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cadavercowboy · 1 year

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In Too Deep — Part One

Pairing: Stepfather!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s marriage is falling apart and he’s desperate for something familiar to cling to. He knows you’re the wrong thing, but you don’t exactly make it easy for him to keep his distance.

Word Count: 6.9k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Allusions to emotional abuse. Inappropriate relationship. Implied cheating & cheating. Age difference (reader is over 18!). Brief/vague description of reader’s hair. Moral dilemma. Coercion. Daddy kink. Size kink. Innocence kink (if you squint). Mutual masturbation. Fingering. Handjob. Unprotected sex. Minor degradation. Creampie. Cum play. Cum eating.

A/N: This has been collecting dust in my docs and then this post reminded me of it so I had no choice but to finish ‘er.

Shutting the front door as gently as you can, you wince when your keys clatter loudly against the hardwood floor. You curse under your breath, though the sound of tinny voices floats towards you from the next room and you realize you don’t need to worry about the noise. Bucky is still awake, up late for what seems like the hundredth night in a row. You pick up your dropped keys and toss them on the counter as you pass by, padding quietly down the hall towards the blue glow which reflects off the walls.

You poke your head into the living room and there you find him; slumped into the couch and bathed in the light from the screen in front of him. Even from this distance you can sense the air of defeat in Bucky’s posture and the slight pouting of his full lower lip. A pang of sympathy twinges in your chest as you observe your poor stepfather. All you’ve done lately is go on dates in search of a relationship and all Bucky has done is try desperately to maintain a hold on his; neither one of you seem to be having much success.

While you’re accustomed to your mother’s mistreatment of those around her, he’d innocently and unsuspectedly married his way into what is likely to be the most toxic relationship he’ll ever be a part of. Night after night, Bucky sits there waiting for her to return from her shift at work. Whether or not he truly believes that’s where she is, you’ve yet to determine. Unbelievably — though he deserves much better — Bucky hasn’t left her. Though the man is kind and sweet and has never treated your mother with anything but love, he is too kind or perhaps too stupid and oblivious to stand up for himself.

“Late night?”

Bucky’s rough voice draws you from your musings and you sigh airily as you step around the wall to shuffle towards the couch he sits upon. While you’d much rather head upstairs and take care of that which your date hadn't bothered to, it would be rude not to at least talk to Bucky. You throw your bag onto the unoccupied armchair, rounding the piece of furniture to join him.

“You too,” you observe as you plop down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

He offers a half-smile as he leans forward and the bottle of beer he’d been nursing thunks onto the coffee table. When he turns your way, his smirk falters; his cerulean irises flicker briefly down the plunging cleavage of the skimpy shirt you’re wearing. Your lips seem a bit swollen, though he can’t be sure the light flashing across your face isn’t just playing tricks on him. Bucky shifts against the cushions and sits up a little straighter, his arm stretching along the back of the couch.

“Never can these days,” he admits, the laugh that follows is weighted with bitterness.

His tone is soft, yet ice cold. You meet his eyes and behind them simmers an ember of pain, the gaze that meets yours is that of a man lost. Maybe Bucky is aware after all. He sees the understanding in your expression and smiles sadly before his lips flatten into a gesture of acknowledgement, of knowing. As you sink into the couch, so too does your heart. You felt bad when you thought Bucky didn't know the truth, though now you feel worse knowing that he does. He turns back to the television with a sad sigh.

“How did your date go?” he queries.

It’s just like Bucky to put aside his own troubles and be curious about your life. You smile fondly as you observe him, shadows dance across his handsome features and the screen illuminates the glassy shine that coats his distant eyes.

While not your father, he’d certainly taken well to filling the role; being supportive and loving and present in a way your own dad never could. You love Bucky like family and that only makes it more difficult to rectify the unspoken and unidentifiable feelings that simmer just under the surface. Something you’ve never once explored, but you’re almost certain Bucky has taken notice of, too. It would be too dangerous, too wrong for either of you to ever acknowledge; though it’s simultaneously impossible to ignore. Good looking and attentive as he is, any woman would be liable to fall victim to Bucky’s charm.

You continue to observe Bucky, noting the distinct heat which rises in your cheeks. You study the way his thick lashes flutter when he blinks slowly, the way his full lips glisten when he licks them, the way his Adam’s apple bobs enticingly along the thick column of his throat. Bucky turns your way and clears his throat expectantly, smiling when you chuckle guiltily and apologize.

“That bad, huh?” he jokes, referring to your lack of a response.

“No, it was…fine I guess,” you offer unconvincingly. “I don’t know. He was kind of boring, actually. There was just no spark. No fire. No passion.”

His teeth sparkle even in the dimness of the room when Bucky laughs at the dramatic way you haughtily enunciate the end of your declaration, extending your arm forlornly towards the ceiling. You laugh along with him, though the sound stops short when the warmth of his hand circles the curve of your knee where your bent leg nearly touches his thigh.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he consoles. “Plenty of fish in the sea though, right?”

“No worries,” you assure him as you flop sideways and prop your head on the back of the couch, pouting sadly. “I’ll just die a lonely and horny old spinster.”

You regret the words almost instantly, blaming your loose lips on the three drinks it had taken for you to soldier through your date. There’s no other explanation for why you would say such a thing to your stepdad.

Although Bucky snorts in surprise at your bold statement, he cannot deny the warm knot that begins to form low in his belly. He’d known your dates weren’t going well, but the confession about your sexual frustration sends his mind reeling down a road he’s well aware he should actively avoid traveling. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he pats your thigh in a gesture you suppose is meant to be soothing but only makes you painfully aware of how keyed up you are tonight.

“That’s alright,” he consoles. “Some guys just suck.”

“Some women, too,” you breathe.

Your proclamation elicits a tense moment between the two of you, not a sound in the room beyond the dialogue droning from the tv and the apropos ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Bucky’s eyes search yours in the interim, your own mimicking the action as you look for some sort of sign or indication that his mind is careening in the same treacherous direction as yours. You’re certain yours is spinning more wildly out of control than Bucky’s ever could.

His hand remains on your thigh, igniting an unbearable blaze of impermissible desire in your veins that makes you squirm. The only sign of life from Bucky is the gentle flexing of his strong fingers. When the silence grows suffocating, Bucky’s tongue flicks out between his lips and his eyes finally leave yours to instead journey towards your slightly parted mouth. He leans in almost imperceptibly and as he does, his palm slips higher up your thigh until his pinkie finger draws perilously close to the seam of your jeans. Your pulse thrums in your neck and between your legs and the spell is broken by your own startled gasp.

Without a word, you spring to your feet, Bucky’s hand sliding down your leg as you all but leap from his grasp. Your feet thump loudly as you flee from the room, thudding their way up the stairs. You barrel through your bedroom doorway and swing the door behind you, not bothering to make sure it shuts all the way.

You’re inside the safety of your room no more than a few seconds by the time you’ve shed your shoes, socks, and pants; tossing the garments aside while you pace at the foot of your bed and drag your fingers through your hair. Your cheeks puff and you breathe a rush of air as your palms slap against the bare skin of your thighs.

The tight shirt you were certain would show off your body just enough to tempt your date is shed in haste as well, leaving you in only your underwear; sexy and lacy and regrettably unappreciated. In your head, you’re chiding yourself for what an insanely inappropriate notion it is to be so turned on at the touch of your own stepfather. Still, your heartbeat pounds demandingly between your thighs and your need refuses to be ignored.

Climbing clumsily into your bed, your bare skin burns against the coolness of your mussed sheets. Your control is crumbling as you gnaw anxiously at your lower lip. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable any further so you delve a hand beneath the elastic of your panties and sigh contentedly at the immediate relief of your warm fingers. Already surprisingly wet, your fingertips slip easily along your slick and puffy lips.

“You left your—”

Bucky’s presence is preceded neither by a knock nor an announcement; he simply eases the door open, his shocked face disrupting the shadows in the doorway. Your bag tumbles from his hand and thuds dully against the carpeted floor of your bedroom, Bucky’s jaw falling with it. His eyes burn hot and dilate without delay, nostrils flaring as he tips back on his heels; knocked off balance by the depravity of what he’s accidentally happened upon. He knows he should say something, anything; he should apologize, most certainly. But his lips won’t move. His lungs won’t inflate. His throat won’t dare release the words he knows should come.

You scramble frantically, grabbing the small decorative pillow you’d crushed beneath your shoulder blade and pointlessly use the satin square to maintain even a bit of modesty. Speech evades you as well and you’re left staring dumbly at your unmoving stepfather, eyes wide and doe-like in a way that is making this situation much, much worse for him.

Bucky’s lungs finally release the imprisoned oxygen trapped among his ribs and he nearly chokes as he swallows shakily. He tells himself to look away, but his eyes refuse to obey. How could they when they are so graciously being given the privilege of caressing such excess of your beautiful skin; the perfection of your bra-clad breasts swaying with each rise and fall of your chest, the slope of your waist and hips beckoning him to traverse the ethereal lines of your body, the nervous shifting of your shapely legs as you shrink behind your pillow and prudishly attempt to hide yourself from him?

Every part of Bucky’s body screams at him, beseeching and begging for him to turn away; to leave you alone before he steps past a point from which he can’t truly return. Every part aside from one. He cannot ignore the rush of blood that swells his cock beneath the constricting fabric of his jeans. He should, but it is all too overwhelming. Too tempting.

His knees threaten to buckle as he mentally pleads with his booted feet not to move from where they’ve planted themselves in your doorway. The place where the wooden floors of the hall meet the plush carpet of your room serve as an all too literal line he knows should never be crossed. Two little words is all it takes to drag him willingly across that moral divide.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the breathy, wavering voice or the diffident way you bat your big eyes at him, but your tiny utterance draws him in like a moth to a forbidden flame; the inferno of your taboo light prepared to singe his malleable wings. Your next words further erode his dwindling ability to bite back his most loathsome desires.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” you murmur, eyes growing teary with apparent embarrassment at having been caught in such a vulnerable position.

Bucky wants to ask, but he knows precisely what you mean. Even if he longs to hear you say the words and admit that you had scurried away to your room to get yourself off, he will spare you the humiliation. At least for now. The quiver of your lip — chewed raw and plump with irritation — and the needy hunger which still clouds your eyes nearly crumbles Bucky to the floor; where he knows he’d find reverence at your feet, clinging to you like a man lost at sea.

His legs carry him trance-like until he stands mere inches from your bed, practically within arm’s reach of your restless and rigid frame. Bucky knows what you need — can read it boldly written in every nuanced flutter of your distraught visage — and he’s willing to dive headfirst into the illicit debauchery to provide. He only hopes you’ll fall with him.

“Can I help you out?” he prompts, knuckles popping as he curls his fists at his sides. “Let me help you, baby.”

Bucky’s own desperation is woven like an intricate tapestry within the inflection of his beseeching words, your stomach tightens at the prospect that he may be just as troubled as you are by the oppressive yearning that has been silently establishing itself between the two of you.

As if attached to a string beyond your control, your head nods disjointedly. Your heart pounds with deafening force in your ears and the rush of blood drowns out all other sound around you. Bucky exhales sharply and you worry for a moment that he’s changed his mind, that he may have come to his senses and might dare to leave you here in this wanton state.

Much to your relief, he kicks off his boots then lifts one knee and presses it into the mattress near your shaking legs, his eyes glued to yours as he looks for any sign of distress. He finds none, instead only able to identify the blazing want that swirls in the blackened pools of your pupils as he settles in and kneels at the foot of your bed.

The warmth of a palm grasping your leg just above your calf makes you flinch and you gasp as if you’ve been burnt. Bucky is quick to hush you, holding your gaze as he gently pulls your legs up and directs your tensed body until you’re eased onto your back, your feet flat and situated between his parted thighs. Bucky’s body is considerably larger than yours, but in this position, his broad frame is even more powerful and formidable than ever. You clutch firmly to the pillow that barely covers your body, your little fingers aching from the force of your grip.

“You’re okay,” Bucky assures you, his voice dipping low and vibrating like a ricocheting shot through each of your nerve endings. “It’s just us. Let me see you, sweetheart.”

He senses your hesitation, though he can see how eager you are to please him as well. The corner of his mouth quirks knowingly and he caresses each of your knees, sliding his calloused palms over your skin in gentle circles before he scoots closer so he can reach the soft plushness of your thighs. His touch settles there for a moment, then moves inward and upward until your legs are forced to part to make room for his sizable hands. Your breath hitches as Bucky inches closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, then changes direction until his hands find your ankles and pull your feet out to bracket either side of his own thighs.

Bucky asks again, tenderly requesting for you to open up for him. And you do; unfurling yourself like a blooming flower, your petals fragile and delicate as you reveal the softest parts of yourself to him. Uncertain what sort of grasp he has on his waning restraint, Bucky defies the ever-present voice that calls out in the back of his head and allows his eyes to fall to the space he’s opened between your legs.

Tucked amid the velvety flesh of your thighs, he finds a light-colored portion of fabric; the gusset of your panties peeking out and undeniably damp. The thin material clings to you like a second skin and he can make out the distinct seam of your cunt through the moist spot that stains it. Bucky swears he could cum from that obscene sight alone. He stares unabashedly at your wet panties and the mere suggestion of what lies just beneath them as if it’s the last sight his eyes will ever have the honor of seeing; devouring each and every detail of the ripe fruit he longs to know the flavor of.

Although he’s done nothing irredeemable just yet, Bucky knows what has already happened will forever change your relationship regardless. For God’s sake, he’s perched at the end of his half-naked stepdaughter’s bed like a lascivious demon of lust, claws prepared to dig deep into her as he fights the urge to drag her off to Hell with him. He gratefully consumes every bit of your nubile body that you present to him, a sacrifice on an altar which he can only hope will be enough to sate the beast inside him. Deep down, he knows it isn’t.

“Do you want to touch yourself for me?” Bucky implores, offering you the option to accept or deny his indecorous solicitation.

Without much further thought, the relentless throbbing in your core prompts you to extract one hand from the pillow still held tightly in your arms. Though the fingers of one hand still hold tight to the silky fabric, the others trail delicately across your lower belly and over your pelvis. Your touch stutters when your fingertips reach the soft cotton of your plain panties, but the flash of triumph in Bucky’s azure eyes encourages you to keep going.

You’re unsure and arrhythmic at first contact with your sensitive folds, fingers pressing apprehensively through the thin barrier of your underwear. When Bucky’s lips part on a heated sigh and his fingers knead your thighs, you swirl your digits more confidently, breath catching in your throat as pleasure prickles under your skin. Your hips twitch upwards into your own touch and Bucky’s jaw tightens, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the hand between your gorgeous thighs, much as he wants to look up and see the veil of gratification he knows must grace your face.

Bucky takes all you offer with greed and haste, praying that he possesses the strength not to take more. But more is all he wants. He craves it, he needs it. Palming himself through the detestable material of his jeans, Bucky absorbs every precise flick of your wrist, his mind cataloging each little sound and simper you make beneath the ministration of your own hand. Just as he feared, it isn’t enough.

“Pull your panties to the side,” he demands, his voice sharp and commanding. “I wanna see all of you.”

You both know if you do this — if you allow yourselves to get carried away in such a manner — then there is no going back. As it stands, you can still change your minds and salvage some semblance of a normal relationship; show some discipline and save yourselves from the bitter reality of the betrayal and sin you’re so painfully close to the precipice of.

“I won’t touch you,” Bucky says, as if he senses the source of your worry and his promise might serve to assuage your fears.

And perhaps it would have if your doubts were borne from a place of morality. But they aren’t. You need him to touch you because — loathe as you are to admit the ignominious truth — you want more, too. You want anything and everything he’s willing to give you and then some. So you heed his order and curl your damp fingers around the even damper material of your panties, slowly easing them to the side to reveal your slick center to his ravenous stare. Bucky growls at the sight.

“You’re already so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he grunts, teeth clenched so hard they could crack. “Rub yourself.”

His voice takes on a tone of impatience as he squeezes the girth of his painfully swollen cock through his pants. You obey his request without hesitation this time, gently dragging your fingertips through the juices that have spilled from your core as you rub them up and down. Bucky is keenly aware of the way your fingers seem to avoid your clit. Pushing your legs wider, he settles deeper into his haunches to unlatch his belt and lower his zipper to relieve some of the steadily growing pressure.

“Touch yourself here,” Bucky demands, one hand reaching for your wrist and drawing your hand higher. “Show me how you’d do it if I wasn’t here. Make yourself feel good.”

Admittedly, you’d been avoiding direct stimulation of the bundle of nerves. You’re terrified of losing yourself completely and falling apart beneath Bucky’s scrutinous and watchful eye. It’s obvious from the way he licks his lips and stares you down with intensity that this is exactly what he wants. Even more obvious when you do as he asks and he shoves a hand behind the open zipper of his pants, burrowing under the tight elastic of his underwear to grasp his swelling length.

You begin to wriggle as you touch yourself, your toes curling restlessly into your sheets as your fingers swirl around your sensitive clit. Bucky’s eyes are glued to the motions of your hand, entranced by the subtle sounds of your slick folds as you massage them intermittently. His heart slams against the walls of his chest, beating to the same rhythm of your frantic little breaths and feminine sighs. Your eyes had shut as you slipped into ecstasy, but they fly open when you hear the jingling of Bucky’s dangling belt.

“Gotta touch myself, baby,” he confesses as he pulls his cock free, the weight of it making it bob between his thighs as a fresh rush of blood flows through his veins. “You got me so goddamn hard.”

As he wraps a fist around the thick base of his cock and begins to stroke it firmly, Bucky can’t help the loud and raspy moan that bounces off the walls. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up and you lick your lips at the sight of him fondling his impressive manhood; can’t help wondering how little it would take for you to let him have you. When he shifts closer and slides between your parted thighs, he sees the flash of apprehension.

“We can touch ourselves together, right?” he states softly. “I won’t do anything to you.”

He wants to add ‘unless you want me to’, although he allows the amending words to remain unspoken. Your doleful eyes tell him everything he needs to know: you need him — are desperate for him, even — and you’re so deliciously close to breaking. Your whispered request only assures him of that.

“W-will you kiss me?” you peep nervously.

At first, Bucky isn’t sure. You’ve already come this far, but he worries making physical contact with you will rip his shaky control of this situation right out of his hands. Still, he can’t say no when you’ve asked him so sweetly in that innocent little voice of yours and he ultimately gives in.

Leaning over you, Bucky brushes a strand of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear; ghosting his fingers along the edge of your jaw until his hand hovers over your mouth and his thumb hooks over your lower lip. You accept it easily, swirling your tongue and suckling gratefully at the long digit as Bucky presses it shallowly in and out of your mouth.

“Is that what you need?” Bucky breathes. “You promise you’ll keep being good for me if I kiss you?”

Nodding both dumbly and eagerly, you pout when his spit-soaked thumb slips free and leaves a trail of saliva down your chin. Though your disappointment is quickly forgotten as Bucky braces a hand on either side of your head and lowers his torso close to yours. His lips part and his warm breath washes over you as his face settles an inch from yours.

He kisses you chastely at first. Several short and slow pecks which you gladly accept are pressed to your soft mouth and you moan against him as you continue to work your fingers over your pulsing center. When he tries to pull back, you chase his lips; your teeth nipping at the plush flesh until he ceases the retreat. Your earnestness causes Bucky to grow impossibly harder and he mashes his mouth against yours. Unsure how you pluck up the courage, you force his lips apart and plunge your tongue into his mouth the second you have the opportunity to do so.

Bucky sinks further into the heated kiss and as he does, the leaking tip of his heavy cock brushes along your thigh, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum in its wake. He groans brokenly into your mouth at the contact with the silky warmth of your flesh, his abs clenching as he gnashes his teeth against the unexpected stimulation. He looks down at you, nearly snapping when you peer up at him as if you’ve done something wrong.

“Is this okay?” he wonders, steadily pushing his hips forward so his dick grinds against your thigh more firmly. “Feels so fucking good, honey.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for a response or permission, rather he kisses you again and continues to use your soft skin to pleasure himself. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re more than happy to acquiesce in the interest of Bucky’s satisfaction. He assaults your mouth, leaving you panting and breathless as he shifts his hips and his cock moves lower until the crease of your thigh cradles the mass of the thick appendage. Your shocked inhale prompts him to back off only because he knows he’ll have more success if he eases you into it.

You nod your approval when Bucky asks if he can take off your panties, watching with rapt attention as he eases the dampened fabric along the curve of your legs; he lifts them and pushes your knees towards your chest to drag your underwear over your ankles and discard the crumpled material. Heat rises in your face when your legs fall open again and you’re bared entirely to Bucky.

“Wanna see you fuck yourself with those little fingers,” he breathes, barely managing to stop himself from exploding when you nervously bite your lip and wither slightly as you divert your wide eyes. “You gettin’ shy on me, baby girl?”

“A little,” you manage to giggle.

The urge to cover your bare body flees when Bucky swirls his thumb over the head of his cock and curses under his breath. His unflinching stare beckons you to continue obeying him and the way he looks at you as if he wants nothing more than to devour you whole is incentive enough for you to slip your fingers down low and circle your dripping entrance.

Bucky jerks himself with vigor as your delicate digits bury themselves in your pussy, pornographic sounds emanating from your center as you slowly fuck yourself. He burrows a hand under your hips and draws your body closer to his. Heat pulses off of your flesh and he angles his cock so close to your core that he swears he can feel the humidity of your pussy. As you rub yourself more frantically, your knuckles occasionally brush his swollen head, leaving behind slippery beads of pre-cum that seep between your fingers.

You’re dripping wet by now and Bucky notices the tumescence of your flooding arousal shining in the pale moonlight that splashes across your squirming body. He’s so enthralled by the beautifully naughty picture you make that he doesn’t even protest when he feels your curious fingers dancing along the firm ridge of his cockhead. Both of you are too far gone, too torqued up to consider the consequences or even the immorality of what you’re doing.

When you gather some of your slick and smear it over the spongy tip of his dick, Bucky swears he could see sound and taste colors. His ears ring and his head swims, frozen in place by the ineffable sensation of your timid touch. A shiver wracks his body when you begin to wrap a hand around him, pushing his fist out of the way to stroke his cock for him. Your juices smooth the way and the distinct veins that decorate his length pulse angrily beneath your palm.

Feeling bold, you lift your hips slightly upwards and swirl the turgid flesh through your folds, twitching when Bucky’s tip hits your swollen clit. The stimulation paired with your audacity to behave so rakishly pushes him uncomfortably close to a premature release, prompting him to grab your wrist and wrench your hand away from his aching erection. You whine unhappily, but he’s quick to soothe your disapproval.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praises. “I’m just gonna rub on you like this.”

Buck demonstrates by sliding his cock through your folds, you slick coating the underside of his length and squelching audibly when he draws his hips back again. He keeps grinding himself along your needy pussy until you grow dizzy and frantic with need. The friction of his hot flesh is driving you insane and the pressure of his hardened, bulbous head rutting against your clit nearly sends you over the edge.

“Bucky, I—” you choke out, unable to voice the inconceivable appeal you want to make.

Your moaning and wriggling sets his teeth on edge and his muscles twitch with the restraint he forces himself to exert. He coos over you — smug and condescending — watching the rapturous way in which your eyes roll as you bite your lip until it bleeds. Bucky can see the words you want to spit out as if to rid your mouth of the acrid taste of them, but you fight it. He’s determined to hear you voice them.

“What is it, little one?” he whispers. “Do you want more?”

Suddenly unsure, you smile shyly and shake your head, though Bucky can still see the indecision burning in your eyes. It won’t be long before you change your mind. In fact, he intends to make certain that you do. He needs to touch you, to give you what he knows you need. He wants to make you fall apart. You’ll beg for release, from his fingers or his mouth...and he tells himself that that’s okay. That’s acceptable. He wouldn’t really be doing something wrong if he gets you off without burying himself in your young, willing body...would he?

When the blunt head of his cock catches on your neglected hole, your pussy spasms and your brain short circuits, prompting you to blurt out without thinking about or considering the impact of your words.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you whine, your plea shaky with unshed tears.

“Don’t,” Bucky barks instantaneously.

His sharp tone surprises you as Bucky has never once raised his voice, let alone been stern with you. You cower beneath his unexpected firmness, your eyes growing wetter.

“We can’t do that,” he insists, his resolve even weaker than his flimsy voice. “I can’t fuck you, baby girl.”

The forlorn way you whimper immediately has him questioning his own convictions and when you reach for his cock and mash it even more firmly against your drippy cunt to force your sodden lips to separate and hug the girth of him, he’s never believed in something less. And when you wrap your fingers around the base of him to guide the shiny, reddened tip to the entrance of your pussy where you just barely breach yourself and cry out at the tight feeling, he knows then and there that he is going to fuck you.

“Is that what you really want?” he bites harshly, taking his weight on one hand so he can press the palm of the other against your throat, finger curling around your esophagus until he’s sure he has your full attention. “You need your daddy inside you, huh?”

“I…I want you,” you blubber.

The tears that finally trickle from the corners of your eyes snaps what little sanity Bucky has left, he surrenders any desire to uphold some level of propriety with you. He picks up where you left off, guiding the tip of his cock to your weeping, wanting cunt and drives his hips slightly forward. Offering only a few short and shallow strokes, Bucky fucks you with just the first inch or so of his cock; the stretch is dizzying nonetheless.

You’re satisfied with the initial drags of his cock only for a moment before you writhe beneath him and try to take him deeper with all the subtlety of a brick. But Bucky pulls away, denying you the satisfaction of feeling more than just the tip of his fat cock. Somehow, he manages yet again to convince himself that if he doesn’t fuck you any deeper than this, he’s still done nothing wrong. If it’s just the tip, he isn’t truly fucking you; he isn’t cheating on his wife or corrupting his sweet, young stepdaughter.

He maintains his composure for significantly longer than he thought possible before he can resist no longer. You gasp and moan in a way befitting of the filthiest of whores and your back arches when he dares to slip you another inch.

The heat of your tight cunt swallowing him up and hugging his cock snugly seeps so deep into him that he feels the warmth in his bones. You squeal loudly in surprise when Bucky lurches forward and impales you, his thickness splits you open and stretches your pussy with almost unbearable yet fulfilling pressure. He places a hand on each of your hips, stilling your fidgeting and wiggling as you endeavor to ease away from the overwhelming sensation of his cock sliding all the way to the hilt. Bucky keeps you in place, reveling in the way your slick walls ripple and squeeze as he makes sure you go nowhere.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” he soothes with slight condescension, curling his body over yours to capture your lips in a fervid kiss. “You felt too good, I had to feel all of you.”

You can only whimper in response, altogether unaccustomed to feeling so full. Bucky carefully cradles your head, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to fuck you with deep and steady strokes. His cock feels indescribable as it drives into you, coated in your slippery cream and hard as steel. With each plunge into your clenching pussy, Bucky grunts deeply in your ear. His fingers thread more tightly in your hair, harshly yanking the strands as he pumps his hips with more and more force.

The head of his cock bumps your cervix on each downstroke and it knocks a wavering cry from your lungs with precise reliability, Bucky becoming more and more certain that you utter the pathetic noises with the intention of taunting him and egging him on. He turns his head, swallowing your salacious cries as they grow in volume.

You’re caged in by his muscular arms as he presses your chest to his, ensuring that you take every inch he’s forcing into your pliant body. He just about loses his mind when he can feel you using your feet for leverage to drop your hips and meet his every thrust, extending his arms so he can look down and watch you greedily engulf his cock.

“Tight little cunt…feel so much better than your mother. You’re being so good for me, baby. My nasty little girl, huh?” he encourages. “Just like that, I’m so fucking close. Gonna cum on these pretty tits.”

To drive the point home, Bucky claws at the cups of your bra to release the bouncing globes. He palms the flesh, grinding his palms into your sensitive nipples and adoring the way your pussy constricts in kind. Your arms had pulled up and come to rest against your ribs and your little hands curl and unfurl atop your torso, blindly searching for something to grasp.

Bucky snatches up the pillow you’d tossed aside earlier and presses it to your belly, encouraging you to grab hold of the plush object. You do so gratefully, fingers digging forcefully into it to hold it tight as Bucky shoves your knees towards your chest and his cock slides in and out of you with ease.

While Bucky did have every intention of pulling out and blowing his load on your breasts as promised, the feral sound that rattles deep in your throat like an animal in heat makes him rethink the option. The sight of you powerless and tiny beneath him — pathetically clutching your pillow with both your eyes and lips opened wide with ecstasy as he watches the thickness of his cock disappearing within your little pussy, spreading and stretching you out with each swivel of his hips — leaves him without much choice.

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

He can’t hold back now, can’t deny either one of you the delectation of him leaving you completely full and sated. Especially not when he feels you grind your hips to sink further down onto him until the thatch of hair at the base of his cock tickles your clit and your legs pull tight around his hips.

The weight of Bucky’s body crushes the pillow between your bodies as he leans in to bite your neck, growling in response to your lamenting wail. The room is filled with the sound of raucous slapping as your skin makes sharp and consistent contact, the backs of your thighs slamming into Bucky’s hips with every violent thrust he imparts on you. You’re practically screaming by the time your orgasm overtakes you and the constriction of your pussy relentlessly gripping his cock flings Bucky over his own precipice.

“Ohhh, fuck…that’s it, honey. Just like that. Such a good fuckin’ slut,” Bucky hisses, beginning to ramble as the first spurt of cum spills, his balls pulsing with force. “Stay right there. Daddy’s gonna fill you up so good.”

You know you should refuse, push Bucky off and stop him from burying his seed in your pussy. But you cannot deny the fact that somewhere deep down, this is what you’ve wanted all along. To be his and to be marked as such. When you feel his cock jump inside you and the noticeable warmth of his cum seeps into your womb, you do exactly as he requests and you stay put as he pumps his hips shallowly and fucks his spurting cum even deeper.

Tipping your head, you latch your teeth into the collar of Bucky’s shirt as his body spasms above you, muscles twitching and rippling with his powerful release. He pins you in place with his body, focusing his weight against your wiggling hips until he’s positive you’ve milked every last drop of cum from his slick-soaked dick. You squeak in discomfort when he presses his pelvis flush to yours, the depth of his cock making your insides ache.

Bucky remains there — buried as deep as he can physically get — until he can catch his breath and his dick begins to soften. When he pulls out, the thick white trickle of cream begins to spill out immediately. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of a car outside and while you know you should be rushing to cover up and Bucky should be slipping away unnoticed from your bedroom, he seems to have other ideas.

Thick fingers sweep through the stickiness of Bucky’s spend, smearing it all over your puffy folds and coating your swollen clit in a layer of cum. He spends a dizzying amount of time focusing his touch on the over-stimulated bundle of nerves, only stopping when you begin to flinch and whine beneath his touch. Once you do, he chooses instead to gather the rest of what drips from your wrecked pussy on his fingers before slowly and methodically stuffing the long digits inside of you, shoving his cum back inside.

Satisfied with how his cum is now smeared over every inch of your pussy — both inside and out — Bucky brings his slippery fingers to his mouth, lewdly sucking your combined juices from his skin. He licks his lips for good measure, then hops gingerly from your bed to tug his boots back onto his feet. Bucky turns to you, proudly observing your limp, satiated body and the look on your tear-streaked face as he lovingly caresses the inside of your right thigh where some of your fluids have smeared. He fights the urge to bury his fingers knuckle-deep in your leaking pussy when he spies the cum that starts to seep out again.

“Come say goodnight to your mother,” he directs as he carefully stuffs his softened length back into his pants before looming over you to speak against your parted lips. “Be a good girl and I’ll come back later to tuck you in.”

With that, Bucky kisses you sloppily then exits your room without another word. You’re left lying there, alone and exhausted; legs shaking and your stepfather’s cum oozing from your sore pussy as you hear the distant sound of your mother’s voice downstairs.

Part Two

• Series Masterlist •

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#i used the word cock 24 times i'm so sorry #barely edited this so i'm sorry for that too #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #stepfather au #stepfather!bucky barnes #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan

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flightlessangelwings · 6 months

Text

My Knight in White

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Dialogue prompt- “ that was for saving my life. “ Action prompt- [ KISS ]: after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Marc, mutual pining, minor violence, minor character death, harassment of reader (not Marc), damsel in distress, unprotected piv, no use of y/n

About this reader- she is smart but not physically badass, works with Egyptian artifacts but I left it vague so you can fill in for yourself exactly what she does, no specific city where they are is stated either so it's open for you to imagine wherever, no physical descriptions other than body parts

Notes- Posting my October Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 a little late because of kinktober but I'm so excited to share this! This is expanding on an idea that @melodygatesauthor had months ago who wanted to see a damsel in distress reader and Marc saving her!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post!

“You’re here late,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, refocusing your eyes to the world around you. Looking around, you didn’t even realize how long you had been hunched over your desk, studying and cleaning the artifact that had recently been brought in. “Marc…” you breathed as you stretched, your back aching as you became aware of reality again.

He smiled softly as he uncrossed his arms, “You work too much, you know that,” he leaned against the doorway as he watched you.

Marc loved to watch you work. He loved to watch you do anything really, but when you worked, you became so focused, lost in concentration. You handled the old artifacts with such care and respect, he couldn’t help but linger his gaze on your hands. He had never met anyone smarter than you, and he loved to listen to you go on and on about any topic you found interesting. Marc took it upon himself to watch over you, making sure you were always safe even if you never truly knew just how much he looked over you.

“I lost track of time,” you replied as you gathered yourself and packed everything away, “I didn’t realize it’s after dark.”

“And the fact that everyone else left hours ago didn’t clue you in,” Marc smirked.

“Hey,” you playfully chastised him, “I can’t help it, I just got in the zone, you know. Besides, these new artifacts are so fascinating I just can’t tear myself away from them!”

It suddenly occurred to you that you and Marc were completely alone. He was right- everyone else left hours ago. As you stood up and made your way over to him, you took in his handsome features once more. And the way he leaned against the door made your thoughts run wild. The two of you had known each other for some time now, but you kept your true feelings to yourself, afraid of damaging your friendship or losing him.

Marc looked you up and down, “Want me to walk you home?” he offered as he followed behind you, watching you flip the lights off and lock everything up.

“I’m alright,” you suddenly felt nervous. Marc has been to your place many times, but the shiver that ran up your spine made your heart race, “I don’t live that far.”

He furrowed his brow, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a soft smile, “Thanks, though,” you stepped in front of him before you turned back, “Good night.”

Marc watched you walk away before he whispered a hushed, “Good night.”

He watched you as you made your way down the street in the darkness until he couldn’t see you anymore. Marc had already decided he was going to follow you anyway, watching over you from afar, but when he saw a group of sketchy-looking men with wicked grins sneer and tail behind you, he knew he had to do more to keep you safe.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way down the street. You didn’t make it far from Marc when you noticed that a group of men started to follow behind you, and though you couldn’t make out their exact words, you knew they were talking about you. In that moment, you wished you took Marc up on his offer to walk you home, but you couldn’t turn around now. All you could do was hope you got inside fast before they caught up to you.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” one of them called out to you.

Too late.

You glanced over your shoulder and found that they were even closer to you than you thought, and you quickly bolted down the street without a word. That only egged them on more, however, and you heard them laughing behind you as they sped up as well.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” they sneered, “We just want to talk to you.”

A gasp escaped your lips as you turned down a street, hoping to lose them. But, your plan immediately backfired as you found yourself trapped in an alleyway at a dead end. And you failed to shake them off your tail.

“Please,” you breathed as fear pulsed through your veins, “I’m just trying to get home.”

The men surrounded you, darkness shading their features, “We’ll get you home, sweet girl.”

The others chuckled as they started to reach for you.

“Please leave me alone,” you tried to sound more assertive, but you knew you didn’t intimate them at all. They were all very muscular and taller than you, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance even if you tried to fight back. But that didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

You screamed when one of them grabbed your arm, and you swung your fist into him as hard as you could while digging your feet into the ground. Gritting your teeth, you tried your best to yank yourself from his grip, but tears of frustration filled your eyes when you realized it was useless.

“No!” you cried out as you tried again, your pleas drowned out by their cackling laughter.

Suddenly, your luck changed.

Out of nowhere, something yanked the man who helped you back and he yelped as he found himself flung against the wall of the alleyway. The other men all looked up as a hooded figure in all white descended down and immediately went on the attack against them.

You gasped as you scurried back out of the scuffle, pressing yourself against the opposite wall as much as you could as if you tried to phase through the wall and disappear. Your eyes went wide as you watched the mysterious hero fight off the men who attacked you, beating and punching them down until none of them moved.

The figure then turned to you, and time froze for several moments.

He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice from under the mask said.

You couldn’t help but feel like the voice was familiar. But, you stayed silent.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” your rescuer asked as he stepped closer to you, looking you over.

Your hands trembled, but not from fear this time. Taking a deep breath in for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally replied in a hushed voice, “No,” you whispered, “I’m alright.”

As he stepped close enough so you could reach for him if you wanted, you studied his outfit more. He wore all white, but as he got closer, you noticed it looked like linen wrappings, almost like a mummy. A crescent moon symbol adorned his chest and a white cloak covered his head. You could see the muscle definition even through the thick wrappings, and it made you swallow hard.

You had no idea what came over you at that moment- perhaps it was the adrenaline- but without a word, you reached out for him, grabbed him and pulled your bodies closer as you laid a kiss on his mask where his mouth would be.

It caught him off guard, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he cradled you close, holding onto your waist with one hand and your arm with the other. It felt warm, comfortable, right.

“What was that for?” he asked with a smirk in his voice.

You smiled at him, “That was for saving my life,” your voice was still hushed, your breath taken away, “Thank you.”

He cupped your chin affectionately. Through the mask, he studied you up close. Everything in Marc screamed to take it off and tell you who he was, but he also knew that knowing his secret would put you in danger. And Marc would not allow that. For now, he would be satisfied knowing you were safe, and that he was just in time. He only nodded, not saying anything else before he broke away from you and leapt up into the air, disappearing into the night just as mysteriously as he appeared.

You watched in bewilderment as it took your brain several moments to process what just happened. You touched your lips as you realized that you kissed a total stranger, and one who you didn’t even see his face too. But, as you looked around and saw the men laying on the ground, the adrenaline ran through your veins once more and you ran out of the alleyway and quickly made your way home.

The whole time, Marc watched from the rooftops until you were safely inside.

In the following weeks, you threw yourself completely into your work to cope with what happened that night. A mix of emotions constantly filled your head, and you found that pushing them away with the distraction of work was the easiest way to deal with them. There were days where you hardly looked up from your desk, so deep in concentration that the rest of the world was a blur around you.

Marc kept a watchful eye over you the entire time. He knew why you were like this, but when others asked he feigned ignorance. No one had to know what happened to you, and it wasn’t up to him to tell anyway. Instead, he chose to keep an eye on you from afar, like he always did.

Vaguely, you were aware of Marc’s presence in the shadows… and it felt familiar to you somehow. He always kept an eye on you, but after that night it somehow felt different. But, having him close was one of the few comforts you had after your attack. Yet, your mind also wandered toward the mysterious hooded figure who rescued you…

“Hey,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

You looked up with a startled gasp, not realizing how late it got. Again. “Marc,” you breathed.

He looked worried, “Everything alright?” Marc asked, “You’ve seemed… off lately.”

Your eyes darted from his face to your desk a few times as you felt nervous suddenly, “I’m fine,” you knew you didn’t convince him, you didn’t even convince yourself.

Marc sighed your name as he settled down next to you, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you.”

Heat rose in your face, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you exhaled deeply, “Besides, you’d just make fun of me.”

“Never!” he exclaimed, acting playfully offended before he turned serious, “What’s on your mind?”

The comforting tone in his voice and the warmth of his presence allowed you to let your guard down, “Ok…” you took a breath, “The night I was here late a few weeks ago,” you started, “A group of guys tried to jump me,” your voice quivered and you felt Marc’s hand over yours, “But I was saved by…” you paused as you looked at him sheepishly, “A guy in a hood and something that looked like mummy wrappings.”

Marc’s face lit up as he grinned knowingly at you.

You nudged him playfully as you erupted into a fit of giggles out of pure embarrassment, “See I knew you were going to laugh at me!”

“No, sweetheart I’m not laughing at you,” Marc raised his hands defensively, “I swear!”

Something changed in the air between you as you stared at each other. The light atmosphere shifted and it felt like something heavy lingered between the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized just how close Marc sat to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you studied his features. Not to mention that was the first time he called you anything affectionate like that…

“Marc…”

“Listen, I…,” he started, interrupting you.

Leaning in, you were entranced by him and you hung on his every word. Just being near him and laughing like this made all your troubles melt away. You felt safe here, with him.

But, before Marc could continue, a loud crash cut him off.

Both of you jumped up, and you let out a soft shriek. Marc immediately went into defense mode and every muscle in his body tensed. It was late, and the two of you were the only ones in the building. He made sure the doors were locked too, so he knew whoever broke in meant trouble.

“Marc?” your voice shook.

“Listen to me,” he turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I need you to sneak out of here. Take the back exit and hide somewhere. I’m going to distract them and get a path for you to get out.”

“But the artifacts,” you whispered as you glanced over at the old objects on your desk that you spent weeks cleaning and studying. The first thought in your mind was that these are robbers looking to steal and sell them, and you didn’t want that to happen.

“Things can be replaced,” Marc sounded urgent, “We can get them back. I’m more worried about getting you safe right now.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, stunned. Just as you were about to reply, though, another crash made you jump and Marc pulled you in close to keep you calm.

“It's gonna be alright,” he murmured to you, “Just trust me. Ok?”

You pulled back to look into his eyes again, “I trust you.”

He nodded as he pressed his lips together, “Ok,” how Marc sounded nervous, “Stay low. Stay in the shadows. And just get out. You hear me?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. Then your brain caught up with you, “What about you?”

Marc smirked, “I’ll be alright. Just trust me.”

There was no time for explanations as another crash echoed in the room- they were getting closer. Marc ushered you out of the door and down the hall before he ran in the opposite direction towards the intruders. You glanced over your shoulder at his retreating figure before you made your way down the hall, crouching low and out of sight as you did so.

As you made your way to the back door, however, you noticed that it was blocked- one of them already made his way there.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you changed direction. Instead, you went up to the roof in hopes of finding a place to hide until Marc did… whatever he was planning to do.

But that plan also quickly backfired.

You ran up to the roof and into the open area there, but you were met with yet another thug who blocked the opposite entrance from where you were.

“Well look what we have here,” he said with a dark grin on his face.

Letting out a gasp, you tried to run back where you came from, but another sinister shadowy man blocked that path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

“Please,” was all you could whimper as you felt them close in on you.

The men just laughed as they stepped closer, reaching for their guns as they did so. But, before they reached you, one of them was yanked back, slamming into the wall. You looked up and saw the same hooded figure that saved you before swooping down from seemingly nowhere.

More of the thugs appeared from the doorway and they yelled as they pulled out their guns and started to fire on both of you. The hooded figure rushed over to you and wrapped his cloak over both your bodies, shielding you.

You covered your head out of instinct, but as you felt a warm presence, you looked up and found yourself face to face with your linen wrapped savior once more.

“It’s you,” you gasped in relief. The ringing of the guns suddenly sounded distant.

The mask started to peel away on its own, revealing none other than Marc. He breathed your name, “Are you alright?”

“It’s you!” you sounded stronger that time, in total shock that it was Marc the whole time.

“I told you I wasn’t making fun of you,” he flashed a quick smile before he turned serious again, “I don’t have time to explain now,” he said, “I’m going to fight these guys off. You need to hide somewhere until they’re dealt with. I’ll come find you when it’s safe, I promise.”

The intruders and the guns were more pressing at the moment, so you swallowed and nodded.

When Marc found an opening, he pushed you towards the door, “Go!” he shouted as he turned back to the intruders and fought them off.

You ran.

Running on pure instinct, you bolted down the hall and turned a corner into a closet. Luckily, no one was around and you hid yourself well. You crouched in the corner as you listened to the grunts and gunshots in the distance. At one point, you covered your mouth to stifle a scream, suddenly scared for Marc. You fought back tears, swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t cry.

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, the fighting stopped. Silence filled your ears but you didn’t dare move. Your hands trembled slightly against your face as you strained to hear the one voice that would bring you comfort.

And then you heard it.

Marc called out your name as he stood in the hall, frantically looking for you, “Baby it’s alright. You can come out.”

You let out the breath you held, all your fear escaping with it as you leapt up and out of your hiding spot. Down the hall, you saw Marc standing there, his knighty suit still adorning his body but his face exposed. “Marc,” you breathed in relief as you ran towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he sounded just as relieved as he ran towards you with open arms.

The two of you crashed together in a messy embrace, emotions getting the better of both of you. He rested a hand on the back of your head while the other pulled you in as close as he possibly could. Tears flowed from your eyes as relief washed over you, yet the pulse of fear still ran through you after everything that happened. Vaguely, you heard Marc whispering soft words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear.

“Come on,” Marc said, “I’m getting you out of here,” he slid his hand in yours.

“But…” you tried to protest, not wanting to leave any of the artifacts alone.

“It’s ok,” he gave you a soft smile, “They’re dealt with. Right now I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process everything. So much happened in such a short time, and you weren’t sure how to react to it. Time passed in a daze as you found yourself at Marc’s place, settled comfortably on his couch with a mug of tea in your hands. You felt safe with him, of course, but you felt like you were outside your body.

The two of you talked for what felt like hours. Marc told you everything- all of his secrets that he kept hidden for so long. He promised you that he would always protect you, and he explained why he didn’t tell you before. As he talked, the sound of his voice calmed you, like an embrace of your heart. Your eyes moved from where they stared at the mug to meet his gaze.

“I promise you, baby,” Marc cupped your face, “Nothing’s ever going to happen to you. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”

Heat rose in your face, and you were sure Marc felt how warm you were. But, as you stared into his eyes, you felt your heart flutter and his charming gleam sent a rush of fresh emotions through you. Without a word, you closed the gap between your bodies, crashing your lips together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you climbed into his lap and Marc instantly helped you closer. Deepening the kiss, you felt a tingle on your skin as you tasted him, and you felt the reverberation of his moan against your body.

“What was that for?” he asked in a whisper, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You smirked against Marc, “I wanted to thank you properly,” you breathed, “With a real kiss this time.”

Marc cupped your face as he gazed into your soul through your eyes, “Baby…” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for another kiss.

This time, it felt different. It was desperate and heated, but there was also the warmth and passion behind it. You moaned into Marc’s lips as you rocked your hips against his. He tightened his grip on you as a rush of need pulsed through his veins, and he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched underneath you.

Breaking away for air, Marc saw the look of wanton need in your eyes, and he knew exactly what you were thinking, “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You cupped his face, brushed your fingers along his dark curls, “I’m sure,” you whispered as you kissed him again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you paused before you sheepishly added, “I’ve wanted this so so long…”

Marc grinned, his face lighting up, “Then let’s do this right.”

Shifting your bodies, Marc stood up and extended his hand. You eagerly took it and allowed him to lead you over to his bed. Excitement bloomed between you and before you even made it to the bed, your hands were all over each other. Kisses decorated your steps as you each tugged at the other’s clothing until you were bare.

You and Marc crashed into his bed, and he quickly laid overtop of you. He paused for a moment, breathless as he took in the sight of you bare underneath him, “Fuck you are beautiful,” he breathed.

“So are you,” you sighed in pure admiration as you grabbed his face and yanked him in for another kiss, “We can take our time later,” you murmured between kisses, “I need you too bad right now.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked his length along your folds. It didn’t go unnoticed that you mentioned a next time either… But your moan broke Marc out of that thought, and a shiver ran up his spine as he felt his cock against your pussy, “Wet already,” he smirked.

“Please Marc,” you pleaded.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he moaned as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Slowly, carefully, Marc pushed himself into you, causing you both to gasp at the same time. You clawed at his arms, holding on for dear life as the slight burn of his cock stretching you out went jolts of pleasure through your body. Fresh tears filled your eyes at the sensation, and you never felt more alive, more pleasure than ever before.

“Marc…”

He groaned your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Fuck,” he breathed. Marc cradled your face as he rocked in and out of you, slowly at first, but the more you moaned the faster he moved, “You’re perfect,” he moaned, “Shit…”

“Fuck… Marc… You feel so good,” you moaned as you saw stars every time his cock slammed into you.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the tingles of your approaching climax. Your legs trembled on either side of Marc’s body as he thrust into you over and over again and you dug your nails into his soft skin as you clung to him. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as both your moans grew louder and louder as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Marc… I’m…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” Marc repeated his words from earlier.

Skin slapped against skin as Marc felt his own climax apparach. But, he was determined to send you over the edge first, and with just a few more thrusts of his hips, he got what he wanted. With a loud scream, you came hard, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. And fuck you had never looked more beautiful to Marc.

He kept up his pace as long as he could, watching the show you put on just for him and savoring every second of it. But, Marc’s eyes started to roll back as he felt his orgasm quickly build, egged on by the way you clenched your inner muscles around his cock. And with a groan of your name, he came right after you, spilling himself into you as he did so.

Marc collapsed on top of you, completely spent. But, after just a few breaths, he shifted himself, pulling out of you with a hiss before he laid next to you. You let out a whine at the loss, but quickly curled yourself up in his embrace as Marc held you close. You closed your eyes as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heartbeat against your ear.

“Marc, I…”

“Shhh,” he gently hushed you, “Just rest now baby,” Marc cradled your head as he placed a soft kiss, “I’ve got you.”

You hummed contently as sleep quickly took you over. Between the excitement, the danger and the rush of emotions, you suddenly found yourself exhausted and in no time you feel sound asleep in Marc’s arms.

Marc stayed awake for some time, listening to the sound of your heavy breaths. He knew exactly what you wanted to say, and as much as he wanted to hear you say those words, he knew it was better to wait. He gave your body one extra squeeze before he whispered to your sleeping form, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart… I love you.”

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ineffable-endearments · 7 months

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I've gotta credit this post by @azfellandco because it almost certainly contributed to my thoughts here.

Since Before the Beginning, Aziraphale has wanted to be acknowledged, to be noticed. It doesn't seem to come naturally to him to demand attention. He doesn't seem to want power or influence for its own sake. But he really, really wants to be held dear.

And that is not what Heaven is about. Aziraphale doesn't even have to be particularly targeted in Heaven to have been crushed by it; it is standard for Heaven to treat its angels as nobodies. It's a deliberate tactic.

Considering all this, Crowley's attentions must be like a drug to Aziraphale. Someone who's NEVER had his feelings considered, being comforted and told all his instincts are OK or even correct? Someone who's just another worker bee, getting special favors from someone who's supposed to be the enemy? Someone who always seems to be the last to know any of Heaven's plans, becoming a trusted confidante?

And yet, all of this goes against the very purpose he was Created for, against Goodness itself. No wonder Aziraphale is terrified of his own desire.

If we think of the ox ribs scene as a representation of the things Crowley is offering - what Aziraphale wants from him and what Crowley wants to give - we can see a little of this fear in action. Notice how Aziraphale is seated so he's facing away from Crowley.

He turns around to chat with Crowley about Sides and loneliness, but when Crowley makes the point that his side and God's side are mutually exclusive, Aziraphale turns away again, tearing into the ox rib angrily. He's enjoying himself a lot and will determinedly continue to do so, but he can't square the fact that there is no room for questioning with God. He literally can't face what it means to question. There's the loneliness, there's the guilt, and there's also the danger of getting sent to Hell, in A Companion to Owls, or whatever other punishment Heaven can mete out, in general.

So it is, again, no wonder, when Aziraphale finally starts to give in to his desire for Crowley himself, that he goes all-in without looking at exactly what that has to mean - talking about "our car" and "our bookshop" and eventually gearing up to take Crowley back to Heaven with him.

Once again, he can't face the fact that questioning is a part of Crowley and there is no place for questioning in Heaven, and therefore, Crowley cannot be reinstated as an angel and remain the same person.

I think the ox ribs scene, and the later comment from Crowley about having the constitution of an ox, frame it this way: Aziraphale is ravenous for everything about Crowley, but their existence together is fragile, and in his terror of loss, the angel almost spiritually devours his demon. Not on purpose, no, not even with awareness that's what he'd be doing, but because all the alternatives are intolerable.

And that's why, although he doesn't realize it yet, he actually did need Crowley to say "no" to Heaven.

#good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers #go s2 #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley #This is an angst post BUT it is also an Aziraphale love post

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aphroditesbaby1616 · 1 month

Text

Allspice (c.b oneshot)

♡ O.S Inspo: Forever & Always - Fearless (TV) ; "Was I out of line, did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide like a scared little boy?" ♡ Pairing : CarmyxAFAB Reader as little physical description possible | She/Her pronouns used, NO use of Y/N :)

♡ Summary: You have a very successful Culinary Review blog, the social media manager of one of your new hometown restaurants 'The Bear' has been dying to get you out to try their food. But since the EC is a bit of an overzealous competitor, you end up having to go back for round 2- you end up having a delicious dinner, and a free show.

♡ W/C: 4,381

♡ Posted Date: 03/18/24

♡ A/N: FIRST THING: I am HORRIDDDD at writing Claire- I'm much better at writing Carmy cause were alot more similar- so this Claire isn't gonna be CRAZY canon, but I think she got the job done. Anyway- EEEEEP!!! Here is my VERY FIRST ONE SHOT EVER!! Inspired by my amazing, wonderful, PRECIOUS FLOWER @daysofyellowroses that can be found here :) AAAAA!!! My precious Rose I hope you enjoy this, It could ABSOLUTELY have a part 2 if y'all like it. I ended it here cause I'm sooo wordy and I didn't want it to turn in to a multi-chap. fic by mistake...but ofc if y'all want more just tell me and ill get RIGHT TO WORK!!! I really hope this comes off how I saw it in my head. There's no smut/sexy stuff, just mutual pining and flirty teasing, I hope thats ok!! aaa here we goooo!!! Enjoy <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, Drinking alcohol (Literally it LOL)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Being a Food Critic wasn’t an easy gig, as much as people wanted to believe it’s simply going to famous restaurants, trying their most popular dishes- and giving your opinion, it was much more then that.

Each and every aspect of the restaurant was under your review, from the second you walked in the door, you were judging everything. From the atmosphere, to the music, to the decor, to the comfortability of the furniture all of it, was to meet your expectations if the owner of the establishment wanted a good review.

Today was finally the day you'd review one of the restaurants that had sent 3 requests for you to feature a review of them on your blog.

The Bear. Interesting name, you thought.

With the rugged name- you’d assumed a more millennial hipster-New American vibe. But when you’d arrived- you were quite…impressed? That instead of leaning into that all too common aesthetic, it was more of a classy, comfortable vibe.

They’d not even had bear art, anything of the sort. It was pure comfort, mixed with subtle class. The kind that spoke to the cost of the dishes- but wasn’t in your face obnoxious. The only ‘Bear’ was the little golden bear embossed into the leather menu you’d been handed when seated at the table.

The way you did your reviews was…a tad unusual - some chefs in the industry called it ‘unfair’ but you called it…the fairest things could be. Instead of telling them when you’d be swinging by for a review since where’s the fun in that you’d call, make a reservation under some random name, and they’d know you’d accepted their offer when the review had been posted on your blog.

It felt most honest and fair because you were one of the most renowned food critics in the country right now. If they knew you were coming- any EC with a brain would spend the night before your arrival, prepping the entire restaurant and staff - assuring they’d be on their best behavior to try and squeeze a higher grade out of you.

But you were just a reader once upon a time, years ago- when you realized in culinary school that the making of the art didn’t interest you, it was the observing. Food wasn’t just about taste, but rather the whole experience. And if every famous food critic you’d taken interest in back in the day- never got a true experience due to their notability? You’d never have gotten into this field. So, you were most keen on keeping things fair.

A woman with mousey brown hair comes up to your table, dressed in the typical waitress slacks and black button up shirt. “Hello! Welcome to The Bear. My name is Sam, have you dined with us before?” she asks.

You sit up in your chair, peeling your eyes from the menu. You give her a small kind smile “I haven’t” you replied, urging her to continue her script.

“Well welcome in, we're so happy you chose to spend your evening with us. So for our menu” she opens it in front of you. “Here” she points “are our wine options, fabulous selection this month. Then we have draft beers right next to it. On the following page” she points “all of our craft cocktails, then this,” she points in the bottom corner.

“Our house cocktail - Just called The Bear. It’s wonderful, if you like old fashions you’ll love this - made with Bearface Triple Oak Whiskey.” She said and you nod.

“That please. That’s what I’ll start with” you said and she nodded.

“I’ll get that right in. But quickly, just so you’re aware” she flipped the page and pointed.

“These - are the dishes of the month. Each crafted by one of our two head chefs, they change monthly so if something calls to you I recommend you try- because it won’t be back” she said. You raised your eyebrows a bit in surprise and nod.

“Thank you” you said and she gives a nod before heading off to the bar to put in your drink order before heading off to tend to other tables in your section.

Having an alternating menu intrigued you, for such a high end establishment- one with a Michelin star at that- implementing such a menu would consistently have their star at risk. One dish, one app, one drink- that was not up to par and it would be revoked. You guessed the owners of this place liked living on the edge, as if being in this industry wasn’t already being constantly on edge.

You gaze over the menu, the Chilean Seabass sounded like a fair assessment. Seafood was quite difficult to get right, especially in the springtime before peak season, and you’d be able to judge the consistency of the chopping and such because there was a fresh tomato corn salad that came with it. That was your rule when you came to judge restaurants, one main course, and one dessert.

You’d felt like the main courses were the true stars of the show anyhow, and it would be unfair to muck up your palate with an app that was usually something easy to get right (since they were usually fried, covered in cheese, or some kind of carb). And the dessert usually showed the restaurant's creativity, which you loved to see, so 2 dishes was your max.

The waitress returns with the cocktail, setting it down with a napkin under it. “Here you are, now- have you decided on a starter?” She questioned and you shook your head.

“Straight to the good stuff, I’d like the Chilean Sea Bass please. And for dessert,” you flick the page and your eyes settle on the words savory cannoli - hmm, imaginative indeed. “And uh- The Michael Cannoli?” You said, shutting the menu and handing it to her.

She nods with a smile, jotting down the order into her notepad before taking the menu and holding it to her chest. “That will be out soon as possible. Enjoy your drink” she said and headed back to the kitchen.

You sit back sipping the cocktail and humming. She was right, much like an old fashioned, but floral notes. Almost…chamomile? Yes! That was it. Very interesting.

You slipped your iPad out of your bag, opening up your journaling app and grabbing the pencil out of the little sleeve. You quickly snapped a picture with your phone of the drink, airdropping it to yourself and adding it into the entry and writing;

‘To start; ‘The Bear’ house cocktail- initial thoughts ; not too sweet, strong (but not overpowering), chamomile? Some kind of herbal tea flower’

You take another sip, letting the flavors sit on your tongue a moment before swallowing. “Mmm!” You hum to yourself, finally realizing where the herby taste beneath the chamomile was coming from that gave it that oaky piney taste.

‘Angostura bitters- will confirm!!’ You wrote just as someone approaches your table. You look up to see a man, short brown hair, stubble. He was smiling, holding a plate.

��Hello! Here we have Arancini with our house-made pesto, courtesy of Executive Chef Carmen” he placed the dish in front of you next to your iPad. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking up at him, scarcel confused.

“Wrong table” you murmured, thumbing the dish back in his direction lightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Nope- ah, he- he said this table.” He replied. It did smell fantastic, and any other day you’d never deny delicious, deep fried balls of risotto dipped in smooth, decedent pesto- but you’re working right now and it’s not fair.

“Well, you can tell him” you lifted the dish, offering it back. “I have a system. And I’m unsure how he realized that I’m coming here, tonight, but I dislike cheaters. And he should know if he’s read my blog- I don’t muck up my palate with grease before I try the main course.” The plate was so close to him now it was nearly digging into his chest.

He nodded quickly, taking the plate without another word and briskly walking back to the kitchen. You sat back in your seat with a slight scoff.

He thinks he can win you over just like that? How did he even know you would be here?

You picked up your pencil once again, adding a note.

For the chef; Arancini smelt delicious. Didn’t order it, so I didn’t taste it . Presentation wise; 7/10. Pesto looked like it was spooned in the dish a tad bit messy to me.

You smiled to yourself, you knew he’d read the final review once it was posted. And since he wanted to be a little cheater and get a overall higher score since he was trying to weasel you into trying extra dishes- you’d kick his ego down a few extra pegs for fun.

You sat, nursing your drink, adding extra little notes here and there, as well as editing a blog post about Ghost Kitchens you’d been working on and how they were ruining the mobile order industry on the side. You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly.

Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh.

“Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table.

You swore even in the ambient lighting, his cheeks flushed slightly. “You- uh- you declined, my Arancini. Why?” He asked, holding his hands behind his back, the position making his already toned and tattooed arms appear more muscular. It makes him all the more impressive he has all these tattoos and still made it in this industry. I can only imagine the shit he got for them.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his boldness. “Because that’s Cheating. Mr.Berzatto. I’d assume you know my work well. Considering you know what I look like, so- why try to cheat? You know how I feel about appetizers. It’s a scapegoat.” You shrugged, locking your iPad when you realized he’d been peeking at the notes.

“Messy” his eyes narrow. He scoffs a bit, alluding to the note you’d written a short while prior “Messy?” He asks again, you laugh a bit.

“Mmhmm! Oh, was it you chef? Wow…I mean- now that I think about it” you shook your head, now just messing with him since you see how much he was dying to impress you. “I could’ve sworn- the pesto it just..was too loose. Overblended maybe? That’s why it was impossible to plate without making a mess.” You shrugged, cutting up your fish carefully and spreading the vegetables with your knife to observe the cohesivity of the cuts.

He scoffs, “too- too loose?! W-y’know what. No. No. It- you’re gonna try it.” He demands and you look up at him, nearly laughing at the seriousness of his tone.

“That depends. Bring me a pesto worth trying and I’ll think about it. Now” you wave him off casually “I can’t work with the chef over my shoulder. So- Shoo chef don’t bother me” you teased and he shook his head.

“Game on.” He muttered, heading back to the kitchen.

You smiled to yourself, the Arancini absolutely isn’t going into the review. But you’ll humor his ego by trying it.

You cut the fish thoroughly, checking the texture and the evenness of the seasonings slathered on the skin, writing little notes as you go along. The cuts of the vegetables were pristine. Nearly perfect. The only misshapen pieces were clearly cosmetic defects of the vegetable. The chef that cut these was immaculate with a knife.

When you took your first bite, you nearly moaned. The fish was buttery, the skin was crispy, slightly spicy, tangy, the flesh melted in your mouth. The risotto was so cheesy and buttery and wonderful. You could eat this meal every night for the rest of your life and never get sick of it. It was the best Sea bass you’d ever tasted.

You opened your iPad again, jotting down notes about the flavors, the mouth feel, all the usual points you hit in your review.

This meal is a 9.2 out of 10.

You write at the bottom. Very fair score, you never had rated something as a 10. Something being a 10 would be- you don’t even know what it would be. But it would be what the score says, perfection. And while this dish was wonderful, and very very good- it was not perfect. At least to your heavily trained palate.

You finished what you wanted out of the meal, pushing the plate to the side and not soon after, Carmen was back at your table. He placed the plate in front of you, 3 perfectly circular Arancini discs were placed equal distance on the plate, and truly beautiful pesto, sat in the dish alongside it. It frankly was immaculately plated.

“Unbroken pesto. Sorry again, about the last one.” He said, watching you carefully. You hum as you grab your fork, splitting one of the discs and digging out some of the risotto.

“Could be firmer.” You said, eyes flicking to his. He nods, clearing his throat a bit.

“It’s not- uh- it’s”

“Fresh” you finished for him, raising your brows and he nods. “So- since you’re frying it. You cook it for about..a minute- maybe forty seconds less than you usually would.” You said, daintily taking the bite off your fork.

“Heard..” he nodded, waiting for your reaction. You hummed a bit.

“Great balance of parm and butter though. I’ll give you that. Neither overpowers the other, that’s hard to do considering the notes” you added, cutting up the crust and tasting it.

“Mm-“ you scrunch your nose and his face visibly drops. “Mm-mm…no- not peanut oil…why would you do that? It totally overpowers the breadcrumb with this like…cheapy taste. I’d say it would be way better if you fried it in sunflower oil” you added, digging out more of the risotto and dipping it in the pesto before having a bite and humming.

“This though” you point at the little dish of green sauce with your fork. “This is great.” You add and he nods.

“Ok-yeah…ok…” he nods, rubbing his hand over his chin. “Thank y’for trying it.” He said and you nod.

“I’ll be back for a fair assessment. I think I’ll pass on the cannoli tonight, and just get the bill. Thank you” you slipped your pencil in the case before putting your iPad in your bag and holding your hands on the table in front of you.

“Y-y’re coming back” he said, sounding slightly surprised.

You shrugged “well- you clearly want a full review based on your behavior tonight, Chef. So I’ll humor you. I won’t tell you when of course, so just pray that it’s a day like today-“ you paused, looking around. “Where things seem to be running…alright.” You sat back in your chair casually with a small smile.

“I look forward to your review.” He gave a nod and headed back to the kitchen.

It was 3 weeks before you’d decided to return back to The Bear spring had quickly turned to early summer, and you thought you’d given enough time for your little conversation with the head chef to slip his mind.

It was 9:20, 40 minutes before closing. You did promise to come back at a random time, and no time is more random then a Friday night less than an hour before the kitchen closed.

You pulled open the door, stepped in and headed up to the host stand where the same man that originally offered you the Arancini stood. “The picky critic returns.” He said, tapping his pen against the reservation book absentmindedly.

“She does” you smiled a bit.

“Well lucky f’you cousin said you get a table any time, right this way” he leads you to a booth near the back, where you had a perfect view of the restaurant. Much cozier then before, right next to the doors of the kitchen where you could hear the back of house crew buzzing about.

“Same cocktail as last time?” He asked and you raised your brows in slight surprise as you sit.

“No waitress?” You asked, getting comfortable and setting your iPad down next to the empty plate.

“She’ll be over, just figured a friendly offer couldn’t hurt” he said with a small smirk.

You roll your eyes playfully. “House cocktail please, and thank you. But don’t count on kindness boosting your hospitality score-“ you stop, realizing he never gave you his name.

“Richie” he said, sticking his hand out to shake.

“Richie.” You repeat, giving him your firm professional shake.

“House cocktail comin’ up” he said and headed back to the bar. You mulled over the menu, lemon chicken picatta, that sounded like a perfect dish to judge this time around.

A few minutes later, Richie returns, setting the glass down in front of you. “Waitress should be by momentarily, enjoy your meal” he said, heading back to the host stand.

A bit after the waitress came to take your order, the restaurant had begun to die down. You were going to be the last person served tonight it looked like, since in 5 minutes they would stop seating people.

You added additional notes to your section about the cocktail, getting a better photo of it for your blog when you hear a bit of commotion up front.

You look up, to see a woman with curled brown hair in navy blue scrubs, her hands on her hips, talking with Richie with a frustrated look. There were tears in her eyes, you couldn’t help but tune in to their conversation.

“Richie, please let me see him- he- he hasn’t said anything and I…I just need to hear him say it to my face. Please!” She begs, tears were streaming down her face now.

Richie looks around nervously, tugging her to the side so they weren’t standing right in front of the host stand. You lean over just a bit- not so much it would be noticeable, but enough your nosy ears could continue to pick up what was being said.

“Claire. You shouldn’t be here…I’m sorry- he told me-he said that..that you can’t come here anymore. It’s too much and he will apologize when he can find the words. But he can’t. So please before he sees you. Leave” he said softly, attempting to soothingly rub her arm and she jerks away like his touch burned her skin.

“Fuck you, Richie. Get him. Now. I’m not working on his time anymore. This is my time now. I’ve waited around enough for him. I’m done waiting. Either get him yourself? Or I swear to god I’ll go in that kitchen and embarrass the fucking shit out of him” she hissed.

Your eyebrows raised, shit. Whoever fucked her over should at least be warned.

He snorts, clearly amused before stepping back and raising his arms in defeat. “Have at it ClaireBear.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think he’s gonna take kindly to you startin’ w’him in his house? Be my guest.” He shrugged, going back over to the host stand.

And then it clicked. She’s here for Carmen.

She laughed dryly, sarcastically, like a woman who’d had it. “You think I’m scared? Richie? You think I’m scared of little Carmy who couldn’t even check out a library book by himself? mm?” She goads him, arms crossed, chest heaving with rage.

His head snaps back to look at her, brows raised in shock. “Kid- I really think you should go calm the fuck down, because Y’re not gonna like the way that this conversation ends w’him- at all.”

And with that, she shoves open the kitchen door. You couldn’t just sit there and not watch- this was the juiciest drama you’d ever been privy to in person, and this means he’s single. You slightly curse yourself for being so giddy that this means the sexy chef would likely be on the market.

Your foot catches the door before it closes, leaning against the frame. She storms in, eyes frantically darting over the kitchen.

“Carmen.” She barks, the entire kitchen stops moving and looks at her, as if they were in shock and awe someone would ever raise their voice to him in such a way.

He rounds the corner, holding a pan of focaccia dough that he nearly drops at the sight of her. He blinks a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as if she’d disappear when he opened them again.

“The fuck are you-“ his eyes meet yours, his face going pale quickly, he looked white as a sheet. “Leave.” He orders her, slamming the dough down on the counter.

“Leave?!” She laughs coldly, “you’re gonna tell me to leave?! You’re a fucking pussy Carmen. A pussy. Y’know- it was charity giving you a chance. Pity work.” She spits and you blink a few times, taken aback by such harsh words.

Is she serious? She thinks anyone could believe dating a super hot, ripped, talented, chef prodigy - that was charity work in any sense of the word?

He scoffs, “Charity?” He chuckled dryly. “Claire- you begged me to fuckin’ be with you! You-you-y’re a fuckin gnat! Claire! You- all you do is-is fuckin’-” he runs his hand through his hair, his chest heaving in anger, “You dont know me, Claire! Alright? There- And I-I-I don’t want you i’m-i’m sorry-”

She laughed, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “You-” she whispered, her chest shaking with a sob. “You- fucker- I- I gave you a chance…” she whispered and gripped her wrist sadly. “I- I was there for you, Carmen- when no one else could fucking stand you.” she croaked.

“And I never asked for you too- please- just…leave me alone-” he shook his head. “Leave. Please…just-pretend we never happened, it was a mistake, Claire.” he breathed, clearly utterly defeated, and It sounded like he’d told this girl these same words multiple times.

“M-Mikey would be sick- Carmy, he’d- he’d hate who you’ve become…” she said meekly, and with that- something behind his eyes snapped.

“Claire I’m not DOING THIS I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKIN’ RESTAURANT. WERE OVER. YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME! YOU MEAN NOTHING CLAIRE!” He roars, the veins in his neck popping out, angrily and aggressively pointing to the door. “OUT. get the fuck out. G-get out, b-before I-I-I fuckin- holy fuck” he finds his composure once more, even though his breath was still ragged from his outburst, flicking his hand next to him his entire body trembling with panic.

She looks to her left and right, she’s not that-

Your thoughts were quickly proven wrong, when you see she was stupid enough to grab a pan off the stove to whip at him.

“Aht!” the spanish woman standing a few paces to the right said, quickly grabbing the arm with the pan and twisting it behind her back. “Drop it.” she hissed.

Carmen looks between the two of them, utterly in shock. “Y-y’were gonna hit me?” He asked her, face twisting in rage. “Fuck you. Fuck you Claire.” He seethed, taking the pan from his employees grasp and tossing it in the sink with a loud clatter.

“Get the fuck out” you told her, grabbing her from the handle of the woman who’d stopped the assault, shoving her towards the kitchen door and into the front of the restaurant. “Y’re a fuckin crazy bitch.” You laughed dryly, giving her a hard shove for good measure.

“Oh and who are you” she straightened herself out, pushing her bag up on her shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Glad to see that Carmy still needs someone to protect him. I’ll gladly give up that spot.” she said, causing you to laugh.

“Oh my god- you are pathetic. He just spelt it clear as day sweetheart- you are over. O-v-e-r. He doesn’t want you babe! And no, he doesn’t need my protection- I was enjoying dinner and apparently a show until you went batshit bitch.” You snip, plopping back down at your booth.

She scoffed “he doesn’t want anyone. The only thing he wants - is to remain miserable. Good fucking luck, whoever you are.” She said before stomping out.

“Yo she was really gonna throw somethin?” Richie asked as he walked over. Thankfully, it was just you, him, and the bartender in the front of the restaurant.

You nod “thankfully she didn’t realize I was there- Carmen would have had a nasty burn, and a concussion.” You said, taking a large sip of your drink.

Carmen comes out, eyes meeting yours immediately. “Fuck- I- don’t worry y’re meal is comped and don’t…don’t worry about a review, i’m sorry- I-I guess it wasn't in the cards f’r us to be featured on y’r blog... I’m really so sorry… Shes- ah..” he rubs his arm nervously, trying to find the words.

“A woman scorned” You teased, and he snorts a laugh, nodding a bit.

“Hell hath no fury, right?” He joked, sighing a bit. “It’s uh…it’s my fault I guess…I uh- I should’ve dealt with that…I've been putting it off” he said and you nod a bit.

“You off the clock?” you looked at your phone for the time, 10:07.

“Shit- fuck- sorry- I’m so sorry- give me like- I was making y’r food…and then-” you shook your head, stopping him.

“No- No…I was uh-Asking to see if you maybe wanted to..have a drink with me? Not-not like…professionally…” you shrugged, stirring your half full cocktail with the bar straw that floated in it.

“Sure- uh…sure- I’d like that lemme..lemme go change, i’ll be right out” he nodded, heading back into the kitchen.

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jiveyuncle · 2 months

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Keith keeps popping up in unexpected places.

He appears in the mirror as the scar on Lance's upper lip, acquired the time Keith shoved him down behind a barricade and the butt of his own rifle clocked him in the face. The move had saved Lance's ass, but it still hadn't stopped him from chewing Keith's ear off post-battle for “damaging one of the team's greatest assets.” What did stop him mid-rant, words grinding to a halt on his tongue, was the annoyed huff of, “Don't worry, you're still pretty.” For, like, half a second anyway, before Lance’s brain caught up and he realized Keith was being sarcastic and was definitely insulting him. Lance's hellraising started up with renewed vigor.

Keith appears in the boots that peek up at Lance from the squeaky cabinet of his wardrobe, left behind because Keith was too concerned about waking him the morning he headed out to pick up the Blade member that would eventually kill him.

He lingers in the seventh plate that sits empty at the set dinner table, the one placed there out of habit, then left there as they ate because getting up to put it away felt wrong.

He's in the long dark hairs Lance rolls over in the morning to find stuck to the bedsheets.

He's in the scuff marks on the training deck floor and the sweat that drips down Lance's temple as he increases the bot's fighting difficulty.

He's in the face of the Red Lion - the ship that solidified Keith's place on the team, the place it ended, the spot Lance has to fill.

And when Lance finally makes his way to Red’s cockpit out of his own volition, for Red’s sake, closing his eyes and reaching out to her to offer support in their mutual grief, he finds Keith, again, in the familiarity of the mind link. As Lance’s bond tugs Red’s consciousness to him, he feels her ghost over him. He lets out a shuddering breath. The connection allows the lions and their pilots to communicate and understand one another while also granting them the ability to sense their teammates when they’re bonded in their respective cockpits. It’s welcome - the shared connections are comforting during long flights and necessary in battle. Lance dreams of it when he’s asleep, launches himself from his covers when he feels Keith’s energy flow over him and twine with his, wonders why he never felt the connection break when a blade was dragged across his throat.

Then, Lance’s lungs constrict, freezing the breath halfway into his chest, and his fingers curl tighter around Red’s control arms. A phantom connection whispers along the hairs at the nape of his neck, a specific hum of energy he never anticipated feeling brush against his own ever again.

Blue eyes snap open to take in familiar grey ones staring back, heart seizing at the sight of a mouth set in that stubborn, concentrated frown that says less about its wearer’s emotional state and everything about the intensity of his focus. Slowly, the frown softens, and then turns up gently at the corners.

Keith sighs and leans back against the viewing monitors. “Hey.”

Dead Keith/Red Paladin Lance AU (Part 3/?)

So much of this story is not going to be told linearly and is mostly just a bunch of scenes that are fun for me, but this part felt necessary to share before I start bouncing around.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You can now read this on AO3 as:

Empty Spaces You Left Behind

#klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #fanart #fanfic #red paladin lance #dead keith red paladin lance au #major character death #closing my eyes and hitting post

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noxturnalpascal · 2 months

Text

Mutual

Steve Murphy x F!Reader (3.6k)

Summary: You and Steve spend some late nights in the office together, finding a new way to work off some of the frustrations of the never-ending hunt for the narcos.

Warnings: Basically all smut (and a big ole cock). Infidelity (only if your name is Connie).

A/N: A gift for one of my favorite - and long time - mutuals, @toxicanonymity. Thanks for everything you do for this community and for always being there whenever I need anything. Love you lots!!

You walk into the mostly-empty office holding two styrofoam cups of coffee and wearing a beleaguered expression. Immediately your eyes are drawn to Murphy’s hands, his elongated fingers, stained purple and red beneath the skin, cuts still oozing at his knuckles. You watch him stand up, take off his jacket and loosen his tie, then resume sitting behind his desk, completely ignoring your entrance.

“You’re here late,” Peña offers.

“Yeah, well some of us can’t get away with doing whatever we want,” you quip back.

Peña’s hand flies to his chest and pouts his lower lip as if your words have wounded him. You roll your eyes. You look back towards Murphy and can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing his wedding ring. You wonder why. He still hasn’t looked up, busy flipping through paperwork, making notes in the margins.

“Seriously though, why are you here so late? I bet your boyfriend doesn’t like that,” Peña teases.

“I’ve told you several times that I don’t have a boyfriend, Peña.”

“And I’ve told you several times to call me Javi,” he coos. You resist the urge to roll your eyes again as he maintains eye contact. “Besides, if you’re single, why don’t I ever see you going on dates?”

“Because I’m here, working through dinner with you cowboys!”

Steve huffs a laugh at that and when you look at him he’s finally looking your way, eyebrows raised and pointing to one of the steaming cups in your hand. You hand it over, his long, bruised fingers brushing over yours during the exchange, and then offer the other cup to his partner. He doesn’t reach for it.

“Actually ma’am,” Peña says in a mock accent as he tips an invisible cowboy hat to you, “this ole cowboy has a late dinner date.” He grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, hastily shoves his arms into it, gives a wink to you, and heads out without another word.

“Don’t mind him,” Murphy says, “a ‘late dinner date’ is just code for hooker.”

Now it’s your turn to chuckle. Why isn’t he wearing his wedding ring tonight? Maybe he took it off earlier when he was washing the blood from his hands but… No, you don’t remember seeing it then either. You realize he’s looking at you, watching you stare at his fucking hands. He’s gotta know you like his hands, right? It’s not awkward. He’s gotta know.

“That looks painful,” you don’t look away from them. “Was it worth it?”

“I dunno yet,” he goes back to flipping through his papers. “Ask me tomorrow.”

Murphy’s little stunt earlier didn’t just mean his hands were a cut-up mess, it also meant he’d have pulled the short straw to finish the paperwork needed to try and sweep it under the rug. If all went well, and they’d put the right amount of money into the right people’s pockets, he could get away with having beat that snarky reporter’s face in and no one around here would be asking too many questions in the morning. It’s going to be a long night.

You grab the papers off Peña’s desk, carry them to the far end of the office, not your normal desk, and begin typing up his notes into a formal report. Your normal desk was upstairs outside the Ambassador’s office, being one of his attachés meant you traveled with him in-country and helped during his posting at his discretion. You were one of his favorite attachés and that came with a lot of perks; always flying with him and his family in the private jet instead of slumming it in commercial, a plant-covered, sun-lit desk by the window, and always being trusted with the most confidential of orders.

Unfortunately for you, lately, his orders had you spending long-nights with the feckless DEA agents trying to make orderly, lawful reports of their chaotic and illicit methods to catch the narcos. The ambassador trusted few else but you to spin their lawless nonsense into cohesive accounts with diplomatically-acceptable language. You knew your long hours were appreciated - by the Ambassador if by no one else - and you really didn’t have much of a life outside of work, so it wasn’t the worst problem to have. Besides, working late came with its own set of perks.

---

You’re not sure how much time has passed but as you wrap up typing Peña’s chicken-scratch, you look up to see if Murphy is anywhere close to being done only to find him not at his desk. You wait a few minutes and when he still hasn’t returned you get up and walk past it. His desk is more centrally located than the one you were using and from here you can see the whole office. The coffee cup sits empty, the ashtray overflowing, his coat hanging limply from his chair. But no Murphy. You walk towards the main entrance, pass the department secretary’s desk, call out his name, and receive no answer in return.

Just as you’re about to turn and go back to your work, you see just a fraction of movement out of the corner of your eye. The blinds in Messina’s office just beyond the secretarial desk are all closed except the ones covering the window on the door, which are raised just a fraction.

Is he? Again? He must like this more than you thought.

You make your way to the DEA lead’s office door and test the knob - unlocked - just like you knew it would be. Pushing the door open slowly and flipping on the lights has you greeted with a groan. It’s Murphy, sitting on his boss’s leather office couch, cock in hand.

“When we say you DEA boys do nothing but sit around all day with your dicks in your hands, this isn’t what we mean,” you tease. He doesn’t even try to cover himself, doesn’t make a move to hide what he’s doing. This is definitely part of it. He likes this. You’ll have to play your part. “What kind of a man has to jerk off at work? Things really that bad at home?”

He groans again, and you watch his big right hand squeezing himself at the base of his thick cock. You’re not sure how long he’s been in here but he’s apparently just been edging himself, if the ruddy head and pearlescent beads leaking from his tip are any indication. Just based on the size of him you always thought he might have a respectable dick, but the fact that it still looks massive, even in his giant fucking hands, is even more impressive.

“Sorry you had to catch me like this,” he grumbles, as if he didn’t orchestrate this entire scenario for that very reason. He hasn’t resumed touching himself, he just holds it - enormous and erect - like an obelisk of flesh.

“I don’t think you are sorry, you filthy pervert.” You close the door behind you and walk to Messina’s desk, sitting on the edge of it facing him. “I think you fucking love getting caught with that big cock out, don’t you?”

He sucks air and squeezes even tighter as you watch the clear precum flowing out of his slit and running over his flushed head.

“C’mon, Murphy,” you begin to slowly unbutton your blouse. “You’d better get it over with before more people walk in here and see that big, fat cock of yours.”

Almost like he was waiting for your permission, he begins pumping himself, using the viscous liquid running down his shaft to lubricate his strokes. You untuck your blouse and pull it off completely, folding it next to you on the desk while you watch him - completely dressed - jerking off. Aside from his loosened tie thrown over his shoulder, he’s still wearing the same outfit he came to work in, not even the blood-spattered sleeves of his rumpled white dress shirt have been rolled up. Just like last time, and each time before that, the only skin he’s showing you are his hands, wrapped around his dick and balls.

You pull your eyes away from what his hands are doing and make eye contact with him, seeing him break away to watch you undo your bra, letting it fall slowly down your arms to reveal your breasts to him. You set it next to you on the desk and sit back on your hands, sticking your chest to the sky. He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he speaks.

“Gonna take more than that, honey. Do it like last time.” And there it is, the first time he’s acknowledged that this is a repeat occurrence.

Like last time. You’d thought last time might have gone too far, thought maybe you’d scared him off, especially since it was weeks ago that it’d happened. But apparently not. Apparently it wasn’t too much. Apparently it was just enough… and he’s been thinking about it happening again.

You stand up off the desk, slowly pulling down on the zipper at the back of your skirt, letting your breasts push forwards while your hands work behind you. You watch as he licks his lips, tugging slowly up and down his shaft, gently squeezing his balls with his left hand. You pull your skirt down your legs, folding it and placing it with your other clothes next to you. You stick your fingers in the waistband of your pantyhose and underwear - the only clothes you have left on - and watch him slowly nod his head, eyes glued to your center, ready and waiting.

You slowly pull down your remaining garments, feeling the relative chill of the office air hitting your bare cunt as you bend forward. Once the hose is at your ankles you turn around to brace yourself on the desk, giving him the view you were just denying him. He moans, lowly. You bend forward, a hand on the desk, and slip off each shoe one by one, pulling the hose and your underwear over each foot. You finally stand to place them on the desk with everything else and then turn back to face the couch.

He’s slowed down so much his hand is barely moving now, just brushing languidly over the head of his cock, smearing the steady flow leaking out. You sit back on the desk and slowly, so slowly, spread your legs open. You hear him growl a yeahhh in response. “This what you wanted, Murphy?” You tease.

“You know what I want,” he whines through clenched teeth, “so give it to me.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to give me orders, you fuckin’ creep,” you snap, knowing it goes straight to his cock by the way his left hand tightens on his balls.

You oblige him anyways, knowing you need this just as badly as he does at this point. You take the middle finger of your dominant hand and run it up and down your slit, lips parting easily since you’re already so wet. You’ve probably been wet since you noticed he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring earlier. Maybe the rumors about Connie leaving the country were true, maybe his marriage is actually over. So if that’s his excuse for being a horny pervert, what was yours?

You tease your finger over your hole, spreading your legs wider so he can see every slick movement you make. You drag your wetness up to your clit and part your folds with your other hand, drawing smooth circles around your sensitive bud.

“You’d better hurry up, you disgusting deviant, because I’m leaving the second I come,” you command.

You don’t bother to wait for him to look you in the eye to measure your sincerity, you just increase the pace and pressure of your finger and throw your head back, moaning in ecstasy. You can hear him speed up his movements, can hear the sound of skin on skin schlocking quicker as he chases his release. Last time didn’t take long. Last time you got a few circles over your clit and he was coming all over his pale-yellow dress shirt. Last time you had to finish yourself at home, reduced to fantasizing about his cock while you cried out alone in your bed.

The thought has you changing course. Maybe you can actually come this time, if not before him at least the sound of his grunting orgasm could push you over the edge. It won’t be too much, right? He’s gonna get off - again - so why shouldn't you? You drag your fingers back to your hole, leaking wetness down your thighs. He makes a sharp intake of breath. Your head is still thrown back but he’s clearly watching you. You slowly insert two fingers, coating them with your wetness and then pumping them faster in and out.

The sounds of your fingers squelching in and out of your wet hole fill the room now, drowning out his pistoning hand and huffing breaths. It’s probably why you don’t hear him get off the couch, don’t hear him walk to the desk, don't hear him panting right in front of you. You don’t even know he’s there until the heat of his left hand is spanning across the inside of your thigh, halfway between your knee and your core.

You lift your head quickly, a sharp intake of breath instead of a scream, and see his nearly-black eyes watching your faltering hand with rapt attention.

“Can you fit a third?” he rasped. “I bet you can.” Your pussy clenches around your fingers.

You know a snappy quip wouldn’t go amiss but for some reason - with the heat of his hand matching the heat of his gaze - you can’t seem to get one past your lips. You drag your fingers out slowly and line up a third with the other two, already soaked and dripping. Steadily, you insert them back in your greedy hole as he squeezes your thigh - his massive grip taking up an obscene amount of real estate on your leg - and brings himself so close that you can feel his moving knuckles wafting cool air over your wet lips.

His dick is so fucking close. It would be so easy for him to just fucking stick it inside you. But he’s married. That’s what he’d made sure to say the first time… and the second. I’m married, as if it meant anything to you. Just help me out, he’d begged, and you were more than willing. Just a married guy needing a pretty, eager girl to look at. You’d been dreaming about Steve Murphy’s dick since he wore a tight pair of jeans his second week here, and you got a glimpse of the massive bulge he had hidden in them. Well, it was hard to hide, and now you know why.

But then you remember - eyes darting to his left hand, still hot on your skin - he’s not wearing his wedding ring.

“You ever fuck a woman with that cock, Murphy? Or just your hand?”

The sound that comes out of his mouth can only be described as a whimper. He moves his hand up your thigh, closer to where you want it, and squeezes your flesh again. His fist is making practiced moves over his length, starting mid-shaft where his girth widens and pushing up over his crown with fluttering fingers. He’s giving himself pressure on the underside where he’s most sensitive, then gathering the constant stream spilling down his cockhead and over his knuckles, and spreading it out on his downstroke. You feel him press in closer, so close, his eyes not wavering from your fingers plunging in and out of your sopping hole.

Then, it happens.

He’s moved so close that his knuckles graze along your spread lips, hitting right at your clit - four in a row - like the brief kiss of a vibrator. You almost scream. And Murphy notices. Oh, does he notice. Your movements have come to a halt, as have his, and you both wait to see what the other does next. A sly grin settles across his face.

“I thought you were in a hurry?” He taunts.

He pushes his left hand down into your thigh - spreading you open to your limit - and takes his right hand off his dick. He grabs your hand by the wrist, pulling your fingers out of you with a wet, suctioning noise. You watch him put your hand onto his dick, covering it with his much larger hand, and spread your own shocking wetness down and back up his shaft. He lets your hand go but before it can resume its place inside you, he’s closed the gap, pushing his pelvis forward, bouncing his cock against your hooded clit, causing you to twitch at the sensation.

“You’d better hurry up and come, honey, before Javi comes back to see you spread eagle like this.”

“Fuck you,” you manage to choke, hating how he thinks he has the upper hand now.

He stops tapping his rounded head on your sensitive bud and instead rubs himself left to right, the change in movement hitting you like a lightning bolt.

“You’d better come before I do, naughty girl,” he continues to tease, echoing your earlier demand.

“So give it to me,” you answer, echoing his.

He pushes forward, cock held tightly in his fist, and fits his wide head into your hole, making you gasp. You brace for the rest of it - the stretch, the sting - but it never comes. You wiggle your hips, even tilt your pelvis towards him the little bit you can from your position on the desk, and all you feel is his fist hitting your sticky lips.

“Murphy.”

His stupid fucking grin. Hmmmm? He’s watching you struggle.

“Quit playing around,” you whine.

“Quit playin’ around,” he repeats. He lifts his dick upwards, popping it out of its shallow entry, then slowly lines it back up, bumping around clumsily - on purpose - before putting just the tip back inside you.

“Fuck you, Murphy,” you hiss.

“Fuck me?” He repeats the motion of popping himself out, poking around, and then giving you just a fraction of what you know he could be giving you.

“Fuck me, Murphy, fuck me.” You throw your head back as he goes through the motions a third time. “Please, Murphy. Please fuck me.”

He lines himself up again at your weeping hole, but this time you feel both of his hands grabbing at the meat of your hips. He pulls you down onto him and pushes himself up into you in equal measure, slowly but steadily filling you up. You hear him groaning, hear yourself whining, high-pitched and strung-out. You feel the sting, you feel the stretch, you feel the weight of him pressing into you until his pelvis bumps yours. You’re both watching where he’s disappeared into you, the silence stretching on.

“You ready for this big fuckin’ cock, honey?”

“I’ve had bigger,” you lie.

He pulls back quickly and slams forward into you, rocking the desk you lie on, and knocking over a cup of pencils. You both ignore them clattering onto the floor as he pounds into you relentlessly. The wet smacking noise of your bodies clapping together, the huffing groans coming out of both your mouths, the smell of sweat and sex and coffee. He fills you up so perfectly, hitting every place deep inside you that you never even knew existed. It’s so much better than it was in your fantasies. You reach down to touch your clit and this time it’s you that comes after only a few circles around it.

You can’t fucking help yourself. His bloody knuckles turned white with their tight grip at your hips, his furrowed brow and utter concentration - pupils blown large - staring at himself fucking your cunt, his grunts of pleasure as he finally finally gives you his fat fucking cock. You cry out his name, feeling yourself clench around his length, flooding him with your release, hearing the sounds change from lewd to obscene. And you watch his face go from focused to downright pained.

He pulls himself out of you with a snarl and pumps his cock overtop you - coming immediately - white ropes covering your belly. He groans through it, continuing to cover you with a surprising amount, then leans over you and with his cock in hand, rubbing it into your skin with his dick. He rubs his cock back and forth, pumping it lazily, rubbing his sensitive head against your sticky skin and continuing to shudder from the overstimulation. Once he’s squeezed the last of his climax out, he steps back and tucks his dick away into his pants.

---

“Sorry again,” he mumbles, running his hand through his hair as you redress on shaky legs. “I really oughta stop doin’ this shit at work. It’s inappropriate, like you said.”

“Uh huhhh,” you answer, unconvinced.

You wish you had it in you to continue this little charade but you’ve just orgasmed all over someone’s desk and your cock-drunk little mind is having difficulty making sense of anything right now. You reach down to slip on a shoe and although you were bracing yourself on the desk, you still begin to tip over. Murphy catches you with a gentle but firm grip, his huge hand curling around your arm and settling you upright. His hand remains holding you, the heat of it burning you through your blouse.

“Maybe next time we can just go to my place,” he purrs, meeting your surprised look with a wink.

Boyd Tax: handsssss

#boyd-a-thon #boydo #fic event #boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook smut #boyd bungalow ☠️#toxicanonymity ☠️#steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #narcos fanfiction #mutual

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aokoaoi · 1 year

Text

— pairings : neteyam x fem!reader

— warnings : fluff. angst. no comfort. character death. major atwow spoilers.

— authors note : if you know me, i mainly wrote shuri fanfics. but now is the time for a new phase:p. might still post about shuri, keyword : might. anyways, happy new years to those who've just reached the first of january !

To Neteyam, you're like a rare precious gem no na'vi has ever discovered. You were like no other, and that's what got him attached to you.

At first, it was just friendship. Sharing memories together, sharing laughs and jokes, and even in those raids you were still with eachother. But then that friendship turned into something more romantically involved as he realized.

He hid his feelings for you, afraid of what would happen if your feelings weren't mutual. He definitely couldn't tell you, not when everything is already perfect as it is.

When his father announced that they'll be finding a home in the Metkayina clan in order to keep their current home safe, he saw the surprise in your eyes. A flash of worry and fright glistened in your eyes, and immediately you stubbornly argued with the clan leader.

It was like you weren't even afraid of his father at all, and no matter how much he rejected your offers to come with them just to be with Neteyam, you just put a furious pout in your face. Eventually, you used the 'Sully's stick together' weapon on the clan leader.

Of course, you weren't a Sully. But to the Sully's, you were basically family to them. Neytiri treated you like you were her daughter every moment you're with her, and to the siblings, you're basically like a guardian angel. To Jake though, you're a stubborn little prick. But not in a way that he disliked it.

And then the siblings got involved. Mainly Tuktirey.

Poor little girl was clinging in your leg, wanting you to come as well. She grew a soft spot in your heart, she was so dear to you even you can't resist her. When Tuk was putting up a pouty show for you and Jake, he eventually agreed to let you come with an annoyed grunt and a roll of his eyes.

When it was the time to learn the ways of the Metkayina, you were oddly fast to adjust, with the help of Tsireya of course.

You comforted him when he still wasn't making progress and even offered to help him even though you only knew so little. You first taught him breathing exercises like how Tsireya taught you. It took a couple of minutes because of how distracted you two would get, but he eventually got the hang of it.

But then you two spent less time together now that you were learning on your own. It saddened him, yes, but at the same time he wished you learned more with him instead of learning with the Metkayina's.

He eventually saw that you were drifting apart, and how he saw you less and less each day. He didn't know why, and you never told him why. He wondered what could have gotten you so distracted to the point you rarely talk to him anymore.

He saw you once and only got to talk to you once when Kiri had a seizure underwater. You rushed in with a worried look, and you turned to the na'vi nearest to you to ask what happened. And that na'vi was him.

Small words, short sentences. That was it.

You immediately ran to Kiri when she gained consciousness, your knees scraping the ground from how you you hastily crouched down to her level beside Neytiri, your hand on her shoulder rubbing comforting circles as she held her weeping daughter.

It was when he got the point. You didn't want anything to do with him anymore, that's alright with him. He'll give you your space if that's what you wished for. He'll avoid you, He'll not talk to you, but that's not stopping him from thinking about you all the time.

A painful feeling ached in his chest when he sees you with the Metkayina siblings, Ao'nung and Tsireya. You won't even talk to his own siblings anymore, not even Tuk.

Even though he didn't fully understand as to why you're doing this. he'll let you go.

He let's you go, even though he still thinks about you. Even in the battle field. Even when his siblings have been caught by the humans. And even when a bullet has been shot through his chest.

He wonders about what you'd think about him if you saw him now. Bleeding and vulnerable.

'Skxawng.'

He can't help but smile at the thought as his brother puts him up on a rock, his sibling and his father surrounding him. Jake orders Lo'ak to put pressure on his chest, and the boy does so. Lo'ak sees a small smile on his brother's face.

"What you smiling about, huh? During this situation?" He attempted to tease him, but the worry on his voice laced his normal teasing tone.

"Thinking about her." Neteyam says after a few beats of silence, tears swelling up his eyes as he struggles to stay awake and breathe. Lo'ak stares at him, breath hitching when he understood what his brother meant.

Neytiri then landed beside them, rushing immediately to her son worridly. She yells in agony, falling onto her knees and beside Neteyam.

Tuk exclaims something as they heard a flapping on the waters nearing them, and on instinct, Spider turned to the source. You almost fell off your ilu when you rushed to the bleeding boy, your feet harshly scraping on the rocks, making cuts in your feet.

You fell onto your knees as your breathing became uneven and harsh. Neteyams eyes glossed over your face, contemplating if you were real or if he was dreaming. Your tears fell onto his cheeks, and then he was reminded this was reality.

Your voice let's out small whimpers of 'no's, your hand touching the sides of his face as your thumb brushed against his cheeks. You feel a hand on your back, and you recognized the feeling of his father's hand immediately.

"N-neteyam, I'm here. Okay? I'm here now." He heard your soft voice call out to him. Oh how he missed that voice so much.

You let out a heavy sob, one hand coming down to his wounded chest as you tried to put pressure on it as well. Your ears attempted to silence the boys struggled breathing and small chokes as it brought more tears to your eyes.

He attempts to speak, but only ends up choking for air.

"..I want to go home." He chokes out, tears cascading down his cheeks as you caressed it. Jake let's out a heavy sound at his words, fighting the tears in his eyes as he went closer to his son.

"I know, I know. We're going home." Jake struggles the words out, leaning more towards Neteyam as you made more space for his son.

"We're going home, it's okay." The father comforts, his big hand coming to Neteyams cheek. You let out a pained breath at his words, your vision bluring from the tears collecting in your eyes.

Silence rang around you as Neteyam calls out for his father, but was unable to finish. Your heart stopped there, and your lip twitched into a frown. You watched as his pupils dilated as your hand felt his chest stop beating.

"Neteyam." You call out, your hand leaving his chest. You hear a sigh from beside you, and then Neytiris cries. Your heart ached as you watched Neytiri desperately shake her son awake, your lips twitching into a frown as the tears that collected in your eyes finally cascaded down your face.

My son.

Neytiri yelled, her voice breaking.

"I'm so sorry." You sniffed out, grasping Neteyams hands. You imagine the warmth in them like always when you get the chance to hold him. But now it was cold.

Cold.

Lifeless.

You brought his hand to your lips, and to your cheek. "My love, I'm sorry." You whispered into his hand, your warm breath hitting the coldness of his hand.

You then felt a body engulfing you, sobbing into your shoulder. Tsireya. Her arms held your shaking body as your let out harsh sobs, your lungs struggling to breathe air.

You shut your eyes tightly. You can't bare to see the sight of a woman you considered as your mother cry and desperately yell for her son. You can bare to see Lo'ak as his hands were bloodied with his brother's blood. You didn't want to see them suffer anymore. You wished it hadn't ended like this.

The boy you loved was now laid on the ground, unmoving, a mother was calling for Eywa's help to save her son. A son, who had to face his unfortunate fate all because of one man.

How can mankind be so cruel?

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velvrei · 10 months

Note

for jay from descendants, i want a smut bc he’s so scrumptious- sooo him and reader have been fwb for at least a month, and one day after jay’s tourney game it feels different? SMUT PLS LMFAO tysm i’m in luv your writing 💋

omg YES i’ve been wanting to write for him, also if your request hasn’t been posted yet i’m going down the line! sorry for the wait <3

benefits

pairing: jay x reader

fandom: descendants

summary: jay & the reader are friends with benefits but one day after tourney everything changes

warnings: smut, switch!jay if you squint, oral (m receiving), pet names, somewhat pda, no sex but it’s still filthy

nsfw below the cut .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

usually jay wouldn’t see himself as much of a sexual guy. that was, until he met you.

when you were first introduced to him, by ben, there was obvious chemistry. he was the “bad boy from the isle,” while you were the “good girl from auradon,” (which wasn’t true at all) but you couldn’t help but notice how he got nervous whenever you entered a room. he was basically head over heels for you.

there was even one time, where you overheard him masturbating and he was saying your name. that was what got you.

so that quickly turned into something, flirting, and teasing each other. then you both discussed it one night after mutually masturbating with each other, and you both agreed to become friends with benefits.

you were sat at his tourney game realizing how far you both had come, literally.

you watched in awe as he scored the game winning goal, making you smile as he was lifted up by his teammates and the whole crowd started cheering.

the group carried him into the locker room, cheering, and your smile stayed displayed on your face.

a couple minutes later, you felt a nudge at your shoulder, turning to see evie.

“i saw you staring at him. the whole game.” she spoke with a giggle, wrapping her arm around you. you rolled your eyes and smiled, “he’s hard not to look at. i was just watching the game.”

evie scoffed. “whatever you two got going on, friends don’t look at friends that way. go convince him! the worst that could happen is that he rejects your offer and you continue fucking occasionally.” evie laughed.

you smiled at her, “okay, fine.” you quickly ran to the locker room and made sure all the other guys were out. jay was the only one in there, you could tell, he was humming a deftones song as he washed his body.

you watched, trying not to giggle as you slowly started took off your clothes. you were fully undressed as you walked over to him and he turned, saw you and jumped.

“you almost gave me a heart attack!” he spoke with a laugh, holding his hand over his heart. “why are you in here!?” he whisper yelled, remembering where he was.

you smiled, “you won, jay, i’m here to celebrate. remember what i said earlier?”

jay felt his cheeks get hot, remembering what you said. “that if i won i would do whatever you wanted me to?” you nodded and wrapped your arms around his chest, hugging him and gently placing your lips onto his.

“what’s it gonna be, captain?” your words made him smile, and immediately get hard, “i don’t know, maybe you should kiss me first.”

as cliche as he sounded, you could never resist his touch. your lips smashed onto his, his hands roamed to your waist, using his hands to apply force and push you against the wall. he was always more aggressive when he was hornier.

your tangled your fingers in his soft, raven hair, smiling into the kiss as tugged and he gasped into the kiss, then moaned.

you slowly pulled your lips away, earning a small whine from him. he stopped and watched as you slowly got onto your knees. “baby…” he trailed off, as if he didn’t want you to.

you shushed him, “don’t even start, love. unless you don’t want me to…” you started to slowly stand up. he stopped you.

“no, please do. i just don’t want you to feel like you have to. that’s all.” he spoke. his words made you smile.

he watched as your face changed, and you smiled, completely changing your whole demeanor.

his mouth fell slightly open as you spoke, “baby, i like pleasing you. especially when i get to hear those pretty sounds you make. gets me wet every time. fuck my throat. do whatever you want to me.” his hips practically buckled as you spoke. he rested his head on the shower wall, “fuck, okay.”

he tried not to melt as he felt you run your tongue the underside of his cock, looking up at him with doe eyes as he swore loudly, his voice slightly louder than before.

you moved your tongue along his tip many times until his hips stuttered, “fuck. i’m sensitive, please,” his pants only made you more eager to tease him.

jay wasn’t normally one to beg, but when it came to you, and he was extra horny, he loved letting all his filthy little words fall from his mouth.

“be patient, baby.” you spoke. your hand gripped firmly, very slowly pumping his cock. his slit was leaking with precum, he was already so worked up by you.

he watched carefully as your lips wrapped around his tip, you kept pumping him but this time at a faster pace. “fuck, feels so good,” he managed to mutter along with his whimpers and pants.

you started to bob your head on him, resisting the urge to moan as he moaned. the realization was sinking in. the hot guy in front of you, was moaning and whimpering because of your mouth. you couldn’t imagine anything hotter.

he looked at you with half-lidded eyes, he was already a moaning mess and she knew he wouldn’t last much longer. he had a thing for being dirty in public and he also just loved the sight of you on your knees for him.

“keep stroking it while you suck it baby… i’m so close, fuck.” his voice was almost slightly high pitched, the whine he let out after added the affect.

you bobbed your head faster before holding your head at the base of his cock. he practically lost his breath, “oh fuck, you want it don’t you.” he said, throwing this head back. he moved his hands to the back of your head and held it there, keeping him at the back of your throat.

he started thrusting his dick in and out of your throat, practically using you as his way to release. “i’m cumming, oh my god!” his whine sent shivers straight to your core.

he held your head as he came tensing up before he shivered and loosened his grip after his high came to its end. you swallowed all you could, a few drops leaving your mouth and washing away with the water into the shower drain.

jay was still out of breath, shivering as he realized what just happened. “are you okay? did i hurt you? i’m sorry-” he immediately began to ramble, realizing how much his arousal took over.

“that was so hot,” was all you said as you stood up. jay sighed and watched as you just smiled at him, no sign of hurt or discomfort in your expression.

he pushed your wet hair behind your ear, “are you sure i didn’t hurt you?” he used his other hand to softly lift your chin.

you shook your head, “no, my love. i actually enjoyed that.”

jay sighed and stepped out of the shower. he grabbed your clothes and handed them to you before he got dressed himself.

when you were dressed, he turned to you with a grin.

“how about you let me take you out on a real date?” you could tell he was nervous, his hands were shaking, could’ve been from the breathtaking orgasm he had not even two minutes ago, he was still out of breath, and when he tied his towel around his waist he failed twice before actually tying it.

you smiled, ready to tease him again, “are you asking me that because of the blowjob or because you like me?”

jay rolled his eyes, “because i like you, y/n. you know you don’t always have to be so difficult and demanding.” as he finished his sentence his towel fell down once again.

you couldn’t help but giggle, “well, you seem to like it when i’m demanding, you were moaning at my words not even 2 minutes ago.” you slowly walked up and him and ran a hand through his hair, “handsome boy.”

his dick hardened immediately as he watched her walk away. “goddamnit, y/n!”

#jay descendants #disney descendants #jay jafar #smut #jay smut #descendants smut #descendants fandom #booboo stewart #booboo stewart smut #descendants x reader #jay x reader #jay x reader descendants #jay descendants smut

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 7 months

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Hello! This is a fic rec of my all-time favorite fics. These fics have really stuck with me over the years, and I've read many of them multiple times. This is an ongoing fic rec, that I will continue to update. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen / @bananaheathen (630k)

In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

Hiding Place by orphan_account (365k)

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

You Can Hear It In The Silence by imogenelee / @imogenleefic (234k)

When Harry Styles was accepted into a post-grad degree, he knew he could no longer afford his flat, leaving him with three options: 1) Move back into student halls. 2) Become homeless. 3) Move in with his best (and only) friend, Niall, and three of Niall's other mates. He went with the third option. But it was a close race. Shame one of his roommates reminded him why he only has one friend. If there is one thing Louis Tomlinson can't stand, it's pretentious tossers, having grown up around enough of them. If there is one thing he can't live without, it would be his friends. So he was proper thrilled to move in with his best mates and a couple of other lads. That was until he discovered one of them was the archetype for a pretentious tosser.

In the interest of seeing out the twelve-month lease without killing each other, they both try (debatable) to get along despite believing they are opposite in almost every conceivable way, each having the communication skills of a cucumber, and secrets that have no business be kept secret.

One More Time Again by orphan_account (232k)

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Stranger Stars by shaylea (212k)

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

Given A Chance by fabby / @fabby1d (173k)

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

The Wonderlands by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (150k)

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

As You Are by Zarah5 (139k)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract.

The only reason Harry auditions for The X Factor is because his best mate signed the two of them up as some kind of joke. Harry doesn't get the big deal—not until he's faced with this season's judges and realises that one of them used to be his desperate, impossible teenage crush.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry / @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Empty Skies by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay by embro (134k)

A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (134k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

Wild Love bypurpledaisy / @harrydaisy (130k)

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

After All These Years byLifeInAColorWheel (127k)

It’s been seven years since One Direction went on hiatus and it’s been eight years since Louis and Harry broke up. They’ve been strangers to one another since then.

But, over the course of a weeklong boys’ trip, history between Harry and Louis resurfaces.

Or,

The one when Louis and Harry don’t talk, connect again years later, and reflect on why their love collapsed.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (123k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

I'll Fly Away by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (122k)

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy / @daisyharry (119k)

Maybe it’s Niall, he reasons to calm his storming heart. Maybe he’s not actually gone for the holidays yet, maybe Harry got the dates confused. Slowly, he holds his breath and pushes the kitchen door open. The first thing he sees make him jump, a wooden spoon held out like a sword. Once his brain processes the sight in front of him, it’s less the sword that gets him than who is attached to the wooden spoon.

“Harry,” the swordsmen speaks before Harry can, his voice low and steady though confusion laces each word.

Harry’s breath catches. Every string around his heart, all the protection he spent nine months building, rips out and tears open all at once as he says, “Hi Louis.”

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Never Be by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet (117k)

Monica: You've got to see her again.Ross: And why do you care so much?Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy!Ross: You had fantasies about Emily?Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Burn to Ash by bethaboo (116k)

Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.

He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.

Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.

Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn’t intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Tired Tired Sea by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (113k)

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Babydoll Blues by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain (111k)

Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by certainsadness (103k)

“There’s something so great about watching you interact with art,” Harry said quietly. “Like, when you were giving the tour, you were just so you, and so happy and excited and funny and engrossing. But then when you’re looking at the art, when it’s, like, just for you, you get so quiet and observant.” He pressed a kiss to Louis’s shoulder. “But you still seem so you, and so happy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you as happy as you’ve been tonight.” He kissed his shoulder again. “As you are right now.” A shiver went up Louis’s back. “I’m happy when I’m with you,” he said.

Or, Louis loved art and Harry was a masterpiece.

Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships (92K)

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Behavioural Ecology by turtlekz / @turtlekz (81k)

Louis Tomlinson is a primatologist working with the Jane Goodall Institute for primate conservation; and Harry Styles is the photojournalist sent from National Geographic to write a piece promoting awareness about the endangered species. They meet, and love is never, ever simple, as we know.

Featuring Eli the chimpanzee, bickering humans, storytelling, and five men who come to gain an understanding of what it means to be human; all stationed in the Republic of the Congo.

Do Not Go Gentle by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie (70k)

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (68k)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

A Yuzu Grows in Brooklyn by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (66k)

Harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

The Dark and the Dentist by sunshiner / @theprizeofcoolness (66k)

“I know this song,” Louis whispers, and Harry has to lean his ear toward him to pick up what he’s saying. “It was written for people to dance to it. We should be dancing.” We can’t, Harry almost spits, but it’d be stupid of him. Louis knows they can’t. Even if he looks like any regular Parisian in their twenties, and Harry looks like any hipster Parisian in their twenties, they can’t anyway. To be fair, they probably wouldn’t do it even if they were out. But if they were two uni students, both in Paris for an exchange, meeting over fallen books at the library, or because of mutual friends, or watching Monet’s Water Lilies? “How would we dance?” Harry murmurs, mouth almost pressed to Louis’ cheek, so close he can feel his warmth. What a picture they must make, two millionaires freezing in a park and dreaming of a different life.

An account of the events of November 2014. Canon-compliant.

Time Passed by coffinofachimera (66k)

Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast by dancesongsoul, lookatyourchoices (60k)

“Tommo and Harry are gonna do it. I don’t know when, but they’re gonna do it. They’ve got the mattress, the pillows, everything’s in place, and they’re gonna do it. I really wish those two the best of luck.” –Taylor Swift, "Chapera"

Or a Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Featuring Harry's yellow swim shorts, Louis in snapbacks, and OT5 shenanigans.

No One Does It Better by nodibs (49k)

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Sail Away With Me by star_henderson / @star-henderson (47k)

“It’s inhumane putting four blokes in one cabin.” Louis stripped off and climbed up into his top bunk. “And why did we get the smelliest twat on the whole ship and bore of the century?”

Harry shrugged. “We clearly pissed someone off along the way.”

Louis snorted softly. “Who do I have to bend over for to get us an upgrade?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “If only it were that simple.” He rolled his eyes wistfully at Louis.

“The only way I’m going to get a two berth is to throw Payno overboard and be next in line for the deputy cruise director's job.” Louis leaned up on one elbow to look over at Harry. “Would you help me weigh his body down so I don’t go to jail?”

“Only If I can share your cabin.” Harry shuffled about, tucking the duvet between his legs, sweeping his hair up into a bun and securing it in a band. “I’m not being an accessory to murder and then still having to share with them two, no fucking way.”

Louis and Harry are part of the entertainment team on board a luxury cruise liner. They hate sharing their four berth cabin with two other guys and would do anything to get a cabin of their own. One drunken night the solution was simple. They'd just get married...

Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (34k)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

Have You Coming Back Again by whoknows (31k)

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

Loved By Your Mother by superglass / @gaymoustache (31k)

Harry stretches out like Venus with her lover, growing sleepy in the late afternoon light with a baby growing inside her. Perhaps not literally, not physically. Not exactly.

Harry struggles to come to terms with wanting to have children, and what that means for their relationship. Canon compliant, set a few years into the future

#read #favorite fics #ficrec #larry fic rec #hlcreators #1dficvillage

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horanghater · 6 months

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Honey Where Your Mouth Is

Summary: You and Joshua make a lot of promises to each other. The question is: who will actually keep them?

▸ Pairing: Joshua x F!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / pwp, comedy / f2? If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering, use of pet names, smidge of blasphemy if you’re catholic (sorry)

▸ Word Count: 2.4k

▸ A/N: 🎃 Happy Halloween! 🎃 This has been brewing all month and is finally here! Hugs, kisses, and a big fat bouquet for @gyuhanniescarat who beta’d the absolute fuck out of this piece!!! Enjoy!

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Joshua is way too good at sexting. Whether it’s because he’s naturally talented or he has a lot of prior experience is irrelevant — all that matters is the ding! of another notification hitting your phone. The way he innocently pulls you in and then has you falling apart at the seams with just a few texts alone is a display of dominance you've never experienced before. It’s so fulfilling that you’re fine with this downlow arrangement, but one chilly October evening, Joshua opens the door of further opportunity: show him that you’re not all talk at Soonyoung’s Halloween party.

The theme of the party is heaven and hell. You’re one of several skimpy angels, but there are just as many Jesus’ lounging about the expanse of Soonyoung’s living and dining rooms. None of them are Joshua though. He hadn’t told you what he was coming as, so you’re stuck craning your neck every which way, trying to pick out his face from a lineup of devils and clergymen.

You find yourself wandering into the kitchen next, where you spy some familiar faces, coming into contact with Mingyu and Seungkwan – two members in yours and Joshua's friend group. Seungkwan is a monk tonight, brown hood pulled over his head as he sips an unknown liquid from a solo cup. Mingyu is…something else.

When you approach the two men both extend you a fond greeting, although Mingyu isn't meeting your eye contact. The tips of his ears grow conspicuously red when you ask about his costume. There’s a badly applied – and not at all blended – bald cap on his head and he’s wearing a sleeveless black shirt with jeans. Sans cap, it’s a decent outfit, but it clearly doesn’t match the evening’s theme. He mumbles a response as he takes a drink as well. Beside him, Seungkwan is barely containing a chuckle.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

“I said Min…”

“Mingyu, speak up before I beat you up.” You could never beat him in an actual fight, but Mingyu fears your wrath regardless.

He clears his throat and mumbles a little louder this time, just barely loud enough for you to hear. “I’m Min Diesel.”

“...What?”

“Jeonghan told him the theme was movie stars!” Seungkwan mirthfully illustrates, dancing about, hell-bent on the opportunity to parody and rag on his friend openly tonight.

The outfit. The bald cap. Oh. You point at the man excitedly when it clicks. “The Fast and the Furious! Min Diesel’s funny!” The realization is of no comfort to Mingyu, as he’s currently trying to shrink inside of himself. Just then, Soonyoung the Priest wedges himself into your kitchen formation and offers a bowl of communion wafers to everyone. “Eucharcrisp?”

You all balk at him before Mingyu asks warily, “Can you do that?”

“What’s wrong? Why does everybody keep saying that?” Soonyoung studies the wafers thoughtfully. “I got them online really cheap. There were a lot of options - lots of people must buy them.”

“Churches buy them,” you add.

“And so do normal people!” Soonyoung defends, hugging the bowl against himself when it’s evident that no one will take him up on his offer. “Whatever. There’s pizza on the way anyways, but I was trying to be a good host by providing snacks.”

Soonyoung exits the circle just as quickly as he arrived, indignation in his gait. “We still appreciate you! Don’t let Joshua see though!” Seungkwan calls after him.

“Oh yeah!” Soonyoung whips around, placing a wafer under his tongue and holding it there. “Yoschewa ish ooking for oo! Upschtaws.”

Right. Your “date”. Joshua. Of course he’d be upstairs — he’s supposed to blow your back out tonight. Or are you blowing him? You suppose you could blow his back out if that’s what he wanted. What does he want? Obviously to fuck, but how? You have a lot to prove. Fuck. Right.

You’re not sure if you even say goodbye to your friends as you walk away, but Mingyu raises his eyebrows and Seungkwan whistles proudly as you retreat to the stairs. Given the two man-babies' reactions to your departure… Maybe this situation isn’t as downlow as you thought?

Soonyoung’s house has three bedrooms, and you know which are meant for guests, so you find the one Joshua is in on the first try. He’s sitting on the bed, leaning back on one hand while the other lazily scrolls down a feed on his phone. When you enter, he sits up straight and places the device down, sides of his mouth quirking up into an inviting smile. He’s gorgeous even when he’s swallowed up by a black robe in dim lighting. The air doesn’t feel mischievous at all — so why are your hands so clammy?

You’re frozen in the doorway and he has to call your name a few times to bring you back from the mess of thoughts racing through your head. “H-Hey,” you finally say, voice meek.

“You made it! I’m glad to see you.” “You too…”

“I’m not gonna bite you, y’know. You can come in,” Joshua chuckles, gesturing and then patting the empty space next to him.

You close the door behind you and sit next to him the same way you have a million times before. Joshua is calm in a way that only makes you more nervous. He’s so….unburdened by the knowledge of what you two had discussed before tonight. In an attempt to break the ice, you make the dumbest attempt at conversation that you have in a while. “So did you see Soonyoung’s–”

Joshua sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I have, regrettably, seen Soonyoung’s Eucharist.”

“I thought it was Euchacrisps?”

“The body of Christ is the Eucharist.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Finally, Joshua laughs in earnest, clapping you on the back. Wow, his hand feels so big. “I’m kidding!” He elbows you in the ribs gently when you hesitate. “I don’t actually care — it’s not that serious. Are you ok? You seem stressed out.”

Is he for real? “I– Are you not? Aren’t we gonna…? You know…” You don’t know you’re wringing your hands in your lap until Joshua dwarfs them with his own enormous hands. He’s so warm, but his touch ignites a wave of goosebumps all over that wash over you like ice. Or are you still just clammy? Thankfully you don’t have time to dwell on that, not when your eyeballs are tracing the veins in his hands up to the cuff of his sleeve.

Joshua’s gentle tone doesn’t match the devious glint in his eyes. “I’m down to do whatever you want, sweetheart. Fuck you, eat you out, anything. You know that. Where’s all that bravado?”

You’re not sure why you’re shocked at his forwardness. This man literally guided you in delicious detail through foreplay and fucking yourself just a few days ago. As if he’d commanded it, his body switches from cold to hot instantly. Goosebumps turn into fevered flesh and you involuntarily clench around nothing, making you adjust your legs. Painfully observant Joshua tsks and taps your knee, knowingly. “Don’t be shy now. You can always back out, but don’t hide from me. Ok?” You nod and he taps you again, more insistent. “Ok?” Joshua told you from the beginning of your textcapades that when it comes to real life, when it comes to taking what he gives you, you have to speak; have to use your words. “Ok,” you confirm, exhaling in an attempt to expel the tension that nips at the heels of your excitement.

It must not work, because Joshua offers something else. Not his tongue or cock, but: “Why don’t we start off easy, hm? You want my fingers? What’d you say the other day? You wanted to feel how thick they are, yeah? I’m happy to demonstrate.”

Minutes later you’re naked and on your back, bed pillows stacked and supporting your neck because Joshua insists that you watch. You watch him take off his robe, stare intensifying as he tweaks his own nipples, eyes widening at the sight of him reaching those beautifully wide hands slide down into his boxers and pulling out his already half-hard cock.

And he meets your gaze, a devilish grin forming in response to the anticipation, followed by confusion that spreads across your features when he commands you to touch yourself.

“Gotta warm that pretty little pussy up, baby. Come on, do it like I taught you, princess.” Joshua spreads his precum over the head before pumping himself lazily. “Run your fingers on your thighs and over those cute lips down there. Slow, remember. And don’t touch your clit.”

You’ve barely started and you’re whining already as you follow his instructions exactly. Joshua always called you his good girl when you said you were doing as he advised and you needed that now more than ever. Now, while he’s real and here and not bubbles typing something salacious on a screen.

You ghost two, then eventually three fingers across your skin for what feels like forever, ignoring the way your arousal begins to drip from your opening like honey. Joshua’s eyes are locked on your core as he continues to work himself up, leading you along a hypnotizing chorus of sultry “yes”s and “just like that”s.

“You’re doing such a good job for me,” he coos when your wrist just barely bumps your clit and you jolt. “So, so good. Let me reward you for being so patient, sweetheart.”

Your own hands are batted away and one of Joshua’s cups your pussy and squeezes. With how on edge you are the pressure is enough for the room to white out for a second. Joshua leans over you to swallow the moan that it rips out of you in a kiss. It doesn’t last long enough — he pulls back too soon. Your vision returns and you see why; there’s a trail of precum on your stomach, messy and smudged from the way his cock has dragged across your stomach.

Joshua won’t let you comment on it. One of his fingers scoops up your own pre and then enters easily. Your eyes snap back up to see him studying you smugly as he familiarizes himself with the feeling of you.

“Ok so far?” he asks. Once again, his words are so much softer than his actions and it’s maddening in a way that has you tightening around his digit pathetically.

“Y-Yeah,” you breathe out, back arching slightly in a silent plea for more.

“Excellent.” Joshua wastes no time adding another finger, looking down at you gleefully when your eyelids flutter at the intrusion.

Joshua is just like you’d imagined: confident, firm, so much thicker than your own fingers. The way his fingers spread and prod and search has pleasure radiating through your body – it’s unbelievable that you can feel this good without cock even entering the equation yet.

Then he finds that patch that snatches a gasp from your lungs and has you bucking against him. “There she is,” he lauds. “This is what you’ve been dreaming of, isn’t it, princess?”

If you were speeding toward the edge before, Joshua just put a brick on the gas pedal to make sure you can’t stop. All you can do is groan in response as he continues to pry open the floodgates. He’s kind enough to show you a little mercy and not force you to say anything coherent anymore. “Yeah, I know it is.”

The weight on the bed shifts and you peek down past your body to see Joshua on his knees, one hand still working you open while the other clasps his dick at the base,

“Baby,” he moans almost pornographically, “I want you to cum for me. Show me you can really listen. Mmkay?”

It’s hard to keep listening when his fingers are so relentless, but it’s so so so much better than anything through the phone. You’ll hang on to every word even if he’s got you screaming too loud to hear him clearly — and you wish he were, but you do have an entire party downstairs and in relative earshot.

Hearing Joshua grunt and feeling the pace of his fingers falter is just as satisfying though. His words are breathy as he coaxes you toward your orgasm. It must not just be you - Joshua is headed to his own end as well, smooth words and all.

“Now, sweetheart, now.” He twists his wrist around so he can press his thumb on your clit. It’s more of a slide, though, with how your wetness is coating everything. Nonetheless he applies the perfect amount of pressure, circles your nub just so and you instantly snap. Your mouth widens in a perfect ‘O’ and your vision goes out completely as the current thrusts you into a violent wave of ecstasy. There’s a distant tickle of something warm splattering on your abdomen and then silence.

By the time your breathing slows down, Joshua’s voice is gingerly pulling you from the flotsam. “You’re ok,” he whispers. “You’re ok, sweetheart. You were such a good girl for me.”

It’s not until a warm washcloth is washing you off that you return to the present, your gaze drifting down to Joshua as he kneels between your legs to clean you up. You shift a little and he peers up at you, satisfaction evident even from down there.

“Welcome back~”

As comfortable as Joshua made you feel, the more sensible part of you eventually returns and makes you a little embarrassed to face your friends right now.

Joshua is as casual as he was when you arrived, throwing his robe back on to grab pizza for the both of you to share in the guest room.

He takes it off again as soon as he returns. A show of solidarity as you remain exposed to him. The two of you eat cross-legged on the bed, leaning against each other shoulder-to-shoulder while you eat. “So!” Joshua starts after you’ve comfortably demolished two slices each. “How was it? Good, right?”

You lick some excess pizza sauce from your finger and grin at him playfully. “What, your costume?”

If he hadn’t just fucked you on his fingers, you’d think that the look of irritation Joshua gives you is genuine. “My hands - my fingers playing with that pretty pussy.”

Despite all of this, you’re still thrown when he’s so…blunt. “You were right, it was great. You’re great at that. Oh my god.”

Without missing a beat, Joshua fires back, “Yeah, I’ll have you saying that next time on my cock, darling.”

There’s only so much flattery that you can handle in one night. Next time you’ll be ready to take him on for real, to walk the walk you once talked. But for now, you want to just bask in the afterglow with your fuckbuddy? friend.

“What is your costume, by the way?”

Joshua scoffs, offended. “A choir boy! It was obvious!”

“Mmm, I think Min Diesel’s got you beat.”

#kvanity #svthub #hong jisoo #joshua hong #joshua x reader #jisoo x reader #svt x reader #joshua smut #jisoo smut #svt smut #joshua fic #jisoo fic #svt fic #seventeen fic

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wildfloweroutlaw · 1 year

Text

Long Kept Secrets

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pairing: Arthur Morgan X Female Reader

drabble: fluff, mutual pining, something sweet and simple.

summary: Arthur invites you along on one of his adventures, and it becomes harder and harder for him to keep his feelings to himself.

a/n: this is just a little something to dip my toes back into writing. I have nitpicked tf out of this and i still don’t really like it, but here it is!

word count: 3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You found yourself standing on the edge of Clemens Point, staring out over the peaceful water, and sipping your morning coffee slowly. The heat and humidity were actually tolerable this early, making this your favorite time of the day. Behind you, the rest of camp was beginning to come alive, some strolling from their tents groggily, some gathered around the coffee pot. However, you noticed one individual was missing.

Arthur was always up before you were, and on days that he was in camp, he was the first person you said good morning to. You and Arthur had been friends for years and if you were truthful with yourself, you wouldn’t mind being more than that. You had always found him incredibly handsome, and once you had broke through the tough guy act, you discovered the man was incredibly kind hearted and sensitive. Arthur also possessed a dry sense of humor that was very funny, given you could tell when he was joking. He was even charming in a strange way. Despite this, you never let yourself dream too long about a relationship with Arthur, he he always seemed to be romantically unavailable at best.

Your eyes combed the camp once more, searching for Arthur’s familiar form. You spied his horse at the hitching post, so you knew he couldn’t be far. Your eyes finally fell on his tent, the flaps closed. How odd. You gulped down the rest of your coffee, and began to make your way across camp, offering polite good mornings to those who had just awoken. As you approached Arthur’s tent you began to second guess yourself. If he’s tired maybe I should let him sleep… or maybe he just wants alone time.

Still, you wanted to make sure he was feeling okay and you raised your hand to knock on the wooden post, standing just in front of the tent flaps. Before your knuckles could ever make contact with the wood, Arthur emerged from the tent, careening into you.

Startled, he muttered curses and grabbed your waist to steady you. Instinctively your hands found his chest. For an instant the two of you were pressed close. “I’m so sorry Arthur!”

Suddenly realizing it was you, and where his hands were, he released his grip on your waist quickly and backed away a bit. “Christ woman… you stalkin’ me?”

“I was just coming to check on you, you’re normally the first one up.” How quickly he had put distance between the two of you was not lost on you and was almost enough to make you roll your eyes.

“You were comin’ to disturb my peace and quiet, you mean?” His hands found his gun belt out of habit.

“More or less.” You shot him a big grin, which earned you a soft chuckle from Arthur.

That damn smile. It was enough to drive him crazy. He drove his thoughts away as quickly as they appeared. “Well I was comin’ to find ya anyways. Want to go somewhere with me today?” He shifted from one foot to the other and found himself praying you’d say yes.

You would go with him anywhere he asked, but of course you didn’t want to seem too eager. “Where to?” You placed your hands firmly on your hips.

“Up to Roanoke Ridge. Got something to do up there.” Arthur toed at the dirt to calm his anxiousness.

You crossed your arms, a smirk playing on your lips. “Hmm… well I’ll have to check my schedule.” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at the eye roll Arthur gave you. “I guess I could make time for you Arthur”. Your words oozed with sarcastic sweetness, or was it really sarcastic?

“Well don’t I just feel special! Go get dressed woman, I’ll get the horses ready.” Arthur felt an almost childlike excitement in his chest. He always enjoyed your company and looked forward to when the two of you got to spend time together.

You nodded and began to scurry back to your tent, calling over your shoulder, “don’t forget to eat breakfast!”

Arthur was pretty sure you were the only person who cared about his well being, always chasing him down making sure he had gotten enough to eat and lecturing him on taking better care of himself. He ran a hand down his face and shook his head before stalking off to ready your horses.

You went and put on your favorite outfit, the one that fit you just right, and went to meet Arthur at the hitching post. You found him brushing down your horse, talking to her in a low and gentle voice. Your horse didn’t like many people, men especially, but she was quite smitten with Arthur. She’s not the only one, you thought to yourself.

When Arthur heard your approach he slid the brush back into your saddle bag and turned to greet you. He nearly choked when he saw you were wearing that outfit he loved so much. Steering his eyes down to the ground as quickly as he could, he cleared his throat, “You ready?”

You flicked the brim of his hat as you walked by him, “yep, if you are.” You started to get on your horse and as usual, Arthur assisted you. He was painfully modest with his hand placement and kept his eyes hidden below his hat.

Arthur mounted up and pushed his horse into a trot out of camp with you following closely behind. “I’ll lead the way… I don’t think I trust your navigational skills.”

You feigned offense and fell in beside Arthur once the two of you were clear of camp. Arthur began to tell you what exactly the two of you would be doing in Roanoke Ridge, saying there was some sort of rock carving. You didn’t much care what business he had, you were just happy to be along for the ride.

At first, the two of you fell into easy conversation accompanied by your usual banter. But the further you got away from camp, the quieter Arthur got. Some might think that was normal, but you knew him better than that. Yes, Arthur was generally a quiet man, but once it was just the two of you together he was normally chomping at the bit to catch up with you. He might just want some silence. So you settled in for the ride, taking in the views and making the occasional comment, usually met with a short response. It seemed Arthur was a million miles away.

When the two of you rode through Butcher’s Creek, you garnered some less than friendly stares from the locals. “Feelin’ at home yet?” Arthur asked you, taking in the little ragtag village.

You let out a giggle, happy to finally have some of Arthur’s normal personality back. “They must have just forgot to roll out the welcome wagon.”

Arthur let out a soft chuckle, turning to look at you for the first time in a while. He hoped you hadn’t noticed how deep in his own mind he was, but you know him too well. He hoped you were at least still having a decent time, despite his poor company. He allowed himself to study your face, spending a moment to take in all your beautiful features before breaking the silence, “We’re headed up towards Elysian Pool. Ya know it?”

You nodded, “yeah, sorta.” You could feel his eyes burning holes in you, and you attempted to shoo away the bumps that pricked your skin in response.

“Good. I heard the Murfree Brood has gotten real bad around here lately, so stay near me and don’t go wandering off or nothin’.” Arthur pointed his finger at you as a warning, knowing your habits.

“Yes sir.” You let out an exaggerated sigh at the man’s gruff protectiveness. Not that you had planned on straying far from Arthur, you wanted to soak up every minute of alone time with him, even as strange as he was acting.

“See, now that’s more like it.” Arthur flashed you a smug smirk, which only made you roll your eyes, put your heels to your horse and ride past him.

Once you arrived at Elysian Pool, you both dismounted and Arthur began to survey the cliff side. You stared out over the water, studying the lovely waterfall. When you looked back over your shoulder, Arthur was quickly writing something in his journal. You crept up behind him trying to get a peek at the contents of the pages. You would consider you and Arthur to be close friends, but you had only ever gotten to see inside his journal a handful of times. You wanted nothing more than to just flip through the pages to get a glimpse into Arthur’s mind.

Without ever turning around, Arthur finished his writing quickly and snapped the journal closed, shoving it back into his satchel. “C’mere and look darlin’.” He reached behind him and placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to his side.

That nickname, It was enough to set the butterflies in your ribs to fluttering. Arthur didn’t use it often but oh how you loved it when he did. You quickly shooed your thoughts away and commanded the butterflies to be still. You followed Arthur’s gaze up to the side of the cliff where an incredible carving resided. “Arthur, how’d you know this was here?”

He gave a shrug, “Asked around. Apparently they’re all over the country. This weird ginger headed fella wants me to send him the coordinates to them. I’ve found a couple already, I uh…. thought you might like to see too.” He made no move to pull away, letting his hand linger on your back as he watched your face light up. He knew he would do anything it took to see that look on your face.

You marveled at the carving, briefly wondering how long it had been there and who had done it. “Arthur, I’ve never seen anything like it!” You turned to face him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Thanks for bringing me along, it’s been a while since just the two of us to do anything together.” You suddenly noticed how close you both were, just a few more inches and you would be pressed flush together. The thought alone made your heart pick up a bit. Beside you, the sun was beginning to sink low on the ridge line, reflecting off the water to cast beautiful red-orange rays across Arthur’s face.

Arthur cleared his throat, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Course…It’s getting’ late. You want to ride up to Annesburg and get a couple of hotel rooms?”

A couple? “Or… we could just camp out here.” Truthfully you were just looking for an excuse to share a tent with the man, but you also genuinely enjoyed your camping trips together. You both always had so much fun, and it was nice to be away from everyone else.

“I-I don’t know about that y/n. You did hear what I said about the Murfree Brood right?” He studied the landscape, kicking at the dirt anxiously, hands still deep in his pockets.

He’s nervous, you suddenly realized. “It ain’t like you to be scared Arthur.” You placed your hands on your hips and studied his face intently. You couldn’t quite figure out what he was so antsy about, but you were going to.

“I wouldn’t be if I was alone…” He finally looked back to you, “I don’t want nothin’ happenin’ to ya is all.”

“And nothing is going to happen to me. Not when I have my very own big tough gunslinger to protect me!” You playfully poked at his side, earning your hands a gentle swat which only served to make you laugh. “Please, Arthur?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

He scratched at his beard and sighed softly. If you asked him to sell his soul to the devil with that look on your face, he knew he’d agree happily. “Fine. But when the Murfrees come callin’ I don’t want to hear no cryin’.” He warned you with mock sternness.

After some mild arguing on where to set up, the two of you finally settled on a secluded spot just on the other side of the Kamass river. Arthur pitched the tent and got the fire going while you retrieved both your bedrolls from your horses. Arthur’s tent was really only made for one person, but the two of you could squeeze, and you’ve done it before. Once you got them situated you went and plopped down at the fire beside Arthur, who was cooking some meat on the end of his knife.

“Here.” He took his knife and held it to your mouth, watching as you gingerly took the meat between your teeth, sliding it off his blade. He felt his face heat up and cursed himself for the thoughts that entered his mind. He sheathed his knife and began to rise, turning to hide the blush creepin up on his face. “I’m gonna go lay down, alright? Get me if ya need me. Unless it’s the Murfrees, you’re on your own with them.”

You simply nodded, watched him enter the tent, and waited a little while. After mulling over the idea for a moment, you decided it was best if you just asked Arthur straight up what was going on with him. You were friends weren’t you? That’s what friends did. You dusted yourself off and made for the tent. You ducked to crawl inside the small structure, finding Arthur sitting up, reading his journal on one side. He snapped it closed and set it aside. He was just about to ask if you were turning in already when you sat yourself practically on top of him. “Is everything okay? With you I mean… you’ve just been acting like something’s been on your mind all day.” You placed your hand on his knee softly.

Arthur looked down at your hand, then back to you, then decided his lap was suddenly very interesting. “Yeah… yeah ’m fine darlin’.”

You reached up and grasped his jaw, directing his eyes to yours. “Arthur, you know you can tell me anything… right? I know something is bothering you so if you want to talk about, I’ll listen.” Even in the dim lighting of the tent, he looked so very handsome, his sea green eyes staring back at you.

Arthur quietly studied you for a moment before he took your hand from his jaw and held it in his own. He stared down at both of your hands before he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Actually… there is somethin’ I’ve been hopin’- well… meanin’ to talk to you about…”

You tried your very best to focus on his words and not his big gloved hand cradling yours while you waited patiently for him to go on.

Arthur scratched at his beard with his spare hand, eyes glued to his lap where both of your hands lay. “I was thinkin’ that uh- Well I thought that maybe… I uh- I don’t really know how to say it. Darlin’ I-“

You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his lips for a few heartbeats before pulling away again. “Is that what you were trying to say?” Arthur stared back at you, speechless. For one horrible moment you thought you had really misread the situation.

A bright red blush had crept up Arthur’s neck and painted his cheeks. Speak you damn idiot, he cursed himself and cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking, “yeah… more or less.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Y’know I practiced what to say the entire ride up here and still couldn’t get it right somehow… sweetheart I am a fool. But I care about ya more than you know… here.” He opened his journal to a filled page. It was a beautiful sketch of you, he had been working on it for a few days now, his favorite yet. Beside it was something he had written just this morning in his tent.

I know I’m sure I want to ask her to be mine… I just ain’t real sure how. How could I ever put into words what she means to me? How could I ever explain that she’s what keeps me going most days? If I do tell her how I feel- which I fear I must, it grows harder to hide each day- I do not know what she would think. She is beautiful and lovely and everything I’m not. Most of all, she has been my constant friend for years. I know if I confess my feelings to her, it will jeopardize our friendship. I pray to whatever God there might be that I don’t scare her off, whatever happens. Not sure I could bear that. I don’t dare dream that she will return my feelings, or else I am a bigger fool than I thought.

For a moment, it was your turn to be speechless and you hoped the dim lighting was hiding your blush better than it was Arthur’s. “Arthur… This is… I’ve wanted that-you… for years if I’m being honest.”

Arthur wanted to kick himself. He could have done this years ago? “Why didn’t you ever say nothin’?”

“Why didn’t you?” You deflected the question right back to him.

“Like I said… I am a fool sweetheart.” He placed his calloused hand on the back of your neck, searching your eyes for any sign of discomfort. When he found none, he leaned in and placed a deeper, more passionate kiss than the one you had given him earlier, and you returned it tenfold.

You were the first to break the kiss, “looks like we are just a pair of fools then.” You pressed your forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed. “I’d like that… to be yours Arthur.”

Arthur smiled, really smiled, for the first time in a while. You always made him feel like a real person, not a weapon nor a tool, that’s why he took to you so quickly to begin with. But now he felt it more than ever, it was like he was smiling deep within as well. He guided your back down to your bedroll, laying down by your side. “I’d love to be yours too sweetheart, if you’ll have me of course.”

You cradled his jaw before placing a kiss to his nose. You snuggled deeper into Arthur’s large frame, exhaling softly.

Arthur held you close, held you like he had always dreamed of. He wrapped his strong arms around your frame, loving the feeling of keeping you safe. “Goodnight darlin’.” He kissed your temple softly.

“Arthur… you really think the Murfrees will bother us here?” You murmured sleepily against your cowboy.

He chuckled softly, “they better pray they don’t. You just worry about sleepin’ sweetheart, I gotcha.”

You smiled, feeling safer than you have in years. You let yourself drift off to a sound slumber.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rd2 #red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption x reader #arthur x reader

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vinetae · 1 year

Text

As If It's His Last - PJM

"Mmmm, you're such a sensitive baby, aren't you?"

Genre: FWB, F2L, Smut, mutual pinning?

Summary: it had been a simple agreement. You felt bad at how many times Jimin had a hectic schedule. And while you couldn't do anything about that, you could offer some services out of pity for the boy..

Warnings: shower sex, vaginal fingering, Dom!Jimin, bratty sub!Reader, shower games, cunillingus, spanking? Jimin's such a tease lol, unprotected sex (don't do this), best friend banter while fucking (and damn, do we love that), cursing, foul language.

Word Count: 4K

A/n: just some drabbles I forgot to post like a year ago. 💀🙏😭 This was heavily inspired by my simp ass and the vlive where jimin wished someone would wash him LMFAO.

Edit: welcome back, you horny bitches. I've updated this to conclude their FULL SMUT. So, happy early birthday 💀😭

_______

"I'll do it" you comment, as he sits up to counter your straight face. His eyebrows lift, a shocked expression plastered his features.

"You what?" He asks, not truly comprehending what his friend had just agreed to.

"I'll wash you if you want."

He laughs out loud at the seemingly meaningless joke. His chest rises in sharp points, as his joking reaction makes your face remain unchanged. He'd been complaining for around an hour, seeing how long he could go without a shower after coming back from a hard session's practice. He'd always procrastinate washing himself, but never excused his hygiene.

Ironically, he was possibly the most clean person you've ever known. He always loved dousing himself in expensive perfumes, a 10-step skincare, and brushing his teeth for not 3 but FOUR minutes, twice a day. If you hadn't known better, you might've mistook him for a germaphobe. Once you had seen his apartment for the first time, you'd quickly realized your accusations were limited to what everyone say everyday.

"Are you for real?" He questions, not believing that his friend of only a few months would help him with something so intimate that ESPECIALLY only couples would do.

However, you were just a good friend.

You slide the cover of your book down your thighs, sighing at his thick head.

"Seriously Jimin? You just spent almost an hour debating whether showering in the morning or afternoon is healthier. You KNOW you only did that so you could excuse your laziness." His eyes widen at your words, but he doesn't deny it.

"But... Are you sure? I mean we've only known each other for a few months And-" you stand, glancing at his slouched figure.

"It's an offer, not a request. You want help, and I like helping people. Plus, it'll give me practice for when I volunteer at the senior citizen home." You tease flashing him a cheeky grin, as he stands, yelling to protest.

"Hey! Don't call me old!" You laugh at his cute pout. He watches as the sway of your hips lure him to the frame that connect the hallway to bathroom. He can feel the dryness of his throat out run the natural portion. Your upper body turns to graze his eyes, a tiny, sultry grin tugs your cornered lip.

"Coming?"

His eyes trail on the curves of your frame as you remove rhe excess pieces that had hidden your goddess-like figure so well. His tongue sticks out to wet the pad of his lips, making the plump set glisten. His gesture doesn't go unnoticed for you as well. You bat the thick of your eyelashes, while slowly removing the last article of clothing, sending him a greasy smirk.

"Yah, this ain't a free strip club." You point to the shower, watching the gears in his head finally turning to your command. This time, it's your turn to oogle at his built figure. The sweat glistens off his proportioned figure, sliding down the muscles of his arms. The veins in his hands track all the way to his protruding Adam's apple, watching it Bob up and down once before he removes another piece of his clothing.

Soon, he's left in nothing bit tight clad briefs, the Chanel red and white stripped label hugs his lower waist oh so perfectly. His lips tug into a smirk nothing how you'd been caught on his waist for one second too long. He curves his thumb to tug the elastic of his briefs down, giving you a teasing peak of his prominent v-line. He watches your cheek indent quickly, knowing that you'd bitten the inside harshly.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the impure images that had Corrupted your mind for a few moments. You meet his gaze, before motioning to the shower. He chuckles, noticing the tint of your ears matching hues with your cheeks. He stalks your figure, closing the small space that had separated the two of you, and sane from insanity.

"Aren't you going to get wet too?" His thumb comes to lift the point of your chin, narrowed eyes dark chocolate and fiery, baring down into your doe-like irises. His fingers come to toy with the elastic of your bra, before releasing it as it snaps against your skin. You flinch at the sudden act, the lump in your throat doesn't seem to faulted in rendering you speechless. His breath rolls past the shell of your ear, brushing the side of your cheek smoothly.

"No? Because.."

His steps corner you into the steamy shower until you're pressed up against the tiled wall. His eyes peer into yours, hands come up to already palm the rounds of your breasts pulling the thin fabric down to toy with the erect buds.

"I think you already are."

You'd gone into this situation with tact and though-filled head. Now, your girly brain had been boiling on the stove labeled horny, with your pussy as the chef, and Jimin being the heat.

Weird analogy I know, but still.

It's true.

The inside of his palm comes up to trace along the heated outline of your figure. His smirk beaming wider than a turn an eighteen-wheeler has to make.

"So quiet now, huh?" Your brain had almost been fried by his lingering touches, when a sense of well.. sensibility washes over you. Suddenly, you had regained your voice.

"You keep this up and you'll be stuck with blue balls AND a lonely wash up." Your tone seeps into his brain, pushing past all of the aroused and biological thoughts that had clouded his mind. He pouts, but backs away, giving you space as you repremand his ass.

Once his lecture was over, you watched as he lowered himself into the tub's heated waters, watching as his face immidiently forms new expressions. Most had remained relaxed, but one still stood out to you.

The steam had now risen to damp the ends of his hair, making the baby strands cling to his forehead. His newly dyed locks had blocked a portion of his view. You smile, bringing your hand up to brush the straggles out of his way. Much like how a mother's caring touch would be. He sighs, unconsiously leaning into your touch. You'd pulled your hand a few centimeters away right before his selfish, naughty hands had brought them right back down, pressing your palms against his reddened cheek.

"Just... stay like this, please?" He whines softly, not wanting to release from the comforting touch of your hands. You sigh, shifting on the tub's edge before finding an okay position. His eyes lull closed, peaking open once a while to make sure that you hadn't left him.

Your chin rests on tub's edge, watching how his facial features sink more into a relaxed transe. Finally, he felt at peace.

Except the hardening of his cock under the soapy waters.

He groans, trying to push those thoughts away, know that you hadn't been in that kind of mood right now.

You had usually flirted back and countered his sweet-comments and teases, a grin of your own painting your expressions while you two laughed, ending the silly encounter each time. Your laugh lines had been his serotonin. He'd never openly admit this.. of course.

But those sweet-nothings were for a different time, told to him by his stirring cock. Thankfully, the lavander and vanilla bath bomb you'd decided to throw in last minute had dissloved into a perfect shield for his dick.

Though the wet patches along your skin had done the opposite.

He peaks his eyes open, watching as the water shines an almost like glitter effect on the surface of your skin. With each splotch of water had been followed by clear definitions of it's gleams.

Yep... there goes his thoughts again.

"Y/n.." He gently calls out, seeing if you'd react with the same tone as earlier. He looks to see that your face had softened, showing him a more caring side than before. Usually, you had been this strong, confident and stubborn woman he'd grown to love. But how the way your rosy cheeks matched his set from the steamy waters had painted a different picture for him.

It also didn't help that you were in the most basic, but sexiest pair of underwear and bra he'd ever seen.

Sure, he's seen the lace, the frills, satin, silks and more.

Maybe it's his crazy, sex-driven mind..

But you looked like the most beautiful thing in the world.

Hell, this feeling wasn't even that sexual.

It had always been with him.

Since the day you two had meet in that cafe.

His voice calls out again, watching as your nose scrunches from the louder volume, but yet still having that gentle and warming tone he'd always carry.

You hum in response, not really minding what he was going to go on about. Sure you cared but..

This water had also felt too good to pass up.

So you opted for dragging your finger tips across it's fluctuate surface, watching as your minimal movements had trailed behind light ripples in their place. Your digits dip down ever so often, relaxing at the bath water's warm embrace.

This time, you hear your name for the third time.

You sigh, glancing to pull your eyes from the peaceful streams, to his boyish look.

Except...

He hadn't looked boyish at all.

The prominent lines of his muscle protruded far more than you could've ever imagned. His upper porportion had broad shoulders, defined and calculated features that would make any female instantly swoon.

"How are you going to wash me if I'm in here, and you're out there." His chin comes to rest on the tub's edge in front of you, mimicking your position with a smile painting his features.

You sigh, trying to hide the obvious smile that had accidentally slipped from your control.

"Fine," You fake a groan, acting as if your mother asking you to take out the trash. You see his lips pucker to a cute, puppy-like pout.

"You offered, you know.." You nod, removing your last pieces of clothing before stepping into the water's steamy embrace. The tub hadn't been that large, so you had to really squeeze to fit the both of you. Somehow, he manage to scoot closer, a gleam so warm and inviting lays beneath his cold, matured exterior.

He rests of the point of his chin on the round of his knees, pulling them closer to his chest, as you had done the same. That earns you a laugh from his side.

"Two bros, chilling in a bath tub two feet apart cause they're not gay." You laugh at the stupid reference, hitting his shoulder lightly. "You're ridiculous."

As your smiles recceed, something had taken their place. Even though both sets of tucked legs had been the barrier between the two of you, it didn't stop the lack of space slowly disappearing at the held gaze you both had in your eyes.

Your lips barely just centimeters away, as his hand comes up to cup the round of your cheek, his voice lowering to a permissive octave.

"You know, that trend of Tik Tok has been going around lately." You chuckle at his random response.

"Which one? There are about a gazillion.."

he leans in closer, brushing the pads of his lips against yours, giving you just a slight taste of what he's offering.

"The one where you kiss your best friend."

You lightly scoff at his comment.

He can't be serious.

.. Can he?

One more lessened inch was all it took for his lips to capture yours. The kiss had been gentle and kind at first, until something primal and needy had taken the reigns. His breath became heavy, the sounds he started to let slip had been doing a number on your sensability.

Just before anything gets too heavy, he quickly pulls away, leaving a trail of saliva bridging between his and your lips.

"I- want to make sure that you're okay.." You're quick to nod, trying to rekindle the fire he had you desiring so, but he takes control once more.

"I need verbal confirmation, Y/n. I don't want to make it feel like I'm forcing you or anythi-" He's cut off by the pressure of your lips crashing onto his.

Once you're through, it's your turn to pull away, leaving him in need.

"Permission granted.." Those few words had all it took for his lips to finally connect with your once more, this time with a firey and passionate seer of affection attached along with it. His hands are quick to unfold your body, pulling to straddle his lap. The already lack of any attire had been teasing enough, as the butterflies flying around in your stomach had been inexorable. Your confidentials meeting to grind against one another, the length of his cock gliding easily through your folds. His head draws back, groaning at the delightful feeling.

"Are we..." He takes in a few breaths, trying to make sense of this situation for what's best for the both of you.

"Are we sure this is a good place for our first?" You take a look around, thinking logically on how this could go. Your faces scrunches at the idea.

"Shower then?" Your comment had him rising quicker than his dick did, pulling you along up with him before he's pressing your back up against the tiled shower's wall. His palms coming to cup the rounds of your breasts, tweaking your nipples gently to see your reaction.

Not to his surprised, you'd moaned.

Quite loudly in fact.

Your head lulls against the shower's walls, while his smirk creeps his face.

"Didn't know you had that in you.." He groans, free hand reaching behind to pull your ass tighter against his frame, giving the rounded flesh some gentle squeezes.

"What do you mean, in me?" Your head follows the trail of kisses his lips had placed upon your exposed upper half, watching the glint in his eyes each time he notice your body flinching at the light grazes.

"Mmmm, you're such a sensitive baby, aren't you?" Your lips part, mouth dropping down to form a long O-shape. The digits of his fingers trail down your torso, brushing along the dip of your navel before slipping between your thighs. Your hands reach out to wrap themselves around his neck, while your palm moves the strands out from his view.

His long digits drew light circles into your hooded bud, as your back arches against the tiled wall. Your sounds are the only confirmation he needed to continue on his exploration.

"Hmm, you know I've always wondered something.." His tone is teasing, with a hint of malicious .. something.. behind it.

There was deffiantly more than this sweet cinnamon personality.

You scoff at his retort, feeling the way our leg twitches from the small amount of pleasure you'd reccived.

"I've always wanted to know.." You felt the sting of his finger pushing its way up into you, sliding easily past your folds, as the sounds it had drawn out were immaculate to his ears.

"If my accusations were correct." You groan out, not knowing a damn about what he had been going on with, but knowing damn well how it felt.

You chuckle at his words. "Yeah? What accusations?"

A smirk plasters his face.

"Oh, you know.. Just some things that have popped into my head.." His head's quick to find it's way down your body, as his face had been at direct level with your sobbing core. Your breath hitched at the sight.

"About how much pressure it would take for you to squeeze me with the fucking thighs until my head popped like a balloon.." His words cut like a knife dragging along your skin. His hand comes up, spreading your lips apart to reveal all of your shameful glory.

"How pretty this pussy would look all wet and needy for me." He removes all pressure, licking a stripe up the very center as your head lulls back, fist full of his hair quickly fill your balled hands.

"How loud you can scream my name."

Your hands ball ever more at his sudden words, as he takes the plump of his lips, wrapping them around your throbbing clit as a whole new world of this shit had just been unlocked for you like a fucking video game. He reaches up, pulling one of your thighs over his shoulder, burying the face even deep into your aching pussy, watching as the tip of his nose kisses your public bone.

Sounds of pleasure and nothing more had filled the dorm's shower room, as your best friend had been on his knees, acting like your pussy had been his favorite meal.

His palms grip at your thighs, feeling the soft pudgy goodness engulf his head even more.

Your head lulled back, thighs quivering around his head. Hands coming to grip at his damp roots, mouth jarring wide as he practically recites every letter from the alphabet.

You certainly hadn't planned for this to happen with your best friend. But hey,

Was this really a time to complain?

"Fu-fucking- Oh shit!" The burn you felt between your thighs had nothing on Jimin's teeth biting down into the side of your neck. His hips rolled against your body, as his arm kept your thigh proped up and open for his liking.

The pad of his lips switching between sucking and marking your damp skin, hot water steaming down onto the both of you. Your fingers tugged at his newly dyed roots,mouth parting as his cock slides against your walls.

"So fucking good for me, baby. Taking my cock so well." Your head lulls back, chest heaving in agony. His hips snapped against yours, as his hand helds you at the sides to keep you in place.

"O-oh my God.." You whine, unconsciously lifting your other leg to try and wrap yourself fully around his waist. A chuckle rolls from his lips, before he gently pulls out, making you whine from loss of contact.

In a matter of seconds, he has you sat on his lap, as he's resting on the shower stools surface. Wasn't the series position, but hey. You weren't one to complain.

"And here I thought Jin's old man stool was useless." He retorts, guiding your hips to sink down onto his standing cock. Your hands use the crease of his shoulders in balancing, as your let out a short laugh.

"Oh so now I have to do all the work?"

A smirk presses his lips, as his mouth reaches out to suck dark blotches into the skin of your collarbone. "Be a good girl and maybe it'll be worth your while."

Your heart sank at his words.

"Fuck you for being my friend."

"Why? Cause I'm so awesome at it?"

"No." You groan, taking a big gulp of air from the steam of the shower. "C-Cause you fucking know me too well."

He chuckles, gently guiding your hips along the length of his cock, your legs hugged to his sides in support of the painful position.

"Oh, im sorry for being such a good friend." Smirking, his hand comes to cup your breast, tweaking the erect bud between his two fingers. He watches as your lips drop to part in pleasure, leaning your body closer to his. The moment had been arrogant, and annoying, but most of all..

Amazing.

"mm- s-still fuck you." You moan out, body presses against his, in support. The burning of your thighs had been overpowering your motives to continue, as you let out a whine.

"Yeah yeah, yoy know you love it." Your pussy cleched around his cock, making your head fall onto his shoulder. His praises pulling you into a daze you'd never felt before. Nails digging into his glistening skin, the shower mixed along with your sweat at done nothing in making this scene any less arousing.

He lets out a soft chuckle, bringing his arms up to hold your body to his, making sure your fucked out state doesn't injure yourself.

His lips hover gently infront of yours, brushing a string of wet hair from your view.

"Weak." He teases.

You lift your arm, punching his side gently. His chest rolls out a soft laugh,hoisting your waist to press against his.

"Yah, are you really trying to sleep when we're having sex?"

Your head shakes, forehead pressed into his shoulder dip. "Fucking burns.."

"Ah, yeah I know. It's pretty big."

You lift up, playfully hitting his chest once more from his comment.

"Alright alright. Jeez, making the man do all the work as usual, huh?" He's quick to lift your body from his, pressing you back against the shower wall, easily sliding his cock through your velvety walls once more. Your arms throw themselves around his neck, head craning backwards as your back arches off against the wall. He scoffs, rolling his hips into yours. His finger coming up to poke your cheek.

"Faker."

A smile presses your lips, closing the distance between the two of you. Hands carding through his damp locks, as the shower's hot pressure drips along both of your skin.

Your eyes screwed shut, sucking in a breath. "F-fuck i-i'm-" His lips capture yours once more, as the tip of his index finger reaches down, rubbing circles against your throbbing clit.

"Yeahh, cum for me, jagi. Let all the guys know who's fucking you this good." Your head knocks back against the marbled shower wall, thighs twitching in his grip as a wave of pleasure crashes in to you. He moans out, feeling the way you clamp down on his when your orgasm hits.

"Oh, yeahhh! That's my good girl. Such a good baby for me- fuck!" With one final thrust, the tip of his cock kisses your cervix as he paints your walls white. You both pull away slightly, trying to catch your breaths. The hot shower water had done nothing in cooling the two of you down.

After a few moments drip by, Jimin lifts his head to look at you. A smirk presses his lips, as he pulls your figure back against his to make the two of your stand under the shower's rainfall like pressure.

"Looks like you're the one who needs a wash off now.."

You chuckle, cupping the side of his face in your palms, placing a gentle peck to his lips. His hands come to hold your waist, returning the cute gesture.

_______

Holy shit I'm finding so many unpublished drafts..

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