#long black hair leather jacket light eyes and leaning against a wall with a cigarette

[vmpiires]

﹆₊ 窃盗 ‧₊˚ TAKIN WHATS NOT YOURS, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ it doesn’t matter what it is. whenever he wants something, he’s gonna get it—that includes you too. wc, 4.12K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m back guysss. this story is based off ‘taking what’s not yours’ by tv girl. there’s also a fanart of choso that inspired this. me and @5kstxrz was cookin again so i had to get on 🤭

(edit: me writing rn is a coping mechanism for what i heard about chp 259..) hope ya enjoyyy. reblog to support meee (also play the song while you read so you can immerse)

␥ tags. 90s AU, female anatomy, reader already has a boyfriend, delinquent!choso, smut, creampies, mentions choso stealing, choso with his hair down, lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

as the classes ended for the day, the hallways of the school were filled with numerous students, who were all visibly exhausted from their long day of hard work. amidst the chaos, one could spot a well-known delinquent of the school, choso, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his lips. he was a muscular guy, carrying his wooden staff, which he always kept close to him, ready to use force if needed. his attire comprised all black, as usual, from head to toe.

he wore a leather jacket with a jet black wife-beater tucked beneath his black cargo pants, which had a belt looped around his waist. his black combat boots were rugged and sturdy, and he had a dog tag necklace, which completed his look. despite being a delinquent, he had a charming aura around him, which made him stand out from the rest.

“she ain’t gettin’ this back,” the silver chain glinted in the sunlight, swaying back and forth in choso's hand before he hooked it around his neck with a satisfied smirk. the delicate charm dangled against his chest, catching the light and reflecting it in all directions as it accompanied his other necklace. with one hand running through his thick, dark locks, choso's intense gaze locked onto you.

he had been eyeing you for a while now - drawn to your quiet demeanor and shy smile. but you were not without a reputation at school - known as a strong-willed and independent girl. unfortunately for choso, you already had a boyfriend. the thought of this obstacle made his nostrils flare in frustration and determination.

choso was lost in thought, daydreaming about being with you, when suddenly another student bumped into him, jolting him back to reality. as they both turned to face each other, choso's expression darkened. his deep voice rumbled, similar to the sound of thunder just before a storm, as he growled, "watch where ya goin’, punk." the other student flinched at his menacing tone and quickly apologized before scurrying away, leaving choso to chuckle to himself in amusement.

“that was a real dick move, you know that?” a sharp voice pierced through the air, directed at him. choso rolled his eyes in annoyance, ready to start a heated argument once again, but he paused when he saw you standing there. his stoic features suddenly transformed into a mischievous grin, with a hint of malice and flirtatiousness shining through. his dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he locked gazes with you.

he knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with you. a mischievous grin played across his face as he spoke, "aw, 'm sorry princess. do you want me to go apologize to the poor kid?" his deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. "they’re the one that ran into me, so i just kindly reminded ‘em to watch their ass." as he stood back up, his leather jacket creaked, and his scent of cologne mixed with cigarettes in the air. you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as his piercing gaze met yours again.

choso's piercing gaze roamed over your body, imagining undressing you with his mind. his hand tightened around his wooden staff as he lifted it towards your chest, where your delicate necklace rested. "you got a real nice piece there," he commented, his voice low and smooth like honey. “where’d you get it?”

the contrast between the cold wood of his staff and the warmth of your skin sent a shiver down your spine. but what really caught you off guard were his words, unexpected and oddly charming. you couldn't help but tense up at the closeness of his weapon.

you shifted on your feet, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a hasty, practiced manner. "i dunno," you lied smoothly, avoiding eye contact. "i found it one night in my jewelry box and just started wearing it." your hands fidgeted with the delicate chain, its weight, and warmth a constant reminder of your deceit.

the silver pendant glinted in the light of the sun, casting shadows across your face as guilt prickled at the edges of your conscience. but you couldn't bear to part with it, to give up the comfort it provided in an uncertain world. so you wore it like a mask, hiding behind its simple beauty and intricate design.

choso simply hummed, indicating that he didn’t entirely buy what you were selling. “yeah? you just found that necklace lying around, huh? i’m not buying it. but i’m intrigued…why don’t you tell me the real story, and maybe i’ll spare you the trouble of having to keep track of that lil beauty.”

a surge of electricity courses through your body as choso removes his staff, only to replace it with his fingers, lightly grazing your collarbone. your heart races as you try to come up with a plausible response to his accusations.

"i don’t know what you’re talking about," you stammer, your voice barely audible above a whisper. but your mind is already spinning, trying to find a way out of this situation.

"don't play coy with me," choso purrs, his warm breath tickling your skin. "i know there's more to this story. tell me the truth and maybe i'll let you keep that precious necklace… for now." he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "who knows, i might even surprise you with something else you'd like to wear." his words send shivers down your spine as he runs his fingers along the curve of your neck.

your voice quivers with uncertainty as you try to hold the male's gaze. you can feel your heart beating rapidly, a mix of fear and defiance bubbling up inside you. "i don't know what you're getting at," you say, your words laced with frustration and confusion. "the necklace is mine, plain and simple. i don’t know what else you want from me."

your hands grip tightly at the fabric of your shirt, trying to ground yourself in the moment and push away any doubts or accusations. but the tension in the air is palpable, and you can't shake off the feeling that something is amiss.

despite your attempt to remain composed, your body betrays you as you lean into choso's touch. your cheeks burn with a mix of exhilaration and trepidation, the heat spreading from your core to your extremities. your heart races like a wild animal, caught between the fear of the unknown and the thrill of potential ecstasy. every nerve in your body tingles with anticipation, craving more of choso's intoxicating presence.

the tone of choso’s voice was smooth and confident, a playful smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he tightened his grip on your necklace. his gaze burned with determination as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your skin.

"oh, i want a lot from you," he murmured, his words laced with desire. "and i’m not going anywhere until i get what i came for." you could feel the intensity of his gaze and the weight of his words, like a physical force pressing against you. the air crackled with tension as he held onto your necklace, a symbol of the power he held over you.

with a sly smile and a low, suggestive tone, choso suggests, "let's go somewhere private, yeah?" his eyes glint with a dangerous intensity as he takes a deliberate step closer to you. "we have a lot to…discuss." the air around you suddenly feels charged with tension, like the calm before the storm.

you can feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, and you can't help but wonder what exactly he wants to discuss. as his gaze locks onto yours, you can sense something primal stirring within him, and you can't deny the unexpected rush of excitement that courses through your body.

you pause, feeling the powerful magnetic pull of choso's alluring charm. however, your wariness of his unpredictable nature holds you back. "i don’t know," you say slowly, scanning your surroundings with a skeptical eye. the air is thick with tension and the scent of danger lingers on every breath. you can't shake off the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you try to weigh the consequences of giving in to choso's allure.

"come on, love," choso says, his voice a playful yet menacing lilt. he leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye as he speaks. "what's the worst that could happen? you ain't gonna die." his words drip with confidence and bravado, as if tempting fate itself.

a gust of wind blows through the air, carrying with it the scent of garbage and decay. the dim glow of streetlights casts eerie shadows on the walls around them. despite the unsettling surroundings, choso's smirk remains firmly in place, taunting and alluring simultaneously.

you felt your resolve wavering under the intense pressure of choso's gaze. you knew better than to trust someone who seemed so charmingly dangerous, but the thrill of doing something reckless was too hard to resist.

finally, you give in to temptation and nods, a keeping your skeptical expression. "okay...lead the way then ," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"good girl," choso purred, releasing the necklace from his grasp as he stepped back. he gave you a once-over, his dark purple eyes filled with undisguised desire. "follow me."

he turned abruptly, his tall figure disappearing into the shadows. you had no choice but to follow him, your heart pounding against her chest like a war drum. the male lead you into a dimly lit classroom. it was silent and eerily still as choso closes the door behind them, sealing you inside with him. the air seems to thicken with tension as he turns to face them, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"so," you began, your voice low and nervous, "what did you wanna talk about?"

"ya really are a curious one, aren't ya?" choso chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "but since you asked so nicely..." he moved closer to you, his tall frame casting a shadow over yours. "i just want to get to know you better.” he says your name. “understand things about you that nobody else does."

his hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "things that only i will know," he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

you instinctively took a step back, the sudden intensity in his gaze causing your heart to race. his words hung heavily in the air, swirling around you like smoke from a fire. "why do you wanna know more about me?" you asked, trying to control the trembling in your voice.

"because you intrigue me, darlin'," choso replied simply, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. his eyes never left yours, and you could see a hunger and curiosity burning behind them. "you're different from anyone i've met before. there's a fire within you that draws me in…fascinates me."

he moved even closer, his warm breath caressing your skin as he spoke. "and i like playing with fire," he added with a sly grin, his fingertips lightly tracing along your jawline. the air crackled with electricity between the two of you, and you couldn't deny the pull that choso had over you.

"and how do you plan on getting to know me?" to hide the apprehension in your voice, you cleared your throat and raised an eyebrow.

"well now, ain't that the million dollar question?" choso drawled, the corners of his mouth turning up mischievously. his dark purple eyes sparkled with a tantalizing mix of curiosity and amusement. "i suppose we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

he took another step towards you, closing the gap between you both entirely. the heat of his body radiated towards you, making your skin tingle. "but let me tell ya this much," he whispered, leaning in close enough for your noses to nearly touch. "it involves a lot of getting to know each other intimately."

"intimately?" you repeated, your cheeks flushing pink at his forwardness. "isn't that a bit…invasive? i mean, you hardly even know me."

"that's the fun part, love," choso murmured, his fingers tracing a path down your arm. "getting to know someone intimately is all about peeling back layers, seeing what's underneath. finding out who they truly are."

he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just barely above yours. "and i can't wait to start peeling those layers off you," he whispered, saying your name again.

you swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest as you looked up at him. "that sounds nice but…" you paused briefly, your voice barely above a whisper now. "you do realize i have a boyfriend, right?"

choso's fingers trailed lower, dangerously close to your waist, as he spoke nonchalantly. his words hung in the air like a challenge, his wicked grin flashing at you. "oh, i know," he said nonchalantly, his fingers trailing lower until they were dangerously close to your waist.

"but remember what i said earlier about playing with fire, love?" he flashed you a wicked grin before pressing himself even closer against you. "i live for that shit," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

your breath caught as his hand descended further, finally reaching your waist. "i thought you wanted to get to know me," you asserted, trying to maintain control of the situation. "not just sleep with me because you find me 'different' or 'fascinating'."

choso raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "who said anything about sleeping together, love?" he drawled, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. "i told you, i wanna know you intimately."

the male leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he spoke. "and believe me when i say that intimacy doesn't always involve sex," he whispered seductively. a shiver ran down your spine as choso's warm breath ghosted over your ear. despite your words, your body betrayed you, leaning into him involuntarily.

"but that's what you want, isn't it?" you asked, trying to resist the pull towards him.

"maybe," choso admitted with a sly grin. he pulled back slightly, locking eyes with you. "sometimes the most thrilling thing is not knowing what comes next," he murmured in a sultry voice.

you sighed in defeat, feeling yourself giving in to him. "fine," you conceded, your voice barely audible. "but don't expect me to just roll over for you."

"wouldn't dream of it, love," choso murmured, his fingers dancing in slow circles on your waist. his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into him. "i do love a challenge, it's what keeps things interesting."

he leaned in closer, pressing his body against yours in a deliciously tantalizing way. "now," he purred, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "let's start with something simple."

choso’s lips brushed against yours in a teasing caress, his tongue darting out to trace the delicate seam of your lips. the sensation was electrifying, and you couldn't help but let out a small gasp of pleasure.

you gasped as his lips met hers, your hands instinctively moving to push him away. instead, you found yourself pulling him closer, kissing him back with equal passion.

your mind screamed at you to stop, to pull away before things went too far. but your body had other ideas, responding eagerly to his touch as you melted into his embrace.

choso groaned into the kiss, his body reacting instantly to the feel of you in his arms. his hands moved lower, slipping beneath your shirt to rest on your hips.

he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth as his hands tightened on you. he could feel your body squirming against his own, and he couldn't help but press himself closer, grinding his hardness against you.

breaking the kiss, he trailed hot kisses down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. "God, you taste good," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

you whimpered as he kissed down your neck, your head falling back to give him better access. your hands gripped his shirt tightly, pulling him even closer. "choso..." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "we shouldn't..."

"shhh, love," choso hushed you, his lips continuing their downward trek. "no one needs to know," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your skin.

his hands moved to unbutton your jeans, sliding the zipper down with practiced ease. he slipped his hand inside, fingers curling around the hem of your panties as he began to pull them down.

you moaned softly as he undid your jeans, her body betraying her despite her protests. you didn't resist as he pulled your pants down, stepping out of them once they reached her ankles.

"are you sure no one will find out?" you asked, your voice low.

" ‘m positive, darlin’," choso assured you, his voice a low murmur against her skin. "and if anyone does happen to find out," he added, his fingers tracing teasing circles on your thigh. "we'll just have to come up with a good lie."

his hand moved higher, slipping between your legs to tease at your wet folds. "now," he continued, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "why don't we let our bodies do the talking?"

you couldn't help but bite your lip as his touch sent shivers down your spine. despite your reservations, your body arched into his caress, betraying your desires. "okay…" you said softly, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. choso smirked, his fingers tracing teasingly along your inner thigh before dipping lower to tease at your entrance.

a shiver ran through you as his husky voice purred "good girl," the sound dripping with desire and commanding you to submit to him. the air around you seemed to thicken with tension as he leaned in closer, his growl sending waves of pleasure through your body.

choso’s free hand moved to the waistband of his pants, pulling them down over his hips and freeing his hardened length. his fingers traced along the length, feeling its familiar weight and girth. a bead of pre-cum had already formed at the tip, glistening in the dim light of the room. "are you ready, love?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

you nodded, biting your lip as you watched him stroke himself. the sight sent a shiver of anticipation through your body. "yeah," you said quietly, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

"that's my girl," choso murmured, his hand stilling on his throbbing cock. he moved forward, positioning himself between your legs, the heat of your bodies radiating toward each other. "just relax, okay? i promise i'll take care of you." with those words, he’d thrust inside you, a low groan escaping his lips as he bottomed out within the velvety walls of your tight heat.

you couldn't help but arch your back and moan in pleasure as he began to move, each deep thrust igniting a fire within you. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, accompanied by your combined gasps and moans.

you cried out as he entered you, your nails digging into his shoulders. you had been expecting pain, but all you felt was pleasure. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. "oh god... choso..." you moaned, your head rolling back as waves of pleasure washed over you.

choso groaned at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, his hips beginning to move in a slow, steady rhythm. "fuck," he groaned out, his voice strained with pleasure.

his hands moved to grip your ass, lifting you off the desk as he’d thrust into you harder and faster. "god, you feel amazing," he muttered, his breathing ragged as he pounded into you.

choso groaned at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, his hips beginning to move in a slow, steady rhythm. "fuck," he groaned out, his voice strained with pleasure.

his hands moved to grip your ass, lifting you off the desk as he’d thrust into you harder and faster. "god, you feel amazing," he muttered, his breathing ragged as he pounded into you.

you moaned loudly as he fucked you, your nails digging into his shoulders. "more... please... choso..." you begged, your hips meeting his consistent thrusts.

you were lost in the pleasure, unable to think about anything else. all you knew was that you wanted more, needed more of choso.

choso grunted in response, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his release. "fuck, i'm close," he warned, his pace not slowing despite his warning. his hand moved to cup her face, thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "you gonna cum for me, love?" he asked, his voice husky with lust.

your body trembled and arched against his as he relentlessly thrust into you, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your entire being. you whimpered and moaned, unable to form coherent words as you surrendered completely to the sensations. "mhm…" you hummed in response to his unspoken question, your voice barely audible over the sounds of your entangled bodies.

as the intensity built within you, your grip on choso tightened and your movements became more erratic. your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, overwhelming every nerve ending and leaving you gasping for air. his cock continued to fill you with blissful waves of ecstasy, your pussy clenching and milking him uncontrollably as he filled you with his seed.

finally, as the last shudders of pleasure subsided, you collapsed against choso's chest, panting and spent. the scent of sweat and sex filled the air around you, a physical manifestation of the passionate release you had just experienced together.

his breath hitched as he came down from his high, panting heavily as he tried to regain control of his senses. "that was... fucking incredible," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction.

you sat there panting, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. you could feel choso's cum starting to leak out of you, staining the floor beneath them.

"i never thought it would be like that," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

choso chuckled, his arm tightening around you as he pulled you closer. "it gets better every time," he promised, his voice a low purr against your ear. "but right now," he added, his hand moving to stroke your hair. "we should probably clean up before someone sees us."

you nodded, though you made no move to actually get up. you were content to stay there in his arms, even if you both were covered in sweat.

"i guess you're right," you finally agreed, your voice soft.

as you walked through the threshold of your home a few days later, a sudden urge to declutter and organize took over. your room, once cluttered with knick-knacks and forgotten items, was now being tidied up in a frenzy.

you discarded things that no longer held meaning or were not even yours to begin with - like the half-filled box of lentils or the dusty laura nyro record that had been sitting untouched for years. as you sorted through the chaos, a sense of renewal filled the air, as if shedding unnecessary possessions would bring clarity and order to your life.

and just like the various items you threw away to declutter your living space, you also threw away your three year relationship to be with that little devil that crept into your life, a cigarette in hand and a blood red harley to take him wherever he wanted to go.

© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[444rockstargf]

"be my undercover lover." | spencer reid

summer bummer. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: bad things happened when you made friends with the enemy, so what would happen if you fucked him instead?

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator

criminal!female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.5k

contents: public sex, unprotected p in v, creampie

a flicker of lightning illuminated the dark alleyway as the storm continued to rage on.

a shaky breath exhaled your lungs as you took a long drag of your cigarette, the smoke providing you warmth as you leaned against the stone-cold wall. you pulled your dark hood over your eyes, watching as cars zoomed by the alley, their lights sparkling against the wet sidewalks.

raindrops cascaded down the material of your long black jacket, the cloak concealing your identity. it was extremely dangerous for you to be out in the open at this time, but you had needs that desperately needed to be attended to. you glanced at your jeweled watch, the long arm of the clock striking 2 in the morning. as if on cue, the dim lights of a car stopped right outside of the alley, followed by the sound of an individual stepping out and making his way inside.

you kept your head down, the dark figure appearing in your peripherals. he held an umbrella, warm brown hair blowing in the wind as he took slow steps toward you. you put out your cigarette, approaching him until you were mere inches apart. “h-hey… i made it.” spencer’s voice trembled, mostly from fear and chills. he was dressed in his usual suit and tie, a few stray drops of rain cascading down his jawline and trickling down his neck.

you pulled him deeper into the enclosed spot, checking to see if the coast was clear before taking off your hood, your striking eyes meeting his soft gaze. he used the umbrella to cover your head, then you smiled softly. “i didn’t think you’d make it.” he smiled nervously. “i’d never want to disappoint you, darling.”

his eyes immediately caught a glimpse of the priceless watch hiding under your sleeve and his heart sank. if word got out about a genius FBI agent hooking up with the city’s most feared and corrupt criminal, who knew what would happen to him or you? you were opposing forces, fighting against each other in a battle that had no end in sight. but you were the most good-looking delinquent he’d ever laid eyes on. you had him wrapped around your finger, just as he did with you.

as you two stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed to be an eternity, you pushed him against the wall, placing your hands on his chest as you pulled him into a needy kiss. his eyes fluttered shut as your smooth lips moved against his in an intimate act that hadn’t been committed in far too long.

the umbrella slipped out of his grip as his hands found your waist, pulling you into his body as he sloppily kissed you on your open mouth. your hands ran through his drenched hair, his grip moving to your hips as he fondled with the leather material of your tight skirt. he groaned deeply into your mouth, making you smile into the kiss as you whispered softly. “...did you miss me, spence..?” 

he nodded, panting as he pulled away for just a second. “s-so, so much, baby. you have no idea…” you had become his worst addiction. the dark succubus who kept him awake in the depths of the night, constantly yearning for you. you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and connecting your wet lips with his again. he grabbed your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against the opposite wall. your tongues fought a silent war as both your and his arousal got nearly impossible to hide. your thumbs trailed down his chiseled jaw, frantically moving down to unbutton his dress shirt.

you pulled away for a moment, your lips swelling from the intensity of the kiss. spencer panted, starting to kiss your neck and leaving a sloppy wet trail behind him, moving down your collarbones and stopping right above the lacy rim of your blood-red camisole top. he looked up at you, brown doe eyes glazed over with lust. you wrapped your legs around his waist, never wanting to depart from him.

he spoke with his voice growing hoarse, his throbbing cock pulsating against the restricting material of his dress pants. “c-can i have you, baby..? i need you, i just need you so bad…” though you usually loved to torture him like the heartless criminal you were, you were just as needy as him at this moment, if not more.

you nodded, feeling his boner rubbing against your soaking crotch. his eyes lit up at your approval. he tore off the thin fabric of the top with his gleaming white teeth, an action so effortlessly attractive that you bit your lip to prevent any sheepish noises from coming out. he freed your tits from the clothed prison, eyes widening at your erect nipples pointed directly at him.

he took one of your tits into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your stiff peak with a low groan. you tossed your head back, feeling heat pooling in your core from the stimulation. all the talking he did made him dangerously good with his tongue, a few simple flicks of it nearly pushing you off the edge.

he rolled his hips against you, his cock nearly tearing through the fabric of his pants. you reached a hand down to hastily unbuckle his belt, letting it fall to the wet ground with a metallic clang. you unbuttoned his pants and his cock eagerly sprung out, the tip rubbing against your clothed slit and making you gasp.

you slipped your panties to the side, grabbing spencer’s shaft and using the tip to play with your needy clit. he moaned into your chest, looking up at you with a pleading gaze. you swallowed hard, slowly putting him inside of you, inch by inch at a time. you gasped as he pushed his hips upward, forcing the remaining amount inside of you.

his chest rose and fell as he felt your tight, gummy walls clenching around you with such desperation. with both hands glued to your ass, he thrusted in and out of you, loud moans slipping from your glazed lips. spencer buried his head in your chest, hiding the tears that filled his eyes from the pleasure that came with being inside you once again.

there was a large price that came with having an affair with your enemy, but moments like this made everything worth it. he lifted his head to kiss you on the lips again, feeding his moans into your mouth as he fucked you at a rapid pace, his balls slapping against the wet, gooey base of your hole. his cock had a perfect curve that helped him hit your cervix with every moment, intentional or not. 

you moaned and whimpered in his mouth, the alley filling with sounds of skin slapping together and other lewd noises. your tight hole nearly crushed him alive as it convulsed around him, his balls tightening up as a familiar sensation coursed through his veins. despite the rain, your bodies were on fire. a blaze that would remain hot forever.

“cum for me, spencer… n-need to feel you inside me…” one billion words of protest filled his mind, but nothing would feel better than filling you up with his seed. his clean, organized thrusts began to lose their composure as his moans became harder to suppress. you thanked the heavens for sending this storm, or else you two surely would’ve been caught by then.  

his eyes filled with that haze of lust as he looked you right in the eye, his orgasm hitting him like a ton of bricks. he bit his lip so hard that he drew blood as he pushed you all the way down, his cock reaching your guts. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he filled you up like a sweet dessert, your hole swelling from the presence of his cum.

beads of sweat rolled down spencer’s forehead, his cheeks tinted with pink as he slowly set you back on the ground, your knees weak as you used the wall for support. “o-oh goodness, i-im so sorry. you told me to, y’know, a-and i just thou-” you interrupted his rambling with a deep kiss, your teeth hitting his for a moment as you tasted each other. 

you pulled away abruptly. “you talk too much, pretty boy.” his eyes were wide and hazy. he cleared his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head. “s-sorry…” you looked up at the sky, the storm finally starting to clear. you rolled your skirt back down, using the torn remnant of your top to cover your exposed tits.

spencer’s eyes were glued to him. you looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. he quickly caught the memo, tucking his softening cock back into his pants. you nodded, pulling your hood back up and starting to walk back out of the alley. but his voice stopped you in your tracks. “i’ll really miss you, y’know that?” you turn your head, shooting him a half-smile. “i will too. until we meet again, my love.”

with that, you left him in the dark, disappearing into the night.

author's note: thank you all for blowing up my inbox last night!! i promise to get them all out as soon as I can.

[littlelioncub43]

Come On, Come On, Darling

Summary: A late night out with friends, and an uncomfortably deep talk has Eddie thinking about you. He just hopes you're thinking about him the same way.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, best friends to lovers, drinking, Eddie being an absolute angel and a gentleman, reader does Eddie's make up (you're welcome), pet names ( I overuse "princess," sue me), the rest of the ST gang all being happy, season 4 never happened here, Wayne being oddly insightful and a good uncle, more plot than anything, but smut will happen in part 3, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Word Count: 4,039

A/N: I started this a while ago, hated it, took a break from it, came back and finished it — bon appetit. Bahaha! No, the break from it was much needed. I think I was tired when I said it was awful, because upon review it wasn't that bad. I love this one, you guys. I'm jealous of them. I'm jealous of the fictional couple that I created. I hope you guys like this one! Part 3 will have ze smut, so you have to be patient and polite as you wait for it hehe. Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment, send an ask, a carrier pigeon, a singing telegram— really anything. Ok! I love you!

Kisses 💋

—K

Part I. Series Masterlist Part III

The sound of random tinkering and a distant radio at the end of Mack’s Auto Garage welcomed you with a familiar warmth. Cars and trucks littered the parking lot and garage, random parts and pieces that made absolutely no sense to you sprawled out over the work benches. Eddie had a morning shift today, much to his dismay, but when money calls— he answers. Parking next to his decrepit van, you fiddle with the strap of your bag as you meander through the concrete workspace looking for him. You hear him long before you see him.

“Where did I put it? Son of a—“

“Missing something, Munson?” You interrupted Eddie’s nearly frantic search of his locker, his head snapping up in surprise. His normally untamed hair was pulled back into a low bun (with a scrunchie that looks suspiciously like the one you misplaced two weeks ago) with his favorite bandana tied around his brow to keep the sweat off. The dark blue coveralls with his name etched in red thread on his left chest were unzipped at his waist, a plain white t-shirt adorning his chest, oil and dirt smeared into the fabric were he wiped his hands clean on his thighs. 

“Yeah, my freaking lighter. That thing must have finally grown legs and ran off or some shit,” he rambles and resumes to pat down the pockets of his leather jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“You left this in my car,” you slip the silver flip lighter from the back pocket of your black jeans and wiggle it between your thumb and index finger, “figured you’d need it sooner than later.”

“Oh, you’re a beautiful, gracious, and kind woman,” he groans dramatically with relief, happily taking the lighter from you. You chuckle and lean against the hood of the car at his bench, Eddie following suit. He pops a cigarette into his mouth and lights it swiftly, taking a long drag, his eyes shut as he holds it in at the top, and slowly blowing out a wispy cloud of smoke. 

“Jesus Christ, you have no idea how badly I needed that,” he grumbles before bringing it back to his lips, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh. Yeah, you, too, Sweets, thanks,” he teases with a coy smile. You playfully shove his shoulder, making him laugh around the cigarette. “We still on for drinks later with Steve and them?”

“7, right?” He hums an affirmative, “yeah, that sounds good,” you glance at the clock on the wall, “Shit, I gotta go, my shift starts soon.”

“Okay,” he nods, crushing out the partially spent cigarette in the ashtray on his bench as you fish your keys out of your jacket pocket. “Wear that cute top, the black one that hangs off your shoulders,” he calls out after you as you walk away.

“Why?” You chuckle and turn to look at him while you walk backwards, the move alone made Eddie think you were the coolest fucking chick that ever graced this floating space rock. 

“It’s pretty,” he shrugged casually as he slung the arms of his coveralls back on, but you noticed the soft dusting of color along his cheeks. 

“Fine, but only if you tuck your shirt into your pants,” you bargain and point at him from your spot at the mouth of the garage. He groans, making you laugh. 

“I’m going to look like a loser!” He whines, failing to hide his smile at your giggling. 

“That’s the point! I’ll see you then, Gomer,” you tease and finally get to your car, if you stayed any longer you’d definitely be late for your shift at the record shop. 

You heard his van pull into your driveway just as you were finishing the last bit of your eye makeup. You always went light with the mascara and eyeliner for the sake of being comfortable, and it made washing your face a lot easier at the end of the night. The sound of Eddie’s keys jingling was followed by his bright voice calling your name. When you came out of your room, you found him sitting on your counter, munching on a bag of chips. 

“Oo, look at you all prettied up,” he coos around a mouthful of Doritos. You feel your face heat up ever so slightly at his words, you did feel pretty. The knit, long sleeve black top that Eddie had requested clung to your shape deliciously, precisely the reason he loved it so much. The neckline was low enough to show off your collarbones and bits of your shoulder, and gave you the perfect opportunity to show off the pendant necklace that Eddie got for your graduation present years ago. Tight ripped black jeans matched Eddie’s own pair down to the black studded belt, except you swapped out your comfortable pair of converses for a chunky black boot. Eddie was positive: you were the coolest chick to ever live. 

“I was going to say the same thing about you, Munson,” you chuckle and take him in, he does a little twirl. He wore his classic black jeans and handcuff belt, a staple in Eddie’s uniform. A black AC/DC t shirt hugged his sturdy torso and was neatly tucked into his jeans, just like you asked. You gotta admit: he did not look like a loser. He never did. 

“Ya think so? I was worried that my jacket didn’t match my purse,” he jokes. 

“No, no, they do, don’t worry,” you soothe and try to hide your smile. Suddenly, you speak before your mind can catch up with what you’re saying. “Do you want some eyeliner?”

“What?” Eddie chuckles, licking the Dorito dust from his fingers. You swallow and decide, fuck it, you already asked.

“Do you want some eyeliner? I think it would… look nice,” you stutter out as smoothly as you can. He thinks it over for a brief second before he nods casually. 

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie manages to sound calm, much to his surprise. His heart may have skipped a few beats at your small compliment. 

The next thing he knows you have him sat at your vanity, facing you as you stand in between his legs. One hand gently cups his jaw while the other wields a stick of your favorite black eyeliner. You try your best not to get lost in the feeling of his stubble scratching at your palm or the warmth of his hands on your outer thighs, and focus on drawing in the darkness around his eyes. Eddie sits as still as he can, the last thing he wants is to lose an eye. He trusts you completely, it’s his fidgeting that he doesn’t trust. 

“Ok, close your eyes for me,” you say softly, the closeness brought your voice to a hushed whisper. Eddie shut his eyes without a second thought, he listened to the steady inhale and exhale as you stood in front of him. Eddie was unfairly gorgeous, his sweeping eyelashes, the placid expression that soothed his face coupled with the calm trust that surrounded you both made your heart flutter and your knees buckle. Steeling your nerves, you carefully applied the makeup along his upper lashes. “Alright, open. Look up, please.”

Eddie stared up at the ceiling, trying his best not to flinch as you brought the product under his lashes. He wished so badly to be able to watch you, you were so cute when you concentrated on things. Your eyebrows furrowed, drawn together in concentration, and your face set in an oddly serious expression. With one last smudge of eyeliner, you pulled back with a smile. 

“All done. What d’ya think?” You ask and put your makeup away as he turns to look in the mirror. 

“Not bad, not bad. What do you think?” He quirks an eyebrow. If you were honest, he was the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and that was without the makeup on. With the dark circles rimming his gorgeous brown eyes, he was deadly. But you couldn’t exactly say that. 

“I think you look super cool,” you say honestly and grab your purse. 

“Metal?” He stood up, following you out of your room.

“Very metal, but if we don’t get going soon, we’re going to be very late,” you chuckle and hand him his leather jacket and keys. Eddie nods and slips one his jacket with ease, the full ensemble complete, and, fuck, did he look hot. He locked the front door after you, skipping quickly ahead to open the passenger seat door for you. 

“M’lady,” he bows, grinning like an idiot when you curtsey back and hop in. 

It was going to be a fun night. 

And it was. 

Steve, Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy were sat comfortably at the table when you and Eddie arrived. Jokes were told, laughs were shared, and drinks were poured. Lots and lots of drinks. By midnight, the whole table was on the heavier side of tipsy, if not drunk. Steve and Robin were neck deep in a debate on whether or not Michael Myers was human or not, with Jonathan acting as moderator while Nancy fought through the spins. At some point, you ended up in Eddie’s lap, your arm slung around his shoulders with his own circled around your waist while you both listened and weighed in on what you have dubbed “The Great Halloween Dispute of 1987.” 

Eddie had slipped his jacket off after his second beer, revealing his toned arms (all those shifts at the garage were paying off in more ways than one), the short sleeves of his t shirt rolled up ever so slightly. You toyed with a strand of Eddie’s hair like always and sipped on a glass of water, one that Eddie was quick to swipe from your hand. He took a good gulp without much thought and set it on the table. 

“Well, Princess, what do you think? Should we call it a night?” He slurs his words as he rubs the length of your outer thigh absentmindedly. 

“Yeeaah,” you drawl, your head was starting to spin even from the safety of Eddie’s lap. Looking down at him, you were struck again with the overwhelming feeling flooding your heart. Even in the low light of the seedy bar, he looks like the perfect man that God, or whoever is up there, made just for you. You bring one hand to rest on his forearm, your thumb stroking the bat tattoos you love gently. Eddie tightens his grip on you before giving you that million dollar smile, one that you can’t help but return with drunken ease. He pats your leg, signaling for you to stand, and you do, much to your objection (you were quite comfortable in his lap). 

“Alright, gang, as fun as it’s been, the missus and I gotta head out,” Eddie announces as you slip away to pay for your drinks before he can. A chorus of slurred but friendly goodbyes send Eddie on his way to the bar just as you finish forking over the money for both his and your drinks. “Noooo, you don’ pay for drinks,” he scolds as you put your wallet away, his face scrunched in a pout. 

“Yeah? Who said?” You playfully tease as he slides his leather coat over your shoulders, one glance outside and he knew that you’d be chilly on the way to the van. You subtly breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne, the same one you got for his birthday 2 years ago.

“Pretty girls don’ pay for drinks, everyone knows that,” he casually answers, he was much bolder with about 4 glasses of liquid courage warming his blood. You laugh, not bothering to hide the bashfulness in your voice and he smiles at the sound, leading you out to the van at the far end of the parking lot. He saw the way you shivered and pulled the oversized jacket around you tighter. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he opens the back doors and quickly starts setting up the blankets he had stored in the back. You must have made a face because Eddie’s soon laughing and shaking his head. “M’not drivin’ you home drunk, Princess. Could get ya hurt, s’too dangerous. Now, com’on.”

Your heart does a summersault at his words, but that’s just who he was. Caring, sweet, understanding, reliable, trustworthy. That’s Eddie Munson. He sees the fondness in your smile again, his stomach erupting in butterflies. If he wasn’t such a chicken shit, this is where he would tell you how gorgeous you are and kiss you, if you’d let him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he hops out of the van and holds out his hand to help you inside. 

The old mattress he keeps tucked away in the back is draped in blankets, folded as neatly as a drunk Eddie could get them. You sit at the end of the makeshift bed, your legs hanging out the doors to take off your boots. Without a word, Eddie starts untying your laces, carefully undoing the knots, slipping the shoes off your feet and setting them neatly next to the mattress. 

“Thank you,” you meekly reply, the sweet gesture having stolen your voice.

“You’re welcome, Sweets,” he pats your leg, “scoot over.”

He hops in, shutting the doors behind him before double checking that all the doors are locked. You hide a yawn behind your hand as he settles down on the other side of the bed, kicking off his shoes unceremoniously. You slip off your belt and other jewelry, opting to stay in your jeans for the night. Eddie does the same, slinging his belt into the pile with his shoes before crawling under the questionably clean blanket. He sighs and settles in with a groan, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he’s watching you tuck your earrings into the pocket of his leather jacket. You turn around to find Eddie making grabby hands at you, smiling, you crawl in next to him, letting him pull you into his chest and tuck the blanket around you both snugly. The chill of the van made cuddling a necessity, even under the blanket you could feel the stagnant bite of cold of the coming winter. Letting out a content sigh, you relaxed into the comfortable silence, the world around you only slightly spinning now as sleep began to descend on you. Eddie stares up at the metal roof, his eyes slowly getting heavier and heavier as the moments tick by. 

“I like when you tuck your shirts in,” you sleepily confess, your voice was hushed as you whispered your little secret to your best friend. He can’t help but chuckle tiredly at your words, the sound more akin to a deep rumble as opposed to his normally bright laughter. 

“Yeah?” Is all he can think to say, his face burning even in the chilly van. 

“Yeah,” you shyly confirm, tracing the bats on his forearm once more, the action sends Eddie into a tizzy.

“Y’like when I look like a dweeb?” He jokes with a yawn, sleep fast approaching. 

“You never look like a dweeb,” you mumble just before you drift off, your fingers slowing to a stop on his skin, If he wasn’t tired, he would have teased you to hell and back about it, but all he can do it chuckle lowly in his chest and hold you a little tighter. Why do you have to be so cute?

“I like when we sleep like this,” he rested his cheek on the top of your head, letting one hand stroke your arm tenderly, the action only pushing you quicker towards sleep. He hears you hum in acknowledgement and agreement. 

“Me too, Eds.”  

There’s a few moments of silence before Eddie realizes you’re asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess,” Eddie whispers with a smile and kisses the crown of your head, the sound of your even breaths fill the van and lull him into his own peaceful slumber. 

Eddie wakes up to the sound of your soft snores and the growl of a stray truck chugging down the street. Your back is pressed to his front as you both lay on your sides, his arm under your head like a pillow and out stretched, his other arm was strung across your waist. The warmth of your body pressed against his had fought off the cold of the night exceptionally well, it drew him in for more, so he buried his face into the crook of your neck. The smell of your perfume mixing with the scent of his own cologne had Eddie groaning softly, this was the life. Nothing could bring him down, not even the soft thudding in his head or the dryness of his mouth. 

You stirred next to him, your eyes still shut as you reached out for Eddie’s hand on instinct. When your smaller hand found his, you immediately laced your fingers together. Eddie looked at where your hands were joined and gave a small incredulous scoff and smile, his arm around your midsection squeezed you into him hard enough to force the air out of you. 

“Why are you so damn cute? Huh? Who said you could be this fucking adorable?” He rambled on in a groggy whisper, his morning voice was just as glorious as you remember it being. You giggle as consciousness fills you. 

“It’s a curse, really. Doctors have been studying me for years, it’s a medical mystery,” you joke and carefully rub your eyes with your free hand. You were surprised to find that you felt well rested for having slept in the back of your best friend’s van after a night of drinking with no pillow, in a pair of tight jeans, and no fan. You peek over your shoulder to find Eddie’s puppy eyes already staring back at you. The smudges of eyeliner looked even better in the morning sunshine. You could only imagine how you look right now. “Wanna get breakfast?”

“God, yes,” he mumbles with a smile. He was starving, plus he wanted to pay you back for covering his drinks last night. Reluctantly, he peels his hand from yours to reach for his shoes and keys. You hum and stretch out a little, cracking your back before getting your shoes back on as well. You’re both quick to fold the blankets and get into your seats, the pits in your stomach rumbled and demanded to be satisfied. The drive to the nearest diner was thankfully short. 

Before long, you and Eddie find yourselves tucked into a booth with plates of hot food and even hotter coffee in front of you. The looks you receive from the other patrons did nothing but amuse you both. And what a sight you both were: strolling in at 9am reeking of the drink that Nancy accidentally spilled, last night’s makeup smeared across your eyes, bed hair, both dressed to the nines in black. Compared to the lovely elderly couple on their weekly Sunday morning date, you both looked like bats out of Hell. When you offered the old woman a polite smile, she was quick to return it, her husband was busy staring Eddie down, clearly not a fan of his tattoos or makeup. Soon, the plates were cleared and the cups were emptied, and you both meandered your way back to the van. 

“Alright, Sweetheart, back home, it is?” He asks as he backs out of the parking lot, you scroll through the radio stations, hoping to find something good on.

“Yes, please, I need to shower,” you groan, the longer you stayed in your makeup the more grimy you felt. A hot shower would solve all your problems. 

“Oo, no chance you’ll let me join, would you?” Eddie half jokes, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You roll your eyes with a smile and shake your head. “Damn, next time, then.”

Quicker than he’d like, he parks in front of your trailer. You gather your things, double checking that you have everything before hopping out of the passenger side. With a quick goodbye, you’re bounding indoors, making a beeline for the shower. Eddie watches until you’re inside then makes his own way home. He’s surprised to find Wayne’s car parked in its spot in the yard. 

“You just getting in?” Wayne asks as soon as the door opens, Wayne sat at the kitchen table, eating whatever leftovers were in the fridge before heading to bed. Eddie sets his keys aside on the table and nods. “Out with that girl, again?” Eddie gives him a look as he sought out a glass of water, Wayne knew your name but he just liked giving Eddie a hard time, especially when he stays out all night. 

“Yeah, we had some drinks with some friends, it ran a little later than planned.”

“Did you and her…” Wayne trails off, tilting his head to finish his sentence. 

“Oh God,” Eddie sighs and hangs his head. Wayne would ask from time to time, and it never ceased to be awkward as balls. 

“I’m just askin’. If you are, I’d rather you be safe about i—“ he defends calmly. 

“I know how to be safe about—“ Eddie cuts himself off with another sigh, rubbing his face with both his hands. “I know how to be safe, but no. We did not… do things.”

“Ok,” Wayne nods, throwing his hands up in surrender to show that he dropped it. Eddie relaxes and finishes his water, happy to escape the awkward conversation. Or so he thought. “It’s obvious you like her, so I thought it would have happened by now.” 

Eddie sputters a few words, each sentence of denial dying on his tongue. Wayne gives him a look and Eddie just knows that denying it isn’t any good. He flops into the chair on the other side of the table, looking up to his uncle through his lashes. 

“How obvious is it?” Eddie asks softly. In that moment, Wayne sees the years fall away from Eddie and what’s left behind is what Wayne saw all those years ago: his kid nephew, lost and needing guidance. He smiles warmly, a rare sight, and scratches his head. 

“Well, it’s not super obvious,” Wayne grumbles gently, resting his forearms on the table, “but I’m sure some of your friends notice it too.”

Eddie curses under his breath, his face hot with embarrassment. If other people could see how bad he has it for you, then that means you might see it too. 

“Do… Do you think she knows?” He asks shyly, fiddling with the rings on his fingers for comfort. Wayne leans back in his chair, giving a small shrug. 

“She might,” that answer weighs heavily on Eddie but Wayne is quick to try fix it, “but, would that be a bad thing?”

“Yes! No! I-I don’t know,” Eddie rambles, bouncing his leg as he does the mental gymnastics of trying to figure out if you knew. 

“Personally, kid, I don’t think it would be. Knowin’ that you love her, how could that be bad?” His words knock around in Eddie’s head for a few moments before he speaks in a small voice. 

“It could ruin everything,” Wayne couldn’t help but laugh at those words. 

“Kid, lovin’ someone doesn’t ruin a damn thing,” he smiles and crosses his arms. “If it’s right, then it’s right. If not, then it’s not. But that doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.”

Eddie took in his words again, chewing his lip nervously. He hated when Wayne was like this, all insightful and wise. It was unnerving, but at the same time, he always knew exactly what Eddie needed to hear. 

“You do what you think is best, Eddie. I’m gonna go to bed now, I’ll see ya tonight,” he stands and pats Eddie’s back as he makes his way towards the pull out sofa. Eddie mumbles his goodnights and makes his way to his own room, Wayne’s alarmingly wise words knocking around his head as he gets ready for a shower. 

Would it be so bad if you knew? He was going to find out. 

Part I. Part III

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[daydream-cement]

"imagine a fic with college larissa and her goth/punk gf. they sneak off to an abandoned tunnel to smoke, play loud music and make-out.", like my beautiful em said.

Passing Trains

College!Larissa Weems x College!Reader

Authors Note: Larissa is imagined as Gwen from In Fabric. She is going through her emo phase :) Thank you so much @bri-sonat for all ya help <33333

Grasping Larissa's hand, you tugged her after you. The unmistakable ringing of her laughter fills the air around you both as you pull her further towards your usual spot.

You and the shapeshifter had been friends for nearly three months and you couldn't get enough of her. You had met during class in one of the big lecture halls. She had chosen to sit by you due to your matching aesthetic preferences, claiming it was a 'first day of class precautionary measure.'

Quickly you became inseparable. Eventually, the only times you weren't together is when you were in a different class or sleeping. Each Thursday after class, you would go down to an abandoned tunnel, share a few cigarettes, enjoy some music, and spend time with one another.

Slipping into the darkness of the tunnel, Larissa couldn't help her excited and jovial tone whenever she was around you. She was so smitten with you, "Did you finish the homework for 405? I think I may die if I have to write another paper for Dr. Morrison."

"I don't even want to think about it. We aren't even halfway through the semester and this is the fourth one, Riss." You take your usual spot against the stone wall, slipping to the floor and pulling the pack of cigs from the pocket of your leather jacket.

Larissa collapsed to your side, offering you up the metal lighter she kept in her pocket, "You're telling me. I swear he doesn't have a life besides reading those fucking essays."

You let out a laugh at her snarky comment, passing the cigarette back over to her. Larissa plucks it from your fingertips and leans her head on your shoulder before taking a long drag. You leaned your head against hers, enjoying the familiar smell of her perfume mixed with tobacco.

A few moments of silence passed between the two of you before Larissa spoke up again, "I saw Lena gave you her number after class…"

"Yeah…"

"Are you going to call her?" Larissa inquired further, passing the cig back to you. She was feeling a little jealous that someone would even try flirting with you, but she had to remind herself that you weren't actually dating.

You offer a light shrug, "Probably not."

"Oh…" You couldn't tell if Larissa sounded disappointed or if she was pleased from your response. Her deeper inquiry into your response was beginning to make you nervous, "Why not?"

It would be pointless to try and keep something from her. She was your best friend and you told her everything… Well, almost everything, "I already like someone…"

"Who…?"

You paused, taking a drag of the cigarette as you pondered your answer, knowing you should have made up a different reason for not wanting to date Lena. Now you were faced with the decision of either lying to Larissa or admitting the feelings you have always had for her. She was stunning with her black hair and dark makeup, not to mention those piercing blue eyes that shone brighter from the black eyeshadow and eyeliner.

Your silence caused Larissa to lift her head, her eyes gazing into yours. Opening your mouth, you hesitate for a second and finally let the words slip from your lips, "I like you."

"Like… you like like me?" Larissa asked for further clarification.

You nod, eyes wide, turning your gaze to the tunnel floor where you extinguished the cigarette against the tunnel floor,, "A lot…"

Much to your surprise, her shock gave way to joy, a large smile breaking out across her face. Without the pressure of you looking at her, Larissa leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, leaving a light red mark lipstick stain. "I like you a lot too. Like… a lot."

You turn your head back to face her, smiles now gracing both of your faces. Leaning in slowly, you decide to make the first move, pressing your lips to hers. Larissa’s hand shifted back into your hair, holding you close enough for her to deepen the kiss and humming in delight when you tugged at the fabric of her shirt to keep her close.

Before you knew it, Larissa was straddling your lap, her lipstick now smeared across your lips and hers. Your hands gripped her hips and her hands held your cheeks. Your tongues mingled and you took turns sucking and biting at one another’s bottom lip, all of the tension between you dissolving the longer your bodies were intertwined.

The sound of a train passing overhead, brought the two of you back to reality. Larissa pulled away first and her smeared lipstick made a quiet giggle rise up through your chest. You lean in close, hugging her to you as you revel in the proximity. Her hands wander up and down your arms, happy to touch you as liberally as she had been longing to.

Once the train passed, you spoke up, asking her a question that had been on your mind since you first spoke to Larissa, “Does this mean you will be my girlfriend?”

“Do you even have to ask? Of course I will."

Larissa and you stayed in the tunnel much longer than usual, kissing and whispering all the sweet compliments you had been thinking about one another the past three months. It was when the chill of the autumn evening air washed over the both of you that you decided it was time to head back to the dorms.

Your dorm, specifically, so you could continue the make-out session in a familiar setting, surrounded by you favorite band posters and accompanied by the delightful sound of the Ramones.

[bittersweet-skylines]

Steve has been dragged to another themed dance night at a random club in Indianapolis. It’s a long drive for one night of partying, but Robin loves going to them, regardless of the theme, and Steve doesn’t mind it if it means getting to drink and party with his best friend for a bit.

Tonight is themed around emo music, and it’s a lot of music he doesn’t know with the occasional one he does sprinkled in (who doesn’t know Sugar, We’re Going Down?), but with his minimal music taste that’s not a surprise.

Neither of them are dressed the part for the music, both taking emo to mean “all black” which seems to be the theme for everyone else as well.

Robin is somewhere on the dance floor and Steve is lingering by the bar with a drink in his hand. From the back of the room, he can take everything in.

The DJ stands on her platform at the front, hyping up the crowd as the guitar starts up for a song that gets everyone excited and then he’s greeted with the lead singer screaming something he can’t understand.

The crowd looks relatively tame, dancing in their small clusters of friends. He doesn’t know why he was expecting mosh pits or fist fights, but he isn’t complaining about it. Maybe it’s just because the music wasn’t live, or maybe it’s because half the crowd looks just as confused about the music as he is.

The point is, the crowd looks normal, which makes the small group of people hanging out by the wall all the more noticeable.

Four guys stand up against the wall of the dance floor, each with more wild hair than the last. All of them were cladded in leather with battle jackets and heavy jewelry. All of their silhouettes are sharp and heavy. Ironically, they seemed the most out of place.

They bob along with the music happily enough, and Steve of all people couldn’t judge, but they seemed just as lost as he is with the music.

Steve finds himself staring at one of them. He has long, curly hair and stands the tallest of them all. Somehow, his gaze finds Steve’s from across the room and suddenly he’s very grateful for the dim lighting to hide his flush of embarrassment.

Steve sneaks a second glance. The guy returns his attention to his friends and he gets to watch him for a few seconds this time.

He knows he shouldn’t be staring, but it’s impossible not to. He can’t explain it, but he’s just transfixed on this beautiful man across the room.

He looks away to try and find Robin in the crowd, but when he looks back, he’s gone.

Steve turns to head towards the dance floor again, ready to just shrug it off, when his gaze meets the mysterious person again. This time, he’s right in front of Steve, and he’s talking to him.

He can’t hear what comes out of his mouth, but he manages to read his lips in the dark.

“A little underdressed to be judging the crowd, don’t you think?”

Steve laughs awkwardly. He’s not wrong. Steve’s only wearing a black t shirt and a pair of jeans. Light washed jeans, at that, but at least Robin smudged some eyeliner around his eyes before they left.

“I was admiring, actually,” he replies. The other gives him a curious look and Steve just shrugs, a small smile on his face.

He must have said something to him, because the other is watching Steve expectantly, and instinctually he taps his ear and gives the disclaimer; “I can’t hear you.”

The other doesn’t repeat whatever he said. Instead he makes a gesture that implies going outside for a smoke, and after a beat, Steve decides to follow him.

Outside, the air is chilled and there’s nothing that remains of the music except the intense bass. They walk together a few feet down, and then the stranger leans against the wall and lights a cigarette before he hands the pack to Steve.

“So, admiring, huh?”

“I mean, when you look the way you do, it’s hard not to,” Steve says. It’s easier outside. He can hear him properly, as long as he keeps slightly to the right of the stranger. He lights his own cigarette and exhales the smoke away from the other.

“Sure you weren’t just staring at the one group that actually stood out?” he teases. Steve shakes his head.

“That would just be hypocritical.”

The conversation sky rockets from there. He learns that the other is in a band, and they ended up here because their drummer knows the DJ and had promised that it was “definitely their scene”. He assures Steve that he doesn’t mind the music, but it’s definitely not his scene. Steve mentions Robin and how she loves this specific club, and how he never knows the music but he doesn’t care that much anyways. The stranger is skeptical at Steve’s proclamation that music isn’t a very big deal, and they both laugh it off after he cracks another joke about it.

“Your gaze drifts a lot, you know. Maybe we should cut you off?” he teases. Steve flicks his gaze up from the other’s lips and smiles softly.

“Maybe I just like what I see,” he replies.

“Right. Yeah, just admiring my lips. No ulterior motives, huh?” For a second, Steve thinks that maybe he got it all wrong, but then the other steps in until there’s just a books length between them.

“What if there was?”

“You’d win,” the other says honestly. Steve smiles, the butterflies giddy in his stomach. He hesitates only for a moment before he leans in and kisses the stranger, soft but letting it linger until he pulls away.

“I should go find my friends,” he says as he pulls away. “And you should get inside. You’re going to freeze.”

Steve doesn’t want to. He could talk to this stranger for hours and it would still be intoxicating, but he’s already walking back towards the entrance, so Steve follows.

“I’ll come find you before the nights over, if you want. We’ll make plans to take you to a real party sometime,” he offers right before they part at the doors. Steve nods, because of course he wants to find him again, and then he’s off.

Only, he doesn’t find him again. Steve finds Robin and dances with her, and enjoys the night with his friend. For a while he can spot his stranger in the crowd with ease, but then it gets harder until Steve can only assume he’s just gone.

It’s not the first time this has happened, but for some reason, this time leaves him with a pang of regret.

He didn’t even get his name.

[gcldfanged]

@thronelessprince

How much blood could the human body hold?

It was a question that he’d asked himself countless times. How much blood did a person have? What injuries would it take to kill them? How would they look as they begged for their lives?

It hadn’t even been planned out, just a lucky guess. Sawing through the carotid artery in Masa’s neck. He was a well built man- Thick with muscles, strong, even a little handsome. His veins were easy to spot, they bulged from the backs of his hands, down his arms, through his neck. His heart was still beating, fruitlessly pumping more blood up to his brain. Spraying out of the severed artery like water from a burst pipe. 

It was warm when it misted his clothing, soaked into the knitted fabric of his sweater vest. Pure white blouse and pleated skirt streaked with red. Loose socks heavy with vitae. He’d never stepped foot into a school building in his entire life. The uniform was little more than a sick parody, a mocking spectacle made to entertain his former owner.

The image of his savior had burned itself into his memory- Tall with auburn hair, steely eyes, and a scar running along the side of his cheek. The tall man stepped forward and suddenly his jacket was draped around Jae’s damp shoulders- the collar smelled like crisp wintry woods his grandfather used to hunt in, herbaceous and green, with just a touch of sweet sulphurous cognac. 

Jae had loved it. The way he looked, smelled, spoke. It wasn’t enough to be like Verdot, he wanted be Verdot. It was a dark desire that coiled deep inside his chest, too ruddy and intense and obsessive to be called a distant dream.

And yet, in this moment, Jae-hyo sees him for what he truly is. He’s just a man- Human. Fallible and flawed. Vulnerable. Selfish. Tragic.

Broken.

He takes a step forward and rests his hands upon broad shoulders he can now easily reach, and smiles. 

“From now on, I hope every day is a quiet nightmare. I hope that every moment is terrifying and meaningless. And when you do finally begin to take your last breath, I hope it’s somewhere dark and cold without an ounce of warmth or kindness to ease your rotten soul into the afterlife. You’re going to die, pitiful and alone, in complete ruins with no dignity left.”

Jae leans in, pressing his lips to the side of a scarred cheek, lowering his voice to something soft- like a lover might use. Granting his former idol a cold and gentle kiss of death.

“Don’t let me down.”

-

Rows of empty bottles and glasses form a kind of defensive wall around the former Turk, who currently has his face buried between his crossed arms. He looks like a depressed salary man (albeit with a better suit), having long overstayed his welcome. The employees just look tired and too frightened to ask him to leave so they could go home and pass out, only to wake up and do it all over again.

A black and gold cigarette smolders in a crystal tray, burning down to the ornately decorated filter with a long, cylindrical piece of ash- Untouched and forgotten.

Crisp footsteps echo on a tiled floor, announcing someone’s presence in a manner too obvious and dramatic to be anything than the lofty display it was.

Jae clenches his eyes shut against the dim lighting of the bar top, crushing his forehead against his designer watch and leather gloves. Maybe if he presses hard enough, he might hit brain matter. The alcohol should have long numbed his emotions, fermented his amygdala. 

“Get lost, I’m busy drinking here if you haven’t noticed,” he remarks icily, the effect somewhat lessened due to being muffled. 

[bubblegum-blackwood]

VC Kink Week - Day 6 - Edge Play

I'm a little nervous posting this one - it's not like anything I've done in VC fic before! But I hope y'all like it. Here's to the Loustat bitches.

"Bus Stop"

Louis was nervous.

When Lestat had first approached him to ask about the idea, he had been initially put off by the very thought, and he shut the conversation down. But Lestat was relentless in pursuing his goal, as with most of his goals, and after a good month or so of nagging and puppy dog eyes and kisses more persuasive than Louis liked to let on, he finally caved and agreed to give the brat what he wanted. They didn’t do it right away, because Louis wanted time to prepare, research, formulate a plan, have some sort of idea about what he was actually going to do rather than diving headfirst into something like this, where trying it new for the first time could end in a flaming dumpster fire disaster if they weren’t careful. Lestat was impatient as always, and Louis tried to explain to him - wouldn’t it be all the better for the greater buildup? Lestat pouted but let Louis do his reading and ask his questions, and now, after what felt like much too long, they were finally doing it.

Louis was nervous.

Lestat was a bit nervous, too, but he didn’t want to let that on lest Louis use it as an excuse to shut down this little scene he had waited weeks for before it had even started. His hand trembled as he stood on the fire escape letting the cool night breeze caress his face, smoking a cigarette that did nothing much for him save as a part of the act, this little play they were putting on. The fire escape was also part of the act - although for the purposes of their evening they were going to pretend it wasn’t a fire escape but rather a bus stop. Boy, their neighbours sure wouldn’t like them tonight.

Louis took a deep breath he didn’t necessarily need just to calm himself, steel his nerves - okay. He could do this. For Lestat. He ran his lean fingers through short black curls with another sigh. It would only get worse the longer he waited; he had to do it now. Before he chickened out and let Lestat down big time.

Louis marched out onto the fire escape with Lestat, leaning against the wall without acknowledging him. Lestat snuck a look long enough to brighten up at the observation that Louis had taken his entire ensemble from Lestat’s wardrobe - from the red silk shirt unbuttoned to show off silky black chest hair to the shiny leather jacket, tantalisingly tight pants, high-heeled boots. He was a vision, there was no other word for it. Lestat almost salivated - he looked so brilliant in that shade of red. It put Lestat to shame in his plain grey t-shirt and the worn light-washed jeans he had borrowed from Daniel (which he was only able to pull up his legs after much adjusting to the waistband that he would then have to undo before he returned the pants - Daniel had much thinner hips then Lestat did). They stood in semi-awkward silence, and as it went on Lestat began to fear that Louis would lose his nerve and call the whole thing off, but finally he opened his mouth and said, “What sort of place could a pretty thing like you have to be going to at this hour?”

Read the rest on AO3! If you liked it, please consider leaving kudos and/or comments to let me know, I would really appreciate it!

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Chapter 3: Smolder // start at the beginning

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

Honestly I am so pleased with this chapter. The dialogue, the characterization, the Vibes. If you read only one chapter of this fic, let it be this one.

smolder verb 1. to burn with little smoke and no flame 2. to exist in a suppressed state --- Conversations with dead people.

Four hours later, the coffee was long gone, and the heavy bags of snacks were reduced to nothing but wrappers and a scattering of crumbs. Xander, predictably, was snoring in the corner, Anya's head in his lap; she kept muttering in her sleep, and each time he would soothe her with a pat on the head, without either waking up. Tara and Willow had moved to the store’s loft, reading aloud to each other in shifts to keep awake.

Buffy had left for patrol shortly after midnight—“Not every vamp is as charming as you, Mulder,” she quipped as she loaded a crossbow into her bag—and Giles had gone home to comb through his library and check in with a few contacts on the other side of the world who would just be waking up. Spike at one point simply stood up and left, his leather jacket flapping behind him like the wings of a giant bat—a move Scully was sure he had practiced—and vanished into the night.

Even Mulder was slumped in his chair, dozing. She had rummaged up a blanket from the training room at the back of the shop, hoping it wasn’t somehow cursed, and tucked it in around him. He barely managed to mumble a “Thank you,” before drifting back to sleep.

Scully had spent so long staring at a scroll in a language she couldn’t even pronounce, let alone read, that the boxy little symbols were starting to make a worrying kind of sense; like a Magic Eye painting, if she let her eyes relax and her focus drift, they almost looked like tiny monsters.

She leaned back, her head swimming with a sudden exhaustion that bordered on delirium. She hadn’t slept more than three consecutive hours since they had landed in this sun-baked hellmouth, spending her days falsifying reports and medical records for Skinner to explain her and Mulder’s continued absence—given their track record, him being grievously injured on the job was a decent cover story—and her nights up to her neck in legends she still could only half-believe. All the coffee and junk food in the world couldn’t save her from the consequences. Her eyes felt gummy in her skull, her nose was clogged with the grime of thousand year-old books, and the room itself seemed to contract and swelter around her. She lurched to her feet, fighting back nausea, and rushed toward the back door.

The night air hit her like a wave and she gulped down its soothing chill again and again until the urge to hyperventilate or vomit had passed. Slowly the darkness receded from the edges of her vision and the bile eased back down her throat. She pressed her fists into the small of her back and arched her spine, releasing several satisfying pops.

“Tasty thing like you shouldn’t be out here alone in the dark.”

Scully whirled around to face the darkness at the mouth of the alley, her gun drawn and aimed toward the source of the voice before she was even conscious of moving. A lean figure hunched against the wall.

“Might get snapped up by something dangerous.”

The figure inched forward into the light from the street lamp. Pale skin, white-blond hair, absurd leather jacket. She sagged with relief, hands shaking as she holstered her weapon. “Spike. You scared the hell out of me. Have you been lurking there all night?”

“Oh no, I’ve been lurking lots of places. A regular lurk-about, that’s me.” He swaggered down the alley and dropped dramatically onto the step in front of her. “Pull up some concrete, pet. I’ve got a few hours before I risk a serious sunburn, and I’ve got a fresh pack of coffin nails.”

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his long, black coat and used an unnecessary amount of flourish to light one with a silver Zippo. When he saw her look of vague disgust, he only shrugged. “What? It’s not like they’re gonna kill me.”

She huffed out an exhausted laugh, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of her life as she sat down beside him. “Are you going to share that or what?”

“Pretty sure you’re not immortal, love.”

“There’s some debate about that, actually, but at this point I’m too exhausted to care.” She held out her hand and he passed her the cigarette, the ember of its tip glowing in the gloom.

“Possible immortality, is it? Funny, your man never mentioned that.”

“You guys talk about me a lot? In between shots of plasma, I mean.”

“Actually, Mulder talked about you pretty much all night. Scully this. Scully that. Scully, Scully, Scully. Do you even have a first name?

She took a deep drag from the cigarette, the smoke curling from her parted lips in delicate spirals. “Dana.”

“Lovely name for a lovely lady,” he said, taking it back.

“And what about you? I can’t imagine your mother looking down at her beautiful, bouncing, peroxide-blond baby boy, and proclaiming you Spike .”

He paused for a beat, considering her, then smiled a charmingly crooked smile and held out one pale hand. “William.”

They shook. The cold, dry flesh of Spike’s hand was almost beginning to feel normal.

“So, William, what exactly did Mulder say about me?”

“Sorry, pet. There’s a code. Like a bro code, but for fangy folk. ‘Dead men tell no tales’ or what have you.”

The dead were walking. A thousand-year-old ex-demon was napping on her boyfriend’s lap in the next room. She had fed her partner from her own veins. And an actual vampire was sitting next to her, quoting Treasure Island . Or possibly the Disneyland ride. Scratch normal , her life was a damned B-movie. An hysterical giggle bubbled up in her throat, and she covered it with a cough as she blew out another puff of smoke.

Spike either didn’t notice her small existential crisis, or else chose to politely ignore it. “I will tell you he feels bloody awful about what he did before he got all resoulified. Man’s only got a handful of bad deeds under his belt, but he’s got guilt for centuries.”

Scully’s memories of that night rattled loudly in the locked box of her mind she had crammed them into. She did not, would not, let them out. “I imagine you understand a little bit about that.”

“Not exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I was evil with a capital E, cutting a bloody swath across the continents for nearly two hundred years. And I enjoyed the hell out of it. Honestly not sure I ever would have stopped on my own, but I didn’t exactly get a choice. I don’t really spend a lot of time beating myself up about it, though.”

Scully arched a brow in curious surprise. “Your soul doesn’t torment you with grief during your every waking moment and drive you to desperate acts of penance?”

He laughed. “Been talking to Giles, have you? Sorry love, I’m not one to wax poetic about souls. Mostly because I haven’t got one.”

Mulder had told her Spike was reformed; the soul part she had just assumed. If he couldn’t feel guilt or remorse, what kept him from ripping out her throat? She froze, cigarette halfway to her lips, wondering if she should scoot away or reach for her gun again.

“Relax, Red. I’m not gonna hurt you. Actually, I can’t. See, a little while back, bunch of your government boys got the brilliant idea to do a little science project involving those of us who go bump in the night. Some got all Frankensteined up into proper bloody monsters; other lucky buggers like yours truly got our eggs cracked open and fancied up with some shiny new hardware.” Despite his clever delivery, his tone was bitter. “I can still rough up anything decently scaly or slimy, but all you soft, tasty humans are a one-way ticket to screaming bloody agony.”

She took a long moment to process that, the cigarette passing back and forth between their hands; when the filter began to burn, he lit another.

“I might know something about what it’s like to be subject to behavior modification via implanted technology at the hands of covert government agencies abducting non-consenting, vulnerable populations for the purpose of experiments involving nonhuman biological materials.”

Spike took a long moment to process that .

“All right,” he said finally, “I’ve decided I like you, so I’ll tell you the truth: souls seem like a whole lot of pain for not a whole lot of gain. I don’t even know that they do all that much; God knows there’s plenty of humans running around out there, souls intact, doing dirty deeds that make my skin crawl, and I know plenty of soulless fiends who are actually pretty decent people. All I know is I don’t need a soul to see how much Mulder is hurting, or how much he cares about you. If the Scoobies fail at this whole ‘cure the vampire’ quest—and I’m sorry if I’m the first one to tell you this, but they probably will, because it’s impossible, and personally I think he’d be an idiot to give up the night life anyway—but when they fail and he realizes he’s got a big lonely eternity without you staring him in the face, I’m a little bit worried he’s gonna go and get himself one hell of a tan.”

“I’m not giving up, and I’m not going to leave him.”

“Yeah, you will. If not on a plane in a few weeks, then in a pine box in a few decades.”

“So what am I supposed to do, just… not die?”

“Yeah! Exactly!”

“I don’t see how I can—”

“It’s easy. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Scully paled, her throat bobbing as she fought down the revulsion suddenly brewing in her stomach. “You can’t mean—”

“Bitey bitey, sucky sucky, souly souly—though I think that last bit should be optional —and then you and our boy ride off into the sunset together. Well moonlight, I suppose, but you get my drift.”

Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but no words came out.

“Just think it over, Dana,” he said softly, not meeting her eyes. For the first time, something like real vulnerability passed over his face. “Forever is a long time to be lonely.”

He rose, his swaggering mask sliding back into place so quickly she almost doubted it had ever slipped to begin with. He offered his hand to her with an exaggerated bow and pulled her to her feet. “Now come on; I don’t fancy going up in flames today, and I bet Spooky doesn’t either.”

—

Dawn’s rosy fingers were just brushing the horizon when Mulder and Scully arrived back at the motel. She felt the light running over her skin like a living thing, gentle as a lover; he shrank from it as if it would strike him.

“Wanna come in for a night cap?” he asked, smirking, as they reached his door. Scully’s hand flinched involuntarily toward her neck and his eyes grew wide, then sheepish. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. Um. Good night, Scully.”

The door was halfway closed behind him when her hand shot out to stop it. “I can come in for a minute.”

He moved to the bathroom, and she went to the kitchenette to put away the containers of cows’ and pigs’ blood they had stopped to pick up at the butcher—which, for reasons no one in town would discuss, stayed open all night. Mulder would have enough for a few days, at least, now that he was learning how to make it palatable. She left the little jar of cinnamon on top of the microwave.

Feeling oddly anxious, she began to straighten the bed just to have something to do. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in Spike’s crypt today?” she called to him. “He has cable; you can watch ‘Passions’ together.”

He poked his head out, toothbrush wedged into the foamy corner of his mouth. “That show has gone entirely downhill since Sheridan got amnesia.”

He vanished again, and Scully heard the sounds of spitting and running water. When he emerged a minute later, bare-chested and in sweatpants, he found her standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands at her sides. He slipped past her without touching her and sat on the bed. “Besides, I’d rather sleep in a bed.”

Instead of a coffin . Scully suppressed a shudder.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile as she sat beside him and squeezed his hand. “I get the feeling his place is even less luxurious than this one. Besides: mini fridge, microwave, magic fingers. What more could a guy want?”

She tried to keep her voice light, but Spike’s words were still ringing in her head. Mulder was staring down the barrel of a miserable eternity—drinking slaughterhouse runoff, hiding his days away in the dark, watching cheesy soap operas with only the other dead for company. What if there was no cure? What if, this time, she couldn’t save him? How many times had they sacrificed everything to save each other, thrown themselves in front of bullets and monsters and the unstoppable machine of bureaucracy just to buy enough time to stagger their way to safety?

Maybe their luck had finally run out.

She stood to leave, desperate to find something else to occupy her mind, but his hand closed tenderly around her wrist, carefully avoiding the bruises he—or his monster —had made before. “Stay?”

“Mulder, I’m tired.”

“I know. Just for a little while? It’s… it’s worse when I’m alone.”

She finally looked at him, staring up at her with one of his more pathetic puppy-dog expressions, and something inside her broke. “Yeah. Okay. Just for a little while, until you fall asleep.”

He crawled beneath the covers, leaving room for her to slip in beside him. She curled up with her back facing him, hoping he would drift off quickly. That hope evaporated when she felt him shifting closer to her; his arm slipped around her waist, brushing the bare sliver of skin between the top of her pants and the hem of her shirt, and a current passed through her. She went very still, allowing him to pull her closer until they were spooned together on the little motel bed.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured close to her ear.

She tried to ignore the way her body tingled every place they touched, the way his breath skimmed over her skin, cool and wet like the promise of a storm. She hoped he couldn’t hear the way her heart began to pound beneath her ribs. “So you’ve said.”

“It’s true. I’ve always hated the cold, Scully. When I was a kid, I would turn my whole room into a blanket fort every winter. It drove my mom nuts. I’d swipe every blanket in the house and then refuse to come out for anything but pee breaks.”

Scully could just picture him, eight or ten years old, pillaging the linen closet for quilts and constructing his own personal Alamo filled with comic books and sunflower seeds. Keeping out the cold with all the power of fleece and a child’s unflagging will.

That the same cold now lived inside him, where no blanket or touch could thaw it, was another cruel twist of the knife.

“I’m not giving up, Mulder. Not when we’ve barely gotten started.”

“I won’t let you throw your life away trying to save me, Scully. How much longer are you going to stay here, up to your neck in demonology and monster manuals? How much longer can we convince Skinner I’m sick? He’s going to come looking for me eventually, even if it’s just to see if I’m fit enough for him to kick my ass back to the basement.”

She chuckled, and he smiled briefly into her hair. A moment later, his sigh sent a few red strands fluttering against her face. “I just don’t want you to follow me so far into the dark that you can’t find your way back.”

“It hasn’t even been a week yet. I’ve chased you further into the dark than this and come out just fine. And I intend to drag you out with me, into full, bright sunlight, without you crumbling to dust.”

“And if there is no cure? If I’m stuck like this forever? You still have a chance to have a life, Scully. I won’t let you waste it on me.”

She turned to face him, sadness and anger warring over her features. “Since when do you ‘let’ me do anything? It’s my life, Mulder, and I don’t consider any of this a waste.”

She didn’t want to bring it up, didn’t want to give credence to Spike’s insane idea by voicing it out loud to her partner, but she owed it to him to say something. Though her stomach clenched and she tasted acid in her mouth, she took a breath and said, “Spike thinks—”

His voice was bitter as he cut her off. “I know exactly what Spike thinks. And the answer is no. I wouldn’t do this to you. Not when you still have a choice. Not when you could go back to DC tomorrow, find some hot doctor who doesn’t question every little thing you say, and grow fat and old and happy on a sunny porch somewhere.”

She reached out and cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. She had to step carefully here; they had developed a delicate dance together through the years, an unspoken rule to tiptoe around their equally unspoken connection, that thing between them neither could quite acknowledge let alone act upon, but had lately found increasingly hard to ignore. Especially when his face was inches from hers, and his arm still lay heavy across her waist, on that nebulous border where it could so easily slide into risky territory. “And if I decide I don’t want that?”

“There are some… conditions on this soul of mine, Scully. It’s not a done deal. I could lose it.”

“What? How?” And why haven’t you told me before now?

“If there ever comes a moment where I am completely happy, where I don’t feel guilt and torment about who and what I am, it goes away.”

“Don’t be vague, Mulder. Not about this.”

“The last time it happened… was right after the guy slept with the woman he loved.”

A lump welled up in her throat. “Oh.”

“Yeah. We’re not idiots, Scully.” She raised her eyebrow at him and one side of his mouth tugged up in a small smile. “Okay, you’re not an idiot, and I am sometimes only idiot-adjacent. We know what we mean to each other. If you stayed with me…” He flopped onto his back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling; he couldn’t get through this if he was looking into her eyes, but he did reach between them and take her hand. “If you stayed human, and we… then I lose my soul, and there’s a good chance that the last thing you’d ever see is me killing you. And then Buffy puts a stake through my heart. And not that I am in favor of this idea, but if we turned you and we… then we both lose our souls, we’d probably wind up killing a bunch of people, and then Buffy puts a stake through both our hearts.”

He paused for a long moment, breath shaking. “I don’t know if there is a way out of this together. And I want you to know, I’d rather you leave me than stay behind and pay for what I’ve become.”

She grabbed his face again, this time more forcefully, and turned him back toward her. Her voice and her eyes were filled with tears, but also a steely resolve. “There is a way, Mulder. There has to be. We’re going to find it. When have we ever given up on each other?”

His fingers twined around hers where they rested against his cheek. Slowly he pulled them to his mouth, brushing a gentle kiss across her knuckles. Neither spoke—what words could he say to the unstoppable force of her hope, or she to the immovable object of his self-sacrifice? They simply held each other, wishing they could keep out the cold.

A/N: It's incredibly rare for me that something I make turns out as well as I'd hoped, but this chapter is one of those things, and I'm rather proud of it. I so enjoyed writing it, particularly Scully and Spike's conversation. It was one of those unexpected surprises that pops up when characters grab the steering wheel, like I was just along for the ride. I hope they're BFFs now. Believe me there is absolutely a part of me that wants to see Vamp!Mulder and Vamp!Scully as some sort of undead Bonnie and Clyde, leaving a trail of bloody and beautiful devastation in their wake. But that's not this fic lol. Comments laminated etc etc

[garthcelyn]

Ram's Blood - Screenplay

A short, culty script based within the Cwm Gelert-verse, following the minor character Enid Lamb as an introduction to the type of setting that is this universe.

A technical prequel to my longer work of Deadline.

EXT. COUNTRY PARK - MID DAY

A lone CAR is parked at the edge of a dirt trail. It's a hazy day, cloudy but dry. A WOMAN - LAMB - leans up against the side of the car, she puts a CIGARETTE to her lips and lights it. She wears a WIDE BRIM LEATHER HAT, and her front and face lips-down is covered in blood. She takes a long drag and exhales, tilting her head back with her eyes closed. It is obvious that none of this blood is hers. With another drag, she gets up, walks to the driver's side and gets in, cigarette hanging from her lips.

CUT TO

EXT. VILLAGE SQUARE - MID DAY

An overly sunny day, colours brighter and more saturated than they should be. The scene has a dreamlike quality, a strange look into a paradise that isn't yours. A large table is set up with a white table cloth, a BANQUET lay across it; a plethora of sandwiches, snack food and the like. In the center, a LARGE SILVER CHARGER PLATE lay empty, as if waiting for one last dish that is nowhere to be seen. The village folk mill around, picking at the ready laid food and drinking from fancy glasses of all types. Each are dressed in their best - albeit, rather old fashioned in frilly white dresses and jacket-less suits. Some toast each other, while most gossip around the stretch of table. One OLDER MAN stands alone at the head of the table, simply watching. He is wearing a neat grey suit, and a WIDE BRIM LEATHER HAT. He watches, motionless, face passive. He's waiting. A YOUNG MAN, dressed similarly besides the hat walks up to whisper in his ear. We do not hear what is said, but the older man's lips curl into an almost smile and he nods. He pats the young man on the shoulder, and the young man walks off with a bounce in his step.

INT. THE BARN - MID DAY

It's dark, windows are boarded up, leaving slight cracks where the light pours in like knives. In the very back of the room, LAMB sits on a wooden chair. Her hands and legs are bound, there's a sack over her head. She sits still, almost eerily so, though from the look of the raw skin around the rope, she wasn't always so patient.

Footsteps echo off screen before the owner comes into shot. The young man from earlier comes into frame, walking up to the woman and tugging off the bag. She turns her head to glare at him, he raises a hand to stroke at her cheek.

She spits at him. He barely reacts, but pulls his hand away to pull a POCKET KNIFE from his pocket. She stiffens and he chuckles softly at the reaction.

YOUNG MAN

Easy there, Lamb. Stay still and it won't hurt a bit.

She sucks in a breath, eyes following his every move as he slowly flips open the knife and leans forward. He jabs forward, where exactly is unseen. The woman grunts. He moves away to show the rope falling from her wrists. He then moves to kneel, to hack away at the rope around her ankles.

Now free, she kicks him in the chest sending him off balance. She stands, and legs it.

EXT. FARM - MID DAY

She doesn't get far before the YOUNG MAN grabs her. She struggles against him, but his arm stays firmly in her arm. He drags her back, and pushes her into the barn.

INT. THE BARN - MID DAY

LAMB stumbles in, already prepared to run back out the door but the young man stands in her way. The door slams behind him, not locked, but swinging on it's hinges again and again until it stops.

Silence. The only sound is LAMB's soft panting as they stare each other down. The YOUNG MAN steps forward, pulling a sickle from where it hung on the wall, and winds back to strike.

CUT TO

EXT. VILLAGE SQUARE - NOON

With autumn settling in, the sky is darkening and cloudy, but not black yet. The OLDER MAN looks impatient, he grips a glass in his hands before he slams it on the table.

He sets off,a purposeful stride to his car. In the background a young, dark haired woman in a suit can be seen checking a phone and making a dash from the table, running off-screen.

He gets in the car, slamming the door forcefully, and revs the engine.

INT. BARN - NOON

LAMB stands, shirt bloody, sickle in hand. The camera is positioned on the floor, looking up at her. She breathes heavily, then places a hand over her mouth as if to muffle her breathing, only to pull away when the blood smears. She's in shock - she's just killed someone.

The camera pulls back, revealing the body she's standing hunched over. She had managed to kill the YOUNG MAN. A car pulling up outside grabs her attention, her hand grips the sickle tighter, knuckles white as she tries a defensive position, though unsteady on her feet.

Outside a car pulls up, the rumbling of the engine ceasing almost immediately. LAMB straightens up, looking across her shoulder at the door. The door opens slowly this time, quietly.

Enter the OLDER MAN. He looks the the dead body of the younger, then up at LAMB.

OLDER MAN Oh sweetheart, you know this wasn't personal. You could have come quietly, avoided all this.

He gestures around. He looks sympathetic, in a very fake, condescending way.

OLDER MAN(CONT'D) All you had to do was listen.

He takes off his hat and places it one side. He moves with ease as if he still has the upper hand. He pulls at his tie, straightens his clothes.

OLDER MAN(CONT'D) But I suppose my son wasn't ready for such a task.

He walks towards her, and with only slight hesitation, she lunges. She goes to race past him but gets grabbed once more, but a grip she easily writhes out of. She backs up now, looking more like a cornered animal. He makes his way over, languidly without care. She backs up again, getting dangerously close to the back wall. Her breath comes fast but her face reads defeated. In an act of what might be desperation or stupidity, she throws the sickle. The OLDER MAN lets out a cry, finally out of control. A level playing ground. She shoves him, and runs like hell, stopping only as she goes off screen outside of the barn, to pop back in, grab the hat, and run to the car.

INT. THE CAR - NIGHT

LAMB drives fast - too fast, really, but who can blame her - out of there. She floors it down the country lane, past the accumulation of village people still waiting for their main coarse. She lets out a laugh - not a funny laugh, a bubbling sound of relief. She grabs the WIDE BRIM LEATHER HAT from the passenger seat and puts it on, the streetlights lighting her up in pulses. She was alive; and by God she'd make it out of there.

[lemontsumu]

Heads turn to a dark-haired figure leaning against the bricked wall, clad in colors of the earth but in soft pastel tones, a mint green helmet clutched to his side matching the vintage motorbike parked precariously outside the tattoo parlor on the corner of the street. The man takes another puff of smoke from the lit cigarette between his gloved fingers, looking guiltlessly bored as he blatantly ignores the irksome buzz of passerby eyeing him from head to toe—some admiring, some debasing—their curiosities piqued either way.

In a little over a minute, a blonde boy dressed in sunshine yellow skips his way into his arms, bright knit sweater contrasting his otherwise all-black attire—skinny jeans, boots, and a studded leather jacket draped over his shoulders. Instantly, the man’s gaze softens, his whole face lighting up like the sun rising from the east.

“Omi, ‘m sorry! Did ya wait long?” the blonde tucks a loose curl behind his ear and smooches the twin moles on his forehead, going on tippy toes.

“No, darling. I just got here,” the man says in a voice so tender, even a stranger could tell he sounds uncharacteristically coy. His fingers dance to the left side of the blonde’s hips as the man positions himself on his right—by the danger side—arms winding around his waist, making a home.

The man leans in and returns the kiss on the blonde’s flushed cheeks, his forehead, then the tip of his nose; lets his cold lips linger upon the back of his hands before interlacing their fingers and tugging him to the back of his bike where he presents him a lush bouquet of white daisies, cloud flowers, and peach-colored tulips bunched in a bow like a true work of art, yet it isn’t quite as lovely as the blonde’s gleaming smile in response. No, not by a mile.

[joeyskattebo]

The Far West Chapter 1 part 1

1

“I think I have throat cancer!” Molly said while smoking a cigarette on her smoke break at work. She is an dishwasher at a large fine dining restaurant Figgans, and is sitting next to Stew an cook who is also smoking a cigarette; they are both sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall of the back of the restaurant and are facing the parking lot; the restaurant is on the first floor in an twenty-seven story building downtown. Molly is a six-foot tall, thin, and attractive woman in her mid-twenties with long black hair, and Stew is a handsome bigger man with a long blonde ponytail:

“You don’t have throat cancer, Molly.”

“I think I do, my bad karma is coming to get me.”

“I don’t believe in that shit.”

“Karma believes in you,” she said. They finished their smoke break and went back to work through the door which is close to where they were sitting; Figgans had just closed and they had an hour or two of work left. Molly went back to the dishpit and Stew went to go clean the grill. She was the only dishwasher and had full control of music so she turned Nirvana with the volume all the up, and starts to work very quickly. Stew comes back to give her dishes, and then walks out the dishpit:

“Come on Kurt Cobain, let’s close this place down,” Molly said calmly while as she is spraying off a sheet pan. After most of the crew clocked out, Chief Donna came back to the dishpit to help Molly close the place down. Chef Donna is a bigger African American woman in early forties; they didn’t say much to each other and worked in silence from five minutes.

“I’m so sick of Donny, he’s so slow. I wish he worked harder.”

“I think Donny works really hard.”

“Not hard enough.” Molly decided not to say anything; she thought Donny was a good worker and she liked him. It’s not always the boss who complains about a worker’s performance; almost every worker does that. They soon closed down the dishpit, and as Molly clocks out Chef Donna turns off all the lights. It is November, so she grabs her rain jacket, and purse from the locker and then leaves the restaurant. She walks into the parking lot and lights up when she sees Donny; he is a man with black hair, a commie cap, a leather jacket, an white buttoned down shirt and an mustache in his late fifties:

“What’s up Donny?”

“Hey Molly!” He said before he puffed on a cigarette; he was sitting on the hood of his car. She walks up as she takes a drag:

“Man, it was busy today!”

“Jesus! It hasn’t been busy like that in a while! That Donna is doing coke; she seems on edge all the time!” This made Molly laugh loudly, and Donny joined in, and they both take an drag on their cigarettes, “In the eighties I worked at this kitchen called The Lion’s Den, and my boss, Ken was his name, was doing coke in the office while everyone was working! Finally someone caught him hahaha, you do that shit after work haha!” Molly laughed again as Donny took another drag.

“I’ve done that stuff before.”

“You better cut that out now,” Donny said with a finger pointed at her.

“Oh I just tried it, that was an long time ago,” Molly said taking another drag as Donny did the same.

“I used to be addicted to that shit; I’ve done every drug ever! I remember my stepfather would do that in the house when my mother was gone.”

“Was that here?”

“No that was in L.A.”

“Was he the guy that listened to opera in his truck in the middle of the desert?”

“No that was my real father, and that was in Utah,” he said taking another drag. “Anyway, my stepfather was fucking crazy! My mother and I had a house in one of the poorest neighborhoods in L.A., and my room was in the basement and he would come down to my room completely naked!” Molly eyes widened as she lit up another cigarette, “He would just yell at me about bullshit, and he was fucking naked! And I would be like “put on some clothes dude!” It was bizarre, and I told my mother and she put an end to it, thankfully,” Donny said as he put out his cigarette.

“That’s good,” she said quickly before an taking a drag, “I bet you liked your real old man better than dude.”

“Of course I did! Jack, who was my stepfather, was crazy! He spent all our money on stupid bullshit! Like fancy cars, we lived in a fancy house, and we would go out to fancy restaurants.”

“Well that’s nice, that he took you out,” Molly said she took an drag on her cigarette.

“Well sure kid but he was a fucking asshole, spending money on me doesn’t account for the fact that he would walk around naked all the time, and drink all day. Booze! That was another thing he would spend his money on.”

“Both of my parents drink all the time, I wouldn’t say they were alcoholics though. They just drink a lot of wine and beer,” she said. Before she said that Donny sees Stew walking towards them, and he is wearing a Jason mask and holding a large knife.

“And what you up to Stew?” Donny asked seriously as Molly looked at him with a confused look on her face; her, along with everybody knew Stew had a strange sense of humor.

Stew is an interesting man; you either find him hilarious, weird, or irritating; a few weeks ago, Molly and him were smoking cigarettes behind the Figgans on their lunch break:

“I’m so sick of this fucking job Molly; I really miss working in that warehouse down in Palm Springs,” Stew said before he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Oh yeah?” she asked exhaling her drag.

“Yeah I miss living a desert, it fucking rains too much here.”

“I never minded the rain.”   

“I can’t fucking stand it,” he said taking an drag off his cigarette.

“So, you don’t mind the heat then,” she said with an smile.

“No, I loved it, I think it feels great,” he said turning his head to the right slightly.

“I always wanted to go back,” Molly said before taking a drag of her cigarette. Molly and her family are from San Jose, California, and they moved to the Northwest two years ago.

“You should do it Molly, it’s fucking awesome, I love the desert, my and friends used to go to the middle of nowhere just to drop acid. This one time we smoked peyote, I swear to you we just wandering before the cactus’s started to speak and we just stood there and listened,” Stew said with a smile. “Hey, what time is it?” he then asked with excitement.

“Uh,” she said as she took out her phone and looks at the time. “2:42.”

“Fuck! I better go in,” he said before grabbing on his plate that was sitting on an milk crate as Molly nods to him as she took another drag; she sits by herself and wonders about the house she lived in when she was five; it was a two story house on the beach, and as she runs around the upstairs of the house her father works on his car in the garage; her mother had just taken her car to work across town, and soon after as she played with her teddy bear by herself she heard a loud scream. Little Molly was the only one in the house; this frightened her and instinctively she ran down the stairs with her teddy bear into the living room when she saw her father running into the house holding his right hand that was covered in blood.

“Daddy!”

[of-padfoots-and-moonys]

yesterday i saw a guy who looked so much like my mental concept of sirius black that i almost gasped

[multiland]

strawberries & cigarettes - hhj

summary: one night at the club, a beautiful stranger decided to change your life by asking you to light his cigarette.

genre: angst

warnings: slight violence, mentions of smoke and light smut.

Everyone has a story to tell whether it has a good or a bad ending, and you weren’t the exception.

You always thought you had a pretty boring life. Your parents always seemed to expect more from you than you actually thought you’d be able to give them. Maybe it was because you were only nineteen, but you felt like no one really understood you. You felt and were different from the rest of the people, and the pressure of not meeting their expectations inevitably made you a bit rebelious and reckless. You were tired of following rules all the damn time and forcing yourself to be what others wanted you to be, and that’s what led you to the path where you experienced the best and worst time of your life.

There you were once again, up past midnight puffing on a cigarette in front of your window, looking at the dark sky covered in stars and some clouds, wondering if he ever thought about you whenever he saw the moonlight. There were times where you seemed to be fine, and there were others where memories came back in waves... That night, precisely, you were drowning.

The story was simple, probably similar to what others had heard before. Tired of the routine, one saturday night you had escaped from your house to meet with friends at a bar. You weren’t much for that kind of ambient, but you always thought anything was better than spending a boring night with your siblings crying and screaming around you.

Your friends were sharing a couple of drinks, gossiping like there was no tomorrow. You had a laugh and even had a few drinks of your own, but the loud music echoing in your ears was starting to give you anxiety, so you stood up and excused yourself to go outside for a brief moment.

You didn’t know it back then, but life and destiny work in mysterious ways. While you thought you’d only go for a cigarette, truth was that you were going to find something else. Something that’d bring you peace, but also pain.

You tucked your hand in your pocket and pulled the pack of cigarettes out, tapping it at the bottom so you could put the chosen one between your lips. You repeated the process after placing the pack again in the pocket of your pants, this time pulling out a lighter that after a couple of moves from your thumb on the sparkwheel, lit your guilty pleasure.

While you were busy doing that, you didn’t notice the strong aura that suddenly approached you until it was close enough for you to feel his presence. You looked up and there he was. The most beautiful man you had ever seen in your entire life.

Dark chocolate, silky long hair. Plump pink lips holding a cigarette in between. Small eyes and thick brows, with a powerful, piercing gaze that almost immediately took control of your entire soul. A mole under his left eye that made him look even more exotic, piercings in his ears and a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt under a black leather jacket.

You felt shivers down your spine when your eyes locked and your brain stopped working. He just raised a brow and one of the corners of his mouth subtly curled up in a smirk.

“Light my cigarette, please.”

It took you a couple of seconds, but you finally reacted and did as he said. You lit his cigarette and after a long drag of it, you got hypnotized by the way the dark smoke escaped from his tempting lips.

He lightly bowed his head and then moved to stand beside you, leaning his back against the wall and flexing one of his legs to press the heel of his boots against it. His presence was strong enough to make you nervous and even more anxious than you were before, so you started puffing on your cigarette like your life depended on it. A part of you wanted to just finish and go back inside, but the other one wanted to stay next to him as long as you could, and you didn’t know why.

But unbeknownst to you, he had similar plans.

“Seems like you’re not enjoying being inside.” He suddenly spoke, making you turn your head to look at him, but he kept looking ahead. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. You never thought an action so simple could make you weak in the knees, but that stranger was holding a power on you that you wouldn't be able to explain even up to this day. Every movement, every expression he made was so attractive you swore you were in front of someone who was handmade by God himself.

“Well... I’m not a fan of the loud music.” You confessed, not knowing what else to say.

“Then why’d you come to a place like this?”

You gave another drag to your cigarette, sighing after releasing the smoke.

“Rather be here than at home.”

He let out a breathy chuckle that made your stomach flip.

“I see. You’re just a rebelious little girl.”

You arched a brow at his statement, feeling even a bit offended that a total stranger dared to say something like that, although you knew he was right.

“First of all, I’m not a girl. And second, what do you know about me anyways?”

He gave one last drag to his cigarette and threw the remainigs on the floor, stepping on it with his boot. He then turned his head and finally looked back at you, freezing you on the spot with his piercing, dark orbs.

“What are you then, a boy?” He teased, now standing in front of you, close enough to feel intimidated, yet excited. A cheeky smile was plastered on his face.

You huffed and threw your cigarette on the pavement, stepping on it right after. When you gathered the courage, you finally looked back at him with a smirk.

“Probably more of a woman than the ones you’ve met before.”

You didn’t know why these words left your mouth that night, but something about getting attention from someone like him made you feel powerful and confident. You knew you had to play it cool, and he liked what he heard. You knew it by the way his expression changed from a defiant one, to an intrigued, amused one.

His tongue darted out to run over his plush lower lip. His teeth sank on the soft flesh as he tried to surpress his smirk the moment he extended his hand for you.

“Gotta know your name then.” He said. “I’m Hyunjin.”

You looked at his hand adorned with rings waiting for your touch and smiled, holding it and feeling a wave of electricity running through your veins at the warmth of his skin.

“I’m y/n.”

The hold lingered a bit longer than you intended, as the both of you kept staring into each other’s eyes. That, of course, until one of your friends went outside looking for you.

“Y/N? Why are you taking so long? Come back! we’re almost done to leave!”

You quickly released the grip on his hand, tilting your head to look at your friend waving her hand at you. Hyunjin turned his head as well, looking at whoever was calling you.

“I’m coming!” You shouted, then gave Hyunjin an apologetic smile. “I guess I have to go.”

The man pressed his lips together in a straight line and nodded. You felt your chest tightening, there was something about him that made you want to stay and know more than just his name. However, when he didn’t say anything else, you just nodded and started walking away.

He sighed and turned around to grab your wrist and stop you, tucking his hand in his pocket and pulling his phone out. You turned your head and looked at him confused, holding his phone in his hand.

“At least give me your number. Would be tragic if I didn’t see you again.”

You couldn’t help your heart from jumping against your chest. He looked like bad news and you knew you had to have him. You smiled and bit your lip, grabbing his phone and adding your contact on it before you handed it back to him.

“I’ll see you then, Hyunjin.” You said and he just smirked satisfied. You turned around and once again made your way back to your friends, swinging your hips and feeling his eyes still glued to your figure from behind.

Little did you know how much your life was going to change from that night.

The two of you had soon become closer than you could ever imagine. Talking non-stop through messages, night calls and even some little meetings every now and then.

He was reckless, hungry of adventure. He wasn’t scared of anything or anyone and that made you feel even more attracted to his mysterious nature. He had a sharp tongue, but he was well-spoken, he knew a little bit about everything and it seemed like you always had something new to learn from him.

His presence had started to become even more addictive than any drug. You were craving for it all the time, which made you take risks you probably wouldn’t have taken if it wasn’t for him.

Yes, you frequently ran away from your house at nights, escaping for a few hours; but now not only you did that, but also learned how to be a really good liar so your parents would never find out.

He would often pick you up in his car for a midnight driving, parking it later so the two of you could just walk under the headlights and talk about life.

“It just feels like I’ll never be able to be my true self.” You confessed.

Hyunjin glanced at you and smiled, walking with his hands in his pockets right next to you.

“Have you heard about fate?” He asked. “Life is short, you better stop worrying too much. Whatever has to happen, will happen. It'll all be worth the wait in the end.”

You smiled, folding your arms over your chest in a try to warm up due to the cold breeze.

“Do you think this was fate?”

He looked at you, tilting his head.

“What?”

You smiled.

“Meeting you.”

The corners of his mouth curved into a light smile that made your heart hammer against your chest.

“I, for sure, wasn’t looking for a girl to light my cigarette that night. I call it fate.”

Everything he said or did pushed you further down onto that hole you didn’t want to fall into. You wondered how was it possible for you to have found someone like Hyunjin. He was everything you had ever wanted, or imagined.

You kept getting used to the time you spent together. Sitting on the grinding concrete and always finishing laughing in the glow of your headlights.

Or those times when you randomly went to convenience stores to buy candy. You loved buying gummies and the way he always asked you to leave the red ones for him, while he bought strawberry popsicles for himself.

“Have you ever tried another flavor?” You asked him one night when you two bought ring pops. You had the blueberry one, and he, of course, the strawberry one.

He shrugged.

“Not really. Strawberry is the best flavor on everything.”

“Come on, have a try!” You insisted, extending your candy so he could give it a gentle suck, and so he did.

He took a moment to taste carefully, but his face scrunched.

“Definitely not better than strawberry.”

You rolled your eyes that soon ended up landing on his now red lips, tongue frequently darting out and swiping over his lower lip as he tasted the remainings of his candy.

Once he was done, he playfully placed the plastic ring around your finger. You laughed and looked at him with a lifted brow. He then pointed to the one you were eating.

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to give that one to me? Candy marriage shouldn’t be just for one.”

You scoffed and pushed him lightly, but placed the ring on his pinky anyways, the rest of his fingers were too big for it to fit.

It was childish, but you thought it was endearing. You loved everything about him and his occurences.

“Maybe we should use candies to quit smoking, hm?” You suggested, he shrugged.

“Don’t think that works.”

He kept licking his lips, the artificial flavor probably still lingering on them.

He didn’t know how tempting he looked.

Or maybe he did, but he loved teasing you.

You hadn’t tasted his lips at that time, but you were dying to.

It didn’t take long, and you remembered it. Soon it all started to change. As the two of you grew closer, your interactions became more intimate, more flirtatious... And more intense.

Like that night when you went to the same bar where you had met. Being tipsy, he was taking you home in a cab. You kept giggling and so did he, but somewhere along the lines he gathered the courage to get touchy, and his fingers started walking on your hand until they intertwined with yours. That was the first time you ever held hands, and you were over the moon.

Neither of you said a thing, you just rested your head on his shoulder. The silence around Hyunjin was always a comfortable one, anyways.

However... Nothing compared to your first kiss.

You were in the middle of a class and your phone started buzzing with a text message. Carefully not to get caught, you opened it as soon as you read his name on the screen.

“I’m outside your school.”

Your eyes widened, but a wave of excitement filled all your senses.

“Are you crazy? I’m in class Hyunjin”

“Come on, let’s have some fun.”

You knew you were crazy for agreeing to such a thing, but somehow he didn’t have to try much to convince you.

So you grabbed your stuff and excused yourself saying you weren’t feeling well and you needed to go to see the nurse. Tiptoeing you managed to exit the building, but since everything was locked you couldn’t get out. Hyunjin smiled at you on the other side of the fence, and by the look on his face you already figured out what he had in mind.

“How am I supposed to go there?”

A grin was covering your face. He ran his fingers through his hair and clicked his tongue.

“Jump the fence.”

“What? No, I’ll get hurt!”

He shook his head.

“I’ll catch you. Promise.”

With no further hesitation, you jumped on the fence and landed in his strong arms. You felt the blush on your cheeks at the proximity, but he didn’t give you enough time to think when he grabbed your hand and ran away with you.

You reached his car and he released your hand, tucking his hands in his pockets looking for the keys. His brows were furrowed together until realization hit him and his expression changed.

“What is it?” You asked. He didn’t say anything, just leaned forward against the window to take a look inside.

“Fuck.”

Hyunjin then turned around and looked at you, scratching the back of his neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“I locked my keys inside the car.”

“You’re an idiot.” You spat. He looked at you slightly offended, until you busted into laughter and he joined.

You sat on the floor, resting your backs against the side of the car. You crossed your legs and although he had his extended, the gentle brush of his thigh and your knee was giving you butterflies.

When you calmed down from laughing, Hyunjin turned his head to look at you and you looked back at him. His eyes then went down to your lips, staring intensely, and you swore you could already feel his kiss.

He then cupped your jaw and leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in that kiss you had imagined so many times.

The kiss was beyond dreams and expectations. His lips were the softest and sweetest you had ever tasted. They moved ever so smoothly and perfectly on yours, making the whole world around you disappear.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and your fingers tangled in his hair. His strong hands held your waist and pressed your body flush against his as he devoured your mouth. You weren’t wrong, though. His lips and tongue tasted like strawberry candy and it was driving you insane.

His tongue collided sweetly with yours for what it seemed a hundred times, as your hands roamed down his face and landed on his sharp jawline. He tilted his head to kiss you deeper, the way the muscles of his face moved and flexed whenever the kiss deepened was heavenly. He gave your lip a light bite, and you took the opportunity to return the favor and gently pull on his lower lip, an action that made him groan.

When you pulled away, panting as you tried to catch your breaths, he ran his fingers through your hair this time. His orbs were darker than ever, and his strawberry lips were swollen and beautiful.

When his thumb went down your face and ran on top of your lip, you knew there was no turning back. You wanted more.

Laying on the grass under a tree, Hyunjin puffed on a cigarette as his favorite song played in the background. Your head resting on his chest and his arm around your waist.

He turned his head and his lips ghosted over yours, you parted your lips and he released the smoke in your mouth, placing a peck on it afterwards.

Neither of you had talked about your relationship. Were you friends or were you more? You often questioned, but didn’t dare to say a thing in fear that he would just run away.

“I think I like you.” You blurted out.

Hyunjin let out a breathy chuckle.

“I like you too.”

You looked up at him and cupped his face, forcing him to look back at you.

“I mean it.” You confessed. “Whenever we’re together it feels like I’m high. Everything feels better with you. I'm calm, I'm free. I can taste the peace.”

He smirks.

“Like a cigarette?”

You shook your head.

“I think you’re worse than nicotine.” You admitted. “You always leave me wanting more.”

His stare darkened and his eyes became hooded at your sudden confession. He tensed up, his hands were itching to touch you in places he hadn’t touched you before. But after all, he was a gentleman and couldn’t just do that to you, so he just sat up.

“It’s time to go.” He said, standing up and helping you up as well.

You felt confused, even a bit sad. Maybe he freaked out with what you had said, maybe he didn’t like you that much anyways.

“But why?” You asked following behind him as he walked to his car.

“It’s getting late.” He said, not even looking at you.

“Did I say something wrong?” You insisted, grabbing his wrist and stopping him. “Hyunjin, what has gotten into you?”

He sighed, then turned around to face you.

“I want to respect you, y/n.” He assured. “But I’m a human and sometimes you say things you may regret. I’m trying my best to hold back, but I’m going crazy.”

You immediately understood what he meant. A gentle smile appeared on your face as you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the hair behind his neck.

“I won’t ever regret it.” You stated. “I want more. Give more of you.”

With that, he engulfed your mouth in a heated kiss. His hands moved to behind your thighs and lifted you up so you could wrap them around his waist. He clumsily opened the door and without breaking the kiss, he laid you down on the back seat to hover over you.

His kisses were wild and hot as his hands worked to undress you. The atmosphere in the small area became steamy, your hands practically ripping his shirt open and leaving his bare, beautiful torso under your fingers.

His mouth kept exploring every inch of you. Down your neck, your shoulders and your chest. It felt like cotton, a velvetish touch against your needy body, that was the way his mouth felt.

You bucked your hips to grind against him, the friction was delicious and he kept groaning in response against your mouth, making you wild. He moved his hand to place it between your legs, humming in satisfaction as soon as he felt how wet you were for him.

“So wet.” He whispered against your mouth before he pulled on your lower lip with his teeth. “I’m going to make sure you never forget the feeling of my cock inside your small pussy.”

Gosh. He had such a dirty mouth and that turned you on. Whatever left his mouth at that moment just made you even more needy, hot, and weak for him.

“Fuck me.” You demanded, and he smirked.

Next thing you knew was how he pulled your underwear aside and pushed himself inside you.

Moans, bites, skin slapping sounds and sweat filled the small car. He owned you completely, You never felt such a pleasure before. His thrusts were strong and steady, he made you scream out his name more than once before he had to take you home.

The relationship between the both of you escalated quickly and before you noticed you were deeply in love with him.

But things never go as planned, do they?

Everything started going downhill after a while. You loved him so much but he was hard to figure out. One day he acted like a boyfriend, made you feel loved and wanted, he fucked you senseless.

And then, the next day there was nothing on your phone.

You were hoping things would change, but you were always back to his games.

Commitment just wasn’t for him. No matter how much he liked you or cared about you... Love just didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary.

But you learned it in the hardest way.

The night you went to the same damn bar and found him talking with another girl. Close, whispering against each others ears. Your jealousy took over you, your chest tightened and your heart sank down your stomach.

“Is this why you never text me, right?” You asked as soon as you approached him. He looked at you, visibly shocked by your sudden presence. He even looked terrified.

“y/n, what are you doing here?”

“What do you care?” You spat. “Just answer. Is this why you never text me, or call me, right? You just want to have an idiot to fuck whenever you’re needy... Then you go and do the same with others?”

You were so angry, hurt and frustrated. He didn’t understand where did all come from. He tried to grab your wrist but you just pushed him.

“Calm down it’s not what you think!” He shouted. You let out a humorless laugh.

“Yes it is. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger but not anymore. Fuck you Hwang Hyunjin.”

You stormed out of the place. It was dark outside and you were on your own, but you didn’t care. In fact, you couldn’t even think straight thanks to the anger you were feeling.

You just wanted to walk. You didn’t even know where you were going, you just let your legs take you wherever they wanted as your mind was a mess.

Not a wise decision.

Someone grabbed you by the arm and dragged you into an empty street.

“Don’t you know that pretty girls like you shouldn’t be alone so late?”

You weren’t even able to scream. The man in front of you was pressing your throat with his arm to stop yourself from moving or making noises.

“Who the f-fuck are you? Leave me alone!”

He pressed you even harder, you couldn’t even breathe properly. His dirty hands started touching your thighs, chest and then between your legs.

You wanted to scream but you couldn’t. Tears streamed down your face and you were about to lose consciousness until the man in front of you was harshly pulled away from you.

You fell on the floor and started coughing, you were confused and everything was blurry.

“You think you can just go and touch girls? huh?!”

You immediately recognized his voice.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to touch her?!” He kept saying. You had never heard his voice so filled with anger before.

When you turned your head you saw Hyunjin punching the other man until he fell on the floor unconscious. He then ran to you and helped you up, cupping your face to check you out.

“Did he hurt you? Are you okay?” He asked, his tone completely different from the previous one. His eyes were filled with regret and concern. The way you kept ugly crying didn’t help.

“H-Hyunjin-” You stuttered. He just wrapped you in a tight hug.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He cooed before he pulled back and caressed your face. “Come on. Let’s get you outta here.”

He placed his arm around you and walked you to his car.

“Is he dead?” You asked, still terrified as you walked next to him. He turned his head and then looked back at you.

“He’s just knocked out.”

As soon as the both of you entered his car, he took a while before he even thought of turning the engine on. He placed his jacket around you and turned his body to face you.

“I’m s-sorry.” You said, sniffling.

He sighed, grabbing your hand.

“You shouldn’t have done this. I’m glad you’re okay.”

You finally managed to look into his eyes, while one of his hands moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes were glossy, filled with concern.

“If you hadn’t... If no one--”

He shook his head, wiping your tears with his thumb.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t going to let you go alone like that.”

You kept quiet for a second, thinking of what to say.

“Hyunjin...”

“Listen y/n... I don’t know why you reacted like that. I don’t know what’s on your mind but to be honest I don’t think we--”

“I love you.”

Hyunjin was taken aback, and just stared at you. His heart skipped a beat and a lump formed on his throat. He knew this was going to happen at some point.

The way it took so long for him to speak gave him away. You pulled your hand away from his and smiled sadly.

“But you don’t love me, right?”

He looked terrified. He kept looking away and trying to find the right words to say, but you knew better.

“Y/n... I’ve never loved anyone. Love is not something I’m familiar with... I don’t wanna hurt you, but--”

You just nodded. New tears started forming in your eyes.

“Just take me home, please.”

And that was the last time you saw him. He never called, or looked for you anymore.

Your vice for nicotine got worse when Hyunjin disappeared. You barely ate, you just smoked all the time trying to soothe your pain away, but there was no use. Your life was back to the way it was before, but you were still trying to find your old self. Everything you did reminded you of him, and cigarettes always tasted like him.

You had been a fool.

You still felt his scent everywhere, you always thought he was near.

You could still smell him on your clothes.

He always left you wanting more.

You had been a fool.

You loved him more than anything in the world.

You had been a fool.

You missed him. You always would.

You missed his laugh, his touch and the cold feeling of his jewelry against your warm skin. The way his piercing gaze always found its way to yours no matter where you were or how dark it was, or how he would scrunch his nose whenever he thought about something, or the way you would always kiss the mole under his left eye. His lame jokes and the smell of his cologne. His fingers being laced with yours, or the way he would always let you braid his hair. The feeling of his soft locks against your figertips was impossible to erase from your mind. Nothing felt as soft as his hair, or his skin, or his voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

It was long gone. That magic wasn’t there anymore.

That last evening you went to buy a new package, not knowing you were going to find him away. But the moment you were paying for your cigarettes, a masculine voice behind you spoke.

“You should quit smocking. It's not good for you.”

You felt your soul leaving your body with the familiar voice. You turned your head and your heart trembled at the sight of him, as beautiful as only he could be. You felt nauseous and felt the urge to cry, but I can assure you he felt the same way as soon as your eyes locked. You saw what he was about to buy and it hit you like a truck.

He was there buying a whole bag of strawberry lollipops. After all, he really paid attention to what you said months before. He was using candies to stop smoking.

He was trying his best not to remember you and drown in his memories, but he always ended up doing something related to you, anyways. The two of you were lost in each other.

“Says the one who smoked three times more than me?” You ironically asked.

Hyunjin then shrugged.

“I’m trying to quit smoking.”

You smiled bitterly.

“I hope it’s as easy as it was leaving me.”

His eyes widened, and his expression quickly fell. He looked hurt by your words, but you didn’t regret.

“It wasn’t easy. It’s still not easy.” He confessed. “I can promise you that.”

He paid for his stuff and walked out of the store, but you followed him.

“What about fate?” You asked loudly, making him stop in his tracks, which you took as a sign to keep going. “It’s been months and I found you again... Isn’t this fate?”

Hyunjin turned around and found you close to him. His chest never felt so tight before. It burned, all the situation was deeply painful.

“No. I’m not your fate.”

“You said what had to happen would happen. I keep finding you... You keep appearing in my way... How can this not be fate?”

Hyunjin didn’t respond. He just stepped forward and cupped your face, leaning down and pressing his lips against your forehead. You pressed your eyes shut, tears streaming down your cheeks once again. You knew this time was for real... No matter how much you wanted him to stay, how much you needed him... He wasn’t going to stay.

“Take care of yourself, y/n. You’ll find someone better than me.”

And with that, he just walked away, leaving you again.

You never understood why something so good ended so suddenly.

You didn’t know, but Hyunjin felt more than what he would ever be able to admit. However, he wasn’t ready to admit how much he loved you, and that’s why he had to let go.

But one thing was for sure...

Strawberries and cigarettes would always taste like him.

[avintagekiss24]

—you can pretend you don’t miss me; bucky barnes

pairing: tfatws!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4049

warnings: 18+ ONLY, knife kink, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, tiny bit of blood, attempted murder

challenge: @cockslut-padalecki a decade under the influence “what if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat”

request: bucky barnes + “i have a feeling i’m gonna get lucky tonight” + orgasm denial

author note: surprise! it didn’t take me two months to write something sjsksjs please enjoy fic #3 of my 5/5.5k follower celebration! also another quick congrats to lisa for hitting 10k!!

inspired by this art ; gif by @zacharylevis ; line divider by @firefly-graphics ; title inspired by billie eilish bitches broken hearts

The taste of bourbon and cigarettes is on his lips and tongue as he licks into your mouth. He moans into you, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh as he hooks your leg right around his waist. Your back is up against the heavy door of his apartment, fingers in soft brown hair, wet lips smacking and sucking, teeth nibbling on his swollen, red bottom lip. He laughs, relaxing into your kiss and lips and teeth as he anchors your weight in his metal hand, flesh hand rummaging in his almost too tight black jeans for his door key.

There’s a smirk on your face as you pull away from him. Your lips are still touching. Foreheads resting on one another's. Eyes a little shy, only connecting for fractions of seconds before they’re on the floor or a pair of lips. The jingle of keys fills the hallway, then the thunk of one as it pushes into the slot and stops hard against the rusted metal of the lock. The deadbolt slaps back into the door and with a push of his foot, and a little help from your weight being pinned against it, the swollen door scrapes against the frame as it pops open, swinging back into the wall.

Bucky slips his hands down your sides, grips your hips tight as he starts to back you inside. They stay there, those hands, as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours and dip down to your mouth where he licks his lips and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s fantasizing about wanting to feel them again. A metal hand cups your face, his palm warm as he sweeps his thumb along your cheek.

His tongue sneaks out just before your lips meet again to tease the roof of your mouth before he grabs your top lip between his. You both inhale deep, breathing each other in, a concoction of soft and sweet and smoke and warmth.

You’re not sure who moves first, whether Bucky is pushing or you’re pulling— probably a little of both— but you’re inside of his apartment before you know it. The door slams shut. Your leather jacket slips off your shoulders and hits the hardwood floor as you back further inside.

Fingers and hands are everywhere. Yanking at shirts, popping buttons, pulling zippers as lips get more desperate. You back into a set of bar stools, knocking them around just a little as you stumble and catch yourself, throwing your head back as laughter spills from you. Bucky pushes out a breath and a small laugh while he eyes you all hungry like as he pulls at his boots.

You tease him a little, putting those feminine wiles to good use— tilt your head, twist your hair around your fingers, push your tits forward. With your shirt crumpled on the floor, the titanium bars pushed through your nipples catch the soft pink, blue, and purple lights of the neon signs pouring in through the kitchen windows through the sheer mesh bralette covering your chest.

Bucky looks a mess. Hair all over his head, pants open— the band of his Hugo Boss boxers peeking out— plain black t-shirt now in a rumpled pile on the floor. His footsteps heavy as he stalks towards you. He stops short, wraps black and gold fingers around your wrist and yanks, collecting you again to crush your soft body against his hard one.

You tilt your head up towards him, eyes turning to slits, lips brushing against his as manicured fingertips push just inside his jeans. Soft tips sweep over a rigid cock, the size making a sly smile curl onto your face. This one is full of surprises.

“Well well,” you purr, kissing him quick, wet and loud, never taking your eyes off him, “I have a feeling I’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, a breath pushing out through his nose as a lopsided grin paints his handsome face, “Aren’t you a smart girl.”

You curl your fingers around his neck, digging the tips into his messy hair and draw him in— dragging the wet velvet of your tongue over his mouth real slow, watching as his eyes close, “You, bed,” you instruct, “Me, bathroom.”

Footsteps fill the quiet, surprisingly lived-in apartment, the clicks of your heels and his heavy thumps as he pulls you towards the bed. He just points off to his left as he falls onto the mattress, resting a leaden head on a wide palm as he settles in. Eyes blinking at you slow as you disappear behind a white door.

The bathroom is immaculate. White. Sterile. Nothing out of place— very military of him. You undress slowly, removing your shoes one by one before moving on to your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a see through bra, waist high panties— and a black leather ankle holster housing your six inch, hand crafted, butterfly knife.

You lift your foot, place it on the white countertop and slip the blade from the holster before carefully, quietly undoing the straps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up a little straighter, roll your neck and shoulders as you stare back at your reflection. The pony tail comes down, silky hair falling over your shoulders and down your back— best fifteen hundred bucks you’ve ever spent on yourself.

Gotta look good on the day you finally get to kill the Winter Soldier.

With a soft flick of your wrist, the blade flips out and you can’t help but run a manicured finger over the edge, pressing the sharp point into the pad. You find yourself in the mirror again and tilt your head a little as your brain goes a little empty— except for maybe one thought.

You wanna fuck him. You’ve earned it, and regrettably so, you find Bucky Barnes sort of interesting. Funny. Engaging when prodded a bit but still somehow deadpan and aloof.

His huge cock doesn’t help matters either.

You sigh, oh well.

The door clicks as you open it and pass through. You keep your hands behind your back as your body softens— sinks into itself a little. Hair falls in your face as you feign shyness, batting big, soft brown eyes and sinking your teeth into an ample bottom lip.

Bucky took the time to get completely naked. Hard cock gripped in his flesh palm, slow drags from the base to the glistening tip.

God, you really kinda wish you could fuck this man.

“Come ‘ere.”

An outstretched metal hand accompanies the gentle beckoning. You move soft, a small sound of your feet sinking into the carpet before you reach out with your empty hand and slide it into warm metal, using the sturdy grip to hoist yourself up and over his stomach.

His hands find your hips— big, warm, manly hands. They slip upwards just a bit to grip the soft of your sides. Move down again for thick fingers to graze over your ass and tickle the backs of your naked thighs. Still, you palm the handle of your knife tight and high, in the small of your back, as you use your free hand to push the dark strands of hair out of your face.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours when his fingers push between your parted legs, finding a wet spot in those mesh panties. You inhale deep, blinking back at him as his fingers keep a sweet little rhythm back and forth against your cunt. Hips defy your brain and push forward into those fingers— wanting just a little more.

Maybe you can wait… maybe until after...

You lean forward before your brain can finish stringing the words together— you have to or you’d lose all your nerve and give into that weak devil telling you to taste the sin. Let him spread you open until it hurts. Your mouth finds his hot and swollen and you kiss him hard, so hard he groans into it. You pull back just enough to lick his mouth again, eyes bouncing between his.

“What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart? You need more of an invitation than this?” Bucky asks low and slow, pushing his cock right into your ass as his fingers creep inside your panties.

You smile, real nice and sweet before swooping the arm from behind your back to push the knife into his neck, “Oh nothing, baby,” you purr, “Just waiting for the right time to kill you is all.”

You lean back a little to see his face, tipping your head to the side. He’s pretty calm for a guy who’s minutes away from bleeding out on his own bed— but he is an assassin. Not much can shake him— should shake him.

Bucky blinks slow at you, hands coming to rest by his sides. His eyes don’t widen, pupils don’t dilate. Steady breathing stays just the same— he doesn’t even shift uncomfortably. Just blinks back at you. Slow. Easy. Without a fucking care in the goddamn world.

An angry heat blooms across your skin at his nonchalance as the seconds tick by. Your chest starts to rise and fall a little harder. Your eyes start to bounce between his as you suck your teeth in indignation, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

A blink is all you get.

“Of course you don’t,” you hiss, “Why would you? I was just one of many in the wrong place at the wrong time, right?” Your grip on the handle of the knife tightens as you push it harder against his skin— this time he swallows, “Who cares how many innocent lives you’ve destroyed as long as you got what you wanted.”

He still doesn’t say a word, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react. Just stares up at you as you crack, laughing angrily as you take his silence mockingly, “Well, I couldn’t fuckin’ forget you. Eight years. Eight years of living in absolute terror that you’d come back for me.” You’re seething now, eyes wild, breath coming harder and faster than the one before it, “Constantly looking over my shoulder, jumping at every bark of a dog and clink of keys and slam of a car door outside my apartment— do you know how it feels to live like that? Huh? Expecting to die every second of every hour of every goddamn day?”

Another silence drops over the room and it’s just the two of you staring at each other. You’re not even sure why he isn’t fighting back— why he’s just lying there and then it hits you, like a ton of bricks.

Of course he knows what it’s like to live like this. He’s used to it.

A trickle of blood slips down the side of his neck, the singular plop staining the white sheets below, “I’ve never thought about after— once you’re dead. What if I can’t forget you? I’ve spent so long hating you— it’s, it’s like by killing you, I’ll burn your name into my throat, you know? You’ll always just,” you tilt your head, digging the knife in a little harder, “Be there. With me always.”

The funniest thing happens as soon as the words slip through your teeth. His lips start to twitch. Curl into a smile— one where those pearly whites are on display— and then he’s laughing. Like someone just told a fucking joke.

It makes you recoil. Makes you squint and has your face twist in confusion, lips separating as a heavy breath passes through.

“Well,” he finally purrs, the laughter rumbling through his chest dying down, “Go ‘head, honey.”

When you hesitate, he pushes his chin forward, arch’s his head back to put his neck on full display, “Come on, baby. Don’t get my hopes up and not follow through.”

“You’re insane.” You hiss.

He leans up a little, another smile curling onto his lips, “In this business, you gotta be.”

The words stick in air like glue as he settles back into the pillow below his head, blue eyes twinkling underneath the soft neon lights pouring in through the windows.

He’s fucking with you. Just do it. The words echo, knocking around your brain as you stare down at him, blade still shoved into the crease of his neck. Another drop of blood plops onto the sheets below. Your lip snarls slightly, eyes narrowing as heat flashes across your skin again. He’s mocking you. After everything he’s done, all the pain— the fear.

You inhale deep, grip the handle so hard your nails dig into your palm and instinct takes over. The hatred, the built up aggression and vitriol guiding your hand, about to slash that pretty thick neck wide open. You are more than ready to see a deep red stain white sheets and blue eyes lose all of the life he’s built into them and fade away into nothingness. Just when you’re about to make your eight year long dream come true, it all flashes before your eyes.

Within a blink— half of a blink— you're off his lap, slammed up against the wall opposite the bed, warm flesh hand around your throat. You gasp hard, nearly choking on the air you can’t grab as you start to struggle, slapping at his face before swinging the knife wildly.

Bucky catches your arm with ease, squeezing your hand until you’re grunting and hissing in pain, grip relaxing around the metal. You blink again, and your knife is now pressed against your throat as you growl, struggling to no avail.

“You’re lucky baby,” he mutters, “Nobody survives that long while holding a knife to my throat.” He kisses you hard, digging his teeth into your bottom lip to drag it back with him when he pulls away, “You’re a cutie tho, so, you get a little reprieve.”

He leans back in real close, eyes roaming along your face as his head tilts, breathing easy. Staring back at him, lip curling again as you huff hard, angry breaths beating out of your nose. But your hands have come to rest on his arms. You can feel the blood coursing through the vein that’s popped out right down the center of his bicep. Your fingers flex around metal and muscle, goosebumps rising on your skin as the cool air conditioning tickles hot skin.

“Of course I remember you,” he whispers after a long time— too long, “I remember each and every face of the last seventy years,” his eyes bounce between yours, “I knew exactly who you were as soon as you popped up on that stupid dating app.”

Another sharp influx of air squeezes out of your throat when he drags the tip of your knife underneath your chin, down the length of your throat, down your chest. Slips it along your stomach before pushing it into the mesh that covers your chest. A flick of his wrist and you’re bare, the thin material giving way to the blade.

Your chest heaves, eyes wide, lips parting as the tip of that blade scrapes along your skin— right between your tits. Brown eyes drop to his red, wet lips quick, then shoot back to focus on his piercing blues.

“I wasn’t sure at first what you wanted,” he whispers, flattening the blade over a piqued nipple, clinking against the metal bar piercing your thick flesh, “If you recognized me after all this time— I mean, with the new hair and everything.”

A hum sounds at the back of your throat, trembling and airy and Bucky picks it up right away— another smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The fingers around your throat peel away slowly but he watches you all the while, fire behind his eyes as he tests you.

“You’re a good little actress,” words still soft but full— maybe amazed that you were able to get as close as you did, “But you knew that already, huh?”

You swallow hard, eyes tipping down to watch his fingers drift down your arm. Light little touches, “You have to be when born— ah,” the edge of the knife catches your thick nipple as he slides it across your tit.

He kisses you again, real sweet this time though. Tongue sweeping along your bottom lip as both his encase it, “I’m sorry baby. You were saying?”

Flesh fingers dance along your stomach, sweeping from hip to hip. Just the tips. Feather light drags so you don’t forget about them. His large palm grips your hip, pushes his thumb into the meat of your side and you have to close your eyes— clear your throat to center yourself. To remember why you’re there in the first place.

Sweet breath washes over your face as Bucky rolls your left nipple now into the edge of the blade— kissing you again when you shriek at the quick, sharp pain just to eat the sound. You lose the fingers around your hip, only to find them again suddenly, jumping in slight surprise as calloused pads cup a soft, wet cunt.

Bucky’s still blinking slow, fingers pushing along a swollen clit, massaging. He’s real close now, prickly cheek rubbing against yours, teeth nibbling at your jawline.

Your own fingers dig into his biceps as your eyes flutter with the tightening of your stomach. A warmth starts to spread through your veins. Hips find a little rhythm against his hand. A sharp prick here and there as he circles that knife— your own damn knife— around your tits and back up to your throat again.

That’s when he sinks two long, thick fingers into you, not stopping until his palm is flush with your sticky folds. His thumb pressed against the sensitive little nub at the center of you.

His eyes are slits, head tilted up slightly as his mouth hangs, dragging in the air you expel. Only then does his fingers start to move, delving in and out, thumb still pushing along your clit.

“God,” you pant, pushing your head upwards against the wall, “Mmm, I can’t—” his fingers push deeper and the words are gone, like they never even existed in the first place, “Fuck.”

Bucky pushes the smooth blade against your throat just a little harder— the sharp edge forcing your chin upward a little more. He flattens his thumb against your lower stomach, starts to pull his fingers, not push them. The heel of his palm starts to slap against your skin as you buck into the motion.

Your hands slip up to his shoulders, both arms wrapping lazily around either side of his neck. The soft hum from earlier is replaced with high pitched whimpers and breathy little squeaks. Bitten off words fall from your lips as you squirm against the wall, wanting him deeper, faster, harder— which he delivers without you having to say a word.

He grabs your cheeks, pinching hard as the blade flattens across your pouty lips. A weak, desperate whimper sounds, all your resolve gone. Whatever leverage you thought you had completely wiped away— and it makes a wicked grin spread on Bucky’s lips.

“You close, baby? Hmm?” he hums, licking at your mouth again, “Oh sweet girl, you wanna come, huh? You gonna come for me?”

He strokes your clit with the tip of his thumb, your walls clenching around his fingers. The gentle encouragement continues, real soft and between sweet little kisses all over your face. A dull ache settles in your belly, a thick heat starting to stir within. Your heart leaps into your throat as your hips pump with Bucky’s hand, the release so close you can taste it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, “‘m gonna fuckin—”

“You want it? Huh? Want me to make you come honey?”

You squeak in response, nodding fast as you bite down into your lip, “Please. Please.”

Heat ripples through your body as you start to tremble, legs going shaky and weak. Muscles start to burn all over as you tense hard, coaxing the sweet agony swirling in your stomach. You cry out, his name hanging on your lips as the rush of it all pushes higher and higher.

Just as you start to unravel, just as the coil begins to snap, his fingers are gone. Pulled from your cunt and clit. You’re whipped around his body, forced back towards the bed. Your mind racing— maybe you’ll be getting some of that cock afterall.

Or not.

Metal slaps around your wrist, bites into the skin as it clamps down, the clink of teeth sliding into the lock housing ringing in your ears. You snap your head towards the sound when it all finally connects in your murky brain. The horror of realization floods into your veins— blood running cold as your stomach drops to your feet.

The handcuffs clink against the dark metal headboard as you fight against it, “You bastard! You fuckin’ piece of shit, let me go!” you shout, thrashing your arm back and forth, pulling as hard as you can, “Goddamn it— let me the fuck go! I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you bast—”

“Ooph,” Bucky jests, octave rising as he slips back into his jeans, “You got a filthy little mouth on you.”

“Fuck you!”

He scoffs, laughing gently as he pulls his black shirt back over his head. The bastard even starts to hum as he plops down on the edge of the bed, taking his time while he pushes his feet back into his boots and shrugs into his jacket.

You keep sharp eyes on him as he stands and turns to face you, dangling a pair of small silver keys next to his grinning face before he tosses them somewhere deep in the apartment. You swipe at him with your free hand as he approaches, just barely catching his chin as he kneals down, “I’m gonna kill you,” you smile, a blind rage engulfing every pore, every muscle, every ounce of your body.

Bucky shrugs, “Not tonight, sweets. Listen, tell Sam I’m sorry about the mess, hm?”

“Who the fuck is Sam?” you hiss.

He looks down at his watch, “Yeah, he should be home in about an hour. It’s not everyday you walk into your apartment to find a naked, wannabe assassin handcuffed to your bed, so, give him my apologies— wait, you know about Sam, right? The new Cap, they made it official a couple of weeks ago.”

Your jaw clenches as you stare back at his smiling face, more humiliation pouring through you as you realize he’s had you pegged the entire goddamn time.

“Oh baby,” he laughs again, “You didn’t honestly think I’d take you back to my place, did you? I don’t even know you— you kids today are so reckless.”

Blue eyes bounce between yours for a few seconds before he glances down at his hands, works them back into his black gloves. He pulls your butterfly knife from his back pocket and starts to play with it, flicking his wrist to close it, and then open it over and over again.

“I’m keeping this,” he offers as he locks it closed and slips it back into his pocket, “Maybe you’ll find the balls to try and take it from me.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head, “I’m taking it back.”

Bucky stands, the sound of his heavy boots sounding through the apartment as he moves towards the door, “I look forward to it kiddo.”

***

If there’s one thing you respect about Bucky Barnes, it’s his attention to detail.

Right on the dot, exactly one hour later, you snap your head towards the front door as keys start to jingle in the lock. With the bed sheet wrapped loosely around your torso, you straighten up against the wall, eyes wide as you watch an exhausted Samuel Thomas Wilson walk into his apartment.

“Oh, fuck!” he shouts, jumping slightly and dropping his bag to the floor when he locks eyes with you, “What in the fuck?”

“I can explain… sort of.” you start, holding up your hand.

You apparently don’t need to. Sam’s phone is to his ear within seconds as he starts to pace back and forth, “Bucky, this is not why I gave you a key to my mother fuckin’ apartment!”

[seita]

𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 | 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗮𝘄𝗮 𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗶 (𝗺.)

˒ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗄𝖺𝗐𝖺 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗂/𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ˒ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 ˖ 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 ˒ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 𝟸𝟿𝟷𝟼 ˒ 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌: 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗉𝗎𝗇𝗄!𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗂   ˒ 𝖼𝗐: 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝗌, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗋���𝖺𝗌𝗆𝗌

+ 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗎𝗅𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗂 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍!

˖˖ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈.

⇦ 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.

© 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗮 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗶𝗳𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁.

The bass shook your very core as you swayed to the beat. The drink in your hand was almost empty as you tipped it back for another sip. You glanced to the side to where your boyfriend was chilling, leaning against the wall with a cigarette tucked between his lips. 

Issei Matsukawa had been your boyfriend since your first year of highschool; you’d been together for more than 5 years. He was attractive, a fact you’d known long before anyone else. It wasn’t that he was unattractive in high school, simply awkward and still growing into his own. He had been more lanky standing at 6’2”, fit from playing volleyball but worn down from the stress of school and graduating. 

Currently, he’s grown to 6’3” and filled out much more. Throughout the years, he’d acquired numerous tattoos that now formed full sleeves on both his arms with an incomplete back piece and a couple scattered on his pecs. He’d also gotten a nose and lip piercing to go along with the numerous adorning his ears. He’d developed his own style, typically opting for ripped, well-fitting jeans, dark t-shirts and leather jackets to go with biker boots he seemed to always be wearing no matter how much he complained of how they hurt when he wore them too much. 

You felt lucky to have been by his side through it all, watching him grow into a wonderful man and find himself until he became comfortable in his own skin. 

Unfortunately, the more confident he grew, the more others started to notice him; specifically other women.

And when your boyfriend stood alone in a corner, smoking in a club with his leather jacket tossed casually over his shoulder, exposing those tattoos you’d been by his side while he got inked into his skin, and a well-fitting black t-shirt showing off his frame, greedy eyes always seemed to find him. The more confident of them had no shame in attempting to chat him up despite how disinterested he came off as with the lazy, lidded look of his eyes. 

To showcase his lack of interest, he brought the cigarette to his lips again, the rings on his fingers glittering beneath the club lights. His nails were painted black, a new coat you’d helped him put on before leaving the house that night so that the polish wouldn’t be chipped and ugly. 

Still, the girls who surrounded him persisted. You stopped dancing to watch, a pout forming on your lips as you watched. Jealousy brewed within you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Issei, no you had complete faith in him, you knew he would choose you over any other woman any day. 

However, you didn’t like that these ladies didn’t know he was spoken for -- that he was your man. 

When one of the girls leaned against the empty spot beside him, her hand on his forearm, you had enough. You downed the rest of your drink and placed it on a nearby table before sauntering over to him. 

The girl's voice carried the closer you got; she complimented everything from his piercings and tats to his hair. 

“How tall are you?” one drunkenly giggled, leaning a bit closer in a way you knew was intending to entice him into looking at her tits.

“6’3”,” Issei replied politely, taking a puff on his cigarette before blowing it out. 

“Wow…” a third whispered, licking her lips, “You’re a big guy, huh?”

Matsukawa huffed through his nose, shaking his head in disbelief. This wasn’t anything unusual, innuendos and flirting; girls always wanted a taste of what he had to offer. The confidence and energy he exuded was clearly one of dominance and power. Though they didn’t know for sure, they could definitely correctly assume he was good in bed. 

Unfortunately for them, you were the only one who would ever get to experience it.

“What’s your name, handsome?” the one leaning beside him asked, fingers inching up the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

His eyes glanced towards her wandering hand, a brow raised before he lightly batted it away, making her giggle as if he were only playing hard to get.

“It’s--”

“Issei,” you cut him off, making his eyes snap to where you were approaching from. 

“Hey, kitten,” he greeted with an easy smile the other girls hadn’t gotten the courtesy to see. 

Three sets of eyes shot to you, frowning at your unwelcome appearance. Naturally, they had hoped he was single and would end up going home with one of them tonight. 

“So your name is Issei?” the confident one leaning against the wall beside him asked, ignoring your entrance. 

Issei sighed, eyes still lingering on you as you nodded. You raised a brow, making him chuckle, watching as you sauntered closer and pressed yourself against his chest, nuzzling against his neck. He was quick to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close against him, kissing the top of your head. 

You casted a glare towards the girl beside you who sent one right back at you. Her eyes took in his form, raking up and down his body as she checked him out, biting her lip.

“Is this your girlfriend, Issei?” the way she purred your boyfriend’s name made you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah,” Issei replied, slipping a hand up the back of your shirt to run his fingers over your skin to comfort you as he felt you grow tense. He knew how much you hated other girls who wouldn’t take a hint and give up -- hoping they could convince him to cheat on you or that they were a better choice. He took another puff of his cigarette again, turning his head away to blow the smoke out away from any faces.

You thought back to how, a few nights ago, he had smoked while you sat atop his cock, grinding against him as you came over and over again. Occasionally, he would blow the smoke in your face and grin at the way you would whimper in response. 

You clenched your thighs together as he tapped the excess ash off in the nearby cup he’d placed down. His fingers were so long, pretty with the nailpolish and rings. The one he wore on his middle finger you knew for a fact had been worn one when he fingered you in the car as he drove. The filth that spewed from his lips during that ride still echoed through your mind. 

Clenching your thighs together, you gripped his shirt and tugged lightly, fixing him with your best puppy dog eyes when he looked down at you.

“What is it, kitten?” he asked softly.

“I wanna go home,” you whined, biting your lip.

He grinned and opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off, “Don’t go! We’re having such a nice time!” one of the girls whined.

“Yeah, we’re having fun~” another added. 

You rolled your eyes when his eyes drifted from you to the girl beside him, who placed her hand on his arm again. Finally deciding enough was enough, you huffed and reached down to his belt, venturing to cup his slowly hardening cock -- he knew you were feeling turned on and that alone turned him on too. 

“You know you can have the most fun with me, Issei,” you grinned as he licked his lips, eyes falling to where your hand sat. 

“You wanna go home?” he asked, dropping his cigarette into the cup before taking your hand and lacing your fingers with his.

You nodded and tugged, casting a smirk at the three girls as you tugged your boyfriend away. They all made sounds of disappointment the further you got but one thing caused you to pause. 

The one who had been trying the hardest scoffed, “Don’t quite see what he sees in her. I’d be a better fuck than her.”

Eyes narrowed, you casted a glance over your shoulder to find the three of them still glaring daggers at you. Tightening your grip on your boyfriend’s hand, you made a turn and found yourself in a dark, abandoned corner away from prying eyes. 

Well, except three pairs. 

You pushed Issei against the wall and he grinned. It definitely was not the first time the two of you fucked in a club like this; you probably did it more than was considered okay. You pulled him down and brought him in for a deep kiss. He groaned, wrapping his arm around your waist to deepen it further, working his lips against yours expertly. 

“Wanna fuckin’ eat you out, kitten,” he growled, turning the two of you so it was you pressed against the wall. 

“Please,” you nodded, licking your lips as you looked forward to find the girls surprisingly still watching. 

Most people, when faced with seeing the two of you beginning to get intimate, would walk away and pretend they never saw anything. Not these girls, apparently. Perhaps it was their egos, but they continued to look even as your boyfriend dropped to his knees and pushed the hem of your skirt up. One of them even made eye contact with you, a nasty look in his eyes as you grinned gleefully. 

“Fuck, you’re wet,” Issei groaned, pushing the crotch of your panties aside to expose your cunt, “What have you been thinking about?”

“That time you fingered me in the car,” you quickly replied, hiking your knee over his shoulder to open yourself up to his gaze.

He grinned, knowing exactly what you were referring to. He doesn’t say anything else, simply leans forward and buries his tongue in your wet slit. You toss your head back and moan, tangling your hands in his already messy curls. His tongue finds your clit, circling the bud before sucking it into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Issei!” you squeal, mouth falling open as he pulls away with a pop, lips already swelling up. His tongue finds your entrance and you keen as you feel it enter you, wet and hot and providing just the tiniest bit of fullness. His nose presses perfectly against your clit, eyes never straying from your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pants as he pulls away, “Got me so hard.”

“Why don’t you fuck me then?” you grin, tugging on his hair to entice him into doing so. 

He grins and presses a sweet kiss against your clit, biting his lips when your thighs jump in response before standing up. You reach down, tugging his belt loose before unbuttoning his jeans. He sighs in relief as you pull his cock free. 

Looking over to see the girls with mouths open, eyeing your boyfriend's fat cock. He was big, that wasn’t something unknown to either of you; long and thick enough to hurt no matter how many times you took his length. 

You squeezed his shaft, making him groan. Flashing yet another grin towards the girls, you slowly stroked him, spitting on the soft skin to slick it up. You wanted these girls to know this was your cock; the cock that fucked you every night. They would never get it and before this was over, they would know. 

“Jump, kitten,” he breathed, cupping beneath your thighs. You giggled, the alcohol still flowing through your system as you did as you were told. Wrapping your arm around his neck, you brought him in for another kiss.

“Ah…” you gasp when the tip of his cock prods your entrance. 

You hadn’t been prepped at all so when he started to sink into you, there was a deep burn and you bit your lip, burying your face in his neck. He panted in your ear, holding you tightly as he ever so carefully worked his length into you. 

“That’s it, pretty girl…” he praised, kissing your forehead, “Let me in, that’s a good girl. Look at you, doin’ so fuckin’ well. You’re so perfect...shit…” he groaned as he finally bottomed out.

You pulled away, gasping as you leaned back against the wall, eyes finding where you were connected. He followed your gaze, pupils blown wide at the sight of your sweet little pussy stretched wide. 

“So tight around me,” he whispered, bringing a hand up to his mouth to lick his thumb. You meet his gaze as the digit finds you hard clit, circling the bud as he slowly begins to rock his hips against you. Clutching his shirt, you cling to him, your mouth falling open as your walls begin to clench around him. He grins, “Cum for me, kitten. Soak my cock like a good girl and I’ll fuck you nice and good. I’ll show those little bitches whose cunt it is that makes me fuckin’ cum.”

You lean your forehead against him, pecking his lips as your body tenses up. Issei continues to work your bud, working the last couple inches of his cock in and out of you slowly as you reach your high. Your thighs tighten around him, walls squeezing his cock nice and tight. Your mouth open as you moan his name only for his hand to slap down around your mouth, his eyes narrowed. In your pleasure, you didn’t notice the icy glare he casted towards two men who paused to watch the show. As you trembled and whimpered against your boyfriend, cumming hard around his thick cock, they attempted to catch a peek of the way your cunt was stuffed, nice and full. 

Thankfully, the position didn’t allow them the pleasure of seeing what was his. Once they got the hint and passed by, hard in their jeans, he began to properly fuck you. You were still coming down and cried out against his hand. He hissed, opting to slip two fingers into your mouth. Immediately, you wrapped your lips around them and worked your tongue along the skin. He groaned, moving his other hand to support your back. 

“You feel so good, came so good for me,” he whispered, licking his lips as he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth. The cool metal of his rings brushed your lips and you whimpered when he suddenly pulled them away.

“Your cock’s so good, Issei,” you praise, grinding your hips down as you toss your arms around his shoulders, “Pl-Please fill me up.”

“Yeah? You want my cum?” he growled, cupping the back of your head to hold you close against him, “Want me to show them I’m yours? That your cunt is the one I fill up every night?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, glancing over to see the girls still standing there. They all wore expressions of arousal, thighs clenched together as they watched your perfect boyfriend fuck you, “You’re mine, Issei. T-Tell me you love me.”

“Fuck,” his groaned, hips losing their rhythm, “I love you so fuckin’ much. No one will ever own me so completely; heart, mind, and body, baby. Shit, you’re the one I’m gonna marry and have kids with. You’re it for me, kitten. I’m so...fuckin’ in love with you.”

He spoke loud enough for them to hear, knowing exactly what you needed. You felt tears prick your eyes and you couldn’t help but press your lips against his, “Cum for me, Issei. Please.”

“Fuck, shit!” he groaned, breaking the kiss to bury his face in your neck, “I love you so goddamn much, kitten.”

You shuddered as he came, cock spitting his hot load into your sensitive walls. Your cunt clenched sporadically around him, close to your final orgasm but not being able to fall over the edge before his own high ended. 

He continued to hold you for a long moment, peppering kisses along your skin as you released your thighs from around his waist. He continued to hold you close against him as he came down.

“Do you need to cum again, kitten?” he asked softly, noticing the way you were clenching your thighs. 

You bit your lip and he grinned, reached between your thighs once more. You eagerly spread them and clutched his t-shirt in your fists as he circled your clit with his skilled fingers. Resting his forehead against yours, he worked your bud until your cunt was clasping desperately around nothing, pushing his cum from your little hole. He cursed and gathered it on his fingers as you came down, minimizing the mess before bringing his digits to your lips. You grinned, sultry and hungry as you took them into your mouth, cleaning his cum from his skin. 

He cursed, pulling away to button up his jeans and redo his belt. He was slowly getting hard again and he wanted to get home to fuck you in the comfort of your own shared bed. 

You fixed your panties, wincing as more of his cum dripped into the fabric. He took your hand and tugged you out of the dark corner, cooing when you clung onto his arm. 

“Oh,” he paused next to the ladies who had yet to move. They looked up at him with wide eyes, a dash of hope still in their gazes as he finally acknowledged him, “You could never compare yourself to her. That’d be like comparing dog food to caviar.” 

The girls gasped at the insult as Issei chuckled and tugged your hand to pull you along behind him. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught their glazes and grinned, knowing you had won. 

And that you had round 2 waiting for you at home. 

[achillieus]

we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, angst, too much tension, bucky and reader are stupid and in  denial, sexual tension all around the place

tagging: @tonystankschild​

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 2/3:

And then it’s the last week of February and you have an assignment together, you and Bucky, the boy with black hair and a mind that you’re certain is not as clever as he insists it is. You know this cannot possibly end well. You feel it when he sits beside you and his knee brushes past your leg. You feel it when you take a breath and smell his aftershave. Sandalwood and vanilla. It makes you want to lick your lips. Please, get a grip. You try to get away, even propose to write the whole thing alone so you wouldn’t have to spend any time around him. In your mind, you call it self defense. But Bucky’s boastful and you can see him pumping the muscles in his neck, trying to intimidate you.

“My dorm, tomorrow at 7,” he says “Don’t be late.”

-

(your late night instagram search history)

(00:38 AM) #literaturememes

(01:15 AM) @buckybrns

(01:30 AM) #newgirl

(01:50 AM) @buckybrns

(02:10 AM) @buckybrns

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when he’s not around.

-

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that everyone, boys and girls, adore him alike. He’s charming, he’s crafty, he’s brilliant. He’s everything they want him to be and even more. It nearly condones his megalomania.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s aware he has an audience. Always plans his moves, knows how to play his character perfectly. He wears dark designer jeans and plain Henley shirts, buttons open, fabric tight around his biceps. Sometimes even a black leather jacket and a tag necklace. Girls are intrigued by the bad-boy, straight A student contrast, while the boys are envious enough keep him close and invite him to all of their parties. Bucky gives them whatever they need.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s utterly lonely. He has never said so, but it’s the truest thing about him. He has Sam. But for how long? Bucky’s used to people going away. It has been imprinted on him. His best friend, Steve, left with his girlfriend in an exchange program last month and Natasha, the one girl he ever came close to loving, just started dating Clint Barton. Clint fucking Barton. What a downgrade.

And then there’s you, sitting at the end of his bed, playing with the ring in your finger, reading some neatly written lecture notes. Usually, Bucky would think about 129 cheeky comments he could make to a girl in his room. But not to you. Are you sure, Bucky? He has grown accustomed to disliking you. It’s the one constant he has left and he’s not planning on losing it.

He leans down and takes the place next to you, a bottle of beer dangling loosely in his hand.

He offers and you decline.

“We need to concentrate on the project.”  

“You’re the biggest killjoy.” Bucky says with a hint of a smirk.

“I’m studying, Bucky.” He can see your left hand holding that dark green pen in a tight grip and your eyes trying to focus everywhere but on his face. He can see your hair glistening in the warm afternoon light that comes from his window. He can see the soft red blush on your cheeks and the beauty mark on your neck. What a tricky thing it is to see. And to feel. And to want.

Is that what dislike tastes like, Bucky?

-

He talks a lot, that’s the first thing you notice. He says all sorts of things, most of them having nothing to do with your project. You’re certain it’s because he’s feeling as uncomfortable and agitated as you. But still, it’s annoying as hell.

“Listen,” you say and turn to his side “I’m not going to fail this class just because you have the attention span of a two year old.”

A laugh escapes his lips and you watch, completely in awe, the way little wrinkles form around his eyes and his nose scrunches. Right now, he looks tender and warm. No, he doesn’t.

“I think we’re both pretty smart,” Bucky says nonchalant and wets his lower lip with his tongue, before he adds, “We’ve got this, so relax doll.”

There are rules, things that are solid, de facto.

Example 1: Bucky never praises you. At least not out loud.

Example 1: Not valid anymore.

Example 2: Bucky uses the word “doll” approximately ten times a day. To other girls. The girls he likes. Not to you.

That’s actually wrong, he called you doll the first time you met. That doesn’t count. He didn’t know you then.

Example 2: Not valid anymore.

It feels foreign. Pleasant and beguiling, but foreign.

“You always call girls “doll”. What is this?” You ask and he looks up. “Is it like your thing, your flirt move?”

Bucky meets your gaze, his forehead creased, and holds it for some seconds before he laughs again. Is this amusing him?

“No, I’m serious.” You bite your lip. “You even did it to me when we first met.”

“I did?”

Of course he doesn’t remember, what did you expect?

“Yeah, when you helped me find the admission office.”

“And you remember that, an entire year later?” He raises his eyebrows, looking entertained and partly interested.

Your mind empties and for some time you feel out of place, embarrassed. But you’re quick to recollect yourself. You can’t let him get you.

“It was my first day as a college student, I remember all of it.”

Liar. You don’t even remember who you sat next to.

Bucky smirks a little too long for your liking and then he leans in, his body bending in a way that makes you forget to breath. He’s so close and you only see blue, a rare kind of blue between the depths of the ocean and the brightest shade of the sky at noon. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t that handsome. Handsome and indomitable. What an awful combination.

“Interesting.” He whispers and lies back, touching the wall.

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and clear your throat.

“I should go, it’s obvious we’re not making any progress.” You pick your books and stand up. “Sometimes I wonder how you get all those perfect grades, you clearly-” You merely finish your sentence before he grabs your arm and swiftly, he has you pressed against his wooden bookcase. You don’t have time to blink.

What’s happening? He was sitting down a second ago.

“That day,” he says while his thumb draws circles on your wrist. “You were wearing a denim dress and some Saturn shaped earrings. And you were holding a cherry juice box.”

It’s utterly terrifying how your emotions toss and turn the moment you realize what he’s talking about and the fragile muscles of your heart ache because Bucky cares. Bucky remembers.

“It wasn’t my first day of college, but I remember.”

You want to throw up. Or kiss him. You’re not sure. You know you hate Bucky. Do you? You’ve taught yourself to. And it was never supposed to change. It shouldn’t have to.  

You part your lips to say something, anything, but he shakes his head and steps back.

“You should go.”

And you do. And you’ll never tell him, but you’ll always regret not kissing him then. You’re sure now.

-

your inbox, the next morning

(10:25 AM) from buckybrns@gmail.com

              I’m sending you our assignment. You only need to add a few things and it’s done. If anything else comes up, it’s better we work on our own.

-

For Bucky, it all came crashing down the moment he first saw you. It was all over the moment his eyes met yours. A gourmand perfume lingered in the air around you that day and it stained his pores. And it’s been with him since then. Clinging onto his flesh.

It’s partly obsessive and partly romantic and Bucky tries to keep it locked inside. He thinks he can make it go away easily, the way he flicks a crumb off his expensive cashmere scarf. He thinks if he doesn’t talk about it, it’ll be less true. That’s not how things work, Bucky.

Yeah, he’s starting to notice.

And he’s trying so hard to hate you. The problem is, he doesn’t think he can.

(his late night instagram search history)

(00:45 AM) #tomfordperfumes

(01:30 AM) @y/n

(01:50 AM) #funnycats

(02:15 AM) @y/n

(03:45 AM) @y/n

-

You make it your mission to avoid him and it’s going well until the fifth of March. You spot him at Sam Wilson’s party. You should have known he’d be here, they’re friends. There’s a thick cloud of cigarette smoke all around, but still, you can perfectly see him. He’s standing alone, his skin changing colors under the neon lights, a plastic cup in his hand, eyes crystal blue and swollen and fixated on you.

The room is small and everything feels known but unfamiliar at the same time; the atmosphere, his gaze, the lump on your throat.

They’re suffocating you, the looks you give each other.

-

“Buck, what do you want?” Sam asks, holding both vodka and gin and he observes the way Bucky merely turns his head to look at him.

What do you want Bucky?

Not to play a role anymore. For Steve to be back. Maybe, Natasha. No, he hasn’t thought about her in a month. Perhaps a Pulitzer Prize. Definitely a new pair of sunglasses. But there is one more answer he has behind his teeth.

Y/N, he almost says. Always.

“Vodka.”

-

He leaves before midnight and you can’t remember where the urge came from, yet you’re following him. You know he has noticed. But he just keeps walking until he reaches the door of his dorm and presses his back against it. He sees you and you see him and his eyes cut your heart open.

“Your place is on the other side of the building.”

“I know,” you mumble, “I just never got to say good job on the assignment and I wanted to.” You are unable to meet his eyes. You sound pitiful and you want to hit a wall; with your head.

Why the hell did you follow him here?

Because sometimes you do stupid things.

Bucky mockingly opens his mouth, as if shocked. It almost makes you groan.

“Did Miss high and mighty just comment something nice about me?”

“Why do you have to contradict everything I say?”

He shakes his head and you can feel your heart beat loud and irregular and it’s not because you’re mad. It’s because he’s coming closer, almost chest to chest now. And it’s because you can swear, he just glanced at your lips.

“Someone has to, you can’t act like you know everything all the time.”  

“I don’t do that, you don’t know a thing about me Bucky.”

“Oh, but I do. You’re Y/N, you like plaid skirts and Homer and dark green pens. You expect everyone to be perfect. You expect yourself to be perfect. And you always want to do the right thing.”

His pupils are dilated. Yours must be too. Bucky Barnes is dangerous and fatal. He makes your blood coil and your mouth dry. And there’s a tension, almost pain, almost agony, deep in your lungs and it burns. And you don’t know who leaned in first, probably you because Bucky isn’t that brave yet, but suddenly your hands are everywhere. Your fingers blending in his hair, his digging in the skin on the back of your neck. He’s bringing you closer and it’s a mess and all you can hear is the beating of your heart; a rapid vibration between your ears. It’s pure and raw and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

He tastes like ambrosia and a year-old despair and you think you can go on forever. You eventually break apart because you both need to breath and for a second you worry because he looks like he’s ready to cry, but instead he smiles, softly touching your cheek.

“Did I do the right thing?” You whisper.

...

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