotta hide that hideous hickey of yours, little girl. The more I look at it, the more I remember how much of a slut you are for that boy. Tell me, can Yeonjun make you feel the way I make you feel?” 

"No," you meekly reply with a little shake of your head. Nothing will ever compare to what Jungkook makes you feel than any other.

He wraps the belt around his fist and tugs on it, causing you to jolt forward, face closer to him. His nose barely grazes against yours. "Tell daddy you're sorry."

"B-But..."

He tilts his head in confusion, surely not expecting you to reply with anything else than a simple 'sorry.'

"But what?" he nags, slowly growing annoyed.

"I didn't mean to do it with Yeonju—". 

*Slap*

His hands collide with your right cheek, slapping your face with no remorse, making you release a loud whimper of pain. Jungkook growls and roughly holds your cheek, making you pout. Your eyes instantly tear up from the stinging pain, and Jungkook leans to your ear to whisper; "Say. Sorry." 

He releases his grip on your cheeks so you can answer properly, "I'm sorry...daddy."

"Good girl," he says simply before leaning in to give a tender, wet kiss on your lips. He smiles before you, eyes turning into little crescents with dark irises staring directly into yours, "Have you learned your lesson?" 

"Yes, I do." 

"Well, what've you learned, little girl?" he caresses your reddened cheek, "You promise to be good from now on and obey daddy?" 

"I promise." You reply in an almost inaudible whisper. Thankfully, it was enough for Jungkook. 

However, he wasn't done with you. He was yet to put his dick inside your pussy. Thanks to his strong build, Jungkook easily flips you around on your stomach, making you lay flat on the bed. He hovers on top of you with his dick in between your butt. 

Grabbing your wrists to secure them behind your back, he takes his shaft with his other hand and aligns his cock to your dripping pussy's entrance. 

"Want my cock?" Jungkook asks with a raspy voice, turned-on from the sight of your bruised butt with the combination of your sweet cunt, the folds all wet and ready for him. 

"Mhm, please put it in me..." you insist politely. 

Without hesitating, Jungkook pushes his tip inside your heat. "God, fuck," he chuckles, moaning right after, "you have such a tight pussy. So fucking tight and wet for my dick. Mhmm..."

Your pussy walls inevitably flutter around his girth once he had his whole tip in, and you can’t help yourself but twitch and squirm. Jungkook finds this endearing. 

“Daddy,” you mewl, “please put it all in me.” 

‘Well, if you said so.’ Jungkook thinks before shoving his whole length in. Ignoring how your back arched and the loud yelp you released, Jungkook thrusts his dick in and out of your pussy so good like he was a sex-god. 

His dick is covered in your juices as he rubs his precum all over your walls, getting you all nice and extra-lubricated for him. Your moans motivate him to continue, his primal instincts were ultimately getting the best of him. 

“F-Fuck,” he stutters, biting his bottom lip. It has been a while since he’s felt pussy wrapped around his cock, consequently, he ravishes on the sensation he missed so fucking much. “You’re being so good taking my dick, mhmm, you like it deep inside that young pussy?” he asks with a tint of mockery in his tone, “I bet you’re the type to prefer older men’s dick.” His thrusts were getting rougher and rougher, deeper, making you feel so full. His words were like honey, despite how lewd they are, the way how he spoke to you made you addicted. 

Jungkook holds your wrists tighter, nails digging down your skin. “I know your little boyfriends can’t satisfy you. That’s why you only want my cock, correct, little lady?” 

“M-Mhmm,” you respond as his balls clap against your ass. 

You’ve never felt more euphoric in your entire life. Only vulgar and lecherous sounds can be heard and you never want it to stop. His fervent, erotic moans sounded so hot made you milk his cock even harder. And it worked; Jungkook feels you tightening, clenching and unclenching. 

Pounding you like this from behind, all submissive for him was feeding onto his dark, domineering desires. Getting you all for himself was easier than he expected. 

“Do you want to cum?” he flips you around and starts fucking you in missionary, the new position makes you throw your head back as his cock hits your g-spot over and over again. 

You mouth the word ‘yes’, having no energy to form a coherent word. 

Jungkook chuckles, lifting both your legs up to his shoulders, creating more leeway for him to move deeper. 

“Ohh my god, just like that!” 

“Yeah?” He presses his body to yours, sweaty bodies pressed together. Without wiping away that smirk of his, he brings his mouth to yours to kiss you one again. 

You felt a sensory overload. With each hard, delicious thrust, you keep moaning into his mouth that you can’t even give him a proper kiss. “I-I’m gonna cum, daddy,” you sob, “I’m gonna cum!” 

“Hold it.” He snaps, “Hold your cum. Wait for my instructions.” 

His breathing was getting unsteady, you feel your room getting hotter and hotter with each second. All you can think of was his cock drilling inside your cunt. His long hair drapes from his face and the tips were slightly ticking your cheeks. The veins in his neck were protruding, making him look ten times hotter. 

His cock was making you dumb. You can almost forget that he was your stepdad – for he was just an older man you lusted for. 

“Be a good cockslut for me, m’kay baby? You’re already a good girl for letting daddy take control over you. I’m gonna let you cum as a reward.” 

“Mmnggg, please!” 

With his hand, he grabs your belt-clad throat and squeezes hard, making you see stars. Your toes curl up from this specific action. 

“Open your mouth.” He says in a hurry, teeth gritted together, “Open your slutty mouth.” 

After a second that you parted your lips, Jungkook spits in your mouth unexpectedly. This made you wild. You didn’t dare to close your mouth and swallow his already existing spit because you wanted more. “Ohh, I see what you want,” Jungkook snickers, “filthy little whore. Swallow and I’ll give you more.” 

Subsequently, he praises you with words that made you blush. He gives you another load of his spit, and you consume it immediately. If Jungkook was hard earlier, he was now rock-solid from your freaky behavior he didn’t know you comprised.

“Daddy, please! I can’t hold it in…” your body slightly quivers from the unforgiving impact of his cock, squeezing your walls so tightly to prevent yourself from spilling your cum onto him. 

Jungkook can’t wait any longer himself, “Cum. Cum on my cock, baby. Do it – oh shit – do it now.” 

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back to your head. You felt an overwhelming drive of euphoria rush through your system as you let yourself loose on his cock. “Jesus Christ, you’re so hot, little girl,” Jungkook groans, “There, there,” he pumps his cock faster to catch his orgasm.

"Daddy's gonna cum inside your mouth," Jungkook's cock twitches instantly from the thought, "Imma spill my seed deep inside your throat. You're not wasting any spills, little girl, you're lucky to even get a taste of my cum. For a slut like you don't deserve a single shit. A-Ahhh fuck, y-you’re lucky your so goddamn cute that I – mmngg – couldn’t resist giving you daddy’s cum."

Within a couple of deep, mind-blowing thrusts, he pulls out and crawls over to your face. Automatically opening your mouth to accept his cock, he pushes his length down and past your gag-reflex. “B-Baby, baby, fucking shit,” he grits his teeth, hands clawing at your hair, “Take my cum, c’mon, I know you can. I know you can take this sweet daddy cum. Mhmm that’s a good girl, that’s daddy’s good little girl.” 

Your throat contracts and gags as he fills you up, spilling his seed down your pipe. Tears started to fall down your woeful eyes, attempting to take everything that was given to you. 

You knew you were going to hell for this – for all of this. But at least you’ve enjoyed yourself and got what you’ve wanted. 

It was undeniably crazy how quick he got you into submission. Was it the way that he talks to you, the way he can technically read your mind and identify all of the things you desired, or was it just your daddy issues coming to play? 

Whatever it was, you didn’t regret a single bit of this to happen.

Who knows if this will occur to you again; if you’ll receive the same pleasure as this again? 

“Come ‘ere, let me wrap you in my arms,” Jungkook whispers after cleaning you up. Nodding, you scooch over to him to allow his warmth to resonate through your naked body. 

He is the perfect big spoon. He rests his chin on top of your head, humming a song to soothe you. 

Looking outside the window, you see that the sky is painted with variations of orange and red, signaling the arrival of dawn. Your eyes grow big as you examine the time on the wall clock; 4:00 A.M. You have three and a half hours left until classes start. 

Jungkook minds how your body tenses. He holds you a bit tighter and snuggles his face into the crook of your neck. Even though he can see those awful hickeys, he turns a blind eye to them. 

“Skip classes. Daddy won’t be mad,” he titters, “Although, your mom will be home anytime soon today.” 

You emit a gasp, “Wait, today?” 

“Yes,” he sneers, understanding the panic in your eyes, “Remember what I told you, Y/n. Hickeys 101, cover—”

“Cover it up.” 

After you’ve slept through all your classes for today, you woke up in the afternoon exactly when your mother just arrived from her trip. 

Your whole body was sore. You can’t walk straight and your hair was in tangles. Before exiting your bedroom, you went to your bathroom, grabbed your makeup back, and covered your hickeys with concealer. 

‘Yeonjun… should I even see him again?’ 

The makeup did the bare minimum of covering your bruises. It wasn’t the best coverage ever, but it was enough. Parting your hair to the side to hide most of the skin of your neck, you finally went outside. 

“Y/n!” your mother exclaims, raising her head after she was scurrying deep inside her bag. “There you are. Are classes dismissed early?” 

Your step-dad chuckles behind her as he was carrying the rest of her luggage to the living room. Jungkook glances at you. 

“Yes.” You straight out lied. 

“I see. Oh! And did Jungkook treat you well?” 

You almost choked in your spit. 

“Was he good to you?” your mom raises her brows to Jungkook, “Or was Y/n a pain in the ass, babe?” 

Your face turns red in an instant. You wanted to laugh from the double-meaning of her words.  

“Y/n was a pain in the ass but don’t worry…” Jungkook smirks at you, his eyes hinting a sultry, teasing look, “She’s a good girl nevertheless.” 

The way Jungkook looks at you has to be a crime. There’s never a moment where you didn’t feel a single thing whenever he locks his handsome eyes with yours. It was an incredibly intense feeling – a feeling that you know you’ll crave.

“Mm. Okay. You look…” she scans your figure, head to toe. “tired. But anyway, come here and help me unpack. I have tons of stories and gossips to tell!” Your mom exclaims as she sits down on the couch. 

Before you can even approach her, Jungkook grabs your right arm and puts you in front of him. Afraid that he’ll do something you’ll regret, you pull away – but he shakes his head. 

Jungkook puts his index finger in front of his mouth, looking down at you while he whispers, “Shhh,” he leans forward and mouths the next words close to your ear, “Act like nothing happened, little girl.” 

[rednights]

All Too Well

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader 

Summary: The part of the movie where Peter realizes he was just a bet. Kinda revolves around Taylor Swift’s 10 minute “All Too Well”. 

WC: 1.9k

TW: angst angst angst and a million cliches, 1 mention of blood

AN: why did I hurt myself like this??? Lyrics are in bold italics, written and sung by our lord and savior Taylor Swift 

You do not have permission to repost my work anywhere.

And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? 

“Peter! Wait! Please, just listen to me for a second!”

Just between us, did the love affair maim you too?

“Peter please!” You cry, causing him to halt. The air was crisp, the tension was thick, and the small specs of frost that floated through Queen’s brutal air looked more like poison than a sign of joy.

Your lashes were wet with tears, streams of water varnishing your skin, burning despite the gelidity. An impudent chill set in your bones, one that typically never dared to touch you when you were with Peter. 

But things have changed. 

Now, it covers you like a blanket, eating at your insides like some life-threatening parasite. There is no mercy out under the milky sky, filled with useless stars wasted on hopeless wishes.

'Cause in this city's barren cold

I still remember the first fall of snow

The streets become slick as winter covers the asphalt. Peter stands five feet away, looking as if he would sell his soul, break every bone in his body, and even rip his own hair out if the world would open up and swallow him whole. 

His back is tense with anger and betrayal that threatens to consume him. The night is a deafening quiet, there’s no one around, just you, Peter, and all that hangs in between. The memories, the mistakes, the way you love him, and the way he’ll leave you. 

And how it glistened as it fell

I remember it all too well

“Why should I fucking listen to you, Y/n?” He chokes out, swallowing back every other word he begs himself not to say. The remarks that would ruin his crumbling façade. The phrases that would give you any indication of how broken he feels, when he was never quite whole in the first place. Painful flashbacks of your smile run through his mind as he threads his fingers through his curly waves, and you can’t stop yourself from watching them part like the sea.

“You lied to me! You made me fucking love you!” 

Red tinted hands fly through the air with no remorse, out for blood and whatever they could find. Every frantic swipe felt like a cold blade slicing at your exposed skin, the parts of your body that weren't drowning in his sweater, the one that smelled more like you than him. 

 “Now I feel like a goddamn fool…” He whispers, more to himself. His hands drop from the space between you and hang by his sides, fists balled. 

“I mean… fuck! Harry fucking Osborn?! You made a bet with the biggest asshole on the planet? So you could, what? Toy with me? Push me down another notch to make you feel better about yourself?” 

Just between us, did the love affair maim you all too well?

Just between us, do you remember it all too well?

The deception in his tone contrasts the reminiscence of warm honey, the kind that melted into Peter’s voice late at night. A voice that felt safe. A voice that promised to feel like home. And yet, the same voice that collapses in front of you. 

“Peter,” you begin to beg, words strained and frail. “It’s not like that, Peter, please.”

“Then what?” he screams back, his voice bouncing off the empty passageways, “what’s it like? Because as far as I’m concerned, I was just a bet to you!”

A bet. Nothing more, nothing less. No love, no kindness, no early mornings and sleepless twilights. No memories, no joy. Nothing true, only fake compliments and promises of money. 

You could vividly recall the way you had glanced back at Peter, seeing a mere solution for your boredom, a toy for your enjoyment.

Now? 

Now you were looking at the face of a boy who had trusted you wholeheartedly. Who would've given you the world if you asked. 

Just between us, I remember it (Just between us) all too well

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there (I was there)

“Peter, you have to believe me. It wasn’t a bet to me, everything I felt for you was real. Everything I feel for you is real.” You cry, fearing it falls on deaf ears.

‘It’s so cliché’, you think, ‘I’m standing in the snow, trying to tell the boy I love that he means everything to me, and I would give it all up for him. Freddie Prince Jr. would be so proud’.

“I wish I could say I believed you.” 

He doesn’t mean this fight, and he knows it too. He begs and pleads himself to hear you, to see you, to hold you as he has before, but looking back, he doubts any of it was real. 

His dark green shirt compliments the dust of rose on his cheeks, and even mad, he is still beautiful. The soft brown of his eyes is replaced with those of a wolf, sharp and harrowing, like a poor boy that knows nothing of truth and everything of cruelty. 

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

“Peter it was stupid, I didn’t mean it, Harry and I were just joking around an-”

“Joking?!” he interrupts, “I gave you my everything, and you thought it was a joke? I can’t believe this,” 

He scoffs and hides the hurt in the palms of his hands as he buries his face, his voice muffled as he attempts not to shatter. “I’m such an idiot.”

Your words were silent, coming out in small breaths that dissolved in the air. Why is it so hard to say ‘it was real to me, and I love you’? 

No amount of sincerity would get Peter to turn around, no matter how desperately you needed him to. The lips he kissed are the ones that spill lies, sweet venom that smells of your perfume. He can’t trust the illusion he knows you to be, he won’t give in to his craving because how could he ever believe the words you say? 

Your relationship was built on too many shots of vodka, dashed with flavored lies. 

It was rare, you remember it all too well

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there (Oh)

“Do you even remember it?” He coarsely asks. Anger lingers in his voice, and he holds no hope for your answer. Even if you say what he wants, he won’t let himself believe you. 

“Remember what?” 

“Our first kiss.”

“Really?” You scoff, “I remember everything, Peter. Every date, every playlist, every love-sick thing that I’ve done and would do again for you. Peter, I love you, please just..”

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there (I was there)

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

“Just what? Forgive you? Move on? Let you back into my heart as if you didn’t just rip it in two? I... I can’t trust you anymore Y/n. And without trust, we have nothing.”

Your heart was held tightly in your hands, blood dripping from open wounds and you felt it slipping to the ground. You were falling, and Peter wasn’t going to catch you. 

“Peter, please don't do this,”

“I thought you loved me,” he confesses, and the fresh wave of tears that were refusing to fall finally accepted their demise. 

It was rare, you remember it (All too well)

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

“I was wrong.” 

There was no stability in your body, and the only thing keeping your frame up was the embarrassment of tumbling to the floor. This was not how this was supposed to go. This was not how the two of you were supposed to end. 

A nearby street light flickers and a shiver racks your spine, erupting throughout your body. You want him to turn around and forgive you, to embrace you so tightly it knocks the wind out of your lungs. The way it used to be, at the very beginning, when it was just soft smiles and kind eyes.

The boy who stands before you is not the same, and you doubt he ever will be. He is filled with betrayal, doused in an unforgiving animosity. 

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

“Don’t do this, please, I’m begging you,” It’s pathetic, the way you grovel, and you know it. You’re a mess, shaky hands, red eyes, heartbroken on a frozen bed of deceptions and roses. Nevertheless, you’d beg and plead until your throat aches if it meant Peter would look you in the eyes again.

“How much?” He finally questions.

The question has been on his mind since he found out, and there’s nothing stopping him from asking. 

You’re quiet for a while, mulling your answer over in your head, asking yourself if the price is worth your response. 

“He promised me something If I would toy with you,” you whisper, ashamed of yourself. There are no words to justify your actions, this you know. Peter has no reason to forgive you. He owes you nothing. 

“And what did he promise you, huh? Money? Fame? A fucking car?” He scoffs, memories clouding his mind. The notes that were passed, the late-night calls that were answered in hushed tones, even the longing looks when the other wasn’t watching. It was all sacred, cherished, tucked in his back pocket for him to reminisce. He remembers every minute, each individual second, all of the moments that make your relationship. 

It was rare, you remember it

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

He lives in the recollections, his heart yearning for the time when he was yours, truly yours. When the moments were made of love, not of money. Not out of cruelty, but out of kindness. The deep, rich, tooth-rotting tenderness that he knows you possess. He witnessed it early in the morning, felt it late at night. He knows you, despite your best efforts.  

He doubts he’ll ever forget you. The way you reached into his soul, looked at both the good and the ugly, and decided he was still worthy of your love, whether it be true or just another white lie. He feels strung out, dried and cracked, stuck in the past but longing for a future he’ll never receive. 

He weighs the lonely nights he’ll spend alone, and compared to being in your arms, there’s no competition. He’d stay forever if he’d let himself, but he knows it’s no use, and certainly no good. If you could so carelessly agree to destroy an innocent person, who’s to say you won’t do it again? Hurt him even worse? Rip him up into pieces until he’s unrecognizable?

So he decides. There is no last word, no second glance. You go against everything he stands for, as a person and as a hero. You complete him and destroy him, and he knows he won’t survive if you break him again. 

So he does what he thinks is best. He keeps a stone face, straightens his back, and turns a cold shoulder. He says nothing, and just as you fear, he leaves. 

You know he won’t turn back.

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

It was rare, you remember it. 

Likes, comments, reblogs and follows are deeply appreciated :)

[avintagekiss24]

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖗 | 𝖇. 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖘

→ pairing: beefy shadow monster!bucky barnes x black!reader

→ word count: 5367

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, dub con, a tinge of somnophilia, exophilia, #monster fucker, smut, sex, rough sex, masturbation, rough masturbation, sex toys, butt stuff, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, voyeurism, explicit language

→ square filled: @badthingshappenbingo​ 

wiping the other’s tears away

→ author note: guys, i’m... this is who we are now. we are monster fuckers. this is based on @idga-buck​ INCREDIBLE ask that was bred from this post. i honestly don’t know if this holds a candle to that ask because, whew girl. that shit fucked me up when i first read it! anyway, hope you guys enjoy because i might be planning a little monster fucker series based off of this and another certain someone that is mentioned in the fic.

→ read hirsute

The stress in your shoulders makes it hard to lift your arm once you finally reach your apartment door. It takes everything in you to shove your key into the lock and slam your hip against the old, swollen wooden door to pop it open, but just crossing the threshold into your sanctuary helps soothe your nerves. Everything falls to the floor within an instant— purse, messenger bag, coat— hell, even your keys. Hopping on one foot to remove a light brown, velvet heel, and then the other as you make your way towards your bedroom, ignoring the lively green house plants scattered around window seals and the living room.

You don’t even bother to turn on the lights. Don’t make a pit stop in the kitchen, or even the bathroom to remove your makeup. Hunger pains be damned. There are exactly two things that will help with this mood— an orgasm, and sleep. Thank God one always leads to the other.

It was 10:12am, just two hours into your work day, when you knew what you were going to need to help forget about this day. Emails piling up, phone ringing off the hook, picking up the slack for coworkers because you’re just so well versed in this… we could really use your help. Took its toll. By 10:12am you were ready to scream, punch your perky, always in a good mood cubicle mate, and rip your hair out— so you knew, right then and there, that you were gonna fuck yourself stupid when you got home.

Perverted thoughts lingered all day as you rifled through old court filings and scoured obscure statutes. Thighs tightened as your sex started to dampen at fantasies of being bent over your boss’ desk. Caught yourself staring, more than once, through his open door as he chatted on the phone, bright blue eyes glinting underneath the natural sunlight that poured into his office, crinkling on the sides as he laughed.

Then he would furrow those brows as he read through briefings. Jaw and lips set tight, eyes squinted as he nibbled absentmindedly on his bottom lip. Big hands and thick fingers made the pen in his hand seem entirely too small. Pink tongue darted out to wet pink lips.

You’ve spent many a night with thoughts of Andrew Stephen Barber; and tonight will be no different.

Dark shadows are cast across the floor and bed, small slivers of moonlight creeping in. The sound of your shoes hitting the floor don’t even register in your ears as you wiggle out of your skirt and panties and fall onto the soft, warm, inviting Queen mattress.

Deft fingers make light work of the buttons on your silk blouse but the other hand can’t wait— slipping down your stomach and between sticky, hot flesh. A sharp inhale fills your chest as you rub slow circles against your clit, pangs of quick excitement starting to fire off. Your fingers push down to your slit, prodding and stroking gently as a new wet starts to slick your muscles.

A lazy smile curls onto your face. The stress of the day starts to evaporate as you melt into the mattress, the circles against your clit quickening, hips starting to roll and push up into your hand. The expensive silk of your blouse falls off your shoulders just a bit as you push it away from your chest, exposing two bare tits and quickly thickening nipples.

You take hold of one— tweaking it slow. Pinching and rolling the nub before palming your tit all together, cupping and pushing the mound of flesh up your chest. A swipe of your tongue— rough and torrid— against your nipple makes you grunt deep. Makes your hips jut upward as you prod that now filthy wet slit and hole.

Muscles flex as the sound of your dirty deed fills the empty space. Wet squeaks and sloshes bounce off the walls as fingers thrash back and forth and up and down against your clit. Heavy, thick thuds of your palm pounding against your body when one, two, three fingers finally slip inside— but they aren’t enough. Not wide enough or long enough to feed the hunger.

Then… there’s a shift. The atmosphere in your apartment— your room specifically— just changes on a dime. The tiny hairs on your body start to stand on end, goosebumps raising on your skin. Your eyes slide open, blinking up at the ceiling as your pumping hand slows down to just a creep before stilling completely. An already racing heart starts to beat harder, lips part, eyes and limbs completely frozen in place as fear strikes you.

You’ve felt this before, at random times since you moved in. Sometimes in the shower or in the kitchen, when you’re getting ready for work, or catching up on a show— but mainly at times like this. When you’re stretched out on your bed, naked, fingers rooted deep in your cunt, when you feel like you’re being watched. Like there’s a thousand eyes on you all at once.

There’s even a chill that takes over the room, sometimes getting so cold that for a brief moment, you can see your breath. You’ve gone to management a few times, who of course did nothing— but a few of your neighbors put your mind at ease, it happens to them sometimes too. It struck you odd that it was mainly just your female neighbors who experienced the random chills, but you brushed it off. You live on the southside of the complex, the sun gets blocked by the surrounding buildings. You also live on the first floor— heat rises, cold sinks. It happens.

You swallow hard, shutting your eyes, trying to center yourself again. A small laugh escapes your lips seconds later— you’re ridiculous. Maybe it's time to lay off the horror movies for a while.

Shrugging out of your blouse the rest of the way, you roll onto your side and pull open the drawer of your nightstand. Out comes the cute little heart shaped butt plug, complete with a pretty pink crystal gem. A small bottle of water based lube is next, and then, the pièce de résistance. Your ten inch tall, two inch wide realistic dildo.

Your stomach tightens with anticipation as you fumble with the flip cap of the small purple bottle of lube. Just a dollop is enough to coat the steel plug, the excess on your fingers used to wet your warm, puckered hole. Melting back into the mattress, you roll your shoulders, let your eyes flutter closed, and grab your bottom lip between your teeth as you massage your rim with the rounded tip, gently pushing.

A soft moan vibrates in your throat as your body opens up. Your hole twitches, clenching tight around the toy as it disappears with a quick pop as soon as the widest part is shoved in, leaving nothing to be seen but the pink heart flush against your hot rim. You draw your legs up, calves pressed against the backs of your thighs, butterflying open as you drag the fake cock through your folds— against your clit— using your slick to lubricate the soft silicone.

Fingers find your nub soon after, slapping quick, before stroking the delicate flesh as you start to tease your slit. The cock head slips in easy, but you're so tight, so worked up and eager, muscles swollen, that it takes a little more effort to swallow the rest. Tiny little wet squeaks fall from your lips, body tenses and curls inward as you push, push, push— mouth falling open, face splintering with pleasure.

It takes not even ten seconds for your body to adjust, hips wiggling and shifting to get comfortable, before you're pulling the massive toy out and shoving it back in. You start to murmur, indiscernible, clipped words filtering through full lips— a hot tongue slipping out, sweeping over teeth as your hips start to get into it.

You’re soon too far gone to notice the black shadows moving around the room. Chalk up the feeling of the little hairs standing on end, the goosebumps popping up across your body to your arousal— and not the two piercing blue eyes that illuminate at the edge of your bed.

~~~

Bucky could reach out and touch you he’s so close now. He’s careful still— almost getting caught by you earlier, his anticipation for your almost nightly show getting the best of him. Making him sloppy.

He’s haunted these walls, these rooms, these buildings for decades, if not a century or more. Seen generation after generation moving in and out, kids growing up into adults, adults growing old, the old dying off— but you— fuck, you’ve got to be his goddamn favorite of them all.

Deep brown skin. Lithe and delicate. A soft little quiet thing, engrossed in her solitude and house plants, more than happy to shut the rest of the world out more often than not. You’re gentle. Your soul, your physicality, except in these moments. When you fuck yourself like this, and it doesn’t matter when— in the mornings when the sun is soft, in the late afternoons, your body covered in the oranges and pinks of the sky, late at night in the absolute darkness with nothing but the moon and the shadows— you’re anything but gentle.

Unrestrained and wild you are when in the throes of your arousal. Writhing and loud, a thin sheen of sweat on your brow. Eyes clamped closed so tight sometimes sweet little tears squeeze out and slip down your cheeks. Two perfect tits, mounds of soft flesh, jiggle and bounce with the aggressive thrashes of your fingers against a glistening, sensitive nub.

Nights like tonight are his favorite. When you’re acutely aware that he’s here, but too scared to really give it much thought. When the fear strikes you stiff. When you pull out that monstrous fake cock and spread yourself wide— stretch that pretty, pink, wet cunt. The squelch, the squish of the foreign object being jammed into hot, distended muscles.

Your smell. So sweet and pungent— distinctly you. It’s constantly on the tip of Bucky’s tongue, filling his nostrils, swirling in his head and chest— taunting him. Intoxicating him. Begging and beseeching him to just reach out and touch. Taste. Oh, to have your scent— your flavor— on his lips to savor. He wants to bury his face between those thighs, drown between them. Slither into you and curl up, take up residence.

Bucky’s gotten bold as of late— now, not even waiting until you’re fucked out and sex drunk, falling into a peaceful, post orgasm slumber to move around. No. Now he shifts while you’re still awake, still fucking— toy sowed deep, fingers slapping, hips snapping, back arching.

You’ve snapped your head towards him once or twice over time as you’ve caught his movement in the corner of your eye. Sat straight up, mouth hanging, eyes wide, chest heaving as you stared into the darkness— waiting. Scared shitless. You even tried to cover yourself, hands over your tits, legs closing into each other.

It made him laugh.

You’re already his. That body claimed— no need to cover it up now.

Even tonight, he’s even bolder still. Right at the edge of your bed, peering on. It’s a damn near perfect view when you get like this— sloppy. Legs splayed open, heels dug into the mattress, hips arched off the bed. Your slick glistens underneath the moonlight, splashed on your thighs, strings connected between two puffy, balmy lips. It’s nothing but an invitation— an invitation that he can’t ignore for much longer.

He pushes his knee into the mattress, and then the other, his substantial weight dipping it. Piercing blue eyes snap towards your face as he stalls, waiting for any indication that you feel him there— a smile curling onto his lips when it doesn’t come. So he pushes closer, settles right at your feet. Reaches out, hovers long, black fingers over your chest— so close that his pointed, sharp nails graze your skin.

Makes you gasp.

Bucky snaps his hand back, but you don’t stop. You shiver. Goosebumps ever present on every inch of your skin— but you don’t stop. In fact, you get faster, harder. Pounding that fake cock into your cunt, pushing your hips higher as you slap and knead at that sticky, swollen nub.

You like it.

You like his touch.

Pride swells in Bucky’s chest. Maybe you’re much more receptive than he originally thought. Maybe it’s the fear itself— knowing you’re being watched by something, not someone— is what turns you on. And it makes Bucky bolder still.

He looms over you, hand pressing into the mattress right by your head. Head tilting as he leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against your cheek. You jump again, mewl loud when his nails scrape against your skin, between your jiggling, bouncing tits. He wants to fuck you so bad. Stuff you full of his monster cock— he knows you can take it. Knows you can stretch wide for his veiny, dripping prick. Suck those pretty tits into his wet mouth, those hard, perky nipples between his sharp teeth. But he won’t, not now.

You’re so close.

And this is always the best part.

So he pushes away, away from the bed. Hovers up near the ceiling, eyes shifting from their brilliant blue to pitch black so he can enjoy your finale. Then he’ll wait a while, maybe a few nights— maybe a few hours, who knows—  to encourage an encore.

With a little help, of course.

~~~

You cry out, shrieking into the darkness as the coil planted deep threatens to snap. The chill in the room has your nipples hard, but the heat blooming across your skin has you damp and sticky. There’s gusts of something— splashing over your naked body— but the windows are closed. The air conditioning turned completely off.

It feels like breath. You’d swear it— and it’s so close. Like someone, or something, is right on top of you. Shudders wrack your body, adrenaline rushes as ice floods your veins. Alarm, panic, sheer horror gripping you.

But, you cum before you can rationalize it. Before you can pinpoint it.

It’s so sweet, the orgasm, so deep as the warmth of it spreads like wildfire. Toes curl hard, so hard they go numb as the waves crash, each one harder than the one before. Heart in your throat, the blood rush in your ears. Muscles spasming, clenching and clamping down around the silicone cock, clit jumping with each contraction of your cunt.

It lasts for awhile— your body knowing that this is what you needed. So you ride it out as long as you can, fingers still rubbing and thrashing against your clit until it’s too sensitive. You stuff the cock into you one last time and leave it there, fixed so deep as your body falls back against the mattress. Your asshole constricts around the plug, twitching and fluttering as the last jerks of your hips start to subside.

Chest heaves with deep, long, ragged breaths. Tits pushing up and down, jiggling, stomach flexing as you go limp. Limp and fucked out. Asshole and cunt used, hot— weeping lube and cum. You’re a mess. A beautiful, sated, sloppy mess.

A lazy smile on your face, eyes hooded, you stare up at the ceiling. Unaware that you’ve found two black eyes just perfectly— stare right into them as they peer back at you.

Sleep starts to pull, a mushy, hazy brain giving in all too easily, not giving you time to recognize that you’re being watched again. That there’s a presence looming just over you— all around you. Or maybe, it's a mechanism. Maybe you don’t want to recognize it. So you roll over onto your side, shimmy underneath the blankets to gather some warmth. Shut your eyes and give into the sleep— vow to stop watching those cheesy scary movies so late at night.

They’re making you paranoid.

-

The sting of cold on your extremities makes you stir. Letting out a yawn, you flex your toes, pulling the blankets up to your chin as a chill ripples through your bones. You roll onto your back, and push out a breath, not opening your eyes to see the white puff of air. Another shiver, a deep one, rolls through you again, making you shift underneath the blankets and push your face into the pillow.

Moments later is when you perceive a warmth. A soft moan trembles in your throat as you smash the back of your hand against your face, still teetering between sleep and consciousness. The ache between your legs grows harder to ignore— the warmth, starting to sear. Your hips buck soft. Another groan scratches at the back of your throat.

You’re writhing within minutes. A white hot molten pooling in the pit of your stomach and spreading out to the tips of your fingers and toes. The cold nothing but a distant memory as the familiar burn of lechery encompasses your tight body.

It feels so real— a long, forked, rough tongue lapping at your folds, swishing around your clit. You jump suddenly, gasping deep when something like teeth, so many sharp teeth, nibble and bite at the meat of your thighs. There's pressure, pressing down on your stomach and wrapped around your thigh as you draw your knees up slow, digging the balls of your feet into the mattress. The pressure, it’s warm and vast— something like a palm… there’s scratching, quick little tickles over your stomach, your tits, your ankles and calves.

Fingernails. Long, jagged fingernails.

You give in to the fantasy— the dream. Not opening your eyes, not giving into the consciousness that tugs at you, not wanting to lose this euphoria. The pressure on your stomach gets harder, heightening the sensation of the tongue against your core and almost pinning your writhing hips to the sturdy mattress.

The tongue, rough and wet, slithers through your folds, flicking quick against your clit before the mouth sucks you right up— lips, clit— right into it. Tongue flattening against your slit, teasing your pink opening. Then, oh God, and then it slithers inside, that tongue. Massages your hot, swollen muscles from the inside. Your body jolts up, away from the mattress, a breathy, drawn-out snarl bursting from your lips.

You fall back against the mattress— liquify into it really and let your hands roam, finding your taut, thick nipples. Tweaking and rolling them, pinching between deft fingers before palming your tits feeling the goosebumps that have popped up on your flesh again. Your knees fall apart, legs splaying open, putting your swollen cunt on full display for this invisible force.

It’s not long before your hips are jutting up into the dream tongue, the lips, the teeth hard and fast, a sharp sting piercing your clit just as you start to cum again. Loud, shaky moans fill the room as your hips pulse and your back arches. Cursing, whaling as the dream tongue swipes and flicks, lips wrap around your nub again, sucking hard, coaxing every last drop of your release out of you.

Thighs, stomach, arms, cunt burn as a delicious stretch, a used ache settles deep in the exploited muscles. Long, hoarse breaths fill your chest, the air rushing so fast, and yet so slow that it makes you dizzy. You couldn’t move if you wanted to, everything is just so fucking heavy.

Brain is mush again, cloudy and dense, stupid with ardor. Lazy, broken moans vibrate through your vocal chords, body twitches with quick aftershocks every now and again, making you giggle. You feel like you’ve been hit by a mack truck. It’s so nice.

Once your breathing has slowed back to normal, you roll your head towards the window, open your eyes just enough to see the moon cutting into the room. Relief floods through your veins, happy to find it’s still night time, still dark, your room still moody, giving you time to fall back asleep with the pleasant thoughts of whatever just happened— but you’re a mess again. Skin sticky and damp, panties ruined. Your eyes droop and close as you push out a soft breath, hand slipping down your body. You should really clean up.

Maybe in a few minutes. You push your knees together slowly, swaying them back and forth as your fingertips find your clit, toying with it gently. They calm your jumbled nerves quite nicely and immediately— the touch familiar. Your fingers stretch out, tips push down just a little lower as you smile stupid and lazy and blink slowly up at the ceiling.

The smile doesn’t last long.

Your eyes pop open as a simultaneous sharp gasp fills your chest with cold air. Blood runs ice cold through your veins.

“Good,” a scratchy voice sounds as your fingers push through a tuft of thick hair just between your legs, hot breath sticking to tacky flesh.

Shallow, quick breaths squeak through your teeth, eyes wide, lips and chin trembling as your limbs grow heavy— oh so heavy. Frozen. You slam your eyes shut when a hand slides slowly up your side, serrated nails skipping across your skin. A sob chokes out as you slam your eyes shut, fear gripping every inch of your body.

The wet, long, hot tongue of your dreams swipes at your core again but you’re still sensitive— jumpy— hips pushing down into the mattress to get away from it. A second hand grabs your hip, squeezes it hard, stilling your lower half as it laps at you again. The crawling hand finds your left tit, cups it— kneads it slow— rolling the thick bud between even thicker fingers.

“Look at me.” The voice sounds again, like gravel, low and rough.

Your clit is sucked into an instant warmth, a wide, flat tongue massaging— rolling— gently. A soft, tiny little noise thrums in your throat as a shudder ripples through already irritated muscles. The sound pleases whatever is between your legs, as it chuckles deep, the vibrations adding to the sensation of its tongue.

It pinches your nipple— quick, hard— and bites down into the meat of your thigh while also squeezing it with it’s other massive hand, “I want you to look at me.” you hesitate— and it doesn’t like it, “Look at me.”

The chill in its voice forces your eyes open, but you keep them on the ceiling as silent tears trickle down the side of your face and onto your pillow. An influx of air fills your lungs when a hand pushes up to your face. A thumb swipes underneath your eye gently before an index finger curls to wipe away the wet emotion.

“You’re pretty when you cry,” it says, a little softer, still rubbing your cheek slowly, “Look at me.”

Against your better judgement, fighting through the fear, you blink, shifting your eyes towards your drawn-up legs. There are two big eyes, unnaturally blue, probing and upturned, staring back at you, disappearing in the dark as it blinks before they settle back on you. In fact, they stay on you as it’s tongue flicks out at you again, sweeps through your folds, teasing your opening, your clit again. It palms your tit, squeezing before sitting up, exposing it’s true size.

Your eyes follow slowly upward as it towers over you, it’s knees pressing into the mattress, dipping it deep with its weight. You struggle to breathe, eyes flutter quick as your lips tremble, taking in the umbra. There’s a wide chest, thick biceps and forearms and hands and fingers that push your legs back— towards your chest and stomach. Stocky thighs and a—

You gulp slow, sitting up on your elbows as your eyes zero in on the throbbing, weeping cock between its legs. The moon illuminates the pulsing veins running the impressive length, the wet, red, dripping cockhead— cum already dribbling out, splashing on your skin. It’s hot and silky— dense, the cum, as it wipes the spot away with it’s thumb, a nail cutting into your skin.

It grabs itself, strokes it’s massive cock slow as it drags its eyes along your naked body. Another shudder trembles through you when it teases your cunt with it’s cockhead, pressing into your clit, dragging through your folds, prodding at your slit. You let your head drop slightly, let your eyes close to slits, let your mouth drop as it’s fingers skip up and down your thighs, it’s jagged, black nails tickling you.

Errant hips canter upward, pushing your clit against its tip again, coating it with your slick before you let it settle back against your opening.

“Now that you can see me, beautiful,” it’s raspy voice sounds, starting to push into you, “I want you to scream.”

It juts into you hard, pulling a loud scream out of you— just what it wanted. You pant as it pushes, deep, deep, deep, until its hips are flush with yours, cock completely sunk. It doesn’t move right away, lets you wiggle and twitch, hiss and grunt as you adjust to the size— the absolute fullness. Stretched so wide, clasped so tight around this pulsating cock that you aren’t sure that you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

But you’ll risk it.

It locks one of your legs around it’s waist, throws the other over its shoulder, slipping its massive hand down the length, down your calf, over your knee, along your thigh until it’s fingers settle on your cunt— on your clit. Slow circles are drawn into your flesh, a gentle pressure applied as it pulls back, cock dragging out of your death grip. You hiss as it sinks back in, reaching something deep.

It’s blistering after that. Within seconds, hips are snapping, skin slapping against… skin? You aren’t even sure. Long fingers are everywhere, tits, stomach, legs, cunt— gripping, groping, pinching. They venture up to your chin, up to your parted, swollen lips, where they linger. You send wide, innocent eyes up to its blues, tits sliding up and down as you lunge with each thrust— and open your mouth wider, sliding your tongue along the tip of its finger.

When a husky moan rumbles through its chest, your heart soars unexpectedly. It’s pleased with your eagerness— your reception.

You’re empty suddenly. A strong hand grips your side, pulls you roughly down the bed. Flips you over before yanking your hips upward, propping you up on your knees. And then, you’re pinned— an unyielding grip around the back of your neck holding you in place. You grunt and start to whimper,  another bout of fright coursing through your veins as it smashes the side of your face into the sheets and pillows.

It fucks back into you slow, a long, shuddering groan spilling out of your trembling lips, “My pet,” it speaks again, squeezing the back of your neck a little harder, “Such a sweet little thing.”

Reaching back, your fingers graze over a sinewy thigh, taking hold as you start to spring forward with each drive of its hips. You slam your eyes closed, more emotion squeezing out of them. The dull burn is back in the pit of your stomach. Your toes and fingers start to curl and flex as each stroke gets sweeter and sweeter, hitting that deep little spot within.

Goosebumps pop up again. Heat blooms across your skin, filling your face and chest and stomach. Spit dribbles from the corner of your mouth as two pouty lips form a perfect little “o” as you start to shriek, each sound coming faster and faster, louder and louder. Your fingers find your nub again, rubbing and slapping to set this release in motion. The sound of your slick is sloppy, wet— and gorgeous, to both you and it.

You’re cursing, sobbing, begging within minutes, teetering right on the edge. It starts to thumb at your asshole, rubbing the rim gently, pushing just inside— coaxing you on.

That’s all it takes. You tense hard— toes curl, fists ball, stomach clenches— and then stiffen as your orgasm hits. A white hot flushing through as you quake, cunt spasming around it’s heavy cock. Jammed full, orgasm rippling, fingers still thrashing against your constricting clit, you’re dizzy, warm all over, sweaty and freezing cold all at the same time.

Your companion— this monster of the night, lurking in the shadows— hammers on behind you, pumping, gripping, squeezing, pushing you down further into the mattress as his strokes get sharper. Stronger. More forceful.

It gets loud. Growling so deep and heavy that the sound shakes the walls— the bed. God, the poor neighbors. It grips your hip with one hand so hard you yelp in pain, hands flailing, trying to grip and grab anything they can as it fucks into you.

One, two more jabs and it stills quick— and that’s when you feel it. Another white hot, this time all concentrated in your overstimulated, tight, wet cunt. Long ribbons of cum, silk soft and warm, fill you up, up, up— to the brim. It’s cock veins pulsate, it’s girth seemingly growing wider, stretching you more as it unloads. Cock jumping in your tight grasp as cum weeps from it.

You take it all, humming loud and proud, panting as you feel it’s seed spill out, down the inside of your thigh.

It drags out slow, as if not wanting to at all. Like it likes the feeling of your messy, cum filled cunt all wrapped around him. You feel that swollen cock head through your folds again, slowly pushing up and down your clit, teasing your slit. A finger, and then another glance over your asshole— lovingly. Softly. Massaging the twitching rim before burying it’s hard cock between your cheeks, slapping you with it.

“No more,” you plead, voice small and broken and pathetic, “Please, I can’t.”

Another chuckle rumbles through its chest, “Ok sweet girl,” there’s a hand on the back of your head, stroking curly, damp, surely tangled hair, “Such a good girl.”

Hands are back on your skin again, fingers pushing and pulling, adjusting you on the mattress. You’re flat now, splayed out on your belly, legs spread, hands shoved underneath your pillows and head. Balmy skin, puffy flesh is soothed by slow gushes of breath, making you jump and whine more— whimper more. The bed sinks again as it moves, pulled again, your back up against a massive chest and hard stomach.

It wraps around you, slinging an arm and a leg over you, enveloping you in its warmth. Rids your face of the wetness, pushing the remaining tears away with its thumb. Nuzzles in close— a scratchy cheek against your own.

A heavy hand over your heart.

“I like this,” it says soft, tapping along with your heartbeat, “The rhythm.”

You hum again, happily fucked out and cock drunk, already feeling an ache settling into your muscles and bones. Hips and ass push back into its hips, pushing its dense cock against you— wanting to feel it resting against your cunt, “You got a name?”

“Brarthronoz.”

“Excuse me?” you giggle through a deep yawn as your eyes flutter.

It— he nuzzles again, pushing his face closer, “Bucky is fine, pet.”

“Bucky,” you sigh a little, “I like that.”

You fall asleep with the soft rhythm of his breath against your neck.

-

When you wake, he’s gone— but you kinda figured that anyway. The oranges of the sky and rising sun chases away all the shadows. You go about your routine but a little slower— inflamed, throbbing arms and legs make showering and brushing your teeth a little harder this morning.

You look for him though, in the corner of your little kitchen, in that small spot where the sun just never quite reaches.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth when you find a pair of bright blue eyes fixed on you, a little wink encouraging you further.

“Toast?” You ask cheekily, a wide smile on your face as you offer him a plate.