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pinkachire · 3 years

Text

Protected Perfection

mikey x reader

synopsis: manjiro sano, one of bonten's dangerous leader has a girlfriend that likes to break one of his rules, such as going out without permission that caused him to take his anger out on you, but soon the so-called dangerous leader turned instantly soft when y/n realized that he's doing it all for her girlfriend's safety.

cw: squirting. degradation. embarrassed reader idk. praise. pussy slapping. kinda threatening. um what else

a/n: im really sorry i was gone for a vv long time, but im active in wattpad and tiktok if u guys want to interact with me and read some more of my works :)

╰┈➤ ❝ [protected perfection]

Third Person POV

You were looking in front of the mirror while trying out the new dresses. You just went back from the mall without your boyfriend, Sano Manjiro, the leader of this so-called Bonten, and honestly, it's your first time going somewhere without him... and without his permission.

You were well aware of his number one rule, Manjiro is a really strict man, that's why he has this set of rules for your sake and safety because he knows how you're now basically affiliated with these gangs and it's dangerous, yet here you are, you just broke one of his rules.

You just hope you can hide these shopping bags quickly before he gets home.

"Okay, next dress." Your lips pouted as you felt like the red strapless tight satin dress is better than this glitter silver backless dress. "Wait- actually- no- this one is better- wait- no-"

"Welcome home, boss Manjiro." You heard male voices outside, and you know it's one of Mikey's Bonten workers.

"Shit— He's already home that quick?!" You panicked as you quickly stuff the dresses inside the shopping bags, you don't care if they are folded or anything, just don't let your strict boyfriend see them because you'll be dead as fuck.

"Y/n," Mikey knocked just outside the room. "I'm home."

"Why is your door locked?" He said, and you heard him twisting the doorknob aggravatingly.

"U-um, wait! I'm changing!" You shouted with a shaky voice while contemplating where to hide these almost more than ten large shopping bags, even the closet is no use.

"I'll just hide y'all under the bed." You whispered as you kicked them under the bed and stuffed them like dough.

"Who are you talking to?" Mikey said as his knocks were getting louder, and he heard hurried footsteps inside your room with items being thumped, and his suspicion was getting him which made him impatient.

"I'm coming in, don't forget I have a fucking spare key." He said as he inserted the key in the keyhole and twisted the doorknob.

Your eyes widened as you quickly stood up from under the bed and faced the door.

"Fuck, I forgot to take my dress off." You thought.

Mikey raised an eyebrow at what you were wearing because it was unfamiliar and smelled different, not like one of his perfumes or the designer clothes he bought for you, but he had to admit you looked perfect in it, with the red satin dress hugging your body, hair and makeup done.

"What's that?" He asked as he walked closer to you and secretly locked the door.

"U-um, didn't you remember? You bought this for me! B-but it was a long time! So you probably forgot about it—" You convinced with a nervous smile.

"S-so yeah, let's sleep now, I'm pretty tired as well, how was your business trip by the way?" You asked while trying to change the topic, but he wasn't having it.

Mikey kept quiet as he walked past you and checked your room, some furniture was moved, a plastic bag sitting just on the floor, and your closet door creaked open.

"Oh I was just cleaning our room, don't worry." You said.

But then he lifted your bedsheets and saw shopping bags peeking under the bed.

"Fuck, I'm dead." You thought as you gulped.

"I— Manjiro let me explain, um, look—"

"Where'd you get these?" He said as he picked up the bags and checked the clothing inside.

He glared at you from your silence which explains everything, and your eyes darting everywhere in the room but him.

"Went out by yourself?"

"No." You said in a barely audible voice.

Mikey knew you were lying, and liars are what he despises the most, and he can easily spot them from the way you bite the insides of your cheeks, trembling of your voice, deflecting your gaze everywhere, and you were just too easy to read for him.

"You know better how lying doesn't make it better, darling." He said as he dropped a sigh and sat at one of the chairs in the room while rubbing his temples with stress.

"So, if you went in the mall without my permission or at least even bring a bodyguard, what if something bad happens, huh?" He said with his tone raising a bit, and you flinched while standing in front of his sitting figure.

"'m sorry, won't happen again..." You mumbled while your head is lowered, eyes meeting the floor as you were too afraid to bat him an eye.

"I can't hear you when you're talking like that." He clicked his tongue

You slowly looked at him and his eyes were darkened dangerously, a death glare that sent chills down your spine.

"But I got to admit, you suit that dress, come here." Mikey said that made you blink but then walked closer to him, but he pulled you by your wrist and made you sit on his lap that made you stiff. His hand glides down on the side of your stomach while his thumb draws circles on your hips which made you feel butterflies in your stomach, he noticed your stiffness and squirming that made him lean into your ear and whisper something.

"It makes me want to fuck you."

Your eyes widened as you looked at him in shock, and a smirk tugged on his lip and grabbed your jaw to kiss you hungrily, the heavy move of his lips tells how he's hiding his anger, and probably taking it out on you. He noticed you moving your hips a bit and he grabbed your hips with his both large veiny hands to push you down and closer to his lap to make you feel his hardened bulge.

"Hng— M-Mikey..." You whimpered during the kiss as you felt his hands controlling your hips, grinding you down to his lap while kissing you intensely, and his hands ruffling your satin dress up, exposing your thighs to him, and he widened them open and pressed you deeper onto his clothed dick.

"Stand up." He commanded as he pulled away from the kiss, and your brows furrowed in question.

"You really think I'll let you go that easily?" He said and pushed you off his lap that making you stand in front of him.

"Strip." He said while his legs were on a man spread as he pushed his hips up and fixed his posture, both of his elbows on the armrest while leaning back and looking intently at you.

The word ringed on your ears as your brows furrowed up in nervousness, thinking that you'll really humiliate yourself in front of him.

"I'm waiting."

Mikey's eyes narrowed as his eyes went over your body as you stood up hesitantly and faced him. You thought for a minute while fidgeting with your fingers, but then slowly lifted your dress up, exposing your underwear, and Mikey's eyes focused as his eyes traveled on your body.

He hummed while licking his lips, and you dropped the dress on the floor while your arms were covering your body.

"I didn't say to leave any pieces of clothes." He said.

"But—"

"Go on, talk back to me and I'll rip your clothes off myself." Your boyfriend said in dominance as you immediately took off your underclothing, which exposed your whole skin to him.

Mikey patted his lap as you sit there, and he took a look at your body before continuing his words.

"Ride me while facing the mirror, and if you don't come in five minutes, I won't let you come for a week." He said as your breath hitched.

Your hands placed on his knee as you rode his thigh, and the rough fabric on his pants made it hard for you, but it's shameful how your clit brushed on it and it felt good. It was hard pleasing yourself especially from the position, how your back is facing him while you were watching yourself in the mirror.

"Faster." He commanded as he grabbed your hair and twisted it around his finger while his other free hand slapped your ass.

You were gasping for air between your broken whimpers while trying to grind hard on his lap while facing the mirror, your brows furrowed up as you felt your pussy throbbing on his pant's rough fabric.

"Hmm? Struggling a little, you need help?" He cooed in a teasing tone, and you nodded desperately while your hips were still grinding.

His other hands grabbed your hips and he started controlling your movements, you felt like melting under his touch when he pushed your hips down to his lap for more friction. You moaned in response as his other hand went under yours and felt him play with your clit that made your body flinch on his lap with your stutter grinding on his lap.

"Mmm, so wet already." Mikey said as he continued rubbing your clit while you're still grinding on his lap, and you felt coming easily as he stroked your clit quickly once more that made you come on his lap, and your liquids dripping down to his pants that made a stain.

"'m sorry..." You whimpered as you felt embarrassed and covered your face, can't bear to look at yourself in the mirror, but he just chuckled humiliatingly behind you.

"Now now, no need to be embarrassed." He said as he pulled your body to his, and your back is on his chest.

Your thighs felt worn grinding on his lap, so you placed your head on his shoulder as you regained your breath, but your breath caught as his hands moved under your knees and spread your legs while facing the mirror, and your pussy was exposed on the mirror, causing you to blush.

"N-no... 's too embarrassing Mikey... " You whispered as you try to close your legs, but he only placed them on either side of his legs.

"You don't get to refuse." He said as he slapped your drenching cunt that made your body jerk in response.

It might feel shameful, but you were turned on by your boyfriend slapping your pussy, and you wriggled on his lap as he continued slapping your pussy that made you cry while cocking your head to the side, refusing to look at yourself in the mirror.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He grunted while continued slapping your pussy, and he felt his palms becoming drenched from your liquids, "See that? You're fucking wet just by slapping."

You felt liquids gush down your hole as he continued slapping, and he just laughed in a humiliating way as he looked at your eyes in the mirror.

"Can't waste this cum of yours, right?" Mikey said as his fingers slowly inched to your clenching hole as the tip of his finger prods your hole while collecting your juices and slowly rubbing your cunt in a circular motion.

His fingers started entering your whole as your walls clenched around it, and his thumb went on rubbing your clit that made your eyes roll back to your head.

You felt his fingers roughly fucking your pussy while his other hand was under your other knee to spread your legs wider to the mirror.

"M-mikey—" He said, and he curled his fingers inside you that made you whimper and cover your mouth from the pleasure.

His fingers felt heavy inside you as he scissored them inside that made your head throw back on his shoulder and he smirked in response as he felt your near already.

"I'm close, c-can't..." You try to pry his hands away from your hole as you didn't want to feel embarrassed again, but he only fastened his pace.

"Why? Don't you want to come?" He questioned like he doesn't know what's the actual reason.

You shook your head in response as tears streamed down your cheeks from the harsh thrust of his fingers inside you, and you felt your legs shaking on his other hand that was gripping your thigh.

"So sensitive today." He said raspily said as you came on his fingers, and he took them out as he watched how your hole clenched while liquids squirted on the mirror, and you covered your face as you sobbed.

"Can't wait to fuck you already." He groaned as his hands flew to his belt and unbuckled them while holding you tightly on his lap, and he pushed his hips forward.

As his pants were lowered, his other hand went on your clit while he rubbed circles, and lewd noises escaped your mouth while he was fisting his cock and angled his tip to your pussy.

"Princess, 'can't fuck you till your squirting messy." He chuckled while his index and ring finger parted your pussy lips and his middle rubbing your clit while slowly prodding your clenching hole.

You felt your high easily as your liquids squirted out again, and you sobbed while covering your mouth on the back of your hand while your head is thrown back to his shoulder in pleasure.

As you were squirting, he used that opportunity to enter his cock to your spasming pussy, and you whined loudly from the overbearing pleasure as he didn't even give you chance to talk and just thrust up his hips to yours that made you come will he was pounding his cock inside you, it was all so messy, just like how Manjiro was planning to do.

"Baby, fuck—" He grunted while thrusting into you harshly, and you had to grip his forearms but he lifted you by your hips and stood up from the chair that made you wrap your legs around your waist yet his cock is still inside you.

He placed you on the edge of the bed as he continued fucking you while standing, and he placed either side of his hands on either side of your head.

"Please... need you." You whined while letting out filthy noises as he rolls his hips to you and pounded while tears escaped from your eyes.

He gazed down at you and observed how your perfectly bought dress tightens around your body, and he licked his lips, praising on such a masterpiece and on how such a sweet girlfriend like you can do such things to a gang's leader.

He tilted his head and smirked while he only chuckles at your poor whines and blabbering please of "too much".

"Mikey— hah~!" Your hands grabbed to his as you wrapped them around his neck while he dropped to his forearms and placed them on top of your head, trapping your body to his while your pussy is all vulnerable to him now which he took the chance to fuck you into oblivion.

He groaned as he saw the tears stream down your face. Your hands alternated with wiping your tears and hanging your hands around his neck for dear life while plowing into your hole, and he riled up more, cock going hard from the helpless loads of tears freely stream down your face, with the back of your hands frantically wiping them.

"Don't wipe them, you're pretty when you cry." Mikey softly said as he inched to your face and kissed you deeply while his hands intertwined with yours on the sheets.

The calculated roll of his hips being such bliss to you, the way he harshly thrust to you and buries his cock deep into your pussy that brings tears of pleasure to your eyes, which your boyfriend totally adores.

"I'm close, Mikey." You whispered.

"Close? Then cum." He said while his eyes were narrowed, head hanging between his shoulders as he used his other hand to lift your leg on his shoulder.

"M-Mikey, 'can't—" You whimpered as you looked up at him with wide doe eyes, you tugged his shoulders as you cocked your head to the side, attempting to hide your flustered face.

"Shh shh, yes baby, you can." He said as he caressed your cheeks and plant kisses all over your face.

"It's too embarra—" You said, but you yelped as Mikey quickly rubbed little circles on your clit that made you squirt on his abdomen and he prods his tip onto your hole while his pupils dilate in delight.

You panted while trying to muffle your whimpers on your hand while your pussy is clenching around his still inside hard cock, he pulled out that made your whole body tremble, and Mikey had to grab the back of your head while kissing your forehead with his hand traveling on the sides of your body, soothing you down.

"I love you, you know how I'm just really strict when it comes to you, hm? It's for your own safety." Your sweet boyfriend coos as he preps you sweet kisses, his face a while ago compared to now was totally different, how your boyfriend can turn soft to you in just a matter of seconds.

"But you, squirtin'?" He chuckled with a scoff. "Do that again for me, m'kay? Baby?"

#tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #fanfiction #tokyo revengers oneshot #oneshot #tokrev #smut #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev x you #tokyorev smut #tokyo rev fluff #mikey #mikey x reader #manjiro sano #mikey smut #bonten x reader #bonten

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mimimarilynart · 7 years

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Day 20 - 1C late eycte Milex for @sorethpid <33

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lolita-lollipop · 3 years

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Royal siren erasermic family? They like adopt you after you hatch from an egg bc they found you or something idk and take you back to the castle and make you their little princess or something cute and fluffy like that.

YANDERE SIREN ERASERMIC FAMILY X BABY PRINCESS READER

Shinso was just out and about, swimming through some forbidden areas he wasn’t supposed to be in, avoiding sharks, when he found an iridescent little ball under some rubble of a shipwreck, it made his gills tingle at the sweet aura that it emmited, he knew, that this creature, was something to protect. It was up until he saw something moving inside that he thought it was just some ancient treasure that would’ve died with this ship, he examined it closer, squinting his eyes, that’s when he realized, it was a Siren. A baby one at that, usually they hatched out of boring white eggs, the royal family’s were gold, but a shiny color changing white that combated the finest of jewels? Never, this little pip was special, he could feel it.

So he brought it back home, through his “balcony window”, debating wether or not he should tell his parents. As you know, he was somewhere where he was not supposed to be, and they would throw a fit. Then again, whatever this thing was, he couldn’t just keep it to himself, something was living inside it, and he wouldn’t know if something was wrong, so he has too. When he did, it came as a suprise that his parents weren’t mad, they jsut kindof stared at the orb, inhaling the addictive scent it gave off, the three huddled around it, aizawa carefully picking the Small thing up, it was only about the size of a pumpkin, extremely easy to pick up, yet he could still feel the heartbeat of a creature inside, it just had to be one of the sirenfolk , there isn’t any other explanation. He stared at it in confusion, noticing the small cracks staring to form.

Then a little hand popped through, and scared the shit out of all of them.

———

As it turned out, you were in fact a siren, a rare subtype of them, thought to have gone extinct long, long ago. The opal-looking scales that littered your arms and tail showed proof of it, this species were intensely more fragile, and weaker, that’s why they went extinct, as they couldn’t hear, and a small crabs pinch could cause major bone breaks, they were just too weak, yet so beautiful. That’s why they were coveted among the royal family. It only helped their growing obsession taht you were so cute.

It might’ve been an act of I’mpulse, but they just needed to have you as their own, of course, their word is law, so they could’ve just kept you, but they felt the need to make it official, they’d already had two pips, you’re just their third! It was simple, of course, you specific species could be born into sirenfolk families, it was just so rare that it had only happened once. You were just so cute, so fragile, just something so breakable, they just

H a d

To protect this tiny lil thing, it was instinctual to feel a protective pull over their little pups, and boy were they feeling that right now, you were special, not just any baby, but you were theirs. Their special little pup, nothing would ever lay a hand on you, ever. It had only be a few days, and word spreads through the underwater kingdom like a wave, from the servant maid who showed them how to take care of you, to the head maid, to a citizen, to the fisher, and eventually, by the end of the week, the whole kingdom was eagerly waiting to get a glimpse of their new princess.

And boy were they shocked to find out it was an opalite, the most rare of rare sirens in the world. Immediately after they had shown you to the world, sitting in a large clam as it was pulled by sharks, the citizens fell in love with you, maybe it was the fact that you were related to their beloved royals, maybe because the royal family would intensely glare at anyone who made negative comments, maybe it was the fact that a few of those people went missing, but who knows right?

You still hadn’t been able to open your eyes yet, and you won’t be able to hear them for a very long time, your hands were about the size of aizawas eye, and you looked closer to a fish than a human, as you hadn’t even developed your face yet, another plus to being the endangered species, note the sarcasm. And guess what? They found it so adorable, just their cute little baby, their little pup who can’t even protect themselves from the water around them. They just loved every part of your little body, from your tails, to your tiny little hands, to your shiny gills. It was all just so perfect- you were so perfect, and you were theirs, they were gonna protect you at all costs.

So of course they did, you were just so tiny right now, they knows practically anything could hurt you, so they opted to be around you all the time, only leaving to hunt for humans that would suffice for their tastes, drawling them in, determined because of that little smile of yours. You motivated them to do it, they were doing this for you. It have them all a sense of pride to have you feel safe with them, to rite them you. On their own terms.

Eri was constantly around you, being that she was a young one just like you, and you were her little sister! So she wanted to always be around while you made those echoing gurgling noises, or flapped your hands around in the water, she didn’t have responsibility in the kingdom yet, unless being cute is a job, so she can be with you jsut as much as she wants. Always sitting with you while you played with the floating pearls that they had arranged over your play area, watching you feel new things, holding you while you dozed off with adorable little bubbles, she always was with you.

Like now, she’s been with you all day, giving you little snacks, glaring at the guards at the door who always had their eyes on you… creeps. The sun was almost setting, and when you’re low down in the ocean it goes pitch black after a little while, and that’s when the jellyfish come out, tonight was one of the most special days out of the year in the northern oceans, the jellyfish festival, the one night a year when the rare white jellyfish would come out to say hi, leaving trails of shimmering sparkle behind them, painting the upper levels of the ocean a shiny silver. It just so happened that it occurred on your first birthday, a very small increment to sirens, as they live almost a billion years, but still a big accomplishment in their eyes. Look! Their little baby girl is turning one! How amazing!

“Do you see them hon? Look, they’re just starting to appear” Aizawa asked both you and eri calmly, swishing his hand through the salty water to pint at the new appearance of white and purple blobs, slowly flouncing their way overhead. Eri smiled up at it, her pointed teeth displayed in full view, her eyes shined at the view, not only of the huge jellyfish, but also at you, who was placed delicately in mics lap, sat up against his chest. Little bubbles escaped your mouth as you blew raspberries into the water, just making the family laugh.

“Mm-hmmm! Look! Look! How pretty! I wanna touch em! Can I touch em!” She yelled at her parents, excitedly pointing towards the jelly’s floating towards the surface, her hair floated behind her as she swished around, shinsho just chuckled, knowing that she eventually would try to touch them, and get zapped, again, like last year, and the year before, and the year before.

“No hon. Don’t do that to us again, you wanna wish your sister a happy birthday? She’s probably really exited!” Mic cheered, distracting his daughter from touching the jellyfish, yet again, meanwhile, you were happily bouncing up and down on his lap, enjoying the freedom of your arms, swishing them all over the place, grabbing the beads around your neck, jsut anything.

“But dad! Why not! It’s not like it’s hurt me or anything I’ll be fi-“ she begged, throwing her hands up in a small tempter tantrum, clearly forgetting her previous events of pain, and idiocy.

“No- nope no no, we aren’t doing this again, please honey, just please, remember last time, we had to clean up your wounds OUTSIDE-of water, you hate going to the surface remember? “

“Yeah but-“ she started speaking, but was soon cut off with a loud giggle, resonating through your lips, kindof rare for you, you hadn’t been very vocal outside of a few gurgles here and there, so it had each and every ones heads turning. That’s when they saw it, your beautiful eyes, shin sing in reflection to the jellyfish. Those beautiful little eyes of yours mesmerized all of them, a pitch black (for protection from the salt), with a shiny silver-like pupal, immediately after they opened, a burst of color filled your vision. You giggled and clapped your hands together with a small toothless smile, watching as the floaty creates went overhead, glittering with the light.

The absolutely gorgeous splash above was admired by the family form their own viewing post, the blues and whites combined to make a heavenly display. You could feel the cool sprinkles of light they emmited hitting your skin, smiling at the feeling, you splayed your hands out and flailed them against the water.

“Ohhhhhh- oh wow. Honey! Honey look! Her eyes opened! Look at taht! Aren’t you just so magical! Look at you, my little pup.” Mic smacked Aizawa over the chest multiple times, pointing at your clearly opened eyes, you just remained oblivious, staring up at all the new things around you, like.. everything! He turned you around to face him, letting you actually see his face for the first time, taking in the long yellow hair, the (also) black eyes, the ethereal face dotted with shiny yellow gills, him, you could see him!

“She’s developing smoothly, I’m glad. Awww, that’s pretty cute.” Aizawa replied to him, holding in his emotions, as soon as he met those new eyes of yours it’s like everything else disappeared, like the world itself didn’t exist, outside of him, and his fmaily. You took his breath away, or what you could call breath, so cute and innocent, such a small thing, that brings so much joy. Your little tail swished back and forth as you stared up at them happily, taking in the features of the people you’d learned to recognize by touch. Blowing raspberries out of your lips with a stream of bubbles.

“Awwwww! I’m gonna cry, she’s growing so fast! Soon she’ll be swimming in her own! In like 200 years! Too soon, way too soon. Comers baby- mm hmmm” mic spoke, knowing full well that even if he did cry, his tears would get sucked in by the ocean. He pulled you close, moving your head I’ve this shoulde is it would rest in the crook of his neck while he hugged you, eventually, the others joined in, eri practically flopping ontop (with careful regard for you of course).

They all stared at you, while you stared up at the “sky”, oblivious to their stares, to the ways they would growl at anyone who came close, to how they kept you from seeing anyone other than what they personally approve. After all, you are jsut their little pup, of course you wouldn’t notice! Their little pup… feels right to say that, it isn’t like you have any family waiting, they aren’t ever gonna come here.

And if they ever did?

Then, well, a few mermaids are going missing

———————————————————————————————————

Thanks for requesting, this was fun to write!

Have a great day today! Goodbye.

#yandere aizawa #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere erasmic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic family #yandere siren #yandere fantasy #yandere x child reader #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic obsession

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father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years

Text

rhinestone eyes

PAIRING: Rich Boy!Eren x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS [present+future]: infidelity, dubcon, gaslighting, manipulative and toxic behavior, toxic relationship, sexual content, yandere tendencies, suggestive hand-holding

part one

kofi

There's a sneer on Eren's face as green eyes behind Versace aviators glide over your form, staring you up and down. His gaze is so penetrative, it makes your teeth chatter. Maybe he was just checking you out. Maybe he was scrutinizing every blemish.

You suddenly feel so very small in your tennis skirt, the tight collared shirt stretching over your breasts, and wished that today out of all days wasn't when you decided to dress a little more stylish.

"Fancy seeing you here." His voice is nonchalant but there's a tone of humor that accompanies his brisk words. How long would it be until he laughs at you?

He scowls, "Are you mute or something? Why aren't you greeting me back properly?"

"Eren," You took a deep breath, "What are you doing in Paris?"

It occurs to you that you've never seen him out of his uniform before. He's wearing a light blue button-down, half the buttons left unfastened, polo shorts, an expensive black watch glittering on his wrist, silver rings on his slender fingers, and a thin silver chain dangling around his neck.

He's also acquired a new piercing, industrial, judging by the bar across his ear. The silver glints harshly under the sun.

"Are you done burning holes through me?"

You blush, embarrassment coloring your cheeks: "No, I'm just surprised." You tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ear, "Didn't expect to run into anyone I knew in another country."

You were just taking a pleasant walk in the acclaimed Champs-Élysées, the avenue every bit as a picture-perfect postcard as it had been described.

"Have you eaten?" The question is spoken with a sigh like he couldn't believe he was asking you this, and you couldn't either.

"Oh, um, no?" You responded, bewildered.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, which reached the nape of his neck by now: "I know a cafe around here. Let's get brunch. We'll talk there."

You don't know what possessed you to nod but you did so, trying to match his quick and long strides. The walk was silent, presumably because the two of you were saving your burning questions for the cafe.

He rolls his eyes when you stutter through your French. He raises a hand, and simply tells the waiter his order and dismisses him. His French is flawless and you're tempted to ask him how it's so good, but you already know the answer. Probably had hordes of tutors to help him.

Merci Monsieur

"Wait," You remark to Eren, "I didn't order."

"I ordered for us. Pain au chocolate, savory crepes, eggs, and ham. Coffee after. For me. Hot chocolate for you because you don't drink coffee."

Oh. That actually sounds good. How did he know your beverage preferences?

He fishes out a cigarette from his pocket, skinny and hand-rolled, "So what are you doing here? No offense but you don't exactly seem like you can afford a vacation to France. "

Now is your turn to sigh. You've nearly forgotten how blunt he could be: "Here on an internship. For art" You supply.

"I assume you just regularly come to Paris every summer?"

He doesn't deny or verify your statement, "Something like that."

"So you're staying at a hostel or?" He asks, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that makes your nose wrinkle.

The waiter comes by with food, and you turn to Eren with a sour look, "I sincerely hope you're not going to smoke while we're eating."

To your utter surprise, he ashes the cigarette. You were expecting a witty and mean retort at the very minimum, not silent compliance.

You pick up the earlier conversation, "Well, I'm actually staying with my boyfriend." You mummer the last word quietly but the viridian-eyed boy's ears are keen. You don't notice how his grip on the knife tightens.

"You're staying with your boyfriend?" He repeats.

You nod, "Yeah, he's an art student too."

The rest of the meal is completed in sparing small-talk and lengths of silence. But it's not awkward. It's weird. On one hand, having brunch with Eren Yeager in fucking Paris, heir to a billionaire pharmaceutical company should feel surreal, but it's strangely peaceful. You feel more at peace sitting across from him in France than you did when he sat next to you in homeroom.

When it's time to pay the check, Eren looks amused by the very notion of you digging into your purse.

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I let the lady pay?" His words are spoken with a teasing smile.

You roll your eyes but can't help a glimmer of a smile from peeking through on your lips, "Didn't take you much for a gentleman."

He tosses his black card on the bill, "You'd be surprised."

What's there left to do now? Is it time to part ways? There's a part of you that craves more but life has taught you to not be greedy when you already have so so much.

You dabble the corner of your lips with a napkin, "Well, this has been fun-"

"Wait, uh, do you wanna check out the Louvre? Since you're an art student and all, you might uh enjoy it."

You stare at him. Is he tongue-tied?

"You've probably there been a million times already."

"Yeah...but you haven't been, right?"

You blink before breaking into a smile that Eren is sure is going to give him heart palpations, so sunny and bright.

"I would love to!"

You guys check out Mona Lisa for the sheer novelty, and you're bouncing around the museum, oohing and ahhing at the chiseled statues and Renaissance paintings. There is so much history here, it blows your mind.

Eren finds himself watching you more than the paintings. You have this veneer of snark that you wrap around yourself like a protective gauze (maybe that's how you maintain your survival in a world of hyenas) but you're different now.

You're yourself. Watching you here come alive in unbridled enthusiasm, eyes widened in passion, makes him reach out to his pocket and fish for his disposable film camera. He doesn't know if he's ever seen anyone in his vapid life look like the way you do, so filled with a zest for things that are greater than themselves.

He wants to burn you into his memory, praying to all the gods that you won't notice when he takes a picture of you admiring a bust of a goddess. He slyly tucks his camera back into his pocket.

The world seems to stand still when you tug his hand to show him a painting, an expression of unadulterated wonder on your face. But when you realize you pulled his hand, you immediately drop it like hot coals.

Why do you look so worried? Why do you look so scared?

"You can hold my hand if you want. It's-it's okay." He can't believe he's gotten the words out.

You're taking too long, your hands still hanging limply by your side, an indiscernible expression on your pretty face. Eren doesn't understand why it makes him so mad, why your sudden hesitation grated his nerves. Deciding to make your choice for you, he grabs your hand, squeezing your palm as he flashes you the charismatic smile that's got him out of countless incidents.

He doesn't like the expression of worry marring your features. Where did the happy jovial girl go? Just a few seconds, you were poking him with sparkles in your eyes, "Look at this Eren!" and "So beautiful, right?"

He forces another smile: "Show me the painting you wanted me to see." Maybe it was meant to be a request but it comes out as a demand.

You cast a glance at your joined hands, his grip borderline painful. "O-okay."

You lead him across the floor, and Eren can feel the stares of people around him. They are smiling. An older woman utters a "Un si charmant couple."

You take him to a grand painting. It's haunting and dark, swirling with so many shades of dusty red from vermillion to scarlet. A pregnant woman lies reclined, arm hanging and head lolling. She appears to be asleep, and there is a cacophony of men around her portrayed in varying degrees of stress.

"Death of a virgin", you breathed.

Such a macabre name, Eren thought as he gazed longer into the painting. He loosens his grip on your hand, testing whether you would pull away.

You don't.

It's raining outside and you're giggling.

"Fuck" Eren swears, "I'll call a cab."

You're a vision drenched in rain. Your clothes are soaked, and he could see the outline of your bra from your thin shirt. But it seems like you don't even care.

"Let's just enjoy it!" You cry out. There are thick droplets stuck in between your eyelashes, and you smell like rain too. It's dangerous, he can see chords of purple lightning flash the sky, thunder booming, and it's like you're dancing, the way you move so effortlessly.

You hook his hands in yours, "Doesn't this feel good?"

He feels like all his sins are being washed away, all the impurities and muck that clung onto him after nineteen years of existence. His heart nearly jumps out of his throat every time he looks at you.

He cups your chin and kisses you. When he feels the threadbare resistance, he kisses harsher, tongue and teeth swallowing your protests, coaxing your mouth open with a skillful pinch to your nipple. He pulls away just before you feel like all your breath has been robbed.

You're stunned speechless, "Eren...I...h-have a boyf-"

He kisses you again. And this time you kiss back, holding nothing back.

taglist: @candy-hime @cinnamon-n-roses @forwardpair

inspo: @candy-hime's rich boy!shoto. the iconic golf club one <3

#dubcon touching #rich boy eren yeager #eren yeager x reader fanfiction #eren yeager x y/n #yandere eren x reader #tw cheating #eren yeager x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan au #eren jaeger

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jangofctts · 4 years

Text

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”

You smile. “Lovely.”

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.

-=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement.

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes.

Fuck yeah.

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.

Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”

There we go.

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.

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quicksilverrwrites · 3 years

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𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you can’t sleep and neither can peter, but at least you both know exactly how to comfort one another. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, fluff, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: y/n is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

It’s eleven-thirty, and you can’t sleep.

Your thoughts shift to your lessons in the morning; to how tired you’re going to be; to that iced coffee you’d had while getting your assignment done after class; about how that drink was definitely a bad idea considering how you’re lying awake now. It had tasted good then, and it had given you the energy you needed to fire out five thousand words in the span of a few hours… but now you regret it.

Sighing, you roll over. Your eyes glaze over the objects on the nightstand beside your bed. Your alarm clock, rectangular in size and wooden in material, glares at you. Eleven thirty six. Eleven thirty seven. The time seems to spiral, and you realise that you might as well do something with yourself if you’re awake.

You eye the books stacked on top of the alarm clock; you’d been reading one before and it had bored you half to death, so you can’t bring yourself to pick up any again. What else? What else?

Your gaze settles upon the picture frame on the dresser next to your nightstand, and you let out a sigh as you settle upon the silver-haired speedster within it. You’re next to him, a mere blur since he’d sneakily taken the camera from your hand and taken a picture with an expression that radiates cheekiness, but you’d liked the picture enough to keep it.

You’ve got a few more picture frames scattered around your room—photos of you with Scott, Jean, Jubilee and Kurt. Even some of Charles. You might not be close, but he is your uncle, after all. He’s still family.

And yet it’s Peter you keep your eyes on. It’s Peter's mischievous aura which calls to you across the room.

What would he be doing right now? He’s probably playing video games or practicing on one of his guitars. You’d been surprised to see him play well; you’d been surprised to see that he actually had the attention span it takes to successfully learn an instrument. You would know: your mother used to nag you about practicing the piano to perfection. Practice makes perfect, she’d always said, and yet she’d always left out how much energy it took to practice in the first place.

Is it too late to reach out to him? The two of you have a specific way of speaking to one another across distances by now, although even the thought of doing such a thing due to the time seems rude. Your mother had always told you that it was your duty to be polite, and your father had by example. You think you picked it up from him rather than her, but—

Don’t think of him right now. Don’t think of what happened. Don’t.

As if in an effort to push the memory of that night from your head, you move. You pull the drawer attached to your nightstand open to reveal a mess of junk inside, but what you need—and what you spy—is a pen and paper. You pull it from the drawer and slam the nightstand drawer shut quietly, and after, you get to work writing:

Are you up? Can I come over?

Your fingers buzz with azure energy as you feel your mutation working in your favour. A tiny portal of blue opens before you, one you could make larger if you wished but one which you keep small for now. It’s no larger than a letterbox would be, and the faint sound of music from the other side tells you that Peter is very much awake.

You slip the note through the portal, and then you leave it open as you wait.

When you receive no response for a solid fifteen seconds but can hear movement on the other side, you wonder if this was a mistake after all. It’s too late, you scold yourself, mentally preparing for rejection. Oh, god, this is going to be awkward. What if he—

An empty Twinkie box falls at your feet.

You blink at it, momentarily confused, and then you pick it up. You glance about the dessert’s display as you begin to turn the box over in your hands. Nothing on the front, but on the back—

Scrawled in pink glitter pen—probably his sister’s—, the box reads on the back: Yeah. Come through.

You grin lazily as you set the box down on your bed and extend the portal with your fingers like you’re prying open a heavy door. The orange light from Peter’s basement slips through and becomes one with the light of your dorm, which is yellow and warm with your room’s wooden accented walls and flooring. And as you slip through the portal and your bare feet touch the soft tartan carpet of his room, you let the portal shut with a soft shum behind you—

But Peter Maximoff does not look his best. In fact, he looks downright miserable.

His eyes are red as if he’s been crying, his hair is messy—messier than usual, at least—and he’s wearing a band tee and some tartan pajama bottoms that look intended for comfort rather than style. You were about to say hey, but you stop in your tracks. You tilt your head as you look at him.

Peter is still. It’s strange, especially since he’s usually so eccentric. He blurts out, “What?”

You frown, momentarily stuck for what to say. “Nothing,” you respond, but it doesn’t seem right.

Peter stares at you. You stare at him. You’re both quite similar, so it strikes you then that you both know that you’re each not telling each other something.

“You okay?” You ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

Peter shrugs nonchalantly. It’s a rigid movement. “Yeah,” he says, far too confidently to be true. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You narrow your eyes on him. His tone of voice has all but solidified your suspicions. “Okay, first of all,” you say, crossing the small space of the room between you and the sofa, “you use a very distinctive tone when you lie.” You settle down on the sofa as you cross your legs under you. “Second, your eyes are really red. Have you been—?”

“No.”

Crying, you were about to ask, but he cut you off. You narrow your eyes again.

Peter sighs and averts his gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Tonight’s just… not a good night.”

You press your lips together as sympathy wells in your eyes. “Why not?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us."

Peter inhales deeply, and before you know it, he’s sitting on the sofa next to you. You’re used to how fast he moves by now. Something warms your heart in the way he sits with his body angled towards you. Like he’s opening himself up to you.

“Wanna stay here tonight?” He asks.

You glance at the other end of the sofa and then back to him. You’re reminded of how he took the sofa to sleep on that night after you guys got caught in the rain. “Here?”

Peter’s brows rise. “Is my basement not fancy enough for you?”

You know he’s joking even despite the lack of humour in his tone, and you let out a small huff of laughter as you flash him a lazy smile. You sit back on the sofa, reaching out your hand to intertwine it with his. Things between you are still blooming after your first date, but you both feel comfortable enough to do this. Peter’s fingers wrap around yours as he starts drawing patterns on the back of your hand with his free one.

“I just mean,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the backdrop of quiet music, “won’t your mom mind?”

“She didn’t mind when you stayed over last time.”

Your lips quirk upwards in gentle amusement. “That time you slept on the couch. This time I was thinking, I mean, if you want to, then maybe—”

“Oh,” Peter murmurs. His head lifts upwards in a sort of understanding motion. “Yeah, I mean… ah, I can deal with whatever safe sex talk she wants to give me in the morning.”

Your cheeks flush red. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant maybe we could…” Oh, god, embarrassment— “cuddle.”

Peter grins. “Cuddle, huh?” He pauses, until— “Okay,” he murmurs, reaching an arm around the back of the couch to wrap around you. “I guess I could be down for cuddling.”

You snicker softly as you lean into his touch, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me why you looked so upset when I arrived?”

Peter tenses. “It wasn’t because of you, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Mm,” you murmur, “I think I’m confident enough in our relationship to know that your reaction when seeing me is generally excitement rather than the dread that accompanies sad under eyes and red markings around them.”

He pauses for a few seconds before he lets out a long breath of defeat. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mm,” you murmur, looking up at him. “A little.”

His lips twist to the side as he lowers his gaze. “I was thinking about my dad.”

It’s your turn to pause now, looking up at him in a way you didn’t before. You assess every detail of his body again: the way his shoulders slump, the way his head hangs low, the way his hair falls in the way of his view and his eyes are heavy with something you haven’t seen in him before. He’s usually so full of life.

Is this what he’s hiding deep down?

“Tell me about it,” you say softly.

Peter grimaces. “It’s a long story, and the stupid thing is it’s mostly my fault.”

Frowning, you sit up and face him. “I don’t believe that.”

Peter lets out a humourless laugh that might be bitter if he showed a hint of anger, but he doesn’t. “It’s true. The only time I’ve ever been too slow and it’s in finding the most…”

He trails off, pulling his arm away from around you so that they both now rest in his lap. He continues, “It’s a mess.”

“Start from the beginning."

So he explains, if not vaguely: about trying to find his father, about finding a house empty and police arriving on the scene. Peter had fled at the sight of them, and—

“His name’s Magneto,” he admits. “Erik Lehnsherr. You’ve probably… seen him on TV or something."

Suddenly, it all adds up. You weren’t at school to see what happened with Apocalypse, but you’ve heard about it from your friend group. Peter doesn’t talk about it very much, and now you know why; had he been part of that whole adventure because of his father? He hadn’t been involved with Xavier’s School before, that much you know.

You suck in a breath. Okay, Y/N, push the fact that his dad’s a known terrorist aside— “Does he know?”

Peter shakes his head. “Nah. I had the chance to tell him and I didn’t. I screwed it up. And now I’m right back where I was before all of it, because I have no clue where he is and no way of telling him the truth. I couldn’t even do it for Wanda.”

“Hey,” you murmur, your fingers moving to cup his cheeks. “Fight or flight, right? It’s normal. To see him right in front of you—to have to muster up the courage to tell him? Knowing what a change that would be for you? Peter, that’s normal.”

Peter’s eyes well with softness as he listens to you, gazes upon you, and you think you’ve never seen him look so vulnerable as he lowers his head to your shoulder. He takes in a shaky breath; wraps his arms around you; pulls you into his lap—

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your shirt. It’s not his shirt this time; you’re wearing a pyjama set that consists of blue silk shorts and a top. “Not sure I believe you, but thanks, Y/N.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you believe me?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Aside from mind control? Not sure.”

You press your lips together and begin to stroke his hair. “To be honest,” you murmur, “I’m not sure I’d believe you if you tried to tell me something similar about my father, either.”

Peter lets out a choked laugh. “Maybe that’s why we work together.”

Your lips curve upwards, still stroking his hair. His face is still buried in your shoulder. “Maybe,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head.

Peter shifts so that he’s leaning against the back of the sofa and you’re in his lap again. You turn so that you’re straddling his waist, but your fingers find his jaw to cup the skin there. Your thumb brushes soothingly against his skin.

“You mean a lot to me,” Peter murmurs, staring up at you. It’s almost as if the music in the room has stopped; it’s almost as if the two of you are the only souls left in existence. His brows are slightly raised and there is awe in his voice as he says, “I don’t really believe you’re real half the time.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Definitely real, Peter. Definitely here.”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone riddled with amusement, “and here of all places. You could be anywhere. You’re like, perfect and—”

“Ssh,” you murmur, pressing a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you.”

Peter tilts his head up towards you, a silent request for consent, and you kiss him in answer.

He wraps his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss, your tongue slipping out to meet his own. He makes a low, guttural noise between pleasure and content at the feeling of it, and your free hand clutches at his shirt as your other hand remains at his jaw.

You spend the rest of the evening like that, whether it's on the sofa or in his bed, but in those moments together there’s nothing carnal about it. Your touches are soft and comforting rather than lustful and yearning, and as much as you’ve thought about him that way before, you know that now’s not the time.

Tonight, you both need this. Tonight, your sole purpose is to be there for one another.

“And for the record,” Peter murmurs between kisses, his words random and uncalculated, “I think your tragic backstory’s way worse than mine.”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #xmen imagine #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff fanfic #peter maximoff x y/n #xmen x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver fanfiction #quicksilver fanfic #xmen fanfic

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

car ride, m | kth, jjk

pairing(s): taehyung x reader x jungkook

summary: You really know how to make a car ride, er... eventful. Maybe too eventful for Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. They try to punish you, but who are we kidding? The three of you are too busy being horny as fuck. Oh well.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, (slight) exhibitionism; intense smut (fem reader, fingering, lil cock slapping, threesome, m-receiving oral, f and m-masturbation, double penetration/spit-roasting, cum eating; also you get covered in cum, yay!); fluff; non-idol!AU; noona!reader and you’re all nymphos, welp

Technically a continuation of just kidding and ii, but can be read alone.

–

Kim Taehyung said it first.

“She’s actually insane.”

Jeon Jungkook nodded tightly; jaw clenched as he tried not to stare at you through the rearview mirror.

Thirty minutes ago, you had called Taehyung, tone casual and light.

“Hey, could you pick me up? I think I missed the last bus.”

“Hm, sure.”

“Bring Jungkook with you, please.”

And then you hung up.

Taehyung had stared at his phone, frowning. Then he went to go collect Jungkook, who was in the middle of editing a music video. He edited videos for indie bands in his spare time, kind of for fun, kind of as a passion project. He did want to be a director or video editor, after all.

“Oi, our horny little seductress called.”

Jungkook had snapped his head far too quickly, long black hair cascading against his cheek, eyes glittering with interest. Too much interest. Taehyung would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little annoyed.

“Asked you to come, so you’re driving.”

Jungkook had grinned.

“Okay.”

Except it was not okay. Very not okay.

“You can sit in the front, Tae. I need space for my bag.”

So now the three of you were sitting in Jungkook’s car, Jungkook driving, Taehyung riding shotgun as you sat in the backseat. From this position, you could see Jungkook’s black sweater and Taehyung’s camel coat. You were wearing an oversized black parka with a nine-pointed star embordered on the chest, your black leather skull-shaped purse chilling beside you. Knee-high black leather boots.

Bare legs.

That should have been their first warning sign.

“What were you doing?” Taehyung had asked as you climbed in. Jungkook started the car, pulling out of the parking garage, into the night.

“Doctor’s appointment for my wrist.” You sighed, tapping your right arm. “Just a check-up.” You pulled down the sleeve of your large parka, showing the wrist brace. “I should at least sleep with it.”

Taehyung scratched his head. “Damn, I didn’t realize your carpal tunnel was that bad.”

You waved your hand. “It’ll be fine. I’m exercising it.”

“Where to?” Jungkook chirped, stopping at a red light.

Pop.

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, narrowing. His face was lit with red from the cars in front of him. Taehyung turned around sharply. You smiled, feeling the cold air on your bare collarbones. Pop, pop, pop. The silver buttons of your parka snapped apart, revealing skin. Bare skin, the gentle curve of your breasts and cleavage. Taehyung’s dark eyes widened, as you pushed the sides apart, your naked breasts bouncing as the light turned green.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

A car honked very loudly behind Jungkook and he was forced to press on the accelerator as Taehyung exploded, his deep voice booming as he gawked at your tits.

“Are you insane?” Taehyung shouted.

You grinned, cupping your breasts and squeezing your nipples between two fingers, mouth open, tongue tracing your teeth from side to side.

Taehyung snapped back forward, searching for police.

“She’s actually insane.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw so tight that he couldn’t say anything, trying to focus on driving and only driving, and not the sound of you moaning as you played with your breasts, pressing them together and flicking your nipples.

“Do you want us to get arrested?” Taehyung hissed, sneaking glances at you in the darkness while simultaneously darting his eyes around for literally anyone who might be able to witness your sinful lunacy.

“Taehyung, she went to the doctor like that,” Jungkook gritted out.

That thought apparently hadn’t crossed Taehyung’s mind. He whipped his head around again, eyes so wide that you paused your heinous display of lust for a second, afraid they were going to fall out of his head.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he roared.

You grinned, holding your hands up. “I didn’t have to take my coat off, if that makes you feel better,” you said cheerfully.

Taehyung did not look like he felt better. In fact, he looked like he was going to pass out. He lifted his head to stare at the sky, mouthing silent words, running a large hand through his dark brown hair and messing it up. Your mouth watered, seeing that hand, knowing what it could do. Jungkook’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel.

“So, where are we go–?” you began, far too cheerfully for the two men in front of you.

Jungkook cut you off tightly. “Ours. You are going to our place. Now.”

“Ah,” you exhaled, smiling. “That’s good.” You nuzzled back into your seat, tits still out, nipples hard from the cold air. “That’s very good.” You spread your legs, hands clutching both sides of your black parka.

Pop, pop, pop, pop.

Jungkook nearly veered off the road.

“WHAT THE HELL?”

Taehyung was going to get whiplash with how hard he kept jerking his head back and forth. “Where the fuck are your panties?”

You placed a finger to your lips, smirking. “Oh no, I think I lost them.”

Maybe it was time to pray because Jungkook was trying very hard not to fucking die, his eyes shooting from the road, to the rearview mirror, to the road, to the mirror, veins popping in his forehead, his black hair covering his left eye. You pushed the shoulders of your parka down, spreading it open, inserting your finger into your mouth.

“Noona, don’t you fucking dare…” Jungkook warned.

But you did dare, swirling your tongue around your finger, softly moaning his name, Taehyung slack-jawed as your lashes lowered. You ground your hips into the seat, pussy already glistening as you popped your fingertip out of your mouth, making Jungkook hiss, sliding your hand down your neck, between your breasts, all the way down, down, pressing your wet finger against your clit.

Taehyung’s voice went low, dangerous.

“Are you a bad, bad girl, noona?” he growled.

You bit your lip, pressing down on your bundle of nerves, gasping. “I’m a good girl sometimes… But it’s so hard...” You rubbed your clit slowly, pushing your head back into the headrest, locking eyes with Taehyung, rocking your hips into your hand. “It’s so hard when I want to be naughty for you, Tae…”

His beautiful lips curved into a wicked smile, voice so low it was tearing through you, burning you with arousal. “Yeah? Just for me?”

You cried out softly, adding more pressure. Your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, to Jungkook’s panicked, blown-out pupils.

“No… For Jungkook, t-too…”

“Fucking shit,” Jungkook breathed, trying to drive slow and steady so he wouldn’t die while having the biggest hard-on of his life.

Taehyung yanked the lever of the passenger’s seat, pushing down the back to get closer to you. Jungkook slammed his palm against the wheel, snarling at him, but Taehyung completely ignored his outburst, sliding up the seat. You licked your lips and rubbed yourself faster, tipping your hips in his direction.

“Fuck,” Taehyung breathed, eyes roaming over your form. “You’re so fucking hot, noona.”

“Tae…” you whined, angling yourself to him.

“You want me to touch you, noona?” Taehyung purred; eyes even darker from the low light. He lifted his hand, flexing his long fingers. “You want me to touch that naughty pussy of yours?”

You whimpered, stroking your clit, chasing your orgasm, your dripping wet hole opening and closing, begging for his fingers. He dragged himself closer, fingertips dancing on your thigh. So hot, so close, fuck, you wanted him, Taehyung and his hungry eyes.

“I want to tell you no,” he whispered, gravelly and deep. “Shit, I want to tell you no and make you get yourself off, but you’re so fucking sexy, I just have to touch that dirty little pussy.”

And then he shoved two fingers into you, making you throw your head back and moan, long and wanton, Jungkook’s frustrated cries coming from the front seat as Taehyung’s fingers squelched into you, hard and fast and rough, not letting you get used to him, but you didn’t care, didn’t give a single fuck as you fucked your hips into his fingers. Gasping his name, rutting into his hand.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Taehyung demanded. “Be a good girl and tell me when you’re close.”

You nodded tightly, feeling the car slow as Jungkook pulled into the neighborhoods, nearing your orgasm, rubbing yourself fast as Taehyung thrust his fingers into you, your head pressing against the glass window. You panted, hip rising to meet him.

“A-ah, Taehyung, your fingers feel so good, so good, so fucking good,” you gasped. “Gonna cum, gonna cum just for you, Tae, all over your hand...”

Taehyung’s eyebrow rose, a smirk on his lips as he pumped his fingers into you, watching you come undone, seeing you hit the peak. Voice low, sexy, and authoritative.

“Oh, you wish.”

And then he ripped his fingers out of you as you screamed, your juices spilling out, pussy empty and clenching, orgasm hit, but wildly unsatisfying as Taehyung lifted himself up, grinning over you, fingers slick as he slid them into his mouth, licking them off. Your cum slid all over your thighs, dripping down, falling onto the carpet of Jungkook’s car.

“T-Taehyung!” you panted indignantly, sitting up sharply. “How could you!”

He cocked his head as the car stopped. Jungkook tore himself out of the seat, practically blasting his car door open to rip open your door, snatching you from the backseat. He slammed your nakedness against his black sweater and jeans, his hard body flexed against yours. You gasped at the sudden force, skin tingling with stimulation, the aftershocks of your orgasm still trembling through you.

“Noona,” he growled into your face, bringing his dark eyes to yours. “We have to teach you a lesson.”

Somehow, the three of you made it into the apartment without you flashing the entire complex.

Nice.

Getting you out of your clothes was easy. You were barely wearing any after all.

Taehyung shoved you against the hallway wall, tearing off his camel coat. You grabbed his white shirt and kissed him, hard, his musky cologne filling your nose. He whispered your name against your lips, grating and dangerous, smiling as you kissed him hungrily. You changed your positions, still kissing him, pushing him into the wall as Jungkook came up behind you, rolling his hard body into your back, sandwiching your nakedness between their clothed bodies. Jungkook grabbed your head and yanked your hair back, breaking your kiss with Taehyung to crash his lips into yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth and fucking it roughly, making you whimper.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Taehyung growled, grabbing your thighs and hoisting them up to hook them around his waist. You leaned against Jungkook’s chest, holding your upper body up Taehyung licked up your breasts, latching his lips to your nipple. You whined in Jungkook’s mouth, hands coming up to grab the black fabric of his sweater, back arching. Taehyung’s large hands found your ass, smacking it once before gripping it tightly.

“You’re so naughty,” Jungkook murmured against your lips, right hand snaking around your waist, in between your legs. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at him, but Jungkook was focused on you and only you, your panting mouth as Taehyung sucked on your nipples, switching between them. “Dirty girl, walking around the city without underwear,” Jungkook purred, watching you gasp as he slid his fingers in between Taeyang’s clothed stomach and your dripping pussy. “Were you thinking about us all day, desperate for our cocks to fill you up?”

Your arms encircled Jungkook’s neck as you moaned, head against his broad shoulder as he began to rub your clit.

“Y-yes…”

Jungkook’s breath so hot against your neck as Taehyung spread your nipples with his tongue. You rocked your hips into his stomach, so wet Taehyung’s white t-shirt squelched against his skin, Jungkook’s fingers rubbing you hard and fast, racing you to your orgasm.

“You’re such a bad girl, noona. What are we going to do with you? Should we give you cock?” Jungkook snarled, so low and dangerous that you shivered, crying out Taehyung’s name as he nipped at your nipple, sending shocks of pain through you.

“P-please…” you panted, eyes rolling back as Jungkook pinched your clit, your hips grinding into Taehyung’s shirt. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”

Taehyung removed his mouth sharply and you whined, nipples dripping with his saliva.

“You think you deserve cock, noona?” Taehyung barked, spanking your ass hard as he spoke, punctuating his words with slaps. “You’ve been such a bad, bad girl. Should we even let you finish?”

You were nearly sobbing now, knowing you were so close, so close, breath hitching as Jungkook violently stroked you to orgasm.

“P-please… Please, Taehyung, let me cum, please, I need to cum so bad, please…”

Taehyung smirked, locking eyes with Jungkook.

“Aw, too bad I’m not the one pleasuring you.”

And then Jungkook tore his hand from you, making you wail, orgasm met, but wholly unsatisfying as you leaked all over Taehyung’s stomach, legs shaking, almost slipping if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s strong arms catching you. You clenched Jungkook’s sweater, yanking hard.

“You guys are so fucking mean!”

Taehyung chuckled as your legs slid down, down, gently placing you on the floor. He looked down at his white t-shirt and shook his head.

“You made a mess.”

You glared at him and then at Jungkook, who gave you an arrogant smirk.

“Sorry, noona. You nearly killed us all with your antics, after all.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t fun?” you countered.

Jungkook’s smirk grew. “It’s fun punishing you too.”

You narrowed your eyes, but quickly became distracted with Taehyung stepping away from the wall, pointing to the door at the end of the hall.

“Go.” A command.

That wasn’t Taehyung’s room. You tilted your head. You’d never been in Jungkook’s room before.

“Now.”

Your eyes shifted to Jungkook and he cocked his chin in the same direction. You frowned but went, legs still unsteady. Jungkook began to walk after you, but Taehyung grabbed his forearm, stopping him.

“Jungkook.”

The younger man turned his head to look at him. Taehyung’s expression was very stern, almost cold.

“There can be no one else,” he said quietly. “I’ll kill you if you hurt her.”

Jungkook blinked. He had never seen Taehyung so serious over a woman. Sure, Taehyung dated and fucked around, but he let things go quite easily most of the time. Jungkook placed a hand over his, staring straight into Taehyung’s eyes.

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s grip tightened, eyes hardening.

Jungkook smiled, lowering his hand.

“Trust me, hyung, she’s more than enough for me. I don’t need anyone else.”

After a long moment, Taehyung let him go, turning away to go to his room. Jungkook looked after him, rubbing his arm. He turned away, gazing at his now open door. A weird feeling overcame him, a strange push and pull, before he brushed it aside and walked to his bedroom. Jungkook stopped at the doorframe.

And was greeted by the sight of you sprawled out in his gaming chair, holding one of his t-shirts against your chest, inhaling deeply as your eyes closed, right hand between your legs. Your wrist brace was making it difficult to go fast, so instead you stroked your clit slowly, breathing in the scent of his residual cologne that clung to his clothes, paying little attention to the fact that Jungkook was now watching you, amused.

"You really are a horny little seductress, aren't you?'

You grinned hearing his deep voice, eyes still closed. You rubbed the fabric against your nipples, moaning at the sensation.

“How often do you sit here, jacking off while thinking about me?” you wondered out loud.

Jungkook clicked his tongue, making you open your eyes.

“Too often.”

You licked your lips, purring his name enticingly. His lips curved into a lazy smirk.

Ah.

Jungkook was just so very, very sexy and he knew it.

Your eyes admired him for a moment. The right side of his hair pinned back, revealing his undercut. Long dark locks obscuring the left side of his face, hiding his angular cheekbone, framing his chiseled jaw and mischievous eyes. He stepped into the room, reaching down and crossing his arms, pulling his sweater up and over his head. You sucked in a breath. His toned torso, lean and tan. His right arm, covered in tattoos, flexing as he pulled the clothing over his head, mussing up his hair. It curled a bit around his forehead. Fuck, both his arms, shapely and strong, deliberately tensing them to make you gasp. Jungkook raised his right hand, tiny tattoos flashing as he beckoned you to him.

“Come here.”

You stood up from his chair slowly, his t-shirt sliding down your body and onto the floor. Light, careful steps as he circled the bed, putting it between you and him. You crawled onto the bed on all fours, hands digging into his slate gray sheets as he stepped to the very edge of the bed, undoing the button of his black jeans, zipping it down as you approached him, nearly moaning when you pushed them past his hips, pressing your face into his black underwear, breathing hotly against his erection. Your eyes traveled back up to him, tongue sliding out and pressing wetly against his clothed cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathed. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You grinned as he pushed his underwear down, his cock springing up to smear pre-cum against your cheek, already dripping from lack of stimulation. You went from base to tip, swirling your tongue all over, watching Jungkook’s head fall back as you took him in your mouth, so wet, so hot, so tight. Took it all the way down, feeling him swell in your mouth deliciously, his strong hand gripping the back of your head, keeping you there.

“Ah, such nice lips…” he purred, releasing your head so you could bob up and down, slowly. “That’s it, noona, just like that.”

You did, keeping a measured but deep pace, sucking in your cheeks. He hissed at the added stimulation, rocking his hips into your face. Jungkook looked back down, seeing you observing him, crouching on your hands and knees, your ass up in the air.

“Look at you, noona,” he murmured, reaching down to tweak your nipple. “So good at swallowing cock, so good at taking it all.”

You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together. Jungkook took both your nipples and pulled, making you groan around his cock. He thrust his hips into your mouth and you almost choked, hands suddenly coming up to grab his thighs. He shushed you, rubbing your nipples soothingly as he pulled out of your mouth, cock slapping your chin wetly.

“On your back. Show me that pretty pussy of yours.”

You scooted back, spreading your legs. Jungkook went to his desk, opening a drawer, watching you as you gripped each side of your thighs, spreading them further, your glistening slit out in the open. You flexed your vaginal muscles, opening and closing, making him suck a tight breath as he rolled the condom on.

“Fuck, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He climbed onto the bed, trailing his eyes up to your face and your half-lidded eyes, mouth open, panting his name.

“J-Jungkook, please…”

He smiled. “What is it, noona? What do you want?”

You wiggled your hips into his bed. “Your cock, please, Jungkook, I need it…”

He smacked his length against your clit, earning a sharp gasp. You pushed your head back into his sheets, whining as Jungkook slapped your swollen clit repeatedly with his cock, hard and fast, smearing it with lubrication from the condom. He was so hard that it almost hurt if it wasn’t for the lube.

“Is this enough for you?” Jungkook taunted. “Or does my naughty girl want more?”

“I-inside, please, a-ah, Jungkook, it’s t-too sensitive.…”

He stopped for only a split second before thrusting himself inside you, hissing as you sucked him in, previous stimulations already readying you for him. You rolled your hips, arching your back and gasping his name as Jungkook began, long, deep strokes that made you clench and shudder, aching for more. But before you could say anything, a familiar weight landed on the bed near your head.

Your eyes widened seeing Taehyung’s naked body, strong and handsome, tan skin glowing. His stoic, almost arrogant expression burned into your memory as he hovered over you, stroking his cock leisurely. He pressed it against your cheek, the warm, velvety head smearing pre-cum against your cheek. You tried to turn, but he used his free hand to hold your head still, shutting his eyes as he enjoyed himself.

“Fuck, even your cheek is so soft…” he murmured.

You whined but he shushed you, pressing a finger to your lips as he stroked himself faster, harder, Jungkook deep strokes sliding you up and down the bed. He used your face to stimulate the head, your lips, your cheeks, rocking his hips, smacking you in your face with his balls. Over and over as Jungkook thrust into you, watching your wanton expression as Taehyung’s pre-cum coated your skin. You could hear Taehyung’s breathing becoming shallow, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes.

“Gonna cum on your pretty tits, noona,” Taehyung murmured. “All over your tits, and then I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

You whimpered, watching his shoulders tense as he raised himself over you, Jungkook still fucking you agonizingly slowly, his thick cock stretching you out as Taehyung sucked in a breath, hissing your name tightly. You could only watch, breathless, as white strings squirted out, smacking you hotly in the chest with his thick cum, shuddering as you felt it spread out like fucking cake icing on your nipples and breasts. Jungkook moaned, watching the cum drip downwards, all over your skin.

“Open up,” Taehyung commanded and you opened your mouth. He slid in, readjusting himself so that he was above your head, legs on either side of you, facing Jungkook. He filled your mouth, almost too much even though he just orgasmed. You had to push your head up so he sank deeper into your throat, sticky from Taehyung’s cum soaking into your chest.

Oh, fuuuuck.

Stuffed from front to back, tits covered in cum, neck and back arched uncomfortably to accommodate the two cocks spearing into you, pussy throbbing and orgasming at the thought alone. And feeling it, oh God, feeling so full, so dirty, so used by both Taehyung and Jungkook at the same time made your eyes roll back into your head, tightening the muscles of both holes, muffled moans as you heard Jungkook grunt with effort and Taehyung’s hiss of pleasure. Taehyung controlled the pace as he fucked your face, carefully thrusting into your throat, staring at Jungkook’s dark hair bouncing as he fucked you.

Jungkook seemed to feel his gaze. He looked up.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow at him.

Then he grabbed Jungkook’s head and forced it down, Jungkook’s eyes widening as he watched your cum-covered tits bounce back and forth, hard nipples swaying in the air. He rammed his hips into you and you whimpered, breasts bouncing harder so he fucked you even rougher, fascinated. Wet, lewd slapping sounds as he watched Taehyung’s cock disappear and reappear from your throat, covered in saliva, so messy that you were drooling down your chin, whining as you gripped his sheets. He felt liquid leaking down his thighs from your orgasms, your pussy clenching around him.

It was so much, so fucking much, Jungkook lifting your legs so he could go deeper, rubbing against your clit punishingly as Taehyung fucked your mouth, his tense thighs indicating that he was close. It made your entire body strain with effort and pleasure, head empty except chasing your orgasm over and over, smitten with the idea of being used like a fucktoy.

“S-so fucking good,” Taehyung groaned. “Such a good girl, taking so much cock all at once.”

“Fuck, I’m going to–”

But Jungkook didn’t get to finish because you wailed around Taehyung’s cock, pussy throbbing as you came, ripping his orgasm from him. He gasped sharply, slamming into you as his cock jerked into your walls, pulsing with you, gripping his entire length. So tight, but soft, his eyelids fluttering at the experience.

It only took Taehyung a few more pumps before he moaned your name, spilling down your throat, almost falling onto Jungkook as you sucked it out of him, swallowing greedily. He inhaled sharply as he snapped his head down to watch your throat constrict repeatedly, drinking it all and squeezing the head with your lips. Taehyung taped your side repeatedly, trying to get you to release him.

“Please, noona, too s-sensitive…”

You unlocked your jaw, gulping a huge vat of air as you realized you could breathe again. Taehyung pushed himself off you, falling against the wooden headboard as Jungkook carefully pulled out. You whined at the loss, back and neck aching. Every nerve hummed, brimming with pleasure, shaking you to your core.

It was glorious.

You panted, lowering your head to look down at Jungkook, dark eyes flashing as sweat from his angular jaw dripped onto your legs. He smirked at you, peeling the condom off and wrapping his hand around his still-hard, slick cock. Your breath caught in your throat as he began to furiously jack himself off, scooting on his knees to get closer to you, right in between your legs.

“J-Jungkook…”

The mole under his chin winked at you as he grinned. “Do you love it when you’re covered in cum, noona?” he panted, licking his lips. “Do you love it when Taehyung and I cum all over you?”

You moaned, your hands sliding up your breasts, smearing Taehyung’s drying cum even more, pinching your nipples as Jungkook gasped, pupils blown wide, eyes locked on your every move.

“Yes, Jungkook, I love it. I love being covered in your and Taehyung’s cum.”

He hissed, hips rocking into his hand as you made your lewd, obscene noises, body shaking as you waited for him. It didn’t take him very long before he groaned, towering over you as it shot out of him, showering you with creamy, salty strings of his orgasm. You dipped your fingers into it, scooping it into your mouth, sighing in satisfaction as Jungkook’s taste mixed with Taehyung’s in your throat, eating up as much a you could, and wiping the rest on your skin, relishing in the dirty act.

You were already prepared to do it again.

You heard Jungkook stumble off to the bathroom as you laid there, panting.

"Are you happy?" Taehyung asked, reaching down to pat your head.

You grinned, bending your head back to look up at him upside down. He seemed surprised at your energy but smiled as you licked your lips, eyes clouded with lust.

"So, so happy, Taehyungie."

He chuckled, dark eyes gazing into yours. You sensed a shift in his demeanor. For some reason, a calm, comforting feeling came over you when Taehyung looked at you. He bent down, his hands cupping your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. He whispered your name, low and secretive, sending a shiver down your spine. You stared into his neck, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. His breath against your lips, tickling them.

"I’ll give you whatever you want."

You blinked slowly, lips parting. Now his lips were even closer, touching yours.

"I'll do everything in my power to satisfy you."

And then Taehyung kissed you, intoxicating you with his touch, his scent, his intensity of his lips against yours, tongue thrusting into your mouth. You moaned, thighs rubbing together, clutching Jungkook's sheets, your body trembling as you kissed him. He held you protectively, fingertips pressing into your skin.

"Damn, do you two need a room?" came Jungkook's amused voice.

You broke the kiss softly, pecking Taehyung on the nose lightly before sliding down to Jungkook’s playful expression at the foot of the bed. He was holding a towel, raising at eyebrow at you. You sat up, grinning far too wide, making his smile falter a bit.

“Uh oh.”

“Come here, Jungkookie…”

“Please, we’re only men–gah!”

The next day, you dragged a seat next to Taehyung's gaming chair. He looked up as you sat down, still scrolling with his mouse.

"What's up?" he asked. His voice was smooth, even. He gave you a quizzical look as you laid your head against his shoulder. "You want to fuck again?" he added, smirking.

"No," you pouted, nestling your head on his shoulder. He was reading the new set of League of Legends patch notes. "Just want to be near you."

You saw the reflection of his smile in the computer monitor. He reached over and patted your head, making you hum in bliss. You two stayed like that for a moment, him scrolling periodically as he read, your head against his shoulder.

Jungkook popped in, wearing a leather jacket over his white hoodie and jeans. He waved a USB drive.

"Gotta drop this off. I'll be back," he said merrily to Taehyung before leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. You turned your head, meeting his lips, and snuck your tongue into his mouth.

Jungkook pulled back quickly, narrowing his eyes at you. "No. Bad girl."

You blinked innocently at him. "What'd I do?"

Jungkook glared at you, trying not to smile. "I have things to do. Let me kiss you normally."

Taehyung laughed deep from his chest, rumbling his shoulder you were leaning against. "Good luck with that."

Your smile widened. Smugly.

Too smugly.

Jungkook backed away, pointing a finger at you. He was smiling too now, playful and mirthful.

"Later, you horny little seductress."

He left, winking.

Taehyung patted your head again, his large hand massaging your scalp.

"You sure you don't want to fuck?" he teased.

continuation: christmas eve

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jungkook x you #taehyung x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you

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potionsclasss · 4 years

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CAN YOU BELIEVE I WROTE A FANFIC me neither ok so please let me know and reblog/like if you enjoy this! If you want more content, or a part two lmk. Feedback criticism etc. are always welcome too! Enjoy!!!

Summary: The tension between you and Draco has been palpable, and you wonder if the night of the moonlit ball will bring it out of the shadows ;)

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Warnings: Smut, possessive Draco, slight

Daddy kink.

Word Count: 2.9k

Star Gazing

The sky was like an abstract watercolor on the night of the Yule ball. It was a smattering of deep purple and pink smeared across the horizon, dotted with glittering stars. It reminded you of the glass of wine you knew you’d be having in some grimy dorm room at an after party, messy and warm in the pit of your stomach. Stepping out of the deep green accented dorm to get some air, you could make out the twins of Gemini up above. They reflected off your cold metal rings as you looked up, fingers curling around your champagne flute glass. Your heels clicked on the pavement as you withdrew from the railing and walked back inside, forest green dress trailing airily behind you. It wasn’t even cold out, but you felt a sudden shiver up your spine at one thought not even the stars could distract you from- him. Surely he would be at the ball. He seemed to be appearing more and more lately, it was almost a dance the two of you did.

First, it was the obscenely long held eye contact at dinner. His icy grey eyes stared into your honey brown ones with an emotion you couldn’t quite gauge. Even with Pansy giddily whispering in his ear, he kept his eyes trained on you, slowly pulling the vanilla ice cream clad spoon from his pink lips until you could feel the tiniest bit of blood rush into your cheeks. You would always look away first, but that didn’t stop the sensation of his stare lingering on you even as you stood up to leave with Daphne.

Then, it was him showing up in your potions class. You would watch his pale ring clad hands stir his Pepperup Potion. They moved in soft, confident, meticulous circles. The slytherin crest seemed even more prominent on his broad chest and your Amortentia potion turned sour as you imagined the milky white skin underneath. When he finally worked up the courage to ask you a question about the proper way to cut an Alihotsy, you thought you imagined the way his eyes glanced down to your pink puffy lips, if just for a moment, and how he leaned into you just a little closer to smell your sweet vanilla and lilac perfume he so often fantasized about behind closed doors.

In the common room, you always found an excuse to sit just a little too close to him on the couch. His warm minty breath would be near your neck and his thigh would bumped against yours while you and Theo giggled at him during his fights with Crab on which dark spells should actually be banned. He was intoxicating and you were starting to fall... hard. More and more he not only consumed so many of your waking thoughts, but your subconscious ones. You couldn’t shake last nights dream. His shirt was half unbuttoned and his hands were around your neck as he sloppily kissed you roughly and walked you backwards till you hit a wall and-

“You realize we’re going to be late if you don’t snap out of it, don’t you”

You turn your neck over your shoulder at the sound of a collected deep voice to see Blaise hanging onto the doorframe. He does look beautiful, positioned looming in the doorway. A half smile quirked on his face tells you he’s been watching you wonder around absentmindedly.

“Fresh air calms me down.” You admitted earnestly meeting his dark chocolate eyes. He strode forward and shut the outside door that you had left open during your pondering, and met you in the middle of the room, taking your arm delicately in his. “What’s there to be nervous about?” You could tell he was teasing you a little, in a sweet boyish way. You glanced up at him through your eyelashes to meet his gaze. Blaise was handsome and quiet, and you were relieved he’d asked you to go to the Ball - as friends. But you certainly weren’t about to tell him the root of your anxiety was surrounding seeing his best friend tonight.

“Oh shut up, come on let’s get going.” you giggled, watching his full lips curl upward at your response.

“You ready to see me make a fool of myself?” Blaise teased. You giggled drunkenly nodding, leaning on his broad shoulders for support. His suit was long gone leaving only a white undershirt stained with beer and sweat. You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy drunk dancing and joking with Blaise at an after party, his intoxicating smell of green apple and whiskey intermingling with yours, but he wasn’t Draco and he never would be. Overwhelmed by the energy of the room and your date and the red wine in your brain, you stumbled backwards. “I need some air” you slurred. “Again??” He jeered, fingers reaching for the flask in his pocket. You stuck your tongue out playfully and used the wall as your guide to the hallway.

As you stepped into the crisp night air, goosebumps rose on your exposed legs thanks to the short black party dress you adorned. Looking up at the sky, you noticed Gemini was now partly covered by an airy grey cloud passing by in the violet streaked night sky.

“My, my, my Y/N, you know your missing an entire party inside, right?” a voice called out, not exactly cutting sharply through the quiet of the night, save for the distant sounds of partygoers, but more like gliding through the air in his lilting tone. You looked to your right to see pale hair glistening in the silver moonlight that could only belong to one person. “There you are Draco, I practically sent out a search party looking for you. Where have you been all night?“ You knew Draco didn’t like parties if he wasn’t drunk enough, just like you. He looked upwards at the stars, smirking just a little as you neared him. “You know, I’m hardly Yule ball material.” He pulled out a cigarette and offered one to you. You shook your head and watched as the lighter shadowed his lips and illuminated his hollow cheekbones, hanging from his pursed mouth. He looked over at you, drinking you in and admiring your hugging black dress. He took note of everything. From how it hugged your luscious chest to how it dipped below your defined collar bones that were practically begging for love bites. Your tongue swiped across your bottom lip and Draco could feel himself get dizzy. “Well.. this isn’t the Yule ball anymore is it. This is the after party.” You smirked, taking the cigarette from his mouth to place into yours for a moment. He watched intently as your cheeks hollowed out for a puff and the exhale of smoke reflected off your cherry lipgloss “Come on.” You said firmly, outstretching a hand for his. He looked down for a moment before ignoring your hand and taking you by the waist back inside. His hand was gripping you heavenly and you could feel the space he was touching practically catch fire as he stubbed out his cigarette on the railing before flicking it off to the side.

"Well.. if it isn’t the most gorgeous girl I have ever laid my eyes on" Blaise joked as you returned with your partner. Rolling your eyes at his flattery, you felt Draco’s grip tighten significantly on your waist, moving down almost instinctively to rest on your hip.

“Blaise” Draco said, coldly acknowledging his friend and classmate. Draco leaned down to whisper on your ear, lips centimeters from you and his vodka laden breath running down your spine "I’m gunna get us something more to drink, you wait right here, yeah?" You nodded obediently and watched him walk away, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, still warm and giddy from the feeling of his hand running down your torso. Suddenly, you felt like his presence was making it hard to stand. You couldn’t be sure if it was all the wine or his breath or imagining those cold rings on your thigh but you instantly felt dizzy and stumbled backwards. “Whoa whoa whoa I got you.” You felt an unfamiliar pair of hands catch you, looking up to see Blaise. “Thanks..” you said as a breathy laugh escaped you absently mindedly, not sure if it was the alcohol or Draco that was making you this way. You could feel Blaises hands snake around your lower back to steady you and you found yourself pressed against his tall strong body, head in the crook of his neck while you caught your breath.

Draco could feel himself seethe with frustration, the sight of you in the arms of his best friend. How dare he touch you as Draco had dreamed of so many nights. He hated the sight. The thought of a man not worthy of a witch like you touching you in ways only he should made him feel an anger he had never experienced. When you rested your head on his chest he pushed past the other part goers instinctively.

Suddenly, He was behind you, holding two glasses of beer in one hand and your wrist in the other. You quickly and embarrassedly released your grip on Blaise. He seemed to think nothing of it, falling quickly into another drunken conversation with a pretty Hufflepuff.

You looked up at Draco, trying to ignore the way your heart thudded in your chest. You’re supposed to be just friends, but friends don’t look at each other with the anger that seeps from Draco right now. Friends don’t make each other feel the things the two of you are feeling right now. His body is tense as he manhandles you outside, and you follow him back to the starlit porch to the best of your inebriated ability. When he knows the two of you are alone, he looks down, internalizing his emotions but letting them spill out of his piercing eyes as he glares at you. “Didn’t you ever learn to keep your hands to yourself?” He asks, most of the playfulness gone from his voice. “Draco!?” You exclaim, confused as how your actions were at all inappropriate. “I was stumbling around and dizzy, Blaise was just there to catch my fall.” Draco let out a quiet breath, shifting ever so slightly so he was standing just centimeters from you, fingers brushing a curl behind your ear. You could feel blood rush into your cheeks and eardrums, and the pounding was so loud you were unsure if you even heard his next words right, as he whispered brushing your bottom lip with his thumb;

“I’m the only man who can touch you like that.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the weight of his stare on you. He wasn’t quick and he didn’t rush it. You felt one strong hand on your hip and the other gently stroking your cheek as your noses brushed and he leaned in to close the last possible gap between the two of you.

It was far beyond what he’d ever imagined. It was better and softer and much more beautiful. It lit a fire in his skin just by the touch of your soft cherry lips that no one else would be able to. Just by kissing you, he felt more alive and drunk and dizzy than he ever had in his life. You pulled away breathlessly, a blush on your cheeks and pressure between your legs. A string of far off laughter pulled you out of the intimate moment. Your eyes darted around, checking for onlookers, or worse; Professor Snape. Draco’s gaze remained unwaveringly on you. “Draco, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this..here” your voice was barely above a whisper. “Doing what ...darling?” He responded with a half smirk quirked on his lips, leaning in to bite your earlobe gently. “Let’s go then” he mumbled, this time outstretching his hand to meet yours, guiding you through the dark, under the stars of Gemini, through the tumbling hallways and switching stars of Hogwarts, down to a chilly and dark room which he whispered spells and tongues to enter.

“Come here baby” he cooed, as soon as the door was locked behind you. Walking backwards with his motions you felt your back being pressed up against a cold wall as his lips met yours once again, this time in privacy. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as you felt yourself moan into the kiss, satisfied and sloppy and needing more. The feeling of his lips and little scratch of his stubble felt heavenly across your skin. The pendant of his cold silver necklace pressed against your chest and juxtaposed the heat that was radiating through you. His hands found your hips, tugging at the hem of your slutty black dress that had been making him struggle to think all night. You gripped his silvery white hair as he worked on your neck, moaning and urgently needing more. Every movement he made was filled with lust and longing and desperation. He paused before he did anything that could possibly make you regret tonight. In a low and earnest tone he spoke breathlessly against your neck. “Tell me to stop” his fingers were already inching up your dress and his knee knocking ur legs apart to spread them a little. He fought the animalistic urge to rip it off you and ravish you against the wall, knowing you’d make the prettiest noises for him, all alone in the confines of his room. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons on his dress shirt, not possibly moving fast enough for either of you. Just as raggedly you spoke your answer.

“Why in the world would I ever do that, daddy?” Draco melted at your words feeling his pants become impossibly confined against your stomach. He instantly pushed your dress around your hips to reveal a dark green velvet thong he hoped you wore just for him. You tried to be calm but your movement were frantic as you tugged them down around your ankles and whimpered at the sight of him getting on his knees, propping one of your legs around his shoulder. You steadied yourself on the wall hardly able to keep yourself up. As slowly as he could manage, his tongue worked over your folds, sucking and licking as it also paid special attention to your clit giving it immeasurably pleasurable kitten kicks every few seconds. As each moment passed by you tangled your fingers deeper in his hair and his name escaped your lips louder and louder. The noises in the room were delightful to Draco’s ears. You threw your head back at the pleasure of his fingers being added and working and curling inside you, eyes shut, lips parted in a lustful haze. You felt an orgasm quickly building and Draco stopped before you got too close. Whimpering at the lack of contact he smirked as he stood up to meet your mouth once again. “So needy,” he couldn’t help but remark against you, pushing his pants and boxers down quickly. His heart continued to pound greedily, and he practically threw you into the bed in one swift strong motion. As he looked down at you, pinning you onto his covers you noted much of the playfulness was gone from his eyes and replaced with an intense lust that almost scared you. He was obsessed with you.

You spread your legs and batted your eyelashes like you knew drove him crazy and watched as he pulled out his length and sheathed it inside your tight pussy. The sound of his gruff and euphoric moan mixed with your needy whimpers was almost too much for Draco to handle. He picked up the pace, from agonizingly slow to ruthlessly fast. So many nights he had dreamed about fucking you like this. Ravishing you like you were his and only his, as you should be. His head dropped to the crook of your neck as your back arched in both pain and pleasure. How perfectly, wonderfully, wholly he fit inside you. His eyes remained trained on your beautiful face, listening to the angelic noises that fell from you lips. “That’s Daddy’s good girl. Don’t hold back pretty girl, make your pretty noises for me baby.” At that your lips fell open and you screamed his name much to his satisfaction. Your walls tightened around his cock as he continued to rail you, and he began seeing stars from being inside of his girl. Draco’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he released into you, his cum heavy and warm and deep.

Your gaze was clouded and lips slightly parted, almost unable to speak or process your surroundings. You watched motionless as Draco breathed a sigh into your chest and kissed your cherry gloss smeared lips with the upmost affection. He stood, padding around the room to collect his clothing that had been fiercely flung around the room. He watched you, breathless and angelic, wrapped up in his white sheets with his bruises and marks so striking against your pale skin trailing down your body. He so desperately hoped you would fall into a deep euphoric sleep right then and there, next to him, enveloped in the scent of your vanilla and jasmine perfume, dreaming of the stars.

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bobohu4eva · 4 years

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Pink Lace - Chapter 7 (M)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut (nothing too wild this time)

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s

Masterlist

Friday went by in a blur. You finally wrote your essay, which was sent to Baekhyun after you got home from class. Class. It had been hard. Really hard. The material was challenging too, but you were more focused on how sexy Baekhyun looked in his nice professor clothes. How had you gotten this lucky? You laughed like an idiot when he saw you and innocently pulled down the hem of his shirt with one eyebrow raised at you, making fun of the marks he had so graciously placed on your neck. Lucas had seemed to notice the marks as well, since he seemed weirdly focused on his work and didn’t speak to you at all, a nice change from his usual nagging about why you wouldn’t text him back.

You couldn’t stop thinking about work the next day. Baekhyun would be there again of course, and this would be the first time for you to see him there after admitting your feelings. It gave you whiplash how quickly your opinion of him had changed in such a short time, but you had no regrets. If the last two weeks had taught you anything, it was to not second guess yourself. You were ready to get in there and give the man the lap dance of his damn life, and hopefully more. Oh how you looked forward to it.

Saturday morning, you got down to business. Of course you always tried to look a little extra nice when he’d been there in the past, but today was the real deal. You needed to be fully exfoliated, face-masked, and beautiful. There was no such thing as over preparing. Not today. You even used one of those bath bombs with glitter in it so your whole body would shimmer under the club lights.

You made a point of it to wear the same outfit you’d worn the first night he’d met you; a baby pink lace bodysuit with generous cutouts, a thong, and sparkly white heels.

You left ample time to make sure your hair and makeup would be perfect as well. For the hair you’d opted to keep it down and add a little bit of curl, as for makeup, you wanted to positively sparkle. For the first time since you’d started working as a dancer, you tasked Mia with doing your makeup since she was more skilled at it than you.

“So you want a lot of glitter and glowy-ness, right?” She asked as she dabbed foundation on your cheeks.

“Just make me look like the goddess I am.” You said, closing your eyes and smiling at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue beating your face.

“Got it boss.”

After what felt like forever, she finally turned you around to look in the mirror. Your jaw dropped. She’d done your makeup before for stuff like prom when you guys were younger, but she had really outdone herself this time.

Your skin looked like it was glowing from within, with flecks of holographic glitter sparkling every color of the rainbow across your cheeks. Your eyeliner was perfect, and she’d even overlined your lips a bit and added some highlight onto them to make them look extra kissable. It wasn’t too much, just the perfect amount to spice up your features and make you feel like a million bucks.

“Holy shit Mia I love you. I look hot.”

“You’re really gonna give him a hard time tonight.” She winked at you, and you decided you wanted to give him a bit of a preview, tease the man a little.

You and Baekhyun had been texting each other pretty consistently for the last couple days already. You slipped into your designated outfit for the night and took a few pictures to send him, only showing little parts of you at a time. You selected your two favorites, and hit send.

You: (5:46pm) I can’t wait to see you later ;)

Baekhyun: (5:52pm) Holy fuck. You know what that outfit does to me.

You grinned down at your phone at his reaction, heart fluttering and butterflies flying about in your belly. This feeling was so disgustingly sweet, but you loved every second of it.

After changing back into your regular clothes, you packed your outfit and got ready to leave after having dinner with Mia.

The club opened at 7pm sharp, and you were there right on time. You went back into the dressing room to change into your carefully selected lingerie and shoes, adding a spray of your favorite perfume as a final touch before getting back out onto the floor to start your night.

“Holy shit Candy.” You heard your manager say as you signed in for the night. “special occasion?”

Tonight, not even his comments could dampen your mood. “You could say that.” You replied cheerfully before sitting down at the bar where you usually waited until Baekhyun arrived.

After sitting for a little while you were called up on stage, so you walked across the room, making sure to sway your hips on the way, and walked up the stairs to the platform with the pole.

You walked slowly around the pole a couple times, getting into the feel of the music. Luckily the dj was on your side tonight, and was playing something slow and sensual enough for you to really get down to. You started to do your usual thing, a couple little spins on the pole, a bend over and shake of the ass here and there, before slowly laying down for some floor work. There were already a decent amount of people in the club, and a few had come up to the stage now to tip you. For maximum tips, you spent a little while in front of each of them either playing with your boobs in front of their face or turning around and shaking your ass as they threw money at you.

The way your club worked was you did one song with your outfit on, and the second song topless. When you heard your fist song coming to an end you stood back up, turning around to face your back to the room as you took it off, to make for a more dramatic reveal. You slowly peeled the thin fabric of the bodysuit off, stepping out of it leaving you in only your thong and shoes.

When you turned back around, Baekhyun’s eyes met yours from across the room. He must’ve walked in as you were facing the wall.

Immediately you grinned, and he looked just as thrilled to see you as well, sitting down at the empty table closest to the stage. He never tipped on stage, you assumed because he was shy about standing up there in front of everyone. Not that you minded, since he always paid you generously anyway. But tonight you didn’t even care about his money.

It seemed he’d put some extra effort into his look for tonight as well. 90% of the time when he would come in he was in sweats, but not today. His black jeans hugged his thighs in a way that made your mouth water, and the fitted white shirt he wore showed off the broadness of his shoulders wonderfully. His black hair was styled out of his face and his glasses were hanging off the neckline of his shirt, further defining the swells of his chest.

Oh how you had missed this. Seeing him here, absolutely enamored with you.

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts and got back to dancing, this time paying special attention to his side of the room. You made sure to send little smirks his way as you did your thing. Once you’d made your way back onto the floor of the stage, you laid on your back on the edge closest to him, arching your back and running your hands up and down your bare body suggestively as you locked eyes.

He looked like he was about to faint.

Eventually the song came to an end. You gathered all the cash that had been thrown at you and got your outfit back on before walking off stage and directly onto Baekhyun’s waiting lap.

“If you’re trying to kill me, it’s working.” You giggled at his words, blushing.

“Thank you, I know this is your favorite outfit on me, right?” You asked, gesturing down to your lacy pink bodysuit.

“Of course.” He was smiling so widely, you thought this might be the happiest you’d ever seen him before. “You look so good tonight, you always look good of course, but holy shit. You’re really so beautiful.”

Your face turned an even deeper shade of red, the way he was looking at you would’ve made any girl swoon. Oh how beautiful he was as well.

“You’re literally sparkling.” He observed, looking down at the skin of your thigh and all the little silver flecks that were reflecting the spotlights as they moved around the room. “I’m gonna be covered in glitter when I get home aren’t I?”

You laughed, “Yeah, sorry.”

“Oh the things I do for you.”

“I missed this, the two of us hanging out together here, like this.” You whispered in his ear.

You could feel just how warm Baekhyun was. His cheeks were the cutest shade of pink.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Are you gonna be mad if I take you upstairs before ordering us drinks? I don’t think I can wait tonight.” He swallowed.

“No, I think that’s a great idea.”

“Then I need you to get off my lap babe.” You happily obliged.

As you made your way across the room towards the stairs together, your heart rate began to increase. Never in your life had you been this nervous to give someone a dance. Or maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. Anxious. You were anxious, not nervous. You weren’t scared, you just wanted to do your best to make him enjoy himself.

The both of you knew it wouldn’t be a normal lap dance today. You wouldn’t just dance for a few songs and then sit and talk like usual. There was no way either of you would have the self control to keep it at that.

When you finally got into the room Baekhyun handed you the usual stack of cash, and you started pulling down the straps of your bodysuit when he stopped you.

“I, um, can you keep it on actually? Nothing against your boobs, they’re great, but I just really like this on you.” He said as he sat down and put his glasses on.

You laughed, but put the straps back in place. “Whatever you want.”

Usually, you’d set a timer for an hour. Tonight you didn’t bother.

You got right to it, sitting yourself in between his spread legs and leaning back against his chest. You rolled your body over his to the music, before turning your head to once again whisper in his ear. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

You turned your body to face him, both hands running up and down his chest. You could feel how fast his heart was beating beneath your palm.

“Can I touch you?” He asked.

After considering it for a moment, you leaned in towards his ear again.

“You can do whatever you want.” Your bottom lip grazed his earlobe as you said it, and you saw him shiver.

Not a second later you felt his hands start to explore your lace covered torso.

“God, this is a criminal piece of clothing. Why is it so soft.” His hand eventually found it’s way to your neck, where he moved your hair out of the way to admire the marks he’d placed upon it. “So beautiful.” He murmured as he traced his fingers across the trail of bruises he’d left you with.

You stood back up straight in front of him, turned around, and bent over, running your hands across your whole backside and down your thighs. For the first time, his hands made contact with the bare skin of your ass.

“Let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable at all.”

You turned to face him again, planting a knee on either side of his left thigh. “I told you. Whatever. You. Want.” You paused between each word, just to make it a little more dramatic. He swallowed.

It was true. If he decided he wanted to fuck you right then and there, you weren’t going to stop him.

“Really? Anything?”

“Anything.” You repeated.

He was still staring into your eyes, looking slightly concerned, but he found no reason in them to not believe you. You truly wanted him to do whatever he felt like doing with you.

“Come here then.” He grabbed you by the waist firmly and lifted you off his thigh, instead placing you atop his lap completely, one knee now on either side of his body.

You’d never sat with a customer like this. Of course you’d sit on their laps facing away from them all the time, but this felt so much more intimate. You felt the hardness beneath his pants against you, close, too close, to where you wanted him the most. You put your hands back onto his chest and just stared back at him with wide eyes.

“And I can touch you anywhere?”

“Anywhere you want.” You confirmed.

He looked down from your eyes to your chest. One of his hands crept up from your waist, over your ribcage, until he let it rest over the fabric supporting your chest. He ran a thumb over your nipple where it was hiding beneath the lace, causing you to inhale sharply.

Immediately his eyes shot back up to yours, still worried that he was somehow making you uncomfortable, but the look on your face quickly washed his worries away. He felt your heart beating beneath his palm the same way you’d felt his earlier as well.

“Are you s-sure you want me to keep it on?” You asked shakily.

Instead of answering he slipped a finger beneath each of the straps and dragged them down your shoulders until your chest was once again bare. He hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted you to keep it on, but taking it off himself seemed like an even better option now. He bit his lip as he watched the fabric give way, exposing you to him. He stayed silent for a second before finally speaking.

“So, so, perfect.”

You were sure he noticed your whole body flush red at his statement.

His hands were soon back on your ribcage, pulling the bodysuit further down your torso until your entire upper body was naked. Your cheeks were starting to go numb from the excitement and your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could hear it too.

The entire time he undressed you, your eyes were fixed on his pink lips. Oh how they were tempting you. You didn’t remember ever being this turned on in your life. Once he’d had a minute to stare at your chest you quickly took the item off the rest of the way before returning to your previous position straddling his lap.

His hands were warm on your waist as he pulled you closer towards him, until your chests touched. His face was close enough to yours that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. You both just stared for a moment, until something in you snapped and you closed the distance, bringing your lips to his.

You swore there was something about the taste of his lips that was like a drug to you. The second you touched your mouth to his, your whole body felt electrified. Was this that fireworks bullshit people always talked about?

He returned the kiss the passion, but you could tell unlike in his office, he was now taking his time. Your lips moved against each other slowly as you let your fingers run through his hair. It wasn’t rushed, he let his lips move at a relaxed pace as he started to explore your mouth with his own. You felt his tongue ask for entrance and parted your lips, allowing you to taste each other.

You felt one of his hands start to move upwards from your waist, to your ribcage, until it found the soft flesh of your chest, squeezing slightly, causing you to let out a soft moan.

“I’ve fantasized about this so many times.” He broke away from the kiss just enough to get the words out. “You have no idea.”

You shivered at his words, feeling how they made the knot in your stomach tighten in excitement. When he moved his hand to your other breast and flicked a sensitive nipple with his thumb, you moaned out his name shamelessly.

“Fuck, you sound so hot”

His kisses moved from your lips, down your jaw, and to the side of your neck. He placed a gentle kiss beneath your ear giving you chills, before pressing his lips softly to each of the purple marks, making his way all the way down to your collarbone. The whole time his hands continued kneading your chest, making you nearly lose your mind.

You had been touched before, but not like this. You realized that the handful of boys you had allowed to touch you in the past hadn’t known what they were doing at all, Baekhyun did. His expert hands worshipped your bare skin expertly as he continued placing soft kisses down your neck, this time without any sucking or biting that would leave marks. He was enjoying you slowly, softly, but you were impatient and wanted more.

“Baekhyun, please” you whined.

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

You let out another annoyed whine, wanting, needing, something more to relieve the unbearable tension that was building between your legs. After another few seconds of waiting to see if he’d finally do anything more without any luck, you took matters into your own hands. You started to roll your hips against him, feeling the hardness in his pants through the thin fabric of your thong.

His hands flew down to your hips, gripping them firmly in an attempt to stop your movements, but you continued anyway. After several more rolls of your hips over his hard length, he gave in.

“God, y/n.” He breathed out, voice shaking slightly. “Shit.”

He began to grow needier as well, eventually using his hands on your hips to guide you, rather than stop you, as you continued grinding against him.

Your lips crashed into each other once more, this time with more desperation. He sucked, bit, and licked at your lips, as you did with his. He kept one hand on your hip, sliding down to grope your ass as the other made its way back up towards your chest. The hand on your ass squeezed and pushed you forwards to the beat of the music, pushing you firmly against the tent in his pants.

You still wanted more. You wanted him to touch you everywhere, and you wanted to feel him. In a feeble attempt to try to convince him to give you what you wanted you snaked a hand between your bodies, running it down his chest and then his stomach until you got to the top of his jeans. You let your hand inch down just a little bit further, until you could palm him through his jeans.

This time you let your kisses travel to his neck, before whispering in his ear “Please, I need more.” You could hear the neediness in your voice, but you were way too turned on to feel any shame. “Baekhyun, please.”

He already felt like he was about to burst just with the way you rolled your hips against him. It took every ounce of self restraint in his body not to just yank his pants down, rip off your underwear and shove himself inside you. Feeling your hand over his cock, hearing you literally begging him for more, was too much.

“If you don’t stop I’m gonna come.” He said, sinking his fingers into your thigh hard enough to bruise, bringing your ministrations to a halt.

You leaned back slightly to look at him and saw his eyes closed, brows furrowed with a pained expression on his face. He was really having to hold himself back. You let out a disappointed sound that was somewhere between a whine and a moan.

“That’s okay though.” You honestly wouldn’t have minded, it happened fairly often anyway when you gave lap dances, nothing you weren’t used to. “Please?” You continued to beg, resuming the movement of your hips as well.

A muffled “Oh my god” was all he could get out before his hands were back on you.

He still wouldn’t touch you the way you wanted him to, leaving you more and more wound up and desperate as you whined in his ear with every roll of your hips. His eyes were still closed and his head was tipped back against the couch, giving you access to the smooth skin of his neck. You left kisses all over the soft skin as you kept up the motion of your hips, and you knew he was about to crumble.

You weren’t doing much better yourself. His hands found their way back to your chest, kneading and pinching the sensitive skin perfectly, reducing you to a quivering mess above him. The tension in the pit of your stomach kept building, and you knew you were close as well.

Not a minute later you felt your release crash over your body as you shook against him, letting out a sound of pure euphoria. He seemed to notice, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for another searing kiss. You kept moving against him and soon felt him go rigid as well. When he came he held you against his body so tightly, kissed you so hard you forgot your own name for a second. All that mattered in that moment was how good the both of you felt, panting and shaking as you slowly recovered from your highs. As your breathing gradually slowed down, you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes in bliss.

To your disappointment he pushed you back by your shoulder, pulling you out of your dream-like state.

He was shaking his head, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

Instead of listening to him try to apologize for nothing, you shut him up by cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. “Thank you.”

You smiled at him brightly and he returned it ten fold. You swore that smile was like sunshine even on the darkest day. You let your head rest on his shoulder once again, and he rubbed soothing circles onto the bare skin of your back.

“I was gonna apologize because I really wanted to save this for after I took you on a real date.”

You leaned back up to look at him once again, giggling at his words. “If anything you should be apologizing for not fucking me for real. But does that mean you’re asking me on a date?”

“No! I mean... not yet. I want to do it right. Ask you out properly. But you make it so fucking difficult, you know how hard I have to hold myself back? You’re one hell of a temptation to resist.”

You only rolled your eyes at him, “You’re the one choosing to hold back, if it were up to me you would’ve bent me over your desk Wednesday night already.”

He chuckled, “I know the way we met is... different, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be swept off your feet. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I treated this like nothing more than some heat of the moment fling. I want more than that, I hope you do too.” He said, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, I do.” You blushed, looking down to avoid his gaze. Here he was, once again making you flustered with how honest and open he was about his feelings towards you.

The way he smiled back at you, and the admiration you saw in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. You brought your lips to his, and this time, you weren’t fueled by lust. The two of you just enjoyed the feeling of the others lips, basking in the softness and intimacy of it.

Eventually he pulled away, and cleared his throat “I hate to ruin the moment, but I kind of wanna get home and shower. I told you to stop if you didn’t want me to but you kept going so...”

You pouted, but he was right. You’d brought this on yourself. “Okay” you sighed.

After getting off Baekhyun’s lap you got your bodysuit back on, but before you could exit the room together, he grabbed your wrist.

“Come here.” He pulled you towards him, placing his hands around your waist, and you let your arms rest on his shoulders. He looked at you again with those same eyes from earlier, but this time he held your gaze much longer, and with much more intensity. Something felt different this time when he looked at you, like he was trying to tell you something just with his eyes. He brought a hand up to your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You’re so pretty.”

You felt yourself go pink, and smiled as he pulled you in for one last kiss, this one even sweeter than the last.

Eventually both of you went back downstairs, you disappeared into the dressing room to get ready to leave, and Baekhyun went straight to his car.

On your way home you kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you before you both left. It had somehow felt different, more intimate. His gaze had held so much emotion, you wished you could look inside his head at what he’d been thinking. You had been kind of surprised when all he said was that you were pretty, something he’d told you a million times before, so why was it so different this time? Why did it feel like it meant so much more?

The last kiss as well felt too sweet, far too romantic for the time and the place. He was always completely open with his feelings, and of course you knew he liked you, but you couldn’t help but feel like there were some unspoken words in the way he’d looked at you just then.

Maybe, just maybe, it could be love.

Next Chapter

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fic #exo fic #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo fluff

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

Text

Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes // 5

Five - Dirty Dancing

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

Bucky wakes up to music. It's playing from outside the room, echoing through the halls and filling the apartment with sound.

It reminds him of when he was a kid and his mom would make them all breakfast as the radio would softly play in the background. She'd always have a smile on her face and twirl around the kitchen and sometimes, when they were still little enough, she'd pick up him or one of his sisters and slowly sway along with them in her arms.

It's a hazy memory, he's barely able to grasp it, but it's there nonetheless and that makes all the difference.

Rays of sun flood the apartment, coloring it in hues of orange and gold. Bucky steps out of (Y/N)’s room and into the hallway from which he can see straight into the kitchen. (Y/N)’s standing by the stove, a frilly pink apron wrapped around her waist and spatula in hand. Her hips shake slightly to the beat of the song and her lips move along with the lyrics.

Bucky wonders if he’ll ever get that. This feeling of pure comfort in his own home. To find who he really is and allow himself to be that person, no inhibitions, no holding back. Just be himself and be confident in who that might be.

“ You can keep standing there like a creep or you can come over here and help me, grumpy”

At the sound of her voice, he jumps a little, too lost in could-bes and what-ifs to realize she’s long noticed him leaning against the doorway. Her hair is a mess and there’s still eyeliner and glitter from last night stuck to her skin. But Bucky thinks she’s never looked better. It’s an intimate moment, to watch her in all her imperfect ways, move around her own home, being the most comfortable and at ease she’s ever been. There’s something about the way she looks at him then, showered in golden sunlight, a bright smile on her face. Bucky knows what it is he feels, deep down inside of him, flickering up like a light in the dark. He knows what it is. It’s not a feeling you forget once you’ve felt it.

He’s not gonna say it though, not gonna admit it to himself or anyone. All that can come from it is misery and heartbreak and while his heart is of very little value to him, hers means everything. So he’ll ignore it, shove it to the deepest darkest corner of himself and try not to acknowledge it in hopes it’ll go away.

“ You’re cooking? “ he asks as he steps up next to her, eyebrows raised in uncertainty.

“I’m making pancakes, and don’t look at me like that!” (Y/N) replies, swatting him with a dish towel, “ I know my cookies weren’t the best and I am well aware that my coffee sucks. But if there’s one thing I can make, it’s pancakes. Trust me. “

He does trust her. It’s something that he only fully realizes at that moment. Such an insignificant little moment. He trusts her, which is terrifying but also liberating at the same time. Maybe his life is on the right path. Maybe things can get better. Step by tiny step.

“ Hey, I ate your cookies, didn’t I? “

She looks up at him, a small smile playing on her lips, eyes shining with — something he can’t quite place. Maybe, he thinks, maybe he doesn’t need to know what it means. It means something and that's all that counts in the grand scheme of things.

“Yeah, yeah you did.”

For a moment it’s just them and the music and the bliss of a morning spent with a friend.

“ Okay, hand me the batter please?” (Y/N) says and points towards a big blue bowl standing by on the counter to his right. As he hands it to her though, (Y/N) doesn’t immediately start pouring the batter, instead, she dips her finger into it and holds it out to Bucky.

“ Try it, tell me if it’s too sweet. “

He’s hesitant for a moment. You don’t just go around licking your friends’ fingers. Surely social cues haven’t changed that much. But when she moves her hand closer once again and adds a determined “taste it before it drips onto the floor”, he wraps his lips around her finger, tasting the sweet pancake batter. It’s not too sweet, not at all, it’s perfect. He can’t really voice that thought though, not when his mind is somewhere else entirely. Somewhere it really shouldn’t be.

At that moment Bucky feels something he hasn’t felt in forever — arousal.

“ Good? “ she questions him as she pours the batter into the pan, a sizzling sound filling the kitchen.

Buck nods, completely at a loss for words. This is entirely silly and inappropriate. You’re not supposed to feel those things for your friends. Wasn’t this exactly what they talked about in the Harry and Sally movie? Sex ruining friendships. He can’t and won’t let that happen. Not with (Y/N). Not when he’s just starting to trust her. He needs this friendship more than he cares to admit.

“Grumpy? “

“ Hmm? Oh uh — yeah it’s good. “

And it is good, too good to give up. Too good to jeopardize it for some fleeting sense of passion. Too good to ever let go.

It’s ridiculous of him to put any sensual notions to such a silly little gesture. These things can be friendly. Innocent. People probably do it all the time with no ulterior motives. Maybe he needs to go with the times, let go of antiquated morals. Yeah, surely that’s what he’s gotta do.

They’re sitting by the kitchen counter, (Y/N)’s plate licked clean while Bucky is struggling to finish his pile of pancakes.

“ Do you want the rest of mine? “

“ Did you not like them? “

“ No, I did! I ate an entire pile already. But I can see the way you’re lusting after them. Come on. Open up. “

He cuts off a piece, lathers it in the syrup pooling on his plate, and holds it out towards her. Nothing sexual about it, just two friends sharing food. Absolutely nothing sensual about the way her lips wrap around the fork, they’re still tinted red from last night. Absolutely no dirty thoughts as the syrup drips down her chin. Or when she uses her thumb to wipe it away then licks the sticky liquid off of her fingers. All innocent. All —

“ Have you ever seen 9 ½ weeks? “ she asks him, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

“ No. What’s it about? “

“ Um — “ she starts then laughs to herself as if she’s sharing a funny inside joke with herself “ nevermind. “

“ Noooo, you can’t just start something and then not give me an explanation” he declares as the two of them get up and put the dishes into the dishwasher.

“ You know, Grumpy. There are a few things you better figure out on your own, trust me.”

“ Now you’re just being mean. “

“ No, I’m not I — “ her eyes grow wide as the song changes again and a big bright smile overtakes her entire face. Messy hair, makeup smudged, a smile on her face. God, he wishes they could stay in this little bubble forever. Hurt doesn’t exist here. Only them. Only happy things.

“ I forgot Dirty Dancing.”

“ What? “

“ You don’t know Dirty Dancing. “

“ I know plenty of dancing, thank you very much.”

“ No, Bucky. It’s a movie. It’s one of the most famous romantic movies and I forgot about it. I made a list of all the movies I wanna watch with you but didn’t think of Dirty fucking dancing. Sorry for swearing.”

“ You made a list? “

“ Yes, Grumpy. I made a list because I take this very seriously and I intend to make you watch them all with me because — because it’s fun and I like spending time with you. “

People, Bucky thinks, often take the smallest things for granted. The smallest things that make the most impact. That you will remember forever and cherish with all your heart. Like this one. People also don’t tell each other enough how much their friendships actually mean to them. People should. It feels wonderful.

“ I like spending time with you too.”

She grants him another sunshine smile before grabbing his hands and dancing along to the song. It’s faster than their late-night sway on the balcony, way less coordinated and there’s more jumping on her part and more shaking of — pretty much every body part.

This is so her. Chaotic and a little messy but so unapologetic. So fun. So happy.

“ Because IIIIII've haaaaaad the time of myyyyyy lifeeeee. No I neeeeeever felt this way before. Yes I swear it's the truuuuuuuuth. And I ooooowe it all to youuuuuu.”

“ That’s a catchy song,” Bucky says as a smile finds a way onto his lips. Sometimes it feels nice to surround yourself with people who make you smile. It’s one of the little pleasures in life one should allow themself to indulge in.

Bucky wishes he could bottle up this moment and never let go of it. Keep it for himself forever. That’s the thing about losing your memories, it makes you realize how precious every moment is and it makes you want to hold on tightly to each and every one as they happen.

“Right? I can guarantee you’ll be humming this song all day.”

(Y/N) twirls herself under his arm, away from him, then back before her eyes fall onto his glove-covered hands.

“ You don’t have to wear them for me, you know that, right? “

Sometimes he doesn’t even remember he’S wearing them, it’s become such a regular thing to him now. They are a part of him like the arm itself. They’re a shield really. From looks and judgment. And maybe, if he’s being entirely true to himself, they’re also to keep his eyes from focusing too much on the shiny silver of his hand. Of the fact that he will never be whole again. That he will never be able to feel a loving touch there ever again.

“ I know. It’s not you I’m worried about. “

“ Is it you? “

Bucky scrunches his nose up in discomfort. Talking about feelings wasn’t really a thing back when he was younger, especially for men. Sure there had been late-night talks with Steve about god and the world. About their hopes and fears and about the future. But those were few and far between and really opening himself up was never one of Bucky’s strong points. Talking about your feelings makes you vulnerable and being vulnerable was the last thing Bucky was ever allowed to be back then.

But as he said before, maybe it’s time to give up on antiquated ways.

So he nods “ Yeah. It’s — I still have a complicated relationship with the arm. I know it’s part of me and I’m glad it was given to me but it’s a huge reminder of all that I’ve lost and of a version of me that I can never go back to. A man I can never be again.”

“ Bucky,” (Y/N) starts and takes his face in between her hands. It’s a touch so soft, he can’t remember ever being handled this gently. Like a baby bird. Like a piece of porcelain. Like a treasure too precious to break. “I will never be able to fully understand how you’re feeling and I know that some of those things you have to go through alone and do the work yourself. But let me tell you something. Whoever you used to be might be gone but there’s a long-ass future waiting and it lets you be whoever you want to be. Maybe it’s time to let go of the man you were and start being the man you are because that one’s pretty great. And your arm is as much a part of that greatness as your smile or your constant grumpy mood. It’s what makes you you and you are really cool, honestly. “

His heart beats faster and stops entirely all at the same time. When he was younger he used to relish in the compliments thrown his way. He gracefully accepted them all with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Nowadays it’s hard to believe them. Hell, it was so hard to have faith in Steve’s words. To believe that he was really worth all the effort and trouble Steve and the others went through, for him of all people. It’s so hard believing you are worth something when all you can see are your wrongdoings and shortcomings.

He wants to believe her words though. If only for a moment. If only for right now, safe and sound in their little bubble as the sun filters through the windows and the tastes of syrup still lingers in his tongue.

A few days later...

“They’re screening Dirty Dancing at the cinema around the block from me! Starts at 8pm. Come meet me, I won’t take no for an answer! xx “

He reads the message and tries to remember the way he felt that morning a few days ago when they danced around her kitchen. When she told him he was worth something. When she made him believe he wasn’t the actual worst person walking this earth. A disgrace. A mistake. A killer.

But every time he tries to go back to the bubble, a different pair of eyes show up in his mind. Eyes filled with sadness, with unimaginable suffering, with grief. All of which he put there.

He ran into Yori last night on his way home. The old man looked more fail than usual, sadder, more tired. Bucky found out why a few minutes later when he asked Yori about the cake in his grocery bag. The one with the white and green frosting.

“ It would be my son’s birthday today. I know he’s not here anymore but he was crazy about these cakes ever since he was a kid. Felt like remembering him. Would you like to join me for a piece? “

Bucky made up some half-assed excuse why he couldn’t, rushed to his apartment, and had a full-on breakdown. The kind that you don’t realize is happening until you’re all the way in the center of the hurricane.

There are shards of glass on his floor from when he threw a bottle against the wall. It’s a shame when you can’t even drown your sorrows in alcohol. His cheeks, he’s sure, are stained with tears that he had kept inside for so long.

How could he ever spend another second with (Y/N) when this is the kind of person he is. Brainwashing or not. The blood of Yori’s son is on his hands. Yori’s pain is his doing. All this grief and this hurt. It’s his fault and his alone. And Yori is just one of so many.

(Y/N) deserves a friend that doesn’t have a body count. Someone who doesn’t know what it feels when someone loses their life at his hands. Someone who doesn’t go to sleep seeing the eyes of those he’s killed. Someone who isn’t him.

His phone rings and he expects it to be (Y/N). She’s one of those people that text you then immediately call you right after. She likes to talk. In-person or over the phone. He doesn’t know if he wants to answer. Doesn’t know what to say. Would it be easier to just tell her not to contact him again? To rip off the bandaid quickly and then deal with the pain afterward?

Before he can come up with an answer to any of those questions, his eyes register the name on the caller display.

“ What?” he grumbles and leans his head against the wall.

“ Well, aren't you a happy chappy today. “

“ Sam, now’s not a good time. “

Sam hesitates for a moment then his voice sounds out from the speakers again.

“ Hey, Bucky. Are you okay? “

For a second, Bucky thinks about saying yes. He wants to keep on pretending the way he did so many times before. Wants to deal with this all by himself and not have anyone else get caught in his mess.

But he can’t. He’s tearing at the seams. He’s barely holding himself together, cracking open more and more with each passing second. So he takes a deep breath and tells the truth.

“ No. No, I’m not. “

30 minutes. No actually 34 minutes. He’s 34 minutes late. In fact, he hasn’t even answered her god damn text. He’s read it. Hasn’t answered though. And while that’s not entirely unlike Bucky, it still annoys her. Especially since when she tried to call him, the line was busy. So surely he’s on his phone. Is it too much to ask for a little reply?

If he doesn’t want to come, that's no big deal, (Y/N) tells herself, but a quick text would be the bare minimum he could give her.

Pout on her face and mood soured, (Y/N) enters the cinema and slumps down onto one of the plush red velvet seats. Not even in the mood for popcorn anymore, thanks Bucky.

There are hardly any people in there with her. Probably because by now almost every person on this planet has seen Dirty Dancing before and the weather is actually quite nice out tonight so most would rather enjoy the last rays of sun before winter will fall upon them than be stuck in a dark stuffy cinema watching a decade-old movie.

Not her though.

And if Bucky thinks she’s gonna miss out on watching this classic masterpiece because he can’t be bothered to show up, well he’s gravely mistaken. And yeah, maybe she’s being a bit dramatic, there might be a perfectly valid explanation for his no-show. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

What happens if he actually goes on to date Leah? He’ll have less time for her that’s for sure. Movie dates won’t be happening then. Maybe it’s good she’s getting used to this now before she grows too close to him and breaks her own heart in the process of mending his.

She hates herself a little for those thoughts. Bucky deserves to be happy and if that means their friendship will be put on the backburner, then she should be okay with that, right? That’s what friends do, they want you happy no matter what it means for themself.

The Ronettes’ Be My Baby starts echoing through the room as the lights dim and (Y/N) sinks deeper into her seat, embracing the dark. The screen lights up with a black and white montage of people dancing and a swirly pink font spells out the actors' names. (Y/N) can’t wait to get lost in this picture-perfect version of real-life where things might seem bad but turn out right in the end. They always turn our right for these people. If only real life was this easy.

She’s so ready to just forget about all her troubles for the next 90 minutes.

And then a figure steps in front of the screen, nothing but a silhouette. A black shadow in front of the moving pictures. A shape she immediately recognizes.

“ Come on, dude. What the hell!” some guy in front of her yells out to Bucky, immediately following the words with a fistful of popcorn being thrown his way.

He’s here. He’s here and he’s obviously looking for her. She can’t make out his face but he’s shielding his eyes with his hands and letting his gaze wander over the crowd.

There’s a flutter in her stomach, one she knows oh too well. One she wants to bundle up and stuff to the very back of her being. A flutter that shouldn’t be there. That’s not what this is. Butterflies and goosebumps. This is eating spaghetti on the floor, dancing in the kitchen, and crying tears of laughter in IKEA. That’s what it is and what it should be. Right? But that doesn’t mean they can’t be affectionate. Right? That doesn’t mean they have to be cold and stoic and distant.

Right?

As (Y/N) reaches up her arms and waves, Bucky hurries down the platform and lets himself plop down in the seat next to her.

“ I’m sorry I was — “

“ It’s okay. You’re here now. “

That’s what matters. Being there. Just being there.

“ You deserve to have a friend, Bucky.” Sam said “ and she deserves to make her own decisions. If she decides you’re worth it, who are you to question that choice?”

Sam is right. Of course, he is. Despite how much Bucky hates to admit it, Sam is one of the smartest people he knows. Not in the way Tony or Bruce or Shuri are. Smart in a way that lets you know he gets you, he understands the chaos inside you, empathizes with it. He’s got this sense of incredible emotional awareness and a calm that exudes from him. Bucky will obviously never let him know this but talking to Sam feels more soothing and helpful than talking to his therapist.

He still doesn’t feel like he deserves her friendship, her affection, and her care. But really it would be foolish to think it’s his right to dictate who she can and can't care about.

Sitting beside her now, in the dark, with a movie playing on the big screen, makes things a bit easier. His thoughts aren’t so loud anymore and his heart, though still heavy, feels a little bit lighter. It’s easy to get lost in a story that’s not his and forget about the rest.

He almost forgets about his emotional turmoil by the time the two main characters dance around on a log, when he feels something against his left hand. First, it’s but a whisper of a touch, then more deliberate and then he feels the glove being slid off of his fingers. He doesn’t dare look over at her, eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t pull away though. There’s never been a touch quite so gentle against the cold vibranium metal. He doesn’t pull away, instead, he locks his fingers with hers and softly closes his fist.

If there’s moments worth holding onto, this is surely one of them.

“ I’m glad you came.” (Y/N) murmurs as she places her head against his shoulder. The one made of vibranium. The one that’s a part of him like his smile and his eyes and — his grumpy personality.

“ Yeah, me too.”

As Johnny and Baby give their all during the end of the season dance, Bucky can’t help but let himself relish in this moment.

There are two things on his mind.

One is the idea that maybe this is what friendship can be. Showing affection through soft touches and loving words. Maybe he doesn’t have to assign any deeper meaning to it. No matter how much it makes his heart beat faster or how the flutters in his stomach won't seem to settle down.

The other thing is the fact that this song is so damn catchy and while he hates himself a little for it, his feet tap along to the rhythm and he catches himself mouthing along to the lyrics.

And damn if it ain’t fitting because he has never felt this way before either.

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:

@zaynyierulez / @je-like-you / @dracoxxyoflam / @jackiehollanderr / @majo240820 / @kay-gilles / @booksb4looksstuff / @jckie94 / @charmed-asylum / @shawnie--jo / @yllwtaxi / @tailsoflightning / @giuliarogers / @mangoogirl / @gerim-1995 / @elen-alambil / @threeminutesoflife / @writeroutoftime / @buckybarn3s /

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #winter solider x reader #buck barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #sebasian stan imagine #sebastian stan imagines #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #james barnes x reader #james barnes x f!reader

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insomniamamma · 3 years

Text

Rain: Ezra X F!Reader w/Cee

A/N: Prickle ‘verse. Takes place after Prickle but before Clean Dirt. Can be read as a one shot. Reader is established crew with Ezra and Cee. This was written for @autumnleaves1991-blog ‘s Writer Wednesday. I am woefully behind. I legit don’t understand how some of you write fics so fast!

Warnings: Mentions of war, a little bit of angst, but mostly gentle fluff. Feelings.

"Hey, Ez," Ezra is engrossed in grading the latest haul, testing for clarity and hardness. The surface of CJ's World is cut through with oxbow rivers, fantastic hoodoos of striated sandstone slashed with valleys deeper than any found in Sol system. You're digging for fossils. These rusty carved out plateaus were once the bed of an ancient ocean. Through some trickery of mineralization and chemistry the fossils of CJ's world shine like the fire opals of Old Terra. Big or small, they all have value. "Ezra," says Cee, "She's doing it again." "Doing what, birdie?" Ezra takes off the loupe and rubs at his eyes. Rain pelts on the tent, even sheltered the humidity soaks through. "Look." Ezra draws open the tent flap and sees you, standing in the rain, your head tilted up, no gentle shower this, rain that pelts down hard, turns the view across the sharp-cut canyons to silver curtains. Your clothes are plastered to you like a second skin. The rain actually aids your cause, washing away loose sediment, making the fossils easier to get to. You bow your head and let the stinging rain hit the back of your neck, let it fall on your closed eyes, your outspread arms. You laugh at the sky.

"What do you know about Falnost?" Cee's eyes go distant for a beat. She has a memory to rival Central computers.

"Hmmm..about two thirds standard grav, class C5, would've rated lower if not for it's primary. Dustball." "Mmm-hmm." "She's not used to real weather," says Cee. "Observant as ever," says Ezra. The rain is not gentle. It is chilly and hits your skin like handfuls of flung sand, but is so different from anything you've known, so new that you can't help but stand there with a huge, dumb grin plastered on your face, even as your teeth chatter with the cold. Ezra comes and gets you. "C'mon, Artichoke, while the rain does feel slinky and delicious it is not worth hypothermia." "Sorry, Ez," you say and allow him to take your hand and lead you back to shelter. This has become something of a habit. Many worlds in the fringe are dustballs like the one you fled, algae and fungus growing on every bit of pipe that condensation beads on. On Falnost they had a deal with the ice-miners, discounted accommodations on world or on station in exchange for chunks of ice from your primary's lush rings de-orbited, burning and evaporating as they fell. The idea was that, eventually, there would be moisture enough in the atmosphere to trigger rains. Someday Falnost will have an ocean, but you won't be there for it, half your life spent harvesting rills of water from sail-traps, careful irrigation channels covered over with plastic sheeting, calorie vs water consumption ratios discussed every planting season. How many credits do we net vs wha† we have to spend? You got fucking sick of dreaming of an ocean your great grandchildren might paddle in. You skimmed enough to buy your way off world and since then you have seen things that you never would have believed as a child. The first time you heard thunder was on a world called Ingwy. Your first thought was artillery. Ingwy was a contested world, Karoclan and Lussia Collective skirmishing over land rights, while small stakes droppers like you and Ez and Cee swooped in to reap the spoils while the big corps and clans fought each other. It was the middle of the night and you were on your feet instantly, railgun in hand, screaming that there was incoming, to take cover. Someone had flicked on a utility light hanging from a cord that swung, illuminating the inside of the tent in sickening arcs, and there's another explosion, this one so loud you feel the pressure change in your ears, hear your own voice crying out in tandem, white hot light even through the thick weave of the tent. "It's just thunder," Ezra yells over the sound of rain slamming against the tent. "That was an explosion!" He presses gently on your arm until you lower the rails. "It's just loud," says Ezra, "It can't hurt us. We're safe here. Put the gun down." You set on the edge of your cot and put your face in your hands. "Kevva. You must think I'm the dumbest dirt-farmer this side of the Great Arm." The cot dips as Ezra sits beside you. "Not at all," he says, squeezes your shoulder, "I come from a backwater as well. First time I ever saw a proper ocean I nearly lost my breakfast right there on the beach." Thunder peals again and you flinch, shrink against him slightly. "Static electricity," says Ezra, "That's all it is. Builds up in the clouds and discharges into the ground." He keeps his hand on you as he speaks, fingers gently squeezing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, "The sound you hear is the air in the path of the lightning instantly heating and expanding. It makes a sonic shock wave, like any explosion." "Like the boom when ships lift," you say. "Just like that, Artichoke," he says, "Storm's already moving off, see?" The rain pelting the tent has settled into a steady drone. Thunder grumbles, a low, almost soft sound, not the air-rending explosion that shocked you out of sleep. "We should try to rest," says Ezra, gives your shoulder one more firm squeeze and a little shake, and when you look up, he's smiling, dimple just beginning to sink into his cheek. "Yeah," you say, "Okay." He kills the utility light and settles into his cot. You can hear the music from Cee's headphones, the tinny, fast pop she favors, threaded through the white noise of the falling rain. She slept through the whole thing.

The ancient life of CJ's world favored heptagonal symmetry, long-dead mollusks like seven-sided shields shine out of the rusty ground, the smallest the size of a fingernail, the largest the size of dinner plates. This is a good deposit. The small ones are fashioned into jewelry and buttons. "They take these great big ones and slice them micron thin," says Ezra, "Use them for window-glass in the temples of the Ephrate. They say it is like standing inside Kevva's very beating heart." "I can see why," says Cee, and so do you. The minerals that limn the shells shine translucent red with brilliant streaks of orange, yellow and even thin threads of green and blue. "They say that Kevva's first heart-beat ignited the explosion that became the universe," says Ezra. "You really believe that?" Asks Cee. "I don't know if believe is the right word," says Ezra, "We all grew up with these stories, why my grandmother..." You smile and tune him out. The back and forth banter between Cee and Ezra is a pulse that underlies every harvest. Cee has grown more talkative with each drop. Their relationship has a growing ease to it. You don't know exactly what happened between them before you joined up, but Cee's initial skittishness and Ezra's new healed scars tell a story you can guess the shape of. You let their conversation fade into the background, focus on the work of your hands, the meticulous scrape of soft sediment away from the hard glitter of the fossil, working around the seven sided edge, loosen enough up to get your fingers under the shell and you can pry it out, focus on the sounds of the world around you, no birds on CJ's world, but there is a range of bug-music, hidden in crevasses in the midday heat, all metallic clicks and creaks. Your rail-gun rests within easy reach, as always. You worm your fingers under the edge of the shell, wiggling it like a loose tooth, pops out of the sediment suddenly and you plop on your ass in the sandy dirt. "You all right there, Artichoke?" Ezra grins at you. "I'll recover." You dust yourself off and take your prize over to the tub that sits in the shadow of the pod. Further cleaning and grading can be done after dark. Nights are long at this latitude. You stretch in the sunlight. This job is a milk-run compared to other drops, but hunkering in the dirt still hurts your knees and you feel every bit of it when you stand. There's a familiar sound, like a rumbling stomach, thunder, you think and glance up. "Ezra!" Your voice is urgent and sharp and he's scrabbling up in a heartbeat, hand on the thrower at his hip, but when he stands there is only you pointing out across the vast expanse of sharp-carved valleys and hoodoos, lined in sharply delineated shadows and rusted cliffs where the light catches. The rainbow swoops skyward into grey cloud-bellies, a luminous curtain against the grey clouds, distant rain falling across the canyons.

"Ezra, look!" Ezra exhales, tension leaching out of his shoulders. His hand drops away from the thrower. "Oh, hey, a rainbow," says Cee. You lower your arm and just stare, transfixed at the glowing phantasm, brightening and dimming with the movement of clouds between it and the sun. "It's beautiful," says Ezra. But he's not looking at the rainbow. He's looking at you. Your eyes are wide, lit up with wonder, an unconscious smile creeping across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes. The stiff professionalism that you wear as close as your body armor momentarily set down, forgotten. Ezra's heart squeezes. There you are, he thinks. He can count on his one hand the number of times he's seen you smile like this, open and carefree, rare and precious as the gems the three of you pull from the ground. Part of him wants to kiss you, but he suspects he would end up on his back in the dust with the barrel of your railgun jammed beneath his sternum, so instead he brushes his hand against yours and your fingers find his and squeeze hard. "I've never seen one before," you say, barely aware of Ezra's hand linked with yours, "I mean, I know what a rainbow is, but I've never seen one. Not in the real, just in vids." "They don't have rainbows on Falnost?" Says Cee. "They don't have rain on Falnost," you say, "Get's a little hazy sometimes after the ice-haulers make a drop, but that's about it." You shake your head as if just waking, the rainbow still shimmers, a bit duller now, and you are suddenly aware of Ezra's hand clasped with yours, the gentle pressure of his grasp. "Sorry," you drop your eyes, "I got distracted. We got work to do." Ezra gives your hand a squeeze and then lets you go. "Not to worry, Artichoke, rainbows are fleeting things. You look your fill while you can." And so you do. So does he.

#writers wednesday #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #ezra and cee

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imhereforbvcky · 3 years

Text

Watch Me Run - Part 17

Masterlist - Series Masterpage - Part 18

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader)

Chapter: You finally make contact with the Avengers again but everything is not as it seems. Or rather everyone.

Word Count: 1928

A/N: the next 2 chapters are more “Move the damn plot, Mee!” than “yes, brain! Deliver some flowing, symbolic prose!” I’m not thrilled about it either, but here we are.

The village was small. Hearty in the way towns are that have crawled out of the wilderness, just barely keeping the wild at bay. It was rugged and worn, and if you’d been there by yourself, you’d have passed right through without marking it.

Bucky pulled the creaking truck beside one of the larger single-story buildings. You’d have guessed the shutters hadn’t been painted since they were installed sometime in the late 1960s. The windows were probably last cleaned around the same time. The concrete wouldn’t need painting. No, eventually it would crumble into the dust whence it came.

For now, the entire side of the building had taken on a soft brown patina; decades of road dust streaked grey with the steady drip of melting snow and ice. Most couldn’t have picked it out of a line-up from the other buildings. Nothing distinguished this one as a government building except the sign in the filthy window of the door advertising its hours of operation. You doubted very much if their adherence was strictly enforced.

“Only library with wifi for the next hundred miles,” Bucky had told you as he gassed up the truck for the drive. You’d yawned and handed him a coffee in a white styrofoam cup. The liquid was black and cloudy as the sky overhead. Even the 3 creams you’d dumped into yours had done little to brighten the stale, hefty brew.

The library door groaned when Bucky drew it open for you. Not the gentle squeak of a place welcoming a new guest. No, this was the deep angry howl of a door stubborn and calloused in its disuse. The woman scowling at you from behind the counter stood as the physical embodiment of the very sound. Grey wisps of hair tumbled out of a hastily tied knot, a worn and grease-stained flannel hung on heavy shoulders over top of a fading wool knit. The collar had begun to fray long ago, as had this woman’s patience.

“Hi.” You offered as pleasant a smile as you could find, a customer service smile, though you were the customer.

The frown didn’t budge one millimeter. Her eyes though, turned to Bucky when he stomped heavy boots on the rug at the door. Muddy slush from the day-old snow dropped off his boots in clumps.

“Please wipe your boots outside,” she scolded.

“The snow’s right up to the door—“

Her head snapped and her eyes burned with the sort of anger only a stern teacher could conjure.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded before cracking the door just enough to knock his boots on the brick wall.

“Do you need somethin’?” she asked you. Not, ‘Can I help you?’ Not, ‘Are you looking for something in particular?’ Not even a, ‘Are you lost?’ This was a terse, ‘Honey, I know you’re lost and I know trouble. I want nothin’ to do with either.’

“Yes,” you jumped forward, matching her eagerness to rush you out. “I’m um… I’m not from here and—“

“Well I can see that.”

Bucky stepped in then, a scowl as deep as her own. He turned it down on you though. If you could kick yourself, you would. One of his rules of being on the run – don’t give away unnecessary information. Not who you are, where you’re going, who’s coming for you, not even what you need. Be nondescript. This was a difficult rule to follow when you were a nervous talker, when your sympathy scale was off the charts and the best way you knew to communicate was to connect in a personal way.

“We need to use your computer,” Bucky said simply. “You have internet here?”

She pointed to a back corner of the building. “Yeah. We even have indoor plumbing,” she grumbled.

“Well, she hates us,” you fidgeted, leaning close to whisper at Bucky’s shoulder as he led the way toward the computers. “You remember people you hate. She’s going to report us or something.”

Bucky chuckled as he looked back at you. “To who?”

“I don’t know… a Mountie? Loki could be anywhere right? Anyone?”

“Loki is from another planet. He’s not Interpol. There’s no hotline running for us. Far as she knows we’re a couple on a fishing trip.”

“Really? You don’t think she’ll remember us?”

He shrugged, pulling a chair over beside the one he took in front of the computer. “She wouldn’t have remembered some idiot who forgot to wipe his boots. Probably gonna remember ‘I’m not from here, please like me,’” he teased, donning a high squeak of a voice.

You smacked his arm with the back of your hand. “That’s not what I sound like.” A glance over your shoulder at the woman unfurling a cough drop at the desk. “She just looks so unhappy. How many people smile at her in a day, you think?”

“Not enough,” Bucky agreed. Grim places made for grim people. Harsh living and meager needs made even the softest people harden at the edges. Necessity, he called it. Survival.

“See. I might be the weirdo that cowered at the library door, but she’ll have a story to tell her partner when she gets home. Bet she’ll laugh about it.”

Bucky chuckled, sparing a glance over to you as he booted up the software. The computer was ancient and it made a dissatisfied grinding noise at the request.

“You laughed at least,” she nudged his shoulder with her own.

“That wasn’t a laugh,” he argued, failing to stifle a grin. “That was a… a snort at best.”

“Oh come on. There was at least a chortle.”

“A what?”

“A chortle! Look it up, we’re in a library. Ma’am!” you hollered, turning over your shoulder and waving.

“Knock it off!” Bucky laughed, reaching for your arm and pinning it to your side.

“Ma’am, could you point my friend here toward the dictionaries, he needs to look up a word—Umpfh!”

He’d clapped a hand over your mouth, the other still firmly wrapped around your arm, enveloping you thoroughly.

“No, we’re fine with the computer. Internet, so helpful,” he hollered, over your muffled chuckle.

The soft tickle of breath on his hand, the gentle shake of your laughing shoulders set off that warm, brightness in his chest. He was smiling down at you as he let go.

“Well I definitely got a smile, at least,” you nudged when he did lift his hand away. “You don’t smile enough either.”

“I smile.” His brow crinkled, like he wanted to scowl, but then… he would be proving your point. So he kept a half a smirk on his lips.

“Well, yeah, everybody smiles sometimes. But you rarely, and you never laugh—“

“I do too. I laughed yesterday when you fell on the stairs.”

“That was rude. You didn’t warn me they ice up like that.”

“It was funny,” he shrugged. “You looked like a cartoon. You should’ve seen your face.”

“You should see your face, Sir Scowls-A-Lot.”

“Scowl?” His eyes went wide and the smile threatened to erupt into an astonished laugh.

“Yes. You have the worst case of RBF I’ve ever seen.”

“What the hell is RBF…?” he wondered. But by now you were talking over each other, arguing and laughing all at once.

“People say, ‘If looks could kill…’ but, really. When you’re grumpy it’s like… if looks could kill, gimme Captain America’s shield because, nothing could stop those silver bullets.”

“It’s not that bad,” he rolled his eyes, typing away on the keyboard.

“It is. I mean, it’s fine, it’s a good looking face, so it works. But it’s a definite scowl.”

“A good looking face?” His entire visage lit into a grin now. His grey eyes were sharp and glittering like the cat that got the canary.

You were suddenly, glaringly aware that you’d been carrying on about all the little looks you’d noticed about your indefinite bodyguard all while you were still pressed tight against him from shoulder to hip. Heat flooded your cheeks and nose and throat at a record pace as you scrambled for a proverbial ripcord.

“Oh, you know you’re handsome.” When had denial ever worked for anyone? Misdirection, was clearly the way out. “Don’t act like I’m the first person to tell you that.”

He was still as marble for a long moment while you picked at your nails. The grin had dimmed a little, no longer a beaming mischievous thing, it had settled to a gentle warmth. He was Bucky again, the one who carefully assuaged your fears, who listened, who made eggs when hot pockets wouldn’t do.

“No,” he agreed finally and you looked up at the sweet softness of his tone. “First time in a long time it’s mattered to me, though. For some damn reason… I care what you think.”

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony’s voice thrummed angrily through the computer’s speakers. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Bucky took a sharp breath, deep into his lungs, breathing in the last of the stillness between you and taking it with him when he turned to the monitor. “Yeah,” he said and then he was talking to Tony. Something about a Doctor and the big bang and some powerful stones. But you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky.

Tony was irritable. Fuming, actually. The “doot-doot blub-blub-ting doot-doot” of the videocall ringtone repeated again, fueling the inferno. Waiting on technology was not something he was accustomed to. Waiting for inelegant, vulnerable technology that was too old to exist to project an image of the inside of his offices out into the world, well that would have been an a resolute No before today. But his teammates are nothing if not stubborn. Barnes most of all.

“Finally!” he sighed, leaning forward and peering at the image. “Why is it so grainy. I can’t… That’s a terrible picture.”

“It’s good enough,” Dr. Strange deadpanned beside him.

“No that can’t be it. Connection’s bad or something. They can’t even hear us talking!” He began waving haphazardly at the screen, hoping to catch the eye of the soldier or the stone-keeper.

That’s when he noticed what was actually on the screen. Bucky’s arm around you, tightly. A laugh. The goddamn Winter Soldier, your guardian for this mission, looking down at you as though he…

“Holy shit,” Tony mumbled, leaning closer. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah, you have to allow the app to access your microphone,” Strange rolled his eyes, entirely missing the point.

“Hey, Rogers?” Tony called just as Steve strode into the room, slightly out of breath. “I think your bestie has compromised the mission.”

His eyes were glued to the screen as Steve leaned his shoulder with a hand on the desk to get a closer look.

“Indeed,” he hummed through a grin as he watched the screen.

“What?” Tony frowned up at him.

Steve shook his head minutely. “Bucky’s fine. He’s only ever failed one mission. And I’m not this mission.”

Tony’s frown never lifted as his eyes darted over Steve. Doubt clouded them for but a moment. He hammered a quick line of code into the digital projection of a keyboard and swiped the screen away.

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony asked after patching the room’s audio systems through to the rudimentary video conferencing software. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Not a second later, Steve – or rather Loki projecting himself as Steve – noticed a slight shift in the cameras in the room. One after another, they made slow sweeping turns until he stood squarely within each and every frame.

Part 18 >>

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bodyguard bucky #bucky fanfiction

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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years

Text

The Dinosaur and the Vampire Part Two (carlisle cullen x reader)

Request: hi can you do a one shot for Twilight where the reader is best friends with Bella and is there at the car crash in the first movie, they go to hospital and that’s where the reader meets Carlisle, really fluffy, thanks

Word Count: Long

Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Warnings: nothing

A/N: This is part two of this request because it was so highly requested!! Thank you so much for the love and support!! I’m back re-reading the twilight series so if you have any requests just send them my way<3

MASTLERLIST

“I’ll see if we can sort this thing out.”

It was the last thing he had said to her with a small and yet reassuring smile before he turned and walked through those pale doors and apparently, y/n’s life. She hadn’t seen Dr Cullen since the day of the accident. Hell, she had barely seen his adopted children. Spring was warming into summer, the sun glittering down through the immense greenery and the Cullens were never around when it was sunny.

Bella and Edward were getting closer with every passing day. He had taken over their morning ride together, stopping by in his silver Volvo to pick Bella up, every so often flashing a smile at y/n as she climbed into her own less flashy car. Edward was kind enough to leave Bella to y/n after school, considering they both finished with gym. It was precious time for the pair as they recounted their day and filled each other in on gossip, none of it proving to be that interesting. Well, apart from the budding romance between Bella and Edward.

Despite y/n’s secret complaints every time Bella disappeared from a study session or cancelled a trip to Port Angeles, she knew her prejudice came from no genuine malice toward Edward. After all, he was lovely. Since the day of the accident his attitude towards y/n had done a 180, before he had never so much as spared her a glance and now he smiled at her in the corridor, even sat next to her in English, the only class they shared together. He made little conversation, most of it was inquiring after Bella but it was nice to have made a new friend.

It just seemed unfair. They way he had spoken in the hospital made it seem as if something would happen, perhaps an apology gift or an invitation to their mansion up in the woods. Something. Edward’s cordial behaviour was pleasant but in no way satisfactory. Y/n wished in every spare moment to see the doctor again, and when she wasn’t wishing to see him she was imagining what it would be like to see him. Maybe he’d pick the Cullen’s up after school or maybe there would be some big event in town which everyone went to. It was a silly thought since the Cullens were rarely grouped with ‘everyone’. So her mind of drifted to the idea of herself being injured, dragged into hospital only to have his face, angelic and flushed in light hovering above her.

“Stupid.” She muttered under her breath, dismissing the thought instantly. Bella threw her a glance, “Forgot to carry the one.” Y/n lied as she smiled and looked back down at her barely touched maths homework. All this pining and obsessive thinking made her feel so little and insignificant. She felt like a student with a crush on their teacher, and in many ways she was. Every time his name or ivory face rolled into her mind a small voice in her head protested.

She hated that voice. It was the one that reminded her she was only a junior in high school. The one that mocked her, told her that he was an adult with a job, a medical job that must have demanded a couple of years of study pushing him into his late twenties. What doctor has time for a high school student with a crush. A crush that was so overt she couldn’t even talk to Bella about it. Bella who had quickly grown into becoming her best friend, Bella who was dating Carlisle’s adopted son, Bella who was currently packing her things into her bag with haste.

“Where are you going?” Y/n hated the small whine in her voice and tried to play it off with a smile. She wanted to be happy for Bella and Edward and deep down she was, they were just a reminder that she was getting nowhere with her own crush and, most likely, never would.

“I’m running up to Edward’s to pick up his Bio questions. I forgot about them and he offered to help.” She smiled, oblivious to y/n’s anguish.

They were camped out in Bella’s room, a strange sounding CD playing in the background as they finished off their schoolwork. It had become a bit of a ritual to spend time with each other doing insignificant things. Bella was nice like that, never desperate to go anywhere or really do anything, happy to stay inside. Plus Charlie liked having y/n in the house, he was always asking her questions about her parents, grateful Bella was able to make such a good friend so soon.

“M’kay.” Y/n followed in suit, shoving her unfinished problems into her bag. This was her cue to leave. “How is Edward by the way?”

“He’s...fine?” Bella smiled wryly through her lashes, “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, it’s just, you always fill me in on your gossip but never actually tell me how he is.” Y/n smiled back as they both padded down the stairs.

“He’s fine. I think. His family’s a bit nervous about us actually.”

“Oh.” Y/n tried to make her voice sound as inconspicuous as possible, hiding her feral craving for more information on the Cullens.

“Well...it’s mostly just Rosaline, you know the blonde one.”

“The gorgeous one.”

“They’re all gorgeous.” Bella sighed.

“You got that right.” Y/n muttered under her breath. Pale hair melting into pale skin - the human equivalent of snow.

“Anyways,” Bella sighed not hearing her, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yup!” Y/n called over her shoulder as she hopped the fence between their two houses, pulling the keys out of her pocket.

A loud engine revved distantly followed by the squealing of car tires as a silver blur flashed down the street before halting in front of them. Edward. He was out of the car quickly, a broad grin stretched across his cheeks. He was smiling at Bella, of course. Y/n was happy for them, smiling to herself as she pushed her keys into the door.

“Hey y/n!” His voice was both silken and broad.

“Hey!” Y/n spun around shooting him a grin, “How are you, I haven’t seen you for a while.” It was nice now that she was able to actually carry a conversation with him, that they weren’t just strangers.

“Yeah weather’s been nice, Carlisle took us up this trail in the mountains. It was beautiful.” Edward said his name so casually and yet the word stunned her for a minute. It had been so long since she had actually heard it said aloud.

“Oh,” She murmured, her breath somewhat stuck in her throat. His eyes were careful, assessing her despite his broad welcoming smile. “Well you owe me,” Y/n relaxed back into the conversation, “I’ve been taking over Bella runs to school.” His laugh was loud and rare.

“Hey!” Bella half-protested tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “I didn’t realise I was such a burden to you guys.”

“Aw, it’s okay.” Y/n smiled, her keys feeling slippery in her fingers, “You make up for it with good conversation.” Y/n turned back to the door, mentally preparing for her night of microwaved meals and algebra.

“Y/n,” Edward’s voice surprisingly called out, “I’m running Bella up to mine for some biology questions but I wouldn’t mind if you came. I’ve got that first edition Hardy I was telling you about in English.”

The offer was most shocking to Bella who turned, utterly stunned, to gawk at her boyfriend. Y/n felt as though she had just been slapped as her heart lurched, sure her and Edward were chatty but the fact he was now inviting her to his house - the Cullens house. She did a quick mental calculation. On one hand she was invading Bella’s privacy with Edward but it was him who offered the invitation, on the other hand, well she might just see him. If it were anyone else y/n would have politely declined and been happy with soggy potatoes and Pythagoras, but she felt completely and utterly compelled to accept. The mere chance that he might be there in that house was enough for y/n to waltz her way into the back of Edward’s silver Volvo.

***

Edward drove like a maniac and somehow, that made sense. Y/n gripped the edge of her seat as she glanced out the window focusing on the never ending blur of blue and green. The conversation was casual and somewhat stilted but y/n couldn’t even try to care, her mind was already there in the Cullens house. She pictured popping into Edward’s room to grab the book and bumping into him, or the scenario where he was in the kitchen, or what about seeing him as he comes home from work, wearing the same pale shirt and tie.

Y/n hated how obsessive her mind was. But it genuinely felt as though she couldn’t help it, as though she had no control over her thoughts whatsoever. A small knot had twisted its way into existence in her gut and what was worse, they had already arrived.

“You guys can stay for a bit,” Edward got out the car heading into what can only be described as a mansion. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s out.” These seemed to ease something in Bella but had the opposite effect on y/n. Trying not to think about it y/n was quick behind Edward and Bella who had loosely interlocked their fingers as they walked in.

Taking her time, y/n absorbed what was probably the most beautiful house she had ever seen. Wood and glass flowing from wall to wall in eccentric shapes and patterns. Artwork y/n would never understand slung across the walls. A grand piano, smooth like silk displayed in the corner

“Oh, y/n.” Edward called her back to reality, “I’m pretty sure I left the book in the kitchen, I was going to bring it to you tomorrow.” Y/n was taken aback.

“Wow, thanks Edward. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, “You’re free to get it, Kitchen’s just up the stairs and to the right.” Y/n smiled at him gratefully before heading up the stairs. Partly to leave Bella and Edward in peace, partly to admire the home interrupted. She took her time going to the kitchen, admiring the way the Cullens lived. Of course they lived somewhere like this.

Once in the kitchen, y/n spotted a worn copy of ‘Tess of the d’Urbervilles’ waiting for her. Picking it up she thumbed through the first few pages noticing small faded scribbles in pencil - it would be nice to have a look in Edward’s mind.

“Y/n.”

All he said was her name and yet she knew in an instant who it was. Snapping the book shut and spinning around, there he was. His trousers were dark and tucked into them was a crisp shirt, white as skin and unbuttoned slightly, the sleeves rolled up to display his forearms. They looked like marble, pale and stony and completely solid. His silver hair was swept away from his face, his eyes a golden brown similar to Edward’s. “How did you...” he trailed off, his voice soft and distant, not a hint of anger.

“Sorry Carlisle,” Edward appeared out of thin air behind her. She took note of how he never called him ‘dad’. “I thought everyone was out. I brought y/n and Bella up to collect some things for school.” The two Cullen’s stared intensely at each other, something passing between them in that look.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n blurted after a moment, feeling as though she had intruded, “I’ve got what I came for,” She held up the book, “I can head back now.” She attempted a half-smile not meeting Carlisle’s eyes.

“It’s fine.” He said almost too quickly. His voice quiet, meditated. “You’re no bother to me.” The way he spoke, it was so elegant and unlike anyone in town. “I see you two are friends now after the accident.” Edward and y/n shared a glance.

“It was no big problem really.” Y/n felt herself melting into his presence, now more confident to steal looks at his unwavering eyes, fixed on her. “Just a scratch.”

“Still,” A smile had warmed into his stony cheeks, evidently comfortable himself as he busied himself with a folder already fanned out on the counter top, “Edward’s behaviour was unacceptable. He did apologise?” Carlisle leaned on his forearms, his smile widening.

“Yes...I did.” Edward groaned, y/n couldn’t help but giggle. He then turned to her, “You should’ve heard the verbal lashing I got when I came home.”

“Edward.” Carlisle warned, his smile dropping disapprovingly. Edward held y/n’s gaze for a moment before slowly reaching Carlisle's stare, again something seemed to pass between the two. “Did you say Bella was here?” Carlisle swiftly changed the topic.

“Yeah, I best go find her.” Edward added, the two easing the tension with expertise. “Before she falls down two flights of stairs and through a window or something.” He muttered.

“Wouldn’t put it past her.” Y/n agreed.

“Me neither.” Carlisle added distantly causing y/n to flash a smile at him. Edward bounded out of the room, distantly calling Bella’s name as he began his search. “Good book.” Carlisle commented.

“Yeah when Edward said I could borrow his first edition I was in shock to be honest.” Making conversation was disturbingly easy.

“You can take anything you want from our library, it’s full of first editions.” Carlisle said without thinking, “It’s sort of a...hobby. For us.” The way he said ‘us’ made y/n shiver, he knew that him and his family were exclusive, outsiders. Us and them, and y/n couldn’t figure out what side she was on.

“I have a feeling this one will take me a while but thanks. I’ll keep your offer in mind.” She smiled without thinking.

“It’s nice to see Edward’s making friends. We’ve been here a few years now and he’s only just branching out.”

“Well, ‘making friends’ is a bit of an overstatement,” She leaned back against the counter top, comfortable, “Technically me and Bella are the only two people he’s talked to outside of his own family. And I’m pretty sure he’s only putting up with me because I live next to Bella, that and your...verbal lashing.”

“It wasn’t that bad, honestly.” Carlisle chuckled to himself.

“Thank you though, nonetheless.” He eyed her carefully, his golden orbs flitting across her face and, unless she was mistaken, for a moment they glanced down her body.

“Your cut cleaned up perfectly.” He spoke into the silence, “No scarring at all.”

“I don’t think I would’ve minded a scar. At least it would be a conversation starter.” He laughed, it was softer than Edward’s, more rounded and from deep within his chest.

“Ah yes, then you could tell everyone about the time you walked into a car door.”

“Technically, I think the car door walked into me.” He laughed again and y/n’s chest swelled with pride. She was doing it, holding a conversation with him at ease. “It feels like ages ago now,” She pondered aloud, “And it’s really how Edward and Bella met. Funny that.”

“Yes.” He agreed, his eyes holding hers a second too long before he turned back to his paperwork. “Well,” He cleared his throat, “Best get back to business.” Almost like clockwork Edward and Bella appeared at the stairs, giggling to themselves about some inside joke.

“Yeah uh, I’ll see you around.” Y/n shot him a tentative smile. He didn’t say anything in response but his eyes were conveying an emotion she couldn’t quite comprehend. She already knew that look was going to stick with her.

“You ready to head back y/n?” Edward asked as he sidled into the kitchen. From behind him Bella shot y/n an apologetic look as if she were sorry for leaving her with Carlisle. How little she knew.

“Of course.” Y/n smiled at Edward.

“Okay, just head down to the car I’ll be down in a sec.” With one last smile at Carlisle y/n skipped a little to meet up with Bella before the pair headed downstairs. It wasn’t until they were far out the house and near the car that Bella started a conversation.

“Sorry for leaving you there.” She half-smiled.

“Don’t be.” Y/n tried not to smile too much.

“Carlisle’s lovely isn’t he?” The question caught y/n off-guard, it took her a minute to realise Bella was speaking of him as a fatherly-figure.

“Uh, yeah.” Y/n stammered, a pink flush spreading across her cheeks. Bella noticed and went to say something when she realised.

“Y/n, your book?”

“What?” Y/n was confused again before realising, looking down her lap was empty. Completely devoid of all 19th century classical text. “Shit, be back in a sec.”

And with that she was out, jumping up the house steps two at a time. When she was in the house though she slowed down again, afraid of the mere thought of falling and damaging anything within the house. As she moved through the house she became aware of somewhat raised voices.

“What game are you playing?” It was Carlisle’s voice, not angry, not anything. It was completely monotonous. It was wrong to eavesdrop but it felt like she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand it was rude to eavesdrop, on the other she was already stuck behind the corner of the kitchen and had no idea how to walk into the kitchen naturally, especially since the conversation had already begun and the Cullens would know that she must’ve heard some of it.

“I’m not doing anything.” Edward’s voice was soft as well. The pair arguing without arguing.

“What you’re doing is dangerous.”

“You’re so happy for me and Bella. Every time I enter a room all I can hear it you’re praise of approval. Why can’t you let yourself be happy.”

“Edward-”

“I’m being serious.”

“I don’t need this right now I’ve got paperwork.”

“If we were to live life your way you’d quite literally be doing paperwork for eternity.”

“The smell Edward. Even I have only so much restraint.” Whatever she was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. Y/n was brutally offended. Surely, surely he wasn’t talking about her. Mortified, y/n tugged her shirt to her nose and inhaled deeply. It smelt like her mother’s washing detergent and y/n’s cheap perfume from Christmas. The statement had knocked her so off balance she wasn’t quite aware of Edward stalking in her direction. Hurriedly, she paced down three steps before walking up them as if it were the first time.

“Y/n.” Edward exclaimed loud enough for Carlisle to hear. Y/n looked at him, trying to mask whatever emotion she was feeling.

“Sorry. I forgot the book.” She smiled, hoping her eyes didn’t give her away. Edward said nothing, just disappeared and returned with the Hardy, gently passing it to her before leading her downstairs. Did he know she was listening?

The drive home was silent.

next part

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