#that didn’t throw out biology | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pellucid-constellations · 8 months

Text

Are You Bored Yet?

Pairing: College!Bucky x Tutor!Reader

Summary: God, you hated Bucky. Bucky probably hated you, too. Maybe. It was hard to tell when he was drunk and calling you pretty at a party you shouldn't have gone to.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Alcohol, annoyance to lovers, a bit of angst, a scary man in a parking lot, frat!bucky c:

a/n: I am so excited to finally post something!! It only took me four months 😅 If you enjoy it please please let me know ❤️❤️

Masterlist

12:59 pm.

The birchwood table nestled in the back of the library was long but otherwise empty, the only thing occupying it being your laptop and quite a few books. He wasn’t late. Yet. You weren’t going to hold onto that hope, however.

Tutoring Bucky Barnes was not what you had in mind when you volunteered for the peer assistance program at your university. It was true you were only using the club to boost your resume, but you had assumed the only people reaching out for help would be those that actually wanted it. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Sure, Bucky wanted help. Just not with anything that actually warranted the word. He wanted help sweet talking the cops so they wouldn't shut down his parties. He wanted help recruiting girls to show up to his parties. And—the one thing you could actually do—he wanted help passing his classes with the minimum GPA required to not get kicked out of his frat. So he could continue to throw parties.

Everything in his life revolved around his fraternity, which made you very important to him. When he wanted you to be.

With your apparently astounding knowledge of biology (you took notes during lectures), you became the star in Bucky’s life every Monday and Wednesday from 1:00 pm (give or take ten minutes) to 2:00 pm. He was also very attentive during the thirty minute phone calls he initiated prior to tests, and always looked happy to see you when he passed you devouring a bagel at the crack of dawn in the dining hall.

Every situation in which you had come in contact with Bucky was isolated and purposeful (minus the bagel). You didn’t hang out or invite each other places, and you were almost positive that if you were to see him in his natural habitat, you would want to tutor him even less than you did now, and that was saying something. So you were important to Bucky during the times you were supposed to be important, and he was important to you in the sense that he was a job.

But as your laptop blinked the numbers 1:22 pm back at your unimpressed expression, Bucky became much less important today. You took in a long, tortured breath before sending your gaze up to the ceiling, giving it another three minutes before you truly gave up on him for the day.

One minute.

Two minutes.

The library really needed new ceiling tiles.

1:25 pm and you snapped your laptop shut. Your fingers itched to send yet another complaint about this whole ordeal Natasha’s way, but you stopped yourself. She had already heard plenty about Barnes at this point, plus she always gave you a weird look every time you came stomping into the apartment, grumbling about something else he had done.

You hated her weird looks, all raised eyebrows and stiff lips.

With your backpack heaved onto the table and your things slowly funneling in, you figured a nap was the best reward for sitting in the library for an unnecessary twenty-five minutes. Your last prickle of irritation was stifled at the prospect of a warm bed as you stood, only to find that irritation had returned to you tenfold. In the form of Bucky Barnes.

“You going somewhere?” he seemed to taunt, his bag slung casually over one shoulder.

Your jaw ticked. “Home.”

His mouth turned up at one side, an expression you had learned meant he found you amusing. He never seemed to outright laugh at your annoyance, but apparently, it was hard to tamp down all of the joy he got out of it. Bucky took two long strides to meet the table you were attempting to abandon.

“But I still got about—” he checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes? And an arsenal of questions about amino acids. Help a guy out.”

“And I still got—” you checked the nonexistent watch on your wrist “—no patience for this today. You’re over twenty minutes late, Barnes. Use that watch to set an alarm on Wednesday and I’ll tell you everything you’ll inevitably forget about amino acids then.”

He groaned, rounding the table to set firm hands on your shoulders as he hovered behind you. “Sit. I’ll buy you a coffee and I promise I won’t be late on Wednesday, okay? I was dealing with something before this and lost track of time.”

“Were you dealing with another sorority girl in your bed? Who was it last week? Amber? No, Michelle?”

“It’s a Monday, y/n. Cut me some slack.”

“You came to me on a Wednesday with a hangover,” you deadpanned.

Bucky grimaced, the expression visible to you as he managed to guide you back into your chair. “Oat milk, right? A double?”

You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as he tossed his bag by your feet and jogged over to the coffee cart just outside the library. He fumbled with his wallet when he went to pay, and you watched him point to the carton of oat milk the barista had yet to reach for. His greek letters were printed on the gray hoodie he had haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, and you held the reprimand on your tongue when you saw the matching sweatpants he donned.

The last time he had shown up in his pajamas—late—you’d had some choice words for him. Bucky turned around with your coffee then, poking the straw through the lid and sending you a sheepish smile through the window.

He was lucky you accepted bribes.

“Please,” the boy across from you continued to beg, a pen held loosely between pliant fingers. “Just ask her, that’s all I want. You can even come too.”

“Oh, wow, the great frat president letting me come to his stupid toga party? How could I ever thank you enough?”

It was Wednesday now, and Bucky was surprisingly on time to the tutoring session. You’d gotten through about half of the last bio lecture before he started asking you ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with the content. Today, he was dead set on getting your lab partner from chemistry to go to his party this weekend.

“Okay, yeah, you could come to whatever party you want, you know? I put you on the list—but this one will be even better if you’d just do this one thing for me.”

You finally tore your eyes from your laptop, glancing lazily at him. “And what would make this one so—wait, what list?”

He waved you off. “The one at the door. Did it like… the second week we started this? Anyways, Wanda?”

You let this new information settle and tried to ignore whatever implications came with being on some frat list thanks to Bucky. He had never explicitly invited you to any of his parties over the past few months and you had never asked to come. Apparently, you could have shown up whenever you wanted to and had a grand old time.

Not that that sounded the least bit grand.

Bucky was looking at you still, all pleading features and a soft, infuriating smile on his lips. When he wasn’t talking to random girls in the library or taking annoying phone calls in the middle of your sessions, he was sort of endearing. In a terrible, awful sense.

You groaned, throwing yourself back against your chair in begrudging defeat. “I don’t even talk to her outside of chem. Don’t you think it’d be a little weird to invite her to a party that I’m not even going to?”

“So come,” he answered simply, as if that was in the realm of possibilities.

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Sure, I’ll come to your party, Barnes.”

“Great,” he grinned. “Vision’s gonna be so hyped.”

You watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and kept your lie to yourself. He wouldn’t notice that you didn’t show up on Friday, and likely wouldn’t even bring it up the following Monday. He always had such vibrant, headache-inducing stories that you were sure your absence would be nothing more than a fleeting footnote.

“You have a toga, right?” he mumbled, face still screwed up in concentration as he continued his text.

“Isn’t it just a sheet all twisted up?” you asked, shutting your computer. Tutoring was obviously over.

Bucky pocketed his phone again, brows raised in amusement. “Depends on your motives for the night.”

“And my motives wouldn’t be to… wear a toga?”

He chuckled and huffed out your name, resting an arm along the back of the chair to his right—your chair. “Other motives. Like if you’re trying to get someone’s attention.”

You blinked at the warmth along your back. “Oh, of course. Then I would twist up a pillowcase instead, right?”

“Something like that.”

He smelled like coconut. Like a day at the beach but afterwards, when the sunscreen still lingered in the air but fresh clothes covered skin that had been warmed by the sun. You could usually ignore whatever expensive combination he had on his skin, but when he got close like this it was almost impossible.

Part of you always wanted to chuck his arm away when he leaned over you, but another part of you liked that he kept it there. It was a strange part of you, the same one that relished the looks you got from sorority girls in the library and harbored a sense of pride each time he made a blatant attempt to touch you.

You had spent fleeting moments analyzing these emotions and chalked them up to some internalized desire for validation. Nothing else. Bucky was a hot guy and everyone knew that, so having his attention—in any capacity—felt nice. Sometimes. Meaning right now it was nice that he was looking at you with his arm practically glued to your back, but next week when he showed up late with a hangover and tried to steal the jacket off your body it would be not so nice.

The duality of man.

It helped your partial insanity that Bucky would never actually be interested in you. You weren’t in a sorority or interested to his parent’s money, and, worst of all, you didn’t know how to maneuver a sheet into a toga. When he put his arm around you or moved your hair from your eyes as you leaned over a book, it was probably out of habit. It felt nice, but you knew reality. This was a passing phase, and by the summer you wouldn’t even speak to him anymore.

“I’ll text you more info about everything,” Bucky called, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can come early and I’ll help you with that pillowcase.”

You froze, the book you were shoving into your bag pausing in your hands. “Uh, maybe.”

“No, seriously, it’d be better if you came early. I was kidding about the pillowcase but if you come on time it’ll be too crazy for me to show you around.”

“You don’t have to show me around, Bucky. I’ve been to a house party before.”

“Y/n, are you not coming to this thing?” Bucky accused, swiping the book from your hands and softly tossing it on the table. It still made a loud thud that had a few bitter looks thrown your way.

“Dude!” you whispered, meeting each mean gaze with your apologetic one. “Why does it matter if I come? You just wanted Wanda anyway.”

He knocked your hand away when you went to reach for the book again, encircling your wrist with his fingers. “You just lied to me. Straight to my face. You said you’d come and now you gotta.”

You gave his fingers an experimental tug, but he was unrelenting in his soft grip. You glared at him through your lashes, meeting his uncharacteristically stern gaze that contrasted the humor on his lips.

“You ever hear of sarcasm?” you whispered with a half-hearted bite.

“Unfortunately, that’s about all I hear outta you,” he smirked back.

You rolled your eyes, finally yanking hard enough to free yourself from him. “Then you should have known I wasn’t going to come. No matter what ‘list’ you put me on.”

“What else could you possibly have going on on a Friday night?”

Ouch. You felt your brows furrow even though you didn’t will them to, and even worse, you felt a rash defensiveness lodge itself in your throat. You hated the heat that now prickled along the skin of your neck, and you hated even more how it extinguished all of the good warmth you had felt from him earlier.

This was humiliation, surely—the kind that only came from feeling small.

“You don’t have to be a dick,” you seethed, snapping up the remainder of your belongings. “Just because I don’t want to go to your stupid frat doesn't mean I have nothing to do. I don’t spend all of my time hoping to get invited to ridiculous parties.”

Bucky shifted up in his seat, eyes blown just a fraction wider. “Whoa, I didn’t mean—hey, stop a sec, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever, Bucky,” you droned, as a new temperature seeped into the skin of your palms and made them clammy. Any semblance of delusion you’d fallen into earlier was long gone now, but you knew to expect that. He wasn’t interested in you and you weren’t interested in him. But embarrassment wasn’t a good feeling, regardless of a multitude of reality checks.

Bucky got up when you did, his clothes looking creased and lived in. “We still have time in our session,” he defended, arm jutting out to the table. “C’mon, I didn’t mean you don’t have friends.”

Your glare sharpened. “Great, another insinuation.”

Bucky sputtered out incoherent words as you continued your trek outside, resorting to grabbing your wrist again, this time with more urgency. You felt the heat in you simmer down to a dull throb as he made contact, mostly out of respect for your future self. If you made this a huge deal it would only embarrass you more.

“Look, it doesn’t even matter, okay?” you huffed, but he just tugged you forward. It was then that you realized you were in the doorway of the library, effectively blocking it off from anyone trying to leave. Bucky pulled you close enough to his chest that you weren’t in the way anymore. His cologne was back with a vengeance, your nose just inches from his collar.

You took a steadying breath, blinking away the remnants of shame. “It doesn’t matter, I overreacted.”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m still apologizing. I didn’t mean any of that stuff you were talking about.”

Of course he did. You were sure he thought it all the time. He just didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“It’s fine,” you rushed. “I have to go, anyway. Office hours.”

“Okay,” he nodded, soft and low, like he just remembered he was in a library. “You’ll still come this weekend, right? Even if Wanda can’t?”

“You have some kind of girl quota you need to meet?” you pressed.

Bucky smiled, still so close to you that you could feel the small breath that accompanied the expression. “And she’s back.”

You left without promising anything, and Bucky left feeling like you had.

Sometime between Wednesday and Friday, your detestment for frat parties had snowballed into determination. You were going to go and you were going to look like you were having so much fun it was ridiculous. Then, on Monday, when Bucky would usually poke and prod about what you’d gotten up to over the past few days, you were going to pretend that it was nothing for you. That you did that every weekend.

Of course, you didn’t. Your weekends typically consisted of calm nights with friends or dinners near campus. You’d been to a party before, sure, but you didn’t exactly frequent those kinds of scenes.

Bucky had continued to make it clear that you were invited. He had texted you a few times, prompting you to come and thanking you for getting Wanda to agree. The messages looked strange under the plethora of biology related questions, but that just spurred you further into action. You weren’t just a tutor with no social life, and Bucky was going to see that tonight. You couldn’t remember doing something out of pure spite before, but you figured having fun to prove a point wasn’t the worst thing.

Wanda pulled you out of your thoughts as the Uber rounded the last dark corner and revealed an overcrowded house with too many lights on. She rambled on about some guy she couldn’t wait to see and confirmed that she would likely be spending the night. You expected as much; it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to come. If this night resulted in anything good it was apparently the blossoming relationship between your new friend and a man you’d never met.

Wanda continued to chat as she yanked you out of the car and past the yard littered with sparse grass. The music was loud already—the type of loud that you needed to be at least a little drunk to enjoy. And that was the plan.

“Okay, if I start dancing on a table you pull me down. And if you start dancing on a table I support you, right?” Wanda giggled, her voice now raised as you walked past the threshold of the house.

“Exactly,” you yelled back. A guy nodded to you as he leaned against the front door, his eyes glancing up from his phone and then returning. It seemed Bucky’s ‘list’ was a page on some guy’s notes app. How luxurious. “Let’s drink.”

The next hour was a blur. You tried your hardest to get as drunk as possible and Wanda tried her hardest to find the British man she was enamored with. You hadn’t seen Bucky, but you figured he wasn’t looking for you too hard since you hadn’t responded to any of his texts. Not out of anger, but because you didn’t know what to say. Somehow, with alcohol warming your blood and music vibrating your skin, none of that mattered anymore.

You: Your house is soooo dirty

Your phone jostled in your grip, people bumping into you from every side. When he didn’t answer in the thirty seconds you spent staring at the screen, you locked it and continued on with your mission.

After a few too many shots of hard liquor, you switched to beer. Gross, but decidedly less likely to make you pass out on the staircase of this house. Because you weren’t lying in your text—it was slightly disgusting. You figured you should clarify that with Bucky. You reached for your phone once again, knocking your head against the wall in the process and giggling to yourself. You had no idea where Wanda went.

The device was snatched from your hands just as quickly as the screen had lit up your face.

“You ever answer this thing?” an accusing voice called out. “Or do you just insult people and put it on do not disturb?”

The look on Bucky’s face would have made you roll your eyes in any other circumstance. Right now, however, it had a startled laugh bursting past your lips. You clutched at your stomach as the laugh grew and you found yourself tipping forward until your forehead met his chest. You felt delirious, almost silly. A hand came around to rest on the back of your neck.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s words rumbled against your face. “I get it, this is hilarious.”

“Your… your face,” you breathed out, catching your breath enough to part from him. “It was all—” you mimicked the straight line of his eyebrows, voice raising in a mocking tone. “—You don’t ever answer your phone. You’re so boring, y/n, answer your phone.”

“I didn’t call you boring. Hey—hey,” Bucky stressed, reaching for you as you leaned too far to the side, a smile still lingering on your face. “Jesus, y/n, how much did you have to drink?”

You went to mock him again, but his fingers on your jaw stopped you. He tilted your head up and to the left, and although he was much more composed than you were, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. You scrunched up your nose as he continued his inspection.

“Why’re you being so uptight?” you slurred, trying and failing to push away from him. “I thought you were all like, ‘I’m Bucky and I party and get drunk and have sex with girls.’”

Bucky pulled you forward as you laughed at your impression of him, his shaking head making you blink away a bout of dizziness. You toppled over a set of stairs as he threaded his fingers through yours, and then you stumbled through a doorway and onto carpeted floors. Being pressed into an uncomfortable chair was the most jarring action, the world still spinning as you sat.

“You’re even more mean when you're drunk,” you heard Bucky mumble. You couldn’t quite catch him as he moved around whatever room you were in. “And I don’t talk like that.”

You let out a careless sigh and leaned back. “You soooo talk like that.”

Something cold pressed to your hand, followed by another touch to the back of your neck. You gazed down at the water bottle being guided up to your lips and couldn’t find it in you to fight against it, despite the small spark of defiance on the tip of your tongue. After about four large swallows, Bucky was satisfied.

He asked again how much you’d had to drink.

You answered that you didn’t know—that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t your dad and you were having fun like you always did. He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for the next few moments.

And then, “Thought you weren’t gonna come tonight.”

You hummed, rolling your head against the chair to look up at his standing form. “Of course I was going to come. I love parties. Love drinking alcohol.”

His expression twisted into something you couldn’t recognize. “God, you’re so drunk.”

“M’not even that drunk!”

“You’re willingly in my room right now. You’re plastered.”

“Maybe I want to be in your room.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

You chuckled breathily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the pretty flush of Bucky’s face. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Don’t know much about me though. Or biology.”

Bucky kneeled down to the height of the chair. “And what do I not know about you?”

“So much.”

“How much?”

You bit into your lip and cracked an eye open, catching the amusement that had slipped past the strange mask of his emotions. With blissful ignorance, you heaved yourself forward on the chair, your nose a few inches from Bucky’s. His eyes didn’t waver from yours as you swayed.

“You don’t know that I’m the most interesting person on Earth,” you boasted, fingers gripping the upholstery of your seat.

“That right?” Bucky probed, his voice a melodic hum.

“Yup, I’m always really busy and even though you think I’m some boring biology tutor I’m actually super cool and, like, go to raves and stuff.”

His brow twitched but his mouth stayed soft. “I’ve never said you were boring. And I don’t think you’ve ever been to a rave.”

You groaned loudly and flopped against the backrest of the chair. “See! I’m telling you I do all this cool stuff and I’m so drunk my fingers are buzzing and you still don’t believe me.”

You crossed your arms with a huff, a small pout forming on your lips. In any other context, this behavior would probably embarrass you to no end. In the dim light of Bucky’s room where you felt the feeling leave your fingers and the care leave your mind, you were just disgruntled, not embarrassed. If you remembered this tomorrow the latter would surely catch up to you.

Bucky stared at you from his spot on the ground, his gaze a bit foggy and unfocused. He was clearly intoxicated, as you deduced earlier, and it made him look more wild. Mused hair and pink cheeks, he looked like he’d been having plenty of fun before he found you. It was distracting. He was distracting you from proving that you were having a blast.

“What?” you snapped, the tone a testament to the drunken fit you were throwing.

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

He must be really, really drunk. Despite your clouded mind, you knew that, but the words affected you just the same. Your lips parted as a new lightness both lit up and compressed your chest, and Bucky watched the movement.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, but it was hardly a scoff. “Sure, Bucky. How much did you have to drink—”

“I’m not lying. I’ve thought about you in my room for weeks and now you’re here and you’re so pretty. Even when you’re yelling at me.”

“You’ve… thought about me in your room?”

Bucky shuffled forward and you subconsciously parted your legs to allow the space for him. “I think about you everywhere.”

This was crazy. It was certifiably insane. A voice in the back of your head—Natasha’s voice, it sounded like—was screaming at you to stop and think about the situation at hand. He was drunk, you were even more drunk, and he was far too close to you. He had ushered you in here with good intentions and had sobered you up a fraction, but things had taken a turn and this was a sensitive situation. The kind of sensitive that altered your reality and his and probably a bunch of other people’s you’d never met.

Or it could be nothing and you were over exaggerating.

But then Bucky’s hand was warming your thigh. You’d felt the press of it on your back and your shoulder and your head before, but it had never been on your thigh. It felt heavy there, hot. His other hand moved to touch your face and he propped himself up on one knee. His thumb brushed your cheek. Words tumbled from your mouth before you registered that you were speaking.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Why would you ask that? Who asks Bucky Barnes if he’s going to kiss them?

“Would you let me?” he responds.

“Yes.”

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth hot against yours. He tasted like mint and vodka and his lips moved so slowly it ached. You had expected a fervor behind his lips, but instead you got a build up, an orchestra reaching its crescendo. He was kissing you like you were important, like this wasn’t some random hookup in his bedroom at 1 o’clock in the morning, and you had to catch your breath when he parted from you.

But he moved back in so quickly after your brief respite, and you were eager to give him more. This was crazy, insane. This was the best kiss you’d ever have and also the worst. This was months of staring at his stupid lips when he tried explaining concepts back to you, but this was also weeks of feeling small in his presence. Bucky slid his hand back to press against your hair and you didn’t feel small anymore.

A loud thud from the hallway interrupted the silence you’d created, and Bucky pulled back, keeping his hands on you as he craned his neck around to stare at the door. He waited a beat, and then two, and then he turned back to you. The moment was gone, but he was still touching you. You weren’t sure what you wanted—if you wanted him to kiss you again or run out the door—but when he slid his hands from your body and rubbed them down his jeans, it became clear that was not what you wanted.

A knot formed in your stomach when he met your gaze again, and you tried blinking the feeling away. It didn’t work.

“Um,” Bucky began, his voice sounding more clear, his tone not holding the weight it had.

Your plan had backfired. Severely. This was a mess and you needed to save yourself before you ended this night even more humiliated.

You were still drunk. Pretend you were still plastered.

You giggled airily, the sound burning your throat. “That was loud.”

Bucky blinked at you in what you assumed was disbelief. “Probably just someone trying to find the bathroom,” he clarified.

You shrugged, nudging him back with your knee as you stood from the chair. “I’m bored now.” You took fast steps to the door, your words foreign to you. “Thanks for the water,” you all but gritted out.

You expected him to get up. Not to run after you or proclaim his love or even say anything. But you expected him to get up.

He didn’t, and you couldn’t understand how the knot in your stomach had moved to your throat. Or how it made tears spring to your eyes when your feet hit the sidewalk outside. Your Uber came and you couldn’t understand how you felt hot and cold at the same time. How it was freezing outside but you were sweating.

You couldn’t understand why you were crying over a boy that so often infuriated you, or why he kissed you in his bedroom. The reasonable side of you sent gentle reminders that he was in a frat and kissing people is just what he did. All the time. But the unreasonable side of you won out tonight, and it was telling you that this felt different.

That you should be different, somehow.

Bucky: You’re here???

Bucky: Where are you?

Bucky: Y/n answer your damn phone

Bucky: This place is fucking packed tonight I thought you weren’t coming

You stared at the text messages you hadn’t read last night, the bright light of your phone burning into your retinas. You had a brutal hangover, and the memory of the disaster in Bucky’s room felt like an even bigger one.

You’d gone through a myriad of emotions the night before, tossing around excuses and speeches in your head until you were so exhausted you let the alcohol in your system lull you to sleep. With all of that delirious thinking, you’d landed on blacking out. You were going to tell Bucky you blacked out last night and couldn’t remember a thing. He obviously wouldn’t care and would probably appreciate it.

Saturday was slow-moving. Reruns of television shows and bags of popcorn and overthinking. Natasha was at her parent’s house in the city, so you had no one to bounce your racing thoughts off of. You certainly weren’t going to text her about it.

When the evening finally rolled around and your attempts at distracting yourself with mind-numbing movies failed, you checked your email. You always tried not to on the weekends, but doing anything else sounded much less appealing.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get past the first one.

From: University Peer Assistance Program

Dear Y/n Y/l/n,

This is an automated message from the campus peer assistance program. We thank you for your continued devotion to the betterment of students at this school. At this time, your tutoring placement with James Barnes has ended. We will search for a new placement to fill your current hours.

Thank you,

University Peer Assistance

You blinked at the email, then blinked again. The breath left your chest and the muscles on your face twitched, but you were otherwise frozen.

This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be free from the haughty frat boy that didn’t even listen to you when you tried to help him raise his grades. You wanted someone nice, someone that had the same goals as you and appreciated the color-coded notes you took for them. Bucky only tried to get a rise out of you. He sat too close and made fun of you and put you on lists you didn’t ask to be on.

But he had kissed you. He had kissed you and then tutor-dumped you.

You knew you weren’t his type, but were you really that bad? Was the kiss so terrible?

Every inferiority complex you had developed exploded. You over-analyzed things that had already happened, things you had said. Not just at the party, but in the library, the coffee shops, the lecture halls.

Was he really willing to risk his position in the frat just to avoid you?

The strangle tickle of tears itched to be released from your eyes again, but you pressed it down. No, this wasn’t on you. He had kissed you. He had dragged you into his room and stumbled on pretty words. If he didn’t want you to tutor him anymore because of his stupid mistake, fine.

His mistake.

That word felt wrong.

You tossed your phone on the couch with vigor. The clock above the television read out 10 pm, but that meant little to you as you slid on your shoes at the front door. You were wearing sweatpants and a jacket that was far too big on you, sadness and frustration and raw confusion propelling you down your apartment stairs.

Ice cream would fix this.

The only place open at this time was the gas station at the edge of campus. It wasn’t university affiliated and was usually overrun with belligerent greek life trying to buy alcohol, but the decision-making part of your brain was currently shut off.

Ice cream, anger, probably watching tiktoks until your eyes were too heavy to keep open—those were the only things rattling in your head.

You yanked open the gas station door after your short walk, the glass smudged and fogged from the cold night. The fluorescent lights aggravated the headache you’d been sporting all day and the floor made sticking noises with each step you took. To add insult to injury, there were only three cartons of ice cream left, and they weren’t even the good flavors. Grabbing the least offensive one, you made your way to the small line of people by the register.

“Nice outfit.”

Too enthralled by the disappointing ingredient list on the side of your ice cream, you had missed the tall man now looming at your shoulder. You whipped your head around with a start, taking a step back, smelling menthol and asphalt and nothing good.

“Thanks,” you quietly replied.

He waited until you turned back around to continue. “You go to school over here?”

You kept your gaze forward. “Um, yeah.”

“Nice. I graduated a few years back. Marketing.”

“Cool,” you replied. What had compelled you to leave your phone on the couch? This night sucked.

You found reprieve in the line moving, the employee calling you over to check out. As soon as you paid—a few dollar bills funneled out of your pocket with shaky hands—you booked it. Your ice cream burned in your palm but you didn’t care, feet carrying you out the door and into the dimly lit parking lot. You fisted your keys in your fingers; pointless, you knew, but a small comfort.

The man’s voice returned with the chime of the bell over the gas station door. “Wait! Wait, I’m Beck. I own a business nearby.”

You should have kept walking, but one of your fatal flaws was, apparently, people pleasing. You turned to him. He smiled at you but it made your stomach twist.

“Oh, nice,” you responded, rocking back on your heels.

“We should connect. Maybe go for coffee or something?” He took a step forward. You fought the urge to take one back. His beard was unkempt and he held a six pack in his white-knuckled grip.

“Um, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with finals coming up. Plus, I’m not really in the business field.”

“Not for business then,” he smiled again, teeth dull in the streetlight.

Just agree. If you agreed you could block him soon after and everything would be fine.

You took too long to answer. He took the final step forward to arrive in your space and wrapped his fingers around your bicep. “C’mon, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.”

Frozen by fear, you let out a weak laugh. The pint in your hand was sticking to your skin now in a way that would be painful when you tried to let go of it later. Your breath rattled in your chest when you laughed again.

“Sure, okay.” But he didn’t let go of your arm, instead sliding it down to the bone of your wrist.

“What about now?” he posed. “You don’t look too busy. I can make you something at my place.”

He was at least ten years older than you. You attempted to pull yourself from his grasp to no avail. Maybe reasoning would work.

“My roommate's waiting for me,” you lied. “Could you let go? I sprained my wrist at the gym last week,” you lied again.

He refused with a shake of his head. You took a panicked glance inside the gas station to your right. No one was looking.

“Please let go of me.”

The call of your name from the other side of the parking lot initially sent more unbearable fear down your spine. But then the owner of that voice registered in your brain, and although it had been the cause of your recent internal strife, you couldn't be more grateful to hear it.

He said your name again, closer now and questioning. Bucky jogged up to the pair of you, saw your wrist and the man holding it hostage, and looked back up at you with confused, wild eyes.

“You know this guy?” he asked, jutting his thumb out at Beck.

“No,” you whispered. The word was short but the syllable still trembled.

Bucky didn’t look confused anymore. He looked pissed. “Wanna take your fucking hands off her?”

Beck was tall, but Bucky was taller. And angry. Beck released your wrist and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, man, no need for the theatrics. I’m guessing you’re here to stock up for a party? I used to be in Sigma Nu.”

When Bucky’s silent glare failed to dampen, Beck continued with, “We were just planning a night at my place, right?”

His nod in your direction made your breath catch. Bucky took his piercing gaze off of Beck and softened it as it fell on you. You wanted to respond, but words were gone. They were impossible. Your ice cream was melting.

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Bucky scoffed, placing his arm around your shoulder. He guided you past the wall of a man, making sure to drive his shoulder into his chest as he went. Beck went to say more, to protest or whine, but Bucky shot him such a scathing look it almost made you wither.

The smell of coconut and spices and a hint of whisky met your nose, and it was familiar. It was safe. You fumbled with the keys in your hands as your feet guided you wherever Bucky was going, and then you fumbled even more, soft jingling disrupting the softness of footfall. God, why wouldn’t you stop shaking?

A hand fell atop yours, crunching the keys to a halt. You stared down at them, unsteady breath hitting the tanned fingers that served as your current anchor.

“Look at me, y/n.”

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything.

“Sweetheart, eyes up. All you gotta do.” Bucky’s voice was as soft as it was last night. That was the only reason you were able to follow his request. “There she is,” he hummed.

He removed his arm from your shoulders and shifted in front of you, placing his hand on your cheek. You ignored that it felt the same as it had last night. You ignored that you wanted it to feel the same for him, too.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his neck down to better see your face. His thumb brushed under your eye. “He hurt you?”

You shook your head, whispering no, whispering that you were fine.

Bucky nodded to himself, eyes tracking down to your toes and then back up again. He must have mistaken your shaking for coldness because the next thing he did was guide you into the car behind him. You didn’t know it was his.

He blasted the heat the second he got in. He had shuffled you into your seat with his hands before that, smoothed your hair down and closed the door after you were settled and not shaking as hard. The heat dried out your eyes. It distracted you enough to let words form.

“Thank you,” you said. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t bring my phone with me. I should’ve.”

“Of course.”

There was a beat of silence. The relief you had felt earlier had been muddled down to an awkward pit in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if Bucky felt it too or if he was still riding a testosterone-fueled adrenaline high.

You wanted to go home now; this was uncomfortable and you had felt Bucky’s lips on yours less than twenty-four hours ago with no closure. He obviously didn’t want to be around you. This was probably a responsibility thing for him.

“I can… I can walk home now. The guy left. I’m just a quarter mile away and you probably have to stock up or whatever.”

He looked at you with a pinched expression. “I’m not letting you walk home after that. You kiddin’ me?”

“I’ll be fine, really. I walk over here all the time.”

“You get harassed all the time too?”

“No…”

“Exactly. So you’re not walking home.”

“Bucky—”

“Look I’m not gonna kiss you again, alright? So you don’t have to turn down a ride because of that.”

Your ice cream was soup at this point. You let it roll into your lap as you clamped your mouth shut just to open it again. Bucky ran a rough hand through his hair before dropping it on the steering wheel, clutching at it with no place to go.

“I’m not following,” you finally relented.

A loud sigh released from his nose. “You don’t have to worry about me kissing you again. I just want to make sure you get home safe and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Worry about—you’re the one trying to avoid me,” you snapped, frozen fingers pointing to your chest. “You tutor-dumped me.”

“Tutor-dumped? How do you…” he trailed off.

“I get an email when you make a change request, Bucky.”

He stared at you for a moment, lips parted and unmoving. He clenched his jaw a moment later, a red tint adorning his cheeks.

“Well, you—you—look, I know you don’t like me, y/n. You’ve made that clear,” he stuttered, words getting louder as he moved his hands around with each one. “But I like you. I like when you get mad at me and when you yell at me for not listening and when you get all embarrassed when I play with your hair. And I’ve been trying to get you to come to one of my parties since we started this whole thing, but every time I talk about them you seem to like me even less.

“If I had known insulting you would get your attention, I woulda done that week one,” he exasperated. You sat up in your seat but he continued. “I didn’t mean any of that shit you thought I did. You’re not boring. And I didn’t mean to kiss you, but you looked—well, I already told you.”

“So you don’t want me to be your tutor anymore because you like me?” You spoke slowly, each word careful.

“No,” he sighed, frustrated. “I can’t be around you because I kissed you and you didn’t care. Because I’ll want to kiss you all the time and you didn’t even wanna kiss me once. I know we were drunk, I get that, but I’ve wanted that for a long time and I need to move on. It’s nothing against your… tutoring skills. If that’s what you’re worried about”

“But you talk about hooking up with other girls all the time, Bucky. To me.”

“You ever hear of lying?”

“Why would you—”

“You really gonna make me live out all of my failures with you?”

You’d read so many things wrong. Taken so many things the wrong way. You figured the email earlier was the final nail in the coffin, but this was something else entirely. This was Bucky, sitting next to you in his car looking distressed and frazzled with his hair six different directions, telling you that he’s been trying to get your attention since he met you. That you weren’t small or insignificant or boring.

It was probably a terrible idea to follow through with your next thought. You’d probably get hurt in the long run. But you did it anyway.

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Bucky’s head whipped towards you. You bit the inside of your cheek and said, “I want you to kiss me all the time.”

He whispered your name. It sounded like the air had left every corner of his body. But he didn’t move, and you needed to rectify that.

“You’re infuriating,” you began. Bucky cringed, but you needed to explain as he had. “You’re like the antithesis of everything I want out of college. You don’t care about classes. You’re always late. You talk too loud in the library.”

You took a deep breath, fiddling with the loose thread of your pants. You couldn’t make eye contact with anything but the ground.

“But then you know my coffee order when I’ve never told it to you. You save me from losers in parking lots and make sure I’m not drunk out of my mind at your obscene party. You make me feel… you make me feel stupid sometimes. And I thought it was because you’re everything I’m not, but I really think it’s because you’re everything I told myself I should stay away from. But I don’t want to.

“I wanted you to kiss me at that party and I want you to kiss me now.”

“Then get over here. I’m not kissing you over some bullshit center console.”

You twisted to follow his directions, gasping as his hands clasped around your waist to tug you into his lap. It wasn’t seamless—there was laughing and your head briefly connected with the roof of the car—but Bucky’s touch was everywhere, soothing the uncertainty and fear and slight headache.

His forehead connected with yours when you felt secure in his arms. His fingers slid down from your waist over the material of your sweatpants and when he spoke next you felt the words on your own lips.

“You’re wearing sweatpants. You get so mad when I wear sweatpants.”

You laughed. “I get mad because it usually means you just rolled out of bed, and you’re usually. late.”

“I got a secret,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’m never late. And I only wear those sweatpants around you. You get cute when you’re pissed at me.”

“Well, I’m about to be really cute—”

He kissed you. You’d have plenty of time to argue later.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #college!bucky #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #college AU #frat!bucky #marvel imagine

5K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

I have an idea! Imagine reader and james are bestfriend, reader ask james to help her find a lingerie (bcs she want to impress a boy she like) so there he is sitting infront of the changing room and having to watch the reader change into multiple lingerie w a hard on.

Maybe then he realize that he doesn’t want anyone to see his bestf like this?

I love a possessive jamie!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: sexual implications, nothing explicit though

bestfriend!James x fem!reader ♡ 472 words

“It was fucking awful,” James laments, nursing a cup of tea and shoving biscuit after biscuit into his mouth. He’s at Remus and Sirius’ flat, after inventing some plans with his friends as an excuse to get away from you. “I had to think of my gran wearing that stuff just to be able to stand up when she was ready to leave.”

“I still don’t understand why you agreed to go in the first place,” Remus says while Sirius tries to get his giggling under control. “Why would you help the woman you’re in love with pick out lingerie for another guy?”

“I’m not in love with her!” James throws up his hands, sick of having this same argument every time you come up. “I mean, I do love her—she’s my best friend. But I mean, you could put me in front of any attractive girl when she’s wearing something like that, and I’m bound to have some thoughts. It didn’t matter that it was her, specifically. It was…it was boobs. It’s boobs’ fault.”

Sirius cackles, and James lobs a biscuit at him.

“I’d like to see you try to keep yourself under control in that situation, Pads. It’s biology, I couldn’t help it!”

“Oh, I know the feeling.” Sirius grins, reclining back against Remus’ chest. “Seems like exactly how I felt when I found out Moony here had made out with half of Gryffindor.”

Remus rolls his eyes, as sick of this joke as James is of the ones about you. Still, he wraps a hand around Sirius’ thigh in solidarity.

“It’s different,” James grumbles. “That was…well, that was you two.”

“He makes a good point,” Remus says, and Sirius tilts his head back to beam up at his boyfriend proudly. “We both know what it feels like to think you love someone as a friend when it’s really something more.”

James glowers. “She was in a black. Lacy. Set. I am not made of stone!”

Remus only hums, sipping at his tea. “If it was your gran, you wouldn’t think the same.”

James shudders. “Why would you remind me of that?”

“So what’s next?” Sirius asks, raising a brow. “Do you want us to go sabotage her date with this bloke? Or better yet, lock her in her house so she can’t meet up with him at all?”

“I’m glad you’re on board,” James says, recovering from his disgust and beginning to look rather satisfied as he munches on another biscuit. “I’m thinking we hex him to be horrifically ugly. She won’t think of showing him her little outfit if he shows up and he’s got a face made entirely of warts.”

Remus and Sirius exchange a look. With a sigh, Remus begins stroking his hand up and down his boyfriend’s thigh consolingly.

“He’ll get it eventually,” he says.

1K notes · View notes

lovingmattysposts · 1 month

Text

Quiet 9

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8

pairing: y/n and Matt sturniolo

summary: a girl with a lot of baggage and a boy with even more try to help put each others pieces back together one by one. A story about a girl who’s broken and a boy who doesn’t talk

warnings: none I don’t think? Maybe suggestive?

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

I knocked softly on the front door before stepping back. I felt my stomach twist as I waited for Jake to answer the door.

His house was ridiculous. 5 cars in the driveway, with a huge garage. A garden displaying in the front and gates that wrap around the entire house. I looked down at my clothes and tugged my shorts uncomfortably.

I let out an uneasy breath. I felt uneasy about this whole thing. The way Jake acted in front of Matt today, biology in general. I'm not even good at biology, I just jumped at the opportunity at being friends.

I shuffled my feet, I've never felt more shitty about myself. Never felt like such a liar. That's what I was. Everything about me he's seen so far was fake.

I swallowed.

The door opened and Jake's eyes landed down on mine. I couldn't not glance down at his state. His hair pushed back, his chest bare, out of breath and sweaty. He smiled and I filcked my eyes up to his and my cheeks pinkened. He just watched me checkhim out.

"Hey" He crossed him arms over his chest as he looked down at me. I let out a breath his abs mocking me as I avoided looking. "Hey" I answered, my voice shaking.

"I just got done working out, I was afraid you weren't coming" He smiled tilting his head, his eyes grazing my figure just as I'd done to him. I crossed my arms over myself as I turned and looked around to pretend I didn't notice.

"Your home is......beautiful" I breathed as I looked around. He glanced around before nodding. "Thank you, my mom takes pride in it. It's annoyingly noticeable" He chuckled before stepping back in the threshold.

"Come in" He motioned me in. I stepped forward before walking in. Everything was clean, everything was white. I couldn't help the face I made as my eyes widened in my surroundings.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, come on" He chuckled, placing his hand on my arm and pulling me towards the stairs. I sighed as I looked around. It looked like one of those homes on a tv show. Like the relator tv shows titled "How to sell a multimillion dollar home"

I swallowed.

The furniture screamed at me "You don't belong here"

I looked up at Jake as we made our way up the steps. He sighed once we finally made it up the steps. Still, I glanced around like I was in a museum. He pushed the door at the end of the hall open and we walked in.

His bedroom was dark, like any typical teenage boy's room. Poster's that held jeresey hung next to his flatscreen tv. His bed covered in navy sheets and comforter and expensive colonges on a shelf next to the bed.

It didn’t look like Matt’s room. It didn’t feel like Matt’s room.

"Welcome to the estate" He chuckled as he opened one of his drawers and pulled out a t-shirt to put on. I looked over at him as his muscles flexed and the abs were hidden again behind the fabric.

Clean cut, muscle-y guys have never really been my type. Not that I have a type, but I'm just not overly attracted to it like most girls. I've know guys who mirror Jake's physique and have the personalities of the ping pong balls they like to throw into cups full of beer.

Disappointing really. Still, girls would fall to their knees at one flash of there lined stomachs. I never saw the appeal personally. Not that they ever wanted me to anyway.

"I look like Matt, I am your type"

I looked down blinking to stop the memory.

"Are you okay?" Jake walked over to me smiling. I looked back up and gave him a quick nod as I shook the memory of Chris’s words out of my head. He approached me and peered down at me until our bodies were almost pressed together. I didn't move.

His hand came against my waist.

"Good" He smiled looking down at me. I forced a smile hoping he couldn't see the nervousness that lied within my smile.

"Come here" He said moving past me and grabbing my arm. I let him pull me until he sat me down against his bed.

He reached over onto his desk pulling out a textbook and plopping it next to me.

"It's your job to make sure I don't fail this next test" He breathed before sitting down next to me. I looked over at him chuckling.

"I said I’d help, I never said how much help I would be" I said shaking my head. He just held my stare. "I trust you" He said before opening the book.

Jake stared down at the page and then looked up at me.

"What?" He shook his head raising his eyebrows. I blinked at him. "What do you mean, what?" I asked back. He looked back down at the page.

"The cells--" I pointed to the page. "They have to connect. That's how they survive. It wouldn't make sense otherwise. You can't but them together wrong--they would physically explode" I breathed pointing to the page. He stared down at it.

"....Right" He tapped his pencil. I sighed and fell against his pillows. "Are you even retaining any of this?" I chuckled as I looked down at him. He glanced up at me before he dropped his head chuckling.

"It's hard to focus"

"The topic's not hard"

"That’s not what I meant" He looked up. I blinked down at him holding his stare before he sighed and looked back down. I could have swore his eyes scaled down me before he did.

"You're smart" He breathed. I pursed my lips and looked down at him. "I'm not that smart" I shook my head, I truly wasn’t. He licked his lips and then looked back down at the paper before closing the book and pushing it away from him.

I just watched him.

"I think you're smarter than you think" He said looking at me. I glanced from him to the closed book against the bed. "What?" I swallowed. He sighed and looked to the side.

Silence came between us before he sat up slightly and turned his attention to me.

"I don't think i've ever had to try this hard to get a girl to want to kiss me"

My eyes widened at his statement.

"What?" My voice wobbled again. He tapped his pencil before discarding it.

"I apologize if I'm forward, but why do you think I invited you to my game--or out with my friends...or to help with biology" He breathed motioning to the discarded book. I smacked my lips as I looked towards the book.

"I thought you....needed help with biology" I felt my nerves come up my throat. He wanted to kiss me. A boy's never said that to me before. Or wanted to do that before. I forced myself to not hug my arms out of nervousness. Was it hot in here? I let out a breath.

"I did---I do." He shook his head looking down. He glanced up at me. "I just..." He glanced down my face.

"You're really fucking pretty, and nice." He said shaking his head. “I don’t know may nice girls” His hand came over my knee. I looked down at it. My face reddened at his sentence. He chuckled. He tilted his head.

“Nadia’s nice” I spoke. He sighed and looked down. “Nadia’s sleeping with Tyler, I don’t do sloppy seconds” He raised his eyebrows.

The choice of words, I felt in my gut. It sat with me the wrong way. I opened my mouth to speak.

"I can help but want to...feel your lips against mine." He said softly. I looked down at my lap and let out a nervous laugh.

"I don't think you want that Jake. Lacey--She seems to really like you. I wouldn't want--" I shook my head.

"Lacey's not—“ He shook his head. “Lacey doesn’t have your lips” he breathed his fingers coming and brushing over my mouth. I just looked up at him.

“Or your smile.” He whispered, his finger coming under my chin. I opened my mouth and then closed it. "Jake-" I breathed swallowing. He sighed and looked off, before dropping his hand.

“Okay sorry” He breathed. “I got carried away” He shook his head.

"Please, tell me more about the cells, I'm interested" He smiled before moving next to me and laying on the pillow next to mine. I just looked at him feeling the chills run up my body.

"They...um" I cleared my throat as he looked at me. Staring directly at me.

"They--" I took in a breath, and then his lips were on mine.

My eyes widened as he moved his lips against mine, before I closed them and leaned into the kiss. His hands found my waist before he rolled over on top of me, one hand on my waist, the other under my chin.

Oh my god, I was kissing a boy.

As our lips moved together, he moved his hand against my sides. He bit down on my bottom lip before he slipped his tonuge into my mouth. Weird fucking feeling.

Panic sprung throughout me.

I pulled back. Jake opened his eyes as he hovered over me. I stared up at him.

"Too fast?" He breathed, brushing hair out of my face. I attempted to catch my breath from the lack of air. I swallowed.

"No I--" I shook my head terrified to mess this up. "I just wasn't expecting any of this" I shook my head.

“Yeah? What’d you expect?” He smiled before his lips connected with the side of my face. I stared up at the ceiling.

He kissed right under my jaw.

"I thought we would--that we were--" his teeth sank down on my neck. "Friends" My voice cracked. He couldn't give me hickeys. He could not give me hickeys. I wouldn't be able to look Matt in the eyes.

Matt? Why the fuck was I worried about what Matt would think right now? The man with the three Porsche and a Jaguar parked in front of his house right now was biting your neck, and you're thinking about Matt.

Well, that and the butterly drawing. All of those books with the details in the spine. I fought back on my mind.

Y/n, fucking focus. It rebuttled.

"You thought we'd be friends?" He breathed against my ear. He pressed his lips right below my ear. "Does this feel like I wanna be friends?" He asked before pressing his lips against mine again, pushing his tounge back into my mouth.

His hand came under my knee as he gripped the back of my thigh as he kissed me harder. I attempted to match him.

This wasn't me. This wasn't me.

"Jake" I pulled from him. He looked down at me before dropping my leg. "What? Whats wrong? Is this not okay?” His hand came to the side of my face. I blinked up at him.

This was okay. A boy was kissing you, y/n. This was okay. I blinked up at him and for a split second I could have sworn his green eyes turned blue, Matt's blue.

"I've gotta go okay?" I whispered down at Matt who laid against the pillow next to mine. He might be asleep, I told myself. I couldn’t see his face. I didn't want to wake him.

He opened one of his blue eyes and peered up at me. He sighed before turning over, pulling the blanket over him, hiding his face from my view. It was almost 6, I had to go to Jake's.

"Don't miss me too much" I chuckled on the other side of him. He didn't react. I swallowed before I slid off his bed and turned off the tv.

"I'll meet you tomorrow, library. 7:30? Before school?" I asked softly as I grabbed his door handle. He didn't move, let alone respond to me. I stood there for a second before looking down at my feet.

"I'll see you tomorrow" I stated and then I left.

“It’s okay” I nodded. He smiled before he pressed his lips back down to mine. I smiled as I kissed him back, running my hands through his hair. He sighed against my mouth as he gripped my waist harder, running his fingers under my shirt.

His hand came back under my leg as he pressed our bodies together and his tongue explored my mouth, and I let it.

I could feel his eyes on me. I had my hood up and my head down. He wouldn’t stop looking. I glanced up at him finally. Matt met my eyes before he sighed and looked back down.

“What?” I asked staring at him. I was on edge enough, I didn’t need his staring too.

He let out a hard breath before he leaned over and tightened the strings to my hoodie to conceal my neck and tapped to his own neck. The same place where a mark laid on my own neck. As if to say:

Hide your hickeys better, I can see them.

My face turned red at my attempted to hide what I didn’t want Matt to see, but he already had. Embarrassing washed over me. I stared down at my page. Matt tapped his foot.

“It was my curling iron” I lied. He looked up at me, no emotion on his face. Nothing behind his eyes. He just looked back down at his notebook for a second before he closed it and stood up and walked away, not even glancing back.

I slumped back in my seat tightening my hoodie even further.

I went home after that. I didn't chase after him. I simply got up and walked out. I walked home, alone.

I didn't want to face Matt or Jake. Didn't want to look either of them in the eye. I shouldn't have went to school on the first place, so I went home.

I hunched over the mirror as I rubbed my neck, pressed a spoon to it, ice, everything in the book.

Everything just shined more red to my eyes the more I messed with it. Tears brimmed my eyes as I threw the spoon down and it hit the floor.

I couldn't get Matt's face out of my head. The way he looked at me, the way he stared at my neck. Knowing what it was. And I lied to him. And he knew I had.

I swallowed and hunched over the sink.

I reached up wiping the tears from my eyes before walking over to my bed and crawling under the sheets, pulling them under my chin.

I wondered if Matt was wondering where I was right now, if i went home, or if he didn't care—didn't notice my absence. I wondered what Jake was thinking. If he was waiting to talk to me. If it was a one time thing.

As each thought crossed my head, it made me feel more and more like an idiot. Sick to my stomach. Pathetic. I closed my eyes. I felt abandoned. I hated this.

Then a thought hit me and I stood up from my bed and I walked down my steps. A few seconds later I opened the door to see the white cat still perched on my porch. I sighed before bending down and picking it up.

"Hi Sparkle" I whispered as I held her up. She just looked down at me. "If I let you stay can you promise to never leave me?" I whispered. Blank stare. Kind of like Matt’s. I smiled at the kitty, before hugging it to my chest.

I walked up the stairs and to my bed. I crawled under the covers before Sparkle came over to the pillow next to mine, where Matt once sat and closed her eyes. I smiled running my hand behind her ears.

My smiled dropped. Sleep, I just needed....sleep.

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

551 notes · View notes

cryptidcasanova · 1 year

Text

The Depths You’ll Go

Namor x Reader

This is a big ol’ fever dream. It’s been a while since I felt this way about a Marvel character.

Summary: The price of protecting a an advanced civilization from the rest of the world is high, but the rewards? Priceless.

Warnings: 18+ Content. Angst, cannon level violence, mutual pining. Namor is overwhelmingly protective. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.

Words: 2.5k

Dividers by the stunning @firefly-graphics.

You had to keep moving.

You were close to the water; you could feel it deep in your bones.

The little boy in your arms must have felt the saltwater lingering in the air. He was frantic, twisting in your hold as you rushed through the corridor.

His blue skin was pale, and he was trying to breathe in the air you knew wouldn't sustain him.

"Just a little longer," You cradled him close, whispering reassurances in his hair. "I'm getting you out of here."

But you were biting back tears.

You never expected to be followed home by the young Talokan boy. He was so little and curious and full of love. He had hardly left your side while you watched Namor teach a sparring session. How he trained, moved, and spoke with his people made your heart swell.

And you didn't expect the raid on your home soon after you returned to the beach. You didn't stand a chance against the swat team busting down your door. The boy was the most important thing. You weren't going to let anything happen to him.

Shuri warned you to be careful. The agencies have kept an eye on you since you left Wakanda.

It was everything Namor feared. All he wanted to do was protect his people; you were the reason they were in danger.

Oh, Namor.

Your stomach ached. You wanted to scream and call out for help, but the best thing you could do was sneak around the guards and get the boy back to the water. The boy. The adored one.

Taavi.

You treasured him more than you thought possible. He was strong and curious in the water but bashful and wide-eyed above ground.

Dark hair fell against his cheeks, and his eyes drooped as you turned a corner. You cradled him close.

But you were running out of time.

And then, when you finally kicked open the metal door at the end of the hall, you cried out with joy.

You were close to the water. Closer than you thought.

It was a sheer drop from the cliffside base into the Atlantic, and it was only then you heard the clinking of footsteps not far behind you. The guards found you.

The boy pushed out of your arms just in time and dove into the brink as the guards pulled you back. You should have jumped. And then you watched the little boy poking his head out of the water and staring up at you with a fearful expression. He didn't know what was happening.

You cried out when the guards pointed their guns at the top of the water.

"Taavi, go. Get out of here!"

You were wrestled back into the base, frantically throwing your body toward the water. You weren't even sure if you could make the dive. But before you could slip out of their grip, something hit you hard in the back of your head.

And everything went dark.

Your cell turned into an interrogation room.

The soldiers wanted to know about the little blue boy, that thing. They didn’t even treat him like a child, but an experiment. They wanted to know what was in the water. About the vibranium.

Interrogation turned from fear tactics to torture. And you were no soldier.

You were trained in the sciences, to know biology, to understand life and nature. That's why Banner recommended you go to Wakanda in the first place.

And with Talokan? You still had so much to learn. Their livelihoods and families were on the line. Hundreds of years of culture were preserved.

And you cared about them.

You weren't going to betray their trust. That is, if Namor didn't think you already had.

His fatalist streak made you fear the worst. He was fiercely protective of his people, and the way he was around the children? Patient and compassionate. Taavi's disappearance must have caused an uproar.

You hoped he would be merciful.

Time passed. Days passed.

You thought you would rot in that jail cell, battered and bruised, until you just drifted away one day. That they'd forget about you until it was too late. Until you were lost to the wind.

And one day, the guards were given new orders.

They all knew something was in the water. But didn't know what to look for, and they never did catch that little boy.

If he could make his way out of their surveyed waters, the people in power were convinced something could find its way back in.

All they needed was some new bait.

There must have been a reason why the boy was with you. You were their best bet for finding out why.

The soldiers changed. At first, it was the Americans, then the French, and the Germans, and then you couldn't tell after a while.

The thought of all the surface countries working together made your head spin.

They waited until the tide was at its lowest. That's when they drug you out of the cell by your arms, until you were too tired to fight back.

You were too tired to think. It felt hopeless. You were taken to a different side of the base, where paths of rocks were cut out down to the water.

And then you saw the chains.

The guards attached arm restraints to the rocky walls, where the water kissed the land. One look at the guards was all it took, and then you knew. They wanted their intel.

They wanted to know about Talokan, and they weren't above drowning a scientist to get it.

"Last chance, sweetheart," One of the men said, all dressed up to fight off the chill in the air. He was different from the others; you'd never seen him before. He must have been the man in charge.

Your stomach roiled in frustration.

He sauntered up to you, pulling your chin up with a firm grip. You hated his clever expression and bad breath.

"We just want to know about your little blue friend," He tormented, looking out to the water. "It's a little cold for a swim, don't you think?"

Your chest ached. But you had come so far; you couldn't hand them over. Namor would never give up like this.

You choked on a cry before taking a breath of sea air.

"He's in New York.”

The man turned around. You caught his attention.

"Come again?" He smirked, urging you to continue. The others were looking now, waiting for an answer.

"New York," You repeated tiredly. "But he turns green once in a while, not blue. Maybe you should get your eyes checked-"

You were kicked down to your knees without compunction.

"You think you're real funny, eh?” He scoffed. “String her up."

Your fate was sealed. You were gagged and bound like a worm on a hook and couldn't go crying out for help.

And then they dragged you into the water.

The cold plunge made your teeth chatter, but there was no time to consider it. Your arms were strung against the rocky walls on either side of your shoulders. Your legs were bound and weighed down. The saltwater only came up to your waist, but you knew it wouldn't last.

You rested your head against the wall in defeat.

And at last, you understood Namor's resentment. It pierced through years of you trying to help people and fight for the right causes.

At the end of the day, people in power wanted to keep their knowledge, power, and strengths. They wanted it all for themselves.

The water spray against the rocks gave you an excuse to cry, to mourn the life you couldn't live.

You should have told Namor the truth. You stayed in Talokan to learn, but it was more than that. As time went on, your trips into the sea lost focus. You were enamored by the Talokan people and how their lives were completely untouched by the outside world.

They were considerate and humble. They cared for one another.

Namor cared for them, for all of them. His icy demeanor was an act. He could talk strategy with his advisors and turn around to celebrate a new baby in their city. He could help by collecting food and scouting the perimeter of their sanctuary. It was no wonder why people worshipped him.

And his animosity towards outsiders didn't touch you. As much as he resented the world above, it was as though he wanted to show just how far they had come. They were a prosperous and independent nation. Completely indigenous. It was breathtaking.

It was hard not to swoon over him. You should have told Namor how you felt sooner.

Shuri could see it. M'Baku could see it. Hell, you were sure Namora could tell how you felt for their leader. But you could keep them safe.

They were the best warriors you had ever seen, and now it was your turn to protect them.

When the water cupped around your shoulders, you were pulled away from your thoughts. It was much colder than you thought. Your arms were shaking, and your fingers were numb.

The water was ruthless against the scrapes and cuts along your body. The weight was doing its job. It was keeping you from being buoyant. You swore you could feel something against your legs and panicked, pulling yourself up as best you could.

But the next wave came at you fast, making you choke on the gag in your mouth. You were running out of time.

The soldiers were looking out over the water with their guns ready, waiting for the call.

They were waiting to find something in the water. But the night was quiet.

In the last attempt to rectify yourself, you begged for his forgiveness. Namor let you into his home and world, and you almost ruined it. Your heart was hammering as the wave receded, and your pleas were lost behind your water-soaked gag.

You'd never see him again. You'd never hear the low timber of his words or see the passion in his eyes. Your eyes were squeezed shut.

Your heart was breaking and you couldn't stop it.

K’uk’ulkan

The water was rising, but all you could see was his profile. You could remember the curve of his nose and how his eyebrows moved when he told a story.

K’uk’ulkan

Another wave hit hard, and you choked on the icy water. But you could still see Namor guiding you through his sanctuary, pointing to the paintings on the walls.

K’uk’ulkan

The next wave didn't recede as far as you hoped. Another wave struck you, but you could still see him. You could smell the salt on his skin and hear how his necklaces moved when he walked. You could almost hear his voice.

He was - the bubble burst.

You couldn't breathe.

Your body was on auto pilot, thrashing and kicking wildly. Your body was fighting off the water that burned in your chest. It surrounded you in a coccon, murky and frothing against the rocks.

But you weren't as alone as you thought.

You couldn't feel the little grouping of octopuses at your feet trying to find a way to undo your chains.

You couldn't hear the soft singing above the water, urging soldiers into the brine.

And Namor - you couldn't see the carnage.

You couldn't see the rage and anguish on his face as he barreled through the base. Their water explosives shook the ground. You couldn't have known he was scouring the ocean for you.

Taavi made it home because of you.

You protected the little boy like he was your own, no matter the cost, and Namor couldn't see past it. You put your life on the line for them. It was his turn to serve you.

His chest ached with some long-lost realization, something he never dared to put into words but was forced to face. His heart beat a little faster when you were around. His focus swayed. He cared about you most ardently.

You were his to protect.

After all the time he had to dance around it, humbly flaunting his world to an outsider, Namor finally understood. The moment he let you see his world, he knew; he would protect you.

The way he flew into the water and pulled the chains away from the rock was terrifying.

His blood boiled as your hands fell limp into the water. He tugged the gag away from your face and cradled you above the water’s surface.

But you weren't breathing.

There was too much water in your lungs. Your heartbeat was faint, straining against your ribcage.

In a moment of hesitation, Namor pulled you from the water and up the rocky shore. The singing stopped. The chaos stopped.

And all eyes were on K'uk'ulkan.

The sea was claiming you for itself, but Namor wasn't going to give you up so easily. His expression welled with power, even when his jaw locked with uncertainty.

He needed to get the water out of your lungs. You needed air.

His hand spread over your heart before pressing down, the ridges of his palm digging into your skin. A command left his lips that was sharper than any blade.

"You cannot have her."

He began chanting in his native tongue, commanding the seas.

"Her heart beats for my people. It beats for me," He realized. "You cannot have her."

A rush of wind swept through the sky. And the sea, fearful of his wrath, receded from the shore.

His other hand cupped your face, leaning in with intention. He had never been so close, but it made perfect sense now. It felt important, felt right.

There was another way.

His eyes lit up. And when he leaned in to kiss you, it was met with lifetimes of bottled-up affection. Slow and intentional, he poured out his power. It was his breath, a kiss from a god.

The unspoken command broke the spell.

When Namor pulled back, your body lurched up with a frightful cough.

The sting of saltwater burned in your throat. Your hands were clammy, reaching out to hold on tight. Your chest ached, and your eyes burned as you tried to move. It was disorienting.

And then you heard it; the lull of your voice being called out, followed by a string of native words you couldn't understand.

Then you felt it; a strong hand covering yours, warmer and firmer than your own. He wasn't going to let you go.

And you saw it, saw him. Namor looked down at you like you could have hung all the stars in the sky. He was careful, like you could break under his stare.

But he brushed the tears out of your eyes. You didn't even realize you were crying.

Namor.

He had more love in his heart than anyone gave him credit for. He deserved the world.

And when he pulled you up into his arms, you held on tight.

Namor wanted to burn the world down. He wanted to fight, but for a moment it was stolen by the way you called his name. It was the sweetest sound he ever heard.

He wasn't going to let anything else happen to you. Because while your heart beat for his people, his heart was beating for you.

#namor imagine #namor x reader #k'uk'ulkan #namor x y/n #k'uk'ulkan x reader

5K notes · View notes

dfortrafalgar · 1 month

Text

Withdrawal

Four days off your hormone birth control pill left you with one unexpected side effect.

Law x Fem Reader

Warnings: MATURE 18+, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS INTERACTING WITH THIS POST WILL BE BLOCKED, this is all smut like pureee smut, every generic smut tag needed is here, pinv sx, biting, dry humping, creampie, unprotected sex (dont), biting, wet and messy, etc etc bless

Also Posted on AO3

It had been a mere 4 days since you stopped taking a daily hormone pill to control your crippling period cramps. After all, it was near impossible to get a hold of the same medicines aboard a submarine that spent ninety percent of its time hundreds of meters below the ocean’s surface. As such, you exhausted the six-month supply of the tiny pills that you had brought with you when you joined the Heart Pirates, slowly counting down the days when you would inevitably run out.

You had discussed your waning pill count with Ikkaku on multiple occasions, and she relayed you with her own experiences in her teenage years.

“When I stopped taking hormone pills, my period lasted for, like, two weeks before it became regular again!” she had said, throwing her hands in the air in an exasperated display as she recounted her memories. “It sucked. My cramps were really bad, too, but they got a bit better overtime.”

You had assumed, due to very little knowledge otherwise, that your experience would be largely the same. It made sense in the few biology books you had studied during your downtime spent on the floor in the crew library. You would cease taking your daily pill, your hormones would fluctuate as your body adjusted to the lack of a steady balance, and eventually you would go back to living life as you did years before you began your regimen. You read up on a few additional side effects along with heavier and longer bouts of bleeding and increased amounts of bloating and general discomfort. Mostly changes in body mass and occasional reports of differing mental symptoms, which you had readied yourself for as your supply turned into a week's worth, and then down to a single pill, and then nothing at all.

You had Law, your sweet, awkward, broomstick of a boyfriend, to pull on his metaphorical physician’s coat and help you out when needed, as well. He told you, based on his own research (that he didn’t start until after you told him you were down to only two months left of pills), that he could administer remedies if you had bad cramp flare ups or serious, debilitating bleeding. He followed his reassurance with a tender kiss to your cheek as you smiled at him, thanking him for his generosity and understanding.

You swallowed your last pill 4 days ago. So far, none of the symptoms you had prepared yourself for had made themselves known. No bloating, no period (yet), no fluctuating mental state, no change in weight.

Instead, starting 24 hours after your first pill-less day, you were plagued with intense, irreparable horniness, which had now gone on for 3 entire days.

Three days. 72 hours of a persistent wetness between your thighs, a constant warmth fluttering deep within the recesses of your gut that had you clenching around nothing at all hours of the day. You were able to perform your work just fine, but every time Law would pass by you in the hallway, his fleeting touches would leave electric sparks through your boiler suit, his metal-tinged smell lingering in your nostrils more than usual, his golden irises etching themselves into your eyelids. You were acutely aware of the sensation of dampness increasing between your legs whenever he made contact with you, which was very, very often.

You and Law had fucked before. You fucked as often as you could, which, given your respective roles aboard a pirate submarine, was only about once a week, twice if you were lucky (and this was already more often than Law could’ve ever anticipated). You were no stranger to the primal want that made you salivate, endlessly craving the calloused touch of your boyfriend’s lanky fingers against your hips.

But this, the unabashed depravity that started after you stopped your hormone pills, was on a completely different level. Each day seemed to get worse, more unbearable. It was as if your body was screaming at you to pursue your lover and beg him to dick you as deep into his mattress as he possibly could. The mere thought made your face flush with blood. During the times where you were left alone in Law’s bed while he was out being a captain, you tried to tend to your needs with your fingers. You managed once to make yourself cum three times in a row without feeling any sense of relief. Post-orgasm euphoria would instantly be replaced with more intense lust and longing, leaving you frustrated and bewildered.

Had you told him about this? No, of course not. Had he asked you about your condition in the days following your cessation? Yes, multiple times. He was constantly pleased with your content, “I feel great!” responses, and didn’t press the issue further, knowing you would come to him if you started to feel discomfort.

But this was a ‘discomfort’ that made your pride as a pirate, as a strong, semi-independent woman, waver ever so slightly. Simply because you weren’t really keen to beg like a pathetic animal in heat. (That had only happened once in the bedroom between you and your stone-cold captain-turned-boyfriend, and not only had the words that left your mouth embarrass you to a previously unknown degree, but they left Law feeling unbelievably awkward. The two of you ended up not having sex and instead simply falling asleep.)

Unbeknownst to you, however, your inner, wet, sweaty turmoil started to be noticed by the crew due to your wavering performance. You were spacing out far more than usual, keeping your head bowed consistently, contrasting your former upbeat, hardworking, and friendly personality. Multiple times, fingers had to be snapped in your face to grab your attention from the clutches of daydreams that had your eyes glazed over.

And what the crew picked up on, Law would pick up on, if he didn’t notice it first.

Four days. Four days of this.

Your watch shift had ended for the day, allowing you to retreat to the captain’s quarters that you shared with Law, shedding your boiler suit for comfortable loungewear, excited to get off your feet and relax in bed with a book you had started in an attempt to distract your mind from your perverted thoughts. You had just barely opened the page before the heavy steel door opened, revealing your boyfriend to you as he stepped into the room, closing and locking the hatch behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, plainly. His face showed no expression, which was usual, but the aura he radiated sent a nervous chill down your spine. It was somewhere along the tightrope between concerned and mildly frustrated.

“Yeah, why?” you responded, a fleeting attempt to match his energy. You tucked your knees to your chest as the taller man approached the bed, flopping onto it and sitting cross-legged before you.

“It seems like you’ve been a lot more spacy these past few days. Some of the crew told me it appeared that your work has been lacking, and I was wondering if it had something to do with your pill withdrawal.”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, anxiously digging through your scrambled thoughts for a proper answer. Before you had a chance to respond, however, Law continued speaking.

“If you’re feeling any signs of negative mental health, I want you to tell me right away. I’m being serious, any signs of depression, anxiety, intense stress, nightmares–”

“I’m not depressed, Law, I promise,” you reassured. This wasn’t a lie, you really weren’t depressed. You were slightly anxious, yes, and definitely stressed due to the constant feeling of a throbbing pulse within your clit every single time you sat down, but you weren’t depressed.

“Something is clearly bothering you, though. I’m here to help you.”

His affirmations once again made you falter. Your eyes stayed glued to his, afraid to look anywhere else.

“I…” you began, voice low and wispy. “I don’t really know how to say it…”

Your response made Law’s eyebrows cock in confusion. “Say… what?”

You finally discarded your book to the side table, leaving your empty hands to fidget with each other. “Uhm… what’s been bothering me.”

“Is it something that I can help you with, or is it something that you feel you have to manage on your own?”

Curse Law’s analytical prowess. Sometimes you wished his rare moments of being a dorky airhead were more common, especially in situations like this. Swallowing your pride, you replied, “The first one, I hope.”

“You hope?”

“Law…” you grumbled, dropping your head into your curled legs so that your forehead rested on your kneecaps. It really shouldn’t have been a hard conversation, you knew Law would understand. But the four consecutive days of nonstop horny fantasy and masturbation sessions that only left you more desperate had officially started to melt your neurons into mush.

“Can you please tell me? At least so I know that you’re not in pain?” Law kept his voice low and calm, but his face clearly gave away his profound concern for your sorry state.

You drew in a deep, shaky inhale. Refusing to lift your head to meet his eyes, you finally swallowed your pride and revealed the truth. “I’ve been hornier than I’ve ever been in my entire life for the past four days.”

Your confession was not at all what Law was anticipating, judging by his prolonged silence. You slowly lifted your head, apprehensively searching for his eyes, which, when you found them, were slightly widened. The tip of his straight nose was flushed a rosy pink color.

“Ohhh,” was all he said in response to your confession.

This didn’t instill much confidence in you. With a dry chuckle, you quipped back, “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

Law rapidly backpedaled, shaking his head frantically. “No, of course not. Your behavior just makes… a lot more sense now.”

Uncomfortable silence filled the space around the two of you. You could almost see the gears working in Law’s head as he struggled to figure out how exactly he could best help you with your situation, without outright saying it. It didn’t matter how many times the two of you connected between his sheets, the simple word ‘sex’ left Law flustered and fidgeting like an innocent schoolboy.

“Is there…” he began, voice low. “Anything you want me to do?”

“Do you want my honest answer?” you asked back.

The staring contest you were currently partaking in had both of your hearts beating a mile a minute. He simply gave you a curt nod as a reply to your question.

You lowered your knees from your chest slightly, still keeping your arms wrapped around your legs. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand anymore.”

“Damn.”

“You said you wanted my honest answer!” you cried out. You loved your boyfriend more than anything in this world, but his awkward, stubborn demeanor would really get on your nerves in the wrong circumstances, such as this very moment.

“I know, I know,” he reassured. He bowed his head away from yours, hiding his eyes under the brim of his hat. “I just… didn’t expect that.”

“In my defense, I told you I’ve been painfully horny.”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose, once again repeating an exasperated, “I know.”

You lowered your legs further, keeping your hands on your kneecaps as you hunched your shoulders forward. “Can you please help me? Please?” Your voice was low, airy, almost coming out as a whimper. “It’s been four days, Law. Everything I try to make myself feel better makes me more and more uncomfortable.”

Your tone really did sound desperate, and Law’s chest clenched at your demeanor. He glanced back up at your face, your eyebrows scrunched in an odd agony. He could almost feel the burning of your face from where he sat. Out of all the withdrawal symptoms the two of you had discussed before your medication ran out, this was the last one that he would’ve expected, and clearly that was the same for you.

“I’ll see what I can do to help,” he uttered.

“You don’t need to ‘see’ anything, Law, I need your dick in me. Right now. You know I don’t like begging, you have no idea how embarrassed I feel, but I’m desperate, Law, I’m desperate!” You were pleading with him now, officially losing your grip on yourself as you began to crawl towards him, placing your hand on his thigh and pushing yourself forward to bury your face in the junction between his neck and shoulder. “I would rather be depressed.”

A dry chuckle from his throat broke the awkward, stifling atmosphere. “Don’t say that, I don’t want you to be depressed.” He rested his arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. It almost didn’t register how you were beginning to straddle his waist, your fluttering breaths ghosting over his jugular.

You let out a pathetic whimper, both of your arms now dangled over his shoulders as your hips slotted against his, an uncomfortable position on the bed for both of you, but you were clearly out of your mind as you searched for any semblance of friction to satiate the red-hot need in your core. Your muscles gyrated on their own, a weary moan leaving your lips, hoping to use the stiffness of his jeans to stimulate your clit from under your loungewear.

Law truly felt bad for your beaten state, and with your body pressed against his, he could feel just how flustered you really were. With a tender kiss against the shell of your ear, he pushed you back onto the bed, swiftly removing your pajama bottoms and underwear. A deep crimson blush spread across his tanned cheeks at the sight of you, a persistent, heavy, glistening moistness coating your labia.

“You weren’t kidding,” was all he muttered.

“You thought I’d make this up?!” you pleaded.

“No, of course not.” He rubbed a calloused hand across your cheek, smiling sweetly as you turned your face to nestle into his touch. “I’m just sorry it’s been so bad.”

“Apologize with your body. Please. Don’t make me keep begging, Law, I can’t take it anymore.”

Somewhere deep inside the stoic captain’s mind was a perverted beast that quite enjoyed the sight of you practically weeping and writhing under him as your body subconsciously demanded any stimulation as soon as possible. A sadistic side of him wanted to keep you begging, wanted to break you until you sobbed into his chest, losing your humanity to your instinctual, hormonal urges.

But he loved you too much for that, at least in your current worked-up state. He didn’t want to prolong your suffering.

Without wasting any more time as you lay completely vulnerable and demanding beneath him, he took his hand and trailed two fingers through your folds, stifling a sharp breath at just how wet you really were. Sticky yet thin and fluid, your sweet, musky scent traveled to his nose and made his stomach clench. He bit back any other witty comments that sat on his tongue and instead slipped his middle finger into your cunt, using his thumb to stimulate your clit simultaneously. Your hands flew to cover your mouth, your eyes clenched shut as you involuntarily bucked into his hand, encouraging him to slip a second finger into you to increase the sensation.

“Law,” you moaned out. One of your hands grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements. He gazed at you, waiting for your next move. “I’ve been doing that to myself and nothing’s worked. I need you.”

The raven-haired man bit the inside of his cheek at your words. He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, haphazardly wiping your fluids on his jeans as he reached for his fly and tugged on the zipper, the metal button following suit. He slipped off the bed to let his pants and boxers fall to the floor before discarding his shirt. You salivated at the sight of him (you felt truly helpless in your hormonal, sex-crazed state). You tugged your own t-shirt over your head and threw it to the floor beneath the bed. Law once again positioned himself above you, an inked hand idly stroking his half-hard penis as he surveyed your pitiful form below him, sprawled out, legs spread, mouth hung open as you took in shallow breaths. He rubbed the head of his penis along your sopping pussy, rubbing your slick down his length with his hand.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he muttered, reveling in the scorching heat that traveled to his groin as his cock filled with blood. “I didn’t think it was possible for a woman to be this wet.”

“How do you think I feel?” you quipped back, your mouth curling into a meager grin. “I’ve been constantly wondering if I pissed my pants without realizing.”

Your words made a bark of laughter exit Law’s mouth, which eased your stress and made your own chest feel lighter. He continued stroking your fluid over his dick as he responded, “This isn’t going to help you, I don’t think.”

You reached a hand forward and trailed it along his shoulder, tracing his tattoo in the process. “I can’t even care anymore, really.”

Law supported himself above you with one hand, dipping down to plant a sweet kiss against your lips. You pushed yourself up on your elbows to deepen the exchange, parting your mouth and brushing your tongue along his lower lip. Instead of opening for you, he pulled back with a mischievous grin.

“You’re already begging for this, you’re gonna have to wait for whatever sloppy kisses you want.”

“You’re an asshole,” you retorted, but shuddered out a sigh at the feeling of Law’s dick parting your labia and slipping into your opening little by little. The excess wetness produced by your own body made the ordeal much easier, which also made it much easier for Law to tease you in his own, stubborn way, finally looking past the awkwardness of your hormone-driven desperation. He removed the tip of his cock from your entrance, making you grumble under your breath. “You said before you would do anything to make sure I’m okay!”

“Well, you’re not in pain,” he responded, voice low and rough. The sound made your hair stand on end. “Since you’re not in pain, I feel a bit better…” he interrupted his sentence with another tease of his tip at your warm pussy, “driving you mad.”

You groaned. “What do I have to do to convince you to just rail me already?”

Your man smirked above you. “You’re getting bold with your language, sweetheart.”

Your shaking hands gripped his shoulder blades as you scooted yourself down the mattress in a feeble attempt to get his cock inside you on your own. Law merely chuckled, dipping his head into the crevice of your neck, leaving sweet kisses over your soft skin before using his hand to aid his dick in entering you completely, biting down on your skin at the same time. The doubled sensations made you wail involuntarily, one of your own hands slapping over your mouth to muffle your desperate noises as your eyes squeezed shut. Law sucked on the bite he made, gyrating his hips at just the right spot where his public hair brushed against your aching clit. The hand that wasn’t covering your mouth raked down his back, making him shudder above you, detaching from your neck and licking his lips devilishly.

“Feel better?” he asked, voice completely casual as if he wasn’t balls deep inside you.

“I’d feel a lot better if you just–” He cut you off with a sharp thrust, the sound of wet skin slapping making hot embarrassment rush to your face.

“Just what?”

“What happened to, ‘I’ll see what I can do?’ Or, ‘I’m sorry it’s been so bad?’” you asked with a quivering voice. “No more sympathy for your suffering girlfriend?”

“Of course I have sympathy for you, dear,” he replied, trailing the hand he had used to gather your slick on his fingers to rub down your cheek and neck, leaving a cold sensation behind. “But when you use words like ‘rail me’ and ‘fuck me until I can’t stand anymore’ it gets kinda hard to not torture you a little bit. Makes it more fun that way.”

You couldn’t fight the grin that crawled across your lips. “You’re a sick, sick man.”

“And you’re a desperate, relentless woman.”

Your conversation finally halted with another deep kiss from Law as his hips began a steady pace, stroking into your cunt with deep, powerful thrusts that were as slow yet impactful and left your toes curling. Law, despite all his uncoordinated emotions, was very good on the backstroke. You didn’t quite know if it was simply the way his cock was shaped, or his physique, or perhaps his unintentional movements, but each thrust sent shivers down your spine and caused your back to arch into the growing flames brewing in the pit of your stomach. His lanky arms allowed him to support himself while angling his thrusts to also brush along your clit, aiding in your euphoria. The mixture of the head of his penis constantly brushing against your upper wall and his coarse pubic hair and firm torso stimulating your clit was addictive and made your legs quiver. (If you ever told Law that he was, in your eyes, a ‘Sex God,’ however, he’d avoid making eye contact with you for at least a week out of sheer humiliation. You had to keep some things to your deranged imagination.)

Amidst Law’s movements above you, you angled your hips upwards and wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping his thrusts deep and deliberate. Your attempts to keep your sounds to a minimum were futile when Law hooked his hands around the backs of your knees, removing your legs from his body and holding them up in the air. Your body curled for him and he kneeled above you, still fully inserted. The new angle was deeper than before and had your eyes glued shut, mouth hung open and lewd sounds escaping your lungs with every shuddering breath. You held your legs in the air while one of Law’s inked hands traveled downward to your clit, resuming ministrations on your swollen nub that this new position didn’t quite provide.

Law wouldn’t admit it, but the absolutely depraved sounds of your wet pussy sucking in his dick with every thrust had him painfully erect inside of you. He was sure you could feel the way his cock twitched every now and then with the way your face would contort in immeasurable pleasure. Half of him was concerned that the soggy noises could be heard from outside the bedroom, either through the heavy steel hatch door or through the walls, but the other half of him was too focused on the electric shocks that sparked through his dick that craved for him to keep chasing his release.

Your own climax was rapidly approaching, Law’s thrusts growing slightly unsteady as his own impending release slowly creeped up on him. His calloused thumb rubbing counter-clockwise circles against your clit was the perfect stimulation you needed along with his perfect cock, and before you had time to suck in another deep gulp of oxygen, your body was convulsing around him, hips gyrating around him as you desperately moaned, still trying to stifle your noises. The squelching sound that emanated from between your bodies only seemed to increase after your orgasm, more fluid from your seemingly endless arousal making Law’s dick slip easier and easier through your tight folds. The feeling of your cunt clenching around him made his throat clench, swallowing tightly as a building pressure formed at the base of his dick. He felt it as deep as his vertebrae.

His calculated thumb never ceased its motions against your clit, staying consistent throughout your orgasm. Your fingers clenched the bed sheets beneath you as you pleaded with the man above you to slow down, that the pleasure from your clit was so good it was almost painful, but right as you began to release another moaning plead, a second orgasm washed over you, causing your muscles to rapidly convulse as your hips shook against his body.

“Fuck,” Law groaned out, his own bubble growing closer and closer to bursting with each of your gyrations.

“Law…” you heaved. “Please come inside me. Please, please. I need you to come inside of me.”

Law swallowed thickly, eyeing your trembling form beneath him. “Are you sure?” The implications were slightly more concerning considering this had all started after you stopped a controlled hormone pill. Getting you pregnant wouldn’t be ideal on a submarine, and there would definitely be a lot of discussion should that consequence happen, but at the same time…

He groaned. The feeling of your pussy keeping him glued to your body was too addicting to say no to. Law bit back his inhibitions and nodded his head. He could already tell his own orgasm was going to be one for the ages, your desperate horniness seeming to affect him as well. His hips were starting to stutter in their pace as his climax creeped up his spine and through his pelvis.

You covered your mouth as a sob left your throat, climaxing for a third time on the motions against your clit and G-spot. The involuntary gyrations of your hips finally did Law in. His hips snapped forward, dropping your legs to the bed and placing his hands on your lower stomach, pressing downward as he desperately rammed into you, moaning your name among a string of breathless curses as he released his cum inside your drenched pussy. You were in complete bliss, never having heard such noises leave Law’s mouth during any of your other intimate sessions. You didn’t think you’d be able to get off without his deep, gruff moans anymore.

Law finally stilled both his hand and his hips, leaving you twitching and completely fucked out below him. His aching cock slipped out of you as soon as he pulled away, leaving you both feeling cold and very aware of the crazy mess the two of you had made on his bed sheets.

“Shit…” Law groaned as he flopped backwards. His feet were up by your waist, while yours were still draped across his hips, both pairs of legs parted. The smell of sex permeated the air and you were positive you’d be able to smell it in the hallway if the door was opened.

You didn’t respond for a while, only heavy breaths entering and exiting your chest as you fought to catch up on air that had been violently forced out of you.

“Are you okay?” Law finally asked, barely having energy to pick up his head to gaze at you.

“Yeah… I’m fine. You?”

“Completely spent.”

You shared a breathless laugh that lingered in the air, a soft pink cloud above you.

“I feel disgusting now,” you finally said after some more moments of comfortable silence.

“Good disgusting or bad disgusting?” Law asked back.

“Good, I think,” you replied. “I don’t think I’ll be able to fuck for at least a month now, though.”

“You and me both.” Law finally mustered up the energy to sit himself up on his elbows. You did the same, though your arms were much more shaky than his. “Have I ever made you come three times before?”

“Never.”

Law pondered your response for a few seconds before flashing a roguish grin. “Damn, I’m good.”

“You can be prideful after you clean me up,” you groaned.

You wearily held your arm into the air, letting your hand flop back and forth as you waved. Law chuckled, tiredly swinging his legs off of the bed. He ignored your arm, instead choosing to scoop you up by your knees and shoulders, holding you close to his chest. Your head plopped onto his shoulder, eyes closed and breaths finally steady. Law gazed at the substantial wet patch that now tainted his white bed sheets, but kept his mouth shut. Maybe six months ago he would’ve been disgusted at the mess you two had made, but with you fucked out and blissful in his arms and his own body tingling with a hot pink sensation that he couldn’t get enough of, he didn’t think it was very important.

With a hushed whisper, a blue glow enveloped the two of you and a swift hand motion teleported you to the bathroom. Where, despite your fatigue, your sex only continued in the shower.

#trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar law x reader smut #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #smut #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #law oneshot

531 notes · View notes

saetoru · 10 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。RIGOR — AL-HAITHAM.

contents. mild injuries (al-haitham), established relationship, fluff, really bad banter, al-haitham is left handed because i say so

notes. literally just 2k embarrassing words of you taking care of al-haitham after he’s injured from a trip to the desert. yeah.

“that stings,” al-haitham hisses, glaring at you—which earns him an equally as harsh glare back. “why don’t you just pour the entire bottle of antiseptic down my arm at this rate?

“don’t yell at me,” you hiss back, scowling as you dab at the (already clean) wound some more, “i’m not the one who came back with this. why didn’t you get it checked?”

to your utter dismay, al-haitham comes home from a visit to the desert injured. gravely.

well, truth be told, it’s not really grave. that’s just how you see it because anything beyond a scratch is enough to throw you into a fit of panic. he’s not really used to coming home to someone fretting over him like this—standing between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, dabbing ever so gently at the small (and hardly deep, he’d like to point out) cut on his arm.

running into eremites is an inevitable part of most visits to desert ruins. usually, al-haitham manages to come back unscathed, but sometimes, things don’t always go accordingly. in his defense, he’d thought he’d be able to dodge the blade of the eremite he happened to be fighting. al-haitham has the precision and athletic ability to not only manage, but excel at dodging things that are thrown at him. but still, even he has his moments of miscalculation, and just by a hair, he feels the sting of a blade’s edge tearing through the surface of his skin.

it’s unfortunate, but it’s not a big deal—at least, that’s what he thought. apparently, but not unusually, you have a tendency to disagree with him on most things.

“i was going to check it myself,” he says simply, “it would’ve been fine.”

“oh, i didn’t realize you graduated in linguistics and biology,” you raise a brow.

al-haitham is a well rounded man—he reads books from just about any subject so long as it’s informative and offers him new knowledge that can assist him in being well versed in any topic. more importantly, al-haitham rarely loses arguments, and in order to be able to always win said arguments, his understanding of most subjects is required to be thorough.

he knows how to treat a small wound or two, especially with as often as he lands himself in small fights as he explores ruins.

he looks up at you with an unimpressed stare as he mumbles, “i’ve taken at least a few classes from every darshan.”

“i hate you,” you huff. he exhales tiredly.

“it’s only a cut,” he argues, “there’s no need to be so worried—”

“i’m always worried,” you sigh, staring dejectedly at the injury littering his arm. no one should ever leave a mark over his skin—unless it’s you, and that’s only in a very different context. “does it hurt?” you ask quietly.

a small part of him feels guilty that he’s worried you over his well being, that he’s come home harmed even the slightest bit and disrupted your peace. but the larger and more rational part of him reasons that injuries of this nature are common and inevitable in trips to the desert like this, and he’s skilled enough to ensure that nothing serious ever happens.

still, for your sake, he mumbles, “no.”

it’s a bit of a white lie—it does sting a bit, and the antiseptic you pressed just a few moments ago didn’t exactly help, but admitting to you that he’s in any sort of pain is only opening up more avenues to making this into a larger deal than it really is.

al-haitham is fine, and he’s doesn’t need anything for the slightly inconvenient but not serious laceration on his skin. he’s sure of that.

but then, you cup his cheeks and press a small kiss to his forehead as you murmur, “my poor baby,” with a small pout, “i’ll feed you dinner, okay? they got your left arm.”

he wants to tell you that his motor skills are good enough that he can function with his non dominant hand—being left handed in a world catered for right handed individuals forces you to acquire functionality in both hands. but before he can open his mouth, you kiss down his cheeks, tracing your lips along him until they map out his jaw.

it distracts him for a moment, making hie eyes close and his breath hitch as he lets your warmth settle into the deepest crevices of his skin.

“don’t worry, haitham, i’ll take care of you until this heals,” you murmur sweetly.

and just like that, al-haitham is a bit conflicted now. in his two plus decades of life, he has always been an independent and capable individual—more than most his age. he doesn’t need the assistance of anyone, nor has he ever really needed the assistance of anyone. but you’re making it very hard to resist with the way you’re doting on him with affection.

“i’m fine,” he tries to argue, “really—”

“i should run you a bath,” you mumble, cutting him off. he gets the strong feeling you’re taking more to yourself than him. “and i’ll wash your hair for you too.”

even with the self control someone like him has, even he can’t help but sigh in content when your fingers slip into his hair, stroking through the strands and scratching gently at his scalp. it’s a bit nice—he has to admit that being taken care of, even as minimally as fingers in his hair, is nice.

“you don’t have to do all that,” he mutters.

“i don’t want you moving that arm,” you huff, “would it kill you to stop acting high and mighty for once? most people would take advantage of being spoiled.”

“i don’t enjoy taking advantage of others like most people,” he shrugs.

“you know what i mean,” you glower, rolling your eyes.

it’s a common understanding to most that al-haitham is a bit difficult—you don’t think you ever remember a time where he hasn’t been. he’s stubborn and always believes his views to be correct, and he’s not ashamed of arguing his point no matter who it is. you’re surprised that mouth of his hasn’t landed him in trouble yet—although, you suppose he’s not exactly in the good graces of most at the akademiya.

and as the akademiya’s acting grand sage, you admire his unwillingness to back down. but, as your boyfriend and the man you love, you wish he’d just compromise sometimes—and maybe let you wash his hair and hand feed him dinner for a bit as you nurse his injury back to health.

just this once….and maybe just a few more times later on too. you don’t ask for much, you like to think.

“i’ve gotten injuries like this before,” he reasons, “i’ve survived.”

you look at him with that delicate look of yours, the one that makes him feel like maybe he’s been living his life wrong this whole time. that it only became correct once his life involved you.

he thinks that’s might just be the case when you grin slightly, pinching his nose as you lean down, pecking his forehead and mumbling, “you don’t always have to just survive. you can indulge a bit, you know.”

“is that so?” he raises a brow, his good arm snaking around your hips.

“yes,” you hum, “if you give it a try, you might just enjoy indulging here and there,” you grin, stroking a thumb over his cheek as you admire his features, relearning every curve and every angle of his face. you don’t think you’d ever get bored like this—just standing in your bathroom, staring at him. you think you could comfortably stay right here like this forever.

maybe longer.

“i see,” he says slowly. al-haitham has always had a strong sense of control. but that was before you—he’s now forced to admit that his resolve is a bit weaker, just a bit shakier after you’ve come along. “does this begin with washing my hair?”

“and feeding you dinner,” you nod, tracing your thumb over his brow, letting it wander along the hook of his nose. “do you want me to kiss your arm better too?”

“is that really going to help?” he asks in amusement, making you giggle.

“oh yes,” you tease, “it was in a class i took from amurta. you probably didn’t take it—it’s far too rigorous for you.”

“oh,” he nods playfully, “of course. you’ll have to excuse my lack of understanding. not everyone can be as advanced as you.”

“here,” you grin—and it’s wide, and it’s warm, and it’s far too bright to ever be dimmed by the light of your bathroom as you stare at him, “i can demonstrate if you want. hands-on learning is always the best.”

“i must ask—have you ever learned hands-on like this with anyone else?” he raises a brow.

“and if i have? would that make you jealous?”

“perhaps a little,” he admits, fighting desperately to keep his own smile hidden. it’s hard not to smile when you’re around—how could he not when you swallow the sun with your lips every time they curve upwards in that honeyed way that they do?

“don’t worry,” you giggle again—and god, he thinks, he really loves that sound. he watches you lean down and kiss softly along the edges of his wound, tracing the cut slowly as you say, “you’re my only academic partner now.”

“i’m most grateful.”

“well?” you peck his shoulder, “a kiss helps, doesn’t it?”

“it does,” he chuckles quietly, “maybe you can show me a bit more.”

he’s given into you completely by now—you can tell by the way his body is relaxed on the edge of the bathtub. you can tell by that easy grin plastered on his usually blank face. you can tell by the way he leans into your touch every chance he gets. you can tell by the way he asks you to kiss his wound some more—the same wound he didn’t think you needed to care about.

but you always care, and he’s starting to understand you always will. so he stares at you hopefully, expecting just a few more presses of your lips.

so you do, kissing along his arm, peppering scattered pecks along his shoulder, pressing your lips gently along the column of his neck as he sighs softly and closes his eyes.

maybe being taken care of isn’t so bad—maybe he’s been missing out all this time….but then again, he thinks it’s just that he’s always been missing you. like he was born to find you. like he was made to be yours and you were made to be his and you both were made for each other if nothing else.

if nothing else, al-haitham is glad to be yours.

“does it still hurt?” you ask after some time.

“just a little,” he lets himself admit, “it’s nothing i’ve never dealt with before.”

“you really worried me you know,” you breathe quietly, making him squeeze your hips in reassurance, “don’t hide next time you’re hurt.”

“and will you kiss me back to health if i tell you?” he hums, leaning his head back to let you kiss his jaw easier.

you smile against his skin, letting your touch linger for a moment before you mumble, “of course, it’s only the best treatment. only those who take rigorous classes would know that.”

“good thing i have you to teach me.”

“yes, you’re really quite lucky,” you say with a cheeky smile.

there’s a warm bath waiting for him after this. and a hand fed meal. and perhaps a few more gentle kisses. but most certainly a lifetime of you—that much he knows.

i feel like i’m borderline violating myself by posting this bc it’s so self indulgent but here u go

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

1K notes · View notes

seongclb · 5 months

Text

BIRTHDAY CALL ! park sunghoon

PAIRING. classmate!hoon x classmate!reader

WARNINGS. none that i’m aware of :)

WORD COUNT. 1117

N. happy birthday to the loml, my handsome boy with the prettiest dimples ever! idk what this is btw i wanted to make it an smau??? we shall see

“hello?” as soon as the almost melodic sound of sunghoons voice echoed through your bedroom from your phone on speaker, you began to deeply regret letting your friends convince you to prank call sunghoon.

to be fair, at the time their words of convincing seemed extremely plausible; there was a slim chance of sunghoon realising that it was you speaking, since you were on no caller id and the times that he’d actually held a conversation with you was little.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to, it was just far too nerve wracking. who wouldn’t be nervous to talk to a man with a face like that?

sure, you had loads of mutual friends and there were many opportunities to speak to him but the fear of blabbering like a buffoon in front of sunghoon was scarier than anything you’d imagine. so, this was your only chance of having some fun with the guy. it was harmless, and a great way to end your night with a smile on your face after hearing his voice.

that being said, you should have just stopped after hearing him say “hello?”

but, nope. that definitely was not what happened following.

shakily, you scramble to unmute the call and frantically look at your friends sitting around you, “i heard you’re good at math!”

your friends furrow their eyebrows at you, mouthing words of a frenzy since this was far from what was rehearsed. originally, the plan was to say a silly joke about his football jersey and tell him how good looking he was. but, clearly your mind had ideas of their own.

sunghoon chuckles into the phone, and the noise of him closing a door is evident, “yeah, i’d say i am. why?”

there wasn’t a single thought behind your next actions, “oh, well this might be easy to understand then! are you math? because i can’t understand my feelings around you.”

your friends facepalm, throwing their heads into your nearby pillows to muffle their sounds of dismay upon quite possibly the cheesiest thing they’ve ever heard.

sunghoon booms with laughter, almost in disbelief, and you can hear the smile plastered on his lips as he says, “i’m pretty sure anyone would understand that pick up line, even if they weren’t good at math.”

“you’re right,” you bite your lip, feeling your stomach churn as the call goes silent for a moment.

“i have to say,” sunghoon exhales, “i expected better from you, y/n.”

“huh?” you gasp, your breathing rates growing faster with each passing second.

again, the sounds of sunghoon rummaging around in his room are coursing through your ears; if the sounds of his movements weren’t clear enough before, they certainly were right now due to your immense fear upon him realising it was you who had decided to call him the evening before a lesson with him. the room suddenly reeked of your desperation to hear his voice, which was the mere reason for you calling him in the first place.

“i’m pretty sure this is you, y/n,” sunghoon lightly laughs into the phone. “make sure you do your biology notes for tomorrows lesson.”

and with that, the phone call cuts. the phone slips out of your hand as all colour in your skin seeps out of your body.

—

fingers white and slippery from how hard you’re clutching your books that sweat begins to form, making your hands clammy. your eyes clamp shut as you step into the biology classroom, looking down at the floor in order to not make eye contact with the oh, so beautiful boy who sits on the desk a mere five feet away from you.

although you focus on everything else in the room, his eyes boring into you is the only thing you can notice and feel. clearing your throat, you slip into your seat and frantically open your textbooks, reciting a silent prayer begging for the lesson to go by faster than ever. as you focus on the suddenly jumbled words on your textbook, you can hear people greeting sunghoon and wishing him a happy birthday.

“thanks, man,” sunghoon smiles up at one of his friends.

“are you doing anything for your birthday?” his friend asks, also taking a seat since class was about to start.

sunghoon takes a breath, and you can feel his eyes on you once again, “maybe? we’ll see.”

the bell chimes beautifully, announcing that it was okay to run out of the classroom. victory could only last so long with the sweet taste of it being ripped away from you seconds after escaping the suffocating class room, you felt a hand on your backpack pull you to another direction.

looking over your shoulder, you saw a smirking sunghoon standing over you with a hand tightly grasped around the strap of your backpack.

“aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?” sunghoon smiles warmly, towering over you as he stands with his hands in his pockets.

“oh, happy birthday,” you say, swiftly despite my throat feeling dry from the anxiety of having him standing so close, knowing what you had done the previous evening.

sunghoon laughs, just like he had done the night before. you watch his dimples appear in his cheeks as his nose scrunches up and his eyes curl into the cutest crescents you’ve ever seen.

“what’s so funny?” you gulp, adjusting your backpack.

“you. you’re funny,” sunghoon breathes out. “was my phone call your birthday gift to me?”

after the phone call, your friends had decided that feigning innocence was the best option, “i’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

sunghoon rolls his eyes, “don’t try it. i know how your voice sounds. i’ve been in your class for three years.”

you frown, “was it that obvious?”

sunghoon chuckles, “yes! just because we don’t talk that often doesn’t mean i wouldn’t know! i’m not that slow.”

“but, still,” you mutter, somewhat disappointed. yet, there was something so heartwarming about knowing how sunghoon recognised your voice. perhaps all that participating in schools and presentations had been worth the embarrassment, since sunghoon could now easily distinguish your voice.

sunghoons still staring at you with a kind smile, “you know what would make my birthday even better that it already has been?”

you shake your head as sunghoon takes a step closer.

“go out with me,” sunghoon asks, raising one of his perfectly carved eyebrows.

“as if i’d say no,” you reciprocate his the wide grin across his cheeks. “only because it’s a birthday gift.”

with a bite of your lip, hoping he realises your attempt at making a smooth joke. by the amused expression painted over his face, sunghoon definitely has.

“that’s the only reason?” he ponders, acting disappointed. “what a shame. i thought you were interested in me.”

you straighten up, “what would happen if i was?”

“then, i’d ask you for your number. so you don’t get any more random ideas to prank call me instead of asking me out like a normal person,” sunghoon looks down at you with twinkling eyes.

you roll your eyes, “give me your phone.”

“gladly,” sunghoon beams.

571 notes · View notes

lokiprompts · 1 year

Text

Burning Words - Loki X Reader

Summary: Loki is terrified to tell you that he loves you, but a whispered confession in the dark throws him for a loop.

Warnings: Pining. Some self deprecating thoughts. Otherwise pure fluff.

Words: 3.2k Exactly!

Joining in on the 14 Days of Valentines Event hosted by @muddyorbsblr!! This was supposed to be more crack, but after a rough week, we got ourselves a comforting Loki fic <3

Those three precious and meaningful words burned in Loki’s throat. Every day for months they threatened to bubble up from his chest and burst forth like a tidal wave he was happy to drown in. To scream his undying and relentless affection for you from the highest rooftops; to openly profess that you laid claim to his heart as much as he had yours.

I love you

Every little thing you did threatened to have the god bursting out declarations and weaving endless sonnets of adoration. From the way your hands were always dwarfed by his yet fit so perfectly together. How you always knew to give him that reassuring squeeze when his insecurities started to creep into his chest. And how you looked at him like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars as if he didn’t commit gross atrocities to your home planet. But it was your endless patience, unconditional understanding, and constant reassurance that he was worthy that made his heart tumble from like to love.

Yet, as each day passed, those three words died on his tongue as soon as he gathered a fraction of nerve to confess. As soon as you looked at him with your wide eyes, filled with a reverence for him he could never begin to truly understand, all his resolve would falter. Every insecurity that ever flitted through his mind would instantly dissolve his confidence like salt in water, leaving him parched for your acceptance and praise. And each time you would quench his need like the oasis you were. Endlessly filling his cup and building up a king who would never receive a crown.

It tormented him every night.

And this night was no different. You laid nestled in his arms, holding him as if he was the one true anchor of your life. It was a fact that you always insisted on, one of many that Loki would playfully debate with you. But there was always an underlying subtext of self-doubt in his banter that would make you hold him that much tighter. Like your embrace could scare away his insecurities and doubts and each time, Loki would soak up your affection like a dry sponge.

Loki’s arms held you close, the steadiness of his heart beating in your ear easily lulling you to sleep. This part of the night was always the god’s favorite. Due to his…biology, he didn’t need as much sleep as you, his precious mortal. It was the perfect time to greedily bask in your warmth and press lingering kisses into your hair, whispering promises that tomorrow would be the day he finally tells you his heart’s secret. And every once and awhile, Loki would find himself in the peaceful place of almost slumber. A semi restful place devoid of nightmares and only the feeling of you.

I love you…

The words were spoken so softly, so quietly that at first, he thought that he might have dreamed it, but it was enough for Loki to shoot his eyes open. He looked down at you, and you seemed to still be sleeping. Is it possible? Loki wondered, Could you have said…?

“Darling…?” Loki carefully whispered, testing your wakefulness, “Did you say something?”

A shudder traveled through your body as his velvety voice caressed your ear, a reminder of the effect he had on you that had Loki smirking. Yet, your eyes remained closed.

The idea of fishing through your mind to see if it was a dream of you confessing your love to him or to your beloved cheesecake – or worse to a romantic interest that wasn’t him- was the god of mischief’s second approach. You had given him carte blanche to access your mind; a gift that still astonishes him to this day.

I trust you, Loki. I know you will only use it if you absolutely must. Sweet girl, you trusted him so much. More than what he deserved. And for a fleeting moment, there was a twinge of guilt as his hand glowing emerald with dancing seidr hovered above the crown of your head. But the need to know ultimately placed his hand on your skull. Years of magic threaded through the fibers of your brain and pulled at your recent memories. Loki stifled a groan when he did not find anything there. No dreams that remained and no clues about those sweet words that escaped your lips.

Perhaps I dreamed it, Loki thought to himself, but just as that thought passed through his mind, he steeled his resolved. Curiosity burned through him and drove him to give your shoulders a little shake.

“Darling?” He not so carefully whispered this time. The endearment coming out more like a hushed yell. Your jostling made you shuffle a bit, but you only snuggled in closer and let out a content sigh as your nose brushed against the pale skin of his chiseled chest. The little gesture made Loki’s heart swell, and he almost reconsidered his next move. Almost.

He shook you more forcefully this time, jolting you awake.

“Huh? What’s going on?” You looked around the still dark bedroom, bleary eyes finally focusing on Loki, “Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”

Guilt instantly washed over him. “No, sweet girl, I am perfectly fine…” Heat flooded his face, praying to the Norns that you couldn’t see the blush you constantly teased him about, “You, uh, had said something. I was wondering….”

Loki chewed his lip as he looked down at you; the perfect being who patiently waited to hear the reason why you were woken from your sweet slumber without a hint of anger or resentment.

“I was wondering if you – if you – if you would care to repeat it?” Loki hated how small he sounded, but he needed to know.

You scrunched your nose in confusion, and Loki resisted the urge to bend down and kiss it, “Huh? I am sorry, Loki, but I don’t remember saying anything. Was I talking in my sleep?”

The sight of you sleepily letting out a little yawn and apologizing to him, even though he was the one that woke you, had those three words laying heavy on his tongue. Every bit of his heart screamed to simply speak the words to you, and he yearned even more for you to echo those words back to him.

“No,” Loki sighed, stroking your hair, “I must have been mistaken. Go back to sleep, Darling.” You smiled at him and leaned up, kissing the corner of his mouth as if you knew what he longed to say. Like you could simply survive off the taste of the words on his lips until he felt ready to utter them.

Soon enough, you fell back asleep, and Loki was left alone to stew in his regret and confusion. If only he could hear you say those words again, he would know if they were truly for him…

The smell of fresh breakfast wafting into your shared bedroom had your nose twitching in anticipation, enough to draw you out of a restful sleep. Stretching out on the large bed, you only felt the softness of your sheets and not the firmness of your god. Your prince. Your love. A gleeful smile easily grew on your face as you realized he must have made you breakfast. The best meal of the day.

As if on cue, Loki burst into the bedroom with a beaming smile that mirrored your own, holding a tray with all your favorite breakfast goodies. When you saw the food, you immediately perked up, sitting up in bed, and your enthusiasm made Loki’s chest puff with pride. You always appreciated all the things he did for you, no matter how big or small, and he lived for the thrill of your joy.

“What have you brought me, my prince?” You chirped. The way you always called him ‘yours’ made his heart flutter endlessly.

“Breakfast in bed for, my princess.” Loki grinned back, placing the tray in your awaiting lap, “I recall that it is your favorite. I tried to include all of the things you enjoy….pancakes, eggs, fruit… a little bit of everything for you, Darling.”

“Oh!” Your cheeks flushed an adorable rosy color, making those three words ignite in his throat yet again, “This is wonderful, Loki! These are all my favorites! Thank you!”

Excitedly, you started to gobble down the delicious meal in front of you. Loki looked on with equal parts happiness and hesitance on his face.

“Do you like it?” He started, trying to choose his words carefully. You nodded your head eagerly, wiping a bit of syrup from the corner of your mouth making the god laugh.

“Yes, I like it! It’s amazing!” You quickly speared a piece of cantaloupe on your fork and popped it into your mouth as if to prove your point.

Loki looked down at his lap where his fingers played with a piece of lint that was on his loose hanging sweatpants, “But you don’t love it?” The crystal blue orbs that you adored so much did everything to avoid your eyes, but even without seeing you knew insecurity swam in them. A gentle hand covered his, the softness of your skin against his warrior calluses always serving as a stark reminder of how innocent you were and how monstrous.

“Oh, Loki, I love it.” As soon as the word left your honeyed lips, Loki’s eyes shot to yours. All he saw reflected at him was warmth and tenderness, a sense of home that he felt every time he looked at you. The way you spoke the word sounded familiar, like it could have been what you spoke in the night, yet it still wasn’t quite right. There was something….missing that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He leaned forward and kissed your lips, delighting how you immediately wrapped an arm around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair. With a playful tug of his tresses, you deepened the kiss. He groaned as he tasted the syrup that remained on your tongue- your taste, your essence, making it that much sweeter. Slowly, he pulled away, make sure to savor every drop of you.

“The sweetest treat there is.” He grinned.

The rest of the morning and afternoon was restoring. A perfect, lazy day entangled in each other’s arms. Your back was pressed against Loki’s chest and each of you held your individual books. The words flowed easily off the page as your eyes darted back and forth, but Loki found himself simply turning his pages for show while he quietly observed you. The little movements of your mouth as you silently spoke choice phrases, the gasps as you read something shocking, and the blood that rushed to your ears when you came upon a particularly erotic scene – all made Loki more entranced by you and more hopelessly in love.

“Darling?” He started carefully, much like this morning and the night before. You only hummed in response, still caught up in the story of your book.

“How long as it been since you spoke to your friend? The one you grew up with?”

That made you drop your book and look up at Loki in confusion, “It’s been a while. Why do you ask?”

You felt him shrug behind you before pretending to peek back at his book, “I just recall you enjoy speaking with them. Perhaps you should catch up sometime.” The comment was innocent, but it was enough to plant a seed in your mind. Sure enough, later in the day, you had picked up the phone to call your dear friend.

Loki stayed perched on the sofa, still pretending to read while you paced the room with your phone in hand and pressed to your ear. Fervently, you spoke to your longtime friend. The joy spilling from your lips making Loki’s mouth twitch at the corners. Every detail of your lives was shared, and laughter echoed all around the room. Loki would never tire of the sound of your laugh. Eventually, you said your goodbyes and turned to your lover with a content smile.

“I am so glad you reminded me to call them, Loki! It was great catching up.” But your smile faded as soon as you saw your prince’s frown. Quickly, you sat next to him on the couch and cupped his face with your hand.

“What’s wrong, Loki?”

Loki swallowed thickly, the sweet smell perfume bringing a fresh wave of butterflies to his stomach, “It is quite silly, really.”

You smiled so sweetly at him, it made his heart clench, “Try me.”

He avoided your eyes for the second time today, “You didn’t say you loved them when you said goodbye on your communication device. You always have before when you spoke to them. Is that…do you not care for your friend, anymore?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat, but you pulled Loki in close for a reassuring hug, “Oh, of course I love them! It must have slipped my mind.” You pulled away just enough, so you could press your forehead against his. The comfort from the closeness of your body and your mere presence brought him was already threatening to rip those three words straight from his chest once more.

“I’ll call them right now to tell them…” You tilted your head and left a lingering kiss on his forehead. The new agonizing ache in his heart lingering along with it.

Just as you said, you picked up your cell phone and called back your friend who immediately answered, as evident by your wide smile.

“Hey, I just forgot to tell you that I love you!” You smiled a bit wider as Loki guessed your friend repeated the sentiment back to you. The god tried to ignore the burning jealousy that started to well up within him when he heard you say those three words he so desperately wanted to say, so easily and to another no less. The only thing that gave him solace was the fact that much like this morning, this ‘I love you’ wasn’t the same he supposedly heard last night. Something was off about it. A missing puzzle piece he couldn’t quite solve.

The jealousy that coursed through his body and took a violent hold of his heart and his mind told him that you must have been dreaming of someone else. A person you pined for in secret when you were alone in your shared bed, awaiting Loki to join you in the late-night hours. Someone you desperately desired. Someone who was worthy of that desire.

“Loki, you have to tell me what’s wrong.” Loki hadn’t noticed that you hung up with your friend, only to join him back on the couch. The look of sincere concern almost had him cracking, but being stubborn as ever, he held fast.

“I am quite alright, Darling, I assure you.” He flashed you a tight-lipped smile that definitely didn’t reach his eyes. You gripped his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, reminding him of how you always knew when to comfort him. The ache in his heart grew tenfold, and he kept his eyes trained on his lap. Anything to avoid looking you in the eyes and facing the fact that you didn’t love him back.

“Loki…” The brokenness of your voice was the only reason why he lifted his head. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes and still, you gripped his hand like it was your lifeline, “You have been avoiding looking at me all afternoon. I know something is wrong. You tell me everything, Loki.”

You cupped Loki’s cheek with your free hand, and he leaned into the comfort of your palm, “Why won’t you tell me?”

Loki desperately wanted to tell you why he was acting so strangely. That he may have heard you whisper the words ‘I love you’ in the dark, and now it plagued his mind, and it was all he could think about. How he regretted not being able to confess his love for you every day for months on end due to his own cowardice and his own insecurities.

The tears in your eyes threatened to spill over when Loki didn’t answer you. The silence between you two was deafening and so different from the affectionate god you grew to love. Loki saw the wetness of your eyelashes, evidence of sorrow that should never be there, let alone placed there by him. Every day he vowed to be a source of happiness and comfort for you. A place of peace within the chaos like, you were to him. To be your home.

As soon as your first tear fell, the words tumbled from Loki’s mouth before he could stop them.

“I love you.”

Even though they were rushed from his mouth, each syllable conveyed endless promises of devotion and reverence. The promise that you were the treasure of his heart and something so precious that he would burn worlds to ensure your happiness.

A flurry of emotions swept across your face. At first, there was a look of confusion, then disbelief, and then pure joy.

“You, uh, what?”

Loki had imagined this moment for months, and the one thing he did not expect was to feel instant regret. The need to run away was overwhelming, and his heart hammered in his chest. He swallowed hard, looking away from you yet again.

“Please, don’t make me say it again.” The god that towered over many, the god who made the world kneel was only the frail fragment of an unsure boy.

Your hand never left his cheek, and your thumb rubbed the sharp edges of his cheekbones with soothing strokes. Tenderly, you coaxed his head to turn and for him to look at you once again.

“Please, Loki.” You leaned closer until your breath caressed his face with your pleading whispers, “Say it again.”

Tears began to brim his eyes as his ripped out his tortured heart and presented it to you. An offering to his goddess.

“I love you, Y/N.” The words were surer this time, but still breathless with the anxiety of your reply. A happy watery laugh bubbled up from your chest and your other hand was quick to now cup both sides of his face, ensuring that he wouldn’t turn away from you and hide.

“I love you too, Loki.”

It instantly was familiar. The tone. Each syllable. It was exactly like the sweet words that he thought were spoken last night. Loki quickly mirrored your happiness and was just as quick to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. Every movement of his mouth, every caress carried all the confessions of love that died on his lips and haunted him. The words flowed just as freely from you, as they did from him, and it was in that moment he realized why all of your other ‘I love you’s’ were not the same. Why the one spoken in the middle of the night, in his sweet embrace was so different.

That one was just for him.

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

Unicorns 🦄: @ozymdias , @lovely-maryj, @multifandom-worlds

@buttercupcookies-blog @fictive-sl0th. @meowmeow-motherfucker @tallseaweed @ladymischief11

3K notes · View notes

eli-com · 5 months

Text

୧ *·˚ PERFECT — JUDD BIRCH

୨୧ includes — fem!reader, afab, mature content, fingering, oral f!receiving, praise/degrading, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, corruption??

— Judd had been in a state of shock since the moment he stepped into detention and saw you.

He knew you, of course he did, you were the golden girl of Bridgeton High, class president and future valedictorian; everybody knew you. But what were you doing here? You were the last person he’d expected to make eye contact with as he walked through that door, and he was sure it showed on his face. It wasn’t hard to make out how nervous you were, the slight twitch of your eye, the way you gnawed on your inner cheek — he almost felt bad… almost.

Judd would be lying if he told himself you didn’t fascinate him in some way, it was crazy to him how someone could be so consistently ‘perfect’. You volunteered for every school/town event you could, took up a part-time job babysitting for half the kids in the local area, always seemed so cheerful and energetic… how were you not tired? Usually he’d never let himself think about another person for any longer than a few minutes, after all they were all just a waste of his time, but there had always been something about you he couldn’t shake. You’d been that way ever since middle school, and not once had he seen the act falter.

— You’d been feeling sick since the moment you entered the classroom, and it had only gotten worse once he entered. Not that you weren’t surprised to see him, of course he’d be here, this was practically his second home, it was just that there was a part of you that was hoping by some luck he wouldn’t show up. It’s not that you disliked Judd, but he made you oh so very nervous. Especially because whenever you’d look at him, whether it be in class or at some kind of event, he was always looking back at you with those intimidating eyes. In all honesty, something had attracted you to Judd since you were both children, but your mother had always warned you about the dangerous ‘bad boys’ who lured you in only to use you before throwing you away, so you steered clear.

But now it was just the two of you stuck together in a room for an hour… well, you two and Mr Kellings, the gym teacher who at the moment didn’t seem able to keep his eyes open, legs crossed as they rested on-top of his desk, head falling every-so-often and waking him up.

You’d force your eyes away from him as he wondered around the classroom before taking a seat right behind you, and you were sure you could feel his eyes burning through the back of your head. But, instead of turning back you simply focused on the work you’d placed in-front of you, the extra work your father had encouraged you to ask your biology teacher for after he found out you’d already done the rest.

It only took a total of five minutes before you could feel Judd’s feet colliding with one of the legs of your chair, kicking it to the beat of the music playing in his AirPods. You were trying your best to ignore it, not give in to his obvious attempt to annoy you. However, considering the fact you were in detention after an event that was definitely not your fault and your father had urged you to take on all this extra work after knowing how tired you were, your patience was wearing thin. So, despite your best efforts, you ended up turning around to glare at him with those eyes Judd had stared at countless times whilst bored in class.

“Could you not do that? I’m trying to work here.” You’d state with the best firm voice you could muster whilst having his eyes on you. However, Judd would continue to stare blankly, the way he kicked your chair also continuing without missing a beat.

“What? Haven’t finished your homework yet?” He’d raise a brow in question. “Surprised it’s taken you this long, don’t you normally have it done the day it’s set? You’re slacking…” His voice was as monotone as ever, deep and gravelly, almost as if he’d just woken up, which you wouldn’t doubt considering the amount of times you’d caught him sleeping in class. You could only roll your eyes, doing your best to suppress the embarrassed blush that had formed on your face because you knew he was right — you did always have your homework done the day it was set, because that’s what your parents had raised you to do, taking away any other sources of entertainment until they knew it was done, and even without it you never really got to have fun; free time was a luxury you didn’t have.

“I do have my homework done, this is just… extra.” You’d speak quietly now, turning away from him and back to your homework. You could hear Judd let out an unamused scoff behind you, his kicking finally coming to a halt as the room went silent.

The silence was awkward, some sort of tension hanging in the air and for a few moments you felt as if you couldn’t breathe, just staring down at your work in confusion; what was happening to you? But at least it was over, he’d leave you alone now; if you were lucky then you’d get through the rest of this detention in silence… but then again, you’d never really been that lucky.

“So what are you in for?” It was surprising to you that he was actually asking you questions, you’d never heard him speak this much in all of the classes you’d shared. Shaking your head, you wouldn’t acknowledge him — well, not until you heard his bag slam down onto the table beside you, grey converse appearing in the corner of your vision. “Don’t ignore me.” He’d grumble, brows furrowing as he peered down at you from his seat.

“Firstly, I don’t think it’s any of your business, and secondly, the teacher is right there!” You’d gesture to where the clueless teacher who was almost falling off of his chair as he continuously dozed in and out of sleep sat, arms folded over his chest. This had Judd letting out yet another scoff, and you were assuming by now that it was almost his way of laughing.

“I don’t think that old fuck gives a shit what we do… Or that he’d even notice we were doing anything.” His head would nod over to the teacher, and he was right, the man had finally fallen fully asleep; loud snored escaping him. You almost giggled at the sight of how the gym teachers mouth had fallen wide open, you were sure you’d even seen a fly float in there.

“I’m not in here for anything I did.” You’d respond simply, eyeing him for a moment and spotting the unimpressed look gracing his features — not that he didn’t look like that most of the time anyways. It was obvious from the way he stared that he was waiting for you to continue, and before you even knew it you were speaking. “My friends had this idea to uh, play a prank on some of the middle schoolers who attended the introduction day and I got the blame for it.” That was all you were willing to admit, not delving into how your friends had encouraged the poor kid to do an embarrassing dance in-front of half of the school during lunch as some kind of ‘initiation process’. You didn’t feel too bad though, you were pretty sure you’d caught him staring at your tits multiple times during his tour.

“Pretty shitty friends if they let you take the blame.” He’d state, eyes focused on his phone as he scrolled through songs — you could faintly hear the tune changing every time he pressed a different one. “Not that I care.” He’d mumble afterwards.

You’d just shrug, “I guess so…”

It was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again. “You wanna get out of here?” He sounded hesitant for a moment, like he didn’t know if he really wanted to invite you to leave with him. You felt sick again, why was Judd being so nice to you? Well, as nice as Judd Birch could be… He was notorious for his bad attitude and careless nature, yet for some reason he was trying to help you out? “If you don’t want to then you can just say that, shithead.” He’d lean his forearms onto his thighs, attempting to get to eye-level with you.

You’d violently shake your head, something in you was telling you to go, you suddenly felt this overwhelming need to impress Judd in some way. Surely the teacher wouldn’t notice your absence, and the idea of possibly getting into trouble was almost thrilling to you. You were already in deep shit with your parents, so what would another small act of rebellion really do? As if proud, a small smirk would pull at the end of Judd’s lips, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. He’d nod his head towards the door before picking up his bag and walking out, not waiting for you to keep up.

“Wait up!” You’d yelp, quickly rushing to put all of your things together before meeting him in the hallway, matching his long strides as best you could. It was now that you realised just how tall Judd really was, how muscular he was too; surely the result of all his time spent in vocational classes. You’d walked into one once, dropping off something for one of the teachers when you’d noticed Judd working on a car, his arms flexing with each small movement — it was fair to say you stood in the corner for a while simply ogling over his arms. Did he work out too? Images of Judd working out in his room would suddenly come to mind, but you did your best to push them back. He wouldn’t look at you as you both walked, eyes focused on the long hallway ahead, hand clutching at the backpack on his shoulder. “How come you actually showed up to detention? I uh- I heard you normally skip to train your raccoons or… whatever.” Why was your voice so shaky? Why were you so embarrassing?

“Parents showed up to make sure I went in, normally I’d walk out anyways but decided I’d rather come in than have to listen to my dad try explain why pent up anger is bad for my dick.” He’d roll his eyes, your breath catching in your throat at the mention of Judd’s dick. You weren’t really used to such vulgar language, of course you’d hear certain things here and there, you were in High-school after all, but you’d never gotten used to it; your parents had strict rules when it came to ‘potty-mouthing’. Judd would eye you with a smirk as blood travelled up to your face, eyes doing their best not to land on him.

“That’s uh- that’s sweet?” You’d speak in an unsure tone, wringing your hands together in-front of you. “I guess… It’s nice that he cares for you so much that he would worry about your um, genitals?” You’d nod to yourself, unsure of your own words. Was that normal for parents and their children to discuss? You’d known since you were younger that your distant relationship with your mum and dad wasn’t considered ‘the norm’, but you can’t imagine talking to them about such things even if you were close… His brows would knit together as he looked down at you for a moment before shrugging.

“I guess.” He’d shrug his backpack further onto his shoulder. “Your parents not all that interested in your private life?” He didn’t know why he was asking, maybe he was just trying to joke, but something made him want to know more about you; what you liked, what you disliked, why your pretty eyes got sad at the mention of your parents.

“Uh- they’re not really that interested in my life at all unless it’s something about my school work… Not that I have much of a life outside of that anyways.” You’d give an awkward laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as some kind of comfort. Memories of all the parties, sleepovers, and everything else you’d missed would overwhelm you — you’d never even been able to invite a friend over to your house. You’d been to a few friends houses before, but even then you had to be home by 6 pm sharp.

“Parents are assholes.” He’d declare, turning away from you once again. You’d hum in agreement, eyes darting around the hall as you walked together. This had to be some kind of dream, you were sure of it, it all just felt so weird.

However, you didn’t have too long to worry about that before spotting your headmistress rounding the corner, almost bumping into the both of you. Her head would immediately whip round to face you, eyes wide in surprise. “Miss (l/n)? Are you not supposed to be in detention? What are you doing out here?” As if in perfect timing, the gym teacher who had been ‘watching’ you both in detention would appear behind the two of you, yelling that you needed to get back to the classroom. Before you had any time to think of an excuse Judd had grabbed your hand, shoving past the headmistress and running down the halls, you tripping up every so often as you did your best to run beside him.

You could hear both of the teachers yelling after you, chasing you down like hunters and prey. You thanked god your headmistress had chosen to wear heels and your gym teacher was clearly still fatigued from lack of sleep. After a few minutes of running, Judd would pull you into a small broom closet, placing your back against the wall and quickly pulling the door shut, ear pressed up against it as if in an attempt to listen to the teachers run past.

“Oh my god! I’m gonna get in so much trouble, why didn’t I think this through? Why would I agree to leave with Judd Birch of all people?!” You’d whisper aggressively to yourself, hands pulling at your own hair as you seemingly became lost in your own thoughts. Suddenly all those ideas of impressing Judd and not caring what your parents would think left your mind, the reality kicking in and causing you to become overwhelmed. Judd would turn to look down at you, hands taking hold of your shoulders and ever so slightly shaking you, brows furrowed in what you assumed was annoyance.

“Shut the hell up, if you carry on they’re gonna hear you.” He’d scold, hands moving to pull yours out of your hair and place them at your sides before he held a hand over your mouth to silence you. “You wanna get caught?” You’d shake your head quickly, eyes wide and breathing ragged. “Then keep fucking quiet.” A small whimper would leave you.

It was silent for a while, the only sounds being your mutual heavy breathing. You were unsure what it was, but something about his demanding tone had your thighs rubbing together, doing their best to contain the arousal you felt building up in your core. His dark eyes would stare down at you, roaming over your figure as he tried to listen out for any sign of the teachers possibly finding you. However, his eyes would quickly stop at your thighs, watching you squirm against the wall behind you. Looking into your eyes, it didn’t take a genius to notice how your pupils had become wide with lust, how your chest was heaving with each breath you took. Just the sight of you had his pants tightening.

“You like that, huh?” He’d question breathlessly, and you were unsure whether he’d actually spoken or not for a minute, too lost in your own thoughts. However, he’d quickly snap you back to reality as one of his knees slotted between your thighs, not making any contact just yet. “Like being told what to do? Being told to shut the fuck up?” His head would tilt ever so slightly to the side as he questioned you, speaking to you as if you were some kind of mutt not yet trained, so condescending, yet it had you letting out a quiet moan as you nodded.

A smug grin you hadn’t yet seen until now would appear on his lips as he moved his knee up to meet your heat, running it gently over your panties and causing your knees to almost buckle under you. You’d cling onto his shoulders, head hung low as you closed your eyes, letting out needy gasps into his hand each time he moved his leg back and forth. After a few seconds he’d stop, one hand remaining on your mouth whilst the other moved down to your waist, toying with the waistband of your skirt. “Make such pretty sounds even when I’m doing my best to keep you quiet… little slut can’t keep her mouth shut, huh?” He’d question, grin going from smug to cruel.

You could only whine in response, beginning to rock your hips back and forth on his leg until he pulled it away fully, leaving you frustrated as you let out a cry. “Didn’t I just fucking tell you to be quiet? You want to get us caught? Let those old bastards see you trying to get yourself off on my leg?” He’d mock, removing his hand from over your lips in order to squeeze your cheeks together, lips parting ever so slightly as embarrassment takes over you. You must look so pathetic right now, your own slick trickling down your bare thighs as you stare up at him with selfish need. “You gonna be a good girl and be quiet?” He’d snarl.

“Yes, yes! Gonna be good…” Your voice was muffled due to his strong hold on your face, nodding as best you could. However, he’d only squeeze your cheeks tighter in response.

“Are you that fucking stupid you don’t know what be quiet means?” He’d push your head back against the wall, using his intimidating height to lean over you. This time you only nod, not daring to utter a word — you wanted him so badly, you could still feel where his knee had pressed against you.

“There we go…” He’d mumble, features momentarily relaxing before he leaned down to press a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips. It was messy, his tongue immediately pushing its way into your mouth and exploring the new territory. Your noses would bump together multiple times, never letting up his harsh grip on your face. However, the kiss had distracted you from the way his other hand had now slid under your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass before slapping it, causing you to let out a loud gasp. Instead of telling you off again, he’d only smugly grin against your lips this time, continuing his brutal attack on them.

“Shit baby, you’re so wet… can feel you soaking through your panties.” He’d murmur, moving to press kisses to your cheek as he ran a finger over your panties, stopping once he felt the wet patch you’d created on them and letting out a dark chuckle. “Is this what breaking a few rules does to you?… Meant to be so perfect, but here you are letting me play with you in school of all places. What would mommy and daddy think, huh?” He’d scoff, kisses moving down to your jaw as he began to nip at your skin, causing you to do your best to keep your weak mewls in your throat. “Fucking pathetic.” He’d move up to your ear, nibbling on it.

“Judd…” You could tell he was about to tell you off for speaking, but the way you said his name with such desperate need had him keeping quiet as he simply stared, face stoic as ever, waiting for you to continue. “Want more, want you to touch me more.” You’d whisper, head lolling forward to rest on his shoulder as you felt his thumb begin to draw gentle circles on your clit over your now soaked panties; he was making such a mess of you already.

“Want me to touch you?” He’d repeat your words, craning his head down slightly to place gentle kisses over the skin of your neck. “How d’you want me to touch you, huh? You gonna show me?” He’d brush his nose along your jaw, eyes closed as he took in a deep breath of your perfume; you always smelt so strongly of vanilla, it was so intoxicating to him. However, you’d quickly distract him by shaking your head in response to his words.

"Can't." You'd whine, eyes screwed shut as you felt the pressure of his thumb on your clit increase, the small movements halting as it remained stationary in its place. “Tried before but,” You’d pant, “Never feels right, can’t do it.” You’d complain, tears building up in your eyes both due to embarrassment and frustration. Judd would remain silent for a few moments before moving back to look at you, watching how you kept your head hung low, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You can’t touch yourself?” He’d question, hand caressing the side of your face as his thumb made its way under your chin, lifting it so you’d look up at him again. You’d shake your head. “Nobody’s ever touched you like this before?” This had you clearing your throat as you looked off to the side before muttering a small ‘no’ in response. It was embarrassing, at least to you it was. Sure, plenty of guys had tried to get with you, tried to lure you back to their cars after class or behind the bleachers in an attempt to ‘pop your cherry’, but you’d never accepted — no man had even touched you in this way until Judd. It just didn’t feel right, not until now. You could practically hear the way Judd swallowed his own saliva, Adam’s apple bobbing as he traced his thumb over your cheek. “Shit… poor baby.” He’d coo, but you knew it wasn’t all that sincere.

Judd had never been with a virgin before, and he’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t have him rock hard in his jeans, hips doing their best not to rut into yours at the mere idea, especially since it was you. The schools perfect little girl now his to ruin, his to mark, all he could think about in the moment was how he wanted to fuck you into the shape of his cock, immediately ruin you for any other man; you’d belong to him. But at the same time, he could see the nervousness in your eyes, how you anxiously bit the inside of your cheek, and he knew he wanted to make it as enjoyable as he could for you. He wouldn’t take your virginity today, no; that was for another time. But for now, the least he could do is show you how to play with yourself.

“Gonna make you feel good, yeah?” He’d whisper into your cheek, pressing delicate kisses there. This was so out of character of Judd, what had happened? Suddenly he was sinking to his knees in-front of you, eyes roaming over your lower half as his hands ran up and down your plush thighs. He seemed to just admire them for a moment, take in the view, before he finally lifted your skirt, letting out a deep groan at the sight before him. A dark wet patch had formed on your white panties, slick dribbling down your legs and staining your frilly socks. “Shit, you really are fucking perfect, aren’t you?” He’d mutter. Before you even had a moment to think, he’d moved forward, licking a stripe up your panties and humming at the taste, eyes almost rolling back into his head as his nose brushed your clit. “Taste so good too, fuck.”

You couldn’t help the loud moan that left you at the feeling, your thighs doing their best to squeeze together as you lifted one of your hands to your mouth, other hand moving to Judd’s hair and gently tugging on it. “Feels good- ah..” You’d whimper, hissing as you felt Judd lick your own juices off of your thighs before gently nibbling on the skin, leaving pink marks behind. “Please, Judd…” You’d cry pathetically, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you did your best to remain stood against the wall, body suddenly feeling weak.

“Gotta keep yourself quiet for me, yeah? Be a good girl and make sure nobody but me can hear those pretty sounds.” He’d murmur against your skin, causing you to nod in return. Judd would hook his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, slowly bringing them down your legs and marvelling at the string of slick that connected them to your cunt before it eventually snapped, causing him to practically growl.

Time seemed to go slow, watching as he trailed his hands up to your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles before he leaned forward, placing quick kisses over your cunt and then finally running his fingers through your folds, spreading them open and giving a teasing lick to your clit, causing you to writhe above him. Your hand would move from your mouth to grab your skirt, lifting it up so you could watch his movements, noting the way he hummed against you, breathing in your scent with a grin before beginning to flick his tongue against your clit playfully, your fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer to you.

“Little slut can’t get enough, huh?” He’d murmur into you, licking a long stripe through your folds and causing you to let out a pleasured sob. “Feel that good baby? So fucking naughty, letting one of your classmates take care of you like this…” You’d throw your head back against the wall, chest heaving as you nodded in response.

“Yes… Yes, feels so good, Judd — so, so good.” You’d let out a long moan, the sound going straight to Judd’s groin and causing him to hump the air on instinct. Moving down lower, Judd’s tongue would poke at your entrance, causing a choked whimper to leave you as your toes curled in your kitten heels. “Want more, please-” You could feel something building up in your stomach, your head feeling fuzzy and fogging up.

“Greedy fucking bitch… I’ll give you more, beautiful, make you feel full.” His thumb would move to circle your entrance, causing your whole body to jolt forward. You could hear a sinister chuckle come from Judd before he slowly began to sink one finger into your sopping hole. “Shit, look how you fucking suck me back in… so tight.” His eyes would fixate on his finger slowly moving in and out of you, velvet walls squeezing around him and causing him to moan. “How’s anyone meant to fit in there, baby? Even my finger’s too big.” He’d tease, clearly over exaggerating.

A string of choked moans would slip past your lips as your face scrunched up in pleasure, hips beginning to grind into his finger. “Judd! Oh my god, I think I’m gonna pee myself-” You’d panic, head spinning as the pace of his finger began to pick up. He’d laugh again, shaking his head.

“You’re not gonna pee, just let me make you feel good, yeah? You trust me?” He’d raise a brow, green eyes peering up at you, and you could’ve sworn you saw some kind of fondness in them. You’d nod rapidly, you did trust him — you were unsure where this sudden trust had come from, but you knew you didn’t want his movements to stop. He’d slow his pace, biting at your thigh and causing you to yelp. “Need your words, princess.”

“Yes! Yes, trust you, please don’t stop.” You’d beg, trying to rock yourself on his finger to keep up the pace, but his hand would grab your hip, stopping you. Before you knew it, he was slipping a second finger into you, a pleasured cry vibrating in your throat as he made a ‘come hither’ motion in you, hitting a spot that had you jolting repeatedly, stomach tightening and mewls leaving you. “Judd…” You’d whine, head falling forward as your brows knitted together, mouth falling open.

He decided he’d never seen a prettier sight than you right now, looking so worn out, like this was the best you’d ever felt. Never before had he seen you so relaxed, your uptight demeanour finally gone, not so worried about keeping up your act of perfection anymore. If you asked Judd, this was the most perfect he’d ever seen you — not when you’re volunteering, not when you’re giving motivational speeches in assemblies — no, this was so much better. Seeing you all flushed, lashes fluttering and heavy breaths escaping your chapped lips; he could cream his pants just at the sight. The whimpers leaving you had his own moans forming in his throat, placing open-mouth kisses onto your cunt, causing your thighs to shake as he wrapped his free arm around one of them. He’d then move onto sucking on your clit, fingers moving rapidly in and out of you, wet sounds filling the closet.

All of a sudden the coil that had built up in your tummy was snapping, knees buckling as cries of relief left you, mumbles of his name repeating on your tongue as you clung desperately to his hair, the sheer strength of Judd’s one arm around you keeping you up-right whilst you calmed down. So lost in your own pleasure, you failed to notice Judd groaning into you, his body shaking under yours as he released into his pants, cursing himself. Not once in his life had he cum without being touched, but the sight of you and sounds that left those cute lips had gotten to him, the embarrassment taking over quickly.

He’d continue to slowly pump his fingers, helping you through your release as he cleaned up your cum with his tongue, humming at the taste. You’d sigh, leaning your head back and trying to calm your breathing, suddenly feeling awkward.

The room was once again silent for a few minutes… up until Judd finally stood up, brushing his clean hand through his hair and peering down at you with a smug grin. It was only then that you noticed how the bottom half of his face shined with your juices, your face heating up and eyes going wide as you pulled down the sleeve of your shirt and lifted your arm to wipe along his mouth. You could see his brows furrow in confusion, but he made no move to stop you, even leaning down ever so slightly to help you reach. Once you pulled away, he’d lift his fingers to your lips, softly pushing the two that had previously been inside you into your mouth and watching as you wrapped your lips around them, groaning at the way your tongue circled and cleaned them up.

“Let’s get you back home, yeah?”

this isn’t that great and I haven’t written in a while but I’ve wanted to write something for Judd since I finished the new big mouth season the day it came out… so glad they gave us more of him 🤭

Also sorry if there’s any mistakes, I did try to proof read but I’m tired and just want to post this

#big mouth #judd birch #judd x reader #judd #reader insert #judd birch x reader #big mouth judd

414 notes · View notes

writeforfandoms · 7 months

Text

Fear Not This Night

Find my CoD masterlist

Being part of the 141 pack meant you watched out for your boys, always. As their medic, it meant you sometimes flew into danger for them. When someone uses that knowledge against you to separate you from your pack, you pay the price.

Warnings: Blood, treating wounds, medical inaccuracies, shifter biology, shifter dynamics, psychological torture, physical torture, being blinded (hood over head), brief self-harm (pulling feathers). This one is a bit dark so if you would like more in depth warnings, come ask me.

Word count: 7.6k

Harpy eagle f!reader x 141 poly

You soared over the trees, sharp eyes watching for your team. You’d gotten the call that they needed you a few hours prior, so you knew they’d likely moved some from their last coordinates. But you doubted they’d gone far. You weren’t even tired yet, broad wings carrying you and your pack.

Finally, you spotted Soap, in a convenient space between trees. Good man, making your life easier. You didn’t cry out in recognition, because that was dangerous. But you did dive, tucking your wings close and waiting until the last possible moment to pull up, flapping down to land on your pack. It was specially designed to be sturdy enough for you to land on, fortunately.

“There ye are,” Soap murmured, grinning at you and reaching out one hand to stroke the top of your head. You blinked at him, chirping. “C’mon. Someone got a lucky hit on Ghost.”

You hopped off your medic pack, hopping a few steps away before you shifted. “How bad?” you asked, opening up your pack and throwing on clothes. For the chill more than for modesty.

You had no modesty around your boys anymore.

“Price wants ye to check, because Ghost is bein’ an ass.”

“I heard that,” came the grumpy growl from Ghost.

You rolled your eyes and picked up your pack, which looked more like a picnic basket when you carried it this way. “If you’re alive enough to growl, you’re alive enough to behave,” you pointed out. He still had his mask on, but he wasn’t arguing lying down, either. Hmm. Must be feeling worse than you thought.

You settled on your knees next to Ghost, giving him a quick once-over. Bandages had been packed down against his thigh, though you ignored them for the moment. Nothing else looked out of place.

“Anywhere hurting besides the thigh?”

“Took a round to the vest,” he admitted, a little reluctant and a lot grumpy. Probably mostly grumpy that he got hit.

“Just bruised,” Gaz said as he crouched a little to the side of you and behind you, out of the way but ready to assist. “Didn’t even crack a rib.”

“Lucky bastard,” you agreed, shifting your attention down to his thigh. “And this?”

“A graze,” Gaz said. “But it bled a lot, more than normal.”

You hummed acknowledgement, leaning closer. Ghost shifted, and you cooed softly, almost reflexively. He huffed but settled.

The wound wasn’t bad under the bandages, but it was in a tricky spot, just above his knee. You couldn’t see any real reason why it would have bled more than normal except use, which was kind of inevitable. But even so, just to be on the safe side, you smeared it with ointment and rewrapped it.

“How far do you have to go?” You packed up the rest of your supplies after forcing Ghost to drink more water.

“Little ways yet.” Price shrugged, planting his hands on his hips.

“I’m fine to keep going,” Ghost said, because of course he did.

“You finish your water,” you said, poking his hip. “Then we’ll see.”

He huffed, eyes narrowing at you. But he subsided. Mostly because you both knew Price would side with you.

“If you left now?” You raised one eyebrow at Price.

“We’d make it by dawn.”

You puffed out a breath. That was not too bad. Ghost was tough, you knew he could last that long, especially since he’d already been forced to rest (and probably to eat something, knowing the rest of the pack). “I’ll scout ahead,” you said, pushing up to your feet. “Circle back and follow behind, make sure you’re fine.”

“I’ve got your pack,” Gaz offered before you could say anything more. You rolled your eyes at him but didn’t protest. You knew better.

You also knew better than to shift again without eating something, so you ripped open a protein bar and ate it as fast as possible under Price’s approving eye. Tossing your clothes back at Gaz and grinning at his playful huff, you shifted back and took off again.

The route forward to their exfil point was clear and quiet, even to your keen gaze. Turning to circle back, you made sure to check back in on your guys as you flew above them.

No enemies behind, either. They’d done a good job of either killing everyone who’d tried to follow, or losing them. You expected nothing less from them.

Pleased, you made a few big circles just to be sure. Still nothing. No sign of enemies. You took your time following your pack to the exfil point.

True to Price’s prediction, just as the sun broke the horizon the pack made it to exfil. You dove down to join them, landing next to Ghost. Gaz tossed your clothes to you as soon as you shifted, and Ghost shoved water at you.

“You all are mother hens, y’know that?” you grumbled without any heat, grinning, even as you double-checked Gaz’s straps.

“Says the biggest hen of us,” Soap pointed out with a wicked grin.

“Now now, just because my tits are the best–” you started playfully.

“Enough,” Price interrupted, sitting on Gaz’s other side, between him and the opening. Smart man.

You and Soap subsided, though you did both roll your eyes. “Everybody good?” You looked around at them, meeting each gaze squarely for a moment, to make sure none of them were lying. They all tolerated it, well used to you by now. Satisfied that none of your guys were about to keel over, you settled back for the trip back.

Flying in a heli had never been your favorite thing to do. You much preferred to fly on your own. But you had to admit that the heli was faster - you’d tried once to keep up, and couldn’t. Which wasn’t actually surprising, just disappointing.

This flight was not bad. Not too long. Which was good, because you were getting antsy. Ghost had caught a nap on the heli, but you still wanted to make sure he was fine in better conditions than you’d had before.

As soon as the heli landed, you were out, watching Ghost carefully. He wouldn’t accept help, not in front of others, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t check in.

“‘M fine,” he grumbled at you very quietly as you fell into step next to him.

“I’m sure you are,” you agreed. “And I’ll be more sure after I get to look you over.”

Soap leaned closer, waggling his eyebrows. But he didn’t say anything, because he couldn’t. Not here. Not where people could overhear and get the wrong idea.

Simon was fine, as it turned out when you finally got him to medical. Heightened metabolisms were good for some things, after all, and that included faster healing.

But you still bullied all your guys into the nest to take a nap.

“Stop fussing,” Price grumbled, lifting his head to pin you with a look. “And get in here.”

“It is literally my job to fuss,” you grumbled right back, although you did stop messing with the pillows and observed the nest. There was a good spot next to Simon. You carefully stepped over Gaz and Price before you settled down with a soft chirp, nestled between Simon and Price. There. That was better.

Price’s soft huff made you grin to yourself. At least until Simon tucked you under his arm and started scratching your scalp. Then you relaxed into him.

Okay. Maybe you could take a nap too.

One good thing about having pack-only spaces was that you could be with your guys without fear.

Simon had been ordered to stay and rest and finish healing while the other three went on what was supposed to be a quick mission. A day or two all told, is how Price had phrased it. You didn't know the details, didn't need to know the details, but you did know that Simon hated this.

"Relax," you murmured to him soothingly, scratching your fingers against his scalp. "They'll be back soon."

He grumbled wordlessly, one hand curling against your thigh where he was also using it as a pillow.

"Easy, Simon," you murmured, low and soothing. The little bit of grooming helped both of you, you knew. And it was almost all you could do for the moment.

Until you got called to help with exfil.

You hated leaving Simon, knew he'd be all but climbing the walls in his anxiety, but… needs must. He understood.

This time you went without your med pack - supplies would be available after exfil.

You weren't even sure Price had called for you. But the order came from higher up, so off you went to go help.

From high in the air, the battlefield looked bad. You could see bodies still laying where they'd fallen, a visual indication of the path of retreat. It took a little time to find your guys, the three of them huddled together behind a half-burned building. There were no immediate threats, but you could see where enemies had set up to hinder them.

It was not an easy situation, nor an easy fix. You flapped your wings a few times, changing your trajectory.

You needed to give them a distraction, a chance to get out. Most people didn't look up - you could use that, get a good sneak attack or two in. Cause a little chaos in the line.

It would do for now, until you came up with a better plan.

You flew a little higher, using the angle of the sun to help disguise your descent. And then you dove, aiming for one soldier a little apart from the others. He never saw you coming.

But he screamed as your talons ripped through the vulnerable skin of his scalp and neck.

You flapped hard, leaving him to bleed out even as shouts started up around you. You managed to vanish into the sun, flying up high again. You'd be harder to hit that way.

Of course, now they were on alert. Damn. That hadn't quite been enough of a distraction for your guys to get away.

You needed something bigger.

Scanning the ground, you looked for something out of the way to pick up and drop on the enemy line.

It was a good plan, and it even worked.

Until you were flying away. Someone must have been watching, because there was a sharp pain in your wing, enough to make you screech. Your wing faltered and you fell, just able to slow yourself enough that you didn't injure yourself further.

You hit the ground in a flurry of blood and feathers and screeching. Your wing hurt, leaving you unable to fly.

Behind enemy lines.

The first man to lunge at you got your beak to his throat, blood hot as it splashed across your face and chest. Maybe you'd have time to get to safety, maybe you could shift and–

Something heavy fell over your head, completely blocking your vision. You screeched, loud and angry, but more heavy things landed on top of you. Something held your wings firmly down against your sides, the pain sharp enough to make you try to jerk away. But you couldn't, too many hands grabbing you and securing you.

Blind and trapped, you could only feel as you were picked up and moved.

But you weren't dead yet, which was terrifying.

People handed you off between them, and you tried to flap your wings or flex your claws or anything. But movement of any kind resulted in you being squeezed to the point of pain.

With no way to see where you were or how many of them there were, you gave up. Conserved your strength, so you'd have a better chance of escape once you could see again.

An engine rumbled to life, and you got squished in against a body.

"Try anything funny and I will break your wing," a man hissed to you in heavily-accented English. You didn't doubt that he, or someone, would.

So you behaved, because you wouldn't be able to escape if you had a broken wing. You listened to the occasional chatter in Arabic. You tried very hard not to panic.

Sooner than you expected, the car stopped and you were once again handed off. The thing never came off your head, never let you see anything.

But you could hear more people, orders shouted in Arabic, more movement.

Oh this was bad.

Someone carried you somewhere cooler. More movement around you, and for a brief moment you could see as the heavy thing over your head was yanked off - you could see two men in front of you, one of them grinning to show off two empty spaces where teeth should be.

Then darkness again as a hood was secured over your head. You'd never been put in a falconry hood, but you knew immediately that's what it was, just from the feel of the leather and ties around your head. You screeched, trying to flap your wings.

"Enough of that," a sharp voice scolded. You nearly startled to realize it sounded like a woman. There was another flurry of Arabic, orders it sounded like, and then hands grasped your right wing, the one with the bullet hole. Big hands held you in place, wing extended, other wing pinned to your side.

You had no idea what they were doing until you heard the snip, snip, snip. You screeched, enraged and despairing and agonized. But they didn't stop, and there was nothing you could do.

"There." The woman sounded far too smug, too pleased. "Now you can be my bird." She laughed, low and throaty and sadistic.

You shivered, tucking your wings in as tight as you could, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Bells jingled as you moved and you froze in horror.

Hood and jesses. They were treating you like a falconry bird.

If you could, you might have thrown up. As it was, you made a tiny distressed noise.

A door shut somewhere nearby, leaving you with the terrible feeling that you were alone.

You tried to pace off the room, but the fucking bells kept breaking your concentration. You could stretch your wings, at least, though the right one hurt. And the way the air moved around your wing was… wrong.

That was all the confirmation you needed, even as you pulled your wings in tight again and huddled in place, shivering. They’d clipped your primaries.

Even if the hood was gone, you wouldn’t be able to fly.

You had no idea how long you stood there, alone in the forced darkness. Time was meaningless as you mentally went in circles. Simon knew you’d gone. There was a chance the other three had seen you or heard the commotion. People knew you were gone.

Someone would come for you.

Or you’d be killed first.

But you didn’t want to die, your pack needed you, you couldn’t leave them, they’d never forgive themselves if you died here–

The door opened hard enough that it slammed into the wall, and you jumped, wings flaring in agitation.

“There’s my pretty bird,” the woman from before cooed, over-sweet and mocking. “Hungry yet?” Her steps were deliberately loud as she approached you. You stiffened, holding yourself tense, but didn’t move. “Now, are you going to cooperate? Be a good bird?”

You didn’t reply, but you figured that lack of fighting would be a response. Because you had no idea where you were, and you held almost no power here. You knew that if you got too uppity, they’d make your life worse. Probably not kill you - they’d had plenty of opportunity to do that, and hadn’t yet.

But you could think of plenty of things they could do to make things worse for you.

The hood was pulled off your head, and you blinked rapidly as you adjusted to the light. The room had no windows and only one door. The artificial light washed everything yellow.

And, most importantly, left you no way to know how long it had been, how long you’d been gone.

The woman in front of you wore khaki and brown, simple clothes that were more functional than fashionable. Brown eyes held yours, a smirk slowly stretching her lips when you refused to look away first. But she didn’t seem to care about a dominance game. She just stepped further into the room, setting down two bowls for you.

Like you were a pet.

Your stomach turned and you stayed very still, head tipped, watching her closely.

“Well? Go on. Eat while you can.” Her grin had stretched into a cruel thing, showing too many teeth.

You shuffle-hopped forward, the bells on the jesses setting off every nerve you had. You hated this. Hated her. But this wouldn’t be forever, you knew it wouldn’t. You needed to eat, needed the fuel to heal and save up for your escape (as soon as you had a decent plan).

So, much as it grated on you, you ate from the bowl, keeping your gaze on her as much as you could. It felt demeaning, dehumanizing.

You felt like some exotic pet. The feeling made your blood boil, made you seethe. But you were careful to do so very quietly, only to yourself.

“Good bird,” she cooed mockingly. “We shall see how long it takes to train you.”

Before you could do more than flare your wings in protest, the hood was shoved back on your head, plunging you into darkness once more. You flapped your wings twice, momentarily off-balance.

The door shut. A lock clicked.

And you were alone again, in darkness and silence.

It was impossible to track how much time had passed. You could hear only occasional muffled sounds beyond your room, had no way to mark the passage of time.

The only breaks from the darkness were for food, always far enough apart that you were hungry, always the woman and one underling. Always demeaning. Always difficult.

You suffered through five meals. Five meals. Each one worse than the last, with more taunting, more mocking. It was harder every time to not just leap at her and rip into her.

But you remained patient, somehow.

The muffled sound of gunfire drew your attention, and you moved back and forth restlessly. It was hard not to get your hopes up, after however many days of being stuck here.

When the gunfire got louder and you heard the muffled shouts outside your door, satisfaction surged. That was probably your pack, coming for you.

And if it wasn’t, well… There was more than one way out of here.

You waited for a lull in the fighting, in the shouting and gunshots and chaos. And then you screeched, as loud as you could.

There. If that was your pack, they’d know it was you. If it was anybody else… You’d deal with that when you could.

The fighting and gunfire got closer, and you backed up slowly, carefully. The jingling of the fucking jesses still grated, but it was easier to ignore with the fighting outside.

There were two shots outside, two thuds. Your heart beat faster and you half-spread your wings, talons clicking against the floor.

“Found her,” came Soap’s voice from the door, and the breath whooshed out of you all at once. “Fuck,” he ground out, as angry as you’d ever heard him. “Okay, ‘s just me, sweets. Ah’m gonna take this off, yeah?” Hands fumbled with the hood for a moment before it was gone, leaving you blinking and near-blinded by the sudden brightness.

And there was Soap, clothes a little bloodied, expression torn between rage and sympathy. He spared a moment to smooth a hand over your head.

“Can ye shift?”

You clicked your beak and awkwardly held out one leg, jingling the jess still attached.

His expression immediately darkened. “Ah’ll burn the whole place,” he swore, rapidly removing one jess, then the other.

Relieved, you immediately shifted back. Your arm ached where the bullet hole had mostly healed, and you knew you probably looked a wreck. You felt a wreck, a little shaky and unsteady. But you were also determined to get the hell out.

“Give me a gun,” you rasped, throat dry.

“Ah donnae have supplies for ye,” Soap murmured apologetically, even as he unclipped his handgun and handed it to you. “Keep close.”

You nodded silently, pushing down everything else. You’d deal with everything else later.

Warm wetness on your feet made you look down as you followed Soap out of the room that had been your prison for however long. Two guards, both dead. Clean shots. Blood had pooled in the hallway. Your upper lip curled and you stepped carefully through the hall, not wanting to slip on anything.

Soap motioned you to wait as you came up to a corner, and he peeked around first. A gunshot had him jerking back.

“Counted eight,” he murmured to you. “Wait here.”

“But–” Your shoulders raised, and if you’d had feathers they would have been floofing out.

“Ye have no vest, no protection,” Soap pointed out, soft but firm. “Jus’ got ye back, sweets. Donnae ask me this.”

And you deflated again. As much as you wanted to kill every bastard in the building yourself, he had a good point. “Okay,” you agreed quietly, grip tightening briefly on your gun. “I’ll wait.”

Soap pressed a quick, hard kiss to your temple before he was gone, picking off one before he even rounded the corner. You could do nothing but listen to the chaos and wait for the all clear to move up.

A scuff behind you had you whirling, gun up. The woman stood no more than ten paces away, teeth bared, a gun in her hand.

“Well well, is this what pretty birdie looks like when she’s not a birdie?” She laughed, the sound unhinged, divorced from reality. “What a waste.”

“Don’t move.” Your voice didn’t shake. Your hands didn’t shake. But your mind… your mind quailed.

“What’s the matter, birdie? Missing your hood?” Her teeth were bloody, eyes fixed on you as she took a step closer.

You swallowed hard, breath coming faster. If you never saw a hood again it would be too soon.

“We can fix that.” She took another step forward, lifting the gun slowly, as if it was much heavier than it actually was.

You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t blink. You shot her, center mass.

She fell.

“Sweets?” Soap sounded only a little panicky.

“Clear!” You swallowed. Then again. You were a medic, yes, but this was far from the first time you’d killed. You’d hoped this would bring a little peace.

Instead you were simply numb.

“Move up!” Soap called after another minute. You obeyed wordlessly, turning your back on the corpse without another thought.

“How far?” you asked softly, stopping behind him, letting him be your shield again.

“Not much farther.” He glanced back at you, worried. “Ye alright?”

“Fine.” Your answer was short, clipped. Because you couldn’t think about being anything other than fine. “Let’s go.”

Soap hesitated a moment longer, gaze searching your face, before he nodded once, slowly. Then he moved, keeping you behind him. You kept close to him, moving as quietly as possible, ignoring the tackiness of blood drying on your skin.

He had you wait as he cleared one more room, and then the two of you met up with Gaz. Gaz breathed in sharply when he saw you but was quick to tug you to him in a hard hug, the edges of his vest and gear blunt and uncomfortable against your skin. You didn’t care, returning the hug with an edge of desperation.

“Here,” Gaz murmured, pulling spare clothes from one of his pouches. “Couldn’t bring extra gear for you, but this’ll do for now.”

You nodded, pulling the clothes on silently. They didn’t actually help you feel any better, but being with two of your pack did.

“Price and Ghost are almost done,” Gaz told Soap, tucking you between the two so you were protected. “Ready to meet up?”

“Ready.” Soap grinned, brief and vicious. “Ye’ll like this,” he promised you, taking the lead. You followed him, Gaz on your six. The building was quiet now, tension thrumming under your skin. But you kept up, swallowing back your nerves as best you could.

“All set up?” Soap asked as he stepped into a room. You followed, a little more cautious.

“All set,” Price agreed, eyes immediately finding you. A bit of tension leaked from his shoulders and he smiled, just a little. “Ready to get out of here?”

You nodded silently, but didn’t say anything. Which didn’t matter, because Ghost was in front of you in a few long strides, one hand gently cupping your cheek to tip your head.

“Injuries?” he asked softly, gaze sweeping over you.

“Just my arm.” And your feathers, but you couldn’t think about that for longer than a moment or you’d start screaming.

Ghost nodded, pulling you into his side.

“Let’s go,” Price ordered, taking point. The others kept you in the middle between them all the way out.

At a safe distance, the group of you turned. Soap waggled his eyebrows at you, grinning, before he pushed down on a detonator.

The entire building collapsed, shaking apart as explosions ripped through it. It was incredibly cathartic to see. Or, well. It probably was. You were… kind of numb.

“Here.”

You blinked slowly to find Price holding out a water to you. Your hands trembled as you took it, drinking slowly under the watchful gaze of your pack.

“It’s not far to exfil,” Gaz murmured, one hand resting on your shoulder. You leaned into the touch, breath momentarily hitching.

“Okay.” You swallowed hard and took the protein bar Price handed over, eating mechanically. You could barely taste it.

You knew this was bad, but. Not much to be done about it yet.

“You alright to walk the rest of the way?” Price asked, glancing down at your feet.

You blinked. You… couldn’t actually feel any discomfort from your feet, though you knew you should. You were standing barefoot on the ground, and it wasn’t even flat ground. “I’m fine.”

Price eyed you for a moment before he nodded. “Let’s get out of here, then,” he murmured. Contrary to his own words, he leaned in until he could press his forehead to yours, taking a moment to just breathe. Then he pulled back, once again taking point.

You followed, a little slow but moving under your own power. At least you weren’t in pain.

Yet.

The heli was waiting for you when you arrived. You shivered briefly against the wind and hurried in, buckling in with shaking hands. Soap dropped down on one side of you, Gaz on your other side. They both double checked your harness.

The flight back didn’t seem to take any time. You sat upright, tired and numb and cold, but unable to show any of that. You would eventually, you knew. You should probably warn your guys, you knew.

But you couldn’t.

The heli set down with a bump and you jolted. Two pairs of hands steadied you, Gaz and Soap both looking at you with concern.

But nobody said anything as they escorted you to medical.

You answered anything directly asked of you, quiet and stiff. The bullet hole in your arm was deemed mostly healed (it should have been more healed, really, but you hadn’t eaten enough), and otherwise you were dehydrated and bruised, but mostly unharmed.

The problem arose when one of the medics asked you to shift.

“No.” The word was only a whisper but you leaned away, hands curling into fists, muscles pulling taut.

The medic paused, eyeing you carefully. You were known to be more easy-going and cooperative, so this? Was unusual. “If you need privacy–”

“No.” It came out a little stronger this time, even as your gaze darted to the door, heart racing. No. Absolutely not.

The medic slowly leaned back, away from you. But their voice was calm as they called, “Captain?”

Price was in front of you a moment later, taking in your posture in a quick glance. He put one heavy hand on your shoulder, ducking his head to look you in the eyes for a moment. “Easy,” he murmured, frowning a little. “You done here?” He glanced back over his shoulder at the medic.

“She hasn’t shifted yet, so we’re not technically done,” the medic explained.

Price glanced down at you, and you shook your head, jaw clenched so tight your teeth ached. “Another time,” Price grunted, gently tugging you off the exam table.

The medic sighed, exasperated but unwilling to fight. “Fine. Make sure she sleeps,” they ordered, moving out of the way. “And eats.”

Price nodded, letting his hand fall from your shoulder. You tried not to focus on that, tried to focus on following him instead. But it was hard. The touch had been grounding, helpful. Helping to pull you back into yourself.

“You should get cleaned up,” Price murmured, heading back towards your quarters. “It’ll help.”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t manage more than that, couldn’t force more out. The numbness was slowly fading, leaving you aching. And tired. So very tired.

Price paused outside your door, studying you. “Do you want someone here?”

You swallowed and forced yourself to nod. You didn’t want to be alone. But you didn’t want anyone looking at you just yet, either.

Price nodded slowly, brow furrowing a little. “I’ll stay,” he rumbled, pushing your door open and ushering you through first. “Get cleaned up, dress down for the evening.”

You nodded wordlessly, slipping past him and grabbing comfortable clothes. You had a bathroom to yourself, something you were extremely grateful for, and you shut the door between yourself and your alpha. And then immediately opened it a crack, because you felt too trapped otherwise.

Hot water felt heavenly, after everything. Getting to scrub your head felt heavenly. Everything else… Well. You definitely overdid it washing yourself, scratching your skin nearly raw in places. You did make yourself bleed again, accidentally breaking open the wound in your arm.

But you finally felt clean enough for the moment and emerged, drying off and wrapping your head in a towel. That would do.

Price was still sitting on your bed when you emerged, phone in hand, though he turned his gaze to you as soon as the door opened. His gaze lingered on your skin, and you knew he was making note of everything. But he didn’t comment.

“Figured we’d go to the pack room,” he said, carefully phrasing it as an option, rather than an order. “Got Gaz and Soap bringing food.”

You nodded. “Food sounds good,” you admitted, walking over to him. You didn’t ask, just plastered yourself to his front, cheek pressed to his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of your alpha. Price hummed softly, one hand cupping the back of your head, his other settling on your back.

“Take as long as you need,” he murmured, low and soothing. “We’ll walk together, hm?”

“Yeah.” You closed your eyes, relaxing into his warmth. Just a minute. You just needed a minute. Price only held you tighter.

You finally pulled back with one last deep breath. “Okay,” you croaked. “Let’s go.”

Price didn’t object, but he did keep you close as the two of you walked to the pack room. Almost nobody was around, which worked out well, because you were starting to use your captain for help staying upright.

No sooner had you stepped into the pack room than you got swarmed. Somehow, you weren’t exactly sure how, they settled you on the couch pressed up against Simon, with Gaz and Soap chattering as they made up plates of food, and Price hovering behind you and Simon.

“Don’t ask,” you murmured to Simon, fairly sure Price could hear too. “Not yet.”

Simon hummed softly, carefully bundling you even closer to his side. “Not yet,” he agreed, about as soft as he ever got.

Gaz and Soap carried the conversation through dinner, both of them settling around you as well until you were entirely enclosed by pack. It should have made you feel better.

It didn’t.

All you could think of were the past eight days. Eight, you discovered when Soap let it slip. Eight days you’d been stuck in that hood and silence but for the jesses, treated like an animal.

It was almost enough to make you sick.

You swallowed down what you could, but ended up leaving food. It was odd - you would have thought you’d be ravenous, after the last days. But you weren’t. You were barely hungry, only ate to try to stave off their concern.

Which didn’t entirely work, from the quick looks and little touches you endured through the evening.

And then you just… settled. Let one of them take your plate when it was obvious you weren’t going to eat more, and relaxed. Simon stayed on one side of you, refusing to move. You leaned more and more into him as your eyes tried to shut, until he simply pulled you in to use his chest as a pillow. You murmured something, half complaint half thanks, and closed your eyes, the soothing sounds of your pack settling around you.

You woke to total darkness.

For a moment you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. If you moved you’d hear those damn bells, and there was no point because you couldn’t get anywhere, you were trapped, and your wings– your wings–

“Hey, hey, s’alright love,” Simon murmured urgently, hands patting at you. Which was when you realized you were keening, breath hitching in your chest. You still couldn’t see but you could feel your pack moving around you.

“Get the lights,” Price ordered. “Simon?”

“Not sure.” Simon put one hand over your chest. “You need to breathe.” It wasn’t until he put your hand against his chest, letting you feel the exaggerated inflation of his lungs that you realized he was talking to you.

The lights flipped on, bright and sudden, and you went limp. You were fine. You were in the pack room. You didn’t have a hood on.

“Love?” Simon leaned closer to you, eyes dark and worried.

“‘M okay,” you gasped, blinking a few times, finally settling back into reality. “Just. A minute.”

Simon didn’t move, just breathing in again. You did your best to follow along, nerves still strung taut from waking the way you did. Soap pressed up close to your side, his head resting near your hip. Your fingers curled gently in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp to help calm yourself. Based on his pleased hum, that’s what he’d wanted in the first place.

“Better?” Price moved carefully closer, doing a quick visual check.

“Yeah.” You licked your lips, very aware of your dry throat now. “Just.” You clenched your jaw. Admitting weakness was never easy, and this was no different. “Couldn’t see.”

Soap lifted his head to look at you. “Sweets,” he started, carefully, like he was feeling for land mines. “Did they keep the hood on ye?”

You swallowed hard. “Except for when they brought me food.”

“Hood?” Gaz asked, handing over a bottle of water to you, expression mostly blank.

“And jesses,” you confirmed before taking a deep drink of water.

“We’ll make sure there’s a light on for you,” Price said, before anyone else could say anything. Which was honestly for the best - you didn’t think you could talk any more about what had happened just yet.

“You should go back to sleep,” you murmured, setting the water bottle down and scratching Soap’s scalp again. “Too early to be up.”

“Hm.” Price tipped his head, looking at you. Then he huffed softly. “Stubborn.”

You only had time to blink before he was settling back in with the rest of you, getting comfortable. The nest was big enough for all of you, because you’d made sure of that, but still.

You didn’t think anyone would manage to get back to sleep, especially with the light on. But they surprised you - Gaz snored gently against Price’s ribs, while Soap used your hip as a pillow. (He always made the oddest choices.) Price didn’t sleep, but he did close his eyes and relax.

Simon just kept you close, his steady breathing helping your own.

Your pack didn’t quite hover the next few days. They did, however, take rotating shifts making sure someone stayed with you. Simon nudged you into the pack room every night. Gaz had pulled up a nightlight from somewhere, the soft yellow light always left on now. They didn’t let you feel ashamed of it, either, though shame still tried to wiggle into your brain.

Things weren’t okay. Wouldn’t be okay for a while. But they were getting better.

Except for your wings.

You managed not to think about it most of the time, focused on staying human and getting through the worst of the aftereffects. Sure, it wasn’t conventional torture, but it was almost worse.

Things finally came to a head when the rest of the pack shifted, Gaz and Soap racing outside immediately, growling playfully at each other. Ghost followed, more placid, looking at you once over his shoulder.

Price stopped in front of you, the bear easily able to meet your gaze. You knew that if he stood up straight on his hind legs, he’d be much taller than you.

“No.” Your smile was small and tight, pained. “You go. I’m not shifting.”

His head tipped, fuzzy little ears flickering back towards the open door and back to you. He grunted softly and nosed your ribs gently.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll come out for a bit.”

Satisfied, he huffed and went first, lumbering out the door. You followed him, briefly squinting against the light before you adjusted.

Gaz and Soap raced across the open space, occasionally trying to trip each other or jump over each other. Soap even got bold enough to bite Ghost’s tail and run for it, angry cat hot on his tail and gaining fast. Price found a nice sunny spot to watch and make sure they didn’t actually go overboard.

Pretty normal. Except for you. You stood stiff and still, watching them and making no effort to join. It was… too much. It wasn’t their fault, or yours. The only people responsible were dead.

None of them looked when you slipped back inside, as quietly as you could. You had one more thing you needed to do, and you needed some privacy to do it.

Your room was far enough from them that you didn’t worry about being found immediately. You carefully took off your clothes, folding them on your bed. One deep breath. Two.

You could do this. Hell, you’d been doing this since you were a child. Nothing would stop you now.

You shifted between breaths, braced for… something. But nothing happened. You didn’t immediately panic.

Okay. So far so good.

You spread your wings carefully, flapping them a few times. You could just see your reflection in the mirror. Your beak was just as sharp, your crest still upright. Bits of downy feathers stuck up from a lack of preening, but you ignored the vague feeling of wrongness. You had something more important to fix.

Your primaries had all been cut on your right wing. Not just some of them. All of them. It would take months for them to molt on their own. Months of being grounded, being flightless, being useless.

The soft, mournful sound ripped free from your throat, and you flapped again. You could hop, maybe get a bit of air. But you couldn’t fly, not like this.

Unless…

No. No, that was a terrible idea.

Except that it wasn’t, really, a terrible idea. The longer you stood there, head tipped, staring at your clipped feathers in the mirror, the more sense it made.

One last deep breath in and you dipped your head, tipping your wing to make it easier. It took a little shuffling and a little preening to get the right feather in your beak.

The first one came out cleanly, a few drips of blood accompanying it. You dropped the shaft to the floor, not giving yourself time to really feel the pain. You just did it again. And again. And again.

Until the floor was littered with blood and snipped feathers, the red stark on the black and white banded feathers. Your wing burned and ached, throbbing in time with your heart, and your chest heaved with your panting, beak open. You felt almost dizzy with it, mind gone blank.

“Sweets?” The panicked yell made you blink and cheep softly, though you didn’t move yet. Your door was unlocked. “Sweets, I smell blood.” Gaz hit the door a moment later, nearly tumbling inside when the door opened easily. He froze when he spotted you, anguish twisting his features. “Oh, Sweets, what did you do?”

You chirped at him, turning carefully, keeping your right wing flared.

Gaz knelt in front of you, ducking down to examine where you’d pulled out your feathers. “Doesn’t look like you’re still bleeding,” he murmured, almost absently preening your feathers. “But why–?”

You chirped at him and picked up one of the feathers by the shaft, showing him the cut end.

“Cut?” He frowned, gaze darting between you and the small pile of feathers, before realization hit. He swallowed hard, rage like a dark thundercloud. “But why pull them?”

You chirped softly, dropping the feather and hopping closer to him. You were not designed for flat floors, dammit, you were designed for trees!

“Do you wanna shift?” Gaz asked, frowning a little at you.

You shook yourself. Now that you’d shifted, you actually felt a little better. Still kind of awful, because you couldn’t fly, but you didn’t feel quite as raw.

He huffed. “Course not,” he agreed with a wry smile. “Can I help you preen?”

You chirped softly again, ducking your head under his hand. He took it as permission, which it was, and began combing through your feathers gently.

“Gonna have to talk to one of us eventually,” he murmured, hands gentle over your injured wing. “Can’t put it off forever.”

You clicked your beak at him and stretched, gently preening his hair. He huffed but allowed it, muttering something about you being a menace.

Gaz ended up letting you perch on his arm as he walked back to the pack room. Price huffed at your wing, gently pulling it to get a better look.

“Did you do this or did they?” His voice was calm, but you knew your alpha. He was not calm.

You chirped softly, looking to Gaz to answer for you.

“She pulled ‘em, but they were clipped.”

“Ah.” Price blew out a breath, fingers gentle as he checked your secondaries. “Force ‘em to come in sooner?”

You chirped a soft affirmative.

“Gonna need to eat more, then.” The look he gave you told you this was not an argument you would win. So you didn’t fight.

You let them take care of you and fuss (not too much), and you just worked on being better.

It took time, but the worst of the nightmares faded. Pitch black still bothered you but it was manageable, rather than panic attack inducing every time.

Things got better.

Your feathers still hadn’t come in yet, but you could be patient a little while longer. You could feel the itch where they were forming and growing. Good enough.

Your first op was supposed to be an easy one. Well. As easy as anything the 141 took on.

You, Price, and Gaz were clearing one building while Soap and Ghost cleared another. It was… not easy, but routine.

Until you stumbled over one man Gaz missed.

The man was in the back of the room, laying low. You probably wouldn’t have spotted him except a bit of light fell right on a very familiar feather. The black and white banding could, hypothetically, have been from any number of birds.

But you knew.

An angry snarl twisted your lips, and you stepped intentionally into the room, barely remembering to call to Price over your shoulder, gaze locked on your target. Your gun was steady on him.

He watched you right back, one hand reaching for a weapon from a fallen comrade in a way he probably thought was stealthy.

The bullet you planted between him and the weapon disabused him of that notion.

“Where did you get that feather?” you asked, voice low and growly. If you weren’t so focused, it would have startled you to hear how furious you sounded.

He looked up at you and grinned, front two teeth missing. You jerked back, body recalling more vividly than your mind the sudden darkness that had followed that grin.

“Easy,” Price murmured from behind you, just to the side. Close enough to support you and take the shot if you needed, but giving you space to do it yourself.

You breathed in deep. And shot him. For many reasons, including not leaving an enemy alive at your back.

But bending down to pull your feather from his shirt was just for you.

“You broken?” Price watched you, giving you space still. Letting you decide.

You tucked the feather in your vest and smiled. “Not today.” You nudged him, tipping your head to rest against his shoulder for just a moment, before you started walking again. “If we finish up before Soap, he promised he’d buy cookies.”

Price’s chuckle followed you out of the room. Gaz called over comms that the building was clear, and Soap started swearing. He and Gaz went back and forth on the matter of the cookies, easy bickering in the middle of everything else.

You just laughed, knowing your pack had you. Always.

#shifter au #f!reader #reader x 141 #john price x reader #simon “ghost” riley x reader #kyle “gaz” garrick x reader #johnny “soap” mactavish x reader

676 notes · View notes

staroaming · 1 year

Text

Confessions

Vash x Reader tags: nsfw, plant-vash biology, female reader, smut, feelings.

// sorry for any mistakes, i'm sleep deprived lmao //

The first time that you saw Vash, you assumed he would be a passing thing, a person who would take up too much space in your mind before fading away like everyone else. That's how it usually goes, anyway.

Funny, you think, that you're so incredibly close to him now. The fact that the two of you happened to meet in a tavern the same night you saw him wandering through town and you helped him escape a gunfight, well, that surely cemented the fact that you would follow him practically anywhere.

Now, nights like this are nothing but an ordinary, pleasant routine. You've both been drinking a bit too much, both relaxing after a long day of travel. You laugh at him as he stumbles around the fire after digging through your pack to pull out blankets, his grin spreading when he finds you right where he left you.

"Good! You're not asleep yet!"

"Not yet." You yawn, "But it is getting pretty late."

He nods and plops down beside you after spreading out a blanket for you both to rest on, spreading his long legs out. You glance down at him, brow raised.

"You're not tired?"

He shrugs, "Nope."

Laughing, you splay onto the blanket beside him. Your arms brush and with that touch, like always, there is a spark, a live wire. You gulp and throw an arm over your eyes, wishing these damn feelings would just go away already.

"You feel sick?" He asks.

"No." You huff, "That's not it."

"What is it, then?"

You lower your arm and look at him, "Can't tell you. Secret."

He blinks in that usual way of his, all wide-eyed. Then, he drags you closer, wrapping his arm around you with gentle strength. You instantly relax, your head dropping to rest on his chest. This is always nice and you should accept it as it is. You should just accept that this is all you'll get and you're fine with that, especially if it means that you won't lose him.

A soft brush of his fingers on your lower back makes your stomach flip. A flutter rises and you gulp, shifting a bit at the tingles running up the length of your spine.

"I can't really go to sleep with you touching me like that."

He lets out a soft noise of surprise, "Oh! Right, sorry."

You chuckle, "I didn't mean that you should stop."

Soon, though albeit slightly hesitantly, the touch returns. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your back, against your ribs and you jolt. The movement brings your crotch closer to his thigh and you let out a soft noise, which leaves you slightly mortified. He goes very still, his touch halting before he continues with seemingly more confidence.

He runs his fingers lower until they're pressing a bit into the dip of your waist. Your hips move against his thigh and you shut your eyes, praying neither of you will remember this in the morning. But you know that, without a doubt, there's no way you won't. Regardless of the drinks, you're both very much aware of what is happening.

You bury your face against his chest as you grind against him softly, your voice more timid than it's ever been when you call his name.

"Is this too much?" He asks, quietly.

"No. No, this is fine."

He laughs, a deep rumble against you. It's different than any laugh you've heard from him before. There's nothing goofy or fake or self-deprecating about it. It's husky. It's heat.

Suddenly, as you begin to feel spikes of pleasure, he stops. You wince and go to pull away, thinking you've overstepped or misunderstood. But he simply keeps holding tight to you as he shifts.

You blink up at him, caged in by his arms, overwhelmed by the sight.

He's flushed, his cheeks rosy and his pupils dilated. His eyes are flitting around your face and dipping, his hand running beneath your thin shirt to travel against the skin beneath. You gulp and open your legs for him to settle better, gasping when he presses against your so fully.

"You make the prettiest sounds." He says, his voice soft and gentle and quiet between the two of you. "I've heard you before, you know. Late at night, when you thought I was sleeping. I never knew what you were thinking about but I hoped-"

He brushes his thumb against your nipple and you bring your hand down to place it atop his, feeling him explore, feeling the way his fingers curl around your breast.

Your voice wavers, "I usually think about you."

At your confession, his eyes shoot up to your own. He presses against you harder, though you aren't sure that he's even aware of it. In a flash, he's lowering his lips to yours, taking over each and every one of your senses. You're consumed by him, by his mouth, by his roaming hands and his tongue. He pushes at your shirt and you loathe the brief moment your lips part as it lifts over your head, moaning when he finds you again. You pant when he begins to trail his lips down the slope of your throat, pressing his teeth and tongue against the rapid beat of your pulse. He brushes over your chest until he's taking a nipple into his mouth and you wish you could do something else with your hands. Instead, you bring them to your mouth as he travels lower and lower, pushing your pants down and off. "I'd like to hear you." He spreads your legs, holding tight to your thighs. He pushes his fingers into the plush of them, his breath ghosting over your core. "Please." You take your hands away and glance down, stomach curling pleasantly when you see him already looking back. He keeps his eyes on you during the first swipe of his tongue against your clit, smiling when you jolt and call out for him. "There you go." He kisses your thigh before dipping, his tongue running along your folds eagerly. You let out an embarrassingly loud yelp but he doesn't let up, not until you're dripping and leaving his mouth and chin shining. He flicks his tongue over and over, sucking at your clit, pushing in deep. Your thighs begin to quiver and he presses harder, no doubt leaving impressions and bruises. You don't mind. On the contrary, you hope they linger for days after this. Just as you're drawing close to the edge, he rises. He trails kisses back up, pressing his lips into your soft stomach, grabbing hungrily at your hips and plush sides. When you open your mouth for him, he tastes like you. The kiss is heavy and slick, breath hot between the two of you, both of you tasting like alcohol and sweets. You bring your hands down blindly, searching for the loops of his belt, for the pop of the button. When his shirt goes, you trail your touch over his scars. You shiver and you press a kiss pointedly against a deep one on his chest, making sure he knows that you aren't put off by any of it. When you look up at him, he is looking down at you. "Are you-" "If you're going to ask if I'm sure," You raise your legs, eyes fluttering at the touch of his tip on your entrance. "then, yes. I'm very sure. I've been sure for ages now." He snorts a laugh and nods, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as he begins to push in. Immediately, you notice that his dick feels...different. You've only been with two other people and although each time had been less than extraordinary, you know what a dick feels like. You glance down between your bodies, eyes catching on the feint luminescent glow as it buries inside of you. Ridges catch and tug but it isn't unpleasant. Instead, as he seems to shift inside of you, you feel an intense burst of unexpected pleasure. You gasp and grab onto his upper arms, digging in, mumbling an apology but unable to loosen your grip. He presses your chests together, teeth brushing against your throat before he bites, just once, just hard enough to make you arch against him. This makes it much easier for him to push inside of you entirely, both of you pausing. You feel the shift within you and it's all hard and velvet and there's something moving against your clit- "Vash." You moan, "It's...I'm-" He begins to thrust but the attention to your clit doesn't leave and when you open your eyes, you see that his hands are planted on either side of your head. Whatever is brushing repeatedly over you is part of him, undulating and stimulating. "Feel good?" He asks breathlessly, jolting you up and down with his thrusts. "Do you need me to stop?" "No, please." You shut your eyes again, bursts of pleasure radiating throughout your body. "Keep going, Vash, please." He thrusts harder, his dick prodding at the plush, spongy part inside of you. His breathing has thickened as he buries his face against your throat, tongue brushing the bite, his teeth grazing it. "So pretty." He says, his hips snapping as your breasts bounce against his chest. "You're just-" You gasp loudly as he reaches a hand down and grabs hold of your hip, digging his fingers deeply. "You've always been so beautiful." You gulp, strong emotions swamping you. You'd never accepted what you've known for months now: that you like him immensely, that you love him deeply. "I think," You try to speak between the thrusts, eyes rolling as he pierces a part of you that makes you see fucking stars. "I think I'm in love with you, Vash." He speeds up, his voice a whimper, his lips finding yours. He breathes against you, he whispers things you can't understand and suddenly, all at once, you are falling to absolute pieces. Your entire body shakes as your orgasm overwhelms you. You tighten around him and he groans, pushing hard, pushing so damn deep. Your lashes flutter and your eyes grow damp with the overwhelming feeling. In a flash, which you will later blame on euphoria, you think you see the spread of the cosmos sprouting from his back. There are feathers and there are stars and whisps, dark like gunsmoke, spreading above the two of you. Blanketing you from the world. He spills inside of you. It's hot and it's thick and you feel him grind into you over and over as if chasing the feeling to the last possible moment. The entire world goes quiet, all a buzz and vibration, as slowly you return from such a height. When you're back to yourself, you feel him sliding in and out of you slowly. He's growing soft inside of you but neither of you wants to part. You wrap your legs around him, keeping him close until you can't anymore. You glance down and see the bioluminescence spill out of you. He drops his head to your chest, skin slick and damp with sweat. Luckily, the desert is always cold at night. It cools you both down until bumps are breaking out on your skin and Vash is grabbing another blanket, sliding out of you to wrap you both up within it. The fire has begun to burn low but you know he'll get up at some point to keep it going. For now, however, you're glad that you can turn in his arms and bury yourself against him. Your confession returns to the forefront of your mind and you think you might be sick, that you might wake up and find him gone now that the truth is out. You do your best to pretend that you've already fallen asleep, evening out your breaths and losing the tension in your shoulders. After a while, you assumed he would unwrap himself from you. But instead, he continues to hold you close, pressing kisses on the top of your head, his voice low and soft. "I love you too." He brushes a thumb against your jaw and traces the slope of your cheek. Those words, confessed beneath the stars and within the endless dunes, ease your worries. You nuzzle closer, hoping he thinks you're doing it unconsciously. Tomorrow, you're sure you'll both need to talk. But for now, as you allow yourself to be held so tenderly, you finally succumb to a deep, much-needed sleep.

#vash x reader #vash x y/n #vash x you #trigun stampede smut #trigun stampede fic #trigun smut

1K notes · View notes