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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

💕 reader turns into a baby and obsessed with Bucky. Awww 🥺

Infant Issues

bucky barnes x reader / masterlist

warnings; fluff, morgan definitely being tony’s kid, biting, swearing, spoilers for IW and Endgame, mention of the blip, childish behaviour from adults, terrible humour (I really am sorry), spoiler for WV, mention of age gap, kinda a crossover, an absolute mess 😂

“Morgan?” Bucky frowned, as the girl tried to speed past him. It was not wise for anyone to allow the mischievous child run around the compound alone, she always got up to nothing but trouble, and there was such a glazing in her brown eyes.

She didn’t spare him a glance, instead, she bolted, causing the super soldier to sigh. He would have went after her if there weren’t already footsteps recurring from the path that she had just came from; it was his father. It so happened that there was a bundle of joy in his arms, crying like the sudden crack of dawn.

“What were you going to do, wait another five years to tell everyone about this one, Stark?” Bucky asked with a chuckle, though the cries from the infant muted at the sound of his voice. The child wiggled in Tony’s grasp, trying her utmost to reach out for the vibranium armed hero.

“She’s not my daughter, if she was, I think me and you would be having conversations.” Tony’s words spurred a frown to combust out onto Barnes’ face, and the billionaire sighed, shifting the baby so that the baby was in Bucky’s arms.

The child cooed up at him, her eyes were a baby blue, sure to avert possibly into a different colour once she grew elder. “Look, I didn’t ask if I could hold her, she’s cute, but why do you-“

“Morgan did it.” Tony willingly blamed his own daughter. With her various experimentations, she was definitely taking after him. He’d be sure to keep this one quiet from Pepper, otherwise he was almost certain that he’d be banned from bringing Morgan on expeditions to the compound.

“I though y/n was supposed to be watching her.” Stated the enhanced soldier, cocking his head at the information that he recalled. He promptly remembered you abandoning him half way through training the newbie recruits, because Happy was dropping Morgan off, and you had offered watch over her, despite the associate being there.

“She was, and now you’re going to have to watch over her.” Tony pointed specifically to the child in his arms, and that was when realisation hit Bucky. He gulped, breathing through his nose to calm himself, as all the pieces clicked perfectly together.

This was not just a child - it was you. As he gazed down at you, he could finally see the pouted expression that would fixate upon your face when you paid attention to him when you were drunk, there was a glazing over your eyes as you raised your small and innocent hands, scraping down the stubble of his chin, as you curled further into his arms.

“I am going to kill you.” He steadily spoke, huffing as Sam went to walk past, but stopped himself when he saw the bundle of joy that was content in the brooding soldier’s arms.

“What the hell! Did you and y/n have a baby or something without telling anyone?” Oh, how he wished those were the circumstances, and if the pair of you were to ever have a child together, then he would be impartial to the idea of doing so.

"This is not my child, it's y/n, thanks to Stark over there." He bounced you in his arms, he even felt a small dribble of spit seep through his shirt, but he didn't mind, not as his icy glare was intently prized upon the philanthropist.

"Hey, it was my daughter's fault, not mine!" Tony excused himself from the blame, holding his palm against his chest, as he received as such. Sam ogled at him for a second, before returning his attention back into Bucky, and little you.

He came forwards, reaching his hand towards you, keening as you went to grasp his. As you did so, a smile broke out upon the man’s face, until it contorted into a sharp frown, the noise of a yelp escaping from his lips. “That little bitch bit me.”

“Language.” Steve rounded the corner, his golden brows raising when he saw the infant contently resting in his best friend’s arms. “Did you and y/n have a baby without telling us?”

“That’s what I said!” Sam beckoned to the blonde, as he averted a strong gaze to you and your normal sized partner. "Until she bit me, it reminds me of that time that I tried to steal her fries."

"I don't see why your complaining." Bucky rolled his eyes, bracing you up straighter so that your forehead was pressed lightly against his shoulder. "I'm the one whose partner is an actual child."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam rolled his eyes in reference to how you were beforehand, before Steve cut in, directing his leading tone towards the men that were stood idly by.

"What actually happened?" Tony found his enquiry to be an opportunity to avert the fault from himself; how lucky indeed was it that Steve asked such a thing.

"Technically it's your fault capsicle. Morgan found your prototype of your unsuccessful time machine. As you can see, she turned into a baby, much like Lang. And if you want to push the blame off of yourself, blame these two for their asses disappearing."

"Hey, if I wanted to disappear, I wouldn't have made such a dramatic exit. I'd have just left for my sister's." Crossing his arms, Sam shook his head at the man that was not wearing his iron suit. He was unable to take any responsibility, unless it was for his genius brain wave of creating the true transportation for the time heist.

"Well I'm going to keep that noted for any future repercussions." Oh, how Wilson regretting mentioning that now.

"You left it out, within your daughter's reach." Bucky quirked his brow, as he prepared to head towards the storage of the private laboratory that was shared between the two science bros.

"Technically, that was the big green guy." Bucky vouched not to listen to Stark, instead, he continued to walk, leaving the three other men in his rear view, though for the most part, he could still hear them bickering.

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change."

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change." Tony mimicked Steve, thus only proving his point. He was certainly a man that enjoyed pressing people's buttons, it was a shining attribute of the once playboy, and god, did it annoy the hell out of Barnes.

As he entered the laboratory, he found the lab to be in a state of havoc. "Hey, it wasn't me this time." Scott laughed, as he used an extinguisher against the frayed machine, that was blubbering sparks from its ruined exterior.

"Smash!" A small green child, wearing glasses that were far too big for him, ran across the room, followed shortly by a child with long blonde hair wrapped up in a red cape, as though it were some kind of makeshift diaper.

"Explain." Bucky bluntly stated, clenching his jaw, as he cooed lightly at your cries that pierced the air. He bounced you in his arms, not quite certain of what he was supposed to do.

In his time, there wasn't exactly an education system to teach the men going to war how to parent, or even care for a child. A part of him panicked; it was you, he hated seeing you cry in general, but now he couldn't attempt to find out the cause for your falling tears.

"Aw is that y/n?" The man half dressed in his ant man suit asked, a bright smile on his face, as he reached out to hold you. To say Bucky was hesitant to pass you to him was an understatement. "I have a daughter, I've looked after a baby before."

"From jail?" The white wolf asked, as he heard a crash exhibit from the connecting room, obviously being the fault of the two most destructive avengers, or at least, their little versions. Being aged down was definitely certification for trouble, everyone knew that.

"Okay I wasn't in there for that long." Scott reassured him, he picked up a bottle of milk from the table, handing it to the metal armed man, whom had never fed a child before. He found himself, cautiously, keeping a watchful eye, passing you over to the former criminal, intently watching every movement that the man made.

Lange simply fed you. "Always thought you and y/n would have a cute baby, imagine its- oh yeah, well after all that stuff that happened with vision and SWORD, we thought it best to destroy any technology that was recovered from the old base. This part survived, and well, I went into its- okay, you don't want to hear the science, but basically Thor insisted he could break it with his hammer, albeit whilst I was inside of it, and it sent energy around the room that turned them into pubescent children."

"I can see that it did nothing to you. And I thought Morgan did it.”

"I was so relieved, lucky I- wait, was that an insult?" Bucky remained primitively silent, and that answered Scott's question. The hero sighed, as you finished nursing, and your arms reached for Bucky, to whom he passed you to. “And I lied...”

He literally blamed a five year old for the screw up of grown men. Tony was going to thrive off this information, whence he knew that his daughter was in fact not the culprit.

"What do we do now?" He was eager to find a cure for this betrothed science. Those whom were responsible for your decrease in age, well, one was running around the compound, and the other, well, he was even younger than Morgan currently.

"You could wait twenty years, I mean you two already have quite a big age gap, and please don't kill me. I'm not sure that Cap would approve, I am a vital source to the team!"

"I'm not going to kill you tic tac. Or at least not at least until we fix these three."

"Phew." Scott wiped his brow, blowing air from his mouth. "Wait thre- oh yeah, the little guy carrying the hammer that is bigger than himself, and the

"Okay, we need someone smarter." Bucky sighed heavily, as he hugged you in thought. "You tried hitting it again with the hammer?"

"Oh my god, I could be worthy!" Gasped Scott, running off to the next room, only to come back limping, a pained expression on his face. "Little Asguardian bastard hit me!"

Bucky contained his smirk, and instead passed you to Lang, venturing into the other part of the lab, finding that Bruce was asleep, a blob of snot hanging from his nose, he could see the hammer in the middle of the room, almost as though it were waiting for him to attempt grabbing the handle, and Thor was-

The minuscule god jumped from one of the shelves, wrapping his arms around the front of Bucky’s neck, as he put all his weight on the super soldier’s back. In all practicality, Thor was strangling him, and Bucky tapped his arm, trying to convince him to let go.

“I know who Noobmaster69 is.” Thor quirked his head, lessening his hold, as he promptly awaited his now older friend to continue. “It’s, its- his name is Wade Wilson.”

“Wilson!” No, gosh no. Bucky stood completely, making sure to keep Thor in the vicinity, he needed him to be so so that he could reverse the affects on the son of Odin.

“Not Sam. Wade.” He had never met the man before, but god did he seem like a dick. When the pair of you were getting a taxi, the driver Dopinder just could not shut up about his friend, who liked to wear red, and had a kink for unicorns.

Wade certainly sounded like a weird one, but right now, his pass time was getting Thor to pick up that hammer. “Where can I find this Wade?” It practically left his mouth as a hiss, if the imagery and proven death supposed otherwise, he’d possibly think it was Loki instead.

“I will tell you, if you pick up that hammer, and hit it against that old machine. Got it buddy?”

“It’s name is Stormbreaker!” Bellowed the norseman, who tried to slide off his back, but Bucky kept a hold of his legs, refraining him from going anywhere. “Get peter to do it, I don’t want to play that game anymore!”

“Uuh, hi Mr Barnes...” That voice, oh he knew it, and the majority of the time it irritated him, he was Tony's little pet. “And, baby avengers?”

“Don’t ask kid.” Peter nodded, as he went to reach for a spanner. “Can you pick the hammer up, are you worthy?”

“Am I worthy?” He wondered aloud, his eyes fixated on the hammer, as he stepped towards it, holding his hand out, and clasping his palm around the handle, it feeling weightless in his grip, as he picked it up without effort. “Oh my god (it’s Robert Downey Junior)!”

“Great, now take it out there, I’ll deal with these two. And don’t do anything yet.” He was certainly feeling like a sergeant, throwing all the orders to the others, Peter complied, carrying the hammer as though it were an empty duffel.

“Can I try?” Instantly, after Peter passing it to him, Scott had such hope, until the force of gravity hit, and it fell on his foot, causing a light scream to ripple through his throat. “Get it off, get it off!”

Peter did so, as Bucky kept Thor on his shoulders, and grabbed a hold of Bruce’s chubby little ankle, dragging him into the other room. “Shit he’s heavy.” He saw that you were sat in the grand spinny chair, making Bucky relived that you weren’t in Lang’s arms as he attempted to have a moment of worthiness.

“What’d you do, go all Winter soldier on his ass and knock him out?!” Half screamed the prodigy of Hank Pym.

“Of course not, I think Thor did it.”

“Oh yeah, blame the kid because I did the same.”

“Put your suit from Stark on kid, unless you want to become a fetus.” Bucky ignored Scott for the moment,

“I got Hope to send her outfit, it will stretch to accommodate you, but I also think it would hug your shape nicely.”

“That was fast.” Muttered Peter, and Bucky shook his head, eyeing the outfit with weird eyes.

“I’m crazy, but not crazy enough to wear that.” Sighing, he grasped it in his hands, walking to the other room to squeeze into it. He noticed you watching, and thus he turned the chair around so that you couldn’t see anything. Little did he realise until he came out, that you had spun it around again, and was giggling. “Don’t laugh at me, or you won’t be allowed to see it when you’re returned to normal.”

A pout settled on your small lips, and it appeared as though you were getting ready to cry again, but before you could do so, a distraction intervened. An uninvited, and confusing one.

“Stop. Can I just say, that is some cruel declaration for the both of you, you’re my fave ship, after me and Hugh Jackman of course, but he doesn’t even know that this version of me exists.” A newfound imposter called out, his arms raised in the air. Leather gloves crinkled as he twitched his fingers, his white eyes freaking Scott the fuck out. “May I join you on this journey? I read about you guys in comics. And can I just say, I want to see these hunks and that hottie all grown up.”

“You want to see me go Winter Soldier on someone Lang?” Bucky gritted his teeth, prepared to murder this man for ever posing such words about you into the open air. Him speaking obviously drew some attention to him though, but it was not his rage that was mentioned, instead, it was his attire- or well, Hope’s.

“Nice suit Buck Buck. Can you do a twirl for me, I wanna see if it competes with America’s ass. Damn, does that man have some buns on him.”

“I know right!” Scott eagerly agreed, earning a smack in the nuts, to which had made him close to crumbling.“You had to use the metal hand, didn’t you.” Whimpered the Ant to the false Wasp, clamping his hands over his goods as he half hunched over. “I thought you often forgot to use it coz your right handed.”

“You’re on my left.” Gross, he sounded like Sam.

“Who the hell are you?” Thor spoke, and it felt familiar on his tongue. It was as though he had asked an enemy the same thing before...

“I, am Noobmaster69.”

“Hi, I’m Peter. Oh, we’re using our made up names, I thought Sam said it was that guy from that tech place.” Peter scratched his head through the mask, providing a small verbal distraction, as Thor willingly set himself free, launching at the intruder, whilst snatching the hammer from a suited up Peter.

“Aaasrrrghh.” He screamed like a true deity of the vikings.

“Thor, no!” Lang screamed, knowing that he’d have to come up with another excuse. The cameras had been fused whence Thor had first struck the hammer in the room, and it abused the guy in the red suit as he went for his legs, attacking the friend of Dopinder.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Laisse tomber les filles 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; sexual acts and dubcon (not explicitly tagged for a surprise but nothing extreme).

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: We’re in the lion’s den now, thots.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You lost yourself in your notes for your History of Print class. The subject was dull, not true history, more so the anatomy of the press and the amount of prints issued from year to year. It was much unlike the description for the course but it was too late to change now.

You bent over the coffee table as you scribbled in a notebook. You were distracted enough by your effort to understand the significance of all the numbers that you didn’t think much on the noise of dishes in the kitchen. You sat up and yawned as you rubbed your forehead.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Lee intoned and you winced as you noticed his figure in the doorway.

“Hm, what time is it?” you went to check your watch but realised you’d forgotten it.

“Just after five, honey,” he said, “you been working hard.”

“Oh,” you closed your notebook around your ballpoint pen and stood, “is dinner ready then?”

“It is,” he smiled and raised his arm over his head to lean on the wood, “I even made us a special dessert.”

“Really, um, thank you,” you neared and he shifted sideways to let you through, his elbow still planted on the frame.

You brushed against him as you entered the dining room, the table set for two and the light overhead turned low as a candle burned below. You went to a chair and Lee pulled it out before you could. You sat and looked over the red cloth and shining utensils anxiously. The roasted chicken steamed next to the French cut beans and seasoned potatoes.

“It smells good,” you offered as he sat across from you.

“I hope it is,” he said, “found an old recipe book in the attic and… not as easy as it looks.”

You picked up your fork and knife and cut into the chicken breast. It was juicy despite his doubts and you popped in a chunk of potato as you kept your mouth busy. You didn’t have much to say and you really just wanted to go. It was peaceful enough not studying in your loud dormitory but not much easier given your company.

“You like it?” he asked as he swallowed a mouthful.

“Mmm, very good,” you said behind your napkin, “thank you.”

📚

You finished up the sugary cake topped with strawberries. You stood carefully as you gathered up the dish and fork but Lee was quick. Despite his size, he was around the side of the table in an instant.

“I got it,” he insisted.

You let him take the saucer and he retrieved his own on his way to the kitchen. You stood tenuously by the table and pulled your lip down with your teeth as you thought. Would it be too soon to ask to go home?

You stood in a trance as his shadow blurred in your vision again and you were only shaken as he approached you. He touched your shoulder, his thumb rubbing the blouse as he gazed down at you. You looked up at him for a second then swiftly away.

“Y’alright, honey?” he asked.

“Just thinking,” you said, “sorry.”

“Don’t needa be,” his hand slipped down your arm and covered yours.

You winced as he led you around the table and sat blindly in his chair. You gawked at him dumbly as he brought the back of your hand to his mouth and kissed it. He kept you in a vice even as you tried to pull away.

“That was sweet cake but not as sweet as you,” he purred.

“It’s late,” you said weakly, “I should pack up my stuff--”

“It’s Saturday,” he tugged on you, “why you in such a hurry?”

“I’m not, I just… don’t want to impose,” you murmured.

“Nah, you ain’t,” he grinned as he grabbed your other hand, “come here.”

“I dont’... what are you--” you gasped as his hands went to your hips and he pulled you closer as he pushed the chair back, “sir, I--”

“Lee, but sir if you must,” he hummed as he guided you closer, his knee pressing between yours, “just sit with me, honey.”

He urged you down and you caught yourself on his shoulders. You straddled his leg awkwardly as you collapsed onto him and found your skirt riding up around his thick thigh. You gasped softly as he framed your chin with his hand but kept his other firmly on your hip.

“S--Lee,” you sputtered, “please…”

“What, I just wanna be close to ya, talk a little,” he said, “this really is nice on ya.”

He played with the little belt loop on the skirt. Your weight rested heavily on your crotch and a peculiar pressure built as you kept your toes on the floor. You tried to ease off of him as much as you could.

“So you readin’ a new book for this club?” he asked as he dragged his fingertips down your cheek and stared at your lips.

“Well, um… can I please get up?” you asked.

“I asked you a question, honey,” his voice hardened, “you might be a quiet one but I do expect some courtesy.”

“I… just a book called The Bell… Jar,” you began, “it’s different, sad, grim.”

You felt awkward, sat on his thigh like you would a horse, and his eyes following the movement of your lips. His tongue poked out as he nodded and his fingertips poked against the skirt. His other hand crept along the top of your blouse and fluttered behind your neck.

“You like sad stories?” he asked.

“They feel real,” you said as he urged you forward and your neck ached as you tried to resist his strength, “but I like other… ones. L--”

He forced you against him, your hands crushed to his chest as he growled along your lips. He nibbled and moved your pelvis back then guided it back forward. The friction along your panties made you squirm and he flicked his tongue along your lips.

You tried to shake your head but he kept your head still and prodded more urgently. He rocked your hips again and you mumbled into his mouth as you opened yours. His tongue dove inside without hesitation and you dug your nails into his button-up. As your crotch rubbed against his thigh, you felt a flurry in your core unlike anything you’d ever felt.

You pushed your hands up to his shoulders and he hugged you closer. His palm slid across your ass and he stretched his fingers along the plaid fabric. He kneaded you hungrily as he tilted your hips more fervently. Tendrils trickled down your thighs and crawled up your spine.

You moaned around his tongue as you quivered in his grasp. His strength was inescapable and something about the tickle inside you made it even more difficult. He grabbed your chin again and forced your mouth away from his. He gripped you tightly and made you look at him, his blue eyes fiery but dark.

You closed your eyes and groaned. You bit your lip as you tried to resist the building heat and squeezed his thighs between yours. You slapped his shoulder as your stomach pressed to his and he turned his hand to poke a finger in your mouth.

“Look at me, honey,” he rasped.

You shook your head, or tried to, and he pressed down on your tongue.

“Look at me,” he snarled and your lashes snapped open, “that’s it. This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Your lips closed around his finger as you teared up in a panic. Why did you feel like this? Your mind said you didn’t want it and yet your body felt electric. You were confused and horrified by your own flesh.

“Is it, huh?” he cooed, “look at you, riding me like that… I thought you was sweet, girl.”

You panted and sucked on his finger without thinking as your eyes rolled back. He hummed and moved you fast, pushing down so even more pressure settled between your legs. You latched onto his collar and bit down on his finger. He grunted but kept it there.

“Come on, honey,” he said, “you’re almost there.”

You whined and your legs quaked as you were overcome by waves of heat and then a flood of icy waves. You grabbed his wrist and tore his hand from your mouth as you cried out and threw your head back. You rode him on your own will, chasing the high until it faded.

You stilled at last and covered your face. You shook your head and muttered in shame. He lightly took your wrists and drew your hands down. You couldn’t look at him as you felt the wetness in your underwear.

“Why you hidin’?” he asked in a smoky voice.

“What did you--”

“Did it hurt, honey?” he interjected, “did I hurt you?”

“N… no,” you admitted, “but I don’t know… that’s never… happened to me before.”

“You mean, you never… came before?”

“Came?” you squinted.

“Orgasmed,” his lips twitched, “you never even tried to touch yourself?”

“Please, I don’t wanna say,” you gulped.

“You don’t gotta be ashamed, not with me,” he ran his hand up and down your back, “it was nice, right?”

You dropped your chin and nodded. Your lip trembled but you held back the tears. You were humiliated and helpless.

“Can I get up, please?” you asked.

He inhaled and rubbed your arms, “sure, honey, you go on get up… and get cleaned up.”

You stood unsteadily and reached back to hold yourself up against the table. He chuckled and looked down at his slacks. There was a wet smear along his grey pants but more overtly, his crotch was tented as his arousal pressed against the fabric.

“Look at the mess you made,” he touched the spot with his fingers.

“You made me--”

“You let me, honey,” he said as he stood and adjusted his belt, “you want it. We both heard you.”

“I…” you breathed, “but…”

“You hardly tried to get up,” he rebuked, “I’ma show you so much, honey pie, you just gotta relax.”

You stared at him but when his eyes held yours for too long, you had to look away. You squirmed and fixed your skirt.

“May I use your bathroom?” you said.

“Best you do,” he pointed through the front room, “just under the stairs.”

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #laisse tomber les filles #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #college au #The Devil All The Time

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mokuhchi-manuscripts · 3 years

Text

Mic On

A/N: this was my first time practicing smut writing and it did okay on AO3 so I thought I'd share it here as well <3 I may end up deleting this unless people want me to keep it up haha

Fandom: Obey Me!: Shall We Date? Premise: Leviathan x Reader Smut Word Count: 1,354 Content Warning(s): C*ck warming; S*x

Find this on my AO3 as Well

[Smut Under the Cut]

“Levi…” I whined in an attempt to gain my boyfriend’s attention. “Hm.” “Can I please have some attention, please?” I begged. I could practically hear him rolling his eyes at me from across the room. Leviathan had invited me to his room earlier to spend some time together and finish an anime we had started together, but his guild in one of his MMORPGs had contacted him for help with a raid just before we had pressed play. He had given me a chaste kiss on the forehead just before he left me in the pile of pillows and blankets we had gathered on the floor, and went to boot up his gaming monitor and slip on his headset. “I’m- fuck! I’m a little busy right now, sorry.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his antics, knowing full well he wasn’t going to come back to the land of the living for a while. At least he had had the courtesy to only slip on one headphone, the side without the mic was instead more behind his ear so he could still hear me. I continued to sit and watch from my place on the floor, when a brilliant idea emerged in my head. Maybe, I could distract him from his games and lure him back to what we were doing before. I slowly stood up, not wanting to alert him of my movement. I knew that he had better hearing than a human, so he probably could notice my footsteps despite his headphones, but the quieter I was, the more the creaking wood under my feet would fade into the background. I made my way to his right side where his microphone was, extending my arms in a silent request for affection. Levi sighed, exasperated, but rolled his chair back and moved his arms momentarily to allow me room to climb into his lap. I sat comfortably, the back of my knees hanging over the arm of his chair and my head tucked into the groove between his shoulder and neck. He moved his chair back to its original position and quickly continued playing the game. I slowly ran my hand through his hair and pulled his face slightly down towards me to place kisses on his cheek. I could see his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed, and his face began to turn a beautiful crimson. I moved my hand so it was in his chest and trailed kisses down to his neck. I heard him let out a shaky breath, just as if he was holding back a moan. Levi quickly muted his mic, “What are you doing?” I shrugged. “Well, stop. I’m trying to focus.” I pouted at his words as he unmuted his mic. I ended up moving so I was straddling him in his chair, my ear over his heart. I could hear it racing. Levi looked down at me again, a look of concern on his phase. A blush was climbing up his neck and across his cheekbones, which only heightened my intrigue in this situation. I placed a finger to my lips in a ‘sh’ position, and proceeded to grind against him. I could hear a strangled moan get caught in his throat, attempting to have his teammates not hear. Levi suddenly muted his mic again, “Wh-what’re you doing? I have my mic on!” he attempted to sound more dominant. “Leave it on, just ignore me.” I placed a quick kiss on his lips, and immediately turned his mic back on. He continued to chat with his teammates and play his game as I let marks on his collarbone and grinded against him. Every time he spoke, I made sure to leave a mark, as it would cause his voice and hands to shake. I found it somewhat entertaining. After a couple more minutes of my actions, something snapped within Levi. He moved his mic away from his face, not even bothering to mute it and whispered in my ear, “If you’re going to be such a brat, then I’ll make sure you behave. Why don’t you sit your pretty self on my dick.” My own voice caught in my throat then, surprised by Levi's forwardness. “Well?” he poke again. I moved my body back, giving myself enough space to unzip his jeans. I pulled his dick out from the confines of his pants as he reached into a nearby drawer to hand me some lube. Leviathan moved his armI prepared myself on his lap, using my own fingers to stretch myself open as I let my hot breath fan across his collarbones. I made sure to stay quiet due to his headset, but a part of me wanted

to moan just to see what Levi would do. But I didn’t push the issue. As soon as I felt prepared enough, I slowly sank myself onto Levi’s dick. He forced a cough in an attempt to hide a moan, but it didn’t sound incredibly effective to me. I could hear shouts of ‘who was that?’ come from his headset. I slowly and ever so slightly raised and lowered my body, fucking myself on my boyfriend’s dick. He briefly put both of his hands on my hips and held them down, a silent way to tell me to stop moving. I waited for his game to end, randomly squeezing around him or slightly shifting to remind him of the situation he was in. “You’re such a brat, you know that?” Leviathan said, removing his headset and exiting the game. I feigned an innocent look. He leaned forward slightly, his mouth directly next to my ear as he whispered, “If you want my dick so bad, then do the work yourself.” I slowly raised and lowered myself, trying to tease my boyfriend but inadvertently teasing myself. I felt him grip my hips again, thumbs digging into my skin. “What happened to me doing the work myself?” I gasped. “You’re, fuck, you’re going to slow,” he choked out his answer through moans. He moved my hips up and down and began to leave dark marks on my neck and shoulder. “Levi, these are high up.” “Fuck it, I want everyone to know your mine.” I couldn't help but moan at his possessiveness as I came closer and closer to my climax. I started picking up the pace even more and grabbed his face so I could kiss him properly. He moaned into my mouth. Just as I was about to cum, I pulled away from the kiss. I threw my head back as my walls began to tighten around him. “Oh fuck!” Levi exclaimed, obviously close himself. I kept the pace up despite it causing me slight overstimulation, but Leviathan quickly came inside me. He let out a low groan as he did so, and I started to slow down, working him through his orgasm. After both our breathing had leveled, I slipped myself off of him. “I’ll grab a towel.” Levi said as he stood up and tucked himself back into his pants. He walked into his bathroom and grabbed a towel. I could hear him turning on and off a faucet just before he walked back out. He made his way over to me and as soon as I was within an arm’s length, he started cleaning me up. He knelt down in front of, cleaning where the cum had dripped down my leg. “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you enough attention.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, “It’s okay. I think it ended well, wouldn’t you say?” I could see the tips of Levi’s ears turning red. Once he was done cleaning me up he threw the towel into his hamper and passed me some clothes to borrow. I didn’t necessarily need them, but who was I to deny my boyfriend letting me borrow some pajamas? We went over to the pile of pillows we had created earlier and laid down together. Levi held me close to his chest like a precious gift, and in that moment I felt loved. · · ─────── · ☆ · ─────── · ·

Masterlists || FaQ || Requesting Rules/Remarks

#.content: Smut #.fandom: Obey Me #.xReader #.fic: Mic On #.media: Fanfiction #leviathan x reader #leviathan smut #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me smut #obey me fanfic #leviathan fanfic #obey me x reader

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

A hair’s breadth

Javier Peña x Female Reader

Summary: Javier and Reader can’t help but be at each others throats. Javier gets fed up with the teasing one night.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my nineteenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days!!! Sorry this is out late- I had a job interview!! (I got the job! 🥳) This is based off of this and this request! There’s not as much Spanish in this one- though one day soon I want to try to write all the dialogue for Javier in Spanish- (I am trying to learn how to be better at it im just very nervous I’ll get it all wrong 🙃) Please feel free to drop me a message in my inbox here (I promise I don’t bite) Thank you for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Protected Sex (wrap it up especially with Javier lol), Fingering, Hate fucking, Public sex (who’s surprised), Hair pulling, Choking, Mirror sex

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.9k

“Do that again I dare you.” Javier had you pushed up against the wall of his apartment, with his hand around your throat. How you had gotten in this position was as a result of one of your regular fights you often had with him.

This time it had been over something even more petty than the last time. You honestly couldn’t remember exactly what had started it. It had been something to do with some obscure line in the paperwork you were filling out while over at his apartment late at night past embassy hours. What had been a small issue then turned into a full blown argument, snapping and yelling at each other until it reached its peak.

Javier knew that he shouldn’t have said that just by the look on his face while he had a hand around your throat. You had slapped him after a misogynistic comment, which then had him slamming you up against the wall.

“Fuck you!” You yelled, but did not move to get out of his grip. He was about to respond with probably another biting comment when you were both interrupted.

You both looked over to his front door when there was incessant knocking, which was probably only from one person. “Hey Javi! Do you or Y/N want to go out for a drink tonight?” Steve’s voice being shouted through the walls confirmed the source of the knocks. You were glad his door was closed, otherwise this would've been an awkward situation to explain to your coworker.

Javier looked back at you one last time with a hard look on his face; it was a normal occurrence for you to receive that type of look from him. You smiled despite his hand around your throat as you had gotten what you had wanted, you had succeeded in riling him up.

Steve knocked again, this time a little harsher. He didn’t look away this time, eyes narrowing in on you further, like he was trying to decide if he should release you from his clutches. Though, it wasn’t that you were completely helpless, you could force him off of you if you wanted. But, you wanted to see what he would do.

“Are you going to answer him?” You goaded, biting your lip when you finished speaking, eagerly waiting for his response. No verbal comment came from him, instead he released the hold he had on your neck. You slumped a little, not out of pain as his hold hadn’t been that tight, you had just been surprised when he released you so quickly.

“Lo siento…” Was mumbled under Javier’s breath. You wondered if he meant for you to hear it or if he said it only to ease his conscience.

Javier walked over to the door to swing it open with you in tow, luckily already recovered somewhat from his hand around your throat. Steve jumped slightly when Javier opened it forcefully, then smiling when you both responded to his question, albeit gruffly, “Yeah, sure.”

—-

Javier clenched his fist hard while you took a drink, smirking into the glass was the only indication that you knew exactly what you were doing. You had spruced yourself up a bit to go to the bar, slipping on a dress you had just bought recently and putting on a pair of high heels. As soon as you had appeared back downstairs where Steve and Javier had been waiting for you his jaw had clenched hard, just like his fist was doing right now.

You were sat at the edge of the booth you had all congregated in, Javier was right across from me and Steve was by the window absentmindedly drinking a beer. He didn’t notice how you were sat slightly to the side, inching the dress you wore higher just to see Javier’s fist clench more.

“I’m surprised you guys were actually working together without me there.” Steve scratched at his jaw. We both pretended to partially focus back on him for a moment, Javier’s fist dropped much to my disappointment.

You glanced over at him then giving him one of the biggest lies you’ve ever told, “We’ve found a way to- resolve our differences.”

Javier took an angry gulp of whiskey, somehow it was possible that he was now even more pissed off at you then before. He opened his mouth to probably say something backhanded as usual, but Steve steamrolled him unintentionally, “Well- I’m glad, the office is kinda painful to be in when y’all are having one of your arguments.”

“Well hopefully we won’t bother you anymore.” Javier finally got a word in and it was just as snippy as expected.

You then downed the rest of your drink in one gulp, a little tipsy now from the few drinks you’d had so far. A dull thud from you setting the glass down on the table was swallowed by the noises of the other customers and employees around you. You got up, fed up with getting only little responses from him, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

—-

“Javier what are you doing?” You asked incredulously when he entered the women’s restroom, but weren’t given an answer. You didn’t pull away when he pulled you close, dipping his head to suck a hickey on the underside of your jaw. You only keened into his touch, you may have hated him, but it did feel amazing. Your teasing had worked

“I told Steve I was going to the bathroom too.” Giving a quick summary before continuing his assault on your skin, “You drive me absolutely crazy.” He spitefully said into your skin in between sucking and biting your collarbone. You didn’t care enough to respond, he knew you felt the same. In a flash he pulled your dress off of your head, exposing all of you except what was covered by your bra and underwear.

When he then gripped his fingers around the fabric of your panties and ripped them off, you gasped in anger. He then ran his fingers through your folds, stopping at your clit to run small circles into it. You were still angry about the ruined panties on the floor, and the fact that with just a few touches he was proving why everyone fell at his feet after they slept with them. “I liked those!”

“You seem to like this too.” His fingers sped up their movements, alternating between hard and light pressure. Your orgasm was building embarrassingly quickly, you almost wanted to hold it back so Javier didn’t get a big head. It felt too good though, and you didn’t have a lot of time.

You were both a hair’s breadth away from getting caught, Javier’s fingers continued their movements with no thought. Steve was drunk, he might even be asleep right now. But, one wrong move and he’d hear Javier fucking you in the bathroom.

“Javier!” You shouted, not thinking about the volume, when he pulled his fingers away from you just as you were about to fall off the edge. He then brought his wet fingers to his lips, sucking off any evidence of your arousal. It was hard to be mad when he looked so hot doing that, even though your clit was throbbing now.

“Need to fuck you now- this’ll take too long if we wait for you.” You wanted to snap at him again, his comment flippant and somewhat rude. That was until he pulled his cock out of his pants, already hard just for you. Your mind switched gears after that.

“Condom?” He grunted in response to your question, then pulled one out of his wallet. You were about to ask how long it had been in there, but with the rate he fucks, you doubted it had been there for long.

Once he slipped it on he commanded, “Bend over.” You scoffed, about to retort that you’d never bend over for him. But, Javier beat you to the punch, “I won’t ask again, I’ll leave you here naked and dripping.” You shuddered at that, your arousal was too much to ignore. So, you let him have one victory, hopping off the counter to bend over.

You caught sight of your disheveled state in the mirror, your legs buckling a little because of it. You already looked completely ruined by him, and he hadn’t done much besides fingering you. Javier must have caught you staring at yourself, and him if you were being honest, wrapping his hand around your hair to push you closer to the mirror. “¿Que? You like watching yourself? You like getting fucked while Steve and everybody else could hear you?”

You tried to nod your head, but with his firm grip on your hair while he began to sink into you, all you could do was moan. Once you realized that you were most definitely being too loud you stopped yourself making any noise by biting your lip hard. When the front of Javier’s thighs hit the back of yours he leaned forward to whisper angrily in your ear, “Yeah- you do like this.”

His pace was rough, but not sloppy, quick thrusts that had your ass rippling from the force. This was going to be a quick and dirty fuck, Steve would soon come looking for us if we didn’t get our orgasms over and done with. Besides, all you were looking for was a release, being with Javier for more time than was necessary just sounded like a punishment. Despite the pace he was keeping up, he still managed to keep your head right where he wanted it, looking directly in the mirror.

Your orgasm was building up again, even faster than before since you were already sensitive. At one point when your eyes began to roll back as you got closer Javier snapped that you should keep your eyes open.

“Come on, cum.” He growled out once he noticed how close you were, “Cum while Steve is out there- wondering where we went.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that, your orgasm crashing over you. Javier reached his own peak while you were riding out your own, filling the condom, gripping your hair and hip hard as he did.

Once your highs had abated he pulled out of you with a groan, quickly tying off the condom while you were still bent over and recovering with gasped breaths.

“Hey Javier?” You asked right as he began to turn around to go, letting you put your clothes back on and clean up in peace.

“¿Sì?” He turned around to face you again, looking much more put back together than you were with your makeup still smudged. You had the remnants of the panties he had ripped off of you dangling on your finger.

You wrapped your other hand around his belt he put back on, pulling him back closer to you so you were both chest to chest. You then stuffed the scrap of torn fabric into the front pocket of his jeans until they were completely hidden.

“Now you get to sit right next to Steve while they’re in your pocket.” He gulped a little and you gave one last remark before turning back to clean up your makeup, “And, you’ve got to pay for a new pair, I liked those.”

Though he boiled your blood as you walked back to the table where he had joined Steve back at you realized you were only a hairs breadth away from not hating him.

Ask Me Anything

—-

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2

WC: 1728

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: mentions of sexual themes, alcohol consumption, past relationships

🧠

You and Laszlo had easily fallen back in your work routine during the first week back. His course load was almost identical to that of the previous semester, and so he didn't mandate that you come to classes like he had during the fall. Even so, you insisted on attending like usual.

Taking your seat at the back of the lecture hall you watched as he moved around the front while he spoke. You were supposed to be sorting through the information cards the students had filled out. Not much was actually getting done, as you were highly distracted. His right hand typically found home in his trouser pocket so as not to draw attention. But his left? You licked your lips. Of course you loved both of his hands, but with his favoring the left side you developed a certain affinity for the limb. Oh what his hand was capable of, you reminisced.

Your sigh must have been louder than you anticipated, as Laszlo’s eyes snapped in your direction. “Perhaps if you are bored you should keep your noises of displeasure to yourself,” he said with a quirk of his brow. His face held a look of annoyance, but his eyes told you otherwise. He knew exactly what you were thinking about based on the sound you made and it amused him to no end. You knew he meant nothing by the harsh statement. He did so to maintain his staunch reputation in front of the class.

Biting your lip you issued a “sorry, professor.” Even from across the room you could see the brief flicker of heat in his eyes at your 'apology'. To everyone else the encounter would probably leave them shitting themselves, but you knew better. Even a small success such as this was to be celebrated in your mind.

You had been hoping that you could push Laszlo to be a bit rougher with you sometimes. He would often restrain himself when you were intimate, but you had an inkling that underneath he was just itching to let go. By no means were you ever left unsatisfied, he made damn sure of that. You wanted to kick things up a notch; you wanted to see what he was capable of.

He cleared his throat. Picking up where he left off, he began “as you can see, within psychology there is no single truth. No one theory that can fully or definitively explain who we are, why we are, or what becomes of us. That is why we must always ask of ourselves the purpose of our nature and our choices. This term will be a glimpse of seeking answers to our questions. In the meantime - you have a quiz on Monday for the parts of the brain and their functions. Do not be late or come with excuses, I do not give makeups often, if ever. Have a nice weekend.”

With that the young underclassmen all shuffled out to go spend their weekend most likely partying, rather than studying. You really couldn’t blame them, as this section of Introductory Psychology was in the late afternoon. As an undergrad you would have probably done the same on a Friday night.

Both you and Laszlo packed up your things from your respective areas of the room. Once the last student was gone he called out to you. “Sara and John want to meet up this evening, would you like to accompany them or do you have plans?”

“Will you be there too, or are you too busy with paperwork and stuff?” He had been complaining of having a list to work through this week with some new documentation requirement the university put out on the professors. You trek down the stairs to meet him by the front desk.

“I think it would be odd of me to invite you out in the event that I would not be there myself,” he quips back. His hand comes to rest on your side.

You hum in response. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.”

He chuckles at you, “you’ve spent every day with me.”

“You know what I mean.” Peering around to ensure no one was present, you lean up to give him a quick kiss. “What time do they want us there?”

He checks his phone for the text from John. “In half an hour.”

“Then we better get going before he hogs all the pretzels,” you crack.

The two of you made your way from the university to the old pub a few blocks down the road. Students didn’t come here often, as it was geared towards the older and less rowdy crowd. It was perfect for the four of you though. You had even gotten on with the owner, Cyrus, and his niece Joanna, who often worked the bar.

You sat in the booth next to Laszlo; Sara and John opposite you. The first 45 minutes or so were spent going over the events of the past week back. Eventually, the conversation slowed.

“I think I should get us another round. What do you say?” Sara asked the table. You slid out from your side offering to give her a hand with collecting the new beverages. Laszlo watched as you walked alongside her to the bar, laughing at something Cyrus had said to you. You always looked so beautiful when you were laughing.

“So…” John began, getting his attention. Laszlo turned to face his friend. “I heard a rumor.”

“You know I don’t put credence into such things, out with it John.” Clearly whatever he wanted to discuss he didn’t wish to say in front of your presence. Despite his words Laszlo did have some trepidation about the upcoming conversation. Could it be about you? Maybe you two weren’t being delicate enough with keeping the relationship subtle?

John looks over to the bar where you and Sara are still procuring the drinks. “Karen is in town.”

He relaxed at the turn of events. “Ah, yes. She is guest lecturing at the university while she conducts research of some kind in the city.” Laszlo is matter-of-fact in his response.

John studies him for a minute. He looks concerned. “It’s been what, four years since you last saw her? Or have you seen her yet?”

“I have not. Why do you ask?” He brings the near empty glass to his lips to take a sip of the harsh liquid.

“Well, Laszlo, I just mean that you two were serious for a long time before you moved out here. In fact I had figured you would settle down with her. You left her in Austria to come here, after all,” he explains quietly.

Laszlo cocks his head in confusion. “I don’t see how that would be a concern. The dissolution of our relationship was mutual - she stayed in Vienna; I came to New York. We did not want the strain of attempting something long distance and we both came to the same conclusion on the matter. And it has been four years, John, as you so kindly reminded me. I have moved on and I am quite content now.” His tone was nonchalant.

He is happy. You were vibrant, and thoughtful, and he couldn’t say that he had felt this lighthearted in years. His years with Karen were wonderful, but in truth they didn’t compare to what he had now with you. For once he felt hopeful for what the future with you could bring. It wasn’t as strong a consideration with Karen.

John holds up his hands as if to defend his words. “I’m glad for that, truly. She’s wonderful for you and I can see that. I just worry that Karen’s presence might cause a resurgence of emotions or whatnot with you. Sara and I would hate to see things fall apart for the two of you after everything,” he gestures towards where you stand with her. “Are you going to tell her about Karen?”

Laszlo nods in understanding. “I appreciate the concern, John. But I assure you, I view Karen strictly in professional terms now. I look forward to hearing about her studies here as they could be illuminating for my courses.” He sees movement from you and Sara as you begin your return. “I do not see myself withholding information regarding my past with Karen, but I don’t know that I find it necessary to bring it up as of yet.” John’s nod is faint, as though he disagrees but isn't willing to say so. The conversation is cut short by you setting drinks on the table.

You all stay another hour at the bar. Laszlo’s thigh rests against you, his right hand atop your own leg. Occasionally you can feel the way his thumb lightly strokes you through your jeans. He makes it hard to pay attention to what Sara is saying to the group; little bolts of lightning shoot up your leg and to your core. When your legs clench Laszlo doesn’t seem to notice.

Aside from the growing arousal within you, the soft clink of the index finger of his left hand grabs your attention. A steady tap tap tap as he hits the side of his whisky glass. The movement brings you back to your thoughts during his lecture earlier, how the thick digits with their calloused tips drive you absolutely mad when they brush against your skin. You swallow.

This time Laszlo is aware of your state. His eyes shift to you from where he sits to your left. The two of you hadn’t had time or energy to be intimate since that night he took you to Delmonicos. The lack has taken its toll as you give him that look.

Abruptly Laszlo faces the others. “I would hate to cut our evening short, but I have more paperwork to fill out by Monday for the Dean. I would rather get it done so that I may enjoy my weekend. John, Sara.” He nods his farewell as he nudges for you to move out of the booth. You hold back your giggle at his insistent need to get home.

John looks slightly confused with the suddenness of your departure. A look of understanding comes over him with a whisper from a smirking Sara. With a wave the two of you leave into the cold January night.

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ushidoux · 4 years

Text

Hesitant (Ushijima x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 3350 words (I can’t believe I wrote this much)

Summary: You find out why Ushijima has been a little hesistant about things getting too steamy between you. NSFW.

A/N: This is awkward af and quite cracky but hopefully in an endearing way.

---

Ushijima Wakatoshi was essentially perfect.

Just the right amount of unexpectedly charming and unintentionally hilarious, the man had a way of tugging at your heartstrings with even the most basic gestures. The way he reached for your hand instinctively when you met up with him after your college courses, the softening of his usual glower as he turned in your direction in response to your voice calling his name, or the short but sweet morning texts - all things that made your heart swell for him.

He was straightforward and most importantly, explicit with his actions from the very first moment you got involved. You never got the impression you were being strung along and despite how hyperaware you were about the ills of the current dating landscape, not once did you consider the possibility of getting ghosted or benched.

Weeks then months passed and you fell fast for him. You were in love.

In love with everything: his facial expressions, whether serious or smiling, his dedication to his craft, his warm, large hands, the timbre of his voice and the way it softened especially for you...

He was perfect.

But when your third month anniversary (not that you were keeping track, of course) came and passed and you had not yet had that kind of intimacy, you could no longer ignore the ache in your core he left you with after his lips parted from you minutes into a deep, passionate kiss...

Or worse - when he came from behind and held you tightly around the waist, the familiar but not-familiar-enough bulge between his legs pressing against your lower back and demanding your attention in a different way Toshi did.

In mere moments, every touch went from wanted and appreciated to craved and needed, and it began to hurt.

Why was he holding back?

“T-toshi?” You mumbled, interrupting your makeout session by pulling back from him as far as you could with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Mm…?” His eyes connected to yours then slid back down to your lips, wanting, waiting for you to continue. Was he actually listening? You weren’t quite sure, but his hold on your hips firmed, keeping you steadily settled in his lap. He rested his chin on your shoulder, making sure to keep you close, and you could feel his heartbeat, slightly quickened as he waited for you to speak.

You wished he would look at you when you asked this next question but instead you pressed your cheek to his.

“Do you find me attractive?”

Your voice came out somewhere between soft and assertive, and you could feel Ushijima tense ever so slightly before straightening his back so that he was looking straight at you. His hands didn’t move from where they rested on your side and he remained very still, as he did often when he was unsure of what to do next.

His face remained unreadable and the behavior didn’t reassure you.

“Well, do you?” You pressed, your voice smaller this time.

“Why do you think otherwise?”

His deep voice was almost as quiet as yours, and he sounded almost apologetic. You felt a small weight land in the pit of your stomach, embarrassed to have made the mood so awful. But you couldn’t help what you wanted. You could feel that familiar heat rising within the space between your legs, and your breathing was getting quicker and raspier, and his hands had been roaming... A large hand had slipped under your shirt, then under your brassiere to palm and caress a breast, and suddenly his tongue was down your throat, and you knew soon he would stop and you would be left to smile and bite your lip while he hastily made up an excuse to leave.

Was it you? Was it him?

Your arms slowly slid down from around Ushijima’s neck and dropped into your lap. A small frown crossed his face very briefly in response and he gently withdrew his hands from where they held you.

You sat quietly together for a moment as you attempted to formulate words to express how you felt. Horny? Yes. Desired? You weren’t sure, and that was the issue.

“Sometimes, I feel like…,” you trailed off, carefully scrutinizing Ushijima’s face for a reaction. He continued to watch you cautiously, and you grimaced before continuing. Confrontation wasn’t your strong point, but communication was a must.

“I feel like things escalate and then… stop.” You paused there, and he tilted his head slightly. You mentally scolded yourself, knowing very well that you weren’t doing a great job of making sense, but in that surprisingly intuitive way of his, he seemed to know exactly what you meant.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he said, slowly.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you repeated, warmth flooding your cheeks once again. “U-unless you’re not ready to, you know, have sex... I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to coerce you into doing something that you don’t want to do, I just-”

You were interrupted by Ushijima’s hands finding their way back onto your hips again, and then standing you up completely straight so that he could rise to his full height. Seeing him tower over you now suddenly, you swallowed hard once. He could be so intimidating without meaning to, even if he was unequivocally sweet with you.

He let out a wistful sigh and ran a hand through his hair with his eyes closed before refocusing his gaze back onto you - you who were now standing awkwardly, twiddling your thumbs as you waited for him to decide to either tell you he was interested in touching and kissing but not outright having sex with you (but maybe some day!) or to just walk out the door never to be seen again without even bothering with an explanation.

Instead, he suddenly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, to your surprise.

“Wait, Toshi! Now?” You almost shrieked as he almost hastily undressed his lower half in the middle of your apartment without a single qualm. He was already unfastening his belt before he stopped to look at you - a good thing because your heart was now beating so fast in your chest, you were sure you were going to become lightheaded enough to pass out.

“We can if you want to. I’ve wanted to for a while now,” he replied, and to those simple words, your heart started to flutter and both elated and aroused you were again.

“The problem is, I was, and still am, a little worried that I might hurt you,” he started, and you wondered why he would be concerned about such a thing up until his pants dropped to his ankles, and your eyes grew wide as you realized what the limiting factor may have been. No wonder he had been avoiding sex for so long.

“I’m a bit large down there, it turns out.”

Large is an understatement, you thought, your eyes glued helplessly to the thing hanging between his legs. For the second time tonight, you swallowed hard - for once, you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

---

One very efficient store trip, a couple extra-large condoms, and a generous amount of lube later, you knelt across from Ushijima onto your large bed, your heart pounding again. Both of you were now stripped down to the bare flesh and while you wanted to drool over the sight of his bare chest and indulge in the feeling of his weight pressed against your body, you found yourself movement paralyzed, unsure of what to do next.

You had felt silly asking him to redress again so you could go out and buy supplies, but the truth was you needed time to come up with a game plan. Anyone who saw that monster cock for the first time would take a pause. Would you be able to take all of that? Could anyone take all of that?

“___, are you okay? You’re staring.”

You were trying to figure out if the condoms would fit him, then thanked the heavens that you were on the pill anyway if the condoms broke by any chance. When he waved his hand in your face, you were brought back into the reality of the here and now. You nodded, but the thinly veiled distress on your always expressive face was starting to remind him of the many locker room jokes and nicknames he’d endured once he’d reached the end of puberty.

Spear Ushijima was the first to come to mind and he grimaced, then rested back into a sitting position, cross-legged on the bed.

“We don’t have to do anything, I understand.” he said, flatly. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed it, concerned that he would look too upset. He smiled now instead to mask his disappointment and reached his arms out for you.

“We can cuddle. Oh, but if you would prefer that I put my clothes back on, I could do that too,” he said hurriedly, getting up to make his way off the bed, but you interrupted him by moving close and pressing a hand on his chest.

“Wait.”

And his surprised expression turned to another smile, more genuine this time, and he relaxed into your touch.

“___,” he whispered your name softly. You smiled, then keeping your eyes in fierce contact with his, you reached down to wrap your fingers around his considerable length. Even only semi-hard, the girth was impressive and you could feel the warmth shuttling in as he became aroused. His mouth parted just slightly in surprise.

“Are you sure?” His voice was already thick with lust.

“Yes,” you whispered, “but we’ll have to take it slow.” You added a smile to that last part and leaned forward to peck him on the lips once before you started to stroke him up and down his shaft.

He let out a soft moan and leaned back, watching you carefully as you worked your hand up and down his penis. You could tell he was trying very hard to keep still and let things run at your pace, and you relished in the opportunity fully.

“That… feels really good, ____,” he offered, his voice low and husky, and encouraged by his words, you added another hand, offering a few more pumps to his length before the piece de resistance to your lovely handjob, the application of your soft lips to his waiting cockhead.

He was already leaking a little precum, you could tell by the salt on your tongue as you licked at the slit at the tip of his member. He let out a low groan, and you could feel his muscles tense beneath you as he rose quickly.

“Y-you don’t have to if you don’t want-” he started, but you wouldn’t let him interrupt what you had going on.

“I want to, Toshi!” You exclaimed, almost indignantly, and as if to supplant that claim, you descended as far down his shaft as you could go in a fluid motion, but then to your misfortune, you must have triggered your gag reflex because you choked once then twice, and pulled yourself back to cough once more.

“Babe, are you okay?!”

Ushijima shot up like a board to hold you steady by the shoulders while you coughed, and as tears started to form in your eyes, you took one glance at his intense look of concern and you burst into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?”

You doubled over onto him, laughing even more against his chest, which only made him more concerned as he wrapped you in his arms.

“I told you this was dangerous and this is why I held myself back, ___.”

You pulled back once more, tears welling into your eyes as you finally said through snorts:

“Can you PLEASE stop acting like your dick is a lethal weapon?”

The look on Ushijima’s face was that of such extreme shock that you were pretty sure you would never stop laughing, that your fate was now to perpetually cackle until you died of asphyxiation. He frowned again, and you felt just a little bad but still the mixture of stress and confusion and awkwardness and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation rendered you unable to stop.

And finally he added, “It might be funny to you but I’ve never done this before.”

That sobered you up enough that you actually did cease chuckling, and with a final, unintentional chuckle, you faced him seriously this time, your faces only inches apart.

“Is it really your first time?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Another silence hung in the air, maybe because it was hard for you to believe that no one had ever touched him in this way or maybe because despite the fact that he looked either mildly irritated or severely embarrassed, you could still feel his erection hard against your lower belly and you weren’t sure if that meant you should continue (and to be honest, you really wanted to) or that sex was off the table for the time being.

But his arms were still wrapped around you, and you could feel the thump of his heart against your chest, and you wanted him, and you believed he wanted you too, and suddenly it was silly that you had been so intimidated in the first place.

Again you were caught staring into his eyes, and you felt warm again - different layering types of warm.

“Do you want to continue?” The two of you asked, almost in unison. You could hear the hint of persuasion, the please say yes in his voice.

You smiled, and pressed your lips to his again, and a hand went into your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and a hand went around your waist, securing you firmly against his body. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your tongues danced together again, and when your hand found its way again around his member, he tensed for a moment, but then in a decision to ignore his reservations, broke your embrace to pepper kisses along your neck and into your bosom.

You moaned and arched your back, gripping his member just a little tighter, and he took the opportunity to circle his tongue around your nipple before taking the mound in your mouth.

Consumed in the feeling of him suckling you, you were unprepared for the thick fingers that found their way around and then onto your clit, rubbing gentle circles that sparked waves of pleasure through you. Another moan escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, and then he slid a finger inside you, pressing just hard enough and in just the right place that you jerked almost violently against him.

His finger slipped out almost as fast as it had gone in.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it felt good!” You reassured him. “P-please continue.”

He nodded, and replaced his finger, pressing more gingerly this time, using the slowing and deepening of your breaths to guide him. You occupied your mouth again with kisses along his collarbones, onto the expanse of his broad chest, pressing your breasts against him, rolling against him. His breaths also started to slow as he fell in rhythm with the way your hips moved, and when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he flipped you over onto your back so that you lay beneath him.

A pause.

His olive eyes scanned you ravenously, and you could hear the hunger sealed within his breathy sighs, as he hovered over you. Your half-lidded eyes, your body warm and receptive and waiting for him, stating in every way possible that you wanted him - it was like a dream for him. He had wanted this for so long, to know what your insides would feel like around him, to know if he too, could make you scream his name in pleasure not pain, to do what his friends and teammates did with their partners, and now here you were, laid out for him like a whole meal.

“Are you ready?”

You didn’t look down at the warm, throbbing length resting on right on your pubic area, but instead at him, your gentle giant, and nodded.

“Yes.”

You closed your eyes and shivered ever so slightly at the sensation of lubricant being slathered right at the opening of your vagina. You could feel him repositioning himself right at your entrance, and trying to stay as relaxed as possible for him, you waited for him to enter you.

And he did, interlacing fingers with yours as he broke through your sopping entrance, feeling your hold tighten around his and hearing your breath hitch then relax as his cockhead made it through you.

Then he stopped so you could adjust to the stretch, and he rested on his elbows, trying to rub the wince out of your facial expression with a caress of the cheek.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Keep going.”

He pushed a little further and you uttered another low moan with the painful, yet pleasurable stretch, and he almost felt guilty for how good you felt around him, how desperately he wanted to fill you up all at once, how aroused he was by the sound of your whimper as you felt him.

“K-keep going,” you mewled as soon as he stopped to let you adjust, and he worried that he really would tear you apart this time, but you clung to his chest again and his desire to go as far into your guts as possible was too much for him to bear.

A groan and he was in almost to the hilt, and he wiped the tears forming in your eyes as you endured the searing pain, the pressure of him stretching you to your limit. The fact that he wasn’t moving was starting to become excruciating for you, and you began to squirm under his weight, indicating your wishes.

“Are you okay, my love?” He murmured carefully.

“Toshi, m-move, please…”

He obliged, withdrawing just a bit to crash back into you, and you cried out but not in pain, in a strangled cry of pleasure.

“Toshi!”

Again!

He could hear the cry for more in the way you said his name and the force with which you dug your nails into his back and again he obliged, thrusting into you again, and you could feel your head spin.

Again!

He settled into a rhythm and stroke after stroke you could feel yourself wind up, your cries and moans and grunts of pleasure loud and clear for him, for all to hear.

“Toshi- ah~!”

His pace quickened every time you called his name and his angle changed so that he was deep enough that it was almost uncomfortable (almost), and he was now grunting, sweating, making sure to leave no part of you untouched. Your thighs clamped around his waist and you muffled your cries into the meat of his shoulder, clinging to him so tightly you thought you would meld into one.

Ushijima was moaning your name now, enthralled by the way your insides, your outsides clamped onto him, claimed his body for you, and he couldn’t believe he had been nervous about this part of the relationship, you had been perfect every other way…

Your coil snapped suddenly, and your orgasm rippled through you like electricity, and now he was muffling your moans with his tongue down your throat, fingers wrapped firmly around your jaw keeping you in place.

“You came?” He whispered in a gruff voice, now into the space between your breasts, his dick still throbbing and twitching within you. The thrum of yes vibrating through your body brought a grin to his face.

He rose up off your body again so he could look at your eyes, glazed over in a love-drunken haze, and finally, he was no longer concerned but confident - dare you say it, cocky - as he hovered above you.

“Let’s aim for at least twice tonight.”

A promise he kept.

The first time would be a time to remember, in more ways than one.

#mae.writing #daddyjima #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #not sfw #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #wakatoshi #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!

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yelenasdog · 3 years

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈 𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do.

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous.

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

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and-knowing-is-half-the-battle · 3 years

Text

Got a good response! How about chapter 2?

Winterrogation, Chapter 2: The deal

Chapter 1 found here

Summary: The Winter Soldier is interrogating you for the second time with his unusual methods.

Pairing: Winter soldier x fem!reader

Work Count: 1.7K

Warnings: dubcon, biting, bondage, smut, rough sex, minors DNI, vibrator, overstimulation, oral (m rec), penetrative sex, use of nicknames (sweetheart, good girl), creampie.

A/N: Do not copy, translate, repost or rewrite my work, even if you credit me. I do not give my permission for my works to be copied or shared on other sites.

Picture source: bucky-daddy

________________________________________________________

Two men led you down a set of stairs, each holding an upper arm and wrist. You did your best to remain calm, taking in your surroundings to distract yourself. It seems Hydra had taken up residence in an old home or mansion, with lots of wood panelling and antique furniture. You knew where you were headed, his words ringing clear in your mind, “I’ll be interrogating her again tomorrow.” You weren’t sure how to regard him since yesterday. A mixture of desire, fear, humiliation, and shame churned in your belly.

They had given you what you assumed to be standard issue Hydra clothing, a tight black long sleeved shirt and black cargo pants. They had given you nothing for your feet, leaving you feeling particularly vulnerable as you resisted slightly, skittering down the basement hallway. After all the handsome wood interior, the three large rudimentary metal crossbars on the door were jarring in comparison. Two armed guards took them down, unlocked the door, and opened it as you approached.

Your mouth went dry as they shoved you inside, and you heard them reverse their actions, locking you inside. The room was sparsely furnished: a trunk full of clothing, a desk with a few books and some papers that looked like floorplans strewn on it, and a large metal four-poster bed. And the winter soldier was sitting on it.

He stood up, practically towering over you, and approached in his intentional and menacing way. You instinctively backed up as he descended on you, surprising you by catching you in a bruising kiss, pinning you against the door. It was a rough kiss, his tongue pushing its way coarsely into your mouth, and once again you tasted the sweet mint on his breath.

He pulled back and suddenly swung you effortlessly onto his massive shoulder, taking the few steps to the bed and tossing you down. You scrambled back, knocking the singular pillow to the ground.

“I s-swear. I was telling the truth yesterday! I d-don’t know anything else! Please!” You squeaked, holding your hands out defensively.

“I know, sweetheart,” he chuckled unkindly, pulling his shirt off over his head, exposing his broad chest littered with bruises, cuts, and scars of varying ages. You swallowed thickly, trying not to stare at his corded muscles. “You said you would be my toy,” He reminded you, “so I thought we might play a game,”

He reached forward and pulled your ankles toward him, unbuttoning your fly and tugging your pants off. You were frozen in place, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned over you, making true eye contact. The darkness in his eyes was terrifying, yet magnetic.

“Each time you cum, you have to stay one more day,” he proposed with his gravelly voice, undoing his own pants and letting them drop, revealing black boxers. He moved forward, his thick thigh slotting between your trembling legs.

You shook your head, moving backward again as he pursued, grabbing your thigh firmly with his metal hand and pulling your shirt off in one swift motion with the other. While he turned to throw it to the side, you took advantage of his distraction and slipped out of his grip, scrambling to the floor and making it a foot or two before his fist gripped your hair in warning. You stilled, panting, and stood as he raised his hand to your height.

“While I enjoy the chase, sweetheart, I don’t know where you think you’re going,” he smirked, tossing you back on the bed. “Now be a good girl and do what I say. Starting with taking care of those,” he gestured to your bra and underwear.

You knew better than to defy the Winter Soldier, so, looking away in embarrassment, you complied, feeling his burning gaze watch you. He slid toward you again, leaning down over the bed to bring up a large metal shackle on the end of a chain, which you now realized were attached to the bottom of each bedpost. He held his large hand out expectantly, looking at you under his heavy brow, daring you to challenge him. You placed your comparatively small arm in his hand, and he wound cloth around it several times before securing the shackle over the top. Against your better instincts, you felt electrified by the touch of his skin on yours.

“What a good, pretty, little thing you are,” he taunted, repeating the same with the other arm and each leg. There was quite a bit of wiggle room between each point of restraint until he reached down and secured a thick velcro strap against your belly. “Much better,” he hummed, lying alongside you, “now we can play,”

He started with the same trick, a vibrator tucked inside you on low. It lit up your nerves, making you sensitive to any touch. He grabbed at your breasts with his flesh hand, biting into your neck. You cried out, your wrists pulling at the slack of the chain. He gripped your jaw, turning your face to him to kiss you again as you felt his bulge growing on the side of your thigh. He brought his hand down to turn the vibrator up, accidentally brushing against your leg with a light touch, causing you to shiver. A glint of understanding caught his eye and you knew that you were done for.

He ran a single finger along the column of your neck, lightly teasing your skin before trailing down to circle your nipple. You groaned, trying to shift away from him uselessly.

“So that’s it,” he teased, nipping at your ear. You had never been so close to him before. His smell was woody and masculine, adding to the wetness growing between your legs - which his super soldier senses picked up right away. He breathed deeply, your cheeks heating in response, then licked lightly along your neck. It didn’t take long for you to be a quivering mess. When you were practically dripping, he rid himself of his boxers and positioned his cock by your mouth.

“Get it nice and wet,” he groaned when you licked at his tip, once again losing the battle against your wits. You pulled him into your mouth, wetting as much of his length as you could, twirling your tongue around his shaft. He then unstrapped the velcro and knelt toward the end of the bed, pulling your hips toward him, making your arms taut, but allowing your legs to bend toward your chest despite the chains, your pussy on display for him. He pulled the vibrator out and stuffed his cock inside you, his hands supporting each thigh as he fucked you roughly.

You forgot everything but the giant cock inside you. You forgot your name. And when he reached down to play with your clit, you keened within seconds and bucked while he continued to fuck you through your high. When you came back down, he leaned over you, caging you between his large arms, his long hair swinging around his face.

“One,” he grunted, pistoning into you without mercy. You were finally stripped away enough to admit to yourself that being helpless beneath him was all you wanted. That losing all control was making you come undone. He changed his angle slightly, hitting your g spot with every thrust, and reached between you to circle your clit again with his flesh fingers. Your realization mixed with this sensation sent you tumbling over the edge again, clenching against him. He groaned, his own climax being pulled out of him by the force of your pussy. He stayed hovering over you for a moment while you both panted.

“Two,” he breathed heavily onto your sweat slicked neck, laying beside you again. He didn’t give you much time before his metal thumb ghosted over your nipple, his heavy arm laid across you preventing much movement. You twitched against him, gasping as your heart rate skyrocketed when he didn’t relent. It could have been five minutes, it could’ve been an hour. All you knew was that your nerves were stretched to their breaking point when he finally reached down and stroked your tender clit again. You struggled to get away, feeling overstimulated, when he caught you by surprise by leaning up and licking your nipple slowly.

You sobbed as you unconsciously rutted against his hand, wanting him to stop and wanting him to never stop. When you finally came, squirting audibly against his hand, your spent muscles strained against him and the shackles.

As your vision returned to you, you caught him licking you off his palm with a moan. He obviously got off on being in control as much as you did being under his control.

“Three,” he said as he got up, pulling his clothes back on. He walked to the door, knocking three times, and the guards on the other side began the process of opening the door. Two of them entered, approaching you to undo your bonds as he gave them orders. “Take her to The Artist. I want her marked. And keep her for the three days I am gone,”

He leaned against the wall as you were allowed to dress, except for your shirt, which a guard held instead. His dark blue eyes watched your feet as you were lead out much in the same way you were lead in, which you were grateful for considering the trembling state of your legs. As they took you down a series of hallways, you felt you understood something. Of course he liked control - the locked door, the armed guards, the shackles too big for you on the bed - was he a prisoner, too?

They brought you to a room where an older man waited with a tattoo gun.

“The Winter Soldier wants her marked,” one guard said, as they pushed you roughly into a chair, holding your left arm and shoulder still.

“Very well,” he said, wetting his finger with his tongue to flip the pages of his book. When he found what he wanted, he brought his chair closer, holding the book in his lap open to the page with a red star overlapped by jagged black lines.

Chapter 3

#tw smut #tw sex #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier smut

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Mᴏʀɴɪɴɢ Lɪɢʜᴛ

Word Count: 2061

“The Sun card represents radiance. Like the sun itself, it gives strength and vitality to all those that are lucky enough to feel its rays. There is much joy and happiness that is coming to you. On the other hand, the Sun reversed might be indicative that you are being unrealistic. It might be a sign that you have an overly optimistic perception of certain situations. Be warned, for when the sun ceases to shine on you, depression is soon to follow.” - ‘The Sun’ Tarot Card; Full Meaning.

Tap Tap Tap.

How early was it? Too early. You knew you had training today, but you were certain that wasn’t for another few hours. So what was that insufferable tapping for?

Tap... Tap Tap.

You shift against your pillow. You can feel your hair stick against your neck, in sync with the tightening fist by your face. Your eyes do open, slowly but surely. You feel groggy, despite the growing alertness inside of you. You’re waking up. What’s more, you’re waking up before you really have to.

Tap... Tap.

Your sleepy eyes search around the room. Behind the glass of the window, you can make out a blurry image of yellow and pale skin. Still, you’re exhausted. It could be a silly little trick pulled by your own brain. But on the off chance that it is-

Annie.

You sit up. Your vision is still smeared like oil, but you stumble out of bed. Your heel skims against the wood of the floor. It probably gave you a splinter, but now that you’ve started thinking about her, you know it’d be difficult to stop.

You partially hop to the window across from your bed. Your right hand reaches out to unlatch the thing, while the left rubs at your eyes to get the gift of clear sight. As you turn the wood to the right to unlock it, you step back and away.

The blond handles the rest. Her palms slip under the window and pull it up, and then she pushes herself through. She brushes the clear white curtains to the side and lands on the floor, just as your vision returns to you.

She’s wearing her favorite white sweatshirt, and standard brown slacks. There’s ODM gear at her hips, complete with all the strappings and buckles. But her face... oh, her face. Despite the time apart, it’s the same one you’d fallen in love with. The big, still blue eyes were gazing at the wood she landed on. Her pale blond hair is pulled back in the usual bun, her bangs hanging loose as always. But her lips look shinier today. Perhaps she tried the new lip tint you’d bought the last time you’d gone shopping.

“Annie,” you sighed with a soft smile. Any kind of stress you’d been feeling in the past few weeks without her was fading away, at long last. You knew she’d see you again soon, but you hadn’t realized she’d pick today. She must’ve wanted to surprise you.

Annie’s right hand reaches up to rub the back of her neck. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be up yet.” The girl looks your form up and down. “Or dressed.”

One of your feet rubs against the opposite shin. She’s not wrong. You’re wearing an oversized white shirt and cheap underwear that she can’t even see. Your hair is a mess, your eyes groggy, and your breath making your own throat want to gag. But you’re overwhelmed with happiness to finally see her again.

“Yes you did,” you challenge firmly, but tiredly.

Annie’s eyes soften. You’re right. She could picture your tired form in her head long before she’d even set out to surprise you. That and the fact that she’d purposely arrived before the morning chimes.

“Whatever,” you wave off. You step towards her, your heart reaching out to hers. Her chest is like a magnet to your own.

Your arms stretch out to embrace her. And you do. Tugging her to you, you feel her warmth. Her chest and neck flushed against yours, feeling your heartbeats fall into sync. Annie smells so good. She always has, but it must be that body wash the Military Police get to use.

Annie is everything to you. The attraction was immediate, and the build up of trust came naturally over time. Despite the two introverted natures, you spent time together. You ate silent dinners, went through the motions of the days with each other. You taught Annie more about life and perspective more than she cared to admit, and in turn, she had made you feel more confident in your own character. It became fact among the cadets that where either you or Annie was found, the other was never far behind.

And then, sometime in the midst of it all, the dynamic changed.

Your faces got closer when you pinned the other down during sparring. You’d share your food from the same spoon when there wasn’t enough. Even begun sharing the same shower. You’d always thought Annie was attractive, but now the attraction was rapidly becoming a solid, almost tangible force.

The heat radiating between the two of you was undeniable. One night, in the top bunk of your barracks, she crept into your bed and shared a kiss. It was wet and sloppy, but you were close to her. You didn’t care about the lack of experience from either of you. Annie mattered to you. You wanted to be with her, and apparently she felt the same.

Things were never made official by title, but you were even more inseparable than before. You’d witnessed her threaten Reiner for both hitting on you and insulting you on separate occasions. You judo flipped a boy for getting handsy with her. You went to winter markets, stargazed, and spent late nights sparring ending in clumsy make-out sessions. You loved her. You’d do anything for her. You’d already made a nonverbal promise to each other that you’d grow and mature together. What more could you ask for?

“I really missed you,” you admit, taking her in as much as you can. Annie sinks into your touch, closing her eyes in affection.

“Yeah,” she replies, which is her own way of letting it slip that she missed you too. Both her hands come to rest under your elbows, effectively keeping them in place around her. Pft, as if you were going to remove them for longer than a split second anyway.

“So,” you drawl as you saunter back to your bed. You collapse on it, rubbing the space next to you as a call for Annie. “Tell me what I’ve been missing. The MP’s still treating you alright?”

Annie shifts and averts her eyes in thought. Then she follows your lead, sitting on the edge of the bed as she starts to unbuckle her harnesses. “It’s the same,” she tells you.

“I know you don’t like them, Ann. You don’t have to pretend.”

And with anybody else, Annie would’ve been quick to annoyance. But with you, she was glad. Even though she definitely didn’t tell you the truth about everything, she knew she could still be herself around you. She knew you could sense she kept some secrets from you still, but you’d never forced the issue. Everything about your love was focused on understanding. It was more than the girl thought she deserved.

“What about the Scouts?” Annie decides in return. It’s a tactic at changing the subject, and one that doesn’t slip past you. Still, you don’t push.

“Just as annoying as we thought. I have to officially get up and at ‘em in a few hours.”

Your lover unties her boots. “Have you been outside the wall yet?”

She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear you say your piece anyway.

“No,” you sigh. Your hand rests on your forehead, your elbow bent as you stare up at the ceiling. “We have our first expedition this week. We’re taking Jaeger out to try the Commander’s new strategy.”

Annie freezes. Then she continues her movement. “Right. I’d almost forgotten Eren was here.”

You doubted that. “The bastard talked about the Scouts non stop back in cadet training,” you say as Annie twists around to face you. “You sure you didn’t hit your head on the way over here?”

Annie doesn’t answer. But she does gift a hint of a smile. It’s gone in a flash, but it’s more than others get.

Her ice blue eyes pierce into yours. It’s not threatening, however. It’s loving. Appreciating. She’s trying to memorize all the details inside of them like she’s about to do so for the last time.

Then Annie lowers head head slowly, until it rests by the crook of your neck.

“You got up early to see me today,” you say softly.

Your love shifts off of you, and props her up on her elbow at her side. You mirror her movements to observe her as well.

“I skinned my knee climbing from my barracks. My gear was giving me trouble.”

Some people may have expressed concern, but you knew your other half was strong. She didn’t need your pity. “Well maybe you shouldn’t have done that,” you shrug with snark back.

“Heh, thanks,” she responds, looking down to stare at your white cotton sheets.

There is quiet. The sunlight illuminates her hair. Her long eyelashes flutter up and down slowly. Annie is beautiful. No. Annie surpasses the boundaries of being beautiful.

“Y/N,” she whispers. “Would you love me, if I were evil?”

What?

“What did you say?”

Silence. Annie doesn’t look at you. She seems solemn, troubled. Haunted, even. No, not quite haunted. Maybe just hollow.

“Nothing,” Annie says decidedly. “I’m just muttering.”

You frown anyway. You know that Annie is weighed down by things that you can’t explain, or understand. It’s different from other soldiers, or just other people. But you didn’t think there was anything she could do to be evil. You had already shown and told her that you were in love with her. You wouldn’t go back on that if you even could.

Annie was your world. Your lion. Your entire purpose for even making it this far.

One of your hands reaches out to brush her fringe behind her ear. “I’d always be on your side,” you tell her softly. “There’s nothing you could do to change that.”

You’d be surprised, thought Annie.

“I didn’t mean to be depressing,” she mutters further. “I was looking forward to seeing you again.”

Annie is sad today.

Both of your arms wrap around her slim figure. You pull her close to you, so her head is between your chest and your neck. Both your bodies cradle against each other as you stroke the soft strands of yellow hair. The sun is seeping through the windows for only a passing moment, before it is covered by a blanket of grey clouds.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” you whisper to her, your eyes transfixed on the drops of rain hitting the roof one by one.

“I am sorry,” you hear her speak against your shirt.

You pull away, your palms against her cheeks so you can look at her stunning face. “Don’t ever apologize to me, Annie.” What more can you say to reassure her? “I’m with you.”

Annie is heartbroken inside. Maybe it was better that she didn’t say anything. Or maybe it was better in another timeline, where you knew. But Annie kept her mouth shut and tried to just relax her nerves. There was no reason to wake up feeling as guilty as she had. She was with you now. You would protect her against the nightmares with her father, or Reiner. Nothing to be afraid of.

“After this,” Annie says as you coax her head back against your body. “I’ll buy you one of those breakfast sweets you like so much. From the village.”

The rain taps against your window. The sun has all but disappeared by now. Surely the open window mixed with sheets of light rain will result in a damp floor, but there’s no way in hell either of you are going to get up and close it now. Instead you watch the water fall, thinking about how the shade of the sun matches that of your lovers mane.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I wrote this really fast. I just really love Annie and wanted to give her some appreciation. A weak plot, but oh well.

#annie leonhardt #annie leonhart x reader #annie leonhardt x reader #annie leonhart imagine #annie leonhart imagines #annie leonhardt imagine #annie leonhardt imagines #attack on titan x reader #annie leonhardt fanfiction #fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #fem reader #annie x reader #annie x fem reader #annie imagines

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Northern Exposure | Bucky // End

❄ PART 4 OF THE MINI-SERIES ❄

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: non consent sex and rape (series); violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity, spanking, binding, death, mentions of brainwashing.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: I'm gonna be away dealing with lots of personal issues but will see yall when I get back and look forward to it.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You were dazed as Steve pulled the tee shirt back over your head. He sat you in the same chair he made you fuck him on and you stared at your palms as he moved around. Your body didn’t feel like yours. You bent and unbent your fingers as you tried to feel anything but the buzzing rawness in your core. A plate clinked loudly on the table and you raised your head.

Steve pulled up a chair around the side of the table, his knee almost against yours as he sat, “you have to eat.”

You blinked at the dry looking chicken breast on yellow rice with overcooked corn and peas. He took the fork and you reached for it and he quickly batted down your hand.

Confused, you parted your lips and he cut into the chicken. He scooped up a forkful and held it out to you carefully, his hand cupped under it to catch any spills.

“It’s hot, blow on it,” he said.

You felt hollow and your brain could only think of the food as the scent made your stomach clench hungrily. You blew carefully on the fork and let him slide it into your mouth. He repeated it, again and again. Each bite was easier and despite the odd texture of the food, you didn’t mind the taste.

When the plate was cleared, he set down the fork and unfolded the paper napkin. He wiped your mouth, his finger tickled your bottom lip and he hummed. He handed you the bottle of water and leaned back as he watched you drink.

“You gotta keep your energy up,” he said, “it’s our fault. We’ve neglected you.”

You put the bottle down and shrunk in on yourself. It was all fucked. The more you sat there across from this man, the more your chest felt as if it would collapse. You lowered your head again and traced the line of your palm with your thumb.

“You need to sleep, I know Sam didn’t let you do much of that,” he said, “admittedly, I was selfishly impatient,” he stood and you watched him cross the room. He took the throw from over the back of the couch and looked over his shoulder at you, “come on. You should at least try.”

You didn’t move. You hung your head and swayed slightly. Everything around you was blurry, the air felt fuzzy, and your skin pricked with terror.

“Sweetheart--”

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, “I’m not… not that. What you’re doing--”

“Over here right now,” his tone was stern and unyielding, “don’t make me repeat myself.”

You clenched your jaw and glanced over at him. His hand was on his hip as his eyes bore into you and the vein in his forehead made you flinch. There was a tenuous wire wound tight between his good side and his bad side.

You rose and ambled over to him clumsily. Your thighs rubbed together painfully and the effort made your pelvis ache. He grabbed your shoulder and guided you down onto the couch. He threw the blanket over you and tucked in the sides, his hands crawled over it and he felt your curves through the warm layer.

“Oh…” he retracted his hand and stood straight as he poked his tongue out and watched you, “I…”

You turned onto your side and tried to ignore him. Sleep might be your only escape from that hell.

“Are you…” he hesitated, “I came in you. Are you on… something?”

You sniffed and rolled so that your back was to him. You whimpered as your thigh hit each other and pulled the blanket to your chin. You wanted to vomit up all the food he’d just fed you.

“I need to know,” he touched your shoulder, “if you’re not--”

“I have an implant…” you mumbled.

“Implant?” he repeated.

You stared at the back of the couch. Was he really that stupid?

“They put it in your arm. It’s good for a couple years,” you shrugged, “don’t worry, you’ll only be hurting me.”

You heard him swallow. He was quiet and his footsteps trailed softly away from you.

“I’m taking care of you,” he said, “you’re lucky I am because Sam doesn’t give a shit and Bucky would sooner throw you out in the snow.”

You didn’t answer. You covered your head with the blanket and closed your eyes. You were so exhausted, so sore, so worn out that you could only think of sleep. You wanted to forget about the man behind you and the two others wandering out on the tundra. You wanted to pretend for the little time you could that everything was normal.

❄

The door woke you and sent you back into a spin. You huddled under the blanket and nestled further into the cushions as the boots clomped and a heavy dragging scratched the floor. You focused on keeping even breaths as the lock buzzed back into place.

“This was at her door,” a knock on wood followed Bucky’s voice and you could guess that your weakly crate of groceries had arrived, “it’s gonna be a while before anyone knows she’s gone.”

“Shh,” Sam hushed.

“She’s awake,” Bucky spat back, “I can hear her heart going.”

You cringed and slowly sat up. You looked over at the men as Steve helped Bucky pull the lid off the crate. Sam smiled at you and unzipped his jacket, “how are you doing, baby?”

“Fine,” you murmured and pushed yourself into the corner of the couch and folded yourself up beneath the blanket.

“Real milk,” Bucky declared as he pulled out the carton, “and bread.”

“Who brings all this?” Steve asked as Sam unlaced his boots, watching you as he impatiently undressed.

“The depot,” you answered.

“The depot? And they know you’re up here?”

“They get my money and they bring up what I order,” you grumbled, “I doubt they care as long as they’re paid.”

Steve nodded and shared a look with Bucky. Sam rounded the couch and sat beside you, he played with the edge of the blanket as you kept as far from him as you could. The other two kept sorting through the haul.

“Go back tomorrow, get the radio,” Steve said, “and we’ll have her place another order.”

Bucky looked at him quizzically then continued reading the side of a can of chili, “and why should I do that?”

“We’ll have her check in with her boss, tell them she’s safe,” Steve said, “she is, really.”

“No,” you said, “I won’t, I’ll--”

The can barely missed you and bounced off the wall. You looked behind you and eyed the dent as you pushed yourself up on the arm and the blanket fell away from you. You shook as you faced Bucky.

“You can’t trust her,” he said as he turned back to Steve, “you both know that and now you want to give her a radio--”

“Baby,” Sam grabbed your ankle and drew you back down onto the cushion. His arm snaked around you and he caressed your cheek as he held you to him, “it’s okay.” He tensed and peered over his shoulder, “do it again, jackass, and it’ll be thrown right back at you.”

A low growl followed and then the rustle of the groceries. A silence pervaded the bunker and made you shiver. Sam lifted the blanket over you again and held you tighter. He rocked you as he placed your head on his chest.

“You just gonna let her sit around on the couch all day? Lay on her back all night as we’re out there--”

“She’ll cook,” Steve asserted, “won’t you, sweetheart?”

You didn’t respond as you listened to Sam’s heartbeat and inhaled his scent. His touch made your skin crawl but his strength made you stay.

“I can take care of myself,” Bucky insisted.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” Sam snarled.

“You know what the problem is,” Bucky retorted, “you fuckin’ know.”

“Buck,” Steve warned.

“He gave me bad intel,” Bucky’s boots hammered towards you, “just so he could have his little plaything.”

Sam slid you away from him and stood to stand chest to chest with his fellow agent. You gaped up at them as Steve came close and put his hands on their shoulders.

“Enough,” Steve warned.

“No, I could have killed her because this asshole lied, I could--”

“And you offered to kill her anyway,” Sam pushed Bucky, “so what the fuck’s the problem?”

“This is a mission, not a vacation,” Bucky sneered, “Hydra is still out there, Ursa is probably laughing at us right now--”

“It’s about the mission?” Sam challenged, “really? You didn’t care three days ago when you tried to run back Stateside.”

“Shut up,” Bucky snapped.

“You shut up, man,” they shoved each other at the same time and Steve got between them.

“Hey, both of you,” he pointed at them and looked from one to the other, “stop. Right now.”

Bucky roiled and Sam glared back at them as the other man barely kept them apart. One wrong move and it would be a full blown fight.

“You know what will happen, Steve,” Bucky’s voice cracked, “you know I can’t control it.”

“Only if you keep holding back,” Steve lowered his voice and waved off Sam, “she’s good, she’s obedient.”

“She’s scared,” Bucky said, “and that means she’s unpredictable.”

“Then help us, help us train her,” Steve said.

“No, I can’t,” Bucky shook his head, “not-- last time--”

“We’re here now, we won’t let it happen again,” Steve coaxed as Sam retreated, “but you keep doing this and it will.”

You stood slowly as Sam went to the crate and reached in. He took out a chocolate bar and smiled. You crept along the wall and a floor board gave away your movement. All three men looked over at you.

“I… need the bathroom,” you breathed.

Steve nodded and waved you on. He turned back to Bucky and grabbed his arm. He lowered his voice as the latter’s blue eyes peeked over at you. You couldn’t hear what he was saying but the way Bucky stared made you tremble. You scurried away and hid inside the bathroom.

You inhaled as your nerves bounced off each other. You listened through the door and your blood chilled.

“It’s different,” Bucky said, “if it was Ursa, she’d deserve it.”

“You won’t hurt her, that’s not you,” Steve argued, “she’s a good girl.”

“He doesn’t care,” Bucky gritted, “he doesn’t listen.”

“Bucky…” Steve sighed, “there’s no him, only you.”

“I can’t,” Bucky said, “not yet.”

❄

Two more days, you thought it was only two. They passed slowly but in a blur. Your time was marked by the little chores given to you by Steve; you cooked the meals, blending your farmer’s haul and their military dry freeze rations and you tidied up to keep yourself busy and try to evade them. It didn’t matter, your work could wait until they had their pleasure.

A routine was put in place. You ate with the men and when they left in the morning, you slept until the afternoon, then you got up and cleaned and cooked. When they returned, you ate again and after supper, Sam or Steve took you into the bedroom. By the time the others retired, you were settled under the arm of your respective tormenter.

The fourth morning was particularly chilly. Sam and Steve woke up early and whispered in the dark. That night, you’d been trapped against Steve’s hot body but despite that, Sam bent to kiss your cheek. Steve placed a folded shirt in the empty spot beside you.

“You can wear that today,” he kept his voice low as the other super soldier continued snoring, “me and Sam have to go out on the ice. We’ll be back late.”

You nodded and looked past him to Bucky’s sleeping form, a lump in the dark.

“He has his own work but it’s early still,” Steve assured you, “he doesn’t like the water but we need two men.” Steve bent and rubbed your cheek, “just keep your head down and he’ll be gone before you know it.”

You were quiet as they left. You heard them readying in the other room and the heavy front door of the bunker signalled their departure.

You laid in the dark and thought of the third man. You could still recall that ominous conversation and the fire in his eyes every time he looked at you. You quivered as you thought of how he avoided you, stalking along your peripheral like a predator. Salivating but hesitant.

You couldn’t figure out what it all meant. You only knew that it couldn’t be good. Whatever scared Bucky about himself terrified you even more. Sam and Steve even seemed reluctant to push him too far, as if afraid they would trigger something uncontrollable and that fed your fear further.

You didn’t want to be there when he woke up. You sat up and pulled on the long sleeved tee. You crossed your arms and stood, keeping your head down as you stepped between the bed. A sudden movement in the dark made you flinch and you realised the snoring had stopped. Bucky caught your wrist before you could get to the end of the bed.

You spun back to him as he sat up and clung to your arm. You stared at him through the black as his metal grip squeezed tighter. You shook and tried to pull away.

“They’re going to keep you,” he said quietly, “nothing I can do about that.”

“Please, let me--”

“I don’t want to kill you,” he continued, “I only said it because I hoped it would keep it from happening. That they might leave you there so I wouldn’t.”

“What--”

“I can’t help it,” he pulled you until your knee hit the mattress, “I try not to go that far but--” He yanked until you fell forward across his legs, “he wants you.”

“Bucky--”

“Not me,” he held your hip as his other hand rubbed your ass, “the soldat.”

He lifted his hand and struck your ass. You cried out and fought as you tried to push yourself up. He grabbed the back of your neck and wrenched you up, getting to his knees as he turned and forced you flat across the bed.

“They never let them live,” he whispered as he straddled you, “they made me kill them but if I didn’t fuck them, they couldn’t control me… him.”

“I don’t know what--”

“Maybe… maybe I can try…” his lips brushed your own as he bent over you, “I hear you with them and I want to try.”

“Bucky,” you touched his metal hand as it stretched along your throat, “please, you can let me go-- you can--”

He squeezed until your voice turned to a wisp and you rasped loudly as you tried to breathe.

“They’ll find you even if I do,” he said, “or make me find you.”

“Pl--” you coughed and grasped his fingers as your eyes watered.

He pushed off of you suddenly and you gasped for air. He grabbed your ankles and you yelped as he dragged you off the bed. Your back hit the floor and knocked the wind out of you. You sputtered as he pulled you through the door. The light of the front room shone in halos in your vision and he stopped in front of the low table before the couch.

He let you go and jabbed you with his toe, “don’t move.”

He retreated and you rolled onto your side. You sat up and glanced at the door. He opened a drawer and you stood shakily. He was going to kill you, he said so himself. You didn’t think about it long as you raced to the door and tried to twist the handle. The pin pad beeped and you tried to force it. You grunted as you heard him behind you.

The beeping grew louder and kept on. The alarm made your ears ring as he hauled you back. He forced you onto the coffee table, flat on your stomach as he tore your wrists down to the legs of the table. He wound a zip tie around each and moved back. You kicked out and he caught your ankles, bending your legs around the side of the table to bind them too.

You straddled the table, your chest heavy against the wood as he moved to disarm the alarm. His tee shirt fluttered to the floor as he tossed it in front of you. He chuckled darkly and paced around you as he toyed with the elastic of his sweats.

“This is what Hydra did, they tied the women down, had a special device for it,” he reached and tickled your spine, “but this will do.”

“Please, why--”

“They did what they could… the doctors in Wakanda. They tried to get it all out but… there’s things you can’t shake,” he slapped your ass and the whole table jolted, “those things are often what you need most.”

He spanked you again and your skin burned from his vibranium palm. You whined and let your head hang over the edge of the table.

“Please, it’s not too late, Bucky,” you begged, “you don’t want this--”

“I can’t be like them,” he interrupted, “I can’t be nice.”

“Please--”

“I’m going to break your jaw if you don’t shut up,” he smacked your ass and rounded the table again, “you can’t blame me, they wanted you.”

You gulped up air and shook your head. You heard the rustle of fabric and he kicked away his sweats. He went to the foot of the table and bent to grip it one either side of you. He sat on the wood between your legs and kneaded your thighs.

“They think you can fix me,” he rubbed your ass and slapped it with both hands, “but they don’t know.”

He gripped your hips and lifted himself. He held himself up with one hand on the table and felt along your ass as he bent his legs over yours. The table felt brittle beneath his weight. He pushed down your folds with his fingers and shoved two inside of you. He pulled in and out until your body slickened for him.

He tutted and dragged out of you and up to your ass. He spread your wetness around your tight ring and hummed.

“They haven’t touched this, have they?” he taunted and poked his finger against your hole.

You clenched your teeth as he pushed inside and you whimpered as he reached his knuckle. Even as little as that hurt and your body quaked from the intrusion. He pulled out as pressed two fingers to your ring. He forced them both inside and fingered your ass slowly as you groaned in agony.

“This will be just for me,” he rasped, “they can have your cunt.”

You pulled on your wrists until the plastic cut into your skin. His hand sped up and you tensed around his fingers. He groped your ass with his other and hummed.

“You’ll only make it worse,” he said, “not that it really matters to me.”

“You said-- you didn’t-- want-- to-- do this--” you puffed through the pain.

“I never said I didn’t want to fuck you,” he snickered.

“It hurts… Bucky--”

“I told you,” he pushed deep until his knuckles met your ass, “shut up.”

You swallowed your voice and he moved free hand up under your arm and leaned over your. He slid his fingers out of your ass and guided his tip along your tight ring. He held his breath as he pushed inside of you just a little and you exclaimed. He stretched you painfully as his metal fingers framed his dick as he eased further in.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “oh fuck,” inch by inch, the pain intensified and when he was his limit, you were sobbing.

His hand grazed your shoulder and he gripped your throat as he pressed his body flush to yours, his legs bent beside your ass. He rocked atop you as his other hand came up to meet his other. He encircled your neck and squeezed as he kept his hips moving.

He purred and his hot breath tickled your scalp. Through all the pain, you felt a plucking, deeper than anything before. You coughed as his fingers twined and he choked you harder. He sat up and pulled your head up as he kept his hands around your throat. He arched your back painfully as your arms strained against the ties.

He jerked his hips roughly. All patience was gone as he tilted into you rampantly and panted hungrily. Your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled out as you wheezed, barely breathing as his fingers got firmer and firmer.

“This is it, doll,” he snarled, “this is how it ends… every time.”

He pounded into you and tremors of agony rolled through your body. Your eyes closed as your mouth grew arid and bitter. Your head throbbed as he sped up, flesh clapping so loudly it was all you could hear. Your body spasmed as you felt the strength leaving you, as the air drained entirely from your lungs, and sand filled your limbs.

Your head sagged over his hands and you bit your tongue without feeling it. Your body spasmed as he didn’t let up. You surrendered to the darkness as it closed it and promised to dull the torture, to end it all. Your body went limp over the table and the heat of his flesh and the roughness of the wood faded away.

You sank into the endless abyss and welcomed its embrace. It was over, all over. You were free.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #dark steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark sam wilson #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!sam wilsom #dark!fic #fic #marvel #mcu #dark fic #series #captain america #winter soldier #falcon #northern exposure

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.7)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Seven) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,118 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: This is more fluffy smut. I needed some buffer before the next drama drops!

Part Six || Part Eight || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Steve was gone when you woke up. Probably for the best because you were still a little on edge about the name issue. Stretching, you looked at the clock. He left very early apparently because it was almost 6:00am now. You kicked the covers back and got out of bed.

Picking up your phone, you saw a text from Elisha. She wanted to see you and visit your place.

Texting Steve, you asked, Can I have someone over?

He did not respond for a few moments as you sat there waiting for the three dots to show up to show he was typing. Exhaling disappointed, you decided to go take a shower and tried to enjoy the warm water. When you got out and got dressed, he had still not responded.

A friend. Elisha. Not a john.You sent, hoping to clarify if there was any doubt about your intentions of having someone over.

That seemed to do the trick because he responded almost immediately as you walked towards the kitchen to make breakfast.

Soon. Get settled in first.

Sighing, you tossed your phone back onto the counter and went back to grabbing eggs out of the fridge.

<><><>

They had not visited for a couple days and you had enjoyed the solitude to be honest. No schedule, no one else taking up your space. You were standing in your kitchen in a lounge bra and your underwear, eating a bagel you had just toasted.

It was later than normal than you would wake up. The blame could lie at the feet of the fact you had stayed awake to the wee hours of the morning binge watching videos on your phone.

You noticed your phone light up as you took another bite. Chewing, you leaned forward, seeing it was Tony.

Get ready quick. We’re going to go get your cat.

You only sat there for a second before your face broke out into a smile and then you shoved your bagel in your mouth, finishing in a rush. It was short notice, but you were excited about the cat for one but also to get out of the apartment. You had been in here for a damn week.

Rushing to your room, you threw on some casual clothes. You stopped for a moment in front of your mirror and sucked in your bottom lip. Should you have something a little sexier on? You debated for a few seconds before you waved it off; this was to get a cat, not give a lap dance.

Tony arrived not more than thirty minutes later, and you were pacing, ready for him in the living room when he let himself in.

He stopped, narrowing his eyes at you. You asked, “What?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before, that’s all.” He dragged his eyes down and snapped them back up to meet yours. “The fit is nice.”

“Glad to know my outfit is approved. You’re also wearing jeans. Are we going?”

Tony chortled, “Impatient. After you.” He followed you out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

Terrence was waiting in the hall and he asked, “Who is driving you today, boss?”

Tony told him, “I’m driving.”

Stalling your stride, you looked at him shocked. “You’re driving?”

“Yes, why do you look shocked? I can drive,” Tony told you, his arm slipping around your waist as he led you to the elevator. “I’m an adult, I have my license. I assure you.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you drive yet.”

“Seems like today is having a lot of firsts already.”

His car was waiting out front, one of his people keeping a watch out on it. They moved away as soon as they spotted him coming out. Tony came over to the car, opening the passenger door for you.

“A two-seater convertible?” you asked. “Really? You think the cat is gonna like that? Or me for that matter? Having to hold the carrier in my lap?”

Tony gestured you in, “Get in, baby. I’ve got someone following us.” He threw his hand up behind the car to the black SUV parked behind. The person who had been standing by the car was sitting in the driver’s seat. “They’ll bring the cat back with them. Enclosed space. I’m not a sadist. I just wanted to have a fun drive with you.”

You refrained from commenting about wasted gas as you did as he asked, him closing the door behind you and coming around the front of the car to get into the driver’s seat, adjusting his jacket.

“It is a nice car,” you admitted, buckling in. “What is it?”

“An Audi,” Tony said pressing the start.

“I saw that. I’m not an idiot, Tony. What model?”

Tony smiled at your scorn. “I know you’re not. A Spyder.”

You frowned, “I’m not sure I’m fond of that name—”

You yelped as he pulled away from the curb, shooting off into the road. Tony laughed amused at your reaction at the sudden movement.

“Oh, love, just wait until we get out onto the highway,” Tony smirked. “I’ll show off this engine for you.”

<><><>

“It’s pretty, but the hair,” you commented as Tony pointed out a Persian cat at the shelter.

Tony eyed the cat closely as you moved on.

“Oh my fucking god!” you said excitedly, coming up to the next cage to a cat already pressing its head against the gate for pets.

Tony came up next to you and said, “So what was that complaint about hair…?”

“Yeah, but this is a Maine Coon! A mix, but still.” You saw he looked confused, and you said firmly. “I want this one.” Tony rose his brows now, giving you a challenging look and you pressed, “They’ve got great personalities! I had one as a kid. They act like dogs but they’re just big ass fluffy cats! And look, it’s a Tuxedo!”

“The hair,” Tony repeated. “My suits. You know, I’m really rethinking this now…”

“You cannot tell me you brought me in here just to not take one home. That would just be cruel.”

Tony smacked his lips and said, “You’re right. Carry on. No white hair though.”

“She doesn’t have white hair. It’s browns and greys,” you pointed out as you continued petting the Maine Coon. “Look at the little marking on her forehead! And she likes me! You can’t leave her here now!”

He stared at you for a few seconds before closing his eyes and exhaling. You held back from bouncing on your heels, knowing you had broke him. You turned back fully to the cage and stuck your fingers back through, her brushing her head against your head in earnest.

“You’re coming home with me,” you told her excitedly.

<><><>

On the way back home, your arm reached across, your fingers tip toeing up Tony’s thigh. The wind was whipping around the two of you as he sped down the highway. You saw that the SUV had lost the two of you a while ago since Tony had kept passing people, weaving into the left lane to jerk back into the right lane around curves. The danger was hot and you wanted more.

Your fingers brushed his crotch and he shot you a quick look, shaking his head. You pouted and he said loudly over the wind, “No.”

“Have you ever had road head?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

You shrugged, “Just thought you would like it!”

“Yeah and if it’s on a drone or helicopter cam somehow – cause if you haven’t noticed, there’s no roof on this car – that I had some woman going down on me on the highway? How am I gonna explain that?”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually starting to grow a conscience, Tony.”

That drew a grin out of him, shooting you a mischievous look. He cleared his throat and pressed a button, giving a bit more space between his lap and the steering wheel. Second time breaking his resolve today. It did not seem to take much when it came to you.

Unbuckling yourself, you leaned over the middle console working on his zipper. You pulled his cock out of his jeans, running your hand up and down it sensually. He tasted like salt and sweat as you took him into your mouth, trying to help it along quicker. Tony groaned, and you felt him tense. You imagined his hands tightening on the wheel, trying to keep himself focused on the road.

“I gotta pull off,” he grunted.

This did not stop you from working your mouth up and down his dick. The car veered a little, into a highway pull off you concluded.

He pressed a button the steering wheel. He pulled you away from his dick, and blocked access. Or tried to. You moved down, running your tongue across his balls, flicking.

It was too much apparently.

“Give me 15 seconds,” he breathed at you, blocking you again from swallowing him. You kissed his hand, running your tongue up his fingers. His lips twitched despite himself and he cleared his throat roughly. He jerked his hand back, giving you a light, discouraging slap. You moved back then, and he leveled you with a look. Pouting, you laid your chin on his thigh. His hand came to run over your head before straightening up when a voice came over his speaker.

“Boss? Are you alright?”

“No, go on if you pass me. I’m pulled off. I’m fine. Just take the cat back.”

“It’s crying a lot because of the weaving highway.”

“I know it is, I can hear it.” That was not a lie; it’s whines were coming over the phone call. “I’ve got something to finish here though, so just go on. Like I said! I gotta go.”

As soon as he pressed the button on the steering wheel, he tapped your head. “Alright, resume, love.”

<><><>

When you got home, Tony encouraged you ahead; he needed to talk to Daryl really quick. When you got into the apartment, the cat was nowhere to be found. You took off, throwing your bag onto the counter, searching closets. You found her cowering under the bed up against the wall. You tried to coax her out with soft noises and holding your hand out but she just put her ears back, snuggling closer to the wall.

Tony’s footfalls came down the hall and you heard him come into the bedroom.

Pushing yourself up from underneath the bed, you came up onto your knees.

“She’s hiding,” you told him, standing up.

“Maybe try with the treats you bought later,” Tony suggested, his hands in his pockets.

You shrugged, “Maybe. She’ll come out for food when she’s ready. Probably when I’m asleep.”

You walked over to your closet and closed the door to shut off another place for her to go and hide. You wanted to be able to check up on her and limiting the spaces to search would help.

“Well, I have to go do some work today at some point, so, that’s now,” Tony commented and you turned back to him, finding him close. “You can get the letter box and everything set up?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good,” he said to you, giving you a peck on the cheek before turning away.

Suddenly, it came to you again, the last night with Steve. Maybe Tony knew, although a part of you was screaming at you to let it lie. But, despite your better judgment, you reached out, stopping his movement. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Who’s Cecile?”

Tony looked at you with all shades of suspicious, his mood completely altered by the question. There was a dangerous underlying tone to his question, “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged, letting your hand fall from his arm, suddenly not interested based off his reaction to the question. “Never mind.”

“Why do you ask?” he repeated more forcibly.

Trying to be nonchalant, you said, “Steve called me it when we had sex last. It was just weird. He’s never done it before. It threw me off. That’s all.” Tony ground his teeth, watching you intently, not saying anything. You forced a small smile. “Really, it’s not a big deal. He did not seem to even realize he had done it. I was just curious.”

He obviously did not feel the same. Tightly he said, “I’ll leave you to help the little runt settle in.” He left you then in the bedroom without a second glance.

Something told you that you should not have asked about it and that was not where that conversation was going to end.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #mob boss tony stark #mob tony stark #mob steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!tony stark #dark marvel #dark marvel fic #my shit

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the-scandalorian · 3 years

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 2

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit in later chapters) Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, non-graphic description of wounds, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: Chance brought you and the Mandalorian together on Nevarro. Now, on his ship, you have to broker a careful trust with him, despite both his and your instincts to distrust others. Notes: I’ll be loosely following the events of the first season and see what happens from there. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @honey-hi @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @red-leaders @zoemariefit

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Before you could decide what to say to him, the Mandalorian rushed across the hull in two long strides and grabbed your shoulders forcefully, lifting you from your seated position and pushing you up against the wall. You exclaimed in surprise as a strong forearm came up to hold your chest in place, restricting the expansion of your lungs in a painful way. Your hands automatically scrabbled against his arms, trying to break his grip, but his hold was iron. He was leaning all his weight into you, crushing you into the wall, and even bracing your legs against his armored thighs didn’t budge him.

“Who sent you?” he yelled, his helmet inches from your face. The depth and rasp of his voice through the modulator made your stomach drop, and your fight instincts kicked into high gear.

Here’s the Mandalorian I was expecting.

Your upper arms were trapped against your sides, but you could lash out just enough to dig your fingers into his injured side, exploiting his weakness. He grunted and faltered, loosening his hold, and you took the chance to shove him off of you while pulling the long knife from your belt and whipping it up to his neck. At this same time, he recovered and yanked his blaster out of his holster to press the barrel into your stomach. His left hand had a vice-like hold on your bicep.

“No one! No one sent me!” you panted. Your right hand pressed your knife against the fabric at his throat, and your left gripped the back of his neck so he couldn’t move away from the blade. Your finger hovered over the activation switch on the hilt.

In this position, you had to tilt your head up to look into the t-shaped visor of his helmet. You tried to make out his eyes, but all you could see was your own reflection in the inky black surface. You were sweaty and out of breath. His breath was fast and loud through the modulator, chest heaving just inches from yours. This is not an opportune time to be turned on.

“Why were you following me this morning?” he demanded. So he had known.

“Why were you watching me in the cantina a few weeks ago?” you countered.

He tensed, surprised by the question, and cocked his head to the side, considering. “...You looked familiar,” he offered.

Maybe he really had recognized me from my bounty puck, like the bounty hunter in the alley today.

As you contemplated this possibility, the threat you each posed to the other became almost palpable.

He was worried that you were after him or the child—both of whom were clearly high-value targets. And if you had really run into him by chance and didn’t know that before, then you obviously knew how much they were both worth now. You could easily take advantage of that. You, on the other hand, suspected that he knew you yourself had a bounty on your head—and here you were, on his ship, mostly at his mercy. However, you’d say the stakes were higher for him. He had more than just himself to worry about. He clearly cared about whoever this child was.

“I wasn’t following you today. I wouldn’t have been so obvious if I was tracking you. Is that how you would follow a bounty? I was trying to talk to you,” you admitted.

He seemed unsure of whether or not he should believe you. His grip on your arm loosened almost imperceptibly. You reciprocated by easing the pressure of your hold on his neck.

Perhaps, the fact that you were both so vulnerable meant you could come to an understanding.

“Can we just talk? I’m not after you or the kid. I don’t even know why they’re after you. I saw you the other day in the cantina, and I was curious about why you were watching me, so I followed you to talk today. Then I got caught in the fray when I ran into you in the alley. That’s it. It sounds ridiculous, but that’s it. Let’s lower these and just talk.”

You hoped you could earn back the fragile trust you’d had between you just minutes ago on Nevarro, but you had no reason real reason to trust each other. It was clear that neither of you was used to trusting others.

Trust was a bad habit you’d had to unlearn to survive, and the same was true for bounty hunters. His was also a brutal, solitary profession.

But, there was also no explicit reason you had to be enemies.

He hesitated. “You first.” His voice rasped in the modulator.

You continued to hold him where he was, close to you, for another moment as you considered what to do. You didn’t want to hurt him, and it seemed like his instinct was to protect rather than attack.

You slowly released your grip on his neck and dropped your blade.

He lowered his blaster and replaced it in the holster at his side, still standing just inches from you. You knew that he was only open to this truce because there were several ways he could overpower you if he needed to. You hadn’t forgotten the fire that had erupted from his vambrace. He likely had a myriad of other deadly tricks up his sleeve—literally.

After a tense moment, you both stepped back.

“Why did you help me?” he asked.

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Why did you help me?”

“I... don’t know. It made sense at the time.”

“Why’d you let me on your ship?”

“I wasn’t going to let them kill you,” he shrugged, like that was obvious.

“Well, I appreciate that,” you laughed. He cocked his head in surprise. The tension thawed slightly.

You sat down on opposite sides of the hull, a safe distance apart, watching each other warily.

“Are you Guild?”

“I’m not a hunter.” He seemed skeptical but didn’t press the issue.

You reached for your bag, and he tensed.

“Just getting water.” You yanked your water bottle out of your bag and drank.

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “What weapons do you have?”

“Blaster, knife, spare blaster. Not quite the arsenal you have,” you motioned to where his weapons closet was partially open, displaying an impressive array of firearms, explosives, and knives.

He nodded and explained, “Weapons are part of my religion.”

“Right,” you muttered, not really sure what that meant. You met his visor briefly then looked away again. Having his attention trained solely on you felt like sitting under a spotlight. And it wasn’t just the threat of danger that made you squirm.

You flicked your eyes back up to him when he shifted. You followed his movements as he pulled the blaster from his holster and stood to put it on its hook in the closet, then did the same with his rifle and vibroblade. He clicked a button on the wall, and the weapons closet clanged shut. You were still acutely aware that his whole body was a weapon, so this gesture of peace was largely symbolic.

Nonetheless, you responded in kind by placing your large vibroblade and both your blasters on a crate out of your reach.

You sat in awkward silence for a moment. You weren’t really sure if these empty gestures meant anything real... or were just that—empty. How likely was it that you were going to progress from strangers to two people who actually trusted each other in the confines of this tiny ship within the span of minutes? Not very.

“I’m going to use the refresher,” you announced. He nodded.

His searing gaze followed you the short distance to the door, and you suddenly forgot what you usually did with your arms when you walked.

It was a relief to close the door behind you and be alone for a moment. When you washed your hands, you noted the generous amount of the Mandalorian’s blood drying on your fingers, smeared there from when you made contact with his blaster injury. From the looks of it, his injury was worse than yours.

You scrubbed your hands clean and leaned down to splash water on your face, wiping away the sweat and dirt on your brow. Then, you rested your palms on the edge of the sink and took a few steadying breaths, studying your face in the small mirror before you.

I’ve been in tighter spots than this.

And this time, like every one of those other times, you steeled yourself and concentrated on the next immediate step you could take to improve your situation. You let your anxiety fall away as you narrowed your focus to a tangible action: treating your thigh wound. If you let yourself consider more than that, spiral in uncertainty and linger on every unknown and variable in this situation, you’d feel overwhelmed.

One step at a time.

When you returned to the hull, you opened your bag to pull out your med pack, sat back on your crate, and got to work cleaning the graze wound through the hole the blaster shot had left in your pants.

The Mandalorian reached into a container and pulled out his own much larger med pack. With precise movements, he removed his cape, his bandolier, and the top half of his armor. He turned away to pull up his shirt and inspect his wound. He was careful to stay angled in a way so you couldn’t see any of his exposed skin—you weren’t sure if he didn’t want you to know the extent of his injury or if he wasn’t allowed to reveal any of his skin to you.

From the way he was contorting awkwardly, it was clear that he was struggling to reach the extent of the wound.

“Do you want help?” you offered, knowing he’d refuse. You felt compelled to try anyways.

He snapped his helmet up to look at you, like he was surprised you were there. You waited for his answer. Several moments delayed, he jerked his head slightly, like he’d rediscovered a lost train of thought, and muttered: “I’m fine.”

You shrugged and finished tending to your own wound. When you had finished tying a clean bandage around your thigh, you noticed he was squeezing a tiny amount of bacta from an almost empty tube.

“Do you need this?” You held your full tube out to him.

He looked up. Again, he seemed to have forgotten you were there, or perhaps, was so caught off guard by your question, that his answer came after a long stretch of silence. It seemed like a weird reaction to such benign questions.

“Thank you,” he replied, dropping his shirt to walk toward you.

He reached for the bacta, but instead of taking the tube, he grabbed your wrist, twisting it hard. You cried out in pain as the bacta clattered to the floor. His free hand whipped behind his back to grab a pair of cuffs from his belt. Despite your struggling and flailing, he wrenched your arm over and cuffed your hand to a rung of the ladder that was just a few inches to your left.

You kicked out a foot to trip him, but he evaded it. You reached for him with your unrestrained hand, but he jumped back.

Shit. You cursed yourself for placing your weapons out of reach. The small blade strapped to your ankle wouldn’t be of much help at the moment. You let out a frustrated huff of anger. You were better than this, smarter than this.

“I’m sorry. I have to,” he insisted. He started to pace back and forth.

“You really don’t,” you argued, as you slouched against the wall in defeat. He’d cuffed you part way up the ladder, so your arm stretched uncomfortably above your head when you sank to the floor. You rubbed your free hand over your face, thinking.

“I can’t risk it,” he continued, almost apologetic in tone. He seemed to be convincing himself as much as he was convincing you.

“What are you going to do with me?”

He tilted his helmet down at you: “Nothing?”

“I mean, what’s the long term plan here?”

“I’ll leave you somewhere nearby—you can choose the planet—but I need to sleep before I can do anything else. And well...” he gestured vaguely to you then to the compartment where the kid was sleeping.

You watched him resume his circuit of the tiny hull and weighed your options. There weren’t many, and the fact that he was so worried about what you’d do to him or to the kid made you feel less threatened by him. He was spending his time thinking about how you might hurt him, not about how he could take advantage of you. At least, you hoped that was the case.

“I understand,” you relented, letting out a heavy sigh. At least he didn’t freeze me in carbonite.

He froze midstride to stare down at you.

As annoyed as you were by the restraints, you couldn’t really blame him. Honestly, you’d do the same exact thing if you were in his position. You’d already started thinking about the safest way to get some sleep in his presence—your next clear course of action—knowing that your temporary truce was fragile.

He regarded you silently, as if waiting for the catch.

“You could have just asked. I probably would have tried to talk you out of it, but I really do get it. I don’t know you. You don’t know me.”

He stood, looking down at you, incredulous.

It was strange, but not unfamiliar, to have to read someone in full armor, to take all cues from body language and tone. And in the Mandalorian’s case, even his tone was somewhat obscured. You stared back up into his blank helmet but felt sure you were reading him pretty well.

You glanced up at the handcuffs and were comforted by the knowledge that you could pick the mechanism fairly easily with some combination of your small vibroblade, the bobby pin in your hair (which was only there for this express purpose), and—if it came to it—the underwire of your bra. You’d done it before.

He doesn’t need to know that.

It seemed like, as someone who regularly restrained people, he should assume you could pick locks, but you weren’t about to bring that to his attention. You were going to let him think you were completely at his mercy because clearly that’s what he needed to feel safe. Plus, you didn’t want him to resort to a more extreme means of restraining you.

“Could you at least cuff me to something so I can lie down?” You wiggled the arm that was stretched awkwardly over your head.

He tucked his thumbs into his belt and cocked his head as if trying to decide whether or not this was a trick. He sighed quietly though the modulator.

“Don’t try anything,” he warned, striding forward to unlock the cuffs. You held your hands up in surrender. He led you toward a spot along the wall where a pipe ran a few inches off the floor and gestured for you to sit by it.

When he leaned over your body to snap the cuffs to the pipe, you caught a glimpse of his neck, where a sliver of skin was exposed between his cowl and his helmet. His skin was golden brown—definitely not green like the child, definitely human. It was less than an inch of skin, but you couldn’t help but feel that you’d witnessed something scandalous or intimate, like you’d accidentally walked in on someone changing. You also couldn’t help but notice that he smelled good under the faint odor of metal and blaster residue.

He wasn’t rough when he secured your hand in the cuffs this time.

Walking around the hull, he collected a ration pack and a thick blanket from two different crates and grabbed your water bottle from where you’d left it by your bag. He tossed the items to you one at a time.

Thoughtful.

He picked up your bacta from where it had fallen to the floor and sat back down to finish tending to his own wound.

You pulled the blanket under you so you weren’t sitting on the cold, hard floor of the ship and leaned back against the wall.

You opened the ration pack, picking at the contents, and considered the man before you.

You had a million questions for him but somehow couldn’t think of one thing to say. Nothing seemed particularly pressing as the stress and exertion of the day were beginning to catch up with you. He wasn’t a particularly chatty guy and didn’t seem interested in conversation beyond determining whether or not you were trying to abduct his child—and the jury was clearly still out on that front as far as he was concerned.

Eventually, he finished treating his wound and replaced his upper armor. He disappeared into the refresher for a few minutes then returned to what you had assumed was a storage bay, where he had placed the child. After shifting the child gently, he climbed—in full armor—into the smallest, most ridiculous bunk you’d ever seen before closing the door and disappearing from view. Doesn’t he have a room?

You finished the ration pack, kicked off your boots, and curled up in the blanket to lie down. You were grateful that your physical exhaustion was absolute. Otherwise, you were sure your mental chatter would have kept you awake. You needed rest before you could decide your next move. Telling yourself that you’d just doze, not sleep deeply, your eyelids drifted shut almost unwillingly.

***

The next morning, you woke to the Mandalorian leaning over you to release your wrist from the cuffs. You started at his unexpected closeness, jerking back, and he looked down. Clearly, you’d fallen into a deep sleep for several hours. Whoops.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You still weren’t used to that rich, raspy voice. Does it ever not sound seductive? It didn’t help that you could smell him again when he was leaned over you like that. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to move away.

“That’s okay.”

He stood, clipping the cuffs to the back of his belt. You sat up, leaning against the wall, and rubbed your eyes.

He sat on a crate across from you, with the baby on his lap, feeding him little pieces of something gross looking. The kid was perched happily on his knee, wiggling his giant ears in satisfaction as he chewed and watching you with unguarded interest.

“Who is that?” you asked.

The baby was alert and cheery, periodically letting out joyful little chirps, a marked difference from their subdued temperament the night before.

“He was a bounty,” the Mandalorian stated simply, as if that explained the whole situation.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his non-answer and didn’t respond. Obviously, there was more to the story, but he didn’t want to share it. That was fine. You didn’t owe each other anything (except maybe your lives, but in that regard, you figured you were even).

You watched the Mandalorian. He was sweet with the child—patient, too—but awkward and unsure. You didn’t have all that much experience with children either, but you knew holding a baby out in front of you with straight arms, as you’d seen him do for a moment yesterday, was not normal. He seemed caring and invested but inexperienced.

How long has he had this baby?

“I think we can help each other.” The Mandalorian spoke slowly, interrupting your train of thought.

This development surprised you, especially considering he’d made you sleep cuffed to a pipe.

From the moment you set eyes on the armored warrior, you had expected him to be cold, withholding: a lone wolf. In some ways, he was—the armor alone was enough to make him seem hostile and untouchable—but in other ways... He was almost... kind? He’d protected you, a stranger, without hesitation. The fact that he was caring for a wanted child was another piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit.

“How’s that?” You fidgeted with the edge of the blanket in your hands.

You hadn’t had the chance to formulate a full plan for yourself, but you didn’t really need to. You’d do what you’d always done: disappear. You’d lay low for a few weeks, then return to one of the three places you had hidden supplies: namely, new identification and credits. And then you’d disappear again. Maybe change your hair. Find a temporary job somewhere. Same old routine.

“The same people are after both of us.”

You snapped your head up to look at him.

“They saw you holding the kid and board the Crest. They know you’re with me,” he continued.

The same set of questions played in your head: Did he recognize me as a bounty that day in the cantina? Or did he notice the moment when the bounty hunter had recognized me in the alley yesterday? Or does he really just think I’m caught up in this with him because of pure chance?

He took your silence as an invitation to proceed.

“I can drop you off on a nearby planet. We can go our separate ways, but I think they’ll be looking for you too. It might be best to stay together for the moment.” He spoke carefully, like he knew he was out on a limb, and he didn’t expect you to agree. This was the most you’d heard him say at once. When you really considered it, he was right. Based on they way the fight went down, with you and the Mandalorian protecting each other, everyone would conclude that you were a team. That’s how the word would spread. Hunters would come after you both. If they found you separately, they’d assumed you knew where the other one was.

Between bites, the kid let out the cutest, tiniest sneeze you’d ever heard. The Mandalorian wiped his nose gently with the edge of his cape, and the softness of the gesture made your heart squeeze. You looked away briefly to hide the smile on your face.

You turned back to him, expression neutral, meeting his inscrutable gaze once again. “We’d be harder to find if we went our separate ways. We could lead them in two different directions,” you reasoned, trying to parse out all the options.

“I... feel bad that they’d come after you for no other reason than you happened to run into me in an alley.”

Again, his thoughtfulness surprised you.

For now, it seems safe to assume he doesn’t know about my bounty.

And you weren’t ready to share that yet...even though you knew hiding it was unfair to him and to the child. They were both already at risk. If you decided to stay with him for the moment, you’d eventually need to admit that you were a liability all on your own.

Not yet though.

“What’s your plan?”

“Head somewhere deserted. Lay low for a couple weeks, then go from there.”

That’s what you would be doing alone anyways. He’d already proven his skill in battle. Would it be so bad to have someone looking out for you for once?

It would be a relief, if you were being totally honest with yourself.

“Okay,” you agreed hesitantly. “For now, this makes sense,” you gestured between you two.

He nodded once.

You posed the question that was plaguing you: “What made you change your mind about me? Why are you trusting me all of a sudden?”

“You stayed cuffed.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. Apparently, it had been a test, and you had passed. I guess he was being smart, not underestimating me.

He seemed satisfied to leave the conversation there, but your curiosity got the better of you. You took the chance to build on this blossoming trust.

“So, does the helmet stay on all the time?”

He met your gaze for a moment before looking down at the kid and saying, “No living being has seen my face since I was a child. This is the way.”

Well, that’s super sad.

You thought back to the exchange between him and that huge blue Mandalorian. They’d both said the same thing then too.

Mandalorians have a catchphrase?

You wondered what this helmet rule meant in practice: for instance, does that mean he could be helmetless around someone if they couldn’t see his face... Like, were blindfolds or very dark rooms on the table? And what about the rest of the armor? Can he take that off? How bad should I feel that I’d seen a sliver of his neck? You wanted to know the answers to all these questions but obviously couldn’t ask.

Instead, you nodded and said, “What’s your name?”

“Mando is fine.” Impersonal. Business-like. It’s what Karga had called him.

His proposal to stay together for the time being had felt like an opening, but clearly peeling away all his layers of metaphorical armor would take a long time. He was so guarded, but it seemed like he didn’t really want to be. You related to that on a deep level.

“Mando?” You voiced the question that had popped into your head when Karga called him Mando the first time: “Isn’t Mandalorian spelled m-a-n-d-A-l-o-r-i-a-n?”

“...yes?” he confirmed tentatively, unsure of your point. His hand, which was in the process of feeding the child another bite, paused midair as he watched you. The kid made impatient whiny sounds and reached for his hand.

“So shouldn’t your nickname be Mand-a?”

He scoffed, making a sound somewhere between amusement and annoyance, and resumed feeding the child, who let out a contented coo as he chewed.

There was an awkward beat of silence while you waited for him to ask for your name. When he asked, you’d share your fake name, as always.

He didn’t ask.

***

Chapter 3

#my writing #tempered glass #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fic #mature #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

Text

Curiosity pt. 4

After that night, you can’t seem to escape Riddle anywhere.

You suppose you shouldn’t be shocked by that. But now that he’s noticed you, now that he’s decided that you’re something to be interested in, it’s as though he takes up all your attention. By far the worst thing, however, is the fact that Marie and Stephanie have decided that he is the best person in the world. In your more charitable moments, you can understand why. From Marie’s perspective, Riddle has protected her future by keeping her trespassing to himself and from Stephanie’s perspective, his silence is a tacit agreement that she should be allowed to continue playing on the house team. Apparently, you are somehow unreasonable for failing to join them in their support of all things Tom Riddle.

“Can we please just drop it?” You grouch as you slump forward in your seat, waiting for Dumbledore to arrive to start the lesson. “I’ve told you both, I don’t want to talk about it.” Stephanie prods you with her wand and opens her mouth to say something but you quickly cut her off, “I’m not being ridiculous. Stop telling me that I’m being ridiculous.” This is the other point of contention between you and your two best friends: you haven’t told them why Riddle held you behind that night. They’ve decided that you’re having a clandestine relationship which would be a laughable notion if it weren’t for the way that your pulse quickened whenever they brought it up.

“Fine. You’re not being ridiculous. He’s looking at you again, though” Stephanie murmurs and smirks at the low groan you emit as your head hits the desk in front of you. You know you should tell them what happened, but you’re not sure how to without making it seem as though you’re being unfairly suspicious. (Which is maybe an indication that you are, but that’s neither here nor there.) It’s just that… You know Riddle is persistent - he’s told you multiple times - and you know that you have an awful habit of refusing to let an issue drop. They’ll accuse you of being hypercritical but something about the way Riddle acts around you sets you on edge. You don’t know what it is about him, just that there’s something strange about the way he treats you compared to everyone else.

Thankfully, your interrogation is effectively cut short as Dumbledore enters the room at that moment, sweeping past you in a whirl of canary yellow robes. “If you’d all like to pair up, we’ll be practising our colour-morphing today, class. And remember: non-verbal if you can.” With a flick of his wand, a dozen brightly coloured songbirds in gilded cages appear on the desks in front of you. Transfiguring live animals is always more difficult, and transfiguring something as specific as the colour even more so. You find yourself grinning at the challenge.

Before the three of you can fall into your usual squabble about who has to be the one to find a different person to partner up with, a shadow falls across your desk and you don’t have to look up to know exactly who it is. “Would you care to partner up?” Riddle asks and next to you Stephanie all but cackles. Obviously, he hears her - she’s making no effort to cover up her amusement - but his expression doesn’t change at all as he smiles politely down at you. After a second, he raises an eyebrow expectantly and you realise with a sinking feeling that there is really no way you’ll be able to get out of this. Marie and Stephanie have already grabbed their songbird and are watching you with joint expressions of amusement.

“… Sure.” You say at last and slowly you grab your bag and follow him to where he’s stationed himself at the side of the classroom. You frown slightly. Riddle usually sits close to the front in all his lessons, but now you think of it, in Dumbledore’s classes, he seems to try and make himself as invisible as he possibly can. You settle in the chair opposite him and watch as he places the songbirds cage carefully down in the middle of the desk. The silence seems to stretch for an uncomfortably long time between you but he doesn’t seem affected by it at all. He just watches you with a mix of amusement and expectation dancing in his eyes. Ridiculously, you find yourself wanting to impress him. “So,” You say when the quiet becomes too much, “Do you want to go first, or shall I?”

A small smirk spreads across his lips and he draws his wand out from his robes. Your eyes track his movements with more interest than you care to admit. His wrist twists in an expert motion and your little blue songbird shimmers for a moment before the blue of its feather seems to melt into deep emerald green. You absolutely do not think about what else he might be able to do with such clever hands. You’re absolutely not impressed that he succeeded in the colour-morphing transfiguration on his first attempt. Non-verbally. He did it non-verbally. He looks back at you and to your frustration, he still doesn’t speak, just keeps that pleasant smile plastered on his face like there is nothing odd about the situation you find yourself in at all.

“Right. Well done, then, I suppose.” You mutter and retrieve your own wand. You pretend you don’t notice the way his gaze becomes a little more focussed. Why does this feel like a test? Why does this feel like a test you want to pass? You shut your eyes for a second, allowing your mind to go blank and still. Slowly you think of the incantation, rolling the syllables over in your mind until they reverberate around your skull. You open your eyes, swish your wand in a precise flick and watch as the bird shifts colour from green to purple. It’s not as neat as Riddle’s own casting you note with no small amount of displeasure; the change takes longer and the tips of the bird’s feathers are a lighter shade of purple than the rest of it.

However, for a first attempt, you are fairly impressed with yourself. It seems Riddle is as well, because his pleasant smile has disappeared and he’s watching you closely now, dark eyes flicking between you and the bird. He hums in something like approval and you tamp down your desire to preen. “That was… impressive. Your first attempt at the spell?” You nod, not quite meeting his gaze. “So you’re talented at Transfiguration.” He says slowly, as though he’s piecing something together. Again, you nod. “Talented enough, to say, transfigure something into a quill, perhaps?”

Fuck.

His smile returns, sharp and pleased. He opens his mouth to say something but is cut off when Dumbledore appears at your desk, smiling congenially. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you two working together in this class before,” He clasps his hands and looks down at you as though he can see right through you. Despite his placid tone, you think you catch an undercurrent of something else lurking just beneath the surface of his statement. “Have you managed the spell? We wouldn’t want to be wasting valuable lesson time chatting, would we?” You think distantly that you should be grateful for Dumbledore’s interruption except… Well, he’s never told you off for chatting in class before. And he’s never looked at you the way he’s looking at Riddle.

And you’ve never seen Riddle look as uncomfortable as he does right now. His smile has slipped from his face as quickly as it came. He stares straight past you and when he speaks, his voice is a quiet, reserved monotone. “You are the biggest proponent of inter-house cooperation, Sir.” Dumbledore doesn’t stop smiling but he does raise an eyebrow as though he doesn’t believe a word of what Riddle has just said. You find yourself wanting to come to his defence.

“We’ve both managed it, Sir. First time round.” You try not to shift under the scrutiny of your professor. “Riddle - sorry, Tom’s was near perfect.” Which is annoying to admit but also true. Riddle (Tom?) glances at you and you’re not stupid enough to mistake the look in his eye for gratitude but at least it’s better than that shuttered, flat stare. Dumbledore says nothing in response and the rest of the lesson passes unremarkably though you can’t shake the confusion over what just transpired between you, Riddle, and Dumbledore. Soon, everyone around you is packing their things and heading out the door to lunch. You’re still trying to figure out what it is about Dumbledore that makes Riddle so uneasy that it takes you a moment to realise that the classroom has emptied out entirely. You hastily grab your own things and shove them into your bag.

You’re almost at the door when Riddle’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “We still haven’t discussed what we found out today,” He calls and because your back is turned to him, you don’t bother to hide your grimace. You had really hoped you’d be able to avoid this conversation.

“Why don’t you sit at the front in Dumbledore’s classes?” You ask suddenly, desperate for a distraction.

Riddle’s eyes flash with something that you’re beginning to recognise as tamped down anger before his expression shutters. He runs a hand through his hair and your eyes don’t track the way his waves fall in slight disarray. “Dumbledore and I have a… difficult relationship. I haven’t a clue why,” He’s lying. You know he’s lying. “It’s just always been that way.” The finality in his voice signals the end of the conversation, but you don’t want to let it drop. Not now you know he’s lying and certainly not now he knows that you did find something in Larkins’ office.

“Really? It certainly didn’t seem that way to me.” You counter, sounding a lot more confident than you feel. “It seemed to me like he has a very good reason not to like you. I wonder what it could be? Maybe you should be careful poking around other people’s secrets when you clearly have a few of your own.”

His features contort with anger and he’s suddenly too close. You hadn’t even seen him move. You take a step back and unlike the time in the library, he doesn’t stop you, merely continues to press into your personal space until your back hits the door behind you. Riddle’s arm flies up to rest next to your head, his long fingers are so close that for a moment you think he might tangle them in your hair. Your stomach drops with something that is definitely not anticipation at the thought. From this angle, the shadows of his cheekbones that much more pronounced, the waves of his hair fall messily across his forehead and he stares down at you with impossibly dark eyes, breathing hard. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this close to coming undone and your treacherous body reacts to that realisation in kind. Your breath hitches in your throat and you feel yourself start to flush. You’re not sure how long you stay there, the two of you glaring at each other whilst your pulse races. Eventually, though, his breathing calms down and his arm drops to his side. He leans back and seems to collect himself.

“I’d like it if you refrain from asking me questions about Dumbledore in the future.”

“And I’d like it if you refrain from asking me questions about my own personal business, but here we are,” You retort. He blinks, evidently surprised by your reaction and then something breaks in his expression and he laughs once sharply.

“You are the most frustrating person I think I’ve ever met. Why won’t you just tell me? You know I’ll figure it out. Or I’ll make you tell me.” He’s just insulted and threatened you in the same breath and you think you should probably be irritated by that, but there’s something odd about the way he’s speaking to you. He doesn’t… sound angry? Or like he’s trying to scare you into compliance. No… he sounds… You shake your head. It doesn’t matter what he sounds like. You’re being ridiculous.

“Why do you care so much?” You ask, gesturing wildly. “I know you care as little as I do about quidditch, I know that you’re not going to do anything with the information, so why do you care so much?” And somehow you do know that. This is a game to Riddle. It’s a puzzle he hasn’t been able to solve, and, like you, he’s not very good at letting things go.

The next word he speaks confirms your suspicions. “Curiosity.”

You blink up at him and you know he’s telling the truth. (Since when have you been able to pick up on these things about him?) He doesn’t stop you when you turn and walk hurriedly out of the classroom. You don’t look back. It’s only when you reach the ground floor that you realise you know exactly what he had sounded like. He’d sounded like he’d been having fun.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #minific #tom riddle story #tom riddle fic #harry potter fanfic

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hypnomicimagines · 3 years

Text

Fateful Meeting [Ninja!Harai Kuko/Reader]

The young ninja’s eyes were sharp, intense, so much so it felt like you were looking into the sun.

You looked down and away from his glare as you continued to tend to his wounds, ignoring the way he shifted uncomfortably, like he didn’t want you touching him at all. But he was the one who had stumbled upon your home a complete bloody mess, barely conscious as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, a moment of weakness when he thought he was on death’s door. Now that you had given him water and stopped his wound from bleeding his normal temperament had come back, and something told you he wasn’t the most pleasant dinner guest to have.

You had just finished bandaging him up when he abruptly stood, grabbing your wrist to stop you from reaching out to touch him again. You shared a look, wondering if he was the type of ninja to have taken a vow of silence before he opened his mouth for the first time.

“What do you want?” His tone is harsh but you think it’s likely just the way he sounds, if his looks are anything to go by. “You wasted your healing supplies on me, so what is it you want in return?”

“I don’t expect you to repay my kindness. Kindness isn’t kindness if it’s done expecting gratitude. Although I do suggest you spend some more time here recovering before you go anywhere…” Kuko’s eyes widened ever so slightly at your words but he doesn’t allow you to fully see his surprise, his neutral expression returning just as quickly as it had left. He adjusted the mask on his face as he stepped towards the door, ignoring your pleas for him to sit and rest a while longer.

“I always repay my debts.”

“Wait! Can’t you tell me your name at least? Or is that part of the whole secretive ninja clan thing you clearly have going on?” He hesitated for a second at your request, so simple to you yet to him… it was a show of trust. To willingly give your name to a stranger could mean terrible things for someone whose job was to blend in with the night; it would be better if you could forget he was ever even there which is why he becomes even more surprised when he spoke.

“Harai Kuko. Don’t forget it!” There’s a little more emotion in his introduction, a little less cold and far more personality shining through (which reaffirmed your assumption he was not the type of guest to bring home to your parents). But you found yourself charmed by him all the same, gentle smile on your face as you waved goodbye, his name just a whisper on the wind with how quickly he was gone.

You’re in awe at how such a bright shock of red hair managed to fade perfectly into the darkness but he’s gone from your view within seconds, leaving you reeling at the experience, wondering if it had only been a dream. The bloodied bed where he laid as you tended to him told otherwise but you tried not to think too deeply on it, grabbing the sheets to toss into your laundry pile to clean later. You cleaned up the scraps of your bandages and tidied your home like no one had been there, knowing that you had to sleep soon as you couldn’t burn the candle at both ends. You had to be up early for your patients the next morning as well since the work never seemed to end in the midst of the war.

As you’re finishing up there’s several aggressive knocks at your door, your body suddenly tensed as something feels off. Ever since your late-night visitor had left you felt an odd sensation in your chest, this anxiety unwavering in the heavy night air as you wondered how things could possibly get more interesting. When you’re greeted with the sight of two heavy-set men your anxiety finds itself skyrocketing, finding yourself backed into the corner of your own home as they make themselves comfortable.

“Excuse us for intruding. We just happened to see a trail of blood leading here… Are you alright?” His tone indicated he was not at all concerned about your well-being so you didn’t reply, instead trying to fix him with a steady stare that said ‘I’ve done nothing wrong’. “Ah, I see, the quiet type. I don’t mind that however… we’re tracking down a certain menace. A man with bright red hair who we heavily injured earlier today.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Are you not the resident healer?”

“I am… but that blood trail could have just as easily been from an injured boar who was fighting for territory in the woods. Assuming it was human is a leap.”

“Might I ask why you’re still awake?”

“Some nights my mind keeps me awake with all sorts of thoughts, like whether or not I have to go into town to get more herbs and the like. You’re awfully inquisitive, are you perhaps looking to become a healer rather than being a person who supplies me patients?”

Your temper started to flare up despite you trying to carefully navigate the conversation, wanting these people who clearly came here to threaten you out of your home. You’d dealt with their type before, absolute savages, and you don’t appreciate their intrusion. You’re fonder of the random man who was bleeding out on your doorstep than these people who hurt just because they could, who bullied because they knew people were too afraid to stand up to them. Your irritation doesn’t go unnoticed but is returned with a heavy silence and glares, the two men who had forced their way in their home looming over you menacingly.

Perhaps you should’ve just gone straight to bed.

Kuko hadn’t made it far.

As headstrong as he was even he couldn’t deny the pain his body was in, his wounds aching as they hadn’t closed properly. He was normally far more respectful of the healers back at the temple but he was in a hurry, needing to report back to his father his findings immediately. He didn’t want to bring those hunting him to you either, it would be bad news as they seemed to have no issue slaughtering innocents left and right. He felt like there was a boulder in his gut that was slowing his movements, his body not able to move as nimbly until he’s finally forced to stop. He doesn’t know how far he’s gotten nor how much time has passed but he’s bleeding again.

It’s either turn back towards your hut or continue forward in hopes of finding another healer.

Something else is pulling him back towards you, like you’d attached strings to his body and were pulling at him to come back behind the curtain. Kuko bit his tongue hard to keep himself conscious, leaning against a tree, taking a deep breath, and then starting the journey back to your home. He’d have to prepare a proper apology for impeding on you so late at night but the sudden sense of urgency that rushed through his body stopped his needless worrying, walking forward with a huff.

He didn’t know why but he had to get back to you.

Now.

Your head is pounding as you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, hands raising to cover your head to prevent further damage to your skull. You’d be in more pain if you were fully conscious but you’re only partially aware of what’s happening to you, your house in shambles around you. The place had been torn apart, the bloody bandages from earlier thrown across the room as they had been found during a ‘mandatory search’. The table you had been sitting at was flipped over and jars of needed herbs were tossed on the floor, even worse, now your own blood was staining the floor.

You’re fighting to stay awake, eyes scanning the floor for anything to defend yourself with but it was a fruitless endeavor. Your hands were meant to heal not harm, you weren’t suited for anything like this, and your assailants were clearly far more skilled than the average soldier. You wished you could say you put up a better fight than the pathetic mess that actually happened but there wasn’t time for self-pity.

“Hey you bastards! Didn’t hurt your pride enough after round one?”

Ninja’s are supposed to be quiet, stealthy, but Kuko had burst onto the scene like some sort of hero in a play. You’re wide-eyed as you spot the shock of red hair but your vision is so blurry and your brain so scrambled you’re worried you’re just hallucinating him. Your eyes met his for a second, your pleading reaching Kuko’s heart immediately; if he hadn’t been so carefully trained his entire life, he thinks his anger might’ve exploded in that moment, causing him to do something he’d regret. To see someone who had treated him with kindness, without asking any extra questions about who he was, someone who was likely innocent and had no means of defending themselves…

It pissed him off.

You hear the sound of skin on skin, some cackling that you’re sure is your ninja savior despite how high-pitched and wicked it sounded, and what you hope isn’t your house getting torn into even more pieces. Your face was buried in your arms as you were growing more exhausted, knowing the moon must be high in the sky at this point. You should’ve been in bed hours ago. Who would help your patients tomorrow when you could hardly help yourself? You weakly managed to bring your head up to survey the room around you but it’s suddenly silent, not a soul in sight until Kuko re-enters your home from the front door.

“Should I ask where you took them or just rely on blind faith?”

“You don’t have to blindly trust me but those assholes got what they deserved,” Kuko scoffed as he walked over to you, lifting you effortlessly so he could bring you over to your little bed (which had stayed clear of any debris). “Shit, I’m tired.”

Your eyes widened as Kuko lowered the mask so he could breathe a little easier, his face so smooth except for a scar on the underside of his chin. You can see a few more scars peeking out from the tears in his clothes but you don’t allow your mind to wander. Kuko is currently questioning why he just revealed his face in front of a civilian without thinking twice about the consequences, knowing this was yet another rule he had broken. There was a strict code all ninja were expected to follow and he’d already broken at least two rules, even more because he actually found himself liking you. He would be lucky if he got out of this unscathed by his father, not that he gave a damn what that shitty old man had to say to him, but he’d rather make his life easier.

“You’re bleeding… your wound from before reopened, didn’t it? I need to help you…”

Kuko shied away from your touch but you can see he’s actively fighting his body’s natural response to protect himself, freezing in place to allow you to place a hand on his shoulder. You kept your movements deliberately slow to prove you meant no harm, not like you could even consider raising a hand to him after he had saved you from who knows what kind of fate. He had half a mind to argue with you about trying to help him when you were injured yourself but he was too tired to even argue, his dad would’ve laughed if he heard that one.

“We should sleep…” After you had replaced his bandages with clean one you sent an exasperated look to your home, disliking the fact it was so messy despite none of it being your fault.

“We can just clean tomorrow.” Kuko flopped himself unceremoniously onto the floor beside your bed, hands behind his head like a pillow with his legs crossed; he winced a bit at the impact but otherwise gave no indication he was uncomfortable. You’re about to question his decision to sleep directly beside you but there really didn’t seem to be enough room in your home with a table flipped over in the middle of it, so it was easier to just settle yourself in beside him and hope he wasn’t secretly some pervert.

Wait, did he say we?

“So, you’re going to stay this time?” You turned on your side to look at him, “I could use some extra help in the woods tomorrow… It shouldn’t be too rough a walk with your injuries… but I guess it’s selfish of me to ask a stranger to just help me out with my own chores…”

“Hmph. I guess I can help.” Kuko’s eyes are closed yet he’s unable to sleep, peaking one open when he hears you shuffling around next to him in an attempt to get comfortable. Even with a bruise forming on your temple you’re as stunning as ever, the young ninja biting his lip as he wondered how much of this was a sense of duty and how much was just him indulging his personal desires.

“Thank you…” You finally whispered out as sleep overcame you.

Kuko is left speechless, cheeks warm as he tries to settle his rapidly beating heart.

#Harai Kuko #Kuko Harai #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypnomic #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Harai Kuko x Reader #Hypnosis Mic Scenario #Scenario #AU

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Ask Questions, Throw Shield Later.

Intro: Steve and Katie have an unwelcome late night visitor…

Warnings: “Language!” Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

W/C: 1.9k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: The first of two (yes, two) special 29th May Birthday One shots. Happy Birthday Tony! Man, I missed writing for these guys in this timeline! This fits into SSB within “I Told You I Said Yes”.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Fuck, Steve...” Katie groaned, her head tilting backwards as Steve gave another deep thrust upwards, “right there... Jesus.”

“Good?” Steve panted as his hands grabbed her waist, finger tips digging into the flesh that covered her hipbones.

She nodded, grinding on him faster, his hands pulling her down making sure he hit as deep as he could.

Their soft, intimate sounds filled the room and, wanting to be as close to her as he could get, Steve sat up drawing a gasp from Katie as he did so. His hands moved to her back. One splayed half way up her spine, the other cupped the back of her head. His fingers tangled in her long, silky hair as he pulled her face to his. He kissed her, hard, his tongue dominating hers as he swallowed her moan, one that rumbled in her throat as if it came from the depths of her belly.

They’d already danced this tango once already that night. After a few beers with the team in anticipation of Tony’s birthday (minus Natasha as she was still on something Fury was running), they’d retired and gotten a little frisky some two hours prior. But then Steve had woken, his super sharp hearing alerting himself to some form of ransom noise deep in the floors below them and, well, he couldn’t get back to sleep. So he’d hugged Katie close.

Too close.

As ever he was unable to control his reactions to his girl and had ended up with a boner. Meaning she’d woken with him basically rutting up against her back, feigning innocence when she’d given him a grumble at the fact he’d dragged her from her slumber.

She hadn’t been grumbling for long.

“Stevie... I’m gonna...” Katie’s forehead pressed into his, her mouth open as her lips hovered over his, and he thrust upwards again, his nose brushing hers softly, like the touch of a butterfly.

“Let go. Doll,” he panted, actively fighting his own high, “cum for me.”

Her chest heaved, pert nipples brushing his bare skin and her movements stuttered. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, which cracked into a half grunt, half moan as she felt herself go, her body positively floating from her high.

By the time she came round, Steve had also finished, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he gathered his breath. Katie collapsed forward with a soft chuckle, her forehead pressing into his collar bone as he fell backwards, taking her with him.

They lay still for a moment, the only sounds being their heavy breathing and the soft rustle of sheets as Steve pulled the bedding up around them. The smooth cotton brushing over her sensitive skin made Katie shudder a little. Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, his large hands running up and down her spine.

“Am I forgiven for waking you up?” He asked and she shrugged, not even bothering to try and find the strength to sit up. “It’s three AM. I’ll think about it.”

Steve chuckled and she sat up slightly, leaning down to give him a slow kiss.

“Love you.” she pulled back a little, her eyes shining in the dim light, and Steve smiled.

“Love you too.”

Fifteen minutes later they were both settled down and on the verge of sleep once more when a loud crashing in the apartment made them both sit bolt upright.

“What the...” Steve was out of bed in a flash, wrenching the door to their room open.

Katie was seconds behind him, stopping only to grab Steve’s shirt from the chair at the vanity. As she shrugged it on, she ran into the hallway and heard a familiar metallic whoosh. There was the squealing of metal on metal and Katie flicked on the light just in time to see a flash of blue, red and white as Steve’s shield flew back to his hand. He looked over to Katie as she stepped towards him, her mouth falling.

“Is that...” she glanced down at what looked like a version of one of Tony’s suits. It lay motionless on the floor in two pieces, Steve’s shield having severed it at the waist. The failing electrics sparked as the various boards and cogs died, before it fell silent.

Steve nudged it with his foot. It didn’t move. He turned to Katie, a frown on his handsome face.

“Did he tell you he was making them autonomous?”

“That’s nothing new, JARVIS has always been able to control them remotely.” Katie shook her head as she crouched down, her hand gently touching the helmet. She tried to move the face plate but it didn’t open. Rapping her knuckles on the skull, she was met with a solid sound, not the usual hollow echo. “JARVIS?”

There was no reply.

“Why isn’t he answering?” Steve looked at her.

“Tony might have him down.” Katie answered. “He runs the updates at night some times. I do know one thing though.”

“What?” Steve asked as she stood up.

“That couldn’t have gotten in here without Tony letting it in one way or another.” She glanced at Steve, her pretty face full of annoyance. “Imma kill him, fucking idiot.”

She turned to leave and Steve gently caught her arm. “Honey...”

“Seriously? You want me to let this go?”

“Hell, no.” He shook his head, “I want you to wait for me to put some clothes on.”

Despite herself, Katie grinned as her eyes scanned Steve’s naked body, his shield still on his arm. He rolled his eyes and nodded to the suit on the floor, “I’m going to give him his property back, along with a piece of my mind.” **** Tony spun round, his brow arching as Steve and Katie walked into the lab. But whatever smart quip he had been about to come out with died as he spotted what was slung over the super soldier’s broad shoulders. With a loud slam, Steve threw the two parts of the robot down on the desk.

“What did you do to it?” Tony moaned.

“Threw my shield at it.” Steve folded his arms over his chest, the sleeves of the white ribbed Tee he had shrugged on straining over his thick biceps.

Tony was that distracted by his destroyed robot that he failed to notice Katie stomping towards him. She drew her right fist back and punched him hard on the shoulder.

“Ow, Kiddo!”

“You dick!” She yelled. “What the hell were you doing sending that into our apartment?”

“Wanted to test your reaction to it.” Tony shrugged. “See how it came across.”

“How it ca- Tony, it’s half past 3 in the morning!” She shrieked.

“Exactly.” Tony scratched his beard. “Total element of surprise. I thought you guys would give me a base of how people would react to them. Can’t have been that well if Spangles felt the need to cut it in half with his frisbee.”

“We had no idea what or who it was.” Steve felt his anger beginning to rise, “what was I supposed to do?”

“I’ve told you before, big guy. Ask questions, throw shield later.” Tony shrugged, “I can’t believe you killed Iron Kid.”

“Iron Kid?” Katie blinked.

“Yeah, the name’s a working progress.”

“Tony, what is it?” Steve pressed.

“It’s a prototype.” Tony informed them. “I had the idea last week. The Avengers exploded after New York. You should see the piles of fan mail that the guys downstairs sort each day.”

“Less bragging, more explaining.” Katie narrowed her eyes.

“The point is, we attract attention. So I had a thought about something that could help keep the public at bay,” Tony gestured to the pile of metal, “we can use them to issue instructions, help aid the emergency services. Keep civilians out of the way.”

Katie and Steve looked at one another, and Steve hated to admit it but the idea made sense.

Sorta.

“Clearly I need to rethink a little.” Tony mused. “I mean if they freaked you out then...” “It freaked us out because it was in. our. apartment!” Katie groaned. “In the middle of the night.”

“That’s the point, it was supposed to have the element of surprise, wake you up.”

“Well there’s your first fuck up!” She hissed. “We were already awake-“

“Why?” Tony frowned

“Because we just finished a great, sweaty sex session.” She shot back and Steve groaned, feeling the heat in his neck as he looked down, his bare toes flexing against the cool floor of the lab. “And you wanna be grateful we had finished because if we hadn’t I’d be really, really mad. You get me?”

“That’s.. disgusting.” Tony wrinkled his nose.

“And you’re an asshole.” Katie shot back.

With a shudder, Tony moved and picked up a screwdriver. He turned the helmet up aside down and opened a small hatch at the back. Stooping slightly, he prodded and poked at something inside.

“Huh, least the main board wasn’t damaged.” He straightened up and turned to face them both. “So, other than scaring the shit out of you what was it like? Voice interface okay? Too much me or not enough me or-“

“There was no voice interface.” Steve replied.

“What?” Tony frowned, “JARVIS was supposed to be controlling it. It should have told you why it was there and-“

“Well he didn’t.” Steve rolled his eyes, his already stretched patience wearing dangerously thin.

“He didn’t...huh?” Tony frowned and Katie moved past him to a computer.

“Oh for the... he’s on mute you dumbass!” She tapped a few buttons and JARVIS’ voice rang out.

“Thank you Miss Stark.”

“Shit.” Tony gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, buddy. Forgot I turned you off.”

“Mr Stark, may I suggest you call it a night, Sir? It is rather late and you’ve been awake for almost twenty-one hours. Miss Potts instructed me to ensure you-“ “And that is precisely why I did.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie let out a growl of annoyance

“I’m done. Come on, Steve.”

She stalked towards the door and Tony looked up. “You not gonna wish me happy birthday?”

In response she raised the middle fingers on both her hands, flipping him off over her shoulders as she stomped out of the door.

Steve watched her go before she turned to Tony. “You know, I think you’re onto something. Keeping civilians away would make things a lot easier.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Tony nodded, eagerly. “We’d need a fleet of them, an Iron Fleet, no that’s... like i said, the names a work in progress.”

“We can discuss this tomorrow. Give it some proper though.” Steve took a deep breath. “Just don’t send any more into the apartment, please?”

Tony saluted him and Steve rolled his eyes. He turned to go before he stopped, and looked back at his friend.

“Happy birthday, pal.”

Tony snorted. “Cheers, Spangles.”

Tony watched Steve walk out of the lab, before he glanced back at the destroyed robot.

“Mr Stark... Miss Potts is awake...”

“Ahh shit.” Tony groaned. “How much trouble am I in?”

“I don’t think a Roman Legion would protect you.” JARVIS replied and Tony stilled, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Iron Legion.” He tossed the screwdriver up in the air and caught it, chuckling. “JARVIS, you are a genius.”

“Why thank you, sir. And now I really must insist you go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m going. Lock everything down will you? Oh, and order us all breakfast from the diner on the corner of fifth.”

“Of course. The usual?”

“Yeah. Have it delivered about 10:30. Should be enough to calm Kiddo down.”

“Very wise Sir. I’ll ensure there’s extra bacon, just in case.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t love extra bacon?”

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