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thevillainswhore · 6 months

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New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular.

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door.

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time, when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck.

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again.

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level. “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.”

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?”

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind.

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.”

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes.

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.”

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation.

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic.

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?”

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–”

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning.

“What the shit–“

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?”

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!”

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.”

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all.

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?”

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids.

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed.

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.”

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone.

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?”

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over.

Had he been listening that whole time?

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky may have made was a burden you did not want to bear, and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.”

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump.

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose. “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips.

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door.

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?”

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.”

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf.

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?”

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom.

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you.

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence.

Though, it is short lived.

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand.

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works.

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off.

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before…

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious.

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you.

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats.

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?”

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet.

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company.

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence.

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone.

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content.

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets.

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself.

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?”

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV.

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.”

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.”

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.”

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.”

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it.

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!”

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?”

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night.

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus.

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing.

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.”

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face.

Okay, you think privately, so what?

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt.

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard.

Bucky… is a virgin?

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match.

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression.

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind.

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts.

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully.

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him.

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession.

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands, and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty.

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer.

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past. And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket.

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs.

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees.

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical.

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.”

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting.

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through.

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek.

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance.

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap.

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth.

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves.

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face.

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes.

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session.

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension.

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time.

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close.

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard.

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before.

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another.

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you.

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–”

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries.

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss.

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move.

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous.

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.”

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin.

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet.

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn.

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it.

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release.

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle.

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck.

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently.

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him.

You can’t have that, though.

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go.

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in.

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?”

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.”

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.”

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him.

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure.

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop.

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!”

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed.

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat.

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness.

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material.

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries.

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces.

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands.

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair.

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.”

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only–

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala.

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?”

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes.

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away.

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky.

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall. “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive.

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.”

That meant only one person was responsible.

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night.

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake.

Love ya squirt,

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again.

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain.

Part Two, Part Three

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queen-of-reptiles · 3 months

Text

𝚂𝙴𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚂

description: ona was finally where she had dreamed, she was back at barcelona with her best friend and loving every moment. only problem? she's dating her captain's younger sister, you.

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ona batlle x putellas!reader

part of the 'hidden' universe

mapi leon x bronze!reader here

disclaimer: this is all fiction do not take any of this seriously !

warnings: swearing, slightly suggestive - cuteness, queenie needing to use google translate because her Spanish is sub par! x

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y/n just posted

liked by alexiaputellas, taylorswift, and 13.9m others

y/n life dumppppp 💕💕

comments limited

alexiaputellas: Estoy muy orgulloso de ti hermanita!

so proud of you baby sister

y/n: ily !! 💕

lucybronze: The little one of me says you're cool!

y/n: tell her I miss her! 😔

blanca_suarez: my little daughter! 🙂

y/n: my movie mama!! 😙

florencepugh: I wanna see the photos of after you did that jump

y/n: shut up 😩

florencepugh: no

y/n: I'll fight you Flo

florencepugh: come at me pipsqueak !!

ona.batlle: Looks like fun ! 😌

y/n: Would be more fun with you here ;)

alexiaputellas: y/n, no flirting with my teammates.

y/n: awwww :(

MariaLeonn16: MISS YOU ! 💙

y/n: MISS BAGHEERA MORE 💙

MariaLeonn16: hmmpf.

see more comments...

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y/n hummed as she stepped around her kitchen, her fluffy socks keeping her feet warm from the cold tile, which was cold as she couldn't be bothered to put the heated floor on.

Her Persian cat, Milo, rubbed against her feet and she smiled, bending down to pick him up and press a kiss to his fluffy head before placing him back down.

y/n then moved over to the bowl of food she had ordered, smiling when her phone lit up with the familiar name which kept her warm for almost a year now.

"Hi baby!" y/n smiles, her Spanish accent not as thick as it used to be when she spoke English.

y/n had been in England for a few years now, on and off, and due to the fact she mainly spoke in English and acted with either English or Americans, y/n's accent had dulled slightly.

"Hola!" Ona called back.

The two had been secretly dating for nearly a year now. Why secretly? Because Ona's captain was Alexia Putellas. Alexia Putellas was y/n's sister. Her over-protective older sister.

The two were aware they were nothing short of fucked. They were aware of that. But the two had fallen in love while Ona was playing in Manchester and at the time, they couldn't keep away.

Now, their relationship existed of long phone calls and sneaky hook-ups when y/n came to see her as best she could, as well as trying to avoid flashing cameras and nosy people.

Truth is the only other person to know about them was Lucy Bronze's younger sister, and that was only because Ona and her were best friends and she was dating Mapi Leon in secret as well. They really were a group.

"How was training?" y/n asks Ona as she settles on the sofa, propping the phone up on a few cushions as she bought her bowl of noodles toward her.

"Aburrida, todo en lo que estaba pensando era en ti mi amor." Ona sighs and y/n chuckles.

Boring. All I was thinking about was you my love.

"Eres tan romántica!" y/n laughs at her girlfriend.

you're such a romantic.

"Do not pretend you do not love it, mi amor." Ona says and y/n hums.

"Well, I do love feeling the way you make me feel." y/n sighs jokingly and Ona's smile widens. "But, you should be paying attention in training." y/n finishes and Ona huffs.

"Ay! You are worse than Ale!" Ona states and y/n sighs. "What are you eating?" Ona then asks, trying to get the focus off of Alexia.

"Wagamama." y/n grinned, Milo jumping next to her and curling onto the sofa, his head resting on y/n's thigh.

"Milo." Ona cooed, the cat looking up and letting out a small meow as he blinked at Ona.

"Look, it's mama Milo." y/n says softly, placing her fork down to stroke at the cat's head. Ona smiles softly as Milo meows, Ona chuckling as she moves to get Coco, her own dog who pants excitedly at the sight of Milo.

Despite being and cat and a dog the two pets got on like siblings and y/n couldn't help but smile as Milo purred at the sight of his sibling.

The two facetimed for the rest of the evening, settling into bed a few hours later, both watching each other on their screens, wishing they were face to face instead of watching through a camera.

"What are you thinking about Amor?" Ona asks softly, noticing y/n had gone quiet.

"Quiero contarle a Ale sobre nosotras." y/n said quickly.

I want to tell Ale about us.

"¿Cómo? No no no no no." Ona begins and y/n sighs.

what?

"I know you're afraid." y/n begins. "¡Pero cariño, por favor! No puedo ocultar esto más."

But darling please, I can't hide this anymore.

"But Alexia!" Ona tries.

"I'll talk to her! Explain everything." y/n tries and Ona pauses. "Please Ona, I'm so sick of us hiding." She begs softly.

"Okay. Okay." Ona promises. "Por ti, mi amor, enfrentaré la tormenta Alexia por ti." She nods and a soft smile grows on y/n's face.

For you, my love, I will brave the storm Alexia for you.

"Thank you." y/n whispers. "I love you Ona." She promises and Ona smiles.

"I love you too amor." Ona promises.

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y/n just posted on her story

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y/n smiled softly as she opened Alexia's apartment with her spare key. Now on international break, the Barcelona captain was at home resting before having to go to national camp in three days.

At the sound of her door opening, Alexia stood up, pausing the most recent Barcelona game she was re-watching for notes and faced her door worriedly before her mouth dropped.

"¡Niñera!" Alexia called in shock.

Baby sister

"Hola Ale!" y/n called, pulling her suitcase to a stop as Alexia raced over. The taller girl pulling her into a tight hug which made y/n chuckle as she returned it.

"¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?" Alexia asked. "Ven, siéntate, ¿tienes hambre, sed?" Alexia rapidly questioned making y/n smile as her sister dragged her to the sofa.

What are you doing here? Come sit down, are you hungry, thirsty?

"Estoy bien, vine a ver los partidos de la liga de naciones." y/n explains.

I'm fine, I came to watch the nation league games.

Alexia makes a noise of understanding as she leans over and presses kisses over y/n's face, exclaiming how happy she was to see her and how beautiful she looked.

y/n laughed it off, telling her she was always too flattering to her, Alexia saying it was what an older sister did. The statement wracking y/n with guilt.

"Ale." y/n began. Alexia looking at her with furrowed brows, confused at her sister's shift in tone.

"Are you okay?" Alexia asks softly.

"I'm dating someone." y/n spills out. "And, hemos estado saliendo durante más de un año." y/n admits.

And we've been dating over a year.

"Oh." Alexia says softly, eyes softening as her sister ducks her head, fiddling with her fingers. "It's okay." She promises.

"Even if I hid it?" y/n asks quietly.

"I would like you to explain why for so long and who, but yes it is okay." Alexia promises.

"The who kind of explains the why." y/n admits and Alexia pauses. "Ale." She begins.

"Who?" She asks, though it was far more a demand. She repeats her demand.

"Ona." y/n says ducking her head.

"Hijo de puta." Alexia mutters.

motherfucker

y/n sighed, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands and her shoulders sagged. Her heart felt as if it was pushing into her throat and it made her sick.

y/n and Alexia had been close as children, the three sisters were best friends, and knew each other too well. They told each other everything, to the point where this would be the first time she had ever lied to either sister.

And even though she felt terrible for upsetting her older sister, for betraying her, there was something so relieving about finally admitting it.

Slowly, Alexia reached out and place a hand on y/n's shoulder, her warm and calloused palm so much kinder than what y/n felt she deserved as she looked up.

"No puedo negarlo y decir que no estoy herido, porque lo estoy. Preferiría que me lo hubieras dicho, pero entiendo que no quieras." Alexia begins, her voice soft.

I cannot deny and say I am not hurt, because I am. I would rather you had told me, but I understand you not wanting to.

y/n could have cried as she closed her eyes, feeling so guilty at hurting her sister with something that she couldn't have helped.

"¿La amas?" Alexia asked, her eyes full of understanding and kindness which calmed y/n's heart.

Do you love her?

"Más de lo que creía posible Ale. Ella lo es todo para mí, de verdad." y/n admits to her sister who lets out a sigh at the emotion in her voice.

More than I thought possible Ale. She's everything to me, truly.

Alexia sighed and wrapped her arm around y/n's shoulders, pulling her into her side as she lent her head onto y/n's own one, inhaling the smell of her shampoo.

"Entonces de acuerdo." Alexia sighs softly.

Then okay.

y/n's heart broke at that, how one person could be so good to her was beyond her thought, beyond her idea of humanity, but Alexia had once again, proved her wrong.

"Eres demasiado amable conmigo, eres demasiado amable conmigo." y/n repeats at her sister.

You are too kind to me, you are too kind to me.

"Esto no es bondad, esto es familia." Alexia says to her and y/n sighs.

This is not kindness, this is family.

The girl turns, wrapping her arms around her sister as she pulls herself snugly on-top of Alexia, clinging to her shoulders as she pressed kisses into the woman's hair.

"Thank you Ale." y/n said softly, repeating the words again and again.

"Oh mi pequeña princesa del drama. Eres tan mayor ahora." Alexia said softly.

Oh my little drama princess. You are so grown up now.

y/n said nothing, just continued to cling to Alexia as if she was 6 all over again and Alexia 14. The Barcelona captain couldn't help but enjoy the closeness.

It had been so long since they had hugged like this, the youngest Putellas always so busy, always moving, working and filming.

Eventually the two parted and Alexia sighed tucking a strand of her sister's hair behind her ear as she watched her.

"Do you and Ona plan to tell?" Alexia asks and y/n hums.

"I want to tell your team first, then we can think about everything else." y/n sighs. "Are you mad at her?" She then asks with a wince.

"Oh furious." Alexia nods, a smile on her face to show she wasn't really. "She treats you well?" She then asks and y/n smiles softly.

"She loves me just as I do her." y/n answers and Alexia smiles.

"So she loves you well." Alexia says and y/n nods. "Do you want to see her?" She asks and y/n hums.

"Tomorrow." y/n says before snuggling into her sister's side. "I want to spend the night with you." She says.

"I love that idea." Alexia sighs, pressing a kiss into her sister's hair.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Tomorrow came far too quick for y/n's liking, before she knew it she was stood at Ona's door, flowers in hand as she waited for the patter of her lover's footsteps to open the door.

"¡Mi amor!" Ona yelled in shock, dragging y/n inside so no prying eyes could see.

y/n's hair was up in a bun, she was wearing a sweet summer dress due to how hot it was outside, however she also had shorts on underneath, because she knew what could happen once Ona knew they were out.

Ona smiled softly, taking the flowers from y/n's hands and placing them on the counter, before jumping at y/n. The woman sighed in relief, bringing Ona's legs around her waist as she wrapped her arms tightly around her.

"Oh my love." y/n said softly, breathing in the sweet scent of Ona's hair.

Ona buried her head into y/n's neck, pressing soft kisses against the skin which had y/n breathing shaking as she walked them to the sofa, sliding her shoes off as she went.

Coco immediately moved over to one of her discarded trainers and stuck his head in it, inhaling which made y/n roll her eyes at the dog fondly.

y/n sat back against the sofa, Ona quickly looking up and greedily connecting their lips, hands scattering around each other's bodies, re-familiarising themselves.

Ona's tongue dipped past y/n's lips, sweeping the inside of her mouth which caused a groan to slip from her. Ona giggled into the kiss, before they pulled away, both breathing deeply as they stared at one another.

Ona was in a white shirt, black shorts, her hair was pulled back and she looked like she had woken up just an hour ago. And to y/n, she had never looked more beautiful.

All their time apart meant these moment, Ona sat on her lap, hands combing over her shoulders lovingly, were all that more precious to y/n.

"How are you here?" Ona asked her softly, leaning forward to cuddle into her chest as y/n wraps her arms around her.

"He venido a ver los partidos." y/n explains softly.

I've come to watch the games.

"I'm so glad you're here." Ona sighs in relief, y/n holding onto her as she sighs.

"I have a confession Ona." y/n says softly and Ona sits up, y/n moving her off her lap and to the side she could face her.

"Amor?" Ona asks, worry flooding her voice.

"Ale knows." y/n says simply. "I told her." She adds.

Ona's face goes through several emotions, relief that this wasn't a break-up, fear of Alexia knowing, realisation that her captain was no aware and hurt that y/n hadn't warned her she would tell Alexia like that.

"Why?" Ona asks sadly.

"Because I want to be with you. In front of her." y/n says strongly and Ona's eyes fill with panic. "It's like we discussed Oni, please." y/n tries.

"Get out." She says softly. "Please go." Ona repeats.

"You said you would fight for me." y/n said softly.

"You didn't give me time to prepare." Ona tells her. "Alexia is my captain, and I am with her little sister, and instead of telling her together, you decided to tell her on you own." Ona continues.

"Because I knew I could keep her calm about us." y/n promises and Ona sighs.

"Please go. I need some time." Ona says softly and y/n blinks away tears before standing up and walking to the door, expecting Ona to call out, stop her. But she doesn't.

And y/n's heart breaks.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

END

Mapi part one will be out in three days ;) xox

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cafeacademia · 1 year

Text

𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐲!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 || 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jason comes back from his patrol and finds you desperate for him, only he's just as desperate to find himself after a hard night of being Red Hood and the best way for him to do that is with his favourite girl.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Smut, oral (fem rec), rope bondage, suit kink - Jay wears his domino mask under his helmet, overstimulation, about 3 billion terms of endearment, some?? size kink if you squint, some roughness, dom/sub dynamic - Jason is a soft dom in this, Reader uses a vibrator at the beginning, sex at the end. I think that's everything but lmk if I missed anything!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: Approx 2.5k

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is my first ever Jason fic!! I'm?? Very nervous? I hope this is good? Honestly I'm releasing this into the void and then running away. Please enjoy I had a lot of fun writing this 😌 thank you my lovely friend @that-sokovian-bastard for the encouragement and for reading all of the snippets I sent you.

He touched you with fingertips that had gripped the edges of death. His skin, marred, tortured, tattooed; brushed against yours. He touched you with the hands that had delivered the veil of death, and yet he was so gentle. His gaze, while intense, difficult to read, was soft on your eyes. Jason was a dichotomy. He breathed vigilantism, he bathed in the shadow of his brother, he made himself the fear of the vile. A man of justice defined by sin.

He never pretended to be perfect. At night he was the Red Hood. Protector, ally to the good, with his edge of sarcasm and pit of anger against the depravity that festered in the alleys and underworlds of Gotham. And the rest of the time, he was just Jason.

Just Jason, who loved you, who helped you with everything, who made you feel loved. Just Jason, who fucked you deep into the mattress, barely out of his Red Hood suit, helmet discarded, gloved hand pressed around your throat as he grunted your name to you like a prayer, a promise, a devotion.

He’d found you that night up late waiting for him, spread out on the bed, heat clinging to you as you cried and tried, tried so hard to reach your euphoria. He’d watched you for a moment, tears in your eyes as you edged yourself with your vibrator, but the only thing your toy was doing was making you sensitive, bringing a burning ache to your clit. You needed more, and more was delivered, his low husky voice gracing your ears.

“You poor little thing,” His voice deep, warning, an edge of sweetness. “Jay-.” So breathy, so desperate as you clung to the sheets, the grip of your delicate fingers around your vibrator so hard he could see how tense you were. “How long have you been like this for, baby? An hour? Two?” He asked, voice almost sympathetic as he leaned against the doorframe, helmet in his hands as he eyed you, domino mask still framing his gaze. “Since- since you… Left.” You could barely get the words out, gasping as your vibrator struggled to bring you even close to the edge. “My poor baby, you can’t let go without me, can you?” His voice was teasing, almost mean but the way he spoke down to you almost made you more desperate. He approached you, slowly stalking closer to the bed, placing his helmet on the nightstand. He saw the glistening tears in the corner of your eye, pout wobbling as you edged yourself torturously and all you wanted was to orgasm, but you couldn’t. “Are you crying, sweetheart? Let me take care of you.”

Jason, who forced you to stay still with the vibrator still on your clit as he tied you up. Jason, who had no patience and yet he was slow, meticulous with the knots that he decorated and adorned your skin with.

“You want this, baby? Want me to make you forget everything? You know what it means, don’t you?” He asked, voice deceptively soft. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him. Jason needed words, needed your spoken promise, breathy and soft on your lips. “Words, baby.” His words brushed against your sensitive clit, a whine escaping you as you ached, throbbed for his attention. “I know… what it means.” You nodded, voice barely above a whisper, confirmation that you knew he wouldn’t stop once he started. Your pleasure was his pleasure and he basked in it.

“Good girl.” He spoke the words in a grunt as he indulged himself in you, tortured you with his tongue, sucking your poor abused clit between his lips. The overstimulation was almost unbearable, but in the best way. His gloves pressed against your hips, holding you down, your legs tied to perfectly expose your soaking, desperate pussy to him. Precious whines, whispers of his name passed your lips as he bathed your clit in unrivalled attention. Jason loved the way you pulsed against his tongue, so overworked, so desperate that you could barely take the rugged strokes and flicks he gave you.

“Let me have it, baby.” His voice was harsh as he spoke, desperate for more. He needed to feel your release on his tongue again, again, again. Jason needed to hear his name on your lips, needed to watch you squirm as you took the pleasure. He brought you closer and closer, tongue stroking you with need. He felt you tense beneath him, your breath hitching as you reached the edge, the way your fingers gripped at nothing as your orgasm tipped over the edge. You cried out, gasping, moaning as he worked you through your high, bringing you back down with the gentle caress of his tongue.

“There you go, little one.” He spoke deep and soft as he used his thumb to gently soothe over your pulsing clit, the bud aching with pleasure, thrumming with intense overstimulation and it felt so good. You think he’s done, his chin and lips covered in your glistening release. He keeps his gaze on yours, eyes dark and heavy lidded as he brings his gloved hand up to his lips, teeth biting into the leather and pulling his hand out. Throwing his glove to the side, his fingers gently tease at your entrance and you let a soft gasp out as he gently pushes his fingers into you, tongue meeting with your overworked clit and he hums with satisfaction when he hears you let out a strangled moan at the intense feeling.

“You can take it, can’t you, sweetheart?” He asked gently, breath teasing your poor, swollen clit. “I can, I can take it Jay.” You nod. You’re a good girl, you can take it like a good girl, you know you can and you whine as you’re consumed by the pleasurable haze. It’s too much, but not enough all at the same time. It’s so sensitive, but so addictive, you can’t let him stop. You don’t want him to stop as he takes you between his lips again, fingers fucking deep into your cunt, calloused fingertips brushing your spot, stroking you closer and closer with each pass.

You had spent hours fighting for a release, but now the tension built and receded with each orgasm, with each stroke of his tongue on your clit. Jason worked you relentlessly, stopping to gently capture your sensitive bud between his lips and suck, hard. It almost hurt, it almost felt unbearable, but the beautiful noises it roused from deep within your chest only encouraged him as you fought against your bonds for purchase more than release. “That’s a good girl, taking everything I give you.” He groaned, pausing the torture only to continue, his eyes meeting yours, domino mask framing his eyes beautifully, hair messy from being freed from his helmet.

He traps you there, the rope biting deliciously into your skin as you jolt with every pass of his tongue, fingers fucking you relentlessly. Your senses are overwhelmed with Jason. His scent, his touch, his voice, he’s everywhere, he clouds your mind, the haze overtaking you, sending you into a blissful myriad of stars, only half aware, your attention only on the way he pulls you closer to another orgasm, coaxing you gently until you reach it, so so desperate.

Jason swipes over your soft bud, fingers pumping so hard you’re barely seeing straight and with a moan-turned-scream, you find another release. Your breath is hot, it’s ragged as he laps at you gently, letting out a satisfied hum, but it’s not enough. “One more.” Jason gently thumbs your poor abused clit, body trembling as the overstimulation washes through you again. “I can’t.” You gasp. But you can. “You’re doing so good, little one, take one more for me and then I’ll fuck you, I promise.” Jason speaks lowly, the lower octave sending a thrill down your spine. There was something so sinful about Jason looking up at you from between your thighs, lips glistening with your release, eyes dark behind his domino mask, his Red Hood suit still on him as he tormented you. It was his voice, the way he spoke to you in such a sweet way as he ruined you, words falling from his lips, warm and smooth like honey, like ambrosia.

“One more, baby?” He prompted. “One more.” You nodded obediently, lost completely in the euphoria he had blessed you with, voice shaky and closer to a moan than words. “That’s my girl.” Jason hummed, pleased that you, like usual, were his good girl and you did everything he asked you to.

He soothed his gloved thumb over your pretty, aching little bud as he fucked you with his bare fingers. Jason might have made you promise to have one more orgasm, but he never promised he’d give it to you as quickly as the previous ones. The leather of his glove rubbed excruciatingly slowly over your hypersensitive skin and Jason revelled in the gasps and the way you trembled and jolted with each slight touch. “You poor thing, neglected for hours and now look at you, you’re taking it so well.” He was rambling, he was high on your pleasure and you knew he’d be reluctant to let you orgasm so soon. He’d keep you right where he wanted you until he was ready to lead you, tumbling into your meridian high.

Jason edged you slowly, languid movements seized you with pleasure and you thanked the heavy constraint of the ropes around you, holding you down, giving you purchase. The rope hugged you, enveloped your body, mimicked and extended the strength, protection and warmth Jason poured into the way he embraced you. You were trapped in your haze, bathed in ecstasy as you felt him circle your clit over and over, fucking into your slit, fingers hooked and stroking you closer and closer, back arching at the pleasure, breath ragged and uneven as you slipped further into your haze.

“Please, Jay.” The pleading had tumbled from your lips and you were barely aware that you’d even spoken the words in your daze. “Please what, baby?” He asked softly, voice teasingly sweet, almost mean as he coaxed you closer but not close enough. “Please, wanna cum.” You begged, breathy and barely discernible between your gasps and sweet, soft moans. “You asked so nicely, sweetheart. Been so good.” He spoke, gentle words contrasting his voice, rough and deep, tone rugged and steeped in lust. “Stay still and I’ll let you.”

With his words you obeyed, submitting to his promise and you sank into the embrace of your rope bindings as his tongue met your throbbing bud. He didn’t even need to give you long, quick flicks, the barest touch bringing you to the edge as he lightly soothed your aching clit with the tip of his tongue. You came with a gasp, the orgasm surging through you like flames, licking at your insides, flushing you hot with desire, relief, euphoria.

“There you go,” He hummed against you, gently helping you down from your high, craving more but knowing he had to keep his promise. Another night he would hold you here and satisfy the soft, pretty bud between your thighs for hours, but tonight he’d promised to fuck you and he would give you everything you asked for tenfold. “So pretty when you let go.”

“Relax for me, gonna give you everything you want, baby.” He was the perfect contrast, a man of duality. He could be possessive, rough and give it to you with aggressive thrusts and a grip that could bruise, but Jason could also be sweet and gentle and he could do both all at the same time. He knew you loved to be told what to do, you loved being his good girl and Jason loved that you were so willing to do everything he told you to do.

“Please, Jay.” You begged, voice soft, sweet, innocent and Jason groaned at the sound of you. “M’right here, my needy girl.” His voice raspy, dangerous even as he freed his cock from his suit. “Look at me, need you to look at me.” He told you and you obeyed easily, eyes meeting his as he slowly pushed into your soaked pussy. The gasp turned moan that left your lips was music to his ears and he grunted with relief as he allowed himself to sink into you until he filled you completely.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” His words came out in a grunt as he struggled not to lose composure. He held back his need to be rough, to let out the adrenaline of the night, but the way you moaned as he released the rope around you, pulling the cord from your skin, its roughness a contrast in of itself, soft in its caress as it brushed your skin, allowing you to finally touch him. You pulled him in, clawed at him, a silent plea for more and Jason couldn’t resist.

“Jay, please.” Your voice was soft, sweet and it was all he needed to convince himself to lean into his desires and give you what you wanted. His features, hardened and bold, were washed with pleasure and warmth as he took you. Reaching up as he thrust into you, rising breathy, pretty moans from you, you pulled his domino mask off him, looking into his eyes as he claimed you. “Wanted to see me?” He asked, voice gruff and heavy, backed with the sound of skin on skin. You nodded, a soft pout on your lips. “Needed to see you.”

His gaze connected with yours, warm and loving as you moved in tandem, his fingers dipping against the skin of your thighs, holding you perfectly. Jason Todd was many things, but your hidden facet of him, deep beneath everything else, he showed you his genuine kindness, his unfiltered love, vulnerability, his affection beyond the flirting and possessive touches.

Jason’s desperate movements became more controlled, more intentional and he made love to you, taking you as his, giving himself to you. After a night of patrolling, of playing as Gotham’s protector, a shadow bathed in red and black, Jason sank into you, clutching at the need to be himself with you, to be Jason, the man who’d stolen your heart with his lopsided grins and grumpy bad boy attitude. And as your highs peaked and your moans filled his ears with a blissful ring, he came closer to his high.

With each stroke, his demeanour softened as he left Red Hood behind and became Jason, your Jason. “Love you, baby, love you so much.” He was rambling as the pleasure took hold of him, as the pleasure of your orgasm sent him into a blissful haze, chasing his own release, he spoke with a voice imbued with his love for you.

As he found his release, your pretty moans complimenting his groans, you whispered to him the words that soothed him entirely. “I love you too, Jay.” And he was complete.

Jason was a contradiction, he had broken pieces, he had scars that had shaped him, and yet this man that scoured Gotham for its evil lay bare, perfectly faceted and scarred and wonderfully real. For you.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood x reader smut #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd fanfiction #red hood smut

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loveshotzz · 4 months

Text

A sneak peek 🌻

[This snippet takes place after your first night back in Hawkins, the morning after a party that Steve had to take a very drunk you and Robin home from. The morning after some things were said that you don’t remember 😌]

📻 fic playlist

Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud insight to hide you from its light.

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty, the toe of your sneaker kicking small rocks as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you have a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, and a dimple filled grin cracks wide across his face as he stands up.

“Glad to see you’re alive princess.” He teases, stepping out of his glass case with coveralls that are clean today, not the stained mess they were last night.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle, but there’s no saying no to Robin, you know that.” You laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to react to the sound of your voice.

“Trust me, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dance across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve Harrington emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“I slept through my alarm.”

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light up with obvious amusement.

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of his tank top shines with sweat.

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.”

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” You snort, making him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, stopping just close enough for you to smell how the cedar of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad news,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial up on the speaker in his office.

End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them. You can see the green that hides in his eyes, only shimmering if you look close enough in the sunlight.

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it has your blood pressure returning to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him.

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.” He sighs with a disappointed expression.

“Is this the bad news?”

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck.

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?”

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch.

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath.

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes.

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap this time. A thumb and forefinger find their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his tooth paste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again, turning into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his work bench before adding,

“Do me a favor though and tell Robin she owes me a new pair of sneakers.”

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year

Note

can u do sub scaramouche w feminization and choking please😁😁

♡︎ 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧! ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x nb!dom!reader

warnings: choking, feminization, dacryphillia, bondage, dumbification and overstimulation if you squint

notes: sure thing ‘non! i’m sorry if it took so long for me to answer but nothing was popping up in my mind🥲 hope the recipe is to your liking!

doing my weekly ritual of feeding the horny😌

scaramouche sometimes wonders just how you keep putting him in such state. he was formerly the 6th fatui harbinger for fuck’s sake! and here he was, sitting on your shared bed with red ribbons he measly tied his hands with and a lingerie you brought for him as an anniversary gift.

at first when you showed him the gift, he scoffed and threatened you with empty threats and tomato cheeks. but here he was, not even a week later, wearing the same thing he swore that he would never even look at.

checking himself over in the mirror, the former harbinger supposed that he looks good. soft blue satin bras that doesn’t make his skin itch with a cute small bow on top and a matching short skirts that barely covers anything with nothing underneath but the set’s thigh belts, scaramouche just knew you put a lot of thoughts into choosing it. but then again, you always think deeply before doing anything with him. now all he needed to do was to wait for you to come home, it should be around now.

okay, maybe it was a bad idea. maybe wearing such “clothes” without any plans or whatsoever was a bad idea. just as he was about to tear off the ribbons with his teeth, he heard the front door open and close with your voice calling out for him. oh shit, what do he do now? wait for you to enter your shared bedroom? quickly take off the ribbons and act like he’s sleeping?

“love? are you sleepin-?” he’s caught red-handed. if scaramouche’s mind was running miles a minute before it was completely empty now. just a black sheet.

“s-stop staring dumbass. i can see you drooling” perhaps it was true but mostly it was just a lie from scara to run away from the sudden attention placed on him.

he knows he looks good. you always make sure to say that to him every chance you get. in the morning, when making breakfast, during the soft moments with him laying on your chest, hearing your heartbeat or during the lazy moments where you two just hold each other and chitchat about meaningless things. but the sudden attention and your stare boring into his flesh was making him squirm even though you haven’t even touched him yet.

before he can open his mouth to scold you again, you’ve already pushed him back against the bed. whining when you bite his lip, the kiss was messy and wet. salivas exchanged, breathing into each other, your lovely gift whining whenever you pull away.

one hand moving under his short skirt only to find a cute but plug already sitting snuggly in his ass.

“i see you thought things over” chuckling at his dazed expression you pulled out the plug. scaramouche whined when his hole suddenly felt empty. hips twitching, wiggling his ass seemingly trying to entice you. soon enough his whining turned into squeals when your tip entered. he forgot how big you were. his legs were trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks and all you could do was comfort him.

“mffgh-! b-big. [name]’s cock ish soo f-fucking big!” slurred scaramouche. he always gets overstimulated too easily sometimes. chuckling at his cute dumb self you waited for him to adjust. instantly scara was whining while grinding his ass against you.

soon enough the room was filled with dirty wet squelches, skin slapping and your lovers’ muffled screams and squeals. just as you were about to cum scaramouche guided your hand towards his neck, silently begging you. when you gave a gentle experimental squeeze he squirted over his tummy with loud choked scream of your name.

“AAMF! [n-name]! mo-oohre~! p-pleashe! aaHHGKK!” well, you never guessed your lover for the masochist type but there is always room for more.

#nobu.writes #sub!genshin impact #sub!genshin #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #sub scaramouche #sub!scaramouche #x dom reader #dom!reader #scaramouche smut #genshin smut

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reashot · 7 months

Text

One year older, one year legaler. (Slightly NSFW)

Ruby: Oh Jaune ~ Did you know my birthday is coming up? 🥰

Jaune: Sure do Rubes. Look I even made you this friendship mug for your birthday. *hands Ruby a fugly looking mug*

Ruby: Oh you shouldn't have... 😌 (Really, you shouldn't have 😠)

Jaune: Thanks Ruby I worked really hard on that.

Ruby: But I want something else for my present 😏

Jaune: Of course Ruby. Anything you want as long as it's something within my mean I will grant it for you.

Ruby: Really? 😗

Jaune: Really, really.

Ruby: Really, really, really? 😚

Jaune: Really, really, really, really.

Ruby: You promise? 🤭

Jaune: Yes Ruby I promise I will do anything I can. And that is an Arc promise. You can swear on it.

Ruby: (I got you now, you dumb Himbo 😈) Then I want you to take my virginity... 😋

Jaune: Excuse me?

Ruby: You heard me right. I want you to take my virginity and I'll be taking yours too for my birthday. 😘

Jaune: But Ruby I can't....

Ruby: Jaune. I'll be legal in a few days. You know... There's no more excuses Jaune. I will have what I want. And you did just promised me. And an Arc never break their promise after all. 🤤

Jaune: Y-you tricked me...

Ruby: Well if I didn't trick you then I will never get what I want in the first place... And Jaune I like to be "roughed up"... If you catch my drift? 😉

Jaune: Wh-what do you mean by that?

Ruby: Oh you know...

That means I like to be tied up.

Spanked until my cheeks turned red.

Choked until I lose consciousness.

Being called all sort of degrading names.

Having my hair pulled while you take me from behind.

And of course my favorite having unprotected sex. So I can have your baby... 👶

Jaune: (Internally screaming)

Ruby: Oh I almost forgot. My Safeword is Strawberry.

So I'll see you at my birthday Jaune. Bye, bye. 👋

Jaune: But Ruby those are Top stuffs. I can't be a top. I'm a bottom. I'm a passive bottom! *starts crying*

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #lancaster rwby #jaune x ruby #ruby x jaune #rwby lancaster #ruby is into some kinky shit #jaune is a bottom #ruby rose birthday #halloween

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

Note

For the drabble requests…..mechanic Tom Bennet 😌

“That mechanic you go to must be awful,” your father announced as you were about to leave; your face flushed instantly.

“What makes you say that?” you probed cautiously.

“Always got you goin’ back!” he answered. “Makes more problems than he fixes, I think. You should find a new one.”

If only he knew why you’d never find another mechanic; hopefully, he’d never find out.

Tom was wiping his hands with a rag when you stepped into the garage, standing up from kneeling in front of the grill of the car nearby. The click of your heels on the concrete caught his attention, and as soon as he saw you, he gave you a confident smirk. “Transmission again, eh?” he asked sarcastically.

You nodded slightly, eyes running over him— he was covered in grease, most of all on his arms that were displayed beautifully by the white sleeveless shirt. His cover-alls were unzipped and hanging at his hips, sleeves tied like a belt… what was the point of wearing those if they weren’t actually covering him? Shouldn’t a cover-all be covering all?

Whatever, you didn’t care— he looked fucking sexy, and annoyingly, he knew it.

As he approached you, reaching for your waist, you hesitated. “You’re dirty, Tom,” you noticed. “You’ll stain my dress.”

"I think you like me dirty," he replied with a purr, grabbing you roughly and pulling you into him; he took a deep breath by your hair, snarling a little. "You smell so fuckin' good..."

"You smell like motor oil," you giggled.

"Yeah? And I bet it's making you wet already."

Before you could chide him for being so crass (and accurate) he spun you around and shoved you up against the hood of the glossy black car closest to you both. Whimpering but relenting to it, you spread your legs out of instinct.

“Been too fuckin’ long,” he grunted against your neck as he pushed your dress up your thighs and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. “Should know better than to make me wait so long, love— m’not gonna be all gentle an’ sweet with you now. Know you like it like that.”

A chill ran up your spine as you held tighter onto his shoulders. “S-sorry,” you whimpered, trying to stay quiet knowing the other mechanic was just outside the garage entrance. "I was gonna come sooner, but..."

“Old man’s onto us, isn’t he?” he grinned, seeming almost proud of it even though he should know how bad it would be if you were found out. “That or he’s gonna cave and buy you a new car.”

“We can’t afford tha— oh!”

You interrupted himself as you felt his cock press up to you through his cover-alls and your lace panties— he was so hard already, and the thickness of him always made your head spin.

His hand grabbed your jaw and turned your face towards him for a sudden and rough kiss— he always took complete control of you when he kissed you, and you always let him with no protest at all.

He shoved his cover-alls and boxers out of the way just enough to let his erection bounce free, and hooked a finger in your panties a moment later to pull them to the side. He warned you about his impatience, but it was still all so sudden, and you gasped as he shoved his cock inside you in a moment.

"Fuckin' tight," he noticed with a groan instantly. It was almost too much; you dug your nails into his shoulders and hid your face in his chest as he split you open. You were plenty wet, even without any preparation at all, but he was still big enough for it to sting for the first few thrusts.

As the pain faded, though, you sighed and let your head tilt back; with one arm around your waist, he smiled proudly down at you and lifted his free hand to hold the back of your limp head.

"Missed this, eh? Missed getting fucked so good, I know, m'gonna give ya what y'need."

You were begging him for it already, chanting his name between whimper-y moans. He kept his grip iron-tight on your hips as he drove into you over and over; it wasn't too long before you fell back and laid on the hood, letting each thrust rock your body up and down as you held onto his wrists for some stability.

He grinned down at you with that cocky tilt to his smile, watching your eyes roll back... he even roughly tugged the top of your dress open to grope your tits and watch them bounce, too. "Good girl," he praised with a deep voice, "good fuckin' girl."

"M'gonna— fuck, Tommy," you sobbed.

"I know, I know," he cooed, "can't help it, can ya, love? Go ahead, you can come."

His permission was sort of moot, you were already falling over the edge, back arching up off the car with a loud gasp of his name. He fucked you even harder through it, praising and egging you on, until he couldn't take anymore and spilled inside you.

With his forehead on your shoulder, he slowly caught his breath, leaving stray kisses along your collarbone. "Better go back home soon, love," he whispered, "tell your old man you got a new transmission."

You let out a long sigh. "Can't you hold me a little longer?"

He pecked your cheek. "Okay," he agreed, rubbing your side with his thumb gently. "You can stay as long as you like... if you don't mind Jimmy coming in and seeing you like this."

Groaning, you sat up and collected yourself; he laughed a bit, pulling out quickly so you could get up and put your panties back in place. He watched you proudly, and you knew he was already imagining you having to go about the rest of your day with his come dripping out of you.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he assumed.

"I-I dunno, Tom, we should be a little more discreet..."

He nodded while you pulled your shawl up over your shoulders. "Yeah, we should... but I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?"

You bit your lip. "Yeah, you will."

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett smut #mechanic!tom bennett #ewan mitchell

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thedeadthree · 2 years

Text

🐍: AEGON II TARGARYEN and UNA ULLER -> x: HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND / 🔮: DAEMON TARGARYEN and IOVANNA DAYNE -> x: LOVE IS THE DEATH OF DUTY

🌊: AURANE WATERS and VALAENYA TARGARYEN -> x: AURAENYA / 🥀: SAURON and ALMÁRËA ALFIRIN -> x: BLOODLINES WILL BURN

the darlings @leviiackrman, @dihardys, and @arklay tagged me to make the loves and their beloveds or clowns with these cutest holiday meikers! [ m/f | m/m | f/f ] ty ty! <3

TAGGING: @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @kingsroad, @jendoe, @denerims, @chuckhansen, @queennymeria, @risingsh0t, @jackiesarch, @florbelles, @aartyom, @belorage, @yennas, @adelaidedrubman, @confidentandgood, @malefiicarum, @anoras, @marivenah, @shellibisshe, @roofgeese, @aceghosts, @multiverse-of-themind, @stormveils, @unholymilf, @celticwoman, @rocketsummer, @shadowglens and you!

#only if you want to! 🥀🍄#oc: una nathaira uller #x: hand in unlovable hand #oc: iovanna dayne #x: love is the death of duty #oc: valaenya targaryen #x: auraenya #oc: almárëa alfirin #x: bloodlines will burn #TIS THE SEASON WHICH MEANS ITS THIS DEAR PICREW 🤍🤍#modern aus of the fantasy beloveds my dearest <3 #also i am watching a*ndor rn so if u see a clown from that i am nothing if not predictable xjxjxjjx #when im telling u all that when one of these days ill have something done for alma that is like the final scene with rh*aenyra in h*td GAHH #a scene where h*lbrand and her are at the forge and she has her memories back? and she is reminded of what their enemies’ve stolen from them #they are not aware their daughter is still alive (not until literally the end of l*tr sozjxj)#so as far as their aware she is…… no longer with them u know? so like dear rhae rhae she turns from the fires of the forge and the look she #has is VENGEEFUL and it’s so good ✨😌 its not him they should be afraid of its her babey! bloodlines will burn etc etc <3 #(inspired by that line where a*dar was like a lover or a child which to him her memories were erased so it was both for a bit ✨😖)#kind of love aeg and una a normal amount their ship name and that they’re both wearing matching outfits <3 ✨😌#they’re not denying the romantic relationship allegations slzjjxjx not one bit <3 #WHEEZE d*aemon 🤝 aur*ane <- being smug buffons with their beloveds #enya matches the energy and then takes it up a notch bc she’s an aries rising and would rather go to the wall then lose ksjzjxj #enya and iovanna either having none of it or being more smug than them as a challenge!#like great great grandmother like great great granddaughter! like scion like descendant! those are my ladies!#and iovanna being the one who’s having none of it aozjxjj his charms though charming she’s sees through him.. they’re in love etc etc #leg.ocs #leg.tagged #t: picrews #ty ty for the tag! a fav to do this time of year it was lovely to have the opportunity to again 🥀✨🥺

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im-his-druidess · 1 year

Note

This is (I think) my favourite gif of Vincent because FUCK I WANT HIM TO LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT AFTER IVE BEEN TIED UP.

Okay but I love this gif.

I headcanon that he tilts his head like this (he did it a few times in the movie) because he can only see out of that one eye. So this is just another way for him to clear his vision from his hair being in his face.

BUT ON TO THE HORNY

That's absolutely how he would look at you. Taking in all your curves and the different angles of your body. Commiting it all to his memory (and to his video camera) so he can recreate it in a wax sculpture or painting.

He would probably scavenge for some pretty ribbons or scarves, maybe even convince Lester to buy some at the next town, just to see the different materials on your body and how you look with different colors. Might even decide to put the paint on you if he's feeling particularly creative.

It will all end with him fucking you until you can barely remember your own name, body trembling and pussy swollen and tender from the pounding he just gave it, and your skin rubbed raw from the friction of the ropes/ribbons/scarves. Of course he would want to stare at you some more afterwards.

You'll probably be there a while 😌

#Vincent Sinclair #House of Wax #Vincent Sinclair x Reader #Vincent Sinclair headcanons #House of Wax headcanons #House of Wax x Reader #Brian Van Holt #Slasher #Slasher x Reader #Slasher headcanons #slashers #Slashers x Reader #slasher fandom #house of wax 2005 #prompt fill #Brian Van Holt x Reader #Brian Van Holt headcanons #The cryptid answers

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gadriezmannsgirl · 1 year

Text

Gorgeous -Pedri González

Guess who's back with more Vzlan! Reader fics?! Ajá, yo🤭😌 Also... Influencer!Reader

Warnings: High content of Venezuelan slang, curse words, some jokes (?) or mentions of them because I can't joke to save my life, lots of Spanish.

Please, feedback is highly appreciated!

Summary: The guys made him know you but your warm aura and way of being was the one to make him fall for you

You. Y/N Y/L/N. A pretty much famous Latina influencer. You kinda went all in, a lot of people followed you because, you liked sports and health, often gave outfit and makeup tips, travelled and the one you loved to do the most was photographic art, also you didn't had the need of being another persona in front of the cameras. You were exactly the same in and out.

And you guess the realistic side of you, the natural, humble but still strong and pretty girl you are, was the thing that attracted people the most to you.

Including, the football player Ansu Fati.

The young man had started following you back in 2020, when you moved to Barcelona and it was for a simple mistake he turned being your fan, he had bumped into one of your posts about this healthy recipe and asked his mom to try it out for him. When he grabbed a bite he fell in love with it and started following you for more recipes but at the end of the day, he fell into your "fandom" because of your natural personality.

You never tried, you were just you.

So when one day he was wheezing, laughing and crying when training was done, his teammates were a bit concerned about what had possesed him.

"Hostias, ¿Y a ti qué te pasa, tio?" Pedri had asked as Ansu kept on laughing, when Balde went behind him and saw his phone, the image of you in a podcast with your other three friends laughing your asses off, made sense to the other guy who nodded letting out a simple 'Ah!'

"What's up with him?" Ferran asked

"He's watching another video of Y/N Y/L/N" Balde joined him "When did she posted this one?" Balde, along with Pablo Torre, Eric and Ansu were big fans of yours thanks to the last one influence

"It's not hers" He managed to say "It's from these guys who she hangs around with always"

"You mean "Los Bichos"?" Pablo Torre asked getting behind them to see the content as well "I gotta go and see that one"

"What's the big thing about her?" Pedri suddenly asked. He had heard your name before and knew you were an influencer but never really saw one of your videos or really followed you on Instagram or any other social media. The guys looked at him as if he was crazy, not really believing what their friend had just said.

"She's amazing" Ansu answered "She gives good tips on health, fashion, she also does travelling and photography and she likes sports. Her carisma is what attracts people in"

"Not to mention the looks" Torre murmured "Hermosa" He blew a kiss towards Ansu's phone

"Aurora is basically in love with her, always having one of her lives, videos, podcasts or anything"

"Sira's the same" Ferran nodded "I have seen her, she's quite the jokester too"

Suddenly all of them were watching Ansu's phone

"Well, she indeed is really pretty" Gavi agreeded

"Sad that she may not be like we see her on real life tho" Pedri shrugged his shoulders

"No, she is" Torre nodded "One of my girl friends has met her and she says she's the sweetest"

Pedri could only see your smile and the way you threw your head back in laughter, amazed, you were beautiful. He wasn't going to deny it, he had eyes, big ones in fact, and he could see the beauty of women.

"How old is she?" Gavi asked

"She just turned twenty" Eric said

"What did you say her name was?"

"Y/N Y/L/N" He nodded pretending not to be interested

That very same night, Pedri was fighting himself to watch some of your content on Instagram and Youtube, he didn't know what was he afraid of, he was just going to see what's the fuss of the guys, nothing else.

But oh boy...

One video, turned into two, then three, four, five, six and by the time he realized it was 2:30 am, his battery that used to be on 87% was now in 4% and thirty videos he had watched

"Hostia, mae'mia" The Canarian murmured "It's really late" He considered plugging his phone and stop seeing your videos but the longer he kept thinking of it, the less he wanted to let go of his phone, he wanted to see your smile one more time, your laugh and your pretty big eyes, you indeed were really sweet in and out of cameras.

He had now seen the thing the guys had seen in you too. He decided to push the Follow button on your Instagram account and also decided to see the last Live you have done recently which was three days ago.

"¿Por qué no hablas español?" (Why don't you talk Spanish?) You had read confused "¿Y es que yo hablo chino?" (And do I speak Chinese?) You laughed lightly "I think I get what you mean, it's the accent, right?" You stopped for a second to drink some water "Well, déjame decirte chama que mi acento venezolano es demasiado bello pa' yo cambiarlo. I don't mean to say the Spanish accent isn't pretty, because it really is, I like it. It's just not my style because I'm obviously not a Spaniard" (let me tell you, girl, that my Venezuelan accent is too beautiful for me to change it) You paused a little

"Sí, que se me puede salir un poquillo el vosotros y algunas cosillas que hacéis" (Yes, I can get out a little about and some things that you guys do) You did a perfect Spanish accent laughing "Pero, no" You spoke naturally shaking your head (But no)

He smiled watching you and your Latina roots, defending and wearing them proudly.

That was only the start of Pedri crushing on you. The next following weeks, he had not missed a single Live, Vlog or post that you did. Soon the guys knew Pedri had developed a crush on you when Gavi spied on his phone and saw him looking a post about a photoshoot you had done for Vogue España

"You like her?" Eric asked

"She's really nice" He had nodded blushing

"But you like her?"

"She is nice" Pedri repeated "She probably doesn't know me"

"C'mon, the girl loves sports, she's actually a Barca fan!!" Ansu replied as Pedri smiled shaking his head

"It's just a mere crush, it'll go away in a while" He said and everyone dropped the subject.

"¡Hola mis amores lindos!" (Hello my beautiful loves!) You smiled at the camera "Yo estoy bien y espero que ustedes se encuentren muy bien también y si no pues espero que este mensaje les anime un poquito... Les hablo para notificarles que como cosa rara" (I'm fine and I hope you're feeling very well too and if not, then I hope this message encourages you a little... I'm speaking to notify you that as a strange thing) You laughed lightly "Mis chicos de "Los Bichos" me han invitado nuevamente a ser parte de uno de sus magnificos episodios de su podcast, el episodio va a ser en vivo, podremos contestarles algunas de sus preguntas, mandar saludos, revelaré unas pocas cosas que se vienen en grande y bueno, las demás vainas que los chicos hacen, ustedes ya saben como es la cuestión así que sin más nada que decir los espero este jueves a las 21hrs de España. Les mando un besote bien grande y un abrazo muy cálido. Take care!" (My boys from "Los Bichos" have invited me again to be part of one of their magnificent episodes of their podcast, the episode will be live, we will be able to answer some of your questions, send greetings, I will reveal a few things that are coming Big and good, the rest of the things that the boys do, you already know what the matter is, so without further ado, I'll wait for you this Thursday at 9:00 p.m. in Spain. I send you a big kiss and a very warm hug)

It was set. He cleared up his whole agenda, just to have Thursday night free all to himself... And well, to Fer as well.

"Why are you so suddenly obsessed with that girl?" Fer asked as Pedri got ready to watch your Live, he had connected his laptop to his TV and his phone besides him "You've been a month and something suddenly Y/N this and Y/N that"

"She's good" Pedri shrugged his shoulders

"You like her?"

"Puff, no" When Pedri turned around to see his brothers face he knew he couldn't lie "Maybe a little?" Fer raised his eyebrows

"I'm not gonna make fun of you" Pedri sighed

"Okay, she's gorgeous and I like her" Pedri admitted

"She seems really nice"

"Torre says he has a friend that has met her and that she's the sweetest" Pedri replied "I kinda want to meet her"

"Slide into her DM's and say: Hey, big fan. Wanna go out?" Pedri laughed

"Sure, she will say yes quickly" Both brothers laughed as the Podcast started.

"Welcome to another episode of Los Bichos, today we'll be talking a bit of everything but mostly about our love humiliations or just humiliating thing that has happened to us in general"

"And who's better to say that than Y/N Y/L/N?" Other guy said presenting you

"My life isn't that bad, Adrián" You replied smiling "Worse than Miguel's can't be, that's for sure" You point with your lips to the guy sitting in front of you as he shocked points at himself and laughs in disbelief

"Well, she's got a point" The first guy talked

"Nelson talks as if he has the greatest life ever" Miguel said pointing to the first guy with his head

"I don't actually but everyone's life is better than yours, pendejo" You all laughed out loud "Ve, ¿Y tú aquí haciendo algún tipo de propaganda?" (Look, are you here doing some kind of propaganda?) You shook your head

"¿Por qué dices eso?" (Why you say that?) You ask

"The big Barcelona jersey you have on" You look down and smile

"Mano, no; I'm not doing anything. Si supieras que el Barcelona me había enviado un email hace como tres semanas y yo nunca les respondí" (If you know, the Barcelona sent me an email three weeks ago and I never answered them)They laughed "Saben que yo soy fan del club y me hicieron una camisa con mi nombre y el número de mi jugador favorito" (They know I'm fan of the club and they made me this Jersey with my name and the number of my favorite player) You casually replied not thinking too much of it

"Which is?"

"Un jugador" You smirked playing with your golden bracelete, they started yelling a few "A"'s "B, C y D" They laughed "¿Tú creíste que yo iba a ser mongola para caer en esa vaina? No, señor" (Did you thought I was going to be a fool and fell into the trap? No, sir) You shook your head smiling "¡Maldición! I forgot this is live!" (Shit) You yelled "How are you guys doing?" You ask winning a round of laughter with the guys

"We're starting here... Y/N, care to tell us something humiliant that has happened to you?"

"My whole life" You replied as they laughed "No, kidding. Once I had something going on with this guy, it was December and..."

If Pedri liked you, by the end of that live he was most likely in love with you. You were simple and very funny, your sense of humour was the thing that ended up pulling him into you.

He honestly felt like a fan of his but with you. It was terrifying as hell.

"Ad, ¿Si vas a hacer por fin el stand up comedy show?" You asked

"Yes, I will be doing it" Adrián nodded "Why?"

"I wanna go" You pout a bit

"You're invited, don't worry"

"Remember everyone when is it" Nelson said

"This Sunday at 20hrs in the Batuar Hotel Cotton House, make sure to get the tickets as soon as possible they're almost sold out"

"We need those" Pedri said immediately grabbing his phone and getting on the app "¡Hostias, joder! It's too slow"

"Calm down, we'll get one"

After fifteen painful minutes when Pedri was about to finish the purchase, his screen filled out with the No Availabe words

"This event is sold out"

"¡Puta que le parió!" Pedri exclaimed feeling sad

"It's okay bro. She's here in Barcelona, we can see her any other day" Pedri sighed

"I really wanted to see her this Sunday"

"Maybe not this Sunday, but eventually you will" Pedri sighed in annoyance

"Anyway, let's finish watching this" He murmured his eyes on the screen.

His eyes fixated on the Barca home jersey you were wearing and the words my favorite player's number, he wondered... It could be his? Also... You looked incredibly good with the club of his dreams, he couldn't help but imagine you on the stands cheering on for him when suddenly he got himself out of that dreamland. He was really starting to seem like his fans who daydreamed about him.

His mood was down a bit Friday and Saturday when they were at training and Ansu came up to them

"I hope all of you are free tomorrow"

"Why?" Gavi asked as Ansu pulled out six tickets

"We're going to see Adrián Jiménez's live show were Y/N will be present"

Pedri quickly ran and grabbed a ticket, his mood lifted up completely, he grabbed Ansu's head and kissed him

"Thanks, amigo"

"Thanks, nothing. I will be your best man at the wedding"

...

Sunday rolled in and Pedri was nervous and excited, he would be in the same place as you, hopefully met you and make himself fall in love with you once again. You just had a thing that drew him into you and he liked it. Your Latina beauty keeping him on his feet everytime, you way of expressing yourself, your carisma, everything he saw from you, he liked it.

Thanks to Eric, they were a bit late, fifteen minutes late, the show had already started as they were looking for their table, thanfully everyone was into Adrián, they didn't recognized the six football players coming in, everyone but you.

You were surprised seeing them here, you didn't know they were fans of Adrián or the rest of the guys, but you were even more surprised when three of them sat in your table, you greeted them with a little "Buenas noches" and a warm smile, Pedri who was besides you smiled widely at hearing your voice

"Ferran Torres"

"Pablo Torre"

"Pedri"

You smile lightly "Y/N Y/L/N"

"Chica, deja de estar chanceando" (Girl, stop joking around) Pedri saw you lift your hands a bit surprised being scolded by your friend

"¡Pero no estoy chanceando!" (I'm not joking around!) You exclaimed a little

"¿Ah no?" He shook his head "What are you doing?"

"Greeting my tablemates" The place laughed at your face "¡Y si lo estuviese no es tú peo, mano!" (And if I were, it's not your deal, man!)

"Oye, mira tú-"

"¡'Tas en medio de un show, sigue hablando de como dejaste caer el telefono en el baño de la estación del metro!" (You're in the middle of a show, keep talking about how you dropped the phone in the subway station bathroom!)

"Verga y lo más arrecho es que lo tenía que usar urgente" (Fuck and the most awful thing is that I had to use it urgently) His words made the whole place laugh "You were with me that day"

"I definitely wasn't"

"¿Cómo que no estabas pero sabes lo que pasó?" (How come you weren't there but do you know what happened?)

"You texted it in the groupchat, tonto"

"Shit, I always do that, I eat and I pass pics, I shit and I pass pics, I walk and I pass pics, I play FIFA and I pass pics... I need to stop doing that"

"Please don't" You asked laughing "Me acuerdo aquel día que estabamos todos haciendo una videollamada, tú fuiste a hacerte una merienda y te ha salido una tarántula en uno de los empaques" (I remember that day we were all making a video call, you went to make yourself a snack and a tarantula came out in one of the packages)

"MOVING ON!" Laughter filled the room.

Besides your greeting and you apologising for your friend's craziness, you never spoke with any other of the guys just small smiles when the even was done you said your goodbyes to them and went to Adrián, Pedri sighed having lost his chance to talk to you

"C'mon, man. You let her go"

"I just couldn't do it... I don't know what happened"

"You'll have another chance, bro" Gavi patted Pedri's back smiling tightly at him "She was watching you too" The youngster smirked making Pedri shake his head

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, guys. Ya vuelvo" (I'll be back) And with that Pedri left them.

He splashed water on his face and cleaned his hands, slightly disappointed in the fact he didn't do anything else to talk to you. He shook his head

"Quizás no es hora" (Maybe it's not time) He murmured looking at his mirror reflection before leaving the bathroom.

It was like a destiny thing.

You were in front of him and seemed a bit lost, looking around with a confused face.

"¿Todo bien?" (Everything alright?) A male's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, turning around to meet the owner's voice

"Sí, todo bien. Sólo que, no tengo ni la menor idea de dónde puede estar la salida de este lugar" (Yes, everything's good. It's just, I don't have a single clue on where the exit of this place can be) You admitted "El muy..." You moved your moth but no sound came out "puto de Adrián me dejó por un chance que le salió, se fue así sin decir nada y..." (The... fucker of Adrián left me for a date he got, he left without saying anything and...) You sighed "I'm kinda lost in this big place" You smiled shyly "What about you?"

"Bathroom" You nod letting out a little 'Oh!' "Want me to help you?" Your eyebrows went up for a bit "I'm not an incredibly knowner of the place, I've come here twice... Maybe walk you to your car?" You smile shaking your head

"I would take up on your offer but I also don't have anyone to take me home, my car broke down yesterday, Adrián offered me the ride and you are probably busy or just want to have the rest of the night off, so I wouldn't like for you to ditch your plans to spend it glued to me because I was left alone" You smiled as he shook his head

"It wouldn't be a problem for me" Pedri said "I would love to help you, I can give you a ride if you like" He smiled softly "Venga, vamos" He offered your his arm "Maybe you can tell me about more of those healthy recipes? Or talk to me in Venezuelan slang?" You both laughed

"There are too many recipes I can share with my Venezuelan accent but we would need more time for that than a single ride" You accepted his arm watching him smirk

You looked at him smiling lightly "Then how about we can go for a coffee next time?"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

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