lil-bumbum - Tumblr blog

lil-bumbum · 4 days ago

Text

Muses

Request: Yes or No

Summary: (Y/N) never expected his life to turn out the way it did.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Fellow Travelers warnings, brief sexual content, mentioned/implied homophobia, era typical bs, mention of the AIDS crisis, Hawk is lowkey a warning himself 💀, more of a concept

he is so babygirl. divider by cafekitsune

~~~

"Would you mind if I drew you?"

Those were the first words (Y/N) spoke to Tim Laughlin the day they met at Lafayette Park under the keen eyes of Hawkins, the words of the smooth-talking man still ringing in his ears. It's nothing, Hawk had muttered to him as they strolled through the park toward the man with his nose buried in a book, you owe me a favor, remember? Just tell me what he tells you about the senator.

Tim was an interesting fellow. He was fidgety, at times, and with a habit of rambling so quickly (Y/N) barely caught what he was saying before he finished. Something was endearing about him: he continued adjusting his light gray sweater vest and smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his sleeves, the dark eyes hidden behind his round glasses bouncing around in a spout of nerves. He was so blatantly self-aware of himself, of every movement he made, likely hyper-aware of each breath he took. It was cute.

"Tim." (Y/N) called out softly, biting back a chuckle to avoid embarrassing the man as he lifted the tip of his pencil from the page. He'd only managed to begin a vague outline with Tim constantly moving between positions on the stool with an air of indecisiveness and awkwardness.

Tim perked up and turned his head toward him, his eyes wide and lips barely parted to show his teeth. He reminded (Y/N) of a fawn, a little creature making its way through the world unaware of the predators watching from the shadows. No wonder Hawk wasted no time sinking his teeth into him. He was the perfect prey.

"Y-Yes?" Tim pushed his glasses up with his index finger and straightened his back, carefully scooting around the stool to face him entirely. His palm ran over his sleeves again and his fingers curled around the cuffs, tugging on them lightly. "Should I do something different? Should- Should I take off my glasses?"

(Y/N) couldn't help the amused smile that stretched across his lips when Tim hurriedly took his glasses off, a giggle vibrating in his throat before he set aside his sketchbook and stood up to approach him. He leaned down toward him and gingerly pried the glasses from his fingers, the smile widening as he slid the glasses over Tim's nose. The back of his fingers brushed along Tim's cheek until they hooked under his chin and tilted his head up, those eyes of his widening even further.

"I like the glasses." (Y/N) told him softly and brushed his thumb over Tim's lip, briefly revealing the row of perfect white teeth, before he stepped away. "I like everything about you."

There was a silent dance to flirtation, or seduction as others viewed it. One had to be careful with the types like Tim; nervous, doe-eyed, eager yet pious and always ready to dart between the pews of their church and stutter through a rushed prayer when they grew overwhelmed. They were like dogs being trained dancing the line between order and instinct, their bodies vibrating with urges and nerves but their legs kept them glued to their spots.

Men like Tim were as dangerous as men like Hawk or the sleazy politicians Hawk surrounded himself with. Men like Hawk wore confidence and swagger like a coat; casually and without a care in the world. Until they were backed into a corner and they were quick to toss the coat from their shoulders, holding onto it with clammy, desperate hands while the cowardness beneath reared its head. Men like Hawk kept their enemies close and with downcast eyes tossed their friends to the wolves to cover their own asses.

Men like Tim, jumpy and alert yet somehow oblivious and naive, walked the thin line between fighting like hell to keep their morals to them and squawking at the first sight of trouble. When things grew hard or overwhelming or emotional, they raced to their priest and confessed to everything they'd done without a second thought to their safety. Most priests kept things to themselves, but they too pointed fingers when trouble came knocking.

Tim was easy enough to coax with a few gestures, evident in how his eyes followed (Y/N) around his office-turned-studio. Like a fish who didn't know any better, he'd taken the bait. He was sweet, too, and it was something Hawk had taken swift advantage of.

"Are you- I mean, you're-"

"Queer?" (Y/N) laughed and glanced at him over his shoulder, picking up his pencil and sharpening it. "Yes, I am."

"Have... have you and Hawk-"

"Once, twice... I didn't let there be a third time." He blew on the tip of the pencil and ran his fingertip over it to ensure it was smooth, a streak of dark gray rubbing against his finger. He tilted his body to peer at Tim. "You should be wary of Hawk and his charms."

Tim swallowed and rose, his hand shooting backward to stabilize the stool when it wobbled without his weight pinning it down. "Should I be wary of you?" He asked softly, strands of his combed-back hair falling over his forehead. His shoes clicked against the tile floors, each step small and cautious.

(Y/N) grinned and set the pencil down along the spine of his sketchbook, allowing Tim to draw closer. "Maybe."

Tim was full of indecisiveness, a constant dance between growing nervous and surging with confidence. He kissed with a familiar hunger, a familiar insistent need that left him pressing his lips hard against (Y/N)'s and knocking his glasses askew over his nose. His hands battled between pulling him closer until they were flush together and releasing his hold in fear of overstepping.

(Y/N) chuckled against his mouth, and chuckled again when they pulled apart and he took in the fog around the rim of Tim's glasses from the heat in his cheeks. For the sake of not damaging them, he plucked the glasses from Tim's face and set them aside after tucking the arms, mindful of where he placed them before returning his attention to Tim.

Tim reminded him of a teenager, all desire and no straight thinking. His lips pressed scattered kisses along (Y/N)'s jawline and cheekbones, his crinkling arms wrapping around him loosely and hands tugging at the hem of his button-up. Hawk must've left him high and dry; he always did love the ones desperate for attention, and then he'd complain when they grew clingy.

"Easy, Tim." (Y/N) smiled, his thumb pressing into Tim's chin to still his quick movements. His flushed cheeks and messy strands made (Y/N)'s heart seize uncomfortably. He was undeniably pretty. "I still have to do your portrait, don't I? Hawk's looking forward to seeing it."

"Hawk calls me Skippy." Tim sounded breathless. Did he want to make Hawk jealous? (Y/N) pitied him if he did. Emotional ties were never Hawk's thing.

"I'm not calling you that." (Y/N) snorted and his thumb moved so he could firmly grasp Tim's jaw in his hand while he reached for his sketchbook with the other. "I think I'll call you.. Muse."

His bedroom was more comfortable than the studio. While the smell of paints had become as familiar to him as cigarette smoke, he much preferred the cinnamon-scented candles he always kept lit in his bedroom, though he often had to keep his cat away from them. The aroma added to the warmth from the golden hue of the setting sun and the song playing on his radio, though his ears were more focused on the muffled noises and determined huffs from Tim.

(Y/N) gazed at the sketch, though it was still rough linework over something to be admired. He'd managed to get a vague outline of Tim's face and shoulders, his neat hair that slightly swooped over his hairline and his brows that were almost always in a concentrated or confused furrow. He grasped the underside of his sketchbook with one hand and pinched the pencil between two knuckles before moving the sketchbook out of view to peer down at Tim.

He'd settled nicely between (Y/N)'s legs, his bare arms hooked under (Y/N)'s thighs and palms pressed into his skin. A foamy ring had formed at the base of (Y/N)'s shaft, each bob from Tim's head leaving a glistening sheen behind. He raked his fingers through Tim's hair, scratching his scalp with his blunt nails and watching him shudder before he gave him a light tug. Tim's eyes flickered up to his face, water accumulated in them but not enough to slip down his reddened cheeks.

(Y/N) smiled. "You look pretty like this."

Tim gave a soft grunt in return, his hands keeping (Y/N)'s hips from bucking too much at the vibrations yet his own dug into the mattress feverishly. (Y/N) took a moment to sketch out his attentive eyes, including the way his pupils dilated, and then moved down to sketch the slope of his nose where he waited for Tim's nostril to stop flaring with each deep inhale.

Once satisfied, he tugged on Tim's head and listened to the soft pop! that followed, his teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight of Tim's raw, spit-covered lips. Tim took a deep gulp of air and then gave a small cough, his hand raising to wipe at his mouth as he moved back onto his knees. His whole body was flushed, and a certain part of him begged for attention.

Pressing the sketchbook against Tim's chest, (Y/N) near effortlessly flipped them over and left the sketchbook on top of him as he adjusted Tim's legs to his liking. He reached toward his nightstand and rolled the volume dial on his radio so the sound of trumpets and the velvety voice of the singer filled the room more clearly, his lips quirking when Tim's chest rose and fell quicker with anticipation.

The sketchbook and pencil nearly slid off Tim's chest when his back arched, keens and garbled words falling from his lips as (Y/N) bullied his way past the tight ring of muscle that he'd already teased and explored with experienced fingers. Hawk was a pain to deal with and a walking heartbreak, but he'd taught (Y/N) plenty of things.

He took the pencil in his hand again and readjusted the sketchbook, amused at the way Tim fought to catch his breath again. His fingers trembled slightly but he managed to keep a steady hand sketching his neck, the adams apple that kept bobbing, and his shoulders before pining the pencil to the spine and shutting the sketchbook. He set it aside on the nightstand and focused his full attention on the wriggling man beneath him.

One of his hands found Tim's and he laced his fingers with his while the other gripped Tim's thigh hard enough to leave red imprints behind. He understood Hawk more than he liked to admit; there was something addicting to having control over someone else's body. He leaned down to kiss him, swallowing the cries and incoherent babbles he released when he began snapping his hips.

Their bodies melded and moved together, the hairs across Tim's chest tickling (Y/N)'s skin as they shared hot air and felt more sweat begin to accumulate. He pressed his forehead against Tim's and soaked in his scrunched-up features, grinning at his quivering lips and giving them a nip that elicited a throaty whine. Tim clung onto him as if his life depended on it, his name coming out in rushed huffs and nails digging half-moons into his shoulders and back.

(Y/N) kissed him again. He could get addicted to his new muse.

The sound of panting, skin slapping against skin, and mumbled pleas were nothing new to (Y/N), but he always enjoyed observing how others reacted to pleasure. He captured it occasionally in his work, always ensuring to turn masculine features more feminine in case anyone felt prompted to search his things for any hint of being a 'deviant'. Tim released a choked gasp and his back arched again, tightening deliciously before warm liquid coated their abdomens.

(Y/N)'s hand moved from his thigh and crept up to Tim's shoulder before wrapping carefully around his throat, a spark appearing in Tim's half-lidded eyes as he continued to spurt and twitch untouched. His fingers gave an experimental squeeze and Tim fluttered around him, nudging him closer to his own release.

"Am I-" Tim gasped. "-pretty now?"

(Y/N) laughed breathily. "The prettiest."

The steam in the bathroom oozed out into the bedroom, water droplets splattering on the carpet when (Y/N) followed the steam with the wet towel in hand. He scanned the room and found the familiar face who often enjoyed lingering around for another hour or two missing, though he could only assume Tim had more important duties in the morning after his promotion. He'd call and pout about it later and listen to Tim's chuckles about making it up to him.

Tossing the towel aside to be washed along with the rest of his laundry, (Y/N) slipped on some briefs and sleepwear before stepping out into the hallway. He'd picked the townhouse due to the history etched into its walls, the aged look it had fitting with the creations he spent days and weeks painting. Oil paintings of landscapes and portraits of people he met over the years, some fresh and others old. Paintings akin to works of the likes of Claude Monet, Vincent van Gogh, and Pierre Montezin.

He found serenity in nature, found it more comforting and nurturing than humans.

The stairs creaked as he descended them but before he could head toward the kitchen for a glass of water, a rapid succession of knocks came from his front door. His heart surged with anxiety and panic immediately, pure instinct after all the crackdowns on 'deviants' in workplaces and the club raids, but he forced his heart to calm itself.

It's probably Tim, he assured himself and approached the door, he probably forgot something.

(Y/N) spared a glance around the room for Circe and when he was confident she was nowhere near the door, he opened it, the teasing smile that'd worked its way onto his face disappearing at the sight of Hawk standing on his doorstep. He barely uttered a hello before stepping inside, lifting his fedora from his head and smoothing back any raven locks that went astray.

"No calls, no letters. I'm beginning to think you've deserted me." Hawk spoke, his clothes smelling like cigarette smoke and faintly of the whiskey he enjoyed drinking after work. His vibrant blue eyes looked over the small, cluttered living room. It irked him how comfortable Hawk looked as if he were right at home. "Or perhaps, replaced me."

Scoffing, (Y/N) shut the door before the idea of slipping out into the night crossed his cat's mind and folded his arms over his chest. He was like a damn virus, always appearing when you least expected it. "Why do you care, Hawk? You value keeping your ass out of trouble more than anything. I'm sure plenty of fools at the Cozy Corner are keeping you occupied, or the senator's daughter, at that. I hear there's a romance brewing."

"You know I have to be careful in my line of work. Haven't you heard?" Lines formed between Hawk's brows, annoyed and perhaps offended. He wondered what Lucy Smith would think of it all.

"Of course, I have." (Y/N) sighed, his fingers working on his temple to soothe away a headache. Hawk always affected him, whether it was giving him a migraine or making his heart flutter. He preferred the former. "Tim mentioned what happened to Mary. I can't imagine what she's going through, poor girl."

"Tim." Hawk echoed, his lips curling up in a false smile and his thumb rubbing over the edges of his hat. He wore confidence like a mask but (Y/N) could see the emotions slipping through the corners. He was more than acquainted with the look of harrowing loneliness, and it lay heavily in Hawk's eyes. "He hasn't been calling either. I never expected you two to get so close."

"You don't get to come in and pretend as if you're here for anything other than sex." (Y/N) gave a mocking, short laugh and his fingers dug tightly through the fabric covering his arms. Anger slammed into his chest like a kick and rippling bitterness followed its heels, leaving his body hot and twitching with contained emotion.

Hawk steeled his expression with practiced ease. "I'm the reason you can afford to live here, the reason you have buyers and commissions-"

"Don't act as if half of those buyers weren't sent my way so you could use me to get information out of them, Hawk. You think I wouldn't notice you only ever send men you know are interested in more than just a painting?" His brows raised, and much to his dismay, his voice trembled.

"You know you were never forced to do anything you didn't want." Hawk's voice softened, yet it sounded patronizing to his ears. (Y/N) knew him too well, seen his acts and smooth-talking charades far too often to feel anything other than bubbling irritation in his veins. There'd been a time when he might've allowed Hawk to talk him down, but those times were long gone.

"Fuck you." (Y/N) snapped and Hawk flinched. "If you're not here for sex, then why are you here?"

Hawk stared at him, the tension in his jaw slowly vanishing. He inhaled heavily and reached out toward him to touch his cheek but (Y/N) leaned away, leaving his fingers to curl and a soft sigh to leave him. "I wanted to see you. I.. I missed you. I missed your face, your voice, your touch. I miss watching you paint and laugh."

"Well, I don't want to see you anymore, Hawk. What we had was fun but..." The words halted in his throat, an admission he hadn't yet fully processed waiting to finally be acknowledged. But not in front of Hawk.

"But what? You prefer others- Tim? Are you even being careful? His job can fall into risk and you-"

"You think you're smarter than everyone else, Hawk, but I'm not an idiot. I know what's at risk. He knows what's at risk. You love to pretend you have so much more freedom than everyone else yet you constrict yourself in every way possible. You and I both know you'll end up marrying Lucy Smith to keep yourself out of the line of fire and in Senator Smith's safe arms. You'll end up knocking her up with who knows how many kids and you'll live the little American dream while rotting inside."

"Excuse me-"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Their attention snapped to Tim standing in the archway leading into the kitchen, a cup of milk in hand and wide eyes flickering between the two of them. A sense of relief swept through (Y/N)'s body, one that intensified when Tim addressed Hawk with one of his furrowed brow frowns. His eyes dropped down to Circe, watching the cat rub herself along Tim's legs yet turn her nose up at the sight of Hawk.

"I think you should go," Tim told him firmly, but with a cup of milk in hand and the hint of a milk mustache glistening over his top lip, he hardly looked intimidating. Still, (Y/N) wanted nothing more than to cozy up to his side and kiss the air right from his lungs. "You're not wanted here."

Hawk blinked. "Skippy-"

"Go, Mr. Fuller." Tim slotted himself between the two and motioned for the door, his fingers turning white from how tightly he gripped his cup.

A tense silence filled the air between the three, only broken by a quiet mew from Circe reminding him it was time for her second and last meal of the day. Hawk's eyes tore away from flickering between the two to drop onto the fuzzy cat, his lips twisting up when she continued nuzzling against Tim but pointedly avoided his legs. He'd tried once or twice to earn her trust, both times futile.

Uncharatiscally, Hawk gave up the battle and placed his hat over his head again. He turned toward the door, his hand wrapping around the knob. "Marcus mentioned you were thinking of going to San Francisco," He said suddenly, looking back at them but mostly at Tim to gauge his reaction. Tim's brows inched upward. Hawk offered a half-grin. "Good luck." The door rattled shut with his exit.

Bastard. He always had to leave a mark.

"You're going to San Francisco?" Tim asked softly, twisting around to face him while carefully avoiding stepping on Circe as the mass of fur dramatically draped herself over (Y/N)'s feet, another demanding meow leaving her. They both ignored her which only prompted another, much longer meow.

"It's just suffocating here, Tim." (Y/N) rubbed his shoulder, hoping to ease some of the tension that'd formed. "I tolerated it 'cause I had no real choice but I have more money now. I want to live by the beach and- and not have to worry about offending some politician. I thought Washington would have more to offer but it's... dull."

"What about me?" Tim looked like a child, feet shuffling and brows together with faint sadness.

(Y/N) smiled and leaned forward, kissing the corner of his lip. "You're perfect, Tim." Tim's cheeks flushed and he pressed his lips together to contain the bashful smile. "We can write to each other and we can try to visit. Things won't be the same but-"

"What if I went with you? Permanently- Like, we move together and live close to each other?" (Y/N) stared at him in surprise. "San Francisco has government jobs, too. I'm sure there'll be ties to Senator McCarthy-"

"I can't ask you to do that, Tim."

Tim shook his head and set his cup aside on the accent table by the stairs before taking (Y/N)'s hands into his. Circe made a noise of complaint beneath them but only stretched out further. "I want to. I want to be with you. I-I want to keep waking up at your side and- and I want to keep eating breakfast with you. I want to keep dancing to romance songs and getting lunch. I'll never find someone who treats me like you do, who makes me feel what I feel for you."

A heat crept up (Y/N)'s shoulders and neck, covering his face and ears. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands suddenly felt clammy and sweaty, fidgeting in Tim's hold. Was this the love poets always wrote about?

"I..." (Y/N) gave a small chuckle, feeling delirious. "I want that, too."

Light assaulted his eyes and he quickly squeezed them shut, half-contemplating rolling over and burying his face into the pillow. He did just that, rolled over and tossed his arm out, but instead of feeling a sleeping body, he felt the mattress. His mouth formed a pouty frown and he squinted through blurry vision, blinking a few times until he was gazing at an empty bed. His eyes slid to the wall.

Tim was so stubborn.

With a heavy sigh, he forced himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rising. His weary body groaned in protest, reminding him he was no longer in his twenties or thirties when his back ached, but he ignored it in favor of stretching before making his way to the bathroom. No sign of Tim either. He spared the army of pill bottles a glance before relieving himself in the toilet and brushing his teeth.

Sticking his feet into his slippers, he journeyed out of their bedroom and into the living room yet found no sign of his insistent partner. He brought two fingers to his lips and then down to Circe's box, muttering a soft greeting to his late feline friend as he passed by the drawer and peeked into the kitchen. There, standing in front of the coffeemaker, was Tim who leaned most of his weight on his cane and stared distantly at the coffee brewing.

He took a moment to watch him, to drink in his floppy brown strands with streaks of silver and the wrinkles that formed with age across his skin. His eyes crinkled at the sight of the big round glasses perched on his nose before they dropped down to the slightly trembling hand clutching the cane. An accident in the bathroom. Even simple falls now impacted them more than they would've when they were in their twenties.

"I should drag you back to bed." (Y/N) clicked his tongue and rubbed leftover sleep from his eye, unable to stop himself from smiling when Tim rolled his eyes at his words yet tilted his head for a kiss on the cheek. (Y/N) gave him one, hard just to let him know he hadn't appreciated waking up alone but Tim only smiled.

"I'm making coffee."

"Yeah?" (Y/N) teasingly grinned. "I hadn't noticed."

Tim rolled his eyes again, affection in his tender gaze as he watched him shuffle around their small kitchen. "My sister's coming by in the evening to drop off some groceries. I thought we could take a stroll around town. Maybe visit some friends? I know you can't bear to see them while they're- they're sick but they need us."

"I know." (Y/N) exhaled deeply through his nose and pulled a box of cereal free from their pantry. The epidemic ran rampant in their community and their government turned a blind eye to the suffering, as cold and uncaring as they'd been in his younger years. "I'll mention it to Marcus. It's been a while since the three of us went somewhere together."

Tim turned to him and approached with the hint of a limp, his head coming to rest on (Y/N)'s shoulder. He smiled tenderly and (Y/N) melted against him, inhaling the smell of mint toothpaste and soap still clinging to him. "We can go to the beach, too. It's a beautiful day to paint the waves." He murmured and pushed his glasses further up his nose, head tilting to the array of drawings (Y/N) had done of him throughout the years.

"Sounds wonderful, sweetheart."

157 notes · View notes

lil-bumbum · 11 days ago

Text

Title: That's your Future

Fandom: Twilight

Pairing: Alice x Jasper x M!Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Alice and Jasper have adopted (Name) as their own, violence, death, heavy ANGST, good ending.

Everywhere (Name) looked all he saw was dead bodies and fights. (Name) never really liked violence. Especially with how his "Creator" was when he was only a Newborn. Much like his father figure. (Name) was created for war. So he always hated fighting.

(Name) grunts as a guard grabs him from behind. (Name) quickly wrapped his left leg around his captures and easily broke it off. Easily maneuvering the Volturi guard over him and quickly breaking the Vampires neck. (Name) winced at the breaking sound before shaking his head. He needed to stop being so distracted.

(Name) looked around. Trying to find his parental figures. When he was unable to see either pixie or cowboy he grimaced and ducked under another guard. Quickly ending the fight and wincing once more at the breaking sound. He'll always hate the sound they make when their killed.

Being a Vampire definitely wasn't what it's made out to be. He finally caught site of his mother figure and breathed a sigh of relief seeing her alive. He frowned when he noticed she was in two Volturi guard arms and immediately started racing forward. Until he heard his father's pained gasp.

(Name) froze and snapped his head to where the sound radiated. His undead heart broke seeing how the guards were holding Jasper. It was like time slowed when Demetri cut his hand down. (Name) could slowly hear the scream of his mother and knew what he had to do.

He never really understood why his gift was what it was. Being able to swap places with others was never a very powerful gift to have. Although considering how much trouble his newest Auntie and Cousin has caused the last few years. It's come in handy multiple times.

Edward snapped his head behind him. He quickly reached out for his nephew. Only to grab the shoulder of his brother as (Name) had swapped his and Jasper's places. Upon seeing (Name)'s head hit the snow and both Alice and Jasper's pain filled screams both sides froze momentarily.

Alice quickly broke the hold from the guards and sunk to her knees. Reaching out for (Name)'s head. The sad smile broke Edward's heart. Edward's hand tightened on Jasper's shoulder. Both brothers raced forward. Tackling the stunned Demetri and Felix to the ground.

Jane upun seeing her guards taken down tried using her gift. But when it didn't work she looked to the side. Bella Swan with a rage and grief filled face was using her gift. Protecting her husband, brother in law, and her sister in law. Jane stumbled back hoping. Both male's would be busy with her guard. Letting her escape.

Until she heard the sound of snow crunching behind her. She briefly looked back. Until to see a emotionless Alice Cullen chasing after her. Jane's eyes widened and she turned back forward. Trying to run faster. She was the slowest of the guards, but her gift made up for her weaked speed.

Jane looked back only to not see the racing Cullen. Until she turned back around. Running straight into her. Alice snarled as she gripped Jane's throat. The imagine of her sweet son's head rolling to her feet kept playing through her mind. So instead of just ripping her head off and giving her an easy but quick death.

Alice Cullen walked forward. Multiple fights stopping to see what would happen next. Until a large black wolf stalked forward. The hand of Jane's twin Alex hanging from his mouth. Jane's eyes watered as she tried breaking from Alice's hold. Only to fail. Alice stopped a few feet from the wolf. With a icey tone Alice threw Jane forward.

"Here. A new toy Sam. (Name) would be glad to know you broke it."

The large black wolf didn't hesitate before jumping onto the screaming Jane. Quickly snapping his jaw around her head. He ignore her tearing at his snout. The picture of a happily laughing (Name) flashed before Sam's eyes. Before his jaw snapped tighter and he ripped his head to the side. Completely breaking shattering her head.

Upon seeing his best guards taken down. Aro frowned and looked around for his targets. His eyes caught Edward first. The Cullen's eyes were filled with grief and rage. Aro smirked before racing towards the telepathic male. Bella seeing the scene raced forward. Using her anger to her advantage.

Aro slammed Bella back towards her husband. Sending them both down. He tried using that to his advantage. Only to fail as Edward quickly turned. Using the momentum Bella kicked Aro's face. Stunning the Volturi King. Edward threw his wife towards the King. Bella kicked Aro in the chest multiple times before being thrown away.

Edward ran forward. Trying to remove the King's head before Aro quickly turned the tables. While he was distracted Bella jumped onto the King's shoulders and pulled upwards. Frightening the King momentarily. Edward using the distraction kicked the King's legs out from under him.

As his head flew forward all Aro could see was Bella thrusting the fire into his face. Mouthing out, "For my family." The guards trying to intervene were quickly handled by the other Cullen's and friends.

Aro stunned blinked multiple times. Seeing the absolute fury upon Alice Cullen's face. He looked around. Meeting the eyes of the other Cullen members. He stared at the tensed Edward Cullen. Who had an arm wrapped around his wife and his other arm on the shoulders of his nephew.

(Name) flinched when his eyes met Aro's. Making Emmett step in front of the male. Multiple heated glares and growls sent his way. Upon seeing the King staring at her son Alice snarled quietly. Her tone filled with anger, ice, and a warning.

"That's your future."

Jasper glared at the staring King. Ignoring the tightened hold from the guards. His own deep and threatening growl leaving his chest. Making multiple Volturi guard flinch and step away. The guards holding him winced feeling the power of the growl. Aro's eyes snapped to Jasper before meeting Alice's eyes.

"That's your future unless you change your mind."

(Name) held his unneeded breath. He had no idea what vision was shown. But upon feeling his Uncle Edward literally yank him towards the end. He could guess a few factors of what happened. But the feeling of one of the Vampire King's was very unwelcomed. Especially since both his Uncles tensed.

He relaxed when his Uncle Emmett stepped in front of him. (Name) seriously hated this. He wanted to get his family and go back to the Cullen house. Away from their so called "Royalty". Everything else happened so fast. Aro made some kind of speech (Name) honestly didn't pay attention to.

His attention was towards the wolves. (Name) happily waved towards the wolves. Not noticing the chuckling surrounding him or the retreating Volturi. Only when his mother almost tackled him into the snow did (Name) realize what was happening. Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around her. So thankful that they were both okay.

Jasper crashing into the hug did send them into the snow though. Which made almost everyone laugh. (Name) was very confused on why his parents were so clingy at the moment but (Name) couldn't really see his mother's visions. So he shrugged off the confusion and instantly relaxed in the arms of his parents. Glad that everything was over and their family safe.

66 notes · View notes

lil-bumbum · 12 days ago

Text

Okay but don't think about older Daryl when he returns from France.

Jude and the kids are all adults now, and a new generation he's never met before is waiting for him when he returns to the gates.

He rides a different custom bike now, a trike, perhaps. Bikes get so heavy and Daryl isn't as sturdy anymore.

The greying in his beard now traveled upward, streaking his once dark brown hair with silver strands.

His leg never healed properly after Alpha's attack, his limp getting so bad he sports a cane now on solid ground, a brace covering his bad leg for forest trips and hunts. He never stopped.

But now, seeing you all grown up, no longer 'that kid' in your early 20s he feels its time to settle. It was clear the community thrived without his hunting so he'd gather the courage, even in his old age, to ask it if you'd be willing to take up the job as his caretaker.

He could still do almost everything on his own, but he really wanted to be in your company as much as he could now.

And of course you agreed.

Daryl had saved your life so often, and you cared deeply for the man.

You'd happily share your home with the old huntsman.

273 notes · View notes

lil-bumbum · 29 days ago

Text

Outlaw! Reader Masterlist

My first series, here's to hoping you all like it! Just a reminder: I write Outlaw! Reader as neglected and Female To Male/Transmasc. If that ain't your cup of tea, I hope I write something that is! ================================================

The Oldest Biological Sibling [HC/Drabble]

The Oldest Biological Sibling Pt. 2 [HC/Drabble]

Confrontation [Damian Wayne + Outlaw! Reader]

Denial [Dick Grayson + Outlaw! Reader]

Anger [Tim Drake + Outlaw! Reader]

Bargaining [Barbara Gordon + Outlaw! Reader]

Depression [Bruce Wayne + Outlaw! Reader]

Acceptance [Cassandra Cain + Outlaw! Reader]

Shock [Damian Wayne + Outlaw! Reader]

Aftermath [Continuation of Bargaining]

Pride [Jason Todd + Outlaw! Reader]

Joy [Stephanie Brown + Outlaw! Reader]

Admittance [Barbara Gordon + Outlaw! Reader]

Accidents [Outlaw! Reader Solo]

154 notes · View notes

lil-bumbum · 29 days ago

Text

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚡 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚢: 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

After servicing the SAS for around 30 years it was finally time to retire and enjoy the time spent by the people you always protected. The Task Force 141, created by Price, was now led by Gaz and Soap after you and Ghost decided to retire as well following the old man, or rather “father”, that retired to spend time with Nik. After 2 years, you and Ghost reached the age of 55 and it was now time to put the guns away.

You and him still wanted to be in the frenetic life of constant alertness and the adrenaline rushing through your veins but after an incident that left you having to walk with a cane (you were not fully disabled, you just needed support, not always, your knee sometimes gave painful troubles. The problem, most of the time, was solved by wearing a medical device, a knee brace) and him to manifest phantom pains with constant migraines, the time to give up was finally here. After being discharged with honor and with badges of recognition, saying goodbye to Johnny and Kyle and making sure that these two would be able to lead the future of the task force, you two left the SAS forever.

Before leaving, a decision was made. During dull times when there was nothing to do, you and Simon discussed possible houses and flats to live in after retirement, these conversations started way before the deadline and sometimes it would end up with the two of you not having emitted the final verdict. You always wanted to visit Manchester and maybe live in it too as Simon always described it as an "ok" city. Eventually, an apartment was found and it was quite cozy too. It had a wall window (not fully glass) that was facing the west giving the possibility to gaze at the setting sun, it had an elevator too as you needed it. It took some time to get adjusted. It was a sort of challenge itself to buy the furniture as you and Simon had different tastes that were difficult to mix together and the fact that it was a struggle to arrange everything, but eventually your new house was done and was full of memories too.

The small table and the walls around the TV were full with photos of vacations as well as after missions times with your friends: the time in Las Almas, with Alejandro and Rudy, then there were Farah and Alex with Nikolai too. Other photos showed vacation trips with the whole 141 and your outer friends too. In the more intimate and more secured side, the medals achieved over time by you and Simon stood neat and clean, in the studio, in their cases showing the best of the best.

You two where 50 and still in great physical form despite your respective pains, you were accepted to work as a personal guard to assist the CEO of a very advanced High-tech company that helped in the reaserch in many fields…..it did pay very well….while Simon, who liked more quiet places was hired as an intelligence specialist where his tactical skills were put to use, formuling plans or mapping the perimeters, when squads of police or other special forces had to get their hands dirty. At the end of the day, when you both were home, you two got to spend the evenings on the couch watching some football or play matches in Call of Duty making some people rage quit since they couldn’t compete with veterans.

Sleeping was a challenge though, Simon had chronic pains over his whole body and sometimes the treatments were not really effective, he ended up waking up in the middle of the night with pains in his legs or arms (trust me they are unbearable. I say this as someone who sometimes has their legs and foot-fingers blocked for the amount of pain) that makes him become restless. Lucky for him you are there as you try and stop everything with a massage. To say thank you, he lets you sleep on his torso and wraps you around his arms if they don’t hurt and you do the same, giving him a small and content smile. If you are the one waking up with knee pains, he makes sure to try and make it lessen by applying some pain relief ointment.

Mornings are spent lazily if none of you have to work, usually you wake up with him being the big spoon while he had his head on your pillow, other times he wakes up with you on top of him with your arms sprawled on the bed. He rolls around, waking you up in the process, and giving you light kisses on your forehead and temples while caressing your exposed tummy, warm light usually fills the room finding its way to your exposed torsos filled with scars of all types, symbols of your endurance and courage.

As time passed white hair did begin to appear on your scalp and Simon noticed it while washing your hair in the bathtub.

‘��Pup, you have some white hair here and there…’’ he spoke as he massaged your scalp and cheek bones.

‘’Ah-…sigh’’

‘’Don’t worry about it, they look good on you’’ he smiled.

‘’Don’t joke about it, since you have some on your eyebrows too!’’

And so days were spent like this. You two were finally taking back the time ripped away from your work duty, callused hands traced the necks of one-another and scarred faces expressed the most sincere of feelings repressed by the ruthless requirements of the war world. Sometimes, the little things done with the heart, each day…are the ones that matter the most.

75 notes · View notes

lil-bumbum · 29 days ago

Text

Will you love me again?

Summary: Simon’s returned home after 20 years but the suitors have finally grown restless of waiting for you to pick a new King of Ithaca. Pairing: King!Simon Riley x King!Ftm!reader Wc: 6.1k Tags/Warning: Canon-level violence, talks/planning of S/A, Epic the Musical Ithaca Saga spoilers! Most of the words are literally lyrics so ig song fic, oral (r!receiving), fingering, stomach bulge, reader has a vagina, no protection, creampie

His skin remembers the touch of your lips, the way they’d press against his tense muscles, the way they’d kiss his scars and carry soft whispers and songs. How your hands would touch him, run up his arms, cradle his face, and remove his helmet. He remembers the sound of your voice, how you’d talk to him while weaving against the window, your kingdom standing below your castle.

The castle he’d built all those years ago as a declaration of his love for you. A castle that grew colder as the years stretched on since he’s been there; taken away for a war.

A war, born from a greedy man kidnapping your cousin. A war Simon hadn’t wanted to participate in because, despite his oath to your cousin's husband, the Trojans have never helped Ithaca in their times of need. And even more so, he had you, his husband, and your newborn to watch over. To protect. He’d only agreed to help after he’d been tricked.

A war that was supposed to be no more than five years had turned into a twenty-year journey. He’d left a twenty-year-old, rising to power in Ithaca with a newborn son. Now he’s forty, his home just out of sight, and his son would be twenty. He imagines how you must look now. How your hair must’ve greyed, how you picked the hyacinths and bluebells from the garden.

He wonders how his son is doing, what he likes, and what he’s accomplished. How he’s missed his whole life.

Simon strains as he pushes the raft from the island, the goddess he left on the sandy shores crying for him. Begging him to stay; she loves him. He loathes her. He loathes the years he’s stayed trapped on that island, how she’d been persistent on loving him. Gods, provided she wasn’t a goddess, he would’ve killed her the first time she even hinted at such.

His head hurts when he remembers his fallen friends; Gaz, Price— and Johnny. He’d gotten his brother killed, he let all of them, all six hundred men die under his watch. The cyclops, Scylla, Circe— Zeus, Poseidon. He recognizes the pain turning into red-hot anger as he pushes past Charybdis. These past years cannot have been in vain. The souls that haunt his dreams won’t have died in vain.

He’ll make it home, he’s sure of that.

—

You stare at the suitors gathered at the palace gates, angry men eager to become the next king one way or another. All the while your son, Johnny, stands in front of them with a spear and your old armor. You know that look in his eyes, that Athena's determination he has because Simon had it, too.

You sigh, undoing the threads you’d made the day before. For the funeral shroud you’ve been making for ten years with the promise that once it’s done, you’ll pick from the suitors and give Ithaca a new king. You almost laugh when you remember how many years ago that had been now. How foolish the suitors had been to agree to your demand. How you fear you’ll have to finish it one of these days.

You look at your sword hung in the corner of the room. You remember your newly made armor, tucked in your closet, the new bow and arrow next to it. You remember the feeling of warm blood on your hands.

Even if you must finish the shroud they’ll never get their wishes. No one will rule alongside you and if you must, you’ll take a queen. Perhaps some common woman with nothing better to do; drown her with all the things a queen would desire all the while you continue your duties as king.

Standing, you close the curtains to the window and grab your sword. It feels like home in your hands, reminders of your time as a warrior of Sparta and then Ithaca. You’ve never forgotten your lessons, the teachings so ingrained in your very being they feel like second nature when you swipe the air.

It’ll need to be sharpened before tomorrow.

That night a storm rages on the coast of Ithaca. You watch from the balcony, the wind blowing your hair and clothes as you try to see inside of the storm. Poseidon fights, you can tell that much, and gods, you know in your bones. You know it’s time to set your plan in motion.

You call a maid to send the news; the Challenge you’d set up after five years of Simon being gone was happening. You rush to gather Simon’s old bow, carefully undoing the string while the servants gather twelve axes from the armory.

—

“I’ll be back soon,” Johnny promises the next morning. You stand at the pier, watching as he loads onto a boat; about to head off for a mission for the kingdom.

“I know you will,” You smile, giving him a dagger that he places on his thigh strap. You don’t pretend to notice the group of angry suitors hiding behind ships, watching as you watch your son leave. Leaving you alone for who knows how long, the mission shouldn’t take longer than a day, though.

As the ship leaves, you look at where the storm had raged, sure that you see a small object floating towards Ithaca shores. You smile, hanging your head before thanking whatever God had allowed him home and return to the castle. The suitors follow, ready for the challenge you’d sent messengers to talk about that morning. You ride your horse back, letting them climb the mountain to the castle as you prepare for what’s to come.

Their footsteps are heavy, echoing in the halls as a maid guides them to the throne room. You sit at your throne, the half-finished shroud draped over Simon’s throne. His crown sits under it, shining like the first day it was made. A reminder to them and yourself that your husband is out there, that they’ll never sit on that throne as long as you’re alive.

As you look around, you inhale and look over the crowd of men. There are dozens of them, some bigger, some smaller. All of them hungry for power, all of them greedy in a way that makes your stomach turn.

You stand, shoulders back and head held high as hold back a deep, etching frown.

“The Challenge,” You start as the murmurs die into a silence that had overtaken the castle all those years ago. You grip the bow, raising it in the air for everyone to see. “Whoever can string my husband's old bow and shoot through twelve axes cleanly,” Your gaze travels to the axes, lined up in a straight line, the hole only just big enough to allow an arrow to slide through. “Will be the new king and rule with me.” Cheers echo through the halls and you hand the bow to the first suitor before you take your seat. Your throne.

You hope Simon knows that you’re buying him time; that you’ve bought him twenty years of time to return. That he’ll climb the mountain from the shores to the castle before they grow behind restless. Bloodthirsty with one goal on their mind. You hope your son doesn’t come back to see you in such a state if Simon doesn’t make it on time.

They grow more frustrated as the hours tick by and they find that no one can string the bow. Eventually, the sun sets and you tell them they can try again tomorrow. They all agree, with some grumbles and you take the bow back from a suitor who bares his teeth at you. He resembles a beast, a beast that you don’t dignify with a reaction.

—

“Screw this competition,” A man that Simon knows all too well, Graves, snarls as he tosses his old bow to the ground. “We’ve been here for hours. None of us can string this; we don’t have the power. Screw this damn challenge!” He rakes his hands through his hair, the stress clear in his actions that make Simon proud. Of course, you’d set up something only he could do, of course, you’d waited all these years for him to return.

“No more delay. Don’t you see that we’ve been played?” Grave’s eyes travel amongst the men crowded around him. Men that are so easily swayed by simple words that it makes Simon seethe. “This is how he holds us down as the throne gets colder. Hold us down as we slowly age. Hold us down while the boy gets bolder.” Grave continues, daring to even hint about Simon and your son. “Where the hell is our pride and our rage?” A couple of the men agree, egged on by each other's stupidity.

“Here and now,” Another man says as Grave smirks; clearly his plan is working. Like a moth to a flame, they take his bait. “There’s a chance for action; we can take control. Here and now we can burn it to ashes.” Too big for his pants, Simon assumes.

He leaves for a moment, gathering their weapons and hiding them in the armory, making sure to leave it unlocked before he returns to their conversation. By that point more men had gathered; you’d long since left the throne room so Simon didn’t worry about you hearing their voices any longer.

“Haven’t you noticed who’s missing? Don’t you notice the prince is not around? I heard he’s on a diplomatic mission and I heard today he's coming back to town.” Grave continues, and crosses his arms over his chest. Simon’s eyes dart down from his place in the room, overlooking the shores of Ithaca as a boat slowly approaches.

“So…?” A different man speaks from somewhere in the crowd.

“I say we gather near the beaches. We wait till he arrives, then when he docks his ship I say we breach it. Let us leave now, today we can strike!” Grave doesn’t feel the sharp glare that hits his head as he speaks. Unaware that his words have just set his fate into motion; a fate that Simon has become oh so familiar with these past twenty years.

“Hold him down, till the boy stops shaking.”

He counts the men; seventy in total.

“Hold him down, while I slit his throat.”

He’s taken down worse. More.

“Hold him down, while I slowly break his pride, his trust, his faith, and his bones!”

He can’t wait to watch them bleed. The feeling of their blood on his hands; something he hadn’t realized could feel so good until now. He wanted to chase it like they plan on chasing you and your son.

“Cut him down into tiny pieces. Throw him down in the great below that way when the crown wonders where the prince is only the ocean and I will know.”

Watch their light leave their eyes; hear their screams. Beg him to spare them. The gurgling sound as they choke on their own blood.

“And when it’s done,” Grace smirks. “The king will have no one to stop us from breaking his bedroom door. Stop us from taking his love and more. And then we’ll…”

He’ll savor Graves the most, he quickly decides. He won’t dignify him with a fast death. He’ll hurt him, hold him down, and break his bones. He’ll drag him by his legs into town, parading him around to not only show he’s home to his throne, to his husband and his son but to show that anyone who had thought any different will face the same consequences.

“Hold him down.”

“While the gate is open.”

“Hold him down.”

“While I get a taste and we share his spoils. I will not let any part go to waste.”

He rises from his spot, his hand a deathly grip on his knife as the men try to leave the halls, one of them pointedly staggering behind. Drunk on wine. The perfect way to announce himself.

He doesn’t waste a second, stabbing the man in the throat and he watches as he gurgles on his own blood as he returns to his perfectly hidden spot. He watches with glee as the light leaves his eyes, staring down at him as his body goes limp.

The men stop at the door, having heard the noise. When they turn they only see a dead man and then nothing around him. Quicker than they can react, the torches around them snuff out one by one, and then the door behind them locks. Like rats they scramble, searching frantically on the ground for anything they can use to defend themselves.

“Twenty years,” Simon growls. “I suffered from the wrath of Gods and monsters to the screams of my comrades. Watched my men die like cattle. I come back to my palace, desecrated and sacked like Troy. Worst of all,” He reaches into the darkness, grabbing a random man who shouts, tugging at Simon’s wrist to be let go.

“I hear you dare to touch my husband and hurt my boy! I… have had… enough.” He snaps the man’s neck in three motions before stepping over his now limp body as he watches the men scramble in the dark. He supposes he should thank Calypso for living on such a dark island, now he can watch them as they scramble for torches. Lighting them with the nearby lighters.

He grabs his bow, stringing it with ease while the others run in the castle. The darkness that shrouds them is emphasized by the setting sun. Simon struts after them, listening to their footsteps and breathing like a predator.

“We have the advantage; we’ve the numbers and the might.” A man says, clearly not knowing who he’s up against.

“No!” Shouts a man who does, he wonders if they fought together before. Somehow that makes him all the more angry as he grabs an arrow from his quiver. “You don’t understand! This man plans for every fight.” An arrow flies through the air, stabbing him through the neck and the others shout, watching as he drops and the torch rolls away from his limp hand. Everyone scrambles away, fleeing down the hall.

“Where is he? Where is he?” Someone shouts, his eyes as wide as they can go and he looks into the darkness.

“Keep your heads down, he's aiming for the torches!” Someone else hisses and they all duck, holding the torches as high as they can manage without dropping it.

“Our weapons! They’re missing!” Simon grins at the fear in the man’s tone, stringing another arrow.

“We’re empty-handed,” Someone says, the realization that they’re fucked dawning on him. “Up against an archer.” He mutters, looking around the dark room.

“Our only chance is to strike him in the darkness. We know these halls our odds can be titled.” Someone tries to comfort him before flinching at the sound of Simon’s snicker.

“You don’t think I know my own palace? I built it!” Another arrow flies, hitting a man in the head. He walks after them as they run away.

“It’s the old king!”

“No! Our leader is dead!”

“Old king forgive us!”

“Let’s have open arms instead!” He stops walking, notching yet another arrow as he’s reminded of Gaz. His chest tightens when he remembers his friend, his brother.

“No,” The arrow flies, he doesn’t care to see who it lands inside of. He knows Graves isn’t with this group and heads the other way; towards where he’d hidden their weapons. He’ll deal with the others later, for now only one person has a giant target on their back.

“Dammit,” Grave hisses as he opens the door to the armory. “He’s more cunning than I thought. While we were plotting he hid our weapons in here.” He waves the torch through the room, each weapon highlighted by the burning flame.

“I find it hard to believe that the sharpest of kings left his armory unlocked,” A man mutters, his frantic eyes looking outside of the room because he knows what’s out there, waiting for him.

“So what?” Grave scoffs as he grabs his sword. “Let’s make the bastard rot.”

“Behind you!” He spins, watching as Simon stabs a man through the chest with a sword, his piercing eyes glaring at Graves over the man’s shoulder. The man collapses to the floor while Simon takes the sword out, flicking the blood onto the walls.

“Put the weapons down and I’ll spare you,” He tells the men and immediately they do but Graves doesn’t. Simon tilts his head, eyes flickering to the ten men around Graves.

“How do you dare? Haven’t you seen what he’ll do to us?” Someone asks him, his hands held up in fear.

“The prince!” Someone shouts and Simon makes the mistake of looking behind him. The men in the armory jump on his back without hesitation, shouting to attack the prince that way he’ll have to stand down. Simon struggles against them, his sword clattering to the ground when he sees the torches illuminating his son.

He chokes as he sees his son falling to the ground, scrambling to his dagger that had gotten thrown in the fight.

“Stop struggling and we’ll show you mercy,” Grave whispers in Simon’s ear, holding his hair in an iron-tight grip.

“Mercy?” A voice cuts and Simon feels blood running down his cloak. He hears the sound of someone being impaled and then another in quick succession. The weight on his back lessens and he charges forward.

“Mercy?” Simon bellows, taking harsh steps toward the now-fallen Graves. Unable to find his footing again as more men die around him. “My mercy long since drowned. It died to bring me home. And as long as you're around my family's fate is left unknown. You plotted to kill my son.” In one motion he scoops Graves up, bringing him to his feet and then against the wall. The tip of his blade presses against the man’s neck as his eyes squeeze shut, feet trying to find purchase aside from the tips of his toes on the cold marble floors.

“You planned to rape my husband! All of you are going to die!” He stabs Graves six times, huffing as the body slumps against him and then against the wall when Simon shoves him away.

He stands tall, listening to the shouts of the scared, trapped men as their fates quickly find them. He knows who is fighting at his side; he knows so well but he doesn’t register it until everyone is dead. Until the torches line the walls and he sees his foes splayed on the floors.

“Father?” The sword in his hand clatters to the ground as he spins around. Johnny stands where he was once pinned down, blood dusting his tunic and his face. None of which is his own, Simon thanks the gods for that fact.

“Son,” His voice cracks as he takes a step forward. His chest heaves as he looks at his boy, and how he’s grown into a man. Johnny rushes forward, pulling him into a hug.

“I’ve waited my whole life for you. Twenty years,” He cries into Simon’s chest, his sobs growing as he feels his father's tight embrace.

“Oh my son, look how much you’ve grown,” He whispers, fighting back his own tears. “Oh, my boy. My sweetest joy. I captured the wind and sky for you.”

“My son, I'm finally home.” He finally cries, looking at his son's face for the first time in twenty years. He sees you in him, he sees himself. Simon presses his forehead to Johnny’s, holding the back of his neck as he cries. He cries and he weeps, relief, something he hasn’t felt in years, floods his body as all of the suffering he’s endured has been worth it.

“My love?” He hates to look away but he does, his chest tight when he sees you removing your helmet. Your sword stuck in some man’s chest as your feet carried you across the hall and into his arms.

He calls you, your name falling from his lips and you cry into his neck. You’d nearly forgotten the sound of it on his tongue.

“Is it you?” You ask, pushing away from him after the initial shock. He’d warned you all those years ago, not to trust anyone who looked like him. He knew the Gods and their tricks; you knew them, too. “Have my prayers been answered? Or am I dreaming again?”

“I am no’ the man you fell in love with,” He admits as your eyes scan over him. You pick apart everything about him that’s changed over the years as doubt creeps in the back of your mind. “I am not the man you once adored; I am not your kind and gentle husband and I am not the love you knew before.” You frown as he takes your hands, falling to his knees before looking up at you. With a gaze, you tell Johnny to leave the two of you for now.

“Would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I’ve done? The things I cannot change. Would you love me all the same? I know that you’ve been waiting for love.” He begs, his bleary eyes unable to look at anything but you.

You nod, holding his face before guiding him up to his feet. “What kind of things did you do?” His head dips down in shame as the two of you move to stand outside in your garden. Free of blood and bodies as you sit under the olive tree he’d planted for you all those years ago.

“Left a trail of blood on every island. I traded friends as though they were objects. Hurt more lives than I can count. But all so I could come back to you.” He cries, holding your face, his cries growing as you lean into the touch. “Tell me, please. Would you fall in love with me again?”

“If that’s true,” You start, moving his hand from your face and he falters, eyes darting between yours as if they’ll reveal your choice before your voice does. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” He nods.

“Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace. See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far from here?” You ask, your eyes darting between his own as you wait. Wait as you’ve done for twenty long years.

“How could you say this?” He asks, his hand moving from your face. “I built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat. Carved it into the olive tree where we first met. A symbol of our love everlasting! Do you realize what you have asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots!” He shouts, almost standing due to the anger bubbling in him.

“Only my husband knew that!” You sob, holding his hands again. “You’re real! My Gods, you’re real!” He calls your name as you shudder. You shake your head, pulling him close as your hands search his body, holding him impossibly close.

“I will fall in love with you over and over again. I don’t care how, where, or when. No matter how long it’s been. You’re mine. Don’t tell me you’re not the same person, you’re always my husband and I’ve been waiting for you!” He blinks, brushing your tears from your face before he kisses you.

You crumble under his touch, your hands shaking as you cradle his face. He holds you tightly, pressing your armored chest flush against himself. You pull away first, tucking his now long blonde hair behind his ears to see his face properly.

—

You don’t get a chance to admire the new Simon, not between the kissing and his insisting that you share the bed with Johnny for the night. You agree, of course, the two of you squishing Simon while he happily holds the two of you in his arms as the night draws on.

Simon wakes up first, he’s gotten so used to being forced to share a bed with Calypso that he’d made his body wake up early to escape her. He looks at you and Johnny for a while, softly crying as he knows he’s home. Eventually, he gets up, hating the way the two of you whimper at the lost feeling between the two of you.

He doesn’t venture far, just far enough to grab a bowl of water and a blade. Settling in front of a mirror, he shaves his face for the first time since he set out to Troy and then cuts his hair. He’s never seen his grey hairs before. Despite knowing that he was aging while he was out there he hadn’t realized he was aging. He wasn’t twenty anymore, he certainly didn’t look it either.

He has scars on his face, he has grey hairs, he has the starts of wrinkles, eye bags— he could list them for hours.

He looks back at you as you sleep. At your grey hairs, at your wrinkles and he smiles. You’re just as beautiful as the day he met you.

Stepping towards the window he sees the castle workers dragging the bodies out of the castle and into a carriage. Tossing them unceremoniously and he makes his way down.

“Load them and wait. Do not touch them any further,” He tells one of the maids without looking at her, his gaze locked on the men who had dared to try and defile his family. “Send word to the people of Ithaca. Meet at the pier by noon.” She nods, waiting to be dismissed by the king but he turns on his heel and returns to your room.

You’re awake, rubbing your eyes as your sleepwear slips from your shoulder.

“Did I wake you?” He asks, crawling into the bed and kissing the exposed skin. You roll your head at the feeling, holding the back of his head to keep him in place.

“No,” You murmur, head against his. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” He pulls you onto his lap and you let him, too tired to fight back as he lays down again. “Trust me, ‘m not leaving ever again.”

“I like the sound of that,” You yawn, rubbing Johnny’s hair as he reaches out for the two of you. “We need to get up, though. Clean the halls,”

“Already taken care of, love.” You hum, head resting on his bare chest, fingers tracing against his skin.

“You cut your hair,” You point out.

“Mhmm, like it?”

“Ask me later; ‘m too tired.” He chuckles and pets your cheek with his knuckles.

“Rest my love, I’m not going anywhere.”

The next time you wake up, he’s engrossed in a conversation with Johnny. He’s still holding you, but now it’s sitting up on the bed while Johnny all but bounces around the room. He talks about his own adventures with Athena, how he’d almost beat up Graves this one time, how you always kept a place for him. He talks about the stories he grew up hearing about the great King Simon of Ithaca.

Simon listens, committing his son's voice to memory while he inhales the smell of your hair.

A knock at the door stops their conversation and Simon calls for whoever it is to come in as he pulls the blanket over your body.

“It is nearly noon, King Simon.”

“Thank you,” He nods, watching the door close before he looks down at you. “How long have you been awake?” He chides upon seeing your very much awake eyes on him.

“Long enough,” You respond but make no action to move. “What’s at noon?”

“You’ll see.” He lifts you with ease, picking himself up in the process and you laugh, holding onto his shoulders while Johnny gags and rushes out of the room.

In the tub, Simon sits first, letting you slowly sit with him before he kisses you. His lips and teeth pull and suck at the skin of your neck while you coo, squeezing his shoulders. The cold water wakes you up more than the kisses do, but when his hand dives between your legs you swear you’re more than awake.

“Mmm-mm,” You shake your head as you reluctantly push his hands away, he pouts but doesn’t fight it. “I want it to be in bed. To reclaim it,” His pupils dilate at the idea, you feel his pulse against his wrist and you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I can do that,” He nods, instead moving his hands to start washing the two of you.

The two of you dress together in your finest tunics, adorning yourselves in the royal jewelry and colors before getting Johnny from his room. Again, Simon finds himself between the two of you as you head down to your horses. Even more so when you’re all squished into a chariot.

The wagon of dead bodies follows behind you, the smell of death present as the townspeople watch. People gasp at the sight of Simon, and whispers of the long-since departed king's return echo throughout Ithaca.

Simon steps onto the platform, bringing you up with him and you stand next to him while Johnny stands in front of the two of you.

He starts a speech, making a point about the dead men. He talks of the disrespect to his house– to his family. He dares someone else to try to ruin his family, to hurt his son, his husband. He declares himself back, the two kings of Ithaca ruling again. Merciful, he calls the act of bloodshed the two of you had committed the night before. He calls the men’s mothers, their fathers, their wives, their children. He tells them they can weave their funeral shroud for them. Or else he’ll burn them to keep your room warm.

He watches as they collect their sons, their husbands, and their fathers. He holds you close, fingers a bruising grip against your waist.

The two of you head back; Johnny stays behind to venture around the kingdom. You think it’s so the two of you can be alone for a little while.

—

“I’ve missed you, husband,” Simon says, his head between your legs. He’s thrown them over his shoulders, his hands kneading the flesh of your stomach. He’s dreamt of this sight for two decades and yearned to dive his head between your legs again. Savoring the taste, feeling the way you’d clench around him.

“I’ve missed you, husband,” You parrot, reaching down to hold his chin. He leans into the warm touch, eyes closing as he savors it. You trail your hand up, holding his hair as he dives down. You gasp when he presses his tongue flat against you, slowly dragging up and down while watching you.

“I’m yours,” He murmurs, pressing sloppy kisses against your warmth while you twitch under his hold. “Only yours.” You pant, holding the cotton sheets for a reprise as his tongue makes figure eights around you, how he sucks and nips at your sensitive bud. He moves, sliding a finger into you; his eyes stuck on your face as your back arches. It’s an adjustment, just as it had been the first time you’d done this.

Your body had almost forgotten the feeling of his fingers inside of you, how skillful they’d been during your marriage. How he knew your body inside and out, what points to press on, and how fast to go. He maintains a rhythm that makes you cry, your arm across your eyes as you try to compose yourself. Not let yourself come undone so fast.

“Simon,” You breathe, trying to get to your elbows but he starts moving his finger. He's pushing and pulling, curling inside of you and it makes you fall back on the bed. He shudders, that tone in your voice, that feeling on his finger, the taste on his tongue. It’s all he’s ever wanted; it’s what kept him going all these years. “I need you,” You cry, eyes closed as your stomach tightens. He adds another finger, the added pressure makes your jaw drop.

“You have me,” He swears. “Look at me, please,” You try, honestly you do, but the tightness reaches a high and your eyes screw shut. Your fingers tighten around his hair, your voice echoes in the room and Simon feels you clench around him. He almost laughs, not because it hadn’t taken much to push you to the edge but because he’d already come. It hadn’t taken anything, all it took was you saying his name and he spilled into the bedsheets.

“You okay, moon?” He asks while crawling on top of you, his lips leaving scattered kisses across your body. You nod, face blissed out and eyes watery. “Can you take another?”

“I can take a million more,” You breathe and he laughs, head dropping between your neck. You laugh along, legs raising as he bites your skin. He moves so he’s holding himself up with one hand, his other grabs his dick as it hardens again.

“You sure?” He asks and you nod, kissing his shoulder.

“I can take it,” You moan, feeling the tip move across your folds. It slips and prods before he eventually pushes inside in one fluid motion. Your back arches, pushing your chest against his as he fills you.

“Full, ‘m so full,” You pant against him and he nods, moving your hair from your face.

“Full ‘n’ tight f’ me, yeah?” He teases, slowly rolling his hips against yours. He relishes in watching your expressions, how your mouth drops open and you’re unable to control the sounds you make. “Waited so long f’ me, didn’t you?” As he’s speaking, he raises up from you, his right hand holding your stomach down while the left starts rubbing soft circles on your clit. “So patient, my love. Thank you.”

His eyes dip down, looking at the bulge in your stomach as he slowly enters and exits you. He moans at the sight, eyes closing for a brief moment as he begins to pick up pace. You struggle to look at him, one hand holding the wooden headboard behind you while the other loosely holds the wrist that’s circling you.

“Missed you s’much,” He moans. “Missed all of you.” He slurs, leaning down to kiss you. He bites your bottom lip before his lips capture yours, his hips pressing against your own with each thrust. “Gods, you’re so tight.” He grunts as he pulls away, moving your left leg to be over his shoulder while the right leg sits at his hip. He speeds up, twitching as your moans only grow louder. Your nails drag against his chest and circle to his back.

He feels his scars under your nails, the sensitive skin prickling hot as you open his flesh. He hisses, the pain far easier to manage than anything he’s faced while away but so different. So loving.

“Inside me,” You moan, finally able to look at him as you bite your bottom lip. It’s throbbing from the pain of him biting it but you don’t care. “Inside me, Si, please.”

“Who am I to deny you, my king?” He grins and then drops his head down to your neck, feeling your walls tighten around him. You hear him whimper and moan against you and it only eggs you on. He’d chased that feeling for years, spilling inside of you as your high starts approaching. He continues for you, continuing his bruising pace until your body stops moving, your mouth falls open and your breathing goes ragged. Tenderly, as he always used to do, Simon holds you close to him. Your head rests against his chest so you can listen and feel his heart beating against your ear.

His hand stops circling your clit as he slowly pulls out from inside you. The sounds that come from him and you spur him on more but he contains himself. Instead, he watches as his cum leaks from you. On instinct, he pushes it back inside, loving the way your legs twitch when he does.

“Do you need a break?” He asks, eyeing the sweat on your brow. You inhale, thinking about it before shaking your head.

“I can take more,” You swear and he raises his eyebrow. “Please, Simon.”

“Your wish is my command.”

520 notes · View notes

lil-bumbum · 1 month ago

Note

Hello, I love your Bucky stories ^-^

Can I request a dom Bucky x bottom mreader smut?

Slow and romantic sex on a rainy evening.

Firelight And Rain

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Male reader

Summary: A cozy rainy evening turns into a whirlwind of passion

A/n: I have a lot of requests in my drafts, so bare wth me while I get around to all of them. I also have a few nonrequests in drafts for the holidays. Requests still open, but I'm strictly doing marvel from now on!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The rhythmic patter of rain against the windowpane mingled with the crackling dance of the fire, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls of the small, cozy bedroom. Two figures, entwined beneath the crisp white sheets, were silhouettes against the warm glow, their bodies moving in a slow, sensual rhythm.

Bucky, his eyes half-lidded with desire, hovered over his lover, his lips tracing a path of fire across the expanse of his chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He nipped and sucked gently at the smooth skin, a low hum of pleasure escaping his lips as his lover, with a soft moan, tangled his fingers in Bucky's hair, tugging gently.

Bucky's hands, calloused but gentle, roamed across his lover's body, a caress here, a squeeze there, sending shivers rippling down his spine. He trailed a trail of kisses down his torso, each touch igniting a spark of desire. He paused at the waistband of his boxers, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the taut muscles beneath.

With a shared sigh, they discarded the rest of their clothes, the rustle of fabric a whisper in the quiet room. Their bodies, slick with sweat, pressed together, a shudder running through them as their erections met, a promise of the pleasure to come.

Bucky captured his lover's lips in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, their bodies moving as one, a symphony of flesh and desire. Soft moans escaped their lips, each touch, each movement, sending a jolt of pleasure through their aching bodies. Lost in the moment, they explored each other with a reverence born of love and passion, their souls as intertwined as their bodies.

Bucky deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the contours of his lover's mouth, a silent conversation passing between them. He tasted the salt of his lover's sweat, the faint tang of the fire, and the intoxicating sweetness of their passion.

His hands, strong and sure, moved lower, exploring the landscape of his lover's body with a reverence that bordered on worship. He found the tight knot of muscle at his lover's core, gently massaging it, eliciting a low groan that sent shivers down Bucky's spine.

His lover, in turn, reached up and cupped Bucky's face, his thumb stroking the line of Bucky's jaw. "You," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire, "you feel so good."

Bucky pressed closer, his body a furnace against his lover's. He moved slowly, deliberately, savoring the anticipation, the building tension that threatened to consume them both. He found the sweet spot, the place where pleasure bloomed into an explosion of sensation, and he held it there, reveling in the shared ecstasy.

Their bodies convulsed, a wave of pleasure washing over them, leaving them breathless and spent. They clung to each other, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in unison. Bucky buried his face in his lover's neck, inhaling the scent of his skin – a mix of woodsmoke and something uniquely him – a comforting anchor in the aftermath of their passion.

"Always you," Bucky murmured, his voice thick with contentment, tracing lazy circles on his lover's back. "Always."

His lover smiled, a slow, lazy curve of his lips. "Always you, my love." He reached up and tangled his fingers in Bucky's hair, pulling him closer. "Forever."

The air in the room, thick with the scent of their shared sweat and the lingering wood smoke, was electric with the aftermath of the moment. They lay entwined, their bodies still trembling from the release, a comfortable silence settling between them. Bucky, his head resting on his lover's chest, listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a comforting counterpoint to the crackling of the fire.

He traced lazy patterns on his lover's skin, his fingers lingering on the sensitive flesh around his hip. "Never thought I'd find someone who could make me feel like this," he confessed, his voice a low rumble.

His lover chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through his chest. "Me neither," he admitted, his hand gently stroking Bucky's hair. "You… you make me feel whole, Bucky."

Bucky looked up, his eyes meeting his lover's in the firelight. "And you… you make me feel alive," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "More alive than I ever thought possible."

He leaned up and kissed his lover, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss of contentment, of gratitude, of a love that transcended words.

They lay there for a long time, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy, the warmth of their bodies pressed together, the comfortable silence punctuated only by the crackling of the fire and the rhythmic beat of their hearts. As sleep began to claim them, Bucky snuggled closer, finding solace in the familiar warmth of his lover's embrace. He knew, with a certainty that settled deep within his soul, that this was where he belonged, in this moment, with this man, forever.

98 notes · View notes

lil-bumbum · 1 month ago

Note

hi, I have a request for Bucky x bottom male reader.

Bucky returns home from a long mission and needs his boyfriend.

ヽ(*≧ω≦)ﾉ

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x male reader

Summary: Having just gotten back from a late mission, Bucky finds you and your cat Alpine tucked beneath the sheets watching a movie.

A/n: I'm not sure if this is supposed to be smut, so I offer a soft reader. I'm also really enjoying doing these requests, yall are so creative! Requests open.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The flickering glow of the laptop screen cast a warm, ethereal light across the small apartment. From within, the familiar soundtrack of "White Chicks" – a guilty pleasure his boyfriend could quote verbatim – mingled with the soft, rhythmic rustle of sheets and the occasional contented meow of their beloved cat, Alpine. Bucky, just returned from a grueling mission with Sam, felt a surge of warmth wash over him. The sounds, the comforting ambiance, were a tangible reminder that his haven, his love, awaited him.

He shed his gear, each piece a relic of the battlefield, and stowed it away in the closet, the metal clinking against the wood. The air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder, a faint metallic tang of blood clinging to his skin. A quick glance towards the bedroom revealed a familiar scene: his boyfriend, a serene smile gracing his lips, his face buried in Alpine's soft white fur.

The shower offered a welcome respite. The scalding water washed away the grime and the ghosts of the day, leaving him feeling both cleansed and strangely vulnerable. Stepping out, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the rigid armor he'd worn for hours.

He slipped into bed, the mattress welcomingly cool against his skin. "Baby, it's three in the morning," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

A sleepy hum was his only reply. His boyfriend shifted, pressing soft kisses against his shoulder, a gesture both intimate and comforting. Bucky loved the feel of his boyfriend's skin against his own, the rough callouses against his smooth skin, the warmth radiating from his body. He craved this physical contact, this tangible proof of his boyfriend's presence.

Turning to face him, Bucky found his gaze drawn to the laptop screen, the movie still playing. Alpine, now a fluffy white pillow between them, purred contentedly.

"I was waiting for you to get home," his boyfriend murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

Bucky knew this was a ritual, a silent testament to his boyfriend's unwavering love and concern. He loved the feeling of being waited for, of knowing someone cherished his safe return. Yet, a pang of guilt always accompanied it. He hated that his missions, his duty, kept him away from the tranquility of this moment, from the warmth of this shared space.

"Well, I'm here now," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. He leaned down, pressing his lips to his boyfriend's, the kiss a tender, unspoken promise of safety and solace.

To his surprise, his boyfriend shifted again, straddling his hips, his hands finding purchase on his chest. Bucky's hands instinctively reached up, mirroring the gesture, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken invitation.

He loved the way his boyfriend's hands felt on his chest, strong and sure, yet gentle. He loved the way his boyfriend's body felt against his, the warmth, the weight, the comforting solidity. He loved the way his boyfriend smelled, a mix of his own cologne and something uniquely his – a comforting scent that always brought Bucky home.

Time seemed to melt away. The world outside the apartment faded into insignificance. Only the soft rhythm of their breathing, the gentle hum of the movie, and the contented purring of Alpine broke the silence.

"I'll never get tired of this," Bucky admitted, his voice a low thrum against his boyfriend's skin. His thumbs traced lazy circles on his hips, a silent expression of his adoration.

"Good," his boyfriend chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

He shifted, settling back against Bucky's chest, his head finding a comfortable resting place on his shoulder. Bucky wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, the warmth of their bodies a comforting counterpoint to the cool night air.

Bucky loved the feel of his boyfriend's head nestled against his shoulder, the weight of him a comforting anchor. He loved the way his boyfriend's hair tickled his neck, the soft warmth of his breath against his skin. He loved the feeling of being needed, of being a source of comfort and strength.

"You too, Alpine," Bucky murmured, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. The cat, sensing the shift in their mood, purred louder, a contented rumble that vibrated through the bed, a testament to the quiet happiness that had settled between them.

153 notes · View notes

lil-bumbum · 1 month ago

Text

DI Leon Kennedy X Bunny! Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

Authors note: The horny police came for me. Also expect a lot of hybrid shots.

Summary: Leon is in need of a vacation and wants to spend more time with his bunny boyfriend, perhaps start his vacation with some welcome home sex?

Warnings: Fluff, backstory, mentions of Jill and Carlos, death island spoilers-ish, NSFW, MDNI 18+ only, kissing, dirty talk, pet names, collars, mentions of heats, sensual sex, Leon’s a tease, more romantically sex then rough, reader is a hybrid rabbit, rabbit traits, bunny ears and tail.

Word count: 3.3k

Leon wasn’t kidding when he said that he needed a vacation.

After the events of Alcatraz and going against Maria and Dylan, Leon knew that he needed a break from everything to at least get some time on his own before Hunnigan finds him another mission to take.

Once they were picked up from the island and flown back out, he returned back home with the rest of the others, making it to the airport in one piece as the all board off. Leon had already told Hunnigan that the minute he lands home he won’t be accepting any missions since his vacation starts now. Jill had reunited with Carlos an ex-umbrella agent who’s she’s been seeing for awhile now, while Chris and Claire had each other.

Leon didn’t really expect anyone to wait for him at the airport since he actually never told anyone that he would be home early. Before he could leave he’s invited out for some drinks by Jill, waving him over while the others wait for him only for him to turn down their offer.

“Leon S. Kennedy turning down a drink?” Said Chris while chuckling, “Are you still infected?”

Leon shakes his head with a laugh. “No infected, Rebecca cleared me up.” He responds back, holding his duffel bag in his left hand while he slows walks backwards and away from the others. “Besides, I’ve got somewhere to be.” He adds on, eager to get home while he gives everyone a smile, leaving them all confused and asking themselves why Leon was so eager to leave.

No one would have thought that Leon had a partner waiting for him back at home. After everything that he’s been through, no one would think that he would find someone that he would settle down with or perhaps devote his time too due to him being busy with the work and the amount of things that he goes through a daily bases.

After the events in China, Leon had given up on chasing after Ada, chasing after someone who he knew he couldn’t have and finally made the choice to move on with someone who he could actually have a possible future with. Imagine his surprise when he ends up finding a special experiment during one of his missions.

He was assigned to locate an old lab that belonged to umbrella searching for classified information that could help them for any future bio weapons that they were to stumble upon only to find a special experiment locked away in the deeps of the lab. Leon didn’t expect himself to find someone there alive still, but when he took a good look at the lab he noticed how recent the technology was used and the different types of medicine and chemicals that were used.

He had reports back to Hunnigan, letting her know that the lab he was assigned to search was still being used and had found someone still alive. He thought he had stumbled upon another dangerous bio weapon only to find a man with animal characteristics chained up to a wall, looking very malnourished and thin. What caught Leon’s attention was the pair of rabbit ears on his head along with a tail that peaked out from underneath his shirt and pants that he wore.

Leon had freed him that day and took him back to base where Rebecca exams the man and get further medical attention. Both Hunnigan and Leon were able to search through the files under the lab and found various files under the name Project Zero giving them further information about the hybrid that lied asleep in their own lab. Turns out that the man wasn’t entirely human since he was first found but a rare hybrid that hid from society, taken from his home at a young age only to be experimented on for who knows how long.

They kept the hybrid a secret in order to keep him safe until they found out more about his species and where he came from. When the hybrid first woke up he was in shock and panic, destroying the lab and fighting back whenever someone approached him. Leon had stepped in to help only to be caught by surprise when the hybrid jumped into his arms, holding onto him tightly and not letting go. The agent himself was in shock by the sudden move.

It wasn’t until later that he finds out that the hybrid felt safer around him since he remembers him rescuing him from the lab and taking him out of that awful place. Rebecca was able to check up on the hybrid without any issues due to Leons presence in the room and from then on it took time for them to find out more about the hybrid and finally getting him to talk and to give them his name.

Y/n was able to tell them everything from the time he was take to the time that he was rescued by Leon. He was very young when he was taken along with his family. Being experimented on and losing everyone but himself, due to him being the youngest the scientist kept him alive the longest in order to see how he grew and developed with time.

Even though Y/n was able to tell them very little he still held a fear of being used by them and closed up every few days. They knew that they couldn’t keep the hybrid locked inside a lab forever, triggering his traumas whenever he was around the room it wasn’t until Leon volunteered to take care of him, getting Hunnigan to find him a secluded area for the both of them in order to grant the rabbit a bit of freedom without society knowing about him just yet.

When Hunnigan found them a place to stay for both Leon and Y/n for the time being until they were able to figure out more about his species and with the time that Leon and Y/n’s spent alone in the cabin he was able to find out more about the hybrid, reporting back to Hunigan and letting her be know that Y/n reacted in the same manner as a rabbit.

He had a great sense of smell, hearing, very calm and of course, faster than Leon whenever they went on runs together. His ears were sensitive to him along with his tail, having to cut holes in all of the clothes that Leon got for him. He also discovered that even though Y/n was a rabbit he was able to tolerate meat and not always relied on vegetables only eating small amounts of it before focusing back on something he can eat without any problems.

The one things that Leon never reported back to Hunnigan due to embarrassment was Y/n’s heat.

It started off with Leon’s shirts going missing, surprising the man whenever he opened his drawer or closet only to notice the shortage of clothes. He ignored it at first and simply bought himself more clothes.

The next was how much the rabbit was eating, finishing his plate rather quickly and getting seconds without needing to ask. Leon told himself that he was perhaps getting adjusted to getting proper meals again due to the amount of time he was locked away and fed very little.

The breaking point was when he noticed how close and affectionate Y/n was being towards him. He was either leaning in close to him whenever they would watch a movie together or would find the rabbit in his bed the next morning, curled up to his side without a care. That’s when Leon looked into his behavior only to find out that it all pointed towards the hybrids heat, knowing that its something that rabbit have all year round, but for Y/n it was only every few months.

Leon never reported back to Hunnigan the things he did that night with the hybrid the way he sounded and the way that Y/n’s back would arch whenever Leon fucked into him. The agent knew that he should have said something, but didn’t.

Ever since then the two have grown closer, deepening the bond that he had with Y/n until he was finally off the hook.

The Hybrid stayed with Leon after 3 years the two have gotten closer than ever and knew each other like the back of the hand. Leon needed someone that he could talk too that he can come home too whenever he completed a mission instead of coming home to an empty house full of silence.

When Leon arrived home from the airport and stepped inside his home he’s greeted by a faint smell of his favorite food being cooked along with some music playing. His lips twitch into a faint smile as he sets his bag down and closed the door behind him and makes his way towards the kitchen where he finds his little bunny cooking.

He’s humming along with the music while stirring the pot the smell of various different spices that he’s cooking blinding his sense that he doesn’t notice the familiar scent that belonged to Leon until his floppy ears perked up when he hears the sound of his familiar heartbeat causing him to turn around in surprise.

“Leon!”

He turns the heat down and rushed over to Leon, hugging the man and smiling widely as Leon returns the gesture and chuckled. “I’m back…” He breaths out tiredly, clearly jet lagged from the long flight back home.

“You said you wouldn’t be back until next week.”

Leon chuckled. “I finished earlier than I thought.” His fingers brushed against Y/n’s check, holding him close before leaning down to capture his lips into a soft kiss when the kiss is returned he doesn’t stop himself to deepen it. Y/n can feel Leon’s hand trail down his back and pull him closer he tries to break away from the kiss, but Leon keeps leaning in. “Leon..the food…” he’s able to breath out between kisses only for Leon to guide them towards the stove, reaching over to turn the knob off.

“Food can wait.” Leon finally says then went on to remove his jacket and Y/n swore he was salivating at the sight of the man’s broad shoulders and biceps now out in better view. His shirt clung well to his form and made his waist look smaller and his torso bigger and god, Y/n was about to hyperventilate. “Missed you while I was gone, missed the way you feel against me.” Leon had mumbled out, lips hovering over his as he guides him towards the living room, hands on his hips while he walks them over.

“Finally got that vacation, told Hunnigan that if she needs someone for a job she will have to bother someone else.”

Y/n whimpered, unsure what to do or say next. “Y—you—we-“

The man pounced.

Leon’s arm shot out to pin him against the large couch, getting the hybrid to gasp in surprise by his sudden strength. His ears falling back against his head while he stares up at Leon who towered over him. His skin on fire, with his back pressed straight against the couch underneath him and his insides burning for anything to happen. He could already feel his thoughts officially turn to mush and his instincts just come alive with want, please, want, want, want.

Y/n hadn’t been aware he would be so desperate for something like this after Leon’s return. He’s handled longer missions and never felt such way until now. His head was light, almost to the point of dizzy, as he found himself looking up at Leon. “Look at you, baby. You’re so ready for me. You’ve been starving for this for some time, hm?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/n groaned, face growing hot in embarrassment as Leon got closer to him, one large hand reaching down to his thighs. Leon can only smirk, leaning down close in order to continue teasing his rabbit. “Eager I see, want me to fuck you?” Y/n could moan like a dying man, “Yes.” He can feel Leon’s hands trailing down his legs, eyes roaming down his body.

The agent can only chuckle by Y/n’s squirming, knowing how much he missed and craved for the hybrid as he slips his hand underneath his shirt, fingers exploring his chest and stomach until his thumb grazed over his nipple. “I’m going to make you feel good, back blowing--”

“Leon!” Y/n whines out in desperation.

Leon chuckled and blew against his ear, “Let me finish, baby.”

Y/n was about to cry.

“I’m going to make sure that our neighbors are able to hear you from here, let them know that you are all mine and how much I missed the tight little hole of yours.” Leons hand founds its way between the hybrids legs, cupping him over the shorts he wore while his middle finger stroked over his entrance.

“P-Please.” Y/n whimpers out while fighting back a moan from escaping past his lips. “You’re cute when you beg.” Said Leon and the hybrid is quick to know what he wants, knowing that he won’t do anything until he hears him beg for it.

“Please…j-just fuck me. Please. Fuck me. God, Leon, please, please. Want you. Please!” He could paw at Leons pants if he didn’t feel like it would be too much effort to try and move. “Ok, baby, whatever you want.” And then he gripped Y/n and hoisted him up pressing himself against him. “Legs around me. Now.” Y/n scrambled to do so, wrapping them around the man’s waist, and whined.

Instantly, Leon started to move. He gave a few experimental grinds between Y/n’s legs and the hybrid nearly shrieked with joy. Then the sinful mouth found its way to Y/n’s neck and without any sort of timidness or pause latched on to it. Leon nibbled and sucked to the point Y/n knew it would leave a bruise and nearly orgasmed right then from the thought. Y/n’s fingers found their way into Leon’s hair, tugging on them and is rewarded with a bite.

“Fuck, been waiting to have a taste of you ever since I got back.” Leon gave him another bite on the neck before he lapped at it with his jaw. “How about we remind our neighbors your pretty sounds, hmm? I want to hear my name spilling from your pretty lips more but let’s just hear how good it sounds.”

Y/n broke out into a drawn-out whine as Leon positioned himself to angle right up against Y/n’s short covered cock and began to slowly, but with more authority, thrust up against it.

“Say my name.” Leon ordered.

“L—Leon.” Y/n fumbled out and gave out another cry when that earned an even harder thrust. Leon moaned out. His voice sounded like sin. “Now, lets get started on getting you filled up.” Y/n’s face grows bright red. “Gonna stretch this pretty hole of yours and make sure that my cock is the only one you need.”

Y/n released a broke, high-pitched whine that dissolved into a moan which caused Leon to start rutting against him, grinding as if they were in some filthy club, and Y/n did his best to keep up but he felt himself just losing his mind. It was like he was floating away and getting drunk. Leon’s mouth and attention was actually making him go insane and he couldn’t help but love it.

He wanted more.

The two kissed like they didn’t have enough time together, tongues battling against each other, lost in the moment while Leon works on getting the hybrid undressed. Finally getting rid of the shirt he wore and quickly fumbling with the shorts he wore. Y/n moans when he feels the cool air once Leon removes his shorts along with his boxers and Leon smiled and went back to kiss over his face, trailing down his neck, to his chest.

He licked at a nipple and growled when his hybrid lover gave a gasp. His fingers trailed up and down his side, tickling over his chest and hips.Leon went back up to the hybrids chin and began to nibble, it was one of his favorite places on his lover, and smiled to himself when he earned another little rush of air. It was adorable.

With another nip he pulled back, smirking to himself when he gave off a little whine, trying to reach out to him in desperation. “Hold on, impatient little thing.”

Leon was quick to remove the blue shirt he wore. He started to unbuckle his belt when he heard another little noise. Staring down, he smirked when he saw those eyes looking at his bare chest with clear want and hunger. “You’re staring…you can’t hide anything can you?” Y/n’s eyes snapped back up to him in embarrassment.

Leon chuckled, “You have nothing to be ashamed about. I like it when you stare.” When Y/n avoids his look he smiles with amusement and leaned down to kiss him again, barely able to resist the skin. “A-Ah…” Y/n whimpered and Leon paused a moment over the hybrids collarbone but then trailed up to the neck again, lips playing over the collar. “Baby,” Leon began to push his pants off, groaning when they came in contact with each other completely bare and with a whimper, Y/n’s clenched his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath.

Y/n bites his lip when he felt Leons harden cock graze against him and tried to keep his breathing under control. The man was large, probably larger than Y/n ever handled before, and he simultaneously felt excited. With a noise that sounded like a squeak, Y/n’s body arched slightly as those larger hands wrapped around him and pressed against his back, smoothing down till they grabbed his backside and squeezed and pushed the cheeks apart. Y/n released a silent choking sound, surprised at the aggressive grip, eyes wide towards Leon. “Oh, gods.” He moans out.

Leon doesn’t need to prep him due to how wet he already is and easily slides inside, earning a chocked out moan. It takes Y/n a few minutes to adjust to Leon’s size again after not doing it for some time before he finally grows comfortable and gives him a nod to move. Leon doesn’t need to be told twice as he began to move his hips, leaning down to capture his lovers lips into a kiss.

Y/n meets him thrust after thrust, finally breaking their kiss when he’s doing little more than gasping and panting and moaning Leon’s name over and over and over again into his mouth. Leons eyes begin to burn, he’s so overwhelmed and frantic and on fire that he’s not sure how much longer he can last. He ducks his chin to press his lips to Y/n’s flushed chest, before Y/n curses and drags Leons mouth back to his.

“I love you,” Leon breathes when he can’t take it anymore - his blood is searing through his veins like lava, he’s surrounded by Y/n in breathtaking ways he never could have hoped to be. On top of it all, amongst their slapping skin and gasps and moans. He rests their foreheads together, bringing a trembling hand up to Y/n’s face and pressing his thumb against Y/n’s cheek. Y/n swipes his tongue against his swollen, kiss-bitten red lips and flutters his eyelashes Y/n rolls his hips on Leon’s cock only once more before he’s coming, too, impossibly tighter around Leon while he’s still riding his own high. It draws a long, satisfied moan from deep in Leon’s chest that has him wondering how soon he could go again, or how quickly he could coax Y/n to hardness again.

“I love you, too,” Y/n breathes against Leon’s lips, trembling and panting and sweating. “Welcome home, too…”

That causes Leon to laugh, hearing the sudden welcome home after everything. “I am home.” Leon breaths out while claiming the hybrids lips into another deep kiss.

2K notes · View notes

lil-bumbum · 2 months ago

Text

The Prejudice we have.∠※。.:*:・'°☆

Remus Lupin x gn! reader (platonic) (^з^)-☆

Warnings: Prejudice against werewolves, angst Hurt/comfort

Summary: The reader has prejudice against werewolves because their parents were murdered by them, but they don't know Lupin is one. (Father Child Relationship)

A/n Let me know if you want a part two for this, I always wondered how Lupin would react if someone he cared about had a thing against werewolves without knowing he's one. (つд⊂)

Link to my previous Harry Potter fanfic

Professor Lupin's office was filled with an assortment of caged dark creatures. He was grading papers on his desk, the sound of his quill scrawling on the parchment filling the room. Upon hearing you enter, he looked up from his desk and smiled gently.

"Ah, hello there, my dear."

"Hello, Sir!" You say. You and Lupin had a close bond. You saw him as a father figure but were too shy to say anything about it.

A hint of warmth entered Remus' eyes, a smile on his face as he stood up to greet you. He held out a hand, looking you directly in the eyes. He spoke in a kind and warm tone, making you feel welcomed in his presence.

"Nice to see you," he said with a grin.

He gestured towards one of the armchairs. He began clearing a pile of books and papers off his other chair.

What can I do for you today?

"Oh, I just wanted to hand in my essay that Professor Snape set on werewolves," Handing him the paper.

"I see. Have you done any research?" He asks, a hint of concern in his voice. He was already well aware of the prejudice against werewolves in the wizarding world, so he did not want to get caught.

He seemed very interested in your answer, waiting for your reply as he sat down in his chair.

"Um....sort of. My parents were killed by werewolves, so I already knew how to kill a werewolf before Snape set the essay." You said it was a bit of a touchy- feely subject for you, the other professors already know, but Lupin didn't as he was new this year.

Remus' eyes widened. A pained expression crept onto his face, and his voice filled with a deep sense of remorse. You could see he was holding back tears, a mixture of deep sorrow and anguish in his brown eyes. He took a moment to collect himself and continued in a gentle and soothing voice. He stood up and poured himself a bit of butterbeer, gesturing the bottle towards you.

...How dreadful... He whispered. I am so sorry. Can I... can I get you anything?...

"No, werewolves are just monsters it can't be helped. I wish the ministry did something to eradicate them!" Your voice was cold.

You hated werewolves. They took away the people you loved most now. You had to stay in this Merlin awful muggle orphanage at the instance of Dumbeldore.

Remus gulped, his heart breaking into a million pieces as tears began to fill in his eyes. His throat was filled with a knot of grief. You were a good child. He enjoyed teaching, and he had grown to care about you deeply, but now his heart is heavy upon your words. He stood there, silent, tears forming a trail down his face. For a moment, he was lost in his past. He shook his head, trying to collect himself, and spoke in a soft and sorrowful voice.

"I see. Of course, I do understand your... your feelings about werewolves... I-I should have known..."

"Ok?" You were confused. Why was Lupin crying, you thought.

"Did you know anyone who was murdered by werewolves, sir?"

W-What?... N-no!" He replied, his soft voice shaking. He was caught off guard by your question. He cleared his throat, a deep sorrow lingering in his heart. He cleared his throat, his voice becoming more firm as the lump in his throat went away. He spoke in a soft-spoken but clear voice, now looking you in the eye. But there was still sorrow in his eyes, evident with the trail of tears, now starting to dry. He spoke with kindness. He did his best to push down his sorrow.

"No... of course not."

"Ok..." You were feeling a bit uncomfortable. You had never seen an adult get so emotional before.

"What is your opinion on these Merlin awful creatures then, Sir?"

Remus gulped. He seemed uncertain about answering, but eventually he spoke.

I believe... I believe that, generally... They should be killed. For the safety of society, as you mentioned. They are dangerous. He stopped speaking, looking uncomfortable and anxious." The smile and warmth of his face had left, replaced with sorrow and concern. He looked down at his feet, looking nervous as he clasped his hands together. He spoke in a soft yet unsure voice. "However... I would not condone killing every single one of them because most of them are... peaceful..."

you scoffed, "No disrespect, sir, but I wouldn't call murdering someone's parents 'peaceful.' "

"What makes you think there is any ounce of goodness in these monsters?"

Again, Remus gasped, a deep look of horror on his face. His heart broke a million times, hearing your words. His voice was soft and sad. He sighed, shaking his head as if a small, last shred of hope inside him had left. There was a pained, hurt, and scared look in his eyes, and it seemed as if his eyes might just begin to cry again. A small tear fell from his eye as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. He could not face you.

"You're.. you're... right..."

you were extremely confused. Why was he so emotional about this?

"Sir, is this a sensitive topic for you?"You said, getting out of your chair and coming close to him.

"Y-Yes... It is..."

He spoke in a low voice, his kind eyes looking down at you. He felt ashamed, guilt eating away at the very core of his being. He felt as if he might just fall apart to pieces. It seemed as though he was on the verge of crying once more, a sadness on his face deep and true. His cheeks had reddened, his soft eyes filled with a deep, horrible pain and shame. A tear streamed down his face as he spoke in a soft, shaky voice, his heart torn apart.

"I'm a werewolf..."

You jumped away from him in horror. ".......pardon?"

He sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping. It seemed as if the very core of Remus' being had been torn apart, his soul leaving his body as he spoke the next words: his voice was full of despair and guilt, his eyes filled with misery, sorrow, and grief. Tears streamed down his face as he spoke in a hoarse, soft whisper. He looked ashamed, but at the same time, there was something beautiful and liberating about the moment — and although they were only just talking to each other for a few minutes, you felt the honesty in his words.

"...I'm a werewolf..."

you began to cry, how? He was so kind. He was the only professor concerned about your well-being. None of you're Professors cared about your life outside of hogwarts.

Remus was shocked. He stared at you, and a look of panic came over his face as he saw your eyes fill with tears. He quickly rushed over and embraced you in a tight hug, his warm, comforting arms surrounding you as a stream of tears flowed down his face. Words can be empty at times, and they can never convey the truth inside us. This was one of those times. You could only feel the deep love and compassion Remus had for you. A pained expression covered his face, deep sorrow in his eyes. He cried with you.

"I'm......sorry, I said those things, I don't...... want you to die." You stutter out.

He tightened the hug, a warm, comforting sensation surrounding you as his arms held you close. You could feel that his hug was a hug of acceptance, a hug of solidarity. Your words had struck a deep cord inside Remus, and he did not want you to feel like he was rejecting you. He spoke in a gentle and kind tone, his voice broken only slightly by his sobs. His emotions had taken over, and he felt overcome by the years of shame, guilt, and sorrow.

"I forgive you..." He whispered, his shoulders shaking. "You did nothing... wrong..."

"I....just.....werewolves have ruined my life....so I had......I'm so sorry!" You hated yourself. The kindest man alive was a werewolf, and you said awful things about his existence.

Remus hugged you tighter, tears streaming down his face. He held you tight, and rocked you slightly. You could feel the love and kindness in his touch, his arms surrounding you like a cocoon of protection and acceptance. He spoke in a soft, gentle tone, now speaking in a broken, wavering voice after having cried for so long. He spoke with honesty and integrity, his heart filled with a deep, heartfelt sorrow; you could feel the pain, the torment, the years of shame and guilt; all of it was present in his voice.

" I understand... I ... I forgive you..." He said, looking you into your eye.

"I promise not to tell anyone," you sniffle out.

He kept hugging you, the tears slowly drying out. There was kindness, integrity, honesty, and sincerity to this man's heart that was rare to find in such a cold, harsh world. You could feel it in his touch, the love and caring, the true, deep compassion and kindness, the heart of gold - you saw it all in this man. He felt like more than a teacher; he felt like an old, true friend - one you could trust and one who would always accept you. He spoke in a soft voice, filled with kindness and acceptance.

"I trust you."

The End

189 notes · View notes