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divine-mistake · 3 years

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virtue and vice

Summary: What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Characters: Bucky Barnes/Plus-size (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut (vaginal fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, bit of a Dom Bucky Barnes), language, insecurity (weight issues, a little perceived fatphobia which is wiped out really soon after)

Word Count: 6120

A/N: This is a tumblr request for @buckybarnes101 who requested a Bucky/Plus-sized reader enemies to lovers who have to share one bed with smut. I loved this request and really hot to make something hot and rough and fast! Thank you so much for the request - enjoy!!

main masterlist | AO3

It finally happened, the one thing you prayed would never ever happen, the thing you’ve been dreading since you started joining James Buchanan Barnes on his stealth missions, the event that will inevitably spark your downward spiral into doom, destroying the crumbs of the relationship you’ve managed to build with him.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he says, barreling through the motel room like a ping pong ball with a little too much pent up energy.

You shrug your bag off your tired shoulder, letting it fall to the ground, not caring about how dirty the carpeting must be.

“At least it’s a queen,” you say, toeing off your boots. “I’ve had worse with Steve.”

Bucky turns to glare at you over his shoulder. “You’ve shared a bed with Steve?” he says, accusation rising in his tone. You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“I’m sorry—are you saying you haven’t? ‘Cause I call bullshit on that.”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to sift through his duffel bag instead. You shrug despite the fact that he can’t see you.

“I mean, it’s pretty routine, isn’t it? I’ve shared with Natasha, too. Sometimes you just have to make do.”

“Yeah but it’s Natasha,” he says like it matters. “I can’t believe you’ve slept with Steve.”

“God, Bucky, it’s only weird if you make it weird, and you’re making it weird.”

He straightens now, body stiff, one of his hidden holsters hanging from his vibranium hand. He doesn’t look at you and you’re too tired to start a fight—much less finish it—so you hope he just goes ahead and fucks off to the shower which you know he’s getting ready to do. He’s always been selfish like that. But it’s also not so selfish, you think, for someone like Bucky to want to wash the missions away as soon as possible.

But the bastard could ask sometimes, couldn’t he?

“I’m going first,” he says, just like always, and you bite your tongue.

“‘Kay.”

You turn and sigh, focusing your glare on the one bed filling the motel room. If there was one thing you always hoped for after a mission, it was not to end up in the same bed as James Barnes. The two of you notoriously don’t get along, for whatever reason that may be (although you’re pretty sure it has to do with the fact that he thinks you’re a useless addition to the team), but there is literally no denying the attraction you felt for him.

The man is hot, and he’s had a couple, or maybe most, of the screws in his head knocked loose.

You have it bad for him.

Oh, but James Barnes is not fond of you. Not that he would ever admit it, but the dude has some serious fatphobia going on. You’re ninety-nine-percent sure of that.

Alone in the bedroom, you start to strip out of your tac-suit, letting your gun belt and the rest of your holsters fall in a ring around your feet. As soon as the heaviness is off you, relieving some of the ache in your body, you think about just falling straight into the bed blood and dirt and grime and all. But you’re also sure Bucky would lose his mind if you did that.

Instead, you look to the floor length mirror just in front of the motel door, frowning.

Your skin-tight suit doesn’t do much to hide all the lumps and bumps and dips and hips all squished into it, and when you’re covered in tiny cuts and burns on every visible patch of skin, you can’t help but think about how Bucky sees you.

The useless fat Avenger! How fun.

You turn to the side a little, glancing at the fullness of your ass. Nice. A redeeming quality of the extra weight you carry atop the strong muscle you’ve built in your short time as part of the Superhero Menagerie. Not having a gimmick of any kind really forced you into working for the position—and now you’re not just the useless fat chick, you’re the super hacking, super gun toting, mega-badass fat Avenger instead.

The shower squeaks and the water stops, signaling the end of Bucky’s shower.

You look up to the ceiling, praying to some god to hear you that everything will work out just fine.

And then Bucky exits the bathroom, steam flooding from the room, wrapped only in a thinning motel towel secured by his metal hand at his waist. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen his chiseled figure, but there’s something that jumps up your throat at the thought that you have to shower in that same shower and then sleep in the same bed as the bed that body is sleeping in.

Oh, fuck.

“All yours,” he murmurs, not even looking at you.

“Great.” You grab your change of clothes and head for the bathroom, trying to think about anything except him.

When you smell less like blood and asbestos and more like strawberries and peaches, hair damp and a clean t-shirt and sleep shorts sticking to your heat-splotched body, you enter the bedroom once again. Bucky is sitting against the headboard, going through his phone now that you’re both safe and secure in France, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants.

Okay, act cool. Just get into bed and pretend like it’s not weird.

You pad over to the bed, grimacing at the feel of the gross carpet beneath your clean feet, hopping beneath the sheets as quick as possible. If Bucky looks at you, then you don’t see it, because you are focused solely on not looking at him. Petty? Perhaps. Keeping your sanity intact? Absolutely.

“You tired?” he asks and you snort.

“Extremely. You don’t have to turn off the light if you aren’t ready to sleep, though.” You situate yourself as far on the edge of the bed as possible—something you’ve never done with any of the other people you’ve been forced to share a bed with. You and Natasha aren’t new to sleeping together, especially after some of the nights out you’ve shared, but you and Steve definitely cuddled, though you wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Steve’s just kinda lonely, you think. And to be honest, you’re a little touch-starved yourself.

But you know you take up a lot of space and you’re sure Bucky hates that, so you bury yourself under the motel sheets and snuggle up to your pillow, trying to make yourself as small as humanly possible.

After a moment, Bucky asks, “Are you comfortable like that?”

You crack an eye open and twist to look at him. “What?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t you tell me not to make it weird? You’re making it weird now.”

“You already made it weird.”

“I’m trying not to make it weird anymore.”

“A little late for that—”

“God, just, c’mere.”

Bucky grabs you around your waist, your shirt riding up, and pulls you closer. You shriek in surprise, eyes wide, as he manhandles you until you’re away from the edge and your back is pressed against his bare chest.

“There—that’s better,” he says, nearly whispering in your ear he’s so close to you now. He unwinds his arm from your middle and reaches up to hit the light, the room going completely dark save for the little sliver of artificially light pouring in from underneath the shitty curtains.

You don’t even know what to say. Bucky’s rendered you completely speechless.

First of all, the man has never touched you for no reason like that before. Second of all, how the hell did he just move you like you weighed the same as the pillow beneath his head? Third of all, he hates you, so why is he so bothered about you and your comfort? Fourth, he just moved you around like you weighed literally nothing.

And boy, did it send a flood of pleasure straight to your core, almost as if your body just gave the green light to your libido. The perfect time too, y’know, when you’re sharing a bed with your co-worker who hates your guts.

Play it cool. Just play it fucking cool.

“Uh, are you okay?” you ask him in return, and Bucky shifts so his back is pressed up to yours.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go to sleep.”

“‘Kay. Good night.”

“Night.”

What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Your brain turns and turns and turns, body straining to stay as still as possible to not upset the super soldier sleeping right beside you. What does he have against you? Why does he hate you so much? You really thought once you started going on more missions—proving you were worthy to be a part of the team—that he’d start coming around and seeing your value. But you feel like all it’s served is to make him hate you more, especially now that you tag along on his stealth operations as his techie.

Maybe he knows you’re into him, and maybe that’s why he never wants to be around you. But, god, it’s not like you think you have a chance with him in any capacity, and you’d pass up tens of thousands of chances to be with him if he’d just be your friend!

Because Bucky deserves another friend, doesn’t he?

As if he can read your mind—or maybe it’s just god playing tricks on you—Bucky shifts around in the bed again, turning toward you. You don’t know if he’s sleeping yet or not, but you curl in on yourself a little to give him more space to stretch out.

Bucky’s vibranium arm slides over your waist, cool metal grazing by the sliver of skin peeking out from underneath your shirt, and when you flinch from it, he pulls you flush against him. Behind you, the bare skin of his chest is warm, almost too hot. Super soldiers run warmer than normal humans, and you think he’d be nice to have in bed more often.

In your ear, Bucky groans in his sleep and it makes you shiver despite the heat radiating through your back. He must be like Steve, wanting to cuddle in his sleep. No one ever wants to admit it out loud, but you’re the best thing to cuddle in the Tower. Being squishy and soft atop hard, strong muscle means you’re more comfortable than all the rigid bodies of the Avengers. Maybe Bucky needs this.

But you wish you could fall asleep so you’ll stop thinking about how much you’ve wanted this since the day you saw him, the new Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, hair tied up in a messy bun and stubble thick and dark, vibranium arm hidden within the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Suddenly, everything is too hot. The room, the motel sheets, the pillow beneath your head. Bucky Barnes behind you, arm slung over your body, holding you to him. He’s sleeping, you know, the quiet rumble of his breathing a song in your ear, chest rising and falling against your back. You shift a little, trying to get more comfortable as the warmth starts to become unbearable. When that doesn’t help, you shift again, trying to pull your back away from Bucky, but it sends your bottom half straight into his.

A growl brushes by your ear all breathy and low and Bucky’s arm tightens around you, bringing you back to him.

Damn, who knew Bucky was such a cuddler when he’s sleeping?

You wait a few minutes, keeping still, until you’re sure he’s slipped back into unconsciousness. His nose is nearly pressed into your hair, his breaths upsetting the small wisps of hairs that curl at your ear. Sweat is starting to collect underneath your shirt where your bodies are connected and you know you’ll never be able to fall asleep like this.

Again, you shift toward the edge of the bed, trying to pull yourself out of Bucky’s grasp, but he drags you back into his embrace. The swell of your ass meets his thigh and in a panic, you move around to try and put space between the two of you again, but Bucky lets out a strangled-sounding groan, hissing through his teeth.

“You gotta stop moving, doll, or you’re not gonna like what happens next.”

He is not asleep.

“Bucky?” you squeak, eyes wide, frozen in place.

“Hm?” His metal hand sneaks underneath the hem of your shirt, fingers finding your soft skin and thumb starting to rub little circles just above your hip, a point of pleasure on your body. No one ever touches you here, and it takes everything you have not to press back into him, asking for more. Your breathing is heavier now as you try to control yourself.

“You aren’t—Why aren’t you sleeping?” you ask, sounding winded from the simplest act of him touching you.

“Hard to sleep when you’re next to me,” he murmurs in your ear, nose brushing up against the patch of skin behind it. Your eyes flutter closed. Every small touch feels like heaven. You never allow others to touch you more than necessary, but now Bucky is handling you so gently.

“I can’t sleep either,” you whisper. “Do you want me to go? I can take a walk.”

He makes a noise of disapproval. “Just stay still,” he says, almost begging. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s hot,” you whine. “You’re too hot.”

You can feel him smirk into the back of your neck. “You don’t gotta tell me, doll.”

“Shut up,” you say with a huff of frustration, wiggling in the bed to get your point across. Immediately, Bucky’s vibranium hand falls to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough for the flash of pain to turn to pleasure, holding you still.

“I said stop moving,” he says, and it's so close to a command that your teeth tear into your bottom lip as his voice sends shocks through your core. Now, hyperaware of how close your bodies are underneath the sheets, you realize your ass is pressed against his pelvis, not his thigh, and you’ve definitely been—

Bucky grinds into you, seething, breath ghosting over your ear, his cock hard and heavy in his sweatpants.

Wetness pools between your thighs, dampening the thin cotton panties you wear beneath your sleep shorts.

“Bucky,” you breathe his name. “What are you doing?”

“So tired of you teasin’ me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “I’ve put up with it for so long—too long—and I just knew you were gonna do it tonight, too. Only one fucking bed. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

Your voice sounds so small when you whisper, “What are you talking about?”

Then Bucky lays a kiss to the back of your neck, trailing upward until he reaches the lobe of your ear, and pulls it into his mouth and between his teeth. You shiver, violently, unable to stop the reaction. It must please him because he yanks your hips back into him again, forcing you to grind on his bulge.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, muffling whatever sounds threaten to fall from your lips.

“Doll, you’ve been teasin’ me from the beginning. From the moment I saw you in your gear on the Berlin mission, all your curves on display in that tight little cat-suit you’re always wearing, armed to the teeth, handling all those guns looking so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You swallow hard. The Berlin mission, your first stealth mission with Bucky, had gone sour and the two of you found yourselves in a gun fight that was never meant to happen. You’re pretty sure you walked back onto the quinjet covered in blood, bruised, and a gash in your thigh that made you wobble when you stood up, and Bucky didn’t even look at you as per usual. Bucky never looks at you on missions unless he absolutely has to.

Wait.

“Is that why you never look at me?” you ask him, and you wish you could see his face right now, but all you can feel is his lips as they pepper kisses along the column of your throat, coaxing shudders and little squeaks out of you.

“You expect me to look at you without wanting to jump your bones, doll?” His nose caresses the spot at the top of your spine, his fingers melting at your hip and soothing the bruises you’re sure he’s already left. “That’s just askin’ too much, baby. How am I supposed to look at you and stop myself from kissin’ you silly?”

Pleasure flutters through your stomach, surging through the apex of your thighs.

“Then do it,” you tell him. Bucky goes still, unmoving, and you wonder if you’ve pushed too hard.

But then his voice is low, dark, in your ear. “You don’t know what you’re saying, doll.”

The honey dripping from your center, pooling in your underwear, says very differently. Instead of answering, you press your ass back into him, gyrating your hips straight upon his pelvis, rubbing against his clothed cock. Bucky chokes.

And then he’s up and above you, rolling your body beneath him, caging you between his arms. You nearly gasp when you look up at him, his blue eyes intense in a way you’ve never seen them before, his lips pink and swollen from biting—you’re sure yours look the same and he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

Bucky leans closer, his mouth only inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. Your eyes threaten to flutter shut in anticipation but you force yourself to look at him, to take all of him in.

“If you want this, I won’t be able to hold myself back, doll. Wanted you too long. Need you.”

Then, he pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“But if you don’t,” he swallows, “then we’ll forget this ever happened, and everything will go back to normal.”

Fuck that.

“Kiss me, sergeant,” you command, hand shooting up to tangle in his thick hair.

Bucky curses and then he’s on you before you have a chance to reach up and meet him halfway. His lips are rough, chapped, but plush and perfect against yours. He wastes no time, tongue licking into your mouth and meeting yours, tasting you for the first time. You respond eagerly, hand fisting in his hair, pulling him into you until you can’t tell where his body ends and yours begins.

When he’s satisfied with how kiss-drunk you look, lips swollen and eyes hazy, he moves to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and sinks his teeth into your skin, causing you to cry out. The pain and the pleasure mingle, like lovers, like you and Bucky, as his fingers take hold of your shirt and in one tug, the fabric pulls apart at the seams.

You don’t care—you can buy a new shirt. You need him to touch you.

Until you realize you aren’t wearing a bra and that your top half is completely bare to Bucky, the man who, before a minute ago, you thought hated you because you were fat. Because it was the only explanation you had. Because you’re insecure.

Your hands fall upon his chest, bracing against him, stopping him in his tracks. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, brows drawn together in confusion, and all you can do is try and cover yourself with your arms before he gets a peek. It’s dark, but super soldiers can see in the dark. A blessing and a curse.

“I don’t want you to look at me,” you whisper so quietly you realize no normal person would have been able to hear it. “I’m—I shouldn’t have let you—I’m so fat, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Baby, baby,” he soothes you, his flesh hand coming up to cradle your cheek, fingers brushing delicately over your skin. “You don’t believe me when I say I want to see you? Doll, your body drives me insane, and god, every time you get an attitude with me and you put your hands on your hips and you look at me all mad…”

Bucky groans and he rocks his pelvis into yours, hard cock hitting your center and making your breath hitch.

“You’re beautiful, baby. Gorgeous. Do you know how hard it is for me to be around you sometimes ‘cause you’re just so pretty? More than pretty, I don’t even know the words to tell you, baby. Please, please don’t hide yourself from me, let me look at you, let me touch you, baby. S’all I want to do is look at you for the rest of my life.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until Bucky’s thumb swipes a tear away and you blink, and he’s smiling at you so warmly, really looking at you, maybe for the first time ever since you’ve known him.

“You think so?” you ask, breathless. “Even though you’re so—so good, Bucky, so beautiful and so good.”

He rests his forehead against yours, inhaling your scent, your essence, your soul. You nuzzle into his palm, kissing the center of his skin where his lifeline sits among other small scars. Then, you pull your arms away from your body, moving to wrap them around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp as you tip your chin up to slant your mouth over his. Bucky returns your enthusiasm, tongue meeting yours sweetly, and then metal fingers are trailing up your side.

Bucky pulls away, searching your eyes for consent.

“Say you’re mine,” he begs. “Say you’re mine, baby, but if you do, I won’t be gentle.”

You look up at him from underneath your lashes, already heady with the feeling of Bucky wanting you, desiring every part of you.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, and the mood in the room shifts violently.

In an instant, Bucky pulls your arms away from where they’re wound around his neck and pins them over your head, metal fingers locked around both your wrists. It makes you arch into him and then his nose is tracing your sternum, a line down your center, cutting you in half until his flesh hand attaches to your breast and his lips find your nipple.

Just like he said, he’s not gentle, and it has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, lids fluttering, as his teeth nip and tug at the delicate bud. His tongue follows the performance, sucking and soothing the pain away with sweet licks until he’s bored and moves onto the other one.

He lifts his head up to say, “Don’t move your hands,” and then his vibranium fingers find the hardened, sensitive nub and begin to twist and pull at it as his lips play with the other. The pleasure is overwhelming, the pain is a shocking reminder of who is playing your body like a symphony. You arch your breasts toward him, you roll your hips up to meet his bulge, you do anything you can to relieve the pressure that’s building in your core, screaming at you that you need his touch.

“Bucky,” you call out, moaning, struggling to keep your hands near the headboard.

“Do you need more, sweet girl?”

“Please,” you beg and press your center up to rub his cock. “It aches,” you whine.

“You gonna be a good girl for me? Let me touch you? Let me make the pain go away, baby?”

His words send new waves of pleasure through you, every part of you flushing with heat, your thighs squeezing together as if you can hide your leaking core from him.

“Yes, yes, yes, Bucky.”

He lays kisses on the underside of your breasts, just below them, like he’s following the lines of your ribs as he moves down toward your stomach—the part of you that you hate the most. You struggle underneath him.

“Not there,” you say as he places open-mouthed kisses on your soft belly. It tickles and makes you tremble and writhe.

He chuckles darkly. “I thought you said you were gonna be a good girl?” Both hands fall upon your hips, trapping you, fingers digging into your soft, pliant flesh as he nuzzles and licks and nips and kisses your stomach. You throw your head back, dizzy at the thought of what your body will look like tomorrow, purpled bruises made of passion.

“I’m a good girl,” you pant, mouth falling open as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Then let me touch you, doll. All of you—I want all of you.”

You hear the sound of fabric ripping before you feel the cool air rush over where your sleep shorts are no longer, Bucky tosses the tatters of fabric over the edge of the bed. He inhales sharply at the sight of you, hands roaming over the wide breadth of your hips as if he can’t even draw himself away, smoothing over your stretch marks with loving strokes until he finds the thick expanse of your bare thighs.

Bucky’s thumb brushes over your clothed cunt, panties drenched, and a strangled moan flies from your mouth as you press toward him, begging for more.

“This all for me?” he asks, voice gravelly. “My pretty baby is all wet like this for me? Christ, doll, you’re dripping.”

“Yes!” you shout as metal fingers hook around your underwear to rip them off, parting your lips to watch your slick seep from your aching core. “It’s all for you, Bucky, all of it.”

He groans at this. “Good girl,” he praises you. “That’s my good girl.”

And then he sinks two fingers into you, your juices soaking his hand almost immediately, and pumps into you like his life depends on it. The pleasure is too much, and when his thumb finds your clit and begins to slide over it, your knees try to close out of instinct, hips canting away from the pleasure. Bucky growls and wraps an arm around your hips, keeping you close, baring your naked body to him and him alone.

“You like that?” His voice is low, teasing, so fucking hot you can’t do anything but gasp for breath. “You’re sucking my fingers in, baby. So tight. Gotta work you open or you’re never gonna be able to take my cock, honey.”

You whimper his name, hips twitching under his grasp, crying out as every stroke of his fingers brings you closer and closer to the edge. When he adds a third, you think you might die from the mix of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls.

“You’re such a good girl,” he coos. “You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you? Been teasin’ me too long, and now you’ve gotta take it all, baby.”

He drives his fingers inside and hits the soft, spongy spot inside of you and it breaks you apart, tears you asunder, you’re arching off the bed and Bucky holds his thumb on your clit as you undulate upon his fingers. You can feel the gush of come that trickles down his thick fingers, and then he pulls out and places them in his mouth, licking your honey from the digits as the aftershocks of your orgasm wrack through you.

And when you can finally open your eyes, vision hazy, Bucky is looking at you with a mix of adoration and lust, licking your juice from his lips, grinning.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises again and the fire of pleasure and want and need ignites.

“Need you,” you whine, “right now, please, please sergeant.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “You don’t know what you do to me when you say that, doll.”

You definitely know what you do to him, and you’re gonna keep saying it and saying it until he’s yours, forever, until the end, until he’s buried so deep inside of you that you could die happy.

Staring up at him, your face flushed, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead and spread among the motel pillows, you think you might be in love with Bucky Barnes.

“Need me to fuck you, baby? Fuck, you drive me so fuckin’ crazy. I’m crazy about you, baby. You’re so goddamn perfect, so soft, so beautiful.” Bucky’s hands touch every part of you, even the places you hate. He finds the soft rolls of fat you try to work off at the gym, finds the squishy parts of your upper arms you think look unsightly when you’re hacking into HYDRA’s systems, fingers flying over the keyboard. He passes over your stubbly legs, a little sharp from three days of not shaving while on the mission, he caresses the dimples of cellulite in the backs of your thighs you hate so much.

And then he pushes the waistband of his sweats down and kicks his pants off, his cock exposed and standing attention all red at the tip and thick and hard and hot, and his hands slide underneath your thighs and press you up until you’re angled to take him.

He hesitates though, you feel it. And god, you’d do anything for him.

“Fuck me, sergeant,” you beg so prettily, and Bucky growls.

His hips snap into yours, cock sliding through your walls, parting you for him, splaying you open, stretching you, burning you, he’s everything. Bucky gives you one second to adjust and then he’s moving within you, the pain blurring into pleasure, your head thrown back, keening, moaning, crying out, nails sinking into his shoulders.

“Yes,” he hisses, sweat dripping down his temple as he rams into you over and over and over. “Give it to me, baby. You feel so good.”

“Harder,” you manage in between your shrieks and moans and Bucky answers your call with a response. He drags you toward him until your hips are attached to his, connected, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you, the darkest parts of you, and you sob as the new angle makes you feel every single drag of his length. The head of his cock pierces you, smashing against the spot that makes you keen, and the pressure is building up within you again.

Bucky’s fingers find purchase in the plush flesh that sits on your hips, dragging down until he’s digging into your thick thighs, the sharp pain a beacon cutting through the haze of pleasure you’re locked in as he fucks you. It’s building, building, building, pressure, building.

“Come for me,” he snarls, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, like he can feel how close you are. And for the second time, your body is shattered and your orgasm breaks like a wave crashing against the shore, swallowing you whole until you’re lost in everything that is Bucky.

You scream his name, legs tightening around him like you’re trying to hold onto something, anything, and his words are lost on you.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s my good girl, coming so sweet around my cock, god you feel so good baby, so tight, such a good little girl.”

Bucky pulls out of you and you whine as your slick slips out of you, his cock coated in your essence, smearing it against your inner thighs. But it doesn’t last that long. With an immediacy that turns you on—he wants you, he wants you so bad—Bucky grabs you and flips you over, putting you on your hands and knees. His palm forces your head down, back bowing until you’re arched with your ass upturned, face smashed into the pillows.

“God,” he groans, “this fuckin’ ass of yours, baby. It gets me in so much trouble, d’ya know that? You don’t even know how many times I’ve caught myself watching the way your ass swings when you walk, like y’gotta purpose, like you don’t even know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

Bucky’s hands round over your ass, caressing them gently, then grabbing fistfuls of your flesh until you’re crying out once again. It makes you lean back into him, trying to seek out the pleasure of him, wiggling as if you can entice him to stuff you with his cock again.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathes, and then he gives your right cheek a slap that makes you shriek, laying a kiss on it just after to soothe the pain.

“Please sergeant,” you gasp. “Please, please, I need you to fuck me again.”

“You want me to fuck you again?” he asks, smug. “I just fucked you ‘till you came around me, baby. You need me to do it again?”

It’s humiliating, but your words are jumbled as you cry and beg and cry and beg for him to take you again. You need him. You need him to fuck you. You need Bucky Barnes to do anything and everything to you.

He leans over you, breath hot on the back of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, again and again and again.”

And then he slams back into you, the angle so much deeper this time, cock hitting the back of your cunt like he was made for you—like you were made for him.

You can’t speak, can’t think, can’t do anything but drool into the pillow as he takes you from behind like a wild animal. The sounds that pour from your open lips are heady and strung together, making no sense, but Bucky knows what you need. He fucks you raw, fucks you hard, fucks you until you know you’ll be covered in bruises in the morning. His metal arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you to him because you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up.

When his thrusts become sloppy, Bucky takes his vibranium hand and searches for your clit, making you cry out. It’s too much—the overstimulation. You’re too sensitive, too exhausted, too fucked out to take the pleasure anymore. But you clench around him, the sloppy sounds of your wet heat taking Bucky as he pounds into you making you flush, and the coil in your stomach is tightening.

“Give it to me,” Bucky commands, ramming into you impossibly harder, fingers sliding over your slick clit. “Give it to me, baby.”

You whine his name and Bucky’s free hand smacks your ass again, the sound of flesh on flesh mingling with the sound of him fucking you.

“You said you’d be good,” he grits through his teeth. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes,” you pant.

“You’re a good girl?”

“Yes.”

“You’re my good girl?”

“Yes, sergeant, yes!”

“Then give it to me. Come, baby, come for me, one more time.”

And like that, you come apart, knees collapsing beneath you. Bucky catches you in his arms, thrusting once, twice more, and then buries himself so far inside of you that you barely feel his hot seed spurt inside of you, coating your insides.

You fall to the bed and Bucky follows, pulling out of you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing your back to his chest in the very position that started this all. He peppers kisses over the expanse of your shoulders, behind your ear, and then turns you until he can connect his lips to yours. Bucky kisses you like he means it, like he wants it to last forever.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers against your mouth, then he’s off the bed and headed for the bathroom. You lay there in bliss, staring up at the ceiling with lidded eyes, unable to think of anything but the pleasure and exhaustion that make up your body right now. When Bucky returns, he has a ratty washcloth in hand and he uses it to clean between your legs. It’s warm and he’s gentle, leaving you shivering when he’s finished.

When he climbs back in bed, he tucks a piece of your matted hair behind your ear, smiling at you.

“Such a good girl,” he says, one last time, and it makes you smile. “My good girl,” he murmurs as he kisses you again.

“Yours?” You look up at him, blinking innocently.

“Mine.” Bucky lays your head upon his bare chest. “All mine.”

You fall asleep before him to the sound of his breathing, sharing the same bed with your co-worker Bucky Barnes, who you really think you might be in love with, especially as he strokes your hair so softly until your eyes fall, heavy.

Taglist: @melancholic-metanoia @kitkatd7 @mimiswitchywrites @tripleyeeet @allidoiswritewritewrite

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #one shot #drabble #fic requests #inbox me to request a fic!#smut fic #thanks for supporting me!#divine masterlist

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violetlilysunshine · 3 years

Text

Like a Sleepover

Tom Holland x Female Reader

Requested

Anon: Sleeping over Tom Holland house for the first time. Lots of fluff please

WC: 3,544

Warnings: none, just fluff

A/N: I'm seeing this take place in Atlanta, but it’s not really specific if you wanna imagine it somewhere else!

REQUESTS OPEN - Or just come chat :)

MASTERLIST

You and Tom had been together for a little while; you were getting serious, spending more and more time together.

Last month, you finally put a label on yourselves, “is it...ya know, uh… can I, well…” he stuttered.

“Spit it out, Tommy,” you joked.

“Can I call you my girlfriend?”

You were taken aback for a second, “well, uh, to be honest, I kinda thought I already was…” you giggled.

He laughed at you gently, “well alright then, girlfriend…” he trailed off with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Okay, boyfriend.”

TUESDAY

Flash forward and you’re making plans for this weekend seeing as you're both off from filming.

“Yeah, so they’re showing Outsiders at the drive-in on Friday, and we’d have to go to the later showing after I finish filming, but uh, I thought it would be fun and something different for us and I know you love the movie. Might be fun to dress like Greasers too,” he proposed through the phone, calling you between scenes.

“Ooh that does sound like fun, but I wanna be Cherry,” you said, giggling a bit.

“Okay, you can be Cherry, I’ll be Ponyboy,” he finalized.

“Sounds good, well I gotta go,” you said, “duty calls.”

“Yeah, me too, but uh, one more thing real fast?”

“Sure, what’s up, babe?”

“Well seeing as it’s going to be really late, I just thought maybe after it’s over, you could maybe stay with me?” his voice tweaked up at the end. He was met with silence on your end for a minute before he added, “ya know, like a sleepover…”

“Uh, yeah, maybe…” you trailed off, “we’ll see what the wind blows, huh?”

“Oh,” he said, his voice dropping a bit, “yeah sounds good.”

“Okay, well I really do have to run.”

“Alright, darling, talk to you tonight.”

“Bye,” you said, already walking out of your trailer and back to set.

“Yeah, bye,” he answered to himself, seeing as you’d already ended the call.

You had never been nervous with him before, but now he’d casually invited you to stay over at his house for the night, something you’d never done with any boyfriend, ever. You didn’t know how to act, and it kinda freaked you out.

Was he expecting anything? What would you even wear? Should you bring a change of clothes? Would late night last into early morning? What if you woke up before him and didn’t know what to do in his house? What if he woke up first and you slept in really late, leaving him bored and trapped?

Questions swirled your mind, and you knew he would bring it up again, but you had to force them away. You hustled back to set, getting into character and trying to forget about everything.

He called you later that night, “wanna grab a bite with Harry and I?” he proposed.

“Uh sure,” you thought since Harry would be there, he wasn’t likely to bring it up again.

You met him just down the street from his house at the forgotten diner you frequented, never being recognized and getting some peace together. You grabbed burgers and chatted about your day as you ate and everything seemed fine. He didn’t bring it up again, and you thought you would have another few days to process everything and hopefully get over the hurdles in your mind. You wanted to stay with him, but you didn’t know how that would play out, exactly.

“Finished?” he asked, gesturing to your empty tray as he stood up.

“Yeah, thanks,” you smiled, and he cleaned up the table and took the trash to the can.

“I’m gonna walk back, if that’s okay,” Harry said, standing from the table, “got some photos I wanna edit.”

“Sure, bro, I’ll be right behind you,” Tom answered, coming back to you.

“Bye,” you waved as he left you and Tom alone.

“Walk you to your car?” Tom offered.

You stood up, turning around to thank the workers as the two of you left the diner. He walked you to your car, one hand secured around your shoulders, hugging you tight to his side.

“So, uh, I kinda got the sense that you didn’t want to stay with me earlier,” he said slowly, testing the waters to see how you would react.

You swallowed hard, turning to lean on the door of your car, “oh,” you whispered, “well uh, it’s not that, it’s just that I don’t - I’ve never really, uh, done that before.”

“Yeah I know we haven’t, love,” he chuckled.

“I mean, like ever,” you whispered, looking at the ground, “I just uh, don’t really know how that works.”

“Oh, well, uh, it’s not that hard really,” he soothed, “you just sorta sleep at my place, and I take care of you, and make you breakfast, and we just be together.”

You looked into his chocolate eyes, nothing but love pouring out of them. You don’t know how long you held his gaze for, but he started to get a little nervous at your lack of response.

“I mean, we’ve napped together before, it’s kinda like the same thing, just longer,” he added, trying to put you at ease.

“But like, what’s gonna happen?” you said, fiddling with your hands.

He understood what your emphasis meant, bringing a hand to your shoulder and rubbing it gently, “I’m not expecting anything, love,” he soothed you, “if it happens, fine, I’m ready for that. If you’re not that’s fine too, just wanna cuddle with you. Feel you pressed against me. Have my sheets smell like you when I get in ‘em the next night.”

You felt more at ease about it, but wrinkled your nose at his last statement.

His eyes grew wide, “no no no,” he hurried out, “I didn’t mean it, like, in a weird way! It came out wrong!”

You giggled at him, “it’s okay, bub, I get it. Why do you think I like wearing your hoodies all the time?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, chuckling at you, “yeah?”

“Yeah, and to be honest I don’t really even like hoodies. I’m a sweatshirt kind of gal.”

“Noted,” he answered, saving that info for later, “so what d’ya think about Friday?”

“I’ll stay, but like, do I bring anything?”

“You can bring whatever makes you comfortable, love,” he answered quietly, stepping towards you and cupping your face in his hands.

“Okay,” you breathed, connecting your lips to his.

You kissed for a while, his body pressing yours into the door. You pulled back to take a breath, resting your forehead on his, “but really, do I bring like, a toothbrush and stuff?”

“Yes, love, bring a toothbrush,” he chuckled, pecking you again. He swung his arm around your shoulder again, pulling you off the car, “let’s get you home, yeah?”

He opened your door, letting you inside the driver’s seat and closing the door. You started the car, him still standing there watching you. You rolled down the window, “are you coming or what?” you laughed.

“What?” he asked with a chuckle.

“I’m taking you home, obviously,” you giggled.

He ran around to the other side, hopping in quickly and buckling up. His hand rested against your thigh instantly, stroking his thumb across your skin.

You made the short drive to his house, lights on downstairs showing that Harry was already there.

“Thanks for the ride, baby,” Tom said, leaning over the console and giving you a quick peck.

“Anytime,” you whispered, pecking him again.

“See you Friday,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows, squeezing your thigh.

“Yeah, Friday,” you answered quickly.

He pecked you one last time before slipping out of the car and jogging to the front door. You watched him go inside, waving to each other before you drove off.

THURSDAY

After you were off, you took a long shower, exfoliating everything and shaving your legs, in preparation for tomorrow night. You carefully packed your bag: toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, mouthwash, hair brush, extra ponytail holders, face wash, cute pajamas, fuzzy socks, extra undies (more than you’ll ever possibly need but can’t be too prepared, right?), a cute outfit for Saturday, and a book (because who knows what the tide will bring?).

You’d spent so long worrying about what you would take with you, that you’d forgotten that you had to find something to wear to the movie. You’d already agreed to be Cherry, so you had to come up with something.

You slipped to the back of your closet, finding an old-plaid-navy-school-uniform skirt. That’ll work. You pulled out a plain white sweater that you’d never found a chance to wear, thinking you could tuck that in, and a lace bralette to go underneath it; after all, you wanted to feel a little sexy. You pulled forward some old blue Vans and some white crew socks, planning to fold them over. You also planned to ask your hair and make-up artist to help you with your hair before you left set tomorrow, saving a few pictures for her.

By the time you’d done all that, you figured you better go to bed, turning off the light, crawling into bed, and thinking about what tomorrow would bring.

FRIDAY

You’d had a long and stressful day filming, stuttering over your lines, missing your marks, and overall just not giving your best performance. Everyone has their off days, but you knew this was coming from your worries about tonight.

You called Tom as you were getting your hair done after wrapping for the day.

“Hi, bub, am I interrupting you?” you asked as soon as he answered.

“Never, love,” he answered, “what’s up?”

“Well, I’m getting my hair done for tonight, then I was going to head home. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t want me to stop and get anything at all or bring anything specific with me..”

“Course not, darling. You just have to bring that pretty face…” he trailed off.

If you were with him, you’d have slapped his shoulder lightly. Instead you just giggled, asking, “you’re positive?”

“Yes darling,” he insisted, “I’ll pick you up at 9:00.”

“Alright…” you trailed, “guess I better let you get back to work.”

“I’ll see you later, beautiful,” he whispered, “bye.”

“Bye.”

Your hair and make-up artist finished her work, expertly recreating your example images. You thanked her profusely, complimenting her over and over.

She answered with a simple, “it’s nothing dear,” and a wave of her hand.

You hugged her thank you, heading back to your trailer to collect your things.

By the time you got back to your apartment, it was already 8:30. You quickly dropped your work and other set junk on the table, scurrying to your room to collect your bag for Tom’s. You checked over everything in there, playing all the possible scenarios in your mind before deciding you were prepared.

You changed into your outfit for the night, lacing your shoes and admiring yourself in the full length mirror. You snapped a few pictures, deciding that one was cute and posted it to your Instagram story with the caption, “where’s my Pony?” and a cherry emoji.

As soon as you put it up, Tom knocked on your door. You rushed through the living room to the front door, flinging it open to see what Tom had concocted for the evening. You took in his appearance, mouth watering at the sight. You admired his slicked back hair, tight grey t-shirt, sleeves rolled up a bit of course, loose jeans, cuffed at the hem, beat up black converse, and red flannel hanging over his shoulder; you didn’t realize the effect this dress-up would have on you. You giggled, eyeing him up and down as he did the same to you.

“Hey, doll,” he grinned, meeting your eyes again.

“Hey, Pony,” you laughed.

“Ready to go?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, let me just get my bag from my room,” you said, turning back to grab it from your bed.

At the last second you decided to throw a box of tampons in. You weren’t expecting to use them, but you didn’t want to get stranded without them. You sighed, zipping up the bag and turning off your bedroom light.

You emerged from the room, walking towards Tom, standing by the table.

“Ready,” you said, voice kind of quiet.

“Let’s go then,” he smiled brightly, taking your bag from you and grabbing your hand. You locked the door behind you before following him to his car.

~~~~

When you parked to watch the movie, Tom was quick to pull out his phone, snapping a picture of the title screen and posting it to his public story. You knew fans would be in a tizzy, considering your earlier post, but they always were so what’s the point in worrying. Then he turned to you, “take a photo with me, love?”

“Course, Pony, anything for you,” you said dramatically, even though you loved it.

“Are you gonna call me that all night?” he chuckled.

“Maybe forever,” you answered, laughing loudly.

He pulled his phone up to take a selfie. You smiled wide, pressing your faces together, and he turned to peck your cheek. He snapped another, smiling as well, saving it and setting it as his lock screen.

The movie was great, as expected, and the drive-in atmosphere made it even more fun. You didn’t have to worry about fans interrupting you, a big plus, but it also just fit the movie so well, and it was fun to be in costume.

When it wrapped up and you were waiting in the traffic to pull out of the lot, Tom asked gently, “still wanna come over?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said, trying not to overthink things.

“Okay, just making sure. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just want you to be comfortable,” he said, dropping a hand to your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, well I wanna give it a go,” you said with a small smile, placing your hand on top of his.

He smiled wide, picking up your hand to give it a kiss, before dropping it back into your lap.

The drive to his house was quick after you finally made it out of the parking lot. He hurried around the car, opening your door for you, before grabbing your bag from the backseat.

He placed a hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to the front door. He shuffled around to unlock it, pushing open the door and allowing you to enter first. You stepped inside, making note of Harry on the couch. It was almost 1:00 AM, so you’d assumed he'd be asleep.

“Oh, hey Harry,” you spoke lightly.

“Hey, was wondering when you’d get here…” he trailed off, “I was just about to turn in. Outfit’s great by the way,” he said, standing from the couch and gathering his laptop.

“I don’t mean to chase you out,” you said, not wanting to be in the way.

“No, no, you didn’t,” he soothed, “it’s time to turn in anyway, gonna go golf in the morning.”

“Oh, okay, goodnight.”

“Night,” he said, trudging down the hall.

Tom had set your bag on the bench in the entryway, coming up behind you. He placed his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against his front, as he snuggled his face into your neck.

“Hi,” he whispered in your hair.

“Hi,” you giggled back, attempting to turn in his grasp.

His hands held you in place, wrapping around to cross over your stomach. He rested his weight against you, slowly swaying the both of you back and forth.

You eyed the mirror across the room, desperate to take pictures like this. After all, he got a new lockscreen earlier…

“Bub,” you giggled, feeling his breath fan across your neck.

“Mmm, yes, my love?” he grumbled, pressing kisses against your skin.

“I wanna take a picture,” you giggled, “over in that cool mirror.”

He squeezed you tighter for a second, before releasing you, “mmkay,” he answered, letting you lead him over to the mirror.

“Do that again,” you told him, guiding his arms around your waist.

He was quick to settle back into you, breathing in your scent as you snapped a few photos in the mirror: a few of him kissing your neck, a few with you both looking in the mirror, a few of him looking at you, lovingly. He buried his face even further into you, hiding completely, as you took just one more. You asked him if it was okay to post one.

“Let me see it first,” he said, wanting to check all of the surroundings for spoilers and whatnot.

He was quick to approve the photo with his lips pressed to your jaw, making you smile.

You put it up on your story, captioning this one, “found him,” with the horse and cherry emojis.

He kissed your neck a few times, watching you post, before mumbling, “ready for bed?”

You yawned slowly, “yeah, I think so.”

“Alright,” he whispered, pecking your cheek one final time.

He slid one hand down your arm, locking your fingers together, and pulling you towards the staircase. He picked up your bag, carrying it with him up to his bedroom. You followed him in and he set your bag on the end of the bed.

“Alright, darling,” he said, rubbing his hands together gently, “make yourself at home.”

“Okay,” you giggled, stepping towards the end of the bed gently.

He’d placed your bag in the middle, next to a sweatshirt. You looked at him, making note of its presence.

“Oh, well, uh, you said you didn’t like hoodies, so I uh, pulled this one out for you, ya know, if you want it,” he said, shuffling his feet.

All you could do was smile, You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. You kissed him gently, lingering for just a second.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

You turned towards the bed, stepping back from him.

“So what’d you bring?” he asked, one hand finding the zipper of your bag as he tried to get a peek inside. You were quick to stop his hands, not wanting him to see the box of tampons thrown on top.

“Things,” you said giggling, “teeth stuff, hair stuff, clothes, a book…” you trailed off.

“A book?” he laughed lightly, “what book?”

“Looking for Alaska,” you answered, “it’s my comfort book.”

“Well, you’ll have to read it to me,” he said with a glint in his eye.

“Okay,” you whispered with a sheepish smile.

“I’m gonna pop in the bathroom real quick, alright?”

“Of course, it’s your house,” you laughed.

In his absence, you changed clothes, dragging on your tiny sleep shorts and matching tank top and pulling his sweatshirt over the top. You moved your bag off the mattress, dropping it on the floor. He came back quickly, seeing your new outfit, and smiling widely.

“Looks good on you,” he grinned.

“Thanks,” you said, “can I take my makeup off?”

“Course,” he answered, gesturing to the bathroom.

While you did that, he changed as well, dressing in a new t-shirt and clean boxers; he didn’t want to get in bed with you for the first time in dirty boxers of course. He shuffled under the covers, tucking into his usual side and propping against the headboard. He scrolled through Instagram, reposting your stories to his own and liking a few posts of yours.

You returned, dropping your items back in your bag, and grabbing your book. You flipped off the overhead light and stepped into the other side, enjoying how utterly domestic everything felt.

He flipped on the lamp on the side table, opening his arm for you to rest against him. You settled against his chest, opening your book to start to read to him. He kissed your head and rubbed small circles into your arm.

Your eyes were getting heavy as you read, but you would gladly stay up all night reading with him. Unfortunately, he started to doze off, snoring just enough for you to hear. You closed the book, marking your page but knowing you’d have to go back a little bit tomorrow, and reached over to turn the light off.

He woke up a bit, grumbling, “what’re you doing, love?”

“Just turning off the light,” you whispered, “go back to sleep.”

He sank down to lay against the pillows. You dropped back over to your side, curling up, but leaving some distance between you two. You faced him, admiring his face as he slept.

“What’re you doing?” he grumbled, eyes still closed.

“What do you mean?” you giggled, “going to sleep.”

“No, c’mere,” he said, reaching an arm out to wrap around your waist.

He pulled you into him, tangling your legs together and pecking your cheeks. You giggled at him, pulling his lips to yours, kissing him goodnight.

“G’night, my love,” he grumbled, tipping his head back to rest his chin against your forehead.

“Night, Pony,” you whispered back.

He chuckled, squeezing you tighter before you both drifted off to sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x female reader #tom holland x fem reader #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland sleepover #violetwrites

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cursestothemoon · 3 years

Note

hi, hope you're doing alright

could you do something with wolfstar x reader where she uses the safe word?

i love your writing btw

Our Good Girl

S.O.B. X FEM!READER X R.J.L.

polyamorous relationship

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

warnings: smut, vaginal penetration, oral (male and female receiving), degradation, humiliation, choking, spanking, USE OF SAFE WORD, dom!Sirius(maybe kinda switch!) and Dom!Remus/sub!reader, daddy kink because why not, spitting, UNEDITED (im sorry✋🏻)

Your quill tapped ceaselessly on the black walnut wood of the desks that filled Slughorn’s classroom. Sirius sat next to you, your partner since the beginning of the year and your boyfriend for a year and a half, had a firm grip on your upper thigh. His breathing was shallow and back incredibly straight as he sat in his seat without sparing you as much as a glance. You had made him mad, at least you assume you had, he came into class with a look of dominance and you knew better than to question him when he was like that. A short ‘You are to follow me after class’ was the only thing he had uttered to you since the start of the lesson, nearly an hour ago.

“Alright everyone, you are to turn in your essays, no shorter than one and a half scrolls, by...let’s say Monday. Use the extra time wisely.” Slughorn dismissed the class after his reminding of the homework.

Sirius was quick to slip his hand into your own, grabbing both your book bags and throwing them over his shoulder as he ushered you out of the classroom.

“Remus and I have agreed you are to be punished, Moony’s probably already waiting for us in the dorm.”

You bit the corner of your lip before speaking up, “But I haven’t done anything bad.”

Sirius smirked as he stopped walking, turning to you with a glint in his eye, “Does Daddy need a reason to make sure his brat knows her place?”

The rasp in his low voice, his thumb tracing your cheekbone so lovingly juxtaposing the harsh, teasing tone of his words made arousal pool in your panties.

“No, Daddy.” You mumbled, slipping your hand back into his as he started walking again.

Without turning to look at you Sirius smiled, “Good girl.”

The rest of the way to the boys’ dorm was silent, Sirius just a few steps ahead of you at all times with his hand tugging yours just slightly. The door, a worn light wood, of the familiar dorm was being pushed open to reveal Remus sitting on his bed, belt in hand. His eyes turned toward you and Sirius as you entered the room, a stern look falling onto you.

“What did she do?” The question was directed to Sirius but his eyes trained on you.

Sirius shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant as he removed his tie, “Nothing, just think she needs some reminding.”

His mind was else where as he spoke making you silently wonder, had you done something?

Remus seemed to ask himself the same question as his brow furrowed slightly in your direction when Sirius wasn’t paying attention. You bit your lip again and averted your gaze to the floor making Remus stand and approach you.

His thumb came up to pull your lip from between your teeth, “Good bunny’s don’t shred their lips, you know Daddy doesn’t like it when you do that.”

You nodded, meeting his honey touched eyes as you spoke, “M’sorry, Daddy.”

“M’sorry, Daddy.” Sirius mocked, coming up to the two of you.

He placed a longing kiss on Remus’ lips, knowing the lack of attention would have you whining. He was right, breathy whines were leaving your parted lips in no time as you watched your boyfriends slip into a passionate kiss while you were left to watch. You were tempted to reach your hand down and relieve the aching of your throbbing clit with your own fingers, give Sirius an actual reason to punish you, but he seemed rather testy already.

“Is puppy getting needy all by her lonesome?” Sirius asked teasingly after he pulled away from Remus’ lips.

You gave a feeble nod as your hands fiddled with each other.

The raven haired boy sighed, as if this was talking a toll on him, “Alright, clothes off and over my knee.”

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking Remus’ belt that had been left there by the lycanthrope mere minutes ago. Sirius ran the leather across his palm, it was still warm from being wrapped around one of his lovers’ hips.

Again, Sirius seemed to lose himself in the act, his jaw tense and knee bouncing making you strip faster. Something was bothering him, and suddenly the impromptu punishment was making more sense. You were always eager to help him blow off some steam, so you made sure to be the good girl you knew you were, his and Remy’s good girl.

You draped yourself over Sirius’ lap elegantly, the mere thought of helping him through his frustrations had you clenching your thighs. You were always eager to help your daddies.

Remus was making quick work of ridding himself of his trousers and briefs. He was semi-hard already, jerking himself off as he walked closer you and Sirius.

“Open up, puppy.” Remus instructed as he tapped the tip 0f hi cock on your lips.

He pushed past your parted lips, the warmth of your mouth making him let out a breath that turned into a low hum as you started to suck on his spongey head. Remus’ thrusts into your mouth were slow and hard, his hand petting your head gently- his dominance was something he embodied, and rarely ever had to prove.

“You aren't to stop sucking Moony.” Sirius warned as he ran a hand across your ass, landing a soft smack just to see the skin ripple deliciously.

You barely had any time to prepare yourself before you felt the harsh lick of the leather belt on the sensitive skin of your backside. His blows were quick- if he had asked you to count you would’ve struggled- and precise. The first few had an erotic sting to them, making you moan around Remus’ prick in your mouth, but as the belt returned to your skin it got firmer, the pain soon overtaking the pleasure. Sirius lost himself in the action, his mind seemingly glazing over the fact that you were on the receiving end of his brutal whips. His jaw was tensing again and Remus had half a mind to pull you away from him because this had to be painful, but you knew your safe word- if it was too much you’d tap his thigh three times and say your safe word- you showed no signs of displeasure so he went along with it.

In your impending submissive haze, pleasing Sirius was the main focus on your mind and the pain was a small price to pay for your Daddy to not be mad anymore. You lost your rhythm as you tried your best to bob your head along Remus, his cock triggering your gag reflex now making you audibly choke.

With perfect timing, Remus pulled you off himself as Sirius gave the last few blows to your backside. You were then shoved onto the bed harshly by the raven haired Gryffindor, the sheets rubbing against the raw skin of your ass making you wince quietly.

Remus, in an attempt to balance the pain and pleasure , knelt down in front of your bare cunt. He started to rub slow circles with his thumb on your throbbing clit.

“Our good girl is absolutely drenched Pads, here have a taste.” He offered, fingers dipping down to run up your slit and collect your juices before holding his hand up for Sirius.

Sirius wasted in time in wrapping his lips around the waiting digits, cleaning them of your arousal. The sight made you squirm, it was beyond intimate and had your walls clenching. With a pop, Remus removed his fingers from Sirius mouth and placed them back on your needy pussy. The two fingers running up and down your folds before entering your tight hole, his lips attaching to your clit with wanton fervor.

You knew your rules, Remus made sure of it, so your hands stayed by your sides resisting the urge to card through and pull the warm chocolate strands of his hair. Breathy moans were emitted from your lips at first, before they grew louder and stronger that had Sirius casting a silencing charm on the room. He then busied himself with stripping himself of his remaining clothes before situating himself near your torso, his hand coming up to tug and tweak your pert nipples, pulling more and more moans out of you.

Remus fingers sped up as did his tongue bringing you closer to the edge, your hips and thighs trembling letting both boys know you were close.

“Hold it you fucking brat. If you cum, you’re cuming around my cock.” Sirius spat, delivering a harsh slap to your sensitive nipple.

The request made you whine but you did as you were told, you wanted to make your Daddy happy. Remus continued his torment, lapping at your cunt knowing you’d never be allowed to finish like this. He gave a few more broad licks before pulling away making you cry out and pulling Sirius closer by the back of his neck and connecting their lips. The kiss was short and messy, Remus pulling away to land a smack to his boyfriend’s face before forcing his jaw open and spitting onto his tongue. The taste was intoxicating, both you and Remus intermingled beautifully- Sirius wanted nothing more than to swallow it, so he did.

The lycanthrope moved aside so Sirius could have his way with you. The aforementioned was grabbing his tie, and turning you over onto your belly so he could have access to your wrists. Remus moved to sit in front of you on the bed, his legs spread in a straddle and his painfully hard prick nearly touching your face. He slowly jerked himself off as Sirius knotted his tie around your wrists skillfully- the harder he tugged the tighter they got.

Your hips were then pulled up, your back arched, and face shoved into the sheets before Sirius pulled you up by the restraints on your wrists. The counterweight of your body on the restraints had it impossibly tight, making the tips of your fingers go cold from the loss of circulation. Without time for adjustment, Sirius was pounding into from behind and Remus fisting himself to match pace with the boy’s thrusts.

The first few thrusts were enjoyable, the head of his cock hitting the spot inside you that you seeing stars instantly, and the sight of precum leaking from the appetizing sight of Remus Lupin’s dick right in front of you. But the soon the painful grinding of your wrists along with the loss of circulation in your fingers and painful slapping of Sirius’ skin against the red, raw skin of your backside had tears welling in your eyes- any pleasure was gone.

Remus seemed to notice your change in mood, his hand slowing on his shaft as his eyebrows knit together softly- something wasn’t right.

Sirius had lost himself again, jaw clenched, eyes trained somewhere else in the room which was unusual in itself- Sirius was always present during sex.

Before Remus could say anything, it was your heartbreaking cry that cut him off.

“Red! Red! Please, stop!”

Your mind straddled the dangerous fog of subspace and...something else. You felt vulnerable, embarrassed, and afraid you had disappointed your daddies.

Remus was quick to reach over and pull your wrists from Sirius’ grasp, untying his reed and gold tie, before pulling you into his lap as your sobs grew heavier. Sirius seemed to freeze, the safe word being called out with such a pleading and desperate tone had snapped him back to reality in lightning speed.

“Shh, it’s all ok, love, y’wanna tell Remy and Siri what happened?” Remus cooed, voice gentle as you hid your face in his neck to find some sort of shelter.

You sniffled, “Jus’ hurt a lot, didn’t feel nice.”

His hand came up to brush your hair away from your face, “Can you tell us what didn’t feel nice, so we know not to do it again?”

“Spankings were too hard, when Siri’s skin was touching mine it hurt, an-and the ties were too tight, m’finger were getting cold...” You words came out slow and mumbled, every few broken by a hiccup or sniffle.

“Oh, puppy...”

You recognized the voice as Sirius’ making you turn to look at him. The tears freely flowing down his cheeks made a fresh wall of your own tears build and you started to blubber again.

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean to be bad, promise.” You cried as Sirius slowly climbed up onto the bed, his movements slow and cautious.

He was worried you’d hate him, that you’d never look at him the same. Sirius hated himself for not recognizing your boundaries and for taking his anger out on you in such a way.

The way you were apologizing, as if you were at fault, pulled at his heartstrings more as he pulled you into his chest. You gladly wrapped yourself around his body, his arms encircling you. Remus looked up, into Sirius’ eyes, and could see the guilt that was eating him alive, it was eating at Remus too.

“You did nothing wrong, love. I’m so proud of you for using your safe word when it didn't feel nice, and I’m so sorry, I made you feel like that, baby.”

You felt Remus place his hand on your back, scooting in to wrap his arms around both of you, “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you weren’t enjoying it, darling.”

It was after a few beats with your head in Sirius’ neck, and your hand holding one of Remus’ thumbs that you spoke up again.

“S’not your fault, it’s ok.”

Sirius shook his head, “No, I was in a foul mood because of a run in with Snivellus, and I tried to use you to work through my anger, as if you weren’t a good girl, my good puppy. Forgive me, Y/n.”

“I forgive you, Siri.” You placed a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw before leaning over to pull Remus into a kiss.

After breaking away Remus suggested, “How about we get some clothes on, and cuddle. Our good girl needs a nap, yeah?”

You feebly nodded making Remus stand up and bring over a shirt of Sirius’ to pull over your head and a pair of his own boxers for you to wear. Sirius helped you into the boxers, folding the waistband so they clung onto your hips better, before getting up himself to put his own underwear on- his hard-on being an issue of the past seeing as the self hatred that plagued him seeing your state did absolutely nothing to arouse him. Remus also pulled on his own pair of plaid boxers.

Soon you three were all laying in Remus’ bed, you sandwiched in the middle of your two boyfriends. Remus had an arm reached around you and Sirius, rubbing soft circles on the boy’s shoulder blade. Sirius had his hand resting on the side of your face- you were turned toward him- his fingers running along the skin as you were slipping into a peaceful sleep. The last thing you could remember was Remus pressing a loving kiss onto the crown of your head and your thumb running across the soft skin of his exposed hip behind you.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinblack003

@maybesandohnos

@edithsvoice

@msmb

@maybesandohnos

#Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #wolfstar x reader #sirius black imagine #remus lupin imagine #wolfstar smut #sirius black smut #remus lupin smut

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twjournals · 3 years

Text

So Wrong It's Right

Sequel: What's Wrong is Right

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, DUB-CON, manipulation, age gap, drinking

PLEASE READ MY WARNING BEFORE CONTINUING. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Any and all negativity will be blocked.

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You're an old troubled friend of May's. Your life consists of being a workaholic, a party animal, and bringing home the shittest of guys for a one-hit-wonder. Just when you get your life in order, you're knocked right back into your old habits. Peter has watched you suffer long enough. He can make it all better.

Your life was far from where you thought you would be. It was sad to say, but you were anything but a role model. Yet May still tolerated you, regardless of Peter. Maybe she used you as an example to show Peter what not to be or maybe she was just too good of a friend to leave you on your own. To say the least, your life was a mess but you could not be more grateful to have a friend like May.

"Peter, go get me a wet rag, please," May spoke quietly. Peter left your side once he helped May get you over to the couch. You were beyond the limits that someone should be drunk.

You were in a fit of hiccups, giggling to yourself as May bent down to take off your heels. You had far too many drinks, that much was clear.

"Maaay, you.." you hiccupped, "are suuuch a good.." you hiccupped again, "friend."

May shook her head with a sigh, taking in the drunken sight of you. She was not sure how you managed to let yourself get this far gone, but every time you would drink, this is how you ended up. Either you had zero limits or you loved to push the limits you did have.

"Pet-" May started to call over her shoulder, but Peter was already hurrying in the room with his hands full.

"I'm here, Aunt May." Peter reminded and she watched as Peter sat the trash can nearby the couch. He then placed the bottle of water on the table with some medicine for the headache he knew would come with your awake in the morning. He kneeled down beside you on the couch, pressing the rag to your forehead.

May only smiled to herself as she pulled the blanket from its spot on the back of the couch and pulled it over your figure. She didn't say anymore. Peter had seen his Aunt May take care of you many nights when you were so shit-faced it was a wonder you could still see faces.

Your head was propped up against a pillow on the couch as Peter wiped your forehead with the cool rag. Your skin was burning up. Peter could not help but wonder how you let yourself get like this. You were quite a few years younger than May, but it amazed him how different the two of you were to be the best of friends.

You were fast asleep in no time, making Peter smile as his eyes gazed over your face. He had always thought you were so beautiful. Too precious to be taken advantage of by the guys you went after. He witnessed many nights when you had told Aunt May about a new guy you had hooked up with. Everyone knew it was nothing more than a one-night stand, but Peter could not help but hate any guys that touched you only for only their benefit.

It was not until you had eventually settled down with a guy you had met from one of your nightstands that you finally stopped ending up on May's couch. You had moved on with your life, still keeping in contact with May every now and then. You were happy. Not just the sex but he was truly seemed like a guy you could see yourself spending forever with.

You had stopped drinking. You had stopped going out to parties. After the first year, you had moved into the city and got an apartment together. Another year later, you guys were engaged and everything seemed to fall into place. After 3 years, the wedding was right around the corner.

Your world moved at a quicker pace now considering all the things you needed to get done before the wedding. In between work and house chores, you were planning for your big day.

As time went by, you were so wrapped up in your own little world you did not notice the slow-burning flame in your partner slowly being put out. While your plans had been coming together, your relationship was falling apart. You had for the most part ignored all the signs and assumed he was having a bad day. It amazed you how many he was having. When you would try to talk to him, it seemed useless since you could never get him to talk about it. In reality, it all brewed into something bigger. It all hit you like a ton of bricks.

You had been working later hours than usual for extra money. It wasn't cheap, but you had told yourself it was okay to want the things you wanted. After all, this was going to be your first and hopefully wedding. You wanted everything to be perfect. You even tried to get opinions from your fiance to include his vision of it, but he insisted you were better at this sort of thing. You couldn't argue with that.

You wrapped up your work at the office fairly early so you decided to call it a night and surprise your fiance. You felt like everything was on track. One night worry-free was much needed. You had earned it.

You pushed open the front door to your apartment before walking through the living room into the kitchen. You sit your keys on the counter, placing your bag on the stool by the counter. You peered around the apartment for a moment. All the lights were off and it was quiet. Had he already gone to bed? You checked the time.

7:13pm

You were surprised you did not hear his game or at least him yelling at it. You started down the hallway to the bedroom you shared, staring at the closed door. Why was it closed when it was just him? You shook the thought a little too soon. Maybe if you had just thought a little longer, you would have prepared yourself for what was on the other side.

You pushed the door open just a little to see inside when you heard a faint moan from the other side. Your heart stopped. You stood in shock taking in the sight of the man you were in love with hovered over another girl in your bed under your covers. Your face was hot in embarrassment, anger. You were feeling so many things right now you could not think straight. You were hurt.

"Are you serious??" You blurted out, causing them both to jump to try and cover themselves.

"You're sick, Chris." She shoved his chest, pushing him off of her as she quickly got out of the bed. "He told me you guys were no longer together."

She scowled as she hurried to gather her clothes off the floor and pulling them on. If it were even possible, your eyes could have burned holes through the girl. You were in disbelief. Your jaw would have already been on the floor if it wasn't connected to your face.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled, embarrassed as she hurried past you out of your apartment.

You were left to deal with Chris. You starred at him with tears kissing your eyes.

"I-"

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. "Don't."

"I can explain." He started to get out of the bed to dress.

"There's nothing to explain, Chris." You stared at him, trying to restrain yourself from coming across the room and punching him in the face for acting like an explanation could even justify his actions.

"She meant nothing to me." He started to walk over to you.

“You told her we weren’t together. How is that nothing?”

“It felt like we weren’t. You were so busy.” He tried to touch your arm but you shoved his hand away.

"Don't you dare think about touching me when you were just touching another woman." You looked at him with dark eyes, struggling to fight back the cry. He wasn't worth your tears. "I want you to get out."

"Get out?! Where am I gonna go?"

"I don't know." You shrugged your shoulders. "Maybe you could have thought that through."

He frowned, running his fingers through his hair frustrated. "It doesn't have to be like this. Can't we just talk this out?"

"No!" You shouted at him, making his eyes grow wide. You could tell he wasn't telling this as seriously as you. "I don't want to look at you right now." You turn to leave the room, but he grabs your arms to turn you to face him.

"Please. Look, I can- I can stay on the couch tonight. I'll give you your space and when you're ready we can talk about it. I was wrong for that. I fucked up and I'm sorry." You yanked yourself from his hold.

"You can give me space by leaving. Pack yourself a bag and go."

"I love you, Y/n. I never meant to hurt you."

You shook your head as your eyes wandered over the bed to where they once were before meeting his eyes. "You mean you never meant to get caught."

He sighed before hanging his head in defeat and walking by you to gather up some of his things. You didn't move from your spot. Only stared at the mess of a bed. The place you made love to him while he made love to another. You listened to the front door close behind him on his way out before you finally covered your face, letting the tears fall.

For days, weeks, all you could seem to do was feel sorry for yourself. You couldn't find the strength to get out of bed. No matter how many calls you received, you let them ring through to voicemail. Everything you had felt for him was in ruins. You changed for him. You let yourself grow for him and even that wasn't enough. After all the time you spent picking up after him, cooking, cleaning, planning, staying loyal for crying out loud. You didn't know what else he could of you.

You had called off the wedding in the time you stayed closed up in your apartment. Even took some time off of work to handle it all. You took that time to gather every piece of him scattered around the apartment and packed it up. You wanted to end this as painless as possible aside from the pain you were already feeling. You had thrown away the sheets and replaced them, even get a new comforter and it still didn't feel the same anymore to lay in your bed. You stared at your phone beside you as it lit up for what felt like the hundredth time. You finally sighed, lifting the phone. You knew without even looking at the name it was from him.

You canceled the wedding? It doesn't have to be like this. I still love you, Y/n. You were so busy with work and all the planning. You abandon me. Whenever I wanted your attention, you were always too tired to pay any attention to me.

It's like the girl I fell in love with was gone. Some time ago, you couldn’t keep your hands off of me now it’s like I have to beg you to touch me.

You're being selfish.

You can't be THAT mad, Y/n. I’m a man. I have needs. You were busy and she was willing to help. We can fix this. Don’t give up 3 years. Don’t give up on me.

There were loads more, but you could not care to bother reading the rest. You tossed your phone back down on the bed, rubbing your hands over your face. You didn't owe him anything, not even a response. The girl he was talking about was not gone. She was only on hold to plan a wedding by herself and it was more stressful than he knew. You wanted to forget everything that had happened. You wanted to forget you wasted 3 years of your life planning on growing old with this man.

You weren't sure how you had got this far and with that being said, May wasn't either. You had talked May into joining you to a night out at a club. She needed a night to herself and you needed a break from everything. Along with that, if you had stayed inside that house a moment longer, you might have gone insane.

"You're going to be hammered if you keep on like that." May reminded with a laugh, both of you clinging onto the bar and each other for the extra support. You thanked the bartender as he pushed your last round of shot glasses in front of the two of you.

You smiled, passing a glass to May before keeping one for yourself.

"We can only hope." You winked at the bartender who only chuckled before clinking your shot glass with hers and downing your shot.

Your throat was already numb from all the alcohol you had already numbed it with. May wasn't far behind you. You took your final shot, grinning and pulling May along with you to the dancefloor to get lost in the sea of people. You threw your arms around May's, moving your hips as you both danced to the music.

This was the therapy you needed. Sometimes you had longed for nights like this. You had freedom. You had no worries, aside from worrying who you might wake up beside. But you had fallen in love and even though you had grown up, you had not nearly grown out of this lifestyle. It was all too familiar.

"Hey! I'm going to the bathroom! I'll be back!" May moved closer to you, raising her voice to be heard over the loud music. You nodded, watching her pushing her way through the crowd of people to get to the ladies' bathroom before easing yourself back into your dancing.

You swayed, grinding your hips with the rest of the crowd. You weren't the slightest bit bothered to be dancing by yourself. You used to lose yourself on the dancefloor for hours days after days years ago.

"I've missed this." You heard a familiar voice speak from behind you, startling you when their hands landed on your hips with your sway. They pulled you back against them, catching you off guard. "I've missed you." He mumbled in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You peaked over your shoulder to make sure your mind was not playing tricks on you. It wasn't. You prayed it was an old one-night stand, but of course, it was the one person you were trying to get away from.

"It doesn't work like that, Chris." You dropped your hands down to his on your hips, trying to push them off your hips but they only hold you tighter. "Get- get off of me." You gritted through your teeth as your eyes glared at him. "Get off!" You raised your voice.

"Now, now, let's not cause a scene. You've had quite a bit to drink haven't you?" He wrapped your arms around your figure, making your blood run cold as his body pressed to yours.

"That's none of your business."

"I'm your fiance. You are my business."

"Ex." You corrected him. His nose flared slightly.

"You really want to go there? You're nothing without me. You're shit-faced in the middle of the club and you can't even accept my help?" He growled and you pushed on his arms.

"I don't need your help."

"You're drunk. You don't know what you need." He spat.

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted your argument. "I think I've got it from here." You looked up to put a face to the voice, your eyes widening slightly.

"And you are?" Chris didn't budge while staring down Peter as if challenging him.

Peter was reaching his hand out for yours. "Her boyfriend." You stared up at Peter in shock at how much he had changed over the years and he smiled reassuringly.

Chris stiffed slightly and you could feel his eyes burning a hole into you. "Is that true?"

You didn't take your eyes off of Peter, taking a hold of his hand and letting him pull you out of Chris's arms. "Yes." Your voice was hushed.

Chris scowled. "Wow. I wish you luck there, man. She's a real catch." He laughed, making you look down. You couldn't believe he was really trying to ruin your night when he had already ruined everything else.

Peter only snaked his arm around your waist, letting his hand settle on your hip while his eyes never left Chris's. "She certainly is." He agreed. He gave your body a warm squeeze, grabbing you closer into his embrace. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

With that, he guided you through the crowd off of the dance floor.

"You okay?" He finally broke the silence once he got you back to the bar, sitting you down on one of the stools.

You nodded, letting your eyes wander up to him as he motioned the bartender over. "I'm just curious as to why you're here right now. Aren't you supposed to be in college?"

He smiled as he pulled out his wallet to pay your tab and you grabbed his hand, shaking your head. "No, no. I can pay for my own."

"What if I insist?"

"You don't have to, honestly. I have money."

You started to reach into your purse for some cash but Peter covered your hand, giving you another reassuring smile.

"You'll have plenty of other times to pay. I'll get it this time." He reminded you and you sighed in defeat, giving him a playful scowl. He only grinned, proceeding to pull some cash from his wallet to give to the bartender.

"You didn't answer my question." You continued as he turned back to you.

"I'm still college. I just sometimes stay with Aunt May on the weekends."

"And you just so happened to be here?"

Peter chuckled, pointing in May's direction as she stumbled over her feet returning back to the two of us. "Aunt May called."

You raised your eyebrow, looking over at May as she stood beside you now. "You called Peter?"

"Someone has to get you back home." She reminded you and you hit her arm slightly, tilting your head.

"May, I could have got a taxi or an uber. You didn't have to call him for me." You scowled at her and she shook her head in a tsking manner.

"No, no, no. I called Peter so I can rest assured you got home safely and not by some random stranger."

You rolled your eyes slightly and Peter butted in with an awkward chuckle. "I really don't mind. I don't consider this anything out of the way. I'd rather it be me than some stranger or someone." He noticed him giving the floor a swift scan around the three of you.

"Fine." You pouted your bottom lip slightly before rising from your seat at the bar. "You guys make me feel irresponsible or something." You grabbed a hold of May's arm and pulling her with you to the exit of the club while Peter followed behind the two of you.

"Are you coming?" You muttered over to May and she shook her head.

"Happy is here." Just as the words left her mouth when you started out the door, you spotted Happy parked in front of the building to pick up May. "Peter isn't too bad of a driver." You stopped in front of Happy's car.

"Oh goody, rest secured." You muttered and she laughed. Your arms looped around May's neck, hugging her tight. "I'm so glad to have you back. Message me when you get home." You told her and Happy a quick goodnight before letting her go.

Peter led you over to his car, unlocking the car and opening the passenger side for you. You settled comfortably in the front seat, leaning your head back against the headrest. You didn't like how it felt as if you couldn't take care of yourself, but you were in no position to complain when Peter Parker had yet again saved the day.

Peter glanced over at you in the passenger seat from time to time as he drove the distance to your apartment. He tried to keep the glances quick to keep you from noticing. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. It had been years since he had actually seen you, but you seemed like the Y/n he still remembered. Not that it was anything bad. He adored you then, and now a bit more.

He had always had the hots for you for as long as you remembered. Of course, you never minded when you ended up staying with him and Aunt May. You were always kind to Peter and he did his best to nurse you back to health to take on the hangover that awaited you the next morning.

He had never forgotten what you said to him one day while you were sick from the night before. You had been clinging onto the toilet and he had taken the opportunity to hold your hair back out of your face to keep from getting anything in it.

You sighed as he rubbed your back in soothing circles. You leaned against the toilet miserably. That was the day you learned to stay away from tequila.

"I hope I meet a guy at least half as amazing as you someday, Peter."

No doubt did the compliment find its way to his cheeks. He blushed a deep shade of red. He tried to restrain himself from making a big deal but it was a big deal to him. Though he knew he didn't stand a chance right now with his age, it meant if he had been of age, he had a chance. He thought about it even when you had stopped coming around so much. He knew this was all a coping method for you. You were hurting then and he could tell by the way you seemed toward the guy back there that there was more to that counter.

He noticed your shiver as you stared out the window. You mentally cursed yourself for wearing something this revealing. You rubbed your arms to try to warm yourself a little. Peter reached behind him in the back seat to retrieve a hoodie of his he always forgot in the car and handing it to you.

"Here." He offered before fumbling with the heat in the car. He smiled at your quiet thank you, putting your arms in the hoodie and pulling it close for warmth with putting it all the way on. He tried to control the big grin threatening to break across his face.

"I'm sorry you had to keep seeing me like this." You looked over at Peter as he kept his eyes on the road. He didn't realize how thankful you were for him in times like this. It was embarrassing how many times this had happened but you were still thankful Peter didn't think any less of you.

"You really don’t have to apologize.” He smiled at her before turning his attention back to the road.

“I really do though. I feel like you’ve taken care of me enough. I’m grown, you know? It should be the other way around.” You giggled and Peter glanced over at you.

“I’m 21.” He reminded you.

“And I’m pushing 30.”

“You’re 28. You’re still young.” He chuckled.

“Almost 29!” You huffed as he pulled into the parking lot to your apartment. “My point is- you know what my point is.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your frustration. Your age didn’t matter to him. He could always settle for his MJ, his best friend, but seeing you tonight relit the flame to his crush for you. There was just something about you.

He parked the car in the parking lot, walking around to your side to open the door for you. You slid your arms out of his hoodie and leaving it in the seat as he helped you out of the car. You could feel the shots hitting you all at once when you stood. You stumbled out in your heels, grabbing onto Peter’s arms for support.

“Easy now.” He held onto your waist as he guided you to your apartment, asking for your keys. He took your keys when you dug them out of your pocket, letting you in your apartment.

You couldn’t help but notice all the little things he did for you. You kicked off your heels at the door, stumbling over your own two feet again as you wandered down the hallway to your bedroom. You could hear Peter in the kitchen getting you a bottle of water from the fridge along with some medicine from the medicine cabinet.

You sat on the bed when you hear his footsteps coming down the hallway toward the bedroom. You looked up at him, pouting your bottom lip out slightly when you saw him with a bottle of water and medicine for the headache to come.

He set them down on your nightstand, noticing your pout. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Peter, you’re seriously too good to me.” You sighed.

“How’s that?” He looked down at you as he towered over you.

You motioned over to the stuff he had placed on your nightstand and frowning. “All of this. You- you really didn’t have to do this for me.”

“You’re right I don’t. But I want to. I would want it done for me if I were ever in your shoes.”

You laughed slightly at the thought of Peter drunk and you smiled to yourself. “I would definitely be there anytime you needed me.”

You thought back to all the time you had ever been drunk, remembering all the time you woke up to water and medicine from him. Only from him. Even a trash can in case you were to ever get sick, but you never got that with Chris. You always took care of him, but no one ever took care of you. You shook your head with a frown. You had tried so hard to hold it together, but it felt like you were slowly falling apart. He wasn't worth your tears, yet he was always the cause of them.

He kneeled down in front of you, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Talk to me. Everything okay?”

You couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “Why am I never enough?”

His eyes widened at your words. “You are more than enough and anyone who doesn’t see that, who doesn’t appreciate you and the things you do for them doesn’t deserve you.” He corrected you, his thumb stroked over your jaw as he held your face to keep your attention.

You didn't know what to say. All you could do was stare. Your eyes scanned over his face before stopping at his lips. Don't. Don't you do it. You mentally told yourself. You couldn't control the effect the alcohol had on your mind and your actions. You tried to fight back the urge but the alcohol only pushed down the buriers you had built.

Your lips smashed against his firmly, catching him by surprise. He was frozen about your lips for a first, in shock, this was actually happening but he surely gave in the kiss. Your hands grabbed at the back of his neck and pulling him onto the bed with you without breaking the hungry desperate kiss. His body hovered over yours as your fingers curled against his shirt, gripping on it. You knew it was wrong. It was so wrong, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Your smaller hands slid underneath his shirt, brushing your hands over his defined abs. He was sculpted by a God. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't find it in him to stop. He didn't want to miss his chance to prove himself to you. He wanted to take care of you.

Your lips parted for air even though you left like you could hardly catch your breath when his lips started to kiss down your neck. Your hands tugged on his shirt until you started to pull it up and over your head.

His hands pushed your tight dress up the curves of your body, tossing it beside the bed once he peeled it from your body. Your lips still tingled from the loss of his and you whined quietly, your hand grasped the curls at the nape of his neck to bring his lips back to yours.

He kissed your lips passionately and letting your lips mold together. He could taste the alcohol on your tongue but it didn't bother him any. He had dreamed of this moment since he was a teen. Your fingers worked desperately to undo his jeans, feeling his bulge already through his pants before your hands pushed his pants off of his hips along with your boxers.

You were so desperate. You couldn't stop the whine that escaped against his lips. "Peter, please..." His cock twitched at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

He dragged your panties down your legs swiftly, placing himself back between them when he spread them open again. He peppered light kisses to your lips as he dragged the tip of precum-coated tip through your folds, not wasting any time to give you what you wanted.

You cried out as you clung to Peter's bareback, feeling his cock stretching you in all the ways you craved. You moaned out, letting him swallow them in a kiss as his hips rolled into yours again and again. He sighed in pleasure against your lips as your walls invited him in. You were even better than he could have imagined.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. His lips covered your body in his kisses, admiring every part of your body as it sang for him. This was nothing like what you used to. He pressed small kisses against your bottom lip, nibbling on it as your core ached with a building climax. Your legs wrapped around his hips, causing you to gasp at the deeper strokes.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a loud moan drawing from your parted lips. Your fingers held onto Peter's hair as he hit that spot over and over, making your eyes roll slightly. You needed so badly for him to stop, but you couldn't bring the words to the surface.

"Oh my god..." Your core tightened with every deep thrust. His cock touched parts of you no guy had ever. You had never felt a climax so fast or so strong. "Please don't stop..." You couldn't fight the words from coming out. Your grip tightened on his dark hair, feeling yourself falling apart with an orgasm with every thrust.

"You're so pretty when you cum." He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. He was not far behind you by the way your walls sucked him in, milking him for all he was worth.

"Do it again. I want to make you cum again." He groaned against your chest as his tongue dragged over your hardened nipple, flicking his tongue against it teasingly before letting out a groan against your warm skin. He didn't want it to stop. He didn't want it to end. "You feel so good, Y/n..."

His hand reached between the two of you, rolling his fingers over your clit in circles. You gripped onto his wrist at the overpowering feeling. You were soaked to the core. This man made you crumble.

"I-I'm gonna cum.." His voice cracked slightly as your walls clenched around him tight In your second orgasm, pushing him over the edge into his first. His cum filled you full, marking you as he pressed delicate kisses across your neck while praising you in the process. "So beautiful, so perfect."

Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, smiling to yourself when Peter laid down on the bed behind you. He wrapped an arm around your body, pulling you back against his chest.

It only took a matter of seconds for sleep to claim you as Peter pulled a blanket over the both of you tiredly. It was only a matter of time before the morning came to rain on your parade. Bringing along the guilt and regret that followed.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #dark!marvel #tom holland fan fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #dub con #peter parker one shot #dark!tom holland

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spencerreidsconverse · 3 years

Text

When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”. You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

#spencer reid #Spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #cm #Spencer reid smut #smut #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid fanfiction

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thegremlincrowsnest · 3 years

Text

Beauty and the Beast

Another Collab with Citrus Dome! Please check out the rest of the amazing first made in the Storybook/Fairytale AU Collab

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

The beautiful individual is: @/aneutrallife on instagram

CW: mothman, mentions of pussy, mentions of ovi, monster fucking,

Only a Beast could love something like you.

That was something you were told since you were small.

You were always the odd one in the town you lived in.

Different.

Obscure.

An Anomaly.

All because you were a witch. You had always been intrigued by the usage of herbs and crystals. Cartomancy was a specialty, and you were known for your creation of oils and ointments. The townspeople avoided you and only asked for your services in secret. It began to take its toll on you as you grew older.

Feeling ostracized and wanting to be forgotten.

But that was when He found you.

Apparently, he’d been watching you for some time now, and on that cold fall night, he decided to make his move. You were out in the woods, collecting ingredients you needed to refill on. You ended up finding yourself in the garden of what seemed like an abandoned castle. You were curious about how such a great place could be hidden since you knew the royals lived quite a ways away. Nevertheless, you took your time as you gently tended to the plants. Taking what you needed but still making sure the plants will grow healthy. You froze in place when you heard the crunch of leaves under large feet. You slowly placed a hand on the scissors you used to trim the plants. Turning slowly, to looked up to see a sizeable form towering over you. Covered in dark brown and black fur with light stripes of soft blue. Two sets of rather strong-looking arms were folded across its chest and abdomen. His wings draped over its shoulders like a cloak, but you couldn’t get a good look at the intricate designs of the wings. Your eyes were locked onto his face. His face was worn and scarred, locks of light blue hair cascaded down his head like spun silver.

“I knew you’d find your way here, human. I would be angry if I wasn’t already intrigued by you,” he said. You were taken aback by its rather deep raspy voice as it held out a hand for you. Grabbing it tenderly, you stood, only coming up to his chest. With one set of hands, he held your face to look up at him. Enamored by the scarlet eyes looking back at you, you were surprised when a pair of fluffy antennae brushed against your face. “Yes. I knew it was you.” He said as he lifted you up in his arms, carrying you into the castle.

On that day, you had met the beast known as Tomura Shigaraki and started your new life.

He had apparently been watching you for a few months before then. He had been exploring the forest and came upon you helping a small fawn out of a trap, tending to its wounds before letting it free. He thought you were a curious one, not at all like the other humans in the town. You were sweet and soft, treating them all with a level of care he felt they did not deserve. The day he knew he wanted you for himself was when he had accidentally stumbled upon you bathing at the waterfall further into the forest.

He could recount how you looked as if it was that same day.

Your skin an ochre color, similar to the mellow-brown light that had bathed the forest that warm afternoon. You glimmered like amber, and he could only kneel in the brush near the bank or else his knees would give. You were absolutely beautiful. Your hair was thick and dark like calla lilies, curls framed your freckled face, and oh, what he would give to be able to kiss every freckle. Climbing out from the river, you dried yourself off, and he thanked every god above for the sight of your dripping from panting and sighing from how relaxing your bathing was.

He jerked off to the memory of that day for many moons after until the fateful day you wandered into his territory.

That was about a year ago, and since then, you two had become close. Hesitant at first, you were terrified you were to be devoured. Hearing terrifying stories about the beast since childhood. But over time, you learned that he was a gentle creature, he had a temper, yes, but you stood your ground. Slowly you were able to coax more out of him, his family, and how he ended up like this. It had turned out he was the son of the king that ruled over your land. His father had challenged a powerful fairy who cursed his mother to giving birth to a monster. Though his parents did love him, and when his younger brother was born, the love did not falter. They had to send him away. The townspeople and some of the aristocrats did not like the idea of a beast being king.

You wanted to challenge it; King Toshinori would never do something...would he? You knew how the townspeople treated you, and while you weren’t a monster, you wouldn’t be surprised if they rioted.

You two had slowly started to bond, Tomu, as you affectionately called him, was intrigued by the herbs and crystals you gathered and used. He never forced you to stay with him, but you liked the idea of living with someone who wanted you to around. You told him you could find a way to reverse the spell and make him human, as a way of saying thank you for letting you stay in his castle, but he refused. Saying he would rather die than try to assimilate to their standards. You were silently happy he had refused.

You started to fall for him at that time and couldn’t imagine him without his extra appendages. Especially his wings, when spread out, you could see the intricate patterns on them. A mix of light browns, black, and specks of blue as bright as lapis lazuli decorated them. Although his eye held no pupils or irises, you could see the emotions they expressed. How they softened whenever he thought you weren’t looking or how they darkened when you would wear something more revealing. His eyes would glimmer like rubies whenever you praised him or showered him in affection.

You two had been together for two years at this point; you cleaned out your house and moved in with him. Not surprised when you saw that the townspeople burned it to the ground when they noticed you left. You did not cry, no sight of anger in your face, but you felt hurt nonetheless. You sat at the windowsill, looking out at the forest while the summer sun shined brightly. Tomura had noticed and went to make your favorite tea; you had followed him, however, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his back. “Y/n? Is everything ok?” He asked, concerned. You nodded silently; he turned and let you nuzzle your face into his pecks. One set of hands lifted your face up, with the other set wrapped protectively around your waist. His eyes softened at the sad expression you held. Brushing one clawed thumb against your cheek as he smiled softly. “I...Wanted to wait until the full moon to ask you this, but...I feel this might be better.” He started, your eyebrows furrowed together as he continued. “I would...like to mate with you, Y/N.” He stated with the softest of a blush, dusting his cheeks. Your face warmed as you processed what he was telling you.

That night you both prepared. Well. It was more, so Tomura prepared you. He put you in a bath of milk and rose petals, rinsing your hair like you had shown him before going to prepare the ‘nest’ as he called it. Bringing in sheets and pillows, sweet-smelling oils and cloths he felt were soft enough. Bringing you out of the bath, he dried you off and brought you to the nest, laying you onto your back. He couldn’t help but get lost in your beauty; your dark hair framed your face as he let his eyes linger. Your full chest and thighs, wide hips, and soft squishy stomach made his wings vibrate. He chirped and purred as he nuzzled you, letting his hands gently caressing your hips. “Sweet-smelling mate, so soft, so good to me.” He said as he moved your legs apart to allow him to settle in between them. You moaned softly, feeling his claws brush against your skin. He kissed and licked down your neck, pausing to suckle on your full breast as he felt his cock unsheath. His long thin tongue wrapped itself around your nipple, stroking it gently as he brought a hand up to your other nipple. The room slowly started filling with a sweet scent; it filled your nose and made your core ache with arousal.

Tomura continued to kiss down your body until he reached your core, kissing your mound, and before he could go lower, you tugged at his hair.

Your face was hidden behind your arm; you softly said, “I…. I don’t like my pussy being licked…”

He nods and smiles empathetically. Deciding to suck on his fingers gently before sliding one thick finger into your entrance, mesmerized by how your hole quivered and stretched. He went at this for what seemed like hours.

Adding another finger and another until he felt you were prepared for his cock. Sitting up, he stroked himself to your form, yes glazed over and skin hot to the touch. You could only stare in amazement at how large he was. His cock was like no humans you’d ever seen, ribbed down the underside, the tip pointed more like a dog than anything. “Tomu...You’re so big.”You said as you gently reached out to stroke it. He smiled proudly at how your reaction. Pushing you back down, he gently wrapped your legs around his waist. Pressing the head of his cock gently into your entrance, he held back a whimper at how wet and wanting you were. Your entrance sucked him in, almost refusing to let him go if he pulled back. Finally, he was able to press his hips against yours. His cock head pressed snuggly against the entrance of your cervix as your back arches, your nails dig into his shoulders. He whines and ruts against your cervix for a moment before pulling back, beginning a slow rhythm. Now it’s your turn to moan as you beg for him to go faster.

“Do you think you could handle it, little one?” he asks as he looks down at you. You nod and plead, begging for more as you rub your clit. “Then your wish is my command, my prince~,” He says as he begins to thrust faster, pushing your thighs back as his nails dig into them; his wings spread and flap as he feels himself grow closer to completion. His soft whimpers turn into snarls and growls as he pounds into you. Flipping you over, he holds you close to his chest; one set of arms hold you up by your thighs as the other focuses on your body. One hand grips your throat while the other plays with your clit. Thrusting up into you, he can’t stop the stream of praises.

“Such a pretty boy, so soft and sweet. Look at how well you’re taking my cock. I can’t wait to see how you look filled with my eggs.”

His hips stutter, and he holds you in place; you feel his cock pulse as he fills your hungry womb with his cum. You howl and moan out as you squirt, legs shivering as you look down to see his cum drip down his cock. Whimpering softly, you felt him purr in content; he nuzzles into your neck as he lays down with you. Cock still pressed firmly into you as you both slowly fall asleep. Entangled in each other.

#cernunnos writing #bnha smut #moth!shiggy #shigaraki tomura #bnha x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shiggy smut #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki smut #boku no hero academia shigaraki #poc!reader #ftm!reader

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stardusttkachuk · 3 years

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take it out on me

Pairing: Nolan Patrick x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: smut, Dom!Nolan, spanking, choking, daddy kink, use of the color system, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, mentions of bruises, fluff, Summary: Nolan comes home from a rough roadie. Y/N suggests he take it out on her like he’s done before, but things are a bit too rough this time and Nolan ends up hurting her, sending him into a panic and promising to do everything and anything to make it better.

Nolan had been having a bad week to begin with, hell a bad season at that. There was talk of him being benched for a game, as he wasn’t producing at all. His last goal came in a shootout, but otherwise, it’d been goose eggs for a while. He had already been moved to the fourth line and he was a mixture of anxious and angry as he left for the most recent roadie.

Losing 0-9, then 1-6 at the end really tipped him off. He came home fuming, disappointed in himself, upset with the team and the tension that was radiating through the locker room the entire time. And tired. The flight was rough. All he wanted was something to eat and then to go to bed.

He was harsh with the apartment door, slamming it upon entering, cussing at himself for slamming it, knowing you’d be on him later for it. He hadn’t even noticed you standing in the kitchen, watching him with pitiful eyes.

Of course, you knew about the season. You knew how he felt about his own performances and the teams as a whole. You knew how stressed out he’d been lately.

“Nolan?” you asked tentatively, watching as he leaned back against the door.

“What?” His voice was harsh, but you could hear the softness laced around it, trying to be calm around you.

“You know the last time you were stressed and...and you took it out on me? We can do that again if you want to.”

“Seriously?” he breathed, almost out of relief. “Baby if you’re down for it, I could really use that.”

You nodded and stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and having to stand on your toes to meet his height. “I’m here, I want to.”

“You’ll say red if you need to, right?”

“You know I would,” you said, brushing your hand through his hair, disheveled from what you could only assume was the flight.

“Fuck,” he grunted, grabbing the backs of your thighs and lifting you up, you hooking your legs around his waist.

Nolan’s lips were on yours, blindly finding his way to the bedroom. He kicked the door closed, throwing you down onto the bed, a slight smirk crossing his features as you bounced, finding a comfortable position for yourself. He wasted no time undressing you, tossing the clothes carelessly to the floor.

“Nolan, oh fuck!” You moaned as his tongue lapped at your already soaked center.

“What was that?” He asked, hand colliding with your ass, hard. You whined at the feeling, the loss of him eating you out and now the stinging pain on your bottom.

“Nolan, please?” Your sentence died off as he spanked you again, flipping you over onto your stomach.

“What’s my name?” His question had your thighs shaking. He really must’ve had a bad week. Nolan was usually on the rough side most times, but when he got like this it meant something was really wrong.

“Daddy,” you moaned, gripping onto the pillow. He rolled you back over again, giving you a quick smile before delving back between your thighs. He was quick to lift your legs over his shoulders, gripping your thighs and mouthing at your clit.

“More,” you begged, grabbing his hair and pulling at the brown locks, eliciting a moan from him. He fucked you with his tongue, his thumb flicking your clit and sending you into your first orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. You taste so good,” Nolan hummed, using his shirt to wipe off his chin. Your cheeks reddened at the sight you’d never get used to.

“How many times do you think you can cum tonight, Y/N?” He asked, his middle finger entering you.

You hummed, holding onto his wrist as he fingered you.

“Answer my question,” he demanded, sending butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“F-Four,” you stuttered, and he smirked, adding a second finger and crooking them against your g-spot. You writhed on the bed, mouth hung open in an ‘o’ shape as he pumped his finger in and out of you, his thumb brushing your clit occasionally.

“You really think only four?” He chuckled, one hand now holding your hips down, his eyes focused on your pussy and what his hands were doing to you. “I bet I could get five.”

You moaned at his statement, trying to push your hips up, but failing as he held you down. It wasn’t long before the familiar warmth grew in your stomach, the sounds coming from your lips only urging Nolan to continue, barely even slowing when you released on his fingers. It was only when you began to squirm under his touch that he pulled his fingers out, wiping the excess on his pants.

He unbuttoned his dress shirt throwing it somewhere onto the floor to join your discarded clothing. Nolan laid down on his back, pulling you over his hips, his hard-on visible through the slacks he had on, pushing up against your core.

You raised up on your knees and undid the belt and button of his pants, sliding them, along with his boxer briefs off. Nolan kicked them off his ankles, before grabbing your hips and slamming you down on his cock, the two of you crying out together in pleasure.

“Ride me, baby girl,” he ordered and you rocked your hips against his, bouncing a few times, but it clearly wasn’t enough for Nolan. He began thrusting himself into you, his hands digging into your hips hard as he fucked you. It wouldn’t surprise you if tomorrow you’d find bruises where his fingertips had been.

Nolan’s hand trailed from your hip, up to your rib, stopping to tease your breast, thumbing over your nipple until you were whimpering, before finally coming to stop at the base of your throat. You slowed down for a second to register what was happening, but with one look from Nolan, you knew exactly what he wanted. His hand tightened around your neck and you leaned into it, letting him take control.

“Cum,” he growled, his lips turning upwards into a smile at your choked moan as you came on his cock.

He let go of your throat, checking in with you quickly. “Green,” you said. He didn’t give you long to recover, pushing you face down onto the bed, his hand gripping at your shoulders as he entered you again.

“Scream baby. Want the neighbors to hear you,” he spoke, using your shoulders for leverage as he slammed into you repeatedly.

“Oh my god,” you groaned.

“Who’s fucking you?” he asked.

“Nolan,” you moaned, your breath hitching when he thrust into you harder.

“Who?”

“Daddy!” you cried.

“Good girl,” Nolan grinned and pulled out of you. “On your back,” he grunted, roughly helping you flip over. You were starting to get tired, but nowhere near your end, still willing to be there for him. You could tell the anger was beginning to fade, but he was still in his role, not ready to give it up yet.

He slammed back into you and you arched up, screaming out his name as he pounded into you. His hand rested around your throat once more and you swallowed hard, catching his eye and nodding, a silent message that meant he could do it. His grip tightened, just slightly again at first, enough for you to feel it but not enough to hurt. You moaned, closing your eyes tightly.

Gradually, he tightened his hold around your throat. The harder he fucked you, the harder his grip became, much tighter than the first time. You watched the pleasure on his face as he chased his high but you realized he was no longer paying attention, or caring how hard he was choking you.

It was getting to be too much, your airway being cut off and the feeling of his fingers squeezing against your skin starting to cause pain. “Yellow,” you rasped, grabbing his arm to try to get him to back off. The pressure on your throat immediately faded and Nolan tore his hand away, his movements stilling as he met your eyes.

“Fuck. Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, cupping your cheek with one hand as he held himself up with the other. “Shit. I’m so sorry. You okay?” he questioned again.

You nodded, taking in a deep breath. “I’m okay,” you assured. “Keep going, please?”

Nolan kissed your forehead gently, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Are you sure? We can stop, baby, it’s okay.”

“I know. I want to. Want you to cum with me, okay?”

“Fuck. Yeah. Okay,” he nodded, his hips snapping to meet yours again. He leaned down, kissing your jaw. It was slow, no longer rough but still hard enough to bring you both to the edge and falling over it, cumming together. It was closer to making love than letting him fuck his anger out with you. Nolan spoke a few apologies in your ear, you assuring him again that you were okay as you carded your fingers through his hair and you both fell out of your roles.

You were still hurting though and Nolan could tell. He carefully lifted you from the bed, carrying you down to his bathroom and starting a hot bath. He helped you get cleaned up, trying not to stare at the redness that was present on your neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said once more and you frowned, leaning over the edge of the tub to kiss him.

“I’m okay, Nols. Are you?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. “I feel better. Thank you.” He kissed your forehead, dipping his hand into the water and gently splashing it onto your back. “I love you. I needed that.”

“I know you did,” you giggled.

“You promise you’re okay?”

“Tired. But you didn’t hurt me, I promise I’m fine.”

He nodded again, finally taking your word. “Ready for bed?”

“Carry me?” you asked, lifting your arms up to him which made him chuckle. He helped you out of the bath, wrapping a towel around you as he sat you on the counter. He dried you off, being extra careful when it came to your hips and your neck, gently patting those areas dry.

You fell asleep quickly, underneath the warm sheets, and curled up against Nolan’s torso, your head on his chest with his fingers gently rubbing your back, the sound of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby in your ear.

Nolan’s stomach sank the next morning. He woke up before you did, his smile wide when you were still in the same position you had fallen asleep in, but his eyes drifted to your neck; the red spot that was there last night had now turned into a reddish-purple bruise and he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He had done that to you. He hurt you.

He felt like he was going to throw up as panic set in, wondering how on earth he was going to make it up to you, how he was going to prove that he never meant to hurt you and that he would never hurt you. It was one thing for you to have bruises on your hips or thighs, but this was your neck, a place that everybody was going to see and those bruises were there because he got too carried away last night.

He slipped out of bed quietly, thankful that his movements hadn’t woken you up. It was still early and he knew you needed the sleep. It wasn’t worth it to wake you up, so instead, he left a note on the nightstand, dressing comfortably before leaving his apartment, skipping breakfast entirely as he drove to the nearest drugstore.

Nolan got a few stares as he stood in the makeup section, reading off labels and trying to decide which brand was the best brand when to him they all looked the same. He’d watched you do your makeup hundreds of times but none of this stuff looked like the same things you had.

Nolan settled on two different types of foundations that were two different brands, three concealers, a container of setting powder and a foundation that was in powder form and not liquid form like the other two. He also found a color correcting concealer, throwing that into his basket as well.

He chose to go through the self-checkout lane, still panicky from this morning and wanting to avoid any looks from one of the checkout ladies. They were older and he was sure they didn’t know who he was, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself in case they did know.

He really hoped to still find you asleep when he got home, but when the smell of coffee filled his nose as he stepped into the apartment, he knew you were awake and moving. “Baby?” he called, footsteps soft on the wood floor, the plastic bag rustling as he walked.

He found you in the bathroom wearing one of his shirts, stood in front of the mirror. He frowned, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I would never hurt you.”

“I know, Nolan. You didn’t hurt me.”

“But, I did. Fuck. You-You had to tell me to slow down, you’ve never had to do that before,” he worried, setting the bag on the bathroom counter.

“But you didn’t hurt me,” you reassured, resting your hands against his chest. “You backed off when I told you to. And you made sure that I was okay. If you had done something seriously wrong, you know I’d tell you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I love you so much and I didn’t mean to take it that far last night. Just with everything going on and I kept it all bottled up, I-I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, love. But I’m okay. Promise.” You kissed his cheek softly, letting him pull you into a tight hug and hold you for a little while. “What’s in the bag?” you spoke up, turning your head to look at him.

Nolan chuckled, pulling out the different makeup items he had bought. “Just in case you needed something to cover it up with. I didn’t really know what to get, so I got a few different brands and different types of products, hopefully, it works.”

You laughed, kissing him quickly. “Thank you, baby.”

“I can make breakfast. Any requests?”

You hummed, “Pancakes?”

“Comin’ right up.”

“Can we have breakfast in bed?”

“Of course. You finish up what you need to do in here and I will be right up with pancakes.” Nolan pulled you into another hug, resting his cheek on your shoulder, his lips gliding along your neck and jaw, making you giggle at the soft and tickling feeling.

“Hey Nol!” you called after him as he left, peeking your head out the bathroom door and catching him before he made it to the kitchen.

Nolan turned to you with a smile. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His smile widened. “I love you too.”

Tags: @merchantjjreply @blueeyedbesson @obxmxybxnk @thedemonsimpofcamphalfblood @brebear121 @stars-canucks @sidscrosbyy

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick x reader #nolan patrick smut #nolan patrick fic #hockey #hockey fic #hockey smut #nhl #nhl fic #nhl smut #nolan patrick fluff #hockey fluff #nhl fluff #jj

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prettynxsty · 3 years

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Just a Pinch

Sub!Jungkook x Domme!Reader

Warnings: Sweat, nipple clamps, gratuitous nipple play, jungkook has a pussy, biting, sweat, small top/big bottom, futa/girlcock, sadists will get a good kick out of this, squirting, crying from pleasure

Summary: Instead of the overplayed “sub wears vibrator out in public”, it’s the sub wears nipple clamps while working out.

AN: This is a nasty one as usual my friends, enjoy. It’s damn near pwp, honestly.

Your teeth ground into your bottom lip, flicking your thumb back and forth as quickly as possible even though your knuckle was beginning to cramp. You take in a deep breath and your chest puffs up before slowly deflating with a sharp sigh.

“Fuck, yes.” You growled slamming your fist against the bed at your side.

Jungkook’s eyes rolled back with a groan from deep in his gut. “Oh my god, please.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckme!” His voice rose into a squeal as his head dips forward.

A deeper growl rumbles in your chest before cutting short with a whoop of excitement. You threw the controller down beside where you were sitting, jumping off of the bed and onto your feet. “Yes! Now you need to make good on your end of the bargain baby!”

He covers his face with his hands, sighing before falling into a small fit of nervous giggled. “You can’t be serious babe.”

“Of course I am, it won’t be for that long anyway, you’ll be okay.” You tittered lightly, practically skipping toward your closet. “Go ahead and get ready, the faster you do it, the faster it’ll be over.

”He scratches the back of his neck, planting his feet on the floor and slinking toward the dresser across the room.

He peels his shirt up and over his head before balling it up and tossing it toward the hamper in the corner. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand over his pecs and down the planes of his rippling stomach. His fingers slip over his adonis belt, wiggling just slightly under the waistband of his black sweatpants.

He takes in a quick sigh, clenching around nothing. A spike of heat bursts and spreads in his stomach, he wondered if he should have been turned on before anything happened. He steps back from the dresser, hooking his fingers under the garment and works it down the swell of his thighs until it falls and piles up around his ankles.

He wiggles a socked foot out of the first leg hole and steps on it to free the other. This too sails through the air and lands in the hamper with a soft thump. He takes another glance at himself in the mirror.

He was a lovely shade of coffee with a few splashes of milk. He kissed his tan lines goodbye since your regularly scheduled maintenance days with him. In your days of boredom, you took it upon yourself to buy a nice waxing pot and clean his cunt of hair in places he had to (literally) bend over backwards to reach.

He thought you were going to do it somewhere like the bedroom or bathroom, but you figured that you may as well get good use of the rooftop. His pussy is easily nestled in between his tanned thighs, brown outer lips just barely hiding his sweet inner pink.

He hated that you refused to touch him until the next day, he could feel everything when you were done. Now that same time of the month was his favorite time for grooming.

Jungkook blinks, shaking himself from the vivid thought and pulls open the drawer. His underwear was neatly rolled up beside yours. He decides on a simple gray high cut thong, stretching it, stepping into it and slipping it up to his hips.

Normally he preferred to wear nothing, but he needed an extra barrier of protection for today. He pushes the drawer closed and pulls open the ones on the right and left of it. Simply, he grabs a sleeveless tee and pair of shorts. He dresses himself quickly and parks himself on the edge of the bed.

You return from the closet with a giddy smile, swinging something shiny around your fingers. Nipple clamps.

“Don’t look so happy to torture me,” he pouts.

“That’s your favorite part of it though, Junggoo~.” You made your way around the end of the bed and sat on his knees.

You reach up and cradle his cheeks, kissing him. The tension melts from his shoulders with the first and hang comfortably over his frame with the second.

“Now let’s see what’s under the hood,” your joke sails straight over his head and out of the window. He shakes his head, placing his hands on your thighs. You lift the bottom of his shirt and twist it under the collar, placing your hands over his chest.

Your fingertips trace over the swell of his taut mounds, goosebumps raise over his skin as you near his nipples. You hovered the tips of your thumbs over his nipples, admiring the rich rosy brown of his little areolas.

A moan rises in his throat, swallowed away noisily. Heat rises and exchanges between your bodies, you shift in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on your dick. His fingers curl around your thighs pulling you even closer to him. Your dick fit snugly against his lower belly and it was starting to drive you crazy.

He leans forward, slipping his head over the juncture of your shoulder and neck. His slow breaths crawl up your skin in a way that tempts you to shiver. Jungkook was familiar with the shadow inside of you, he knew how to make it burn. His lips press over the swell of your shoulder, sending shocks zipping through your body. You should’ve known better than to wear that tank top today.

You graze your thumbs over the hardened tips of his nipples. He moans against your skin, you played with them so much that he felt like he could feel each ridge in your prints. He seals his lips around the base of your neck, gently suckling and grinding his tongue against your skin. You pinch his nipples in between the length of your index fingers and thumbs harshly, tugging.

He jerks slightly, his teeth sinking into your flesh. You hiss, arching your back before releasing his nipples and pushing against his chest. Jungkook pulls back with a whine, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?”

You could hardly hide the fact that you were already breathless. “No, you aren’t going to weasel your way out of this one baby boy.”

The darker side of your mind was pleading for you to give in and make a mess of the bed sheets. But you knew that it’d make things filthier if you put him up to this.

You press a kiss to his pouting mouth, pulling back before he could deepen it. His brow knits together, he was already horny. He may as well make sure he didn’t get too far ahead of himself, it’d be harder to work out if he got wetter than he was now.

You slip the short chain from your knuckles, pinching open the first clamp. He seemed to be holding his breath as you pressed the chilly metal to his flesh before slowly releasing it. Jungkook throws his head back, gasping and biting down on his bottom lip. It was like a thick cloud rose and surrounded his brain, it was getting harder and harder to figure out what he was thinking.

You drag your tongue over your bottom lip with a dry swallow, you could already imagine the feeling of his pussy flexing around you. You lift the other end, the fire in your belly consumes you further when he twitches at the slightest shift of the first clip. You gently pinch the other clamp open and close it around his other nipple. He responds immediately with a drawn out breathy moan that makes your head spin.

You reach up slowly, unravelling his shirt from his collar and allow it to fall over his midsection. He looks down at you with these dark, cloudy eyes. “Can’t.. Can’t we..” He babbles as if the wind was knocked out of him.

“Come on, I’ll- I’ll go fill up your water bottle.” You tried to shake the slurring from your voice, planting your hand on the mattress and wiggling out of his grip.

The cold air of the hallway hits you like a freight train, bringing more cognizance to your mind. The heaviness between your legs was making you crazy, you hadn’t a clue how either of you would workout in this state.

You cross the way into your kitchen, it looked like the floor was blending into the walls. Grabbing your water bottles off of the drying rack, you fill them to the brim with ice and water.

Eventually Jungkook shuffles out of your bedroom with a dizzy, distant air in his eyes. He was red from his cheeks to his ears, and the sides of his neck. It was like he was wasted already, he seemed to be moving slowly to reduce the friction of the shirt over his nipples. The chain sat just right, as it didn’t really jingle as he walked.

He must’ve struggled to slip on the backpack, stopping beside you. You’d make it a little easier on him, choosing to carry your drinks instead of adding more weight to the bag on his back.

“Let’s go, we’ll be home the faster we go.”

He nods slowly, heading toward the door.

During your short walk around the corner to the gym, he spoke up suddenly. “I won’t have to do everything, will I?”

“Everything but squats, the bench, and deadlifts, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He huffs, looking down at you like a kicked puppy. You didn’t miss how his eyes gained a glassy tinge.

“I’ll do everything you want me to when we get home, my pretty boy.” You muttered low enough for him to hear, pushing open the door with your shoulder.

“How are you doing, baby?” You coo into his ear, wrapping your arms around his waist. Not a soul wandered the locker room aside the dust and water droplets where they weren’t supposed to be.

“I’ll give you a treat,” you whispered. Your work your hand under his shorts, pushing your fingers past his thong easily. He makes a soft, pretty noise when you cup his pussy.

He leans his weight back against you, jerking with a grunt when your thumb grazes over the sticky hood of his clit and passes over his blood swollen love button.

“Just want you to fuck me,” he whines, trying to squirm away from your rough thumb. It was too much for him, he could cum right now.

“Too much?” You ask gently, receiving a nod in response. You knew better than to let up now, pinching his hood and jerking the little pink sleeve. He made a noise like he was punched in the gut, hands clutching your forearms. His hands were shaking, but he was too desperate to push them away.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cu- unh!” He pants, thrashing his head against your shoulder as you pinch it. You take a deep breath in, retracting your hand and licking your fingertips.

He slumps back against you with a disappointed groan, struggling to catch his breath.

“Let’s go, I need to reward you.” Your voice was dark, moving to take the backpack out of the locker. You helped him ease it onto his shoulders and dragged him out of the locker room. You were given a few funny looks, but you hardly noticed them through the haze settling around your mind.

He all but wobbled his way to the bedroom by himself, leaving a trail of things behind him. Jungkook absolutely needed out of everything on his body at that moment. You followed him into the bedroom, watching from the doorway as he clumsily peeled off his sopping wet panties and nearly fell during the process.

“Take them off,” his voice breaks with a shiver crawling up his waist and shaking his shoulders. He makes a pitiful noise, squeezing his thighs together as he clumsily sits on the end of the bed. The thin chain lightly sways with the motion of his poor attempts to control his breath.

You wondered if you should try this more often, he never broke this quickly. You move across the room to sit on his knees as you had before. It felt like Jungkook’s skin was on fire, the slightest sensation made his hair stand up even straighter. His nails clumsily scratch at your skin, shoving his hands over the waistband of your shorts.

He couldn’t be bothered to fumble with anything, whining with a sob as the mesh of your clothing brushes over his thighs. “Off, off please!” He fusses in a strained voice.

You rose as quickly as you began to lower yourself, he was enveloping you in the same haze as before. Your lower belly spasms with a particularly aggressive twitch of your cock.

”Shit,” you growl under your breath. You yank away your shorts and nearly deflate with relief when your dick springs to full attention. Your sanity dissolved into ash bit by bit from feeling your glans scrubbing against the waistband when you moved around.

Jungkook clutches handfuls of the sheets under him, he couldn’t touch himself if he wanted. He’d scream because it was too much. His bottom lip trembled. It looked like he was practically flushed from head to toe, a heavy tear escaping the barrier of his thick lower lashes. It splatters over his collarbone, it’d evaporate if his body was any warmer.

You yank your shirt over your head and kick it aside with your other clothes, rushing toward him. You began to lower yourself to your knees, stabilizing yourself with hands on his trembling thighs.

He made another high pitched noise to fuss at you, he was so far gone that he just couldn’t control himself. Jungkook leans forward, wrapping his hands around your hips before lifting you onto his lap. You make a noise of exclamation, placing your hands on his shoulders in a weak attempt to register what just happened.

He pushes his chest toward you, sniffling. Another tear slips from the corner of his eye, dancing over his cheekbone before slipping under his jaw.

“Baby,” you croon and stroke his hair. You gently curl a fingertip under the chain, lifting it slowly. This squeezes a few squeaks out of him, swelling into a squeal when you tug slightly.

You gently place your fingertips on the first clamp, squeezing it open and pulling it away from his stress. Jungkook’s forehead drops against your shoulder in relief, pressing weak kisses of gratitude over your breasts.

He grips your cock with both hands, slowly jerking your flesh up and down. You groan, resting one of your hands in the center of his pecs as you blindly feel around for the second clamp. Your fingertips cascade over his flushed bud, causing him to seize up. His grip tightens in a way that raises the gentle drip of your precum into a syrupy faucet.

You were likely already starting to drip over his fingers. His grip slowly relaxes, regaining his steady pattern. You press the tip of your thumb and index finger over the ends of the clamp, pinching it open and allowing the chain to drop between you.

You stroke your fingers over the back of his neck. “Let me see them,” you whisper with warmth and conviction. That tone of voice always sends his head into a spiral, he seemed to struggle to lift his head.

He shakily circles his thumb around your tip, spreading your precum all over his finger. You seize up, growling through clenched teeth. Jungkook quickly returns to stroking you firmly, he couldn’t stand the thought of you being unable to touch him.

You lean forward gingerly, dragging the tip of your nose through the cleft of his pecs. You tongue lolls out of your mouth, carefully resting on the edge of his areola before flicking upward.

He almost jerks away, sighing sharply. It was like you held the metal of a used lighter to his skin. It was enough to wipe what little thought remained in his head in a flash.

You tilt your head toward the other, slowly swirling the tip of your tongue toward the center of his nipple. He trembles below you, utilizing what strength remained to stay still.

“Want you to fuck me,” he croaks.

You glance up at him with a smile, nodding to oblige.

You plant a hand, carefully shifting yourself off of him and further onto the mattress. “Get on the middle of the bed, knees.

”He took his time to move, slowly twisting and crawling on. You reach to the left, yanking open the nightstand drawer with a flick of your wrist. You rip open the tube of lube, nearly breaking the loose plastic hinge of the cap. You squeeze a fat globule at the base of your cock, smearing the excess over the side of your lower belly before snapping it shut and shoving it back away.

You nearly forget to shut the drawer, pushing it closed with your ankle before crawling toward him. “Turn around.”

He plants his hands and crawls until he’s facing away from you, leaning back on his haunches.

Your dick prods the cleft of his ass as you seat yourself behind him, swiping your fingers through the thick, clear jelly. You do a messy job of lathering yourself up, leaning forward and slipping your dick under him.

You spread your index and middle fingers, smearing some of the lube over his pussy lips. He opened up like a pretty little flower, his cunt was already lush and puffy.

You drag the crook of your finger over his clit hood, coaxing a soft keen out of him. You press your fingers together, slipping them over his inner pink and press them into his hole. This time it was your turn to moan, his pussy swallowed your fingertips with ease.

He arches his back, molding against you with a whine. God, it felt so good but he wanted more. More than that. His inner velvet flutters around your fingers in a way that makes your toes curl already.

You work them in and out for a few strokes before you couldn’t stand it any longer. You wrap your hand around your cock, momentarily lowering yourself to press against his pussy. He slumps heavily against you with a coo when your cock begins to spread him open.

“Ooh,” you hiss, steadying yourself by moving your other hand to his stomach. Reaching the hilt, you shift your grip to clasp both of his forearms as leverage. The first thrust makes a filthy noise, excess lube squishing around your length.

To this, you lose yourself in him. You piston your hips forward, using him like the warm, wet hole he is. You fuck into him with reckless abandon. His voice is high, shaking with breathy and noisy squeals.

He does his best to refrain from squirming in your hold, thighs twitching with the urge to close. The room before him was a blur of shapeless splashes of color, it amazed him how you could get even deeper when he was on his back. Jungkook felt ridiculously full, his head dropping forward, babbling slurred expletives.

Your thighs burn, you knew he came by the way he started to flutter and squeeze around you. You could feel it barreling toward you, wrapping one of your arms over his hips to keep him steady.

You shift a hand, flicking your finger over his swollen nipple. His voice reaches a new pitch, thrashing his head around in a futile attempt to remain on this plane of existence.

“No! Gonna-” he tried to squeal, digging deep half moons into his thighs. You set your teeth tightly, your balls slap against his skin as you ground deeper. It felt like he was going to wring you dry.

You lean back for him to slump his weight against you fully and attack his other nipple with a harsh pinch. His shout catches in his throat, his head thumping against the thick of your shoulder.

Your control is carried away by the wind, the noise you make is ungodly when you cum. You couldn’t lose steam, his cum cakes up with yours as you plunge in. It felt like your sanity was melting out of your ears.

You roll the tips between your fingers, scrubbing them back and forth with your middle fingers. Something inside him broke, his jaw snapping shut as he began to shake uncontrollably.“Gnh, ah!” He grits out, his squirt splashing around your cock and splattering over the sheets.

Oh. Oh. You slow your thrusts with a breathless chuckle before allowing your softening cock to slip out of him with a wet plop. You’re met with a noisy sniffling, stroking your hands over his trembling stomach.

You shift your weight onto one knee and lay down behind him. “Shhh, shhh..” You continue to stroke your hand over his belly as the shocks become weaker and weaker.

The tension in his body takes a few minutes to melt away before he can fully sink into the mattress, timidly scooting back for you to fully spoon him.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.”

You hadn’t made a mess like that in a while, but you supposed he might have needed it as much as you. You’d soak in the bath later with him.

#sub junkook #sub bts #sub kpop #sub!jungkook #sub!bts #sub jungook x domme reader #sub!jungkook x domme!reader #dom reader #domme reader

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sapphicwhxre · 3 years

Text

artist

♥︎ pairing: pansy parkinson x fem!reader

♥︎ summary: pansy finds a nude picture of yourself that you painted and forgot about.

♥︎ requested: yes | no

♥︎ warnings: dom!pansy, nudes, dirty talk, use of slut/whore/etc., praise + slight possession kink, fingering, oral (female receiving), scissoring

♥︎ a/n: SHE IS SO CUTE LOOK AT HER SMILE OMG OMG ─ pansy has my heart and soul. also i don't have tik tok (pls i talk shit about it like every week) but from what i got, i think people paint their nudes and give them to their s/o. the request was that she finds them so i did that instead + changed a little. so uh enjoy!!

every girl has her “naughty” pictures ─ the ones they’d simply die of embarrassment if their parents or friends ever saw.

as a witch who attends hogwarts, yours just so happened to show your fingers going to work on your bare naked pussy explicitly. although with the content, you thought even a muggle would be more captivated with the imagery than the fact that the photo was moving all on its own.

the photo was all in good fun and you had no use for it. for that reason, you’d chosen to paint it. you used your favourite colours and precise brush strokes, covering the sexual image with the designs you found most inspiring. you took an extra day, having fun with the decorating and eventually tucked it away into an old journal, letting it drift out of your mind.

“oh merlin,” pansy moaned, unprompted. the sudden noise caused you to look up at your girlfriend with an eyebrow raised. her thighs were now clenching and you searched the girl who’d been searching your drawer for an extra t-shirt for an explanation. “something wrong, love?” you asked, now standing to walk towards her. pansy dropped what was in her hand and your eyes went wide, shifting back and forth to the item and your girlfriend.

she’d seen your forgotten photo and from the ravenous look in her eyes, it was safe to say she liked what she saw. “didn’t know my girlfriend was a little artist,” pansy smirked, raking her eyes down your body. her words and exuding confidence started a pool between your legs. “sitting there all pretty like a model, covering just what i want to see with all that paint. fuck,” she pushed you onto your bed, plump lips beaming. she kissed you hungrily, enveloping your lips and tasting your chapstick like a sweet treat.

she took her mouth to your neck, her hot breath and nibbles leaving purple love bites wherever she touched. “my pretty, marked up girl,” she growled, grabbing your breasts firmly through your shirt. “take off the shirt, i want to see these bare,” her request rang like a commandment and you tossed it to the floor. she trailed the fingers you longed for down your thigh and snapped her eyes up at your soft whimper. “you want something, y/n? does my pretty little muse want me to touch her?”

you nodded, wide-eyed and horny. “yes pansy, please touch me.” tutting with authority you couldn’t help but love, she pulled back completely and stripped naked. “seeing you think you’re an artist with those photos, why don’t you show me just how talented those fingers are?” laying back across from you, pansy spread her legs wide open and gave you an open view of her painfully wet pussy. she noticed you staring and growing wetter and rubbed her thigh to take you out of your thoughts. “well what are you waiting for?”

you pulled her warm tanned legs so that they were resting on your shoulders and rubbed her clit with her own arousal. pansy moaned, grasping at the sheets beside her. “fuck me, baby,” you complied, easily slipping a finger and then another inside of pansy’s cunt. she moaned louder while you pumped into her faster. the movements grew easier as her pussy grew more and more soaked and you paired your curling fingers with your tongue dipping in her slick folds.

pansy’s hand gripped your hair and pulled your face away, moaning rapidly. “who said you could taste me, slut?” she was still moaning while you fingered her but her teasing was still dancing on her lips. “‘m sorry pansy,” you shoved deeper and fucked her harder, trying to make it up to her. “oh that’s so good,” she moaned and tightened her legs around your neck. “now you can taste me, just because you’re being such a good girl.” you obeyed, eagerly, and dove into her pussy again, licking her wetness and sucking lightly on her clit that she too had started to touch for added friction, to the clear thought of your photo in her mind. she became unraveled, screaming with pleasure and gripping your hair, as if telling you that you better not stop.

the intense orgasm that overtook her met your fingers and spilled onto your lips, wetting your chin and making your pout glisten with cum. “suck,” pansy demanded through her heavily laboured breathing. you put the entirety of your digits in your mouth and sucked them clean, not breaking eye contact with your girlfriend. she took a moment to recover from the pleasure you gave her and sat herself up and, grabbing your chin and looking into your eyes. she kissed you roughly, tongue swiping her juice on your lips. “you did so good, my love,” her teeth grazed your lips through her close-eyed whisper. “tell me what you were thinking of when you fucked yourself in that photo. you looked so hot. i want to reward my dirty girl.”

“i was thinking of you,” you fought the urge to just start touching yourself. “i wanted ─ fuck, i want you to eat me out and...” pansy stroked your cheek gently and gave you a reassuring smile. “and what else sweetheart?” she cooed. “and i want to feel your pussy fucking mine,” you said, your voice high and needy. “your mouth on my tits, leaving hickies everywhere, i want you pansy.” pansy’s hand found your sex and rubbed you as you had, looking you in the eye. “yeah? you want everyone to see what i do to you, don’t you?” pansy teased your entrance, smirking at your state. “you like that i found that picture of you, right? answer me, y/n.” you gave her the words she was waiting for and practically blurted out, “yes, yes, i like being your little slut,” you threw your head back pathetically, the dirty words meeting her ears being too much for you to handle.

pansy took her finger across your slit and piled arousal on her fingertip. she rubbed the wetness on your nipple, flicking and rubbing your hard, sensitive buds. attaching her mouth to one and sucking like she was starved, you cried out her name and your hand flew between your legs. “touching yourself when you have me right here?” pansy scoffed, gripping your wrist tightly. “i won't punish you for being a bad, greedy slut just because i know how addicting those fingers are. you know too, i bet,” pansy wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead and a tear from your eye, “using them on yourself in that photo, painting like my little artist, and fucking me so good with them.”

“pansy,” you didn’t have to say your request out loud before pansy positioned her face just an inch from your throbbing pussy and licked a stripe right on it. encouraging, begging, and thanking heaven for pansy all at once with your moan, she worked her mouth on your core with the enthusiasm that knew how to have you trembling with screams. her lips and tongue worshipped you and even her teeth clacked carefully over your sweet spots and she mumbled against you, praising your pussy. “my perfect girlfriend. always my whore. cum for me, y/n.”

you came as pansy told you to and forced your eyes open in awe as your flushed girlfriend’s determination helped her lap up every last drop of your undoing. “y/n,” pansy hummed to remind you what you asked her for. “you better have another one of those in you if you want me to fuck you.” even if you didn't, you’d give it to her solely because you were unbelievably head over heels for her ─ and her power over you.

leaving a patch of cum on the sheet, she draped her leg over yours and sank her pussy down on yours, both of you moaning soundly at the warm feeling. she rocked at just the right pace and let your combined moans fill the room. the raw feeling of her cunt giving you sweet, sweet friction and her hands squeezing your tits made the world go hazy. cum ran down any skin in both your cores’ sight and a soft bliss soon replaced the screaming sensations of you and pansy finishing within moments of each other.

“say, y/n,” pansy called sweetly and breathily over your ruined states, swirling circles on your skin. “why don’t we take a couple more photos and paint 'em together?” steadying your own breathing, you grinned up at pansy.

“who’s the artist now?” you giggled, poking at her ‘creative’ spark. “only if i get to paint yours.”

“you, sexy thing, have got yourself a deal.”

─────♡

#pansy parkinson #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson smut #pansy parkinson imagine #pansy parkinson fluff #pansy parkinson x y/n #pansy smut #pansy imagine #pansy x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter series #hogwarts x reader #harry potter smut #wlw #sapphic

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keilemlucent · 3 years

Text

pretty eyes & starshine: ii

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i || part ii || part iii (epilogue)

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @firein-thesky

word count: ~15.2k

Healing takes time, but it’s easier with someone else around who’s on the mend with you.

(You and Keigo learn to start living again.)

warnings: codependency but make it sexc, injured reader, post-trauma symptoms, reader has abandonment issues, angst, ouchies <3

a/n: part 2 :’^) we made it!! soft hurt and very horny codependency that involves keigo’s immaculate d*ck. all that is left after this is part 3 which will be more of an epilogue :’^)

enjoy loves <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The doors to exit the hospital scare you.

How can they not?

They’re... automatic.

The glass panes are wide, sliding and slapping as folks come and go, the quiet ring of metal on metal and the slap of the plastic padding makes your heart race.

Get over it, get over it, get over it—

It’s just some doors, they’re normal.

You’ve walked through automatic doors so many times. Never before had you even taken conscious note of them.

(But that was before you heard them let in that man who—)

Without thinking, you take a little, tentative step back from them.

Consider you are leaving your own slice of healing hell; you are shakier and sweatier than you would’ve liked. Your clothes are like the ones... he used to wear, cheap garments obviously pulled from some industrial multipack that stank like plastic and rubbing alcohol.

You hate it.

But you didn’t have another choice. Your old articles were bloodied and disposed of long ago, and the hospital gowns you wore during your stay were far more uncomfortable than your scratchy, wide pants and crewneck long sleeve the same pale, lifeless blue as your old bed sheets.

It would be enough.

You shift the crutch under your right arm and shuffle the backpack on your shoulders. It contains just enough to get you to the shelter, where they’d supposedly have a bed— a cot, more than likely. You had a toothbrush, some extra socks, and a prepaid card for a single, one-way train trip across the country and into the unknown.

Tears stung your eyes as you lingered by the doors.

It all feels so uncomfortably real. The world kept moving, and you’re reentering it far-more battered and perpetually bruised.

And completely alone.

(The thought horrifies you to your core, but you try to ignore it.)

Despite the time you spent at the hospital, you were leaving without a hint of reverie. Everyone, nurses and doctors and anyone who has fucking eyes is too busy dealing with the casualties that had lasted months.

It didn’t matter how long you stayed. You were just a body. A fucked up one too.

You count yourself lucky to even have the backpack, as cheap and sterile as it smells.

It all unnerves you, but you didn’t have a choice. Numbness settles over you as you accept your future.

There... is a little glimmer that he will show up.

(He won’t. Empty promises.)

(Everyone leaves.)

(Why’d you call him, anyway?)

(Because no one had spoken to you like a human in a month.)

Solitude makes people desperate and crazy.

You are a little crazy, you know. Maybe not in a bad way, but certainly in a way that is eating you up and out in ways you don’t understand. You don’t have the energy sort through it all. You just have to finally start moving forward. Or try to.

Tentatively, you walk toward the doors, stepping out and onto the pavement. You lurch and you would’ve tripped if not for the crutch shoved under your arm.

For the first time in a long time, you suck in fresh air and the trickling sunlight. It feels fresh, cleansing you with each little inhale as you face your cheeks to sky. You have your moment, basking before your journey.

Then someone whistles. You ignore it at first.

The person whistles again, calling out—

“Your ride’s here, starshine!”

Your breath punches from your lungs. You whip your head to the sound.

Though it’s overcast, you do see your morning sun.

Your steps stutter as you nearly trip over your feet.

He is standing, not far at all, leaning against a shiny black car, sleek and expensive and out of place. He’s all overgrown hair and lazy-expressions, one which stretches into a grin as he sees you.

And you see him.

(He really came?)

(Of course he did.)

Your crutch nearly clatters to the ground as you stumble toward him. The moment you waver, he’s running to catch you.

You meet each other halfway.

And without a goddamn lick of shame, the moment you near him, your arms lock around him. Your face buries into the hollow of his throw and you inhale. The scent of him, a bit spiced but mostly skin and sweat fills you. Not a hint of antiseptic.

And you shudder at how good it feels.

He stabilizes the two of you, greedily wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing as if to give a much-needed greeting.

There’s a moment of heat between you, familiar and blessed and so damned missed that you both share shuddering breaths.

“It’s good to see you, starshine,” He soaks up any part of you he could get to. So casually, he touches like he wants to consume you.

You squeeze him just as hard.

“You came?” Your words muffled into his skin.

He simply nods, and the only confirmation you need to sink into him. Perhaps, there’s onlookers, but neither of you have the mind to care. All you care about is the shift of his muscles beneath your fingertips, the heat of him, his golden, pretty visage—

Like he had so many times, he tucks hair behind your ears and tension drains from him.

So tenderly does he squeeze around your middle where he holds you up, “Let’s go home, starshine.”

You want nothing more.

...

The drive to your new home is long, but you don’t mind.

The world has changed in the months you’d been tucked away in the forest-hidden hospital. As disconnected as you were, you still heard of the unrest and upheaval across the country. The political clashes are marked by the... contrarian billboards lining the highway, new slogans battling each other every mile or so.

The scenery slowly goes from flatlands, to wetlands, to rolling hills that are a lush green. From the safety of the car, you could see that the air even looked wet, and you could imagine the way it would stick in your throat and tacky the tips of your fingers.

“Where do you live?” You finally ask, voice soft in the melancholy softness of the light mist that sprayed the car.

“In the mountains, high-up,” He squeezes your hand (the one he’s been holding the whole ride). Quietly, he adds. “I still couldn’t bear to be too close to the ground.”

He laughs, though it fades into the suddenly heavy air.

This is the world, isn’t it?

You blink, gulping at the face of your reality, and let your eyes go half-lidded as you trace the shapes of growing evergreen as your drive takes you higher and higher.

...

Keigo had made up the guest room for you.

He doesn’t have much for extra sheets and softness, let alone decor, but he does what he can. The bed is made and pressed with clean lines, freshly washed. The curtains on the windows hang heavy, but warm up the room with their clement, tan fibers. It’s a start, with lots of space for you to add your own touches as well.

He’d spent the night prior on it, laboring, like he was preparing a nest as opposed to a simple bedroom.

(It is a nest, but he doesn’t need to accept that just yet.)

There wasn’t anything else to do for a while when he first escaped that fucking hell. He’d really given up. Keigo was uncomfortably content to rot away as he had dreamed of since he’d been burnt. The little, dusty corners of the cabin would’ve made perfect places to waste away in peace and alone.

Except, he didn’t.

Keigo started to make the home better.

He isn’t sure if it was out of some need to just do something, and the outdated, worn cabin was his most available canvas. Part of him is convinced it’s some buried avian instinct, and without the Commission’s constant hovering, he has no reason to suppress those more animalistic urges. The need to nest somewhere cozy and safe took him over, and he had gotten to work.

The cabin is cleaned up incredibly well. New appliances, floors patched and polished. The furniture is mostly old, but it’s obviously been shined and tended to. The living area isn’t horribly large, but it’s more than enough space for the two of you. It has wide windows that looked down upon the slopes and peaks that your home is nestled in. The colors are warm oranges and tans that are easy on the eye. Nothing too red and nothing too blue.

Nothing too imposing.

(Nothing too reminiscent.)

He leads you from the car, gingerly helping you up the rickety stairs to the front door.

The wound on your leg may be ‘healed’, but you don’t appear comfortable in the slightest. Your expression pinches with half of your steps, the bending of your scarred flesh undoubtedly painful. It makes something in his chest squeeze as he navigates you into his house, from the snow into somewhere warm. A place that he crafted all on his own. Shaped with his own hands. A real possession, all his own.

When you enter, you don’t say anything, only tightening your grip on his hand.

“I like it,” You smile, soft and dreamy, worrying the strap of your backpack. “... Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay?”

“Of course,” Keigo assures you. Of course, it was okay for you to stay. “I’m happy to have you here, especially when the other option is one of the shelters.”

You wouldn’t have lasted a day with your bum leg and natural softness.

The thought has him gulping, the heat flaring in his chest as he tugs you closer, ghosting his lips over your temple.

With only a bit of stumbling, he shows you the rest of the home.

...

You’re quiet the rest of the day, curled up on the couch in the same clothes you left the hospital in. There’s clear exhaustion in your face, from the dark circles ringing your eyes and the tremble in your hand and leg. Keigo is content to cover you in a nice knit blanket he purchased down in the nearby town, and let you rest.

His own back burns when he catches glimpses of your scar. It ran down all the way to your ankle, even bleeding onto the top of your foot. The gnarled flesh brings back memories of screaming and metallic exam rooms.

And he, like you, stares at a wall for a while before making dinner.

You can’t manage much.

The TV glows with some show you might’ve watched and been engrossed in it. But the hollow feeling in your chest keeps you submerged in the static of your skull. It’s more comfortable than acknowledging how quickly the picture moves in front of you.

Your only motion is a ‘light’ scratching over the thin fabric of your pants.

‘Light’.

He enters sometime later, bearing food and an easy smile that falls all-too quickly.

“Hey, starshine— oh fuck,” His voice clips as he enters, setting down steaming plates on the coffee table and pulling your hand from your thigh. The tips of your fingers are stained with enough blood to make your eyebrows shoot up.

Your eyes shoot to your leg, where you’d apparently tore through the thin fabric of your pants and torn your skin up without even thinking. So close to the scar—

Heat flares between, light bouncing in your eyes as you cover the hole, “S-sorry, fuck, I didn’t even realize.”

“It’s okay, it happens,” Keigo assures you, softer than you’ve ever heard him. “Let’s clean you up quick and then eat, okay?”

You nod, exhaling a weight from your chest as the light skitters out of your eyes.

And the heat fades from the room. The absence of it chills Keigo, and the abruptness makes his nose scrunch.

He patches you up quickly and with a precision that screams ‘yes, I have done this far too many times.’ The wound isn’t too severe, just a nasty-looking scratch. The dried blood on your finger is wiped away.

You both settle onto the couch, eating in silence.

Something hangs in the air, thick and unsaid. Questions and paragraphs that have been ignored up until now. Not out of will, perhaps just tired negligence.

But, Keigo has always been the blunt type, so he finally asks one of the many facets that needs to be broached.

“What’s your quirk?”

A little surprised sound lodges in your throat with a bite of baked fish, “My quirk? I thought you figured it out already.”

Keigo raises a feathery eyebrow, “I’m a bit slow these days, starshine.”

The nickname makes something settle pleasantly under your ribs, and the light, little orbs of yellow and orange return to your eyes.

And heat fills the room, like it had so many times before. Like those first nights in the common room, stargazing in the lamp and starlight. It’s warmth that bleeds between his bones and tendons, through and through.

Keigo puts it all together, jaw going slack and eyes going wide.

Had he never realized it?

It does make sense, in retrospect and without a sinfully heavy dose of painkillers swimming in his veins. The heat that permeated all of the nights you sat, eyeing the stars and each other.

The odd heat of it all.

You’d been warming the two of you. Souls cold from the sterility of it all.

“That’s your quirk?” Keigo leans in closer, inspecting the little specks of light in your irises. The tell. “This whole time?”

“U-um, yeah,” You worry a hangnail. “I don’t mean for it to be activating all over the place, but it has been since everything happened.”

“Why’s that?”

You chew the plump of your bottom lip, brows pinched.

Without thinking, Keigo bows to the will of the ever-present, needy feeling in his chest and presses a little kiss to your forehead, willing it to smooth away some of your worry.

I’m not upset, the action says, but the cabin is quiet.

“... You know how cats purr?”

Keigo quirks an eyebrow, “I do.”

“Well, I think it’s kind of like that,” You met his eyes, the light returning and the fire-like warmth tickling the hair on your arms. “Cats purr when they feel good, but sometimes, they purr when they’re not doing well.”

“... ‘Not doing well’?”

“If they’re in pain, or if they’re really scared,” You go quiet, tracing a seam on Keigo’s jeans. “They’ll purr to comfort themselves. It’s like that.”

Comfort themselves.

No wonder all those nights you spent together, you felt so warm. It was your quirk—

And you must’ve felt awful.

Part of him feels betrayed, just for a moment, before it dissolves with the watery look you wear as your injured finger traces over his knuckles.

And the heat of you flares.

Your quirk is a part of you.

“I didn’t think to tell you.” Your voice wobbles, yet remains vacant. “‘M sorry.”

You don’t need to apologize.

If anything, the knowledge only strengthens Keigo’s resolve.

...

The first weeks at the house are odd as you both settle into rhythms of living. There’s an orbit to how you choose to live, though it’s not predictable or reliable. It can’t be, there’s no way for it to be. You float around each other like little planets to a fickle sun, unstable and wavering, but elliptical, nonetheless.

You’re both learning to be human again with your own rhythms.

Keigo’s biggest challenge is dragging himself from bed each morning. The lazy bones he thought the Commission had broken and beaten out of him still remain somehow. Now that he has no obligations to tend to at the break of dawn, he thoroughly enjoys lazing about in the sheets, even if he’s just staring at his wood-paneled ceiling wishing that Dabi had finished the job and burned him dead.

He’s doing great.

Despite his sluggishness, you move about on your own.

You make coffee each morning, and curl up on the couch under the same knit blanket. A few patches of the multi-colored throw have been pulled apart by your restless hands.

Neither of you comment on it.

Though Keigo takes longer to rise, you move far less during the day during those first weeks. You’re tethered to the cushion until the sun goes down.

It’s like the nylon straps at the hospital never left your wrists.

Your vacant nature scares him, if he’s honest. There’s an unspoken, massive wound you carry with you, both physically and mentally, and its manifestation is a little haunting.

Keigo knows about trauma, knows about how the mind worked and how to, you know, deal with it. He is— was, a hero, for fuck’s sake. Trauma is in the job description and he’d had his fair share of bruises before he went undercover, before he killed Jin (REALLY don’t think about it—), and lost his wings. He’s stitched himself up by filling up his schedule with anything he could. Distractions. Things to occupy him, help him forget for a while. If that didn’t work, he always had a bottle or two of imported soju that he could nurse.

Again, coping.

The state you’re in is the opposite of coping, it’s being. Existing. The strain you carry from everything shows in you, and the way that it’s manifested terrifies him.

Keigo is smart enough to know to keep a few boundaries. He can’t fix you and he can’t get it in his head that he can. He’ll smother you; he knows he will. The solace he finds comes from being there when you need him, and always being close by.

It’s all he can do to soothe what’s obviously an open wound. He has his own, that you tend to in your own way as well when you can. It’s all give-and-take, naturally and easily.

You’ll find yourselves on the couch together, leaning and touching so naturally, but with no intent. Your little fingers trace shapes over his clothes, hearts and lettering he can’t catch. The heat of you will cling to him, whether your quirk activates or not.

He holds you, simply and truly. Tries to be a new, kinder being.

...

You don’t have much that is solely yours.

You’d been living in an odd combination of Keigo’s clothes and the single outfit you arrived with. It works, enough. Most garments are worn until they’re filthy, but it takes you a little too long to notice.

Keigo notices.

One day, he sits down with you and his heavy, black credit card and helps you pick out... whatever you wanted. The guy is loaded and will be until he dies, and he’s smitten to help you pick out whatever you need.

You’re more challenged by the task.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to do this,” you murmur into his collarbones, narrowing your eyes at the laptop screen. “I have enough.”

Keigo clicks his tongue, rubbing the fraying fabric of your shirt, the same, cheap scratchy fabric from the hospital. Your pants are soft cotton, old ones of Keigo’s that he should probably throw away. You adore them, and spend most of your time in them, too.

“You deserve some nice things that are yours, don’t you think?” He coaxes with some extra soft touches as you glare at the screen.

Perhaps, you think to yourself. Your jaw locks.

You deliberately avoided thinking about your lack of... things. The absence of all the bits of you that you had once carried tugs at something deep in your chest. Grief, probably. Loss at the very least. Your home has been torn apart and you have nothing. Not a single remnant of then except you. And you’re hardly a good cast of the existence you once lead.

The world feels dimmer with the thought.

...

The house gets cold at night.

It’s inevitable, with the chill of the snowy valleys and peaks slipping through drafty windows and cracks in the woodwork. It slunk into the house once the stars rose, sinking bone deep. It’s easier to ward off during the day. The little stray touches and the ambiance of shared presence helps.

But, you slept separately.

It’s cold— so fucking cold in your beds. Keigo hates it. Despises the way how it makes his eyes droop and his body heavier than it should be. Despite not having wings any longer, his other avian traits lingered, and torpor was definitely not in his top three faves. He can only be thankful that he thought to invest in an electric blanket for himself, for his nest.

Though it would be a lot better with you in it, the last thing he wants to do is push you. You’re fragile. Everything is fragile. Keigo has laid awake on more than one night, trying to make sense of all of it, everything and coming to the conclusion that sleeping in his too-big, too-cold bed would have to do.

Sometimes, there’s no way to swallow the state of things.

...

“Your packages are here.”

You look up, eyes wide and sweet.

Oh, yeah. Material goods.

Clothes.

Objects.

It takes a while, but the result of your shopping spree is a small horde of packages down at the town post office, all with your name attached. The idea of so much newness is daunting, but your few remaining garments are threadbare and practically falling apart. It’s necessary, you acknowledge, even if you’re terrified of not living in Keigo’s worn crewneck.

(Change can be good, you remind yourself. The thought is quiet.)

Keigo stands by the door, buttoning up his coat and lacing up his boots as you watch from your soft perch on the couch. The blanket has a new, wide hole picked in it, but you don’t notice.

“Would you like to come with me and pick them up?” Keigo flicks his gaze to you with a careful, easy smile.

You hadn’t left the house since you’d arrived.

The thought sends your stomach knotting and sweat gathering in your palms. You jerk your head side to side, sinking back down into the cushions.

Keigo doesn’t hold it against you. You can tell by the way his expression softens around his eyes.

He leaves after kissing you on the forehead a few times, telling you he’ll be quick to return. It’s not often that he leaves, though he’s always timely on coming back. His excursions are never more than a trip to the town market, thankfully. An hour or two feels like a lot, but the too-still air and quiet of the floorboards without Keigo’s pacing unsettles you.

Not having him near unsettles you. The thought of having him gone for too long shoots something hot and needy in your chest.

(Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave—)

Thankfully, just like always, Keigo isn’t gone for long. And he returns bearing a few armloads of packages and some takeout curry. You take it all, and him, greedily.

(Thank you, thank you, thank you.)

...

It’s a few days later when Keigo wakes to you knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning.

It had been a... rougher day. You had been a bit livelier early on, joining him on the snowy patio for morning coffee and even taking a quick walk around the neighboring forest. With the snow so deep, you could only go so far though. The motion of it aggravated your injury, left your gasping and clawing at Keigo’s arm as the scar tissue pulled.

The scar is still dead, thank god, but the impact is just as present physically as it is mentally for you.

The rest of the day you spent curled up on the couch, taking little sips of water between short naps. That night, you hardly touched your dinner. Keigo was smart enough to cut up some fruit and lay it with a handful of crackers and offer it to you throughout the rest of the night. You nibbled at the bits, but hardly consumed much at all.

You went to bed early, giving him a hard hug before retiring to your lonely room.

Those days are the worse, the bad ones. They’re the ones where Keigo wants to break all the boundaries he still has. The little touches and kisses he gives you are one thing, but there’s much more he wants to do. Craves doing. But, pushing you too far or too hard would break you. He’s smart. He knows that. So, Keigo doesn’t wait. He satiates all those protective needs.

He accepts circumstance, just as he always has.

(He doesn’t understand how much you crave him, but that’ll come later.)

That night, things begin to shift.

His voice cracks with sleep as he calls for you to enter. You linger in the door frame, clutching a pillow to your chest, like a scared child who’s had a—

“Nightmare?” He asks, sitting up and tugging a blanket with him to cover his bare chest.

The cold air of the cabin hits his scars. He hisses under his breath, shoulders drawing tense. You must notice, eyes going a little wider as you recede from his room. The darkness of the hallway nearly dissolves you. His chest aches, hands tightening around the fabric in his fists.

“Come back here, starshine, come on,” Keigo calls, praying you’ll heed him. “It’s alright. What’s wrong?”

Keigo half-recognizes that that’s a very loaded question, but you’re both a bit sleep addled. Maybe it will slide.

Your eyes alight in the pitch of the room, sputtering with little orbs of amber. Your atrophying arms squeeze the pillow, and you take a few more tentative steps closer.

“... We’re safe, right?”

The question surprises Keigo, enough to make his old wounds ache.

One loaded question answered for another.

It’s reasonable to ask. It’s very reasonable to ponder. Keigo has wondered about it too. The townsfolk don’t know who he really was, and he was quite secretive about the initial move. The world hadn’t caught onto the fact that ‘Hawks’ had moved him and his new love to an isolated little cabin in the woods, and hopefully they never would. Society had a lot bigger problems, according to the over-processed news channel he tuned into on occasion.

Keigo was old news at this point.

So many heroes had been called out for poor behavior. Scandal after scandal, coverup after coverup. Corruption, everywhere. It was an industry secret, all of the bullshit behind closed doors. Keigo’s little double-agent schtick and you know, murder of a good man (for the love of god, do not fucking think about Jin) was still bad, but the public had a whole new slew of bullshit to torch people at the stake for.

Still.

He’s glad no one knows about your little hideaway or you.

“We’re safe, starshine. Very safe.”’

It makes his answer easier to say, more honest.

You inch closer from the doorway. There’s a tremble in your shoulders that runs to your hands. You’re only wearing a t-shirt and thin shorts, maybe just panties, he can’t tell. Your scar runs down your thigh and calf, gnarling and twisting the flesh it dared to mar. The seam of it is a shining black that Keigo had failed to notice before.

It reminds him of why you’re so scared and the types of nightmares you must have.

“... Promise?” You stop at the foot of the bed, throat bobbing with a thick gulp.

Keigo gives a sympathetic smile, patting the sheets next to him, “I promise. You’re safe. We’re safe.”

You look skeptical, but climb into bed with him all the same.

Something stirs in Keigo’s chest as you do. As he watches you clamor over the sheets and blankets he... nests in, the heat of it fills him. A combination of yours and his own, spills through his ribs and down to his toes.

He shudders with it, something needy wriggling down from

You sit up on your knees, sinking into the mattress and holding the pillow tight to your chest. Watching, eyes still alight and wide.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keigo asks.

You don’t, you both know that, but breaking the silence is a start.

You push the pillow against the headboard, trading it to link your fingers with his, over his chest and pressed to the linens.

You squeeze and let out a breath you’ve been holding. There’s a weight to it, like there’s something you’re actually carrying. There has been something you have been carrying, but only you are able to see it— feel it in its actuality.

But, that doesn’t mean you have to shoulder the burden alone, especially on darkened, lonely nights.

He tugs you closer, mindful of your tenderness and the scars you both bear. The night is only lit by starlight, and the room is dark with the new moon. It makes it easier to be closer as you settled into the bedding next to him.

It’s uncomfortable for a few moments.

Despite how much contact you share, this feels different. The little touches, kisses and caresses you trade throughout the day are second nature. Comforting someone else who so obviously needs it. His person who needs it.

(He wonders if you think of him as your ‘person’ too.)

You lay on your side, facing away from him as you fall into his nest, still tense, still on edge and unsure. It reminds him of those first days at the hospital, when you both had lost your tongues and yourselves and just enjoyed the stars together in oddly comforting silence and broken conversation.

It’s a process, he reminds himself.

Keigo slides closer, throwing an arm over waist and adjusting the blankets with his other. There’s plenty, piled on top of each other without much reason. Careful hands properly tuck you into it all, next to him, with him. He brings them up to your chin, pressing stray hairs back into place and laying a trailing kiss or two over the back of your neck.

“... Is it okay if I stay?” Your voice sounds far-off, like the question is more for yourself than for him.

He can feel the unease and fear still bound up in your shoulders. It’s always there, whether it’s a moonless night or a snow-glitteringly, sunny day. The tension he presses his thumbs into is held in all of the muscle of your back, in your hips, your hands— everywhere.

It makes part of him ache.

A few little coos, soft little rumbles, roll from the back of his throat.

Normally, he’d be a bit embarrassed. But at the birdish chirps, you’re falling deeper in the sheets, the nest, and against his chest.

“Please stay,” He assures you with a squeeze. A small comfort, one he’d keep giving.

The odd quiet returns, sans the little sounds in his chest.

Slowly, tentatively, you turn in his arms. Your own lock over his waist, splayed low on his spine. The pads of your fingertips brush scars, the old ones and the new. It makes him writhe a bit in his own skin. It’s unfamiliar, compared to all of the cold prodding and meaningless pleasure he was used to.

It is the closest anyone of familiarity has been to the scars in a long time, and you, preciously, grace him with the softest touch. No expectation in it, just some much-needed, shared bits of love. Once again, precious.

And you both relax into it all. The ambient thrum of the other's body, the shared breath and smells that mingle between you. There’s little pains and stings that never really go away, but with the other so close, neither of you mind.

It’s hard to tell when your quirk settles, and the organic heat you create together fills the rooms and your lungs.

All Keigo knows is that he falls asleep with your lips brushing the hollow of his throat, still and warm against his chest. The feeling of the living rhythm of your body with your breath lulls him off, content and hazy.

...

You never sleep alone after that night.

Keigo pulls you into his room, or you pad in after brushing your teeth and pulling on your soft, soft sleep clothes. The bed feels a lot less big and lonely with the two of you wrapped up in each other, fully giving in.

It puts Keigo at a remarkable amount of ease.

The urge in his chest to ‘keep you safe’ feels the most sated at night, when he can keep as close as you both can bear. Your hands always make their home at the base of his spine, or the fat and flesh between his lower back and his rear. The pads of your fingers rub away years of stored tension and weight, quietly and kindly before you fall asleep each night.

During the day, you’re equally as needy, though you’re slowly becoming a bit more independent. You’re more lucid in general. Though the couch and worn blanket are your greatest comforts (other than him), you’re beginning to stray and poke around the house a bit more.

The shelves have a few more familiar comforts, things Keigo had slowly accumulated to pass the time. There’s a video game console or two he’d never used, a few stacks of books he’d heard were good, and some tucked away art supplies if inspiration struck.

As much as he urges you to take and use whatever you’d like, you’re still tentative. The first few times you pluck a crisp book from the shelf, Keigo’s back aches with how the old muscles that once controlled his wings tried to puff-up non-existent feathers. Despite how it tugs at all the wrong parts of him, he still glows at the progress.

You start to help him with dinner too. That’s some of your favorite time.

There’s a rhythm to it, when you both start preparing meals together. Keigo can’t season food for shit, (though, he’s made leaps and strides with cooking that pats himself on the back for) but he’s quite skilled with a knife. Remnants of his training that have domestic applications.

He doesn’t tell you that that’s why he’s so good at dicing vegetables and paring meat, he just chatters to fill the air. You tend more to the process of cooking, seasoning and watching and nodding along to his words.

The more meals you share in creating, the more you start to speak up.

It’s progress, even in something so small.

...

But progress isn’t linear.

It’s not even a goddamn line and it’s fucking infuriating.

...

The depth of winter bears down on the hills, the house, and the two of you. You’re coping, both of you. But the momentum of it is fragile.

It scares you, secretly and privately.

You feel fragile, and you have for a long time. Your scar remains tender, gnarled and ugly on your leg. You avoid looking at it at all cost, though Keigo has free reign to graze tender touch nearby it.

That’s how you find yourselves, leaning on each other on the cushion of the couch and idly watching the glow of the television. Your cheek tucks over his shoulder and you watch with half-lidded eyes. You’re only half-there as Keigo changes the channel.

He hums after a few moments.

“There’s a storm coming tonight,” Keigo tells you, lips just a touch dry against the shell of your ear. “I’m going to go to town and—”

Oh wow.

You interrupt, fisting the front of his shirt, “Can I come?”

The question stuns both of you.

Your eyes are honest as you peer up, genuinely unsure if you can.

“Of course, starshine,” Keigo assures. You notice the way his eyes, his pretty eyes, look wide and bright. All for you. Wow. “Let’s get you out of the house, hm?”

Getting out.

Time has stretched out and you can’t remember the last time you left for anything more than a little stroll on the backroads, Keigo on your arm. Going to town and seeing people strikes something odd that has your stomach churning.

You’re nervous when you finally pile into the car, both bundled up with hats, mittens and scarfs (Keigo wears a mask to better hide his identity, but he’s sure some of the townies have figured him out.) The tasks are simple. Stock up for the coming storm and make sure he pays to plow their little backroad out once the storm passes. Easy, things that wouldn’t take too long, but it still makes your palms sweat.

Keigo massages your thigh as you drive into town. The comfort of the snowy hills and evergreens disappears, and it has you in goddamn knots.

You squeeze his hand, locking your jaw.

“I’m scared.” You break the silence as the small structures of the town come into view. “I don’t know if this was a good idea.”

You haven’t decided again.

He kneads his thumb into the tension in your thighs with a little smile, “Let’s give it a try.”

“It’s scary, though.”

“I know.”

You pull at a hangnail with your teeth but say nothing else as you roll in and park at the small market.

The first thing you notice is the goddamn doors. Automatic doors.

When you see them, you want to climb back into the car, maybe the trunk for fuck’s sake, and hide like you’ve never hidden before. Go home and bury yourself in a snow pile with how your heart hammers in your chest and your breath catches.

Deep breaths.

You catch yourself, just a little.

You keep walking, Keigo’s hand in yours and you enter the market like nothing feels as wrong as it is.

The store is small, but there’s a decent selection, all things given. Keigo places a basket in your hands, tells you to ‘go nuts’ and ‘literally get whatever you want, especially if it’s salty or sweet’ and you heed him the best you can. He busies himself talking to the clerk, organizing with that honey-voice you crave.

You take a few deep breaths and walk around the market like a normal person.

(Even though, the last time you were in a situation close to this, you got that nasty, cute scar on your leg.)

(You suppress the thought for as long as you can.)

The basket gets filled quickly, but you stuff it to the brim. Keigo picked out plenty of good food, and had learned how to cook decently, but having some... agency felt nice, if not fucking terrifying.

You’ve got your back turned to the entrance of the store when the (automatic) doors suddenly swish open.

A chill so cold and hard shoots down your spine and you freeze, hovering over a box of breadcrumbs.

One...

How long was it between that sound and when he touched you?

Two...

This was a terrible idea.

Three—

It was four—

Four—

Four seconds, you propose, as your heart beats out of your chest and you sweat under your arms. Four seconds from the door opening to pain.

You wait.

And wait.

Nothing.

Just more voices from the front of the store, a figure entering your aisle and then leaving.

You hate the way you're so rigid, tense enough in your shoulders for it to hurt. The ghost of the wound on your leg makes you want to fall to the ground and writhe, but you grab the box of breadcrumbs and try not to think.

It works, and you land next to Keigo, presenting your filled basket to be rung up.

You bury your face into his shoulder and take a deep inhale. Keigo keeps you close, tucked in your side with an arm around your waist. Your anxiety must’ve been quite visible, as he takes to quietly rubbing your shoulders over your sweater.

Things get hazy as you feel safer. Keigo laughs and sways the two of you as he speaks to the clerk.

(Her sons are going to blow your little house out when the storm passes. The family cat recently got out and came back pregnant. Her husband has been reading some odd literature he found on the internet. Something about ‘the strong triumphant over the weak’. Her daughter might be able to return from her foreign university now that the travel restrictions had been lifted.)

Everything moves forward, even if it’s unpleasant.

It’s an awful reminder at an inopportune time.

You watch your feet as you crunch your way back to the shotgun side of the car, only relaxing when you hear the doors lock and the engine thrum.

...

The storm comes, just as the faces on TV said it would.

You’re in the country, in the hills and mountains where the weather is already turbulent and changeable. All the same, the overcast skies dump snow over the land and blanket the world in quiet and cold.

Snow silence sucks the sounds from the air, sans the howl of angry wind.

You’re tucked away and safe. It’s Keigo’s only solace.

After going into town, you keep more to yourself as the storm takes it sweet time rolling in. He recognizes the far off look in your eyes; it’s the one you wore stargazing, but there’s no kind smile on your face. Just a thoughtless frown as you go through the motions of your day.

It makes his chest ache.

(Part of him regrets bringing you with him to the market. It rots part of him, and he can only hope it sprouts again.)

Finally, when the storm truly comes and the hills get heavy and crisp white, a bit more of you returns. Keigo wants to take the fragments you’re willing to give him and tuck them close, horde them and squeeze. The way he’s gotten abashedly greedy for you has him handsier and needier.

He’ll take what he can get, and give what he can too.

It’s easiest to bear at night, probably out of habit. Maybe the time in the hospital fucked both of you up (yes, for sure, it did), but nighttime was the time where you were open and easy with each other.

The storm gives the perfect opportunity to all of your time shamelessly twisted together, only leaving for brief coffee breaks and light meals. Otherwise, you’re both nested.

Pillows and blankets piled on the oversized mattress, all soft against your scars and old scratches. Keigo’s still fond of the color red, he can’t let that go, but he trades in the scarlet that was once his ‘brand’ for a deeper burgundy. All the sensations are rich and velvety, whether it’s the bedclothes you’re wrapped in or the touches you share.

It feels safe.

The feeling is something almost foreign to Keigo. He’s been getting used to it, even as the isolation weighs down on him. No one around means no reason to be so alert. The house isn’t bugged, there’s no villains or Suits watching his every move. He’s just a flightless bird, with no cage, but no captors either.

It feels amazing.

It feels even better that you’re always the heat against his side. That you and your perfect, sweet hands always know how and where to touch. Your words flow easier when you’re so close, so surrounded and so deliciously suffocated.

Keigo fills you up in all the best ways, and you’re finally able to breathe easier.

You tell him your secrets, little stargazing facts and facets of you that you’d held away and far from him before.

“Do you know what cosmic microwave background radiation is?” You ask, sweet as your lips nip at his jaw.

“No, not a clue,” He laughs, the giggle only you get to hear.

You hum, shifting your thighs so it lies over his. Your hips grind, slow and unhurried as wind rattles the windows.

“It’s this ambient radiation that’s just everywhere, all the time, forever,” You tell him, voice going a little huskier despite the fact you’re talking about theoretical astrophysics. “It’s left over from the Big Bang. A little bit of the beginning that never stops.”

“And how do you know all this?”

“A documentary, love.”

The questions fade as your lips slide together, lazy hands sliding into each other's hairs. You pull, only lightly, just to bring him closer. Keigo gets greedy, (again, always), licking into your mouth and tasting you. It’s all cheap coffee and the stale mint of toothpaste, and he drinks you down like the finest nectar. He sucks on your tongue, moaning at the way you keen and shift next to him.

It’s not enough. It never is, so he rolls to sit himself over your hips and grab your jaw in a tight grip. He can’t be too forceful, he can’t— his little birdbrain won’t let him do anything too rough to you, even if neither of you would mind it. He tilts your head just right.

You roll your hips up, breath mingling with his as it hitches and shudders from you. It’s so much, so much good, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Keigo pulls away, eyes half-lidded to take in your own blown pupils. It makes something purr in his chest, to see your eyes already glassy and wide for him. Your neck is thoroughly covered in darkened splotches, already sucked and bitten while the storm sang.

Little marks of him.

“You’re all mine, you know?” Keigo nearly moans at the way your expression goes gooey and sweetened. He tightens his grip on your jaw just a fraction, enough to make you gasp before he licks and nips below your ear. Just to make sure you hear him. “‘Everywhere, all the time, forever’, I’ve got you.”

“Y-you do,” you gasp as Keigo shifts your sleep shorts off, pushed away forgotten in the nest. The thin tank top you’re wearing is hardly covering anything, not that either of you care. The nearly-sheer fabric of it stretches over your collars and curves beautifully. It does nothing to hide the way your breaths heave or the sweat and heat gathering on your neck.

You’re bared to him.

And if Keigo’s being honest?

You own each other, in the most pleasantly fucked up way.

“Y-You’re so good,” The word holds weight, so much heaviness. Keigo groans, palming one of your breasts and rolling one of your nipples. It’s ambient, something to occupy himself as he resists your words. Just a little—

Your hand slips into the front of his sweats, bare beneath, and wraps around the velvet of him. Thick and hot, firm in your hand but not close enough.

You squeeze, almost in warning.

“You are good.” You gasp as Keigo pulls off you, leveling gazes with you, all pretty eyes reflecting the starshine and snow. He is good. There’s so much more to it than that, but your poor, fucked up little mind can’t synthesis it yet. Only that Keigo is good, warm, safe, and wholly yours. And you’re his. You stretch to ghost a kiss over his lips. “My good boy, always keeping me safe. You keep me so well.”

He stills, even as you slowly pump in his cock. It twitches in your hand, your thighs squeezing between his hips.

Keigo’s mind races, in the best way.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He murmurs, head tilting and body sagging to drink down your kiss-bruised lips. More, more, more— “You just need to be taken care of.”

“I don’t need to,” You lie, huffing.

Keigo raises an eyebrow, biting his lips as your grip floats down to his balls, massaging them in your soft grip. It’s tender, weirdly vulnerable, as the whole of you two are.

“Maybe you don’t need to, you’re very capable,” Maybe not right now, but he knows it’s in there. “But you want it.”

“I-I like it,” You scramble the wording, shoving down his sweats, huffing again and urging Keigo to kick them away. Your palm goes to his cheek and drags him closer. “I like you a lot, love you, you know. You make me feel... safe. It’s a good feeling.”

It’s the most honest you’ve been in a long time, and it sits in the air. Keigo remains silent for a moment, silent and trying to control the way his birdbrain wants to take you. Wants to fuck you up and ruin you for anyone else.

You’re his, aren’t you?

“Good girl,” Keigo breaks the tension, squeezing your hips to the point of bruises. His, his, his. “I keep you so good, don’t I?”

You nod, spitting out little affirmatives between kisses. They dot his cheeks and forehead, slipping to his nose and downward. You pull his bottom lip into his mouth, letting out a little half-sob as Keigo’s touch drifts to your cunt, to your clit that’s swollen and untouched.

More, more, more—

“You keep me so good,” You gulp, whining and grinding into the heel of his hand. Slick coats your sex, sticky and hot. “So, so good—”

Keigo drops down the bed, ignoring the flare of his scar tissue, to seat himself between your thighs. They get thrown over his shoulders with a squeeze. His hands cup your ass, slipping a pillow beneath your hips before eating your cunt like he’d die if he didn’t.

It’s one of his favorite things. Stuffing you full of him until your belly swells is another, or seeing the way his cock opens and stretches you until you’re gasping for breath and begging for more, more, more—

Keigo slips a finger into you without resistance. He curls it, unyielding as he massages the little knot of nerves in you that makes you arch and beg for more, for him.

You choke on a sob when he adds another finger, and he hushes you so sweet, tears prick your eyes.

“Starshine,” He coaxes, withdrawing only to give your clit, a few kitten licks and slow kisses. His gaze flickers towards yours, holding your wet eyes. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

You nod, the meat of your thighs squeezing around him. Keigo would be happy to die like this, you soft and opened for him, crying for him. Broken and cracking for him, by his tongue, by his touch, Him. His.

“Who takes care of you?” He curls his fingers, and you throw your head back into the nest of pillows.

“Y-You,” Your voice breaks and you rub at your cheeks.

“Who knows just how to keep you so well? How to make you feel so good?”

He presses a third finger in, tending to your clit as you cry above him. You’re molten around him, and he laps you up until the smell and taste of you is all he comprehends.

This is what you both need, isn’t it?

Each other. All of each other.

Your cries turn sour quickly, and it has Keigo jolting up, fingers withdrawn and leaving you to feel empty. The little sobs turned into hiccupping cries, one's stifled with the back of your hand.

Keigo rises over you, tugging you hand away to get at your cheeks, kissing them soft and sweet.

It isn’t often that you cry, surprisingly. You probably should more often.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Keigo urges. Please, please, just tell him what the fuck is wrong. He knows, you know, the meat of it all. But please tell him something he can tend to. Something he can stitch up because god, he needs to be useful— “What’s making your cry sweetheart? Tell me.”

You paw at your forehead, “It’s silly.”

You sniffle and look at him with the most unguarded expression he’s seen you worn. The vacancy is gone, the hollowness and pain has been pulled away in the safety of that perfect nest and all that’s left is—

“‘M scared,” You mumble. Your arms curl over your chest, covering what’s primitively most precious to you. “I’m scared.”

Your eyes grow bright and heat, hotter than anything he’s felt from you, explodes over the room.

He’s half-choking and he fucking loves it.

Something in his chest snaps and he worries your hair, bringing his nose to yours, nuzzling and nudging your hands away. He nips you. His poor little birdbrain.

“I’m afraid you’re going to leave.”

Keigo stills.

He sits with your fear for a few beats.

“I’d never leave,” He says easily, truthfully and fully. He couldn’t.

Those long nights in the hospital and the warmth passed between you had so easily gotten you wormed his chest, right next to his second and third rib. He can feel it, always; you’re ever present. He grabs your arms and holds them to yours sides. You’re exposed, soft flesh and squirming a bit beneath him. He wants to mark you purple and near-bloody, so that no one would think of you as anything other than his.

His, his, his.

He shows you.

Worn hands, a bit chapped with the dry air, pull your high to rest on his shoulders. He massages your calves, kissing your ankles.

“I mean this real lovingly, starshine,” He breaths deep, fisting his cock with a few slow strokes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t get a chance to protest as he slides into you in one stroke. The stretch of him has you burning; he can tell by the way your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his shoulders as your little cries only get harder.

“Bear it, I know you can,” You had before, and you would many times more. The stretch feels amazing, even if it burns something in your core. You like it, how the pain pricks something that shoots into your toes. Only Keigo gets to fuck you up, gets to own you. “You’re always good f-for me— f-fuck, so fucking good—”

His, his, his.

There is, of course, the inverse.

You grab his jaw, your grip tight like his was earlier, and you meet his gaze. You blink away tears, sniffling, but expression set with determination.

“You’re mine too,” You squeeze around him, grinding down to the root of his cock. “‘M only good for you because you’re mine too, Keigo. All of you.”

Without thought, your hands ghost over his scars.

You have avoided them for so long. It was an untouched spot, something tender and from a time where Keigo was being that was entirely and wholly different from who he is now. It’s a piece of him that’s always been off-limits.

But you’re both so cracked open, you do it without thought.

And something in Keigo snaps.

He pushes you down by the backs of your thighs, folding your legs to your torso. And he fucks you.

His hips slam against yours, opening you up with pants and groans. You feel full, full of him in every and all ways, everywhere, always, and forever.

You’re greedy with your touches, tugging him closer and uncaring of the way your nails scrap over his shoulders and arms. His body is yours and you’re his. It’s disgusting, it’s fucked up and perfect the way you slot together. It’s like little, scared pieces of existence slide together, and everything feels whole, yet open and uncracked.

Keigo fills you up with a sob, tears dripping down his cheeks as you pressed down on the burns and scars that rack down his back.

“Fill me up,” You demand, the heat of you swelling as his hand dips to your clit, circling and rolling with the little pleas falling from both your lips.

The world drips as his thrusts go harder, sloppier as you tip your head back and scream. Your voice breaks, hoarse from all your pleading and possession.

Keigo stuffs you, tip of his cock pressed to the deepest parts of you. His cum, all him, leaks from around his cock as he gives a few more weakened grinds. He makes sure you’re full, content and sated and his.

He falls over you, coating your cheeks in kisses and praise. You sputter little sobs for him, begging for him to be closer, despite the way he still fills you even as he softens.

It never feels like enough, the closeness. But you’ll settle for all of him that you can get.

...

The storm passes, and you spend your time much the same way. Fucking, feeling, and for a little, blessed while, forgetting.

Eventually, the snow stops falling. The wind that has been whipping the power into tree trucks and your windows falls still. It’s peaceful, then. Not that it wasn’t before, but without the weather bearing down on you, you’re both less hungry. Still greedy, just not starved.

You share the first morning after the storm outside, on the porch. Keigo had shoveled a little clear patch and you’d brushed off the two, brittle lawn chairs that had seen better days. You fixate on the task a bit too much, the steaming coffee you’re to share is forgotten. The straining plastic of the chairs is a yellowed-white and bright red. It felt strong enough under your fingers, cold fingers, as you cleared away the snow.

It feels like a remnant

Whatever fixation you have on the object passes as Keigo runs a hand up your spine. His hand is wide and warm, still a bit warm from the toasty mugs.

You rearrange your chairs and yourselves to be close as can be, in your little patch of snowless porch, and sip at your coffee as the world begins to wake up.

...

Oddly enough, the storm helps you make forward progress, at least a little. You take up making breakfasts on your own, occasionally carrying plates into the bedroom with a big, previously unseen grin

Keigo returns the smile so big, his cheeks burn for hours.

You take to a few of the little crafts and things Keigo has been hoarding. Paper folding and little canvases with acrylic painting are your favorites. Sometimes, you paint your little strokes and press creases from the comfort of the couch. Other times, you make you place for the day at the kitchen island while Keigo makes his day-long meals.

There’s a rhythm to it that’s so good.

It’s progress, and seeing it visibly start to the fill the walls feels good for both of you. Your little canvases get hung around the cabin, little portraits of the stars and their mother, all for you and Keigo to admire. ;;

...

He gets the call exactly three weeks after the storm passes.

Keigo awakes before you to the shrill ring of his cell. It vibrates against the bedside table, loud enough to wake the both of you. You both startle out of sleep, squeezing each other.

He takes the call in the other room, after he sees the contact name.

[Suits] Calling...

He paces as he listens to her drone on.

There’s no greeting, no “hey, how does it feel to be a flightless fucking failure?”. It’s business. Just business. It’s always been like that with her, and the lot of suits that treated him like a fixture until he got particularly cracked and unsightly.

“So, you come into Tokyo, we’ll do a small event—”

“The event you’re describing really doesn’t sound small,” Keigo tilts his head and gives an angry smile to his own reflection in the mirror. “It sounds like a circus that I really have no interest in being a part of.”

“It’s for the people, Hawks—”

It makes him snap.

“Stop fucking calling me that.” He growls into the receiver, grip tight enough to hurt. “Stop calling me, stop asking me, I am not coming back.”

The woman is silent on the line for a beat, before spitting, “What if I didn’t give you a choice?”

His blood runs cold before burning in his veins. And he laughs.

“You think you could?” He only feels a little hysterical. “You don’t have any power, not over me, not over anyone else as far as I’ve seen, Madam President!”

“Hawks—”

Shut up, shut up, shut UP.

“The Commission is dead, the world is in chaos, and putting the corpse of a hero on the big screen isn’t going to convince anyone that this is all fixable,” Keigo chest gets tight, and he can’t tell if it’s from the uncomfortable laughter he’s spitting or the sobs that are locked in his chest.

“So, you’d rather turn your back on the people you swore to protect?” Suits speaks with no emotion, not an ounce of feeling. “Selfish.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish. The word echoes in his mind, worms its way down his throat and suffocates him.

“You’re really going to say that to me? Of all fucking people?” He feels his nails break skin where he’d been clenching his fist. “Me, selfish?”

“You left, didn’t you? Ran away?” The woman has the stones to fucking laugh. “Everyone’s lost something. You’re not special, and it doesn’t justify—”

“What the fuck are you getting out of this?” Keigo interrupts, burning, burning— “Did you call me to go to this little gala or did you call to dig into your perfect little hero? You told me I could be done. Should’ve known you were lying, you always lie—”

“You’re being childish.”

“Oh my GOD!” Keigo nearly screams and doesn’t notice how you’ve tip-toed from the bedroom. “Do you hear yourself?”

“I hear you screaming at me, the woman who practically raised you, like some petulant brat. Get a grip, Hawks.”

He snaps.

“STOP FUCKING CALLING ME THAT!” He screams into the phone, vision going white and scarlet. “I am not Hawks! Hawks is DEAD! Why can’t you understand that? There’s no fucking hero to attend your little ‘healing’ gala, there’s just me. ‘Childish’, ‘selfish’, and wingless, babe. That’s what I’ve got, and this is what I am.”

Suits takes an audible sigh, and Keigo can almost see how she’s shaking her head at him, “You’re being ridiculous, Hawks. Take at least a goddamn ounce of responsibility for your actions that helped cause all... this.”

Ah, there it is. The thing Hawks has so properly compartmentalized, tucked so far back in his psyche that it’s almost impossible to reach.

How much of the dissolution of... everything is on him?

Something in him snaps, and it slips through his own fingers.

“I’m not going and this, Madam President? This is for me.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

He hears her unspoken words echoing in his skull as he hangs up, slamming the phone on the countertop.

Something hotter than rage and more poisonous than pain fills his blood, and it makes him want to both wretch and break his fingers in the same breath. He slams a fist onto the phone, cracking it against the countertop. He can buy a new one—

“S-Sweetpea?”

Keigo freezes.

You’re at the mouth of the hallway, hardly out of the shadows, eyes wide and fearful. His chest somehow gets even tighter.

Normally, he would’ve rushed to comfort you, calmed himself down to console you for seeing his little outburst.

But he doesn’t that day.

He breaths ragged with his lips slowly curling, panic’s ugly cousin turning his spit acrid behind his teeth.

“Here, let’s go back to bed, okay? We can—” You take a few steps closer, hand outstretched and eyes beginning to light.

Oh, and Keigo’s hit by fucking envy, and it’s over.

“Don’t.”

You freeze, “Pretty eyes—”

“Don’t, just don’t.”

You don’t move as Keigo trudges to the door, throws on his thick parka and snow boots, pocketing his keys and grumbles to you that there’s leftovers in the fridge.

It’s shitty and selfish.

And he just doesn’t care.

He can’t make himself care as the door slams shut behind him, the sound echoing off the trees and so quickly dampened by the snow.

...

Keigo drives, white noise in his ear that echoes the wind in the treetops of the mountains he’s descending. He’s only half there as he leaves town.

It’s still too much.

...

You, on the other hand?

You’re frozen, stuck-still, as you watch Keigo climb into the car and drive off. Maybe your mouth has gone a bit agape, you aren’t aware of your body.

You panic.

There’s no other word for it, not that you were able to think of as you were untrenched in it.

There’s something thick and knotted that is rolling unraveling in your chest. The... thing is worse than a feeling and runs deeper and hotter than you can manage.

You tried to manage it.

While Keigo is god fucking knows where, you paced the house, always within eyeshot of a window. Hoping for a glimpse of his dark parka, or the tufts of his blonde sticking out in the snow, a return—

Fucking nothing.

He just left.

No return time, no destination, just a departure with no explanation. He’d obviously left the cabin before, you’d handled those times quite well, but he’d never stormed out. Never raised his voice and screamed and then just left.

Is he okay?

(You heard most of the call, at least his side of it. Is that awful Hero Commission he told you about calling him back? Or even worse, dragging him away.)

(He’d tell you, wouldn’t he?)

(Guess you’ll never know! Because he’s fucking gone.)

It made something seize in your chest, hot and awful as you walked your circuit, praying. Worry is damning.

How could he just... leave?

You need him back.

You alone without him.

Your thoughts rot you, despite the winter’s cold outside. The chill of the cabin seeps into your bones, coats them and leaves you sticky and downright paranoid. The lack of... presence (his presence) was driving you up a wall. The air is too still, the floors quiet and without the telltale old creaks of movement that you’ve become accustomed to, and the cabin is silent other than your breathing and rabbit’s heart.

Beneath the anger was a thick layer of fear.

You are alone.

The feeling rolled its way into you as the sun began to dip lower in the sky.

What if he never comes back?

Of course he is, you remind yourself, hurriedly, worrying the scary on your leg and picking at the core of it. He wouldn’t leave.

Why wouldn’t he?

The thought gets your poor little heart racing faster, air choking in your lungs. Your head whips to the window to see the empty, snowy driveway.

“I-I’m alone,” You break the silence of the house, the walls answering with their pensive quiet and the wind shaking the fresh snow from thin branches just outside.

All alone.

All fucked up and broken and fucking alone.

“He wouldn’t leave,” You start talking to yourself, threading a hand in your hair, gripping. “He cares, he wouldn’t just leave.”

He cared about being a hero too and he left everyone else.

What if things changed?

Insecurities, new ones and old ones, cloud your mind and vision and stuffed your lungs. The grip on your hair goes tighter.

All alone in the mountains.

All.

Alone.

It scares you more than anything, how much you need him.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you tug at the roots of your hair. It hurts, but everything is starting to hurt very quickly, and a bit of hair pulling is child’s play to how it feels like your chest is being hollowed out.

You really have so little. It stuns you in the moment as you choke back a sob. The little house in the mountains, Keigo, and the starlight you still both enjoy— that’s fucking it. You’d never returned to your ‘apartment’, or rather the remnants of it. Any possessions you had were lost to destruction and unsalvageable. Your meager relationships and friendships had fallen away when you were bound to hospital for months.

He’s all you have.

“No, no, no,” You nearly trip in your pacing, dragging your feet as you accept your reality. “He can’t l-leave.”

The world responds with silence. The mountains are cold and lonely, just like you are. It’s cruel, it all hurts and after being in a daze so often, the reality of your situation hurts like a hot brand.

He’ll come back.

He cares.

You desperately try to convince yourself as you tug your parka on, throwing on your boots. You don’t bother to fasten or tie anything, you just stumble onto the deck blindly and scan the hill of the drive.

Not a single soul.

Something rotten curls up behind your teeth. Bile climbs the back of your throat and you have to swallow to keep from vomiting. Your chest is too tight, the world is too bright, and you’re terrified.

You’re not sure what to call the type of panic response you have; it doesn’t make any logical sense. Your heart runs in your chest, your breath is hot and tight, and you simply slip to the ground in the fresh snow.

And you wait.

...

Keigo drives until he’s nearly out of town, into some flatlands near the river that gurgles and churns nearby. The surrounding forest is the perfect place for a pensive walk.

It’s the best place for him to just get it out.

It had been a long time since Keigo had just talked to himself. Audibly sorts himself as he walks along the bank of the almost-frozen river. He doesn’t keep his voice quiet, no, its full volume complaining. It’s anger that’s bundled up in his chest that’s finally being lit and the smoke of it nearly chokes him out.

It’s not fair.

He does feel a bit childish, thinking about it like that. But hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t they told him that he’d done enough? He lost it all and was just starting to the plant the seeds for a new life to sprout. Couldn’t he just have that? He’s not the shiny thing he used to be he’s fucking worthless. And that’s fine. He’s made peace with it and can find worth outside of saving people.

He’s capable. Adaptable. And he’s doing it all at his trademark speed.

But the thing that makes his gut twist is facing everything he (ran away from) left behind. The only short statement he’d given after Dabi’s video was nearly as viral as the actual video of him killing Jin (don’t think about it, don’t think about it—)

He’s not sure what possesses him to pull out his phone and pull up the video. It’s not hard to find.

It hurts to watch, but he does it anyway. Fucking masochist.

He’s standing beside Enji and Tsunagu, all of them in hastily tailored suits. They all had their visible injuries. Scars and brands that had just been carved and burned into skin. They look haggard, they look beaten.

Because they were.

Keigo watches as he adjusts his microphone in the video and gives his statement. Stupidly simple and vague, all at the same time.

“The villain Dabi did not lie. I am the son of Takami, and I killed Twice of the League of Villains. It was all necessary. Please accept my apology for the upset I have caused.”

His voice doesn’t even sound like him. It’s manufactured and broken. He remembers how the smoke had charred his throat and lungs for the first few days, before he was transferred from Central to the big facility in the tall-tree-ed forest.

He bows on the video and Enji begins his statement. Something solemn about the suffering he’s caused his family, how he wants to atone and how he is atoning. The public was too angry to listen and is too angry to listen. And the world Keigo ran from is the result.

He lets himself cry.

Finally.

His shoulders shake as he hunches over himself. The tears slip down his chilled cheeks and make little divots where they fall into the snow beneath him. His little gasps turn into sobs, the kind that hurt your chest and give you a headache that lasts for days.

He repeats a little mantra between scratchy breaths—

“I’m still good.”

He falls against the thick bark of a tree and slides down to the ground.

He let’s go.

It’s good for him, cleansing. Maybe it’s the rushing of the nearby river or the snow he's buried his hands in, but with each ragged breath he can feel some of that filth that’s clinging to him fall away. Not all of it, not by a long shot.

But feeling the worst is the first step to feeling your best.

So, when Keigo’s ready, he stands and moves forward. Trudges onward, albeit a bit slower.

...

Keigo returns home just as the sky begins to change from red to indigo with the night. It paints the pines and evergreens an eerie, dark color, shadows long and deep against the fluffy snow.

His gut twists in knots as he gets closer to home.

He’s tired. Exhausted. His eyes are still puffy from his tears, sore and aching. His body still feels tight, tense in his shoulders and arms as he grips the steering wheel. He needs rest. A good cup of tea and maybe a beer later.

And you.

As weak as Keigo feels, he knows he fucked up... just a bit.

It wasn’t fair to storm out. He isn’t dumb. All the same, if he stayed with you in the cabin, he probably would’ve said something he regretted. Or locked himself in the bedroom all day. It wouldn’t have been good or fair for you or him.

(Coward.)

Probably, but he was also burned alive fairly recently, so he had to give himself a bit of credit.

As he nears, his stomach drops.

You’re on the porch. You sit on the steps, parka pooling around your waist as your head rests on your knees.

Something’s not right.

Some of his old, honed senses trill to life, seeing you. Something in his gut twists, the muscles in his back tense, the old ones that controlled his wings.

You must be cold.

Keigo leaves the car and slaps on a smile, “Waiting for me, starshine?”

You twitch, curling over your body harder.

Something is very wrong—

He calls your name, your actual name, and you hardly stir. You all but twitch from where you sit, head tilting up just the slightest bit. It’s not enough to ease any of the worry pulling his old muscles, if anything, it makes it worse.

He falls to his knees in front of you, ignoring the crack his bones make.

“How long have you been out here?” Too long, he knows the answer, but he still has to ask.

“... A while,” You murmur, barely audible. “You’re back.”

“I am,“ Keigo pushes you up by your shoulders, scanning your face as more fear curls in his gut.

Your eyes are glassy and unfocused.

“We need to get you inside, now,” He isn’t sure if he sounds scared or angry (probably both), and he can’t make himself care.

You’re freezing.

Too cold, way too cold.

Keigo had to take plenty of survival courses during his training with the Commission and he had learned plenty about hypothermia. His avian anatomy made him more susceptible to the cold and knowing the symptoms for himself kept him from turning into a bird-adjacent popsicle more than once. He’d rescued his handful of civilians—

(Don’t think about being a hero right now or you’re gonna start crying again.)

You’re not some civilian, you’re you and you’re in front of him with darkened lips and dull eyes and full panic breaks his ribs.

...

You remember how pretty red the sky was.

You like sunsets.

You should see if Keigo wants to watch the sunset sometime.

Keigo’s gone.

You could drive—

Keigo drove away. You’re alone.

You aren’t sure how long you sat in the chill, but it was comforting despite how your fingers and toes began to ache. Outside, there were plenty of sounds and sights to keep you company. The wind whistled through trees, and the sky echoed a few, far-off sounds from distant civilization.

It was nice. Peaceful, at the very least.

...

“Inside, you need to be inside,” Keigo sputters, pulling you up under your arms. Your feet drag for a moment before going flat, and you sway in his arms.

Getting you inside makes his body ache in new ways, your weight mostly on his side. Old pains crawled to the surface as he dragged you to the couch, setting you down on the cushion and assessing you better.

His hands run over your body, over curves and divots he knew and loved and the chill of you filled him with dread.

“Your pants are wet from the snow,” Keigo swallows, rising. “I’m going to grab you dry clothes.”

As soon as he tries to move away, you catch his wrist in a weak grip.

And finally, half-lucidly, you regard him with terror in your eyes.

“You l-left,” You spit, lips curling over your teeth. “You left, Keigo.”

You use his real name and he really wants to die a little.

Sure, Suits used it on the phone with him and it made him see blood fucking red, but it’s you, and you saying the name he never really had, for the first time, so fucking angrily makes part of his secretly fragile heart break.

He freezes, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at you.

“I’m sorry,” He says softly. “Let me get you warm, then we can talk, okay?”

You don’t look convinced, tightening your grip on his wrist and pulling him closer.

Keigo gives in, so, so easily, dropping to his knees and pulling your icy hands into his. He rubs warmth into them, bringing them to his lips and breathing hot over your knuckles.

“Please, starshine. Let me get you warm.”

“I’m already warm,” Your voice slurs, entirely unconvincing.

“I say this very lovingly,” He says, somehow cracking a smile, “but you’re genuinely hypothermic. You can be as mad at me as you want, but you need to get warmed up.”

You chew your lip, cupping his cheeks with your freezing palms, “... You’re not leaving?”

Your voice drawls and Keigo makes a note to turn up the thermostat.

“No, god, no, I’m not,” He tries to assure you, shaking his head, but your grip only gets harsher. He placates you with a squeeze to your knee. “Please let me help.”

He can’t tell you how much he needs to. How hyper aware he is of your chill and of his own thumping heart. That protective urge in his chest wants to just pull you to his chest and wrap you up in him, in his heat, but that’s for later.

Your eyes' gaze goes softer, little specks of light bouncing between your irises. The room fills with blessed, familiar heat and Keigo can feel his shoulders slacken and some of the worry in his chest dissipate.

...

He returns with some of his own soft joggers, fleece-lined and well-loved. He grabbed a few layers, and an armful of blankets and pillows. Anything he could carry gets brought as his little, avian mind craves something he suppressed for years so well.

Nest, nest, nest.

Heat them first, then nest.

He helps you slip into your new, dry clothes as your teeth begin to chatter. Thank fucking god. Keigo is smart enough to check your toes as he slips onto fuzzy, thermal socks, and they all look to be healthy and functioning.

You’re quiet during the whole ordeal, save for soft breathing and snapping teeth. You occasionally grab his hand and hold it to whatever part of your skin was bared, mumbling something about how warm he is.

Keigo eventually gets you settled and surrounded by blankets and pillows which you sink into, eyes hardly open. Only then does he feel like he can pull away enough to start the nearby fire.

It feels somewhat unnecessary, given you’re still heating the room. It’s probably somewhat for the atmosphere, considering the sky is nearly fully black. A bit of crackling flame and light would do you both good.

(He rarely lights fire, but considering the flame is a kind red and not a fucking disgusting blue, he can bear it. Especially now.)

When the fire is stoked, he turns back to you and deflates.

“I’m sorry,” You say, all soft and half-lidded from the blankets. “That was... dumb.”

“It was.”

Keigo can’t fight you on the obvious.

There’s a goddamn list of questions he wants to ask you. ‘Why’s and ‘what’s, but he has a pretty good idea of why you were sitting outside and what you were thinking.

He’s not sure you’d want to talk about it anyway.

The couch creaks when he sits down a few feet from your little nest, running a tired hand over his face.

“... You know, this couch folds out,” You shift a little, slow and lethargic. Still cold. “We should sleep out here tonight.”

He turns to regards you, and it takes everything in him not to fucking break.

“Why?” His voice shakes and he knows you can tell.

You hum, leaning toward him, “Change of scenery. I think we could both use it.”

“Later.” Keigo agrees. The urge to wrap you up in his (wings) arms feels unbearable, the little avian tickings in his skull loud and needy. “Warm first. Futon later.”

You huff weakly, but lift the blankets to let Keigo slip behind you. His body curls around yours, finding the coldest parts of you and tending to them first. His hands clasp over yours and your feet get tucked between his calves.

“Thanks,” You murmur, neutral and vacant.

Keigo doesn’t push you.

Instead, you stay tucked in his arms, still shivering, but significantly less cold. Your lips and cheeks look a far healthier color and they’re warm to the touch. He traces his fingertips over the curves of your face and neck, preening in the only way he can muster up.

You eventually break the silence, when the fire is all but embers.

“I heard some of that call…” Your voice trails off. “It sounded bad.”

“It was,” Keigo agrees with a little nod. He really doesn’t want to think about Suits and, you know, the rest of the world, but it feels necessary. “Very bad.”

“Who was it?”

“Old boss.”

“… And?”

Keigo sighs, squeezing you probably a little too tightly, “Why don’t we focus on warming you up from your hypothermic excursion and not my shitty life as a shitty hero—”

“You weren’t a shitty hero, Keigo,” He can hear the mourning in your voice and it makes him want to die, just a little. You cup his cheeks, eyes sad and soft around the edges. “You were a really good one.”

“Was I? News to me.” He laughs, the bitter sound tasting like bile. He hates it, the feel of it mixed with the heat and softness of you. It feels wrong. “I don’t want to talk about all that, starshine. Please just drop it.”

Your face hardens.

“No.”

“… No?”

“No, I’m not done,” You sigh, big and hard. “I think we’re more fucked up than we talk about, Keigo.”

He winces, but you keep going, and he doesn’t move to stop you.

“Probably.”

Your jaw sets like stone on stone. It makes him internally wince as your hands go to cup his cheeks.

“I’m fucked up, you’re fucked up, everything is fucked up. We can ignore it up here, quietly, but it’s true, isn’t it?”

Yes.

“Yeah.” He feels his gut roll, but he doesn’t stop you. His grip goes tighter on your hips. “You’re not wrong.”

“Can we just… Acknowledge it? Please.” You ask, beg, softly as you rub his cheeks with your thumbs. “Please, Keigo.”

He doesn’t know what to do at first. He really wants to lock up. Shut down. Lock all the nasty feelings in chest, behind his heart, so they can burrow into his spine and keep him moving forward.

He wraps his hands around your wrists.

Your eyes look glassy, tears sticking in your bottom eyelashes, but not daring to fall. Not yet.

“Keigo, I’m fucked up, I know that, and that’s okay,” You deflate a little. “I’m getting better. We’re getting better. I know we are.”

“We a-are.”

Keigo’s voice cracks, hoarse in his throat and tight as the uniform belt he used to wear. His lungs feel hot, too stuffed even as he tries to swallow the heat that’s welling up on the very back of his tongue.

“You are good, Keigo, I promise,” You lean in to give his forehead the lightest kiss and Keigo feels part of himself die in the best way. “Please, let’s just talk.”

And so, he does.

…

He tells you about Jin first.

You’d heard about him, the villain Hawks killed during the War. Published for the world to see, over and over, forever. The video was one you’d only seen once, during your early days at the hospital, but you could recall the footage on your grainy hospital television.

Your pretty eyes, pretty Keigo, cut him down. One of his old feathers, hardened into a stiff blade, struck Jin across the chest, arcing up to his neck and slicing a few important arteries and veins. It was an imperfect job, one that probably made his death more painful and prolonged than it needed to be.

You don’t let go of Keigo’s cheeks as he tells you the story. You can’t, you’re too busy thumbing away the little tears that roll down his cheeks.

He speaks between sobs that break from his chest. Underused and much-needed.

“He was good, starshine,” Keigo curls in a little on himself, but you keep him mostly upright. “I had to, y-you know? I didn’t have a choice, if I didn’t—"

How many more people would be dead?

His body convulsed, the little tears turning fat as he collapsed into your chest and buried himself in you. Like he was hiding, and god, did you let him.

You hushed him, soothed him with little kisses, and listened.

“And then Dabi—”

You hate him, obviously. You only know his name and visage, and you hate him so much it hurts. Part of you wants to rub at his scars like he lets you, but you decide against it in Keigo’s fragility.

He tells you of the blue flames, how the boot felt against his back, how his throat burned for weeks from the heat and smoke. His grip on you goes so tight, you’re afraid he’s going to tear your shirt to shreds.

“He took them, starshine,” Keigo’s voice muffled into your shoulder, the sound of it rattling you. “He t-took them!”

And he slumps against you, well and truly, and can’t muster up another word. All you could do is hold him, rocking him from your little, shared spot on the couch and whisper to him little comforts. You’re crying a little too, breath tight and hazy as you let Keigo shatter in your arms.

He’s not ready to talk about his wings and that’s okay. More than okay.

So, you soothe him. He soothes you right back, rubbing at your sides, hips, thighs— whatever he can reach and touch and claim. You’re good, you’re the closest he’s going to get to permeance and he’ll be damned to let you go when you feel so good and he feels so fucking awful.

You fall back onto the chest, pulling Keigo with you so he can lay atop you. His ear presses to your chest, heart thumping in his ear while you lock your arms around him. Caged in and held, with the lightest pressure on the thick skin of his scars.

“I’ll never truly get it, I can’t,” You admit, quietly as you smooth back some of his tear-matted hair. “But I want to be here. I want to listen when you’re want to talk. Need to talk. You can dash off on your own, Keigo, that’s okay. Just know that I’ve got you to, okay?”

Keigo sniffled, peering up at you with wide eyes, “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“I am now, aren’t I? Just a few hours out from nearly being a popsicle,” You hum and joke, glowing from the inside out when Keigo graces you with a little smile.

It takes a few more moments for him to cover, haul himself up to the crook of your neck and breathing hard and deep for a while. Like he’s trying to absorb you through scent alone.

“… Are you okay?” Keigo asks, squeezing you so tight it hurts. (And you want more of it.) “You’re not as cold anymore.”

“I’m feeling okay,” You paw at your face a bit, rubbing your cheeks like they’re still numb and not flushed with blood and sticky with drying tears. “I just freaked out a little.”

“… Because I left?”

You nod, chewing your lips.

“I don’t want to be alone, Keigo,” You whisper it, though he already knows your admission. “I’m terrified of you leaving.”

“When I left,” Keigo rises to meet your gaze, gooey and cobbled. “Did you think I wouldn’t come back?”

“… Maybe,” You shake your head, refusing to look at him. “You didn’t say anything about coming back, just about… leftovers.”

You both frown.

“I panicked.” You shake your heard.

“… That’s what happens when you panic?”

“I guess?” Your mouth feels too dry. “I don’t know. I got scared. I panicked. What else was I supposed to do?”

There’s an obvious answer or two, but it’s unspoken.

“I’m not leaving,” Keigo rubs at your cheeks. “You’re gonna have to try pretty hard to get me gone, starshine. I love you too much to go easily.”

It’s a declaration, a strong one, and god does it feel fucking good to hear.

“… Promise?” You ask him as his palms cup your cheeks and jaw.

“Promise.”

“I heard on the call—”

Keigo interrupts you with a kiss, hard and long that steals your breath and makes your head spin.

“Promise.” Keigo breaths, pretty eyes meeting your heat-filled ones. “Everywhere, all the time, forever. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a start, even if that insecurity is so deeply rooted. The adoration in his eyes, and the sweetness of his touch tempers it all. It’s there still, just like how there’s so much unspoken that needs to be sorted, chewed on, and digested.

But now?

The embers in the hearth need another log or two. The futon needs to be folded out and I’d be best if you shared a cup or two of tea. Preferably something with lavender that’ll scent the cabin with the smells of spring and herbs.

Now, you’re both more than enough.

…

thank you for reading!!💞keep an eye out for part 3! 👀

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawk x reader #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #anyways ouch <3 #kiss it better keigo #enjoy this big boy heheh #kith kith :'^)

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