#it looks different and i miss the way my pens look | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellemj · 4 months

Text

Bigger Than He Was

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @littlemiss-yeehaw: jealous!Bucky, fake dating, handjob.

Summary: Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.

Warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, handjob, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight size kink, jealous!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: The first request I wrote from the smut menu had to be from my Tumblr best friend. Not only does she pre-read nearly everything that I post, but she keeps me from deleting my blog on a near daily basis, and she keeps me sane. I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did. If it wasn't for this girl, my blog would've been deleted before Needs & Wants was ever completed lmao.

You’ve decided that no one in the world looks more out of place than a super soldier in a grocery store. Specifically, a super soldier in the produce aisle of a small local market. He looks like a bull in a China shop as he scours through a bin of tomatoes to find ones he approves of. He holds one tomato in each of his leather gloved hands as he compares them carefully, acting like choosing between the two is every bit as difficult as deciding whether someone lives or dies in his usual line of work.

“They’re pretty much the same, Bucky, and we only need two. Just put them in a bag.” You say with a sigh, resting your elbows on the handle of the shopping cart that you’ve been pushing as you’ve trailed behind him. Though you’re the one carrying the team’s grocery list, Bucky’s been the one pulling things off of the shelves and setting them in the cart. You originally suggested each of you taking half of the list and splitting up to get the shopping done faster, and to avoid the pointless arguments and annoyances you’d face in each other’s presence, but Bucky’s only response to your idea was a furrowed brow and silence. So, you’ve been following him around with the shopping cart safely between the two of you.

Bucky starts to put both of the tomatoes down and pick two different ones just to bother you, but he takes the high road and bags the two he’s already holding instead. He’s usually assigned to grocery shopping with Sam, which he definitely prefers, but with Sam off to visit his family this week, he ended up being stuck with you.

“What’s next?” Bucky asks, setting the plastic bag of produce in the cart and then casting you a sideways glance. You cross tomatoes off of the small piece of paper in your hand before moving on to read the next item.

“We’re done with food items, next is ibuprofen, melatonin, and some feminine products.” You answer, lifting your gaze to meet his as you tap the pen against the piece of paper absentmindedly. Bucky nods curtly and starts leading the way down the aisle, knowing all of the aisles with medication, first aid, and toiletry type supplies are on the opposite end of the store. You follow a few feet behind him, missing your usual shopping buddy, Wanda. Though it’s a menial task, you always seem to have a fun time when the two of you are on the grocery schedule for the week. Bucky is a stark contrast to your far more bubbly, lighthearted friend.

You’re lost in thought as you turn a corner and enter the pharmacy aisle, not paying any attention as Bucky looks through various types of over-the-counter medications. It isn’t until you hear a voice one aisle over that you straighten up and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The voice sounds familiar, so familiar that you find your ears straining to hear it better so you can identify it. Is it an old friend? Someone from SHIELD? You can’t be sure, but you’re starting to think it isn’t a friend by the way your nerves seem to be rising with every incoherent word that they mutter. You leave Bucky standing at one end of the aisle as you walk ahead, trying to get closer to the source of the voice. You’re nearly at the opposite end of the aisle when suddenly, the front end of another shopping cart appears and quickly turns in front of you, almost colliding with the front end of yours. You stop abruptly for two reasons. The first reason being so you don’t cause a pileup on aisle thirteen. The second reason being because you now see whose voice was causing your heart rate to elevate and your stomach to twist into a knot. Your fucking ex-boyfriend.

“Oh, wow, hey!” The man before you extends the greeting so casually, as if he didn’t waste a year of your life with meaningless words and empty promises. He raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting over his shoulder just as a pretty blonde woman steps into view. Oh. “This is uh, this is my girlfriend.” He gestures to the woman before looking back at you with a wary glance, clearly trying to gauge how you feel about him committing to someone new so soon. The woman offers a small smile and wave as she introduces herself by name, but it all goes right over your head. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to tear your eyes away from the piece of shit behind the cart full of organic produce and a questionable amount of wine.

Bucky’s watching everything unfold from a few yards behind, acting as if he’s still deciding between a name brand bottle of ibuprofen and a generic version of the same. He gives you a few seconds to soak in the obviously awkward social situation as his eyes analyze your body language. You’re tense, your grip on the handle of the shopping cart is so tight that your knuckles are turning white. It’s been ten seconds since the woman introduced herself to you and you still haven’t uttered a word. Bucky glances to his right and notices the selection of condoms, lube, and pregnancy tests spread over the shelves next to the medication section. He only takes a second to weigh his options: let you continue to flounder in front of your shitty ex and his new victim or offer you an easy reprieve while simultaneously sending your ex into a mental spiral. His gloved hand wraps around a couple of boxes of pregnancy tests and he pulls them off of the shelf, signifying he’s chosen the latter.

“Oh, trying for a baby?” Your ex jokes when Bucky approaches from behind you and drops a handful of pregnancy tests into the cart.

“No, it’s just smart to have a few of these on hand when we only ever fuck raw. Do we know you?” Bucky’s tone is calm and even, like he’s just said something completely within the ordinary. It breaks you out of the trance you were in and you blink your eyes as you feel the heat from Bucky’s body enveloping you in warmth. He cages your body between his and the cart, his chest brushing against your back as he places his hands on either side of yours on the shopping cart handle. You don’t see the way his lips curve upward into a shit-eating grin as your ex’s face falls at both Bucky’s unfiltered words and the public display of affection he’s witnessing.

“Aren’t you…” The man addresses Bucky with slightly widened eyes and an unsure voice. You almost laugh at the effect Bucky has on the poor guy’s demeanor, and the fact that Bucky towers a few inches over the man is just icing on the cake.

“Bucky.” Your ex has just realized that not only are you grocery shopping with the Winter Soldier, but you’ve also been letting him fuck you.

---

Your week has been full of unexpected moments, but two stand out in particular. The first moment was when Bucky so calmly chose to play the role of your fake boyfriend at the grocery store three nights ago. Nearly every waking moment since then has been spent replaying it in your head, wondering why he decided to step in and do that for you, why he decided to take such a blunt approach and tell your ex that the two of you prefer unprotected sex, and how the hell he acted as if nothing happened immediately after the interaction was over. The second moment is unfolding right now. Your eyes are locked in on your phone screen as you mull over the text that’s displayed there.

Are you free tonight? Would love to sit down and catch up, want to talk about things.

You don’t have the number saved in your phone but you know exactly who it is. It’s the same shitty ex you ran into two nights ago, the same one who now thinks you’re fucking the Winter Soldier. Before you’ve even considered responding, a second message from the same unsaved number rolls in.

I’ll be at the bar we used to go to, the one off of 83rd street, in an hour. Hope to see you there.

The way your face scrunches up in confusion at the sight of the two texts on your phone screen piques Bucky’s interest as he steps off of the elevator and uses the collar of his t-shirt to dab sweat off of his neck. He’s just finished a pretty strenuous workout and had every intention of heading straight to his room to shower and spend the rest of the night in there, but he can’t ignore the feeling of some kind of invisible string tugging him in your direction. It was only two nights ago that he pressed himself against you in the grocery store and pretended like he knew what it’s like to have you in his bed. It was only two nights ago that you became a near constant thought in the back of his mind.

“Don’t tell me he texted you.” Bucky’s voice catches you off guard. You lift your gaze from your phone screen and lean back into the couch cushions, attempting to look perfectly at ease in his presence. Truth be told, you’ve been a little on edge around him since the night in the grocery store, but you don’t know why. Maybe because he saw you in such an embarrassing and vulnerable moment, in your own personal hell.

“He didn’t text me.” You lie, watching him carefully as the elevator doors close behind him and he takes the few steps across the room to reach the sectional you’re currently lounging on. It’s odd to see him sink into the opposite end of the piece of furniture so comfortably, like he’s such a normal guy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sit in the living room of his own free will, and it’s a sight to see.

“You’re a bad liar.” Bucky huffs. His expression turns thoughtful as he thinks back to his encounter with your ex that night. The corners of Bucky’s lips curl up into a smile when he remembers the way the guy practically shrank when he heard that the two of you like to fuck raw. “What does he want?” Bucky seems to have a sixth sense about this shit, so you decide to go with it and tell him the truth, see where it gets you.

“He said he wants to catch up and talk about things.”

“Right after seeing you with another guy.” Bucky points out, hoping you’ll see where this is going. You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms over your chest.

“I guess so, or maybe it’s unrelated. People break up and then discuss it later for closure sometimes, it’s a thing, Bucky.”

“So, you’re going?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” You answer honestly. You watch as Bucky nods slowly, as if he’s digesting the information and deciding what to do with it. He uses the collar of his t-shirt to wipe a bit of sweat away from his neck again, drawing your gaze down to the flexing of his bicep. You’re quick to avert your gaze back up to his eyes, but the satisfied smirk on his face tells you that he caught you looking.

“We’re going.” Bucky decides, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and running a hand through his sweaty hair. The bewildered look that takes over your face says it all.

“What the hell do you mean we’re going? There’s no we here, it’s just me.”

“I meant exactly what I said, we’re going.”

---

You stand in the garage of the compound, where everyone’s various vehicles are stored away safely. Your fingers pick at the frays of your black jeans absentmindedly as you lean against a concrete pillar, waiting for Bucky. You know you should just get in your own car and leave without him, there’s absolutely no good that will come out of letting him tag along for this. Yet, something in the back of your mind is tugging at you to stay and wait for him, to see what might come of this. Looking up at your reflection in the car window a few feet away from you, you take in the sight of your little ensemble. You’re wearing dark jeans paired with a tight little long-sleeved crop top that shows the tiniest bit of your midriff. You wanted to wear something fairly plain yet something that showed a little skin, so this is what you settled on.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky’s outfit for tonight will go well with your own. He’s wearing dark jeans as well, but with a dark t-shirt and black leather jacket. As the elevator carries him down to the lowest floor of the compound, he has a brief second of clarity where he asks himself what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. First, he went against every rational thought in his mind when he pretended to be your boyfriend in a damn grocery store. Then, he spent two nights thinking about what it might’ve been like if he actually had been fucking you raw like he’d told to your ex he was. Those two nights ruined him. You ruined him. It took less than 48 hours for his mind to become completely preoccupied with you.

When the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open to let him into the private parking garage beneath the compound, his eyes fall on you instantly. Fuck. One look at you and he’s immediately decided that you’re not taking a car, no, you’re taking his bike. Hell, you’re dressed near-perfectly for it. The only issue is that bit of smooth skin you have showing beneath the hem of your little top, he’s not going to take you out on his bike and risk ruining that perfect skin of yours with road rash.

The ding of the elevator draws your attention to your right, where Bucky is stepping into the parking garage looking totally different than when you saw him upstairs half an hour ago. His messy hair has been washed and dried, his flesh and metal biceps are hidden within the sleeves of his leather jacket, and his neck is no longer glistening with a sheen of sweat. You’re unashamedly focusing on the way his jeans are accentuating the muscles of his thighs when he starts stripping off his leather jacket.

“Put this on.” He says as he holds the jacket out to you with one hand, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans with the other to fish out the key for his bike. Your eyes widen as you stare at the jacket in his outstretched hand. Shaking your head, you take a step back from him.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not riding on the back of my bike with skin showing, it’s not safe.”

“The back of your bike? Bucky, we’re taking a car.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky can’t ignore the way your breasts are slightly pushed up by the action, a hint of cleavage peeking out over the lowcut neckline of your top. He quickly averts his gaze back to his motorcycle that stands a few feet in front of you both, a sigh leaving his lips at your stubbornness.

“Just put on the damn jacket.” He says, looking over at you one more time, but this time with a softened expression. You don’t know why you comply and take the jacket from him, but you do. It’s warmed from his body heat when you slip your arms into it and the way it engulfs you and pulls down on your shoulders with a bit of weight is almost comforting.

The motorcycle ride to the bar, however, is anything but comforting. The only other time you’ve ever been so close to Bucky was that night at the grocery store when he cozied up behind you for show. But this felt different. This involved your chest pressed against his back, your inner thighs brushing against his hips, and your arms wrapped around his torso. This felt intimate. It felt the same way to Bucky and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard he tried. When he stopped at a redlight in the city, you let your hold around his abdomen relax for a moment. Your hands slid down to rest on the tops of his thighs as you remained pressed against his back, and he was praying for the light to turn green again before one of your hands had a chance to shift and find out how hard he was beneath the fabric of his jeans. He can only blame himself for the torture, since he was the one that insisted you take the bike.

When you turn onto the right street, you’re quick to tap Bucky’s thigh with your hand, completely missing the way he tenses up beneath your unexpected touch. You use that same hand to point to a small parking garage across the street from the bar that you’ll be heading into, and Bucky gets the signal. It’s only two minutes later that he’s parking his bike on the third floor of the garage and trying to keep his eyes off of you as you stand beside the bike, removing your helmet carefully. Some part of him can’t help but think that you’re being so careful because you want to look your best when you waltz into the bar to meet your ex, and he fucking hates it. He has the sudden urge to mess your hair up and send you in there looking like shit. But that urge only makes him think about all of the ways he could mess your hair up. He could grab you by it and pull you against him, he could run his hands through it and rake it into a ponytail while you’re on your knees for him…shit. He just volunteered to drive you to the bar to meet your ex. He can’t do a damn thing.

You hand Bucky your helmet and immediately start smoothing down your hair, seeing the look of disdain he gives you but choosing to ignore it. He had no obligation to be here with you tonight, but he insisted, so he has to put up with it.

“You don’t have to go in with me, I can do this on my own.” You say, hoping Bucky will choose to wait for you in the parking garage rather than go inside the bar with you.

“What are you planning to do?” Bucky asks, swinging his leg over as he dismounts the bike and joins you on the concrete floor. He stands in front of you, slipping his gloves off and resting them on the seat of the bike before reaching under the chin of his helmet to undo the strap there. Your eyes drift to the veins on his flesh hand and golden accents on his vibranium hand as you formulate a believable response.

“Hear him out, give him closure or whatever he’s here for.”

“Whatever he’s here for?” Bucky repeats your words almost sarcastically, scoffing beneath his helmet. When he pulls it off and rests it on the seat next to his gloves, you can see he’s scowling. “Why are you playing dumb? He’s here for you.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s with someone else now, and he thinks I am too.” You point out. A low chuckle rumbles past Bucky’s lips as he runs a hand through his hair and starts toward the concrete staircase on the other end of the floor.

“That’s exactly why he’s doing this, because he thinks you’re with someone else and he can’t stand it.” Bucky sounds so sure of himself, as if he’s experienced something like this before. In fact, he sounds so sure that it makes you wonder if he really has experienced this before.

“You think he’s jealous? You saw the girl he was with, didn’t you?” You question, falling into step next to Bucky. His leather jacket still sits heavy on your shoulders but giving it back to him hasn’t even crossed your mind yet. Bucky’s hoping you’ll forget about it and keep it on when you walk in and sit down across from that piece of shit ex you’re here for.

“She doesn’t have shit on you and he knows it.” His words leave your lips parted and your eyes widening in surprise as he reaches the staircase and starts heading down in front of you. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. For the most part, you’ve only ever heard him talk about you with an air of annoyance or indifference, but you could swear that what he just said was almost complimentary. If you could see the grimace on Bucky’s face, you’d know you were right. When he saw the blonde in the grocery store, he wanted to laugh at the way the guy had downgraded after losing you. She was pretty, sure, but you glow like the fucking sun even on your worst day.

“So, what should I be doing here tonight then?” You ask, knowing Bucky probably has a plan in mind if he came all this way just to witness what’s about to go down.

“Showing him that you don’t need him, that you’re better off without him.” You reach the bottom of the stairs and step out onto the sidewalk across from the bar. Bucky turns to face you as you scan the area for a crosswalk.

“And how do I do that?”

“For starters…” Bucky says, stepping closer to you and grabbing the front of his leather jacket that you’re still sporting, “keep this on.”

---

Bucky’s been standing at the bar for the last fifteen minutes, nursing both a beer and an aching jaw. The ache is from how hard he’s been clenching his teeth together since your ex strolled in and took the seat across from you at a little two-seater table across the room. Of course, the guy showed up without his new girl. And, of course, he’s been trying like hell to get you to smile and laugh at whatever half-assed jokes he’s been cracking since he sat down. Bucky knew the guy wasn’t after closure.

He watches with a less-than-pleased look on his face as the guy leans his elbows on the table and rests his hands a little too close to yours, but you don’t pull away. You’re sitting facing Bucky’s direction, yet you haven’t once let your eyes flit up to meet his. It’s infuriating. Bucky strains his ears to pick out your conversation through the din of the usual bar chatter around him. He listens intently as the guy tells you that it was nice to run into you at the grocery store, that he didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, that he missed the way you laughed. What a fucking ass. If Bucky remembers correctly, from overhearing gossip among the team, the guy had you nearly head over heels for him, and then one day he pulled the rug out from under you in and instant. He never even gave you much of a reason why. He simply called you up, ended the relationship over the phone, and a week later you heard through the grapevine that he’d met someone else. Why you felt compelled to meet the guy here tonight, Bucky will never understand. He doesn’t think the prick deserves even a minute of your time.

“So, you’re really seeing someone else now?” The man’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Bucky’s sensitive ears, but he continues to focus on your conversation anyway. Bucky has to know how you’ll respond. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you push a stray lock of hair back over your shoulder, over the shoulder of his leather jacket, and then you blush. Why are you blushing? Bucky’s heart starts to race in the slightest because he can’t figure out if you’re blushing at the idea of you and him being together or at your ex prying into your personal life.

“Yeah, he uh…at the grocery store, he…” You stutter through your answer. Like Bucky previously said, you’re a bad liar. The pink showing through the skin of your cheeks darkens another shade as you look away from your ex. Your eyes finally land on Bucky, who’s now standing at the bar facing you head-on. He holds your gaze assuredly and gives you a small nod, letting you know that you’re saying the right things. Somehow, just making eye contact with him and getting that small nod of approval calms your nerves.

“Right, I remember. I guess I kind of thought that was a joke.”

“A joke?” You ask, a bit offended at your ex’s confession. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck and lets out an awkward laugh before leaning back in his chair comfortably and taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, I mean the guy said you only ever fuck raw. You never once asked me to fuck you raw. It just didn’t sound believable.” Huh. You’re silent for a moment as you sip on your own drink and let your gaze float back to Bucky once more, unaware that he’s just heard every word that the man said. The two of you stare at each other with some kind of…tension in the air between your table and the bar. Honestly, if you and Bucky were actually together in some alternate universe where you didn’t find each other incredibly annoying from the start, you think you would love to let him fuck you without protection. Something about it just sounds so filthy and enticing. But when you imagine it with the man that’s currently sitting in front of you, the man who promised you a lifetime and then kicked you to the curb like a broken piece of furniture, you cringe. No, you never asked him to take off the condom, and you probably never would have. Truthfully, that should’ve been a sign.

Bucky’s eyes analyze the two of you as you put on a tight-lipped smile and then relax in your seat, fiddling with the zipper of the leather jacket draped around your frame.

“It didn’t sound believable?” You ask softly, looking up through your lashes in a way that makes Bucky’s cock twitch, and he’s not even the one you’re looking at. When you do flit your eyes over to him, he can sense the change in your demeanor instantly. You’re not coming off so lighthearted and timid now, you’re giving off an air that says you-don’t-know-who-the-fuck-I-am anymore. “When I look at you, I can’t even fathom the two of us having unprotected sex. It never once crossed my mind to ask you for that. But when I look at him?” You let your gaze travel over to Bucky once more, and this time your ex catches on. He turns in his chair, scanning the bar behind him until he sees the super soldier leaning against the bar with a smug smile on full display. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.”

---

Bucky’s leather jacket weighing on your shoulders, his body warmth seeping through his t-shirt and offering you reprieve from the wind that’s hitting you both head-on, his right hand reaching back to grip the side of your thigh as he weaves his bike skillfully in and out of traffic on the way back to the compound. All of those things are mixing and swirling together to create a near suffocating tension. You’re focusing on keeping your helmet from bumping into the back of his and even more than that, on keeping your mind out of the damn gutter. What you’d said back at the bar, the final thing you’d said before your ex realized he had no chance at getting back together with you, it was true. When you look at Bucky, you can’t stop imagining him fucking you without anything between your body and his. You don’t know when that started or when it might end, but it’s true. So, you left with him, climbing onto the back of his bike much more willingly than you had earlier in the evening. Not because you wanted to be close to him, but because you wanted to get home as fast as possible so you could get the hell away from him. Where on earth did this new found attraction come from? Why was your mind betraying your body with every single glance in his direction? Fuck physiology.

Bucky can almost hear you overthinking behind him as he turns off of the interstate and onto a quiet, private road leading up to the compound. Hell, he’s overthinking too. He heard what you said at the bar, and he saw the look in your eyes when you said it. Had you been thinking about him the same way he’d been thinking about you since that night at the grocery store. No, there’s no way. If you really had been, then you wouldn’t have wanted to meet up with your ex tonight. Bucky lets out a breath and slows the bike as he nears the entrance to the parking garage. Neither of you said a word when your ex stormed out of the bar, nor did either of you when you made the walk across the street to the public parking garage and started the ride back home. It’s been silent, unbearably silent for too long.

When Bucky finally parks the bike among the various vehicles owned by your friends and colleagues that reside upstairs, it seems as though you can’t get away from him fast enough. You swing your leg over and dismount the bike quickly before slipping your helmet off and taking a few steps over to the wall to set it on the shelf it originally came from. You’re halfway to the elevator when Bucky speaks, stopping you in your tracks.

“The jacket, sweetheart.” He says coolly. When you turn around, you see him still sitting on the bike, looking down at the helmet he holds in his hands. It almost bothers you that he isn’t looking back at you. He can call you sweetheart but he can’t lift his eyes to your face? You let out a deep sigh before walking back over to him and standing a foot away from him and the bike. You strip off the leather jacket a bit reluctantly before holding it out to him. You have to admit you feel a bit like you’re missing something without it on now. Bucky takes it without glancing in your direction, and as soon as you turn on your heel to walk away, you can hear him dismounting the bike and setting his own helmet on the shelf. You’ve just hit the button to call the elevator down to the garage when he decides to speak once again. “You’re a bad liar.”

“What?”

“You’re a bad liar. I don’t know much about you, but I know that.” Bucky says. You stand in front of the elevator but you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he’s speaking so ominously. You watch him carefully as he turns away from the shelf and faces you, but still doesn’t lift his gaze to meet yours. Instead, he smooths out his leather jacket before laying it over one arm and tucking the keys to his bike into the back pocket of his jeans.

“What does that have to do with anything?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes dart back to the screen above the elevator. It’s still so many floors away from reaching you.

“I knew you were lying when you told me he hadn’t texted you. I don’t even think your piece-of-shit ex believed you at first when he asked if you were really seeing someone new, you couldn’t even get a full sentence out. You’re a bad liar.” The words pour out of his mouth with ease, as if he pre-planned the entire speech. When you don’t say anything, he finally lifts his eyes to meet your narrowed stare. A shiver runs down your spine, but you blame it on the fact that you’re no longer wearing his jacket. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.” When Bucky repeats your words so perfectly, you can feel all of the color draining from your face. “When you said that, you didn’t stutter, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t lying.”

“You think I was being honest?” The question leaves your lips with a hint of anger edging each word. Bucky merely shrugs in response, tilting his head to the side as he waits for you to answer your own question, since it’s obvious that he thinks you were being honest. “You think I look at you and imagine you fucking me raw?”

“Do you?” Bucky taunts, licking his bottom lip before drawing it between his lips and pressing his top teeth into it. Your gaze darts down to his lips against your better judgement, and when your eyes settle back on his, all you see is a reflection of what you’re sure your own eyes are showing. Lust. He thinks about it. He thinks about fucking you raw. In this moment, you’re sure. In fact, he’s thinking about it right now.

Your feet start moving before you even have a moment to consider the action, they’re carrying you straight toward him, ignoring the elevator that’s just arrived to take you away from him. When you stop a few inches in front of him, he’s staring down at you with a raised brow and building anticipation. He wants your answer.

“Yes.” You breathe the word out. In an instant, Bucky’s dropping his jacket to the floor and tangling his flesh hand in the hair at the nape of your neck as his pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. It’s a kiss that takes your breath away and fills your lungs with a fiery burn, yet you don’t want to break for air. You kiss him back, moving your lips to suck along his bottom one as you tilt your head to the right to give each of you better access. Bucky languidly drags the tip of his tongue along your top lip before snaking it lower and letting it delve into your mouth. God, he might’ve imagined fucking you but truthfully, he forgot to imagine kissing you. He never would’ve thought it could be this good. His vibranium arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer into him until his body warmth begins sending tingles across the surface of your skin. Once he has you flush against him, that same cool metal hand begins unwrapping from your back and traveling down until it’s in place to grip a handful of your ass, hard. When you gasp into the kiss, Bucky pulls back and bites down on your bottom lip. Fuck. If you don’t stop him now, he won’t be able to stop himself from having you right here in the garage. As if you’re reading his mind, you place both hands on his chest and pull your head back until there’s an inch of space between your mouths. While your eyes are focused on his pink nose and swollen lips, your mind is focused on what you feel pressing against your thigh. He’s fully erect, his cock straining against the front of his jeans just from kissing you. You could overthink this, let your mind weigh all of the pros and cons of what’s happening right now, and then convince yourself to be responsible and go upstairs to your own room, pretending this never happened. But for some reason, your right hand is already coasting down his chest, over his abs, and sliding between your lower bodies. You find yourself palming the outline of his cock, offering him such a perfect amount of pressure and friction that he can’t help but lean his hips forward and press his cock further into your touch.

“If you don’t stop now…” Bucky rasps, but his eyes flutter closed and he bites down on his lower lip before he’s even finished the sentence, your sensual touch getting the better of him.

“If I don’t stop now?” You encourage him to say what he wants to say, but you can’t fight the teasing smile that’s beginning to play on your lips.

“If you don’t stop now, you won’t be able to return all of those pregnancy tests on your next grocery run.” You laugh lightly as you lean in and press a soft kiss against Bucky’s jawline, continuing to rub his erection through the taut fabric of his jeans. “Are you thinking about fucking me raw, James?” You tease. Bucky groans before opening his eyes and pulling you away from his jaw by your hair. He doesn’t stop you from slowly sliding your hand back and forth along the outline of his cock, but he makes sure you’re looking right in his eyes before he speaks again.

“Right here in this damn parking garage.”

Without a single thought in either of your minds, Bucky lets you push your palms flat against his chest and walk him back until he stumbles onto the seat of his motorcycle. In one swift movement, you slip your hand past the waistband of his jeans and boxers and the warm skin of your hand comes into contact with his hard length, without anything between the two of you. Bucky lets out a heady groan and his hands begin moving all on their own, working to unbutton and unzip his jeans to give your hand as much space as possible. As soon as he has his pants undone, you shift your hand and wrap it firmly around his cock, giving it a slow stroke inside of his boxers. When you near the head of it, a bead of precum drips onto the side of your thumb and you smile to yourself as you spread it back over the smooth tip of his cock. What is it about having a man this way that makes a woman feel so damn powerful? Bucky looks at you with a mix of annoyance and awe at the way you’re working his cock so effortlessly yet turning him into putty in your hands. He’ll let you have your fun for now, and then he’ll show you that he can have the same effect on you.

The moment your eyes lock onto his, he slides his right hand along the side of your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss, the taste of your lips and the feel of your hand stroking back and forth along his hard-on is nearly enough to send him over the edge, and he inhales sharply, tugging his lips away from your own.

“I’m not going to have much use for those pregnancy tests if we keep going like this, am I?” You ask jokingly, as you remove your hand from Bucky’s pants and raise it up to your face. Bucky runs a hand through his hair as he blows out a breath and watches you intently. Your thumb, still a bit shiny and wet from his precum, ventures dangerously close to your mouth. You keep your eyes trained on Bucky’s as you use that same thumb to tug down your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth and sucking.

“Oh, fuck.” Bucky groans, his rationality fleeing as his own flesh hand delves into his pants and begins mimicking your actions from a moment ago. The way your eyes follow his movements, your pupils blown wide with lust as you watch him touch himself, it’s too damn much for him. He grabs you by the hair once again, in that desperate, needy way that you’re quickly growing to love, and pulls you against his chest, kissing you as fervently as the first time. However, this kiss doesn’t last. He pulls away from you in an instant and suddenly, his hand is on your shoulder, pushing you down to your knees. Before you reach the floor, he uses the toe of his boot to slide his discarded leather jacket across the floor to cushion your knees. So fucking thoughtful.

Bucky stands up with you on your knees in front of him and his bike resting on its kickstand behind him. His eyes never part from your face as he pushes his already undone pants and boxers down his thighs just enough to free his cock from their confines. Your breath hitches in your throat as soon as you lay eyes on it, as soon as you lay eyes on the sheer size of it. Bucky doesn’t make a move to stop you as you reach up with both hands and take hold of his length, using one hand to begin stroking it from the base to the tip while your other hand grips his thigh. Your eyes widen at the way it looks even bigger in your hand, which is a mental image that Bucky will probably be recalling every day for the rest of his life. You’re more than ready to lean in and take him in your mouth, to experience every second of what it’s like to suck him off, but his gentle touch halts your movements. His flesh hand softly cups the side of your face as he lets his thumb caress the skin over your cheekbone.

“You’re so much bigger than he was.” You whisper, your eyes traveling up Bucky’s torso until you’re getting lost in his gaze. It’s true. Your ex was…well below average in this department. But Bucky? God, Bucky is so far above average it’s actually making you wonder if you can even fit half of him in your mouth. Bucky chuckles lowly before tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and then copying your earlier move. He slips the pad of his thumb between your lips and watches with hooded eyes as you eagerly accept it, sucking on it gently. Fuck. He’s so ruined. Only a moment later, he’s standing there with his head thrown back and a string of curses are falling from his mouth as you bob your head back and forth, letting his cock slide along your tongue and brush against the back of your throat repeatedly. He’s fully lost in the pleasure of your mouth. He’s so lost, in fact, that when you grip his thighs with both hands and lean into him as far as you possibly can, letting your nose brush against his lower stomach and your throat tighten around his shaft as you gag, he lets out a groan that reverberates through the parking garage and sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.

“Fuck, do that again.” He rasps, finally looking down at you as you pull your head back until only the tip is resting on your tongue. A smile plays behind your eyes as you dare to look up at him. He can’t help himself. Both of his hands move to run through your hair, encouraging you to do exactly what he just said. You repeat your actions, moving your head forward and taking his entire length in until you gag a second time. But this time, Bucky holds your head still there for two seconds. His eyes squeeze shut as your throat grips his cock tighter and tighter, the sensation bringing him so close to the edge that he abruptly pulls back and leaves only half of his length for you to taste. “Just like that, shit.” Another minute of your mouth doing exactly what Bucky wants and he’s fighting with every cell in his body to delay the inevitable. He wanted to fuck you raw, truly, it was his intention from the moment you admitted you thought about it. But having you like this? Having you on your knees for him, telling him that his dick is bigger than the last piece of shit you were with? God, he’s so close to cumming in your mouth that it almost hurts.

“I’m so fucking close.” He groans the words out as if he’s in pain, as if he’s holding back because he doesn’t want to cum in your mouth. That just won’t do. So, you release him from your mouth with a pop and start working him with your hand as you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.

“You don’t want to cum in my mouth?” You ask innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. It’s the same way you looked in the bar earlier and he feels his last bit of resolve crumbling. He could easily cum in your mouth, but that’s just not what he needs right now. In that desperate, needy way that you love, Bucky grasps your hair and pulls you to your feet. A whimper leaves your lips as his cock slips out of your hand.

“No.” Bucky says calmly, turning you around and pushing your back forward until your hands land on the seat of his bike. “I’m going to give you a reason to use one of those damn pregnancy tests.”

He’s swift in pulling down your jeans and panties with both hands, and then lining his cock up with your entrance and making you think he’s going to fuck you. But no, Bucky lets the tip of his cock gather the wetness that you’ve been sitting in since you left the bar, and then he begins chasing his release with his own hand. You let out a needy whine, pushing your hips back against him and hoping his cock will just happen to notch inside of you and slide all the way in, but Bucky isn’t going to let it happen until he’s ready.

He has a plan. He’s going to fill you with his cum first, then use his fingers, his tongue, and his cock to fuck it back into you after. The next time your run into your ex, Bucky wants you to be so fucking pregnant that the guy loses his goddamn mind.

There will be no tag list for the smut menu requests.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #mcu #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

6K notes · View notes

tojipie · 6 months

Text

welcome home <3

he’s unboxed ! who cheered. by far one of my most requested fics of all time. started this series 6 months ago and it remains one of my favs :,) this is by no means the end though ! i haven’t been writing any of the additions to this series in “order” and i am still 100% open to writing about his life inside/after prison lol. thank u to all the lovely ppl that have been showing love to these since april mwah mwah mwah mwah

as always, prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: (incarceration, fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, p in v smut, pining, road head, swallowing, creampie, dirty talk, multiple rounds)

“just step through here and—yep,” the guard waves his security want across your outstretched arms, clearing you to take your belongings from the conveyor belt.

you’d done this dance a hundred times over the past seven years, driving up to the district penitentiary twice a week to see your boyfriend—now fiancé.

toji told you he didn’t have it in him to wait, popping the question during a conjugal visit a month ago.

the man had known he’d wanted to marry you even before he got locked up. the feeling was mutual, but unspoken, always hanging in the air between the two of you.

you on the other hand had known you wanted to marry toji the moment he whispered his first “i love you,” said to you through the crackly speaker of a burner phone on a night when neither of you knew if he’d be coming home or not.

you make a beeline for the release wing, breaking into a subtle jog without drawing too much attention to yourself. the bouquet of green flowers you’d bought at the grocery store jostles in your purse, leaving a breadcrumb trail of stray petals.

there, around a bend and down the corridor stands the man of your dreams, flanked by officers and personnel at the front desk.

metal cuffs clack together as the man reaches to accept a clipboard from the release agent, skillfully uncapping the pen with his teeth to fill out the means for his freedom.

he looks up a split second before you speak, dropping the clipboard with an audible clatter. toji tears down the corridor with a look that speaks of relief beyond words.

“toji!” you yell, sprinting to the inmate with outstretched arms. you nearly trip over your own feet with how quick you barrel towards him.

warm bodies clash together at last, squeezing, cradling, and caressing every inch of each other at last. his law enforcement entourage watches from afar, some smiling, others annoyed.

you’re lifted clean off the ground as strong, tattooed arms slip over your head and around your body. thick fingers work their way into your hair, cradling your head to his shoulder.

actions speak louder than words, you know that much from how quickly he buckles, dropping to his knees with your body still wrapped around his.

toji smells different every time you come to visit. there were days when the tang of blood stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed, a telling sign of his short temper.

other days he’d smell like the earth, soil from the rec field permeating his already brown garments after his morning run.

once in a while, you’d catch hints of industrial paint and car exhaust, a smell built up from hours of making license plates for pocket change from the state. “pennies,” he’d tell you, “that’s all we fucking get in here.”

today, toji smells like himself. like the man you fell in love with 7 years ago in the passenger seat of a BMW, gazing into green eyes while gentle hands brushed the hair from your face.

you almost think he’s laughing until warm tears trickle through the porous fabric of your shirt.

strong shoulders quiver as quiet sobs rack his body, you rub his back in small circles, unable to pull away with how tight he’s holding you against his chest.

“i love you,” the inmate whimpers, wiping hot tears with his sleeve. he pulls back to press your lips together, mumbling nonsense in between kisses.

“pretty girl—m’ sorry— missed you,” his hands shake as they curl into the fabric at your waist.

you’d seen him cry exactly twice in his life. the first being the night he’d opened up to you in full for the first time, quietly relaying stories of neglect and abuse from his childhood while you kissed tears from his cheeks.

the second was well, the day he went away.

to see him break down like this so openly was devastating. he hated being emotional, told you it was humiliating. you’re sure he felt more than vulnerable, the leader of the city’s biggest drug ring, crumpled on the floor of a prison hallway

“it’s okay baby,” you tell him, still rubbing circles into his skin.

to touch him like this, at last, was unlike anything the two of you had been allowed to experience for the past 7 years. this wasn’t your two legally allowed hugs at the beginning and end of your visits, or a quick fuck in a storage closet.

this was love. to hold and be held in front of law enforcement personnel without threat of being reprimanded. this was the first time you had been allowed to feel him under the tips of your fingers with an audience, publicly declaring your claim on each other without fear.

you never blamed toji for what had happened, as angry as you were that first year. he blamed himself enough for the both of you really.

you’d come to learn over the years that it had already been too late for him to get out of his line of work way before you’d found each other, a cycle he couldn’t break.

prison was always a possibility, inevitable even. that’s just how it was.

you slowly gather your purse off the ground, cellophane-wrapped flowers coming into view.

“for me?” he laughs, slightly embarrassed. dark green carnations, just like his eyes.

“who else?” you tease, watching the distress melt from his face.

you share a look briefly, yours saying you’re safe with me. his saying i know.

the soft clicks of black work boots pull you from your thoughts, a female officer in tow.

“you guys ready to get started?” she asks softly, shooting you a sympathetic look.

toji stands with a chuckle, not letting you respond. silver cuffs dig into the meat of your thighs as you’re carried back to the group.

˚ ✧ ───────────

half an hour of paperwork for his freedom. that’s what you give the prison in exchange for his belongings and dignity.

the waiting room is quiet, sterile air filtering through dated vents. calloused fingers rub over your ankle, legs propped up in his lap.

“feels like a hospital in here,” he mumbles, trying to cut through the silence.

the cuffs are gone, thank god. though you’re more than unhappy with the marks they left on his wrists. toji doesn’t seem to mind, used to almost a decade of this treatment.

the release desk worker slides you two a yellow bag under the glass divider once you finish your task, pointing you in the direction of the bathrooms in case toji wanted to change.

the inmate—no, ex-inmate you remind yourself— hands you the bag with a disinterested look.

he doesn’t want to remember, you realize. too scared to wear the suit he had on the day the world took you from him. you quickly trash the old clothes and hold out your shoulder bag to him, fresh clothes neatly folded inside.

“always prepared huh?” toji smiles, grateful at the gesture. “haven’t changed a bit.”

you wait a couple of minutes outside the single-stall bathroom, physically picking your jaw up off the floor when he emerges.

to say that his old shirt fit would be... egregiously wrong. blasphemous even.

toji’s shirt doesn’t just “not fit”, it’s bursting at the seams as it struggles to accommodate his hulking form, stretching over plains of corded muscle like a rubber band pulled too tight.

seeing him so often had likely gotten your brain used to the change, preventing you from realizing how fucking big your fiancé had gotten. truly.

the black garment is so tight against his body that it’s practically a second skin. you make note of the way it molds into the dips and curves of his abs, mentally reminding yourself to get him to wear it for you later.

you suppose the change makes sense. if toji wasn’t with you on a day visit he was always in his cell, sticking to a strict workout regimen to take his mind off things. still, you rack your brain trying to pinpoint how and when such a massive transformation slipped your mind.

a tattooed hand snaps you out of your trance, cradling your cheek.

“you focused?” your fiancé teases, rubbing circles into your jaw with his thumb.

“i think that thing’s gonna explode if you move,” you swat his hand away.

“would you rather i take it off to be safe?” he asks, jutting a thumb behind him at the waiting room desk.

the workers make no attempt to hide their oggling, faces pressed against the glass barrier separating your party from theirs.

“no— god keep it on,” you mutter, shooting them a nasty look.

“you and your girlfriend ready to go fushiguro?” an officer says, holding the door open for the both of you. toji squats down momentarily to get a grip on your thighs, folding you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.

“wife,” he corrects, shouldering past the guard and trudging down the corridor with calculated steps.

the coos that ring out from the help desk are humiliating.

waxed tile fades into worn concrete as the two of you pass the threshold into the prison parking lot, your soon-to-be-husband muttering a curt “go fuck yourselves” to the officers who’d wished him good luck on his way out the door.

you’re proud of him for holding his tongue, in a way. knowing toji and his temper there were a hundred more creative and undoubtedly gruesome things he could have said to the personnel who’d kept him locked up for the better half of a decade.

the world flips right side up again as you’re gently placed on your feet in front of the car.

toji raises his head to the sky, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“s’ nice,” he mumbles, reaching to intertwine your hands. “felt the sun during rev time but.. not like this.”

you hum, rubbing your thumb over tattooed knuckles.

“get ready to experience a lot more sun then,” you giggle. “wanna have a look at the car?” the question is more of a rhetorical one at this point considering he’s already running his hand over the hood with a whistle.

“haven’t seen this baby in a while,” he smiles, internally gushing at your choice to welcome him to the world in the car he used to drive you home the night you met. your fiancé doesn’t have to say thank you, you know how grateful he is from his smile alone.

he falters for a bit, looking like a newborn fawn with how careful his steps are as he circles the vehicle. you figure wearing proper shoes instead of rubber slides must feel at least a little abnormal after 7 long years.

“alright,” toji states, rolling his shoulders in his too-tight top. “fuck are we waiting for, i wanna go home.”

˚ ✧ ───────────

you pay no mind to toji the first time he turns to look at you, opening his mouth to say something before slumping back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.

the fourth time it happens, you speak up.

“what are you doing?” you laugh, eyeing him from the driver's seat

“getting rubbed to death by my fucking zipper,” he mutters, repositioning his lower half to take the pressure off his cock. his frustration isn’t aimed at you in the slightest, all blame placed on his bottoms.

oh.. oh.

the whirlwind of emotions toji had gone through in the past 3 hours alone had taken a toll on his mind and body. but tasting the first morsels of freedom with you, alone in a car that smelled like you? you’d be worried if he wasn’t hard.

you had no problem helping his little problem go away, the question was how soon.

the idea that piques on you is absolutely shameful, you’re not even sure where it came from but you don’t have it in you to care.

you know this road, you’ve used it a thousand times to make the trip up to the penitentiary. judging by how long you’d been driving you’d say there was about 10 minutes left before ruler-straight tar merged into the twists and turns of the suburbs.

“when did your license expire?” you ask, cautiously peering in the rearview mirror. good, no cars.

“3 years ago,” he laughs, “why?”

fuck it, you think.

“you still remember how to steer?”

“course i d— oh.”

it finally dawns on him. you smile, shooting him a look that says “want to?”

you’re sure you have your answer judging by how quick he shucks his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines.

“oh fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open as your mouth presses against his base.

your fiancé steers while your head bobs just beneath the dash, one hand on the wheel and the other placed firmly at the crown of your head, guiding you up and down the shaft.

your throat flexes around the intrusion, fighting the hulking feeling of his length mercilessly fucking into your mouth.

“fuck, perfect girl— my girl,” he shudders, hips moving to buck into your slick throat.

“gonna cum, gonna— shit,”

fingers kissed in dark ink massage your throat softly, urging you to swallow the hot load coating every inch of your mouth. you flutter around his length, pulling back to clean him off with your tongue.

“fucks gotten into you, pretty girl?” he whispers, so out of breath you barely hear him.

˚ ✧ ───────────

you barely make it up the steps of the house before you’re shoved against the door, tattooed hands groping up and down your body with fervor.

“keys,” he says against your lips, “keys—fuck, now,” his voice is hoarser this time, desperation clear.

you whip around to jam the item into the lock, not unaware of the rock-hard dick grinding into your jean-clad ass from behind.

you’re being carried to the couch before you even step off the doormat, a stray throw blanket cushioning your fall as you’re pressed into squeaky leather.

“won’t be gentle,” toji groans, ripping your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.” can’t right now.”

“don’t be.” you say, rucking his shirt off his body surprisingly quick. “wouldn’t want you to.”

you needed him, needed toji to have his way with you. to christen your home round after round until you couldn’t feel where his body and yours ended.

when it came down to it, you suppose

he smiles at the crude admission, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds.

“filthy,” he mutters, said almost lovingly. toji grips his base and sinks to the hilt with a sharp groan, shuddering at the heat of your walls.

the stretch is delicious, filling you from every angle and pressing right against that special spot. you’re surprised at how easily he slams in, though you’re embarrassed to admit it was entirely because of how soaked you were.

toji immediately pulls back with a flick of his hips, pistoning into you like his life depends on it.

he hasn’t changed, you think. still so incredibly in tune with your body, skills that would put a pornstar to shame.

this was better than some quick closeted fuck under the cover of night after slipping a guard a rubber band of cash. this was primal, filthy. two bodies writhing against each other, the only goal being complete and utter pleasure.

toji makes no effort to shush you like he would if you were sneaking around, basking in your sighs and whines like water from a stream.

“missed this,” he says, licking a long, wet stripe from your sternum to your pulse. “missed you, missed having you every day.”

“you’ll have me forever,” you moan, sucking a purple bruise into the tattooed skin of his throat.

thick fingers thread into your hair to hold you to his neck, silently commanding you to bite down.

and so you do. you bite down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, licking over pink teeth marks as his thrusts reach their maximum speed.

the pleasure you feel is blinding. stars explode behind your vision while the curve of his cock hits that heavenly spot in you just right. over, and over, and over.

your climax sneaks up on you before you can think, ripping a wail from the depths of your chest. toji’s thrusts falter to a halt as you lock down on him, pleasantly caught off guard by the vice grip you have around him.

“oh my g— holy shit,” he groans, mouth hanging open. dark brows furrow it to a look of pure pleasure, emerald eyes squeezing tight.

“keep going,” you mumble, scratching rivets down the skin of his back. “just keep fucking me please don’t stop please pl—”

“yeah? keep going?” he teases, groping at the swell of your breast. “greedy huh?”

you did want more, that was the thing. you just came the hardest you ever had in years but you’d be damned if he didn’t keep giving it to you.

brutal thrusts shake the frame of the couch. your bodies meld like they were made for each other, sharing pleasure in the comfort that came with the knowledge that the both of you intended to fuck until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“gonna come,” your fiancé pants, mouthing at the curve of one of your breasts. blunt teeth brush over the bud of your nipple, sending shockwaves down your spine

“inside, fuck—please,” you’re practically shaking.

“inside?” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like gold. “you want my seed? huh?”

you nod, clutching to his naked back as he ruts into you, deeper than ever. strong hands grip the back of your thighs practically folding you in half, opening you up in ways you thought to be impossible.

hot release fills you up for the second time that day, shrouding your lower half in a blanket of warmth.

you sigh, low and satiated at the feeling inside of you, pulling toji to your chest when he collapses on top of you.

“we should probably..” toji trails off, completely out of breath. “should probably head upstairs.” he heaves, chest swelling with deep gulps of air.

“or we could go another round?” you mumble, throwing the question out there.

“shit, yeah.. probably should right?” he chuckles

taglist ! 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82

4K notes · View notes

dead-dove-yandere · 2 months

Text

OC Intro - ╹◡╹

Secret Admirer Yandere

??? ♡ ??? ♡ Human? ♡ Office Worker

TW: Stalking, obsession, delusional behaviour, threats, mention of a blade, implied kidnapping/murder

♡ - You’re an office worker - it’s not your ideal job, but it pays the bills. You keep your work life strictly separate from the rest of your life, always keeping your head down and focusing on the task at hand rather than talking to any of your colleagues, but not working hard enough to get noticed for a promotion. You don’t plan to stick around in this career after all.

♡ - Any of your coworkers shouldn’t have known much about you at all. To be honest, you didn’t know much about any of them anyway. You were perfectly happy just blending into the background.

♡ - But, one Monday morning, as you near your desk, you notice something unusual. Pasted right on the corner of your computer monitor, sits a post it note. At first you assume someone missed you and wanted to leave a reminder for some kind of memo or meeting, but reading it sends a shiver down your spine.

♡ - “Have a wonderful day at work, honey. ╹◡╹”

♡ - You stare at the message on the yellow post it, written in red biro, trying to fathom who it’s from. You assume someone must have left it on the wrong desk by mistake, and throw the post it away.

♡ - The post its don’t stop though. Everyday you come to your desk and see a new one, all with similar cutesy messages, all signed off with that smiley face.

♡ - “Make sure to drink plenty of water! ╹◡╹”

♡ - “You look amazing today, honey. ╹◡╹”

♡ - “I miss you so much! ╹◡╹”

♡ - On Friday, you get sick of it. You go around, asking all your coworkers if their partners have perhaps got the wrong desk, but no one seems to recognise the handwriting.

♡ - Giving it up as a bad job, you decide to talk to HR about it once Monday rolls around again.

♡ - The weekend comes as a bit of relief, but it doesn’t last long.

♡ - Monday inevitably arrives, and again, there is a post it note on your desk. You do a quick tour of the office, hoping to perhaps catch the culprit, but everyone has yellow post it notes on their desk - there is no way to tell who it is from.

♡ - You go to HR, but there is little they can do for you without any knowledge or proof of who is leaving them. Deflated, you go back to your desk and work, trying to focus but unable to.

♡ - When Friday rolls around again, the note reads differently than usual.

♡ - “You seemed stressed, honey. Let me take you out tonight - my treat. Meet me at 7, at that restaurant we both like. Wear something nice. ╹◡╹”

♡ - You haven’t a clue what restaurant they mean, and even if you did, there is no way in hell you are going with some stranger that seems to have some strange one sided love for you. You crumple the note in frustration and throw it away, as you have with all the other post it notes.

♡ - Monday arrives again, but this time instead of a note, it seems there is a letter.

♡ - it’s written on the standard issue memo paper found anywhere around the office. It seems crumpled and tear stained. Whoever is writing them seems to have switched from a red biro to a red ink pen, but the ink seems oddly dark and brown.

♡ - “Honey. I waited for you all night. You never showed. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? How humiliating it was to be sobbing in the middle of the restaurant? I came back here at the weekend and found all my love notes for you in your bin. Why are you so cruel? Did I do something wrong? Do you not love me anymore? You’re coming home tonight. I let you stay at your own place long enough, I know new couples need time before moving in together but this has gone too far. You haven’t even visited or called or texted once. Come home. We have some serious discussion to do. ╹︵╹”

♡ - You can’t bring yourself to get any work done, you can’t bring yourself to eat, you can’t even bring yourself to try and tell HR again. You stand up and do another lap of the office, carefully examining everyone’s faces, trying to work out who might have sent this damned letter, but you can’t tell. You haven’t even the faintest idea.

♡ - You eye all your coworkers with suspicion, until finally you can’t take it anymore and hide in the toilets. You stay there, frightened to leave, right up until it’s time to clock out, and even then, it takes you a long time to work up the courage to leave.

♡ - When you finally get out, the office is empty. There is no one else there, apart from you. You find the darkened cubicles eerie, yet you breathe a sigh of relief anyway. Surely that must mean the note writer is gone too? You run out into the car park, making a mad dash for it, then stop short just as your car comes into view.

♡ - It’s covered in post it notes of varying colours, each one scrawled in that weird red ink. Some are angry, others plead for your forgiveness or return. Every single one is wet with tear stains.

♡ - You freeze. You have to call the police - you’ve let this go one long enough. You take a step back, ready to run back to the office and hole yourself up until the police arrive, only to stop when you feel a knife against your back and hear a voice you don’t recognise.

♡ - “Oh honey, you aren’t getting away with this that easily…”

Personality

The most mysterious of all, “Smiley” (╹◡╹) hasn’t quite seemed to grasp that it wouldn’t be obvious to their darling who they are. In their eyes, they’re already with their darling, and their tactics are less trying to get close to their daring and moreso engaging in what they think is cute couple behaviour. When their darling ignores or dismisses their bids for attention? Well, hell hath no fury like a lover scorned. It’s probably too late for their darling by the time they finally see the face of their admirer.

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

#yancore #yandere #yandere fic #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #oc intro #yandere imagines #gender neutral reader #gender neutral yandere #yandere drabble #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc intro #yandere oc #gender neutral yandere oc #male yandere #female yandere #Smiley #Story #Meet Cute

2K notes · View notes

fayesia · 6 months

Text

Dress Code — boss!miguel o’hara x secretary!reader

~Prompts~

“I want to hear you beg.”

“Arch your back for me.”

Warnings: nsfw 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, dom!miguel, brat taming, sir kink, praise kink, creampie, dirty talk, size difference, lmk if i missed anything!!

Rough hands bend you over the hard mahogany desk, yanking your skirt down and spreading your legs.

“You fucking slut parading your ass for everyone to see, is this what you wanted?”

Hard slaps rained down on your ass as you moaned completely overdriven with lust.

“Please mig-sir fuck me”

“oh no i don’t think you deserve that, thinking you get this cock while walking around with no panties—are you even wearing a bra?” Your boss’ hands pull you back up against his front, moving towards your sheer white shirt, groping at your breasts, and ripping the silky material in two with his own bare hands.

The buttons go flying around the room clattering across the floor as his hands roam your breast, skilled fingers tugging at your hardening nipples, his mouth ghosting over the side of your neck whispering filthy things.

“Exactly what i thought, you’re just a fucking whore coming into my office acting like you need something…all you need is my cock to fill your bratty mouth up”. You uncontrollably moan at his words and touch, feeling your own wetness drip down your inner thighs.

Your certainly not the only one who notices, “oh would you look at that what a slut, absolutely dripping for me…did you want me to help with that?”

“yes sir please touch me”

“i want to hear you beg”

“hmm please sir i need you touch me, fuck me, anything please sir I’ll be a good girl for you” he growls hearing such lewd words leave your mouth. “Mm yes thats what i like to hear baby”. Miguel removes one of his hands from your tits and slowly traces his way down to your inner thighs. He collects your leaking juices and rubs them around your pussy taking his time to trace circular motions over your clit. You’re unsure of what to grab onto, pulling at his brown locks once styled to perfection but now in disarray just like his perfectly tailored suit.

You feel yourself almost getting to the edge until he stops, immediately noises leave your mouth at the loss of contact. “Fuck i cant take this anymore” you hear him breathe out behind you. Unzipping his pants, he strokes his thick and long erect cock and rubs it against your drenched pussy. “Oh my god you feel so good baby nice and warm…mm so wet for me”. His praise immediately causes you to react, as the thick head of his cock enters your vagina stretching you out in a way you’ll never get used to.

He thrust in and out at a ferocious pace needing you as much as you did him. His balls smacking against your pussy as the thrusts enter deeper and deeper into you each time. Slowly he readjust you to be bent over his large desk again, brushing aside pens and stacks of papers as you hear them fall to the floor. He grabs your hair into one clenched fist while the other reaches down to rub your clit, "Arch your back for me."

You’re moaning as loud as possible not caring if any of the other employees can hear you, pushing your ass back up against him and arching as best as you can with the hopes of pleasing his demands. “Mmm yes such a good girl, perfect pussy wrapping around my cock, fuck, fits just like a glove huh”.

“Ah im gonna come..please let me come sir” you ask through short breaths, feelings of overwhelming pleasure fog up your brain. “Yes baby come for me, drench my cock”. With hard quick thrusts and two fingers working tirelessly against your clit you let out one more moan, more pornographic sounding than ever and cum all over Miguel’s cock, all over your bosses cock. He quickly follows after, lowering himself to lie against your back and with one final thrust he lets out a deep guttural groan as he fills you up with his cum, leaving your lower belly feeling warm and full.

After a few seconds of the two of you laying there to recover from the absolute earth shattering orgasms given to one another, Miguel removes his now flaccid cock and quickly replaces it with two of his fingers to stop any of the mixed cum from dripping out. You mewl and stretch at the overstimulation from his thick fingers as he removes them and pulls your skirt back up, while leaving soft kisses against your neck and gently rubbing his thumbs against your hips.

“You were such a bad girl today huh baby”, you nod knowing every decision you made was in the hopes of this happening…for you to get fucked in you boss’ office like many times before. “So for the rest of today you can walk around with my cum dripping out from your pussy”.

“if we get home and i see you’ve cleaned up..lets just say you don’t wanna know what punishment I’ll have in store for you tonight.”

“Yes sir” you reply completely out of breath as you reach to grab one of your spare white button ups from his desk drawer, you stand back up and try to make yourself look as presentable as possible. Like you weren't just bent over your boss’ desks and fucked into having one of the best orgasms of your life. The thick gooey substance drips down your thigh and slowly reaches your ankle causing an immediate stutter in your breathe.

‘Fuck’ you think as you exit Miguel’s office avoiding any eye contact with other workers, ‘I’m not gonna get any work done for the next 2 hours’.

~thanks to anyone who supported my first post, hopefully u guys like this one as well!!~

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel smut #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #smut #spiderman smut #atsv miguel

2K notes · View notes

scremogirl · 7 months

Text

✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵ミ★✥

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬

Yandere! Childhood friend x Hyper aware! Reader

Slight⚠︎︎warning. Hey loves! This is a collab with my best friend @constesplanetarium . Make sure you go check out her work. She’s the yandere master out of the both of us. The reader is slightlllyyy narcissistic, you gotta squint to see it. Like always check the end for a note. Enjoy!

It wasn’t more than a day that you you two weren’t together. From third grade all the way to your senior year in high school; he was always there. To think it all started from simply sharing your colored pencils.

Micah was your best friend, you’ve done everything together. All your first were together too. Your first kiss for example.

“I-I don’t know about this Micah, just don’t want things to be weird after this,” you hesitated.

“It’s fineee, I promise. Besides, you're my best friend; nothing could ever be weird between us,” you cringed a little at the fact that your first kiss was calling you his best friend. Not that it wasn’t true, it just wasn't as romantic as middle school you thought a first kiss would be. Your first date.

You held your head in your hands staring at the floor and heaved a big sigh. Your date had just stood you up. This wasn’t the first time this happened either, guys would ask you out and then just end up flaking. When you tried to talk to him earlier in the day he was sporting a big bruise on his jaw and cussed you out. You weren’t gonna let that slide tho, so when you called Micah to come help he hurley apologized and scurried off.

“I promise it’s not you beautiful, besides, he doesn’t know what he’s missing,” it goes silent for a bit before he perks up with a loud gasp.

“I know! How about we go see the movie together? He still let you keep the tickets right?”

You even had your first together. I mean, if that isn't true friendship I don’t know what is. So, why is it starting to feel not so friendly between you two anymore? He’s been acting a little weird as of late. He’s been more handsy lately; arm always around your shoulder or waist. He’s always been like this, and you guys did have sex once, but… this is different. His grip is a little tighter and his hands fall a little lower. He comes up behind you while you stand at the vending machine down the hall from the cafeteria, burying his face in your neck. When you told him to stop because you’re in school and people will start thinking things about you two, he just shrugs and says, “Nothing that they haven’t seen before,” with a dismissive wave of his hand. He even tried to kiss you yesterday when you left his house from a sleepover, claiming that it would keep you safe on your journey home (which is literally and I mean literally, right next door).

You’re not dumb. You know he likes you. In love with you. Everyone knows that. You know that he was the one that beat up your crush. You know why he wanted to have all his firsts with you. You noticed all the panties going missing every time he would visit. You noticed all your chewed pens and leftover food being taken out of the trash. You noticed his hard-on every time you’d wear a low-cut shirt or too short of a skirt. You noticed the box of your stuff tucked away under his bed when you dropped your pen whilst you were over-studying. You saw the photo album pushed into the corner of his basement. You saw the bloody rags and knives in the bathroom cabinet. You saw the way he would look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You liked the attention and the way he made you feel. But, you just couldn’t bring yourself to actually pursue him. He was your best friend and that was that. It’s not that you weren’t open to the idea of the two of you getting together, you were practically made for each other. Courtesy of him studying your insides ;) and outs. It's just the fact you know if you have him the time of day, you wouldn’t have time for anything else. Completely suffocated by his overwhelming love and attention.

That leads you to now. This is the first date you’ve been on since that incident in the beginning of your high school career. You met him in your psych class, thankfully one of the only ones you and Micah don’t share. Sure, you’ve had a couple one one-night stands and summer flings but as it denotes, they were all short-lived. This guy was different, he was sweet, funny, and paid attention when you talked; the whole package. But of course, this wouldn’t last long either. Prom was supposed to be the most exciting night for a senior. A big party with all your friends, dancing, laughing, the whole nine yards. That was until you saw your date tongue fucking another girl when you came back from getting the punch he requested. You sighed. Taking note of the not-so-discreetly placed $100 dollar bill in his suit's pocket. Of course. Just then you feel a tap on your shoulder. As you turn around you see him in all his glory. A y’all figure with his hair slicked back, one strategically placed string in the front. The dark blue suit perfectly matched your dress no matter how much you insisted that it was inappropriate because of your date. Green eyes peering down into yours with a mock of pity and astonishment. The scar on his cheek barley noticeable. He got it in an accident he had when you two were younger. He would always try to make you kiss it better, saying that it eased the pain from literally ages ago.

Micah.

“How about you and I go grab some dinner instead, hm?” The drive to the diner is silent. You two stuck out like a sore thumb in the cozy setting of the mom-and-pop shop. They’ve come to recognize you both. Ms. Dané, one of the owners of the shop would always question why you two weren’t together yet as her husband would chastise her for being so bold. Though, you could see it in his eyes just how curious he was.

You pull up to the mountain you two discovered on one of your long car rides to nowhere last summer. You spent most of it building a comfy place for the two of you to have your deep and emotional conversations. As you sit on the hill, looking down at the city and taking a bite of your burger, he turns to you. Before he could speak to you, you held up your hand effectively stopping him.

“I know,” he looks at you with wide eyes full of confusion. You take a handful of fries this time, chew, and swallow again before speaking.

“I don’t need you to lie to me.”

“He wasn’t good for you anyways,” he abruptly replies, it came out harsher than he attended it too.

“Besides, what kind of a guy would ask a girl out and then kiss another one a day later?” He huffs out an irritated laugh.

“That’s not what I meant, Michael,” the use of his full name struck a bit of fear in his heart. And pleasure to his pants.

“I know it was you,” he tries to speak but you put your fingers to his lips. Chewing on your burger and taking a sip of your soda to help push it down. The time it takes you to respond kills him, he tapping his leg and picking at the scar on his cheek anticipation. A habit he’s always had when he’s nervous or anxious.

“You know what I mean. I saw the money in his pocket,” He doesn’t wait for an explanation or care how you found out it was him. He pushes his food to the side before climbing over your outstretched legs. You’ve taken your heels off at his point, too uncomfortable to be walking up a mountain with. Micah insisted on carrying you anyways, saying that your dress was too expensive to get dirty but he gravel mud.

“I can’t stand the thought of someone else being by your side. I’m the one who's been here for you throughout everything. I'm the one who laughs with you when you're happy, cries with you when you're sad, and calms you down when you're mad. Not him. Not your parents. Not anyone. It’s always been you and me. Ever since the third grade you’ve been the one I wanted. I love (Y/n), nothing and no one can change that,” at this point his hands have a firm grip on your shoulders. Knees firmly planted into the hard ground beside you, surely his nice pants are fitted and scuffed but right now he couldn't care less. He stares deep into your eyes waiting for you to say something; anything.

For what seems like the millionth time you sighed since you met him, your gaze drops from your half-eaten burger to his frantic ones.

“Okay, Micah,” you say rubbing your thumb along the scar on his cheek. whose whole demeanor suddenly changes, this is the happiest you’ve ever seen him. Well since that day *if you know what I mean ^*. This time he grabs your food and pushes it away. You're a little sad, you wanted to finish the rest of that. You had no time to think, however, as he lays you down in the makeshift fort you’ve created. He lowers his head down, placing kisses on the column of your neck. He makes his way up to behind your ear, smelling his favorite of your perfumes. In his delusion, he can’t help to think that you wanted him to kiss you here. Placing it there to entice him in all the ways he wants you to. He rubs his cock against you, trying to get as much friction as he can. Even though it’s dark out and his suit is even darker, but the fairly lights strings up in the tiny fort help you see the pre-cum staining the front of the soft, thin material of his pants.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that. I promise this’ll be even better than the first. He could never compare to how I’m gonna make you feel,” he runs his hands up your waist, kissing the corner of your lips.

“Besides,” he starts. Eyes lowering down to your dress that has now risen to just above your lace panties

“I’m the only one who gets to see you full and dripping with cum”.

I don’t think I’m gonna turn Micah the into a full Oc seeing as this was a collab. If you liked it however, maybe I’ll make a couple headcanons or something. For the most part this was just a one shot. Again make sure to go check out my friends twist on the idea. ^the at is mentioned in the note above. Bye loves!

-Love, Sos❤️

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere childhood friend #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰#✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵✥☆ミ★

3K notes · View notes

yawnderu · 4 months

Text

"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

1K notes · View notes

the-froschamethyst4 · 4 months

Text

Tentacles

𖤐Pairing: Octo!König x Witch!Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐AN: I mean imagine König a 6’10 God of a man the size of a flapjack octopus that is 50cm. I mean come on, it’s perfect

𖤐Warnings: Smut, fluff, language, slight harassment, P in V, tentacle play, kinky, boob grabbing, nipple play, ass grabbing, slight choking, kissing, biting/nipping, obsessions, flirting,

𖤐Summary: König was the familiar to Witch Y/n, and he is OBESSED with her in every way possible always by her. never leaving her side for any reason, is her protector, and has gotten a little to comfortable

————

Y/n was the village's Witch, people came to her to seek potions made by her some that are good and some that can lead into problem. Y/n refuses to do any sort of potion that causes death, that is not something she wants on her record.

Her familiar König who was a little flapjack octopus rested on his favorite spot. On Y/n chest aka her right breast. He's too touchy and to clingy but there's nothing for Y/n to do but just except fate.

Her chest and her butt are his favorite places to be.

"Hello, Y/n."

"Oh, Soap, it's lovely to see you again," Y/n says looking at Soap as König growled at him. For some reason König didn't like Soap, she didn't understand why. "Hey, now," Y/n tries to pull König off her chest but he didn't want to move till Y/n started to tickle just under his tentacle. He ended up releasing and she moved him into his tank.

Where he sits pouting.

"What can I do you for Soap?"

"I need a spell."

"You know I can help," she smiles at him.

König made an angry clicking sounds crossing his tentacles over his body.

"I don't see why you have an octopus, Y/n, don't Witch's usually have cats, foxes, grogs and rats?" Soap says, tapping on König's tank. König made some more angry clicking sounds and started to tap on the tank back but a bit more angrily.

"Only in the stories, Soap," she says. "What kind of spell?"

"A love spell."

"Someone you want to impress?" She asked.

"Maybe," he smirks leaning on the counter as Y/n did her magic, moving her black Witch hat out of her face, 14 years of being a Witch and her damn hat still barely fits her head.

"I can only do so much with a love spell, you know this."

"I know, you did it for Price," Soap says.

"So, you know the side effects to it and you know that it can be a hit or miss?"

"Yes, Y/n I know," Soap had turned and didn't see the small black octopus in his tank, he slowly turns around and sees him back attacked to Y/n's chest and clicking at him.

"Behave...I don't understand why you don't like him, König," Y/n says.

König clicks and turns to look up at Y/n who placed her hand on top of his head.

"He's a bit clingy isn't he?"

"Nothing, I can do," she says as she starts bottling up the liquid and placing a cork to block the top and putting a label on it. "There you go, Soap, have a good day."

"You too, Y/n."

"König, come on, you need to get back in your tank, you'll dry up," she takes him off her chest a lot more easier this time and placing him in his salt water tank just behind the counter of her shop.

Next thing she knew someone new walked in.

"Hello." She greets with a smile.

"You must be the infamous Witch of the Kingdom."

"I must be...what can I do you for?"

"Interesting octopus, he's a bit small though."

"He's a flapjack octopus, what can I do you for?" She repeats.

"I need a spell."

"Okay, what kind? I special in many," she says, taking out a notepad and pen. Y/n has learned that there is many different people that come and go from her shop, she has also learned to never get annoyed with customers.

"I need a death spell." König jumps at the man lows voice, Y/n looks up at him and shakes her head.

"Unfortunately, I don't do death spells...it's uncalled for."

“What a waste of my time then,” he walks out and once away from her shop, Y/n quickly get out from behind the counter and locks up for the night, turning her open sign to close and shutting the curtains.

"Come on, König," She placed her hand in his tank and he attached his tentacles to her hand.

Y/n has been working on a little project and it's to make König human, well at least part human, he'll still have some of his octopus features.

She placed him on a little plush pillow just in front of her cauldron. She adds some herbs and a few potions she had to make on the side for this work.

She's tried it at least 4 different times and none worked, so hopefully 5th time is a charm? She stirs the wooden spoon adding a few of those potions in and stirred some more.

König leaned over the big pot seeing the liquid inside go from dark green to a baby blue color.

"That seems right," she grabs her book. "When the liquid is changed from dark green to a baby sky blue, the potion is ready." The other times they'd be blue but never work properly.

She pulls her wooden spoon from the liquid and poured some into a small bowl for König.

"Here, König," she says, he climbs up on the side of the bowl, he sticks his beak in and gets a few sips. "How do you feel, King?" She asked him.

He just looks up at her and clicks in confusion on what's suppose to be happening.

"It didn't work..." Y/n placed the bowl in the sink and looked down at König. "Sorry, bud."

He just clicks at her as a way to apologize and say it's not her fault.

Now, the reason on why Y/n is trying to turn König human is mainly for safety reasons. Y/n had caught herself into some trouble with some old customers of hers and would like to have some sort of protection, so why not have König be able to change into a human whenever he can.

Of course König had given her the clicks of consent as she likes to say when she wants to experiment on him.

"I'm beat, let's head to bed," she says, taking him upstairs to her home just above her shop. König of course resting on his favorite spot on Y/n. Purring in a way to let her know she was happy. "I'm my boob is your comfort place, König," she said, sounding 'annoyed'.

Y/n was doing her usual nightly routine, brushing her teeth, taking a shower with the company of König placing himself on her butt and crawling up to her chest to rest in his spot.

"Shampoo will get on your skin König, I don't want you drying up on me," she tries to pull him off but no use, where König is, he stays.

Y/n continued like normal and got on her pajama set, König was on her heels where ever she walked, he was behind her, suction cups sticking to the floor any time he walked behind her or anywhere.

Y/n could tell where he was just by listening to the sound of suction cups sticking and unsticking to the wooden floors of her home.

She got in bed and König moves under the covers attaching himself to her plush right thigh.

"You need to go to your tank, King, you can't be out all night, we go through this every night," she says, getting him off her thigh and placing him in his little tank just on her nightstand close to her bed, so he could see her.

"Good night, King."

Click, click, click

--------

Y/n was asleep her pillow between her arms as a bit of drool came from her mouth. König swam around just a little bit in his tank, a bit bored, he wanted to be on the bed with her, but he knows that Y/n hates waking up to a small puddle on her bed from him.

He placed his tentacles on the rim of him tank and pulled himself up, moving down the edge of his bowl getting to the wooden nightstand, he moves off the nightstand to the floor.

He felt a bit...off

He saw how tall Y/n's bed was and that he'll need to scale the walls to get back up there again, but the reason why he was out of the tank was because of him feeling a bit off.

He felt weak in a way, he could barely move, he curled up in a small ball on the ground next to Y/n's bed.

Y/n had woken up to a small sloshing sound, she sits up and looks at König's tank seeing it was empty.

"King?" She questioned, she looked on the ground seeing some small water droplets on her wooden floor. "König, are you up?" She questioned.

She walked around the corner still tracking the puddles, she then saw how they got bigger and then turned into a-

"Footprint?" She looks up and the corner they led to. "King?" She asked.

Click, click, click, click

"König, come on out...what happened, bud?" She asked as he came out of the shadow and she saw how tall, and muscular he was.

"W-Woah," she steps back a little, he face was covered by a black shirt with red coming from him eyes, like how he normally looked it he was an octopus but his body ALL human.

He walks towards her confused and doesn't know what to do, she places her hand out on his bare and buff chest.

"Hang on, bud, let me get a good look at you first," she says, moving around him, her hand touching his side to keep him still. "Your human, bud," she said, sounding excited.

Click, click, click

"I know, I know, but...we did it, we finally got you to be human," she says with a smile. She takes his hands and looked at them examining them.

"Your hands are so big," she says as his face became hot and bothered. "This is amazing," she says.

---------

Y/n was still examining König even after a few hours, she had given him a towel to wrap his lower half for now, before she can get him some clothes.

"OH KING! I need to go get some more ingredients for potions, I need you to stay here for now do you understand?"

Click, click, click

"It's okay, I'll be fine, you stay here, you're not properly dressed, I don't want you to get arrested, it's gonna be hard to explain that you are a familiar that turned human," she grabs her purse. "I'll be right back, okay!" She cups his chin and kissed his cheek.

König narrowed his eyes and he was DETERMINED to follow Y/n. He concentrated on turning back into an octopus and surely, he did, he lands on the wooden floor but not before the towel he wore fell on him.

Click, click he says in frustration.

Y/n was so happy that he was finally human, she needed potion ingredients and look for clothes for him as well.

"Well, well, if it isn't, Y/n."

"Soap!" She smiles.

"Where's your octopus?"

"Oh he's at home, he didn't listen to me about drying out, so now he's at home in his tank as a punishment," she lied.

"Ah, I see," Soap moved closer to Y/n, his hand on her waist.

"Soap?"

"Since, he's not here, can I ask you something? Seems like every time I try to talk to you, König gets in the way."

"He's just trying to protect me."

"Normal octopus's aren't that protective."

"Well, he's not a normal octopus, he's a familiar and familiars have different mind sets then a normal animal," Y/n tries to explain. She steps away from Soap, his hand moving off her side.

"He's still a bit annoying," he says.

"Soap, please stop disrespecting my familiar."

BAM

Y/n had looked up and saw a tall familiar man standing between her and Soap.

"King?" She whispers. His hand had slammed down on the table in front of Y/n and Soap. She sees that he had found some clothes.

"Can you move?" Soap says. He doesn't know this is König.

"König," Y/n says sternly. Within seconds König had transform back into his octopus-self. Y/n sticks her hands out catching him mid-air and placing him on her shoulder.

"König?!" Soap yells. "You turned him human?"

"I did, I did it so he can protect me from idiots," she says, giving Soap a stern and serious look. "Good day, Soap," she walked away, König turned to look at Soap and stuck his tongue out at him.

"King, I wish you didn't come out, you could have gotten hurt-"

"HEY WHERE IS HE!!? WHERE'S THE THEIF THAT TOOK MY CLOTHES!!?" A man came running pushing through the crowd looking for none other than König.

"Seriously, King?" She says, he clicks and shrugs. "Excuse me, sir?"

------

"Don't steal, I thought I taught you better than that?" König turns back in his human form and clicks into trying to explain himself. "I understand you need clothes, but I was going to get you some."

He watches Y/n move around the shop, she was about to open her shop but König had quickly moved behind her and pushed himself against her, holding her waist and stopping her from turning her sign.

"K-König," he lifts his mask and his tentacles they were longer not like his normal tentacles, cupped her chest and went around her neck. "Hey, w-what are you doing?" She asked.

He clicks and turned her around, he picks her up and slams her back against her door.

"Where in the hell did you learn this?" She questioned.

Secretly König had seen a few couple get in the alleyway between Y/n shop and the shop next door, he has watched a few...get it on perse and he's learned from the views.

He clicks in response, his tentacles still messed with the strings on the back of her dress wanting it off, Y/n didn't realize he was messing with them till she felt it go lose around.

"Hey, King-" his tentacles went to her waist and down to her butt, he lifts the side of her dress exposing her plush thighs and her thighs being squeezed by her thigh-high socks.

He walks to her counter placing her back on the hard wood. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands on his hard chest except her right hand messing with one of his tentacles.

His face was red and he loved when her small hand was messing with him.

"König...do you even know what you are doing?" he just shakes his head 'no' and made some clicking sounds. "It's okay...you can stop whenever."

Y/n had no idea that König that he has been waiting for this moment for so long. He messes with his belt and slips his pants down to his ankles, his hands went to her waist this time, pushing the bottom of her skirt up and looked at her black panties.

König's head moved to the side of her face and kissed her neck, his rough hands squish her.

"H-Holy," she moans.

He pushed the side of her panties with one of his tentacles, another one stuck to her inner thigh, close to her clit and then one was being pushed into her.

She lets out a soft moan, her legs and arms squeezed around him. "You lie," she says as he clicks, he looks down at her eyes seeing tears wanting to fall. He felt bad but he learned that sometimes it takes a while for someone to get use to someone's size.

She then felt something else being pushing inside of her. She looks down and seeing that it was him, his dick, she could see her stomach was bulging. She sees something moving inside of her which was his tentacle.

"W-Woah!" She moans. He starts moving his hips slowly, her head flew back and she let out some soft moans then the tears fell. König leaned forward taking the tears away from under her eyes and kissing her cheek and neck.

He then started to pick up the pace, her arms squeezing around him, her eyes squeezing shut because of the pleasure.

König then started to remove his shirt giving Y/n and good view of his built.

"H-How can you b-be so b-buff?" She asked as he just shrugs, I mean it's not like he worked out as an octopus, the closest thing to working out for him was picking up an empty glass potion bottle.

Y/n cups König's face and lifted the shirt that covered his face seeing his tentacles scrunch up like they were afraid of the light. She takes one and moves her dress scrunched down to her waist and placed his tentacle on her chest.

Some more came out and squeezed her boobs and one pinching at her nipples. She moans and she squeezed herself around his dick and tentacle.

Y/n let him do what ever he wants to her body, his pinches, kisses, nips, at her skin. He placed his hands on her waist and then placed his hand on the bulge in her stomach, he starts moving a bit faster earning some breathy moans from her.

"F-Fuck," Y/n moans. Her hands went to his arms as they were buff and she could feel a few veins in his arms. Her hands then went up his arms to his hard chest and down to his toned body. "H-Holy shit," she moans.

König sees her face and loves seeing her in so much pleasure and loves hearing her soft moans. Y/n could feel herself about to cum, König was close to, his thrusts were becoming sloppy.

KNOCK, KNOCK

"Y/N!? Are you in? It's me, Soap, I wanted to come and apologize," Y/n's eyes widened and König started to make some angry clicking sounds, she cups his face.

She walks to the door just cracking it, she hold her dress back against her chest as König was hitting her now from behind. His hands on her waist, thrusts still sloppy, his tentacles going to her waist, thighs and going between her wet folds.

"You okay? Can I come in?" Soap asked.

"N-No, König is...reeking havoc right now, and you k-know how he is with you," Y/n says. She tries to hold back some moans.

"Your face-"

"What's w-wrong with my face?" She questioned.

"I mean it's all red...are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm..."

"Sick?"

"YES! I am sick, I should go back in and warm up, thanks for stopping by Soap."

"But I wanted to say-" Before Soap could officially apologize König had slammed the door shut. He picks up Y/n taking her back to the counter, he was being rough with her now, manhandling her and bending her back over the counter.

Soap heard some crashing going on inside the shop. He goes around the corner and could just barely see Y/n.

Her head was turned away from the window, Soap could see her hair and her arms resting on the counter. He looks and saw someone tall behind her and saw it was the guy from earlier.

He could see her being dicked down by this guy, his eyes traveled up the guy and could see him staring back at Soap. But it was more of a serious look like 'you wish this was you?' König lifted his mask and showed off his tentacles and Soap knew who this was now.

"König?" He whispers as he drops his mask and went back to pleasuring Y/n. Her moans were soft as far as Soap could hear.

Y/n felt herself about to cum and with a few more thrusts from König she ended up coming on his dick, with a few more he ended up coming as well, he pulls out just in time and came on her lower back.

"K-König," she moans, but she didn't feel that tall presents anymore instead she felt his tiny body running all over her till he made it to her breast. "Seriously?" She says as he made himself comfortable on her chest.

-------

Y/n was in the bath, König still resting on her chest, he clicks when Y/n start to wash her body, her hands traveling all over herself and he watched intently like he was seeing when the next time they did this to learn more of her spots.

Once Y/n was done and drained the tub from it's soapy water, she placed König in his small tank next to her nightstand and started to change into some pajamas.

He clicks and taps the glass of his tank wanting to be out, he knows he can escape but he watched Y/n's naked body move around the bedroom putting on some panties, silk shorts and a silk top, her nipples poking from her shirt.

König jumps out of his tank and makes his way to Y/n's bed.

"King, you're making the bed all wet," she groans but he didn't care he went to his favorite spot under her shirt and laid there all night and his little tentacles pinching at her harden nipple.

"King, I will put you back in your tank if you don't stop pinching," she threatens.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #konig mw2 #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig

873 notes · View notes

strawbeerossi · 6 months

Text

Only Friends

Pairing: Gender Neutral!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You and Spencer are best friends who act like anything but.

Content/Warnings: Oblivious mutual pining, kissing, lap sitting, teasing friends, cute little love confession at the end.

Word Count: 1.3K

Anon Request: hiii oki req (if u want pls take ur time) i think this is prob OOC butttttt spence + reader being in love and they don’t even realize it but they still kiss/ cuddle when they hang out and stuff and just say “we’re really close is all” “best friends kiss!” and stuff..

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie

Affection in friendships aren’t always the same. Some friends hugged, some friends rarely talked yet maintained a healthy friendship, some friends even showed the smallest bit of intimacy due to their comfortability.

You and Spencer were just a tad different. You two would cuddle, share brief pecks on the lips, as well as sometimes shower together whenever you were in a rush on a case and got a brief break.

It wasn’t anything inherently romantic or sexual, just something that came easy. The team was highly convinced you both had a secret relationship. Which was fair enough, however no matter how many explanations, they never seemed to be enough.

Tonight the team was having a small watch party for a new show at Penelope’s apartment. She’d been so desperate for the team to have something like a show they watched together, or special games to play together. Nobody could really say no.

You had arrived with a handful of snacks just an hour prior, helping one of your favorite coworkers set up her apartment for the night ahead. As expected, it turned from you helping to the bubbly blonde interrogating you over the aspect of a potential relationship.

“We aren’t dating, Pen.” Your head shook as you were filling a bowl with pretzels, taking it to the table in order to place it in the available space surrounded by other snacks. “I saw you guys kiss before you left the office yesterday! What kind of friends kiss each other on the lips?? If this is normal, we need to make Derek aware because I am missing out.” Penelope huffed out of frustration. “Mark my words, I will get to the bottom of this. When I find out that you are secretly dating, I will bring all of the hurt!” The blonde held up her fist while narrowing her eyes in your direction.

By the grace of all things holy, it wasn’t long until the team had slowly begun to show up. There were no more interrogations, not yet anyway. As everyone was piling up on the couch, there was very limited room for you as you walked out of the kitchen. “Fuck.” You groaned, arms crossed. “I am not sitting on the floor!”

“You can sit with me.” Spencer spoke up from his spot at the far end of the couch, his shoulders shrugging as his hand patted his thighs to offer you the spot in his lap. “Come on! This is a family friendly show! None of that.” Emily groaned, which had you rolling your eyes as you were heading over to sit yourself on your best friend’s lap.

“It’s not a big deal.” You protested her dramatics while your body was leaning into Spencer’s chest, your body snuggling closer to his as the show began at its scheduled time. However instead of enjoying the programme, you were too busy ignoring all the curious stares from your friends. “Come on!” You huffed while pushing yourself to sit up. “What is the big deal? You’re all staring like we are animals in a zoo.” In all honesty, you were annoyed with the way people stared. You were friends, doing platonic things.

“Look. Kid, I hate to say it but you two are definitely a little too close for what friends should be. What kind of friends do you know that kiss each other? And yes, I know, they are pecks. I’m just saying.” Derek put his hands up as he broke the silence.

“It’s not a crime to have a crush on one another or to date one another.” JJ added soon after while letting her shoulders shrug. “We aren’t dating though.” Spencer confirmed everything you’ve been preaching while looking at the group in confusion. “Spencer, you haven’t eaten any snacks tonight because all of our hands have been in the bowl. It makes no sense to me that you’d kiss her considering the mouth has like a bajillion germs.” Penelope added.

“Well, the mouth has over a billion different germs and we don’t know the exact amount.” He corrected as he looked up at you for help. “I assumed we were normal?” He spoke up while you nodded in agreement. “I thought we were, too.” You huffed while leaning against his chest.

“It’s not even the hugging, kissing, and lap sitting. You guys just look so head over heels from an outside perspective. I mean, you hang out together all the time, you always room together, plus you guys go out on dates. You may not look at it that way but come on. You are both profilers. How do you not pick up on how you feel about one another?” Emily asked while frowning softly.

The more they were talking and giving actual points, the more you were thinking over the course of your friendship with Spencer. You’d always been close, even after your first initial meeting when you joined the team. You could remember how shocked the team was because the typically quiet and socially awkward genius was the first one to welcome you. You’d managed to become close friends over the course of two weeks. The first time Spencer even hugged you was after a case where he’d been put in harm's way. He came to you for comfort. You.

The first time you started your pecks on the lips, it was due to a complete accident when you tried to kiss his cheek but his head turned to face you. It just seemed.. Right. No matter how flustered you both were or how you felt butterflies in your belly, you just dismissed it. You being lost in thought was concerning enough for Spencer. “Hey. Do you wanna step outside?” His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, your head nodding. “Yeah, please head out with me.”

He helped you to your feet before his hand was gently holding yours, leading you out of the room.

“How much do you wanna bet that they are gonna actually kiss out there?” Aaron spoke up after being silent a majority of the night, the team turning to the unit chief who normally wouldn’t have inserted himself. “I’ll take those odds,” Derek smirked while getting his wallet.

Out in the hallway, you had your arms crossed as you looked away from Spencer. “I know that we are best friends and I promise you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. I just really want you to tell me one thing,” You spoke while turning your head back to face him. “Did you ever, at any point, have feelings for me? Be honest.”

The words had Spencer’s face bright red, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve always thought you were amazing.” He spoke while offering a shy smile. “I just didn’t want things to get weird. I like our friendship and the relationship that we have isn’t something that could be ruined. Dating friends can get messy and.. I don’t wanna live a life without you in it. I can’t even fathom a reality where you aren’t here.” He responded.

“So you did?”

“Y-yeah. I just didn’t want-”

Your hands were gripping his upper arms while you were gently shaking him. “Why didn’t you say anything?!” You asked while staring at him with wide eyes. “I’ve always been fond of you!” You added, his surprised look making you laugh softly. “God. How are we profilers?”

“You know, I’m not so sure. I think we are rusty.” Spencer responded, a little chuckle leaving his lips. “So.. Is there a chance? You know.. Us?” He asked softly while you nodded. “I do think there’s a good chance.” You responded while Spencer sighed in relief. “So it won’t be weird if I do this.”

“Do what?”

His hands were gently cupping your cheeks, taking every opportunity to press his lips against yours, much different than you were both used to but it carried the same feeling as all the little pecks have all this time. It was right. Like you were meant to be together.

“I’m pretty sure they are running bets. Do we tell them we kissed or pretend like nothing happened?”

“I want Derek to lose his money in that scenario, so let’s not tell them yet.” Spencer chuckled.

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid scenario #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff

1K notes · View notes

lovifie · 16 days

Note

Lovi darling dear light of my life and stars in my sky

I have a few suggestions a la video format:

https://youtu.be/vnYomIm6A4s?si=-QFYxEkNLnSP580y

https://youtu.be/1fKbWEaSfbs?si=KvKCx2dKFM1YleIn

https://youtu.be/yIEjYWC9Q64?si=Ar9EFZWFKVKwaXxT

HI POOKIE 🩷

Here I bring you, as we agreed:

🔥COD BOYS TRY SEXY ROLEPLAY 🔥

Captain Prince

Doesn't get it.

What's the point of beating around the bushes?

“To do something different! Spice things up.” You explain, pouting at him.

He frowns. “Do you not like the current way?”

So you decide that rather than explain it, you'll show him.

He is working in his office in your house, sending you a message to please bring him a cup of tea.

So you put on your pencil skirt, your half buttoned shirt and your kitten heels, entering his office with a cup in hand.

You knock on the already open door and say: “Here's your tea, Captain Price.”

He looks up, amusement on his eyes when he looks at you. You leave the cup on the desk, bending forward unnecessarily low to let him peak under your blouse.

And then you walk around the desk to his side and pick the pen from his hand, dropping on the floor and gasping dramatically. “Oh, I'm so so sorry.” You say, bending to pick it up, giving him a full view of your ass.

You stand up again, looking at him. “I am such a bad secretary… oh, Captain Price, I'm so sorry.” Dramatism pouring out of every syllable as you kneel beside him, resting your arms and head on his leg as if you were crying.

He pets your head lovingly, chuckling at your actuation. “You know I do have a secretary, right? I'll get confused next time I see her.”

You whip your head up at him, eyebrow furrowed in annoyance making him laugh. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding. The closest to a secretary I have is Simon.”

You gasp again. “Simon?! But I can't compete with Simon!” You say whining, making him laugh again.

“You know, there is something that only you are allowed to do.”

You look at him expecting the answer; which he gives you in the form of palming his crotch over his pants. You quickly get the idea and move to kneel between his legs, body half under the desk.

You get his shaft into your mouth, feeling it grow and harden against your tongue. You are bobbing your head up and down, slowly taking your time, when you feel him move his hand to the back of your head; keeping your head close to him, your nose between his curls

“Why don't you stay there, hm? For being such a bad secretary. Isn't that what you wanted, darling?”

Simon Ghost Riley

Doesn't get it x 2

But because this man is about to find plot holes on it.

It took you so long to convince him to try that you almost gave up.

Somehow you managed to convince him.

He's on the bathtub, relaxing in the warm water when you enter the bathroom, with a red swimsuit and a rubber ring.

Let's just say he is unamused.

“I see you don't have a lifeguard here at the beach” you say, sitting at the edge of the tub.

“I'm not at the beach, this is a bathtub!” Ghost argues, confusion on his face.

“No body of water is safe without a lifeguard” you say, trying not to laugh.

“It's two feet deep, love. What are you doing?” He asks, eyebrow furrowed.

“Simon, play along!” You exclaim half laughing standing up.

“Alright, alright.” He says smiling and looks at you. “Isn't that swimsuit a bit unprofessional?”

“It's to help me swim.” You say winking at him, sitting back on the edge.

“It's a bathtub!” He repeats. “You are gonna dent your head if you swim in here.”

“Simon!” You exclaim again

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughs at you and points to the rubber ring. “I'd sink with that thing.”

“It's just props, Simon. You are not really gonna drown.” You say exasperated.

“If I'm not gonna drown, why do I need a lifeguard?”

You sight defeated and try to stand up, only for Ghost to pull you on the tub with him chuckling. “Aw, miss lifeguard, now we both drowning.”

He laughs when you smack his hand trying to stand up, and pulls you tighter. “What's the point of this theatre when we can just do it, love?” He asks, genuinely confused as he kisses your neck.

After that you are done for, and he easily manoeuvres you onto riding him inside of the tub. Water splashing and knees hitting the walls of the tub.

“You should wear this more often… red looks good on you.”

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Gets too carried away by the roleplay.

He sets the scenario.

He's an astronomer who's investigating on his telescope, and you are the student who visits to learn from him.

He sets his tablet with the TV as well, and starts to tell you everything about the cosmos.

With pictures of everything

He does make it quite interesting and you end up forgetting about the sex just like him.

At some point he looks at you and he sees you rolled up on the blanket, looking at the screen focused on the different pictures.

He goes quiet when he realises the time he just spent talking.

“Well, don't shut up now. Why did we kick Pluto out of the solar system? The fuck did Pluto do?” You ask, pointing to the screen.

He chuckles, explaining it to you and turns around. “I'm sorry… I got too excited and forgot I was supposed to make it sexy.”

“Oh, you did. Don't worry about that, I'm going to demolish you the moment you are done. But now you have me curious about this, so keep going.”

The tips of his ears red as he finishes talking about everything else; stuttering when he is saying he finished and sees you stand up and walk to him, kneeling in front of him.

“Well thank you very much for the class, Kyle. But I… forgot my wallet or something.” You say, undoing his belt.

And if Kyle knew that talking to you about planets and stars would have you drowning his spend round after round he would have made the presentation a long time ago.

By the time you are satisfied he needs to lay down on bed, bottle of water in hand and a smile on his face when he sees you take the tablet with you to look at the photos again.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

Sexy nurse

He's the sexy nurse

You got just the slightest fever and he's ready

You are confused for a second where did he get the costume from, but then again… is Johnny we are talking about.

You are lying in bed, head buried on the pillow as you groan because of your lack of well-being, and somebody knocks on the door of your bedroom.

But it's just your boyfriend and you in your house, so you frown before saying: “C'mon in.”

And there enters Soap.

“Good morning, dear. I'm your nurse today, you can call me Nurse MacTavish. I'm here to take care of you, you'll be fresh as a rose before you realise.”

You chuckle, burying your face back to laugh softly.

“Ma'am, ma'am.” He calls for you, patting your butt and you turn around to look at him.

“What are you doing, Johnny?” You ask, smiling at him.

“Taking care of you, of course.” He says with a wide smile on his face.

You take a look at him, looking up and down at his naked legs; and cover your mouth when you notice something.

“What underwear are you wearing, Johnny?”

“Well, I believe that is something highly unprofessional to talk about, dear patient!”

“More or less unprofessional than the fact I can see one of your balls?” You ask laughing, pointing at his runaway soldier.

He looks down, whining your name as he turns around to reposition himself and you notice that he is wearing the skimpiest thong, that you are surprised only the ball escaped.

Genuinely, the only one with which you end up having actual roleplaying sex. He says something about sex helping with the fever because you sweat and proceeds to give you the nastiest back shots.

Doggy style but your hips are already on the mattress because of the intensity, he's holding your jaw shut by the arm around your neck almost in a chokehold.

The little hat part of the costume he was wearing already falling, covering his eyes, blinded both literally and metaphorically.

The worst part of it all… it does help with the fever.

Back To Masterlist

Taglist: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @Katreintjie @sacvh @Mothymunson @Archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane @Shanhalen @crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @wolfieisacat @kayden666

558 notes · View notes

alessiasfreckles · 2 months

Text

not good, not bad, just different (leah williamson x ADHD!reader)

disclaimer: this is based off of my personal experience of ADHD. this is in no way saying that this is what adhd looks like for everyone!!

a/n: based on this request! i hope you like it, i'm sorry it's so all over the place but that also felt pretty thematic so... hopefully it's okay. i'm planning on doing 1-2 more parts to this! the next part will be about the reader getting diagnosed and coming to terms with their diagnosis + telling the other lionesses about it. also if you're interested in more WLW football based fiction involving ADHD, read Cleat Cute by Meryl Wilsner!

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

You had always felt… different. Not in a ‘not like other girls’ kind of way, more like an ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong with me’ kind of way. Things just seemed to be so much harder for you than for everybody else.

As a teenager, you were constantly getting told off by your parents for your messy room and bad grades. You were a smart kid, they said, so why couldn’t you just do your homework and study for tests like everyone else?

You would ask yourself the same thing. Forcing yourself to sit at your desk, staring at your maths textbook, desperately begging your brain to just cooperate, just this once, not understanding why it was so hard to just do the work.

When your parents would come into your room you would instantly feel a flash of white-hot shame at the state of it. Clothes everywhere, rubbish you’d forgotten about in corners, plates, cups, half empty water bottles. You couldn’t help it, it was like once something was out of your line of sight, you just forgot it existed, like the plate of half-eaten food that you’d put next to the bed at some point and then had absent-mindedly pushed under the bed to get it out of your way. When you found it weeks - okay, months - later, you were so embarrassed by the mould that you secretly threw it away rather than take it downstairs to the kitchen, where anyone could see it.

You would forget things you knew you should remember, things that anyone else would have remembered, like weekly tutoring sessions that your parents paid for (something they reminded you of when you forgot, yet again). You felt so stupid. It was at the same time, every Wednesday after school, so why couldn’t you remember?

Or doctor’s appointments, dentist appointments, any kind of appointment really. You would write it into your calendar, set yourself a reminder on the day, set yourself another reminder 30 minutes before, and all that would happen is that you would swipe away the reminder thinking ‘oh, yeah’, and then you’d continue doing whatever you were doing before. It was only when you’d hear the phone ring that you’d instantly know it was about you, about the appointment you’d missed, or maybe it was from school, or maybe something else you’d just completely forgotten about.

And all of that wasn’t even taking your issues with human interaction into account. You’d always struggled to make friends, especially as a girl who liked football. When you hit 9 or 10, the other girls in your class started to grow more interested in talking about boys, or music, or tv. You couldn’t understand what they found so interesting, that they’d rather spend breaks just sitting around chatting to each other when they could be running around playing football, or some other game, or anything more exciting.

As you got a little older, though, you realised that it was clearly a ‘you’ problem. People at your secondary school were nice, for the most part, but you still struggled to make friends. When you’d accidentally interrupt someone, or start talking too much and too loudly in excitement, or fidget a little too noisily, people would give you looks and whisper to each other about how weird you were. You learned to sit on your hands to stop yourself from clicking a pen or tapping your fingers, to keep quiet to avoid saying the wrong thing or saying it the wrong way.

Football was a good escape. It was fast-paced enough that you didn’t have time to think about other things, and there was enough going on that your brain wasn’t looking for external stimulation. You’d always been observant, noticing things most people wouldn’t notice, and you used it to your advantage. You were quick with the ball and you seemed to always know where everyone was around you. You were so good, in fact, that you made the England U17 squad - something you’d hoped would make you seem a little cooler at school, but just added to your ‘weirdness’.

That time was far behind you now, though. Now you were in your twenties and not only played football professionally, having joined Arsenal when you were 19, but also played for the England senior squad, one of the Lionesses.

That’s not to say that you didn’t still struggle with things. Your apartment was a mess, you lost things constantly, you would still interrupt people and fidget. You had friends though, at least. If anything, people knew what you were like and they loved you for it. It became a running joke on match days that you would inevitably lose your shoes, or your shin pads, or your phone, or that you’d need to borrow a hair bobble from someone. Everything would always show up right as you started to panic, though. Your shoes would be in the bathroom, because you’d been holding them when you went in to go to the toilet before the game like you always did. Your shin pads would be in the pockets of your jacket, one on each side, so you wouldn’t lose them.

“Looking for this?” Leah would ask, pulling your phone out of her pocket and smiling at the look of relief on your face.

“Yes! Where was it?”

“On the bus. You left it on your seat,” she explained.

“Huh. That doesn’t sound like me,” you joked.

“Nah, that definitely doesn’t sound like you,” she would say with a wink.

So, yeah. Maybe you had a reputation as the forgetful one, and the messy one, and the chaotic one, and the distracted one. But that was just who you were, right?

---------

Okay, you knew you were here for a reason. There must have been something you were going to get from the prep room, that’s literally the only reason you were there. You mentally went through everything you needed; shoes, on your feet, jacket, wearing it, headphones, in your pocket, water bottle - fuck, that was it! Your bottle!

You grabbed it from the bench where you’d left it and headed back out. On the way you needed to pee, so you quickly went to the bathroom, washed your hands, and went back to the training pitch.

“Did you get your water bottle?” Leah asked, a quizzical look on her face as she looked at your empty hands.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “I had it. Where the fuckety fuck did I put it?”

“Y/n, come on! Training started 5 minutes ago!” one of the trainers called over. You felt a white hot flash of shame in your belly, heat rising to your face.

“Do you want me to help you look for it?” Leah asked.

You shook your head, looking down. “No, it’s fine,” you muttered. “Let’s just start training.”

After training, Kyra came over to you in the changing room.

“Here,” she said, holding out your bottle. “I found it in the toilets, on the sink.”

---------

After that you made a list. You stuck it to the inside of your cubby, and every day you would look through it, double checking everything before you left the room. It helped for a while, until you started seeing the list as part of the background and your brain started ignoring it.

When you went to international camp, it got worse. You were away from your routine, in an unfamiliar environment. At least the people you were with was pretty much the same as always. As nice as it was to see everyone though, it was draining, too.

“Y/n? What do you want?” Leah asked. You were on a rare night out, the whole team at a restaurant by the beach together.

“Huh?” you asked, frowning. At a table nearby, people were singing ‘Happy Birthday’, cheering, clapping. On the other side of you, someone was having a conversation - it sounded like they were on a first date, but that didn’t make sense, you were in Spain, they sounded English, why would they be on a first date here?

“What do you want to order?” Leah asked again, prompting you. The waitress stood there, looking at you expectantly, notepad in her hand. A light flickered somewhere in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, um, I,” you stuttered, looking at the huge menu in front of you. The people on the date were talking about what kind of things they liked to do on holiday, she liked to go sightseeing, he just wanted to relax, at another table a baby started crying, the ice in people’s glasses was clinking, knives and forks were scraping against plates, that song you’d had stuck in your head for days now was still playing on a loop in the back of your head, your leg was bouncing uncontrollably under the table, someone’s nails were tapping against their phone, the man was telling the woman that the whole point of holidays is to relax-

Leah’s hand on your knee made you look up from where you’d zoned out looking at the menu. The waitress was gone. Leah was looking at you with a concerned expression, her hand steady on your knee.

“Do you want to go outside, get some fresh air?” she asked calmly.

You nodded wordlessly.

With a hand on your arm she guided you outside the restaurant, taking you to a nearby bench to sit down. The breeze cooled the sweat on the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“Are you cold?” Leah asked, reaching for her jacket.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said, breathing in deeply. You knew you should just go back inside, suck it up, smile at Leah and say everything was okay, but you just couldn’t yet. You just needed a few more minutes.

You sat there in silence for a minute. It wasn’t a bad silence, but you could tell Leah was giving you space to talk whenever you felt ready. You didn’t want to talk about what had just happened though, you felt too embarrassed about getting overwhelmed like that. Everyone else was fine, it was just you who couldn’t handle it.

“The people at the table next to us, I think they were on a first date,” you said instead, looking at your hands.

“Yeah?” Leah laughed.

“Yeah. But, like, why would they be on a first date here? They sounded English, why are they on a first date at a restaurant in Spain?” you asked.

“Huh, I dunno,” Leah mused. “Maybe they’re both on holiday and happened to meet and decided to go on a date?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. After a few seconds of quiet, you sighed. “I’m sorry about all that. I just got… there was just a lot going on.”

Leah squeezed your knee. “It’s okay. It was busy in there, wasn’t it?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. My brain just couldn’t handle it all. All the noises, and the menu- oh, fuck, I didn’t order anything!”

“It’s okay,” Leah chuckled. “I ordered for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. A sandwich and chips. If you don’t want it I’m sure someone else will eat it,” she shrugged.

“I didn’t even notice you ordering for me,” you frowned. “I feel like something’s wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I- I feel like something is wrong with my brain,” you tried to explain, not knowing how to put it into words.

Leah frowned.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. “Let’s go back inside. Everyone is probably wondering where we are.”

“Wait, y/n, we can stay outside for a little bit longer,” Leah said.

“No, no,” you stood up quickly, not meeting her eyes. “Let’s go. I’m okay, I promise.”

———

It didn’t take long for Leah to corner you the next day, determined to talk to you..

“You seem distracted,” Leah said, sitting down next to you on the bench. “More distracted than usual, I mean.”

“Ha, yeah,” you said. “It’s kind of ironic, actually. I’m distracted because I’m distracted.”

“Right…” she said, frowning. “You’re distracted because you’re thinking about why you’re distracted?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, trying to think of how to word it. “We all know I get distracted easily, right?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah, you’re like a magpie or something. You see something shiny, you gotta pick it up. Except the shiny thing is literally anything that catches your attention,” she laughed.

“Exactly! Well, I was looking some stuff up online, or, no, I saw some stuff online, wait, let me start again,” you said. “My thoughts are moving faster than my mouth. Okay, so, when I was a teenager, I was on tumblr a lot. It was the only social media I really had. And on tumblr I’d see a lot about people with ADHD and autism and about hyperfixating on things. And I’ve always kind of hyperfixated on stuff - I mean, football, obviously, but other stuff too, like how on my days off I’ll binge watch an entire season of a TV show and then not shut up about it for like, a month straight, and then I’ll lose interest and basically never mention it again.”

“Or like when you decided to start playing guitar and bought a guitar and had 2 lessons and then stopped, or like when you got really into gardening for a few weeks and bought all those plants and seeds and books about gardening and then realised it was the wrong time of year for half the things you wanted to plant?” Leah asked, an amused look in her eyes.

“Huh. Yeah, I guess those count too,” you said, frowning. “So, yeah, I hyperfixate on things. And I’ve only ever seen it mentioned together with ADHD and autism. But I always thought wow, that’s so crazy that I do that but I don’t have either of those!”

“I feel like I know where this is going,” Leah smiled.

“Leah, what if I do have ADHD? I don’t think I have autism, I mean, I might, but I haven’t really looked into it yet, maybe I should-”

“One thing at a time, okay?” she laughed, putting a hand on your arm. “Y/n, we both know I am in no way qualified to tell you if you have ADHD or not. But I know you very well. We’ve known each other for what, 5, 6 years now? And it would not surprise me in the slightest if you have ADHD.”

“Really?” you asked, incredulous. “What makes you say that?”

“You mean, aside from what I just mentioned?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Last night? At the restaurant?” she gently reminded you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I may have also read up on the topic a bit. I kind of suspected you might have ADHD, but I didn’t want to bring it up until you did,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. You felt something flutter in your stomach at her confession. “Anyway, one of the things I read was that people with ADHD also struggle with overstimulation and sensory issues. Do you think that could be what happened last night?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly quiet. “Maybe?”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just-”

“No, no, it’s okay! It’s just a lot to take in.” you told her. Your mind was racing, thoughts splitting off into dozens of other thoughts, some fully formed and some nothing more than singular words or phrases.

You sat together in silence for a few minutes.

“What do I do now?” you asked Leah, your voice small. “I, um, I didn’t think I’d get this far. You’re the first person I’ve told, and I kind of expected you to tell me I’m being silly.”

“I would never say that,” she said, turning to look at you, her eyes fixed on yours. “I wouldn’t say that about something important to you, I promise. And as for what to do now, well, I guess you have a few options. You can keep going as you have been, and do some more research, if you want, and try to figure it out alone. Well, not alone. You’ve got me. Or you could speak to someone, a professional. See if your hunch is right.”

“And then?”

“I dunno, I guess that’s up to you. I suppose they’d be able to help you with coping mechanisms, or put you on medication, if that’s what you wanted,” she shrugs.

“Medication?” you asked. Your mind was full of pictures of hyperactive kids, bouncing off the walls. You propped your feet up on the bench, pulling your knees in close to your chest. “What if I’m wrong? What if there’s nothing wrong with me and I’m just being dramatic?”

“Then that’s okay, too,” Leah said firmly. “Then you’re just dramatic, but that’s okay, too. I promise.”

You nodded, resting your chin on your knees.

"Would you be able to help me find someone to talk to? I don't know how, or where, or, anything, really," you asked.

"Of course," she said, putting her arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. "I'll help in any way I can."

#hannah writes fics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson fluff #adhd #woso fanfics #woso #woso x reader #awfc #woso imagine #woso fanfic

738 notes · View notes