wittysunflower

[wittysunflower]

Confidence, Part 1

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 2

Pairing: Sex Worker!Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “What should I call you?” | [Master | Alpha | Pet] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (7k) AU Bucky is a full-service sex worker who enjoys helping women become more confident in their sexuality.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Mention of an ex-boyfriend. Mention of insecurities/body image. Pet names (sweetheart, baby). Lots of asking for consent. Teasing. Dirty talk. Praise. Issues climaxing. Oral & fingering (f receiving).

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The end of a long-term relationship had led her here. Years of unhappiness. Years of feeling unsatisfied by her ex. Years of wishing things would change. 

After she finally found the courage to end things, the breath of relief she thought would come never did. Instead, she was left feeling lost, insecure, and unsure about what she wanted or who she even was.

That’s when a friend referred her to Bucky. 

A full-service sex worker who came highly recommended. A man who believes that there’s something inherently beautiful about everyone.

“I’ve worked with all types of women,” he assured her, “and I’ve found every single one of them attractive.”

It sounded like a line, but all the evidence pointed to the contrary. 

Bucky’s not just doing this to make money. He truly enjoys what he does. The physical part of it, sure - he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t - but, it’s the emotional aspect that keeps bringing him back.

There’s nothing like the rush he gets from watching a woman find her confidence and blossom under his guidance. That moment when they finally feel comfortable enough to let go of their inhibitions and learn to trust themselves.

It’s a heady feeling, knowing he’s changing their lives forever, and it’s not something he takes lightly.

Over the last few weeks of emails, texts, and phone calls, she found it easy to talk to Bucky about what she wanted out of this experience. Sex is supposed to be fun, and she wants to be able to enjoy herself without worrying about how she looks or if she’s doing the wrong thing.

Even during the more personal topics, like when they discussed what her sex life was like with her ex, Bucky never made her feel ashamed or judged. Her lack of experience and seemingly lack of enthusiasm for certain acts, due to her ex, didn’t make him blink an eye.

If anything, it made Bucky more intrigued to work with her. She was a puzzle he was going to enjoy help figuring out.

Despite his intimidating appearance - his well-defined muscles and the abundance of tattoos, his entire left arm covered in intricate designs - his charismatic personality keeps her relaxed.

His easy-going nature helps her open up as they sit on the couch in the beautifully decorated hotel room, giving her the courage to blurt out a question, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks when she does.

“What should I call you?”

During their last conversation, Bucky had asked her something similar, curious if she would enjoy being called something other than her name. She settled on a few things, but they never discussed what - if anything - she should call him.

With a tilt of his head, and a warm smile, he tells her, “You can call me whatever you’d like.” 

The hand that’s been resting on the back of the couch finally moves closer to her, his fingers just inches from her shoulder, making her breath hitch.

“Try not to overthink it,” he continues, his hand drifting closer as his smile turns playful. “Let the throes of passion guide you. I’m good with anything, really. ‘Bucky’. ‘Baby’. ‘Sir’. ‘Daddy’, if that’s your kink.”

She immediately laughs, the pink on her cheeks darkening as she shakes her head at him. She’s just starting to figure out what she might like with a partner, she’s not ready to even consider the last two options. 

Bucky’s grin grows and he nods his head in understanding, happy to see that his teasing tone is helping to relax her a bit more. It encourages him to shift a bit closer, his knee just barely brushing against her thigh. 

Their layers of clothing do nothing to dampen the rush of arousal she suddenly feels, and she waits with baited breath as his hand hovers over her shoulder, his fingertips almost close enough to touch her shirt.

“Can I touch you?”

It’s such a simple question, but it’s in this moment that she finally understands the phrase ‘consent is sexy.’

There’s something so incredibly intimate and arousing about Bucky asking for permission, despite the obvious reason he’s here. 

He accepts the slight nod of her head and the soft whisper of ‘yes’ for now. Eventually, he’ll help her find her voice and figure out how to ask for what she wants.

Until then, he needs to find a balance between her obvious desire for more and showing her that it’s okay to go slow.

She deserves to have someone take their time with her, to learn her body, to help her figure out what brings her pleasure. 

She knows what she likes when she’s by herself - that’s never been the problem - it’s allowing herself to be vulnerable with someone that’s the issue. She’s always struggled with being able to fully enjoy the moment, and she’s trusting Bucky to help her learn how to do that.

Goosebumps spread across her skin at the first brush of his thumb along the soft curve where her shoulder meets her neck. A soft exhale and a flutter of her eyelashes tells him all he needs to know, but he still asks, his voice a low murmur.

“Is this okay?”

She’s quick with her answer. A slight nod before she tilts her head, wanting him to keep going. He’s more than happy to, his eyes roaming along her body as he caresses her neck, taking in all the subtle ways her body responds to her touch.

“Does that feel good?”

It shouldn’t make her laugh, but it does. Bucky doesn’t take offense though, just watches her with a grin on his face, his hand never leaving her. 

“Why does it turn me on when you ask questions like that?” She’s surprised she manages to get the words out, but any nerves that threaten to consume her are immediately alleviated when Bucky’s smile grows.

She can practically feel how proud he is of her for asking.

He was already excited about working with her, but this just solidifies it. He can’t wait to watch her come out of her shell even more. 

As his thumb dips down to trace over her collarbone, he tells her, “I think it’s because it shows you that I care about what you want. That your pleasure is important to me.”

After an audible swallow, and a steadying breath, she admits, “I think I just also like hearing your voice.”

Her confession makes Bucky laugh, the smile reaching his eyes, and he nods his head, “Good to know.” He shifts just a bit closer on the couch, his leg resting against hers, his thumb slowly following a path up to her chin. “Does that mean you wanna try some dirty talk?”

She immediately blushes again, but with his thumb caressing the curve of her throat, she’s forced to keep her head held high. 

It manages to give her a boost of confidence, and she lets out a soft laugh, confessing, “Oh god, I’d be terrible at it.”

Bucky chuckles along with her but shakes his head. “Oh don’t worry, you wouldn’t have to say a thing.” His thumb brushes over her chin, almost close enough to touch her lip. “I’d enjoy just watching your reactions.”

He always seems to know just what to say to ease her worries before they can even start. The moment his eyes glance at her mouth, her lips part, and she leans in, just a fraction of an itch. 

The smile on Bucky’s face brightens, and he shifts again, mirroring her movements, but he’s not going to kiss her just yet, wanting the anticipation to build a little more. Instead, he repeats his question, softly asking her, “Do you want me to talk dirty to you?”

The slight shudder that rolls through her would make her feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the hungry look he’s giving her. Her reactions are turning him on, and it helps her find her voice again.

“Yes.” 

With a tender touch, Bucky tucks her hair behind her ear, and all her senses are suddenly flooded by him - the smell of him, the heat of him, the sound of his voice whispering in her ear.

“Do you want me to praise you?” The question catches her off guard, but she’s suddenly aware of the way her nipples tighten, especially when he asks, “Can I tell you how good you’re doing?”

She wants his attention. She wants to be comfortable with someone complimenting her and praising her. So, with a slow nod of her head, she whispers another soft, “yes.”

But, Bucky hears the difference this time. The word just a bit louder, a bit more confident. She’s trying her hardest to allow herself to face her fears, and he wants her to know that he sees her. That he’s proud of how far she’s already come.

After getting her permission to touch more of her, he takes her hand in his, stroking his thumb across her palm, listening to the change in her breath. Without ever pulling away, he keeps talking, his mouth almost close enough to touch her ear.

“You’re doing so good for me.” 

The praise makes warmth pool in her belly and the softest noise of pleasure escapes her. 

“Oh,” he murmurs, his touch sliding higher, the pad of his thumb tracing the inside of her wrist. “I like that sound.”

She feels like she’s dreaming. Bucky’s barely started touching her, and she can already feel the wetness between her thighs, the ache for more.

“Let’s see what other kind of noises you can make for me,” he says, his soft beard brushing against her jaw. With one hand stroking up her forearm, his other hand slides into her hair to support her head, giving him better access.

She’s sure her heart is beating loud enough for him to hear, but she makes no move to pull away, not wanting to give him any reason to stop. Her head is flooded with thoughts of what he’s going to do, how he’s going to touch her, but he still takes her by surprise.

Just the softest brush of Bucky’s lips against her cheek before he’s asking, “is this okay?” and she’s a mess. 

She doesn’t even recognize the sound that comes out of her, and without thinking, she reaches for him, her fingers trailing over the front of his shirt.

Bucky rewards her confidence with another soft kiss along her jaw, and she suddenly decides to jump in with both feet, asking him, “Will you kiss me?” 

The question’s been building all evening, trying to work its way out of her, and his reaction to it makes her wonder why she was hesitant to start with.

“Absolutely.” The way he says it, like he’s just been waiting for her, makes her laugh softly, and he grins as he pulls back just enough to meet her gaze. “I would love to kiss you.” 

And the way he kisses her makes her believe him. His mouth soon coaxing hers open, his tongue seeking permission to deepen the kiss, a soft groan rumbling deep in his chest in response to the taste of her. 

It’s all so new and exciting, but somehow Bucky’s able to make it feel familiar and comfortable. And for the first time in what feels like forever, she’s not in her head about what’s happening or what she’s supposed to be doing. 

She’s just living in the moment, making out with an incredibly hot guy, welcoming his weight on top of her. 

If there was ever any doubt that he was enjoying himself, it’s erased when he settles between her thighs, letting her feel how turned on he is.

The moan she makes in return just makes him harder, and he leans up, meeting her gaze, a soft smile on his lips. As much as Bucky's enjoying kissing her, he wants to hear her, watch her as the pleasure takes over. 

She’s not sure who moves first, but with a slight tilt of her hips, the hard length of him is suddenly pressed right against her clit, eliciting a soft gasp from her. 

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the two of them still completely dressed, but the moment he starts to move against her, her back is already arching, her body seeking out more.

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of her, watching her closely. She doesn’t even realize it, but she’s the one setting the pace here. He’s just following her lead, matching her movements with his own, wanting her to show him what feels good to her.

When he can see the attention he’s giving her is starting to overwhelm her, he closes the distance, placing soft kisses along her jaw, giving her time to relax all over again. 

With a soft moan right against her ear, he tells her, “You feel so good like this.” His fingers tighten in her hair at her reaction, her tense thighs and lift of her hips causing his cock to throb between them. “Can you feel how hard I am for you?”

“Oh god,” she breathes, grinding harder against him, his words sending a burst of pleasure straight to her clit. With her hands pressed against his back, fisting his shirt, she quickly nods her head, whispering, “Yes. Please.”

That’s the word he’s been waiting for. 

Please. 

Bucky’s free hand travels down to her thigh, guiding her to lift her leg just a bit higher. The new position makes her gasp and he groans against her neck, asking her, “Please, what?” 

Her body shudders as he starts moving again, the increased pressure between her thighs making her breath catch. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for. She just holds onto him, her hips moving a bit faster, the pleasure building inside of her.

Bucky still wants an answer, but he doesn’t pressure her for one. He follows her lead, listening to her gasps and moans get louder with each thrust of his hips against hers. He’s pretty sure this might be enough to make her come.

The same thought is running through her head, but it’s not long before the moment starts to catch up with her. 

The way she’s starting to sweat underneath her clothes, the way her heavy breathing has caused her throat to go dry, the way her foot keeps slipping off the edge of the couch as she tries to find purchase.

This time it doesn’t surprise her when his voice interrupts her thoughts, asking her, “Can you tell me what you need?” All he wants is for her to be comfortable, and if she’s not feeling this anymore, he’s more than happy to find something that works for her.

She knows what she needs. The only problem is that it’s the one thing that’s been giving her the most anxiety about this night. 

Being naked with him. Being vulnerable. Having to trust him to prove to her that she deserves to have someone bring her pleasure.

Bucky is more than up for the challenge though. His entire goal for the night is to show her how good it can be to have someone take care of her. To show her how much pleasure someone can bring her, if she just allows herself to connect with them.

Soon, he’s leading them to stand at the foot of the bed, taking his time to get her to relax against him, drawing her into a kiss that leaves them both breathless. 

And with just a bit of encouragement, she’s makes the first move, slowly lifting his shirt over his head. While her hands start exploring his newly exposed skin, tracing the lines of the tattoos that cover his shoulder and left arm, he pulls her into another kiss, groaning against her mouth. 

She doesn’t know what’s come over her. She’s never felt this confident before, refusing to overthink how she’s touching him, letting her desire for him guide her. It’s opening her up to so many possibilities, the memory of their conversations about boundaries and kinks suddenly flashing through her mind.

As she encourages him to help her out of her shirt, she softly asks him, “What if I change my mind about something we’ve already discussed?”

It’s clear to Bucky that she’s not asking about things she’s already said she wants, and he takes a moment to consider her question, appreciating the way her nipples strain against her bra.

It’s not lost on him that she makes no move to try to cover up or hide herself from him.

After he gives her another kiss, he meets her gaze, watching her as his finger traces along her bra strap, the back of his fingers brushing across the swell of her breast. 

He smiles when her lips part, her breath quickening, and he whispers, “Then you tell me. Tonight’s about learning to ask for what you want.”

She nods her head slowly, but her voice leaves her for a moment. Her entire focus is on his touch, his fingers teasing along the edge of her bra, the occasional brush of his skin against hers making her dizzy with need. She’s not sure she’s ever been this turned on before, especially not during foreplay.

“What is it you think you might want?” 

Bucky remembers everything she said no to - everything she knew she wouldn’t like, or didn’t want to try - and he can’t ignore the rush of excitement at the thought that he’s made her comfortable enough to try something she wasn’t sure about before.

It’s not until she’s helped him out of his jeans, leaving him in just his boxer briefs, that she finally figures out how to voice her desires. It helps that he chooses the same moment to kneel in front of her to undo her jeans, the soft brush of his fingers against her stomach bringing her nothing but pleasure.

“I did what you suggested,” she begins, her hand resting on his shoulder as he starts to lower her jeans, his eyes briefly looking up at her, a pleased smirk on his face as he reveals the matching panties to her bra. “The other night,” she whispers, watching as he slowly undresses her, helping her step out of her jeans. “I tasted myself.”

Bucky doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it’s not that. 

His hands immediately reach up to hold her hips, his thumbs dipping underneath the waistband of her panties as he lets out a soft groan. The image of her alone in her own bed, touching herself, tasting herself for the first time has him silently praying that this is going where he thinks it is.

He somehow manages to keep his composure and looks up at her, his eyes dark with desire, but his voice steady. “What did you think?”

She’s the one that brought this up, but her skin still grows warm and a soft laugh comes out of her. She’s trying so hard not to overthink all of this - to not let her insecurities start to overwhelm her.

Bucky helps her through this moment, like he’s done all evening. Still kneeling in front of her, he slides his hands down her thick thighs and gently asks, “Do you like the way you taste?” 

Her first reaction is to give him a slight shrug, her eyes looking past him. But he quickly gets her attention, finding a sensitive spot along the back of her thigh, the graze of his fingers causing her breath to shudder out of her. 

It has the desired effect, and she nods her head, whispering, “Yes.”

Bucky continues watching her as he caresses the back of her thighs, marveling at the way it causes obvious pleasure to ripple through her, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Do you think I’d like the way you taste?”

There’s no doubt in his mind that he will, but this isn’t really about him. Bucky needs her to get there on her own, to believe that someone wants all of her. 

She wants to shrug again. To brush off his question and keep her eyes closed, pretending that he’s not watching her right now. But, she can’t. That’s not why she’s here. That’s not why Bucky is here. 

After she forces herself to take a slow, deep breath, she finally opens her eyes and looks down at him. The confidence she wishes for isn’t there yet, but she’s able to answer him honestly. 

A soft whisper of, “I’m not sure.” And then, a barely audible utterance of, “Maybe.”

Without hesitation, his hands slide up the outside of her thighs, returning to her hips, his fingers tracing along the edge of her panties. “Do you want me to taste you?” 

She forgets how to breathe, air getting trapped in her lungs as she tries not to look away. She just needs to ask for what she wants. It should be easy by now. She’s already standing in front of him in just her bra and underwear, letting him see the bits of her that she’s uncomfortable with.

But, for a moment, the words still don’t come. Her hands remain on his shoulders, her nails lightly scratching along his tattooed skin as she tries to refocus. This time, Bucky remains quiet. He just continues to look up at her, giving her as much time as she needs to show him she’s ready for this.

This is something her ex never volunteered to do, and she was always too shy to ask, but she doesn’t want to be shy anymore. 

She wants to own her sexuality. She wants to be able to ask for what she wants in her next relationship, even new things she might not even know she wants yet.

With a slight nod of her head, and another trembling breath, she tells him, “Yes. I want… I want that.” 

Bucky doesn’t move yet. The look he gives her conveys how proud he is of her, but he wants to hear her say the actual words. Instead of just expecting her to know what to say, he asks her, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She swallows the nervous laughter that threatens to spill out and takes a moment to close her eyes, trying to compose herself. How can such a simple term of endearment cause her so much pleasure? 

That’s not what she says though. When her mouth opens, the words come before she can overthink them. “I want you to taste me.”

“Oh, good girl.” Bucky’s growl of praise almost has her collapsing into a puddle, but his hands on her hips keep her steady. Not wanting to lose the momentum she’s building, he slides his hands up her back to her bra, asking her, “Can I take this off?”

She’s already made it this far, the intensity of her insecurities starting to lessen each time she reveals more of herself to him. With a nod of her head, she gives him permission, unable to look away as he slowly unhooks her bra, his fingers immediately rubbing along the indentations left behind.

The soft moan of relief she makes has him grinning up at her, and he slowly slides the straps down her arms, giving her a moment to adjust to this new level of vulnerability.

With his gaze still on her face, he tosses her bra aside to join the rest of their clothes and softly asks her, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please.” The words come easily this time, despite her nerves trying to get the better of her. She’s insecure about her breasts, gravity having caught up to her before she thought it would, and she finds herself wanting his approval.

In reality, it doesn’t matter what he thinks of her body, but he’s more than happy to help her see what he sees.

Matching his pace of the entire evening, his fingers brush along the sides of her breasts, the feather-light touch causing her nipples to pebble.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells her, unable to tear his gaze away from the way her body immediately arches towards his touch.

Bucky’s given her no reason to doubt his words, and the moment he cups her breast in his hand, her fingers slide into his hair as if to guide him closer.

He doesn’t make her ask for it this time, and she barely registers his breath on her skin before his tongue flicks out to lick her nipple.

The sound she makes causes his cock to twitch and he wastes no time trying to bring more of those noises out of her.

With his heavily-tattooed arm wrapped around her to support her, he immediately closes his lips around the erect bud, his free hand moving to her other nipple. 

It’s like he’s on a mission to see just how loud he can make her get before she demands more from him.

It doesn’t take long, her body trembling against him, both her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands.

“Bucky,” she moans, meeting his gaze as he switches sides, his fingers now playing with her saliva-slick nipple. 

All he does is grin at her in return, the gentle scrape of his teeth giving her the last push she needs. He can practically see the last of her walls starting to crumble, and as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, she manages to surprise him yet again.

“Please,” she pleads, unable to hide how breathless he’s already made her. “I want you to taste me.”

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groans against her breast. He immediately pulls back and slides his hand up to wrap his fingers around her throat, his tender touch adding to her pleasure. “Is that what you need, baby? You want me to lick your pussy?”

All it takes is a quick confirmation from her and he’s guiding her onto the bed, more than ready to show her what she’s been missing out on. 

Within just a few moments, he has her naked and writhing underneath him, his mouth starting at her neck, taking his time to kiss down her soft curves.

By the time he’s placing kisses along her inner thighs, she’s forgotten about all the reasons why she almost didn’t ask for this. All thoughts about her ex-boyfriend are gone, as are her insecurities, and she runs her fingers through his hair, whining softly, “Please.”

Bucky will never tire of hearing that word. And with one last glance up at her, he helps her push her thighs back a bit more, giving him the perfect view of her pussy. 

“Mmm.” The groan that leaves him makes her pulse, her hips shifting underneath his hold, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “Eager, are we?” he teases, taking a moment to give her thigh another soft kiss, his beard tickling her pussy.

The question should make her blush - and any other time it would - but Bucky’s good at what he does. He’s somehow made her comfortable enough that not only does she not blush, she actually laughs. With a grin on her face, she quickly nods her head and tells him, “Yes. I am.”

Bucky’s so proud of her. She’s already come so far, and he quickly praises her with a soft rumble of, “Good girl.” 

And then he’s rewarding her, the slow swipe of his tongue along her slit immediately reducing her to a low whine of, “Oh my god.” He repeats the action, licking her from her dripping entrance up to her clit, teasing the bud with just the tip of his tongue.

“Oh my god.” She’s not sure she knows how to say anything else right now. She’s barely breathing at this point anyway, her entire body tense with anticipation.

And then he has the nerve to pull away, giving her another grin to tell her, “You were right.” 

She blinks, her hands fisting the sheets, her legs already shaking. All she can think about is having his mouth back on her pussy. She has no clue what he’s talking about.

“You taste so fucking good.”

Oh.

She’s not sure she even says anything, but it doesn’t matter because he dips his head back down and gets back to work, tasting her again.

Bucky alternates between long, slow licks and sliding his tongue deep inside of her, wiggling the muscle along her walls. He’s paying attention to all the ways she reacts to what he’s doing, repeating every action that makes her moan or shudder.

She gets lost in the moment, unsure of what to do with her hands, one gripping the sheets while the other holds her ankle, keeping herself spread for him. 

She can feel her pleasure building, but the longer he’s between her thighs, the more her insecurities start to resurface. Maybe this isn’t going to happen. No one’s been able to make her come before.

She’s always been responsible for her own orgasm, and while Bucky seems confident in his abilities, her doubt is starting to creep back up. 

When he returns his attention back to her clit, Bucky dragging the flat of his tongue over the bundle of nerves, she whispers his name. She feels compelled to apologize, like she’s wasting his time, but the only thing she can get out is, “I can’t.”

He pauses, but doesn’t pull his hands away, his fingers slick with her arousal as he looks up at her. Recognizing the confusion and embarrassment on her face, he realizes one crucial mistake he’s made. 

Bucky indulges himself with one more lick before he sets her at ease, explaining, “I’m not trying to make you come yet, baby. I just wanted to taste you, see what you like first.” His thumb teases over her clit as he kisses the soft skin of her inner thigh and asks her, “Is that okay?”

Just like that, he manages to get her back into the right headspace.

After a slow nod of her head, he’s bringing her pleasure again, exploring every inch of her pussy. He's enjoying taking his time, finding all the ways she likes to be touched, learning her body so he can give her what she needs. 

He’s also teasing her. Using his knowledge to make her more desperate. He hopes to get her to the point where she can ask for everything she wants without having to get this overwhelmed.

After his mouth moves away from her clit to lick across her entrance, he hears the change in her breathing. His quick glance shows him that her hands have moved to her tits, her fingers tugging at her nipples, and it tells him everything he needs to know.

Bucky returns his tongue to her clit, slowly circling the swollen bud before closing his lips around it, the soft suction causing her back to arch and she quickly nods her head, whispering, “oh god, please.”

But he pulls away again, her soft gasping whine proving he’s on the right track. She’s almost there. Just another quick tease of his tongue sliding inside of her, then back to suckling on her clit. That’s all it takes.

Her hand comes down to his head, fingers gripping his hair, as she breathlessly begs him, “Yes. Please. Just like that.”

This time, Bucky doesn’t move or pull away. He groans against her, unable to stop his hips from grinding against the mattress, her words sending pleasure straight to his cock. 

With each flick of his tongue, her noises get louder, the coil in her belly growing tighter.

She might actually come from this. Bucky might actually be able to make her come. 

That’s all she can think about. 

One hand in his hair, the other back to white-knuckling the sheet, using it for leverage to grind herself against his mouth. She can feel the pressure building, her muscles growing taut, her legs shaking uncontrollably. 

She’s going to come.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, seemingly unable to say anything else again. But Bucky still doesn’t change anything he’s doing, staying exactly where he is, his tongue never stopping. “Oh my god,” she repeats, nodding her head, desperate for this to happen.

It’s her downfall.

Just when she thinks it’s finally going to happen for her, the feeling suddenly starts to fade. The whine that leaves her, coupled with the frustrated, “No” has her quickly covering her flushed face.

The last thing Bucky wants is for her to think she’s done anything wrong. Or, even worse, that there’s something wrong with her. Because, there isn’t.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, peppering kisses along her thighs. His thumb returns to her clit, Bucky wanting to keep her pleasure building towards that peak again, and he tells her, “It’s okay. Sometimes we can get in our head. And sometimes... it’s just because we need more.”

She’s able to lower her hands away from her face to look down at him. It’s obvious he’s still enjoying himself, and all he wants is for her to be right there with him. It still takes her a moment of slow breathing for her to finally nod her head at him.

“Can you tell me what you think you need right now?” His slick thumb glides over her clit again before dipping down between her folds, teasing across her entrance. 

Her body immediately responds, her hips seeking out more, wanting him inside of her. 

Bucky tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at her, the smile on his face growing. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” 

It does the trick. With another shift of her hips, and more teasing pressure from his thumb, she nods her head. She doesn’t know how, but the words spill out of her without a second thought. “Fuck me, please.”

It takes every once of his control not to immediately let his thumb sink inside of her. She’s so wet, just begging to be filled, but it’s the perfect time to get her to verbalize her needs.

Bucky sits up on his knees just a bit, circling his thumb against her entrance before sliding it back up to her clit. He interrupts her needy whine with, “How do you want me to fuck you?”

She knows what he’s doing. And she’s incredibly grateful for it. Between quick and shallow breaths, she tells him, “With your fingers. Please.”

He tests her resolve, watching her closely as he starts to rub his thumb against her again, almost pushing inside of her. She immediately shakes her head and he pauses, a grin lighting up his face.

Bucky doesn’t even have to ask, she’s more than willing to tell him exactly what she wants. Her words coming quickly. “Please. Fuck me with your fingers. Two of them.”

His growl of praise immediately floods her brain, causing pleasure to radiate from her core. “Oh good girl,” he tells her, more than ready to give her what she wants,  “I’m so proud of you.” 

The cry that comes out of her as he fills her is unlike anything she’s ever made before. Her back arches and she reaches for him, grabbing his tattooed hand as his two thick fingers immediately find the spot that always seemed to allude others.

Bucky has every intention of tasting her again, planning to make her come with his mouth on her clit while he fucks her with his fingers.

He just wants to take a moment to watch her, enjoying the way the curl of his fingers causes her to gasp. His own body throbbing with pleasure as he strokes along her front wall, drawing more noises from her.

“You are so fucking hot,” he moans, interlocking their fingers as his gaze travels along her body from her thighs to her face, his cock leaking pre-cum at the sight of her.

When she’s able to accept his compliment without looking away, he increases the pressure, listening to the sounds of her wetness fill the air. 

She’s finally at that point that he promised she’d get to. Where she feels nothing but pleasure, able to bask in the connection they’re sharing.

“I wanna come for you.” There’s nothing quiet about her request, even as she struggles to get the words out between her soft gasps and moans.

“You really are incredible,” he tells her, eagerly returning to his earlier position, his head between her thighs. 

With his fingers still deep inside of her, he presses his tattooed arm against her thigh and places his palm flat against her lower stomach, using his fingers to spread her, exposing her clit.

She welcomes his touch, not a care in the world about how exposed she feels or how his hand digs into her soft belly. In fact, she doesn’t care how she looks at all. All she cares about his how close his mouth is to her pussy again, the feel of his warm breath making her whisper, “Please.”

Bucky glances up at her, a serious look on his face, quieting her pleading for the moment. 

“There’s no rush here, do you understand?” He accepts the slight nod of her head before continuing, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “If I need a break, I’ll tell you. Until then,” his raises his eyebrows in excitement, “let’s just enjoy ourselves, yeah?”

She’s quick to agree, forcing herself to relax, resting her head against the pillow. She doesn’t even try to keep her eyes open anymore, the return of his tongue to her clit practically making her forget her name. 

With the pressure of his fingers inside of her, rubbing against her g-spot, there’s suddenly not a doubt in her mind that Bucky’s going to make her come.

It still rushes up on her quickly, her senses completely overloaded - the obscene noises his mouth makes against her clit, the slight scratch of his beard on her pussy, the smell of sex lingering in the air.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasps, one hand on her breast, the other on his head, gripping his hair. “Please don’t stop.”

He actually has the audacity to laugh against her, but he has no intentions of stopping. The rhythm of his tongue never changes, Bucky already knowing exactly how to lick her to get her there. 

She allows herself to be consumed by the pleasure he’s giving her, and the moment her hips start to move faster against him, her thighs threatening to close, the groan he makes causes her to fall over the edge.

Bucky keeps her held down, even as her body bucks against him, using his strength to keep his mouth on her clit and his fingers buried inside of her. 

She’s so tight, barely allowing fingers to move at all, but it doesn’t matter, he just keeps stroking her g-spot, prolonging her pleasure as long as she’ll let him. 

It feels like it lasts forever, her body riding out the waves until she’s left a wrecked, trembling mess, incoherent words escaping her lips.

Once Bucky’s sure she’s had as much as she can take, he quickly kisses up her body to pull her into his arms. She wraps herself around him, clinging to him, burying her face against him as he soothes her with soft words of praise.

“You did so good for me.”

“Such a good girl.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

As her body starts to relax, she welcomes his mouth on hers, moaning at the taste of her arousal on his lips. It makes her want more and it’s not long before her hips move underneath him, grinding herself against his covered erection.

Bucky rests his forehead against hers and lets out his own moan of pleasure, his neglected cock wanting nothing more than to fuck her and feel her come. He won’t do anything unless she asks for it though.

The look she’s giving him tells him she knows exactly what’s going through his mind. But, she doesn’t ask him to fuck her. Not yet.

First, she asks for something else - something she thought she wouldn’t want to do, her request catching Bucky off guard, causing his hips to thrust against her.

“Can I suck your cock?”

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

Next Part

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[wittysunflower]

Not My Type

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Bucky is dumb.

Warnings: Fatphobia.

A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭

Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.

“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.

“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.

You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.

“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.

You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.

You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, “You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.

“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.

Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.

You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.

“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.

•••••••

You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”

“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”

“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”

“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.

An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.

“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.

You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.

When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.

You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.

He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.

“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.

Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.

“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.

“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.

You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”

He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.

“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.

“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.

“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.

You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.

You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.

He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.

Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.

A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.

[wittysunflower]

Right Here, Waiting

Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Fem!Reader

PART 2 > >

Summary: You’re pining after your insanely attractive roommate, but are convinced he doesn’t feel the same way.

Prompts: Roommate AU for @avengers-assemble-bingo’s 108th Birthday Celebration & you can’t lose something you never had for @elixirfromthestars’s cinema writing challenge 🎥

Warnings: strictly 18+, talk of sex, TRIGGER WARNING internal monologue references reader having issues with weight & eating, sucking in her stomach, VERY insecure reader, angst in the form of belief of unrequited love, jealousy, idiots in love

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: as the winner of this very close poll, here is a little roommate AU with our beloved Bucky 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

“You’re telling me you share an apartment with a man who looks like that and you haven’t fucked him?” Natasha stares after your roommate as he heads to the bar to grab the drink he promised to purchase you for losing a bet the weekend before.

“Men and women can just be friends you know.”

“If my roommate looked like yours, I’d be jumping his bones every chance I got.”

He’s way out of my league, and as much as I might want him, he doesn’t think of me like that, is the rather depressing thought that has been replayed on loop in your mind since the devilishly attractive yet sweet as an angel Bucky Barnes moved in with you.

But instead of voicing aloud your insecurity, you simply hum in agreement. It’s easier than trying to explain your one sided crush that’s only ever going to end in heartache.

“Well if you’re not interested, do you mind if I go for it? Pretty sure he’d be the best sex of my life.” Your heart drops through your stomach like an anvil. The thought of Bucky being intimate with anyone, let alone your best friend, is enough to send you into a spiral.

Nat’s much more the type he’d go for anyway, beautiful, skinny, quick witted. Everything you’re not. She’s always the one who gets attention from guys at places like this, whereas you’re the ‘approachable one’ who gets asked if Nat’s single.

No one’s ever interested in you, especially not when you’re sitting next to your much hotter, thinner best friend.

“C’mon, there’s lots of guys here you could take home. You really have to make things awkward by sleeping with my roommate?” You try to sound as calm and collected as possible, but the lump in your throat betrays you.

Nat gives you a knowing look, seeing straight through your weak facade. She is your best friend after all, and knows you better than practically anyone in the world. “Of course I wouldn't, darling - I’m just trying to get you to admit you like him.”

There’s something almost worse about Nat knowing you’re crushing on Bucky - she can be so incessant, honing in on something and making it her mission to see it come to fruition, even if it’s to a bitter end. Which is exactly how your one sided crush will play out if she tries pushing you together.

You have an understanding which she hasn’t grasped yet that Bucky would never be attracted to you like that, and you’d rather spare your poor heart from his rejection and find a way to be content with friendship than risk hearing you’re too big, too unattractive, too much not his type for anything to happen.

“Can we just drop it. We’re roommates, nothing more.” But you know Nat’s incapable of letting something go once she’s got her claws sunk into it. You mostly love her for it, but in this one instance, it’s a right pain in the ass.

“You know if you give it a chance, you might find he likes you too. He’s got a smitten little smile for you.”

This is what you’re afraid of. Hope.

The buoyant feeling in your chest which swells as you picture what dating Bucky might actually be like. How soft his lips would be against yours, how he’d mumble sweet devotions against your skin before tasting every inch of you, how in a room packed to the brim like the bar you’re in now, his eyes search for yours and everyone else in the periphery fades into nonexistence because you are the focal point of his entire world.

But it’s that blind belief which will tear your heart to tatters. Hope will be your cause of death in the end. The expectation of a happy outcome despite all available evidence which will be your ultimate downfall.

“Don’t be ridiculous, look at him, there’s no way he’d ever be interested in me.” But yet, despite how much you tell yourself you’re destined for heartbreak, you can’t quite snuff out that last ember of hope deep in your chest when Bucky turns around with your drink in his hand and smiles reflexively as his eyes set on you all the way across the room.

“I hate it when you put yourself down like that.” There’s a glint in Nat’s eye like she wants to say more, but she notices Bucky returning from the bar and the words die in the back of her throat.

“Here you go, Sunrise.” His nickname for you ignites a flame in both your cheeks, and you’re forced to look down at the table in attempts to hide your reaction. He started calling you that within the first week of moving in, realising your love for staying up to read all night, until the sun came up the following day.

You try not to read into it too much that you are the only person you know of that Bucky has a nickname for. He’s just being friendly. A nice roommate.

“That’s the last time I bet you anything to do with food. Clearly you can eat and drink me under the table any day.” You know he’s just teasing about your bet, who could eat more spicy Indian food without needing to take a drink to subdue the burning heat on your tongue, but any comment related to the amount of food you eat or your weight always hits a little too close to home.

“Thanks Bucky.” Taking your drink from him, your fingers brush, sending goosebumps shivering down your arm, and his dazzling blue eyes regard you with what your hopeful heart believes is warm adoration. “At least you’re not being a sore loser this time round.”

“Excuse you, I’ve never been a sore loser. You just like to bend the rules to suit yourself.” He retorts before taking a sip of his beer, and you find it impossible to look away from how his perfectly plump lips cover the opening and his Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a sip.

You are so far gone for him.

“Sore loser.” You call in a sing-song voice that makes him chuckle in that way you can feel down to your bones. “Don’t blame me just because you can’t handle the heat, Barnes.”

His finger traces a light trail down your bare forearm which lights your skin on fire. You’re not even sure Bucky’s aware he’s doing it, it seems so casually intimate, such a soft touch as his eyes bore into yours, but it sends your brain into a meltdown.

“Oh Sunrise, you don’t know the kind of heat I can bring if I really tried.”

His face is so close to yours you can smell the beer on his breath and see how he wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue. He’s got these freckles scattered along his high cheekbones which reach the tips of his ears, that you want to place delicate kisses to, learn the constellations of pigmentation over his body so you could point them out blindfolded.

And those fucking eyes, they’re impossible not to fall in love with. Those saxe eyes which hold so much wonder and tenderness, which seems to pool in the slightly darker flecks at the centre. You really would be perfectly content if those eyes were the last you ever see, being lured underneath the waves of blue to your doom, but like a siren's victim, you’d dive in with a smile on your face.

There’s a cough from your left which breaks the trance Bucky’s eyes have you in. You would never admit it aloud, but you’d forgotten, just for a brief moment, that your best friend was at the table with you.

Nat’s looking at you with a bold grin and you know before she even opens her mouth that she’s about to say something cheeky and probably completely against your wishes to keep your yearning devotion a secret.

“I’m gonna go up to the bar and see if I can flirt my way to scoring a shot.” She announces as she stands, a shameless look passing between you and Bucky. “Some of us don’t have sex personified living in the next room we can flirt with to buy us free alcohol. You kids have fun continuing whatever that was. Just make sure to use protection.”

Nat walks off without another word, but after her quip, you find you can’t look Bucky quite in the eye.

You’re positive in this moment he’ll laugh at the insinuation that anything remotely romantic or sexual exists between you two and you brace yourself for the puncture to your heart.

But instead, he just looks at you with those big blue eyes and smiles warmly, as if Nat had simply commented about needing to use the restroom to excuse her absence.

“Sex personified, huh? Is that what you two were whispering about behind my back before?” You might just burst into flames if you actually admit that to him, but the cocky smirk he shoots you suggests he is already fully aware how much sex appeal he has.

It feels like your heart is beating in your throat as you answer and you pray he can’t hear the difference in your voice.

“No, not that it’s any of your business, but don’t act like you don’t know how gorgeous you are Barnes.”

There’s a sparkle in his eye as he smiles and scrunches his nose in that way which makes your tummy somersault. You could be fooled into thinking you were back in your apartment alone with him, the only girl within a hundred miles with the way his pupils grow wide and fixate solely on you in this bar crowded with people much more alluring than yourself.

You shake your head, almost imperceptibly, trying to rid your mind of sanguine thoughts that are just setting you up to be greatly disappointed.

You can’t get your hopes up.

There’s a dartboard which becomes available beside your table and you stand with your drink. “C’mon, last weekend you told me you’d show me how to play this ridiculous game and I’m holding you to that.”

It’s not that you don’t already understand the principle of darts, but when Bucky promises to spend more time with you, you’re not about to turn him down.

There’s this gleam in his eye you can’t quite place as he stands and follows you to the dark corner of the bar. You want to believe it’s something of endearment at calling him ‘gorgeous’, a fondness he reserves only for you, but you try reminding yourself that’s the kind of false hope you’ve been desperately shoveling out of your chest and you have to be stronger to not allow such optimistic concepts to penetrate through your defences.

Bucky quickly goes through the rules you were vaguely familiar with already, then shows you how it’s done by throwing two darts into the single twenty score area and then hitting a bullseye. He looks proud of himself too, and it brings a smile to your face just how cute he looks. Is he trying so hard to impress you?

Pushing that thought from your mind, you step up to take your aim. Your first throw goes very astray, not even hitting the dartboard at all, but instead sticking into the wood panelling about a foot below it.

You feel horrified that you’ve just embarrassed yourself, not only in front of Bucky, but the entire bar. Looking around with a sheepish grimace, you find fortunately no one is paying any attention to you, and when your eyes land on Bucky, you can’t help but both burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that lasts so long you’re cheeks start to hurt.

“It takes a special kind of talent to miss by that much Sunrise.” He snickers, but his eyes still softly gaze at you even as he teases.

“Shut up, it’s my first attempt.” You playfully rib back.

“C’mere, let me show you.” He stands at your back, so close you can smell his aftershave, a spicy cinnamon that reminds you of home, as his touch ghosts along your arms.

He fiddles with your fingers, delicately directing them where he wants them on the dart. You’re pliant to his every command, conforming to the stance he wants you in, you even tilt your head up when he uses two fingers under your chin to carefully guide your eye line to where he wants it.

Holding the small projectile in line with your eyes, you’re extremely aware that Bucky’s examining you, gazing at your profile, the curve of your nose, the undulations of your lips. You feel exposed, like he’s critiquing you, but when the outcome of that is him beaming a besotted smile in your direction, you feel like you must have done something right.

You let the dart fly, barely able to concentrate on where it’s going, too caught up in how close Bucky is, how his hand rests on your waist like he was made to hold you, how his broad chest behind you is as solid as a wall, yet would be the perfect place to rest your head as you fell to sleep every night.

It punctures into the board this time, scoring a measly four points, but it’s sufficient for Bucky to wrap his arms around your middle, rest his head on your shoulder and give you a squeeze as he lowers his husky voice in your ear. “There you go, great job Sunrise.”

You try not to think about how large your stomach is as he holds you, sucking in slightly, instead trying to savour the feeling of being in his arms. If he recognises how fast your heart is now beating against his chest, he doesn’t mention it.

The two of you continue to play your game, forgetting all about the hearty atmosphere of the bar, just enjoying each other's company, and your atrocious attempt at beating Bucky in a game he’s had far too much experience with.

You suspect he downplays his skill - you hope to spend more time alone with you, but more than likely just so you don’t feel completely embarrassed by your endeavours.

Once he’s beaten you for a second time, you find a free table to set yourselves, before you go up to the bar to order a second round. You can’t seem to shake the smile off your face as you give the bartender your order. A sense of light optimism builds in your chest, Bucky’s just given up his night to spend with you as you make a fool of yourself playing darts.

He could be out with anyone, giving them all his attention. But instead he’s with you. Eyes softening and an enchanting smile spreading on his features as if he’s already precisely where he wants to be.

You turn to look back at Bucky to find the one thing in the world that could dampen your high spirits.

He’s sitting at the table where you just left him, chatting up one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.

It’s as if someone’s poured a bucket of ice cold water over you. This devastating, borderline nauseating, chasm cleaving your chest in two is exactly why hope is the most dangerous feeling to cultivate unchecked.

She’s absolutely stunning, with shoulder length blonde hair, a glittery, low plunging top that brings out the radiance in her light eyes and accentuates her fit figure. She’s everything you’re not, everything Bucky deserves, and everything that makes you so acutely aware of how much physical space you take up in the world.

How someone as beautiful as Bucky could never be attracted to the likes of you when women like her walk on this earth.

It feels like there’s a cyclone wreaking havoc in your stomach as you watch their interaction. It looks sort of casual, at least given how far they are seated apart in such a noisy room, but there’s an axe carving your heart into splinters at the mere thought of what flirty chat is bouncing between them, the smile curving on his lips, and you find yourself needing to turn away.

You know you can’t lose what was never yours in the first place, but then why does it feel like your soul is disintegrating and being sucked out of your body through a hole in your sternum?

Bucky’s single, the two of you aren’t even remotely dating, you are purely roommates. You just so happened to have a spare room available at the same time he broke up with his ex and needed somewhere to sleep. You were a convenient solution to the awkward situation he found himself in.

And you’ve never been anything more.

He has every right to flirt, fuck and date whomever he pleases. Which decidedly isn’t you.

You search out Nat who’s over by the other side of the room, your extremities almost feeling numb as you walk past so many groups of friends and handsy partners, knowing that the one person who consumes your entire world simply views you as just someone whom he shares a bathroom with and occasionally bets wagers of buying a round of drinks.

She’s flirting with some handsome, tall stranger who appears to have bought her a couple drinks. You don’t want to ruin her night either, but you know she’d be irate if you disappeared without telling her.

All you want is the comfort of your bed, snuggled underneath a mountain of blankets where you can escape into a world where Bucky isn’t flirting with someone who is both much prettier and much thinner than you.

Should you even go home if Bucky brings her back to the apartment where you’d be subjected to listening to the entire affair?

Probably not, but at this point you just need to get out of here, as far away as possible from the scene which is causing your throat to constrict and tears to sting behind your eyes.

You touch Nat on the upper arm to pull her attention. “Imma head home.”

Her line of sight specifically redirects to the table you were seated with Bucky at, to find the source of your crushing heartbreak.

“Alright, then I’m coming with you.”

“No, please stay, have fun, I’m fine it’s just getting a little loud in here.” You lie through your teeth, but after pretending all night you're not about to start admitting your feelings now. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The look Nat gives you is a clear indication she doesn’t believe your fib, but you simply turn away from her piercing eyes and stalk towards the door, trying to avoid bumping into the crowd of people in your path.

What you don’t realise as you make your hasty exit, head down to avoid watching Bucky flirt with the beautiful blonde, is that he watches with an aching heart as you take every step without so much as saying goodbye - because he notices everything about you, in every scenario, hoping for any fraction of your attention in return.

He swiftly grabs his jacket to chase after you, muttering a quick apology to his coworker he really doesn’t mean. He sees enough of her Monday to Friday for her to consume his weekends as well, especially when it's taking time away which could instead be spent with you.

“Sunrise, wait up!” You hear a very familiar deep voice call from behind you just as you’re about to put on your headphones. You’d know that voice anywhere, even if he hadn’t used your nickname.

“Bucky? What’re you doing?”

“You think I’m gonna let you walk home alone this late at night?” He says with such an ease, as if it were the only possible outcome given the situation. Like he didn’t have a drop dead gorgeous woman in the bar waiting to take him home and do downright pornographic things to him.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your fun. It’s only a couple blocks, I can walk it myself.” You can’t find it in you to feel guilty about pulling him away from the woman inside, especially not when he looks so content having followed you out into the cold night air.

“Firstly, you're daft if you think I’m letting you walk that far by yourself. I’d be worried about you the whole time.” He tilts his head to the side and it reminds you of a sweet puppy gazing at their owner with fondness, willing to pursue them anywhere. “Secondly, you’re not ruining anything. It’s no fun without you there anyway.”

Warmth blooms in your chest that even though it’s just as roommates, you’re the one Bucky’s returning to the apartment with. He’s not going home with Nat, or any other stunning girl he could pull with a single flirty glance. Instead it’s you who he drapes his jacket around when he notices you shivering and slows his large strides to allow you to keep up as you walk casually back home. Taking your time to extend your conversation and absorb the scent of his coat as you pull it tighter around yourself.

Dammit, there’s that incessant hope again.

You really are too enamoured with him for your own good. Even if it wasn’t tonight, you're just setting yourself up for a more agonising downfall in the end.

Part 2 > >

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[wittysunflower]

*°You Can Call Me Evil°*

Adam Stanheight x plus-sized reader

Word count: 3729

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: blood, gore, saw things, Jon Kramer, Amanda Young, depictions of bullet wounds and blood, missing limbs, prosthetics, Stockholm syndrome, nipple sucking, PiV, depictions of male anatomy, depictions of female anatomy, sex.

Genre: horror, gore, smut, fluff, semi enemies to lovers, Stockholm syndrome.

The moment you enter the room it’s cold, sending goosebumps down your arms and shivers down your spine, it is impossibly dark, so much so you can barely see in front of yourself. But you can hear his desperate whimpers, long past screaming help me, he just sits there, chained to the wall somewhere in the room and crying. You reach out, searching the wall for the overhead light switch, which you find after a moment of struggle, they switch on with a buzzing noise and they are impossibly bright. He sees you immediately and begins to back up against the wall, almost like he is trying to shrink in on himself to get away from you.

“Stay back!” You stop in your tracks at his panicked command, putting your hands up in a placating manner, “Don’t worry Adam, I am not here to hurt you, I promise.” You speak quietly, taking a cautionary step forward, hoping to not scare him any further than he already is. “Who are you? How do you know my name?” He asks, still trying to move backwards, only to be stopped by the white stained tile wall behind him. “I will tell you, but first let me help you, okay?”

You take a few more steps forward until you stop right in front of him, you pull a bag off of your back and kneel down, pulling a few items out, water, antiseptic, bandages, and a hammer, which only proves to worry him further but you give him a reassuring look, hoping to calm him down even by a little bit.

You move back a bit and lift the hammer above your head, initially he shrieks, begging you not to hurt him, that is until you use the hammer to break the lock holding the chain around his ankle in place. It comes apart with a lot of effort on your part, shattering into two or three different pieces onto the tiled floor. He immediately puts down his hands which were covering his face and head, looking at the now broken lock and for the first time in days he feels something other than helplessness and fear, hope.

You toss the hammer to the side, it clatters against the ground loudly, something you both flinch at, but you move on, knowing you have to move fast before John gets back and sees you defying his orders. ‘Clean up the loose end.’ He had told you, which meant he wanted you to kill Adam, to ‘tie up the loose ends’, everything in you told you to obey him….but you couldn’t. So here you are, uncapping a water bottle and holding it up to Adam’s mouth, which he gratefully takes, gulping it down in just a few sips, which would have made you giggle had the circumstances been different.

Next you bring your hands forward, slowly and gently and lift his shirt, something that despite the situation, makes him blush. You wince at the bullet wound in his shoulder, it is still partially bleeding and red and inflamed around the wound, with any luck it is only a mild infection and has not set deep into his skin tissue. You reach for the antiseptic, it's in a clear condiment bottle of some kind, the only thing you had on hand when packing your bag. “This is going to sting a bit.”

You warn before you take the bottle and begin pouring it onto his bullet wound, he immediately howls in pain, a loud shriek, one that makes you reach out and cover his mouth with your free hand, a hand that he can't help but notice feels almost…plastic, It is then when he realizes where he had seen you, you had been on the news, a survivor of one of the infamous ‘saw traps’, you had lost your hand, back the on the news it was still wrapped and bandaged, now it was replaced with a prosthetic. This revelation only proves to draw up more questions in Adam’s mind, why were you here and most importantly why were you helping him, His head was reeling so much he hadn’t even noticed you had bandaged his wound and were now trying to help him off of the floor.

“Come on, we have to get out of here before John comes back.” John? He doesn’t even have time to ask a question before you’re pulling him up with a strength that surprises him, you let him lean on you as you begin walking out of the building together. It is winding corridors and dark rooms before you finally find yourselves outside, walking up to your car, a grey 1999 Toyota Celica, nothing special but it gets you from place to place,

The minute he hits the backseats his eyelids feel heavy, he doesn’t know if it the previous blood loss, or his exhaustion finally kicking in, but it weighs heavily on him and then he is asleep on your stained back seats. He doesn’t wake up until nearly ten hours later, he almost thinks the rescue was just some fever dream from the infection, that is until he feels softness beneath him and a cool rag on his forehead.

Then he hears it—soft humming from the kitchen.

He lifts the cloth, eyes adjusting slowly as he sits up. His shoulder throbs but it’s been wrapped neatly, the pain dulled by something—painkillers maybe? He follows the sound, dragging himself toward the narrow doorway, blinking blearily.

You’re standing at the stove, back turned to him, stirring something in a battered old pot. You’re in a hoodie now, sleeves pushed up. Your prosthetic hand clinks faintly as it brushes the side of the pot. You haven’t noticed him yet.

“Hey,” Adam croaks, voice raw from disuse. You flinch, nearly dropping the ladle, and spin around. But instead of fear or guilt in your expression, there’s relief.

“You’re awake,” you say softly, walking toward him. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he mutters, eyes narrowing. “Confused. And, uh… alive, I guess. So that’s something.”

You smile faintly. “Yeah… it is.”

He watches you, unease settling in. “Where are we?”

“My apartment. It’s safe, for now.”

He notices something then—on a nearby table, slightly tucked beneath a newspaper: a red spiral drawn on a scrap of paper. His stomach turns.

He walks over to it, hand trembling as he lifts it. “What the hell is this?”

You pause for too long.

“Don’t freak out,” you say quickly, stepping closer.

His heart starts racing. “Is this Jigsaw’s symbol?” he snaps. “Why is it here? Why do you have it?”

You sigh, gently setting the ladle down, rubbing your temple with your good hand. “Because I used to work with him.”

The words hit like a punch.

“I was like Amanda,” you continue, eyes pleading. “I survived a trap. I… I was weak. I thought I deserved it. And when I survived, he offered me a way out—told me I had a purpose. That I could help people see the truth. For a while, I believed him.”

Adam is backing away slowly now, anger boiling beneath his skin. “So what, you kidnapped people? Watched them die?”

“I didn’t want to!” you shout, breath catching. “I never wanted this! But once you're in, there’s no walking away. The minute you hesitate, he turns on you. That's what happened last night. He told me to kill you. ‘Clean up the loose end.’ But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let him win again.”

He stares, jaw clenched. “So what now? You just expect me to trust you? After everything? You’re just like him, a monster.” At that declaration you snap, throwing the wooden cooking spoon to the side, “Don’t say that! I am NOTHING like him, he is the worst society has to offer, he is truly a monster. I was told to kill you and I didn’t, I saved you, despite every bone in my body I have left telling me not to, that it will only cause John to come after me. Call me evil all you want, but I am nothing like John Kramer.”

Adam flinches at your outburst, eyes wide, lips parting like he’s about to argue back—but the fury in your voice silences him. For a moment, the room is dead quiet except for the low bubbling of whatever’s on the stove and the distant hum of traffic beyond the apartment’s grimy window.

You’re shaking, fists clenched at your sides, breathing hard like the words physically tore out of you. You turn your back to him, trying to collect yourself, but your shoulders tremble—not from anger now, but something deeper. Guilt. Fear. Exhaustion.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you mutter. “I didn’t ask to be part of his games. I didn’t want to help him. But when you’re broken and desperate, and someone offers you a reason to keep breathing… you take it. Even if it’s wrong.”

Adam swallows thickly, his initial rage dulling into something more conflicted. He looks down at the spiral symbol still crumpled in his hand, then back at you.

“Why me?” he asks quietly. “Why save me?”

You let out a bitter breath and glance over your shoulder.

“Because I saw myself in you,” you admit. “Alone. Terrified. Forgotten. I knew what John was going to do to you. And I couldn’t let it happen again—not to someone who didn’t deserve it.”

Adam lets the paper fall from his fingers.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” he says, not unkindly, but honest. “But… I don’t think I want to see you dead either.”

You nod, as if that’s the best you could hope for. “That’s fair.”

He sits slowly on the arm of the couch, cradling his bandaged shoulder.

It had been four days since you rescued Adam from the bathroom—the rot-stained tomb that had almost become his grave.

In that time, your small apartment had transformed into something of a sanctuary. The kind that wasn’t perfect—peeling walls, creaky floors, constant hum of a fridge that sounded like it might die at any moment—but still… safe. Quiet.

And for Adam, safety felt foreign.

He hadn’t trusted you, not at first. Even now, he still woke in the middle of the night, heart pounding, expecting chains around his ankle or John Kramer’s rasping voice echoing from the shadows. But every time, it was your voice he heard instead. Soft. Calm. Real.

Now, as he sat curled on the edge of your lumpy couch, a throw blanket draped over his legs, he watched you move around the kitchen like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were humming something under your breath again, that same faint, nameless tune you always fell back on when your hands were busy.

You were always doing something—boiling tea, fussing over his bandages, writing in that little black journal you never let him see.

He shouldn’t have started to care.

He shouldn’t be looking at you the way he did now.

But over the last few days… he had.

The anger hadn’t vanished, not completely. But it had dulled, replaced by a quiet confusion every time you sat beside him, every time your prosthetic hand brushed his arm and he didn’t flinch. Every time you looked at him like he wasn’t broken.

“Staring’s free, y’know,” you said suddenly, glancing at him with a smirk over your shoulder. “But it’s polite to say something.”

He startled, then laughed despite himself. “You always know when I’m watching you?”

“I was in survival mode for three years,” you said, turning back to the stove. “You learn to feel eyes on you.”

A pause settled between you. Comfortable, almost.

“How’s the shoulder?” you asked, softer now.

He moved it experimentally, rolling it in its sling. “Tight. Still sore. But better.”

You nodded once. “Good. You’re healing faster than I expected.”

He rose slowly from the couch and crossed to the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside you. Closer than he usually stood. You noticed it—he saw the flicker in your eyes—but you didn’t step away.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, voice low. “About what you told me. About John. About… why you saved me.”

You didn’t say anything, but your stirring slowed.

“I wanted to hate you,” he went on. “You know that, right? I wanted to scream at you, accuse you, run. But I didn’t. I haven’t.”

Finally, you turned, brows lifted but cautious. “Why not?”

Adam stared at you for a long beat. He could lie. Pretend it was the painkillers. The Stockholm Syndrome. The trauma bonding. But deep down, he knew better.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he admitted. “But somewhere between the tea, and the bandages, and that awful humming of yours—”

“Hey—rude.”

“—I started feeling safer around you than I’ve ever felt in my whole damn life.”

Your breath hitched.

“I know who you were,” he said. “But I also know what you didn’t do. You didn’t kill me. You didn’t lie to me. You stayed.”

He stepped even closer, close enough now that you could feel the heat off his skin. “I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you’re someone who survived hell and came out with enough of your soul left to help someone else survive it too.”

You looked up at him then, eyes glassy and wide.

“I don’t know what this is,” he whispered. “But I know I want to find out.”

For a second, you said nothing—your face unreadable.

And then he kissed you. .

It was hesitant, almost frightened—like if either of you acknowledged the spark between you, it might burn everything down. But he didn’t pull away. He leaned in, breathing against your mouth, letting the warmth seep in like the first rays of sun after a long winter.

When you parted, your voice trembled. “You really mean that?”

Adam nodded, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah. I do.”

You nodded once, so slight he might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been so close.

Then you reached up—your good hand curling gently around the back of his neck—and pulled him back down to kiss you again. Slower this time. More certain. Like you were giving him permission. Like you needed this just as badly as he did.

The second kiss deepened, your bodies drawing closer like they’d been trying to all along. For a moment, neither of you were survivors. You weren’t victims or test subjects or ghosts clawing your way out of trauma. You were just two people clinging to something—someone—real.

When you finally pulled back, your breath mingled in the narrow space between you.

“You sure you’re not just drunk on antibiotics?” you asked, voice low but teasing.

Adam smiled. “If I was, I think I’d still want to kiss you.”

You huffed a laugh, your expression softening.

“C’mon,” you said, slipping your hand into his. “You shouldn’t be on your feet this long.”

You led him gently to your bedroom. He didn’t protest. The couch was fine, but it always left him aching. Here, at least, the mattress gave under his weight as he sat, watching as you moved around, shutting off lights, checking the front door lock like always.

Then you hesitated.

“I can take the floor,” you offered. “Or the couch, if you’d rather be alone.”

“No,” he said quickly—too quickly. “I mean… stay.”

Your brows lifted slightly.

“I sleep better when you’re there,” Adam added, quieter now. “When I know you’re close.”

You nodded once, then crossed the room, slipping beneath the covers beside him. He turned slightly to face you, careful of his shoulder, and you reached out instinctively, resting your hand lightly over his chest—steady, warm.

You kiss him again, more sure this time. His eyes flutter shut as your lips press against his, your bodies shifting closer on the soft mattress as you both lose yourselves in the kiss. He reaches out, his hands finding their way to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. Your good hand moves up from his chest to his jaw, tilting his chin to deepen the kiss. You can feel his tongue prod at the seam of your lips, begging for entry, which you grant him as his tongue enters your waiting mouth.

His tongue delves deeper as he explores your mouth with a mix of hunger and need, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you impossibly closer. His body is a furnace against yours, heat radiating from every point of contact. He shifts again, maneuvering you onto your back as his body covers yours, his knee slipping between your legs.

He breaks the kiss momentarily, both of you gasping for air in the dark. His lips move to your neck, trailing kisses and soft bites along the sensitive skin there. You arch in response, a small sound catching in your throat as his mouth finds the spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

His hand slips beneath your shirt, calloused fingers dancing across your stomach as he slowly begins to push the fabric up, his touch burning against your bare skin. His mouth follows suit, trailing kisses down your jawline and to your collarbone, where he lingers, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh until he leaves a mark there.

He can feel the rapid rise and fall of your chest beneath his touch, the quickened thump of your heartbeat in time with his own. He lifts his head, meeting your gaze in the low light, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and something deeper.

His hand continues its ascent underneath your shirt, his palm flattening against your rib cage, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. "Is this, okay?" he murmurs, his voice raspier than usual.

You can only nod in response; your words lost in the haze of sensations he's awakening in you. His touch is so gentle yet possessive, igniting a fire deep inside you that only he seems to be able to stoke. As his hand moves up further, tracing the underside of your breast, you arch against him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

His touch becomes more assured as he squeezes your breast, rolling your nipple underneath his calloused thumb. You arch into his touch, head falling back against the pillows as his fingers find your nipple, rolling and teasing the sensitive bud until it hardens under his ministrations. His other hand is busy tugging your shirt up and over your head, breaking contact for only a moment before his lips are back on your skin, trailing hot kisses down your chest.

Adam's mouth closes around one nipple, his tongue flicking out to circle it before drawing it between his lips and sucking. The sensation sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core and you gasp, hands flying to his hair, gripping the short strands. His teeth graze the sensitive peak, and you cry out, hips bucking up against him instinctively.

"You're so responsive," he murmurs against your skin, switching to your other breast, giving it the same treatment until you're writhing beneath him. "I love watching you come undone."

His hand trails down your stomach, popping the button on your jeans before slowly lowering the zipper. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing through the coarse hair there before finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that have you seeing stars.

"Oh god," you whimper, head thrashing on the pillow. "Adam, please..."

He chuckles darkly, the vibrations rumbling through you. "Please what, baby? Tell me what you need."

"I need you," you manage to gasp out, eyes fluttering open to meet his heated gaze. "Inside me. Now."

Adam doesn't hesitate, stripping off your jeans and panties in record time before climbing out of his own pants. You take a moment to appreciate the sight of him, all lean muscle and tan skin, before he's back on top of you, settling between your thighs.

He notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pausing to look into your eyes. "I want to make you feel good," he whispers, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. "I want to worship this body of yours until you're screaming my name."

With that, he surges forward, sheathing himself fully inside you in one smooth thrust. You both moan at the sensation, your inner walls clenching around him. He starts to move, setting a deep, slow rhythm that has you arching into him with each thrust.

"Yes, just like that," you pant, nails raking down his back. "Harder, Adam. I can take it."

He complies eagerly, snapping his hips forward and burying himself to the hilt. The new angle has him hitting that perfect spot inside you and you cry out, legs coming up to wrap around his waist. He sets a brutal pace then, skin slapping against skin as he pounds into you.

Pressure begins to build low in your belly, winding tighter and tighter with each thrust. You can feel Adam getting close too, his rhythm faltering slightly as he chases his release. He leans down, capturing one of your nipples between his teeth and biting down just hard enough to make you see white.

"Come for me," he demands, hand snaking between your bodies to find your clit. "I want to feel you fall apart on my cock."

A few more flicks of his fingers is all it takes and you're flying apart with a scream, your inner muscles clamping down around him like a vice. Adam follows right behind you with a hoarse shout, hips stuttering as he fills you with his seed.

They collapse together in a sweaty heap, both panting heavily as they come down from their high. Adam presses tender kisses along your jawline, murmuring soft praises into your skin.

"That was... wow," you manage to gasp out, running your fingers through his damp hair.

Adam just hums in agreement, shifting to the side so he's not crushing you but keeping you pressed close to his chest. "Stay with me tonight?" he asks quietly.

You nod against him, nuzzling into his neck. "I thought you'd never ask."

You drift off like that, twined together in a tangle of limbs, both content and safe in each other's arms.

[wittysunflower]

"Kinks Shirt"

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe | Captain America

Pairings: Steve Rogers | Captain America/Plus-Size Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None. (❁´◡`❁)

Tags: Humor, Naked Female Clothed Male, Large Breasts, Fat Reader, Sharing Clothes, Nipple Play, Play Fighting, Penis In Vagina Sex, Secrets, Humor, Steve Rogers is a Brat, Clothing Kink

Author's Notes: This title is loosely inspired by the song "Kinks Shirt" by Matt Nathanson.

Read it on AO3 here!

Summary: Steve loves you. If he didn't-- why else would he let you wear all his loose tank tops to bed? Surely he had no other motivations besides his burning love for you... and his boob fetish.

For the most part, Steve has remained fairly indifferent to your breasts, however, after an impromptu night out drinking with Tony and Pepper a few weeks back, you stayed the night at his place and ended up borrowing one of his shirts to sleep in. It was one of his old over sized US Army fatigues that he ended up cutting the sleeves and the neck out to work out in. Pretty pissed, he scolded you a bit for messing his well organized drawers during your drunkenness-- that was until he saw you with the shirt on, then promptly jacked off to the memory of you in the bathroom while you slept. After that, he slowly started modifying all of his over-sized t-shirts just in case you wanted to stay the night again.

It was just before bed as you two laid together. Steve sat against the headboard reading, tucked under his comforter like a 1950s sitcom husband and you laid on your side, phone resting just a few inches above your face, waiting to slip from your hands and meet its impending doom.

Steve looked up from his book for a moment, studying you as he shifted to a more reclined position. You seemed to be actively involved with whatever you were doing, probably playing some puzzle game or organizing the shopping list-- things you did every night before bed.

He leaned his head on his hand, thumbing back to his page before you rested your arm above your head revealing the wholeness of your side rolls and the top of your breasts, slightly jiggling as you adjusted your body into a more comfortable position.

You weren't aware of Steve's breast fetish-- you'd only been dating for 3 months, and in that time, you only managed to fuck around probably 5 times due to conflicts in your schedules.

For the most part, Steve has remained fairly indifferent to your breasts, however, after an impromptu night out drinking with Tony and Pepper a few weeks back, you stayed the night at his place and ended up borrowing one of his shirts to sleep in. It was one of his old over sized US Army fatigues that he ended up cutting the sleeves and the neck out to work out in.

Pretty pissed, he scolded you a bit for messing his well organized drawers during your drunkenness-- that was until he saw you with the shirt on, then promptly jacked off to the memory of you in the bathroom while you slept. After that, he slowly started modifying all of his over-sized t-shirts just in case you wanted to stay the night again.

"Why don't you just buy me some tank tops instead?" You asked one night. But Steve thinks you wearing his old clothes gives them purpose-- and that purpose is showing off your big tits.

"How can you call yourself a red blooded American if you didn't like tits?" Steve thought to himself. "Soft, luxurious mounds of all different shapes and sizes and a unique bud accenting each--" "What are you doing?" You asked, staring dead eyed into your phone, catching him off guard.

"Hm?-- Oh, just reading."

"You haven't flipped pages in a while."

He smiled. "I was pondering something. Does your generation still use that word? Pondering?"

You sighed, "No Steve, we burned all the books of old in 1951 and now we all just communicate telepathically." Steve chuckled, shutting his book.

"But since we're pointing out age differences, you're technically a cradle robber." "--Hey, I don't look a day over 35 and you know it. Now, no more toys. It's time to go to bed." He snatched the phone from your hands to which you promptly reached to grab it back.

"Hey! Give that back." He laughed, holding the phone to his chest before flipping onto his stomach. "Oh my god Steve at least lock it first." You reached underneath the heavy blanket in an attempt to retrieve it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, is there a padlock on it?" He laughed innocently. "Stop it, Steve you're not even that old!" "So you admit it." He bragged, proudly leaning his head on his wrist as he flipped onto his side to face you.

"My phone, Steve?" You laughed. He dug around behind him, before waving the device. "You mean this? Oh-- What's this? Your Google Chrome history?"

You gasped, you had no idea Steve even knew how the internet worked, let alone browser history.

Before you could grab for it he reached over and flipped the light off on the night stand beside him, casting the room in darkness.

"Oh my god-- Steve stop!" You crawled over him, eagerly grabbing for your phone but he was too quick, rolling onto his side and reading aloud from the screen. "BDSM Test Results? Hmmm, that sounds interesting. Maybe we should click on it?" You screamed, grabbing hold of the phone raised above his head, desperately trying to hold onto it as he sat up gaining more leverage on it.

"Alright, alright, I give." He chuckled, and just as he hit the lock button, the phone flew from both your hands, clattering to the floor nearby.

"It just slipped out-- I'm sorry." He sputtered, reaching over and flicking on the lamp. The light gleamed on to reveal you straddling his waist, bonnet askew, one heavy breast hanging out the side of your tank top, completely oblivious.

Sweet cheese and rice he loved that shirt.

"There it is." You hopped off the bed and quickly picked it up, inspecting the screen for damage. Had it not been for your absent mindedness, you might've noticed the redness creeping up Steve's cheeks as you climbed back into bed.

"Not even a super soldier can destroy this thing, huh?" You chuckled, setting your phone on the nightstand beside you before adjusting your breasts back into your shirt. He laughed nervously. "Yeah, I guess not."

You climbed under the comforter, lying on your side before Steve turned off the lamp, spooning in behind you, settling for wrapping an arm arm around your waist. Your stomach rose and fell as you breathed evenly, and his heart raced as his Adam's apple bobbed.

You shifted for a moment, turning over to kiss his forehead and whisper. "Good night, Steve." As you turned back, his hand slipped into your shirt and his fingertips felt electric as they grazed beneath, along your side. "Good night." He whispered, closing his eyes, eager to find some rest from the image of your breasts that wracked no pun intended his thoughts every night you spent together.

Steve felt like a creepy teenager trying to get to second base, but he couldn't help himself. Something about the way your tits looked in his shirts made him wonder if he had some sort of obsession or fetish. "But, by that logic, we should all have a boob fetish then, right?"

Suddenly you inhaled sharply, snapping him from his sordid thoughts. "What's wrong?" He whispered. "You're pitching a tent against my ass right now, Steve." He blinked, totally misinterpreting you before he realized and pulled a pillow from behind his head to stuff between you two. You laughed, now fully awake as he stewed in his embarrassment.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh." You chuckled. "It's fine. Happens to the best of us." There was an unusual silence between you two before you suggested. "We could do something about it..." "Just go to sleep. I'll take care of it." He whispered, promptly kicking off the weighty comforter. He didn't realized how hot and bothered he'd gotten under there until he reached down to knead his cock and found himself already semi hard.

"Are you sure you don't want me to...?" He sat up in thought for a moment before ultimately giving in and nudging closer to you, grabbing your hand and guiding it beneath his waistband to his cock. As you began stroking, he kissed across your shoulder.

"Just like that." He sighed, his hand grazed down your arm before he slid into your shirt to begin caressing at your breasts. You let out a quiet gasp, his palms ghosting your pliant nipples as he grinded into your loose grip, eyes straining to make out your form in the dark. Steve began kneading your breasts as you hastened your strokes, your body felt ultra sensitive as he teased at your front with increasing vigor.

"You like playing with my tits?" You cooed to which he exhaled something like a mix between a growl and a "Mhm." His gentle fondling soon escalated to good grips and rough kneading. You whined quietly, your free hand rubbing between your legs to quell the growing tension. "F-Steve, fuck me, please?" He kissed your neck, pulling down your panties and raising your leg into the air so he could spread your lips and slide inside you.

He thrust erratically, pulling you smacking into his hips, gripping your shirt so tight you could hear the fabric ripping down the side. Steve panted through his teeth, his breath hot against your neck as he grunted through every stroke. You trembled, rubbing your clit as Steve fucked in and out of you. You both held your breath-- fervent smacking of flesh filling the room before you grabbed the nearest pillow, screaming into it as you came.

Steve pulled out, cursing as he straddled your waist, scrambling with your shirt before ripping it in its entirety so he could paw at your chest while he finished. "Shit-- I'm gonna cum-- I'm gonna cum on your tits." He moaned, hips thrusting into his fist as cum dribbled out of his tip to your breasts and down your stomach. "GOD-- bless." He panted, quick to correct himself.

You giggled as he collapsed onto his side, rolling over to flick on the lamp. You laid on your back, shirt ripped entirely up its left side, your breasts decorated with gleams of semen.

"You've never said ‘tits’ a day in your life have you?"

He sighed into a chuckle. "Nope." And you both joined in laughter.

"Do you need a towel?"

"Nah, I'll just use this old t-shirt."

You came downstairs to find Steve sitting at the kitchen table, his shirt and hair wet with sweat from his morning run.

"Good morning." He tipped his glass of chocolate milk before taking a long sip, sliding an empty glass and the carton across the table toward you. "Why didn't you tell me you had a boob fetish?" He sputtered, coughing up milk he'd inhaled before clutching his chest defensively. "Wh-- I-- it's not that serious-- I mean, they're great. But if-- from my perspective, if everyone you know likes boobs, could you really call what I have a fetish?"

You scoot your chair in against the table, humming sing-songy as you parted your robe to reveal the tops of your breasts, sporting dark bruises. "This looks sorta like a fetish to me, don't you think?" He swallowed hard, looking away for fear you'd see his blush crawl down his neck. "That's what I thought." You chimed.

You leaned over the table, reaching for the carton, your breasts drooping, threatening to slip from your robe in an almost tantalizing way. He bit his lip, glancing between your breasts and his glass, nerves tickling his stomach as his cool, damp shirt clung to the arch of his back.

"Maybe you should call out of work today."

"Yeah?" You met his fiery gaze and smirked, milk slowly filling your glass.

He grabbed the carton from your grasp, gently setting it on the table beside him.

"Yeah."

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[wittysunflower]

*°Where I’ve been°*

Word count: 1901

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: mentions of death, body gore, blood, depictions of an amputation, vomit, depictions of vomit, hospitalization, kissing, making out, strangers to lovers, minor character death mention, man wearing nail polish.

Genre: Angst, fluff, gore, horror.

“Ian! Ian watch out!”

You scream, your voice loud and shrill as you run at him, dodging people screaming as they leave the fair grounds. Your feet carry you as fast as you can go, your lungs burning with each and every step. Yet you keep going, just in time to push Ian out of the way and to the ground as the sign falls, he makes it to the ground unharmed, but you, you are not so lucky. Your foot gets caught under the sign and with a sickening crunch and the sight of blood splatter you know your foot is done for, most likely gone. You scream loudly, your hands digging into the dirt, pulling the grass at its roots, tears immediately springing to your eyes as you continue to scream.

“Fuck!”

You shriek as loud as you can, your throat protesting the sound. Your hands continue to pull at the dirt and you can not bare to look down, knowing the sight would be gory and would only make you throw up, actually you might throw up anyways. You can not even form words, all you can do is scream and scream, Ian rushes over to you, looking at the carnage which is…was your foot. You can hear Wendy’s sister vomiting in the background and can hear Kevin and Wendy screaming as well. You hunch over, trying to get onto your knees but your legs just won’t move, and just as you predicted, you vomit all over the ground, chunks of churro and cotton candy staining the bloody grass below.

You manage to hunch up onto your knees and look down for the first time since the sign fell and- “oh god!” Your foot is gone, trapped under the sign and crushed beneath it, you can see the blood spurting from your ankle, pooling onto the ground. The world is spinning, you always hated blood and this doesn’t help, especially since you realize you have yet to stop screaming and wailing. You don’t remember much before you hit the ground, going unconscious in a pile of your own vomit.

That was all two weeks ago, two agonizing weeks. You had been rushed to the hospital right away, but there wasn’t much they could do, your foot had been severed that night. Leaving you with a nub that is currently being drained of blood and any puss by a nurse. You lay there, feeling just as miserable as the day it happened, balloons and stuffed animals and wilting flowers fill the room, like some sort of homage to your lost appendage. You would have a nurse clear the room out but you figured it wasn’t worth the trouble, you already felt like a burden. Everyone had come to visit it would seem, your family, people from the school, Wendy, Julie and Kevin, everyone but the reason you are here today, Ian. At least that was until now, you can hear the signature rattle of his chain he keeps on his belt as he walks into your hospital room.

“You look like shit.”

He says bluntly and you almost want to have him removed from the hospital, but you keep quiet. The nurse looks at you quizzically as she finishes draining your stump, wrapping a delicate white bandage around the area before stepping out of the room to empty her bucket.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. What are you doing here McKinley?”

He shrugs and takes a step towards you, pulling something out from behind his back, a beer, which makes you roll your eyes. Of course he had brought something so trivial, so typical of Ian McKinley.

“There’s no alcohol allowed in the hospital, plus I’m on so much pain medicine a drink would kill me, but maybe that’s what you want.”

You say with an annoyed tone as you cross your arms over your chest, giving him a pointed look. He shrugs and grabs a chair, spinning it around so he’s sitting backwards in the chair, his arms resting on the back as he looks at you, the beer placed on the table next to your bed. Not that he would admit it but he felt stupid, out of everything he could’ve done he brought you a beer, he thought it might make you laugh but perhaps dark humour wasn’t the best in this situation.

“Yeah, yeah. That makes sense.”

He says plainly, his hand coming back to rub the back of his neck nervously. His rings are cold against his skin and his black nail polish glints under the light of the overheads. He looks at you and at your leg and lets out a loud groan causing you to startle and jump a bit, a jolt of pain going through your leg and up to your hip. You wince and rub at your leg, hoping to ease the ache by even a fraction.

“Fuck…fuck, I’m sorry. I’m….I’m sorry okay? You shouldn’t have gotten hurt that night, it was me death was after, not you, not your leg or foot. I should be dead right now and I’m not, because of you, I owe you my life and all I can do is bring a stupid beer. I’m sorry you got hurt and I’m sorry there is nothing I could possibly think of to make up for it. Hell, half the damn balloons and shit in here are from me, who do you think has been sending them?”

He rambles off, each and every word feeling like poison to say as his head pounds with guilt and a small bit of anguish. By the end, he has tears in his eyes, and he places his head against the edge of your bed, his face in his hands as for the first time in two weeks he lets himself feel something other than anger or fear, he feels sadness. He cries, not just a few tears but full on sobs as he sits there next to your hospital bed, while all you can do is sit there shocked. Ian McKinley was crying, he was sobbing, all because of you.

“Hey hey….uh…it’s alright you know? Shit happens, at least it wasn’t my good foot, yeah?”

You force a chuckle trying to do anything to get him to stop crying, his affinity for dark humour may be your in. But that only proves to make it worse as more choked sobs fall from his lips. You awkwardly raise a hand and place it on his head, giving him a few gentle pats as if he were an upset child or dog. He just swats your hand away and picks up his head, his black eyeliner is running down his face and tears are streaking along his cheeks. He slams his hands down on the bed angrily and lets out another huff of anger.

“No, it’s not alright, not at all. First Erin dies because of ME, and now you’re in the hospital because of ME and you have no fucking foot because of ME. How can any of this be alright?”

He nearly screams, only minding his voice as to not alert a nurse to the room. He lets out a few more tears, his head falling back into his hands. You have no idea what to do, you went from feeling miserable about yourself and your situation to having Ian Fucking McKinley crying into your lap in your hospital room. There was only one way to get to Ian, not that you wanted to do it, but you also didn’t want him crying anymore.

“Mckinley, nut up man, knock this crying shit off. You’re a man, not a little boy, I’m the one who lost a foot, not you. If anyone should be sobbing in this room, it’s definitely not you. Now knock it off before I give you a reason to cry, okay?”

You speak sternly, not stuttering for a moment. He looks at you with his mouth slack open, his eyes wide and in shock as he just stares at you. He goes to speak but you give him a pointed look and he shuts his mouth immediately. You internally sigh with relief that it worked, had it not you wouldn’t have any idea on what to do.

“I saved you because I wanted to, Ian, not because you forced me or because of some cosmic force in the universe. I saw something bad happening and I saved you and I would do it again. Okay? Because….because I like you, freak and all I like you and I can’t help it. I saved you because I wanted you around long enough for me to tell you. So please, stop crying and just….just be thankful to be alive, okay?”

If he could look more shocked he would, you liked him? No one but Erin had ever shown interest in him, and even then they were only friends, even if he had wished they were more. You were a grade A student, the quiet girl, the girl who always had a club during gym so no one would watch you change in the locker room. The girl whose body should be a crime because of how thick and beautiful it is. You weren’t anything like the girls who would show interest in him, but damn if he didn’t care. You liked him, the sweet girl, voted ‘most likely to be a saint’ in the year book, you liked him and he would be a liar if he said he didn’t like you too.

“You like me? Like….like me?”

He asked confused, still trying to wrap his head around how you of all people could like him, could possibly want him.

“Yea you dope, I like you, I’ve liked you since freshman year and I saw you punk out Tommy Donner when he was bullying Erik Crogan for being on food stamps. You were just too obsessed with Erin to realize."

You mumble the last part and cross your arms over your chest, annoyed by his audacity to even question you. You go to speak again but you can’t, his chapped lips are on your soft ones and he’s kissing you. You don’t know what to do or say so you just freeze as he practically kisses the life out of you. When he finally disconnects your lips, you look at him amazed, almost as if he is the only man in the world.

“Damn.”

You whisper softly, and he laughs slightly, you have stars in your eyes for him and for that moment everything else is forgotten. You’re not in the hospital and he’s not the reason you’re there, he is just him and you are just you. You grab the front of his black shirt and pull him in for another kiss, this time this one is strong, and almost dominating, as if you are trying to swallow him whole and he fucking loves it. He grabs the sides of your face deepening the kiss, and you lace your fingers through his hair, everything just feels perfect. You kiss him with purpose and with fervour, anything to convey the emotions that have been building inside of you for years. This moment is everything and this moment is perfect, foot or no foot you have Ian and you sure as hell aren’t letting him go now.

[wittysunflower]

Logan "James" Howlett (Wolverine)/Female Reader - The Magic Word - Ch. 1/3 - Fuck Off🌶️

Summary: After weeks of traveling on a mission together, flaring tempers, pissing each other off, one night everything comes to a head.

Tags: Arguments, Sexual Tension, Flirtation, Reader is a Mutant, Hate Sex, Chemistry, Accidental Voyeurism, Showers, Opposites Attract, Temptation, Hand Jobs, Naked Female Clothed Male

Warnings: explicit, fowl language, smoking, drinking alcohol

Author's Notes: This fic was directly inspired by this GIF. Y/N = Your name.

Read the fic on AO3 here!

Logan rested his eyes for a moment, hoping maybe the sleep would take him. But damn, his body was still wide awake. Couldn't shake that adrenaline, the way seeing you naked had his blood pumping. A creak in the wood caught his attention and he turned his gaze over to see you standing in the doorway. In nothing but panties and a tank top.

Chapter 1: Fuck Off

The television set in the living room area played some old reruns on it. Old enough to him that he recognized it, despite it originally being in black and white. The last movie he can remember seeing was at a drive in theater.

Thirsty.

He took a swig of his beer, lukewarm, but the bottle was sweaty. He'd been nursing the thing for what felt like hours at this point. Restlessness from being cooped up had begun to morph into drinking which had converted to idle discomfort.

Shit. He had to piss.

Last time you graced him with your presence, you told him you'd be showering and told him to keep an eye out for a call headquarters. He called you bossy under his breath and you whipped a box of cheap motel soap at him. He hadn't heard hide nor tail from you since The Honeymooners came on. Surely you had to be done in there; the room was dead silent.

He knocked, “Y/N.”

There was no answer, though he could hear the distinct sound of movement inside.

“Hey. I gotta piss. Hurry it up in there.”

Logan had to tap his foot to keep distracted, waiting a brief pause for no answer.

He knocked again.

“Y/N. You got 5 seconds before I come in there.”

The only response he received to that threat was your distracted sigh, still no answer.

Logan tested the knob, genuinely surprised to find it unlocked, but not enough to give a fuck at this point as he entered the humid space.

Of course you had all your shit lying around. Sundries spread all across the sink and counter. Bra, panties, clothes piled up there too.

But he stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he spotted the curtain slung open and you toweling off inside, completely oblivious to his presence, until the breeze of the door swinging open jostled the curtain liner and you turned your head.

Like a deer in a truck standoff, you stared at each other frozen for an unsettlingly long period of time.

He's still. Unable—or unwilling—to stop his roaming gaze. Eyes trailing up along your bare wet legs, thighs, stomach, bush, breasts.

When the door clicked shut behind him you finally managed to gather some semblance of a thought, enough to rip the shower curtain closed and with that he quickly ducked his head, unbuckling his belt.

“Logan that the fuck are you doing in here?”

“I knocked three damn times telling you I had to piss.” He grunted dropping his cigar on the counter.

“Well I obviously didn't hear you.”

“Bullshit. You're just standing around with the water off.”

After a few moments of busied quiet, the shower curtain ripped open and out you stepped, towel clung partially around your body.

He glanced at you in the mirror, likening himself to the curves you had all over as you stood with your back turned to him. That is until you start getting dressed.

“The hell are you getting dressed in here for while I'm pissin’?”

“What? So you can leave and ‘accidentally’ walk in on me again?”

“Not my fault I got stuck with the super hearing mutant that can't hear worth a damn.” He muttered.

“And put that thing out.” You demanded. “I don't want my clothes smelling like smoke.”

He scoffed. “Fuck off.” Before zipping up his pants.

You moved to grab the cigar, but he was quicker at guessing your play, grabbing your hand by the wrist.

“Hey. Don't touch my cigar.”

“Let me go.” You spat as you snatched your hand away.

He snatched his cigar from the sink, pressing it between his lips before flushing, and turning on the faucet.

You gasped, shocking realization setting in. “Did you just touch me with your dirty hand—”

He turned to face you, gesturing toward the sink, “You wanna crack at it? Ladies first.”

“You're fucking disgusting.” You spat, yanking the door open and stomping out.

Logan shrugged, washing his hands idly before grabbing your discarded bath towel to dry his hand.

He stepped out to find you in the living room sitting on the couch beside the phone, dialing someone. Of course he couldn't hear a word of your conversation. Something about that advanced hearing came with the ability to selectively deafen others, which probably worked in his favor since you had the tendency to spend an hour at a time on the damn thing. He didn't really grasp the full extent of your mutant abilities, but he could you were no doubt spitting absolute venom about him, even with your back turned to him.

This, on top of the constant bickering, was beginning to get under his damn skin in a way only mouthy, prissy, cocky ass women could. Word from headquarters couldn't come soon enough. 

You two were only paired together on this mission to track an already dead man anyway. Believed to be escorting the only known trial dose of anti-mutagenic antibodies.

Logan's superior smelling ability allowed you both to track him down this very motel and your hearing had allowed you to identify his room number. But by some exotic twist of fate, before you could manage to enter his motel room with the hopes of intercepting the expected hand off, the man was found murdered. Briefcase burgled, and it's vial missing, rendering this whole mission pointless, and these shitty motel accommodations, useless.

It was a one bedroom shit hole.

A small kitchenette that consisted of a sink that only ran cold water, a chipped up counter, and a dinged up mini fridge. A living room with a satellite TV, a broken remote, a sticky coffee table, and your standard, run of the mill, cotton sofa. Not even a fucking pull out couch.

Logan had become very familiar with it as he had the pleasure of tossing and turning on it all night.

There was only one bedroom, with one full sized bed, and considering the way you ran your mouth just now, Logan was happy to claim that bed for himself for the night.

You kept the room mostly tidy. Your stuff spread out, some clothes hung up, but the bed was neat at least. Not that it mattered. He'd slept in fox holes before; a bed was a bed.

You definitely wouldn't appreciate him smoking around your things, but fuck if he cared. With the phone on and the TV blaring in the living room, he was hoping you'd leave him be for the evening.

Logan rested his eyes for a moment, hoping maybe the sleep would take him. But damn, his body was still wide awake. Couldn't shake that adrenaline, the way seeing you naked had his blood pumping.

A creak in the wood caught his attention and he turned his gaze over to see you standing in the doorway.

In nothing but panties and a tank top.

You… must've changed. When did you change clothes? Why would you…

You've come to recognize this look of his, as you'd seen it throughout this entire mission, and just hours ago in the bathroom.

He looked a bit shocked, a little confused, but there's pure want in his eyes. Like a dog waiting for its owner to throw a ball so they can go chase after it. 

In the short time you've come to know him, Logan has seemed to be a man of very few words. Never quite saying what's on his mind unless prompted to. But even with his intimidating appearance—even with his brows furrowed and scrutinizing—you could practically read his mind.

Without saying a word, in that moment, you knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly what he wanted.

Which was you.

With his eyes on you now, you approached him slowly. Despite the uncharacteristically demure expression, and the inviting curves of your body, he remained cautious of your movements.

His eyes never leave yours as you sit at the edge of the bed beside him. It’s only when your hand touches his ribs does he blink at all, making no effort to acknowledge it whatsoever, not even as his cigar sits between his fingers, threatening to ash on his shirt, and his stomach rises and falls rapidly.

As you turn to face him, there’s a viciousness in your eyes, like a coyote prowls a baby deer, intent on playing dead.

Even still, he refused to say a word, despite his gaze falling to your breasts. He just watched, watched as you followed his silent request, grabbing the hem of your tank top and tugging it over your shoulders before dropping it to the floor.

As your breasts laid bare against your front now his brain began to short circuit a bit.

You followed that up, standing free from the bed and wedging your thumbs into your waistband before pulling your panties down your thighs and stepping out of them. All the while he watched you shamelessly, greedily. Like if he could look with his hands he'd be claws deep in your cunt right now.

“Alright. Ya got my attention.”

This time as you returned to the bed you took to climbing over him, sitting back against his hips as you dragged your finger down his grey wife beater, muscles perking up under your touch as you met the buckle of his belt.

He'd pressed his cigar between his lips again, puffing on it, hands resting behind his head now as he watched you, seemingly amused. Your passive sign to continue.

Despite the mischievous look on your face, you said nothing, busying yourself with unlatching his belt, tugging it free from its loops beneath his hips as he stared up at you.

There was a whimsical nature to his look now, a curiosity as you unfastened his jeans, unzipping them just enough to reveal the bulge of his semi erect dick, stretching against his black briefs.

He was warm and soft underneath and only getting harder as you gently thumbed at his shaft through the fabric now.

You paused your exploration so you could tug the cigar from between his lips. Leaning over, breasts hanging close enough to him that he could feel the radiating warmth, before resting it in the ashtray just beside the dingy bedside lamp.

If you told him he looked so sensitive in the eyes, he wouldn't believe you. There was nothing sensitive about him. Except the way he looked at you as you parted one finger into his fly where he throbbed as you made contact.

He grunted, showing his hand, ending this little silent game of poker face, followed by a sharp inhale as you reached inside to stroke around him.

He quickly grasped your thighs, holding you tightly, possessively, almost as if he was cautioning you to go any further. Yet that only fueled you to continue, tugging his dick free; just as furry around the base as the rest of him. As you stroked him now he couldn't fight the gentle buck of his hips pushing into your grasp, a growing, impatient need for more that urged him to break his silence.

Damn that felt good. The slow gentle stroke down his shaft, tugging his foreskin back from his head. He couldn't help watching you, naked, staring at it, a breathy sigh echoed from his throat. At hearing that you met his gaze with a sultry smile that made him bite his lip between his teeth.

“You want more?” You finally piped up, and your voice was so sweet it made his mouth water.

He nodded, tossing his head back in glee as you rolled your thumb over his tip with your other hand. It was intoxicating earning such languid moans from him. Rumbly, chiseled grunts, and gasps.

Your idle laugh spurred his on, and he couldn't hide his shitty smile, not so much joyful as he was punch-drunk off pure adrenaline.

“What're ya waitin’ for?”

You looked at him, confused as you continued pumping.

“Y’just gonna keep stroking it?”

It was you who couldn't contain your wild, sinister looking smile now, whispering. “Say the magic word and maybe I'll let you cum.”

Almost immediately his mood changed, biting his inner cheek as he released you.

“Fuck off.” He grunted, grabbing your wrist, pulling your hand off him.

“Aw, what's wrong, Logan? I thought we were having fun?” You cooed innocently.

His free hand cradled your hip, tossing you off of him, falling to your side as you quietly laughed to yourself.

He managed to tuck his dick back into his pants before standing up from the bed, glaring as you untuck the blankets so you could crawl underneath.

You sighed triumphantly, pressing your head against the pillow as he took his cigar from the ashtray, pausing as realization hit.

“Did all that shit just to have the bed back, didn't you?”

You looked at him disinterested, as if suddenly reminded of his presence. “I’m sorry. Did you actually expect me to fuck you?”

“Fuckin’ tease.” He growled, turning back into the living room where he found himself on the couch, yet again. Made worse, by the raging hard on in his pants that felt like it'd take two loads before going down. 

“And that's what you fucking get for gawking at me earlier. Fucking pervert.” You called out to him.

“Fuck you.” He answered back.

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[wittysunflower]

A Different You: Chapter two: “But on a Wednesday in a café…”/ Edward Lemuel x (Plus!size) Reader

(Gif's not mine, credit to movie-gifs from Tumblr)

Hi! Here's the second chapter of the A different You fanfic! I hope you enjoy it! It was somehow proofreaded but I hope you won't mind small mistakes!

Wordcount: 2766

Warnings: mention of su!cide, bad talking about one self, mockery, slight bullying (pointing fingers at someone), some curse words, minors DNI.

This is my work and I don't give permission to upload it anywhere else, to translate it, etc without my permission!

K.

****

In all your, rather short, life, you never thought you would meet someone who was so similar to you. So much that you would feel as if you had known this person all your life, or even that they would be so much like that you would start to think that you might had known them in a previous one. You've always been one of those people who have trouble making friends with new people, who can't talk to them. You've always been the quiet, shy girl who stood in the corner and waited your turn. You thought you'd never get to know anyone, so when someone did show up, you accepted anything as long as that person didn't leave. Even if it meant allowing them to treat you in a cruel and nasty way, and to push you into the background. You knew they were doing it, but you never left anyway, you were afraid of being alone. This fear ruled your life. It made you feel lonely, even though you had people around you, and yet - something was missing. All the people around you were only with you because you were always available. Eager to help, to chat, to let them cry on your shoulder. To complain about their “miserable” lives, when in fact, their lives were far from it. However, when it was you who was having a hard time, no one was there. Ingrid suddenly had many more important things on her mind. Such as going to the beautician, writing a new play, chasing after boyfriends, or partying at the club with her “better friends”. You were left alone, and when she was in need, she suddenly remembered your existence. It's always been that way. And you had managed to lose hope that this would ever change.

Until Edward came across your path. At the beginning of your friendship, he was withdrawn and kept to himself. The second time you met, surprisingly, was in the park. You were returning from work at the time, and you decided to walk through the park that separated the shop where you worked from your small flat. You had a hard day at work because the customers could be very unpleasant. Particularly older people who think they know everything best and have to question your competence. Fortunately, it was your temporary job, or at least that's what you thought, because it was just coming up to your fifth year since you started working there. But well, times were tough, and you were always short of money by the end of the month. Being almost at the exit you saw Edward walking across the road.

“Hey, Edward!” you called out, and he turned around surprised that someone was calling him. However, as soon as he saw you got the impression that he was pleased to see you, or at least that's what you managed to deduce, because unfortunately you had a hard time seeing anything on his face.

“Y/N? Hi, haven't seen you in a while.” he said, walking up to you. He shook your hand in greeting, somewhat awkwardly, but you shook it with a smile.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Well, Ingrid didn't need another porter, so I didn't hang around”, you said.

“What a pity! I think I had something to carry out.’’ he said and sighed. You looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I'm joking! Of course it was a joke, but you see, I'm no comedian. A horror movie character maybe, but a lousy comedian.” he tried to lighten the atmosphere, but you shook your head.

On the one hand, you appreciated that he was trying to make a joke, but on the other, you didn't like the way he was talking about himself.

“And I'm a lousy porter, so I don't think we're both suited to a full-time job.” you said. You started walking down the path around the park, you don't even know when, your legs carried you by themselves. “And you're not a circus character, you're too nice and special for that.”

You could feel his gaze on you when you said this, but he didn't comment in any way. You continued walking and talking. You told each other how the week had gone and what your plans were. You mentioned to him about the incident with the old lady in the shop.

“For real! She said that if I don't know colours then she doesn't know what I'm doing here!” you said, gesturing vividly. “And she told me to pick out a red nail polish, there are a million shades of red!”

Edward laughed. “Well, I don't know, they all look the same to me.”

“Men...” you muttered, rolling your eyes, sending him a smile.

You had just reached a small bridge, so you leaned on the railing, watching the brook that flowed below. He stood beside you, your elbows touching. “How was the interview?” you asked at some point. The last time you'd seen each other he'd mentioned having one.

“Miserably” he replied, sighing sadly. You looked up at him.

“What happened?”

“I hadn't even finished saying my line and they said I wasn't fit for the role...” he answered. “And I really tried, but as they said, because of the way I look they couldn't understand what I was saying.”

“Bastards.” you said. You smiled reassuringly. “They don't know what they're missing.”

You guessed from the alignment of his face that he was smiling, and his eyes glazed over. He wiped them stealthily and for a while you stood in silence.

“And how's your book?” he asked after some time.

“Rejected.” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. You were used to failure. “Apparently, tear jerkers are no longer in fashion,” you said.

“Bastards.” Edward replied, poking me with his shoulder. “They don't know what they're missing.”

You sent him a beaming smile. The two of you continued to stand in silence, watching the park. As usual with him, it wasn't an awkward silence. It was nice to spend time with someone who was similarly quiet as you. It gave some peace of mind that you didn't have to change to fit in with someone.

The third time you met him was when you visited Ingrid. You went to see her to retrieve your coat, which you had lent her on your last outing to the bar. As usual, she had dressed inappropriately for the weather, choosing a shorter skirt instead of a warmer jumper, and as you left after the party was over, it started to rain. And as a good friend, you gave her your coat. Of course, she didn't even thank you.

It was your favourite coat, so you decided to get it back. You stood outside her flat, ringing the bell. There was noise, music and sounds of conversation coming from inside. Fantastic, she had guests... Impatient, you pressed the button several times in a row. On probably the tenth time, she graciously opened the door, standing in it with a puzzled look on her face. “Y/N?”

“No, Saint Mary. I came for my coat.” you replied, stepping inside as she moved aside. Inside were three men and two women. Ingrid's friends from work. You greeted them, but they ignored it and returned to their conversation. As you took your coat, you heard them laughing and commenting on you. Ingrid, who was standing next to you, said nothing, smiling “apologetically”. Well, what could you expect from her? You were always just her background serving to improve her image, other people's comments about you didn't matter to her. As long as they didn't concern her personally, of course. 

You said a quick goodbye and left her flat. As soon as she closed the door, you breathed a sigh of relief. Encounters with Ingrid always made you nervous. You knew you should break off this friendship, but you feared you would be left all alone... Although somewhere in the back of your mind was the thought that maybe that wouldn't be the case, because there was still Edward. You looked sideways at his blood red door. You remembered how he'd complained about them during the walk, but he'd had no choice, it was Ingrid who'd had them put in after they'd been damaged by someone helping her bring in furniture when she moved.

Speaking of Edward, he was just coming up the stairs. You smiled broadly at the sight of him.

“I hope you're not one of those crazy peeping Toms who lurk under other people's flats.” he chuckled, walking up to you.

“Blimey, now it's out to the world...” you replied and laughed. You shook your head, lifting your coat up for him to see.  “No, I came to Ingrid to get my coat.”

He nodded. “Why don't you come in for a coffee?” he proposed.

“I'd love to, but unfortunately, I have to go. I have the night shift.” you said. You really wanted to stay, have a coffee with him and talk. You enjoyed his company. Maybe even too much...

“Then why don't we meet tomorrow? How about a cup of delicious chocolate at the ‘Wednesday’ café? They have delicious cakes there too...” he asked, not relenting. He too felt a desire to spend time with you.

“Sure. Well, I'll see you tomorrow then? I can come here then we'll go together, it’s on my way.” you offered.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow. And I don't mind the walk.” he smiled with that smile of his. When he did, his face magically brightened. “Especially with you.”

You couldn't help but blush. You didn't say anything though, just said goodbye to him and started walking down the stairs. Despite yourself, you couldn't wait for tomorrow.

Before your fourth meeting, you were nervous. You don't know why, but you had a feeling that it was a date. You also decided to dress yourself in a pretty dress. You chose this dark pink one, slightly flared at the bottom. It had little floral embroideries and a V-neck. Nothing too daring, but not too elegant either. You wore shoes with a small stiletto heel and a light jumper over your shoulders, as it was already chilly in the evening. As it is in October. You touched up your make-up one last time and left the house.

You entered his building, moving up the stairs to his flat. Being closer, you heard voices. Ingrid was talking to Edward. You felt a slight sting in your stomach, that never meant anything good. You were afraid she would tell him something about you. It wouldn't be the first time she did something like that... Once you were on the right floor, you saw that they were standing next to each other and talking. She was holding a typewriter. Had Edward given it to her? You felt a lump rise in your throat, he had once told you that he would love to give it to someone because he didn't use it, and it just collected dust. You thought you would be that person, but seeing her holding it, you felt disappointed. However, you chose to hide it, you had no right to feel left out because you never let it be known that you would need it. However, you had always dreamed of writing a book on such a machine...

“Look what Edward gave me!” was the first thing you heard from Ingrid when she saw you.

You smiled widely, somewhat forcedly, but quickly changed your expression to a more cheerful one. “Great, you've always wanted one! Shall we go?”  you turned to Edward, who nodded.

“Sure, I'll just get my jacket on, and we can go.” he said and disappeared inside his flat, and you stood for a moment with the blonde in awkward silence.

Edward came out after a while, closed the door and after a quick goodbye to your friend, you both headed for the exit.

****

“So, you gave the machine to Ingrid?” you asked, once you had ordered your drinks and were seated comfortably at a table in the depths of the room.

Edward was right, this café was cosy. It gave the atmosphere of some enchanted place. It was full of greenery, lots of plants. The interior was brown and green, and on the walls hung paintings that the owner had painted.

“Yes, I don’t give a shit about it. I don't need it.” he replied, clumsily trying to slice a cake. It was somewhat cute. You nodded your head at what he said.

The two of you talked about everything and nothing. Edward told you about the upcoming auditions, he also showed you a commercial with him in it on his phone.

“Very convincing, well done.” you praised how he acted, smiling at him. You were glad he had acted in something, even if his acting only involved pretending to feel poorly in a commercial.

You also told him about your book.

“You know, maybe I'll end up in it too?” he said. You looked at him.

He didn't even know you had based one character on him. A figure that lit up the whole room when he walked into it. Because that's how you saw him. That's how Edward was to you. You always thought love would be loud, but it came quietly, crept into your heart, and took up residence there. You fell in love with your best friend, irrevocably and for good. However, you would never tell him this. You didn't want to destroy the fragile thing you had. It was so good, quiet and peaceful.

“Maybe you're already in it...” you said, sending him another smile. You hid your face behind your coffee cup so that he wouldn't see your blush.

He was already about to reply when someone knocked on the glass of the window where you were sitting. It was pouring outside, so you couldn't even see the person very well. Only his face with a frightening wide smile. The man was standing opposite Edward and waving in his direction. You looked first at the stranger and then at your friend. You had a shocked look on your face. You couldn't believe what was just happening. You were used to it being you that people reacted by pointing fingers at you... You sent him a sad smile when the strange man had gone. “You knew him?” was the only thing you managed to say after this awkward encounter.

“Don't worry about it, that's the way it always is. You get used to it.” he said after a while, looking in your direction.

For a moment neither of you said anything. The silence was broken by your voice. You uttered something you immediately regretted, but it was too late to take it back.

“Have you ever thought about suicide?” you asked. You remembered him mentioning his neighbour's committing. And just in your style, you must have asked a stupid question.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe.”

You poked him on the shoulder with your hand. You had a concerned look on your face.

“Hey, don't say maybe, say never!” you scolded him.

“I'd be like Werther.”  he replied.

You raised an eyebrow. “Werther missed.” you said dryly.

“Wimp.” you heard in reply.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, it's best to turn everything into a joke. You sighed. For the rest of your meeting, you didn't bring up any more serious topics. Just the weather, the Yankees losing, a run-over cat on the road, a trail of spilled petrol in the shape of a dinosaur's head.

When he escorted you outside your flat, you couldn't help yourself. You walked closer and, standing on your tiptoes, kissed him goodbye on the cheek. You hadn't done that since your first meeting. The only thing that was different now was that you felt his arms embrace you. Edward hugged you, tentatively and lightly, but still. You embraced him tighter and said in his ear: “Don't worry about what you have no control over. People will throw stones at you anyway because they will be blinded by the way you shine.”

As you climbed the stairs of the tenement, the thought went through your head that you had always thought that love only hurts, burns from within and destroys everything that stands in its way. That was how you had been taught and that was your experience of love up to that point. However, when you turned to look one last time at the man who had changed your world, you felt only peace.

[wittysunflower]

Pierced through the heart, but never killed.

| Ghost x Fat!Reader |

Simon pays the price of his ruthlessness in the field, but his reward is worth the pain. CW: Reader is described as fat/plus-size/curvy/chubby, etc. Patient/Physiotherapist, Perv!Simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of wounds + guns + knives + violence, rehab shit, military shit, protective!Simon, possessive!Simon, dom/sub dynamics(?), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving), breeding kink, body worship, clearly 18+ mdni.

Tumblr - Ao3 (to be linked!) coming on May 30, 2025!

[wittysunflower]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝚰𝐒𝐓

[ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 ]

SYNOPSIS. Overlooked by your whole life in favor to his patient and also childhood friend — you kept quiet. Silently loving the man that belongs to you in a arranged marriage and sometimes you get tired too of asking to be noticed. A outburst from a drunken confession, leads you one thing to another. Miraculously surviving a fatal car accident and being placed under the care of your distant fiancé. Things started to change and so is he. Zayne can't take his eyes off you now. You got his whole attention and he's not that willing to let you go.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A huge thanks to @itsmearia01 for requesting this one and turning this into a whole trilogy with extra scenes. You can also buy me a ko-fi.

THE CHAPTERS CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING. heavy angst + non mc + unrequited love + arranged marriage + yandere themes + ooc zayne + implied noncon/dubcon + pregnancy + babytrapping + emotional cheating + possessiveness + clubbing + neglect + emotional manipulation + gaslighting + implied murder + car accidents + blood and violence. dead dove do not eat.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄��� 𝟏: HEART OF GLASS

It wasn't your place to dictate what his heart wants but sometimes you wished his affections were directed to you — just once. was it difficult to spare you crumbs of affection or when Zayne noticed how you start to pull away from him and it was too late for him to realize how damaged the relationship was you desperately trying to build and you got tired of wanting him. can he still get you back? or must he turn to drastic measures?

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐: THE SNOWFLAKES ON YOUR SHOULDERS

Zayne's an expert for fixing things including heart related problems and yours wasn't an exception. He can take apart your heart and fill the holes of your once shattered heart but can he really do it? When it is you who's refusing him now?

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑: MY HEART IN YOUR HANDS

a night of his love bore a result. one that you can't escape from. you were still determined to let go of him and put him the story and happiness he deserves even you'll be left with nothing but a body with a shattered heart — Zayne is a another story. He's not willing to let you go when he's already in too deep.

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒

❆ MC TRYING TO RECONNECT WITH ZAYNE

❆ TELLING A OLD FRIEND ABOUT YOUR SITUATION

❆ ZAYNE FINDING OUT YOU KILLED YOURSELF

❆ ZAYNE REACTING TO YOU BEING KIDNAPPED

❆ DEVELOPING STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

❆ HOW MANY KIDS HE'LL WANT

❆

[wittysunflower]

Forest of Fics [masterlist]

feat. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Andy Barber, Nick Fowler, Ari Levinson, Curtis Everett, Lloyd Hansen, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Joaquin Torres, Wanda Maximoff, Matt Murdock, God the Bounty Hunter, Ransom Drysdale

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RWT: Epilogue [2.9k] Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader | Steve Stays post-Endgame AU, presidential campaign, smut, final part of of Red, White & True

Maybe Not [2k] Alpha!Ari Levinson x curvy!omega Millennial Female!Reader | Apocalyptic AU, omegaverse, sequel to Waiting on One Look

RWT: Election Day in New York. pt, 3 [5.8k] Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader | Steve Stays post-Endgame AU, presidential campaign, ch 17 of Red, White & True

RWT: Election Day in New York. pt, 2 [5.3k] Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader | Steve Stays post-Endgame AU, presidential campaign, smut, ch 16 of Red, White & True

the morning after [2.3k] neighbor!Bucky Barnes x curvy Millennial female!Reader | modern AU, smut, sequel to Sweet and Flashy Summer Saturdays

Intimate Intrigues [8.5k] Nick Hansen x curvy Millennial female!reader | post-The 355, smut

Sensible Sorting [1.5k] Curtis, Ari (off-screen curly Millennial female!reader) | modern tattoo artist au, explicit smut, part of the Obsidian Stain & Sin series

Even Better Than In My Head [2.9k] Bucky x curvy Millennial female!reader | modern AU, part of Bed Chem

Just Say When [3.2k] Nomad Steve x curvy Millennial female!reader | soft dark, smut, part of Exiled Nomad

Arrangement [2.3k] minotaur!Bucky x curvy Millennial scientist female!reader | modern minotaur AU, smut, sequel to Sacrificial

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CEDAR TREES [royal/historical AU] king!Steve, smut, fluff

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I'M YOUR MAN [mafia AU] soft!dark Andy Barber, dub con, smut

RED, WHITE & TRUE [presidential campaign/Steve stays AU] slow burn, politically arranged marriage, eventual smut

Legal Temptations Andy Barber, canon adjacent, explicit smut

HUFFILY EVER AFTER: A CindereLloyd Story [modern AU] Lloyd Hansen, enemies to lovers, eventual smut

OBSIDIAN STAIN & SIN [tattoo artist AU] MFM Curtis Everett & Ari Levinson, "no strings attached," someone catches feels, smut

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BUCKY BARNES COLLECTION

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Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, Joaquin Torres, Matthew Murdock, Namor the Sub-Mariner

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Andy Barber, Ari Levinson, Curtis Everett, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

[wittysunflower]

Hiya! So sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you know any story about threesome between loki x plus size wife reader that went to some sort of club or a place where they can do all the kinky stuff but it was like an elite sort of club? They went to a private room and there was also another loki there (?) ot tom hiddleston other character? Not quite sure I remember the reader wore something in green or the cover of the story was something in green

Oh my gosh, i swear i’ve read that one before!!!!!!! If anyone knows which story this is please help!

[wittysunflower]

Alright, based on your ACOTAR unpopular opinion about tamlin...I will get on my knees and beg you to write a Tamlinx plus size reader fic where she helps him heal and he is just head over heels in love with her Pretty please with sugar on top 💚

Beauty & the Beast | Tamlin

ACOTAR Tamlin X Plus Sized Reader

When Y/N finds Tamlin dying in the forest, she has no choice but to save him. Even if everything in her wished this male dead. Like two storms colliding, they meet. A broken High Lord, a hopeless healer. It almost sounds like fate.

Warning: PART ONE Mature themes (18+), swearing, fluff, and eventual smut next chapter.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"Wake up!" I hissed, "Wake up, you lumbering brute!"

The beast groaned, his lithe body writhing beneath my hands—hands that pressed desperately against the mortal wound at his side, trying to staunch the relentless flow of blood.

His golden fur was matted with red, the blood oozing from the gaping hole beneath his fifth rib. My palms were sticky with it, and the bitter, metallic scent filled the air. If I could smell it, I knew every predator and prey in the forest could too.

I shifted on my knees atop the muddied ground, my wide eyes canvassing the vast forest around me, scrutinizing every leaf and log and skitter of feet. I strained my ears, listening for any noises that would indicate that more of them were coming.

I glared down at the beast before me, that wolf's head lolling on the floor, his lion's body limp with pain, and those bear's claws coated with guts and gore.

"You're going to get us both killed," I cursed him, cursed myself, cursed the Mother and the Cauldron, and every other forgotten God out there for forcing this upon me.

I had found him passed out in this forest passage, a death rattle trembling from his lungs. If that hadn't been bad enough, my heart nearly stopped dead at the sight not fifteen feet ahead— Naga, five of them, ripped to utter ribbons and scattered across the dirt.

They had put up a furious fight if the scratches and claws and teeth marks covering him were any indication. Enough of a fight that one had managed to strike a deadly blow to the male before it died.

He had been dying when I found him, had lost so much blood for a second, I thought he was dead.

And now here I was— desperately trying to save him. Save the High Lord of Spring.

If he could even be considered that anymore.

I grit my teeth, steadying my breath as I let my power surge through me. White, incandescent light blazed from my hands, channeling directly into the wound. It stitched torn flesh, mended tendons, fused bones, and restored the ruined skin.

Only for a second though, before the injury tore open yet again and a fresh bout of blood began leaking through the gaps in my fingers. It was the same cycle I had been enduring for several long minutes now, and I began to fear his body would not take any more of this.

"For the love of the Mother," I pressed my palms down hard enough to hurt, hard enough for his muscled form to jolt. "You need to wake up, you need to change back to your Fae form!"

Panic rose in me like a tidal wave as his breathing grew shallower. This forest had become a death trap; these lands teemed with danger. If Naga roamed here, then so would bogeys, exiles, and Cauldron knows what other horrors.

Here, on this cursed ground, with this wounded, defenceless male, we were prey. We were as vulnerable as rabbits caught in a snare, awaiting death. And it was all because of him, the state he was in, the state of these lands, the monsters that had been tormenting the people and villages.

It was all because of him.

Anger blazed through me, bringing tears to my eyes. In a moment of desperation, I did something cruel, something that made my very soul weep. I plunged a finger into his wound, the flesh and blood squelching as I repeatedly stabbed into him.

On the third brutal stab, his fierce green eyes snapped open, shining like emeralds amidst the darkness.

The High Lord of the Spring Court roared.

The very land trembled with that roar, and I cringed as birds took flight from trees and the forest animals began dashing away — from the horrible power and anger that radiated off this beast.

He flipped, as fast as I could blink, snapping jaws and growling, nearly knocking me straight onto my ass as he did so. But as quick as that anger came, it was replaced by something far worse, far stronger.

The High Lord groaned, his mammoth form staggering back to the ground as pain overwhelmed him.

"What have you done?" He commanded, in a voice that was nothing Fae or human or safe. He tried to drag himself away from me, but somehow, I was the stronger one in this situation, keeping my hands staunching his wound. "What have you done to me?"

"Will you stop fucking moving?" I hissed, trying not to balk as those soulless green eyes latched onto me and he snarled. "I didn't do this to you, but I am the one saving your gods-damn life."

His claws extended at my words, latching onto the ground. He glared at me as if he wished that it had been my flesh instead.

"What are you doing— "

His voice was the epitome of raw, primal danger as his form moved, snatching back from my hands, from the white light that had begun leaking from it. I swore because as soon as my pressure disappeared, a steady tap of near-black blood began to ooze and puddle under him.

I gasped as he staggered onto his bloodied paws, so fathomably large that he eclipsed the forest, eclipsed the sun and sky above. The blood didn't stop leaking, yet that did little to deter the beast as he tried and failed to step away, swaying and groaning as he did so.

"Stop, you need to lay down," I fought the urge to grab him, cringing at the gore and blood painted across my hands, stuck under my fingernails. "You need to turn, I can't heal— "

"Do not touch me," Another monstrous snap of teeth and threatening snarl when I reached a hand to him. "Do not touch me, witch."

"Witch?" I laughed sardonically. "I am a healer you bastard, and I am trying to save your ungrateful ass."

He hunched forward, grimacing in pain, a pain I saw hollow out his green eyes. It took more effort than it should have for his powerful head to lift and those eyes to meet mine.

"Mind your tongue when you speak to me, witch," He warned, sharp, terse words undercut with laboured breath. "Do you know who I am? I demand respect as High Lord— "

"You demand nothing, you are nothing," I erupted, my voice rising with my temper as I pointed at him. My hands were bloodied, almost symbolic really. "Look at yourself, look around you. You are Lord of nothing, you are Lord of no one, and none but me is here to aid you."

He staggered another step, paws shaking from his weight. If he heard my words, if he felt the sting of them, I couldn't tell.

"You need to turn back to your Fae form if you want to live," I continued, my tone still unforgiving. "My magic is useless to you like this, I can't stop the bleeding until you turn."

"And if I do not?" He retorted, words beginning to slur together. Somehow, he didn't look so scary now—  he almost looked afraid. "Will your healer heart allow you to leave me here to die, Witch?"

"Turn," I said again, almost pleading now. Because the blood had begun to slow, and I knew that would not bode well for him. "Please, turn."

He blinked, long, dark lashes fluttering and that terrifying yet magnificent beast face stared at me, stared through me. I wondered if he was contemplating death if the darkness in his eyes was him resigning himself in defeat.

"If not for yourself," I said, my words strained. "Then for your people, for this court. Do not – do not abandon them wholly, Tamlin."

Tamlin. It was the first time I had uttered his name and as if the darkness had been pulled like a blanket from his eyes, I saw clarity shine within the green hues.

One second that foreboding, golden beast towered above me, and then the next, light flared, and I had to shield my eyes to endure it. It took me a moment to reorientate myself and when I had, my breath caught at the sight before me.

Tamlin knelt in the mud, with his head hung low, long blonde hair eclipsing his strong, beautiful face. Those broad shoulders hunched in, his body a canvas of muscle, carved and dipped and moulded to perfection.

He looked like a broken king. A bloodied monarch kicked down to the status of a mongrel.

His moon-pale skin seemed to shine under the dim Spring sun, his chest heaving with shallow breaths as he composed himself. The wound was worse in his Fae form, so much worse. I swallowed back the tinge of bile rising in my throat at the distinct sight of bone marrow and tendons peeking out the gaping hole.

"Cauldron, I need to heal that now— " I reached for him, and the infuriating bastard jerked back. I growled. "Do you want to die?"

His chest rose, faster now, his large, calloused hands curling into fists in the mud.

"Because believe me, your death would bear little impact on me, or anyone else." I continue harshly. "In fact, under different circumstances I'd probably be more incensed to watch you bleed out."

"Then let me bleed, Witch," He rumbled.

"If you die, we're all fucked." I spit, crawling angrily through the mud towards him, my dress streaked in dirt and filth beyond saving. "Because you have no heirs and no powerful contenders in your shitty court to supersede you. It's just you. And as useless as you are, at least the breath in your lungs is keeping this territory from completely collapsing."

His head lifted as I stopped before him, and my breath caught at the first real sight I got of his face.

Cauldron, he was beautiful.

Carved with an effortless kind of regality, his face was a canvas born of strong contours and noble lines that screamed power. High cheekbones, a straight, precise nose, and full yet firm lips, curled into a snarl that allowed the smallest glimpse of the sharp, white teeth beneath.

But it was his eyes that stole the air from my lungs.

Vividly green, deep and endless, like the heart of an ancient forest. And like a forest, they were still, fathomless, soulless. They stared through me.

He didn't argue with my condemning words. In truth, he didn't even seem to be affected by them.

But he unfurled his fists in the mud. And it spoke the words he wouldn't say.

Exhaling a deep breath, I shifted closer on my knees, closing the final gap of space between us. My small shaking hands reached towards that gaping bleeding hole, slowly, like one would approach a wounded animal.

Which Tamlin seemed to be. Wounded. Broken. Damaged beyond repair. The High Lord of Spring was a shell of the male he had been.

It was almost sad. Almost.

He sucked in a sharp breath as my palm connected with his torn, ruined flesh, squelching. I steepled my fingers over the open wound, his skin hot and electric against mine.

"This is going to hurt," I warned softly.

"Careful, or I'll think you care, Witch." He drawled, head bowed low again.

"Not likely," I muttered, and I thought I saw a hint of a sardonic smile.

I didn't dwell on it. I didn't view him as anything other than something I despised.

I clenched my teeth, forcing my breath to steady as I unleashed my power. White, incandescent light poured from my hands, sinking into the gaping wound. Flesh knit together, torn tendons wove back into place, shattered bones fused seamlessly, and raw, ruined skin smoothed as if untouched.

The air hummed with magic, the light pulsing in time with his shallow breaths—until, at last, the wound was nothing more than a ghost of pain left behind.

His chest expanded with a deep, powerful breath and with the exhale, the forestry around us quivered. It was raw power. And yet I had the distinct impression that it was a mere whisper of what he truly possessed in his arsenal.

It was the crumbs of what remained after months of stagnation and stifling.

He groaned, hunching forward, his fist meeting the ground to steady himself. Instinctively, I reached forward, small hands gripping his broad shoulders and using my strength to keep the brute from collapsing and eating dirt.

An electric hum of power burned through my palm where it met his skin, so potent it prickled through my bloodstream and straight to my heart, thumping it loud and hard, again and again.

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum—

He tore his body from mine, a snarl rumbling in his chest. "Unhand me, Witch. I'm fine."

My eyes narrowed into slits, palms curling into fists and retreating to my sides. "Yeah, you seem fine. Perfectly normal to keel over in the dirt."

Emerald eyes shot to mine, narrowed and sharp with anger at my sardonic tone.

"And you're welcome by the way," I spat, tossing my braid over a shoulder and rising to my feet indignantly. "You know, for saving your life."

My dress was ruined, the simple blue cotton stained with mud and blood and Cauldron only knew what else. The fabric stuck wetly to my body, clinging uncomfortably to every swell and dip and roll I had.

His gaze flickered from my face down my body. His snarling expression didn't shift, but there was a distinct flare in his eyes. Like a male seeing something that he couldn't deny, even if he wanted to.

Heat bloomed my cheeks, and I roughly cleared my throat, straightening my spine. "Guess we're done here. Try not to die again, High Lord."

I bowed mockingly, enjoying the grumble of annoyance that revved through his chest. Before straightening, shooting the male one last scathing look and turning on my heel in the forest and walking away.

I cringed at the blood caking my hands, cringed more as I tiptoed over the mutilated bodies of the Naga scattered around. I'd need to find a stream, or some kind of well, if I walked into the next village looking like a mass murderer I'd be chased off with pitchforks.

Perhaps if I—

A pained grunt broke through my inner thoughts and my feet stopped before I commanded them to. I turned back around and then huffed. "Oh, for fuck sake."

The High Lord of Spring was passed out on the floor, face buried in the dirt.

I hesitated and then trudged back towards him, cursing the Mother for my misfortune.

***

When my senses finally returned, two things became clear.

One: Night had fallen, meaning I'd been unconscious for hours.

Two: The loud, foul-mouthed witch who had saved my life was still here.

With more effort than I cared to admit, I turned my head to the side, the movement sending a dull ache rippling through my skull. A rough, lumpy branch pressed against my neck, its bark biting into my skin.

Blinking away the black spots that danced at the edges of my vision, my gaze settled on the witch.

She crouched before a crackling fire, her small, plump hands outstretched toward the flames. Now and then, she plucked a broken branch from the pile beside her and tossed it into the fire, the wood hissing as it caught.

My eyes traced over those hands—clean now, the dried blood and filth scrubbed away. She must have found water. Where there had once been crusted gore, there was only smooth, unblemished skin, her nails polished and pristine, glinting faintly in the firelight.

I recalled how they'd glowed, incandescent and pure, when she'd pressed over my gaping wound and healed me. The heat had been both excruciating yet relieving, the feeling of that fatal hole closing inch by inch felt like a breath of fresh air after an eternity trapped underwater.

She was a healer, though in five hundred years, I'd never encountered a healer like her, or any female like her. Brazen, out-spoken, mouthy beyond what was smart or necessary.

If I didn't owe her a life debt, I'd likely have torn out that viper tongue of hers. Or plucked out those sharp, piercing eyes that glared and narrowed and rolled as if I were a pest she had stumbled across.

Cauldron, the witch had infuriated me enough that I'd almost forgotten I was dying.

My gaze unconsciously swept over her form. Another distracting thing I would begrudgingly admit to. Her body was pure sin. A temptation any hot-blooded male would be unable to deny.

I rake down the spoiled fabric of her dress, the blue cotton stained red from my blood, dried and flaking. It clung to her obscenely, highlighting the swells of her ample figure in a way that would make any God-fearing male send up blessings to the Cauldron and Mother above.

Much to my chagrin, I was staring. Even with a splitting migraine, and a soul-deep ache, I was staring.

"Finally awake, sleeping beauty?" That viper tongue of hers drawled, and my green eyes snapped up from her body to those unforgiving eyes.

My gaze narrowed.

Her eyes rolled in response, and she chucked another log onto the fire, the flames crackling and rising high. Against the backdrop of the dark, silent forest, the amber fire kissed her skin, highlighting the plump curves and the tart persona.

"You're welcome," She muttered drily. "You know, for saving your life. Again."

"I wasn't dying, Witch." My voice rumbled out like a thunderclap.

"No, you just passed out into the dirt, sweating, heartbeat near non-existent and then didn't awake for half a day," Another eye roll, "Sounds perfectly normal to me."

I tried to raise myself onto my elbows. Tried and failed. A growl rumbled in my throat.

"You came back." It wasn't a question. Just a statement. As flat and unfeeling as my soul felt.

"Seemed a waste for me to make such an effort to save your life, only for you to die from exposure," She shrugged. And I had the distinct impression this female truly did not care if I lived or died.

It should have offended me, perhaps hurt me, but instead, I found it begrudgingly admirable. She hated me and had no qualms being up front about it. That kind of honesty was rare.

I vaguely recalled her words earlier.

"Bastard."

"I am trying to save your ungrateful ass."

My lips almost tugged into a faint smile, a flicker of something akin to amusement blazing to life in my chest. It was an emotion I hadn't experienced in such a long time; I had difficulty even placing it.

My eyes sharpened upon her as she began to walk over to me. Instinctively, I curled my fists in the dirt, feeling the pinprick of my claws hidden just beneath the skin. If she felt my hostility, my aggression, she didn't acknowledge it.

My face was steel, immovable, as she knelt by my sprawled figure. Her face was a mirror, I quickly realised—steel, immovable, and cold—as if it was her instinct to resent being near me, too.

She reached for me, a damp scrap of cloth in her palm. I jerked back, and she glowered.

"Stop moving," She bit out, "or I'll pin your overgrown ass down."

Cauldron, she was a demon.

Ignoring my deathly glare, and the flash of sharp canine teeth, she merely placed the damp, cold cloth against my neck. With more tenderness than I'd expected, she began to carefully soothe my overheated skin.

My breath caught at the first touch of coldness, like ice meeting molten fire. But also cause of the brief touch of her skin against mine. Those soft small fingers grazing my throat and collarbones with each precise, gentle stroke of the cloth.

Her face betrayed nothing as she ran the cooling cloth over my skin, water droplets running down the carved muscles along my pectorals and abdomen. Though she clearly held contempt for me, this female soothed and cared for me with a touch that could only be described as God's-send.

It was the first moment of peace I'd felt in.... so long. Too long.

The forest around us eerily silent, except for the distant noises of lurking animals heard in snapping branches or rustling bristles. The moon above glowed— Dimly. Like everything in Spring, it was dim, depleted, as if the energy had been sucked dry from it.

Because of me.

Spring Court was weak, broken, vulnerable. Like me. A mirror image of the barren landscape that was my soul.

The Witch ran the cloth down my sternum, and the tingle rippled like dominos across my spine.

"For a Witch, who obviously disdains my mere existence," I said, more strained than I'd like. "You're helping me an awful lot."

Another drag of that cloth, down my stomach, my abdomen clenching. "Would you rather I let you die?"

"I think you would rather I die," I mutter.

Those eyes roll again. "I already told you; your death would do more bad than good."

"If you die, we're all fucked. Because you have no heirs and no powerful contenders in your shitty court to supersede you. It's just you. And as useless as you are, at least the breath in your lungs is keeping this territory from completely collapsing."

Right. I was the last thread holding this court together. Ironic considering I'd been the one responsible for its downfall to begin with.

"Have we met before, Witch?" I caught her small wrist in my large, calloused hand. Pressed my thumb against her pulse point and felt it race. The only sign that my presence affected that ice-cold exterior.

"No. we haven't." She said, her wrist in my hand still. "Though I doubt you would remember even if we had. Why bother, I'm only a lesser Fae. Common folk."

Her sharp words had my fingers tightening around her wrist, not painfully, but firmly. "So, you hate me without even knowing me?"

"I know enough."

My fingers tightened further. "You know nothing, Witch, I am—"

"I know that before, you ruled this land like one would rule an army: with an iron fist," She gritted out. "I know of the tithe you forced upon your people, even those who could barely feed their kids. The sanctions you placed as punishment when the common folk could not deliver to your heathen demands. The utter lack of mercy you had."

Her palm curled into a fist, her pulse pounding like a war drum under my thumb.

"I know that you are the reason that Spring had crumbled to the ashes," She continued on her unforgiving tirade. "Some blame Feyre Cursebreaker for the ruination of Spring. But me? I blame you."

Something cracked open in my chest at Feyre's name. The old wound leaking blood, so much, I swear I tasted iron on my tongue.

"Listen here, Witch," I snarled, tugging her by the wrist I still held, until her face hovered over mine. "Control your tongue, before I—"

"Before you what? What, you swine?" She breathed, fire in her eyes. "Because from where I stand, not only is your power little more than a spec, but your strength is even less. So do not threaten me."

My claws inched out my knuckles as I glared this viper down. She didn't so much as blink at it.

"It was your stupidity, your arrogance, your entitlement over Feyre that led you to allying with Hybern, led you to 'winning' her back," She continued, "And the ruin she inflicted upon spring, upon Ianthe, upon your sentinels, and army... it was all your doing."

"She betrayed me," I barked. "She betrayed us all."

"Feyre laid the traps," She scoffed, "But it was your selfishness, your pig-headed, easily led insecurity that made you fall straight into them. You betrayed her first, we all know it. So, stop lying to yourself and me."

"You don't know," I breathed, fist closing like a vice around her wrist, talons pressing to the delicate skin, not yet breaking through. I felt like a fire was burning through my heart. "You don't know, Witch."

"Perhaps not, perhaps that truth is one only you, Feyre and the Gods share," Her voice shook, those eyes glossed with anger and tears. "But after? What excuse do you have for abandoning this Court, Tamlin? What excuse is enough to explain what this land has become?"

The pain in her words felt as raw as her reaching into my chest and squeezing my stagnant heart. My eyes clenched, from weakness, from pain, from denial. I wasn't sure.

Her fingers gripped my chin hard, shook my face, forcing me to open my eyes again. "Look at me! Damn you, look at me!"

I did.

Tears welled in her eyes, her plump cheeks burning red and streaked with tears. But still her lip curled at the corner, a flash of white teeth.

"The sun barely shines; the moon hardly rises!" She continued, voice breaking. "The very earth itself is dying, because you have given up. You roam these lands, resigned in your beast form, and each day this court suffers more and more for it."

My talons pierce the delicate skin of her wrist, scarlet blood pooling from the pricks. But she doesn't flinch at it— I imagined her emotional pain overshadowed the physical.

"And the monsters that dwell here," A noise akin to a sob comes from her and I flinch. "Do you even know what is happening in the villages? What atrocities the common folk are enduring?"

A fresh bout of pain speared my chest. I was feeling again. Fuck, I forgot how much it hurt to feel.

"Monsters— Naga, Bogey, Puca— they roam these lands, uncontrolled," Her chest heaves as she says each word, "But it's our own people, the Fae of these lands, who terrorise us so greatly. Pillaging villages, murdering, raping, stealing, burning homes and business, taking children and wives!"

Breathing became a burden. As if the forest around us disappeared, and the pain that had throbbed in my body and mind and soul had been washed away, all I knew, all I felt, was this female. Her sorrow. So strong, I could taste her tears on my tongue.

My fingers loosened around her wrist, talons retreating into my skin.

"I watched my village burn as they came," She cried, "I saw homes and houses ruined, I saw men slaughtered and their heads spiked on lances and paraded. Women raped and violated before their families. Children beaten and chained. Barely a handful of us survived."

Something wet and hot began leaking down my cheeks, saltiness bursting across my tongue. I blinked back the fog over my eyes, wanting, needing, to see her anguished face above mine as she raged and sobbed.

Cauldron, I was crying.

When was the last time I'd cried?

"All these innocent people dead, violated, lives ruined. And do you know what they prayed for? Begged for?" She snarled at me, a gut-wrenching sob tearing from her mouth. "They prayed to the Cauldron for the High Lord to come save them. They prayed you would come, and you didn't!"

My body jerked, and I damn near almost begged her to stop. Please stop talking. Please stop making me feel this. Please stop.

"You didn't come," Her shoulders shook, head bowing forward as she whispered again and again. "You didn't save them."

Please stop.

Her face blurred in my vision, a cloud of endless tears falling. I didn't speak; I didn't make a sound. I had nothing to say— no excuse, no reason, nothing that could ever undo this. Nothing.

"Feyre betrayed you, but you betrayed us," She breathed. Her head lifted, and those agonised eyes locked onto mine. A look of condemnation from a thousand souls. "You betrayed us."

A gurgled noise bubbles at the base of my throat, the muscles clenched so tight I could barely get down a breath. My fingers tightened around her wrist almost desperately.

She watched me.

Waited.

My lips parted, mouth opening— speak, you fucking bastard, say something, say anything! Nothing came out, no words, no sounds, nothing.

She scoffed, tearing her wrist from my hold, severing the connection between us, and I felt it like the loss of a limb. I watch her hand swipe across her face, smearing snot and tears angrily.

I reached out my shaking hand as she rose and stalked away.

"Sleep, Tamlin," She said coldly, settling onto a log beside the fire, her back to me. "And pray the monsters don't come out to play tonight."

***

I don't know when I fell asleep. Or how.

Perhaps from exhaustion, or pain, or perhaps my bleeding heart drained any reserve I had left until my body had no choice but to sleep.

But when I awoke, I knew two things yet again.

One: It was morning, and the dying sun shone overhead.

Two: The Witch was gone. 

___________________________________________________________

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[wittysunflower]

Good Company

Warnings: fluff, anxiety, making out

There had been a shootout at the clubhouse and everyone was okay. But that didn’t stop the club from protecting everyone who was there. You were in fear because you had felt a strange presence like someone watching or following you for the past month. So after the shooting you were on edge. You were helping Tara by assisting in patching the ones who got shot or injured during the ordeal. The guys were talking at the bar and going on how everyone needs to be on the look for any more attacks. A few club members were placed at different houses. Since you lived alone, you were given Happy.

Truthfully, he was scary but you were attracted to him. While he was always wearing a frown, carrying deadly weapons, and just not very talkative you still felt excited to see him whenever he was there at least. During the day he left a prospect while he was out doing club business. Occasionally you would also get a call from him to make sure you were still okay. You might’ve taken his signals wrong because you really started to grow attached to him. Being used to seeing him in the morning brewing coffee and then the sounds of him returning to your home late at night. You had conversations with him before but they were all mostly just small talk. So the night when he came back you would really initiate your move. The sound of his bike was a giveaway and you rushed to sit on you couch in the living room to greet him. You were casually flipping through different channels trying to look busy while hearing the front door open.

“Hey.”

“Hey, you’re up late.”

“I guess. Just can’t sleep.” He didn’t speak as he disappeared into the kitchen and you followed. You watched him reach for a bottle of water. As he swigged his drink you made sure not to stare as you grabbed a bottle of wine. He didn’t seem to care as you poured a glass and joined to with you at the table.

“Think you’re gonna finish that bottle?”

“Probably not.” With that he took the bottle and drank straight from the bottle. You didn’t feel surprised or offended since he was normally a brute. Both of you sat and chatted for a bit while rain began pouring outside.

“Is your bike gonna be okay?”

“Shit. I need a tarp or something.”

“I’ve got one in my closet.” You say before standing up and going to find it. He took your lead and watched you open a hall closet. Your eyes scan for it and see it on the top shelf. You realized you probably were never going to use it and placed it too high. You tried to reach but it was a fail and then feel Happy’s solid body right against your back and see his tattooed arm reach for the tarp with ease. You didn’t say anything but watched him throw his hood from his jacket over his head while walking out the front door. As he was gone you shut the closet door and leaned onto it as you felt your breath get heavy. He was so close you could smell his natural scent along with leather. It made you forget that Happy was just outside and he came in looking at you funny.

“You okay there?”

“Oh I’m fine! Just making sure this door is shut all the way.” You accompany with a light laugh and make your way back to the dining table. You looked over your shoulder and see Happy removing his kutte and hoodie.

“You think you’ve been followed lately?”

“Honestly, not for a while. But I get scared if something will happen again. Just like the day at the clubhouse.”

“I’m here. And I won’t let anything happen. Keeping you safe is my priority.” He said so nonchalantly and you felt yourself blushing. He didn’t notice but reached for the bottle of wine and took a long sip from the spout. You both sat in silence and you felt tense as you wanted to reach across the table and kiss him.

“I’m going to bed. Do you need anything?”

“You don’t look tired. You sure you don’t want to stay up?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in my room. Just holler if you need anything babe.” You quickly covered your mouth and grow bright red. Did you really just blurt that out? Yes, you did. Being frozen in place you could only imagine what Happy could be thinking. Embarrassment filled your core as you tried to process the situation. Doing you best you slowly began walking to your room but got stopped by Happy. He cut you off and stood tall before you.

“Where you going girl?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, it’s just you’re so hot, I mean-“ Happy let you babble on incoherently and tried hard not to laugh. You didn’t know what to do but try to move past him but he blocked you with his arm.

“Why are you trying to run away?” You didn’t answer but looked down at your feet. You watched his hand reach to touch you but you tensed as he held your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Answer me Y/N.”

You felt flattered since it was the first time he actually said your name.

“Because I’m stupid to think you’d feel the same about me. I’ll just get some sleep.”

“So I don’t get an input about this? Why don’t you just ask how I feel?”

“I don’t know.” He frowned at you and moved for you to step by him. He walked to the living room while leaving you in the hallway. You wanted to go to your room but your feet had brought you into the living room and see Happy relaxing on the couch.

“What?”

“How do you feel?” You ask and see his eyebrows raise. His hand motioned you toward him and you moved without hesitation.

“Sit.”

“But that doesn’t answer my-“

“I’m not asking again.” You just did as told and sat in the spot next to him. You felt nervous and kepr your hands upon your lap and tried not to stare at him.

“Why are you sitting so far? C’mon now girl. I won’t bite.” You were already mere inches away from him and barely moved closer. You felt your knee touching his own and he sighed before putting his arm around you. You let out a noise when he pulled you against his side. His strong arm kept you in place and you enjoyed it for the time but see him look at you.

“This should tell you how I feel.” You wanted to say something but nothing came out as he brought a hand to grip your chin. He brought you into a kiss and you were shocked. He moved his arm to your back and leaned into the kiss more. At this point you melted into his kiss and held onto his shoulders as he took over. Happy moved his lips slowly as he wanted to feel everything. You let out a whimper when he pulled away and grasped the bottom of your thighs to bring you into his lap. You moved to hold yourself up and placed your hands on his solid chest.

“Happy, I can’t I’m too big.”

He didn’t say anything but you squeaked as he roughly pulled you down. You were going to resist but his hold on you was too much. Without any time for you to get situated he pulled you to kiss him again. This time it was more rough and passionate as he began using his tongue. You moaned into the kiss and felt more confident as your body settled on his own. He bit onto your bottom lip and gripped at your ass. This continued on for what felt like an hour and you frowned when he pulled away.

“I wish you kissed me sooner.”

“Me too. But it was fun to see you get all flustered babygirl.” He said while chuckling and holding you in his arms. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and began loving the scent he carried. He continued watching TV while he let you fall asleep into his hold.

[wittysunflower]

Learning something new

Shane Walsh x plus-size reader

summary: the farm ‼️, carl gets shot and Shane finds you, finally.

warnings: I don't think there are any! this is a little short cuz I want the next chapter to be smutt 😋, and if you don't wanna read that you can skip it and not miss out on plot.

Being welcomed into the Green family farm was the best thing that could've happened to you. Not that you kept your guard down completely but they seemed nice and warm, it almost made you cry. They feed you, give you a shower and place to sleep. You let Sofia sleep while you keep watch out the window, this place was nice but it won't be nice for long.

It's been two days since Shane lost you, he had been looking all day and keeping watch all night. Rick finally took his advice and split the team up him, Rick and Carl walk through the never ending forest. It was so peaceful and pretty maybe you're thinking the same thing. He smiles, man he must be whipped. This has never happened to him before he's been "in love" but this felt different.

"dad look!" Carl whispered to his dad, there was a deer a couple feet ahead of us. It warmed his heart to see that at the end of the day he was still a kid. Rick encouraged him to step closer he makes it close enough to glide his hand over the deers fur and then the sound of a gun shot burst into his ears.

Morning came so you woke up Sofia and unlocked the door. They probably have chores or something for you to do, it would be weird if they didn't. So you made your way down stairs Sofia following behind. She never let go of that stuffed animal for one minute it was cute.

"excuse me?" you say starling the woman in the kitchen, she looked old.

"yes?" she looks at you and then goes back to what she was doing.

"I was wondering if there was something you wanted us to do, like a job?" she didn't even look the you this time.

"if you wouldn't mind, could you check on the water wells? They're kind spread out but we only have three." This time she turns waiting for you to speak.

"yeah we can do that." you look down at Sofia and nod. This should be easy, you smile. Shane is gonna like it here or at least you think he would like it. Maybe they'll find their way here and you can stay for a while, the kids would definety like it.

"why don't ya'll eat before you leave." you sat at the table and thanked them while you ate. Maggie was cute she gave a farmers daughter vibe, which is what she was. You ate and then set out for the wells.

Shane ran as fast as he could pulling up the man who shot Carl, the slow fat man who ruined everything. He had never felt more angry in his life how could you shoot a child? Rick cried and carried his son bleeding out in his arms. The fat man cried about a farm that a man named hershel would help. So they ran and ran until they found the farm. He could'nt think about anything but that if the boy didn't make it 'Otis' wouldn't either.

Blood soaked him and Rick he kept mumbling on about Lorri, half the day was gone before she got to the farm. Shane took care of Rick until she got there making sure he was ok to give blood. Hershal said they're gonna do everything they can but that meant little in the panicked fog.

The sun was setting and Carl had to get some makeshift surgery done. Shane held him down as Hershel cut into him trying to pull the shards out. It was the most gut wrenching thing he's never had to do it was like he felt the pain himself. When it was over he came outside watching as the rest of the group pulls up.

Is it wrong that he was still thinking about you? He watched as the group pulls up to the farm, Carol still crying. But then they stop and Carol starts running, he follows her with his eyes and sees you. Smiling down at the mother and daughter but your eyes light up when you see Shane. He rushes to you meeting you in the middle there wasn't even a second to think about what he was doing before he wrapped you in a hug. You hugged back pushing yourself into him, he felt like he could dissolve into you at this rate.

The tears won't stop falling, you didn't think this would happen. You had a whole plan of what to say and do but now you don't care anymore. His hand on your head and lower back started feel like they were burning. He pulled your head away putting it between his hands, the way he looked at you was....so hot. He looked like you had gone to war and left him with the kids. It made you blush and wipe your face this was going to be embarrassing. He moved his hands to your waist, he's never touched you this much before.

"well look who it is?" T-dog wobbled over smiling, breaking you out of the little bubble.

"hey, you miss me?" you smile and turn away from Shane, he's hand still on your waist.

"I would hug you but I got a little bit of a problem." you look confused until he shows you a large infected gash on his arm.

"oh my god we gotta get you inside!" you go to reach for him but Shane pulls you back.

"don't worry I got him." Glen pops up behind T-dog making you jump a little.

" ok well ill catch up with ya'll later?" you nod hoping they would even want too. But they nod and smile rushing into the house. Shane was stuck to you as everyone backed away from Sofia and made their way to you. It was mostly pats on the shoulders and some tearful thank you's from Carol.

Then a half dead Rick stumbles out the house with his wife in hand. Shane told you about Carl but he said it would be ok, that the worst part was already over. To be honest it seemed like he was saying that more to himself than you.

"Hey Rick, sorry about-" you start to ramble on in apologies until he practically fell into a hug. It was nice that he cared so much even thought you knew him the least out of the whole group. You hugged him back closing your eyes.

"Let her breathe man." Shane jokes behind you but Rick pulls away non the less. Then Lorrie drags him back to their son to sit by his side. And just like that it was time to set up camp and go to bed. You thought it was best to stay with the group than intrude in the house and Rick probably needed it more.

Shane took control of setting up the tent for the two of you, even though you offered to help he would shut you down. To be honest it was for the best you had other things on your mind. It was nerve wreaking to even think about being in the same room with him, you didn't want to make a mistake or assume too much of your relationship.

So you stood outside the tent biteing your nails at what to say to him, maybe you should lay down and pass out. The hug was nice but you wanted more so much more. You saw Shane poke his head out of the tent smiling at you. God help me. You smiled back and made your way into the tent, it was just a sleeping bag with a blanket on top and a makeshift night stand holding up a light.

"well isn't this fancy?" you joke taking off your shoes. You hear a scoff from Shane but kept undressing until you were just in a shirt and shorts. You shoved your stuff in your bag putting it on your side of the tent Shane's side had the light so you just slide under the covers.

"are you tired?" you looked up at him as he finishes taking off his shirt. His question was well out of your mind as you looked him over.

"I missed you.." your voice was barely over a whisper but Shane heard it. His face turned stiff and he sat next to you, you sat up and stared into his eyes.

"don't ever leave me again." you furrowed your brows and opened your mouth to question him but his mouth meet yours before you could start. He kissed you like he just confessed his undying love for you, knowing Shane he probably did. He grabbed the back of your head gently laying you down on the bed.

"goodnight." he pulls away from you and turns off the light. Just as you thought there was no chance of you sleeping tonight he turns you on your side and wraps on arm around you.

[wittysunflower]

𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗚𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗦 ━━━━━━ 黎深

— it wasn't your place to dictate what his heart wants but sometimes you wished his affections were directed to you — just once. was it difficult to spare you crumbs of affection or when Zayne noticed how you start to pull away from him and it was too late for him to realize how damaged the relationship was you desperately trying to build and you got tired of wanting him. can he still get you back? or must he turn to drastic measures?

notes. requested by @itsmearia01 . to be continued in part two

content warnings. angst + unrequited love + arranged marriage + emotional neglect + emotional cheating + non mc reader + insecurities + doubts + lack of affection + slow burn + drinking + clubbing.

It is said the most successful of marriages comes from respect and it shall evolve to mutual understanding for the parties involved.

That's what you thought to yourself when you come of age that you were informed of a arranged marriage to your childhood friend, Zayne.

It had come to that arrangement for Zayne's parents have saved your mother from the complications of birth just to have you and upon your birth comes the arrangement that their child and you shall be brought to union later in life. It was a fine match indeed. That's what your parents and Zayne's agreed.

Thus, it came hurting you later at life.

Zayne is respectful and never treated you different from others. Although he ignored you most of the time and feels like you didn't exist in his life. Well, who could blame him. It wasn't a match he chose for himself, it was his parents and yours. It was unfair that he didn't have much of a choice.

Blinded by your admiration for him — it didn't deter you how cold he was to you. Zayne's heart was made of ice and maybe you can melt it. You knew Zayne was a softie after all. Cold and stoic he may come, he did care. He likes animals, children too that's why he's close to his patients. He's also fond of sweets! That's why you pack him extra sweets and learned to make macarons, his favorites.

That's why it never bothered you when he treats you like air. At least he knows he have a fiancee. That's what you say to yourself. Convincing that one day, Zayne will look at you in your eyes.

It was far fetched dream though but you could dream. Looking positive.

Not until she came in the picture and oh, how you wished you were her. What efforts that you poured just for him to say a word about you takes her for only a second. Zayne looks at her eyes. Zayne compliments her and he always noticed her first.

You did try but all it takes for her was to come and melt the frozen heart of Zayne. His heart wasn't totally frozen, it was incapable of being thawed when it comes to you. He's sweet on her and that's when you realize — you lost the battle, a long time ago.

He was with you but he's mind was with thoughts of her. You knew he wasn't going to pursue cardiology if it wasn't for her. She's sick. A heart syndrome but Zayne spent his studies understanding the human heart and the Protocore Syndrome. It was all for her. His achievements was for her.

How could you also compete? Zayne fondly mentioned her that she's a deepspace hunter and possesses a rare type of Evol — Anhaunsen Class: Resonance. Amazing! Good with kids, cheerful, and she's pretty with her pale skin, long straight dark brown hair and she's thin too. You were not.

You can't even get the same response as Zayne would have spoken to her. He deeply cares for her. Why wouldn't he be? Zayne even took as being her primary care physician.

It doesn't matter though, you still support him for you were going to be his wife and he as your husband. If he doesn't want that, he should have called off the engagement a long time ago.

And as soon-to-be-his wife, you can endure it. That's how a marriage should work when another one endures for the comfort of the other.

It doesn't matter when he prioritize her. She's sick, what could be your reason. He's her physician.

It didn't hurt when he forget to eat the lunch that you prepared for him. He's a doctor, he's busy with operations even you later learned that they had lunch together.

It didn't hurt you when he gave you a plushie knowing that it was a duplicate and she owned one too.

It didn't hurt when he's uninterested to you, he could be obvious about it but he didn't.

It simply didn't hurt cause you were used to it and then one day, you stopped caring. You didn't even have the strength to cry and if you did, you'd be joining Heartbreaker crying near the trash bins.

The clock read one pm. It's lunch time for Zayne and he didn't have the time to grab food in the cafeteria when it's only thirty minutes away for the next scheduled operation and he remembers you always brought him lunch. It's usually placed in his desk. Wrapped in pastel blue square cloth, dotted with snowflakes and a snowman in the middle but there was nothing. Yvonne hasn't informed him earlier of your presence so maybe you forgot it.

Checking his phone, there wasn't a message too. He ignored it. He presses his phone off and decided he will just grab a bite later.

At first, it didn't bother him.

How your messages were a rare occurrence nowadays. A casual — how's your day? Or a simple good morning. Usually when he wakes up it's the influx of messages coming from you. Texting him what he wanted for dinner or what how's he feeling for the day or the simple cat video that you know he likes. Now, he's staring at the screen. The last message were a week ago.

Then, how you don't speak anymore with mirth.

The café was nice. She recommended it. The atmosphere was cool and he doesn't hear your voice anymore. Quietly sitting while sipping your drink — your gaze fixated on a distance. You casually hum and that's the end.

“Is something bothering you?”

Wow. A full question. That's a first.

The ice in your drink clinks as put it in the table. Absentmindedly stirring the cold liquid with a straw. “It's nothing of concern.” Your gaze focused on the table. It wasn't wiped properly. You barely glanced at him.

“I won't push you to say something but I'm here to listen to you.” How assuring. Zayne notices how you didn't much respond. Casting a side eye glance, your eyebrows raising a bit and your lips pressed in a thin line.

He was about to say something when his phone rings. “Go on.” You weakly drawled. He swipes the phone to the left declining the call. “It's my day off. I shouldn't be bothered with work.”

A humorless chuckle left your mouth before you can stop it. Work. It's her. “I'm sorry, you don't reject calls like that, Zayne. Don't let me hinder your work.”

“No, my day offs are reserved for you.” He said with a small smile.

It was more like a obligation than willingness. He doesn't enjoy being with you. He rather prefers being with her.

“If you say so.” You finished your drink. Grabbing your shoulder bag, you stand up. “I shall not occupy much of your time. I'll be going.” Ignoring his comment, you pushed your chair.

“(Y/N), did I do something to upset you?”

You shaked your head in dismissal. “You didn't do anything to upset me. I have urgent matters to attend to, have a good day.”

“Do you want something for tonight.” He attempts again to offer you. Something to ease your mind.

“Don't bother.” Is what you said before leaving.

Later that evening, the doorbell rang. You were finishing the last touches of your makeup and you pat your brush down before putting the final touches of your makeup.

Opening the door, you were greeted by Zayne and usually, you've gone ecstatic. Always eager with him being in the room and you can only look at him indifferently.

“Zayne, I didn't know you were coming.” Opening the door wider to let him in. He took his coat and puts it in the rack. You noticed he was holding multiple plastic bags containing the contents of your grocery list. You ignored it.

The cardiologist followed you with his gaze. Noticing your all dolled up appearance. Your tube denim dress layered with a white shirt. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah. Clubbing with a few girlfriends.” Your voice clipped and you went back to your room to grab your bag.

“You don't like nightclubs.” He casually commented. Putting the groceries in their rightful places in the cupboard.

“I don't but it's a nice change. You know, you didn't have to stay here. You can go if you want.” Tapping the heel of your platform boots in the floor.

“It's fine. Do you want me to drive you there?” Zayne offerers. Loosening his tie.

“No.” You shortly replied and slammed the door.

It was a weekend. The club was packed with sweaty bodies crowding in the middle of the dance floor. The neon lights bouncing at the rhythm of the loud music. This wasn't your scene and yet, he sees you happily dancing with a friend. Laughing under the lights when your friend whispered.

Zayne have followed you. Concerned of your well-being.

It feels different and Zayne wasn't used to seeing you like this. Unexpected for someone who acts so proper and prim. He knows that everyone have pleasures but this was different.

He watches you drink. Downing a glass, shots after shots. Drinking the burning liquid like it was water. Zayne's brow furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. He approaches you.

The brightly colored glass looks tiny in your fingers. You admired the liquid sloshing as you tip it back and forth before bringing it to your lips but before you can drink it. A voice popped besides you.

“That's enough.” His tone firm, grabbing the shot glass from you and putting it on the table. You blink lazily, your movements light and your mouth looser. “Who do you think you are to say that it's enough?” It wasn't a question. You tried to grab the drink again but Zayne holds your wrist.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not.”

“That's what people say when they're drunk.”

Zayne pulls you away from your table. Picking your handbag on the way as he excused you from your friends. You didn't even struggled when he dragged you away from them.

His black Audi A6 is parked and he opens the door to put you in the passenger seat before turning around to sit in the driver's seat. He rolled down the windows in your side. Zayne pulls the seatbelt, making sure you're properly strapped in your seat before doing his.

There's a purr coming from the car after he starts the engine. You remained silent. Eyes glossy and your lips curled. Silently staring at the city lights. You glanced at him and you never felt so resigned at a person. Is this how people felt when they got tired of chasing the person who remains so distant from them — cause if it is — you were done.

Zayne stole a glance at you. Your head propped in the window of his car. He can see the city lights twinkling in the reflection of your eyes. You were in no doubt at the edge of drunkenness. Has he not interfered you were probably wasted with a major hangover. He continued driving. His eyes on the road, his hands on the steering wheel.

The vehicle stopped in front of the building where your loft is located and you didn't bother to wait for him to open the door. Yanking your seatbelt and letting it slide to its place, you popped the door open and slipped. Walking towards the entrance in small wobbly steps.

Zayne followed you behind. Keeping up with your pace. “Careful.” He steadies you up when you almost tripped. His expression remained neutral even you recoiled from his touch.

You messily swiped your card before punching the numbers before stumbling inside. Your shoes felt incredibly tight. Your fingers fumbling over the laces. Zayne kneeks in front of you. Easily undoing the laces of your boots before pulling the zippers down in the side. He holds your ankle before tugging your boots. He did the other part.

You stare at the man in front of you. Zayne was like a snowflake in your palm — melting. Slipping from your fingers and only to be returned to something new. Different but the same. Sucks he's not that in form to be with you.

“You should rest now. You don't want a hangover in the morning.”

“I told you, I'm not drunk.”

“Then can you tell me what I did something to upset you?”

“For being a party pooper.”

“It's not like you to act that way. Your well-being is my concern.”

“Come on, don't give me the doctor crap.”

“I'm your fiance. I should look after you. You're my priority.”

Priority. Hah.

A hollow laughed escaped your lips. Giggling as you stand up and finding your footing. You stumbled in the living room. Your shoulders shaking in laughter. It must be the alcohol.

Zayne looks at you — confused.

“I'm not your priority, Zayne. I'm an obligation. Something you keep cause it is needed and we both know it.” You look at him in his eyes and your heart breaks a little.

You exhaled before letting out a shaky gasp. Tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. You hated being weak. You hated being hurt.

“You started being concerned when I stopped bothering you.” Then the spiel of you being ignored. Of being hurt began to unveil.

“Don't you ever talked about me being your priority? I'm your priority? Is that so? Cause the last time I checked — ” You brought your finger to your lips, the habit you do when you're thinking before looking at him. “I wasn't for the last time - No, wait. I wasn't for the last years. No, no, no. I wasn't in your whole life.”

A tear slipped out and you furiously wiped it away in frustration. Mad at yourself for trying, for being such a fool.

“You are drunk and you must rest now.” Zayne went to approach you but you slapped his hand away.

“I'm sober as I can be and don't you dare ask me again why I'm upset. I'm upset all of the things. I'm so sick of trying! Of trying to chase after your affections.!”

“You should have said in the first place that you didn't want to do anything with me rather than ignore and act like it's your obligation to be with me! I can understand it! I'm not so dumb, Zayne!”

The words rings in the space of the room. Zayne remains impassive. His green eyes staring right back at you and you felt pathetic. A outburst is all you needed for him to look at you.

Blinking back the tears, your fists clenched on the side. You have lost your words. One must act a fool to be noticed. You lost the strength to speak one more word. The rush of blood pumping in your veins felt like drops.

A beat of silence passed. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at you.

“(Y/N), I—”

“I'm glad you still remember my name.” You said dismissively before running back to your room and slamming the door shut.

[wittysunflower]

Let me wrap my teeth around the world.

[yandere estranged childhood friends x chubby reader]

Warnings : Vampirism, blood, cursing, dead animal, yandere behaviour (soft and tender obsession), chubby reader, fem reader, poly! relationship, reader will wear a gown/dress

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You stood in front of the rusted, corroded gates. Your plump fingers traced the entricate details and beautiful patterns. You dropped your hand and breathed in deeply through the nose; the slight smell of wet grass and rain infiltrated your nose. You looked down at the ground and saw colourful, crunchy leaves. You smiled to yourself and gently smoothed over your clothed arms; it’s starting to get cold and dark rather quickly, and you would love to wrap this project up soon and go home so you can cozy up in bed and watch your favourite show. You heard the crisp, loud clicking of high heels and were greeted by a beautiful woman with slicked back red hair.

“You must be the librarian who was sent by the city, correct?“

She gave you an elegant, bright smile and you nodded and pressed your lips to a line. It’s true, you are the librarian sent by the city, but it would be nice to be referred to by name, wouldn’t it? Regardless, her deep dark red lips stretched into a bigger smile at your confirmation.

“Brilliant! My two employers are already waiting for you in the library. They will tell you whether or not they’ll want to do business with you and if they can donate their old books to your charity.“

“Library. We want the books for the City Library, not for charity“, you corrected with a small smile.

She smirked at you, one corner of her mouth gently turned up and she nodded and made the motion for you to follow.

“Oh, but of course. Please, follow me.“

This estate was massive, you walked through large hallways filled with old furniture and golden accents. The door in front of the library was in a dark wooden colour and adorned with intricate black details. The patterns above the polished wood looked very similar to stained glass in churches. You stepped forward to the door and the woman motioned for you to go in. She smiled at you and then turned around and walked away. Her shoes’ crisp clicking sounds echoing through the corridors. You sighed and wiped your sweaty palms on your pants.

You knocked three times on the huge door and awaited a reply. A few seconds later, you heard a soft melodic voice tell you to come it. The voice was familiar and yet so unknown to you. You raised an eyebrow and opened the door with a loud creak. You didn’t have much time to think about where you heard this voice before, since you came here to finish your job.

You stood in the middle of the room and saw two men. They stood with their backs to you; one of them had a book in his hands, his head bowed down to it. The other man stood in front of the window, watching the leaves descend. Both of them were tall, much taller than you. You awkwardly shuffled around and cleared your throat.

“Thank you so much for having me, Sir… Sirs. I’m really grateful for your help and was wondering if we could talk about the old books. Don’t worry, I won’t take up too much of your time. I’ll leave as quickly as I came.“ you laughed awkwardly and the man, whose nose was buried in his book snapped up immediately. From the back you could see his beautiful, wavy black hair which fell in elegant tresses down his back. His head snapped around and he turned to you. His face was familiar; a beautifully pale, sculpted face with a sharp jawline, round lips, a sharp nose and beautiful thin eyes.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. Unintentionally, you took a few steps backwards. Was this… Haru? The little boy that you used to play with as a child? The little boy that clung to you like a puppy? The little boy that you used to see every single second of the day?

He whispered your name like a prayer and jumped up. He hesitantly walked a few steps in your direction and held his hand out for you. His eyes widened and they glistened with tears, while his shocked mouth transformed into the biggest grin, showing off his white, pearly teeth and sharp canines.

Hearing his friends whisper the other man turned to him and then his head snapped to you. Mustering him your mouth dropped even more. Ashad, the grumpy, funny, protective boy who always walked behind you and Haru during your playtime, stood in front of you. His short and thick black hair was a bit tousled and those familiar deep brown eyes were rimmed with long black lashes. His prominent, slightly hooked nose was scrunched up and his warm brown skin was adorned with flowy, dark clothing. Ashad‘s plump lips were stretched into a frown as his eyes mustered you.

“Haru? Ashad? How long have you lived here? How long have you been here? Oh my god, it’s so good to see you again. It’s been so long! How have you two been?“ you began rambling and grinned at the two of them. When you were a child, you lived in the same neighbourhood as them, but when you reached the seventh grade, you and your parents moved to a far away city. You told them about the move and back then, Haru started bawling. He was inconsolable and had worried himself into a panic attack, you remember the overwhelming feeling of his desperation very clearly. You had never seen the boy this upset, even when you were partnered up with Josh instead of him for an elementary school project. While Haru went through all the stages of grief, Ashad only frowned at the ground with balled hands and now that you’re older, you know he was holding his tears back.

Haru hasn’t blinked once since he turned around. You cautiously accepted his outstretched hand. 'Would a hug be weird? Or do we know each other well enough for it? Would it be uncomfortable?' you asked yourself. Well, now you’re already walking his way so you might as well just do it. You opened up your arms to hug him and his cold, lean arms engulfed you immediately as he buried his face in your shoulder. His entire face is covered and his body was slightly shaking, presumably because of the sobs wreaking through his body and you immediately stroked his back. His hands gently squished the fat of your back and he kept hugging you for a few minutes.

You released him from the hug and gently kept him an arm length away and mustered him from top to bottom. His wet eyes stared deeply into yours and after a while his eyes wandered from the top of your head down to your shoes; His gaze stopped at your ample midriff and he softly bit his lips. When his eyes wandered down, he stopped. Blinking up at you, he gently grasped your face in his big, cold hands and he rubbed his sharp nose against yours. You chuckled and then softly pushed him back and looked at Ashad. He was always less touchy than Haru, so you weren’t sure if he wanted the hug. You slowly walked forwards and Ashad lifted his chiselled chin and slowly held his shaking hands out for you. You grinned and walked into his arms and he nestled his chin on your head, considering that he was much taller than you. After a few minutes he buried his nose in your shoulder as well and his nose gently traced your neck.

You smiled and stepped away. Their piercing eyes were fixated on you and Ashad raised an eyebrow and asked you incredulously “You work as a librarian?“

You raised your eyebrow back at him “You work as a collector of old books?“

Haru grinned at you and pressed your foreheads together while Ashad chuckled in the background.

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“So, how did you come across the first editions of these books? They are so difficult to come by. Oh my god, it’s in pristine condition.“ you asked and looked at Ashad. Him and Haru exchanged glances and Haru cleared his throat.

“We have connections to some people, but that doesn’t matter right now. Let me show you around, yes? There is so much you still have to tell us and there’s so much we have to tell you.“ Haru said and gently stroked your back.

“Connections? Which connections would cause you to have access to almost every single first edition of every classic? Please hook me up with those people, I would love to have connections like this as well.“ you mumbled and stared at the books in awe.

Haru smiled as he looked at you, his fangs becoming visible as you stared at the books without a care in the world. Weird, you don’t remember your childhood friends having such sharp, distinct teeth.

”So, for how much would you sell the first editions of those classics to the public library?”, you pointed at the books on the lowest shelf and looked at them with a wince. ‘Oh god, you thought to yourself. You don’t even wanna know the cost of those books. ‘How were they able to get these books? How were they able to buy this big mansion?‘.

Ashad looked at the books you were pointing to and then slowly let his eyes glide back to you. He examined you from top to bottom with piercing eyes and said ”A week.”

Your eyebrows raised and you looked at him in confusion. He smiled and repeated “I want you to spend a week here with us and any book you want will be yours, no additional payment needed. We can also use the time to catch up with one another. Seems like we all missed out on important things.” Haru nodded and gently traced your soft cheek with his cold fingers.

Your gaze jumped from Ashad to Haru as you considered; you wanted to wrap this up as quickly as you could, but your boss would worship the ground you walked on, if you brought in those books for free. Not to mention, you really wanted to catch up with the two of them.

“Yes, alright. Deal. I’ll go back home in the evenings, though.”

The next morning, you arrived early at the mansion.

You made your way through the mansion after being greeted by the elegant lady and you looked down at your body. You wore something comfy, you knew you looked out of place in this big elegant building, but this was also Ashad and Haru. Your boys. You just wanted to spend time with them. You don’t know how you lost contact; the messages became less frequent and suddenly their communication completely stopped. You shook yourself out of your thoughts and knocked on the big door again.

The door was ripped open a second after your knocks and you were engulfed in a cold embrace. Your body jiggled and you squealed and your cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “Haru, stop with the quick movements. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.“

Haru‘s nose gently nuzzled into your hair as he chuckled. “No, that won’t happen.“ His hands gently rubbed your shoulders and he blinked at you with a lazy smile. “Come on. Do you have any dietary restrictions?“

While you informed him of your preferences , he gently lead you to a big dining room. Ashad was already sitting at the table and rose when you were led in by Haru. “Good morning, Ashad.“ He stepped forward and cupped your face. “Why are you late?“ Your eyebrows rose at his piercing gaze and you gently pat his hands. “Sorry, the way here is very long and exhausting“

Ashad let your face go and mustered you from top to bottom. “And you’re sure you won’t stay here? We have more than enough rooms. You should stay, especially since it’s so cold at the moment.“

You wanted to decline but you remembered your long journey here, “I’ll think about it.“ Both of them nodded until Ashad broke you out of your thoughts. “Please, sit.“ You followed his movement and your eyes widened. They wanted you to sit at the head of the table? You grinned at them and thought they were gonna tell you it was a joke. They didn’t. They looked extremely serious, even happy Haru, who was barely anything but sweet to you looked at you as if this was a life or death scenario. You cleared your throat and made your way over to the mighty table and sat down. Both of them sat down on each side of you. Haru sat down on the right of you and Ashad on the left.

You awkwardly looked around at them and waited for them to speak.

"So…How have you both been? Why did you.. you know.“ you chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of your head.

Surprisingly, it was Ashad that spoke up first. “We’re…sorry. Trust us, there was nothing that we wanted more than to get back into contact with you. But we couldn’t.“

You wiped your clammy hands on your big thighs and nodded.

“Yeah, sure. Totally. No problem, people just grow apart sometimes and that’s fine. However… I still would have appreciated a heads up, though. I was really worried about you two and I don’t hear anything from you until now and now you’re living in this big mansion?“ You were trying to keep the conversation civil because you really did miss them, but you can still remember how Highschool you sobbed in bed because your best friends stopped talking to you and a ball of anger built in your tummy.

Haru shook his head furiously and bit his lips. With his jawline clenched, he balled his fists and looked down. “We wanted you with us. We really did, but-“

Before Haru could finish his sentence, a few servants came in and brought you your drinks. They sat the golden trays in front of you, Haru and Ashad. You thanked them and looked around; Your beverage was a cold glass of water while Ashad and Haru had red wine. Your eyes zeroed in on their drinks and you raised your brow at them.

“Wine before noon?“, you asked as the servants left.

Ashad drove his hand through his messy hair and lifted his glass to take a big gulp meanwhile Haru stared at the wall without touching his glass.

“Okaaayy… Why are you guys being so weird?“

“Our families are dead“, Ashad said while drinking his wine.

A wave of nausea ran down your body. A big ball of dread formed in your stomach and your eyes widened. “What?“, your voice was trembling.

“Our families were killed by… wild animals and we got hurt in the process. That’s why we stopped responding and why we live in this mansion. Compensation for the damages, I guess.“ Haru said bitterly.

You put a hand on each boys hand and squeezed. Their larger hands seemed like ice blocks under your soft hand. Haru sighed with closed eyes and slowly intertwined each digit with yours. He brought your hand to his plump lips and left a soft kiss on it. Ashad gripped your hand tightly and gently brought your hand up to his nose. He gently traced patterns on your hand and once his nose reached your wrist he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

“I‘m so sorry for being so insensitive. Oh my god, I’m so so sorry. Is there anything I could do? Where did you get hurt?“ Haru chuckled at your rambling and his face was adorned with his beautiful smile yet again.

„It’s alright. As long as you’re not mad at me anymore.“ he nuzzled his face into your hand and kissed each inch of your palm.

You chuckled and you didn’t want to risk upsetting them by talking more about the suspicious circumstance of their family’s death and changed the topic.

“By the way, why do I get to sit at the head of the table? Is every guest allowed to sit here?“

Ashad whose nose was buried deep in your wrist until now, opened his eyes but remained close to your wrist. “Because that’s where you belong. At the head of this table;In the middle of us as the most important person in this group. The leader and the heart of this family“. His eyes closed again and he rubbed his face into your wrist.

Your eyes widened at the sincere words and you felt warmth travel through your cheeks and the nape of your neck.

Haru nodded and smiled. He sighed softly and finished his drink with one big gulp. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he looked refreshed after.

„Since we’ve all finished drinking, we’ll go eat something.“

„Wait. We’re going to eat somewhere? Why don’t we have it here?“ you asked nervously. Your outfit really wasn’t adequate enough to eat at the place where they eat at.

Ashad stood up and walked over to you. He held out his hand to help you get up, and you took his hand. You looked up at him and he kissed the crown of your head and gently gave your hand to Haru, who nuzzled up to you. “The weather is nice outside. It’d be a shame to have such a delectable little thing with us and to not show her off to the world, wouldn’t it?“

Haru‘s thumb gently rubbed your hand and he winked at you.

“Wait! I’m really not in the proper attire!“, you waved at yourself and both of them looked at you from top to bottom. Embarrassment crept up your neck.

“You look as cute as a button. However, with our clothes you’ll look as stunning as a goddess “, Haru agreed.

“Yeah, exactly! Wait.. what? Your clothes?“, you looked at them in confusion. Haru‘s melodic laugh pulled you out of your thoughts and he gently led you out of the room.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing. Ashad will wait for us in the garden. We’ll have the most delicious meal and you’ll look as gorgeous as ever.“, he brought you to a beautiful,roomy place with a huge wardrobe and the softest bed. He pulled out a beautiful gown with intricate details and patterns.

“Oh, Haru. That dress is beautiful, genuinely. But I don’t think it’ll fit.“

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweet thing. All of the clothes in this wardrobe are in your size.“

Your eyes widened and you looked at the gown again and indeed- it was a beautiful piece which was big enough to house all your curves, and tight enough to amplify each soft valley and curve. Haru grinned at you and gave you the gown and fitting shoes and left you to put it on.

Haru’s hands were shaking. The urge to drop to his knees in front of you was too much to resist. He has you back, he has you back, he has you back-.

God, your beautiful round body and the softness of you drove him crazy. He wishes he could tell you all about it. He wishes he could tell you about the night. About the fact that it wasn’t an animal that killed his family and that he unfortunately is now one of them. You wouldn’t have to be afraid, though. No, god no. Never of him. He’ll never hurt you, not like those creatures did to his family. He would never drain you like they did. He will spend his life tracing each beautiful, soft curve of you. He’ll spend his life tasting each part of you, your delicious soft arms, your inviting big belly, your beautiful thighs and the place between your plush thighs..

Haru shudders at the thought of tasting each part of you and wishes he could kneel in front of you. Kneel at your feet and show his devotion towards you. And maybe, once you’ve learned of the depths of his love for you and trust him enough with your body, you’ll let him feed off you. Not too much, though. Never too much.

The door opened and you stepped out of it and ripped Haru out of his daydreams.

You weren’t too sure about the gown but showed Haru anyway, the gown itself was beautiful but it emphasised each curve and round shape you had. You weren’t sure if it looks good. Well, that was until you saw Haru; his pupils were dilated and they glided across each part of you. He looked lovesick.

You smiled at held up your thumbs questioningly. He immediately nodded and you grinned at him.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻

Haru held your hand and led you to the humongous garden. Amidst of the flowers and the marble fountain was a white table. Ashad sat on one side of it and rose when he heard your steps. He turned around and looked at you. He closed his eyes and sighed. A shudder ran through his body and he held out his hand.

“You look stunning, darling.“, your cheeks heated up and you sat down again, at the head of the table. The food was already prepared. In front of you was your favourite meal, while Ashad and Haru each had a steak. You scrunched your nose, it looked almost raw and was bloody. What is it called again? Rare?

Haru winked at you and you immediately started eating your food. Ashad grinned.

After the three of you finished eating, you walked through the garden. You were in the middle of them, of course.

“So, sweet thing. Tell us about yourself. We know you’re a librarian. What about relationships? Are you single?“, Haru asked with a smile and gently intertwined your hands. Ashad looked at you from the side and you chuckled. “I’m single at the moment. My relationships weren’t always the greatest“.

Haru sighed happily and Ashad tensed up. “Darling, what does that mean? Have the people in your life not treated you well?“

You shrugged and looked at Ashads furrowed eyebrows. He let your hand go and walked behind you. “If people didn’t treat you well, let me know. I’m serious about this.“

You chuckled and nodded. You lifted your hands and held up your pinky. “If I need help, I’ll tell you.“ Ashad smiled and interlinked your smaller pinky with his. Haru walked in front of you.

Suddenly you felt a crack beneath your feet and you slipped. You crashed down to the ground and winced. It didn’t hurt all that much, to be honest your pride was worse off than your injuries, but you had a few bloody scratches on your hand.

Ashad and Haru both called your name. Ashad dropped next to you to the ground and cupped your face with shaky hands. “Darling! Are you okay? Fuck! I’m so sorry I should’ve caught you. Shit! Shit! Shit!“ His eyes were so wide and his hands on your cheek were shaking.

“Ashad! I’m okay. It’s okay don’t worry. I’m just a bit clumsy. It’s okay. All bones are still unbroken.“ you replied with an awkward laugh. He looked so distraught as if you just broke your hand in front of him.

“Don’t even joke about that“, he scolded you and pat down your body. “We‘ll need to put a bandage around you. Haru, go get a bandage and some antiseptics“ Your gaze found Haru and his nostrils flared. He took a few deep breaths through the nose and his hands shook.

„Haru!“, Ashad yelled out, his voice was deeper than you ever heard. You flinched back and his dark eyes found you and he cooed. “It’s okay, don’t worry. It’s okay. Haru, go.“

Haru disappeared from your view and you raised an eyebrow at Ashad. “It’s just a few scratches. It’s okay“ he nodded and kissed your forehead.

After you were bandaged up, the atmosphere was still weird. Haru cooed at your bandaged hand and kissed it but him and Ashad were exchanging weird glances with each other. You spent the afternoon with reading their books by yourself and now it was already night. Ashad brought you some silk pyjamas and told you to stay for the night since it was dangerous.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t sleep. You got out of your comfy bed and yawned. Aimlessly, you walked through the corridors until you heard two loud voices arguing. You leaned towards the slightly ajar door.

“She will stay! She’ll love it here. We’ll get used to each other again! I don’t want her to leave! And neither do you. I don’t know why you’re playing this “we’re too dangerous to be around“ game. We aren’t! We won’t hurt her! It’s the fucking world outside that’s too dangerous!“

“Haru! you’re not fucking listening! Fine, let’s say that we won’t have a reaction anymore towards her blood. What will we do when she finds out?! Huh? She’ll feel betrayed! She’ll be scared of us! Terrified! And I can’t.. I can’t have that. Do you think I don’t want her with us? Seriously? I wish I could fucking glue myself to her side and protect her from everything but she’ll be scared of me… of us. We need a better plan!“

“A plan? We will make her like us again. She’ll see how much we love her. How much we adore and worship her. Nothing else will matter. She’ll have all the riches and love in the world.“

“Are you a damn child? Do you think it’ll be that easy-“

“Fuck you, Ashad. You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be. We have our fucking reason for living with us and you’re already trying do sabotage it. Talk to me once you’ve calmed down“

You heard a door slam and with you saw Ashad standing there on his own. His hair was messy and his shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing his chest. He breathed heavily and called out your name. Your eyes widened as you saw him gulp down a- a blood transfusion bag? What? What the fuck?

The thread of unease that has been forming in your stomach the whole day has finally unraveled. The red wine, the bloody steak, the reaction to your blood, the ice cold hands, their dead family.. all of it started to make sense and nausea and fear wracked through your body and you fell forward through the door. Landing right in front of Ashad.

His eyes widened and you saw his face turn pale. He thew the blood bag behind him and shook his head frantically, blood running down his lips. “Darling.“

You were breathing heavily and lifted your hands “No! No, please! Ashad, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snoop. I’ll be right out of your hair! And don’t worry about the books! I’ll just tell the library you didn’t wanna give them. That’s fine! Really!“ you laughed awkwardly, your hands shaking and your eyes full of tears. You tried to crawl backwards and he fell on his knees in front of you.

„No, darling. Please, don’t be scared of me. Please, god. Not you. I won’t hurt you, I never will. Even thinking about it fills me with dread, darling. Please, don’t be scared. I’ll explain it all to you, I will. I’ve never killed anybody before. I love you, darling. Please don’t be scared“ Tears ran down his cheeks, his long lashes clumping up as he slowly crawled towards you.

“I won’t hurt you. Please never think that. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you. Okay? Okay, my darling? Thank you for listening, I won’t hurt you.“

His tears mixed with the blood on his lips and he gently cradled your face. You laid on the ground and he ever so softly sat on your lap and leaned over and pressed your foreheads against each other.

„I won’t hurt you, I never will. You’re the best thing that happened to me.“

Loud sobs ripped away from you and he closed his eyes and shook his head. He buried his head in your shoulder and repeated his“don’t be scared“ mantra.

Suddenly the door on the right of you opened and Haru walked in and gasped when he saw you. You laid on the ground with Ashad sitting on you, sobbing while hunched over you with his face pressed into the crook of your neck. You looked at him and a sense of dread formed in your entire body. You possibly could’ve handle Ashad if he were to try something but not two. Not Haru and him.

Haru’s lip wobbled and he fell on his knees and crawled over. “Ashad! You’re fucking scaring her! Get the fuck off!“ He tried to rip Ashad off of you.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing. Nothing will happen to you, he won’t hurt you either, alright? It’s scary. I know it is, but nothing will happen to you, my sweet thing. My everything. Don’t be scared“

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆

Ashad as a yandere:

• worshipper

•protective and overbearing

Haru as a yandere:

•worshipper

•delusional

•touchy

A/N: I’m not the biggest fan of this but it has been in my drafts since Halloween so yeah. Let me know what you think!