𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒚! masc biker!maki asking for your number.
— MAKI SPOTTED YOU the moment she pulled up at the stoplight.
you were standing on the sidewalk, scrolling on your phone and sipping on your drink. you didn't even notice you could cross the street, too focused on getting the best angle for your selfies. maki smiled under her helmet.
her gloved hand twisted the accelerator. the bike purred, catching your attention. when your eyes stilled on her; questioning, eyebrow raised, maki pulled out the phone propped on the handle of the bike. she used it to record her rides and post them on social media, most of her content was people getting surprised of her being a female biker under all that baggy clothing and polarysed helmet.
a snicker fell out her lips with the look of confusion on you. yet, you still walked over to the bike.
"are you talking to me?" you pointed at yourself. maki nodded, her voice muffled under the plastic around her head. your eye fell on the phone, still eagerly presented to you. "you want my number?"
even with the dark visor, maki could tell you were blushing. your voice got all high-pitched and smiley when she nodded again.
manicured hands picked the device softly, trying not to drop it from the nerves, and swiftly tapped a sequence of numbers on the contact information, cup nuzzled between your arm and your waist. you pressed call, just to show her it was your real number.
the phone was laid on its prop again. your finger twisted on a strand of hair while you drawed the plastic straw to your glossy lips. "what's your name, big guy?" the way you asked gave maki chills. it was no longer a shy question. your eyelashes batted and your voice got all velvety.
maki motioned to you, asking you to lift the visor for her. you raised your eyebrow again, but did as told.
when you found her dark, sharp eyes glinting behind rectangular eyeglasses, your cheeks got hot pink. mouth hung open, eyes opened almost like two perfect circles.
"m'name's maki, baby, that okay?" maki drawled, almost like vocal fry, tilting her head to the side while her eyes raked over you now that the black tint no longer distortioned her sight.
there was a minuscule pause where maki thought—maybe you actually thought she was a guy, and now you might not like her. but then, you bit your lip and smiled.
you were always told to stay away from people like maki zenin- but that only made you want her more
cw ⋆.˚ smut, wlw, biker!maki, female!reader, light drinking, ass slapping, nipple play, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby), choking, rough sex, squirting, face fucking, oral, cum eating, scissoring, tribbing, teasing, face grabbing, hair grabbing, praise, dom!maki im drooling
wc ⋆.˚ 1.5k
ever since you were a young child, your parents warned you to be wary of people like maki zenin.
yeah, fuck that.
you were now in your twenties and down bad for girls like her.
if anything, the cliché parental advice only caused you to be more drawn to people like maki– risky, cocky, and seemingly dangerous. every time you heard the roar of her motorcycle engine outside of the bar window, her beautiful face coming into view as she removed her helmet and shook out her sweaty, messy hair, you were weak in the knees.
you weren’t usually one to get involved with her type, though, just thirsting from a distance to the point where your thighs would clench together during nearly all of your shifts. you’d slide your fingers through your slick folds at home later after clocking out, fresh out of the shower, imagining their sexy faces buried inside your cunt and coming around your fingers to wishes that they were the ones touching you instead.
a lot of people like maki frequented your bar, and many of them tried to catch you, but none of them had enough game for your taste, and so you simply only had the desire to keep everything in your head so as to not ruin your fantasy.
that is, until maki herself came along.
she had a tendency to lean over the counter, licking her lips insatiably while she watched your body sway as you walked from corner to corner to serve other customers. you never hid the fact you knew her eyes were always lingering on you, smirking flirtatiously every time you passed by her throughout the night.
when it was less busy, you’d chat about nothing and everything together, you leaning your elbows against the counter top whilst your chin rested in your palms, unable to hide how much you were enjoying the conversation. her eyes would flicker incessantly between yours and your mouth, both of your minds clouded with the same thoughts that you still hadn’t dared to speak aloud to each other.
it was silently noted by the both of you that things would progress eventually. who would be the first to break through the undeniable tension? that was the real question.
“you know,” maki purred, fingers tapping tauntingly on her empty rum glass, “riding a motorcycle is pretty boring without company.”
you looked at her, a sly smile beginning to tug at your lips. “oh, yeah?” you teased.
she nodded, sliding the glass over towards you. you picked it up, then placed it in the bus bin. “yeah,” she smiled, eyes darkening with that enticing glow they always seemed to carry, “care for a ride?”
maki's motorcycle isn’t the only thing you ended up riding that night.
she carelessly threw her helmet onto the floor of her apartment, kicking the door shut aggressively behind her as she assisted in removing your own. her lips were on yours immediately, pushing your back against the hallway walls with each swipe of her tongue across yours as you stumbled over towards her bedroom.
with a harsh slap to your ass, she tossed you onto the bed, mouth finding your neck and collarbone as she sloppily left marks along your soft skin. you involuntary wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her down further onto your body. she let out a soft grunt, teeth sinking into your pulse point.
with a gasp, you fisted her shirt, her briefly pausing her lips on your neck to remove it and toss it somewhere onto the floor. her hands slid beneath the hem of yours, fingertips padding into your sensitive spots as her tongue dragged across the beautiful purples and blues decorating your throat. you moaned, lifting your hips impatiently to tell her you wanted her, that you needed more.
you groaned the moment her fingers squeezed your breasts, her quickly unhooking your bra and removing it along with your shirt without barely breaking apart from you. your whines filled every corner of her mouth as she kissed you again, continuing to toy with your hardened nipples between her fingertips.
you squealed and she chuckled. “you like that?” she muttered, biting down on your bottom lip, “fuck, you make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart.”
within seconds, she had the rest of your clothing discarded and your positions flipped so you were straddling her lap, her hands resting smugly behind her head as she eyed your beautiful, bare body exposed and resting on top of her. “fuck yourself for me, baby” she cooed, “show me how you ride it.”
your lips quivered as you slid along her cunt, her clit bumping against yours sending shivers down your spine. you were already drooling, cheeks flushed as she tickled your bundle of nerves with each drop of your hips. “y–you feel so– ngh– good, maki.”
“you know how to fuck me so well, don’t you?” she hummed, one hand moving to rest gently against your cheek, “you look so pretty like this, riding my pussy.” she huffed out a puff of air as she pulsed against your slick folds. “think you were made for me.”
it didn’t take long for your positions to be switched again, your leg thrown over her thigh, cunt being wrecked as her hands squeezed your throat and hips.
“you hear yourself?” she groaned, knot growing in your stomach, “you’re fucking soaked for me.”
you were crying, mewling, body squirming along the sheets as he she rode your sensitive, puffy cunt with precision, her slightly calloused fingertips toying with your nipples as if her life depended on it.
“fuck,” she hissed, hips sputtering as she felt your arousal drip out of you, “you feel so. damn. perfect.”
your throat cracked, legs shaking as she licked a clean stripe up your sternum, the coil in your stomach on the verge of snapping. “fuck, maki!” you screamed, back arching with each grind of her hips, “i’m gonna f–fucking come!”
she rolled her eyes blissfully, letting out a soft whine that nearly threw you off guard with the contrast of how she had been up until that point, heavy breaths falling from her lips as she pushed you over the edge.
“oh my god,” you cried, gasping as you squirted all over her cunt, the filthy squelching of your splashing, sticky cum increasing the filthy schlaps of her lower lips against yours, “fuck, fuck!”
“look at you,” maki groaned, hardly slowing her thrusts. your whines only guided her closer to releasing, “so fucked-out and a mess for me already.”
you nodded, eyelids fluttering, body still vibrating as maki finally reached her peak, gritting her teeth as she pulled away from you at the last possible second.
“open your mouth,” she growled, barely giving you any time to do what she commanded before sitting on your face and rubbing her cunt messily all over your lips, “such a good girl.”
you moaned against her, slurping desperately and swallowing everything she gave you as she sent slow, hard thrust to a still.
“fuck, who taught you how to do this?” she choked, one hand reaching to grab your strands firmly as she squirted all of her cum on your face, “so filthy and perfect, jesus christ.”
she lifted herself off of you slowly, the sweet pop of your mouth releasing her clit wanting to rest permanently in her brain. she collapsed beside you, letting out a loud exhale of exhaustion and pure elation. it was the best kind of feeling.
“that was… just, wow,” you exclaimed, turning your head to the side to look at her. you were still shaking and a wreck.
she did the same, twisting her head in your direction, peaking her eyes over her arms that she rested her face in as she lay on her stomach. her smirk was hidden, but you could still sense it. “yeah?” she cooed, “think you’d like to do this again sometime?”
you lowered your lids, dark and enticing, before turning your body to fully face her. "hmmm,” your lips turned cunning, hand slipping beneath her stomach to reach her still pulsing clit. she gasped as you grazed slid your fingers between her folds. “what do you think?”
in an instant, you were pinned below her again, jaw resting firmly in one of her palms whilst the other cupped your begging, needy cunt. “i think,” she started, slow and deliberate, squeezing your cheeks and coating her fingers with your slick, “you want me to break you until you’re completely ruined and fucked for anyone else.”
you wrapped your arms around the nape of her neck, bringing her down to kiss you, your lips finding hers with soft passion. when you pulled away, you smiled again; it was laced with profound desire. you were done for, completely whipped.
“you,” your voice was low, quiet, whilst one hand reached to toy with her cunt again, thumb sliding across her soaked hole. she hissed, “are absolutely correct.”
You know what would be a funny crack fic? Dazai is just flirting/messing around w a girl and the reader instead of getting pissed they just flirt with the girl like 'is be bothering you queen' and she actually wins the girl dazai was flirting w over. So dazais is just like this 🧍♂️
ꌗteal ꌩour ꁅirl
⌯⌲ say less. put that man in his place!!!
You don't really know why you agreed to let Dazai try to flirt with someone at the club, but here you are, listening to him drone on and on with some smooth talk that wouldn't even work on you to some poor girl hanging around the bar — her hand subtly covering the top of her cocktail as she politely smiles at the things he's saying, but definitely not impressed by his meaningless, empty words. Even she can tell he's just messing around, not taking any of this seriously, and kind of wants him to leave her alone.
You sigh, not sure how much more of this you can handle, leaning against the opposite end of the bar behind him as he continues with his faux coolness that you one hundred percent know he doesn't have an ounce of, his annoyingly suave nature that only comes out when he wants something more or less off-putting in a crowded club with other sweating bodies — but at least he isn't touching her.
With a small roll of your eyes, you push yourself off the ledge and saunter over, lightly brushing past Dazai with a subtle flicker in his direction before stepping in between the two to face the random girl and tossing a thumb over your shoulder. "Hey, babe. Is this loser bothering you?" You ask, completely disregarding your boyfriend behind you that is giving an incredulous look, offended by your audacity and the fact he felt like he was wearing her down enough. She hesitates before nodding, giving you the 'help me' eyes as she wears a forced smile. You gently wave her off, lightly shaking your head. "Don't mind him, he's stupid but harmless. Just loves to hear himself talk, as all men do." You offer her a sincere smile with reassurance. "You look so cute, by the way. I love your top; where'd you get it?"
Dazai has been standing there behind you, listening as you talk with your "new friend", sipping on his drink in silence for the past half hour. Pouting. You and the stranger giggle periodically during your conversation, learning her name is Hinako, and every so often she twirls a piece of hair around her finger while speaking with you or touching your shoulder or even overexaggerating her laughter — you entirely oblivious to what's happening as you laugh along while his dark eyebrows are raising while overhearing the conversation, and he can't believe you have no clue what's happening, that you were successful in winning this girl over instead of him. Unless you are just... ignoring it.
"You are so funny!" Her words slur, a few more drinks in that you have "bought" — from Dazai's tab — with him still off to the side, standing there confused, bored, and a little miffed, watching as she is beginning to physically cling to your body as a crutch. Her nose nuzzles on your cheek, and it actually makes you blush some while you try keeping her held up. "Much better to talk than that dumb guy." She giggles more before placing a big, elongated, sticky kiss on your same cheek with an emphasized mwah!
"Okay, okay!" He finally decides he needs to interrupt, carefully peeling her off your body — all while ignoring her drunken protests and 'who do you think you are's, doing his best to maintain his cool; however, he's tired of watching helplessly as someone else tries to steal his girlfriend away from him. "Get off of her, she's mine!" His nose wrinkles as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, protective, possessive, and gives her a disapproving look. "I wanna go home!" He suddenly whines in your ear, the alcohol he's been drinking all night getting in his system, mixing with his mild irritation.
"Yours? No way! She's going home with me!" Hinako argues, trying to cling to you too, and you sigh heavily, getting caught in this silly tug of war with two increasingly drunk individuals that are actually fighting over you.
"No! She's mine! I am her boyfriend, go away!" He laments, attempting to shoo at her, as if she's some pesky animal, and you roll your eyes again at the two, struggling against them to break yourself free as she shouts something along the lines of 'I don't care if you're her boyfriend, she was flirting with me', and you kind of wish you had just let him crash and burn on his own. While accidentally bumping into a few people walking by, them giving you some weird looks that cause your cheeks to flush with immense embarrassment at the scene being caused in public, like a couple of school kids arguing over who gets to date their crush. While it was pretty flattering to have Hinako practically wrapped around your finger in a means to rub it in Dazai's face that he isn't the only one successful in obtaining a pretty girl's attention, it's now just gotten way out of hand. And you hate being smothered by more people than him.
"God, I'm leaving you both here and going home alone!" You shout over the bumping of the exceptionally loud EDM straight from an early 2000s house party movie, storming off to the bathrooms for hopes of some peace and quiet, and a way to call a taxi home. Hinako, on the other hand, glances at Dazai before sticking her tongue out and chasing you down, meeting you in the one place he won't dare try to follow you in.
"Wha— hey! That's playing dirty!"
got a bit distracted while watching a silent hill f play-through :p probably gonna have nightmares
- ghxst
mini fic masterlist
tag list//: @dazaisfavoritemistake @luanniidae @grubluunch
In which Spencer and the reader have their first time together after the reader has cold feet about sex (smut!)
masterlist
tags: age gap, munch!spencer reid, bad sex, smut, giver boyfriend, fingering, eating out, kissing, making out, first time, cold feet, honeymoon phase, early relationship, love, relationship, subtle masturbation
warnings: talks of past bad sex, talks of masturbation, fingering, mention of vibrators, spencer going down on reader
notes: sorry for being away so long but i’m back!! I’ll be more active after june tho!
———————————————————
You and Spencer met through one of your close friends, Penelope Garcia, around four months ago, and your relationship was going great. The only thing you worried about was your almost 10-year age gap. Spencer was 33, and you were recently 24. There were a lot more things he had experienced that you hadn’t, and you didn’t want them to interfere with your relationship.
One of these things was sex. It wasn’t that you didn’t like sex you had done it a couple of times but it wasn’t enjoyable, you had more pleasure in doing it yourself than either of the times you had been with men in the past.
You knew Spencer was a man, he most likely wanted to have sex but you also knew he was respectful and would never force you to do something you didn’t want to. You’d spoken to Penelope about it and she told you to speak to Spencer about it but that was over a month ago.
Spencer was at your apartment watching a movie and you had been kissing for a little while until you pulled away and turned back to the TV.
Spencer fidgeted beside you rubbing his shoulder after getting comfortable, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” You said not looking away from the TV.
“I think we need to talk about something,” Spencer said pausing the movie.
“What is it?” You asked turning to face him again, spotting that he was flustered.
“Are you… attracted to me?” He asked.
“Yeah obviously baby,” You said kissing his cheek, “Play the movie?”
“No that’s not all…”
“What is it?” You asked again.
“I don’t want you to think I’m rushing you or that this is a massive deal to me but I think it’s something we should discuss…” Spencer started.
“Okay,” You dragged out the last letter of the word.
“We’ve been together 4 months by that time most people have gone further than kissing on the sofa, I didn’t want to bring it up because it doesn’t bother me that we aren’t having sex, I would love to when you’re ready I want to make you feel good… sexually.”
“Oh, right well I’m just not compatible with sex stuff so it doesn’t matter to me but I know guys want or need sex so I understand you asking.”
“No honey, I don’t need sex, I went a long time of my life without it. Wait what do you mean you’re not compatible with it?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.
“Umm,” You blushed and looked down, “Men can’t make me… you know orgasm.”
“That’s not got anything to do with you or your compatibility with sex,” Spencer said.
“What do you mean? It’s definitely something wrong with me if both the men I’ve been with haven’t been able to get me there,” You rolled your eyes so Spencer couldn’t see.
“Let me ask you some questions, is that okay?”
“I suppose.”
“Do you masturbate?” Spencer asked without hesitation.
You blinked and opened your mouth to speak but closed it again not
expecting that to be his first question, “Sorry, I didn’t expect- um yeah I do.”
“And do you reach an orgasm on your own?”
“Yeah… most of the time,” You looked up at him.
“There, there’s no problem with you it’s just the men you were with.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You said yourself you orgasm when you’re spending time on yourself, you know what you like so you’re the best example to go off. If you need me to keep going I can ask, Did these men do any kind of foreplay?”
“Not really,” You shrugged.
“Foreplay is essential, studies show that only thirty percent of women can orgasm by intercourse alone,” Spencer said tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.
“Really? So it’s common?”
Spencer hummed, “Yes sweetheart you need someone who communicates with you that’s the main factor. Communication.”
“Okay… I’m happy to try having sex,” You said, you were already slightly turned on from the kissing and his factual knowledge of female orgasms.
“Not today,” Spencer said.
“Oh… okay,” You shrugged feeling slightly rejected.
“Wait I mean I want to make you come,” Spencer corrected himself, “without sex, I want to show you how you should be treated.”
You smiled, “Okay, how?”
“You are going to tell me what you like while I touch you,” Spencer said but phrased it more like a question that you needed to respond to.
“Okay.”
Spencer tilted your head up with his thumb and finger before leaning in to kiss you once again.
Your kisses were a little more electric and passionate than usual and when your tongues curled together a wave of butterflies burst inside your stomach. A small gasp escaped your mouth when one of Spencer’s hands moved to your thigh, running it over your clothes.
“Is that nice?” Spencer asked pulling back from the kiss.
“Yes,” You reconnect your lips before he squeezes your thigh.
The kissing continued for a little while until you pulled away, “What’s next?” You asked out of breath.
“What do you usually do?” Spencer asked, a hand moving to your hair and playing with it.
“Well, I like being in my bedroom for starters.”
“Should we go there?”
You nod, standing up from the sofa and taking his hand. He’d been in your bedroom before when he had slept over but this was different.
“What next?” He asked sitting on the end of the bed.
“I usually use a vibrator, sometimes I finger myself,” You couldn’t help but blush at your words, you couldn’t believe you were telling your boyfriend this.
“Good, we can work with that,” Spencer smiled, pulling you closer to him.
“I don’t want you to use my vibrator on me.”
“That’s fine honey,” Spencer kissed your swollen lips once again.
You took it upon yourself to lay down on your bed after your lips disconnected.
Spencer lingered over the top of you playing with the hem of your shirt, “Can I undress you?”
“Yes,” Within a matter of minutes, your clothes minus your panties were on the floor.
“You’re beautiful,” Spencer kissed your collarbone and the tops of your breasts.
“Thank you,” You sighed softly.
“I’m going to start here okay?” Spencer asked his mouth in line with your left breast.
“Mhm o-okay.”
He lowered his mouth to your nipple taking it inside his mouth and lapping circles around it in between quick sucks while he massaged the other one.
“Oh,” A breathy moan left your mouth, “That feels so good.”
Spencer hummed sending vibrations to your breast. Your fingers threaded in his hair pulling it gently neither of the men you had been with before had ever done this.
Spencer switched breasts doing the same for your right one as he had the left. You felt yourself growing wetter than you had ever felt, he knew exactly what he was doing.
One of his hands made its way between your legs as he used two fingers to run over the fabric of your panties.
“You’re wet honey,” He dipped his fingers inside the underwear, “Do you want me to take them off?”
“Yes please,” You sigh with pleasure.
Spencer slid the underwear down your legs throwing them somewhere on the floor, “I might have to buy you a new pair,” he laughed.
His soft fingers connected with the slick wetness between your folds rubbing from the entrance to your clit several times. He used his middle and ring fingers to rub the small nub of nerves in circles in a mix of different pressures to see what brought the best reaction out of you.
The harder he pressed the more your eyes flickered closed, it felt amazing what he was doing, “Mhm Spence.”
“Is this good baby?” Spencer asked massaging it faster.
“A-amazing,” You stuttered with a moan.
Without much notice he used his other hand to start penetrating, He pushed his middle finger inside of you slowly making sure not to hurt you as he entered.
Long breathily moans exited your mouth at the feeling of him inside of you and the moans only got louder as he curled the finger moving it in and out a bit faster making sure to hit the spongy wall inside of you.
“More,” You groaned, You could feel your stomach tightening but nothing like how it usually felt when you came on your own. You didn’t want to be upset but you were starting to feel frustrated that nothing anyone else did to you could ever get you to that point.
Spencer plunged another finger inside of you copying the same movement as the first finger, curling it and moving both of them at a quick pace.
“I can’t,” You groaned in frustration.
“Honey, you can, I’m here for you. What doesn’t feel good?” Spencer asked stilling his fingers.
“It feels good, so good, it’s just taking too long,” You frowned.
“It’s not taking too long, It will take as long as it takes, I’ll be here for hours if I have to,” Spencer thrust his fingers again, adding his thumb to rub on your clit.
You took your breast into your hands and fondled with your nipples to try to add some extra pleasure.
“I’m going to try something else,” Spencer said. He kept his fingers inside of you still pushing them into your g-spot but he removed his thumb from your clit.
In a matter of a few seconds, his mouth was on you, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves.
You rolled your eyes back, the subtle ache burning inside your stomach. It intensified as his lips attached to your swollen clit sucking it gently.
“Spencer, fuck!” You growled while trying to catch your breath.
When he realised it was working based on the sounds you made and the clenching around his fingers he sped up both of the actions; sucking harder and thrusting harder and deeper.
This was the familiar sensation you felt from when you used your vibrator burned inside of your stomach, “Please don’t stop,” You moaned grabbing hold of his hair.
“Yes, Yes Spencer oh my god!” You rocked against his face to pick up as much friction as possible.
Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he sucked harder on your clit just before you came undone, his name falling from your mouth with loud moans.
After regaining your breath he removed his fingers, sucking them clean to taste all of you.
“Oh my god, thank you,” You pulled him up between your legs so his head was resting near your chest as you kissed his lips.
“Honey there’s no need to thank me, I’ll always make sure that happens.”
“That may have been the best orgasm I've ever had in my life,” You giggled.
“I’m going to keep competing with myself to give you better ones each time,” Spencer smiled, laying his head on your breasts and using them as a pillow.
“What can I do for you?” You asked running your fingertips through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.
“Nothing honey, Just this is perfect. Tonight was about you,” He said, closing his eyes.
summary: jax was never scared of women. until he met the one who didn’t flinch at blood or business. she’s the daughter of a former samcro president — born into the club but never allowed inside. not because she wasn’t loyal. because she wasn’t a man. now she moves product on her own terms. guns, cash, clean ups, disappearances. not anyone’s old lady. not looking for permission.
she runs parallel to the table, never beneath it. and jax?
he can’t stop watching. can’t stop wondering how a woman like her exists — someone just as lethal, just as loyal, and just as fucked up as him.
Hey, I’m really struggling right now. Do you have any stories about reader coming out as Bi to Bucky? Or would you be open to writing one? Just need to feel like someone’s proud of me. Cuz no one in my real life was happy with coming out… and I came out feeling like something was wrong with me, but now I know that I’m not broken at all 💜
The first time you try to tell Bucky, the words die in your throat.
You’re sitting cross-legged on his couch in one of his old henleys, a mug of tea cooling untouched between your palms while some black-and-white movie flickers across the TV. Bucky’s stretched out beside you, metal hand resting warm against your ankle absentmindedly, thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin.
Safe.
That’s the worst part.
Because he’s so safe that it makes your chest ache with how badly you want this to go well.
You swallow hard. “Buck?”
“Hm?” His eyes stay on the screen for a second before drifting to you instantly when he hears the strain in your voice. His whole expression softens. “You okay, doll?”
The concern almost makes you cry immediately.
You look down at the tea. “Can I tell you something?”
Bucky shifts without hesitation, muting the TV and turning fully toward you like nothing in the world matters more than listening.
“Always.”
Your stomach twists.
You hadn’t planned for this tonight. You’d spent weeks trying to convince yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need to tell him. But then your mom had hung up on you earlier after saying she “didn’t understand why you had to choose this lifestyle,” and your friend had awkwardly stopped inviting you places after you came out to her, and suddenly the hurt was sitting so heavy in your chest you could barely breathe around it.
And now here Bucky is looking at you like you’re something precious.
It terrifies you.
“I’m bi,” you blurt out finally, the words tumbling together too fast. “Bisexual. I—I like men and women and I’ve known for a long time but I didn’t tell people because I was scared and when I finally did it went really badly and now I just—”
Your voice cracks.
Humiliation floods hot beneath your skin immediately.
You stare down at your lap before he can see your eyes watering. “Sorry. That sounded stupid.”
“What?” Bucky says immediately, sharp and disbelieving.
You flinch a little at the intensity in his voice, but then his hand is suddenly cupping your cheek gently, guiding your gaze back up to him.
“Hey. No.” His brows pull together. “None of that. Don’t do that to yourself.”
Your throat tightens painfully.
He looks devastated that you would even think that.
“I just…” You laugh weakly. “People didn’t react great.”
Something dark flashes briefly across Bucky’s face at that. Not anger at you—never at you. Anger for you.
“That’s their failure,” he says firmly. “Not yours.”
You blink rapidly.
He says it so easily.
Like it’s obvious.
Like there’s nothing shameful about you at all.
“I thought maybe something was wrong with me for a while,” you admit quietly. “Everyone acted like I’d changed somehow after I told them. Like I was suddenly… different.”
Bucky stares at you for a long moment, eyes impossibly soft.
“Doll,” he says gently, “you know what I see?”
You shake your head slightly.
“I see the same person I fell in love with.”
That breaks you.
A small sound escapes your throat before tears finally spill over, and Bucky is moving instantly, pulling you into his lap with an urgency that makes your chest cave in on itself.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, wrapping both arms around you tightly. “C’mere.”
You hide your face against his neck, embarrassed by how hard you’re crying now.
“I didn’t want you to think differently of me,” you whisper shakily.
Bucky actually leans back enough to look offended.
“Differently?” he repeats. “Honey, I’m proud of you.”
You freeze.
Proud.
The word hits somewhere deep and aching inside you.
Bucky brushes his fingers carefully beneath your eyes, wiping tears away with heartbreaking tenderness.
“I know how hard it is to tell people who you are when you’re scared they won’t love you after,” he says quietly. “Trust me. I know that feeling.”
Your chest tightens because of course he does.
The Winter Soldier. Hydra. Decades of being treated like something monstrous instead of human.
And still he’s here holding you like you’re something worthy of love.
“There is nothing wrong with you,” he says firmly. “Nothing broken. Nothing shameful. You hear me?”
You nod once, lip wobbling.
But Bucky tilts your chin up slightly. “No, sweetheart. I need you to hear me.”
His blue eyes are so earnest it almost hurts.
“You are good exactly as you are,” he says slowly. “You don’t owe anybody an apology for who you love. And anybody who made you feel small for this?” His jaw clenches slightly. “They don’t deserve access to you.”
Fresh tears well up immediately.
You laugh weakly through them. “You’re gonna make me cry harder.”
“Good,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Get it out.”
For a while he just holds you there against his chest, letting you breathe.
No judgment.
No discomfort.
No awkwardness.
Just warmth.
His fingers comb gently through your hair while the apartment settles into quiet around you.
Finally, you mumble against his shoulder, “You really don’t care?”
Bucky pulls back just enough to give you a look.
“Baby,” he says, almost amused, “I’m a hundred-year-old ex-assassin with one metal arm and enough trauma to fill several textbooks. You think I’m gonna be scandalized because my girlfriend likes more than one gender?”
A startled laugh bursts out of you.
“There’s my girl,” he says immediately, smiling softly when he hears it.
Your heart squeezes painfully.
“You know what I think?” he continues. “I think the world gets more versions of you to love. Seems pretty lucky to me.”
You stare at him.
Then suddenly you’re kissing him.
Bucky makes a surprised noise before melting into it instantly, one hand cradling the back of your head carefully like you’re precious.
When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.
“So,” he murmurs, smiling a little, “you still stuck with me?”
You sniffle out another laugh. “Yeah, Barnes. I think so.”
“Good,” he says softly. “Because I’m really proud of you, sweetheart.”
And for the very first time since coming out, you finally believe maybe there’s something beautiful about you after all.
Synopsis: You and Nanami Kenna have been best friends since college and she has patiently sat by as you have cycled through guys and girls who don't deserve you. Will she ever get a chance?
Thank you @purescription and @lemonswirlss for prereading this for me, you're stars.
Word Count: 2.2k
Friday nights had always been your favourite time of the week. Long corporate hours finally ending for a blissful forty-eight hours. And, for those who were truly committed, like yourself, the weekend began the second that work ended at five o'clock on Friday evening. No longer were you confined to white walls and cubicle stalls isolating you from real communication and human connection that you so desperately craved. In their place, you would find yourself surrounded by sweaty bodies and music so loud that you can't properly comprehend the lyrics.
Bars, clubs, karaoke rooms. Anywhere with booze is an invitation, in your eyes, to drown out the lingering troubles of the working week. Like a moth to a flame, you found yourself drawn to crowded dance floors with lights bright enough to illuminate bodies without highlighting their flaws. Most people had a usual crew that they'd bring on their nights out, and you were no different. Every Friday, you were accompanied by your current boyfriend, a few of his friends, and your best friend since high school, Nanami Kenna.
This was your usual routine. You'd text Nanami on the Thursday evening, coordinate an outfit with her, and then on the Friday drag her out with whoever you were currently seeing and their friends. It was your idea of heaven and Nanami's idea of torture. But she loved you - as best friends do - and so she put up with the headache that came from alcohol fuelled nights of dancing. This night, of course, had been no exception.
And yet for Nanami Kenna, it had been the night that everything had changed.
Nothing extraordinary had happened. In fact, the change had come in the most mundane of moments. The two of you found yourselves stood by the men's bathrooms waiting for your boyfriend and his friends. It was easier when you had dated girls in the past, if they went to the bathroom, you went too. But now, when your boyfriend goes, Nanami finds herself in a position where she has to babysit you. She doesn't mind, of course, she'd do anything for you, but stopping a drunk you from running back to the dance floor was like trying to keep a wild bunny still.
Keeping you calm and patient was a great feat, one that required promises of movie nights and free drinks later, but Nanami didn't mind spending extra money on you. Especially when it made your eyes shine in a way that only she could notice. She has a way of reading you that none of your exes ever had. But that's completely normal, I mean she's your best friend, of course she notices how your eyes shimmer, and how you bounce on the balls of your feet when you're bored, and how your hair falls to frame your face perfectly, and how your jeans hugged your ass just right, and-
Her train of thought is broken by you trying to brush your hair out of your face and then bouncing around so much that it immediately falls back into place. Idiot, she thinks… Cute idiot.
Half an hour later, she catches herself staring again. More people had crowded into the club, filling up the booths around the dance floor. You had ran off ahead, claiming one of the last free booths, sitting smack in the middle so Nanami could sit on one side and your boyfriend could sit on the other. The latter was preoccupied at the bar, buying you a drink to help you 'loosen up' after you'd refused to grind on him earlier. Nanami had rolled her eyes at the idea, and did so once again when your boyfriend returns with a beer. When had you ever drank beer? It wasn't like you were picky with your drinks, but fruity little cocktails with paper umbrellas or decorative cherries were always the safest option with you. Nanami just barely caught your boyfriend whisper to you to just drink it because he 'wasn't going to spend more than ten dollars on a stupid drink'.
Well that just wouldn't do. Not when that little pout pulled on your lips as you stared at the glass bottle. Nanami slid out of the booth, making her way to the bar ordering a sex on the beach. Classic, fruity, what could go wrong?
Condensation was rolling down your beer bottle, creating a little pool on the table as Nanami returned. It got wiped away by a paper napkin and then replaced by the tall glass, a small cocktail umbrella decorating the drink along with not one, but two little straws for when you inevitably offer to share your drink with Nanami.
"Drink it, sweetheart" she said calmly, the pet name sliding out naturally as you started thanking her, a familiar twinkle returning to your eyes. She focused on you, completely. Eyes fixed on your lips around one of the tiny straws, your eyes watching your boyfriend, your airy laugh when he told a bad joke. This environment is where you thrive, loud noises, bright lights, endless conversation. It's easy, it's busy, it's Nanami Kenna's personal hell.
Her idea of a nice evening with you would be a quiet sleepover watching a movie. Preferably at your place with your twinkling fairy lights and cosy blankets. Nanami loved when the two of you had sleepovers, you'd insist on making a fort, she'd sigh but comply. You'd order too much takeout and she'd watch as you ate enough to make a normal person sick. You'd fall asleep halfway through whatever romcom you'd selected, your head would rest on her shoulder, your breaths would even out. Those moments, those quiet moments of peace are the moments when Nanami feels that she can truly breathe.
And yet, instead of being at peace, Nanami is sat in a sticky bar listening as your boyfriend tries to impress you with his knowledge of sport — a topic that Nanami knows that you do not care about. Eventually, after what feels like hours of him droning on and on and on and — you get the gist — your boyfriend finally goes to dance, leaving you and Nanami to chat. Which is exactly how Nanami ended up listening to you explaining why he wasn't what you need.
"I just feel like he doesn't listen, you know? Like, when have I ever expressed interest in soccer or drinking beer? It's insane…" You'd complain, mixing your drink with your straw. "I don't know what it is about men, I mean, at least my ex-girlfriends listened to me! I mean, sure, we argued a lot, but she at least heard me out!"
Nanami would nod through each complaint feeling a little guilty at how happy she gets when you mention breaking up with your current boyfriend. And then came the kicker.
"He's also just not my type, you know? I mean, he's attractive, but he's not a bit of me."
"What is your type then?"
"I think I'm into blondes," you answered casually. "Oh, and someone a bit more serious. I know I'm a bit… bubbly… maybe I need someone who can balance that out."
Nanami almost choked on her drink, pausing briefly before recovering. She watched you as she sipped from her glass, testing, seeing if you were looking at her the same way that she was looking at you. Praying that you felt the same way.
Then you joked "maybe I should just date you" and it took every ounce of Nanami's self control to not seriously agree.
Things only got worse from there.
Before, Nanami had thought about you a normal amount. Occasionally seeing something in the store and thinking you'd like it, or sending you TikToks of bunnies that she thought you might enjoy. But suddenly, you consumed her every thought.
It was you that she thought of when she woke up.
It was you that she thought of when she chose her outfit for work — wondering if you'd prefer her in trousers or a dress.
It was you that she texted the moment she thought of something funny.
It was you that she thought of when she sought out women to take home. Usually, she dated all kinds of women, not picky about looks or personality. But now, the women had started to look more and more like you, and they became louder, bubblier, gigglier. Soon enough, Nanami had found that if they didn't resemble you in some sort of way, she just wasn't interested.
However, the biggest change came at a moment she least expected. Because now it was you that she pictured as her hand travelled across her body. She imagined how you would squirm as she circled her own nipples. She pictured your lips and how soft they'd probably feel as she squeezed her own chest. Her hand slowly slid down the soft expanse of her stomach, fingers light as they teased at the waistband of her panties. It was like she was in her own world, like she wasn't alone in her bed after a gruelling eight hours at work.
No, in her mind, Nanami Kenna was in your room, hovering over you as you panted and whined for her. Maybe she's going crazy, but she swears she can actually hear your voice begging for her. Sweet, saccharine whimpers of her name on your tongue as her middle finger teased you through soaked lace.
Real Nanami gasped, her own middle finger stroking lightly over cotton feeling how aroused she already is. It isn't like she struggles to get aroused normally, but picturing you has undoubtedly sped up the process. Slender fingers lightly tease her clit, further soaking the fabric as she imagines pressing her lips to every inch of your body. She'd start at your jaw before slowly moving down to your neck, finally free to mark what she wants to be hers.
Would you prefer her hands on your breasts or her mouth? Nanami has no idea, but she can't help but imagine sucking a peaked nipple into her mouth, tongue swirling around the bud until you were whining. Would you beg her to move down or would you let her take her time? Were you quiet or loud? Would you want toys or would she be enough? These are all things that Nanami wonders as her hand slips into her panties.
Her fingers gather her own wetness, using it to coat her clit before drawing slow clockwise circles, barely touching. Yet it's still enough to make her pant your name. Her eyes close, envisioning you beneath her. Your moans would be intoxicating, she'd want to record them and play them on a loop like white noise. Slowly her own moans grow louder as she imagines you panting out her name. Before she can process what's happening, her back is arching, legs trembling as her orgasm crashes over her like a wave.
It's almost embarrassing how easily she came, just by imagining your voice, picturing your body, envisioning the way your mouth would open around a moan as you finish.
After that sinful night, Nanami had pictured you again and again. Enough times that she felt guilty when she looked at you, but as long as you didn't know it'd be fine, right? And maybe one day you'd feel the same, so for the time being, she was happy to sit back and wonder what she could do to win you over sooner.
Soon enough, it was impacting every interaction she had with you. Sweet, oblivious you, you never noticed. Assumed she'd become more affectionate. I mean, it's normal for friends to play with each other's hair, hug, and kiss each other on the cheek to say goodbye. Sure, it's new for Nanami, but she's your best friend; it's only natural that she'd feel more comfortable with you.
It impacted her in more hidden ways, too. She started reading into conversations too much, started searching for clues that you felt the same. If told her you had a crush — she assumed it was her. When you said you were feeling closer to someone from work — she assumed it was her. The worst was when you started talking about asking a girl out. Nanami spent the next few days imagining how you'd ask her out, waiting for it to happen.
And then, one day, it all crumbled around her.
"She's actually just the sweetest person ever," you'd been rambling for five minutes. Confiding in Nanami about the girl you were interested in. "She's blonde and a little taller than me, which is so hot, and she always looks so serious, like she could just tell me off — God, I wish she'd tell me off-"
Nanami was barely listening anymore. Just enough to hum along with what you'd been saying. Until she heard those words…
"Nanami, will you be my girlfriend?"
Shocked, she glanced up at you briefly, frozen, waiting for you to repeat what you'd said.
"Hello?" You joked, waving a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Nanami. Kenna, are you listening?"
"Sorry, sweetheart, could you just repeat that last thing for me?"
"Yeah, of course! I was just wondering if you think I should ask her to be my girlfriend…"
A/N: Happy Pride everybody!!! Wowie, this took a while. I really hope you all enjoy this, I'm currently unsure how I feel about it but I think I like it (this is prone to change as I am my own biggest critic).
This is a part of the pretty girl avenue event by @seventasia so definitely go and check out everybody else's fics and send them love too!!!
I had hoped to have this out earlier this month but I am i the process of moving (I have survived the flatmate from hell everybody cheer)
Want more Nanami content? Click here!
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warnings: wlw, internalized homophobia, possessiveness, language, emotional manipulation, avoidant attachment, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, grinding, teasing, body worship, dacryphilia, praise and degradation, aftercare, bottom!camilla, top!reader, referenced physical and sexual abuse mdni
Summary: As the only other girl in the greek class, it was your responsibility to get camilla away from all those awful boys. She was your best friend, after all. And sure, she needs a lot of special care and attention, but you have no problem giving that to her.
part two here
You’re straight. Obviously.
Why wouldn’t you be when men looked like that? Though, you will admit you generally prefer them with clothes on. The only thing about them you really couldn’t stand was how rough some of them could be.
It’s one of the reasons you love the greek class. It’s nice to be in a group of young men who think with their minds instead of their dicks. Except for Charles and Francis.
Bunny was ever the gentleman, despite his more distasteful comments about certain kinds of individuals. He opened doors, gave you his sweater when you were cold, danced with you, and called you a “real woman” like his girlfriend back home. You are, to his point, more traditionally feminine than most of the girls at Hampden. You wore often red lipstick and kitten heels to class, and dresses even on weekends.
Charles called you a prude for refusing to sleep with him, but heaven knows where that thing has been. You know, actually. Inside his sister. And you therefore had elected to keep him and Francis far away from you.
Francis was quite affectionate, though a bit of a cunt, and he made you laugh, but you had your suspicions that he was a homosexual, judging mostly by the fact that he slept with men didn’t seem interested in the girls at Hampden.
You had your reservations about Henry at first, but you quickly realized that you had enough in common. You both loved philosophy and had an extensive vocabulary. You both loved Camilla, too.
Not in the same way, obviously, because you aren’t like that, but you did both love her.
You both wanted to keep her away from Charles as often as you could. You both knew what she endured any time he got drunk, or jealous, or angry. You both wanted to keep her safe.
You both wanted to lay with her in bed and press chocolates to her tongue to watch them melt.
You were quite certain that you cared for her more than Henry did, though he was quite gentle with her. He was… good to her. Better than you often liked to admit. A gentlemen, and quite considerate in most cases.
Still, he couldn’t possibly see her the way you do, dressed in light and wrapped in softness, glowing like the pale full moon, the sweat on her skin tasting like an aphrodisiac. If he had, you were quite certain, he would have married her by now. You certainly would have, if you were a man.
You always preferred when she came to you rather than Henry. It made something buzz warmly in your chest each time she curled up in your arms on the couch. Each time she would bury her face in the crook of your neck and mumble that she missed you.
You would do anything to get her from the others. Even Henry. Especially Henry.
It wasn’t jealousy. It was worse. It was possession. You were just looking out for her. She was your best friend. There’s no one else who sees her like you do. No one that understands her like you do. No one else that touches her like you do.
It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for her to be tempted to return to Henry and the others. She had needs, of course. The need for attention and care… and the desperate need to be fucked.
You had found, though, that most of those needs could be met by you. You had no issue brushing her hair and holding her. You enjoyed cooking for her and telling her how lovely she was.
You loved prying her thighs apart and putting your mouth on her. You’ll admit that some lines were crossed from time to time. She’d show up drunk at your house and beg you to hold her, so you did. And when she asked you to touch her, you were gentle in your rejection. You’d continue to hold her while she cried, not understanding why you wouldn’t. It didn’t matter how many times you explained consent, she would only insist that drunk words and actions are sober thoughts.
“In vino veritas,” she would mumble against your skin, pressing kisses to your neck. You let her.
You often worried that she might go to Henry, or even Charles seeking relief, so instead, you did what any real friend would do. You let her grind against your thigh. You told her she was beautiful and cuddled her until the feeling subsided.
She got off so beautifully, even drunk.
Things were a bit different when she was sober. She whined less and begged more clearly. You had less issue helping her out when she was sober. Not in a lesbian way, just… as her friend. As someone she needed.
As someone she needed inside her.
Now, she laid with her legs across your lap, lashes resting delicately against her cheeks. Her chest rises and falls evenly, and your fingertips trace small shapes on her thigh.
You consider, for a moment, what things would be like if you were a boy. You could have made a good one, you figure.
“Ma bichette,” you mumble, not looking up from your book. My doe.
She hums in acknowledgment, not yet opening her eyes.
“If I were a boy, would you love me?”
Her eyes flutter open. She looks amused.
“I already do love you,” she blinks slowly.
Your fingertips stop, your body tensing slightly.
“No, Χρυσή μου, I mean ἔρως.” You say it casually, like it was an obvious misunderstanding.
Camilla is silent for a long moment, and despite your attention being elsewhere, you continue to stare at the pages of your book.
“Would you love me?”
“I think I would,” you say, finally setting the book down. “If I were attracted to women instead of men, you’d certainly have my affections.”
Camilla stares at you for another moment. You know she won’t let you feign ignorance to what’s going on in her head. She had cried about it many times to you while intoxicated. She wants you to love her, now. She wants your affections as she is.
“Such a greedy thing,” you would tut every time. “Isn’t Henry enough for you, dove?”
She’d whimper and shake her head, eyes squeezing shut as her hips bucked against your thigh.
Now, though, her eyes only shoot daggers into you. She goes to move her legs out of your lap, but you hold them in place, and she doesn’t put up a fight.
“Come, love, let’s not spoil a nice moment with this, again.”
“I’m…I’m not,” she mutters back, causing a small pang of guilt in your chest.
“Camilla…”
“Don’t.”
You sigh and lift her legs off of you, getting up and moving to lie between her legs.
“Don’t?” you question softly. She’s blushing furiously, her thighs pressing around your torso.
She breathes your name, pleading, though she’s not sure what for.
“Speak up, my darling, tell me what you want.”
You can see the shift in her eyes, the silent acknowledgment that she won’t get what she really wants, but you’ll give her anything else if she asks for it.
“Touch me,” she says simply. You raise an eyebrow, looking slightly amused.
“Please,” she adds, quieter.
You aren’t in any hurry as you sit up and carefully tug her shorts down, discarding them on the floor. You kiss slowly up from her ankle, inch by inch, until your mouth reaches her apex. You slide one finger under the hem of her panties and gently slide them to the side, watching her eyes the entire time.
“So pretty, Cam,” you coo, your breath fanning over her.
“Th-thank you,” she whimpers, anticipation growing in her.
“Say it,” you say quickly before flattening your tongue against her.
“Ah! I-I’m… so pretty,” she manages between whimpers.
“Mhmm… such a pretty angel.” You kiss her clit, sucking gently. “Good girl.”
She whines, legs trying to close around your head, but you hold them open firmly, mindful not to touch the bruises left by her brother.
You were going to kill him one of these days.
She gasped and tugged at your hair, squirming and trying to pull you impossibly closer to her.
“Please, please…”
You lick and suck at her, fingers teasing her inner thigh until she’s practically crying.
“Je veux te dévorer,” you mutter against her dripping cunt, your eyes closing for a moment.
She groans as you slide two fingers into her, dragging them slowly against the spongy flesh inside her.
“F-fuck,” she whispers, her head falling back against the arm of the couch as she bites her lip.
You feel as the coil in her stomach starts to tighten, her walls tightening despite her obvious efforts to prolong her orgasm.
“Tu es tout pour moi, mon ange.”
Neither of you were certain exactly why most of your bedroom talk happened in french. Though, Camilla did have her drunken theories about it being easier than hearing the words leave your mouth in english.
Regardless, she loved when you’d murmur sweet nothings against her, everything she wanted to hear. She knew, deep down, that you must mean it, even if you wouldn’t say it outside moments like this.
“I’m… oh gods, I’m—”
“I know, baby. You’re okay.”
Tears slip from her eyes as she trembles and releases. You work her through it, slowing your ministrations until she stops shaking.
“Je t'aime à la folie,” you mutter, leaning up to kiss her lips. She whines, tasting herself on your mouth.
You scatter kisses on her face and neck, reaching for a blanket on the back of the couch and laying it over her.
When you return with a warm rag, she’s already asleep. You carefully clean her up, knowing how sensitive she is. She let out a small whimper, but her eyes stayed closed.
You’re about to lay with her when you hear a knock at the door.
The fuck do they want?
When you answer it, Henry is standing in the doorway, his eyes dark and serious.
“I’m looking for Camilla,” he says, monotone.
You stare at him for a moment.
“She’s asleep.”
A faint amusement flickers in his eyes like he might smile, but he never does.
“She does tire quite easily, doesn’t she?” He sounds almost fond, stepping closer to you.
You match his step, standing straight despite the way he towers over you.
“She certainly does.” Your jaw is tight, and his eyes are dark, and neither of you move your speak for a while.
He lifts a hand and cups your cheek, gliding his thumb over your bottom lip. You don’t move, still staring up at him harshly.
He leans down slow, giving you more than enough time to pull away or protest, but you never do.
He kisses you slow, his tongue moving against yours like he’s searching for traces of her.
He pulls away even slower, and for a moment, neither of you move.
“Henry…”
“Thank you,” he says before you can find the words, “for taking care of her.”
You swallow, opening your mouth to speak, but he continues.
“I wish you wouldn’t string her along the way you do, but I know you do care. I know she’s always… safe when she’s with you. I appreciate that.”
You stare at him blankly, trying to figure out his angle but finding none.
“I could… say the same to you.”
“Yes,” he says, his mouth curling up almost imperceptibly. “You could.”
You hear Camilla stir behind you, muttering sleepily, asking where you are and who’s at the door.
You swallow your pride, stamping out your jealousy for a moment, because you know nothing would make her happier than having both you and Henry. You meet his eyes, fighting every urge to shut the door in his face.
“Henry, would you…?”
He smirks and stands straight, waiting for you to finish. The smug look in his eyes offers no mercy for your dignity.
“Would you like to come inside?” You finally huff.
His smile softens and he nods, already removing his coat as he steps through the door.
You knew in that moment that it was going to be a very long night.
