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wendimydarling · 3 years

Text

Cover the Mirrors

Summary: Amber is earning a masters degree in mythology and folklore; when a handsome stranger sweeps her off her feet, she’s left wondering how, and struggles to keep up with his lifestyle.

Pairing: Vampire!August Walker x OFC (first person reader)

Word Count: 6826

Warnings: Alright, we ready to get into the menu of delights we will be reading today? Okay but seriously, if you are triggered by anything on this list, it is your responsibility to not read this work of fiction. The warnings are as follows: manipulation, subtle exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of oral (male receiving), biting, clawing, choking, blood, male violence, gore, non-con, rape, spitting, fear play, primal play, breeding, mention of death, torture, and potentially cannibalism, if you squint.

A/N: Okay so this story is based off of this thread where @killjoy-assbutt-1112 gave me a fic title, but I added another twist to it that I’d been brewing for months; I was excited about it but now I’m not. Whatever, I’ll give it to you anyway. Sources for my vampire lore came from here and here. Cover art was made by me; August was drawn by the amazingly talented @cheyentjj and has been used with her permission. Thank you so much to everyone who brainstormed with me, and a special thanks to @agniavateira for betaing!

“If you look at the Slavic region, vampire folklore runs rampant. One especially interesting specimen is the Pijavica. The Pijavica (translated “leech”, or “drinker”) was a rare species of vampire— traditionally male, and a powerfully strong, cold-blooded killer. The potential for conception is most commonly believed to be through the incest of the deceased with his mother during his life, though some believe that one can be created through the exceptionally malicious and evil acts of the deceased before his death.

The birth of a Pijavica is attributed to many different causes, including suffering an “unnatural” or untimely death such as suicide, excommunication, improper burial rituals, or even simple causes such as an animal jumping or bird flying over either the corpse or the empty grave, being conceived on certain days, or being born with a caul, teeth, or tail.”

I paused my typing, fingers leaving the keyboard in order to brush loose strands of hair from my face. Around me, the baristas of my favorite coffee shop were buzzing like worker bees in an old hive; they were gearing up for the lunch rush, and I realized I’d been here four hours already.

This place had long been my go-to study zone. It was small; there was just enough hustle and bustle to keep me from descending too deep into the abyss of studying and yet, it had the respect of the patrons that a library does. The owner, Fred, made sure that conversations were kept in hushed tones, courteous to those of us who needed to work in noise instead of quiet.

“If ya wanna be loud, go sit at a Starbucks!” He’d huff at those who didn’t heed his warning.

My eyes took in the familiar surroundings as I stretched. An oversized wood-burning fireplace filled the wall next to the vintage cash register; it was sandwiched between two built-in bookcases housing stories of all kinds that were meant to be read and enjoyed. The old stone clackling ran all the way up the wall, and a custom mantle made from an old oak tree that had fallen in Fred’s backyard sat delicately above the firebox. Yes, this shop was magical. It held a special place in my heart, and I’d visited so often that old Fred had deemed the table I sat at as “my table”. It was always kept reserved for me.

I reached for my coffee without looking; my brain needed more caffeine. I’d spent months on this master thesis, and yet for some reason, the notion of vampires was such a struggle. I didn’t understand the fear of those who lived back then. The origins of bloodsuckers were chaotic, the “treatments” laughable and still, people were willing to kill their own offspring over such nonsensical superstitions. Cold drops of stale roast hit my lips in a harsh reminder that I’d finished my previous dose. I sighed heavily and dropped the cup to the wooden surface of my table. Eyes closed, I laced my fingers around my neck and drew my elbows together to stretch my spine. Coffee. I need more coffee.

“Having trouble?”

A man’s baritone, smooth as whiskey interrupted my thoughts. My body jolted at his leisurely tone, and I nearly tumbled off the chair as my eyes snapped open to view the intruder. Sitting across from me was anything but a man; I was in the presence of divine artistry, two breathtaking orbs of gray-washed sky centered below auburn curls that adorned his perfectly symmetrical face. A sharp nose pointed to his strong jaw, while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of lips that I’m certain could send even a nun to her bedroom for self-maintenance. He wore a crisp, pinstripe suit, the buttons of his dress shirt undone sinfully low, revealing a smattering of additional curls.

My oversized turtleneck sweater and leggings suddenly felt subpar.

“The name’s Walker,” he mused further, gesturing a large hand toward the empty paper tumbler that was now lying on its side. “What were you drinking?”

“I--I um,” I fumbled with my words, embarrassed by my sudden inability to form a proper sentence. “I had a flat white? With two extra shots of espresso.”

The man named Walker had the cup in his hand and was out of his chair before I could blink; he was already ordering another coffee by the time I managed to process his intentions. I watched him hand the barista a bill I couldn’t see, but by the shocked expression on her face at the man’s declination of the change, it must have been a sizable amount. He sat down at the table again and stared at my chest unabashedly, making it clear he wasn’t just looking but imagining as well.

I should have been offended or felt objectified, but instead I felt drawn into his gaze.

“Having trouble?” He asked again, gesturing this time at my laptop.

“How long were you sitting there?” I blurted out, still too flummoxed to answer his question. Walker laughed and I swear, time stood still. Never in my life had I heard something so beautiful.

“Long enough.”

His reply was short and cryptic, a dismissal of my burgeoning curiosity. The barista chose that moment to bring two orders of coffee to the table, offering both of them to Walker by mistake. I took in her awestruck countenance, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if my face matched hers I’d sink to the floor and die of shame. That notion shook me from my stupor and I was finally able to address his question.

“It’s my master thesis,” I explained, taking a sip of the scalding liquid he handed me. “I’m a History major, with an emphasis in mythology and folklore.”

I took another sip and tapped my phone, large numbers greeting me on the screen. Numbers that told me I was extremely late.

“Oh my god I have to go, I’m so sorry!” I apologized, scrambling to pack my things. In my haste I knocked my drink off the table. Resignation sunk in deep, submission to the knowledge of further humiliation at the impending spill. None came however, as Walker caught the drink in his hand before it crashed to the dark tiles.

“Thank you,” I murmured, gawking at him in bewilderment. Who was this man?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, standing to help me collect the remainder of my books. “I’m interested in your thesis, could we perhaps discuss it over dinner? I don’t want to keep you from your next engagement.”

“I—” I stared at him, his face open and inviting. I’d been asked out before, but never this abruptly, and never by someone who looked and behaved like him. It sounded like an adventure…or a good story to tell on girls’ night at least.

“You know what, sure. Why not?”

I scribbled my number onto a napkin and slid it his way, grabbing the rest of my gear and heading toward the door. As I pushed against the hard metal, Walker’s large fingers caught my wrist, wrapping around it like ivy wraps around a lamppost. They were cool to the touch and yet somehow, my entire body immediately felt heated.

“We forgot first names,” he chuckled, “I’m August.”

I grinned sheepishly, pulling my arm from his surprisingly firm grip. The clank of the metal door handle resonated with the introduction I threw over my shoulder as I left the warmth of the shop and the handsome man behind.

“Amber.”

It took August a full week to call me. I felt like a fool; Did I leave on a poor note? Had I offended him somehow? Did he simply decide to change his fucking mind? I was kicking myself for saying yes; how could I have agreed to go on a date with a complete stranger? Now that I was no longer in his flustering presence, I began to see reason again. I knew nothing more than this man’s name, and the fact that he was more than likely rich. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all I knew, and I had every intention of telling him off.

I was in my apartment when he called. Still stuck on my thesis, I was currently unable to determine how best to explain the theory behind the sexual appeal of vampires. In my frustration, I hung upside down over the side of my bed, reading a book that discussed the many different works of literature revolving around vampirical romanticism and hoping the blood rushing to my brain would help me ascertain how to go about my explanation. The book was written by two authors who essentially argue the whole time, one of them convinced that the human fascination with vampires stems from the cannibalistic nature of bloodsucking or that it alluded to other bodily fluids such as semen, whereas the other stood firm in his belief that it held a much simpler cause; it was nothing more than the presence of oral fixation and sadism that caused the fantasy to plant its seed.

My phone vibrated but I ignored it, too engrossed in my book to be bothered with answering. I was so close… the answer was right there, it just continued to escape me. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated a second time to notify me of a voicemail that I put the pages down and picked up the electronic device.

The moment I heard August excusing his delay in calling to a work emergency, I immediately sat up and hit redial. There was something in his voice that made my heart quicken and my pulse race; it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I regretted sitting up so fast as it rang, the blood surrounding my brain draining quickly into the rest of my body. August answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Amber.”

“I—hi.”

I rolled my eyes then flinched in pain, congratulating myself sarcastically on how pathetic that response sounded with a slap of my palm to my forehead.

“Please, allow me to apologize again for waiting so long to call,” August insisted, seemingly unphased by my lack of vocabulary. “I still intend to take you to dinner, that is if you haven’t written me off completely.”

“No it’s fine, I totally get it,” I assured him. I had completely forgotten my earlier annoyance. He had explained it after all, and it could happen to anyone.

“Perfect. I’ll send a car tonight then, at seven. Wear something revealing please, I wasn’t able to see that pretty little neck of yours last time.”

My insides shook with an unexpected pang of shocked arousal at August’s request. The sexual confidence saturating his tone had me instantly reduced to nothing more than a deep desire for him to drag me to my knees by my hair. Why I wasn’t offended by the dominantly abrupt way this man spoke to me, I’ll never know. I put on the best flirty air I could manage in my stupor.

“I think I can manage that. Might have to charge you though.”

August laughed for the second time since I’d known him and I smiled, proud that I’d caused such a melodious sound to grace this earth.

“I like your spirit; you’re gonna be fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I—okay bye,” I managed to say before he hung up. I stared at my phone stupidly, as though I thought he was going to call again. Instead, the large clock face glared up at me like it always does, an ever present reminder that I live on a different plane of time than the rest of the world. I fell back on the bed, thinking about the man named August.

He likes my spirit? I hadn’t really shown him much, I’d been unable to do anything but stammer and trip over my words like a schoolgirl would when confronted by the cutest jock at school. What could he possibly see in me? The woman I truly was, the one I knew was underneath the bumbling idiot finally answered me. You’ve got three hours, Amber. Show him what you’re made of.

Resolve set in, and I bounced off the bed and walked toward my closet. For whatever reason, he’d chosen me, so I was going to let my confidence in that thought override all the self-doubt that was threatening to surface. I pulled my favorite dress from the hanger and set out to work. He wanted revealing? Then revealing is what he’d get, but I was going to do it my way.

The car was punctual, though I was less so. I scrambled to put diamond studs in my ears while being driven to some unknown location, my nerves making my hands shake. Once again, the notion that I could be driving to my death crept up my spine, but I brushed it off. Rich men send cars, it’s what they do. And I am an intelligent woman, I wouldn’t let myself be put in that situation.

Would I?

Touching the final stroke of Red Wine lipstick on my lips, I pulled my loose curls over my shoulder to expose my neck and put my things in my vintage black clutch, staring out the window at the ancient building that housed the most expensive club in town. I was suddenly grateful I’d chosen such a fancy dress. I fidgeted with the soft hem of the sleeve at my wrist, drawing it back and forth between my fingers while I waited for the driver to come to a stop.

I saw August there waiting, looking sharp as ever in another expensive three-piece suit, buttons undone just as low as the first time. This time however, I felt much better matched to his attire, and my confidence rose right next to my excitement. August came down the steps to open the door and I took his hand, hiking the burgundy velvet up to my thigh so that I could exit the car smoothly. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground the moment I freed it from my grasp, allowing August to study how I’d chosen to honor his request.

August drank in my covered form, taking in the way my dress hugged my curves and accentuated what it needed to. His eyes darkened as they lingered on the single large triangular section of bare skin that started at my shoulders and came to a point between my breasts, and I watched his tongue dart out of his mouth softly. He looked downright hungry. August stepped closer, fingertips grazing the flesh on my collarbone before he fastened his grip onto my nape and inhaled the hair at my temple deeply, pressing his lips to my ear.

“You are simply mouthwatering,” he growled, low and possessive. His hand released my neck and slid down to the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. My insides quivered at his touch, fragrant drops of dew pooling rapidly in the flimsy lace that guarded my mound from potential intruders.

“You wanted to see my ‘pretty little neck’,” I teased his earlier arrogance, lifting my skirt to traverse the steps leading inside, “I thought I’d frame her for you, give her the spotlight.”

August cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement, sensing my challenge. His fingers dug into my hip a little harder than necessary as he guided me through the establishment with nothing more than a nod to the hostesses. Apparent jealousy marred the face of one, and I thought I saw a hint of worry on the other. We were gone before the emotion could register in my mind.

I was escorted to a private booth in the upstairs of the establishment. While the first floor was crowded and full of people, the second floor was empty; August had requested it for our use alone. I could hear the hum of nightlife below, the haunting, non-lyrical melody of a soft alto wafting over the balcony as we walked past, the whispered promise of an enchanting night. A few tables and chairs were strategically placed on the floor, hugged by back-to-back rounded booths on either wall. Light ethereal curtains hung on either side of them, offering privacy from the guests who would typically sit in the next box over. August led me to the corner booth nearest the balcony so that we could look upon the stage if we chose.

“Our table, milady,” he joked, leaving a wet kiss on the back of my hand. Though the charade was seemingly in jest, it could not have been farther from it. His piercing eyes never left mine and I gasped at the feel of his brazen tongue on my skin. The suggestion of what he could do with it hung thick in his gaze, lacing the air with the succulent first tendrils of decadent tension. Playing along, I took a sharp breath and curtsied. I stayed low as August stood to show him the appeal of my figure at this angle, tilting just my head to look up at him. He stood there, head held high like a king, and the smile I received at my display was downright sinful.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, cupping my chin briefly. My breasts swelled as I stood, consenting August the claim to chivalry by way of settling me into the alcove. He swept my hair over my shoulder again, trailing a single finger down my neck in admiration before taking his own seat. My insides were nothing but a pile of kindling, and every touch he gave was a spark that threatened to ignite the dry leaves into a burning flame of need.

The courses came and went just like those moments, every phrase emphasized with physical intimacy of some kind, whether it be just a gossamer brush of his fingers on my ear or an intentional grasping of my hand. He went as far as to boldly stroke the back of his knuckle along my cleavage, making me dizzy with desire. Each touch was avaricious—like he owned me—and I had zero qualms about letting him.

We ate our fill, but August made no move to leave the comfort of our small corner. With the noise of people below dulled by the far reaches of our seclusion, it was easy to converse. I told him more about my master thesis and the Pijavica, how they could read minds and enjoyed the power of persuasion, how they were impervious to all but decapitation, and how only their offspring could kill them. He listened intently, sharing tales of his own career. It was how I discovered that he was a doctor.

“I don’t practice anymore though, I prefer to study and learn. Specifically, I’m attracted to tears.”

“Tears?” That struck me as odd; it wasn’t often you came across someone who had such a unique field of study. “Why tears?”

August swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it abruptly. He subtly indicated to our attendant for another before continuing his explanation.

“I’ve always had a fascination for the small things, things that people don’t seem to think matter; the mind-body connection, you know? For example,” he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, “Did you know that the cellular structure of tears looks different based on the type of tear?”

August cupped my neck with both of his hands, tilting my head this way and that, his calm features set in measured focus as he spoke.

“Basal, reflexive, emotional... they all look different.”

I closed my eyes, letting him caress my skin. August’s touch was intoxicating, addicting. Even his scent was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I couldn’t get enough of it, lured ever closer to his sturdy frame, letting him manipulate my body how he saw fit. He nuzzled my hair, his soft spoken words dripping with lust into my ear.

“In fact,” he went on, “Even among those categories they differ, dependent on the stimuli.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips surrounding the pulsepoint in my veins as he spoke, my jaw his destination. A hand snuck under my skirt, skimming along my trembling skin toward the seeping treasure that awaited him at the end of his journey. I spread my legs willingly, inviting him into my deepest of secrets. August hummed as he went on, sending spirals of tingling vibrations through my chest.

“The sting of onions, the sadness of grief… the satisfaction of overwhelming pleasure.”

“August…” I breathed, but my voice was severed as August simultaneously laid claim to my mouth and my womb. Thick fingers penetrated me in the same moment as his probing tongue, and it was in that moment I knew I was lost; August Walker could pull everything from me and I wouldn’t care; I’d want it, need it. He had spent all night teasing me, testing me, manipulating me and filling me with nothing but a desire for more, leaving me empty and wanting. He had succeeded, I now craved him above all else in this world.

August lifted my skirts, hoisting me with little effort to straddle his lap and I cried out in shock. The sound of my sudden impalement on the thick steel of his manhood was camouflaged by the crowd of people below; no one heard the echo of carnal awakening that sang through the air. When had he undressed? I bit my lip as he sank deeper into my core until the salty bitterness of copper and iron stung my chin. August’s eyes fell to the red droplet, darkening until the only color left in his pale irises was the very absence of light. With a hideous growl he ravaged my mouth, tasting every inch of my bruised lips with the hunger of an animal that’s been caged for far too long.

Thrill and terror tangled themselves in my mind, weaving an intricate web of wanton desire inside of me as August took me right there in the booth. Time itself seemed to halt, the room disappeared. Were we still in the club? Was it still the dead of night? Did I still require oxygen to breathe? Or was my life source now August’s touch, the light in my very soul dependent upon his kiss?

I didn’t notice when we left, nor when we arrived at a house that overlooked the city. I didn’t notice the lock on the basement door, or the fresh garden in the yard. I didn’t notice the continual rising and setting of the sun. I didn’t notice when I grew hungry, nor when I grew tired. I didn’t notice, not anything but passion, need, and desperation.

I didn’t notice.

Sleep drained from my limbs slowly. I awoke to black silk caressing my skin, dim sunlight shining through the wall, diffused by a covering of clouds that hung in the sky. It confused me that it was coming through the entire wall, until I realized that said wall was simply one large window, and the room I found myself in was built into the rock of an obsidian cliff overlooking the city. The room was minimally decorated in dark tones that coordinated with the nature outside, save for a striking, golden painting of a woman crying on the far wall. I clearly wasn’t home, and last night’s events slowly returned to the forefront of my mind.

August.

August was, without a doubt, the most attentive lover I’d ever had. Memories of his lips, his scent, his god-like physique that was surely carved from marble entertained my thoughts, returning my mind to the pleasure I’d never experienced in my life. Chills ran up and down my skin, alighting in wonder as my hand drifted to my sex. My fingers found my petals, swollen from overuse, aching in the dull agony of satisfaction. I stroked them gently, soothing the pleasant tenderness, moaning softly as the blood rushed to swell my clit once more, my other hand slipping beneath the silk to join in the heavenly edging torment.

A sharp, sudden sting at the brush of my inner thigh caused me to cry out, my hands snatching away from their play. I sat up, peering beneath the sheets to discover a semi-circle of divots cut into my leg. Is that a… a bite mark? I pulled at the skin and felt the dried blood crack, a small pinprick of new red seeping through the scab. I lunged from the bed to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner and look for other signs or markings, but what I found made me gasp.

Bruises peppered my neck, chest, hips and thighs. A few other crescents were scattered amongst them, standing out against the dark patches that shaded my skin. I took a physical inventory then, feeling the soreness in my jaw from being stretched by his cock, the ache of my neck from having my hair pulled, the shaky feeling of muscular fatigue in my legs from being tensed by orgasm after orgasm. I thought I detected a slight sheen on my skin, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the tremulous bliss of a satisfying fuck, or if it was the sweat and oil caused by said satisfying fuck. Either way, I looked happy and content. I grabbed August’s dress shirt from the floor and threw it on as I left the room to explore.

The bedroom led to a hallway, the wall to my left still nothing but expansive glass that showed off the impressive view. On the other side were large, black and white abstract prints, hung evenly spaced against dark panels. To the left of each was a shadow box with an ornate glass vial inside; each bottle was thin, no longer than my palm and differing in design from the others. Tiny, intricate patterns were painted on the outsides in white, blue, and gold, and gold stoppers sealed each one. When I entered the main room, I discovered a curio cabinet that housed at least a hundred of them, and I leaned in to look at how varied each one was.

“Victorian tear catchers,” August’s voice was suddenly behind me and I whirled sharply, startled. He chuckled at my alarm and I laughed with him, enjoying that glorious sound.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, turning back to look at the delicate glass. August pulled me against his naked chest, nosing my hair and kissing my neck.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, earning an eye roll from me. August chuckled and opened the cabinet.

“Would you like one?”

“Really?”

I looked at him, stunned. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the vials and I examined them, selecting one that had a white pattern on it that looked like lace.

“Mmm, a good choice. Perhaps I can collect tears of ecstasy for you,” August whispered. The thrill of what he was implying awakened my senses, and I let him lead us slowly back toward the bedroom. I felt like teasing him, so I delayed a bit by asking about the art on the wall.

“What are those?” I pointed to the first print, a cross-hatching pattern that looked like it was made of sewing pins.

“Those are tears of grief,” he stated, stopping in front of each as he walked me gradually down the hall.

“A yawn,” he said of the next, a white background with dark, fern-looking splatters. August traced his mouth along my jaw, his hand dipping beneath the button of his shirt to play with the sensitive nipples he had rediscovered. I keened as he continued shifting us toward the kitchen, struggling to keep my composure. The next print was a much darker gray, and it looked like it was covered in snowflakes.

“Any guesses?” August asked, mouthing my earlobe in tandem with the flick of his thumbs over my hardened nubs. I whimpered, my knees weak in his lustful embrace.

“Uhm… cold air?” I rasped as he sucked on my neck. August chuckled through his nose, the vibrations of his voice rippling through my chest to connect with his teasing fingers.

“Onions.”

“Yeah okay.”

I tilted my head so that I could kiss him, but suddenly the thought of onions turned my stomach. I lurched, pulling away and gagging slightly. Instead of concern, August smiled knowingly, seemingly unbothered by my retching.

“I see morning sickness has set in. It’s a little early and I had hoped you’d be able to avoid it, but alas, that’s not the case.”

My head swam suddenly, confusion mutilating all thought. I backed away from him.

“Morning what? What are you talking about?”

August took a step toward me, placing a hand on my belly and lacing his fingers in the hair at my nape.

“Women always taste better after they’ve conceived. And I can keep them longer; they make much more blood when they’re host to a fetus.”

I pushed against him, turning away and vainly attempting to process his words. Pregnant? Taste better? Blood? My eyes focused on a card I hadn’t noticed earlier in the shadow box, a single word printed on it.

Bridgette

“Isn’t it ironic,” August mused, tracing my collarbone with a thick finger, “That five weeks ago, you had a chance encounter with the very thing you’ve been studying for months, and now you carry his child.”

The room spun. I couldn’t think; my brain refused to process the nonsense he spoke.

“Five—five weeks?! No that’s not possible, our date was last night!”

“It’s more than possible, sweet morsel. Think about it.”

Bile rose thick and acrid in my throat then, threatening to spill. Memories and time started filtering into my mind, replacing the fog with everything I’d lost. The last puzzle piece clicked into place, confusion all but disappeared and I was left with nothing but the cold, terrifying truth. Pijavica. Vampire. Monster.

I’d fallen into the clutches of a monster.

I did the only thing I could think of; I slapped him as hard as I could and took off through the house, ignoring the sharp pain of a chunk of hair remaining in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, desperate to be free of this sudden nightmare. I slammed into the front door and grabbed the handle, a strangled sob catching in my throat when it wouldn’t open.

I rattled the door knob, panic consuming every fiber of my being. Suddenly, it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for; apparently there was a life inside of me that needed protecting. The child of a Pijavica that was depending on me to escape, so that he could come back and kill his father. I have to get out. I gave up on the door in anger, spinning around and looking for another way.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

I heard August’s voice again, but he was nowhere to be seen. His voice came louder, penetrating my mind. I have to keep moving.

“It was because of your name; they match your eyes.”

I whimpered at his words, sneaking my head around a corner to survey the living space for some form of an exit.

“Amber has a historical application, you see,” he went on, louder. I dashed over the floor, desperate to be gone from him. Door after door remained locked, and my terror grew with each attempt. Every now and then I could hear August, whether it be a rustle of fabric or the knock of his foot on the wooden floor. The scholar in me knew that it was on purpose, that he was luring his prey, giving chase to his food, and yet my rational mind refused to take charge. I was being led by my flight response, and his jarring monologue wasn’t helping.

“Throughout history, whenever a goddess cried it was typically tears of amber, save for the goddess Freya, who cried gold. You met her in the bedroom.”

His laughter echoed through the dark walls of his lair, and chilled me to my core. It was no longer a beautiful sound, but grating and horrible. I was nothing but a petty human to play with, some toy that he could eat when he tired of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came to the last door. Dear God, please let this one open. To my utter relief, the door swung wide and I was met with stairs. Stairs went down, and we were on a cliff. Down was good. Down meant freedom.

I clambered down the steps and flung open the door at the bottom, stumbling into the room and falling to the floor in horror and fear. There in front of me, was nothing but mirrors. A maze of mirrors, each one showing me my trembling features, mocking me, letting me know just how fucked I was. I turned back, intending to go back up the stairs and try another way, but August’s silhouette stood at the top, preventing me from going back into the house. I heard a scream and realized it was my own.

Scrambling off the floor, I took off into the maze, blinded by my tears.

“Each of those girls made it this far you know,” August taunted. I heard the slam of the door and nearly choked as I ran. “You’ll die in this room, just like they did.”

His nonchalance, his continual unconcern about chasing me, his arrogance that he would no doubt catch me made me so angry. I raced from path to path, growing ever more frantic every time I reached a dead end. I didn’t even know if this room had an exit, I just knew I had to keep moving. I tripped over something as I rounded a corner, screaming when I saw what it was.

“I see you found Bridgette,” August chuckled, and I looked up from the skeleton to see his hideous face marred with a sinful sneer. I gasped and took off again, turning this way and that. Hitting another dead end, I doubled back and ran smack into August’s broad torso. He caught me and held me close as I screamed, ripping his shirt from my body. He spun me around, pinning my wrists between my back and his belly, trailing his fingers languidly over my naked frame in an inspection of his handiwork. My jaw was gripped in an iron vice and August forced my gaze to the mirror.

“Do you see what I see?” he mocked. I could only stare in horror, for nothing but my own terrified expression stared back at me.

August had no reflection.

“Out of all the patterns in the world, do you know which tears are my favorite?” August continued to torment. He inhaled my hair deeply, snaking his tongue along the length of my cheek, tasting the stains my tears had left in their wake.

“Fear.”

I heard August growl as I fought against him, his iron grasp caging me against his cool skin, more of the cursed moisture pooling in my eyes. Glassy drops fell, retracing a new path toward my chin but August just kissed them away, shoving me to the floor when my knees buckled of their own accord. He let go of my hands to fidget with his slacks, pulling me back toward him every time I tried to crawl away as a parent would to a petulant child. On the third attempt he snapped my knee, a scream tearing from my throat in my woeful submission to his desire.

Finally free of his clothes, August lifted my hips, lining his rigid cock up against my sweat-soaked folds. He dove into my treasure without care, forcing his way into the depths of my belly, stretching and tearing my walls until he was fully sheathed. Strong arms wrapped around me again, and I felt two sharp points prick the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cried out and thrashed in fierce protest, knowing that small pinch was just a warning of oncoming pain.

August’s teeth punctured my skin easily, shredding muscle and sinew until they hit bone. I howled in pain as I watched blood drip from the wound, a familiar crescent shape joining its brothers on my body. Searing heat shot through my neck with his first draw of thick plasma; the violent removal of blood causing an intense burn that I felt all the way down to my injured leg. August released my neck and I clapped a hand over the fresh wound.

I looked over my shoulder at him; his head was tilted down, mouth still full of my blood; the lack of a reflection behind him unsettling to my senses. August opened his wicked maw slowly, dark scarlet trickling from his lips onto the junction where my hips met his, run through by his sword. He looked up at me with a nasty grin, bloodstained fangs curdling my stomach. I closed my eyes and turned away as he swiped a hand through the mess. His fingers penetrated my core alongside his cock, deaf to my sobbing objections.

“You’d better open your eyes, pet… This needy little cunt is dripping, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

August emphasized his sick joke by grasping my hair, shoving my head to the floor, forcing me to look once more into the polished glass. My desperate wails for mercy were all that kept me grounded as I watched him thrust, my battered hole be stretched beyond capacity. Nothing but empty space plundered my core, crimson air bruising the very place within me that only just last night had been treated with such tenderness and care. Not last night. His slick fingers found my mouth and violated it effortlessly; no amount of pressure I could apply would break through his tough skin.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

August pulled me up and took to my neck with fervor, latching onto the broken sliver of skin like a leech. The more he drank, the weaker I became, until there was no resistance left within me. I could see the color drain from my bloody face, I could see black slowly creep into my vision, but I was powerless to stop it. August was in charge, he held my entire existence in his hands, and he intended to extinguish it. I closed my eyes again, accepting my fate.

I was going to die.

One of my favorite places to visit is a small outdoor cafe, very near the coffee shop where I met Amber. Mmmm. Amber. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that tantalizing woman.

She lasted so much longer than all the others, you know. I was able to feed off of her nearly three full months as she hung there in my basement, until the last drop of her tantalizing nectar was finally extracted. She smelled of carraway and saffron, tasted of sweet mulled wine, and with the rich, heady, piquancy of her fertile womb seasoning each sinew, every inch of her opulent flesh begged to be consumed. I must admit, I should have dispatched of her sooner, but fascination overtook my curious mind as her own was consumed by insanity.

First it was freedom she asked for, and then death. Sometimes she would beg to speak to her mother one last time. But by the end, she only asked for one thing.

“Please,” she would whisper, “Please… Cover the mirrors. Just cover the mirrors.”

She asked so nicely, but how on earth could I hide such beauty? Her tears were just as rare, you see. They hold a beauty unmatched by any of the others that hang on my walls. I’ve never seen such a fear pattern like hers; it is more exquisite than the dawn of a misty spring day in the countryside, more beautiful than a woman at the height of euphoria. And they way they sparkled against her skin, lustrous tracks that wound down her temples and through her hair, glinting in the mirrors with each slow rotation of her inverted body... well, it was as if I was living among the stars. Adding her ashes to my garden was such a shame.

I sat at that little cafe, eyes closed, viewing the world through my enhanced scent. Each drop of bitter coffee, the pollen of a nearby bee, the oil in the bike chains of two clumsy humans as they rolled past; each note and fragrance alerting me to its owner. A familiar scent reached my nose and I turned my head sharply, focusing on it.

Carraway… Saffron.

I smiled softly, opening my eyes to greet the woman that now sat at my table. The honey irises that had intrigued me all those months ago met mine and I chuckled low.

“Amber.”

Read on AO3.

#august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker fan fiction #august walker fanfiction #august walker fan fic #august walker smut #vampire!august #non-con tw

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

She Sets the City on Fire - One Summer’s Night

She Sets the City on Fire: A Bruce Banner Fanfic

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Square: @brucebannerbingo - U4 Pining

Rating: E

Warning: Age Gap, Self Doubt, Recreational drug use, Smut (M|F vaginal fingering vaginal sex, squirting, sex while under the influence of drugs)

Word Count: 5234

Pairing: Bruce Banner x OFC (Summer)

Summary: Bruce is drawn to Summer. She’s everything he wished he could be. Carefree, exciting, and she knows exactly who she is. There are so many reasons a relationship with her wouldn’t work. So why can’t he stop thinking about her?

A/N: On the first chapter

2. One Summer’s Night

Bruce didn’t call Summer.

She was too young. This was a one-time thing. A guy like him couldn’t be with a woman like her. He wasn’t sure there was a person on the planet that could tie Summer Martin, but he was fairly certain that if there was it wouldn’t be an over-the-hill scientist with a rather serious rage issue.

Although…

Maybe there could be something. Starting with sex wasn’t a good sign though. Especially for him. He’d never done anything like that before.

Besides he didn’t have her number anyway. So it wasn’t as if he could call her.

He did have Aidan’s email address though. He could email him and ask for it.

But it wasn’t like Bruce was a hard man to track down these days. People knew where he lived. His email address was on five different official websites. If she wanted to see him, she could have contacted him. She probably didn’t want to start anything with him. And who could blame her?

If only he could stop thinking about her.

“You’re thinking about her again.” Tony teased as Bruce had been staring off into space again.

Bruce shook his head and looked over at his friend. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“She really got you good. I haven’t seen you this smitten. Ever.” Tony said. “Why don’t you call her?”

Bruce shook his head again and tapped the screwdriver he was holding on his hand. “I can’t. Tony. I’m old enough to be her father. That’s not an exaggeration either. If I had a child her age, no one would even think I’d had them young.”

Tony snorted. “Wow. Of all the men in the world to start fishing for jailbait, I never expected you to be one…”

“See … which is exactly why I need to leave her alone. Even if… even if she was interested in me like that, I can’t do that to her. I can’t condemn a person to a life with me. Especially when theirs is still laid out in front of them.”

Tony came over and put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “I have never seen you like this. I mean…. When was the last time you even got laid?”

“Before the accident,” Bruce said.

“Maybe she’s just what you need. Someone casual who won’t be tied down and doesn’t get caught up in the details. Call her. Let her decide what she wants to do with her life.” Tony said.

Bruce frowned and thought about it for a little while. He decided he’d send an email to Aidan. If Aidan ignored it, then that was fate telling him it was a bad idea. He didn’t say what he wanted to ask about, just that he wanted to talk.

It was ten minutes later when his phone rang.

“Hello, Doctor Banner, why do I get the feeling that you’re not calling me about my research?” Aidan said.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said. “Not that I’m not interested in it…”

Aidan laughed. “It’s fine. I’ve seen how Summer draws people in.”

“Do you think she might … would she be interested in…” Bruce said, not sure how to even ask the question.

“Yeah, I do. And you should call her. I saw her reading one of your books the other day. I don’t think that’s because she has a sudden interest in Nuclear Physics.” Aidan explained.

“Don’t you think… aren’t I maybe… a little unsuited for her?” Bruce asked.

There was an exhale of breath on the other end of the line before Aidan spoke again. “It’s not for me to say who either of you sees,” he said. “Summer is low commitment and low maintenance. And she is a lot younger than you. Whether that makes it a bad match isn’t for me to decide. But can I tell you a story?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, as his stomach began to turn itself in knots.

“I didn’t grow up with Summer. Part of that is the fact I’m eleven years older than her. And part of it is because I was raised by my mom and my dad barely had anything to do with me.”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “Summer told me. I’m sorry that happened. I know what it’s like to have a negligent father.”

“Shit happens,” Aidan replied. “When I finished school, my dad paid for me to go to college and gave me a job. I didn’t even have to try to do anything. It was all being handed to me but with the condition that I didn’t embarrass him. So I went a little wild. I started partying. I got into some pretty heavy drug use.”

The story was a familiar one. Tony had done a similar thing thanks to neglect from his father. He’d also pulled himself around so Bruce knew not to hold that kind of thing against anyone.

“When I found out Summer had moved into the city for college I tracked her down,” Aidan continued. “She was so excited to spend time with me. I was a complete mess, but she followed me around. She came over on weekends and she’d make me breakfast. She’d follow me out clubbing. One night she came to a really skeevy party with me. Fuck, I regret taking her to that. Except I don’t, because I ODed. She found me unconscious with a needle in my arm. Called an ambulance. Called our dad. Demanded that he send me to rehab. Convinced him to buy that building under the pretense of us living together so she could keep an eye on me.”

“She told me your dad forced her to live with you,” Bruce said.

“She says that so it looks like our dad loves me. I’m sure he does, but not like he loves her. I don’t blame him though. She’s the best of us. I’d be dead now if it wasn’t for her. She turned my life around. I have my Ph.D. and my job because of her. I’m clean because of her. She’s worth having in your life even if all you get from her is a weird friend. So call her. You have my blessing.”

Bruce took down her number and then stared at it willing himself to call. If Aidan was right, maybe that’s what she could be. A friend. Someone to help get him out of his head. She did seem to have that effect on him.

He dialed the number and held the phone to his ear. It rang three times before Summer picked up.

“Who hasn’t heard of texting?” She said in way of introduction.

Bruce’s heart began to race and he felt the Hulk raise his head. “Hello. Yes. Sorry. It’s Bruce.” He stammered.

“Who?” She asked.

He swallowed thickly and tried to calm himself. This had obviously been a mistake. She thought of him so little that she didn’t even recognize who it was calling. “Bruce Banner.”

There was laughter on the other end of the line. “I just got you to say your full name. It’s nice to hear from you, Bruce Banner.”

Bruce felt a large part of him relax and Hulk seemed to settle back into a doze. “It’s nice to hear you too.”

“Aww, that’s always nice.” She said. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Something with you?” He said and cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth.

Summer burst out laughing and a deep flush crept into Bruce’s cheeks. “That was so smooth. I bet you’re drowning in pussy,” she teased playfully. “Anyway, Romeo. There’s a rave on in Hell’s Kitchen tonight. I’m going with some friends. Wanna come?”

Bruce agreed before he even registered what he was agreeing to. When he hung up the phone, he immediately started to freak out. A rave? He’d just agreed to go to a rave. The guy with the huge green rage monster hiding inside him agreed to be pressed up in the dark with a bunch of sweaty strangers listening to music that grated on his nerves. Not to mention that a rave was the worst place for a first date ever. How could he even talk to her at a place like that?

As the hour approached, he got ready to go out. He put on a dark purple button-up shirt but left it unbuttoned at the collar and put on a suit jacket. He knew he wasn’t going to fit in but he didn’t think there was any way that he was going to be able to regardless of what he wore.

He had a car take him to the club and when he got out he scanned the crowd for Summer. There were a few groups milling around the front and a line forming at the door, but he couldn’t see any sign of her. He thought he’d go get in line with the people who were not only 20 years younger than him, but dressed completely differently, just to save a spot when there was a tap on his shoulder.

He turned around to see Summer, only she was barely recognizable to him. She was wearing knee-high faux fur boots in hot pink and black and a matching latex outfit that consisted of what looked like just a bra and panties. There were pink fur cuffs on her wrists and she was wearing a wig made of pink and black tubes and ribbons in various shades and materials. She had appeared to accessorize with pink glow sticks. They hung around her neck and wrapped around her arms and waist.

“Hey, Bruce!” She chirped, leaning up and pressing her lips to his.

It was one of those kisses that could be whatever you want it to be. Her lips only barely parted and it lingered just that little longer than normal. Bruce was so startled by seeing her in a complete cyber costume that he forgot to kiss back and she pulled away and grinned at him.

“Bruce, these are my friends; Cassie, Amanda, Liam, and Rachel. Everyone, this is Bruce.” Summer said indicating to her friends. The group was all dressed in similar clothing, but various colors and levels of skin showing. Liam had color in his hair and he was wearing black flared pants and a black mesh singlet with yellow hazmat symbols on both. Bruce felt extremely out of place, but he shook everyone’s hands and even returned Cassie’s kiss when she leaned in to kiss him.

“Cass, do you have any more glow sticks?” Summer asked.

Cassie dug through her bag and pulled out a handful of glow sticks - the kind you’d get in tubes from the dollar store. She and Summer then went to work cracking them and popping them together so that Bruce was wearing two circles of different lengths around his neck and one around his left wrist.

Summer took Bruce’s hand and led him to the door as the others followed behind them. The bouncer looked Bruce over. Bruce was sure he was about to get turned away. Especially given how long the line now was. Instead, the bouncer pulled the rope away and stepped out from in front of the door.

“Enjoy your night, miss Martin,” he said, holding the door open for all of them.

“How many times do I have to tell you; it’s Summer?” She said as she passed him and headed inside.

“The bouncer knows you?” Bruce asked, glancing back at him. He had to yell over the sound of the club. The loud and rhythmic thud of the bass traveled right through him and the scratch of what he could only think to call melody, though it was anything but that, drowned out almost everything else. As they walked through the club, Summer and her friend lit up under the blacklights. Their bare skin painted with some kind of UV paint.

Summer stopped walking and pulled him down so her mouth was against his ear. “I’m kind of a big deal around here.” She said.

She led the group into another roped off area and up some stairs. A guy who looked like he was Bruce’s age greeted her, pressing himself close to her body as he spoke with his lips hovering close to her ear. She laughed and then continued on her path to a long, low table surrounded by beanbags and cushions.

It was a little quieter in this part of the club. You didn’t need to yell to be heard and the music felt a little more like it was a background sound. Bruce took a seat on one of the beanbags and Summer sat down directly in his lap.

“Who was that guy?” Bruce asked.

“My uncle,” she said uncle with air quotes, which made Bruce think it was just a man who was friends with her parents and she’d been raised calling him that. “He works with my dad. Total creep.”

Bruce looked around the group. He wasn’t sure what to do and they were all digging around in their bags. He wasn’t sure where his hands were supposed to go either and all he could think was how much he wanted to put them on her thighs and how completely inappropriate that was. “Did you want to dance?” He asked.

“In a minute.” She said, almost casually.

A waitress arrived with a tray full of bottled water and she placed it on the table and left without even waiting to see if they wanted anything else. Liam pulled a baggie of colorful pills from his pocket, took two out and swallowed them with water before tossing the baggie in the middle of the table. The others each took one or two. When Summer went to take one too Cassie snatched the bag and shook her head.

“I’ve got yours right here, bitch,” she said, putting a little pink unicorn tablet on her tongue. Summer leaned over to her and Bruce watched as they kissed. They were all tongues, and Bruce shifted a little uneasily under Summer.

When Summer pulled back she looked down at Bruce. “Do you want one? No pressure. I don’t care either way.”

“Do I get to take it like you did?” Bruce asked aiming for playful, immediately cursing himself as soon as the words had left his mouth.

Summer started laughing. She pushed her face into his chest, trying to smother it. “Okay. Okay. Let me just go ask Cassie. She does like kissing so I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

Bruce shook his head, the flush he felt creeping into his cheeks and up the back of his neck.

Summer tilted his face up to hers. “Let me get something out of the way, so I know for sure you aren’t agreeing to take drugs to fit in or impress me.” She said. Her hands went to his hair and she leaned in and kissed him. Her tongue coaxed his lips apart and dipped briefly into his mouth and one of her hands slid down his arms, moving his hand to her thigh. When she pulled away she looked him dead in the eyes. He had trouble keeping eye contact with her, but he forced himself as he felt his breath hitch. “I’m here with you, Bruce. I plan to go home with you if that’s something you want to happen. Unless you choose not to or something unforeseen happens, you’re getting laid tonight. So knowing that, do you want to take some E?”

Bruce shook his head. There was a part of him, this part that had never got a chance to shine. The one smothered by bullies at school and then crushed by the accident that created the form of the Hulk, that wanted to be reckless. That was relishing being with these carefree youth that had just accepted him as part of them, as much as he didn’t fit in. He knew what ecstasy was supposed to do too. That could make the Hulk quieten right down and he could be a version of himself he only knew the edges of. But the risks with it were that he come out and Bruce couldn’t risk that here.

“Come on then, let’s go dance,” Summer said, getting to her feet and pulling Bruce along with her.

She led him down to the dance floor. It was crowded and the strobe lighting played off her skin. The UV paint she’d used on her skin glowed in the lights and made her look like fae.

They started dancing. Nothing over the top. It was just face-to-face with her arms around his neck and his hands on her hips. She moved against him, bouncing and rolling her hips in time with the deep thud of the bass. She seemed to have unlimited energy and moved with such abandon. It was like the music just flowed through her.

He seemed to get high just on her. He was mesmerized by her. Drunk on her own enjoyment. The way the light played of her skin. The way she moved. She was the music come to life. She turned in his arms and began to grind her ass up against him and brought his hand to her public bone.

He nuzzled into her neck and she leaned back and kissed him. It was wet and hot and his hands slid up to her stomach. Her friend Cassie came and joined them, grinding into Summer. Summer broke the kiss with Bruce and leaned in and started kissing Cassie. When they broke apart, Cassie leaned over Summer’s shoulder and captured Bruce’s lips.

“I need a drink,” Summer said, squeezing out from between the two of them. Bruce pulled away from Cassie and followed after Summer. Cassie appeared completely unphased, simply turning to the closest person and continuing to dance.

The table they had staked out earlier was still free. In fact, their bags were just sitting underneath, undisturbed. Summer collapsed down in a bean bag and grabbed a bottle of water as Bruce sat carefully next to her. He took his own bottle and drank it quickly.

“Are you having fun, Brucie?” Summer asked shifting so her legs were draped over his lap.

“I think so. Yes.” He said, running his fingers through the fur on her boots.

“Those feel nice don’t they?” She said leaning forward and running her hands over his cheeks. “This is all scratchy. I wonder what it feels like on my thighs.”

Bruce looked from her blue eyes that were blown out thanks to the ecstasy coursing through her system and down to the bare skin on her thigh. He then did something he couldn’t have ever even imagined doing before. He lifted her leg and leaned down, rubbing his cheek on the inside of her leg.

Summer snorted and broke down into giggles. “That tickles.” She leaned in and rubbed her nose against his and teased her lips over his cheek. “Do you want to dance some more?”

“I will if you want to,” Bruce said.

She trailed her fingers through his hair, making his scalp prickle. “Do you want to go home and fuck?”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yes. Please.”

She grabbed her bag and got up, grabbing Bruce’s hands and helping him to his feet. They went and found Cassie and Amanda on the dance floor and let them know she was leaving.

“Can I come too?” Cassie asked, trailing her fingers up and down Summer’s arm.

Summer shook her head. “Maybe next time. I love you, Cass.”

Cassie leaned in and kissed Summer gently. “I love you too, Summer.”

In the back of the cab, Summer linked her fingers with Bruce’s and nibbled at the skin under his ear.

“Is Cassie your girlfriend?” Bruce asked. He was afraid of the answer. Summer was exotic and hard to read. He wanted her, but he wasn’t sure how much of her he could handle.

“No,” she said simply. “We have sex a lot. I think if we were different people we might be girlfriends. Mostly she’s just my friend. She has sex with Aidan too.”

“Would you like to date?” He asked. “Me that is.”

Summer hummed, running her fingers up and down his thigh. “I don’t know. I haven’t been anyone’s girlfriend for so long. I don’t know if I’d make a very good one. Last time I did it, I felt like I lost a little bit of what makes me, me. There’s a song I heard once…” Summer licked her lips and started singing. “A triangle trying to squeeze in a circle. He tried to cut me so I fit.”

“I don’t want to change you, Summer,” Bruce said.

“You know what I’d like to find?” She said. “I’d like to find a person who met me and loved me just exactly how I am, even though I don’t want to be tied down. They’d love me so much that they would be happy to let me float about and do the things I like to do and they’d trust that I loved them too and I’d always find my way back to them. But because I loved them and they trusted me, I didn’t feel like I wanted to do those things anymore.”

“You want someone who doesn’t change you, but inspires you to change yourself?” Bruce asked. “But then what if the person you changed into wasn’t the one they loved anymore?”

Summer shook her head and for a moment she looked really sad. “That’s a huge problem, isn’t it?”

“I really like you, Summer. I can’t stop thinking about you,” Bruce said.

“I’m here now. Let’s just see what happens in the future when we reach it.”

The cab pulled up out the front of the Avengers Tower and Bruce paid and let Summer in. She looked around in the empty lobby at all the official signage and in the elevator, she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled into his neck. As soon as he let her into his apartment she began to work the falls in her hair out which he realized now were more like hair accessories than a wig.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Bruce asked.

Summer looked up at him with a handful of ribbons. “If you have something like Gatorade I will love you forever. Otherwise, water is just fine.”

“I don’t but if you give me a minute I can get some,” Bruce said. “What color do you want?”

“Ooh, blue, please!” Summer chirped.

Bruce headed up to the labs and helped himself to a blue Gatorade from the drinks fridge. When he got back to his apartment, Summer was sitting on his bed. The falls were all gone from her hair and she’d taken off her boots. She took the drink from him and she drank half the bottle in one go. She poked out her tongue at him as she screwed the lid back on.

He chuckled. “Yes, it’s blue.”

“Like one of those lizards,” She said putting her drink on the bedside table. She took Bruce’s and pulled him closer to the bed. “Would you like to see if you can get me to do my little trick?”

“What’s your little trick?” Bruce asked.

“Go get some towels.” She said. “This can get a little messy.”

Bruce looked at her confused but did as he was told. He collected some towels from his linen cupboard and brought them back to his bedroom. When he returned Summer was standing by the bed completely naked. He couldn’t quite get over how perfect she was. Even the little imperfections she had. The stretch marks on her hips, the scar on the top of her left thigh, the small amount of cellulite she had, all those little things that everyone has just made her more perfect to him because it meant she was a real person despite how she might otherwise come across.

She motioned to him to come close and he approached her slowly, starting to get a little nervous again. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed her cheek against his before kissing him on the corner of the mouth.

“I still have my clothes on and you’re completely naked,” Bruce said.

Summer laughed. “Something does seem remiss. Let me help.”

She began to slowly and carefully undress him. Hanging his jacket over the back of a chair. Unbuttoning his shirt slowly and kissing a trail down his chest as she did. She helped him off with his shoes and then his pants and when he was finally naked he was so hard, his cock felt like it was throbbing.

She took his hand and guided him back on the bed. He ran his cheek up the inside of her thighs and she moaned and spread her legs wider for him. “Oh god, Bruce,” she moaned, clutching at the sheets. “Your skin feels so good on mine.”

Bruce ran his nose along Summer’s pubic mound, dipping his tongue between the folds of her labia. He hummed as he relished the taste of her, her fluids coating his tongue.

“What did you want to show me, Summer?” Bruce asked, looking up at her from between his legs.

Summer sat up and spread the towels, before sitting down on top of them. “Have you ever made a girl squirt?” She asked.

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “I uh… maybe?”

“That’s a no.” Summer teased, pushing him with her foot. “Come on I’ll teach you.”

She took his hand and using her fingers she guided two of his up and down her folds. She let his hand go and lay back, letting Bruce take his time. He rolled them over her clit and circled her entrance a few times before pushing two of them inside of her.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Push them right in as far as you can, and then you need to curl them towards you.”

Bruce followed her instructions, pushing his fingers into her right up to his knuckles. He curled them inside her pressing his fingertips up against her inner walls.

A shudder passed through her and he felt her clench around his digits. “So now, move them around a little, you’re looking for a bit that feels smooth and spongy compared to everything else.” She said, with a slight breathlessness.

He moved his fingers inside of her until he found a spot that did feel different. Softer and with more give. He pushed his fingertips against it. “Here?”

Summer moaned and raised her hips up, pushing into his hand. “Fuck. Yes. That’s the spot. Now you need to press really hard and do this.” She made a gesture like she was beckoning him to her.

Bruce started stroking his fingers up and down along that special spot. Summer moaned loudly and squirmed on the bed. “Fuck. Just a little harder, Bruce.”

He pressed down harder and the noise she made didn’t even sound human. It was such a deep animalistic cry of such complete pleasure. It made his erection throb painfully and his hand went to his cock without even thinking.

Bruce continued to move his fingers inside Summer. He increased the pressure and pace as he elicited more and more incoherent noises from Summer. He was completely entranced by her. The way her body moved as it clenched and squirmed below him. How her face contorted in a look of pure pleasure. All of a sudden her whole body seized up, her cunt clenched around his fingers and as her body let go again, she came. He’d never seen anything like it. She gushed on him and cried out a long string of curse words he hadn’t heard outside of Tony hurting himself in the lab.

“Holy… Summer!” Bruce gasped. He desperately wanted to taste her again and dropped down between her legs and lapped at her soaked pussy, drinking everything he could.

Summer sat up and grabbed the Gatorade from the nightstand, drinking what was left and tangling her free hand in Bruce’s hair as she watched him eat her out.

“Brucie,” she half moaned, as Bruce’s teeth grazed over her clit. “How about we take care of you?”

Bruce gazed up at her. “Can we just make love?” He asked.

She giggled and pushed his hair back from his face. “Of course.”

“Oh,” Bruce said jumping up and going to his side table. “I saw these and thought of you.”

He pulled out a box from the drawer and handed it to her. She looked at it and her face lit up. “You bought glow-in-the-dark?” She said as she excitedly opened the box and pulled one out. She stood up on the bed and held it up to the light.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked.

“You have to charge them up,” she laughed. Bruce laughed softly with her and moved the towels off the bed.

“How long will that take?” He said sitting beside her and kissing along her soft stomach.

She giggled and flopped back onto the bed, pressing the packet into his hand. “Go on then.” He got up and sheathed himself and she started giggling. “You need to turn off the light.”

He chuckled and switched the light off. With the blinds drawn it was almost pitch black. There were now only two sources of light. The glow of his alarm clock and the brighter green glow of his dick. Summer squealed with delight and clapped her hands.

Bruce chuckled and moved back to the bed, his cock bouncing as he walked. Summer laughed harder and got up and wrapped her arms around him. They started to kiss and Summer turned them, pushing Bruce back onto the bed and climbing into his lap. Ever so slowly she sunk down onto his cock humming as he filled her.

“What do you think it looks like inside of me now?” She asked as she slowly rolled her hips against Bruce and held him close.

“A spooky green cave?” Bruce offered.

She started giggling. It was infectious and he was soon laughing with her. “My mysterious glowing uterus. It’s where you need to go for healing potions.”

Bruce pushed her hair from her shoulder and rubbed his cheek on her exposed skin. “You’re so odd, Summer.”

“You love it.”

Bruce hummed in agreement and rolled her onto her back. They began to move as one, thrusting and rolling their hips with each other. They kissed and nipped at each other’s skin. Moans were made and names were murmured as they brought each other to the brink of climax. When the came, it was together. Clutching at each other.

Bruce slopped out of her and got up to dispose of the condom. When he came back Summer was sitting up on the bed stretching. He sat down next to her and leaned back against the headboard. She snuggled into him, draping her arm over his waist.

“You’ll stay?” It was half question, half statement and full of hope.

“Of course,” she replied. “Will you make me breakfast? I like when people do that. I like doing it too when people sleepover with me.”

“Anything you want,” Bruce answered. The answer scared him a little. He knew it was true, but he knew right at this moment, he belonged to her.

// NEXT

#brucebannerbingo2019 #bruce banner #bruce banner x oc #hulk #hulk fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #she sets the city on fire #one summer's day

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woofety · 4 years

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@lives-ruined-and-bloodshed replied to your post “@lives-ruined-and-bloodshed mentioned you on a post “You wanna try and...”

Yeah, I think May would definitely win in a real fight but I think they have so much fun just sparring, they know each other so well and probably sparred plenty of times so they know most of each other's moves and well, it's just really hot to imagine them going at it lol of course AoS couldn't give us that. We even saw Coulson fighting but ofc not with May, that would be giving too much to the shippers.

OF COURSE RIGHT, GOD FORBID THEY GIVE US EVEN JUST A FLICKER OF CONTENTMENT LMAO, WHO CARES ABOUT THE FANS ANYWAY... Sorry for the capslock, but I couldn’t express this any other way than shouting it because I’ll always be annoyed by this! Yeah, they don’t owe us anything, they should be able to tell the story they want without feeling obliged to indulge in the fan-service, bla bla bla, don’t care, I’ll stay pissed off, I’m sure the writers won’t mind, and at this point it’s the level of resigned annoyance that doesn’t ruin my day, so I can stay “fueled” without feeling miserable about it like I was some time ago, when I was more invested (not that I’m not invested in the ship now, but I made peace with the fact that I won’t get the satisfaction - and there is no “compliance” involved here :p - I need from the show so I’m looking for it elsewhere)!

I am convinced it would have been so amazing seeing Phil and Melinda spar because I found adorable (ok, maybe it’s not the best term to describe sparring sessions, but I have big family feels about it because Philindaisy obviously so for me that adjective stands) the sparring scenes Daisy had with both Phil and Melinda so yeah, it was a huge waste of potential, but what’s new when we talk about Philinda’s treatment in the show...

I do see their relationship as a bit unbalanced. There are so many times we saw May showing in words and actions what Coulson means to her, even her freaking robot was out there declaring her love and willing to die for him and the team. I think you're right that Coulson being the director is one of teh reasons for that difference but I think who they are is another.

For Coulson there is Humanity, SHIELD, Daisy and ofc May cares about that too but I mostly see her putting him ahead of pretty much everything, she's so ridiculously loyal to him, even Garret knew that about her, it wasn't follow SHIELD to the grave but Coulson. Watching gifsets of S1B was actually making me ship them less lol, he believed she was Hydra up until she was about to be killed too and then he was a raging dick, to hurt her, and not even an apology after.

Nothing much to add here, I agree with you, let me just underline the awful treatment Phil reserved to Melinda when he thought she was Hydra... All right, I get it, he must have felt overwhelmed discovering such huge betrayal from people in his organization to the point he felt he couldn’t be able to trust anyone, when he was raised in SHIELD with the “trust the system” drill in his head, valid for him until he died and was brought back, at least, not to mention the fact that he was kept in the shadows about this goddamn GH-325 secret by his closest (at least that’s what he thought she was) friend and ally, but just because he seemed to rely on Melinda so much that he decided to choose her as his “right-hand” for the task he accepted, I was flabbergasted that, after the first (comprehensible) moment of shock, he didn’t give her just a glimmer of benefit of the doubt, straight up assumed that she betrayed him and all... So was there nothing at all to be saved from their relationship until that moment that he could just pause just a second and consider that that was Melinda May he was crucifying, and I’m aware that it all happened so fast that there wasn’t a moment to breathe, let alone the chance of having a proper, lenghty conversation with her, but it took him too long, in my humble opinion, to realize that he couldn’t just throw whatever they had out of the window so rashly... Anyway, after the “epiphanic” Audrey episode the writers OBVIOUSLY never addressed the situation again, making us believe that between them it was all good again just by magic... mumble mumble... Thankfully there is fanfiction to fill in the gaps, because there is not a chance in the world I’ll be convinced that that evening, after Melinda brought Phil the infamous pendrive with the video about the TAHITI project, didn’t end up with them spending the night discussing everything and both apologizing AT LENGTH (in my universe there would have been also moments gradually and steadily reaching the R rating, but I would have been perfectly fine watching a scene with just them talking and making a real effort to clear things up and it would have actually made more sense considering canon, but they gave us nothing so whatever, I consider myself free to imagine whatever it pleases me :p )

I remember watching all of that some months ago and thinking he's going to to redeem himself by showing she the same kind of loyalty but then S2 and May was again with that massive devotion of hers, with the alien illness and the "real" SHIELD but what I got was Coulson lying to her repeatedly for no good reason. 3A was weird, I don't mind they had LIs, I actually really liked Andrew but they barely felt like friends imo. When Andrew/Lash was happening *Mack* was the only one who thought that maybe she could use a friend, that was bizarre.

WHEN HE ASKED HER TO KILL HIM IF THINGS GOT OUT OF CONTROL (and just that, my god, I understand that he trusts only her with everything at this point, not only SHIELD but even his life, but it’s rather a terrible thing to ask anyway), AND SHE INSTEAD HAD ALREADY PLANNED TO SPEND THE REST OF THEIR LIFE IN A GODDAMN CABIN IN A PLACE SHE KNEW HE WANTED TO VISIT, DECIDING TO STAND BY HIS SIDE AND SUPPORT AND HELP HIM UNTIL THE VERY END... AND BY S5 SHE HELD UP TO HER WORD AND DID IT, EVEN IF IN A DIFFERENT PLACE...

“NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, I’LL TAKE CARE OF YOU, THAT’S MY PLAN”

EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO DIG MYSELF A HOLE IN THE GARDEN AND CURL UP IN THERE FOR THE NEXT DECADE IF THAT ISN’T LOVE I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS??!?!!!!! That sentence and her actions show her love for him more powerfully than any “I love you” voiced out, but ok, let’s carry on...

I could even let the fact that he didn’t tell her about Theta Protocol slide because of all that classified crap and such, even if she called him out brilliantly about him not having the right to know that as well him not being Director anymore (HA, sorry Coulson but take that!) - I’m not really sure it was that a valid reason the fact that he should have told her because Andrew was involved, I mean, idk, they were not even married anymore, I don’t think that officially it should have been her business to know, but surely, as his best friend, Phil maybe should have felt more of a moral obligation to inform her, also because I can’t really recall if Phil started seeing Andrew before he confessed Melinda about his writing impulses, but at some point she knew, so what was the harm on letting her know? Where was the logic in keeping at least that hidden from her? I’ll be damned if I know!

Anyway, what I seriously would have kicked Phil’s ass for is the fact that he, TWICE (as far as I remember at least) affirmed that he didn’t want to go to Melinda after the whole Andrew/Lash debacle because “she wouldn’t want me to go after her right now” “she’ll talk when she’s ready”... Phil... pal.... buddy... what the fuck???!!! I mean, ok, Melinda would have assured you that she was fine, especially if you approached her in public, but... you know... we know... THE WHOLE WORLD knows she wasn’t, how could she???!!! One fucking sentence, one “you know I’m here if you want to talk or anything” like she said to him, more than once, would have killed the writers to insert it?????!?!?!?! But no, not only he doesn’t reach to her (at least, we don’t see it and it isn’t even implied in the show)but in the meantime he proceedes to go out and have drinks and slEEP WITH ROSALIND AND START A RELATIONSHIP WITH HER WHAT THE HELL KINDA BEHAVIOUR IS THAT?????! His best friend is anguished, tormented and in pain, he should have at least stood by her bunk’s door all night just to reassure her he was there for whatever she needed, or at least stay at base, work, go to sleep, idk, with what spirit you go out and go on a date and everything???!! Why is that, to distract yourself?? Oh yeah, but he’s also working an angle here, yeah all work and duty and no play, eh, Coulson?! MELINDA NEEDED YOUR SUPPORT AND FRIENDSHIP FFS!!!!!!! Damn it, at least find time to show a scene in which he makes an effort to reach for her, then she is free to do anything she wants with his support and if she asks he’ll be considerate enough to leave her alone, but show us he tries, because that’s something I think Coulson would do!!!! Instead he apparently just straight up assumes that she doesn’t want anyone close in that moment so he doesn’t even bother to assure her that if she needs it, he’s there for her... I get it, we all know she closed off after Bahrain and all and she’s the kind of person who tends to keep things for herself, but it doesn’t hurt to at least let her know he’s available if she needs help, especially because she’d hate to bother him knowing well that he has a lot more to think about than just her? Listen, Coulson in certain instances could be a little dense, but I think he’d make such a reasoning, idk? Or am I assuming too much about him? But, as you said, even Mack voices his concerns about leaving her alone, someone who is not particularly close to her, but not Phil

3B was better but still too little. It's funny but two of my favorites scenes of the show were the one about the boundaries, SO much to unpack there and when called him on it when he said she was too quick to the trigger and Daisy wasn't Andrew, the murder vest was bad enough but damn he still went the extra mile, but if he's going to be a bastard, at least have May fight back because I don't think I could take more of him being a dick and May just taking and getting no apologies like in 2B.

Oh my god, OH MY GOD yes, that was the peak of the idiocy!! “You’re always so quick to the trigger” JESUS CHRIST PHIL HOW COULD YOU EVEN CONCEIVE TO SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT TO HER, TO MELINDA, HOW THE FUCK DOES YOUR BRAIN WORK????!!?!?!!? I seriously tend to erase all this stupidity in s3, I know it’s not fair to the show but I’m sorry, I really can’t stand that Phil could say shit like that to Melinda, I can barely recognize it as canon... Maybe it’s me who has created this version of Phil in my head that actually got things wrong about his character, maybe I’m misreading him and don’t really understand him fully (not that I have ever claimed that I do, anyway), because no matter how stressful this moment is for him and no matter how much pressure he is under, I can’t for the life of me accept that he would say those things and behave like that... S1 behaviour I understand even if it still pisses me off a bit but it’s definitely more comprehensible, but these aspects no, just no, no way... The writers kinda saved it with May taking no shit from him (thank god for that, at least) and him apologizing, even if that was still pretty mild according to me, but oh well, better than nothing at all I guess? Let’s try to convince ourselves of that...

S4 was kinda funny to me because they just turned it up to eleven but I appreciate we actually saw him showing love/devotion/loyalty, without S4 I don't think I could ship them as much and since S5 was also disappointing in my I need to believe Coulson loves her as much as she loves him thing there was little Philinda, but still we had May showing in actions and words her love for him and Coulson, well, I believe he loves her and I guess he kissed her, said he didn't want to leave her and invited her to spend a few days together before he died in front of her. Her SL in S6 was about how much she loved him but I knew that already lol and then emotional torture and death.

Definitely, I seriously don’t know what happened during s4 writing that convinced the writers to suddenly push on the accelerator with their relationship, but I’m actually grateful (see? I can also say good things about them lol ), even if in terms of continuity for their dynamic I’m not sure how much sense it makes unless you take for granted that interactions must have happened in between the seasons, things we obviously weren’t witnesses of... As you pointed out, otherwise it would have been pretty hard to root for them to get closer, because May deserves the world!

It’s kind of ironic in a way to see, despite her being not openly vocal and expressive in her affections, how much more Melinda has said and done to and for Phil compared to him for her - again, as it has been said, he had far more things to worry about than her, whose mission was mainly Phil from the very beginning, so he obviously was more preoccupied to allow himself the luxury of devoting himself to just one person, but still...

S6? What is that? I really have no idea what you’re talking about here... :p

And that's why I appreciate so much how the fics do the work on Couson's part because I don't think I would love the ship as much without it either. And I just find confusing why AoS decided to go for the ship if they didn't care much about committing to their relationship on screen.

Yes! And ah, at this point, especially after S6, I’m so deflated about some choices that were made that I hardly care about trying to understand what goes through the writers’ heads, so again, I’ll just take what I want and run away quickly before they catch me and throw me in the pit of misery again (lol, look how confident I seem, as if I firmly believe that I won’t be affected at all by S7... Mh mh, yeah, sure, stay tuned to find out how much I’ll fail despite me training myself not to get involved with the show like I used to be...)

#lives-ruined-and-bloodshed #reply for your life! reply for the hills!#I'm sorry this took so long to reply to #ok maybe you didn't even want t a reply to this idk #especially messy as this one is #also sorry for 'lashing out' like this #I guess this conversation gave me the opportunity to get some things out of my system about philinda #long post

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