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rainydayandmondays · 6 months

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Thanksgiving Potluck

Summary: It’s time for the annual Thanksgiving potluck at work. Andy wants to make sure that he brings something special for you. You worked so hard, you deserve it.

Pairing: Andy Barber X Reader, Jake Jensen

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ only. Explicit language, explicit sexual content, male masturbation, slight non-con

Author's Note: This came about after seeing a challenge to write a spicy Thanksgiving story. With the blessing of @georgiapeach30513 to use Andy Barber, this is what I got.

You had been planning the department’s Thanksgiving potluck for weeks. Running around, trying to get everyone to sign up to bring in something, even if it was just silverware and napkins. Andy never participated in these get-togethers. They were some weird kind of team building bullshit that he had never really subscribed to. Why play nice that one day, while all the remaining days everyone was trying to one up each other. Comparing their win-loss ratios like they were some goddamn a-list athletes. The fucking Red Sox, they were not.

But you had started earlier this year, right around Valentine’s day. He remembered your first day, you wore your pink button down shirt the first two buttons undone and your simple gold necklace nestled in the crux of your shirt. Your pencil skirt was knee-length but seemed to hug from your waist to your hips. He imagined his hands could skim down the sides of it as if it was a second skin. Then your sensible flats, all that up top and did you finish with three-inch heels? No, just sensible flats. The red nail polish on your fingers with a small heart decals on each ring finger, let him know that you enjoyed celebrating holidays.

He watched you as you grew into the department, quickly planting roots and befriending each person you met. You were easy to get along with, never really asked for much, but always willing to give. He had spent most of October working with you. You were assisting on the research for his latest case, spending nights in the conference room with law books spread out in front of the two of you and boxes of half-eaten Chinese in each of your laps. You had asked about his story as you took a break from the mind-numbing reading of passage after passage. He had given you the cliff-notes version. The “everything is pretty on the outside” story. Loving wife at home and kid excelling in school. It was easier that way. Even if he could tell you didn’t totally buy it, you let him lie.

You on the other hand, were open. Told him everything. You were a paralegal, barely starting out with dreams of making it to law school one day. A sick mother at home had meant your law school dreams had taken the back burner. Your mom had been part of the last of the baby boomers and their idealized version of marriage. She had taken care of the household, you and your dad. With her bedbound, your dad was completely lost. You took over and everything else had been pushed aside. No sign of any romantic partners or life outside of work and home. But the glint in your eye talking about becoming lawyer, let him know you had more to offer. You had told him how you had aced your LSATS, spent every night up until 4 in the morning studying for them. You were younger then, could handle the late nights. Shit, you are younger now. Just barely hitting your late 20s, if he had to guess.

After those nights spent over cold takeaway dinners and finishing the McDonald v. City of Newton case, he realized that family dinners with little more than polite conversation paled in contrast to those talks and stale fast food. He had tried to get you on his next case, but Neal had snatched you up the moment you were free. He remembered the apologetic look you gave him when he swung by your desk with some briefs to review.

“Sorry Mr. Barber. I’m already working with Mr. Longudice. But you can leave those here and I’ll look at them when I get a chance.” You fidgeted with your pen, twirling it between your fingers. It was your nervous tick, he had noticed it the first night when you had found a passage that completely derailed his current case plan.

He nodded and walked away, noticing Neal looking on from the corner smirking. Fuck him, he wasn’t going to just use you to improve his standing in the department. He watched as the month progressed and Neal worked you into the ground. He found you more and more frequently in the break room, loading up on coffee. You were up to four glasses a day. That couldn’t be good for you. Not if you still had to go home and get your mom ready for bed.

He started to stay later and later, just to make sure someone was still here when you left. Neal took most of his case work home, leaving you with a list of readings to cover and present the next day. He watched as you flipped through pages, making notes in the growing stack of legal pads, and only the small desk lamp providing any light. He told Laurie that he had a big case he was finishing up. It was easier to keep working at his desk, instead of making the trip home, only to end up in his study. It didn’t take much to persuade her. He was pretty sure she preferred having the time to herself, she barely moved when he finally made it home to bed.

One night, he had timed it just right to meet you at the elevators at the end of the night. He walked up behind you, watching as you raised your right foot to scratch at the back of your left calf. Your pencil skirt rippled around your hips as you ran your foot down your leg. The sensible flats, the same ones you had worn that first day skimmed down the back of your left calf and he wondered what it would be like to have you run those sensible flats down his pant leg. He could feel himself twitch in his dress pants. This was a first. Up until this point, he had found you endearing, wanting to help you as much as you helped everyone else. But now, right now, he could imagine grabbing onto your hips, dipping his head into the crook of you neck as he ground against your pert ass. He felt his cock harden that bit more at the image, starting to push against the fly of his dress pants. Using his overcoat from that day’s chilly morning, he covertly covered the front of his slacks.

It wasn’t until the chime announced the elevator’s arrival and you turned around, that he came out of his brief stupor. You smiled and waved him into the waiting lift. That smile did nothing to help him, he shoved his hand into pocket to discreetly adjust himself before walking towards you. Standing next to you, he could smell those last remnants of your perfume. Was it your perfume? It had been a 12 hour work day, maybe that smell was just you. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? You chatted with him, promising that you were going to get to those briefs he left. It would be the first thing you would work on the next day. He listened and tried his best to feign interest, but you then looked up at him as you made your promise to him, and all his brainpower was immediately redirected to willing away his excitement. His hand still in his pocket, it brushed against his tip and he cleared his throat to cover the small groan that wanted to escape.

Reaching the garage, he offered to walk you to your car. You had gestured to the nearly empty lot, but he only uttered, “Better to be safe.”

You only nodded, leading him to your small late 2000s sedan. Reaching the car, you opened the squeaky driver’s door and threw in your workbag and handbag, before easing yourself into the seat. Andy held the door open for you, only to close it once you had settled. Lowering your window, you gave him a smile, thanking him for the escort, “You really didn’t have to do that. You’re a good man, Mr. Barber.”

He leaned down into your window, sighing before bidding you a good night, “You get home safe, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t meant to let the term of endearment slip, but your bashful smile was all it took to let him know he would be using that name again. Watching as you drove off, he made his way to his car. Popping the trunk on the Audi and throwing in the coat and briefcase, he hustled back to front of the car. Giving one more look around the lot, he noticed the security cam pointed at the opposite corner of the garage. Slipping into the driver’s seat, he only took a second to think through his next action. Closing his eyes, he remembered your big eyes looking up at him in the elevator, promising him something and his hand reached down to his pants.

He hadn’t gone down, no matter how he tried to calm himself, his coat had been his only saving grace, hiding away his reaction to you. Wrestling with his belt and button of his pants, he shoved his fly open, grabbing onto himself through his boxer briefs. He had already been steadily growing a nice wet spot on the front side of his briefs. Admittedly, bumping against himself with his hand in his pocket as he walked with you, might have gone a long way to making that spot. A couple of strokes, he reached in and pulled himself out.

Fuck, his hands were still cold from outside. It made his cock jump in his hold and he imagined your little hand taking him. You would apologize to him about your cold hands.

“Sorry Mr. Barber. Let me warm up my hands.” The imaginary you whispered to him.

“Andy. Call me Andy, sweetheart.” He mumbled into the empty car.

He spit into the palm of his hand, before wrapping it around himself. He could feel you next to him, cuddling as much as possible against him, reaching across the console. Your hand stoking up and down, making sure to twist around the head of his cock. He dribbled onto your fingers and you took your thumb rubbing it along the tip urging more to come out.

“Fuck sweetheart. That feels so good. You’re making me feel so good.” He grunted, his head falling back against the headrest.

He could hear you giggle at that, pressing hard against the vein on the underside of his cock, causing it to throb in your hold.

“Ah shit, sweetheart, squeeze me. I know your hand is so little but try my sweet girl. Come on, try for me.” You would hum at that, reaching between his legs and grabbing onto his sack. Rolling his balls in one hand as you steadily stroked him with the other, giving a squeeze to his cock before a squeeze to his sack.

“What do you need Andy? Whatever you need, I promise I’ll give it to you. Please Andy, tell me what you need.” The imaginary you nipped at his neck, murmuring another promise into his neck.

“Fuck me, sweet girl. Look at me, watch me cum for you. Just for you, sweet girl. Just for you…” He reached for the empty coffee tumbler in his console, placing it under the tip of his cock as he let go. Groaning he pulsed a couple times, continuing to stroke himself until he drained himself fully, because that’s what you would do. You would never do a half ass job.

Sitting back, he looked into the tumbler, seeing a layer of his cum coating the bottom of the cup. He hadn’t cum that hard in a long time. But he supposed a sexless marriage would leave him with a lot of pent-up energy. Remembering Laurie, he grabbed a couple of napkins from the glove compartment, wiping himself before shoving them into the tumbler. After buckling his pants, he started the car, backing out lot and turning onto the freeway for home.

That night had been a couple of weeks ago and he found himself hovering around your desk as much as possible, asking for help finding a text. He would time your coffee breaks and bump into you in the breakroom to make small talk with you. Each time he saw you, he tried to get you to smile. Even on your most stressful days, your shoulders hunch, he would make quick jabs at Neal which would inevitably cause a small giggle to pass your lips. He liked those times, the sound of your laugh would get stored away in his mind, coming out only in the shower as he painted the walls for you.

When you came by with the potluck sign up sheet earlier this week, you mentioned that there were still a few sides left that no one had chosen. Looking at the list, he saw the mashed potatoes listed and quickly jotted his name down beside it. He could probably get Laurie to make it for him. She had been in a better mood recently. Had waited up for him when he worked late. She would welcome him to bed and curl into his side, rubbing circles along his chest. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but if it meant not having to deal with a moody Laurie daily, he would take it.

The day of the potluck, he walked in finding most of the office milling about. It didn’t look like much would be getting done today. With Thanksgiving tomorrow, most had spent the last few days easing into their vacation. He looked at the conference room to see the spread already laid out, you were flitting around making sure everything was set up just right.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you jumped a little as he came up behind you, placing the dish of mashed potatoes in front of you.

“This will be perfect,” you took the dish moving it next to someone’s version of cornbread stuffing.

Turning around, you smiled at him. He thought about stepping back from you, but instead stood still. Reaching up to his arm, you grabbed his elbow and let out small breath, “I should let everyone know it’s ready.”

Slipping from around him, you walked out to the bull pin area, inviting everyone to come and dig in. He watched as everyone hustled to the conference room as he stepped out of the other door. Making his way towards his desk, he settled down, starting up his computer to check some late correspondence. He needed to spend time with you but not with everyone around. He placed his coffee tumbler on the clay coaster that Jacob had made him back in 4th grade. Sighing, he would wait to talk with you later.

The din in the conference room started to slowly die down and looking at the clock he saw that it was nearly half past 2. Most of the office should be heading out for their holiday and he figured, now would be his best bet. Grabbing his stuff together, he headed back out to find the room mostly empty. He couldn’t possibly have missed you, could he? Staring out to the row of desks, he spotted your workbag and handbag still on your desk. So, you were here, just not in the conference room.

Walking into the breakroom, he saw you at the sink scrapping off food into the trash and rinsing off dishes. Standing in the doorway, he watched this small glimpse into the domestic side of you and fuck, if it didn’t do something for him. Imagining coming home to you in the kitchen, prepping dinner for the two of you. You would still have your work clothes on but only now you would be barefoot. You would relax into him as he came up behind you, arms circling your waist.

He let out a quick breath, shaking himself from his daydream, before setting down his bag on the small table in the room. Coffee tumbler in hand, he approached you, quietly interrupting your dishwashing, “I bet you haven’t even made yourself a plate.”

Looking down, followed by a small bashful smile, you nodded, “There was so much to do.”

Grabbing onto his mashed potatoes, he looked for a spoon before starting to serve a portion onto a plate, “Come on. It’s your potluck too. You should get to enjoy it too. Besides, you got to at least try these mashed potatoes. A lot of effort went into making them. Go on now, sit down.”

Watching you sit down, he turns back to the counter, grabbing the gravy boat beside the sink. Taking the coffee tumbler, he had set down, he carefully removed the lid before emptying the contents into the remaining gravy. He stared as the viscous liquid drizzled out. With the spoon, he quickly mixed the gravy with the new ingredient together before pouring out the mixture on the mashed potatoes.

Turning back towards you, you sat at the table patiently waiting for him as he set the plate in front you. Quickly thanking him, you dug in, spooning a generous amount, gravy and all, onto your utensil and bringing to your mouth.

“Mmm, that’s really good Mr. Barber. Kind of earthy tasting. Are there mushrooms in the gravy?” You looked at him, a small amount of gravy stuck to the side of your mouth.

“Something like that,” he whispered, eyeing that speck of gravy and reaching out to clean it from your lip.

“Oh, I’m a mess,” your cheeks heated as you grabbed a napkin to clean the corner of your mouth.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he replied, taking his thumb with gravy still on it and licking it clean, “Go ahead, finish it all.”

You followed his direction, cleaning your plate, your spoon making a sound as you laid it down. You had eaten it all. Enjoying it, if he were to go by the little happy noises you made as you ate. He knew you would love it.

“Here, let me put this up for you,” he took the plate and spoon back the sink and as he rinsed the plate, he asked over his shoulder, “Did you like it, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mr. Barber. I promise.”

He gulped, steadying himself against the counter at your promise.

“You know, what, why don’t you take the rest home? There’s still a little bit of mashed potatoes and gravy left,” he asked already reaching for the lid of the Tupperware Laurie had used when packing it this morning.

“I couldn’t do that. You made it, you should take it home,” you answered next to him, and he realized that you must have gotten up from the table.

Locking the lid on the dish, he turned to you, already handing over the remaining potatoes covered in his gravy, “I insist.”

He had made that gravy just for you. After stroking another one out in the front seat of his car in the courthouse parking garage, he had sprayed another load into his tumbler. Looking at the cup again, he swore each session’s load was getting bigger even though this was a daily occurrence at this point. It had ended with a particularly bountiful finish, as he imagined you between his legs. Head bobbing on this cock, tits hanging from your top, before you had spit onto his cock, trapping it between your breasts and finishing him with a hard snuck to just the mushroom head of his cock.

It hit him then what a waste it was to rinse out his tumbler every night when he got home. You would love the taste of him. He knew would. Over the next few days, he collected each load, storing it in his coffee tumbler on the top shelf of his fridge at home. He had a couple of close calls when Laurie asked why he was keeping his coffee cold. He brushed it off, saying it was just water. He was trying to stop drinking so much coffee. Bad for his health. She had just nodded, leaving the tumbler alone.

“Thank you, Mr. Barber,” you nodded taking the dish with a smile.

“You can call me Andy. Promise you will?” He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, giving himself room in the suddenly tight pants.

“I promise. Thank you, Andy,” smiling up at him, he swore you could feel what he did. He swore you knew exactly what he had given you. Swore that you were happy and willing to take it. His sweet girl would take anything he gave her.

“You almost done, Ace?”

Andy was interrupted from his trance, hearing a male voice enter the room.

“Jake!” You called to the blonde man walking into the room. His shirt was untucked and his tie not quite knotted straight.

“I’m supposed to take you out for a Friendsgiving dinner today, remember?” Jake moved towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Who in the ever-loving fuck is this guy? Andy watched as you hugged Jake around the waist, shaking your head, ready to apologize, “I’m sorry Jake. My day got away from me. Oh, this my kind of boss, Andy. Andy Barber.”

Jake reached out a hand to him to shake while his other still stayed slung along your waist, “Jake. Nice to meet you.”

Andy looked at the hand in front of him, before nodding and giving this fucker a firm handshake. If he squeezed a little harder than he should, well that wasn’t on him.

“Go get your stuff together and then we’ll head out,” Jake whispered down at you, to which you just nodded and flitted out the room.

Stuck with just Jake in the room, Andy leaning back against the sink giving this other guy a once over. He wouldn’t be an issue. No way did this guy have the prowess or charm to lure you away. You were his sweet girl. This fucker wouldn’t change that.

“I’m only going to say this once, leave her alone.”

Andy looked back at Jake, eyebrow raised, before scoffing, “And who are you exactly?”

“I’m guy who knows how to download the feed from the parking garage’s cameras.” Andy swallowed hard as Jake stared him down. He refused to nod, instead crossing his arms and looking down.

“I’m ready Jake!” You came back in, your handbag slung over your shoulder and the mashed potatoes in your arms as Jake took your workbag from you.

“Let’s shake a leg then, Ace,” you giggled at Jake and Andy frowned. When did that giggle change from just being his?

“Bye Andy. I’ll see you next week. Happy Thanksgiving!”

Waving goodbye to the two of you, Andy waited to hear the ding of the elevator before grabbing the tumbler and throwing it across the room. It clanked against the wall before rolling back towards his feet.

Hands on hips, he looked down at the cup. It was okay. Jake couldn’t do anything to him. He had checked to make sure the cameras were never pointed at him. But you, his sweet girl, he needed a new plan. Grabbing the cup from the floor, he rinsed it before setting it next to the empty coffee maker.

It hit Andy then. You did love your coffee. And you always made sure to have cream with it.

@buckybarnesisdaddy, @theinheriteddutchess, @sarahdonald87

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber smut #defending jacob #dark andy barber #jake jensen #the losers (2010)

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neonponders · 3 years

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Based on @lovebillyhargrove ‘s This Steve with This Billy. (original concept credit to @youfuckingdonut)

I’m having more success with mafia drabbles than my on-going mafia fics orz

• • • • • • •

Steve didn’t know what Billy’s job actually was.

He knew the guy wore nice shirts and nicer blazers, suit jackets, and tuxedo pieces. He knew Billy had to be either the boss or close to it, because he only wore the pieces of a full suit or tuxedo. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he burned every tie he saw. Always had too many buttons undone.

But he looked good. And he knew he looked good. He walked right up to Steve waiting in line with Robin at a cafe before it closed. They’d gone to a nightclub at the absurd time of 8 o’clock. Hey, no door charge because they showed up so early. They were drunk off their ass and sweaty by 11pm. He called it an efficient night out.

“I’ve never been so happy to have a box of stale croissants in my life,” Robin mused as the tired barista used the tongs in the glass display case.

Steve bounced from foot to foot, still dancing to the bad radio pop overhead. He cracked open his juice from the chilled shelves, since asking for a coffee five minutes shy of closing might get a wad of spit mixed in -

“You’re light on your feet.”

Steve didn’t think too heavily on it when he was drunk. Everyone was prettier when the brain behind the eyes was in some cups, just like all food tasted better. Maybe he should’ve devoted more brain cells to the moment. But that was a lost cause now.

He and Robin chatted and Steve apologized for his hand being wet with condensation and sweat when the guy offered a handshake. Even through the sparkly haze of alcohol, Steve could tell he gave Steve the time of day more than Robin, but they were on their way out anyway.

Steve might’ve said, “Well that was a great nightcap. He’s tasty,” a bit loud before the cafe door shut behind them. Robin coughed on her croissant and Steve guffawed and swiped it for himself before taking off down the street with her chasing after him.

But then Steve just kept running into him.

The guy from the cafe.

Walking into the park as Steve was leaving it. Strolling by the bank before Steve went inside.

With his designer clothes and his clean shoes and smooth, clean shaven jaw made ever so slightly tacky from skincare and lotion when it touched Steve’s face. Because he leaned too far forward over the table he was serving at his upscale restaurant job and

Time froze in a vacuum

Because Steve could’ve sworn he - Billy - lifted his face into the shadow of Steve’s neck. Inhaled.

It was a miracle he didn’t drop a plate or spill a glass. He dared the briefest glance but blue eyes pierced him regardless of the emotion behind them. Steve felt like a dagger tied on a string hung through his belly, lazily stirring his nerves and threatening to land dangerously in his groin.

He left the table before he made a fool of himself and all the company present. Large tables guaranteed large tips. He’d be set for the next month if he just didn’t fuck this up. He strode past the open-air kitchen and the ‘butler’s pantry’ area to hallway with the staff bathrooms -

Hands turned him around by his hips, surprisingly warm despite the thick poly-cotton of his white apron and the black slacks underneath.

The dagger fell.

The kiss was soft despite how ravenously Billy plundered his mouth. It was all Steve could do, to hold onto his nape and then wrap his arms behind Billy’s neck. He tasted like steak and amaretto and neutral sweet, like a man. Mewls and moans left Steve’s throat like he couldn’t stop them. Didn’t want to. Just wanted to drown in whatever this was.

Billy pivoted them so Steve pressed into the wallpaper. He hummed again as his hand found the clean shaven fade on the back of Billy’s head, his blunt fingertips petting and scratching there like he hadn’t known this man for more than an hour of collective encounters.

A sound left Billy’s chest. It hit Steve’s core like a pebble on a bell before he broke the kiss enough to meet Steve’s gaze. Clear blue eyes far more sober than Steve felt and probably looked. Wrecked with lust for this stranger who had money and means to always find him.

“A car’s going to pick you up later.”

Steve blinked with reticence, not wanting to leave this haze but already out of it.

“Get into the car.” The pad of Billy’s thumb touched Steve’s lip, light but insistent. He breathed, “Steve,” before leaving the hallway. Pleading. At least, Steve wanted it to be a plea.

But he was gone when Steve checked back at the table to top up waters and drinks. In singles and pairs, the group left until Steve was left to collect dishes and wonder who the hell managed their tabs. His manager answered that question for him moments later, by shoving a thick fold of cash into his apron pocket.

“Your tip from table twenty-three.”

“I didn’t see you get the bills,” he commented, intending to reach in and see what the high rollers tipped -

She shoved his hands away from his pocket. “You don’t take money out in the open, silly. Get back to your locker for that.”

Steve knew he never saw her with a pile of receipt folders with credit cards sticking out of them. But he went back to work and didn’t take inventory of his tips until closing.

That table might’ve spent $1200 on dinner and drinks.

Steve got $1100 in tips. What kind of math that was, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t fixate on it too much, because inside the fold of money was a piece of paper with a phone number. No name. Steve could assume it to be Billy’s but he didn’t know...

Get into the car.

Steve zipped up his coat as he stepped out of the employees’ entrance. He emerged out of the service alleyway to...a regular city street. No cars more or less than normal, and none of them stood out...

Did he even want to get in?

He almost shook his head, just to jostle his thoughts around. “Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid,” he whispered to himself as he turned and marched his ass home. He didn’t know this guy: a person with a scary amount of recon on his life to be able to find him at any ol’ time. His dinner friends weren’t exactly a college reunion, either.

But he kissed like a god and tasted like one too.

He held Steve like he wanted him, and Christ, Steve wanted to be wanted.

The privilege of being craved.

He was wrist deep in shampoo with his eyes closed when he realized someone pounded on his apartment door. The panic of rinsing suds off his body as fast as possible, the terror of someone at his door at 2am, and the fury of pissing off his neighbors at 2am spurred him out of the shower and into a t-shirt on top of the towel around his waist.

God sure as hell could’ve been at his door and Steve would’ve answered it the same way.

“It’s 3am! Shut the hell up!” he hissed.

Billy looked equal measures of pissed and concerned, but he blinked and amusement crept in. He wore a long, swanky pea coat that looked soft to the touch. Steve was more preoccupied with moving out of his way when the guy strode right into his apartment.

“Why didn’t you let the car pick you up?” Billy’s gaze moved around the Spartan yet cluttered living room.

“Uh, I didn’t see one?” Steve sassed before he admitted, “Or...it’s a street? Lots of cars.”

Billy’s attention landed on him like he didn’t quite believe it. Steve stood in a towel with dripping hair, for god sake. Billy’s eyes raked over him as if he were putting together some pieces of a puzzle that Steve didn’t understand. Or was mundane life so difficult if you could just drop $1100?

Billy took his hands from his pockets and started removing buttery leather gloves. “Do you have a roommate?”

Steve felt like another dagger was about to fall, but where, he couldn’t tell. He inhaled and sighed, “No.”

“Who is that woman to you?”

Steve’s brows reached for his hairline. “You mean my best friend?” he challenged.

Billy laughed. Derisive and amused and...impressed? Relieved?

He threw his coat, jacket, and gloves on the IKEA couch and those hands found Steve’s waist again. “Billy?” he managed before he had those lips again. Before Billy’s hand found the base of his skull and encouraged him to tilt for better access.

Then Billy let a moan seep into his sigh. Their lips parted audibly and he breathed, “No one talks to me like you do. About me. To me. You-mmh.”

He took Steve’s lips again like he craved. Steve shivered against his erection brushing against the fibers of his towel.

“Can I finish my shower?”

“No,” he purred darkly, arm locking behind Steve’s waist as the other pressed a rolling hand to Steve’s front.

He trembled through a broken shout, panting against Billy’s lips and jaw, gripping his silk shirt at the risk of scratching the threads. Billy licked over Steve’s lips, and Steve was dangerously close to cumming right there.

“Billy...” he whined. He warned.

Bright eyes gazed steadily at him through hooded, dark lashes. “Keep saying my name like that. I’ll give you everything.”

#harringrove #ficlet #this steve with this billy #lovebillyhargrove #youfuckingdonut #for the non-americans: you take your bill and divide it by 5 #that amount is a 20% tip and what's expected #or so i've been taught #i'm queer and don't do math #anyway~#I HOPE YOU LIKE IT BABE #orz #mafia au #mobster!billy #waiter!steve #living his best life in the city

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inkedtae · 4 years

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enough games ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ hard dom!taehyung x bratty!reader (f.)

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𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you’re both playing around, but your games might be more dangerous than you expected.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 4.5k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ hard dom!taehyung, massive dicc!taehyung, tattooed!taehyung, sub!reader, bratty!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it folks), rough sex, sir kink, hand kink, a lil exhibitionism (his mic is still on), degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, bondage, multiple orgasms, reader cums in her lingerie, use of gaming controller, pussy slapping, squirting, spanking, hair-pulling, face-licking, choking, thigh-slapping, thigh-riding, a lil dry-humping, edging, teasing, straight up filth

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ this is commissioned by @momoriki through ChangesWithLuv to raise funds for the Black Lives Matter movement.

► banner by ⇾ @rkivepacks

► beta’d by ⇾ @moonmintrails

The bright glow of the TV screen illuminates Taehyung’s concentrated features. That scowl of his draws a pout out of you. He flicks his tattooed thumbs over the controller and mutters his position into the mic. Arms draped around his inked neck, you nuzzle your nose against his cheek. A satin sapphire lingerie set hugs your curves as you roll your hips over his thigh. Every time he misfires, loses his positions, or collapses in combat, he’d use what little time he has while his avatar is recuperating to guide your hips over his flexed thigh. Momentary free hand on your hip, he’d sometimes even pull up the hem of your panties and tighten the fabric against your needy pussy.

Of course, his generosity only surfaces when you’re behaving. And given the fact that you’ve wiggled your way into that panty and bra set, and squirmed onto his lap by crawling under his arms, without his permission, Taehyung hasn’t been in a very generous mood. Now, every time something doesn’t go according to plan in his video game, your ass gets it - literally. His hand would smack your round cheeks then grope them for good measure.

“Why are you clapping?” You’d hear Jungkook ask through the headset. Face to face with Taehyung, you can hear every single interaction between him and the guys. “We lost, hyung. Stop playing around.”

Taehyung would drag his disappointed gaze on you, glaring down at you as you continued to selfishly get yourself off. “Trust me, guk,” he’d reply, his satoori accent making a reappearance. You’d shudder, knowing full well that the moment his accent surfaces, his patience is all but nonexistent. “Playing around was never part of the plan.”

A droning beep sounds from the screen, signalling another failed mission. Taehyung growls viciously into your ear. Shivers ignite fires in their wake, rushing through your bloodstream and prickling your skin with goosebumps. A moan draws from your lips only to have you whimpering seconds later. No sounds. He was very clear on that when you first settled yourself on his lap. You bite your lip and hope he hasn't heard, or worse. You hope his frien-

“What the hell was that?”

Darkening brown eyes fall on you. Clenching his jaw, Taehyung mutters into his mic, “Nothing, hyung.”

Gripping onto his tattooed shoulder, the one you usually love to trace and pepper kisses all over, you try to prepare yourself for another spanking. Taehyung senses your apprehension, however, and the sudden hesitance in your hips. You’re close. In fact, by the way your hips are jolting and quiet whines are pouring out of your mouth, he knows just how close you are. Holding onto your chin instead of your hips, he scoffs and pushes your cheeks in, puckering your lips like a little fish.

“I dare you,” he hisses, satoori accent thick. “I dare you to cum without permission.”

“I swear to God, if you’re talking to (Y/N) right now, I’m gonna egg your house,” Jin threatens as Taehyung’s avatar finally revives.

You furrow your brows, trying your best to keep your moans at bay. Had it not been for the mic and the fact that you know his friends can hear every single dirty detail, you would’ve let out the loudest moan you could muster, just to get under his skin. Your pussy, wet and dripping, quivers at the tone of his voice, the way that promise hangs over the both of you, challenging you to further push his buttons. There’s nothing you love more than getting on his nerves, testing his patience beyond comprehension.

A good challenge is what drew the two of you to each other. Taehyung had wagered your phone number over a game of pool at Hobi’s birthday party. You had wagered the Chanel necklace around his neck, claiming it looks better on you. It was a flatout lie, but your indifference towards him brought out this serious, no nonsense side of him throughout the game. You just knew, from his shift in demeanour alone, that he was everything you didn’t even know you were looking for. That Chanel necklace shifts against your collarbone now as you continue to shamelessly roll your hips over his thigh.

“Ew, Jin. Don’t be fucking gross,” Yoongi mumbles.

You ignore the argument you’ve technically started between his friends and focus on the hard look in your boyfriend’s eyes. Continuing to move your hips at a fast pace, you silently let him know that you’re going to ignore his authority. He did challenge you to a dare after all. His statement wasn’t technically an order.

Taehyung seems to pick up on your intentions quickly. He pushes his headphones down, letting them rest on his shoulders, and whispers, “you really wanna try that?” His tone has lost some of its power, voice slightly wavering. Cheeks flushed, he almost looks as though this entire situation is more humiliating for him than it would be for you.

Your clit’s in a frenzy, the friction of his bare thigh against your satin, arousal drenched panties setting the bundle of nerves on fire. Tight hole pulsing at the temptation of release, you decide to commit to the challenge and purposefully exaggerate a high-pitched moan. Taehyung smashes his lips into yours to silence you, but it’s too late. The damage is already done and the guys are going crazy over the headset. Yoongi threatens to sue, Jin orders eggs online and Jungkook supposedly regrets his entire existence.

Your boyfriend disregards the headphones, throwing them somewhere on the couch. Large hand around your neck, Taehyung pulls you off his lap and onto your feet. A whine escapes you at the loss of contact, your orgasm instantly dissipating, but he couldn’t care less. You’ve played too much, taken this too far. His friends have heard more than they should’ve and if you’re willing to put on this much of a show, then that’s exactly what he’s going to do too.

He tosses his controller somewhere near the headphones, neither of you care too much to know exactly where, as he, too, rises to his feet. His gaze is unforgiving. It tears down whatever confidence you believe you had in possessing the upperhand.

“Enough games, slut,” he all but spits. Scanning your frame, he licks his lips and shakes his head. He swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing, before saying, “you walk out in this little thing and sit on my lap, so I let you. You’re needy and wanna ride my thigh, so I let you. And maybe if you had asked to cum, like I trained you, I would’ve let you.” He tightens his grip on your neck, brushing his nose against yours as his lips tease another kiss. “But you just had to be the little fucking brat you always are, hmm? You wanna cum, baby?”

You nod instantly.

Taehyung grabs a handful of your ass with his free hand, grunting, “What the fuck did I say about using your words?”

“Yes, yes sir,” you rasp against the pressure of his large hand around your neck.

He smirks. A mischievous look swims in his eyes, hints of lust and greed accompanying it. His gaze flickers to your hair, locking in on the matching satin, blue ribbon that holds the majority of your hair back. He pulls an end undone. Your hair falls as he drags the ribbon’s cool fabric against your skin, moving it down your neck and over your shoulder.

His eyes fall to the Chanel necklace, lips tugging into a wider smile. He looks all too calm, too collected. He acts as though he didn’t just grab your throat with one hand and ass with the other. Leaning down, he places a little kiss over the necklace then up your collarbone.

Throat free of his hold, you inhale a breathful of his suede cinnamon scent. Your skin prickles with excited goosebumps, reveling in his tender affection yet anxious as to why he’s offering it. You’ve just let a majority of his friends know that the two of you were fooling around while they were in the middle of a game.

You read his expression carefully as he looks up at you again. His hands are off your body now, either end of the ribbon pressed between his fingers. “You play these games,” he starts, thumbing your chin tenderly. “But you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. Then, you act all innocent.” His hands fall on your wrists, pulling them behind your back. Using the long ribbon, he tightly bonds your hands together, then lets his fingers graze the curves of your ass. “And then you think you can get away with it.”

Twisting your hands, you try to fight against the ribbon, to test your ability to move and make your disobedience known. Taehyung shoots you a warning glare, holding your chin once more. “But let me tell you a little secret,” he hisses while brushing his nose against yours. For a second, you’re convinced he’s after another kiss but, instead, he presses his face against your cheek and whispers, “I’m tired of your games, babygirl.”

His hands come down on your ass, the smack echoing in your living room. You cry out a moan but he pays no mind to you or the sounds you make now. You’ve made it all too obvious to his friends what the two of you are up to. He’s done shying away from it. Grabbing handfuls of your ass, Taehyung pushes your body flush against his. You can feel his throbbing hard cock against your stomach, just as desperate for you as you are for him. He looks down at you with a sinister smile, eyes reflecting only unbounded lust that cannot be held back for any longer.

Turning you around, Taehyung leads you to the side of the couch then bends you over the armrest. Face shoved into the cushions, you can only just breathe. Taehyung delicately rubs the silk, lace trimmed panties. His silence festers an unusual cross of anticipation and arousal in the pit of your stomach, your heart hammering in your chest as a result. Tugging on the side of the panties, Taehyung hums a growl. You shudder from the sound alone and wiggle your hips. He ignores your attempts to entice him, but still falls prey to the shake of your ass, rolling his clothed hips against it.

“Tae, just fuck me alrea- Ah!”

A sharp spank cuts you off, jolting your forward. You’re not sure if he even really heard anything you said. Muffled by the cushions, your words could have easily been lost on him. But he didn’t give you permission to speak, and he sure as hell did not authorize the use of his name. Another smack echoes in the room, drawing another moan out of you.

As Taehyung rubs the stringing area, calloused hands so soft over your sensitive flesh, you can hear a jumble of voices to your right. Shifting in your position, you press your cheek to the pillow of the couch and look to your right. Fallen between the back of the couch and the cushion lies Taehyung’s headset. The red light flashes, letting you know that it’s still on. Their mixed curses and insults are hard to make out, but you know they’re there.

Still, you can’t find it in you to care too much when Taehyung pulls your panties to the side and cups your dripping heat. You whine at the contact, lips only inches away from the mic. Taehyung notices the headset and bends over you to push it closer to your face.

“You want them to hear you, right?” he hisses in your ear. His hand retreats from its place on your clit only to return to it with a new degree of force. He slaps you pussy twice more then growls, “Let’em hear you then, baby. Let’em hear you be the bratty slut you are for me.”

You gasp out moans from the harsh contact, brows furrowed and eyes searching for a way out of this embarrassment. You didn’t care at first, but with their voices so close and the mic pressed against your lips, you can’t help the wave of humiliation that washes over you.

Parting your lips, you’re prepared to apologize, to take all this back and beg Taehyung to turn the mic off. However, your groveling is immediately replaced by a loud moan. Returning to his previous position, Taehyung pulls out his hard, red-tipped cock and smears his precum between your folds. Pussy lips pulsing, you fist your hands and try not to squeal a moan into the mic.

“Suddenly so quiet?”

His large hand clutches onto your tied ones, holding you in place as he slowly pushes himself in. A string of mewls and whines escape you, the sweet burn of the stretch something you never really get tired of.

While your shame overtakes you, Taehyung’s is nowhere to be found. He lets out a deep groan, slapping your ass just to grab it. “So fucking tight,” he growls, purposefully raising his voice.

You summon the courage to beg him to turn the mic off once more, ready to play by his rules when he starts to thrust in and out of you. Sharp and fast, he grips onto the fat of your ass and thrusts unforgivingly into you. Frustrated from the humiliation, you decide to call his bluff and give into your sounds.

“Big, big, big. S-oo big,” you whine. Unashamed, Taehyung continues his actions. He even chuckles at your words, the desperate tone of your voice and the way it breaks with every one of his thrusts.

High-pitched moan after high-pitched moan leaves you with each of his hard and fast movements. Skin on skin, every clap of his hips meeting your ass mixed with both of your overly loud groans and whines drowns out every one of his friends’ complaints.

Knots twisting upon each other in the pit of your stomach, you can’t deny that you’re close. Your pussy gripping his huge length, you make it no secret that you’re ready to release. Your legs are already shaking, and whines turn into desperate squeals, shrieking your pleasure to no end.

“You better ask, babygirl,” he warns, voice satoori thick.

“Yes, sir,” you spit. Sarcasm drips in your tone, frustration in your voice. He lets it slide, convinced you’d follow orders this time. However, you’re dead set on humiliating him as he did you.

As you feel your orgasm reaching its edge, you clench tightly around his monster of a cock and cry out, “Taehyung.”

He gasps, gripping your ass to keep himself steady as you gush all over his length. You want to see the look on his face, but your eyes roll back as you lose yourself in your orgasm. Shuddering uncontrollably, crying out his name over and over again into the mic, you adopt his shameless demeanour.

Taehyung pulls out, not allowing you the privilege of riding out your orgasm. As you huff out a whine, rubbing your legs together to try to regain your high, he pulls you up by your bounded hands and turns you around. One look and you know you’ve done it now. Jaw set, eyes dark, nose flaring, Taehyung has lost all his patience. You should be worried, but he looks too hot when he's angry.

Pressing your breasts to his chest, you stand on your toes and steal a quick kiss. He gives in for a second or two before pulling you away by a rough grip on your hair. A little whine escapes you and you chew on your lip, watching his eyes swim with confusion. He knows he should be mad, but you can tell he wants to kiss you again. When you lean in for another, his anger sparks back to life. He holds you steady but the grip on your hair then leads you back on the couch.

“Sit.”

One word orders. You curse under your breath, averting your gaze to the floor as you take a seat. Taehyung lets a smirk play on his lips as he watches you finally behave. His hand, you finally notice, has been working hard on his cock, pumping himself to the same pace of his thrusts in you.

Rubbing his foot up your calf, he orders, “Open.” You sit back, ignoring the awkward strain of your wrist behind your back and spread your legs. His eyes devour your sweaty, needy body, undressing what little you have on as he continues to get himself off.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you finally say.

He only groans, running a hand through his blue hair. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but all you taste is his cum. Ropes and ropes of thick white fall over your chin, breasts, and mostly between your legs. He mutters your name as he cums to your submissive state and surprised gasps. Illuminated by the blue screen, Taehyung looks like a sex fiend, ready to take over you once more. As he reaches the end of his high, he doesn’t even take a moment to collect himself. Instead, he pulls up to take your seat and sits you down on his lap.

Taehyung holds your gaze as he pushes your legs open again. He glances down to your crotch, rolling his eyes and laughing to himself as he examines how his cum perfectly accents the wet mark of your panties. The fabric clings to your folds, drenched in your neediness but covered with his. Your scent hits the both of you and does more for Taehyung than you’ve ever seen. His eyes darken, tongue darts out to lick his lip. He looks ready to devour you, but he knows how much you love his mouth. You both know you’re not getting his lips that easy.

A sigh escapes him as he pushes your panties aside. You spread your legs wider as the cool air of the living room hits your heat. Taehyung notices your eagerness, you know he does, but he doesn’t meet your desperate gaze with a cocky one. In fact, he doesn’t meet your gaze at all. He continues to stare at your pussy, lips pressed tightly together. While still holding your panties aside, Taehyung uses his thumb to gently scoop some of his cum and rub your clit with it. His hands are so big, the action barely puts any strain on him.

You gaze down at his fingers, whimpering as he gives you exactly what you want. You love his hands, you’ve told him that countless times. The more he gives into you, the more worried you get. You want to question him, but it feels too good. Hips rolling into his hand, you make no effort to hide your neediness and every effort to ignore the gnawing voice in your head that’s reminding you that all this is supposed to be a punishment.

Moaning wildly, you lean your forehead against his shoulder, kissing the inked patterns. Taehyung smirks down at you, chuckling to himself as he ups his game. Still using one large hand, he holds back your panties, rubs your clit and now pushes up on your upper pussy fat to get a better hold on your most sensitive part. His thumb works faster, harsher. Growling in your ear, his rough dominance makes a reappearance.

Body trembling, eyes screwed shut, your hips are moving at a pace you’ve never known they could. You’re desperate to chase this orgasm as fast as you could, worried that he might pull back whenever and leave you edged and semi-satisfied. “S-sir? C-an-”

“Cum.”

Your head snaps up as you return to your previous position. Studying his features carefully, you look for any signs of sarcasm as you try to hold your release back. Meeting your gaze, Taehyung deadpans. Your brows furrow, and desperate squeals return. It’s a clear telltale sign of your nearing oragasm. Having enough of his games, you decide you’re going to cum whether he’s bluffing or not. Throwing your head back, you risk falling off his lap as you scream out your pleasure. Your legs quake, body cultivates as your orgasm rushes through you and your pussy gushes around emptiness. Screwing your eyes tight, you tuck your chin into your chest and press your legs together as his thumb continues it’s blissful rounds around your clit.

Taehyung watches you rile with pleasure, wrapping his free hand behind you to keep you from falling off the couch. Removing his hand from your pussy, Taehyung pushes your legs apart. You think you’ve snagged yourself a quick breather, but when he slaps your thigh, you find yourself further gushing your arousal and your legs jolting in odd fits of tremors.

Huffing, Taehyung wiggles his hand back into your panties. Without much of a warning, he pushes two long fingers in. There’s not a hint of mercy in his movements. His fingers enter and exit your wet, sensitive hole in fast, hard bouts of force. He cares very little for you squealing moans and pleads for a quick break.

“I thought you wanted to cum?” He asks. The hand that was once keeping you steady slides up your back and around your throat. He holds you in place by the grip on your neck with light but tightening pressure. “So, cum babygirl.”

Your legs come together once more and you think that at least he’d let go of your throat to push them apart again, but he doesn’t. Taehyung remains unbothered, unfazed by any of your high-pitched begs and squirming body. The only indication of his pleasure is the occasional grunts of satisfaction at your desperate state and the unmistakable semi-hard yet throbbing cock pressing against the side of your knee.

Creeping up quickly, you can feel your next orgasm around the corner. Tears prick your eyes as you realize that all his generosity has really been a punishment this entire time. His fingers don’t hesitate to move even faster despite the press of your legs around his hand.

Taehyung brings your face down to his. He’s smirking fondly at you and your conflicted state of desperately needing to cum and ending all this pleasure at once. He presses a gentle kiss upon your lips, then drags his own across your face. His tongue darts out and swipes up and around your cheeks. He wipes away your tears, staining your face with his spit instead. Dragging his wet, warm tongue over your eyes, Taehyung tightens his grip on your throat. Your moans are mostly muffled now, and raspy against his hold.

Pussy clamming up around his fingers, squeezing tighter around them, you find yourself on the cusp on your second orgasm. All this from just his fingers. He single handedly unraveled you with very little effort but lots of determination.

You don’t even bother warning him this time as your second round of arousal gushes all over his fingers. He chuckles darkly against your cheek, only igniting your horny nerves in the form of goosebumps and shaking limbs. Pulling his fingers out of you, Taehyung returns your panties to their place and takes to rubbing your clit over the satin, cum stained fabric.

As you almost slip off his lap, the hand around your throat shoots back to your hips. Taehyung holds you steady through all your orgasm tremors watching as you squirt all over his thigh and the couch.

“Ah, shit,” he hisses, rolling his hips against your squirming legs. You fight against the ribbon around your wrists, desperate to push his hand away from your pussy, but you don’t accomplish much besides almost falling off him again.

“P-pl-ease,” you stutter. The bliss is starting to fade into sparks of pain from the nonstop friction he’s providing. You love it, but you can’t ignore the need for a quick rest, a moment to breathe. “Sir, please!”

Taehyung grunts and finally removes his hand from your crotch. You pull your legs up to your chest, frantically heaving for oxygen. Taehyung dips his head in the crook of your neck, attaching his lips to the most sensitive area and sucking away. Though you feel ruined, completely drained and fucked out, you lean into his touch and let him play around some more.

Gently, Taehyung holds you close and shifts up. His cum drenched hand reaches behind him and he grabs his phone. You furrow your brows, watching his movements carefully. He peeks a look at the device from under your chin, thumbing his way through the apps until he finds the one he’s looking for. The camera opens up in selfie mode. You stare back at yourself in the TV’s blue glow through the dark screen. You know he loves taking pictures of you like this, a quick keepsake for when he’s on tour and missing you.

Pushing your breast out, you give him a good shot of your confided tits in the blue lingerie. Taehyung smirks against your jawline as he watches you give your best angles to the camera. He takes a few shots with you then brings the camera down to your cum-stained panties, taking a few photos of your wet slick thighs and ruined lingerie.

When he’s finally done, he tosses the phone a side and sits you down between his legs. Returning to his gaming stance, Taehyung grabs hold of his headset and puts it on. “Shut up, hyung,” he chuckles into the mic. “You’re just jealous that yours isn’t as hot as mine.”

Your jaw goes slack as he reaches for his controller. You knew they were listening, and knew he didn’t care, but his response still shocks you all the same. Taehyung pushes the mic down as Yoongi curses him in three different languages and whispers, “Spread’em, baby.”

You furrow your brows. Aflush with anger and humiliation, you question through gritted teeth, “why?”

Taehyung scoffs, rolling his eyes. “They’ll get over it,” he mutters with a new degree of arrogance, as if he himself wasn’t so embarrassed by your moans all those moments ago. “I won’t ask you again.”

You huff and spread your legs, hands still tied behind your back. You can feel his hard cock within your grasp, but don’t dare to make a move for it. Not yet, anyways.

Pushing your panties aside once more, Taehyung shoves the handle of the controller into your pussy. It’s short but thick. And though it does not fill you as well as his fingers, let alone his huge cock, you still gasp a quiet moan.

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers into your ear. “Nice and quiet while I finish up the game. Do you think you can manage that now, babygirl?” Voice as thick and sweet as honey, you can’t help but get lost in it’s trance.

You nod immediately, quietly mumbling, “yes, sir.”

Taehyung smirks as his tattooed hands make themselves comfortable in the awkward position of the controller. You watch in awe as he plays flawlessly, despite the fact that your pussy is gripping on the other half of the handle. And everytime he loses, his avatar disappears, or misfires, the controller would vibrate, sending sudders up and down your pussy.

“Sir, please,” you sigh, sounding more desperate than when you started. “Enough games.”

“Just one last round,” he chuckles.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#changeswithluv #bangtanhq #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #maknaesmutsociety #ficswithluv #kim taehyung smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut

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buckyismybicycle · 2 years

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I've got a secret, it's on the tip of my tongue, it's on the back of my lungs (Bucky x Steve)

title: I've got a secret, it's on the tip of my tongue, it's on the back of my lungs -> AO3 Link pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers rating: ❗explicit, no minors pls tags: Dark Character, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Alternate Universe/Crossover, Defending Jacob Crossover, Prosecutor Steve Rogers summary: Prosecutor Steve Rogers is at a crossroads when his best friend becomes a suspect in a murder investigation. But he knows Bucky is innocent. Right? author’s notes: For Roo's Dark!Crossover Challenge! The reason I wanted to sign up was that I don't write dark fics. So, it's soft dark, but it's a start OKAY. Anyway, I really enjoyed Defending Jacob so this was written in under a day.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Steve Rogers was the shining, prestigious golden boy, untouchable and loved. Bucky, on the other hand, had always struggled to hold down a job, his injury limiting him from physical work and the self-doubt slowly eating away at his mind to the point where even getting out of bed had been hard. Steve didn’t mind of course — Bucky had always taken care of him when they were young, he certainly didn’t mind returning the favor now.

“Bucky, are you home?” Steve hollers out as he drops his keys in the bowl on their sideboard. The lights were out, which wasn’t unusual, and the house was silent, save for his own footsteps. He jogs up the stairs, slowly unbuttoning his suit from the day. “Buck?”

Being inside was actually quite a relief as the day was hot and his suit was fitted tightly around him. He was looking forward to simply stripping it all off, along with his façade, and slipping into just Steve Rogers when he was at home. Bucky’s door is closed so he knocks lightly. “Buck, are you in there?”

“Yeah, come in,” a lazy drawl responds.

Steve opens the door to find Bucky lounging across his bed, his headphones slightly askew and the TV on at a low volume. It was typical for Bucky to be in nothing but a pair of sweats. He wasn't one for the warm weather, after all, but it still took Steve’s breath away.

“So, good win for Captain Justice, huh?”

Steve couldn’t help but smirk at Bucky’s silly nickname for him, ignoring how his heart bloomed at the pride in Bucky’s voice. “I did Buck, I'm turning enough heads that they want me on that new Rumlow case. Do you wanna get dinner with me to celebrate?”

“I can think of other ways to celebrate,” Bucky purrs as he gives Steve a dangerous grin.

It’s moments like this, when Steve’s shoulders are all bunched and knotted together, when Bucky is looking so inviting and warm with his soft shining eyes and outstretched arm that Steve can feel the world blur around him.

Steve goes to him easily, dropping his jacket on a nearby chair and unbuttoning his shirt along the way. Bucky straightens himself up to lean against the headboard, biting his bottom lip as he watches.

“C’mere Stevie,” he says huskily, before pulling Steve’s belt through the loops so fast it cracks through the air like a whip. They both tug at the slacks, down Steve’s legs and Bucky grins up at him while he shucks his socks off and climbs into Bucky‘s lap.

Steve’s shirt flaps open, all the buttons undone, letting Bucky's hands travel up Steve’s chest as they kiss hungrily. Bucky digs his fingers into the meat of Steve’s thighs while the blonde grinds down heavily.

“Congratulations, Mr. Prosecutor,” Bucky teases cheekily, before pulling himself out of his pants and Steve’s groan fills the room.

—-

The Rumlow case is the biggest news in town, to nobody’s surprise. Most of Steve’s cases are pretty open and shut, small crimes like breaking and entering, theft, aggravated battery or assault. The embezzlement case had been the most exciting thing to have happened in a while. But, in a smaller town like this, a murder is a rarity — something that happens maybe once a century. Unfortunately for Steve, the size of the town also means that everybody knows everybody and news can travel faster than the speed of light. The moment he steps out of his car to approach the district attorney’s office, he’s stopped by Carol from a few doors down.

“I heard you took over the Rumlow case, that’s a big deal,” she greets.

“Just got assigned,” he replies, trying to keep it brief.

“Who would do such a thing!” She carries on, shaking her head in disbelief. “Well I wish you the best of luck. I know you’re the best of the best, go get ‘em, tiger.” She gives him a brilliant smile and continues to walk down the street.

Steve greets the receptionist, then walks through the metal detectors and before he even gets to the second floor, two more people have congratulated him on being assigned to what they are calling “the biggest case Westview has ever seen”.

Rumlow had been a bit of a recluse, but nonetheless, an average hard-working man. He had no children of his own, but left behind an elderly father who had once been mayor of the town. That garnered a lot of sympathy within the community. Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins had owned an auto body shop in town, so most of the residents knew him and spoke with him quite frequently. Bucky worked there on and off, when they had an overflow of work and needed an extra hand.

Unfortunately for Steve, Brock's usual route from his home on the edge of town to the shop was not even remotely close to the busier areas. It meant that there were no witnesses the day he was brutally murdered.

It also meant that Brock’s body had not been found until much later on, and by then, the scene had been disturbed by wildlife. At his desk, the case files sat. Among the photographs, there were reports on any and all evidence found at the scene which was not a lot. They had a partial fingerprint on a tag at the back of Brock’s shirt and various opinions on what the murder weapon was even though one was not found at the scene. A switchblade, they seemed to think, with a serrated edge. Something any hunter might have.

The photos don’t tell him much, nothing he didn’t already know simply from the office whispers. Rumlow had been found face down in his usual black T-shirt as a pile of blood had seeped into the earth around him. It was almost impossible to see unless you were close.

For the first time in Steve’s career, it seemed that answers were simply evading him, and the questions kept piling up. He had already interviewed everyone down at the auto shop, had spoken to Romano‘s dad, Alexander, and checked through the evidence at least three times by now. The case just simply wasn’t going anywhere.

Another downfall of living in such a small town was that your successes and failures were no longer just your own. Each passing day, more people questioned if there was any progress at all, if he was doing anything else to try and crack the case.

It was in the unspoken looks and furtive glances he received that told him he was losing the faith of his hometown. What they would never understand was how much faith he had already lost in himself. Doubt had crept in — what if he couldn’t solve the case after all? But it was soon replaced by anger when he heard the latest churn of the gossip mill.

I bet it was that friend of his - he’s an ex-convict you know. How a prosecutor could be friends with such a lowlife is beyond me!

He has always seemed a little strange hasn’t he? All that black and messy hair. He certainly looks the part.

Oh, don’t you know? He was in the army for a short while, I’m sure he knows how to handle a knife effectively.

“Come on Stevie, stop thinking so hard.” Bucky’s voice is low and sinful, soothing in a way that Steve’s days never are anymore and he melts into Bucky's arms. “That’s good, baby, just like that.”

Steve can’t help but sigh once Bucky's fully seated in him and they build up a languid comforting pace, where Bucky is just shy of grazing over his prostate and Steve is just reveling in feeling full and grounded.

“Just so hard to breathe sometimes,” Steve complains softly, not wanting Bucky to know what was being said about him.

“I’ll make it hard to breathe,” Bucky chuckles before he sits back on his haunches and grips the underside of Steve's thighs, folding them toward Steve’s chest. Steve doesn’t get another word in as Bucky makes good on his promise and fucks into Steve so hard that the air is literally pushed out of his lungs. Steve can hardly manage to tell Bucky that he’s coming, until he already is, untouched and with a sob of relief. Steve feels the hot ropes of cum splatter across his chest and whines in protest as he gets stretched further when Bucky leans down. Bucky grins as he licks some off of Steve’s pec, his tongue swirling around Steve’s nipple as he does so.

“You’re so beautiful like this Stevie, when you come apart like this and I’m the only one who gets to see it. I love watching you come for me.”

“You’re the - only one,” Steve manages to huff out as he regains his breath. Bucky is the only one that makes him feel loose like this, floating in the clouds.

“You’ll catch them, baby. I know you will.” Bucky drops a gentle kiss on his nose.

Bucky is also the only one that never loses faith in him.

—-

It's one of those evenings where Bucky disappears. Steve is less worried about it now than he used to be, of course. He remembers the panic the first time Bucky had vanished, his phone going straight to voicemail. But it became a regular thing, and he eventually began to understand the need for Bucky to clear his head, away from their shared home.

If the war that took his arm wasn’t enough, the incident that had taken his whole family in one fell swoop, would have been. Even years of therapy hadn’t been able to straighten all the twists and turns in his mind. The war, the therapy, the house fire, the aftermath - Steve had been there to see it all. He watched Bucky fall apart and never quite piece himself whole again. If Bucky’s late-night strolls for fresh air are any consolation, Steve is happy to encourage it.

So, Steve makes dinner, confident that Bucky is safe, staying out of trouble and will be walking in the door at any moment.

Then he gets one phone call that changes all that.

“Rogers.”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah. Look, you should get to the station as soon as you can.”

“What, why? Is it the Rumlow case?”

“Somethin’ like that. Look - just get down here. Bucky’s in custody.”

Steve drops his phone in the salad bowl with a clang, his whole world spinning.

---

The interrogation room is the same as it’s always been, just a plain, grey, cold box with a table and two chairs. Steve’s always found it calm, a place where there’s nothing to distract you from your job. But now, with Bucky cuffed to the table, leg bouncing nervously, Steve is acutely aware of the two-way glass, imagining just how many people were on the other side.

“What the hell, Buck?” He keeps his voice as low as possible, hoping the surveillance doesn’t pick up on his whispers.

“I was jus’ walkin’, Stevie,” Bucky replies, his eyes wide and innocent, a little glassy like he’d been drinking or crying - or both. Steve’s not blind to Bucky’s coping mechanisms.

“But why there,” he hisses. He wants to strangle his friend for being so careless, walking right into the jaws of the police with a gift.

“I didn’t know,” Bucky sighs lamely. “I mean, look, I know where but I wasn’t paying attention to where I was goin’. I don’t know how I ended up there, I was jus’ walkin’ around, I swear. Too in my head, and then the next thing I know, I’m here.”

Steve takes a deep breath. It’s not entirely far-fetched that Bucky really didn’t know where he was going. Bucky on a good day wasn’t entirely in his right mind, but adding alcohol to the mix was likely to guarantee that Bucky did space out at some point or another. He’d let that part go, except -

“Then why’d you take a swing at Sam, Buck?” Bucky looks away, his chiseled jaw clenched in shame and misery.

“I got spooked, that’s all. You know how I get, Stevie. I - I knew it was a bad idea to leave the house.”

With that, Steve’s heart breaks a little bit. For all the progress that Bucky might’ve had, he’s still afraid of being in the world and afraid of an attack at any moment. They’d never caught the intruders that murdered most of the Barnes family, after all. The injustice was what had pushed Steve into the legal field to begin with.

“Look, I’ll go talk to the guys and see if we can go home. You didn’t technically hit anyone and you backed off when you saw it was Sam, that’s worth something. But it’s best you keep your little walks inside for now, okay? You’re gonna worry me.”

Bucky just nods sullenly. Thankfully, Steve has enough friends on the force and Sam is not a man to hold grudges.

“I know a spooked man when I see one, we all got demons,” was all he said to Steve when he was finally able to get Bucky’s cuffs undone to go home.

---

But Bucky doesn’t stay inside - he ends up at the trail again, except thankfully it was only Carol who saw and not the police. Then, he ends up at Rumlow’s garage, and Steve almost loses it.

“Are you even thinking straight? Stop putting yourself in the middle of this thing!”

“Why’s it matter, huh?” Bucky argues with a glare. “I work there for fuck’s sake, I figure Jack might want an extra set of hands considering…”

“I know,” Steve concedes. “I know, okay? But it’s not about whether or not you had a logical reason, it’s about how it looks. You know that, you’ve watched enough Criminal Minds, come on.”

“What, do people think I’m a fucking suspect or somethin’?” He scoffs. Steve waits a beat too long, and suddenly Bucky’s face morphs. “Seriously?”

“No, Buck. You’re not a suspect. Nobody is, that’s the problem. And everyone’s looking for someone to blame.”

“… Makes sense,” Bucky shrugs, though his eyes are downcast. Steve can’t stand it.

“No! If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me, because I can’t figure out - anything!” He throws his hands in the air in frustration.

“You will, baby,” Bucky’s voice softens as he reaches out to cup Steve’s face in his hands. The prosthetic is cold against Steve’s cheek, making him shiver. “You will.”

Steve always seems to forget what he was last thinking of, anytime he gets Bucky’s mouth on him.

---

Steve thinks it’s all good and done until one day, he wonders if he knows his best friend at all. He’s finished the laundry, on a beautiful, pleasant Sunday afternoon and goes to knock on Bucky’s door, unaware Bucky had slipped out that morning already.

“Buck, I think I got a bunch of your socks in here,” Steve announces as he turns the doorknob. Bucky’s bed is made pristinely, army habits not quite dying out. Books are stacked neatly, his guitar sits in the corner. Most surprisingly, Bucky’s prosthetic lies on his desk, and Steve rarely sees Bucky without it since the only time he takes it off is to do a thorough, deep clean. The flesh tone of the plastic was always a shade too pink to match Bucky’s skin, it used to make Steve think of Bucky after he’d sat in the sun a smidge too long. Now, looking at it, it’s hard to imagine Bucky without it. Before he can ponder too much, he opens Bucky’s sock drawer to dump the handful of pairs that had ended up in his basket.

That’s when he sees the switchblade. It makes Steve’s breath catch in his throat, a dizzy spell threatening to overtake him.

When Bucky comes home, Steve wants to ask, he really does. But Bucky holds up a grocery bag with a big smile and says “I got the ingredients to make that roast you were talking about!”

It’s a day where Bucky smiles without reservation and his eyes aren’t always flitting about like he wants to bolt. Steve cherishes them when they come, so he keeps his mouth shut. Steve reminds himself that this is Bucky. His childhood best friend, sweet and caring to the core, the one that would always defend the little guy.

It’s all perfect - the roast, the way they move together in the kitchen, more gracefully than any two men their size should, the cuddling after. It’s so euphoric that Steve hardly pays attention to the way Bucky digs his fingers in harder, pushes himself in deeper, bites down more than usual.

In the end, he’s marked up and bruised, sore to the point of unmoving, and yet it’s perfect because it’s Bucky.

---

He doesn’t mention the switchblade to Bucky. In fact, he does his best to avoid Bucky altogether, claiming he needs to work hard on the case, making up lies about new evidence coming forward just to see what Bucky would do.

His friend doesn’t react whatsoever. It’s supposed to calm Steve and reassure him, but it instead makes a shiver run down his spine. Still, it’s nothing compared to the chilling looks he receives from his colleagues when he gets to work that morning.

“Uh, what’s going on?” He asks, turning to the nearest person - an up and coming prosecutor, Joaquin Torres. The young man just shakes his head, because before he can say anything, a sharp rap on wood interrupts him.

“Rogers? My office.” Natasha’s brows are furrowed and Steve has a bad feeling about this.

“Nat, what the hell is going on?” He can see everyone on the other side of her glass office peeking with curiosity. The nerves burn under his skin, making it impossible for him to sit like she’s just asked him to do.

“There’s no easy way to say it, so I’m gonna say it straight. And I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

“Okay?” His mind already runs through any scenario that would warrant this reaction, and he has a sinking feeling he knows what - or who - it pertains to.

“I have to take you off the Rumlow case.” She speaks bluntly, making direct eye contact. “We have reason to believe that James Barnes is involved with the murder. The fingerprint on the back of Rumlow’s shirt came back a match for him. I’m sorry, Steve.”

She doesn’t mess around, it’s one of the things that Steve admires most about the district attorney, but he can’t accept what she’s saying.

“That’s - he works - worked with Rumlow, on and off, I mean - they’re not strangers, Nat. That print could’ve gotten there a hundred different ways.”

“I’m aware, Steve,” she replies coolly. “And we’ll go through all of them, but it just can’t be you.”

He knows. Rules. Regulations. Conflict of interest.

In the end, he leaves without a fight, saving his energy into proving Bucky’s innocence. When he gets home, Bucky is laid out across the couch, TV playing some old film that he’s not paying attention to as he scrolls along on this phone.

Steve can’t take it anymore - he has to know.

“Buck, I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, right?”

That gets the brunette’s attention. He sits upright and gives Steve a confused look.

“I love you too, Stevie.” Bucky’s voice is so soft - it’s so gentle, there’s just no way. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Steve says too quickly. Bucky just sighs, and signals for Steve to come over, tugging him onto his lap.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, you can tell me.” The sweetheart gets Steve every time.

“You - you didn’t have anything to do with… you know,” Steve swallows thickly as Bucky looks up at him with crystal blue eyes.

“What, Stevie?”

“With you know,” Steve huffs a frustrated breath. “With Rumlow. I know you two didn’t always see eye to eye.”

“Oh Jesus Christ, Steve. Of course I didn’t.” Bucky rolls his eyes, and pushes Steve off, hard enough he almost lands on the floor.

Yeah, he deserved it. He’s made an ass of himself, and Bucky doesn’t even look at Steve when they go to bed that night, locking the door to his bedroom. His therapist had said it would be good to keep a private space, even if he spent most nights in Steve’s bed. Well, he supposes she was right on this one. He apologizes through the door, not entirely sure Bucky can hear him over the guitar that’s coming from inside.

---

Bucky always knows how to play Steve like a fiddle, every noise craftily pulled at Bucky’s whim. He’s always been at Bucky’s mercy.

Like now, when Bucky’s tied his hands to the headboard and has him bent in half, plowing into him with no mercy. Steve’s screaming at the top of his lungs, yet doesn't flinch when a searing pain blooms in his belly - he’s had orgasms ripped from him more forcefully than anyone could ever imagine, after all.

When he finally opens his eyes at the seeping warmth across his abdomen, he startles. Lodged in his stomach is the switchblade from Bucky’s desks, blood leaking from the wound.

He goes to ask Bucky what he was doing, but his lover ignores him in favour of fucking him harder. Bucky’s hands roam, smearing bloody prints across Steve’s milky white thighs and the smile on his face is wider than it has been in years.

Steve should be in more pain - he should be yelling for help, or kicking Bucky off, or, hell, dying from blood loss. But he can’t make a move when he looks at Bucky’s face.

Those baby blue eyes are consumed by the black of his pupils as he licks his lips hungrily. His brutal pace is harsh until he suddenly stops as his body tenses and shudders, his eyes slipping close and mouth falling open. A pornographic moan falls from his lips as he looks down at Steve once more.

Abruptly, he yanks the knife out of Steve’s stomach and pulls his dick out at the same time. With a deranged smile, he tilts his head, watching the bright red blood run down Steve’s abs and onto the white sheets beneath him.

“You still feel it, don’t you? Even when I’m not inside of you.”

---

When Steve wakes that morning, it’s in a cold sweat and dry throat from his cry. He looks down, realizing it was just a nightmare, but patting a hand over this abdomen as if trying to convince himself. His hairs stand on end as he hurriedly rushes down the hall to Bucky’s room.

Without so much as a warning, he bursts into Bucky’s room. The man in question isn’t there, but Steve looks curiously at the papers strewn across Bucky’s desk. His journals are plentiful, logging his life, his dreams, goals he’s set and lyrics for songs he never finishes writing.

I've got a secret.

It's on the tip of my tongue.

It's on the back of my lungs.

And I'm gonna keep it.

I know something you don't know.

It sits in silence.

Eats away at me.

It feeds like cancer.

This guilt could fill a fucking sea.

Pulling teeth, wolves at my door.

Now falling and failing is all I know.

This disease is getting worse.

I counted my blessings, now I'll count this curse.

The only thing I really know

I can't sleep at night.

I am buried and breathing in regret

The only thing I really know

I can't sleep at night.

I am buried and breathing in regret.

The words rake under Steve’s skin, like the claws of a hundred demons wanting to tear him apart, same as the fear and guilt inside of him. He goes and opens Bucky’s drawer, every instinct telling him that this was wrong. But the switchblade is gone, just like Bucky is.

See also: [overall masterlist]

💖 Tag List: @anonnygon @jackiehollanderr @granpafrisbee @fanatic434 @ohtobehappy @goldylions @moonlightreader649 @buckybarnesau

#darkcrossoverchallenge #events #writing challenge #BUCKY BARNES #STEVE ROGERS #BUCKY BARNES X STEVE ROGERS #MARVEL FANFICTION #BUCKY BARNES FANFICTION #CAPTAIN AMERICA #STUCKY #STEVE ROGERS FANFICTION #MY WORKS #stevebucky #bucky x steve

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

Text

Thank you to @doinmybesthere for inspiring this and making me h word with a capital "I'm writing this shit at my desk"

Warnings: v*yerism, c*ckwarming, praise, degradation, no condom, after care

"Hey guys! Don't mind Y/N she had a rough day, so she is gonna chill on my lap while we work!" You have no idea how your boyfriends voice can sound so nonchalant when he was currently balls deep in your aching pussy. Thankfully, you convinced him to let you sit with your back to the computer and a blanket wrapped around you. There was no way you could keep a straight face while doing this.

Honestly, you didn't know why you could win a gaming bet against Denki.... That man was always playing video games when he wasn't with you. He even worked at a graphic design company ffs. But stubborn you couldn't say no to a challenge and that is exactly why you are now in this situation.

"Well, she better not bug us while we are working. We gotta get this presentation done today and I won't except anything less than perfect." No doubt that was Bakugo, that douchebag always sounded pissy.

"You don't have to be so mean BakuBro!" Kirishima, the sweetheart thought he was defending you.

You could hear the smirk in Denki's voice. "No worries man! She just had a hard day; she won't disturb us. Right doll?" He ended his sentence with a shallow thrust that to anyone else, probably looked like he was shifting you to make your position more comfortable.

However, with the way he was holding your hips his cock hit the spot that always made you scream so when he moved you let out a sob. Your face bursts into flames and you cling onto him tighter, the guys on the computer not making a sound for a hot minute.

Someone clears their throat, and you can feel Denki laughing at you.

Kirishima finally breaks the awkward silence "See dude, she's even crying! Someone must have pushed her buttons too much."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding but miss the sound of someone coughing to cover a laugh.

As the guys start working you tune out their voices, more concerned with not making any more sounds. You can vaguely hear two other voices and assume its Sero and Mina.

I guess the whole group is working for this job.

Almost like he can tell you aren't thinking of his cock Denki shifts you again. This time thrusting harder, making you gasp and shudder in his hold.

"Just makin’ sure you aren't forgetting about me baby." He whispers in your ear, so close you can feel his lips brush against your skin.

"Oi! Pay attention dunce face! Don't get cocky just because you have Y/N on your lap." Bakugo’s voice sounds deep and breathy for some reason but Denki has started thrusting into you at a slow pace fucking all thoughts out of your brain.

You think you hear whining and can’t tell if the sound came from you or someone else. Denki’s pace picks up and your breathing gets heavy, your mouth open arms wrapping tightly around Denki’s shoulders.

“Y-yeah dude…. don’t wanna get caught in… in a tight spot.” Mina’s voice is wobbly, the sound distracting you from the cock pumping in and out of you for a moment. When your hearing focuses on the sounds from the computer you go very very still.

Heavy breaths, whimpers and moans, the unmistakable sound of skin rubbing against skin that you would know anywhere.

“OH, fuck doll…. you just got so tight. You like having people see what a good slut you are?” Your boyfriend gives up on being discreet and pulls the blanket off of you exposing what’s happening to the camera.

You moan, the sound echoed by the people on the other side of the screen. Your cunt only getting tighter as they say dirty things to you.

“What a dirty little slut, you like being fucked on camera Y/N?”

“Wow pebble, look at you takin that cock so well.”

“What I wouldn’t give to taste that pussy while I sit on your face.”

“Ay dios mío. You got a nice ass baby.”

Denki can feel your orgasm fast approaching as his friends talk to you so he turns you around so they can see your face and holds you up while fucking into you at a merciless pace.

“Oh god…. oh, fuck D-Denki m’gonna cum baby.” You forget about everything as your boyfriend thrusts into you, hitting your g spot and butting against your cervix. You look up at the computer screen and your moans get louder, your orgasm hurtling towards you.

All of Denki’s friends are getting off on watching you. Kirishima and Bakugo sitting in their computer chairs with their shirts in their mouths, stroking their cocks. Mina is laying on her bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit, her tongue lolling out of her mouth while she looks at you with half lidded eyes. Sero is standing up, you can only see from his neck down as he fucks a pocket pussy, timing the thrusts to match Denki’s as he fucks you.

“Why don’t you show them how good I make you feel baby yeah? Cum on my cock and tell me who’s pussy this is doll face.”

You look right into the camera as you come undone, screaming your boyfriends name and cumming hard. As your vision blacks out you can hear the others getting close to finishing, you think it’s over and slump against Denki.

You are surprised when Denki turns the chair back around and leans back, showing even more of your cunt to the group and somehow fucking you even harder. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he puts an arm around your waist holding you tight then shoving a hand in between you both to rub at your clit.

“Gonna fill this pussy up but you gotta cum for me again baby.”

You let out a sob and shake your head. “Nooo I c-can’t baby. It’s too much.”

“I know you can do it; be a good girl and I’ll give you what you want.”

Despite your protests you can feel your core tightening, the feeling different from your last orgasm.

“Fuck yes baby, I can feel it. Cum for me doll, milk my cock baby.” Denki’s thrusts get sloppy and after a few more swipes of his fingers on your clit you are gushing all over his cock the chair, and the computer.

Your whole body goes limp, but Denki moves his hand and grabs both of your ass cheeks, pulling them apart while he cums and fills your pussy up.

The sounds of his friends reaching their peaks echoing in the speakers, the feeling of Denki’s cum leaking from your abused hole. Everyone is silent for a few minutes catching their breath, minds reeling from the situation that just occurred.

“Alright folks.” Denki sits the chair back up and scoots closer to the computer, trying his best to not jostle you. “Gotta take care of my baby! See ya’ll later.”

Before anyone can protest, he shuts off the computer and gently pulls out of you with a hiss.

“Let’s get you cleaned up yeah?” Denki cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead then your nose. You hum in agreement and wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up.

You are both quiet as he sits you on the bathroom counter and turns on the shower. As you watch him get undressed a thought pops into your head.

“So… umm.” Denki turns to you, a quizzical look on his face. “Who do you think is gonna ask first?”

He tilts his head not catching your meaning then laughs. “Oh, Sero for sure! Mina will be there when he does probably.”

He walks over to you and helps you off the counter, opening the shower door and letting you in first.

“What about Kiri and Bakugou?”

“Oh, Kirishima will take a little bit since he wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings. Bakugou would pretend that Kiri dragged him along, but he would be hard the second he walked through the door and saw you.”

You chuckle, tilting your head into the warm spray and sighing. You both stand there in silence, basking in the post orgasmic bliss.

“So, should I take next weekend off?” You look into your boyfriend’s eyes and smile.

Denki laughs and pats your head. “I would take the whole week baby, there is no way you are walking out of this apartment after that.”

@patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam @wtf-vickyy @reinawritesbnha

#lillith writes #lilliths fic #lilliths masterlist #denki x reader #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x reader #denki x y/n #kaminari x y/n #bhna x reader #mha x reader

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hunflowers · 4 years

Text

i just wanna taste it, i just wanna taste it, watermelon sugar high *nose boops*

It’s a warm day outside.

But, it’s also a beautiful day so you decide you want to go outside and sit under the sun in a little flowy dress, laying back on the grass with your pink heart sunglasses over your eyes as you listen to the hum of music coming through your little portable radio.

You sit up on your elbows, peering down at Harry who has his head nestled into your lap, eyes closed under his yellow tinted sunglasses, mindlessly biting into a piece of watermelon that you had chopped up before you went outside. Gently caressing your fingers through his hair, you look down the length of his body that was adorned in a yellow flower printed shirt, all the buttons undone, and his little yellow swim shorts that always had your mouth watering.

You watched him reach his hand into the bowl of watermelon, picking up another piece, his tongue meeting it first before his teeth sink into it. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you watched him, admiring the movement of his jaw and the flex of his throat as he swallowed the sugary sweetness.

That’s when you knew he was doing it on purpose. A small little smirk snuck it’s way onto his face as he moved his head around on your lap, gaining a more comfortable position. And then his eyes peeled open, looking at you. He blinked a few times before full on grinning at you, reaching into the bowl for another slice.

Squinting your eyes at him through your glasses, you reached into the bowl yourself, picking up a piece and looking down at him as you bring it up to your mouth, slowly biting into it, juice dripping down your chin and around your mouth, a few drops landing on your chest right above the hem of your dress. Harry hummed at your sensuality, closing his eyes once more.

“Can feel that y’not wearing anything under this dress. Can also smell you, love,” he spoke nonchalantly, bringing his one hand up to rub circles on your warm thigh.

You choked on a breath at his words, collapsing back down onto your back at the sudden weakness in your arms. The way he spoke with such ease is what caused your body to shiver, and if you were standing, you were sure you would’ve fell to your knees in front of him.

Suddenly Harry sat up, and just as quickly, he maneuvered himself to hover above you, arms on either side of your body as his knee shoved your legs apart to be between them. “Smell absolutely ravenous,” he taunts, lips connecting to the skin of your neck and traveling down until he reaches your chest, licking up the droplet of watermelon that still sat there.

You sighed at the contact, instinctively opening your legs further. You felt him smile against your skin, his hips rutting up into your core for a second before he trailed down your body and and laid flat on his stomach between your legs.

His hands took the bottom of your dress, hiking it above your hips so your exposed and glistening pussy could shine under the light of the sun. “You’re just a naughty minx, aren’t you?”

“Mm, of course,” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he gently grazed the tip of his thumb through your folds and ending at your clit, slowly swirling around it in a teasing manner.

“You knew I’d get between y’legs didn’t you? That I wouldn’t be able to help myself to your sweet little cunt?” Then he licked a bold stripe up through your wetness, replacing his thumb and sucking at your throbbing clit, before disconnecting just moments later.

“M’gonna need an answer,” he scolded, reaching into the bowl that was almost empty now, picking up a small piece of watermelon and looking back at you. “And, I need you to look at me”

You opened your eyes and lulled your head to the side, nodding your head slowly as you eyed the piece of fruit dangerously close to your heat. “Hoped you would want a taste.”

“Oh, darling,” he smiled once more before dragging the watermelon up your one thigh, across your belly and and your hips, before slowly bringing it down your other thigh, a trail of sticky sweetness left on your body.

His tongue licked up the path that he left, but going the opposite way, taking his sweet time. Then, he placed the cool fruit against your center, and looked at you with an intense stare, keeping eye contact with you as he engulfed the piece of fruit, and keeping his mouth against your pussy.

You didn’t dare to break your stare, knowing he would stop if you closed your eyes, no matter how euphoric you feel. Digging your fingers into his hair, you tugged on his curls and brought his face impossibly closer to you, moans slipping past your lips as he dipped his tongue into your vagina.

His hands gripped onto your thighs, holding tight and most likely leaving little bruises, while he kept his eyes on your panting figure. “Shit, Har-- fuck, oh my God.”

Without meaning to, your eyes fluttered shut as you knocked your head back against the grass, your hand coming up to your own hair and running through it, your right leg hitching up on top of his shoulder and your heel digging into his back. He delivered a harsh suck on your clit while simultaneously smacking against your lifted ass cheek, causing you to yelp and open your eyes back up.

Lifting his head for a second to gather a proper breath of air, before going back down he demanded, “If y’wanna cum, you better keep those pretty eyes on me.”

You mewled at the sentence and at the kitten licks he pressed against your dripping hole, remnants of your wetness settling on his lips and around. He moaned against you, the vibrations shooting up your spine and and making your brain feel like total mush inside your skull as he worked your impending climax closer and closer.

“I... Harry, I’m close,” you whimpered, rocking your hips against his feverish tongue, your back arching up off the ground.

“Taste s’good, baby. C’mon, cum for me, soak my tongue,” he encouraged, mouth surrounding your center as his thumb circles fast against your bundle of nerves.

Your thighs shook and tensed as that warm feeling at the bottom of your belly stirred around, gaining speed on you as he plunged his tongue inside you one last time, lapping at your walls convulsing walls. You all but screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you in tidal waves.

Removing his tongue, Harry thrusted two fingers into you, helping you to ride out your orgasm for as long as you possibly could. Words of encouragement were sent your way, as he slowed the movement of his fingers, stilling inside you as you fully relaxed under the bright sun and on the soft grass.

Pulling out of you, you watched him sit up on his knees and bring his digits to his mouth, sucking them clean and moaning softly at the divine taste of you. Your eyes observed the length of his body again, eyes drinking in the sight of his exposed abdomen and the stark contrast of his tattoos on his skin. Your eyes landed on the tent in his shorts, lingering there for a few seconds before meeting back up with his eyes, that looked at you with a challenging stare.

Once his fingers popped from his mouth, he couldn’t help but egg you on a little further, saying, “Mm, so sweet. Like strawberries.”

Gaining the energy to sit up, and the courage to be bold, you sat in front of him and reached your hand up to swipe your finger across his chin and collect your juice that mixed a little bit with the watermelon’s that he hadn’t wiped away. You stuck your tongue out, licking up your finger before enclosing your lips around it, moaning in agreement. His eyes lowered to your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks around your finger, his cock immediately twitching at the sight.

Then, when you removed your finger and snipped a reply of, “You’re right. Though, I think you taste better,” he pushed you back down onto the grass, not quite finished with you yet.

#oop hope y'all enjoy :)#maybe lemme know if ya did?#harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles filth #harry smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles #watermelon sugar

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Don’t Ignore Me! Alt. Ver (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Genre: Slight angst to fluff

Scenario: If the roles were switched from my original Don’t Ignore Me! post as requested by @spicyfoodboi

Word count: 1,065

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: This was easy breezy to write, was able to bang it out in a few hours. I’m happy I didn’t have to go too hard on this one, but I do hope you guys still like it!

Also, I’ll make a separate mushy post for this, but I hit 2k??? I just logged in to post this and it’s at perfectly 2k and I kinda lost it for a hot sec. Thank you guys so much for letting me hit this milestone, I couldn’t have gotten here without you 🥰

Join my friend and I’s Discord!

I huff at the time on the top corner of my phone and frown. Where is he? Why isn't he home yet? He's late, it isn't like him to be late. I wonder if he went out with his friends.

As if summoning him, the front door finally opens, causing my head to whip around so fast I could've gotten whiplash. I spring off the couch and bound towards him like a pet. "Baby, you're back!"

His clothes are a bit messy, his top button undone as usual. My charming, loud-mouthed boyfriend. Every time I see him after a long day, I'm instantly energized by his presence. I especially need him today since my day was too dragged on without him.

I lean up and close my eyes, anticipating his kiss on my forehead as he always does. But all I get is a small gust of wind. Fluttering my eyes open, I see his figure brush past me. There's a cold shot in my chest, but I try to brush it off. Maybe he's just tired?

I trail after him into the kitchen as he gets a drink of water and slither my arms around his firm torso. "You forgot something, Katsu," I tease him. "I'm waiting~"

Bakugou stays still and finished his water before simply walking out of my grasp. My arms feel empty and cold without him. Suddenly, there's a harsh weight on my body, my hands grasping at nothing.

"Katsu?" My small voice barely carries through the empty hall. Did I do something?

My mind wanders to frightful thoughts. We didn't fight when we parted this morning. What could I have done that mad him so angry he didn't even want to look at me? In the few times we do fight, he's the type to yell and scream about it until he blows off steam.

As he washes up in the bathroom, I sit on the bed with my legs curled up. All I can do is obsess over the littlest details that could've set him off. On the other hand, I'm hoping he just needs his own moment to breathe after a particularly bad day at work. I understand that, though he could've just told me that.

The bathroom door opens and I sit up immediately, awaiting his eventual acknowledgement of me. But he simply scrolls through his phone, lifting up the blankets and settling into bed without sparing me even the tiniest glance.

I sit facing him fully. "Katsuki? Are you mad at me?" I ask timidly.

No answer. He continues playing his game like I'm just a fly buzzing around him.

He's cheating on you.

The outlandish thought flashes across my mind, my breath catching. No, he's not. That should be the furthest from my mind. Even if he came back late, there are so many other reasons for that.

"Katsuki, this isn't like you, you're scaring me." I sound more desperate now. "If I did something, you'd be yelling by now. Please talk to me."

Still nothing.

My head starts spinning. "Look, if you needed alone time or space because you had a long day, I understand, but at least tell me so I'm not in the dark here." Frustration starts pooling in my blood, at him for being silent, then at me for getting mad when I don't even know what's going on.

When I still get no answer from him, I know he's not gonna budge. He's a hardheaded dumbass and if he's angry, he needs to work it out by himself. Even so, I hug a pillow from the bed and rise to my feet. I can't help the hot tears threatening to spring from my eyes, I want to run out before he can see it.

I barely hear the rustling as I'm in the hallway before solid arms coil around my shoulders from behind. "Babe, no, don't cry."

"Are you done pouting now?" I ask angrily, the tears finally running down my face. I clutch the pillow in my arms tighter and bury my face in it.

"I wasn't pouting, I was just- Urghhh!" Bakugou turns me around to face him. "Look at me, come on, I'll explain."

My first instinct is to shove him away in rage, but I still miss his long-overdue affection. I obey and lift my head up.

"Damn it, you're really crying," he mumbles, more anger to himself as he wipes my tears away. My boyfriend sighs, "Just promise you won't get too mad when I tell you."

"I'll decide when you tell me," I snap back. He's not completely off the hook for this.

"Fair enough..." He pauses, gathering his courage. "I talked to Denki and Sero after work today and they were telling me about this stupid challenge they've seen around on social media. It's...where you try to ignore your significant other for 24 hours-"

I don't even let him finish before already hitting his face with the pillow. "This was for a stupid prank?! What the hell, Katsuki?!" A fresh set of angry tears streams down my face. "Here I am worried sick and thinking things I shouldn't all because of your stupid prank." I start continuously hitting him in the chest. "YOU STUPID DUMBASS!"

He catches my arms and I notice how hurt he is through my misted vision. "I know. It was stupid and I shouldn't have even thought it through. I Just thought you'd be angry, but then you started crying and I had to stop. I didn't wanna hurt you, I'm sorry. It really hurt when I saw you about to cry."

With one more hit to the face, I throw the pillow aside and hug him close. "You stupid, mindless, dumbass. If you try to scare me like that again, I'm not gonna forgive you." I wipe the tears off my face and attempt to give him my most threatening scowl. "And I'm beating up those two nutheads next time I see them!"

"And I won't stop you," Bakugou chuckles, a glint of pride in his eyes as he embraces me again and presses a kiss to my forehead.

"You're not allowed to leave my side the rest of the night, you understand me? You have to feed me dinner, watch whatever movie I want, and you have to cuddle me all night!"

"Whatever you want, teddy bear."

#Bakugou x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #angst to fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugou scenario #request #gender neutral reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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chubby-jojo-blog · 3 years

Note

Food for thought! Mista’s s/o or anyone really betting he can’t eat ALL that food, he knows he can and is hella cocky about it but the ends up getting way to full after finishing everything and gets whiny for belly rubs 🥺

Thank you for this absolutely delicious content🤌🏻💋 I’m gonna be thinking about this all day now😖😳

“See? I told you I could finish it all,” Mista leaned back in his chair. “Ugh...” he groaned. “I may have ~uurp~ overdone it though.”

His stomach gurgled, working hard to digest the ridiculous amount to food he had shoved down his throat. When you’d jokingly bet that he couldn’t finish it all, you hadn’t expected him to actually do it. Not that you were complaining, the sight before was something truly magnificent. Mista was sprawled back in his chair, his breathing labored, both hands resting on his over stuffed gut. His pants were undone and his crop top pushed up. His usually soft, squishy belly was filled to the brim. Round, heavy, and tight as a drum. Empty plates stacked atop each other, take out bags, and fast food wrappers littered the table in front of him. You were amazed that he’d actually managed to eat the much.

“Hey, y/n,” Mista said. “Could you ~uUURrp~ help me to the couch? I really need to lay down.” He winced as his stomach gurgled again.

“Of course,” you say. You move to help him up, putting your arm around his waist and his arm over your shoulders. “Holy shit you’re heavy,” you tease as you help him waddle to the couch. Though it’s not entirely a joke, he is pretty heavy, and you can tell his balance has been thrown off by the weight in his stomach.

Mista sat down a little too fast, jostling his belly and causing it to whine and gurgle angrily. He weakly rubbed at his bloated middle, trying desperately to relieve the pressure.

“I’m never moving again,” he groaned “M’just gonna ~uURrp~ stay on the couch forever...”

You smiled and rolled your eyes. You knew by tomorrow he’ll be back to stuffing his face with what ever junk food was in the house.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he pouted. “This is your fault anyway.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow. “It’s my fault you have too much pride to admit defeat and ended up stuffing yourself silly?”

“This stupid bet was your idea in the first place.”

“Hey, I was joking at first,” you put your hands up in defense. “You were the one who wanted to show off. But I will admit,” you placed a hand on Mista’s belly, “you did prove me wrong and it was quite impressive.”

“Damn right it was ~uurp~ impressive,” he smiled weakly. “And I did win the bet, ya think you could reward me with a belly rub?”

Of course you agreed, how could you not? You moved your hands over is middle in slow, gentle circles, occasionally pressing on the right areas and causing him to let out loud, long burps. You were amazed by the shear size of his gut, just how unbelievably round and full it was. You’d never seen him this stuffed before but it was definitely something you could get used to.

“Mmm, that’s good babe,” Mista sighed as he smiled at you, trying to keep his eyes open. He was now in a full and comfortable state, slowly begins to drift into a well deserved food coma.

“Yeah?” You leaned forward and gently kissed him right below his belly button. “Maybe later we can get you some dessert,” you smiled slyly. “If you can handle it.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled, smirking slightly. “Is that a challenge?”

#I’m sorry I just had to write something #headcanon #chubby mista #anon #asks #oneshot #Mista x reader #belly rubs #belly kink #stuffing

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ohsnapcracklepopfriends · 3 years

Text

Here it is friends. Part one of my Taylor-Swift-nostalgia induced carraville fic. I will be writing a short part two but I figured I’d get this up now and it could be read on its own at this point. I haven’t proof read it so please excuse any mistakes but I hope you enjoy!

Jamie undid his tie. It was a plaid tie, blue instead of red to suggest his neutrality. It was a good day or at least it should’ve been. Liverpool beat Everton two to one, he’d had a good show (no one was harassing him on Twitter yet and Gary had made a few mistakes, Jamie thought that qualified a pretty good show), and he had a date at eleven. He should be fucking buzzing but Jamie just feels the idle hum of numbness. Even the five-goal thriller that was their first game of the night hadn’t got his heart pumping like it used to.

Gary walked in silently, startling Jamie who quickly pulled on a jumper. Not that his state of dress mattered, Gary’s eyes stayed glued to the floor. He walked to the far corner of the dressing room to change out of his suit, as far away from Jamie as possible. He hadn’t said a word to Jamie all night when the cameras weren’t rolling. It hurt. Especially when Gary was so good at acting like everything was fine when the commercial break ended. He even fooled Jamie a few times.

Kelly knocked on the door, making sure they were both decent, before walking in to say goodnight. Jamie watched as Gary smiled at Kelly, as he laughed with her about something. Jamie used to do that: make Gary laugh. Kelly turns her attentions to Jamie. She compliments him on his interview tonight and asks him where he and Tom are going for their date.

“It’s quite late,” she comments, “you can’t really be going to dinner.” Jamie give her a fake laugh.

“I’ve got a reservation and everything Kells. We’re going to that new vegan place. He’s picking me up.” You heard that right: vegan. Because on top of everything, Tom fucking cared about animals and the environment. Jamie wasn’t complaining too much, though. He could suffer through some tofu if it meant not having to go to Gary and his old haunts.

“Ooh!” Kelly said, “do I get to meet him? Redknapp keeps talking about how lovely he is, I figure I could judge for myself.” Ah, yes, Redders. Running into Redders had been an accident. They managed to bump into him at the golf course the week before. Tom was good at golf, unlike Redders, as much as he tried to be. Tom gave him a few pointers, helping Redders fix his posture for his swings. They ended up playing a whole round together while Jamie played ping-pong with an eight-year-old girl in the clubhouse. Redders hadn’t shut up about how Tom’s wonderfulness and his perfect swing since. Jamie nodded at Kelly. He figured he couldn’t do any more damage.

The three of them stood in the parking lot waiting for Tom’s car to pull in. He wasn’t late of course, he never is, they just got out earlier than anticipated. Gary had tried to skitter off to his car but Kelly practically dragged him back up on the curb. Gary, despite trying to put on an agreeable face, looked about as miserable as Jamie felt. Jamie thought he was slightly better at hiding it though.

At 10:59 Tom’s blue Volkswagen pulled in. One minute early. He wore a nice checked shirt with the first few buttons undone. His hair and shirt were miraculously crisp and clean after a full day of work. He looked like a fucking god with his symmetrical face, sharp bone structure, and straight nose. Kelly certainly took note of that. “Our Carra is a lucky man!” She whispered before going over to Tom to introduce herself. Tom shook her hand and complimented her dress which, to be fair, was a very nice floral pattern.

Tom stuck his hand out for Gary to shake. “Hello Gary, my name’s Tom. It’s nice to meet you.” Gary takes a minute to collect himself and takes Tom’s outstretched hand giving it a firm shake.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” It sounds remarkably fake, of course it does, but Tom doesn’t seem to notice. He just turns towards Jamie with a perfect smile.

“You have such lovely friends, Jamie. It was nice to meet you both.” Jamie wasn’t so sure about that but played along and let Tom walk him to the car. Tom opened Jamie’s door for him before walking around to get in himself. He saw Kelly sling an arm around Gary’s shoulders as they drove away. Jamie took a deep breath and remembered it was all for the best. He reminded himself that this was what he wanted: stability. He didn’t want to fight anymore. The words Gary had said that night still rung in his ears. He was sure his own snarls were not forgotten either.

It started to rain as they parked but Tom had an umbrella. Gary never had an umbrella. You’d think that living in Manchester he’d learn to at least keep one in his car. Instead, he resorted to sprinting away from the rain as fast as he could trying to avoid the rain, he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. But Tom was prepared, he always was. He held the umbrella for the both of them as they walked around to the front of the restaurant.

“James, try the torte it’s quite delicious.” Jamie hated being called James. Absolutely hated it. Not when Gary said it though. His stupid manc accent stretched the vowels into velvet. When Gary said it he felt special. Tom’s polished London accent made him feel posh, pretentious, and twatty. James. Ugh. It was like the word torte. It’s a fucking cake, just call it what it is. Jamie took a bite of the torte. It was good if you ignored the aftertaste of soya in the frosting, a little dry, but Jamie nodded his head like it was an orange mcflurry. He let Tom finish the dessert.

They’re in the car. Tom’s dropping Jamie off at his apartment. Tom must have noticed that Jamie had been quiet and switched the topic to something a little more in his wheelhouse: football. They were talking about England and possible squads for the upcoming international break. Tom started talking about moving Kyle Walker into midfield and Jamie couldn’t take it.

“That’s bollocks. Where is the one place on the field where we actually have players? Fucking midfield. Gareth’s drowning in defenders but not experienced ones. Playing Walker in midfield fucking undermines Henderson and leaves the young centrebacks overexposed.” Tom laughs for some reason. Jamie doesn’t find it funny.

“Well, you would certainly know.” This is what you want, he reminds himself again. Peace, calm, stability. This is happiness. But, fuck, Jamie missed Gary. He missed the challenge. He missed the little crease between Gary’s eyes. He missed Gary’s squeaky voice when he gets worked up. He missed fighting and bickering with Gary over things that didn’t matter. He missed screaming at Gary and Gary screaming back. He missed the really hot sex they’d have after such screaming matches, making Gary scream in a different, more satisfying way. He missed Gary’s laugh, his smile. It seemed to Jamie that neither of them have smiled much since that day. Jamie thought that smiling didn’t seem worth it if Gary wasn’t smiling back.

Jamie checked his phone. It was nearing 1 am. He had a handful of messages from Kelly. Jamie didn’t want to read about how great she thought Tom was, he fucking knew that Tom was great. On paper, he was fucking perfect. The perfect boyfriend. The dream guy. Not for Jamie though. He dreamed of an angry, passionate, crazy, wonderful manc. He opened his messages anyways though, figuring Tom would want to hear what Kelly thought about him.

Jamie. I know you’re on your date but we need to talk. Can you call me? It’s about Gaz. The first one read.

He’s at mine. Really upset. He said not to talk to you so I figure you know what’s going on. That sounded about right. Kelly caring more about Gary’s well being than Gary himself. Gary was too stubborn to care.

Call me please. The last one read. Fuck. They’d made a mess of things. Not only had they made a mess of themselves, but they’d also dragged the others into it.

“Can you pull into that park up there?” Jamie asked Tom. He nodded and turned down the radio, waiting for Jamie to say something more. He didn’t though. Not until he got out of the car and puked some partially digested salad in the grass. Tom came over to him and rested his palm on Jamie’s mid back. Gary used to pet his hair, carding his fingers through it, on those mornings after he’d had a little too much to drink.

Jamie laid on his back in the middle of the parking lot. The rain soaked through his thin shirt in seconds. Tom looked down at him concerned. “I can’t do this, Tom. You’re so lovely. I mean you’re so fucking lovely but I just can’t—”

“I get it, James. You’re still in love with him.” The bastard still looked perfect even drenched with rain. Jamie guessed that he probably looked like a drowned rat. Jamie must have been giving him a confused look because he laughed and explained further. “I saw the way you used to look at him on the tele like he’s the fucking sun. I saw the way you looked at him tonight like being around him was tearing you apart. Besides, I’m pretty sure half the nation knew there was something going on there.” Jamie laughed at that. They had been pretty obvious. And not just Gary, apparently. Apparently, he was just as open of a book. He needed to call Kelly.

She picked up after three rings. “Hi Carra,” she whispered, “needed to get out of the living room, Gaz’s sleeping on my couch.”

“Is he okay?” Jamie asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“He’s a wreck, Jamie. He misses you.” I miss him too, Jamie didn’t say, so much.

“Can I come round?” Jamie asked. Kelly said yes so long as Jamie can get Gary the hell out of her living room and gave Carra her address.

Thankfully, Kelly’s place was nearby, about a mile away. Jamie didn’t know where he got the energy considering he was dead on his feet a few minutes before, but he ran there as fast as he possibly could. His water-filled shoes squished loudly with every step. He got there in seven minutes and was panting heavily when he knocked on the door. Kelly let him in wordlessly.

Gary was still sleeping on the couch when he walked into the living room. Kelly gave him a nod and walked into the kitchen. Jamie kneeled next to Gary and cupped his cheek with his palm. Jamie hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that simple feeling. Gary’s forehead was still crinkled in his sleep. His eyes were dark like he hadn’t slept much. Jamie hadn’t either. It was hard to sleep alone, without Gary’s comforting weight on his chest. Jamie took Gary’s hand from where it was tucked under his chin and intertwined their fingers. The weight of Gary’s hand in his set relief running through Jamie’s body. Gary started to stir at that.

“James?” Jamie smiles at that. His stupid name sounds beautiful coming from Gary’s mouth. His eyes weren’t even open yet and Gary already knows it’s him. “What are you doing here?” He opened his eyes slightly but upon seeing Jamie they were wide open. Gary’s eyes were red and bloodshot. Jamie just wanted to yank him into his arms and hug him forever.

“What are you doing here, you muppet? Bothering Kelly at 2 am?” Jamie said playfully. Gary flushed slightly. “Come on, Gaz. Let’s get you home.” He grabbed Gary’s hand to pull him up. Gary stumbled when he tried to take a step. Carra looked down at the empty beer bottles and figured that was why. He grabbed Gary’s arm and slung it over his shoulder. Gary’s head rested in the crook of Jamie’s neck, his soft breathing tickling at the skin there.

“Kelly,” Jamie called softly into the kitchen, “we’re leaving.” She came out to stand in the doorway in her fluffy, pink bunny slippers that Jamie had somehow not noticed before. Jamie thought he should get Gary a pair.

“Set an alarm,” she said, “he wakes up early. Don’t let him bolt.” Jamie figured Gary wouldn’t be racing out of his apartment at 5 am with the hangover he was sure to have but it was still a good idea. Gary was an unpredictable, stubborn bastard at times. Jamie thanked her and helped Gary down to his car.

It was still pouring when they got out of the building because clearly the gods wanted Gary to either sober up or catch his death. Thankfully, in his upset Gary had forgotten to lock the car meaning Carra didn’t have to fumble around for his keys in the current weather. Except, that Gary wouldn’t get into the car. He sprawled his limbs over the door so Jamie couldn’t push him inside.

“Gary, if you don’t get your arse in that car, I’m going to leave you out here to drown.” Obviously, he wasn’t serious but he figured that Gary might be drunk enough not to know that. Gary just smiled up fondly at him and stayed put.

“I love you,” he said, looking like the most radiant, beautiful thing Jamie had ever seen in his life. His hair was a mess, stuck down to his forehead. His cheeks were bright red from a mix of alcohol and the cold. His eyes were still red but god they held all the love in the world. Jamie could see that somehow, after everything, Gary still loved him, truly loved him. After all the things he said, screamed, did, this man--this beautiful man--still loved Jamie every ounce as much as Jamie loved him. It didn’t matter what he should want, he wanted Gary and all of his adorable, infuriating flaws. His recipe to happiness was just that: his own. He didn’t need stability, calm, peace. He needed to feel something.

Jamie cupped his face for the second time that night. He ran his thumb over Gary’s wet, stubbly cheeks. Jamie couldn’t help himself. He kissed Gary with all of the kisses they’d missed in the past two months. The two months of pain, loneliness, desolation. He kissed Gary with all of the love he had in his cold, wet body and Gary did the same. Gary moved slower than Jamie, less frantically but no less enthusiastically. Gary clutched at his jacket like a vice, unwilling to let go. Jamie moved his hands around Gary’s body. He wanted to make sure that everything was still as he remembered it. And it was. Of course, it was. He had Gary in his arms, it didn’t matter that the rain had picked up. Though, he was sure he’d hear about the soggy interior of Gary’s car in the morning. He pulled away reluctantly for breath and rested his forehead against Gary’s.

#carraville #jamie carragher #gary neville #thank you taylor for the inspiration #very loosely inspired by the way I loved you #my fic

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quarantined-with-bucky · 4 years

Text

Shopping

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Request: Hi! May I ask for a hc or scenario in wich Bucky falls for the reader who has a "spoiled brat" stereotype...u know? Like a Regina George from Mean Girls type of attitude, Maybe the reader is the daughter of someone important who Bucky needs to protect idk I thought it could be quite fun, anyway...loved your writing so much in "Dichotomy" ❤

Words: ~ 4,500

Summary: Bucky’s paid to be your bodyguard and you’re, well, kind of a bitch.

Warnings: None! For once ;)

...

There is three things men want in life.

1. They want to see if they can fuck you.

2. They want to see if they can fuck you over.

3. They want to get you out the fucking picture.

That was simply a fact of life. It was especially accurate in the world you grew up in: the world of powerful men, fast cars, vast mansions, and extravagant wardrobes. There was something about everyone’s cut-throat attitude that also seemed to drag along these luxuries. It was all about showing off: who had the most expensive car, whose house was bigger – whose wife was hotter.

This is the climate you grew up in: constant competition, envious friends, malicious enemies. There was a certain image you were expected to maintain, so you did exactly that. Not only did you have the weight of one day taking over your father’s company on your shoulders, you had the paparazzi stalking your every move. There wasn’t a single moment of peace in your life. You couldn’t go to the mall or the grocery store without at least one picture of you showing up on Daily Mail.

You’d grown up with it and, for the most part, you didn’t have to do things like that anyway. There was always someone to do those menial tasks for you.

Until you moved out of your parents’ house. You finally graduated college; a twenty-something kid finally ready to jump into the world on your own two feet. You were eagerly awaiting your move into your New York City apartment – a swanky two-bedroom on the top floor of a building in Soho.

Everything was going swimmingly well until you had an altercation with paparazzi. It was hard to navigate the narrow streets and sidewalks of the city, and as you were meeting your friend at a restaurant, you found it was a little too easy for the cameramen to push you around on the street. However, while you were thinking more along the lines of a restraining order against them, your father had other ideas.

“No way,” you interrupted, holding your hands up to your father. “That’s not happening.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “It is happening. Unless you want this to happen again.” He tossed the stack of newspapers onto your dining table, the photo of you on the front page sliding across the table towards you. The title read “(Y/N) Falters – Will She Fumble Daddy’s Company?” You bit the inside of your cheek, the photo immortalized you trying to push past the group of people photographing your every step, the bright flashes causing you to hold your hands in front of your eyes. “This won’t be happening again.”

…

That’s how you met Bucky. At first, it was nice to have him around. He shook your hand once as he introduced himself. It was months before he even said anything else to you. He stood posted up in the doorway of every room you walked into. He wore a smart looking suit ever day, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to show off his tanned muscles underneath.

He walked you to restaurants, taking the lead, keeping the paparazzi at a far distance away from you. He followed you around shopping, carrying your Gucci, Dior, and Balenciaga bags to your car for you. God, it was a dream. What was even dreamier were his eyes. Before anyone approached you to speak with you, he stopped them, turning his head to look at you for your nod of approval before letting them past. And holy fuck those two seconds of fleeting eye contact made you absolutely melt. You almost started scheduling unnecessary appointments into your schedule just so he could face you again for confirmation. You stared back at him as seductively as possible, eyes half lidded, glossy, staring back at him and tilting your head in the slightest nod.

That was the only time he ever acknowledged you. That, and when he opened your car door for you. He never said much – if anything – at all. But his presence was so demanding: his shoulders were so broad, his chest constantly puffed out, his jaw clenched, and eyebrows narrowed in challenge. It took every bit of willpower not to jump his bones.

…

You had a certain mentality when it came to work. There was a certain image to be portrayed. You always dressed to the nines: a fitted suit, usually Balmain or Chanel, complete with gold jewelry and tall heels. Your makeup was done every day: a neutral pallet, something that unsuspecting peers would assume to be natural. Your hair was always perfectly in place: either cascading smoothly down your back or pinned neatly into a bun. Not only were you running the company, but you were also the face of the company.

You walked around with your head held high, shoulders back, and with determination in your step. People watched you as you walked down the hallway. Maybe some in admiration, others envy, even a few with desire. You always heard their whispers, though.

Bucky walked in-toe with you always remaining a cool two steps behind you; you could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head. You entered your office, Bucky taking his usual post by the door. You plopped down in your large leather chair, preparing yourself for your meeting.

Your morning got progressively worse as the meetings progressed, people not cooperating, work not being done, no conflicts getting resolved. As you last meeting ended, and the particularly patronizing man left your office, you couldn’t hold back muttering a “fucking prick” as the door shut behind him.

Bucky pinched is lips together, holding back a smirk. You reclined in your chair, watching him regain his poise quickly, eyes not moving from the fixed position on the wall in front of him. “You know, James,” you spoke up, instantly getting his attention. “That was my last meeting today; you can sit, if you’d like.” You gestured to the seating area across the room.

He nodded in thanks, strutting across the room and sitting on the black couch in front of you. All you wanted was to join him on the couch. The things you could do to him on that couch – the things he could do to you on that couch. “You can call me Bucky,” he stated, reclining against the back, legs spreading open a tad bit.

You nodded stiffly and bit your bottom lip, unable to tear your eyes away from his splayed posture. “Bucky,” you whispered, testing his name on your tongue. And, damn, it tasted good.

You snapped yourself out of your fixation, pulling your laptop in front of you, pretending to work as you couldn’t get that image out of your head. The face that you could still see his propped-up figure over the top of your laptop screen; his eyes had not drifted from your person.

…

Your were temporarily blinded, gripping the back of Bucky’s jacket as he pushed through the crowd of people, shoving open the door to the lobby of your apartment. Calling the elevator, he watched as you smoothed down the ends of your hair, trying to rub the light spots out of your eyes as best you could without smudging mascara all over your face. He ushered you in once the doors opened, holding a hand lightly to your waist.

You dropped your back against the shiny elevator walls, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the reflection on the wall in front of you. You looked tired, makeup wearing off under your eyes, purple circles under your eyes becoming prominent; a few flyaways framed your face, curling and unruly. The doors opened and you pushed your way through before Bucky. You shoved open the apartment door, throwing your purse on the table, viciously kicking of your heels. You heard Bucky shut the door softly and he paused before entering the kitchen behind you.

Today had been effectively one of the worst days of your life. Work was terrible: your day was run with meetings and disrespectful colleagues, bulldozing over all your ideas and suggestions; it rained during lunch, completely ruining the Coach heels you were wearing to attend the business luncheon; afterwards was much worse. You were highlighted in the issue of Forbes Magazine. You’d been waiting for this for months: you’d done multiple interviews, had photoshoots, the whole nine yards. You were excited for the world to see the underlying factors of what made you you; for them to finally recognize not only your past academic achievements, but also all you have accomplished thus far with the company, for them to see that you were capable – qualified – to run this company.

Boy were you hopeful.

You were met, in fact, with quite the opposite.

Waves upon waves of criticism washed upon you after the release. You were met with all kinds of backtalk: everything from you inheriting the company, to being accepted into college because of your dads’ money, to “stick to makeup, honey.” People began commenting on how they thought you walked all over people, how you rarely seemed friendly in the workplace, how you “used men.”

It couldn’t be more the opposite.

While you liked to maintain a certain image and always have a presentable appearance, despite any men or women that sought after you, you’d turned them downs. In fact, you’d never had a boyfriend – let alone any friends.

You worked hard to retain a respectable image. The problem with working and living in a dog-eat-dog world is the sacrifices you had to make to maintain such an image. You couldn’t simply allow people to walk all over you – achieving this took years. You had to speak up in times others would cower, use your voice when there was an issue other did not seem to care about. You had to walk with your head held high and your shoulders back.

Once you obtained dominance in the workplace, you had to conquer the world of love. It could make you gag. You wanted to intimidate the men that once patronized you. You wanted them to want you, fight over you, worship you. But you’d ever let them have you. Nobody could see you vulnerable, nobody could love you, touch you, blackmail you. That’s the way it had to be.

But you couldn’t always be so ruthless. Right now, you leaned against the counter, dropping your hands onto the cold marble surface. It was one of those days like today where everything got the best of you. Everyone tore you apart, you’d spent the last half of the day just reading tweets about yourself.

“She looks like such a bitch.”

“Would it kill her to smile? Not the kind of boss I’d want to work for.”

“My friend worked for her and said she has everyone else do her work for her.”

“Forbes, is this issue recognizing daddy’s money?”

Bucky placing a mug next to you pulled you out of your thoughts. You stared down at the steaming mug, Bucking suddenly speaking up: “maybe if you drank something, you’d feel better.”

You pushed past him, shoving him away from you as you headed to your bedroom. God, all you wanted was to be alone. Did he have to be here every second of the day? All you wanted was silence and he picks this one time to start babying you? You slammed the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the vast apartment. You stripped your nice clothes, opting for a shower and large t-shirt for bed.

Bucky sat in the living room, listening to you shuffle around your bedroom. He finally stood, ready to head home, when he heard the softest sound come from you bedroom. A sniffle. Followed by another.

He leaned against the doorframe, listening to the noises that he’d never heard from you before – hell, he never thought you were capable of that emotion. He weighed his options carefully: go inside and comfort you, it didn’t seem like you had a lot of close friends or even family that checked in on you, you must’ve felt so alone, and everyone attacking you definitely didn’t feel nice; he could leave and let you deal with this on you own – which is probably what you wanted, considering he knew how long it took you to create your façade. However, Bucky could see right through it – he could always see through it. No matter how intimidating and powerful you wanted yourself to be, he and everyone else knew that you were a spoilt brat trying to live up to daddy’s expectations, but only he knew that at your deepest core, you were a tired, lonely, sad little girl, wishing for just one day of invisibility, in which nobody knew who you were, nobody care about you – like you didn’t exist.

…

You and Bucky continued your usual routines from then on, nothing changed. He didn’t talk to you; you didn’t talk to him. He spent his time pushing people out of your way, and you went along pretending nobody existed.

It was two weeks after that when you spoke to him for the third time. You and Bucky were walking from the parking garage to your place. That’s when a masked man came out from behind you and grabbed a hold of your purse. You helped in surprise as he tried to run past you, one hand loosely gripping your Birkin. Before you could even turn to the direction he ran off in, Bucky’s hand hit him square in the jaw. You gasped, holding your hands up to your open mouth as Bucky knelt on top of the man, continuously hitting him and holding him down.

You saw a flash simmer as you saw Bucky’s hand move, holding the other man to the sidewalk. Metal? Did he have a prosthetic arm? When did that happen? And why didn’t you ever notice it before?

In the mixture of bystanders, paparazzi, and doormen, the police quickly pushed through. Bucky was relieved of his post as the man was taken away. The policeman escorted the two of you to the lobby, where he took the information and returned your purse to you.

Eventually, Bucky took you upstairs to your floor. “Are you okay,” he asked, following you through the door.

You nodded, turning around to face him – face his arm. You stared at it, the metal coils formed in the shape of a perfect hand, winding upwards all the way up to where his shirt sleeve was pushed up past his elbow. It shimmered in the soft lighting, reflecting the moonlight that cascaded in through your windows. He held his hands behind his back, tilting his jaw upwards slightly as he stared you down. Your eyes flitted to his narrow ones; his eyebrows narrowed between pieces of dark hair that fell over his forehead. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Yes,” you clarified, clearing your throat.

“Do you need me to stay with you? Or are you fine for the night?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Stay?” It came out more of a question than you expected. He nodded, not moving any other muscle. You quickly thought of something to break the silence and pulled your phone from your bag. “Takeout?”

He cracked a smile, nodding again. “Sounds good.”

After calling it in, you shifted away to the kitchen as Bucky sat in the living room. You didn’t know what to do to fill the silence. You’d never talked to him. You fumbled around with a wine bottle, popping it open and taking a long pull straight from the bottle before heading towards Bucky with two glasses. Hopefully some liquid courage would kick in quickly. You poured him a glass, another for yourself, and sat beside him on the plush sofa.

It was quiet. It was awkward.

“Thank you for, y’know,” you murmured over the rim of your wine glass, eyes falling to the red liquid swirling in your glass.

“No problem, it’s my job,” he replied casually. “To protect you.” You nodded; lips pressed tight in a line. You looked around the room, trying to find anything to look at. Your gaze landed on the metal arm propped up on the side of the couch. “You wanna take a picture of it, doll?” He chuckles lightly, tapping his fingers on the fabric of the sofa.

“Oh!” You snapped out of your gaze, jumping slightly on the couch. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to stare, I just – just – ” you stuttered over your words, reaching out slightly towards him.

He smiled, genuinely smiled this time, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It’s okay, (Y/N) – ” your name sounded so good on his lips “ – you can touch it, if you want.” Touch it? Touch what? You nearly started salivating. Then he held his hand out to you, palm facing upwards, fingers outstretched. You held your hand out, brushing his metal palm with the tips of your fingers. He chuckled again, flipping your hand around and holding your own hand in his. He ran his metal fingers over the backs of your knuckles. It was cold, yet so much softer than you expected.

Your eyes flitted up to meet his blue ones, already staring back at you. He licked his lips and leaned ever so slightly towards you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. “See, that’s not so bad, right?” He whispered, gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, tinged red from the wine.

You held your breath, leaning the rest of the way in, shutting your eyes.

Then you hit a brick wall.

A metal wall.

Your eyes snap open to see Bucky’s metal hand gripping your shoulder, holding you in place. “Look, (Y/N) – ” there he goes with your name, again “ – I didn’t mean to send any signals…” he trailed off, dropping his hand and pushing himself up to his feet. Signals? No, of course not. Just holding my hand, staring lustfully into my eyes, and looking at my lips. Not to mention licking his own. You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

You did roll your eyes, standing with him. “It’s…” you trailed off. Save face. “Whatever.” You turned away, shuffling to the front door, pulling it open.

He left without another word, but not without stopping to look into your eyes – at least, he tried to, if it hadn’t been for you dropping your whole head, staring blankly at the floor. You slammed the door behind him, nearly nicking his back heel as he stepped into the corridor.

Well, that was perfectly embarrassing. The best way to end such a terrible day. Utter embarrassment. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face him tomorrow.

Sadness turned into anger as you threw his wine glass directly into the sink, watching as the glass shards flew across the countertops. Who did he think he was? That he could act like that and then throw it back in your face? His signals were perfectly clear. In fact, you were haunted by those signals all night.

By the touch of his skin.

By his blue eyes.

…

You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, spent your time getting ready all morning. Hair perfectly set down your back, eyes surrounded by sultry makeup, a ferocious looking contour. You put on your tallest heels, tightest dress, and shiniest jewelry.

You looked ravenous.

Bucky knocked on your front door, as he did every morning to take you to work. You slung your bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and swung open the door. You looked straight past him; eyes directed on the elevator doors in front of you. You walked directly past him, relying on him to shut the door behind you.

Your heart was racing, it took all of your willpower not to twitch or tap your foot as you waited for the elevator. You set your jaw and stood stonewalled.

That’s how the day went: you completely ignoring Bucky. Although you normally ignored Bucky, today you didn’t look at him, thank him when he opened the door for you, nothing. Not even sparing a glance as he stared at you from his position on the sofa in your office. There he sat, usually splayed out and legs open; you could feel him staring at you. All you wanted to do was run into the women’s bathroom and sit there all day – anywhere would be better than here with him.

That’s how the weekend went, too: you spent the first six days ignoring him. Today was Saturday and you wanted to go shopping. Not the normal shopping. Today was all about showing Bucky that if you wanted something, you got it.

Again sporting the skimpiest outfit you could manage, you dragged Bucky around shopping all day. By your fifth store, your feet were absolutely killing you from walking so far in these heels, but it was worth it to torture Bucky. He carried all of your bags – from your purse, to you shopping bags, to even your coat. And nothing pissed him off more than you waiting at the register, the person behind the counter ringing up your literal tens-of-thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, shoes, and bags, clicking your tongue and holding your hand out for your wallet. You tapped your foot, continuing your light conversation with the employee, waiting for Bucky to drop the heavy wallet into your palm. Without a turn of your head or even a thank you, you finished the transaction, walking through the door immediately, leaving Bucky to take your purchases.

This is what he deserved after embarrassing you like that. Was he just so nice to see where you’d take it? Did he want you to try to kiss him, just so he could say no? Just so he could turn you down? To be the one guy you wanted – and never got? Maybe he was going to sell the story. He was just like any other guy – but then why wouldn’t he kiss you? And the thought replayed in your mind, as did that night’s events. You had no other choice but to continue shopping and dragging him around.

Oh, he was pissed.

A fucking bagman? That’s how you saw him? That night was probably the calmest he’d ever seen you. You seemed nervous, even. Nervous because of his arm? Yes, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have you in the palm of his hand – literally – he would’ve loved to kiss you, and touch you, and hold you. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that. Not in your most vulnerable moment. After the robbery, you mind must’ve been scrambled. He wasn’t sure if that was your way of thanking him. He wasn’t about to let you throw yourself on him – who knows how you would’ve felt the next day.

But that’s not how you saw it, and you weren’t about to let him explain.

And this show you were putting on for him? He wasn’t dumb; he would’ve had to be oblivious to not know you were showing off for him. These skimpy outfits and tight dresses, necklaces that ended just at the top of your cleavage, skirts that ended just at the curve of your ass – he loved every minute of it. But he wanted you out of it at the same time.

You were treating him like shit, which he didn’t enjoy. He could’ve stopped by now: dropped all your shit and walked right out of the store. Instead, he clenched his jaw, bit his tongue, and followed you around the block, holding your bags; the only saving grace was getting to walk behind you and stare at your shaking ass all day.

…

You pushed the apartment door open, barely holding it open long enough for Bucky to slip through, carrying bags lined up his arms. You heard the crinkling of some of the paper bags as the door shut on him. He took one step in, letting the door fall shut, then dropped everything to the floor nicely.

“No,” you said, not looking up from your cell phone. You pointed a finer across the room. “Bedroom.”

A sharp laughed cracked through the silence. You almost flinched, starting at Bucky cackling loudly at you. “That’s not my job.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes in challenge. “Excuse me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, shit-eating-grin unfaltering. “You heard me, princess.”

You didn’t move. Instead, you took a step backwards as he approached you. He walked towards you until you were backed up against the kitchen counter. You mimicked his arms, crossing them over your own chest, inadvertently pushing your cleavage up – which you noticed when you saw his eyes flit down for the tiniest second before returning to your own eyes, a tinge of pink lacing his cheeks – not that he cared. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you spat, tilting your chin up. You were not intimidated by him.

He got so close that your pelvises were nearly touching. He leaned down, dropping his hands to the countertop on either side of you, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he bent closer. “What do you want me to call you, baby?”

God, you looked so real in that moment. Caught off guard, maybe. But your usual forced scowl was replaced by your surprised expression, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar, tongue tucked right where your two plump lips meet. You were holding your breath, he could tell. He liked you like this, better. When you weren’t trying to be all hard and intimidating, when you didn’t know how to react – couldn’t deal with these emotions because just this once, they were real.

You stumbled over your words, mind suddenly not processing anything. His stubble rubbed ever so lightly over your jaw, his breath tickling your neck. You didn’t know how long you were standing there. It felt like forever since either of you said anything.

Suddenly, he pulled away – just like before. You released your breath, about to speak and then –

He grabbed your face in both hands (one warm to the touch, the other cold from the marble) and held you so that you eyes gazed up at him. His blue eyes looking back into yours, a smile pulling at one corner of his lips. He pulled your head upwards, leaning his own down, meeting in the middle in a soft, tender kiss. He shrugged, letting himself fully tilt into the kiss, hips touching each other’s; you swung your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to him, chest pressing against his.

God, you could get used to this.

And all it took was a little shopping.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard #bodyguard!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #captain america #request #bucky x you

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d-targaryenshoe · 4 years

Text

Forge Of The Heart • Derek Shepherd

Requested?: yes it is! By @ferryboatstho 🥺

Notes: When this was requested I immediately had an idea in my head. I hope you like it. 😅

Summary: Y/N and Derek have their first date.

Warnings: Fluff, kissing

Word count: 1007

Being on a first date wasn't a weird or unbelievable thing for you. It was a special thing because men barely asked you out. And if they did, they probably needed something.

Little did you know that needing stitches on your forehead. Was the thing that made a surgeon as you out. But you didn't regret it.

Not a little bit. You were excited for the things that would come on your path. After this date. After this night. Hell, after this week.

You still remember his touch on your forehead, his little jokes about how you fell over a box on your staircase.

And the little eye-contact moments he gave you, looking if you had any pain, made you slightly shiver.

Now here you were, staring into your rear-view mirror, running a hand through your long curled hair as the sides were held back by diamond pins.

A fast beaten heart made you release a deep breath while you stared into your own eyes and gave yourself a pep-talk through eye contact.

"We can do this, just a date, just a hot and pretty surgeon, nothing big Y/N." You pursed you're lips noticing the redness that raised to your cheeks. "Goddammit!"

Those were the words that made you strong enough to open your car door and cover your head with your jacket as raindrops slammed down on it.

Taking two deep breaths you raised your eyes towards the white trailer who showed light through its curtains as you walked closer and closer.

Closing your eyes and taking one last deep breath, you decided to man up and knock your fist down onto the door with a little power, nervous to see the male.

Gazing down at your shoes, you awkwardly shuffled on your feet, head still covered with your jacket, waiting on a response.

"Y/N?" A soft male voice sounded through your ears as you peeked up from under your lashes and took in the sight.

Derek Shepherd dressed in a black dress shirt as the two buttons were undone and a little bit of his chest was revealed, which made your throat dry up.

Noticing a hand being waved in your face, you cleared your throat giving him a shy smile before walking up the small steps.

"Derek Shepherd living in a trailer, who would've thought." A small smile showed itself on your lips, watching him purse his lips. "I like it, no worries."

"Y/N Y/L/N on a date with the surgeon who stitched up her head, who would've thought, huh?" Derek smirked back at you, taking over your jacket before laying it down on a chair.

"Fair enough." You shrugged, letting your eyes take in the sight of the place he called 'home'. "So how many hot women have had the privilege of being here?"

You were honered that you were asked out by someone like him. Talented. Handsome. Respectful. Sweet. And honest. It didn't happen that often.

"Well if an ex wife counts, then one." Derek tilted his head towards you, handing you a glass of wine. "I'm upright, I don't play around."

"Well, that's good to know. Because I don't think twice when hot surgeons ask me out." You replied when placing your glass on the small table.

Derek released a heartfelt laugh, placing his head on his cheek, looking at you, with curiosity and thoughts. "Can I ask something?"

That sentence was what made your heart stop for a moment, not knowing what the male would ask you. Or what he would say.

"Sure, go for it?"

"What made you say yes, when I asked you out?" He frowned when leaning back into the couch, staring at you. "Be honest."

"That's what you want to know? You stitched up my head, so I thought I owed you something?" You glanced back at the man with a kind smile.

"Not my handsomeness or amazingly beautiful eyes?" He replied back with a playful tone, seeing it was hard for you not to laugh out loud at this part.

"Well, when you put it like that, they were a part of it as well." You nodded your head, taking a sip from your wine, placing your hands in your lap.

At this part you were feeling things you never thought you could feel. Adoration. Love. Comfort. And happiness. All by one person.

He was a famous surgeon he was. But the thing that attracted you the most was that he didn't brag about it. He was just a regular person. Who you liked a lot.

"You're different." He spoke up, leaning his elbows on his knee as his hands were folded. "I never met someone like you."

"Like me?" A snort left your body, pointing your eyes in a question way towards the man.

"Kind. Sweet. Beautiful. Funny, you're not here because I'm a famous surgeon, and others actually only see me as 'famous Neurosurgeon Derek Shepherd' and you don't." Those were the words that left his mouth.

"I'm not a special person, I'm just me and you are you." You watched the surgeon show a little smirk on his face, admiring you.

"You got me falling for you, you know that Y/N Y/L/N? You got me falling deeper and deeper. It may get me in trouble, it may hurt me someday, but god, you're special." The two blue eyes were staring into your E/C ones.

"Well, how about you proof to me the amount of love you have, then we'll talk?" A smirk played itself on your lips, noticing Derek tilting his head at you.

"Is that a challenge?" Laying on your back on the couch, the black haired surgeon leaned over you, leaning on his hands, staring down at you. "Because if loving you is a challenge Mrs. Y/N, I'm all ears."

Releasing a loud laugh you stared up to the man, biting your lip, as you took the fabric of his shirt between your fingers and pulled his lips towards yours.

How rain and one date could change a night.

#greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy x reader #greys #derek shepherd #derek shepherd imagine #derek shepherd imagines #derek shepherd x reader

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

To Be Continued - Part 4

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2262

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

When you eventually came around again, you let out an immediate giggle when you found yourself on your living room’s couch, a pair of concerned eyes peering down at you. They widened with your sudden noise, blinking some to try and figure out why you had laughed.

“The hallucinations are continuing,” you mentioned with another laugh, this time sounding more desperate than the first.

“I’m really here, though.”

“Of course, you are.” Sitting up, you flinched when Brian’s hand reached out to help you do so, your focus snapping down to where he had touched you. It had felt normal, as if a human had supported you just now.

But this wasn’t humanly possible. No one ever in the history of mankind had written a novel and their characters came to life!

… Had they?

“Stop overthinking it,” Brian mentioned, observing you carefully.

“Do you read thoughts too?”

“No.”

“Then I truly did well to create you as someone who can pick up on most moods and emotions,” you replied, nodding again as you chuckled. You then clasped your face within your hands and whined loudly. “I’m going insane!”

“You will go mad if you keep this up,” Brian pointed out, and you peeked through your hands, stilling from your dramatic outburst. Staring at him, you lowered your barrier slowly and took him in.

There was no plausible explanation for how this had happened. And yet, you were there when it did. Nothing made sense, aside from how well your description had brought Brian to life. You marvelled the man over, instinctively reaching out to touch the mole on his neck. Directing your gaze up to his, Brian tipped his head with encouragement.

“Keep exploring,” he urged. His permission seemed to snap you out it, your hand returning to your lap hastily. Brian sighed. “This wasn’t how I imagined our first meeting.”

“No?” you asked, a little detachedly. Your mind was still whirling at a fast pace over all of this.

Could you have come across this man before in your life and subconsciously modelled your character off of him? That still didn’t explain how Brian had gotten into your home in the first place. You were grasping at straws here, trying to rationalise the situation.

Even if you were a dreamer by nature, this was something else.

“Should I explain how I came to exist?” Brian offered, and you nodded once before holding up your hand to stop him.

“Wait. I need to some supplies first!” you announced, getting up with a bit of a wobble and headed back to your office. Snatching your phone and a pen and paper off the desk, you dashed back into the living room, where you stopped suddenly, Brian staring back at you.

He’s still here, you thought to yourself in disbelief, walking at a much slower pace back to the couch Brian now sat cross-legged upon. You eyed him warily as you sat down.

Looking at your supplies, Brian smirked. “What are you planning to do?”

“Take some evidence,” you answered, quickly snapping a photo with your phone’s camera. Brian was disorientated, leaning away from you as you took another two.

“Can’t I at least prepare for the photos first?”

“Don’t go giving me any crap about needing to present your best side. The Brian Kang I created doesn’t have one. He looks good all over,” you muttered, opening the gallery and clicking through the photos you had taken. Even if the pose was awkward, he still looked handsome.

You laughed incredulously once more. He actually appeared in them. After inspecting them as well, Brian rolled his eyes. “I’m not a ghost. Of course, I’d appear in them.”

“Okay,” you said, opening up the voice recording app on your phone and placed the device between you both. Brian shot you a look of annoyance, and you challenged it back as you picked up your pen and paper. “Now, you can start.”

“I think I began to have conscious thoughts at the end of Encounter,” he admitted, and you scribbled down the title of your first novel with him, circling it for effect. You blinked away from your note-taking to look up at him.

“What do you mean? Conscious thoughts?”

“Well, you’re the writer, aren’t you?” Brian smiled, and you tried not to become too captivated by how perfect it was. “I’m not supposed to do anything unless you direct me to, right?”

“Sometimes the story seems to write itself, but I’m still in some control of it.”

He nodded. “The end of the story meant there was nothing else for me to do. Whilst I was frozen in place, my mind continued. Why did everything stop there? Who was I and why couldn’t I continue to live through all this?”

“You had thoughts like that then?” Brian nodded, and you let out a shaky breath. “Woah.”

“Then you must have started Captivated because, for some time, I was too busy fighting my way through to Charli. However, it would be during the scenes where I wasn’t present that I would find myself wondering why I was chasing her around. Just who was she to me? Even though I could move, and my reactions felt sincere, I couldn’t fathom why it had to be her. My life was already hard enough, and yet I was forever looking towards a girl who came from another world than I had.”

You smiled fondly. “Charli Evers is the daughter of a conglomerate in power of changing the nation. Meanwhile, you’re her bodyguard from a less than desirable background.”

“Let’s not visit my dark past right now, shall we?” Brian mentioned with some unease, and you nodded before you gasped. Brian frowned. “What?”

“You really do know the story!”

“When are you going to stop freaking out over my existence? Don’t you want the so-called proof?” he wondered with an impatient tone, causing you to snap your mouth shut. Brian sighed before continuing. “As I waited for scenes to change, I realised I couldn’t understand my world at all. Why did I have such a troubling back story? Surely, if I were real, no one would have faced what I had in one lifetime, let alone in ten years of my life.”

You didn’t quite meet his eyes then, looking at his shirt button that was undone to avoid the accusing tone that was laced within his latter sentences.

“And of all the men in the world, why was Charli so drawn to me?”

“That’s how star crossed lovers work, Brian,” you told him in a quiet voice. He merely scoffed and you gaped at him. “Look, I’m sorry that for you to be seen as a troubled protagonist I gave you some hard experiences but this is my story and it’s loved by thousands around the world.”

“Really?!” he asked as his eyes shot open, soon shaking his head. “The outside world is really strange.”

“You’re telling me,” you mumbled as you looked him up and down again. Brian cocked his head to the side, and you waved him off to carry on.

“It was then when I started to try and find ways not to do as I felt I had to. And there were a couple of times where I succeeded.”

“The gala!” you mentioned, and Brian smirked with acknowledgment. “I had such a hard time reshaping my plans because you stubbornly wouldn’t seem to get into the right mood!”

“That’s when I realised the people around me weren’t real.”

“They’re very much so real in that world!” you countered, and Brian shot you an unamused look. You glowered at him. “I haven’t worked hard all year as I have for you to sit here and say my characters aren’t realistic!”

“I didn’t mean they weren’t realistic, simply that they’re what you just called them, characters.”

“Be careful, you’re one too,” you grumbled, and Brian clapped his hands together. You gaped at him once again. “You do that when you want to keep Charli on topic! Are you treating me like her right now?!”

“You’re going off on a tangent. I offered you my side of things, and you’re too busy trying to defend people who don’t even know what they really are.”

“I once watched a TV series about characters in a comic book coming to their senses,” you murmured, turning pale. “How did that end again?”

“Y/N.” Glancing up at Brian, he shot you a comforting smile. “Please let me finish before you start trying to find ways to blow this out of proportion.”

“Because talking to you right now and being in your presence is completely logical.”

“I’ll ignore your sassy remark,” he warned and cleared his throat. “I started to grow aware of your presence. As if you were in the background of each moment pulling all the strings. I yearned to know more about you, and sometimes I would hear you talking to yourself about the scene you were struggling with.”

“You heard me?”

Brian nodded. “Quite often over the last couple of months, I believe it’s been.”

“How did you find your way to getting out here and helping me when I was sick?”

“Admittedly, I guessed there was at least a script somewhere controlling us. Then you got sick and left your computer on. It was the first time you had left the document open like that.”

“So let me guess. Whilst I slept, you found a way to find the script, realised there was another world outside of yours and reached out for it.”

“You called me out, Y/N.”

“Okay, now we’re really getting to the implausible here.”

Brian didn’t react to your disbelief. Instead, he stared at you in earnest. “Don’t you remember? You wished for me to help you take you to bed.”

“You… picked up on that?” you breathed out incredulously, and Brian couldn’t help but allow some amusement to curl up his lips further.

“Dream men are just that, Y/N. Brian Kang would never exist in this world,” he recited as if he had heard it in the past. Your hands rose to your mouth when you realised you had said that. Brian grinned. “Be careful about what you wish for, Y/N. Looks like I can exist in this world after all.”

You needed some fresh air, and after telling Brian so, you dashed out into your backyard, blinking rapidly when you realised how late into the night it was. Staring up into the inky world above, you tried to find some clarity within your situation.

Brian, in some form, seemed to exist. And he had not only looked after you when you were ill but had been messaging you somehow from within your computer. The document seemed to change because of his influence and all of this had started with your lack of energy to follow your usual pattern of shutting down the device at the end of the night.

Glancing back towards your house, you shivered. Had you left it open earlier, could there have been a chance Brian would have somehow come through the screen then?

“The concept of him coming out of such a small laptop is laughable,” you told the universe above, and yet it didn’t show you any signs to debunk the evidence you had either.

Although you were troubled and had so many more questions for the man inside your home, there was a sense of comfort that came the longer you spent your time with him. You had done so for countless months so far as his writer, and after the initial shock of the situation, you realised he felt like a home to you.

You then gasped noisily. Could this have happened with Jinyoung in Destined too, had you let it? Were all your characters out there holding different truths than the ones you had given them or was Brian the only one?!

Marching back inside, you walked into your office and opened up the first Destined document. And then you raised your hands to the heavens and nodded firmly. “Come out, Park Jinyoung!”

“What on earth are you doing?” a voice called from the doorframe, and you squealed with fright, stumbling over your desk chair and reached out for the table to save yourself. Brian’s hands quickly encircled your waist and pulled you upright, breathing heavily after moving to your side so fast to save you.

Staring up at the man who held you, you searched his face for signs of this being a trap. Perhaps the warning bells were muted in your mind the longer you appreciated Brian. He truly was the biggest self-indulgence you had succumbed to. And as you took him in for the umpteenth time tonight, you realised he was incredibly dangerous for you.

There was a reason you had dreamed him into existence in the first place. He was the person you had wanted to fill your world. And now that he was here, physically here, and holding you, some of the parts in his story didn’t need to add up anymore.

“You okay, Y/N?”

“You saved me,” you spoke, and Brian nodded.

“I wouldn’t let you fall if I could stop it,” he told you, his lips spreading out into the most beautiful smile you had ever witnessed in your life before.

You knew in that moment that you would blur every line there was to make sure Brian Kang didn’t go back to wherever he had come from.

You wanted him to hold you like this forever.

_________________

Part 5

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #young k #young k fiction #young k fanfic #young k fluff #young k romance #young k au #day6 #day6 fiction #day6 fanfic #day6 fluff #day6 romance #day6 au #pwyl; to be continued #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop romance

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writingfandomfeels · 5 years

Text

Draco - Fun to Be Bad

Summary: You’re dared to steal a book from the restricted section at night, but a certain prefect catches you. Smut.

A/N: Another one that was accidentally deleted

“Okay, seriously, one of you has to choose dare one of these times, we can’t just play an entire game of Truth.” Your friend said.

“Okay, okay. I’ll take a dare.” You volunteered.

The group of girls in your dorm playing Truth or Dare began to brainstorm ideas.

“I’ve got it!” Your friend piped up. “I dare you, to steal a book from the restricted section.”

You contemplated the dare a moment before accepting and rising to the challenge. Quietly you crept out of your house’s dormitories, sneaking down the hallways leading to the library. Because it was after dark no one was wandering about, except maybe professors… which you desperately hoped you wouldn’t encounter.

You made it to the library without a hitch. Success! As you walked toward the restricted section, you glanced over your shoulder to be sure. Suddenly you felt yourself bumping into another person. You turned to meet the cool blue eyes of Draco Malfoy.

“And what business would you have lurking about the library at this hour Y/L/N?” Draco interrogated.

“C’mon Draco, it’s just me, nobody is even around. There’s no need to be so formal.” You flirted, hoping he wouldn’t report you. “Besides, I only came on a dare. Surely you understand, right?” You took a step closer to him, giving your best angel face. It wasn’t hard for you to turn on the charm with him. Actually, you’d sort of been secretly seeing him lately. It was basically just the occasional snogging in abandoned classrooms or broom closets. You’d never discussed what it meant to either of you and it never escalated to more than just snogging due to lack of time, but tonight on the other hand…

He stared at you a moment before he responded. “I understand, but as a Prefect I also have a responsibility to turn you in.”

You sighed. “You’re right.” You said nodding your head. “But before you turn me in…” Leaning in, you gave him a teasing kiss. As you pulled away you had to smile at how he was noticeably flustered.

“You… should go…” He mumbled, his gaze focused on your lips.

You pressed your lips to his again. “But do you really want me to go?” You asked.

His blue eyes trailed up and down your figure. You couldn’t help but notice him biting his lip a little as he stared at you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pressed your body to his. “Relax blondie, we won’t get caught.” You said inches away. You kissed him again. “And besides,” you whispered in his ear, “it can be fun to be bad.” Lightly you grazed his earlobe between your teeth, then slowly pulled away, watching as he tried to fight it but ultimately lost.

“Oh forget this.” Unable to contain himself any longer he harshly crashed his lips against yours, embracing you in his arms.

Slightly surprised by the sudden impact, your back hit against the bookcase behind you.

Draco placed one hand against the bookshelf to lean on, the other found its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

Your heart raced, feeling his body pressed against yours like this.

His tongue slid in and out of your mouth as you kissed passionately.

Desperate for more, your hands went to loosen his tie. Once loose enough, he pulled away from you for a second to take it off, along with his slytherin sweater vest, throwing both on the floor. From the way he was panting and moving, you could tell he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him.

Immediately he returned to kissing you, squeezing your thighs, and biting your bottom lip a little. He began backing up, but keeping his hands tightly around your body, he brought you with him. You opened your eyes for a moment and looked to your left, as Draco moved to kissing and sucking your neck. You noticed he’d brought you over to one of the sections that had the tables in front of the shelves.

“Jump up, love.” He whispered into your ear.

Obediently you followed, jumping up so that you sat on the table. He stood with your legs on either side of him. You returned to french kissing while simultaneously undressing each other. By the time you’d finished the buttons of his white shirt, he’d undone your tie, the buttons of your cardigan, and had a few buttons of your blouse undone too.

“You’re fast.” You commented.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I take my time where it counts.” He winked with a cocky smile.

You wanted to hate his arrogance but it only made you melt more.

Draco finished taking off your blouse, licking his lips as he took a moment to stare at your chest. Confidently you smiled, feeling like a work of art on display. You brushed one bra strap off your shoulder, enticing him to continue undressing you. Once your bra had been tossed aside, you moved your mouth to his neck and the top of his chest, moaning softly against his skin as he massaged your breasts.

After a moment, he pulled back, changing things up. Slowly he ran his hand underneath your skirt and up your inner thigh, boldly keeping eye contact with you.

The heat radiated from between your legs as your body begged for him to inch closer.

Teasingly he slowly ran his hand up your space and over your panties, before hooking a finger over the top of them and tugging them off. Although he wore an arrogant smile, you felt like you sensed the slightest hint of caution behind his eyes. After all, you two had never made it this far before.

“Touch me.” You whispered the encouragement and he promptly obliged.

Without any notice, he plunged a finger into you, causing you to gasp at the sudden fulfillment.

“That too much for you princess?” He asked, his voice cheeky, though he did honestly want to know.

He had perfectly found your g-spot and was already sending pulsing waves of pleasure through your body. You could hardly hear him over the sensations.

Managing to shake your head, you muttered out a distracted,“Uh uh. Keep going.”

Following your request he moved his other hand to begin rubbing your clit.

You moaned and put your hand behind his neck, pulling him closer to you. Sloppily you kissed him in gratitude as he continued to take you higher. You felt yourself growing more and more sensitive, with each thrust of his fingers.

Pulling away from your mouth, he brought himself down to kiss your other lips. He continued to finger you while simultaneously licking and sucking on your clit.

Your hand fell to his blond hair, brushing the white strands away from his face and feeling the softness against your skin. Instinctively you pulled a little at his hair as you came closer and closer, feeling yourself tightening around his fingers rhythmically. But just as you felt like he was about to send you over the edge, he pulled away, stopping completely.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” You shot at him angrily.

He began unzipping his dark trousers. “Not yet darling. Not until I say so.”

You shook your head at him, the mixed feelings of arousal and anger swirling together like the perfect toxic concoction. “You sick bastard.”

“I know you love it.”

You hated to admit it but he was absolutely right. You’d never had anyone deny your orgasm before and although it was infuriating it also thrilled you.

“Ready for this, love?” He asked, lightly teasing your entrance with his tip.

You were sick of the buildup now. You wanted the grand finale more than anything at this point.

“Just fucking make me cum already Malfoy.” You demanded, no desire to play coy.

He smirked, and pushed into you. You let out a breathy sigh as you welcomed the feeling of being full again. Methodically he began pushing in, deep, then shallow, never giving you quite enough. The fucking tease.

“Please, more.” You were practically begging.

“More? Like… this?” He groaned, angling himself to thrust in much deeper than he had been.

You shot your head back in response, letting out an erotic cry.

“Shh,” He hushed, covering your mouth with his hand. “Mustn’t be loud in the library. That’s against the rules.”

“And this, isn’t?” You added between quick breaths.

Draco smiled devilishly.

You wrapped your legs around his torso, all of your muscles tensing as the feelings built back up again. Slightly surprising you, he brought his thumb back to your clit, applying pressure in rhythm with the motion of your hips.

You moaned again, trying to keep yourself quiet, though it was a difficult feat. He pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you passionately as your bodies lurched together. The muscles inside you contracted more violently and you felt yourself start to lose control.

“Draco, I-” you started but got immediately cut off by the explosion of euphoria. Letting out a sharp cry, you squeezed his bicep with your hand as you felt the long awaited release. He grunted as he thrust a few more times before feeling it himself. You let your upper body flop forward into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder as you both panted, holding each other.

“Still planning on turning me in?” You asked flirtily.

Draco chuckled. “You should probably get back to your dorm before anyone else catches you. I’m sure they wouldn’t be as understanding as me.”

He helped you collect your clothes and you separated in the halls.

Once nearly back to your dorm you cursed, smacking your forehead.

“Damn it. Forgot the book,” you sighed.

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco smut #draco malfoy smut #my writing

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gameofdrarry · 3 years

Text

Wizards Hearts Recs: Established Relationship

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Malfoy Meet Muggle by PenNoire Rated: Teen Words: 25,326 Tags: Animagus, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour Summary: Draco Malfoy is surprisingly happy in a comfortable relationship with Harry Potter. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't brought up doing things the wizarding way, and if Draco wants to make this work, he's going to have to learn to integrate the magical with the muggle. Really, how bad can it be? ❤️ Read on AO3 or FFN

📜 A Nightmare Waiting to Happen by triggerlil Rated: Explicit Words: 21979 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Claustrophobia, Eye Trauma, Eye Gouging, enucleation, Childhood Trauma, Vomiting, Choking, Unreliable Narrator, Horror, Body Horror, Clones, Abuse, Nightmares, Zombies, Cannibalism, Sectumsempra (Harry Potter), Legilimency (Harry Potter), Hospitals, Character Death In Dream, Antagonist James in Dream, bug horror, Snakes, Moths, Child Death in Dream, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Established Relationship, Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Attempted Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Corpses, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, Curses, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Protective Draco Malfoy, Husbands, No Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobic Language, Sexist Language, Bullying Summary: Draco sat beside Harry's bed as the man breathed deeply; his eyes were moving rapidly beneath his eyelids, and every so often, he would twitch or part his lips. Draco couldn’t imagine what was going on in Harry’s mind, but he clutched his husband’s hand, wishing he could take his place, do anything to help. Harry Potter is cursed into a nightmare-verse—escaping one nightmare only causes him to fall deeper through the layers of his subconscious—will he be able to free himself, or will his deepest fears swallow him whole? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Age is just a number by gnarf Rated: Teen and Up Words: 1555 Tags: Old Age, Humor, Fluff, Established Relationship, Dementia, Plot Twists, Shoplifting, Just Add Kittens, Muggle London, HP Fluff Fest 2020 Summary: Married for decades, their life is perfect. Until Harry gets a call and hears the following words "Mr Potter, we caught your husband stealing ten large packs of King Sized condoms." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Our Dreams, Our Pride by ahhhnorealnamesallowed Rated: Mature Words: 10319 Tags: Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healer Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Holidays, a very british coach holiday, Ireland, POV Alternating, Swearing, discussion of sex and sexual acts, Slice of Life, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, (or very little plot), Magic University - Freeform, Post-Secondary, Getting Together, Established Relationship Summary: For six years, Harry has promised Draco a 'big thing' for their anniversary. This year is the year Harry is going to make it happen, even if he does so in a very Harry Potter way. Including last-minute vacation planning, some very sassy old people, a coach bus, and less anniversary sex than expected. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 No Wizard Is an Island by Novaa Rated: Mature Words: 50009 Tags: HP:EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Ensemble Cast, Slow Burn, Quidditch, Getting Back Together, Established Relationship, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Auror Ron Weasley, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Apothecary Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Slice of Life, Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018, Community: harrydracobang Summary: For a life is made of the people living it, and no wizard is an island. A twenty-years journey in the intertwined lives of Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Draco and Harry. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Arrangement by RurouniHime Rated: Explicit Words: 65746 Tags: From Sex to Love, Established Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Domestic, Requited Love, Making Out, Jealousy, Falling In Love, Angst, Confessions, Moving In Together, Introspection, Pining, Community: help_haiti Summary: It's worked for years. Why change it now? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Training Exercises by spookywoods Rated: Explicit Words: 1313 Tags: Auror Draco Malfoy, Blindfolds, Hand Jobs, Married Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, It's Curry Night at the Malfoy-Potter Residence!, so you know it will be hot, Terrible smut and terrible puns, here all week Summary: Harry comes home from work to find Draco sitting in the dining room in the dark, wearing a blindfold and little else. “It’s for training,” Draco says. “Training?” “Sensory and environmental magic.” “I could help you train,” Harry says. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Take a trip into my garden by Andithiel Rated: Explicit Words: 5974 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Porn with Feelings, Established Relationship, Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, First Time Bottoming, Draco in lingerie, Bisexual Harry Potter, Rimming, Anal Sex, Really there might be too much feeling for it to count as pwp, As usual when I write, Enthusiastic Consent Summary: Harry has only been dating Draco for about two months, but he’s already obsessed with the git. And he knows that today, Draco has something special planned, something that includes him being dressed in skimpy lingerie. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Forget-Me-Nots and Narcissus by triggerlil Rated: Mature Words: 14430 Tags: Piano Player Draco Malfoy, Wand Maker Harry Potter, Summer, Domestic, Work partners - Freeform, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Wakes & Funerals, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Gardens & Gardening, Panic Attacks, apple picking, Wandmaking (Harry Potter), Classical Music, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Summary: His long pale fingers travelled across the keys, the sound of the piano cresting and falling, one moment soft and enticing, in the next fast and sure. The first few buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing a pale chest and thin lines of scars; the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal strong forearms, one marred by a smudge of black ink. Or in which Draco is overcome by grief, and Harry is there to keep him afloat. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Through the Window, Clear Skies by tackytiger Rated: Mature Words: 1415 Tags: Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Moving In Together, Boyfriends, Domestic, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Emotionally Repressed, True Love, Mention of wanking, mention of fucking, but mostly just love, Engagement, Drarry Discord Writers Corner Drabble Challenge Summary: What would happen if Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy moved in together, too soon after they started kissing and then fucking and not hating each other anymore? Will Draco insist on a wine rack? Or: Domestic Drarry with a bare hint of angst. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Sweet Nothings by vivi1138 Rated: Mature Words: 1985 Tags: Major Character Death, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Loneliness, Hallucinations, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, POV Draco Malfoy, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Muteness, Terminal Illnesses, Physical Disability, Loss of strength, Bodily Fluids, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Missions Gone Wrong, Auror Partners, Minor Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Afterlife, Mental Health Issues, hopelessness Summary: What do you do when you lose the one you love? After a raid goes wrong, Draco navigates the waters of his grief and may very well lose himself in the process. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love Found by peachpety Rated: Explicit Words: 7500 Tags: Double Agent Draco Malfoy, BAMF Harry Potter, Hogwarts Sixth Year, love realizations, Boys Kissing, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Occlumency (Harry Potter), mind connections, Intense Emotional Action Sequences, Canon Dumbledore Death, Established Relationship, Teenage Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Non-graphic Mentions/Recalls of Offscreen Sexual Activity Between Consensual Minors, Magic and Emotions Conveyed as Color, Threats of Physical Violence and Intimidation, References to Past Forced Submission, Killing Death Eaters, Eventual Happy Ending, Minor References to Past Snape/Lucius Summary: During Harry’s sixth year, Draco Malfoy joins the Order as a double-agent and continues with his task to get the Death Eaters into the castle as assigned by Voldemort. Draco succeeds with his mission the evening Harry returns from the caves with Dumbledore. The boys reunite on the Astronomy Tower and, with the Death Eater’s arrival, are forced to engage in a fight, driving Harry to come to terms with his feelings about true friendship and romantic love. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Christmas Is For Sex (and Love), So Give It To Me by GoldenTruth813 Rated: Explicit Words: 53218 Tags: PWP, Established Relationship, Christmas, Bondage, misuse of frosting, making gingerbread houses, coming without touching, Blowjobs, Fingering, anal penetration, Rimming, misuse of fairy lights, Praise Kink, Nipple Clamps, erotic massages, Lingerie, Harry in Lingerie, Butt Plugs, Masterbation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Topping from the Bottom, Ice Play, misuse of snowballs, misuse of brandy custard, veritasium, Public Sex, misuse of christmas candles, Wax Play, floating blow jobs, bubble baths, Candy Canes, misuse of candy canes, sex with feelings, Clubbing, naughty letters, babysitting teddy, Edging, healing past trauma, really so much more than sex, but lots of sex too, spiked hot cocoa, Drunk confessions, Anal penetration with a foreign object, french!draco, Switching Summary: Draco buys Harry an Advent House, intent on helping Harry create all new holiday memories, and have a lot of great sex in the process. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 there’s a trick with a dragon I’m learning to do by curiouslyfic Rated: Explicit Words: 20000 Tags: Politics, economics, social commentary, international relations, mature characters, complex relationships, intellectual comradeship, working together to achieve a common goal, sharp dressers, snark, banter, armchair sex, wall sex, desperate kissing, orgasm denial, playful biting, Machiavellian intrigue, wizard banking, Potterverse ghosts and goblins, pursuit, subtle seduction (i.e. life-saving and/or political acts that can be interpreted as courtship), and frivolous decadence Summary: Harry’s live-in’s a workaholic being courted — harassed — by an array of weeping minions and an assortment of overprivileged pricks. Harry’s bloody portraits are being harassed — courted — by, well, an assortment of things Harry doesn’t even want to think about. Harry’s had a long week already and so far, his weekend’s not looking much better. At least he can say with certainty there's no place like home... ❤️ Read on Dreamwidth

📜 Last Offices by tackytiger Rated: Mature Words: 6737 Tags: Major Character Death, Character Death, Blood and Injury, Memories, Unhappy Ending, Wakes & Funerals, Falling In Love, Sad Harry Potter, Preparation of a body for burial, Non-Linear Narrative, Flashbacks, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Happy Memories Summary: It didn't seem fair that Malfoy was dead, and Harry was supposed to just keep on living without him. He had lost enough people to know that he probably would keep on going—his stubborn heart was still beating, after all, even though it felt like it was going to break. But first, he had to get through the laying out of the dead—those old Pureblood funeral rites—even if every time he touched Malfoy's too-cold body, he was reminded of how things used to be, and how things might have been. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love Is by xErised Rated: Teen and Up Words: 26529 Tags: Emotional Roller Coaster, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Post-Hogwarts Summary: Aurors Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are presumed dead during a mission gone wrong. Their partners — Draco and a pregnant Hermione — refuse to believe that they're gone, even after a year of their absence. A tale of loss, longing and love, with a happy ending. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Making A List and Checking It Twice by blithelybonny Rated: Explicit Words: 20758 Tags: Porn with some plot, Established Relationship, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Dom/sub, Making Out, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Dirty Talk, Spanking, Frottage, Rimming, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Subdrop, Aftercare, Bathing/Washing Summary: ON HIATUS - WILL BE COMPLETED -- A life-changing event is headed Draco and Harry's way - what better way to celebrate than by checking a few things off the old sexual bucket list? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Dreams That You Dare to Dream Really Do Come True by Drarrelie Rated: Explicit Words: 11751 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Established Relationship, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Birthday, Harry Potter's Birthday, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Sexual Fantasy, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Secret use of sex toys in public, Internalised Kink Shame, Praise Kink, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Porn with Feelings, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Dom Harry Potter, Sub Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Power Bottom Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Don't copy to another site, Fanart Welcome, Podfic Welcome Summary: Today, Draco’s new boyfriend turns nineteen and the annoying tosser has refused to present a wish list. It’s not Draco’s fault if he felt compelled to get a little creative, right? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Up the Duff by CorvetteClaire Rated: Explicit Words: 86755 Tags: Mpreg, Magical Pregnancy, Fluff, Smut, Light Angst, Wizengamot, Unspeakables (Harry Potter), Snarky Malfoy-style Humor, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Harry's Thing with Walls, Adorable Toddlers, Pregnant Draco, Protective Harry, Desperate Malfoys Summary: Draco Potter is hugely pregnant and (much to his surprise) enjoying himself. He loves having Harry fuss over him and looks forward to adding another Potter to their little family. Unfortunately for Draco, his parents have found out about their impending grandchild and have no intention of letting him separate them from this child, as he did from Bob (Felix). Their attempts to force their way into Draco's life may bring down even greater troubles on his head when the wizarding world at large finds out that Draco Potter, née Malfoy is up the duff! Or The fic that answers the burning questions... How many servings of McDonald's french fries can a pregnant wizard eat in a single day? Just how adorable and persuasive can a quarter-Veela toddler get before his fathers sell him to the Goblins? Is it possible to conceal a pregnant belly the size of a Hogwarts carriage under a glamour? What could be more ruthless and dangerous than Malfoys in need of an heir? Will Harry and Draco ever agree on a name for their child? Are girls really easier (and will our heroes ever find out)? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 what the body wants is coolness by lastontheboat Rated: Teen and Up Words: 13428 Tags: Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, First Time in Public, draco overthinks things, harry is affectionate, Beach Quidditch, no smut just fade to black, HP Drizzle Fest 2020, Community: hp_drizzle, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary: "Are you done primping yourself yet?" Draco asked, feeling mulish. "We can still meet your friends on time if we leave now, but we'll have to walk quickly." Harry rolled his eyes. "It's a beach day, Draco," he said patiently. "Not a pureblood society event." "Yes, well, not all of us have the goodwill of the rest of the wizarding world to fall back on when we commit acts of social barbarism." ~~~ Draco and Harry have been seeing each other for months, and Harry decides the best way to tell their friends is to bring Draco to a group beach outing. Draco's given up enumerating all the ways this plan could go wrong. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Memorable Speech by Samunderthelights Rated: Teen and Up Words: 1300 Tags: Drarropoly: A Drarry Game/Fest, Drarry, Fluff, Silly, Weddings, Established Relationship, Short & Sweet, Don't copy to another site Summary: Harry is asked to give a speech at Teddy's wedding, but when he gets flustered, it becomes a speech the wedding guests will remember for a long time. ❤️ Read on AO3

#established couple #established relationship #drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

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deathlikesdeep-dish · 4 years

Text

Heat (Zoro x Reader)

Hiiii!

I’m new on the One Piece fanfic scene but I had a ton of fun writing this first little story for the One Piece of Summer Writing Challenge! (also please forgive me if there’s multiple submissions i’m returning to tumblr after like an 8 year hiatus lol) (also also i’m sorry i’m verbose i hope this isn’t too long)

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 3628

Word Prompt: Heat

You can hardly believe that it’d been two whole years since the crew had been together. Two years. Holy shit. You feel a lump in your throat as you approach Shakky’s place. You have no idea who, if anyone, had already arrived. Your heart races excitedly at the thought and a small smile creeps over your features. You make yourself sit on a nearby bench and breathe before you hike the last flight of stairs to the bar. It’s a hot day, impossibly hot and you sit and take a sip of water from your hip flask. The cool liquid pours down your throat and you sigh happily as you wonder what the very near future would hold.

Would it be Franky? You imagine the blue-haired madman, and laugh. Maybe he’d found another way to fuel his cyborg frame other than cola. You laugh again.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself. The reason he runs on cola is because he wants to run on cola.

Or maybe it would be Usopp or Chopper? The last time you saw Chopper, it had been so frightening. He was vast and out of control from using those rumble balls. A shudder runs up your spine at the thought, but you push the thought away shaking your head. Your h/c hair ruffles at the motion, and you push a strand out of your face as you stare at the ground beneath your boots. Usopp, you are sure, will be one of the early ones, not wanting to be one-upped. You roll your eyes, your mind’s ear imagining him shouting, “Well, of course I’m here first! I’m the great captain Usopp!”

You already know what Brook--you mean “Soul King” had been up to. You laugh. You had to admit that his stuff was pretty catchy, and you wonder if he’d even want to come back to the pirate life after all that fame and fortune. It had been nice over the last two years to follow him in the papers whenever you could; a small link to your old life had been comforting and familiar.

Nami and Robin were almost certainly already here--Nami, probably off conning some shop owner into giving their store away half-price, and Robin wandering around looking at architecture, reading a book, or saying weirdly cryptic lines to passersby. You sigh fondly, reminiscing about the times the three ladies of the Strawhats spent together. Not having had many female friends to speak of before the Strawhats, it had been nice to have some badass women to bond with over the months before your separation. In your two years alone, you’d missed the companionship.

Maybe Sanji is at Shakky’s already, cooking up some delicious concoction for you to devour. Your stomach grumbles on cue, and your mouth waters thinking about it. If Luffy was already here, then any food would be gone twice over. Of all the changes that are sure to have occurred, your captain’s appetite is the least likely to change. You can only imagine what power he has achieved in the last two years. Your stomach sinks a bit thinking about when you learned of Ace’s death in the Paramount War. The pain Luffy must have endured. Alone. But, he was not one to dwell, and wouldn’t want you to either.

So you don’t. You’re strong--much stronger than you were the last time the crew saw you. You’re not the same girl that you were two years ago. No, not even close. You’re taller, with broader shoulders and hips. While you were once slender due to malnutrition, you are now toned and muscled after two years of hard training. You felt vitality that you once never thought you’d feel coursing through your muscles. Your top, frayed at the hem, falls to just above your naval and drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other uncovered. Your s/c flesh is exposed to the waistband of your khaki shorts. The leather of your boots is soft and worn, the same pair you’d been wearing when you were launched away from your crew by Kuma. The holster dangling from your waist carried some of your throwing knives, which you twiddle absently at your side in nervousness. You had become adept at hand to hand combat since the crew saw you last. You are nimble, fast and lethal. You smirk and let the confidence roll over your body. You can’t wait to see how skilled everyone else had become.

You flex and stretch, standing up from the bench and begin your ascent up the stairs. They groan under your weight and you shift the bag on your shoulder, securing it more tightly against your body. You feel your heart beginning to race again at the thought of the final crew member. You can only imagine how strong he’d become.

Zoro.

You think of his green hair, and his white shirt, the top buttons always haphazardly undone. His slim black pants and boots, the sound of his earrings jangling in the sea breeze. You see his tight, intense gaze and that smirk that always weakened your knees. The knot in your stomach tangles more at the thought as you crest the top of the stairs. You recall the days that you sat in the Crow’s Nest together as he worked out. He never paid you much attention, but simply tolerating your presence in his sacred space made you feel important.

You feel the heat rise to your face and you can’t tell if it’s because of the sweltering sun of the Archipelago or the indecent thoughts that have begun to flood your mind. You take a deep breath as you nearly reach the doorway of Shakky’s place, when you stop in your tracks at the silhouette in the doorway. The sun is bright, so you can’t make out who it is right away, but as the figure takes a step, there’s no mistaking that green head of hair.

“Well,” You hear Shakky’s voice from inside the bar.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the first,” You hear Rayleigh’s voice chime in.

The greenette stays silent for a moment and then replies, “Oh yeah? Nobody else has shown up.” He pauses. “Well damn, guess they got lost.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s unmistakable.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out to him. “Zoro!” You immediately flush, but you know this time it’s not from the heat.

You see Zoro stiffen at your voice, but he quickly turns around and meets your gaze with his own.

Christ…

You immediately notice that your eyes only meet one of his, a scar running from forehead to cheekbone on the left side of his face, his eye tightly shut. It makes him look even more ruggedly attractive, if at all possible, and you allow yourself to stare for a moment. His jaw, still angular and chiseled, is formed into a lazy half-smirk. Your e/c eyes trail down from his jaw to his throat and his collarbone, a body part you became intimately familiar with when you’d spent long moments staring at it over the top of his unbuttoned shirt, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle your face into its contours.

A part you are not used to seeing so casually, was the rest of his broad chest, which is exposed under the deep green coat he was wearing, the trademark Mihawk scar that ran from shoulder to hip still proudly displayed. You are glad to see that his haramaki remained unchanged over the last two years along with the three swords he carries at his side. He shifts his weight to his left side and leans his forearm on the hilt of his swords.

“Y/n!” He replies with a broad grin of recognition. He jogs toward you, and you find yourself moving towards him too.

Zoro is stunned to see you. In all honesty, he is stunned to know that he’s the first to arrive in the first place. Although, he did leave several weeks prior. Just in case.

You are...so different. His eyes move across your body, and he coughs, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He grits his teeth frustratedly.

Shit...get it together. He thinks to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here!” You say, before pausing. “Actually...how the hell are you the first one here??”

You laugh and he manages to chuckle too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jokes.

“Shakky and Raleigh inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb towards the open door to the bar.

Zoro nods, rubbing a calloused hand at the nape of his neck. “Yep, they’re in there. Waiting like the old gossips they are.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

You can’t help but watch his arm move behind his head. His worn bandana is tied around his bicep over the top of his coat, and you can’t help but imagine how his tanned skin stretches over the muscle there. You realize, too late, that you had been silent for a beat too long.

“Y/n? You good?” He asks, raising a brow.

Your attention snaps back like a rubber band and you laugh nervously. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just can’t believe how long it’s been.” You say lamely.

You walk into the bar, Zoro trailing behind you and you greet Shakky and Rayleigh with a wide grin. Shakky compliments your new look, making you spin around as if to show off your outfit. You can’t help but feel confident and a surge of pride wells within you. She pours you a drink, having already poured one for Zoro, and invites you to sit down at a far booth. You sit next to Rayleigh, playfully bumping him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. He gives you an affectionate squeeze as he tells you how pleased he is to see you guys again. Zoro takes a seat at the far corner of a booth. He props his feet up and takes a long drag of sake straight from the bottle. He’d already finished the drink that was poured, naturally, and stopped Shakky before she could pour him another. He asked for the bottle, shrugging and said that we should just “cut out the middleman.”

You regale the three others in your tales of the last two years. You speak about your Master, your training, the island you’d resided on, everything. Shakky gives updates too, about some of the rumors that had been floating around in the Strawhats’ absence, particularly about Luffy and Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. Shakky, never one to be subtle, asks Zoro pointblank about what he’d been up to.

“Eh, not too much excitement,” He says vaguely. “The usual. Swords, drinking, naps.” Shakky rolls her eyes, unsatisfied, but you just laugh, knowing that he was not one to talk too much about himself.

After a long while, the four of you notice that the sun has begun to set. You are beginning to feel the drinks you’d consumed, your laughter a bit louder, your tongue a bit looser, your hair a bit wilder. The bar is illuminated in deep orange and red hues and you glance over at Zoro. Half of his face is cast in shadow, while the other half colored the same tint as the room. It looks almost as if he is on fire and you are mesmerized by him. He’s staring at you intently. You see beads of sweat along his hairline, and you notice that he has removed his outer coat.

“Damn Shakky,” He breathes, not breaking eye contact with you. “I don’t remember it being this hot two years ago.”

Shakky laughs. “Well, we’re going through a bit of a heatwave right now. It’s unusual for this time of year, but occasionally the weather currents bring a front in. It’s supposed to be like this for the next few days.”

His knees are propped up and he rests his forearms on top of them as he breaks your gaze and looks out the window. HIs profile is immaculate, and your eyes trace each feature--his straight nose, his angled jaw, and his full lips. Your lips subconsciously part, and it isn’t until you feel your tongue on them that you notice how you’re staring. Shakky, however, has noticed how the two of you have been trading stares at each other the entire evening. She smirks and stands with a yawn.

“Well Rayleigh,” She starts. “It seems likes it’s about time to close up shop for the evening. You good?”

Rayleigh looks confused at first, however, when Shakky gestures quickly to you and Roronoa, Rayleigh nods knowingly. He looks down at his nearly full drink and smiles. He tips his head back and swigs down the rest, placing the empty glass resolutely on the hard wood. “You know what, Shakky? You’re absolutely right. These old bones can’t drink like they used to. I’m headed down to my place at the docks. It’s cooler there anyway.” He stands up and bids the room farewell. The doorbell jingles behind him as he exits the bar.

You get the feeling that they’d been watching you and Zoro, and you feel embarrassed. But you don’t want to complain. You just hope that Zoro wouldn’t be ready to turn in yet either.

Shakky approaches Zoro and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Night, Roronoa. If you get lonely, my room is always open.” She winks at him, entertained by how he squirms at the unexpected contact.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” He mutters, flustered. Shakky laughs.

“Shit Roronoa, just relax. I’m only kidding.” She walks over to a door behind the bar, presumably that led to her sleeping quarters, and opens it. “Or am I?” She grins slyly.

This time, Zoro knows better. The greenette shakes his head with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Shakky.”

She, too, disappears. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the two of you are left alone. The sun has finally set beneath the mangroves and the sound of crickets fills the room. Despite the sun having set, the room is humid and very warm.

You reach a slender hand up and wipe beads of condensation off the back of your neck with a nervous sigh. “You’re right, Zoro,” You say after a moment. “It is absolutely stifling in here.”

He hums in agreement and holds up the bottle of sake questioningly. You nod and he tosses the closed bottle to you. However, his toss is a little short and to the left. But you’re fast and you catch it without a problem, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Aim much?” You joke as you pour yourself another drink before tossing it back to him.

He catches it easily and smirks. “Well, just checking to see if all that training you were going on about actually paid off.” He takes a swig. “Seems like it did.”

You were unbelievable. Zoro marvels at your agility. He had been enthralled as you told your story of the last two years. He watched the way your eyes lit up in excitement at certain parts or when your tone shifted to something more sinister. This was the y/n he’d always known--vibrant, curious and powerful. Zoro has always admired your tenacity. It was something of himself that he saw in you. He admired your intelligence as well, and your quick wit. It had always been a little intimidating, but now you were a force. It overwhelmed the swordsman. And thrilled him in the same way a new enemy excited him, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing.

He watches as you take a sip of your drink. His gaze follows the long line of your neck down to your collarbone, which he finds himself lingering on for longer than what was appropriate between nakama. You had always been objectively attractive, but Zoro never really paid attention to things like that. But now, you made that impossible to ignore. He is very attracted to you, entranced by your confident aura that pours off of you like cool sake.

The alcohol warms your blood and before you know what you’re doing, you prop your elbow on the table and say, “Seems like your training paid off too. I mean, look at you. All extra-muscley and shit.”

Zoro’s eyes widen slightly before he laughs out loud. “Thank you? I think.”

The liquid courage you’ve consumed does little for your filter (or your shame) so you continue. “I remember when I used to hang out in the Crow’s nest while you worked out. You were strong then, obviously. But it’s different now. You seem...invincible.” You breathe.

Zoro takes a moment to consider. “Invincible, huh?” He chuckles. “Hardly.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t reply.

Zoro stands up, his coat remaining in his seat. Your eyes follow the contour of his chest and he notices you watching him. He loves knowing that you look at him the same way that he looks at you.

“Come on,” He says after a moment, holding out his free hand, the other still holding the bottle of sake.

You take it without thinking. “Where are we going?” His hand is rough and cool to the touch, despite the heat in the room. He’s never held your hand before now. His good eye lands on you with a smirk that turns the knot low in your stomach.

“Up,” He replies in a whisper.

You nod wordlessly and stand up, trailing behind him as he walks towards the back door of the bar. When you exit, you sigh happily when a cool breeze flows along your damp skin. He echoes the sentiment with a contented hum, and continues towards the side of the building where he finds a ladder.

“Ladies first,” He grins, gesturing for you to climb the ladder up to the roof of the bar.

You raise an eyebrow, but comply nonetheless. As you climb, you make sure to move your hips more exaggeratedly, knowing the view you were providing him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and admires your ass as you climb the ladder. You really are something. He wants to do more than just hold your hand. He wants to trail his hands along your curves, feel your strong body against the planes of his chest. He wants to know what your lips taste like, what your h/c hair feels like entangled in his fingers. But he knows that he needs to take it slow for both of your sake. It’s been two years. A lot has changed, and you are still his nakama first and foremost. There’s nothing that he would sacrifice to keep that.

The ladder is taller than you think it is by looking at it and when you arrive at the top of the bar, you are surprised to find an expansive platform.

“Wow,” You look open-mouthed. “How’d you know this was up here?” You look to Zoro who hops up onto the platform.

He shrugs. “I didn’t. I just saw the ladder earlier and figured it would be worth exploring.”

He walks up behind you in all of his shirtless beauty and sits, his legs apart as he leans back on his forearms. You’re still standing, looking up at the vast mangroves all around you, the stars peeking through the tree-tops. He lets you admire the scenery because it gives him a few moments to admire you. He clears his throat to get your attention and pulls you down to him.

With a light gasp, you find yourself sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you. You are blushing furiously now. He hums contentedly, moving to nuzzle your hair and inhale your clean scent.

“What are you doing?” You manage to croak out.

“Enjoying the company,” He murmurs into the side of your neck.

You feel his heart beating swiftly against your back as you lean into him with a deep sigh. Your brain wants to overcomplicate this.

What does this mean? What does he want? Does he feel the same way about me that I feel about him? Does he...you gulp. Does he...want me, the way that I want him?

He feels you stiffen. “Y/n, hey,” He says. “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to mean anything that we don’t want it to mean.”

It seems like mind-reading is on the roster of new super powers he’s acquired. You grumble internally.

He laughs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he moves away. You whimper softly at the loss of contact, and turn to face him with a confused look. Though he did shift backwards, he didn’t move all that far away from you, so you’re surprised that you’re nearly face to face when you turn around.

He gently touches his thumb to your parted lips. “We’ve got time, y/n. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So let’s just take the time and figure it out.” He smiles.

You feel your heart swell in your chest as you meet his intense stare. “Y-yeah, o-okay.” You stutter, still not quite believing that Roronoa Zoro has anything he wants to figure out with you. Your reverie is interrupted by Zoro’s gentle kiss. It’s a kiss that foreshadows what else could come of it, one that’s slow and burning and brimming with possibilities. He pulls away with a shudder.

“We’ve got time.” He says again, seeming to convince himself with the second iteration. “Besides,” He pulls back fully this time, taking in your lovely face before he smirks. “It’s too damn hot to be this close right now anyway.”

#doctorgerth #one piece of summer #summerwritingchallenge #roronoazoro #one piece #zoro x reader #zoroxreader #onepiece #laws-yellow-submarine

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