Passionate Fantasies

Three moons have passed since the orcs swept through your village.

You remember the chaos, the screaming, the clang of weapons, the way the earth shook beneath boots the size of your forearm.

But you also remember him. The chieftain. Standing a head taller than his warriors, tusks gleaming, his emerald eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

And then... nothing.

He took your supplies. Your livestock. A few crates of dried meat your grandmother had salted last winter. But not a single villager died. Not even old Martha, who threw a chamber pot at his head and called him a "green-skinned devil."

He left you all breathing. Bruised, terrified, but alive.

And then he started coming back.

Not with his war band. Not with weapons. Just him, alone, every few days. Appearing at the edge of your house with offerings that make absolutely no sense to you.

A perfectly smooth river stone.

An eagle feather.

A pouch of extremely expensive orcish mead.

A freshly killed rabbit.

You've accepted none of it.

Not because you're ungrateful. Not because you don't notice the way his broad shoulders slump a little more each time you shake your head and turn away. But because what is happening?

You're a weaver. A nobody. You mend shirts and spin wool and occasionally help the blacksmith's wife pull weeds from her vegetable patch. You are human, not a female orc for chieftains to leave offerings.

So you ignore him.

You ignore the way his gaze follows you when you walk to the stream to wash clothes.

You ignore the way he grumbles under his breath when you pretend not to see the wildflowers he's left on your windowsill.

You ignore the way your heart races every single time, because he's massive, terrifying and yet beautiful in that brutal way orcs are.

You ignore him so thoroughly that you've almost convinced yourself you don't care.

But tonight something is different.

You're standing in your small cottage, a threadbare towel wrapped around your body, hair still dripping from the bath you just took. The fire roars in the hearth, warming you up. You're reaching for your sleeping shift when you hear a thud.

Then a groan.

Then the unmistakable sound of someone large and clumsy attempting to navigate your doorstep.

Had you forgotten to lock? Damn!

The door swings open before you can latch it.

And there he is.

The chieftain.

Drunk.

His green skin is flushed across his cheekbones, his green eyes glassy and unfocused. He sways on his feet, one massive hand braced against the doorframe to keep himself upright. His tunic is unlaced, revealing his broad chest and the dark hair trailing down his ridged stomach.

He blinks at you.

Slowly.

Like he's trying to figure out if you're real.

"You—" He hiccups, then points a wavering finger at your face. "You."

You clutch the towel tighter, suddenly very aware that you're wearing almost nothing. "Chieftain. It's the middle of the night."

"Is it?" He squints toward the window, as if confirming this information. "Huh."

"You're drunk."

"Yes." He says it like he's proud of it.

"You should go home."

He doesn't move. His gaze drifts down from your face, lingers on the curve of your shoulder where the towel has slipped, on your damp throat, on the swell of your breasts. His throat works. His jaw tightens.

"Can't," he says.

"Can't what?"

"Can't go home." He takes a staggering step inside, and you instinctively step back. The movement makes your towel hitch higher on your thighs. His eyes track the motion. "Home doesn't have you."

Your heart hammers. "Chieftain—"

"Kolf," he says. "My name. Use it. Please. Please. I'm so tired of 'Chieftain.' I'm tired of you ignoring me. I'm tired of leaving you presents you never touch. I'm tired of smelling you on the wind and not being able—"

He breaks off, swaying again, and catches himself on your table.

A clay cup topples and rolls to the floor.

You stare at him.

Kolf. You don't want to say his name out loud. You are scared it will affect you in ways you wouldn't expect.

"Why?" you whisper.

"Why what?"

"Why are you—" You gesture at him, at the door, at the entire impossible situation. "Doing this?"

"Because you're mine."

"I'm what?"

"Mine," he says powerfully. "I saw you. During the raid. Standing in front of your grandmother. Little thing, shaking like a leaf, but you didn't run. You didn't beg. You just—" He exhales, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "Stood there. Looked at me like I was the monster everyone says I am, but you didn't flinch."

Your throat tightens. "I was terrified."

"I know." He takes another step closer, and this time, you don't move back. "But you didn't run. Do you know how rare that is? How fucking rare?"

"Kolf—" You bite your lips. Damn...now you'd done it now.

"I brought you things. Good things! Pretty things. Things orc males give females they want to court. And you... you just kept ignoring me."

You open your mouth to explain, to tell him that you didn't know, that no one ever taught you orc courting customs, that you thought he was just taunting you—

But he doesn't let you speak.

"I like you! I like the way you hum when you work. I like the way you roll your eyes at the sky when it rains. I like the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, and you're almost always annoyed, and I like it. I like you. And you won't even look at me."

He's standing close now. Close enough that you can smell the mead on his breath, the pine and earth of his skin, the heat radiating off his massive body. His chest rises and falls in ragged breaths. His eyes, that impossible green, are glossy.

"You need to—"

"I'm sorry," he blurts. "For the raid. For taking your things. For scaring you. I didn't.. I didn't know how else to see you. Your village. Your face. I thought if I came with my warriors, you'd—" He breaks off. "I'm not good at this. I'm not good at words. I'm good at fighting. At leading. At taking what I want. But you... you're not something you take. You're something you earn. And I don't know how to earn you—"

All of a sudden, his knees buckle.

You lurch forward, catching him—or trying to. He's three times your size, for god's sake. A mountain of muscles and your poor arms barely wrap around his torso. Your strength is not enough and he's going down, dragging you with him.

But he twists at the last second, curling his body around yours, and you land on top of his chest instead of the floor. His back hits the wooden planks with a thud. His eyes flutter.

"Kolf?"

He groans.

"Kolf!"

His breathing evens out. His massive arms, which had somehow wrapped around you, go slack.

He's asleep.

Face wrinkling, you push yourself up, staring down at the unconscious orc sprawled across your floor. His lips are parted. His tusks glint. One of his hands is still curled loosely around your ankle.

"Damn it," you whisper.

Eventually, you manage to drag him onto the couch.

It takes an embarrassingly long time. He's heavy. Every limb feels like it's filled with stone. But you push and shove and grunt and curse until his massive frame is folded onto the worn cushions, his boots hanging off one end, his head lolling against the armrest.

You stand back, breathing hard, and look at him.

The fire is low now, crackling and the dim light paints his face in warm gold. In sleep, he looks younger and softer. The hard lines of his jaw relax. His brow smooths. One of his hands twitches, reaching for something that isn't there, and settles on his chest.

He brought you gifts, you think. For three moons. And you ignored him.

Because you didn't understand.

Because no one ever taught you that an orc chieftain leaving an eagle feather on your windowsill meant I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.

Because you're stubborn and scared and so used to being invisible that you didn't know what to do with someone seeing you.

You pull a blanket from your bed and drape it over him. He murmurs something in his sleep, a rumble you can't quite make out, and his hand catches the edge of the blanket, pulling it tighter around himself, smelling it, smiling in his sleep.

You should go to your room.

You should.

But your feet won't move.

Instead, you sink onto the floor beside the couch and you watch him.

He likes you.

The thought settles warmly into your chest. He likes you.

And you... foolish, stubborn, terrified you... might like him back.

******

Hours pass. You are in bed but you can't sleep.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the occasional rumble of his breathing from the other room.

Something in you burns.

You are hot and curious.

You want to see him again.

Sighing, you slip out of bed before you can talk yourself out of it. Your feet carry you barefoot across the cold wooden floor, past the hearth where the fire has died to embers, to the couch where he lies.

He hasn't moved. One arm is thrown over his head, the other draped across his stomach. The blanket has slipped to his waist and his tunic is even more open, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the trail of dark hair that vanishes beneath the waistband of his trousers.

You kneel beside him.

And reach out.

Your fingers hover over his chest then, gently, you touch him.

Warm. He's so warm. His skin is rougher than you expected, textured with scars and raised ridges of old wounds. His chest hair is coarse, curling around your fingers as you press deeper.

He doesn't stir.

Emboldened, you trace the line of his collarbone, the strong column of his throat, the sharp jut of his jaw. His tusks feel smooth and cool.

Beautiful, you think. He's beautiful.

Your hand drifts lower, skimming over his stomach. The muscles there tense beneath your touch, even in sleep, and you feel the hard ridges of his abdomen, the V-shape that disappears beneath his trousers.

Your breath catches.

And his hand catches yours.

"Caught you," he murmurs. His eyes open, just a crack. "Been waiting. For you to touch me."

"Kolf—"

"You don't get to stop now." He sits up, and you scoot back on your heels, but he follows. His massive hand engulfs yours, pulls it back to his chest, presses your palm flat against his heart. It's pounding. Hard. "Feel that? That's what you do to me. Every time I see you. Every time I smell you."

"Smell me?"

"Like honey." He leans closer, and his free hand cups the back of your neck. His thumb strokes the sensitive skin behind your ear. "Like mine."

"Y... You're drunk—"

"Not anymore." His eyes are clear now. "Sober enough to know what I want. Sober enough to know I've wanted it for three fucking moons."

"What do you want?"

He doesn't answer with words.

He kisses you.

His mouth crashes against yours, tasting of mead and something uniquely him. His tusks graze your lower lip, careful, and you gasp against his mouth. He swallows the sound, pulls you closer, wraps both arms around you and lifts you onto his lap.

Your knees bracket his hips. Your shift—gods, you're still only wearing a thin shift—rides up your thighs. His hands settle on your waist, and his fingers dig into the soft flesh there, grip you like he's afraid you'll disappear.

"Tell me to stop," he rasps against your lips. "Tell me no, and I'll stop. I'll walk out that door and never bother you again. But if you want this—"

"I want this."

The words leave your mouth before you can think about them. Before you can talk yourself out of them. They are raw and honest, and he breaks.

"Thank the gods," he groans, and he's kissing you again, his tongue sliding against yours, his hands roaming down your back, your hips, your thighs.

"I didn't know," you manage between kisses. "The gifts. The courting. I didn't know."

He pulls back. His eyes are dark, dilated. "What do you mean, you didn't know?"

"No one told me." You press your forehead to his. "I thought you were mocking me. Taunting me. I didn't know orcs—"

"Fuck." His hands tighten on your hips. "Fuck, sweetheart. All this time. You thought I was mocking you?"

"Your people raided my village."

"We took supplies. We didn't hurt anyone. I gave orders—" He breathes out harshly. "I'm not good at this. I've never—I've never wanted anyone like this. I didn't know how to—" He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. For the raid. For scaring you. For not explaining. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"But I—"

"Kolf." You cup his face in your hands, feel the rough stubble on his jaw, the smooth curve of his tusks. "I'm here. I'm choosing to be here. With you. That's what matters."

He smiles. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He kisses you softly. Briefly. "Bed?" he murmurs.

"Bed."

He carries you to your bed like you're made of glass. Which is hilarious, because two seconds later, he's tearing the shift off your body and staring at you like he wants to devour you.

"Sweetheart," he rasps. "Look at you."

You're naked beneath him, spread across your thin mattress, and he's still fully clothed. Tunic unlaced, trousers straining over his obvious bulge. A very very prominent bulge. The sight makes your mouth water.

"Too many clothes," you manage.

"Agreed."

He strips without care. Tunic over his head, revealing wide shoulders, a chest carved like granite, and arms thick with muscle and crisscrossed with old scars. His trousers follow, and then his—

Oh.

His cock.

You've never been with an orc before. You've heard stories; whispered rumors in the village about what orc males keep between their legs. But stories didn't prepare you for this.

It's massive. Thick and long, veined, the head flushed a darker green, leaking profusely. His balls hang heavy beneath, drawn tight against his body.

"He's friendly," Kolf says, catching you staring. "I promise."

"He's terrifying."

"He'll behave." He crawls onto the bed, over you, caging you with his arms. His thighs bracket yours, and you feel the heat of him, the weight of him. "Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Can't make any promises about the rest of me."

Before you can spiral, he kisses you again. His mouth claims yours, his tongue strokes against your teeth, your palate, everything. You moan into him, wrap your arms around his neck, pull him closer.

His hand slides down your body, over your collarbone, your sternum, the curve of your ribs, until he reaches your breast. He cups it, weighs it in his palm, and his thumb drags across your nipple making you gasp.

"Sensitive?" he murmurs against your throat.

"Yes."

"Good."

He bends his mouth to your breast, and you feel his hot tongue lapping at your nipple before drawing it into his mouth. He suckles gently at first, then harder, and you arch off the bed, fingers tangling in his hair.

"Kolf—"

"So pretty," he murmurs against your skin. "Wanted to do this. For months. Wanted to taste you. Touch you. Hear you."

He switches to your other breast, giving it the same attention, and you're wrecked. Your thighs clench around his hips, desperate for friction, for something.

"Please," you whimper.

"Please what?"

"I need—"

"I know what you need." He kisses down your sternum, your stomach, the jut of your hipbones. "Going to take care of you, sweetheart. Going to worship you."

He settles between your thighs, and you feel his ragged breath against your pussy.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Look at this pretty cunt."

You're soaked. You can feel it the slickness, the way your flesh aches for him.

"Kolf—"

His mouth covers you, and your thoughts dissolve.

His tongue is everywhere. Lapping at your folds, circling your clit, plunging inside you. He groans against your flesh like you're the best thing he's ever tasted, and his hands grip your thighs, holding you open and immobile for him.

"Oh—" You buck against his face, and he growls. "Ahh, ghnnn—"

"So sweet. Tastes like honey. Like mine. Could eat my mate's little cunt forever."

"Kolf, I'm going to—"

"Not yet." He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then your mound, then lower. "Not until I say."

"Hgn... that's cruel."

Growling, he continues his attack; licking, sucking, fucking you with his tongue until you're a shaking, sobbing mess, begging him for release. And still, he denies you. Keeps you teetering on the edge, right there, right there—and then pulls back.

"Please!" you cry out. "Please, Kolf, I can't—"

"You can." He kisses his way back up your body, and you feel his cock leaking against your thigh. "You can take more. I know you can, sweetheart."

He reaches down, guides himself to your entrance, and you feel the head of him nudging at your folds.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yes. Yes."

A little roll of his hips and he pushes inside you.

Just the head at first and you gasp at the stretch. He's so big. Bigger than anything you've ever taken.

"Breathe," he murmurs, kissing your forehead. "Breathe, sweetheart. I've got you."

You force yourself to relax, to welcome him, and he sinks deeper. An inch. Two. Three. Your body yields to him, inch by agonizing inch. It takes forever but at some point, he's finally seated to the hilt.

"Fuck," he groans, and his forehead drops to yours. "So tight. So perfect. Squeezing me like you never want me to leave."

You can't speak. Can't think. The fullness of him, the way he stretches you, the way your body clenches around him have completely taken over.

"Okay?" he asks.

"More than okay."

He laughs softly and begins to move.

His thrusts are slow at first. Each one presses a sweet spot deep inside you, making stars burst behind your eyes. You cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped around his waist.

"Look at me," he rasps.

You open your eyes, and he's watching you. Watching the way your face contorts with pleasure, the way your lips part, the way your body responds to his.

"I want to remember this," he says. "Want to remember the way you look when I'm moving inside you."

"Kolf—"

"Mine." He thrusts deeper, and you cry out. "Say it."

"Yours."

Another deep stroke. "Mine."

"Yours, I'm yours—"

He speeds up, and the bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall. His hips piston against yours, and you feel everything—the drag of his cock, the slap of his balls against your ass, the way his breathing turns uneven and desperate.

"Going to fuck you so hard," he growls, "you feel me for days. Going to bruise that pretty little cunt. Make you remember who you belong to."

"Yes—"

"Sweetheart." He shifts his angle, and you mewl. "That's it. That's the spot. There."

He pounds into you and you feel your orgasm building—not the teasing edges he gave you before, but something enormous. Something that is about to explode.

"Come for me," he commands. "Come on your orc's cock, sweetheart. Now."

You break. Your walls clamp down on him, pulsing, milking, and you sob his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you. He doesn't stop. Keeps fucking you through it, keeps driving into you, and the sensation triggers little climaxes.

"One more," he says. "Give me one more."

"I can't—"

"You can."

Reaching between your bodies, he finds your clit and circles it. Torments it. Another orgasm hits before the previous has even faded. Your whole body convulses, your vision whites out.

"That's it," he groans. "That's my girl. Fuck—"

He buries himself to the hilt, and lets out a feral snarl. You feel him pulse inside you, endless ropes of his seed pouring into your pussy. He keeps thrusting through it, shallow now, drawing out every last drop, and you whimper at the overstimulation.

But he doesn't stop.

He can't.

"I'm not done with you," he drawls. "Not even close."

Pulling out slowly, he's rolling you onto your stomach, ignoring the streams of his seed trickling down your thighs. He lifts your hips and aligns himself at your entrance.

"Kolf—"

"I said I was going to bruise you." He impales you and you moan into the pillow. "I meant it."

He fucks you again. And again. And again.

He fucks you on your stomach, on your side, with your legs wrapped around his neck and your ankles crossed behind his head. He fucks you against the headboard, against the wall, on the floor when the bed groans too loudly.

He fucks you until you lose count of your orgasms, until you're nothing but a trembling, sobbing, sated mess beneath him.

And when he finally spills inside you for the last time, when he collapses beside you, pulling you against his chest, you feel it.

That ache. Deep inside you. Where his cock has been pounding for hours.

Your cervix is bruised.

And you can't stop smiling.

********

The Morning After...

Sunlight streams through the cracks in your curtains, and you wake to warmth.

Kolf is asleep behind you, one arm thrown over your waist, his face buried in your hair. He's spooning you, his breathing slow and even, his chest rising and falling against your back.

You try to move.

Ow.

Everything hurts. Your thighs are sore. Your breasts are tender. And between your legs... gods, there's an ache that goes deep. Your cervix feels bruised. And you've never been happier.

"Morning," he mumbles against your neck.

"You're awake."

"Wasn't sleeping." He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Was enjoying you."

"You're creepy."

"You enjoy it."

You elbow him gently, and he laughs, a sound that vibrates through your entire body.

"How do you feel, sweetheart?" he asks, sitting up to look at you.

"Sore."

"Good sore or bad sore?".

"Good sore," you admit. "Really good sore."

"Good." He kisses your neck, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. "That's what I wanted."

You turn in his arms to face him. "You wanted to bruise me."

"I wanted you to remember me." His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs, and you gasp when his fingers find your swollen, sensitive pussy. "Every time you walked today. Every time you sat down. Every time you moved."

"You're insufferable."

"You're mine," he says with a smile. His smile is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

You pout. "You say it it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like the sun rising. Like the tide coming in."

He grins. "It is. You're mine and I'm yours."

"Yeah," you whisper. "I'm yours."

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

"Why, thank you, darling!"

He jerks away from you quick as the wind, standing tall once again and towering over you. His expression has morphed into something more strained—you can tell by the way his face creases up as his eyes narrow.

He was the one who decided to invade your personal space while the two of you were arguing. He just didn't think that you would be so bold as to get distracted by his antlers and have the gall to reach out to touch them.

The worst part? The absolute worst part of it all is that no one in all the time he's been in Hell has been gentle with him like that.

Add that to the list of things he despises. Or likes. You're confusing him now.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You have some nerve, he thinks.

Your hands have found a new home resting atop his head, with your fingers combing through his hair and tracing up and down the curve of his antlers.

It becomes a nightly routine—him on the barstool or sitting in front of the piano and you standing behind him with your fingers tangled in his hair and your chin on his head, perched right between the horns. Others in the hotel have started to raise a brow, but you don't seem to care.

So when you finally decide to break routine, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, his eye twitches.

There isn't even an audience tonight, everyone else already tucked into bed save for Husk behind the bar who's too busy with a bottle to care. The silence between you is heavy as lead.

"Is something the matter?" Alastor finally abruptly asks, eyes narrowed at you from the side. You shift uncomfortably.

"Why would something be the matter?"

He's not in the mood for games right now. "This is the first time you've sat away from me in months," he observes.

You look at him, surprised by his hostility over this. "Well, Lucifer told me that you don't like—"

"Lucifer," he interrupts, head now whipping to the side so he can fully glare at you. "Knows nothing."

You blink at him, stunned. With the way he's acting, he almost seems... annoyed that you've decided to stop being so handsy?

Silence overcomes you again as you just stare at each other, completely at a loss of words. Alastor finally realizes his snappiness and composes himself once more, exhaling through his teeth.

His smile softens at you, missing its usual edge. You know him like this the best—head in your lap and antlers exposed. It's familiar to you in a way that it could never be to anyone else. At least, you hope that's true.

"He knows nothing," the radio demon says one more time for good measure, eyes drifting shut under the weight of your hands.

Alastor has never liked to be touched before. But maybe there is a first time for everything, and maybe the safety of your touch brings him enough ease that you're the first he admits he can tolerate.

His smile says it all. He's content like this, even if he would deny it with his chest if you ever told anyone else.

He immediately swam toward the air dweller but he was too slow; the human was grabbed by the other faster hybrid. He noticed something, though - the air creature was alive.

Strong and unusual urge to protect the human surged through his blood and he rushed forward. He bit the younger shark's tail with full force. The youngster immediately retaliated, furious and rightfully offended, but the older shark was completely frenzied and kept attacking.

The water quickly became red from blood.

***

You fell into the ocean when a huge wave hit the port side of the cruise ship you worked on. Nobody expected the sudden storm and the staff had to wait for all the guests to move to safety before hiding themselves. You were simply the last one on the top deck, and the ship gave the sacrifice to the sea gods. A maiden.

You didn't lose consciousness when you fell into the ocean. Unfortunately. Almost immediately you were pulled under by a formidable force. You thought it was a violent wave - but it wasn't. There were muscles and bodies around you. You felt teeth. And you felt pain. That's the moment you were swallowed by the darkness.

***

You wake up on a beach, under a messy canopy of sorts that protected you from the sunlight. The first thing you see is that you're missing your foot. But the wound was taken care of, covered by clean cloth, and appears completely healed. The second thing you see is a massive shark hybrid lying on his stomach in the shallows, watching you. Only his eyes peek above the water and the upper fin on his back.

You start crying, terrified, and the shark hybrid moves closer. He looks quite scary. The humanoid face appears old, and his entire body is decorated with many scars - some of them quite fresh. Similar to yourself, he is missing a body part - his left webbed hand.

You start screaming even louder and he seems offended. He goes back into water, hiding most of his body, but doesn't go far. You are left alone to pull yourself together. And you do; you refuse to give up. You find a stick to move around, fresh fruit and water. But you notice you're stranded on a small beach surrounded by sharp rocks. You can't go far. And, of course, there is a shark in the water. You laugh bitterly.

"I won't harm you," he finally says. "I'll protect you. I want you to be my mate."

"What?" You almost fall down from shock. "How can I be your mate? You're a shark!"

He comes out of the ocean, sliding across the sand, and stops quite close to you. He flashes a toothy and terrifying grin, "I'm a shark hybrid. And you're a human. We can make it work."

"I don't even know you!"

With an annoyed "tsk", and a muttered comment about humans being too sensitive, shark hybrid returns into the ocean and disappears. You are left alone until evening brings rain. You retreat under your canopy and fall asleep.

You are woken up by alarming sounds. Strange hybrids jump down from rocks and invade your canopy. Even though you stubbornly defend yourself with your walking stick, they disarm you easily. They shout something about a "delicious meal", and you scream for help.

The old shark hybrid jumps out of the water, as if he's been sleeping just around the corner, and crawls up the beach with incredible speed. The intruder hybrids try to escape, but the shark grabs some of them and tears them apart without mercy. All bloodied and victorious, he turns to you. "I told you I'll protect you but you still fought back. I am very proud of you, my little human mate."

You were pretty plain in that sense; nothing drastic had ever happened to you.

For the most part, your life was normal. You had normal friends, went to a normal university, and had normal parents. No boyfriend, but a normal crush on your friend Sam Winchester. Totally, completely normal.

Which is why, when you were invited to a totally normal Halloween party at one of the frats, you didn’t think anything of it. It was a Wednesday night, and you longed to slip into PJs and crawl into bed.

But here you were, attempting to “lock in” at the library (and had been failing miserably). You had a paper to write, but your mind was anywhere but on the laptop screen in front of you.

The cursor stared at you as it blinked, taunting you to write. You put your head in your hands, sighing. You also had totally normal stress about school.

Okay, it was extreme stress. But you were a straight-A, goodie two-shoes. You had an image to keep dusted and a reputation to uphold.

But the urge to push that to the side increased as your phone buzzed. You instinctively picked it up—your friend Megan texting you.

Megan: Hey baby. Halloween party at Jason’s on Saturday night. Bar hop and then we go in our bunny costumes?

You smirked. Now this, this was something you could get behind. All that could be heard was your thumbs flying across the keyboard in the dead quiet library.

Everyone had gone home early due to the unusual events that had been occurring. You weren’t bothered by it much.

You: Duh, bitch! Let’s party it up.

You stared at your messages longer than you should’ve, focusing on one name in particular. Sam.

You hadn’t heard from him in over a week. The two of you were best friends and had been since high school. You were pretty close with his older brother Dean too, although closer to Sam since he was your age.

That closeness almost increased when he had started to go to your university. The pair of you were inseparable until he had to leave.

You didn’t ask questions because you knew he wouldn’t be able to answer. Him and Dean were very selective about what parts of their lives they told. Family business wasn’t any of your business.

So you gave him a long hug and made him promise to keep in touch if he could.

That day felt like ages ago. It had been so long since you saw him.

Texting him wasn’t the same.

You: Any plans for Halloween, Sammy?

You put your phone down, not expecting an answer until a while later. The Winchesters took forever to respond, and you learned not to take it personally. Your phone buzzed, and your heart fluttered as you saw who it was from.

Sam: You know I don’t do Halloween. It’s stupid, and the costumes are lame. You: Well, I’m going as a sexy bunny.

You watched the text bubble appear, then disappear. Then reappear again.

Sam: Okay, that’s not lame. Send pictures, please. Asking for a friend.

You giggled, feeling your cheeks heat at his reply. Him and Dean were such flirts. You couldn’t help but like it, though, because of your crush on the younger Winchester.

You: Well, if you want, you can see it in person. If you’re in town this weekend, there’s a party on Saturday night ;) Sam: I’ll see what I can do, Bunny.

You sighed, shoving your phone back in your pocket. You needed to focus on work and get this paper done so you could enjoy yourself this weekend without the weight of school on your shoulders. You couldn’t enjoy yourself properly without it done.

So you pushed your head back into the books, fingers frantically flying across the keyboard to type anything your brain could come up with.

But the entire time, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Not once, but twice.

--------------------------------------------------------- The shot burned as you tossed it back, licks of fire seeping into your belly as you grimaced. You were more of a vodka girl then a tequila, but you’d take what was given to you.

You set the little glass down with a thud on your vanity, taking a deep breath as you stared at yourself in the mirror, soft lights dimly lighting up your reflection.

You looked good.

You weren't one to be overly confident, but you had to admit to yourself, you’d grab attention. The sleek, black corset hugged and accentuated your curves, boobs popping and teasing as they strained against the fabric.

You placed the black bunny ears on your head, adjusting your hair so it curled around your shoulders just right. You very tipsly pursed your lips in the mirror, a hand on your hip as you winked at yourself.

If this doesn't get Sam's attention, you don't know what will.

The thought of him made you giddy, butterflies swarming in your chest at the mere idea there was a chance he and maybe even Dean would be there tonight. You very much doubted it, and did not blame them if they couldn't arrive.

They were busy. You doubted they would even be near town, let alone in it.

But a girl could hope and dream.

You made sure to do a signature, sexy makeup look you knew Sam liked (you caught him staring at your lips a little too long a few times), in case he arrived.

“You coming?” Megan yelled from her bedroom, and you scrambled to grab your phone and hike on your heeled boots.

“Yeah one second!”

You posed, snapping a quick mirror picture in case you needed photo evidence in your costume to send to him later.

You were nervous. Taking another deep breath, you shut your eyes, and begged those shots to give your lightweight ass some drunk corrage to get laid tonight.

It had been too long. Above and beyond your goal if it was one man in particular.

------------------------------------------- You were no longer nervous.

Instead, you had turned into Kat Stratford, shaking your hips and dancing like no one was watching on top of the kitchen table in some random frat house.

The red lights danced across the skin, and you tilted your head back, letting sweat trickle down your neck as you swayed to 2010s Lady Gaga thumping from the speakers loud enough to shake the picture frames on the walls. Your friends had all gathered around you, even some fellow straggler guys who wanted to get a quick peek as you had your drunken fun, red solo cup sloshing around.

A sudden voice broke you from your trance.

“Y/N what do you think you’re doing?” a sassy, low voice drawled from the ground, and your eyes widened. Sam's mischievous, teasing look made your heart flutter as he looked at you, barely having to look up- already being taller than the average human.

Much, much bigger than you- that was for sure.

“S-Sam?” you smiled, stumbling over to try and get off the table, tripping in the process. You let out a squeal as you fell right into his large arms, holding you as if you weighed nothing.

He chuckled as you stumbled to the ground, wasting no time as you wrapped your arms around him- clearly drunk.

“Imisseedyousomuch-” you slurred, giggling as you clung to his torso rocking back and forth with excitement.

“I can't believe you made it! How have you been? Oh my gosh, I have so much to tell you. And wait- woah are you wearing a costume?”

You rambled on, his bright eyes and soft smirk never leaving his lips as you tripped over your words. He pulled a mask from behind his back, as if he were revealing a magic trick to a toddler, waving the Ghostface mask in front of you.

”The one and only.” he winked.

“Who are you and what did you do with Sammy? I thought you didn't do Halloween?”

“Changed my mind this year, thought I’d make it special.” he smiled, subtly placing a hand on your waist, guiding you over to a quieter area so you could talk- his eyes never leaving yours.

He was entranced with you. The way you spoke, the way you moved, the way you looked.

God the way you looked.

And you were so dizzy from the booze, and from the excitement of seeing him you didn't even notice. You didn't notice the little shifts in his demeanour either, the way his smirk was as sly as a cheshire cats.

“It is special. You look hot.” you giggled, embarrassment thrown out the window. You didn't even care anymore.

What did you have to lose? You never saw him anyway- as sad as it was to say, it was reality.

He leaned against the wall, his large frame seeming to cast a shadow over you, shielding you from anyone else. He bit his lip, looking you up and down, gaze lingering on every curve.

“Hot indeed.”

You smiled, doing a little twirl, letting him admire you. “Whada think Sammy?” you asked innocently, knowing his thoughts were anything but. He whistled.

“Pretty lil bunny. You’re so gorgeous, ya know that?”

Your cheeks heated at his words. He was forward and blunt tonight- you thought. Not that you minded, it was just a little out of character for him. Flirty, yes, but this forward? It must have been the alcohol.

“You’re not too bad yourself. But seriously, were you actually in town? I didn't want you to make a separate trip for me.” you hit his shoulder lightly. You could feel the muscle from under the black baggy sweater he wore.

Jesus he had bulked since you saw him last. How long had it really been?

“What and missed seeing my bunny? Never in a million years. Dean and I were just poking around, and I wanted to say hello.”

“Deans here too?” Your eyes flickered around the room, vision slightly fuzzy as you whipped around slowly to look for him, Sam's hand slipping up to cup your chin, thumb gripping your skin so you stared into his eyes.

“Yeah, but you know him. Probably fucking some college chick- who knows. I'm sure you'll see him around tonight.” he smiled softly. You nodded dumbly as if you were under some hypnotic trance.

“Yeah, yeah you're right. Hey- did you wanna head outside so we can talk? It’s loudddd in here.” you giggled. You and Sam typically used to do this at parties, both of you finding them exhausting and boring after the first two hours or so.

You often talked about random shit, whether it be deep and personal (mainly to you) or something silly while smoking weed and sprawling across him. It was just what he wanted it seemed, eager beyond belief to get you outside, all alone.

You guided him through the swarm of people, many staring you down as if you were fresh meat. You felt Sam's grip tighten as you made your way to the back door, waving at Megan and group of girls you had met earlier tonight.

The chill breeze sent goosebumps rising up and down your bare arms, past your little cufflinks. You shivered under the moonlight, letting the wind blow your hair back, tickling Sam's chest as he shut the door tight behind him, as if he wanted to keep people out.

Or you out. You couldn't tell.

“S’colder than I thought.” you hiccuped, slowly making your way over to the wooden porch steps, out of sight from the windows as you knelt down slowly to keep yourself from falling flat on your ass with a smack.

“What, you didn't drink enough to wear your alcohol jacket?” he teased, taking two long strides over to you, plopping down beside you.

“S’so did. But I’m just hyper aware of it n all, like my tits are screaming at me for letting them out on tonight of all nights.”

You couldn't stop talking. God what was wrong with you. You smacked your forehead, making Sam chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“I can run back to the Impala and grab my jacket for you if you’d like.”

“What, your lumberman jacket? And mess up my outfit? You just want to look better than me, is that it Sammy? To woo the girls?”

His eyebrow perked. “You're the only girl I wanna woo.”

You nudged his side, insides practically screaming at you. Were you just really drunk, or was Sam Winchester- the man you had a crush on for years, legitimentluy flirting with you?

“Dont be silly.”

“I'm not being silly, I’m being truthful.”

You pursed your lips, turning your head to stre at him, instead of the acres of forest that stretched in the backyard. The wind caused the bare tree branches to rattle, hissing through the night. Not even the sound of animal stirred.

The night seemed dead and stale.

Sam was much prettier to look at instead.

“Needy. When the last time you got laid Winchester?”

He snorted, pinching your bare arm. “Ouch!” you shriked.

“Don't be mean.”

“I'm not being mean, I’m asking you truthfully. Cause I havent gotten some in forever, and it's getting old quick.” you sighed, resting an elbow on your knee, leaning your chin in your hand to support your weight.

You felt giddy and nervous as Sam slid his large hand over to carasse your thigh, fingers tickling the flesh as he allowed them to trail patterns on you.

“Yeah? Poor girl.” he cooed, pinching your skin again quickly. You wet your lips, batting your innocent, doe eyes at him as he let his hand inch towards your inner, inner thigh.

“Yeah its… rough out here.”

“No contenders? What a shame.” You giggled. “I only want one contender. Im not sure if he wants me back.” you drunkenly hicuped, his stare turning liquid, full of desire as he hungerly eyed you up and down,your eyes, your lips, your breasts.

“You think I havent noticed the way you look at me?”

You froze.

“You think I havent noticed you, for ages? Do you know how stupid it was of me, of him to let this go to waste?”

He chuckled lowly to himself. “Oh no, no no baby. It's adorable, your little crush.” he smirked, pinching your cheeks, as if you were his little doll. You felt your jaw go slack at his words.

“W-wait, so you want- I mean you like me? Too?” you asked meekly, chewing on on the inside of your cheek.

“Like you? Oh baby I’m obsessed with you. You precious little thing.”

You giggled, nudging his beefy shoulder with your own, leaning against him. “Really?” you stared up at him with stars in your eyes, feeling like a kid in a candy store.

Were you actually getting what you wanted? The thing you truly had wanted, for what seemed like eons now?

Two goals were getting checked tonight. Fuck. Yeah.

“Really.” he purred, sliding his hand down so it was practically cupping your aching and soaked heat. Your breath shuttered. “This okay?” he asked softly, and you nearly tore off your outfit right then and there.

You were about to see what Sam was like in the bedroom. Or- the outside. Wherever that may be.

You nodded, hiccuping and practically melting into him as he cupped you, making you purr like a kitten.

“G-gonna break that dry spell Winchester?” you smiled, head lolling against his fingers stroking your cunt through the flimsy fabric. “Ha. I still know a thing or too.” he purred.

“So responsive…” he murmured as you bucked your hips.

You weren't sure if it was the weed, or the shots, or the wind against your soaked cunt but you were flustered beyond belief. Before you could even process what had happened, you were flung over his shoulder, bouncing as he ran over to the security of the hidden, tucked away woods.

You squealed, clinging onto his shoulder for dear life as you watched the world become out of reach from a much higher view point. He smacked your ass and you jolted before setting you down in the woods, the crunch of leaves under your feet as you wobbled.

There was just enough moonlight you could see the boyish, michelvious glean in his eyes as he backed you against a tree, the rough bark making you shiver under his gaze as he caged you in.

“Now no one can hear you scream for me.” he smirked, cockily. You were so flustered you didn't even know where to begin. You moaned as he grabbed your ass, lifting you up to his height, lips crashing against yours with such hunger you thought he would eat you whole, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Teeth and tongue clashed as you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands, your bunny ears long forgotten in the mess of the woods. You let your hands run across his body, feeling the hard muscle through the black fabric, before you felt something unusual.

Something sharp.

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips left swollen ones, lipgloss stained across his own, a line of spit still connecting them. He kissed your neck, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as you turned to putty.

A knife was pulled from behind his back and you shivered as he stared at you cooly, letting the blade glitter in the moonlight. You swallowed dryly.

“Is- is that real?” you asked softly. He nodded. You felt your panties dampen even more.

Fuck. So he was a freak.

He waited, as if he wanted to see how’d you react. If you’d spit in his face and call him sick and demented. But instead you wrapped your hand around his own, guiding the blade against your neck, letting it fall back- giving him further access.

His eyes widened in admiration, then amusement at your silent request.

“Oh you dirty, dirty girl. You like this shit, yeah? You like when I take control like this?”

He curved the blade, and you felt it trail down to the tops of your exposed breasts.

“I could carve something right here, y’know baby? And you're such a dumb dolly, so in love with me that you'd let me.”

You drunkenly nodded, attempting to buck and grind your hips against him. He stilled, titling the blade, as if he were to pierce it through your heart.

You felt the sting, the little drop of blood it caused.

“But I’d never hurt you baby. You’re too precious.” he hummed, eyes so dark they seemed to flicker black.

The knife dropped to the ground, his lips marking your breasts as you squirmed, grinding against him. You found his belt buckle, the cool metal deciduous against your throbbing cunt- hands struggling to unbuckle it.

“We’ll need the ropes for you next time. You're pathetic. You know that?” he gripped your chin, smooshing your cheeks. You felt tears start to well in your eyes from the pure need that was in your system, so desperate to escape you. It hurt.

“Please. Please Sammy, please-” you whimpered, making him laugh, planting a kiss to the top of your forehead.

You slid from his grip like liquid into a puddle as he unbuckled his jeans, and your mouth watered at the sight.

He was huge.

You knew he would be, but you underestimated just how huge.

All your fantasies could never compare with this. With him, and his body.

“See something you like?” he asked smugly, tugging the drapey dark fabric over his head, tossed in the brush somewhere.

Your eyes nearly fell out of their head at his V line, happy trail leading right to where you needed him most.

“Wanna suck your cock.” you mumbled bashfully, unapologetic of the free rein of your speech right now. You were past the point of shame, or embarrassment.

“What was that angel?” he smiled, hand grabbing your chin again as your knees threatened to wobble, and give out from underneath you.

Jesus he was intense. Whatever it was tonight, it was amplified.

“Wanna suck your cock please Sammy.” you begged. He cooed down at you, face pouting in faux pity.

“Awh silly baby. As much as I’d love to have you down on your knees, I have other plans for us tonight, yeah?”

You nodded dumbly as he took over, fingers sliding your bodysuit and thong to the side, running a finger through your soaked folds. He hummed, content.

“Such a soaked baby. You've been this wet for me all night?”

“Y-yeah Sammy was hoping you’d come tonight to fuck me.” you confessed.

“That so?”

“Mhmm” you nodded.

You moaned, feeling yourself buckle, hand reaching out to grip his forearm as he toyed with the bundle of nerves, making slow, steady circles at your clit.

“S-sam-”

“Hush baby. Up we go now, there we go.” He picked you back up again, freeing himself from his boxers as he angled himself right where you wanted him. Where you needed him.

“You’re gonna shut up and take my cock now, like a pretty lil slut?”

“Please-”

The feeling was euphoric. He wasted no time, sliding into you with ease, your juices coating him. The two of you moaned pornagraphically, as he inched his way further, stretching you.

He was so big you felt him in your tummy, filling you up. Swallowing you whole.

“Thereee we go, atta girl. You’re so fuckin tight bunny fuck-” he growled, forehead leaning against yours, breathing heavly. As if he was trying to control himself.

“Sam- Sam g-god-” was all you could sputter as your nails dug into his biceps as he bottomed out.

“I can- can’t” you moaned, fluttering your eyes closed. He slowly slid out, thrusting bak in deeply. You groaned.

“Hey, eyes on me.” he commanded, gripping your chin. “You can take it baby, you’re doing so good. Taking my cock like a good lil girl yeah? Arent you sweetheart?”

His dirty talk had your brain completely shut off, the wires crackling, then sputtering out. It was as if your programming had suddenly flatlined, and all you could think was Sam. Sam sam sam sam.

“So vocal. Wished I fucked you sooner baby, best pussy I’ve ever had. Y’know that? Youre all dumb for me, brain dead.” he chuckled, watching drool trickle from the side of your mouth as you screamed his name, panting.

He watched your tits bounce, with that little spot of dried up blood as he thrusted into you, harder and harder, faster and faster until you thought you were a ragdoll about to be torn in half.

“M’gonna cum-” you squealed, and he nodded, as if to grant you permission. You milked him dry, screaming so loud your voice went hoarse.

Sam continued to ride you through it, hips never faltering. “There we go baby, did that feel good? M’ all up in your tummy, and I'm gonna fill you up, kay?” he cooed, forcing your attention back on him, on his heavy gaze and despite eyes.

“K-kay Sammy please-”

He smiled, kissing you as you moaned into his mouth, hot, white liquid coating your insides as he finished inside you. You could barely catch your breath as he kissed your forehead, and each cheek tenderly.

“Fuck bunny. You were so good. So, so good.” he sighed, hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your cheek, plastered with sweat. You nodded softly, murmuring unintelligible words as he set you back down, holding your body as you tried to find your balance.

Your legs were shaking like a quivering newborn fawn as you gripped the side of the tree, letting your eyes drift close for no more than a second.

You could no longer feel a presence supporting your back. Sam was gone.

Out of sight, under the moonlight, as if he had disappeared into the trees without a trace.

Your head started to spin, and you felt the weight of the night slowly starting to crash down on you. “S-sam?”

“I’m so sorry it had to be this way angel.” was all you heard from behind you, before a force nicked your head so hard, the world went dark.

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

“She asleep?” a voice called, sounding like it was eons away.

Your eyes refused to open, and you felt something tied around your ankles and wrists, as you lay on your back. Two sets of eyes were on your dishevelled frame.

You didn't dare to open your eyes until they looked away, facing to the front of the vehicle. You felt two plastic masks placed where your feet lay.

Oh god. Oh fuck. You wanted to puke.

“Knocked right out. A sleeping beauty.” another called. Sam.

“Poor bunny.” a voice chuckled, whistling a tune as he turned down the volume dial, as if he was worried to wake you. Dean.

You quickly shut your eyes again, urging yourself to keep your breathing shallow and natural as Sam looked back at your resting frame, a sympathetic frown on his face.

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he watched you, his sharp blue eyes narrowing when a cocky junior agent approached. 

Steve and Sam caught the way Bucky’s gaze darkened.  

“You’re staring,” Steve teased, nudging his best friend.  

“Go talk to your girl,” Sam chimed in, grinning. “It won’t kill you, Barnes.”  

Bucky grunted in response, forcing himself to look away. 

“She’s fine,” he muttered, though his clenched fists betrayed him.  

But then the junior agent got too close. The kid leaned in, his smirk too smug, his tone too slick. You smiled politely, but Bucky could see the shift in your demeanor. The way your bubbly confidence dimmed slightly as you stepped back, you were uncomfortable but too sweet to be harsh. 

That was his last straw.  

Bucky pushed off the wall and strode over, his imposing presence making the agent step back instinctively. “You got something to say; you say it to me,” Bucky growled, his voice low and menacing.  

The agent stammered, backing away under Bucky’s glare. “N-no, sir, I was just-”  

“Leaving,” Bucky finished for him. The kid didn’t need to be told twice.  

“Bucky, I was fine,” you said softly once the agent scurried off, but your voice wavered.  

Bucky turned to face you fully, his hard expression softening the moment he saw the unshed tears in your eyes. 

“Hey, none of that,” he murmured, his voice dropping so only you could hear. “You cry; I might actually have to hurt someone, yeah?”  

You blinked up at him, surprised by the rare gentleness in his tone. “I wasn’t going to cry,” you sniffled, though your voice betrayed you.  

“Sure you weren’t,” he said, raising a brow as he reached out and brushed a gloved hand against your cheek, drying the corner of your eye.  

Your lips twitched into a weak smile. “You don’t have to be so mean on my behalf. I could have told him off.”  

“Yes, I do,” he said bluntly. “You’re too nice to people.”  

“That’s not a bad thing,” you replied, your smile softening.  

“It is when they don’t deserve it,” he countered, his voice gruff but protective.  

You let out a small laugh, the sound warming something cold and guarded inside him. 

His heart.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said.  

“And you’re fucking annoying and you drive me mad, sunshine,” he retorted, though there was no real bite to his words. He paused, his eyes meeting yours. “But I like you better when you’re smiling. So go back to that, will you?”  

You grinned up at him, your sunshine fully restored. You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in a quick hug. “Thanks, Bucky.”  

He stiffened for half a second before awkwardly patting your back. “Yeah, yeah. Go on before I change my mind.”  

You laughed and skipped off to rejoin Natasha and Wanda, leaving Bucky standing there, watching you with a look that was equal parts exasperation and fondness.  

Steve walked up to him, a knowing smirk on his face. “So, you’re not interested, huh?”  

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky muttered, but his gaze remained on you, a quiet thought slipping through his mind. 

Yeah, I’m definitely a goner.

Not long after, you escaped to the rooftop to see the fireworks. You leaned against the cold metal railing, your purple dress rippling behind you. The hum of the party inside felt miles away as you stared up at the sky. Your thoughts drifted, the quiet of the night offering you a moment of solitude to reflect.

Your year full of chaos, obstacles and laughter. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You sighed, a small smile gracing your lips.

The faint thud of boots echoed and a shadow fell over you. You didn’t need to turn to know it was Bucky. He had that presence about him that was strong and unwavering.

“Thought I might have found you here,” he said, his voice warm as he stood beside you. His eyes swept over the horizon, almost as if he were scared to meet your eyes. 

You glanced up at him with a playful smile. "You coming out to watch the fireworks, or did you just need some space?"  

Bucky didn’t answer right away. 

Instead, the night's first fireworks erupted above you, lighting the sky in a dazzling cascade of colors.

Without a word, Bucky pulled off his leather jacket and draped it around your shoulders. The warmth of it was immediate, cocooning you in its familiar scent of worn leather and his cologne, something uniquely him.  

"You looked cold," he muttered, his voice softer than usual. 

He didn’t meet your gaze; his eyes still trained on the fireworks display. But you could feel his gaze on you.  

A soft smile tugged at your lips. "Thanks, Bucky."  

As the fireworks continued, bursting overhead in bright, colorful explosions, you stood a little closer to him.

"You're not going to drag me back inside, are you?" you asked softly. 

You turned slightly to face him, feeling bolder than you normally would. Bucky’s gaze flicked to you. But after a beat, his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. 

"Not yet," he said, his voice rough and kind. "But don’t get used to it."  

You grinned, a fluttering excitement making your pulse quicken. Turning fully toward him, your heart raced as the fireworks painted the sky. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes for just a second before you leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips.  

Bucky froze, his body stiffening in surprise. But he didn’t push you off. Instead, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, deepening the kiss just for a moment before he pulled back a fraction.  

“Well,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, “looks like you’ve finally lost your mind. Congratulations.”  

You grinned against his lips, cheeks flushed with heat. "Maybe I just like the way you look at me."  

Bucky’s gaze softened, the harsh edges of his usual guarded demeanor momentarily cracking. He reached up, his thumb grazing your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart skip. 

“I’m gonna have to kill the guy who ever hurts you, sunshine,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You smiled, tilting your head back to watch the final round of fireworks exploding in the sky. "Good thing that guy’s not around."  

Bucky’s arm instinctively tightened around your shoulders, pulling you close as he tucked you into his side.  

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice soft against your ear.

"Happy New Year, Bucky," you whispered back, your heart fluttering.

Bucky leaned in and kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, as if savoring the quiet intimacy between you. When he pulled away, his eyes were darker as he cursed.

His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "You’ve got me all twisted up, sunshine," he muttered.

You smiled, your cheeks warm despite the chill. "Is that a bad thing?" 

"Not even close," he said, a rare, genuine smile softening his features. 

You shivered and he noted how you were still cold, even with his jacket. 

"Inside. You’re not going to freeze that cute little ass of yours off tonight," he said, his voice gruff but caring as he stepped back.  

"But-"  

"No, buts," Bucky cut you off, his tone final. His hand shot out, gently but firmly, wrapping around your wrist. "Come on. I’m not letting you stand out here like this any longer."  

You grinned up at him. “Fine, but can we at least go to your room?”  

Bucky shot you a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His lips curled into an amused smile.

"You’re lucky I like you, kid," he muttered, pulling you along as he steered you away from the rooftop and back into the warmth of the building. 

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Happy New Year!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

This happens every year. When spring comes, the lonely unicorn who roams the dangerous woods and protects your village from the werewolves, always asks for something in return. It used to be fresh fruits, furs for the winter or gold.

But this year he wants something different. A beautiful virgin to keep him company.

Of course, you are the one who gets chosen. Your family prepares you, dressing you with a flimsy dress that barely covers your fragile figure, and adding some gold necklaces and a flower crown on your head. Then, the whole village takes you to the woods and leave you there, alone, praying that the heartless beast takes it easy on you.

A few minutes go by, and then you see him. The unicorn stands there, just a couple of feet away, and fear rushes through your veins. He’s big, bigger that the horses that you used to see on the village, his horn looks extremely lethal and horrible scars ruin his shiny white fur.

When he comes near to you, you don’t say a thing, just drop to you knees before him, expecting to be treated like nothing but a cheap whore.

But, to your surprise, he’s not violent or ruthless like all those stories that you’ve heard since you were a little girl. Instead, he’s kind, and talks to you in a sweet tone, letting you know that you’re now safe with him, as his wife.

Still, you are pretty nervous about it. Your hands shake and you heart beats fast, but you dare to touch him, caressing his soft nose.

After that, he lets you ride him, and then starts galloping with you on his back, taking you to your new home in the deepest part of the woods. It’s a cozy hut built with rocks and wood, spacious for the both of you, and incredibly warm inside thanks to the hay and furs that he keeps there.

And such a drastic change in your life is nothing easy, actually it’s a little bit awkward for both of you at the start. But soon you get used to each other, gaining trust and catching some… feelings.

You start learning his habits, gathering his favorite berries and tending his wounds every time he comes home after a bloody fight against the werewolves. The first time in his life where he feels how it is to be cared for. And in return, he protects you -in a possessive way- and gives you everything you may want and need, even making a deal with the fairies so they create the most beautiful dresses and tiaras just for you.

It’s not a bad life after all. What else could you ask for if he already spoils you and treats you better than any human man?

One day, he takes you to the nearest river for a much needed bath, and guards you from the shore. He stays under a tree, and you carefully get into the crystal water, enjoying the cool of it as you rinse your hair and body.

You didn’t think much of it, completely forgetting about the effects that you may cause on your now husband. So, when you look back to see if he’s still there, you immediately notice something different, something that makes you feel a tingle between your legs.

He is still standing under the tree, with his cock out and fully hard, making it bounce against his belly to create just a slight friction, clearly enjoying the sight of your naked body.

And you can’t leave him there to deal with something that you caused.

Getting out of the river, you approach him, caressing the soft fur of his neck as if you were asking for permission. Then, you crawl under him, using a finger to trace the prominent vein on his pink velvety cock.

“You don’t need to do it” he says in a low tone, not really wanting to taint your purity so soon. “I can take care of it myself”.

“But i want to” you answer eagerly. “Please let me make you feel good”.

Without exchanging any other word, you take his enormous length with both of your hands, pumping it slowly, just trying to figure it out and do your best to pleasure him.

And he twitches at the feeling of your delicate hands around him, dripping precum out of his slit, but you know that he needs more stimulation if you want him to finish. So, even though you can’t fit him into your mouth, you kiss and lick the flared tip of his cock, tasting the sweet droplets of arousal.

It’s a filthy act, so much that if the fairies saw just a glimpse of it they would cover their eyes out of pure shame, but none of you care, specially not him.

He’s getting close, you can feel it it the way he throbs and his muscles tense. So you keep going, all sloppy and messy, until he gets to his powerful orgasm, spurting ropes of hot cum all over your mouth and chest.

It’s thick and sticky, with a beautiful pearl color that almost looks glittery, and for a second you think how pretty it would look on your skin if you rubbed it like moisturizing cream.

From the beginning of your relationship, his affection had been unwavering.

His support was as strong as his arms.

But your insecurities about your body sometimes did come back to haunt you.

You got used to hiding yourself.

You were often wearing loose clothing, avoiding mirrors, and brushing off compliments.

Yet Vincent refused to let you hide from him.

One evening, you stood in front of a grand mirror in his penthouse, brushing your hair.

He came to stand behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

His hands rested gently on your stomach, and his lips found the curve of your neck.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You gave a small laugh, shrugging off the comment just like you always do.

“You’re just saying that to be nice.”

His grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer to him.

“I never say anything I don’t mean. Look at yourself, Mon Amour.”

You raised your eyes to the mirror once more, looking deeper at the reflection. You smiled at your reflection. Wrapped in the embrace of a man so powerful.

Vincent’s reflection was captivating, as always.

His tailored suit, his sharp features, and that air of elegance only he could possess.

But your gaze hesitated when it fell on yourself.

Vincent’s hands moved, tracing the curve of your hips with such affection and tenderness.

“Every inch of you,” he whispered into your ear, his voice low and seductive, “is perfection to me. These hips, this waist, the softness of it. It’s everything and more than I’ve ever wanted.”

You turned in his arms, your eyes searching his face for any hint of joke or lie. But all you saw was love, so raw and genuine it made your breath stop.

“You really mean that?” you whispered.

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“I adore you. Every curve, every part of you. It’s mine to cherish. Don’t ever doubt that. I believe I have spent my fair time proving it to you, between your legs, above or under you, Mon Amour.”

His lips found yours in a kiss that melted away every insecurity, every harsh thought you’d ever had about yourself or every harsh word that someone said to you.

In Vincent’s arms, you felt not just loved but celebrated.

Slowly, you started to believe him, to see yourself through his eyes.

You wore dresses that clung to your curves, held your head higher, and smiled more often.

One night, as you twirled in front of him in a gown he’d picked out, a deep red number that hugged every curve perfectly, his smile was radiant.

“You’ve always been breathtaking. But seeing you like this, so confident... it’s everything I’ve dreamed of.”

You crossed the room and placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingers.

“It’s because of you, Vincent. You make me feel like I’m enough. More than enough.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your lips, then your shoulder.

“You’ve always been more than enough, My Love. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget it.”

"Thank you." you replied with tears of happiness in your eyes.

In his arms, you had found not just love but confidence that made you shine.

Vincent had worshipped you from the beginning, and now, you were finally learning to worship yourself.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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