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monaisme · 1 year

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One Week Later- Chapter 14

This is the sequel to my one shot, “The Battle,” which can be found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30027636

As it’s been more than a while, you can also find the rest of this story here… if you’d like to refresh your memory:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30168360

Please enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen

It was going to be such a good day. Peter had been so sure. He was feeling better... like honestly better than the day before. His headache was gone, his ribs were good (enough, but no one really needed to know differently), the gash in his leg was on its way to gone and by the end of day, he’d managed to choke down a full, albeit normal sized meal for dinner for the ultimate win. Yes, his temperature had crept up barely a bit toward the end of the day but his regular super-meds had taken care of that super quick and he’d been so hopeful that he’d be able to leave the med bay—and try to figure out what his new normal was going to look like.

He’d been discharged literal minutes earlier and then, of course, Peter, by his mere existence, had jinxed it all. Parker Luck ruined everything.

“It is regrettable, Mr. Stark, but until we can be certain that Mr. Parker’s fever has fully resolved, we must deny access to her room. And I do understand that this is upsetting, but my job as her primary physician is to make sure Mrs. Parker receives the best possible care and as such...“

Mr. Stark sighed in sudden resignation. “I know, I know. I get it. Thank you, Dr. Bonwick. We’ll leave you to it, but please...” His voice trailed off.

Dr. Bonwick seemed to understand. “As I have been doing thus far, I will keep you up to date on her condition should any changes arise.” The man smiled sympathetically over Mr. Stark’s shoulder to address Peter, who stood awkwardly behind him. “I will also confer with Dr. Cho so as to schedule any follow up appointments in a manner that will allow for visits as soon as a full 48 hours without fever has passed... with your permission, of course?” He looked to Mr. Stark for that confirmation.

Nodding tersely, Mr. Stark grunted out his thanks and turned toward Peter. “Alright, kid, let’s get out of here,” and guided Peter back towards him room at the end of the hall.

Peter didn’t say anything as he shuffled along. What could he say?

Mr. Stark, however, had some thoughts to share.

“What a jerk.” Mr. Stark blurted out as soon as the door to the med bay room closed.

Peter turned his back to Mr. Stark as he blinked back tears. “Be nice, Mr. Stark. He’s just making sure she doesn’t get worse, is all. I get it.”

“Yah, yah. I get it, too,” Mr. Stark huffed in frustration, “but that doesn’t change what I said. He should have said something sooner. I mean, you’d been here all day yesterday, too, for cryin’ out loud. Waiting until you were heading down the hall to say hi was not okay.”

Peter sniffled, and rubbed at his tired eyes, “Yeah, well, the fever was last night though, and he doesn’t have to be nice. He just has to be the best, right? And you said he is, so if that means he’s a,” Peter searched for a word, “...turd, then so be it. It’s whatever Aunt May needs, right? And you’ve got enough tech kickin’ around to make sure we can still see each other, even if it’s not in person.”

Peter could feel Mr. Stark’s eyes on his back. “Of course we do! Geez, kid. What kind of a genius do you take me for? Oh, and by the way, way to be the bigger person. Darn it, were you always this mature?”

Peter couldn’t help the choked laugh as he slid back into their familiar banter, “Well, between you and me, one of us had to be.”

Mr. Stark chuckled as he came up behind Peter and patted him tenderly on the shoulder. “You won’t hear an argument out of me. Now,” Mr. Stark stepped back and surveyed the room. “Let’s grab your stuff and get you out of here, shall we?”

Mr. Stark must have noticed Peter’s subtle nod, as he gripped his shoulder one last time. “Fantastic. I’ll go check the bathroom really quick while you grab those books Pep brought down... Oh! And I think she brought down one of her fancy blankets from the penthouse. Could you do a quick check for that, too? I’d rather we not leave it behind.”

Peter nodded again and waited as Mr. Stark’s footsteps receded into the small bathroom attached to his med bay room, then blinked slow, and pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. “C’mon, Peter, pull it together. You can do this,” he muttered to himself. “Just get upstairs and you’ll be good... just get upstairs...”

Peter’s brief self-talk was immediately interrupted.

“Well, that took all of two seconds, bud. Congrats on not being disgusting. I’ve got your toothbrush and such ready to go.” Mr. Stark said as he stepped out of the private bathroom attached to Peter’s room, zipping up a travel bag. He’d obviously noticed that Peter hadn’t moved from his spot because he handed Peter the bag and manoeuvred around him. “Here, let me do a quick check before we go so no one has to run back down later. ‘kay?”

How could the man have so much energy after everything that had happened to him?

Peter had finally managed to convince Mr. Stark to sleep in his own bed last night (Did no one else noticed how exhausted Mr. Stark looked?) and so he hadn’t been privy to Peter’s marathon of nightmares, thank goodness for that small miracle. Besides, Peter and Mr. Stark had both figured that after a day filled with colouring books and board games with Morgan, plus an 80s movie marathon to entice Peter into taking much needed naps, that everyone would be ready for a good night’s rest so the next day could be fresh start for everyone—barring any other weird medical drama overnight.

Stupid fever.

That Peter had spent the eventual fever-free night thrashing about as he tried to fend off nightmare after nightmare of Thanos as the titan obliterated Queens and watched helplessly as Mr. Stark and Ben, and then May and Ben, and then Ben, and Ben, and forever Ben who was always reaching out for Peter, and always dying then disintegrating over and over and over again— well...

“Alrighty then, what do you think, Pete? Have we got everything before we head up to the penthouse?” Mr. Stark asked, arms full of faux fur and books and blissfully oblivious to Peter’s exhaustion as he scanned the med bay room one last time. “I almost couldn’t tell if you’d left anything behind or not with the mess you’d made of this bedding!”

Peter flushed with embarrassment. Mr. Stark didn’t need to know the real reason so Peter made a production of straightening the bedding, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Sorry. I think I was a little overheated last night, is all.” It seemed as good an excuse as any, until—

Mr. Stark took a good look at Peter, frowned, and dropped his pile of Peter stuff back on the bed. He came closer, pressing a gentle hand to Peter’s forehead. “Are you doing okay, Peter? You’re looking a little rough, now that I’m getting a good look at you but Lydie didn’t say anything more about a fever. And she wouldn’t have forgotten to mention it, would she? She’s generally on the ball with that sort of stuff. Huh. Maybe I should get her to—“

Peter stepped back and pushed the hand away. “No. Last night was fine. Can we just go? Please?” Was he whining?

But Mr. Stark pushed. “Relax, kid. It’ll only take a minute... and ease your old man’s mind.”

“Really, Mr. Stark.” Now, Peter tried not to sound too snappish as he interrupted what was most likely going to be another freak out by his mentor. “I’m fine! I promise. I was just warm from too many blankets.”

Mr. Stark blinked, trying to figure out how to react to the dramatic shift in mood, but Peter was backtracking before Mr. Stark could do or even say anything. “Shi—I mean shoot! I’m sorry,” Peter couldn’t contain his frustrated sigh, “I didn’t have the best sleep last night. Okay?” He tried to take a deep breath and calm himself. “Please? All I really want is to take a shower and get all of this adhesive gunk off of me and then maybe try to talk to Aunt May a bit if she’s awake before I lie down in my own bed.” Peter rubbed at the site of the IV that had been taken out only minutes before for effect.

Looking both worried and unsure, Mr. Stark made his decision and moved toward the door, “Yeah, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can let this go, bud. You can razz me for overreacting later. For now, let me grab her and—“

Peter couldn’t bear it a moment longer. He’d never done well in the med bay—like, ever. And he’d only be able to ignore the fact that his Aunt May was down the hall alone for so long all because Dr. Bonwick had refused Peter’s request to visit, which was totally understandable, but still pure torture. And if he couldn’t see her... hug her... hold her hand, then at least he should be allowed to hide away and catch his breath... or try—just like with all the other stress Peter was being made to deal with. His frustration bubbled over into anger. “I SAID NO! JUST LISTEN TO ME! JUST—“ Peter realized he was losing it and caught himself, too late. He released the breath he’d apparently been holding and dropped his head into his hands in defeat. In contrast to only a moment before, he whispered a plaintive plea, “just stop.”

Mr. Stark froze in his tracks, only putting his hands up in surrender. “Peter?”

Peter couldn’t help himself and looked up at the sound of his name, mouth agape and stunned at his own outburst as Mr. Stark approached with the caution of one approaching a wounded animal. “Kid?”

Peter could only shake his head in horror as the words tumbled out of his mouth, “I am so sorry, Mr. Stark. It was such a good day yesterday and I don’t- I don’t know—I didn’t mean—I—I—” He dropped his head in his hands again and groaned in defeat. “crap.”

Way to keep it together, Peter. Idiot.

The room was silent, neither of them knowing exactly what to say after what may have been the most horrifically mortifying moments of Peter’s adolescent life, until Mr. Stark took a few deep breaths and cleared his throat. “So,” he finally spoke, “Is this just about the May stuff or is there something else running around in that head of yours?”

Peter couldn’t bring himself to speak, averted his eyes.

“Pete. You’ve got to give me something.”

Still, he remained silent.

Mr. Stark waited patiently for all of ten seconds before he wrapped a gentle hand around Peter’s wrist and led him to sit on the chair still stationed between their hospital beds. Crouching before Peter, his knees popping on his way down, Mr. Stark tried again. “Can you please look at me?”

Peter could barely manage to shake his head, ‘no.’

Mr. Stark gave Peter’s knee a gentle squeeze. “Can you at least tell me why?”

That inquiry brought on a slightly more vigorous headshake ‘no.’

Mr. Stark shifted a little, then muttered a quiet “ah, screw it” before plopping down, cross-legged onto the floor in front of the boy. “There. Now. If you’re not going to talk—or even look at me, would you at least be okay with my offering a thought or two?”

Maybe Mr. Stark had seen Peter’s barely discernible shoulder shrug, maybe not, but he plugged along as though he had. “I know that you know that me and May were talking, even before the snap...”

Peter cringed.

Mr. Stark ignored it and went on, “And I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but she mentioned your tendency to blame yourself for things waaaaay beyond your control. I’m pretty sure I witnessed some of that myself, if I stop and think back to when I was still being a dumbass.” Mr. Stark paused. “Regardless, you know that the fever was beyond your control, right? Even if it’s not what kept you up last night.”

Peter clenched his jaw to keep from disagreeing.

“Huh. I for sure thought you’d argue with me on that one, even if you were lying. Your aunt may also have mentioned that you were stubborn like your uncle and that once you get a thought in your head, it takes something like divine intervention to get it out of there.”

Peter found himself scrutinizing a particular tile just to the right of Mr. Stark’s knee. Aside from the whole calling him out thing, hearing Mr. Stark speaking of Ben was... disorienting? And he couldn’t...

“If you don’t want to talk right now, that’s fine.” Mr. Stark assured him. “I will remind you that now that all of the world ending garbage has been taken care of, we’ve got all the time and resources we need to work on all of it, okay?”

Peter scowled.

“And you’ve also got a whole load of people who care about you... more than you know and will be around whenever you need us. I can name some of them if you need me to.”

Peter’s frown softened and his cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment.

“Perfect, I’m glad we’ve come to a consensus on all of that. Now,” Mr. Stark gave Peter’s knee a gentle pat and moved onto his next thought as he stood up from the floor. “How’s about we get upstairs, get you into a shower and then snuggle up on the couch. I’ll have FRIDAY queue up ‘A New Hope’ for once you’ve spoken with May and then we can get our nerd on. No need for you to hide away and get lost in your head all over again. Alright? Sound like a plan?”

Peter stayed sat in the chair and contemplated. Maybe hiding away wasn’t what he wanted to do, after all? Getting lost in a galaxy far, far away, with Mr. Stark and... maybe Morgan?

Before he could say anything, Mr. Stark straightened one last time. “C’mon, kid,” the man grabbed Pepper’s blanket and the books. “Let’s get you upstairs before the Missus thinks we’ve been kidnapped or something,” Mr. Stark pulled Peter close then pulled him out the door and down the hallway to the elevator they both knew FRIDAY would deliver to Mr. Stark without needing to press anything. “I’ll get Happy to double check the room later on when he gets in... sound like a plan?”

Peter nodded, still embarrassed by his emotional outburst, but feeling better for having sorted things out.

“Good show, now are you ready for a movie marathon like no oth—“

Whatever Mr. Stark was going to say was cut off by the elevator doors gliding open to reveal Happy, who choked and paled as he looked at the two before him. With zero subtlety, the man rushed to hide a bouquet of flowers behind his back. “Um, what are... I mean—“ he cleared his throat nervously. “I thought you guys would be upstairs already. Was everything okay? Peter?” Happy did a quick scan of the boy. “You’re good, right?”

Peter nodded, too emphatically. “Yeah, we were just...um.” Peter trailed off, not wanting to actually tell Happy what had delayed the two.

Mr. Stark figured it out pretty fast though. “We were just making sure we’d grabbed everything before heading up.” Mr. Stark smirked and shifted to sneak a peek behind the man. “We probably missed a crayon or two from yesterday, though, if you felt like taking a gander later... after you’re done with whatever down here? Hey, Hap?”

Happy gulped as his eyes tracked from Mr. Stark, to Peter, and then to Mr. Stark again. “Yeah... I can, uh... I can do that?”

Mr. Stark grinned big. “You’re good, though, right? I would be safe in assuming that those flowers you’re trying to hide mean you aren’t here for a check up then?”

Happy cheeks reddened. “No... I mean, yeah. I’m good.”

Mr. Stark was revelling in Happy’s obvious discomfort. “So then...”

Lydie poked her head around the corner. “Oh! Peter! Mr. Stark! What are you two still doing here?”

Peter just shrugged. “We were trying to leave but we ran into Happy and...”

“Well, then, off you go.” Lydie interrupted shooing them away. “You may have been released, but you know that you’d be best served to take it easy for a few more days, Peter. And you, Mr. Stark, don’t think you’re not in my crosshairs, too.”

Mr. Stark wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder and immediately steered him back toward the still open elevator doors. “We’re goin’, we’re goin’...” Mr Stark grumbled. “I can tell when we’re not wanted.”

The two turned to face the hallway as the doors slid closed, giving Peter barely a second to wave awkwardly at Happy and Lydie standing together in the hall.

Neither said anything for a moment, when Peter cleared his throat and spoke, “Um, Mr. Stark? Not that it’s any of my business, but how long have Lydie and Happy been dating?”

A shocked inhale had Mr. Stark choking on his spit for a literal half-minute before he could speak again. “Lydie and Happy?!” Mr. Stark just chuckled. “Geez, kid, Let’s get you upstairs so we can have a chat.”

The elevator moved upward toward the penthouse.

Peter, feeling awkward in the silence, spoke up. “It looked like a nice bouquet at least...” and then Peter realized something. “Wait a minute... Mr. Stark? Did that bouquet have all of Aunt May’s favourites in it?”

Mr. Stark smiled big. “Let’s save this one for home, okay, kid?”

Yeah. This one was going to be a doozy.

#One Week Later #Chapter 14 #OBlossom #AO3 fanfic #ao3fic #IronDad and SpiderSon #avengers: endgame #non compliant #sorry for the wait #sometimes you have to slash and burn #maybe I'll stick to one-shots for a while #LOL

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appocalipse · 2 months

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the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you say in a deliberately casual tone. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.

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coffeeshopguest · 5 months

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please i need stardew valley bachelors in a kinky gangbang with gender neutral or female farmer!

I loved this suggestion but please have mercy, I didn't know which ones you wanted so I did all 6 which was VERY difficult for me to incorporate so I made it sort of cheap in the end to save having to write a whole night of sex with them all 😭 pls enjoy! I'm sorry if it's a little shitty, I've never written or read group sex stuff 😭

The Bachelor's and the Farmer's Night

Word Count: 1569

Pairing: F!Reader x Sebastian, Harvey, Sam, Alex, Shane & Elliott

Warning: 18+, group sex, rope kink, handcuffs, swearing, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, anal mention, oral mention, cum swallowing, light bdsm (choking, spanking), all of it is pretty vague and quickly mentioned except the fingering & vaginal sex

It was Sam's idea. Not that he was gonna openly parade that around to anyone at first. It started as a pathetic fantasy that he would get off on at night, thin walls making him cover his own mouth as he imagined the farmer laying on a bed, tied down, taking it from him and Sebastian over and over. He was ashamed to even incorporate his friend in a fantasy, but the idea of a threesome with the farmer and Sebastian was just...so fucking hot. The idea of watching her get fucked, then fucking her - Sam was a simple man and he nearly came on the spot every single time he imagined it.

What's worse? He began incorporating the idea of Alex in the mix. He was friendly with Alex - and Sam had seen the farmer interacting with Alex a lot recently. Even throwing around a football with him the other day. Sam didn't immediately think anything of it, until he woke up sweating and hard, having dreamt the farmer and Alex going at it while Sam jacked off and waited for his turn patiently. Slowly, Sam began to think about...what if more people got involved? And oh, god. He finally let it slip to Sebastian.

"What do you think of that new farmer?" Sam asked as he took a shot for one of the striped balls on the pool table. His voice was even, but his heart was racing a pathetic amount.

Sebastian leaned on his stick, watching Sam's shot. "She's cute," Sebastian answered. The two made slow eye contact and Sam debated just leaving the whole conversation at that. But something about the way Sebastian stared him down made him crack.

"Yeah, yeah, she is...uh- you like her?"

Sebastian took a swig of his drink, nodded a little. "Sure," he said, "why?"

"How...how do you like her?" Sam gently rested his stick down on the wall, watching his friend. "Like," he began, "sexually...or...?"

Eyes widening a little, Sebastian tilted his head. "I- we don't usually talk about that kinda stuff," he dismissed, turning his attention to the pool table and ignoring Sam for a moment.

Sam nodded slightly, before he finally whispered, "I know but I want to...uh..." he glanced around the Saloon to see if anyone was looking towards them. No one was. "I kinda want to...have...some group sex with them."

Sebastian took a shot, perhaps out of shock, the cue ball launched across the table and sunk a striped ball. He stared down at the table. Quiet. "Just us three or?"

"Uhm...I was thinking maybe Alex..."

Sebastian raised his head up, hair falling over his left eye. "The farmer? Did you talk to her?"

Sam shook his head and Sebastian slowly turned to the table where he'd set his drink aside, grabbing it and gently taking a sip. "Ask her. Tell me when you do."

"You...you're in?"

Sebastian gave a short nod, and the two acted as though the conversation never even happened.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

When presented with the idea, albeit from a terrified Sam, you agreed immediately. With a condition. You wanted Sam to invite Elliott, Shane, and Harvey. His eyes widened.

"Six....you want six guys-" you nodded. Sam had to awkwardly adjust his pants, at the mere suggestion of that many guys fucking you he got hard. Just the idea of watching it was too much for him. "I- I'll see what they say."

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

To Sam's shock, every single person agreed. He was expecting a sharp no from Shane, but he said yes without a second thought. Harvey stuttered out a "Oh...holy shit...uh- at the farm-?" and blushed madly. Elliott tried to maintain some sort of dignity but by the immediate bulge in his pants Sam guessed his answer before Elliott could recover words and agree. Alex tried to act disgusted at first. But then he mumbled a "can I bring handcuffs and rope?" (Sam asked "dude you live with your grandparents in a small town, why do you even have those?" and was met with a glare).

So it was arranged, a day and time was set. The six made their way down to the farm, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Sam was hard basically half the day before this, eagerly awaiting the nighttime - when his fantasy would become reality. The farmer answered the door, smiling softly at the six men. "Boys, come on in," she smiled. Sam nearly choked, they were wearing a flannel, opened up, only a bra underneath. Fuck. Fucking christ. She was good at this.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Upon being brought to the bedroom, Sam gently guided you to lay down, Harvey quickly mumbled "she needs a safe word-" and the rest agreed. Turning their attention to you. Six flushed, eager faces. You felt like prey laying in the bed, flannel opened to expose your bra. A safe word definitely was needed. As much as you wanted to take all six repeatedly you weren't entirely sure how much you could take before you were too used.

"Red light," you murmured out. "Yellow light means give me a break, but I want to keep going."

And so it began. Sam quickly ripped off the flannel and tossed it aside, then tore the bra off and threw it aside, his hands wandered to your jeans, slowly unzipping them. Your panties exposed, he gently moved his hand down, rubbing softly against the wet spot. You bit your lip, about to moan. Quickly, Sam backed up, Sebastian took one side of the bed and Alex the other. Hands launched to your chest, as Sam gently finished pulling off your pants. A hand on each breast, gently running your ripples through their fingers, you began moaning out loud. Sam got off the bed.

"Who wants to go first?" he asked, Elliott stepped forward. He gently undid his pants, erection springing out. He gently lined up.

You bit your lip, before he backed away, "did...anyone bring lube?" Elliott's voice gently asked. It was Harvey who had, gently digging it out of his jacket pocket and handing it over. Elliott gently poured some into his hand, gliding it across your pussy causing you to moan out. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sam, eagerly jacking off as he watched. Sebastian was still by your side, but his hands had left your body. Elliott gently shoved a finger in. "I'll start slow, you're about to have a hell of a night," he said reassuringly.

You looked up into his eyes, nodding softly. He smiled, gently leaning down, placing a kiss on your forehead, before be pulled his finger out. "Did that hurt at all?" you shook your head, and he gently shoved two fingers in, letting your body adjust to the feeling, he slowly began pumping them in and out of you. All eyes were on you and you whimpered softly, meeting eyes with Shane who was still fully dressed.

"Sha- shane-" you mumbled, gasping as Elliott's fingers expertly worked you. "Can- you- strip?"

A hand gently laced around your neck, "use manners, baby, what do we say?" it was Sebastian's hand, tight grip but just light enough not to hurt. Elliott's fingers effortlessly kept time.

"Please?" you whimpered, the hand left your neck and Shane slowly began to undo his belt. As soon as he was stripped, Elliott's hands left you, for only a second you had a miserable feeling of emptiness before Shane swapped with Elliott.

He postioned himself, hands gently gripping your hips as he found where to line up. "Ready?" you nodded, and with one swift thrust he was in you. Lips found your neck, Shane was focused on fucking you. It was Harvey who had knelt beside you, hand gently gliding down your body to your tit's. Lips on your neck, sucking and leaving a hickey.

Shane grunted, speeding up more. "Fuck- tight...gonna-"

"Not in her," Sam whimpered, you had forgotten Sam was still here, in the corner of the events jacking off. "We can't all...not in her."

To describe the events would be tiring and long and endless. They took turns, spilling themselves over your naked body, in your ass, in your mouth. Alex was partial to rough sex, Sam into watching, Harvey wanted to pleasure you however you asked, Shane was focused solely on his own quick finish, Sebastian wanted to tie you down with Alex's ropes when he fucked you and choke you out, Elliott was gentle and soft and sweet and placed kisses on your forehead as you took their dicks over and over and over.

In the end, the sun rose when you guys finally ended the session. You had given several sessions of head. Taken fingers, fists, and dicks. Been tied down, choked, spanked, had your hair pulled. And each of them had asked for something the others hadn't. Sam begged to finish by jacking off onto your naked body. Sebastian wanted your lips wrapped around his cock when he finished. Alex, he was the one who dug out a condom so he could feel your pussy tighten around him as he came inside you.

When the session ended, you simply told all of them. "We're doing this again."

#stardew valley x reader #sdv smut #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sdv sam #sdv alex #sdv x reader #farmer x sebastian #farmer x shane #farmer x harvey #farmer x sam #farmer x alex #farmer x elliott #stardew valley smut #female farmer #x female reader

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lulunothulu · 23 days

Text

“Oh, Sunshine”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been acting a dick while trying to flirt with you and it's up to you to knock him down a peg...or two.

Content: Fluff, kinda asshole Jake, teasing, FLUFF

Note: your call-sign is Sunshine. Gif is from Pinterest credits to the OG creator

“So Sunshine,” Jake drawls as he lines up to take a shot at the pool table. “When are you gonna show me that sunny demeanor everyone says got you that nickname?”

You’d been at Top Gun for about a month and Jake has yet to realize your call-sign is actually a joke because you don’t act like a ray of sunshine.

Or maybe he does and he likes being a dickhead.

You fake smile at him, lips pulled into tight lines before you lean forward and whisper into his ear as he moves to make the shot. “How about when you start acting like you deserve it.”

Jake nearly chokes, striking the ball and watching it hit nowhere near where he wanted.

Jake turns to face you, a smug smile on your face as you pull away and high five Natasha to your left.

He stands up, towering over you, hearing Rooster chuckle behind him.

"So, you want me to earn your affection," he drawls. "That must mean you're thinking about it."

You roll your eyes, smiling a tight lipped smile.

"Bradshaw," you say, still making eye contact with Jake. "Buy me another drink?"

Bradley smiles, taking a last swig of his drink. "I've got you, Sunshine."

He places his large hands on your waist to pass by you and you smile up at him, feeling Jake's eyes on you.

You had to admit, seeing Jake Seresin with that jealous look in his eye made your heart do a little flip. You'd had a secret thing for him from the first time he flashed you that shit-eating smile and boy did you fall hard.

Behind you, Natasha chuckles. "Bagman, you look like you've seen the worse thing in your life."

Your eyes flick to Jake's and you almost choke on your spit. His eyes were ravenous on you, practically burning into you.

You only smile, turning your head before calling after Bradley. "Bradley! I'll just go with you."

You make your way toward him, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulders and leaning into him.

You glance over your shoulder to see Jake fuming.

———

Jake watched as you walked off with Bradshaw, his arm around your shoulders and your head leaning into him. To his left, he knows Javy is saying something but his eyes are glued to you.

You're not in your khaki uniform, instead you changed into some jean shorts and a tank top that accentuates your curves, hair loose and down your shoulders. Bradshaw's wearing his signature Hawaiian shirt and Jake couldn't help but think that you two were matching.

"Bagman!" Jake hears Natasha say. "It's your turn."

He looks down at the pool table before giving his cue stick to Bob.

"Merry Christmas, Baby On Board," he smiles. "You get to take my spot."

Before Bob can stutter a response, Jake's making his way to you and Bradshaw at the bar.

Your hand is on Bradley's chest and you have a sweet smile plastered on your lips.

Jake wished you'd smile up at him like that.

Finally by your side, Jake smiles down at you before lazily placing his arm around your waist.

"Wow, Sunshine," he starts, trying his hardest not to snatch your hand from Bradshaw's chest. "I knew you could smile."

He watches as you turn toward him, sweet smile dropping before crossing the short distance into Bradley's arms. You wrap Bradley's arms around you and Jake has to fight to keep from combusting in jealousy.

"Yeah," you start, a fake smile forming on your sweet lips. "I only smile for guys I like."

"And that would be Bradshaw here?" Jake asks, pointedly looking at Bradley who just shrugs and smiles into your hair.

Jake's blood was boiling.

That should be him smiling into your hair. Those should be his arms around you.

"Maybe it is," you tell him.

Jake had his heart broken only one other time in his life, this would make it a second time and he honestly didn't know if he might cry or not.

He didn't know why these tears threatened to appear now—

No. that was a lie. He knew why.

Jake was an idiot in love, and he loved every second of it. Maybe not this second with Bradshaw's arms around you, but for the most part, he loved it.

"Hey, are you okay?" you ask, eyes growing concerned.

Oh fuck.

Jake's eyes were watering. Not watering, tearing up.

———

You were enjoying Bradley's arms around you, mainly because you knew it would drive Jake crazy but also because it felt nice to have a man’s arms around you.

You just wished it was Jake’s.

Bradley had come up with the plan. "We'll get him so jealous, he'll have to tell you up front that he has feelings for you." He had said.

Only, now that the plan was started, you were beginning to feel bad. Especially when you saw, Jake's eyes were...tearing up?

"Hey, are you okay?" you asked, shaking Bradley's arms off of you and stepping toward Jake.

"I'm great," Jake chokes, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes. "My eyes were…dry. Um, I think I just need to take a walk."

You flash Bradley a look, watching him nod and smile before walking back toward the rest of the Daggers.

“Jake?” You softly say, placing a hand on Hangman’s arm.

You never call him Jake and if you do, it’s to yell at him. He knows that and you know that. So when his head snaps up to face you, you knew you had to make it count.

“Let’s go for a walk then,” you coax, taking his hand in yours. “You know, for your eyes?”

Jake’s eyes soften and he nods, swallowing before following you out to the beach.

A warm breeze welcomes you, sending your loose hair flying behind you. You could feel Jake’s eyes on you so you turn to face him.

Only, his eyes are trained on where both of your hands connect. As you move to pull away, his grip tightens.

“Just let me enjoy this, please?” He says quietly.

“Okay,” you tell him just as quietly, looking out at the beach.

The sun has already set, nothing but the sounds of crashing waves and an occasional rumble from inside the bar.

It’s the longest you’ve been next to Jake without him breaking the silence. It was kind of…relaxing. Comforting even.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You ask, breaking the silence.

Jake smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Not really, but I’m starting to feel better.”

“So, what happened in there,” you start, “wasn’t allergies?”

Jake turns to face you, sage green eyes soft and sweet on yours. He moves to face you with his whole body, his other hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “No, not one bit.”

“What was it then?”

Your heart was pounding, he’d never touched you like this. Hell, Jake has never touched you more than when your hands accidentally touched when he hands you a beer. The look on his face is sending you all sorts of mixed signals and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.

“Can I be real with you for a second?” He asks instead, thumb lingering by your jawline.

“Go ahead.”

———

Jake searches your face, trying to figure out what he can say that won’t scare you away.

How do I tell her?

His hand was still holding your jaw, gently caressing the smooth skin. His eyes fall on yours, confusion and wonder fill them as his gaze falls to your lips.

How many times had he imagined what they’d feel like against his own? What they’d taste like? Would they be soft? Of course they would, look at them.

“Jake?” You say, voice sweet and bringing him out of his spiral.

“Y/N,” he starts, watching as your face fills with confusion.

He never calls you by your first name—only if it’s important.

“I have to tell you something.”

He watches you nod, concern now masking your features.

Jake takes a deep breath before finally spilling. “I have feelings for you.”

When your eyes widen, he continues, “I just didn’t want to tell you and then embarrass myself and seeing you with Bradshaw…absolutely sent me over the edge. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I’ve come to terms with you hating me or thinking I was an dick—”

You stop him by pressing your soft fingers to his lips, a small blush creeping up your face.

Wait…you’re blushing.

“Jake,” you say, voice sweet and even. “I have feelings for you too. And not the kind that make me think you’re a dickhead.”

“Really?” He asks, eyes lighting up in surprise.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were acting like an asshole because you hated me,” you start, “or if you were true to the ‘boys tease you when they like you’ bit people tell little girls.”

“I most definitely did it because I wanted your attention and I wanted you to like me,” he admits. “Forgive me?”

You only smile up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck before pressing your lips to his cheek. When you pull away to see Jake’s eyes wide in surprise and relief, you laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Oh, Sunshine,” he sighs. “You really can be a ray of sunshine.”

“Don’t ruin this nice moment, Bagman.”

If you liked this, check out my Masterlist!!!

#glen powell #fanfic #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #glen powell x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x rooster

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zepskies · 9 months

Note

Hey could I request angsty and fluffy headcanons for Dean having a crush on reader but he thinks she has a crush on Sam but she actually has a crush on Dean back

Hey lovely!

So I kiiiind of already did this type of prompt with "Dean gives you an impossible choice" and its sequel, "Choosing Him."

But I'll do another imagine in this vein for you! ❤️

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst(ish), fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Dean reads you wrong.

When Dean falls for someone, it's "slow and steady wins the race."

But the spark. That spark is instant.

He feels it with you.

Your pretty smile. Your "get it done" attitude that mirrors his. The way you know all of his references, whether it's movies or TV or music — you grew up learning how to tell time from what was on TV, just like him.

It's the way you laugh with him, share quiet moments of contemplation with him, and even moments of grief with him. Even when it's his grief, you always come. Whether it's to sit beside him, or share a drink with him, or make him something you know he likes, or get him to take a drive with you.

But realistically, you have more in common with Sam.

Both of you are bookish (nerds). You two get into heated discussions about Dante's Inferno and proper Latin translations. (You always accuse Sam of his pronunciations being off, while Sam argues, "At least I remember the whole exorcism. You think the damn demon cares if my vowels are off?")

You and Sam bicker. You playfully tease him, bring smiles to his face just as often as you bring them to Dean's. You're comfortable with him, playfully jabbing his arm or his chest when you mess with him.

Sam takes it with a smile, or a slight roll of his eyes, but always with fondness.

Dean can't help the churning in his stomach. Every time he thinks he has a read on you. Every time he thinks it's safe to maybe, one day, after a hunt, after an episode of Dr. Sexy, after you get out of the shower, after he's made you a home-cooked meal, after you sit with him and talk about everything and nothing while he works on his car — he thinks he might have a shot if he asked you out.

But he always falters, because he just can't fucking tell. He thinks you and Sam have something.

And Dean...he likes you. A lot.

More than he's ever willingly expressed.

But despite his reputation with women, he's never, and will never, step on his brother's toes.

Until he can't help himself.

It's your birthday. Sam got you a series of books he recommended to you last month. (Again, fucking nerds.) Dean got the booze and made the food to celebrate.

But you're surprised, and even a little teary when he brings out the cake he bought at an honest-to-God bakery. He even stood in line, waited 30 minutes to have them write your name on it, with little balloons. The frosting letters are drawn in your favorite color.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean tells you. His tone is a little too soft. It's because he sees your unshed tears, and his heart clenches.

It's just a fucking cake.

Does it really matter that much to you?

But he still feels a well of warmth and pride in his chest. He turns to his brother with a smirk. "I win."

It's meant to be playful, but he kind of means it. Sam just eyes him knowingly.

"Sure," Sam laughs.

What the hell does that mean? Dean nearly frowns. But he's soon distracted — by you leaning in close to kiss him on the cheek.

He turns just in time (with slightly wider eyes) to see you blush.

That smile tells him something.

"Thanks, guys," you say to both of them. But your hand lingers on Dean's wrist, squeezing a bit.

At the end of the night, Sam turns in early. You stick around to help Dean clean up.

"Aw, stop. You're the birthday girl. I got this," Dean says, waving you off. You join him at the kitchen counter and lay a hand on his arm.

"Dean," you say softly. It earns his attention. You look a little nervous, your eyes falling from his, then meeting them again.

"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He's thinking of your lips on his cheek. Unconsciously he glances down at your pretty mouth.

"Was wondering if you could help me with a birthday wish," you said.

A smile begins to tug at your lips, and Dean can't help but smile back. Intrigue, and a small tremor of something triggers up his spine.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asks.

You bite your lip. "Okay...I'm going to ask you this once. Yes or no. And if it's no...then we won't talk about it ever again and you'll have to wipe it out of your memory, because I don't want to make things weird or make you uncomfortable and I don't want to have to do something drastic, like leave the Bunker—"

Dean's smile falls as his brows raise in slight alarm. He also raises placating hands to stop your verbal flapping.

"Whoa, hey. What? What the hell kinda birthday question is this?"

You close your eyes and take a breath. "Okay."

Your eyes open, and as what happens far too often, Dean's captured by them.

"Close your eyes for me," you request.

"My eyes need to be closed to answer a damn question?"

"Damn it, Dean. Just do it, please!"

He lets out a slightly peeved breath, but he obliges you, shutting his lids. He really doesn't know what the hell is going on...until you lay a bracing hand on his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips.

For a moment, he freezes.

He inhales deeply through his nose as the surprise fades.

Relief floods in its wake.

A smile reaches his face.

But soon enough, before you can pull away, he grasps your upper arms to hold you in place. He dips his head down to kiss you in earnest. His lips find yours, gentle at first, and then gaining in passion.

He learns quickly the pattern of your lips, and the heady feeling of that knowing travels straight to his brain, stronger than the whiskey he drank earlier.

It's like you two were made to move together. To end up just like this.

You both are breathless by the time your eyes slide open and meet one another.

Dean's lips curve into a smirk. "How's that answer for ya?"

Your smile is beaming bright.

"Yeah, that works."

Chuckling, he pulls you in closer and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your blush-warmed cheek.

And he answers you again.

AN: Ugh, I'm sappy as hell. 😂 Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. 😉

Read Sam’s version: “Sam reads you wrong.”

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Dean reads you wrong #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #reader requests #ask me stuff #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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puppyplayhouse · 3 days

Text

Step brother Hyunjin things

Warnings: puppy reader, degradation, blackmail, choking at some point, dub con, kissing.

Lil headcanon of mean step bro Hyunjin (who maybe is possessive) being a dick (it's so delicious tho)

Has known you since you were both little because your parents were family friends before their respective divorces, so he knows every button to push.

Constantly using Dad against you. It's a core part of his blackmail, really. Every time you're a little less than compliant, he pulls up one of the thousands of pictures he's taken of you during your times together and asks what you think Dad would have to say about it.

Calls you puppy when people are around just to get you flustered. He's amazing at playing it off so that nobody questions it because well, he's just a good brother and you've always been SO close.

Any time he sees you alone on the couch, he's tugging his pants down and tapping his cock against your cheek. Of course, you protest. You tell him that you don't know when your parents are getting back. He doesn't care, though. He tells you that you should shut up and get to work if you don't want them to find out.

He's not always mean, though. You'd even say he's somewhat nice when you've had a really hard day and you come to him reluctantly, kneeling in front of him because you just can't be in control right now, and he's the only person who can take that from you.

He rewards you so well for that. For any willing submission you offer him, he returns it by making you cum over and over again on his fingers before he fucks you nice and slow, rolling his hips lazily into yours to drag out the low, whimpered moans that you let slip. He's only gentle with you when you earn it.

He loves to make you cum. He loves it even more when your pretty mouth is objecting to it and telling him he shouldn't be doing it, but your hips are bucking against him and your nails are digging into his arm in a pathetic attempt to ground yourself.

And he takes pictures every time. Sometimes, he'll force you to pose and use his fancy camera. Those are the more tasteful shots of you in pretty lingerie with wide doe eyes. Other times he's using his phone to capture the tears that spill down your cheeks as you gag around the length of his cock. He loves both equally.

He always has to degrade you. He'll pin you down completely still the movement of his hips as he makes you beg, always something along the lines of "C'mon, puppy. You were all talk before begging me to stop and now you're panting like a bitch in heat. Tell me you want it. That's it, more. I know you can do better than that. Tell me you're my worthless slut."

He knows you like it because your pussy is always dripping and practically pulses around him.

He would never admit it, but after a while you become the only person he fucks. Sure, he could have his pick, but he knows nobody else would look as cute as you do when you're staring up at him wide, panicked eyes, and tear stained cheeks.

He fucking loves seeing you cry. He loves watching you bite your pillow when he finds you laid on your bed and forces your pants down without a word, easily sliding his cock inside of you because you're always soaked at this point.

At some point he starts making you tell him that you love him. He has a firm grip of your throat and you're overstimulated to the point of becoming delirious as he uses one of your toys on you, thrusting it in an out of your aching cunt. "Tell me, and I'll stop, yeah? All you have to do is tell me how much you love me."

And you do. You say it like a prayer. You say it over and over again even after he's stopped, and he's got your cheeks cradled in his hands, cooing at you because you took everything he gave you without a complaint this time.

He was recording it, of course.

Recording you is his second favourite form of torture. He has so many videos of you sat pretty between his legs, your hands in fist infront of you like little paws as your tongue sticks out of your mouth, drool dripping down onto his lap to create a messy wet patch on the fabric of his pants. Those are his favourite to get himself off to.

Sweet brother Hyunjin is always nice enough to let you know when he's getting himself off to you. Which is every time. He sends you videos and pictures of his gorgeous cock fucking up into his hand and it's the only time he seems out of control, desperate for it to be you that he was burying his cock into instead.

Very rarely does he lay back and let you do the work. He likes taking charge and making a mess of you, but very rarely when you're being a good dog and sitting patiently, waiting almost excitedly for his next round of abuse, he lets you do the work. He'll pat his lap and wait for you to climb on top of him, watching in amusement as you fumble with his zipper and shove his pants down, messily grinding yourself against his bulge until he quietly tells you that if you don't move on, he'll leave.

You always perk up at that, taking it less as a threat and more as permission to sink yourself down on his cock. This is when he praises you.

He tells you how pretty you look and that you take his cock so fucking well, looking up at you with something akin to adoration sparkling in his eyes. He might even kiss you. His kisses are the ultimately reward, always slow and sensual. You become ravenous when he kisses you.

Maybe he'll even tell you he loves you. That you're his favourite puppy. He knows he loves you, and he has accepted that. But maybe he'll let you know when your grinding down onto his cock like the well trained mutt he has made you into.

He doesn't make it too sweet though. More like, "that's it. Take my cock, baby. Fuck, I love you. My desperate little slut. All fucking mine, yeah?"

#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut

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javier-pena · 4 months

Text

quicksand

Pairing: Pedro's unnamed character in Materialists x f!reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You meet a stranger at a party.

Notes: Last week I saw these behind the scenes shots of Pedro in Materialists and somehow I had to write 8,000 words about that? I'm also not quite sure what happened, it was supposed to be like 3k max. There was also this ask Han @swiftispunk received that I couldn't get out of my head. The title is inspired by Ms Swift's song Treacherous (And I'll do anything you say / If you say it with your hands / And I'd be smart to walk away / But you're quicksand), the rest is inspired by going completely feral whenever new pictures dropped. Tremendous thanks to Dani @alexturner who just beta'd a long-ass fic last week and then this fic this week - you're being way too good to me with indulging all thoughts I have that I have to turn into short stories 🫣 My dear, sweet anon who kept sending me encouraging asks, this is for you!!

***

There’s laughter coming from downstairs, deep, rumbling laughter impossible to ignore. Your whole body seems to shake with it, your heart stutters in your chest angrily, and you press your hands over your ears. But the loud voices are still there, mocking you with their indifference to your pain. You bury your face in your cool satin pillow and sob into it, ruining the expensive fabric. You don’t fucking care.

All your friends warned you this would happen and you hate how they were right. “You’re nothing but a toy to him.” Shut up, Marissa, you’re just jealous. “Maybe you should look for a boyfriend who’s closer to you in age.” Maybe you should look for a boyfriend, period. “You’re only a fuckmaid to him, do you realize that?” That was the point you stopped listening to them and, at the same time, it was the point you should have started listening.

You are nothing but a toy to him. You should have looked for someone closer to you in age. You are … no, you can’t bring yourself to even think the word, because the truth hurts too much. The truth and your blindness and your stupidity and the fact that you’re throwing your life away for a man who breaks every promise he makes and who treats you like a pet. A beautiful, expensive pet that can be ignored whenever it’s convenient.

“Come with me to the Keys,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hotter than his steadily cooling release sticking to your thighs.

“What?” you asked, heart clenching painfully. When was the last time he cared enough to make you come? Months ago?

“Come with me to the Keys,” he repeated. “The change of scenery will be good for us. I’ll show you around. We can go deep sea fishing. I’ll buy you some dresses and bathing suits. Just take my card tomorrow.”

He brushed your hair away from your neck, kissed the skin there, cupped one of your breasts, squeezed it hard. “Piers,” you warned, tried to get away from him. But there was nowhere to go.

The truth is you had been looking forward to his trip. Had been looking forward to having the apartment to yourself for a while. It’s not like you would’ve done anything in particular except just breathe for once.

“Don’t be like that,” he mumbled against your neck, squeezed your breast again. “Don’t you want to sip on a nice cocktail? Wear a risqué outfit for me?”

No, you didn’t want that. But if you didn’t say yes soon, he’d get angry. “Okay,” you gave in. “But you have to promise me that you’ll spend one day with me. No business.”

What’s easily promised is easily broken.

Today is supposed to be your day. And for once in your life, you thought it would be. Piers took you out for breakfast, right by the water. You watched the sunshine dance across the waves. Then he showed you around town, took you to his favorite spots in Key West, even held your hand. And you thought, This is it. I’m finally worthy of him. Then came the call, followed by those emails, and suddenly Piers was like, “Sorry, babe, I have to meet them, they’re important business partners. Why don’t you go to the beach club, buy yourself a nice massage? Here’s my card.”

Here's my card. You’ve never hated three words more.

What you didn’t expect was to come home to a party. At least twenty men were milling around the house Piers liked to refer to as his “Key West Residence”, a late 19th century villa. Twenty loud men, rich like Piers, most of them his age, leering at you as you stepped through the front door, mistaking you for tonight’s entertainment.

“Babe!” Piers boomed, spilling half his drink while opening his arms as if he meant to hug you. The glances didn’t stop. “Go upstairs, freshen up, put on something nice, and then let me show you off.”

You managed to complete the first step before breaking down on your bed. You’ve been sobbing ever since.

Something breaks downstairs and some of the men roar. You bury your face deeper against the pillow, terrified to go back downstairs, terrified to stay up here. Whatever you do, it will be the wrong thing. You close your eyes and think about what it would be like if the men downstairs vanished. If you had the house to yourself, sharing it with a person you loved and who loved you in return. You could be having dinner on the patio now. Before that, you might go for a swim in the pool, knowing the only eyes on you were your partner’s, the only glances you received were welcome.

You sit up straight. You might hate it when Piers’ business partners look at you like you’re a piece of meat, but Piers hates it too if they don’t do it without being invited. Twenty men imagining all the vile ways in which they could fuck you is the last thing you want right now, but it’s also the last thing Piers wants.

You stumble into the bathroom and wash your face with ice cold water, willing the puffiness of your eyes to recede. You put on your most expensive makeup, the kind that only comes off with intensive scrubbing, then you pick your most revealing bikini and put it on. If those men stared at you like that in a long sundress, their heads will probably explode if they see you like this.

Chin held high, beach towel thrown over your shoulder, you make your way downstairs on high heels the same shade of black as your bikini. You feel utterly stupid, like you’re giving them exactly what they want, but the flush that spreads across Piers’ cheeks when he sees you is worth it. There are some whistles, a few crude comments, one man slaps your ass, but you make it to the pool. None of them are brave enough to follow you outside.

The water is cool against your skin, doing its best to extinguish the fire that burns within you. The flames don’t die down completely but they’re certainly soothed. You start to swim, one length, then three, and soon the party resumes and the men pick up their conversations again. This almost feels normal; this almost feels like a life you could enjoy. Except that you’re alone. And not in a way you crave.

You stop swimming and start drifting on your back, watching the sky above turn from a gentle blue into a soft pink, a bright orange, a deep purple. Soon, the sun will go down and the party will pick up speed. You should go, put on a dress, let Piers show you off, vanish before they’ve had too much alcohol.

You climb out of the pool, squeeze water out of your hair, wrap the towel around yourself. No one is paying attention to you now, so you pick up your heels to carry them back upstairs. There’s no way you’ll make it back to your room without one or two unwanted glances, without the odd rude comment, but you can live with that. You step onto the patio, eyes firmly fixed on your destination, then start walking through the gathering, careful not to look at anyone, careful not to be seen.

Someone sees you though. It’s not Piers, and it also isn’t one of the men who look at you and lick their lips. It’s someone watching you from the shadows, someone on one of the chairs in the parlor. Keep your eyes on the stairs, you tell yourself. Nothing good can come from this. While you were in the pool, Piers must have turned on the music, old jazz songs he always plays when he wants to appear sophisticated. The tinny sounds of saxophones make your ears ring, irritating you more than the heavy smell of cigar smoke that seems to be seeping into every corner of the house. You feel horrible between all those men dressed in their suits, even with the towel covering most of your skin. And you wish that one man would stop watching you because it makes you feel hunted, makes your body beg to run and hide.

At the foot of the stairs you pause, your heart in your throat. A man brushes past you, pretending like there is only so little room he has to press his palm against the small of your back. You turn around looking for Piers, ready to pretend you have a horrific migraine and won’t be joining him after all, when your eyes land on the man who is making the hair at the back of your neck stand with his unrelenting gaze.

You can’t see him properly because he’s half hidden behind the door to the parlor, a room that’s devoid of proper lighting and full of cigar smoke. But you see his dark eyes on you, feel them look right through you, see you for who you are, while he laughs at something the man next to him is saying. You crane your neck to get a better look at him but two other men walk past, obscuring your view. When they spot you and start to make their way toward you, you bolt up the stairs. At least no one will dare to follow you up here.

*******

“There she is!” Piers announces later, opening his arms wide again. He doesn’t spill his drink this time. You step into his embrace and let him kiss your cheek. “Took you long enough, doll.” You hate it when he calls you that, but you keep on smiling. Then he leans closer and whispers, “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Letting another man touch you! What’s wrong with you?”

So it did bother him after all. It should make you feel proud, but it only makes you feel empty. “I’m sorry,” you whisper back and kiss him. Someone at the back of the room whistles.

“Just try to behave for the rest of the night,” he says coldly, then smiles at you and asks in his loud business voice, “Isn’t she lovely?”

Some of the men nod but none dare to look at you directly. Not when Piers has his arm slung around your shoulder anyway.

“How about a drink?” he asks you and when you nod, he takes your hand and leads you toward the bar at the back of the parlor. You follow him, shivering slightly from the evening breeze blowing in through the open French doors. The smoke in the room makes your eyes sting.

With practiced ease, Piers fills a sparkling glass with vodka and soda, adding a bit of lime juice. You try to ignore the man who is standing a little bit too close to you, whose eyes hang a little bit too low.

“Here you are.” Piers hands you the glass. “I have something to discuss with those gentlemen over there,” he nods at two men standing by the door to his study, “but I shouldn’t be too long. Try not to cause too much of a scene while I’m gone.”

You close your fingers around the glass and nod. All you want to do is run.

As soon as he’s gone, they start to close in on you. It’s what Piers wants. He wants others to desire what belongs to him – his apartment, his car, his life. You’re part of all of that. He wants these men to desire you, to think they can have you. You should have listened to your friends, to Marissa and Annie and all the others. If you had, you might hate yourself less.

You know they all want to talk to you and they won’t take no for an answer, so you start to make your way toward the open French doors to escape into the garden. If you stand right at the edge, you can hear the waves whisper and feel the ocean breeze on your face. And if you keep still long enough, they might forget about you.

You don’t even make it out the door before your eyes start to wander from the lush green bushes and trees outside and land on a man sitting in a leather armchair close to the open doors. You don’t know if it’s the same one whose gaze you felt on you earlier, but there’s something about him that makes it hard for you to look away. He’s in the middle of a conversation, one leg comfortably slung across the other, ankle resting against thigh. One of his hands is spread on his knee, his fingers stroking and tapping the expensive fabric of his back dress pants in a nervous tick. His other hand is wrapped around a glass full of amber liquid that he takes a swig from right as you walk past, pretending not to notice how the muscles in his neck work as he swallows, pretending not to notice the gold ring on his little finger that clinks against the glass as he lowers it again.

Your own drink untouched, you stand on the patio, off to the side where you hope no one will notice you but where you can look at that stranger from time to time. You don’t think you’ve seen him before, but you don’t usually pay a lot of attention to Piers’ associates. None of the men here this evening look familiar. Still, there is something about the way this man runs his fingers through his dark curls from time to time, the way he tries to smooth the wrinkles in his white shirt, the way he takes a drag from a big, dark brown cigar once in a while that makes it impossible for you to look away. Until another man demands your attention.

“Hi there,” he says, his laugh showing off perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “I’m Hutton.”

You think about saying, “And I’m not interested,” but to Piers that would probably count as causing a scene. And Hutton looks like he’s one of the younger men here, probably in his late 30s. There are worse guys to talk to. “Hi,” you reply with a sweet smile.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” He steps closer to you, encouraged by your smile.

“Yes,” you reply. “So how do you know Piers?”

If he’s annoyed by you bringing up your boyfriend right away, he doesn’t let it show. “We work together,” he answers, which could mean anything in Piers’s world.

“And what brings you to Key West?”

“The scenery,” Hutton answers, not even trying to hide his hungry gaze that glides over your naked shoulders and cleavage.

“I thought it was business,” you say, your smile faltering slightly. “Seeing you’re here.”

“I try not to mix business with pleasure.” Hutton leans against the small sliver of wall between the French doors and the corner of the house. “It’s neither good for business nor pleasure.”

You hum, trying to take a step back. You’re already at the edge of the patio though, and you almost stumble off it, losing your footing.

Hutton grabs your arm and pulls you toward him. “Careful there, pretty girl.”

You try to pull your arm back but he won’t let go. “Thank you,” you say at the same time as he says, “Have you ever thought about exchanging Piers for a younger model?”

It didn’t take him more than a few words exchanged to get to the point.

You yank your arm free but he grabs it again. “Stop it,” you command in your strictest voice but he only grins at you.

“Don’t be like this. I’m only fooling around.”

“Then let go of me.” He doesn’t.

You’re about to throw your drink in his face, even if it means Piers will be angry with you again, when someone steps out onto the patio.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

He’s standing right there, one hand in the pocket of his dark pants, the other holding his cigar. Shame washes over you and your palms grow sweaty. You really don’t need this right now. But Hutton immediately lets go of you and turns to face the newcomer.

“We’re good here, thanks,” he says, his jaw clenched.

The stranger takes his time to take a drag on his cigar, lets out the smoke while looking up at the now deep purple evening sky. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” he asks and Hutton lets out a sigh.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” he asks.

The stranger shrugs.

You glance into the parlor, at all the men milling about, wondering if you could make your escape without anyone noticing. But there is something in the way the stranger holds himself that makes you want to stay and find out how this ends. Piers, by now, would have rushed past Hutton, a snarl on his lips, his anger directed at you. The stranger just stands there, his shoulders relaxed, acting as if he doesn’t even particularly care that you and Hutton are out here on the patio as well. It’s a different kind of threat … a different kind of protectiveness.

Hutton turns to you. “Are you coming?”

You shake your head and with a roll of his eyes and an annoyed, “Whatever,” he vanishes into the house, leaving you alone with him.

The silence unbearable, you say, “Thank you.”

He takes another drag on his cigar, then comes closer to you. You ignore how your heart flutters at his approach. He reaches for your hand and for a wild moment you think he’s going to grab your arm too, but he only takes the drink from your hand, sniffs the contents of the glass, then dumps it over the edge of the patio. “Let’s get you a proper drink,” he says.

You’re too stunned to do much more than follow him back into the house and toward the bar. Around you, the volume has risen since you stepped out onto the patio, but you don’t care as much as you did before. It’s hard to care about anything when your stomach is in a tight knot and when you feel like the world around you has gone completely quiet.

The man steps behind the bar, gently places his cigar in an ashtray, then regards the collection of bottles before him with his hands on his hips. “You don’t look like a vodka girl to me,” he mumbles, and you feel your face grow hot. You don’t know why. “Here.” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vermouth. You only now notice how big his hands are, and your mind immediately starts to replay the evening. His hand on his knee, his hand around his glass, his hand … You shake your head, but the shiny gold ring on his little finger glitters enticingly as he unscrews the bottle of vermouth to smell the alcohol within. It’s like you’re a magpie, enchanted by everything that glitters.

“Sweet enough,” he concludes, pouring a little vermouth and a lot of whiskey into a martini glass. Then he goes through all the bottles once more until he finds one of lavender bitter and adds it to the mix.

“What is that?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m not done yet.” There’s a small jar of cocktail cherries he unscrews. With skilled movements, he skewers two of them onto a silver cocktail stick before handing you the glass. The mix inside is orange on top, a reddish purple deeper below. It looks like the sunset you watched earlier.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Taste it,” he tells you, an eager glint in his eyes.

You take a careful sip and widen your eyes in surprise at the strong yet sweet taste. “Oh, this is really good!”

“It’s sweet, like you,” he says, then seems to change his mind, adopting a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “It’s a Manhattan. That’s where you belong, not in this tourist trash kind of town.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, I like it here.”

The bar is still between you but he leans on it to get closer to you. “I bet you would also like Manhattan if I showed you around.”

“I’m from Manhattan,” you tell him. “I live there, actually.”

“I do too,” he responds. “Funny how we should run into each other here, of all places.”

You inhale shakily. You don’t know why. “If you hate it here so much, what are you doing here?”

He smiles at you, and you’re sure your heart stops. “I heard you talk to that other guy. I’m not here to have a conversation like that with you.”

You take another sip from your cocktail even though it makes your head spin. “What are you here for then?”

“That’s just another way of asking me what I’m doing here, angel eyes,” he points out. He does it so smoothly you almost don’t notice the diminutive.

You straighten your back, only now realizing you were leaning on the bar close to him. He mirrors you, then walks around the wood between you so he can stand directly next to you. “You tell me what you want to talk about then. After all, you approached me, you made me a drink, you wanted to whisk me off to Manhattan.”

“That was before I realized how worldly you are,” he says and his smile turns sly.

“Oh?” you make. You swallow. “Am I too difficult for you then?”

“I like a challenge.”

This is where you should stop. This is where you should thank him again for rescuing you, and for the drink, and where you should walk away to find your boyfriend, who surely has to be done with his meeting by now. But how can you step away when he’s still smiling at you as if he’s having the time of his life, when you felt drawn to him all evening, when having his eyes on you makes you feel truly seen? Yes, he isn’t exactly subtle in the way he flirts with you, but there is a kindness in his gaze you’ve never seen on another man before. And then he touches you, straightening the strap of your short, tight dress, and your whole body comes alive.

“You know smoking is bad for you, right?” is the only thing you can come up with, willing your voice to remain steady.

“I like things that are bad for me,” he replies.

It’s such a cheesy line, it makes you want to bury your face in your hands. But, god, does talking to him make you feel good.

“Ha!” He points at you. “That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen all evening.

“Call me ‘sweet’ again and you might see some more,” you retort. All you want to do is to tell him you don’t mind his harmless flirting, that whatever this is between you is fun, but it comes out heavy with implications. Implications you can’t take back because you don’t want to.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and you think you might die. “You’re very brave.” It’s a statement. “I saw you walk to the pool earlier in –”

“I know,” you interrupt him. “I saw you watching me.”

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. “It made me want to kiss you.”

You freeze. There is nothing you can say that won’t end badly for you. “So you made me a drink instead?”

He plucks the cocktail stick out of your glass and holds it up to your mouth. You close your lips around the first cocktail cherry and pull it off slowly, your eyes fixed to his. It might just be the low lighting but you think his pupils dilate. He drops the stick back into the glass and takes a big swig of your drink, his eyes momentarily leaving yours. You do your best not to watch his throat as he swallows.

“You really are something,” he concludes, putting down the glass on the bar.

You feel lightheaded, as if you’d just made out with him for half an hour. “I’m also in a relationship.” The words are out before you can stop yourself. You didn’t mean to say them.

“I don’t give a damn.”

You giggle, actually giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You sound like the hero in one of those ancient black-and-white movies.”

“Or maybe I’m the villain.”

This time you do bury your face in your hands. “Oh, stop it.”

“No,” he simply says, and you get it. You want to kiss him too.

Instead, you glance at the small gold wrist watch on your arm. “It’s late. I should –”

He interrupts you. “Don’t –,” but you don’t let him finish.

“Thank you for the drink. And thank you for making me laugh. You made this whole thing bearable.”

You don’t know if you should shake his hand or kiss his cheek so you don’t do any of it. You pat his arm, once, trying not to notice how it feels against your palm, then walk toward the stairs, your heart breaking with each step. If you were single, you wouldn’t have hesitated to sleep with this man. If you weren’t Piers’ girlfriend, he would never have looked your way. It’s better to end it here.

The quietness of your room engulfs you, just like the soothing coolness of the pool earlier. As soon as you close the door behind you and lean against it, you can breathe. Yes, you can still hear the sounds of the party, but they’re muffled. You can finally hear yourself think again and you exhale shakily. You almost made the biggest mistake of your life. The adrenaline rush you got from it makes you snicker.

Piers isn’t entirely faithful. He attends parties with strippers, he looks at other women, you know all that. But it doesn’t mean anything because at the end of the day he comes home to you. What you just did … it goes beyond everything Piers has ever done, and you wouldn’t have been able to look at yourself in the mirror if you had spent one more minute in the presence of that handsome stranger. Even if your flirting made you happier than Piers has in months.

There’s a knock at your door and you jump. Expecting Piers, you open it without a second thought. “I’ll be right …,” you start but forget every word in the English language when you come face to face with the stranger.

“Hello,” he says, and that handsome smile is back on his face, even if he keeps a careful distance. “You vanished so quickly it made me wonder … did I do something wrong?”

“What?” you ask because it’s the only word you can remember.

“I’ll go back downstairs if you don’t want me here,” he goes on, “just say the word.”

They never come up the stairs. Never. Who does he think he is? “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just tired.” You try to close the door in his face, but he steps closer, bracing a hand against the wooden doorframe. “Excuse me,” you say insistently.

“Can I come in?”

Into your room? “Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you reject him. You laugh, but it sounds insincere. “You should go back downstairs.”

“Alright,” he agrees, “but you have to say it like you mean it.”

“Listen here,” you start in your best no-nonsense voice. He tightens his grip on the wood and you hear it creak, despite the noise downstairs. “I want you to …”

It’s no use. You don’t know who he is, you don’t even know his name, but you also know that if you don’t let yourself have this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

“You need to say the words, sweet –”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You both freeze. His mouth hangs open, still in the middle of forming the next word he wanted to say. You tense, well aware that you said something you can not take back.

The few seconds that pass feel like an eternity. Then he pushes himself past the doorframe into your room, into your personal space. You smell the heavy scent of cigar smoke on him, you smell leather and lavender and citrus. You see his smile that turns into something more determined the closer he gets to you. You notice the stubble on his cheek, the glint in his eyes, the small dark spot on the collar of his white shirt. You feel … you feel his body pressing against yours, his hand pressing against the small of your back, his breath on your face, and then everything is reduced to his lips on yours, your breaths mingling, his … his tongue coaxing you open, not gently but insistent, and you not hesitating to open yourself up for him.

It's as if you’re watching it all from above, you pushing him backward, him closing the door with a hard slam, the both of you pulling at each other while kissing and kissing and …

“Careful,” he chuckles when you bite down on his bottom lip. “You said kiss, not –”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said,” you interrupt him, pulling his shirt out of his pants.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says and grabs your wrist.

You groan. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “I’m not. You’re just … We’re doing this on my terms or not at all.”

Something throbs deep within your core.

He tightens his hold on you. “I’ve had all evening to think about this. To picture all the things I want to do to you.”

“It’s not going to be just kissing then?” you ask, relishing the chuckle you draw out of him.

“I knew I wouldn’t leave here tonight without feeling your pretty little cunt clench around me.”

It sounds like a line straight out of a porn movie. You should laugh, tell him to take you seriously. But all you can do is whimper at the thought of him sitting in his chair downstairs, talking to one of Piers’ associates or even Piers himself while thinking about being buried deep inside of you. Every other man would send you fleeing. Not him though.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Does it matter? Once I’m done with you, you’ll have forgotten your own name.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Those are some big words,” you point out.

He lets go of your wrist, then bunches the fabric of your dress up in his hand until he can reach below the hem, his broad, warm hand landing on your naked skin, his ring digging into your soft flesh. You gasp.

“Do you really think I’d disappoint you?”

“No,” you say too quickly, too rashly.

He grabs your dress again. “How about you take this off for me?”

“No,” you repeat, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh at the look of shock on his face. Then you turn around. “I can’t really open the zipper without some assistance.”

He runs both his hands over your naked shoulders and down to the middle of your back. You expect him to take his time, but he yanks the zipper down so quickly you think you hear fabric tear. You almost don’t have enough time to slip out of the thin shoulder straps before he falls to his knees behind you, pulling the dress with him. His hands are on your butt cheeks now, massaging, grabbing you as if he’s set on memorizing every detail. He slips his thumb under the hem of your panties, dips the tip into the wetness there.

You gasp at the same time as he whispers, “Knew it.”

You pull him away from you and turn around, well aware you’re completely naked except for your panties. “Well, it’s hardly surprising,” you start, your voice airy, but then it dies down completely at the sight of him kneeling in front of you looking up at you with so much heat in his gaze you’re getting burned. How did you get here?

You want him to tease you back, but he only pulls you close, his hands clasping your hips insistently, and kisses your belly, right above the hem of your panties. Then he kisses your thighs and your sides, and your belly button, and then he pulls down your panties and buries his face in your wetness with a relieved sigh. Your hands shoot forward and grab his curls, dig into them, desperate for purchase, as your head swims from the overstimulation. You would like to focus on the feeling of his hair between your fingers. You would like to focus on his tongue swirling around your clit. You would like to focus on the growl he makes when you run your nails over his scalp.

You think you’re laughing. You think you say, “Does that still count as kissing?”

“Yes,” he mumbles against the soft skin of your thighs. His curls are already a mess, his face is flushed, but when he glances up at you, his eyes are bright with determination.

“I think you have to show me that definition of kissing someday,” you go on, glancing up at the ceiling. You can’t look at him directly, it feels too intimate.

“That’s enough talking,” he decides and licks a broad stripe across your drenched folds.

You tighten your grip on his curls in response because your legs start to quiver. You hope he doesn’t notice, but his fingers dig into your thighs to steady you. The edges of his ring are cutting into you almost painfully – you want more of it. His hair wrapped around your fingers you pull him closer into you and he moans against you … actually moans. You push away those thoughts that make you compare him to Piers, how Piers would never moan if he was between your legs, how Piers never eats you out. This isn’t about him – it’s about you.

There’s something in the way that stranger rolls and flicks his tongue that tells you he won’t make you wait for an orgasm. You want to hold on longer because you can’t bear the thought of this being over already, but there is something in the way he devours you that pushes you toward the edge at a rapid speed. You don’t even hear the sounds of the party anymore, the laughter, the music; it’s just him and his deep sighs and moans.

You’re almost embarrassed by how fast you come. One second you’re appreciating the way his tongue flicks your clit, the next you can barely stay upright when your whole body releases months and months of built-up tension. You quiver in his grip and he holds you close, licking and licking until you can’t take it anymore. You think you mumble, “Fuckfuckfuck,” but there is no way to be sure. All you know is that you just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

You laugh as if the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders. What else is there to do? “So this is doing things on your terms?” you ask.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You think you might explode at that sight. “No, that was for your benefit. The rest is going to be for mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance over your shoulder at your bed that’s rumpled from you crying on it earlier. If he can make you feel like that with just his tongue, what will he be –

“No, sugar, not like that,” he tells you, immediately pulling your attention back to him.

Your throat is dry when you ask, “What then?”

He stands and cups your cheek, his hand pleasantly warm. You lean into the touch immediately. “Don’t be so impatient. Enjoy the moment for a while.”

“What moment …?” you start but you don’t get far. He claims your mouth in a searing kiss that makes you wish you had been paying more attention to what he was doing when he was eating you out. You kiss him back, slinging your arms around his neck, the soft fabric of his white shirt rubbing against your naked chest. He licks across your bottom lip until you open your mouth for him, and then he claims you like no one has before. You fear that if you start thinking about how you can taste yourself on him, you’ll go insane.

“You’re so easy to kiss,” he mumbles against your lips. You’re not quite sure how he means it, but your chest still expands at the compliment.

“And you’re very handsome,” you retort lamely.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about telling me all evening?”

“No,” you reply too slowly this time.

He kisses your temple, then brings his mouth right next to your ear. “I’ve been thinking about watching myself fuck you.”

He doesn’t give you time to process, takes you over to the vanity that stands opposite your bed, its mirror dull in the dim light of the room. Even when he places your hands on the table top, telling you to hold on, you still don’t think he’s serious. You look at yourself in the mirror, at the makeup smudges below your eyes, the birth mark on your throat that you hate, how your mouth hangs open in a way that looks so very unsexy. Behind you, that stranger you invited into your room, this man you know nothing about, is unbuttoning his expensive dress pants, his white shirt obscuring the view. What does he see in you that makes him want you like this?

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s holding himself now, but you can’t see his hand moving without turning around. And he didn’t tell you you’re allowed to look. Your palms begin to sweat against the wooden surface of the vanity, at the thought of him telling you what you are and aren’t allowed to do, at him praising you for doing well and punishing you if you don’t. You don’t recognize that side of yourself.

His eyes are open again and he searches for yours in the mirror. “I asked you a question.”

You swallow hard. “No, I don’t,” you say, fighting down a giggle. It’s nerves.

“I’d better show you then,” he concludes, and he pushes inside of you with one hard stroke, filling you faster than you can spread your legs.

You both take a moment to breathe. He adjusts himself, you try to get used to the angle, the feeling of fullness. You haven’t seen his hard cock, but you know he’s more than Piers, so much more the stretch is almost uncomfortable. The wood beneath your fingers starts to swim when your vision blurs and –

“No, none of that.” He grips your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “I’ve also been thinking about you watching me fuck you.”

His hand looks so big holding your face like that, and when you swallow again, he can feel it against his fingers.

His own face is right there next to yours, his eyes firmly fixed to yours through the glass. “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can take it.”

Before you can think of anything to say, he pulls out of you and thrusts back in in a tentative motion that is enough for your eyes to flutter shut in pleasure.

“No, no, no,” he whispers into your ear. “Keep them open.”

You do as you’re told and he rewards you with a sharp bite to the spot where your neck meets your shoulders. Your hips thrust back of their own accord, meeting his in a quick snap.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he mumbles against your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were making any, too transfixed by watching him move behind you. Whenever your gaze wavers and flutters to your own face, embarrassment sends adrenaline shooting through your body. But he … watching his shoulders and arms tense and relax beneath his shirt that looks all too tight now, watching him meet your gaze, eyes full of lust … you don’t know why you would fuck anyone any other way than this.

He straightens his back, changing the angle slightly, and now you do hear yourself groan. He grabs your chin tighter and pushes two fingers into your mouth. “You know,” he says, and his hips snap with more force, faster, making the vanity rattle beneath your hands, “if you were mine, I’d let no man touch you. I would’ve broken his arm.”

It takes you a few seconds to figure out what he means; you’re too busy relishing the taste of his skin on your tongue. There must have been a man who touched you … when you were coming down the stairs … You can see it all clearly now. He would grab that man’s arm, calm and collected, twist it, make him shout in surprise … you can almost hear the bones snap.

“Oh, look at that,” he groans, and you do. You look at yourself in the mirror, unashamed, eyes wide. You watch how you eagerly suck and lick his fingers, watch it as if another person was doing it. You’re trembling in his grip … or is he making everything shake with his thrusts that are coming faster and faster now as he fucks you, taking what he needs? “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You almost don’t hear him, too transfixed by how depraved he’s making you feel. “You’d get off on that, a good man protecting you. Shame I’m not good, really.”

You don’t care. You’re done with those men who act politely, who treat you with care when they know Piers is around, but who talk about you taking it up the ass when your back is turned. You’d much rather have this, a man who isn’t scared to say these things to your face. Even if he thinks he isn’t all good, he still protected you.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you whimper at the loss, watching how a thread of spit connecting his digits to your lips breaks. With his other hand, he suddenly grabs one of your breasts, squeezing your hard nipple with practiced ease, and you arch your back with a moan, exposing your throat to him. His fingers close around it, hard, restricting the airflow, his ring pressing against one of the most vulnerable spots of your body in a way that doesn’t leave any room for doubt – you’re doing this on his terms.

He tightens his grip on your throat until you start seeing stars, the loosens it. “I’m going to make you come now. I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what you look like coming around my cock.”

If you could, you would nod, but he isn’t looking for your consent. He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger one last time, then lowers his hand to find your clit. When he touches you, you make a sound like never before, one that’s feral and animalistic and can’t possibly be coming from you.

He shushes you, his breath tickling your neck. “You don’t want anyone to hear us.”

You don’t? You have no idea. You can’t form a single coherent thought as he pounds into you, making sure you’ll be able to feel him long after he’s done with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your voice is breathless after that scream, hoarse and raw. Your gaze flickers to his fingers curled tightly around your neck.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, baby girl,” he orders.

Baby girl.

That’s what does it. You watch your eyes widen and your mouth fall open as your body shakes first from his thrusts and then from wave after wave of pleasure. He was right. You love this. You love watching yourself come while he forces you to watch yourself, love to watch your orgasm play out across your face. He’s watching you too, licking his lips hungrily, never faltering. But you can see it in his eyes, the way he’s memorizing every detail of your orgasm.

“Well done,” he says once you’re done and moves your chin so he can kiss your lips.

Then he suddenly pushes you down so your chest connects with the table top. You grunt in surprise, then in pain when he rolls your head to the side so you can still somewhat glimpse his reflection above you.

“My turn,” he growls.

His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, his eyes are firmly fixed on his own reflection, and he holds you down with such a strong grip you can’t move, but also in a way that’s so casual it makes you feel like he’s using you. Your heart stutters with longing so intense at that thought that the feeling spreads to the rest of your body and becomes so intense he feels it in his own. At least you think that is what’s going on when he smiles down on you.

The position you’re in and the tenderness between your legs steadily turns from pleasurable to uncomfortable to simply too much. But he doesn’t finish. He keeps going and going, not as fast as before, seemingly transfixed by what you’re doing. You reach back for him and he grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back.

“Please,” you whimper, and it makes his intense gaze falter for just one second.

“Almost there, baby girl,” he replies, “you’re doing so well. Just keep taking it a little while longer.” You think you could bear anything if he just kept talking to you like that.

Then suddenly it’s over. There is one last thrust that pushes you onto the tips of your toes and then he stills. The only movement comes from his hips that are twitching as he empties himself inside of you. You don’t even dare to breathe, watching as his reflection slowly relaxes and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

Finally, he pulls out of you and you try to stand, but he pushes you back down again. “Stay. We’re not done yet.”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, but your mind is blank, unable to imagine what else he could have in store for you. You don’t feel anything at first, you just hear him moan, and then you realize he’s kneeling behind you, cleaning you up with his tongue, eagerly licking his own release off your skin. It makes you feel so lewd you forget about everything, even Piers. Especially when he doesn’t stop at your thighs but moves further and further up your legs until his tongue and nose are buried in your folds once more and he’s spreading you open with his big hands.

You can’t help it.

“Fuck, fu- I- I’m gonna –”

There’s no time for you to finish the warning before you’re coming a third time, your hips desperately twitching against the vanity. He licks you through it, catching every last drop you’re giving him on his tongue. You can’t tell for sure but you think he’s chuckling and for some reason the shame you feel turns you on even more.

When it’s all over, he peels you off the vanity and pulls you into his arms, brushing your hair out of your face that is sticky with sweat. “You sure are a greedy little thing,” he says before he kisses you tenderly.

You swallow a sob and give him a sigh instead.

“Half the people downstairs probably heard us.” There’s a big grin on his face at that thought.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you repeat your earlier sentiment, surprised to discover that it’s true.

“Someone wants to get caught,” he teases and kisses you again.

“What I want is for you to fuck me like that again.”

“Oh, baby girl.” You almost hate how he’s already figured out what hearing him call you that does to you. “There are a million more things I want to do with you. This was just a taste.”

You’re not sure if you can believe him, but you decide to indulge that fantasy. You put on your sweetest smile. “Can’t wait.”

He lets go of you and walks toward your door. “Why don’t you give me a call once you’re back in Manhattan.”

A red warning light switches on somewhere in your brain. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Something tells me you’ll find out.” And with that, he’s gone.

#materialists fanfiction #materialists #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #is this anything?#quicksand

322 notes · View notes

nouvxllev · 6 months

Note

hey! can i get something like... Vada cavell x Fem reader? R is in a bar playing pool but she is terrible at it. Vada is enchanted by R and approaches her but R doesn't pay much attention to Vada. Vada then makes a bet that if she wins the pool match against R, she will get a kiss.

you can make the ending with R liking Vada and going home with her. smut if you want and g!p if u want

first fuck

Pairing: G!p!Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^^ request!!

Words: 4.0k (was not expecting this is THAT long)

Warnings: smut. i think thats painfully obvious. but also a little fluff, bottomvadabottomvadabottomvadaholyshit, i love a confident to awkward little guy vada cavell

a/n: thank you for your request anon!! much appreciated, hope ive fulfilled it

masterlist.

Vada wasn't what you'd call someone who's great at pool, 8ball, or billiards, whatever you'd call it.

She'd boast about being 'somewhat decent' at the game even though her skills barely lined between the basics and knowing nothing at all.

She manages to win a few games here and there, but she doesn't really think winning a game against her 11 year old sister would be much of a win situation.

You on the other hand, the prettiest girl that Vada was definitely not watching for the past 20 minutes trying to pocket atleast one ball, basics were definitely not your thing. Or maybe you just skimmed it all and let it go through the other ear with how absolutely terrible you are playing.

Not that Vada has any room of say. But watching you focus so intensely on the cue stick only to somehow to sink the 8-ball in every match is almost adorable to her.

She couldn't tear her eyes off of you for even a second—it's suffocating.

She couldn't care less watching an idiot struggle lining up her shot for what felt like the hundredth time this evening surrounded by, seemingly, your group of friends.

Yet she could. She could say she was head over heels for you, enchanted even.

Vada, perched on top of the edge of one of the bar tables, a wry smile slowly coming up to her face as she watched you, drink in hand while she swirled it around, the ice slowly melting but her gaze on you remained frozen.

She heard how your friends cheered you on for the hundredth time, giggling while they watch you horribly fail and pocket the cue ball. They were ganging up on you quite fast, like there was some bet going around that if you win they'll probably give you 100$.

"So are you just going to keep watching that girl or are you going to come with us?" Nick creeped up, hand in hand with Mia, slightly kicking one of the legs on the chair, almost tumbling Vada down. Though she would rather die in her own hole than admit that she was someone light-weight.

Vada almost got knocked off if not for her getting a grip on the edge. "Kick my chair one more time and I will make my fall so damaging your wallet should be the one being hospitalized." She scowled, even if it looks like a pout more than anything.

"Scary." Nick rolled his eyes, almost darting his tongue at Vada if not for Mia nudging Nick, shaking her head while letting out a sigh.

"We're gonna play beer pong with the others. You coming, Vada?"

Vada hesitated for a moment, she could play pong where she was an absolute beast at, or she could stay and horribly pine for a girl she just saw like some weird stalker.

It's an easy choice.

"Mn, no thanks," she squeaked out, nodding slightly, "You guys go ahead. I'll catch up with you later," she replied, mustering a half-hearted smile before averting her gaze back to you.

The two let out a shrug, a 'suit your self' kind of shrug as they headed towards the table of those stereotypical cups you'd see in highschool parties, surrounded by her other friends. She could almost regret her decision if not for you catching her eye just for a slight second.

With a deep breath, as well downing what was left of her drink in mere seconds, she pushed herself off the edge of her seat and made her way over to your table, steeling herself for what she hoped would be a move of confidence (or maybe to fuel the lack of.)

And of course she'd regret it right away when she was already 2 steps away from you.

God, you were pretty. So, so, so pretty. Like her breathing capacity slowed down to a minimum.

Her hands made her way to that one ring on her pointer finger, fidgeting as she felt her heart pound in her chest and making its way up to her ears. She felt a flutter of nervous excitement in her stomach, like butterflies. But it wasn't just flying around, no, it was definitely eating her from the inside. In a good way.

She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual but not like that voice you'd do when it's awfully obvious you've been staring at them for a while.

"Uh," she started, or maybe stammered. What a way to go, Cavell. "Hello, do you—would you mind if I join in?" She stood at the left side opposing yours, fidgeting with her hands.

No response.

She didn't miss how her heart shot up a pitch when you glanced her way for a brief second before returning to that focus you had.

Maybe, at that point, it was Vada's cue to stop talking, but she persisted anyways, "I'm pretty good—okay maybe not that good but I do know the basics. You know, how to pocket a ball or two... is it alright if I play a game with you?" What an absolute lady charmer, Vada.

But again, no response.

It's sad how she sounded like if a man embodied a 7th grader who still used the same reduce and reuse horrible pickup lines was a 5'3 19 year old woman.

Vada bit her lip, so maybe it actually was the time to shut the fuck up. Or maybe not. Downing a glass of beer wasn't technically a way to stitch one Vada Cavells mouth up even if you tried.

So as some last-ditch effort, and something she wouldn't normally do if she had the mental capacity to stop her brain, Vada slammed a couple of $100 bills onto the pool table.

If someone were to ask where in the fuck did she get all her money from she'd probably answer that she's been waiting for this day. (Even if it was the money to pay her large amount of debt for Nick.) It was safe to say it caught all your attention.

"Could I make a bet with you?"

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You weren't getting a fucking thing.

Pool wasn't your strong suit, more so not your forte. Maybe agreeing to joining a game with your friends might not have been the wisest move you've done. Sure you pocketed some balls, but they were either by a long shot or the wrong ball.

When you got that invite via text, you figure you'd just join in for a while then bail when things either, a, get messy and they have to drag you in for a possible aiding and abetting crime that would mess up your whole record, or b, becoming the designated driver for your friends who'll be blacked out like a light switch.

No person who has the mental capability and their frontal lobe intact would see either options to be appealing.

The balls scattered on the table after a near perfect break, which was the only thing you were good at you noticed, and your attempts to sink them into the pockets were met with more misses than hits.

To say that your patience was wearing thin was an understatement, and you have half a mind of stabbing your friends in the eye with the cue stick.

Your friend slung her arm over your shoulder, unable to contain her laughter. "Oh, this is sad to look at. You should just give up the 100$, y/n. It's been, what, 5 rematches? That's not even counting the times you accidentally hit the wrong ball."

You roll your eyes, hearing everybody laugh around you before sighing as you tried to line up your next shot, "I'd rather die before I have a negative symbol to my name." You retorted, mustering up the confidence and that one comfortable hand position that wasn't doing you any justice.

Of course, it doesn't. It always doesn't. How was it possible that you were hitting every corner but the one you're supposed to hit!?

The others let out an empathetic little 'ooooh...' even if you knew they were tiring their asses out not to laugh at you.

"Knowing that you have a 100$ and nothing is crazy, and that's even sadder."

And that's when you heard a loud slam when you were about to make your shot, expecting it to be one of your friends' hands messing you yet again, so imagine your surprise when you looked up to find the most amount of money you've been offered your whole entire life.

You blinked, your grip loosening on the cue stick as your gaze repeatedly looked down at the money and at the girl, "Hello?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

You knew this girl was watching you ever since she walked up to the table, yet you never seemed to pay attention to her, so you hadn't taken a good look at her until now.

Oh you were fucked.

She was gorgeous.

To say that your curiosity was piqued was an understatement, it was definitely caught. Trapped, even. "A bet?" you repeated, the flicker of interest in that one word was something you needed to work on, "what kind of bet?"

She nodded, a smile coming out of her lips. A dimple. Shit.

Her gaze was locked onto yours, you didn't even notice how all your friends dipped the moment the cash was slammed onto the table. "Yeah, is that... cool with you?" she leaned against the table, you didn't even notice she was only wearing a pair of basketball shorts and an oversized tee. "I'm Cavell. Vada, Cavell."

It looked hot on her more than it should've.

"We play a game of pool, think that's obvious enough," she chuckled, "If I win..." Vada paused, you could see her thinking as she stared off, "you owe me a kiss. But if you win," her fingers tapped on the bills of cash laying around, "I'll give you this. Maybe even double."

There is in no universe, no world, does the prettiest girl you have ever seen just proposed a bet with the stakes of a kiss and a couple hundred dollars in hard cash.

And it's almost concerning how you'd burn all the stacks of cash just to lose and kiss this girl. A stranger, yet she was one of those strangers who you'd absolutely go down on.

Maybe you had too much to drink when you gave a silent nod and accepted her challenge.

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It's only been a few minutes into the game and you're giving half a mind to throw the game all together and pull Vada into the nearest stall and makeout with her.

You'd have to remind her that it's you should be plotting the cue ball then shoot. Not wink at you with that insufferable smirk on her face, take the cue ball from your hands, and pocket her own ball.

You're pretty good yourself, you noticed. You started taking on a different approach to cue spins, and you were getting the hang of not accidentally shooting the wrong ball.

Yet your thoughts became increasingly tempting, each one more distracting than the last.

Every time she leaned over the table to line up her shot, you couldn't help but stare at the way her hair often fell in loose waves around her face, her shirt falling against her movements.

That distracting in a way you could almost gauge your eyeballs with the cue stick to remind yourself to focus and tear your gaze away from her. Quite literally.

You lined up your shot, to say that your fingers were trembling was an understatement, they were fucking palpitating at this point. You try to ignore it yet it felt like every nerve in your body was relying on this damn point in your life, like they don't have anything better to do than make your body function normally.

It would only take one solid ball to make your shot and you can get to finally shoot the 8-ball.

"Oh shit right, I didn't get your name."

Of course, Vada of all people, would only ask this question now.

Your mind goes blank for a moment. Shit, shit, shit.

"Oh, uh, it's…" you stammer, feeling like a complete idiot for forgetting your own name in front of her.

Before you could even speak, she's leaning in even closer, her perfume taking your senses, a scent that you could almost overdose in and would gladly take either heaven or hell.

"It's y/n," you finally manage to say, the rush of relief never felt more satisfying than the words leaving your lips.

The built up tension in your mind eases slightly as you meet Vada's gaze as you turn your head, her smile widening into a ray of sunshine that warms your heart. It's captivating, almost mesmerizing, and for a moment, you find yourself lost in the warmth of her gaze.

And maybe a little too captivating to the point you miss the unmistakable sound of balls clacking against eachother as they fall into the pockets, watching in disbelief as Vada pockets her last striped bal and the 8-ball all at once.

Oh, fuck me.

"Forgot to tell you that you ran out of time, y/n." Vada smirked, a full-blown shit-eating grin crossing her face.

"Oh my God." You curse under your breath, standing up slightly, even your posture looks defeated. "So not well-played." You jokingly quipped, placing down the cue stick and crossing your arms.

"You owe me something." She inched a little closer to you, her voice too fucking intoxicating for you to handle. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you step back just a slight, her head tilting upwards and a glint in her eyes that makes your heart race even faster.

"Impatient much?"

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"S-shit, wait... "

You gasped for air, stumbling into your apartment. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt Vada's hands falling to your hips and desperately clutching your waist, her body rutting against yours, feeling her clothed erection grinding on your heat. Fuck, you could tell she was big.

Her arms wrapped around you, pushing you against the door in frevor with your heart pounding in your chest as her lips met yours in a heated kiss, her mouth parting to intrude yours.

A sudden surge of desire and hunger shot through you as she claimed your mouth, closing your eyes as you hear her groan inside of your mouth all while she took you breathless.

"I thought you only wanted a kiss," you managed to murmur between kisses, your head tilting to grant her even more access, "Now you take me home to your apartment?" Her touch travelled down further, cupping the swell of your ass, feeling every curve you had in an agonizing desperation.

You'd think making out with Vada in more than 10 minutes in a bathroom stall would satisfy the both of you, yet you're here. In her apartment, feeling her hardened cock bucking against you.

Vada whined, her breath warm against your skin, a smirk gracing your lips at her sound, "I want more," she almost pleaded, "I need more," she whined, "please." Her fingers traced your jawline, your eyes meeting hers that almost begged you to take her.

You nodded frantically in response, your lips parting as your hot breath hits her skin, having no trust by letting your mouth run off rather than shoving her bulging cock down your throat until it fits perfectly in your mouth, pleasing her in every way possible.

Without hesitation, you lean in and kiss every inch of her skin, feeling her abs flex under your touch while you left wet kisses in her wake as you trailed down on your knees, letting your fingers slide into the waistband of her shorts and boxers, her garments offering no purpose to hide her painful erection.

"W-wait, y/n," she stopped you, her hands hovering over yours as she looked down on you with the prettiest doe eyes ever. "I never—I never done this before."

You looked up at her, your eyebrows raised, almost having to withdraw your hands from her, "You're... serious?" It was hard to imagine someone like her never had sex, yet it spurred you on even more knowing it was her first time. Her first fuck with you.

"Well, I have," she explained, her voice slightly trembling, " Close enough. We stopped before we got to actually fucking."

"Sorry, just—" she gulped, her hands leaving yours and tangling them into your hair, "just warning you. I'm not that experienced. Well, I have watched porn—"

"Vada." You stopped her just before she could tell you more, but you couldn't deny that it was extremely adorable for her to do so, "don't worry baby, I'll take care of you."

You wink before letting her boxers hit the wooden tiled floor, her veiny and pulsing cock sprining out and slapping against her abdomen, your eyes widening at the sight of her while your mouth watered and your cunt throbbed with want, needing her cock plowing into you.

"Fuck, Vada, you're huge," you gasped, your fingers wrapping around her dick as you guided the throbbing length to your lips, her pre-cum coating your already abused mouth.

You could sense Vada smirking above you, her ego boosting by the slightest compliment, but fuck she knows she's big.

You looked up at her, your eyes glistening with the faintest hint of lust as you started stroking her dick.

Quiet moans escaped her lips, her hips repeatedly bucking against your fingers while her head was thrown back, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair as you took your time tracing lazy circles around her leaking tip.

Every stroke you made on her had her cock twitching, almost begging for release, whines escaping her mouth every minute, she was pleading for more yet you gave her nothing.

"God, you look so pretty like this, baby, just for me..." You panted, it was intoxicating, maddening, the way she responded to your every movement with desire written all over her, especially when you call her that. She was never much of a dominating one, you noticed.

"Y/n, please… oh, f-fuck!" She threw her head back when you sped up, hearing her labored breaths, the way she would occasionally gasp your name in a broken moan all while you looked up at her like you've done nothing, how could you not tease her just the slightest bit?

You slowed your movements to a halt, drawing out her pleasure in the most agonizing way possible, tilting your head just a slight bit, "what is it, pretty girl? Tell me."

"Wanna—shit..." she moaned, "wanna cum'n your throat, baby, please..."

"Of course, pretty girl," you chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss her hardened cock while wasting no time in shoving her dick down your throat, gagging around her as you feel her erection stretch your lips as you took her deeper and deeper.

Vada's hips bucked around you, her moans growing louder and louder. Your name kept tumbling from her lips in broken moans and cries, her other hand hovering over her mouth yet it never muffled her erotic moans.

"Y/n, fuck, your mouth feels so good around my dick," she moaned, her words sending a shiver along your spine all the way to your dripping pussy.

You gagged around her pulsing length, feeling every crevice and vein inside your throat, your throat constricting as you struggled to take her size.

Spit dripped from your lips, going no where but to her balls and onto the floor as you tried to take her in.

With each thrust of her hips, each gasp of pleasure wanted you to take her in more and more.

You close her eyes, the taste of her on your tongue, the feeling of her throbbing length filling your mouth, the erotic sounds of her moans and your gagging around her dick—it was all too much, and yet not enough.

"Gonna cum, oh God, m'gonna cum..." she took a handful of your hair, trying to push you in deeper, chasing her high, "can I cum? Baby, please, I wanna cum so bad, please, pleasepleaseplease..."

You remove your mouth from her dick, hearing her groan and whine at the slightest bit of distance from your mouth and her cock, releasing it with a little pop all while you lick your lips, the faint taste of her still lingering on your tongue.

"Have a little patience, Vada," you cooed, going to your feet and taking off your undergarments, Vada's eyes immediately shooting down at your wet pussy, watching how her eyes wanted to take you all in, how she wanted to slam you against the bed and fuck you till early morning.

You let your arms stretch over her shoulders, trapping her in as you leaned in, your clit bumping with her twitching cock. "We've got all night, baby. Just wanna have you ready before you fuck me."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Vada! F-fuck, m'gonna cum again... gonna cum all over your cock, oh God!"

Throwing your head back, the only sounds that filled the room where the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the sloppy and wet squelch of your pussy as you went down on Vada's cock for the 4th time this evening.

Your words were barely coherent, your hips bucking and squeezing uncontrollably against Vada's cock all while your face was red and flushed from all the orgasms you've been receiving from her and giving her, tears streaming down your face in pleasure and pain.

The only sounds that filled the room were the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the sloppy and wet squelch of your pussy as you rode Vada's cock for the fourth time this evening. Each thrust of your own body left you gasping and moaning in heaven with Vada as she stared at you with her lips parted.

Her hands found peace on your waist, guiding your body with each movement you had on her, showing Vada how to perfectly cowgirl, your ass bouncing every time you hit the base of her cock that painfully stretched you until your puffy folds got used to her size.

Your own hands found their way to her chest, feeling the delicious flex of her abs as your tight walls squeezed around her dick.

Yet, you were running out of stamina, your pace slowing down as you started to grip on her chest a bit more tighter than usual.

Of course, the ever sweetest girl, Vada Cavell, noticed this almost immediately as she cooed, "you alright, y/n?" She moaned breathlessly, her cock still sensitive from you, "we could take it slow if you want—"

"No…" you panted, going to a halt. You couldn't stop now, not when you were so close to the edge, "don't wanna… wanna cum'n your cock… please," you whined, though you weren't resuming to your natural pace of fucking yourself into her.

You collapsed onto her, feeling your eyes closing shut and your body relaxing against Vada, her scent mixed with sweat was oddly comforting all while you melted into her embrace.

Vada sighed against you, her heartbeat against yours was all she needed after a few hours. Gently rubbing your back, she kissed your shoulders, praising you everytime her soft lips landed on your skin.

"You're perfect, have I ever told you that?" She whispered, "the prettiest girl. I don't know what I would do if I didn't offer you that bet." She then chuckled, making you chuckle against her back, pulling her into a tighter embrace as you whined at the loss of her cock inside of you.

"How's that for your first fuck?"

"Better than the shit I've take. Like, way fucking better." You both laughed.

"I'll draw you a bath, 'ts just a few steps away from my bedroom anyway." Vada got up after she laid you down comfortably on her mattress that was awfully stained with your and her juices. She put on a new pair of boxers before kissing you on the forehead, smiling against your skin.

"You're the sweetest, V." You smiled dumbly, yet Vada looked at you with tenderness and fondness in her eyes, like she didn't just fuck a stranger well into late night. But, she might just be falling in love after all.

Vada laughed, a smile creeping up on her face, bringing out her dimples, "V?"

"'ts your nickname," you slurred "Don't you like it?"

She took a moment before responding with a kiss on the lips, her soft ones meeting yours, "I love it."

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V: So... so are we official? Like girlfriends girlfriends, we're not just fucking around? Oh my God, don't tell me this is just a one night stand. Y: Vada, I thought that was already established when I repeatedly came around your dick yelling 'I love you.' V: Rrrrright, but what if Y: Vada, we're girlfriends. Alright?

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another a/n: been mia for probably weeks now, so sorry about that!! especially to those who have pending requests. ive been focusing on my studies recently AND i got hit with the worst cases of writers block. so thats two of them. but now since ive got maybe a free schedule, i can focus more on writing requests! thank you so so much by the way and stories might be posted a lot more late than usual. anyway,

#vada cavell x reader #vada cavell x femreader #vada cavell x y/n #vada cavell x you #vada cavell x reader smut #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna marie ortega

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joostsblog · 4 months

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I really love all your Joost fics, and thank you so much for the Aggu crumbs 💕

Do you take Aggu requests too? There’s this one Aggu tiktok (the grape video) and I was wondering if you could do an Aggu x Reader where reader is the one feeding the grapes jokingly at first, but then it turns into something intimate

Yes, I saw the grape video and I think I get appeal 😌 This is a shorter one but I hope you enjoy it anyway & I hope it's fine with you that I also snuck a bit of Joost x reader in there 🤭

caught in the middle part one: picnic day ~ a Ski Aggu / Joost Klein x reader series

My masterlist here ✨💌 caught in the middle series masterlist

Pairing: Ski Aggu x reader (also a sneaky Joost Klein x reader, sry i had to)

Description: A cheeky joke between two friends turns into something different.

Word Count: 0.9k

A/N: THIS IS A SERIES NOW! Read part two here!

I usually don't write for Aggu but loved this idea so here you go💌 requests still open although I can't promise too many as I'll be on vacation the next two weeks ☀️ if you liked it, you can show your support by leaving a reblog 🫶

Warnings: mention of weed, not proofread

"Aggu!" you said with a big smile as you saw the blonde man walk up to you.

"(Y/N), what's up?" Aggu asked while engulfing you in a hug.

"Nothing much, you're the first person to be here," you shrugged and motioned to the picnic blanket you had already spread out on the grass.

"I expected nothing else," Aggu laughed and sat down on the blanket.

The both of you had a reputation within your friend group for always being punctual while everyone would be late. You were glad that at least you weren't the only person and secretly you liked it because it meant that every time you would hang out in a group you would get Aggu an extra 15 to 30 minutes just to yourself. So you couldn't complain, really. It was a warm late spring day, summer just around the corner. The park was lively but not too packed. Aggu was wearing a tight football jersey which hugged his figure and especially his upper arms very nicely.

It had only been recently when you looked at Aggu with different eyes. It happened when you were out partying a few weeks ago and the music was so loud, the club was so packed that you stood so close to Aggu that he had to lean down to you and closely whisper into your ear to tell you something. When the hairs on your arms shot straight up and suddenly you got all shy around him. Prior to this moment, you didn't know that Aggu could have this effect on you (maybe because before that Joost was all you could think about but right now your mind was preoccupied with the German rapper). Since you caught your little crush on Aggu that only grew by the minute you really appreciated how much of a flirty personality he had. Any joke or touch you shared would never be taken in the wrong way by him, that you were sure of.

"I got us some beer and cookies," Aggu announced as he unpacked the goods from his bag. "Also this," he held up a packet of weed. He laid down on his side only propped up by his elbow.

"Nice," you grinned. "I brought some hummus and veggie sticks and some grapes," you pointed to the food already on the blanket.

"I would love some grapes right now," Aggu pointed to the packet of grapes in front of you.

"Be my guest," you said.

"But I'm so comfortable right now," Aggu pouted. "Will you feed them to me? Please?" he said with a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever," you said and opened the package. You didn't make the effort to actually pluck the grapes from the vine. He'll have to do that himself, you thought. Instead, you just scooted a bit closer to Aggu so you could comfortably reach him. You dangled the vine of grapes above his head so that he could reach the grapes with his mouth.

Aggu shot you a quick shot and a grin before he opened his mouth and took some of the grapes into his mouth. You realised the position you put him in really didn't help you to cure the crush anytime soon. You watched Aggu's face intently. How sharp and godlike his jawline looked from the side. How lush his lips looked as they wrapped around the grapes. How he closed his eyes as if he was leaning into a kiss. How the stubble on his face might feel against your fingers or maybe even between your thighs. You tried to ban those thoughts to the back of your head immediately.

"You also want one?" Aggu asked after he swallowed.

"Sure," you said and before you could pick a grape yourself Aggu went in again and plucked a single grape from the vine using his mouth.

He nodded and angled his head upwards to you, the grape positioned between his front teeth. There really was no way you could misread the invitation Aggu was sending you right now. You bit your lip and put your hand on Aggu's shoulder before you leaned down, your heart almost beating out of your chest. Your lips softly touched Aggu's as you took the grape and sucked it into your mouth. Instead of pulling back you suddenly felt Aggu's hand on your cheek, holding you just in place. Now your lips were properly pressed on Aggu's. The kiss was soft and sweet and yet you could feel arousal building up inside your lower stomach, wishing you could be in private and alone with Aggu right now.

"Are we interrupting something?" you heard your friend Bianca's amused voice behind you.

You let go of Aggu and looked up at her, embarrassment overcoming you. Behind Bianca was Joost who you noticed didn't look so amused like Bianca, his facial expression blank. You let go of Aggu's shoulder as you shifted your position beside him.

"What's up?" you asked the two of them nonchalantly and Bianca started ranting about the Tinder date she had been on just last night.

You could feel Aggu shifting closer to you again as he leaned over to whisper in your ear. Just for a second, your gaze crossed Joost's stare across from you but before you could even react he quickly looked away.

"If you're free tonight we can continue this," Aggu's voice seductively danced over your ear and you smiled.

"I'd like that very much."

READ PART TWO HERE // series masterlist

#joostsblog #ski aggu #ski aggu x reader #ski aggu x you #ski aggu oneshot #ski aggu one shot #ski aggu imagine #ski aggu fanfic #ski aggu fanfiction #ski aggu ff #joost #joost klein #joost klein x reader

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fictionalreads · 2 months

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Could you pls do an Armando X reader angst where he shoots her instead of Mike🙈 Idk what their relationship is so you decide lol LOVE LOVE LOVE UR WORK!! I hope I make sense😭💗

AWE THANK YOU! This made perfect sense to me, and I just hope you like it.🥰 Title is from Goodbye by Victoria Monet. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog. Let me know how you guys like it.

After You, I'll Never Really Use My Heart The Same

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Reader

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Warnings⚠️: Angst, canon typical violence, like one or two cuss words

You’d been in love exactly one time.

You found being vulnerable, opening yourself so intimately and trusting them to accept and celebrate you as a person, difficult. Which was crazy because your job as an undercover cop meant you had to allow parts of yourself to show. The only way to truly fool someone is to stick as close to the truth as possible. You were good at it, faking the openness and trust. But maybe it being fake is precisely why you found it so easy.

It wouldn’t mean anything.

Armando Aretas was different. He saw through the facade you’d adopted while in Mexico, working on a joint task force. He’d made his way past your usual defenses, no one else in your life ever bothering to try to truly know you as deeply as he did. It was like he saw straight through you, through all the hurt, through all the bullshit and pushed you to be the most honest you’d been in a while, even to yourself.

The first time I love you's had been exchanged, it had been a fight. You didn’t want to admit it and he refused to let you hide and not face how you felt. You tried to tell him it wasn’t true, but he just told you he was just as afraid as you were and you could be scared together. You knew it was doomed, you were an undercover cop and he was poised to be a big name in the drug world, but you couldn’t stop it any more than you could stop a plane crash. You were meant to love him and he was meant to love you. Even if it had an expiration date.

So when the shot came, you knew exactly who had done it.

You had been waiting almost a year for him to find you and confront you. You knew betrayal was a sore topic for him so your betrayal would run deep. It would anger him and the longer he went without addressing it, the more it would fester. The longer he went without contacting you, the more you looked over your shoulder. You had signed up for this life, knowing that by showing criminals your face you were putting a target on your back, but you usually handled it well. This, like everything else with Armando, was different. You were genuinely afraid.

You had gone out to celebrate Marcus Burnett’s grandson being born. Lately you had been staying in, avoiding crowds out of an abundance of caution but Marcus had been a great mentor to you and you missed going out. After a couple drinks you felt more relaxed, even agreeing to be the endpoint in the ridiculous race Mike and Marcus were doing in an effort to prove they still had it.

One minute you were watching Mike and Marcus get set for the race and the next you were staring into the eyes of the man you loved. He had his visor flipped up, no doubt so you’d know exactly who it was that did the deed. You saw the anger, the betrayal in his eyes. You also saw the hatred that masked the love and hurt in them.

You knew what was coming next, but it didn’t help you prepare for the searing pain you felt. The bullet ripped through your chest, the feeling of fire in its wake. You watched as he watched you fall from the impact before speeding off. For a minute it was like everything had stopped. You couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anyone else. It was just you left behind like nothing. You turned your stare to the dark sky, too polluted for stars and wondered if this was the last thing you’d ever see.

Slowly, the world started to creep back into your senses. You felt the hard, cool ground beneath you. You saw the group of cops standing protectively around you, holding guns as if the attack would continue. You smelled Mike’s cologne as he hovered over you, pressing into the wound in an effort to stop the blood. You tasted the metallic blood in your mouth, knowing that was a bad sign. You heard Rita screaming, asking if anyone had eyes on the shooter.

Even in this state, you knew they wouldn’t. Armando was good at what he did, he’d be long gone by now. Oddly, you were okay with that. Despite everything, current situation included, you were glad he managed to get away. Maybe it was because if he was caught he’d tell the people you worked with the truth and you didn’t want to face their judgement. Maybe it was because you still loved him and the thought of him in a cage hurt.

By the time the ambulance got there, you were fading fast. Marcus kept telling you to keep your eyes open and you tried but your eyelids were so heavy. You were okay with dying. You were okay with this being your end, with knowing they’d never find the connection between you and the shooter. If you lived, you would have to come clean, face him again and you weren’t sure you could do that. Death was easier.

Death at the hands of Armando was forgivable.

#armando aretas #Armando aretas x reader #Armando x reader #bad boys for life #bad boys ride or die #jacob scipio #bad boys movie franchise #fan fiction #Armando aretas x ofc #Armando x ofc #fic request #request answered

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 8 months

Note

hi!! so idk exactly how to describe this but i was wondering if you could write an ethan landry x fem!reader fic with a scene of ethan describing like his fantasies with the reader and what he touches himself to. idk what the story around that would be… maybe this is just something he babbles out during sex, or it could even lead to them trying out his fantasies. like i said, i dont really know. i just like the idea of ethan telling the reader what he imagines doing to her, or more accurately, what he imagines she will do to him, in order to get himself off. idk, have fun with it! tysm!!!!

Hi! If you want more to this, let me know:) I feel like it needs more, but I wanted to make sure this was in the direction you wanted it to go lol. If it's not, I can rewrite it. If it is, I'll definitely write a part 2, just let me know!

What's Your Fantasy? - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 2

Summary: You discover something on your boyfriends laptop, and you get curious about what his fantasies are.

A/N: I've been super busy, but I'm trying to get caught back up. My sweet bun that I've had for 7 years that always relaxed on my bed with me while I wrote passed away, so I've been a little in my feels. I hope ya'll like this:)

It was the first time that your poor boyfriend had ever been drunk. He ended up going shot for shot with Chad at a party, as you stood by watching them. Once he stopped making sour faces and yelled “This tastes like water”, you decided to leave the party early and take him home. You knew he was moments from blacking out, and in the high chance he could projectile, you preferred for it to be at his apartment and not all over the rest of the party guests.

Projectile he did, into several bushes and a random trashcan on the walk back. Once you got him back to his place, you knew you couldn’t leave him like that. You helped him get undressed and put on sweatpants before you changed into one of Ethan’s extra-large shirts that he kept specifically for you to sleep in when you stayed over. He sat in his desk chair as he started to get a little dizzy.

You grabbed a trashcan, putting it beside the bed, and grabbed some water for him. You washed your makeup off in the bathroom, before heading back to him. You were going to spoon him so he wouldn’t throw up on you, and if he moved, you knew it would wake you up. You knew exactly how the night would go, or so you thought.

“Babeeee, I don’t know if I submitted my assignments,” he said, or that’s what it sounded like he said.

“Where’s your laptop?” you asked, looking around the room for it.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, “I don’t feel so good.”

“Do you think you can make it to the bathroom?” you asked, as he stood up and stumbled to the door.

You barely made it there with him, just in time. You grabbed an ice-cold wash cloth and put it on the back of his neck, and started to rub his back as he continued to throw up. When he finally stopped, you helped him up and took him back to his bed.

“I fucking love you,” he mumbled, as you rolled your eyes at his heavily-intoxicated state.

“I love you too babe. Lay this way in case you get sick, I just need to find your laptop and I’ll cuddle with you in a minute,” you said, scanning the room before seeing a corner of it sticking out from under his bed.

You opened it and put in his password, clicking on the tab for his schoolwork. He did submit everything he was supposed to, but you saw something interesting on the other tab, so you got a little, well, very nosey. When you opened it, you saw that it was porn.

You looked over to Ethan, who was lightly snoring. You felt like you had an angel on one shoulder, telling you not to watch it. A devil on the other shoulder, telling you to see what kind of porn he liked to watch. You sort of felt like it was an invasion of his privacy, but you just had to know. You made sure the volume was low as you clicked play.

You noticed that the girl in the video, who had a few similarities to you, was giving some guy head. You thought ‘Oh, I’ve done this so many times for him’ until the end of the video, when the guy pulled out of the girl’s mouth and showered her face in his cum. Your eyes went wide as you watched it and wanted to know what else he liked to watch. You weren’t going to go through his history because you already felt bad enough about this, so you decided to have a talk with him later about things he’d like to try. You clicked back to the tab for his school stuff, before shutting his laptop and sitting it on his desk.

You crawled into the bed beside him, covering him over with a blanket and wrapped your arms around him. You kissed the back of his head, his curls tickling your face, before resting your head against his upper back as you spooned him.

You didn’t sleep well, waking up at least once an hour to check on Ethan. He slept peacefully, which you were thankful for, even if you were worried about him all night.

When he finally started to stir awake, he groaned out. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“That’s what happens when you take as many shots as you did,” you said softly, both from the exhaustion and not wanting his head to hurt worse.

“I don’t remember anything except walking into that party,” he mumbled into the pillow. “Thank you for taking care of me, baby.”

“Of course. Do you want to take something for your head?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

“Please,” he sighed, as you got up to grab Tylenol from your purse.

After he took the medicine, and you knew he was okay, you desperately needed a few hours of sleep. You curled back up on your designated side of his bed, pulling the blanket over you. You quickly dozed off, as he snuggled back up to you.

When you woke up, you noticed that Ethan was no longer with you. You went to look for him and found him on the couch watching tv. He started making grabby-hands at you the second he saw you.

“Come here,” he said, grabbing your hips and pulling you down to straddle him.

“Someone’s feeling better,” you giggled as his hands rubbed your sides under his shirt you were wearing.

“I need a shower, want to join me?” he asked, as you felt him pressing against you through his sweatpants.

“I’ll race you there,” you smirked, jumping off him.

You heard his footsteps right behind you as he grabbed you by your hips and turned you to face him the second you made it to the bathroom door.

“You cheated. You had a head start,” he laughed, as your arms wrapped around his neck.

You smiled as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him. His hands ran under your big t-shirt and over the curve of you ass, pulling you even closer to him.

“I thought you wanted to shower?” you giggled, noticing the look in his eyes. The one that he always has when he so desperately wants to fuck you.

“Fineee,” he sighed, letting go of your ass as you backed away.

When you were in the shower with him, you couldn’t stop thinking about the video you watched the night before. Ethan is very confident with you, but he tends to hold back when it comes to sex. When you felt his hard cock resting against you as he kissed you under the flow of the water, your lips moved to his neck as your hand went to his erection.

“Fuck,” he said, as your hand wrapped it and started stroking.

“Hey baby?” you asked, placing kisses along his neck.

“Hmm?”

“Do you have any fantasies about me?” you questioned, innocence in your tone as your hand started to move faster. His breath hitched in his throat, both out of nervousness and how good you were making him feel. “Come on, baby. Do you ever think about things you want to do to me? Or things you want me to do to you?”

“Yes,” he answered, his breathing getting faster.

“What do you think about?” your teeth started to graze his neck, the feeling making his whimper.

“Oh fuck..uh… I love to think about cumming on your face when I’m trying to get off. And every time I see you take your birth control, it makes me want to cum inside you so bad,” he said, as you smiled against his neck. “I cum so hard whenever I think about my cum dripping out of your pussy.”

“You want me to let you cum on my face, baby?” you asked, dropping to your knees in front of him.

“No..fuck..yes I just don’t want you to think I’m degrading you,” he finally got out, as the simple licks to his tips turned to you swirling your tongue. “I don’t want you to think you have to do stuff like that to make me happy.”

You pulled away, your eyes connecting with his. “Even if I’m down here on my knees begging you for it.”

“Fuck, baby,” he said, his cock aching at your words.

“Tell me what I do to you when you think about me like this. Walk me through it, baby,” you said, leaning forward to lick his tip again.

He intently watched you as your hands went to his thighs, holding on to them as you balanced yourself. You’d always been in charge when it came to sex, just because he was usually so shy. Seeing you like this in front of him made him wish he would’ve said something sooner. Even though you initiated it, he still felt like he was in control.

“You suck on the head of my cock,” he whimpered, as you took his sensitive tip in your mouth, gently sucking.

You kept doing it, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

“Then you take more of it in your mouth, not too much though,” he said, eyes intently on you as you put him further in your mouth. Your head was moving back and forth, as his hand went to your hair.

“Take the whole thing, baby. I know you can do it.”

When you started to gag around him, his fingers tangled in your wet hair, as he gently thrusted into your mouth. Your wetness mixed with the water from the shower dripped down your thighs as his whimpers got louder.

“Just like that, baby. You’re doing such a good job,” he praised, as you moaned around him. Your clit was throbbing as you put one of your hands in between your legs, giving your needy bundle of nerves the attention you were craving.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna cum. Stick your tongue out for me,” he groaned, starting to release in your mouth. He pulled back, your tongue sticking out as he stroked himself and he shot the rest of his cum on your face. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

His eyes kept trying to close as the euphoric feeling washed over him, but he fought it, not wanting to miss a second of you on your knees in front of him with his cum on your face as the water started to wash it away.

You smirked as you stood back up, standing directly under the flow of the water to rinse the rest of it off your face. You grabbed your face wash, cleansing your skin with it as you felt his hands wrap around your waist.

“Did you like that?” he asked, as your mouth turned up into a sweet smile.

“You have no idea how wet I am right now.” Your lips connected with his as his hand reached between your thighs. “What else do you want to try? After we go to your room and I let you cum in me, of course.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #scream smut

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kandlewick · 4 months

Text

since its taking so long, im gonna drop a preview of my leona's ''i'll dry the villain's tears'....... this one is special because i unfortunately decided mid writing that i wanted it to be romantic but alas that means i had to scrap a lot of twst lore to fit my narrative hghfg so think of this one as an au to my usual entries. an interest check. these entries were MEANT to be strictly platonic but a few of them (leona, MAYBE azul and malleus (between lilia and the reader)), just gave me so many ideas.

SO IT IS UNFINISHED! its 4k words but still unresolved unless people like, want me to scrap twst lore as heavily as i did in this lmao

i'll dry the villain's tears pt. 3.1415926535897

you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.

all entries are USUALLY to be read as platonic however this one wouldn't go away. All are USUALLY meant to be taken place in the TWST universe accurate to the game but this one is special because I love leona and he'd be so cool as a manwha love interest.

You awaken one day with perhaps the largest bump you've ever seen placed nearly perfectly center on your forehead. You don't remember how you got it exactly but the two princes never left your side (Falena would not stop crying and despite his claims of laughter at your expense, you can tell his brother was equally worried), only being dragged away by their tutor as soon as they let their guard down.

You looked down at the hands on your lap and clutched your fists open and closed over and over again. Gone were your long fingers and wide palms, instead you looked down at the chubby hands of a child no more than six.

From what your handmaiden had told you, the three of you had been playing spelldrive together and Leona, in his eagerness to best his brother, had shot the disk perhaps a bit too strong and instead of flying in to the goal, it had changed course and struck you hard enough to knock you unconscious for the rest of the early hours of the morning.

You remembered this event. It's what led to Falena's betrothed sticking closer to him and farther from Leona. What once was a well balanced trio had become a teeter totter with Falena and her on one side and Leona alone, unable to change anything with what little weight he had to offer.

Falena's betrothed; that was you. From the story you had read, the two were deeply in love and ruled the kingdom hand in hand towards a brighter future... all while unknowingly leaving the youngest brother in the shadows, forgotten and alone and desperate. You couldn't afford for that to happen.

You don't see the two of them until late that evening. Falena looked exhausted, like the tutoring had beaten any last bit of energy he could spare and with a loud yawn, had eagerly hopped into the cot next to you on your right. Leona was slow to join the two of you but settled himself to your left, his shoulder bumping yours as you turned to give him your attention, curiously returning the gesture. Leona matched your gaze, looking you over for any signs of pain before he opened his mouth.

"You look ridiculous," he spoke aloud, glancing at your bruised forehead. Subconsciously, you reached up and checked the tender spot and gave him an unimpressed look.

“I only look like this because you can’t shoot a disk right.” You huffed, choosing to ignore his presence, instead cuddling up to Falena who was more than eager to reciprocate, easily wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder and nudging your chin in a friendly hug. “At least your brother is being nice to me.”

However, despite your teasing voice, Falena was quick to come to his defense, “Leona’s just not good at showing he was worried about you. You should’ve seen his face when he saw you fall over, I’ve never seen him run that fast in his life.” Leona rolled his eyes but made no response as his brother laughed, choosing to settle himself in your cot while closing his eyes, his tail lazily curling up behind you. Your beastman tail - you don’t know when you would ever get used to that - sat itself besides his, curling the two into a gentle hold. Leona glanced over at you from the corner of his one opened eye but chose not to comment about it.

Even at your young age, you could tell that Leona communicated in a particular way. His words may be harsh, but his actions were tender.

“Mmm, someone had to.” Leona muttered, nuzzling himself deeper into the pillows, “Falena was too busy crying about you to be of any help.”

Falena made no effort to deny the claims and sheepishly smiled at you, “He is not wrong, haha. I was very worried for you! You should’ve seen the maid’s face when they saw you passed out in the field!” He reached out and plucked your hand into his. When you looked at him, you could still see the red dotting his eyes from how hard he had cried. It was no wonder your body’s original owner had fallen so head over heels for this boy. While he and Leona were brothers, they couldn’t have been more night and day.

“You shouldn’t have worried too much, Falena! I’m fine, really. Kifaji said that I should be fine in a few days.” You waved his worry off with your hand, gingerly pressing the tips of your fingers against the small lump, “There wasn’t a concussion or anything but he wanted to make s- Hm?”

Falena and Leona both looked up at you with wide eyes, both of their gazes making you feel small. You slumped in your seat and blinked at the both of them, silently feeling sheepish all of a sudden, “Is something wrong?”

“Why are you calling me by my name!” Falena looked almost scandalized as he let go of you, his hands floating at your sides like he was too scared to touch you, “Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

“Eh? Eh?”

“Looks like I hit her a little too hard.” Leona chuckled, watching in barely contained amusement as his brother’s soul practically floated out of his chest, “What happened to calling him, ‘husband’?”

This body’s former owner was a precocious little child, wasn’t she!!! You couldn’t believe the audacity, calling your ten year old fiance ‘husband’!

As required of any royal belonging to the Sunset Savannah, you were expected to build lasting relations with other tribes and honorable guests much like any other adult and as such, other than the two royal siblings, you were given many playmates. Some were older than you and some were younger, but they were many and varied and always tried to stay on your good side. And as such, they were exceedingly worried about you when you arrived late to your most recent playdate with a freshly bandaged head.

“My liege, what happened!” the youngest cried, quickly latching on to your arm, tears welling up in his shiny eyes, “Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

You waved them off with your hand, a soft but embarrassed smile on your face. Their eyes watered, their large elephant beastman ears flopping up and down wildly as they looked you over head to toe for any sign of injury. You could hear them loudly sniffling as they bit back tears. They’ve always been a bit of a crybaby from what your memories could tell you. A shy, but friendly young boy… if a little bit of a hypochondriac. One of your older playmates rolled her eyes but you could tell she was worried by the subtle way she refused to leave your side, glancing over at you from the corner of her eye.

“I can’t believe Prince Leona would do something as clumsy as hurting his brother’s fiance!” One of your newer playmates huffed loudly, her eyes narrowed in annoyance, “Really, he’s lucky his brother forgave him so fast - ah! You as well, it’s good you forgave him too!! He doesn’t deserve it if you asked me!” She huffed loudly as she played with your toys, her jaguar tail batting the floor loudly. She paid no mind to your two companions sounds of offense, instead choosing to meet your gaze from over her shoulder.

You blinked at her, your eyes wide in confusion. Your two other companions matched your expression, the two of them surprised she would dare to say anything like that outloud. Leona hadn’t meant to hit you after all! You were playing…

Your newest playmate, so new you could hardly remember her name scoffed at the three of you, obviously annoyed you didn’t join her in her thoughts. “For real, who does he think he is? He’s the second son, he should be bowing on his hands and knees at your feet! You’re the future king’s fiance, he should be grateful he’s even allowed to play with you two! W-”

You don’t know what came over you and why you did it, but you felt your body react to her words, and somehow, your fist made contact with her cheek sending her sprawling on the floor. The sound of her collapsing was loud enough to shock you out of your stupor, a dull ache throbbing around your knuckles. She looked up at you with wide eyes as she cradled her cheek, you staring down at her with equally large doe shaped eyes. You couldn’t believe you had just done that!

“Leona is my friend.” Your lips began moving before you could even think. You were firm on this even as tears began welling up in your eyes. Ah, you sighed. Even if your mind isn’t young, your body still is shaking like a leaf. The hand you had punched the child with quivered from nerves. “Dont - don’t speak that way about him!” Your voice raised in pitch, “His brother and I love him very much!”

The little girl bared her teeth at you, unwilling to take your actions lying down, “How can you say these things? He hurt you!” She hissed.

“It was an accident!” You matched her tone, the sadness quickly evaporating into anger, “Sometimes accidents happen when you’re playing! He’s good and kind and would never, ever hurt me! Ever!”

Your shouting was quick to alarm the servants stationed outside your playroom’s walls. Kifaji was the first one in, eyes sharp as he immediately separated you from the other children, stepping in the way with his back to you. “What is going on here?” He questioned. There was no room for nonsense in his expression and his words matched that as he gazed around the play area. The girl cradled her cheek as she glared at you, unwilling to speak up. She may have made the mistake of bad mouthing the second prince in the presence of other children, but she knew better than to say those words around another adult that wasn’t her own parent. Kifaji raised his brow at her silence before turning to your gorilla and elephant companions, silently questioning the two. They shrunk under his glare and made no move to open their mouths instead choosing to nervously shuffle closer to you.

You tugged on Kifaji’s robes, the fabric soft between your trembling fingers. Glancing over at you, he leaned down and crouched to match your gaze. While his eyes were hard and strict, you could tell that he cared about you and the princes. He would listen to you. You could trust him.

“She was talking badly about Prince Leona…” You whispered to him, “so I punched her.”

Kifaji made a face, but nodded his head slowly. You hoped he understood. With a heavy sigh, he gathered up his robes and picked himself up.

“Come along,” He gestured to the girl, “Let us find your parents. I believe the playdate has come to an end.” and with a gentle hand, he helped her up as she began dabbing away at her eyes but not before shooting you a glare from over her shoulder. You stuck your tongue out at her. As soon as the adults exited the room, you quickly reached up and wiped away the tears staining your cheeks before returning to your friends, the mood sufficiently ruined for the rest of the play date.

It wasn’t until later that evening that Kifaji returned, a cross expression on his face. The guards at his sides were quick to disperse as he approached you, his robes billowing out behind him like colorful plumage. With practiced precision, he kneeled down to your eye level and reached out, bringing your small hands into his. His rough hands itched against your soft ones.

“What you did today could have ended very poorly, my liege.” He spoke softly, but his tone was firm, “You must remember, your position here in the palace is not final. If you cause too much of a ruckus…”

Was the king’s advisor really telling you to ignore this? That you should let Leona be bad mouthed by those in power? You were quick to glare at the older man, ripping your hands away from him and taking a few steps back, eager to separate the two of you.

“I’m not going to let people say whatever they want about Leona.”

Kifaji, shocked, stared for a moment before narrowing his eyes, “This is what I’m talking about, my liege. You are too quick to anger. You must calm yourself. I am not saying you must ignore the problem, but what I am trying to say is, your position in the palace as Falena’s future spouse, is not permanent.”

You hated to admit it but he had a point. You bit your lip but said nothing, cowed under his words. It was the truth. If you wanted to protect Leona, despite having the best intentions, you couldn’t exactly expect to have the sway as an adult. You were a child and easily replaceable. A glorified playmate.

“That is why, my liege,” Kifaji brought himself to his feet, dusting off his robe with a flick of a wrist, “you come to me.”

You turned and looked at him, not expecting the protective glint to his eye. He nodded his head before continuing.

“I will make sure that these things are handled correctly without repercussions. As the king’s advisor, I am not so easily replaceable.” He chuckled, fixing his glasses with a precise motion, “I will admit I am not as… in touch with the other servants in the palace and diplomats are always so careful with their words around me, it’s difficult to gauge their true intentions but with you, they will surely slip up and speak more plainly then perhaps they should.”

You stared up at the man in awe. You couldn’t believe your luck! Kifaji was taking your side and was going to actively help you in your quest to project Leona. Maybe before he was never given the opportunity, never had the time to set aside to investigate. Maybe he never knew. Now, however, he was given the chance with you to defend the prince. You very nearly teared up but were quick to wipe them away as Kifaji laughed, his hand reaching down to ruffle your hair affectionately.

And so the two of you were quick to act, swiftly cutting contact with merchants and dignitaries that shared less than favorable feelings for the second prince. You and Kifaji would have monthly meetings together with snacks courtesy of the king and his wife as you spoke of matters in the palace. You had a special role, scouting out and spying on maids and soldiers that gossiped in the servant’s quarters. Nobody expected anything when you even brought in your two playmates, Magani and Akut (the gorilla and elephant beastmen respectively) to join in on the spying. This carried on for several years as you heavily vetted all coming through the palace all without letting Leona see the work you pulled behind the curtains. All the strings and wires were yours to control and you were going to make good use of the opportunities you were given.

But, for some reason, Leona never seemed to want to leave your side. While you worked on your schooling, he would sit and while away the hours under the light of the sun from his favorite perch right beside your desk. Even in this life he was a lazy lion, preferring the quiet you brought then the loud personality of his elder brother. Sometimes you would join him on his naps, your tails quietly intertwining in a silent embrace. It was a comforting feeling. Moments like this were always a relief after the hours you and Falena had to spend together in your diplomacy lessons. A lot was expected of you as the future queen of Sunset Savanna. There were many late nights where you both stayed up till the crack of dawn together, stubbornly unwilling to give up with tears in your eyes as you studied until your vision blurred. It wasn't an uncommon sight for Kifaji to find the two of you bundled up together with books piled at your feet in the early hours of the morning.

Afternoon lunch dates with Falena and Leona were also rowdy and fun. While Falena was always quick to stay by your side and fight for your attention, Leona was seemingly content with letting your future husband monopolize your time. It wouldn’t be uncommon for Leona to doze off while Falena tried to do ‘couple-y’ things with you

It was all perfect.

Until Falena was accepted into the Royal Sword Academy.

“You’re… breaking our engagement?”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader

228 notes · View notes

buckbuckbarnesstuff · 3 months

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One-Shots

Get yourself a snack, enjoy these wonderful one-shots and leave some love for the creative writers :)

♤ - includes sexual themes

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In the red dark [5.8k] @sergeantxrogers

Tattoo artist!Bucky x Reader

His eyes trapped yours in their vice-like grip as he stared up at you, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans, and you swallowed heavily. You felt the rush of alcohol in your head fizzle out into smoke and embers as you sobered up quicker than you ever have in your life.

"Are you sure?"

You swallowed again. Nodded.

There was a small twitch in his eyebrows, and he narrowed his gaze. "It'll hurt."

Despite your heartbeat drowning out all sounds around you, despite the cold sweat on the back of your neck, despite the knowledge that you'll probably regret this - whatever this actually was - in the morning, you smiled.

"Then I guess I'll just have to hold your hand."

{personal comment: This does something to me, I can’t even explain it, but I enjoyed it so much and I would love to read more}

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The forever third wheels [6.6] @witchywithwhiskey

Bucky x reader

summary: it's the weekend of your town's annual valentine's day carnival and you go with your group of friends, though you can't help but be sad you don't have someone special in your life. your friend, and fellow third wheel, bucky barnes makes it his mission to give you a valentine's day you won't soon forget—and show you how special you are to him.

{personal comment: I live for a good friends to lovers and this is perfect. Bucky is such a sweetheart and I got all the feels during reading}

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In Five Years [4.9k] @elixirfromthestars

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: Bucky was having a hard time expressing his feelings about finally being free from the Winter Soldier program. To help him out, you suggested writing a letter to his future self and burying it in a time capsule to visit this moment again in the future. The plan was to open the time capsule five years from now. That was until Thanos showed up.

[personal comment: I love reading about Bucky in Wakanda and this amazing piece made me feel so many things at once. It mainly made me cry but it’s so beautiful, I love it so much}

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Redamancy [7.3k] @renxzs

Roommate!Bucky x reader

Summary: Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.

{personal comment: My heart broke and healed again during reading this. It’s perfectly written and means so much to me. I come back to this fic from time to time}

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Light, asunder [8.9k] @divine-mistake

Merc!Bucky x Prinzess!Reader

Summary: “Don’t ever do that again.” It would sound like his usual chastising, but Bucky’s voice is soft. If you weren’t crying so hard, struggling to catch your breath, maybe you would hear the note of fear within his words. “Don’t care how mad you get, don’t care how much I piss you off. You don’t go running off into the woods where I can’t find you, Star. Never again.”

You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, right above where his heart lay beating in his chest, and hope he realizes that it’s a promise. A swear.

{personal comment: This is so magical somehow and I love it so much. Bucky growing soft and protective always has me weak}

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Here's Looking At You, Kid [7.2k] @cryonme

Boxer!Bucky x reader

Summary: bucky hated his job just as much, if not more, than you did. but if you wanted to live the remainder of your lives together comfortably, you'd both have to stick it out. which included him having to fight your ex husband.

{personal comment: I've been going through so much while reading this fic, it’s truly beautiful. Bucky's love for the reader and the remorse for hurting her by getting hurt himself was so touching}

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The Key Jangle [9.3k] @delaber

Bucky x reader

Summary: Sick and tired of your many recent bad dates, you’re dreading yet another Valentine’s Day alone. When Bucky offers to show you what a night out is supposed to look like according to him, you get to experience what it’s like to date your best friend.

{personal comment: Bucky is so charming and sweet and that date was amazing. I really enjoyed reading it}

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Stiches [3.6k] @teamatsumu

Doctor!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’re just a clueless new medical student. You’re not equipped to deal with charming, witty, handsome doctors. Especially not ones with pretty blue eyes that make you weak in the knees.

{personal comment: I'm all in for Bucky as a doctor and this was lovely written}

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Warm Comforts [2.1k] @jadedvibes

Beefy roommate!Bucky x reader

Summary: A sudden breakup causes you to feel self-doubt and insecurity about your situation. Fortunately, it’s nothing your sweet roommate and a little Legally Blonde can’t fix.

{personal comment: Bucky is so attentive and sweet, it made me yearn for him so much}

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Before sunset, I fell [4.5k] @atlaese ♤

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: Apparently, when you stay in the honeymoon suite, the husband and the ring on your left hand come with the package. *terms and conditions apply. refunds are not issued.

{personal comment: The beginning had me hooked already and charming and flirty Bucky is a blessing. I really enjoyed this}

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Under the Sheets [3.9k] @vanderlustwords

Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky spends more time out of his dorm than in it with how much his roommate amorously makes love to his girlfriend. Luckily, his cute across-the-hall neighbor is generous about lending her place to him. Bucky’s unsure if he wants to hug or kiss his roommate for putting him in the situation he is in now.

{personal comment: I enjoyed reading this, and Bucky being so cute}

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Too hot, An Arm Cold [2.9k] @t-lostinworlds

Bucky x reader

Summary: Cuddles from Bucky Barnes was probably one of the greatest things ever. But it was difficult to prove that point true in the middle of a heatwave while the apartment air conditioner was broken. Good thing he has a cold metal arm.

{personal comment: This is so wholesome and sweet, the perfect amount of fluff}

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These cold rooftops [3.6k] @atlaese

Avenger!Bucky x Vigilante!Reader

Summary: You're just doing your job as the local vigilante in new york, why can't bucky barnes leave you alone? Spoiler alert: He is very much in love with you, even though he has never seen your face.

{personal comment: This was nice to read, I enjoyed their interactions}

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Me & the devil [11.2k] @artficlly

Outlaw!Bucky x Saloon girl!Reader

Summary: The Diamondback Saloon and Hotel has always attracted bad men, and Bucky Barnes happens to be one of them

{personal comment: It was so thrilling to read this, the built up to the angst is amazing and I've been on edge the whole time reading this. I'm in love with this and the writing style and it deserves so much more recognition}

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Keeping Score @all1e23

Bucky x reader Fake-Dating AU

Summary: After hearing you begging Steve to pretend to be your fake boyfriend to keep your family off your back, Bucky quickly jumps at the chance to play your boyfriend even though you’re a hundred percent sure he hates you. What could possibly go wrong?

{personal comment: Bucky is such a charmer, but also so perceptive and soft. This gave me the feels, I really liked it}

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Spilled wine [3.3k] @sunmoonandeddie

King!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’re nothing more than a servant who happens to warm the bed of the king. At least, that’s what you thought you were.

{personal comment: This gave me so many butterflies. Bucky is so perfect, it was truly lovely to read}

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Happy Mistake @sunlightdances

College!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Being assigned roommates with Bucky. He's a giant and looks like he's a bully, but he's actually so shy and soft.

{personal comment: Bucky being a cute, but oblivious idiot always is endearing. Felt bad for the reader throughout, but I'm glad it turned out so sweet}

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Deny me [3.2k] @drewbarymore

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: In which you feel like Bucky’s ashamed of you.

{personal comment: I felt so many things reading this. Bucky is such a perfect boyfriend and a sweet dork, we gotta love him}

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Heavy bruising [14.2k] @aeaean--bliss

Bucky x reader

Summary: A court-mandated therapy session brings you and Bucky back together after months of not speaking, bringing up memories of the mission that fucked everything up in the first place.

{personal comment: I feel like I just watched a movie. This is truly a masterpiece. The angst, the writing style, the reader's sarcasm and the way Bucky speaks his mind at the end - so beautiful}

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11:59 pm, December 31 [1.7k] @lunarbuck

bestfriend!bucky x Reader College AU

Summary: You've been in love with your best friend Bucky Barnes since fourth grade, but to him, you're just his best friend. It's New Year's Eve, maybe tonight will be different.

{personal comment: This got me so excited at the end, Bucky made me swoon}

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Dust to Dust [7.4k] @autumnsghosts

Bucky x reader

Summary: When you come back from the blip in the graveyard having just been at your grandmother’s funeral, the cemetery seems like the safest place to be. Cleaning old gravestones had certainly never been a dream of yours, but now you find yourself there most days, scraping dirt and moss and algae from stones of people long dead and most likely long forgotten. It also doesn't hurt that a certain blue-eyed super soldier visits the cemetery weekly, placing flowers over two plots.

{personal comment: I didn’t really know what to expect the first time starting this, but it really moved me in a way I can’t explain. Bucky is so genuine and it was lovely to read about the way they bonded}

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You're my home [2.5k] @whitexwolfxx310 ♤

Bucky x reader

Summary: Your wedding night!

{personal comment: I love it soft and sweet and this is perfect}

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Different now [6k] @drabbles-mc ♤

Bucky x Ex!Wife!Reader

Summary: For Week 5 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer 2024: We're Exes

{personal comment: My heart is burning and my stomach is in knots but this is beautifully written and so deeply touching}

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Bribe the super [5.8k] @real-jane

Firefighter!Bucky x Rogers!Reader

Summary: You have a very hot neighbor. He happens to think the same of you.

{personal comment: This was an absolutely endearing read and I enjoyed it so much, had me smiling a lot}

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I won't mind [6.5k] @gxrlcinema

40's!Bucky Barnes x Widow!Reader, Reader x OMC (Past)

Summary: Your old pal Bucky only has a few hours before he goes off to war. Somehow, he winds up spending them with you.

{personal comment: I bawled my eyes out reading this. It’s beautifully written and so touching. I love those conversations}

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Citrus, Miniature Sun [6.4k] @babycap

Bucky x reader

Summary: Steve's getting married, and as much as it thrills you that one-third of your 'to the end of the line' trio is getting hitched, it also fills you with dread at the prospect of your ex-fiance also being on the guest list. Luckily for you, the other third of your trio (who you are most certainly, absolutely not in love with) has a plan. A childhood friends-to-lovers, fake dating AU fic.

{personal comment: It’s perfect and utterly beautiful in so many aspects and I felt so deeply. Bless Bucky for being the best man to only exist in fiction, but I won't ever let go of him, or this fic}

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Jack Pendleton [6.2k] @roger-that-cap

Author!Bucky x reader

Summary: moving into an apartment to get away from your last relationship was fun all fun and games until you met your extremely attractive across-the-hall neighbor, who makes awesome cookies and even better novels.

{personal comment: This was exciting and also really interesting. I was invested, really sweet fic}

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You are in love [3.9k] @viperbarnes

Bucky x reader

Summary: You can hear it in the silence. You can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out, you are in love.

{personal comment: The way this relationship is portrayed just stunns me. It’s beautiful, real and domestic and I found myself lost in it}

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Call it love [10.7k] @sweetascanbee

Bucky x reader

Summary: As much of an expert as you were in pain, Bucky Barnes had introduced you to a novel strain, a kind of pain that encased your entire being down to the last atom, the kind of pain that left you breathless and sated, and yet still, wanting more.

{personal comment: I love to read about Bucky in Wakanda and this really hit me deep. It’s raw and geniune and just so insanely beautiful, I needed to take a break off the internet after that to fix my thoughts and feelings}

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Saints into the sea [7.4k] @babycap

Bucky x reader

Summary: Drunk jealous Bucky cockblocking the reader bc of his big dumb feelings

{personal comment: All the emotions portrayed and felt were so perfectly captured and I felt like watching a movie. The descriptions, the metaphors... It’s just truly amazing}

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky #fic rec #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic rec

164 notes · View notes

gejo333 · 1 year

Text

An Unexpected Match V

DILF/DBF Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader

Pt. 1 Pt.6

Summary: After much convincing from both O’Hara’s you finally agree to move in as you start to be apart of their everyday life.

18+ Warning

I am truly sorry for such a delay in updates. College and work has been taking up all my time. But I'm happy to finally get another chapter out! This one shot/ story book is no where near ending! Just wanted to put that out there if anyone was thinking I stop writing.

I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Enjoy💕

Wc: 2.2k

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It has been three months now since you've began your relationship with Miguel and two months since he asked you to move in with him and Gabi.

You breath out a tired sigh as you wipe the drops of sweat from your face. The punching bag swinging from the interaction with your fists.

"Mig, how do you train for hours like this everyday?" You stop, resting your hands above your head to breath better. Miguel came from behind the punching bag with a smile as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his sweaty bare chest.

"It took a long time to get to this level of training. Now it's just part of my daily routine. Even better today that you decided to join me. It's so hard for me not want to ravish you against the bench press." Miguel gently lifted your chin as he placed a loving kiss to your lips.

"I'll definitely let you maintain your routine. I'll just stick to my basic treadmill and weights. But I’m glad to be your gym buddy every once in a while." You return the kiss, tasting the salt of sweat on his lips. Stepping away briefly you grab your water bottle and took a swing of water. Of course the large hydro flask made water spill down your neck to your chest. Bad mistake.

Lust clouded the brownish red hues of Miguel as he swiftly picked you up and laid you on the matted floor.

"M-Miguel?" Lifting your legs over his shoulders he ripped your workout leggings wide enough to see your gorgeous lips and inner thighs.

"H-hey! I liked those."

"Naughty girl, wearing no underwear. What am I going to do with you mhm?" Miguel grabbed your hips as he lowered his face between your thighs as his tongue licked up your folds to your clit.

"I-I'm doing laundry. All of m-my thongs are in, fuck that feels good, in the wash. And my other underwear makes a panty-line." Your fingers intertwine in his dark curls as you gently thrust your hips up. Thankfully your were at Miguel's home gym and not somewhere in public, cause you knew that wouldn't stop him from ravaging you.

"Amor, you taste heavenly as always. Maybe even more sweet after working out." Miguel lifted your hips closer to his mouth as he continued to tongue fuck you. You tug at his hair more which made him hum in approval against you letting a moan escape from your lips. You cover your mouth with your other hand to stifle your moans afraid to wake up Gabi.

The hand over your mouth was snatched and pinned to your side as Miguel lightly glared up at you. "Don't cover up your voice. I want to hear you."

"B-but Gabi."

"It's 6am she's still asleep."

You laid there in a pool of sweat, overstimulated after your third orgasm. You knew Miguel loved eating you out but the overstimulation was becoming too much.

"Miggy n-no more. Please." You tried to gently push his head away from your throbbing clit, but was proven unsuccessful as you heard Miguel growl from your slight protests. The alarm on Miguel's phone went off which made him groan as he finished you off before sitting up and turning off the alarm.

"It's 7 already." Miguel groaned in frustration as he licked his lips, savoring the taste of you. You sat up, leaning on your elbows as you try to calm your breathing as you lightly glare at your boyfriend.

"You know, you have a serious addiction." You huff with a pout. Miguel smirked as he hovered over you, placing a soft kiss to your lips letting you get a quick taste of yourself.

"You know you love it. So stop whining." He chuckled as he kissed you one more time before getting up and helping you up. You roll your eyes playfully as you lean up to kiss his cheek before walking to his Master bathroom and turning on the shower. Of course right behind you was Miguel as he undressed and joined you in the shower.

You tilt your head back as you let the water hit your face, clearing away the sweat. "Your making my wallet cry for how many clothes I've had to replace from your perverted self."

"Hermosa, I will gladly take you shopping for more clothes so that you won't have to worry about becoming broke. If you moved in with me that will definitely help your bank account." Miguel brushed some of your wet hair behind your ear as he placed kisses along your neck.

"If you didn't rip my clothes to shreds then I wouldn't have to worry about buying more clothes. And you know why I won't move in with you. It's too soon. Gabi was told only a month ago that we're dating. And I know she has been beyond thrilled about it. I just want her to adjust and having me move in seems too sudden."

A small pout rested on Miguel's lips from your answer to moving in. You hate to see when he was sad, especially because of you. Aching heart, you gently cup his cheek, a small gesture of affection. Miguel placed his hand over yours as he leaned into your touch.

"How about I ask her when I take her to school this morning?" Miguel offered.

"How about you ask her when you drive her home from practice. I don't want it to affect her day at school or soccer practice." Miguel sighed as his pout was replaced with a smile, happy that you took in his consideration to move in. He loved how much you cared for his daughter. He loved you.

"Alright. Sounds like a plan. But I think you and I both know her answer. I'm more curious to know what yours is. You can tell me if you don't want to move in with me. I'll understand."

You took a deep breath before looking back up at his eyes, wanting to know how you felt.

"I do want to move in with you. I'm just a little scared that by us rushing things that we'll make a mistake and- I just. My heart wouldn't be able to take the heartbreak."

Miguel’s heart ached by your words. He wrapped his arms around you in a loving embrace as he placed a kiss on the top of your head, resting it gently on top of yours, gently breathing in your floral scent from your shampoo.

“You’ll never feel heartbreak when your with me. I’ll always love you, y/n.”

His words made your heart skip a beat. You rested your head against his chest as you hear his heart beat. Even though it was the early morning his heart beat was soothing you like a beautiful melody, just for you.

After finish washing up you both got dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen. You made coffee and packed Gabi her lunch and snack in her bag while Miguel made breakfast.

“Bell peppers amor?” Miguel asked as he cracked an egg into the pan.

“Yes please.”

You heard little footsteps pattering down the stairs, in rushed the adorable little O’Hara still in her pjs and carrying her stuffed bunny.

“Y/n!” Gabi squealed in joy and excitement to see you as she ran over and barreled in your arms. Always prepared for her adorable hug attacks you easily picked her up in your arms and gave her a hug in return.

“Hey there my baby bug. How did you sleep?”

“I had a nightmare. But papa stayed with me and read me a story until I fell asleep. And then Mr. Bunny was also there to shoo away the rest of my nightmares and keep me safe.” Gabi said as she showed you her bunny before holding the stuffed animal against her.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream, sweetie. But I’m glad Papa and Mr. Bunny was able to help.” You brushed some of the hair behind her ear as you sat her down on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Here you go princesa. Your favorite.” Miguel smiled as he placed a plate with a plain omelette in front of his daughter.

“Thank you papa!”

Miguel placed a plate in front of you before placing a light kiss on your cheek making you blush lightly. “Thank you.”

“Y/n?” Asked Gabi after taking a bite from her omelette.

“Yes Gabi?”

“I wish you were here all the time. Oh! I know! Live with me and papa! Then you’ll be here all the time! And we can have movie nights every night!”

Your eyes slightly widen, surprised and curious by the coincidence of the little O’Hara’s question that her father had once again asked earlier this morning. You glance over to Miguel with a small smile as he shrugged his shoulders, secretly saying that he had no idea.

“So you would be perfectly happy with me moving in?” You asked her to double check if she meant her words. She was a five year old after all.

“Yes! I would be so happy! Please move in with us! Please!”

Your smile widened from her happy expression as you looked to Miguel. “Well, I don’t see a problem with it. Along as your Papa is alright with it.” You asked even though you obviously knew his response.

“I think it’s a great idea.” Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist and brought you closer to his side placing another kiss to your cheek.

“Oh! And then you can get married and become my mama! And I can then have brothers and sisters!” Gabi’s words made Miguel almost spit out his coffee as both of your faces went red.

“Um princesa let’s just stick with having y/n move in first.“

“Okie dokie!” Gabi smiled as she went back to finishing her omelet.

After everyone finished their breakfast and got ready to head out to the garage where his Aston Martin was parked.

“I’ll drop you off at campus after dropping Gabriella off.”

“Are you sure?” You ask as you help buckle Gabi into her car seat.

“Of course, cariño. It’s on my way to work. Plus, we can spend more time together.” Miguel said as he got into the driver’s side with you joining on the passenger side.

After a short 15 minute drive and listening to a disney soundtrack the whole way, you arrived to Gabi’s elementary school. You got out of the car as Gabi said goodbye to Miguel before you helped her out of the car and walked her to her teacher and her classmates in the school yard.

“Bye y/n!” Gabi gave you a hug before running to her friends.

“Bye sweetheart. Have a fun day at school!”

You walk back to the car and get in as Miguel begins to drive towards your campus. Now that Gabi was at school Miguel placed his hand on your clothed jean thigh as he drove using his other hand.

“So do you want to plan to get your stuff from Stephanies? Do u need help with packing or moving anything?” Miguel asked as he briefly glance over to you before looking ahead at the road.

“Well since I temporarily moved to her place quickly and short notice I don’t have too much to pack. Everything that was mine at my old apartment is back at my parents house. But I’m not going to deal with that until a later date.” You looked out the window as you spoke. But you turned your head towards his direction when you felt him gently squeeze your thigh.

“ I know it’s none of my business. But your parents do miss you a lot and I think regret their actions with Tyler. And they wonder where you are sometimes. Of course they don’t know about us. And we can talk more about that when you think it’s the best time.”

You place your hand over the one resting on your thigh as you hold his hand and lovingly squeeze it. “Maybe give me a few days to think about it. I know it’s been a bit of time but it still hurts how they reacted that day. But I know ignoring them as punishment can’t last forever.”

“Alright, mi amor. We’ll talk about it when your ready.”

It took another 20-30 minutes to get to Nueva York University main campus. Miguel pulled his car to the side where he stopped and temporarily put the car in park.

“Have a good day. I’ll pick you up at 5?”

“Sure. See you then. Have a good day at work Miggy.”

Miguel leans over and places a loving kiss on your lips. You happily returned the kiss before waving goodbye and departing for your first class.

Unnoticed by both you and Miguel was a third party watching the two of you from across the block.

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Also thank you so much for 500 followers! I know I haven’t been as active as we all would have liked. But I will try super hard to write more. But thank you everyone! I’m so happy to be able to share my work with y’all!

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