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dilf-docs · 3 days ago

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Tuyo Será, Y Tuyo Será

sub!javi peña x younger!reader

summary: after an stressful day at the office, javi finds solace in your warm embrace: you, his informant, who he has yet to cross that line he always crosses, like a goddamn vice.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, pwp, sub!javi, mommy/daddy kink (they call eachother mami and papi), oral (m. and f. receiving), hand job, face-sitting, fingering, creampie, p. in v., overestimulation, praise kink, degradation kink (u call him a slut once or twice lol), real men yearn™, bit of angst sprinkled, no sense whatsover just feels™

word count: 5,924 words

side note: i'm gonna be very honest with y'all. i listened to the theme song of narcos, tuyo (so good check it out), and got infested with a real bad crave to re-watch (but before reheating my narcos nachos i want to finish my romcom february marathon and finish the mission impossible movies). also, my tl is filled with javi gifs and my lewd thoughts abt him have gone beyond comprehension (not the bush reblog doing numbers...). see, it all started with an audio of him yelling maricón while i browsed twitter, which in case u don't know is the spanish equivalent to the f slur. sorry, it made me horny. javier's so bossy and intimidating but what if he wasn't? i'm all in for brat taming but i have a thing for sub boys lowkey. ah, i almost forgot, HAPPY VALENTINES MY LOVELY CITIZENS! (it's literally 12am) this is a gift from my single delulu romantic ass to you (and it's filthy sex? well, yes! isn't that a testament of our town's core beliefs? that's true love to me idk)

The air around him was tingued with women for the night, licor, suave conversation and burnt cigarettes.

The Cali cartel case had been stuck for a while. After the success of Pablo Escobar's hunt and Murphy leaving, besides his ascend, Peña felt the need for things to go fast; succesful. Besides, he had found it hard to balance the stress left behind, the one women and nicotine used to fix before.

He's nursing a glass of whiskey, despite claiming he was going to quit that too, eyes scanning the bar for you.

Sure, informants weren't his thing anymore, but he had a long history with you: you, who despite the violence and danger stayed, probably for the money, probably for him. Yes, he likes to think from time to time that your reason for choosing Colombia and denying the fake ID and passport he gave you was for this borrowed time you had with each other, filling the gaps between long nights at an office too big for a person, all to avoid the same loneliness waiting for him back at his apartment, because home meant warmth, and there was no one waiting for him back there.

So he chose to entertain you when he picked up the phone.

"Peña" he answered the call, fingers drumming against his desk and the poor hues of the lamp above scattered paperwork, some pages tinted with coffee circles caused by the base of his mug, filled over and over again.

"It's me" and he smiles at the sound of your voice, sweet, unlike the bitter taste of caffeine. "Is it a bad time to call? Are you busy?"

Filler questions, to steady your heart. The lonely office answers back mockingly on Peñas side.

"For you, I'm always available" he responds instead, cheeky. "What are you doin' up late at this hour?" he's asking, even if the question applies to himself as well. "Stayed up thinking 'bout something?"

Your tongue backfires you, speaking before you can stop yourself.

"You" there's a satisfied hum on the other line.

"So I take you call for a lead?" he leans back on his chair, arm resting behind his face. "Would be real helpful, hermosa"

"Sorry to dissapoint" how would you reveal the real reason you called? No. Never. "I just wanted to hear you"

He's standing up before he can register, pacing around the dim lit room.

"Baby..." he's already speaking up, condescending. No, not you too.

"C'mon, Peña" your heart beats dangerously, feeling it swell painfully on your throat. "It's been a long week, hasn't it?" a beat, "I'm on this bar near the office, mind if you join an old pal for a drink? I know you are alone too"

The feeling settles in, like his mind.

"Yeah?" he challenges.

"I see the office lights, all dark. 'Cept for yours"

He laughs, "You're a true detective, baby. Might have to hire you"

He's always calling you baby, because that's what you were when you started working this. Baby first, laced with intrigue and amusement at how you'd stand tall despite your age, ready to risk your life to free your home of the violence and terror drugs had brought upon. Baby now, more like a reflex, a habit Javier Peña can't break; the worst of his vices.

"Well, am I not already?" you laugh. "Come, will you? Just a drink and I'll leave you alone. You're free to drown on paperwork after that"

Worst is, Javier had already agreed the moment he picked up the saccharine tinge of your voice on the phone, impossibly addicting.

"Deal"

So now he's here. And he's finally seen you.

"You're here"

He takes a quick scan of your body, sporting a rather simple outift. Yet you seem to pull it off, hair cascading down in soft waves that ressemble the sea, very fitting in their job to compliment your tan skin.

"I am"

"You said you were here" he remarks, finishing his glass.

You take the glass from his hands, stiff from all day at the office, then raise it, mockingly alluding a toast.

"Wanted to let you relax for a bit" you add. "Thought you stopped"

"I needed it" not to admit out loud your call had made him nervous, hidden desperation and fire behind your apparent casual words. Or maybe it was his mind, far too tired and stressed to think straight.

"Good. Ready to go?"

"Where?" but he's already stand up from the stool.

"My place" and there's that same undertone he picked at first (once an agent, always an agent) now less hidden and more out in the open for him to follow or quit, much like any other of his addictions.

"For?"

"It's up to you to find out"

"Cheeky baby" he's chastising, his eyes full of something dark, and not punishing. "Are you going to murder me? Drugged my drink?" he attempts to do a terrible joke, all to calm down the fire on his soft belly and the throb of his cock. Fuck, when was the last time he had blown off some steam?

"You don't bite the hand that feeds you" you quip, but your teeth ressemble fangs. "¿Quién te crees que soy?" (who do you think I am?)

The walk to your apartment felt longer, despite having been here on a pass before, or when sending novice agents to watch for your safety.

He's never been inside before, but now he's taking the stairs two at a time, despite being tipsy, reaching your floor while you giggle with confidence, yet there's some uncertainity when you fumble your keys due to shaky hands, probably because you've never let him inside or because of your plan for tonight.

"It's very you" he comments out loud while you mumble a soft Shoes off. He takes another quick scan, some dishes drying on the counter, a rugged carpet and a flower vase with some petals fallen over the coffee table in front of your TV. It looks like a home, lived in: unlike his, that seems a curated effort to show someone occupies it, as a hotel room rather than a place to live. It's your warmth, thought, the one that wraps him up like a blanket or a fire.

Peña's been so busy looking around that he doesn't notice you've dissapeared.

"Baby?" he searches around, "¿a dónde te fuiste?" (where did you go?)

"In here" coming from the yellow-ish light at the end of the hallway.

He walks in slow steps, the floor creaking under his weight. Javier is opening the door, and the last he expects is to see you like this: on the bed, sprawled out. Fuck, he had imagined it alright: pumping his cock to the thought of you, but never thinking he'd got the very real thing for him.

"Baby-"

But here you were, all while he drools like a pathetic hungry dog, wordless and so fucking touch starved.

"Like what you see?"

His eyes roam over every dip and curve of your body, how your skin trembles even if he hasn't touched you and the room is hot. Heat is building within him, primal instincts fighting to take you, claim you, and make you his. It's a goddamn burning feeling he knows all too well.

"Mucho" he grins wolfishly, purring "bet it tastes as good as it looks" (a lot)

You sport a victory grin. "Why don't you find out?"

Your voice is like a siren call, and he's surrendering to the years of depriving himself of you.

He slowly walks to the bed, afraid if he speds up things, he'll wake up of this dream. He begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing his honeyed skin and soft belly from stress eating and licor, a smattering of dark hair trailing down past his navel.

Peña makes a pause at the edge of the bed, where you have sat up. He delicately cups with his rough hand your soft cheek, capturing your lips in a short n' sweet kiss. Finally, tasting all of you, tongue in your mouth wet, exploring every corner to get to know you: not the brave and loudmouth but the needy and touchy side of yours in bed. It speaks about pent-up passion and a hunger that seems to be only sated by the taste of you; the water to calm his thrist.

"Need you, baby" he breathes against your swollen lips. "Want to feel your skin and heartbeat as my own"

But a smile paints your lips as you sit on the edge, and he's unsure what it means.

"Slow down, needy boy" you taut, kissing the tip of his nose. "Do you remember our call? Said you've been through some stress" Javier lets out a little whine, "haven't you?" he nods eagerly, melting under your confident touch across his bicep, tracing his stomach that protudes over his jeans and belt. "So, how about this? I had an idea"

He raises an eyebrow, trying not to get distracted by your persistent touch.

"Better make it good. My patience is wearin' thin" and you can't help but coo at his strained pants and needy demeanor, so contrasting to his broody and serious nature.

"You've had a terrible week" fingers now getting lost down his happy trail, dangerously low to his pulsating cock. "Why don't I help you? But not like you think, no" you smile. "Let me take care of you, baby. I'll do all the work, and all you have to do is follow my orders like the obedient pretty boy you are. Sounds easy, right?"

A shiver runs down his spine as his dick strains against his pants. He bites back a groan, hips twitching involuntarily as you tease him.

He gulps, thinking about it. It's a new proposition that makes his cock pulse. Truthfully, it's been a week, no, weeks filled with stress, and the idea of letting someone else take control, despite his preference on him being the one in charge, aligned with his powerful masculine husk, makes it hard to picture it. But your parted swollen lips, eyes set with that determination he loves and his aching aging body...

Al carajo con todo. Peña is in. (Fuck this shit)

"Are you sure you can handle all of this?" with a stupid grin on his face, signaling his heating body, glistening with a sheen of sweat from the make-out session from before. "I'm not used to this, but for you, baby, I might make an exception. I trust you to take good care of me, yes?"

You hum, standing up. Even if he towers over you, you feel in power.

"¿Cuál es tu plan, mami? I want to hear every filthy sinful thing you have in mind" (what's your plan?)

You stand in your tiptoes to lick his lips, then planting a wet kiss that sends a jolt of electricty straight to his aching cock. Javier's heart pounds with anticipation while your tongue roams his mouth, making out until his pupils are blown wide and hair disheveled. He must look pathetic now, but he doesn't give a flying fuck about it.

"Oh, but I don't want to spoil any surprises... it wouldn't be fun" you grin. "Are you willing to be obedient for me? So you get to see what I have planned. Now sit, on the edge of the bed, now"

Wordlessly, he sits on the edge you previously had, his feet planted firmly on the floor, his thighs spread wide in a delicious manspread Peña often did.

"I've done as you asked, baby" voice firm with a low desire. "What's your next move?"

His chest heaves with each ragged breath that drags like a cigarette.

You drop on your kness, pushing his thighs further apart, red nails (just as he liked; did them a day earlier for him) digging into his jeans as you squeeze the thick muscle. Then, you lean down and press a kiss to his bulge. A low, guttural groan tears from his throat, touch igniting sparks of pleasure that raise through his veins., hips bucking involuntarily, seeking fricction. His hands clench on his side, hold as white as your sheets, trying not to grab you and disobey the looming domineering aura you had imposed on him.

"Want to hear your pretty sounds when I treat you good, baby. All of them; don't hold back"

"Fuck, baby" he pants, voice starined with the effort of holding back. "W-want to hear your every breathy moan, every filthy curse and-"

You nuzzle your face into his bulge, cutting his words effectively, the rough fabric scratching your face over his painfully hard bulge, eyes teasing.

"Hmh, hear me? No, papi. Today is all about you, just you"

He shudders at the contrast of your soft skin over the rough denim. He gazes down, eyes as dark and intense as yours, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple from the intensity of his arousal.

"You're torturing me, baby" his voice is a low rumble on his chest. "You want me to beg, plead for your touch like a desperate man?"

Peña reaches down, calloused fingers skimming along your jawline before tilting your chin up to force your gaze to meet his own. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, the rough digit dragging across the delicate rosy skin.

"Very well. I'll play your game and be what you want me to be"

"Please, want to hear you baby: beg, plead for me. And I shall give" you squeeze his thigh, playing with his belt buckle, a soft metallic clink echoing in the charged air. "Would you want me to help you? Use your words"

"Please, y/n" he raps, your name a delicious sound on his lips. "Please, I need you. Your touch, your kiss, your everything... I'm begging you, baby, help me"

He never imagined he'd have you like this, let alone, on this scenario. Why had he restrained himself when you had always wanted this as much as he did: with the way your eyes took him in everytime he walked in the room, or the way your hand would linger on your brief meetings to share information. It was the way you held onto him, like faith.

Peña reaches down, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt hidden under his belly, struggling to undo the clasp. The agent curses, feeling dumb all of a sudden with his display of desperation, at how a young girl gets him so out of himself, horny stupid. May be the lack of women or just, well, you.

"Touch me, baby" he pleads, his eyes dark and intense. "Wrap your hands around my cock and stroke me- Want to feel your mouth on me, for you to take me, please-"

He leans back, chest heaving. This raw need he feels, it tugs at his heart and cock.

"Since you've been such a good boy, I'll reward you" you smile, oh so sickenly sweet, as if you weren't edging him. "Gonna shove my cock so far my throat you won't be able to think of anything else"

Javier shudders at your words, cock leaking with precum at the thought of your lips around his shaft. The room falls silent, and he swears you might just be able to hear the beat that pounds in his ears, that be the reason why you're smiling while he anticipates your touch.

You unzip his jeans with a calculated sense of purpose, the denim material parting to reveal the straining bulge of his erection.

"Such a pretty cock, Javi" the nickname makes his groan, "is this for me?"

He lifts his hips, allowing you to tug the jeans down his thick thighs, dick in display.

"Fuck, y/n" his voice echos a needy rumble. "I'm not a man who begs, cariño, but for you, I'll do"

Peña's rough fingers grab your hair, guiding your face closer. The room grows hotter, and you swear you can smell his musky aroma, impregnated with desire and arousal.

So your reward is to wrap your lips around his tip and suck harshly. Javier lets out a rough hiss at the sensation of your mouth, even if just the tip. He feels your tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh, lapping at the drops of precum that had already leaked from his tip.

"Dios" he cries, his head falling back as he archs into your touch. His hand's hold on your hair turns more rough, as he's fighting the urge to thrust deep into your warm welcoming mouth.

You pull back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You enjoy every second of his disheveled state, and the way your eyes darken, reveling in the power you hold over him, Peña's desire burns even more ardent.

"Please" he begs, "need to feel your throat around my cock as you swallow me down" and then he's bucking his hips slightly, not to force himself on you, but to let you set the pace. He moans at the wet sounds of your sucking, lips stretched around his girth.

Over and over, you take him, your technique getting more confident with each turn.

"You're a natural at this" he praises, voice rough with arousal. "You're gonna be the death of me"

You pull out with a Pop! making him whine.

"Don't talk, baby. I just want to hear your moans you desobedient old man" he barely registers your next move, slapping his cock. He lets out a sharp, breathless moan at the contact. "Will you behave now and let me jerk you off?"

"Sí, sí, sí" he pleads without a second thought, or embarrasment of his needy state. He feels your hand wrap around his throbbing dick, fingers barely able to encircle his thick girth. You stroke him with a teasing slowness, and his hips buck involuntary as he gasps, the pain bordering on pain at the intensity.

He then bites his lips, trying to hold back the desperate pleas that'll sink his masculinity even further, but his chest heaves with the effort, his skin sweat-slicked over his tense muscles.

"Mmm, yes..." he breathes out, the wet sounds of your palm gliding along his arousal, more than he could take. "I'm all yours, baby. Use my cock the way you want"

You smile, "that's my good boy"

He tangles his fingers in your hair once more, guiding your hand as you stroke him. Your fingers and lips brushing drive him wild, whines he can't contain coming out.

"D-don't stop" he begs, eyes fluttering as he looses himself in the haze. "P-please, keep on touching me, making me feel this good. I want to paint your skin with my seed-"

"Beg for it" your voice is low, and you slap his cock again. "Go on, wanna hear you, pretty boy"

Javier lets out a shar gasp at the sudden sting of pain mixing with the pleasure coursing through his veins. His balls tighten, the pressure a ringing sound on his ears as you continue to stroke him ruthlessly.

"Please" voice reduced to a desperate, needy whine. "Please, I need it. I need to cum so fucking badly. Te lo pido, cariño. Déjame, por favor" (i'm asking you, honey. let me, please)

He bucks his hips frantically, fucking himself with your fist at the amounted pleasure.

It's a real picture: disheveled hair that sticks to his equally sweaty skin, fluttering droopy eyes, ragged panting and desperate moans spilling from his pretty lips.

"Fuck, I can't- can't hold it back" he mumbles, eyes wild and fevered. "I'm going to cum, all over your hand. Please, let me have this. ¡Te lo ruego!" (i beg you)

He was lost in the haze of lust, body trembling with the force of his impending climax. The pressure was unbereable; he needed to find release.

"Aw. Pretty boy can't take it anymore, can he?" you coo, laughing a bit. Your nails dig on his thigh. "Do it, baby. And don't hold back: I want to hear every filthy little sound out of your lips"

Peña throws his head back at the same time a low, guttural roar of pleasure rips through his throat. His cock jerks and spams in your grip, spurting hot shots like a volcano. Javier's never felt like this before: so fucking hard, hips bucking and thrashing as he rides out the waves of his intense climax, painting your hand with his cum.

"S-so good. Se siente jodidamente bien, carajo" he moans, hips jerking erratically as the last spurts of his release dribble out onto your fingers. (shit, it feels so good, fuck)

His body slumps back against the bed, and from your knees, you get to see his chest and tummy rising up and down, struggling to catch his breath. His seed still glistens on your hand, so you do the most reasonable thing and suck it off. Javi's cock goes hard again at the sound, dying to see what it looks like, if the image is as obscene as what he can hear, but his back is killing him, so he lays still, fluttering eyes as he looks at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk at the corners of his mouth.

"That was-" he can't even speak, oh God, "I want to" he fumbles his words, "want to please you in return, baby"

But you're not done for tonight. You get up, and he gets to observe your body as you slowly undress the last remanents of your clothes (underwear), a show for him and his hooded eyes. Peña licks his lips like a starved man, but fuck, wasn't he?

Then, you push his body to stay against the mattress, sitting on his lap. He gasps sharply as you pin him down, straddling his lips with a wicked gleam in your eyes.

"Do you think you deserve to cum inside me, Javi?"

He can feel your core pressing against his sensitive cock, wet and hot, making him shiver.

You pinch is nipple, waiting for an answer. A soft cry escapes his lips, and he's arching into your touch. There's a jolt that goes straight to his dick, and he can feel himself getting overestimulated, twitching and jumping under you.

But his eyes are dark and hazy, wandering with lust your body, hands roaming wildly with teasing touches. You brush his too, no, burn it where your touch meets his soft tanned skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Mmm, I don't know if I deserve such a reward" his tone low and seductive, but there's a twinge of insecurity laced, as if he does believe he isn't worth it. "But I want it. God, I need it" you smile at his pleading. "Want to feel your tight little cunt squeezing my cock, for you to milk me for dry, to take every last drop of my cum"

He rolls his hips slightly, semi-hard cock brushing against your dripping sex.

"Tell me what I have to do to earn the privilege" he whines. "Haré lo que sea, sólo dilo" (i'll do anything, just say so)

"That's my good boy"

You grab his cock, settling it on your entrance, wet folds receiving him. You tease the tip before sliding it slowly inside, and Javier's body shivers when your slick heat taunts him, making him gasp sharply. He feels your moist coat his dick, allowing him to glide his cock along your slit with ease.

"So fucking wet, baby" he praises with a groan, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he fought the urge to surge forward, to bury himself in your welcoming heat in one hard thrust. "So ready for me"

You sink down slowly, every inch of your tight walls gripping him. It flutters and squeezes around his cock perfectly, making his eyes roll back in ecstasy.

"Feels so good, baby" he pants, hips lifting slightly to meet yours as you settle onto his lap. He can feel you enveloping him completely and its driving him mad. "Gonna make me cum before I'm even fully hard"

He meets your gaze, drowning in your dilatated pupils, your breasts bouncing with every move and breath. Javier finds that, with such a view, it's not hard to fall into this supplicant version of himself.

You start bouncing on his cock, letting it hit all your spots. You whine, softly.

"God, Javi, feels so good-" he's babbling nonsense in spanish as he holds you by your hips. You feel your release coming.

"Shit, Javi. Mami is cumming-"

You fuck yourself faster on him, making Peña moan louder when you ride him harder, hips slamming down onto his with urgency. The wet slap of fleash against flesh fills the room, mingling with his cries and your whines.

"Do it, baby. Cum for me, want to know I made you feel good" he urges as he feels your walls flutter and squeeze around his dick, his fingers sinking into your ass' soft skin, guiding your movements.

With one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside your cunt. You come undone around him, pussy clenching and rippling along every inch of his cok, sending him over the edge.

"Fuck, mami. I have to-"

You hold his hips down, still on your senses despite just having an orgasm.

"Wanted to cum without my permission, you needy slut? I said I want to hear you beg for it, ask me to come, and don't ever do it without me telling you to"

He can feel his cock pulsing and throbbing inside her, the urge to release his load overwhelming. But at your stern command, he forces himself to hold back, gritting his teeth as he fights for control.

"Perdóname, bebé" he pants, voice strained as he holds back. "It won't happen again without your permission" (forgive me, baby)

"Good. Have we learned, then?"

"Yes, yes!" he cries out, eyes wide and pleading. "Please, y/n. I beg you. Need to cum so badly, I- it's too much, please let me. Please, please, please!"

His fists ball tightly on his sides, knuckles turning white as his body trembles with his impending release.

"Please, let me have your permission to cum," he begs, voice a desperate, needy whine. "I'll do anything, baby. I'll be your good boy, your obedient fucktoy. Just say the word. Please, I'm begging you- let me cum for you"

You push your erection against your core, nodding in response.

"Cum for me, loudly, so I know that you're thankful for this"

With your permission granted and hips pressing down firmly against his, Javier allows himself to surrender to the overwhelming urge to cum.

Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from his shaft, painting your velvety walls with his essence. He can feel each powerful spurt of his release, the sensation of his balls emptying inside you pushing him to even greater heights of ecstasy. The pleasure was almost too much to comprehend, the feeling of your hot, slick walls milking his cock for every last drop of his release sending him spiraling into a state of euphoria.

"Thank you, baby" he pants, struggling to catch his breath. "Thank you for letting me cum inside you"

"Is that so?" I chuckle, "want to really show me how thankful you are?"

Without telling him so, you slip out of his dick, cum still leaking from your legs, and place on top of him: on his face, even if he slightly struggles for air, keeping yourself held up on the headboard of his bed, barely putting any pressure on him.

"Then eat me, baby" you feel his hot breath against my folds, "reward me for riding your needy dick; wanna hear just how pussy starved you are"

Javier's eyes widened as you suddenly straddle his face, the scent and taste of your combined releases filling his nostrils and coating his tongue. He could feel the sticky essence, a mix of your arousal and his own cum, smearing across his cheeks as you ground your dripping core against his mouth.

Without hesitation, Peña dives in, his tongue delving between your folds to lap up the sensitive nub. He moans deeply, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and against your cunt.

"Mmm, fuck yes" he growls, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulls you down harder against his face, savoring your sweet pussy that tastes like him too. "I'm starved for this pussy, baby, could eat this pretty little cunt for hours and never get enough"

Peña seals his lips around your clit, suckling the swollen bud as he fucks his tongue deeper inside. He can feel his cock twitching and hardening once more, the sensation of your dripping sex against his face and the taste of your releases on his tongue reigniting his desire.

You grind my hips up to meet his face, moaning loudly as he continues to devour your cunt. He looks up at you, mouth still glued to my pussy. His eyes are glassy and he's whimpering into your folds. The image alone makes your pussy gush.

"Sweet boy, keep going. Doing such a good job with your tongue" you moan while his hips buck into nothing in the air, "love how you eat me out"

Javier moans into your dripping pussy as you ground her hips against his face, the praise and encouragement spurring him on. Your juices flow freely, coating his chin until they drip down onto his chest.

"Love eating this perfect pussy. I fucking love the taste of you, the way you gush and quiver against my tongue. I could spend all day with my face buried between your thighs, worshipping this sweet cunt"

He could feel his own arousal growing, his cock hardening and throbbing as he lost himself in the act of pleasuring you.

Spurred on by your praising moans, he redoubled his efforts, sucking your clit hard as he plungs two fingers deep into your soaked cunt. He pumps them in and out, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot inside you.

"That's it, hermosa. Ride my face. Please, use me baby, please"

He can feel your thighs trembling on either side of his head, body tense as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. The thought of tasting your release, juices flooding his mouth, made his own arousal swell to painful proportions.

"Would you let me use your nose, papi? Wanna cum on your face, grind off of it" you say, but even if you ask for permission, you're already over it, riding it.

Javier lets out a muffled moan of approval as you begin to grind your dripping pussy more firmly against his nose, using it to stimulate your most sensitive spots. He can feel the sticky essence of your coupling smearing across his upper lip and coating his nostrils as you ride his face with increasing urgency.

"I want to feel you cumming, drenching my face with your sweet juices" he pleads. "Paint my fucking nose with your release, baby"

He could feel your thighs quaking and clenching around his ears, body tensing as you chase your rapidly approaching climax. The scent of your arousal is overwhelming, the sweet aroma filling his nostrils and clouding his mind with lust.

"That's it, baby. Fuck my nose, use it to make yourself cum," he urges. "Give it to me, y/n. Give me everything you have"

You grip the back of his head, pushing him down while grinding your wet pussy across his face. You feel yourself tightening your hold as you come against his mouth, Javier letting out a muffled cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure as he feels your fingers tangling and tugging demandingly.

"Then be a good boy and take it all"

"Yes, mami!" he gasps, the words vibrating deliciously against your soaked, sensitive flesh. "I'm your good boy. I'll take it all, every last drop"

Peña feels your pussy clench and spasm against his mouth, walls fluttering wildly as your climax crashes over you. He whines deeply, the sound drowned out by the gush of your release flooding his mouth and pouring over his chin. The taste of your arousal is as sweet as he imagined, intoxicating, exploding across his taste buds and sending a bolt of pure lust straight to his aching cock.

"You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet and perfect" he pants, his voice hoarse. "I could drown in this pussy and die a happy man"

He feels your body shaking and trembling above him, hips still grinding weakly against his face. But you still have the strength to lace your fingers through his hair and pull his head back.

You can feel his dick barely grazing your ass, rock-hard again.

"Now swallow it, and I might help you with that" you slap his cock with your free hand. He bucks and jerks at the mix of sensations; the way you toy with him and tease him, only heightening his desperation and desire. "Be a good boy just as you've been. I want to see this throat swallowing it all"

You taut his neck and adam's apple with your nails, the pull exposing the vulnerable column of his throat. He can feel the sharp sting of the nails digging into his skin, the sensation sending a dark thrill of pain and pleasure racing down his spine.

"Yes, mami" his voice a low, submissive rasp. "I'll swallow every drop, just like a good boy"

He tilts his head back further, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps and swallows, trying to obey. The taste of your cum coats his tongue and slides down his throat.

"Good boy" you praise, stroking and slapping his shaft, your eyes never leaving his.

"Fuck!" he cries out, his hips thrusting up to meet your hand.

He can feel his release swiftly approaching, the pressure in his balls growing to an unbearable level. The way you touch him, the taste of your release still lingering on his tongue... he's gone insane, and it's your fault the same man who took down the biggest druglord of the world is now reduced to a moaning mess.

"Please, mami" he begs, his tone desperate. "I need to cum so badly. Will you allow me?"

"Do it" you pant, "and don't hold back any cute cries coming from your lips"

With your permission granted, Javier's cock spams violently in your grip.

"Fuck, yes! I'm cumming so fucking hard, mami. Thank you, baby, thank you so much!"

Thick, hot ropes of cum explod from his cock, painting your hand and his own abdomen with his essence. His body convulses beneath you, muscles clenching and unclenching as his climax tears through him.

He gazes up at you, eyes hazy and mind fucked.

This newfound pleasure was almost too much to comprehend, a weird feeling of ecstasy he had never dreamed of. And it was you, of all people, who had made him come by rendering him to a whiny and needy submissive part of himself he didn't know.

"Thank you for letting me cum, mami" he pants, his voice a low, rough rasp. "I am forever in your debt, baby"

You giggle, laying down next to him, while pressing a soft kiss to his sweat glistening temple.

"Anytime" you reply, so sweet and simple, as if you hadn't completely ruined his life.

But well, wasn't he known for his love to get into places he shouldn't have?

dts: para @ann-gell u know i love u right? my mx valentine, xoxo. no autorizo que te sientas mal así que ten una cochinada ft. javier peñita, te la dedico con amors, my hot funny lovely friend ♡

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shurisneakers · 1 day ago

Text

unsolved (ix)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, groups of people that believe in the paranormal

A/N: im sorry i disappeared i am employed now and also i am depressed. anyway pls lemme know what u guys think i love reading comments and screaming and everything you have to say MWAH. next one is a big one boys

Previous part || Series masterlist

Bucky wakes up to a weary, bone-deep sense of dread.

Not the kind of dread that means a sniper is lurking outside his window. No, this is a very specific kind of dread that sets in suddenly, altogether at once.

He knows exactly what it means.

You are about to ruin his day.

His eyes flicker open, adjusting to the light filtering through his windows.

The floor is quiet. Too quiet, almost.

Alpine is curled on the windowsill, tail flicking idly. But he finds her staring at him already with mild judgment, as if she knows exactly what’s about to happen.

Bucky rubs a hand down his face, exhaling. He doesn’t know why he feels like this, because you’d taken to simply texting him the location these days, and then banging on his door.

It was routine. He’d come to expect it. Like it, even, the way someone likes mundane sounds such as the buzz of the microwave heating up their lunch everyday.

Except there’s a sudden, loud slam against his window.

Alpine launches off the windowsill, scrambling away with a hiss.

Bucky is out of bed before his brain catches up. Years of instinct launch him into motion as he grips the knife under his pillow, pivots toward the sound–

And sees you.

Hovering. Three stories up.

Waving.

Bucky full-body recoils and it takes everything in him not to launch his fucking knife at the window.

He glares at you, barely awake, trying to process the absolute absurdity of this moment.

You tap your wrist like a watch, mouthing, "Video shoot."

Bucky turns around and launches a pillow at the window, furiously mouthing back, “I hope you fall.”

You grin.

His furiousness turns to raging annoyance at best. Which, in turn, makes him angry again.

Just as he’s about to throw something heavier, FRIDAY dims the window until you fade from view. He doesn’t know who FRIDAY is protecting.

Bucky collapses back onto his mattress.

He contemplates ignoring you again, but experience has taught him that only makes things worse.

Five minutes later, he’s stomping down the stairs.

Bucky yanks open the car door and slides into the passenger seat.

Wordlessly, he shoves a coffee in your direction.

You blink at it. “How do you know my coffee order?”

Bucky grunts. “Do you want it or not?”

You take it, narrowing your eyes as you watch him chug it like it’s water. “Coffee doesn’t even work on you. Why do you drink it?”

He pauses mid-sip.

You tilt your head. "Do you even like the taste?"

Bucky slowly stares at the coffee like it personally wronged him, because no, he’s coming to realise that didn’t really like it.

“…No,” he allows slowly.

“Then why are you drinking it?”

His grip tightens around the cup. He doesn’t have a good answer, so he doesn’t look at you.

“Bought it,” he grumbles. ‘M gonna drink it.”

“Sunken cost fallacy, right there,” you hum. “You bought it, so now you have to suffer through it. That’s a weird thing you do, y'know.”

Bucky exhales sharply, already done with this conversation. “It’s just coffee.”

“It’s just coffee,” you agree, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “And you just can’t let yourself pick something else. You a glutton for punishment?”

He scowls, taking another sip of the stupid beverage he didnt expect to be having a crisis over in the evening.

"Whole world of warm drinks out there, Barnes. You ever tried chai? A matcha? You could be a matcha guy."

"No."

"You could be drinking hot chocolate. I think you'd like that. Marshmallows and everything.”

Bucky grips his cup harder.

"Hell, even warm lemonade would be a better choice."

Bucky scrunches his nose at the thought of warm lemonade and chugs his coffee out of spite.

You shake your head. “Whatever. Drink your hot bean water then.”

Silence stretches. The car hums down the highway. The weight of whatever he’s been avoiding lingers in the air between you.

Only five minutes later does it occur to him to ask.

“Where are we going?”

You shoot him a wide smile. “To make you some friends.”

Bucky closes his eyes. “I have friends.”

“You have Sam. And Steve.”

“Sam and Steve are enough.”

“Sam and Steve are legally obligated to be your friends.”

Bucky side-eyes you. “That’s not how friendship works.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Is this another haunted house? ‘Cause if it is, I'm staying in the car."

"No haunted house."

"Then what?"

You drum your fingers on the wheel. "We're going to check out the fastest-growing paranormal club in the city."

Bucky exhales through his nose, mentally preparing himself.

"What’s the scam?" he deadpans.

"No scam." You pause. "Well, maybe a little scam. But I’m choosing to believe in the inherent goodness of humanity."

Bucky glances at you. “What kind of scam?”

“Maybe you’ll find yourself today, y’know? Maybe you’ll even be a treasured member of this club.”

Bucky leans all the way back in his seat, shutting his eyes before he has an aneurysm.

The location is exactly as sketchy as Bucky expected.

Which, to be clear, is very.

A run-down community center at the edge of the city, sandwiched between a failing laundromat and a storage facility that definitely has bodies in it.

The parking lot has three cars, two of which are missing doors. The third is a white van with no plates.

Bucky stares at it. “I’m staying in the car.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You can get your organs harvested. I’m not in the mood for that today.”

“We are not getting our organs harvested.”

“We are about to walk into a situation that requires a white van with no plates.”

You tap the steering wheel. “You’re focusing on the wrong details.”

“Oh? What fuckin’ details should I be focusing on?”

You refuse to make eye contact. “I will not be taking questions at this time.”

A sign by the door says:

WELCOME, SEEKERS OF THE TRUTH.

Bucky points at it. “What the fuck is that?”

“They’re just seekers, Buck.” You unbuckle. “They’re seeking. Let them seek.”

“That’s not what that means.”

“They have over five hundred members in their Facebook group.”

Bucky rubs a hand down his face. “The Boogeyman fan club has eight thousand, so what?”

“Okay, but to be fair— Boogeyman’s hot.”

Bucky stares at you.

You stare back, unblinking.

“Do you want me to respond to that?”

“Only if you agree.”

Bucky inhales slowly, counting to ten.

Still, he gets out of the car. Because he always does.

The guy at the door looks exactly like someone who would be enthusiastic about this kind of thing. Whatever it was.

Late twenties, cargo pants, black t-shirt, and… a cape. He stands in the doorway like he’s personally responsible for deciding who gets to know the truth.

Bucky is already exhausted.

You, however, are delighted.

“Hi!” you chirp, walking up to him. “We’re The Gra–”

Instead, the guy squints. “Hold on. I know you. You’re from TV.”

“Uh, yeah, he is–” you glance at Bucky, who glares at you for throwing him under the bus, but it’s not like you had been set up for interviews just yet or had any major public saves like the Battle of Earth. You operated on a scale similar to Spiderman until now. The Avengers were really just your first big corporate job.

“No, I recognise you,” he looks pointedly at Bucky, before narrowing his eyes. “You got no reason to be out here–”

A few years ago Bucky’s shoulders would have tensed immediately, already bracing for the inevitable Winter Soldier comment.

“Hey now,” you force a smile onto your face.

“--showing your face in public,” the guy continues, gearing up.

“Okay,” Bucky says, because he’s dealt with enough of public vitriol to really have it faze him anymore.

You prepare to take a step in front of him, body stiff. “Now let’s not get–”

“After breaking her heart like that? Shame on you.”

Bucky blinks. You also blink, steps halting.

“I’m sorry, whose heart?” he asks, looking between you and the guy.

The guy snaps his fingers. "You're the one on that show. Love Island, aren’t ya?”

Bucky’s entire soul exits his body.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

He processes the words and does not fucking understand them.

The guy nods, like he’s just cracked a case. “Yeah. My girlfriend fucking hates you, bro.”

Bucky opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

You, on the other hand, look like this is the greatest single living moment of your life. “Oh my god, Barnes.”

Bucky looks to the sky for help. None arrives.

“What the fuck is a Love Island?”

The guy crosses his arms. “Deny it all you want, man. But we all saw what you did to Lulu.”

“I was literally a prisoner of war for seventy years.”

“And yet,” you say, eyes twinkling with evil delight, “you still had time to emotionally devastate a woman named Lulu on national television.”

Bucky turns to you, betrayed. “Who the fuck is Lulu?”

The guy shakes his head in disappointment. “Shame on you, man.”

You clap the guy on the shoulder. “You’re so right– what’s your name? Troy? You’re so right, Troy. Bucky here thinks just because he has a pretty face and a rockin’ bod, he can break hearts without consequences.”

“What the fuck is a Love Island?” Bucky asks in despair.

“Ashamed of what gave you your fame?” You click your roof to the top of your mouth. “People would do anything for the opportunity to be shirtless on a beach for three months–”

“Someone tell me what the fuck a Love Island is.” Bucky drags a palm across his face.

“It’s not you? Oh.” Troy deflates, glancing at you instead. “Are you the one from Love Island then?”

“I wish.” You pull your lips into a straight line. “Some people just aren’t grateful for the chance they’re given.”

“Oh wait. I recognise you, you're from that ghost show.” He brightens up again, wagging his finger at you. “My niece loves you.”

You nudge Bucky in excitement at the news, as if you hadn’t induced fifteen years worth of self-hatred into him twenty seconds ago. “Tell your niece she's got great taste.”

He nods briefly. “So, what are you doing here?”

“We heard this is the fastest-growing paranormal group in the city. Just wanted to check it out.”

The guy perks up immediately. “Oh yeah! The Ghost’s energy is real strong tonight. Dennis said he’s been slamming Monster Energy all day, so the vibes are there, man.”

Bucky’s expression does not change. “Who is Dennis?”

“Our medium.”

You nod sagely. “Of course.”

“He’s got a newsletter. You wanna subscribe?”

“Gee, I sure do,” Bucky says dryly.

You elbow him. “We wanted to join the club first.”

“Alright,” he chirps. “I’m sure Dennis won't mind. Meeting starts in ten minutes. You can grab your cloaks by the door and head on in.”

Bucky stops. “Cloaks?”

“Yeah, it's imperative to the Ghost that we dress the same.”

“Absolutely fucking–”

“Don't worry about him, he's only upset that he didn't get to bring his own cloak,” you interject immediately. “It came free with his coffin and some sunscreen.”

Bucky steps on your foot. You give him a small kick.

“Alright, well, you can have ours. It’s usually five bucks each but I’ll let it slide if you sign something for my niece,” Troy says. “If you're filming, please keep the flash off.”

“You got it, boss,” you salute.

The guy shrugs. “Meeting starts in ten. You can drink from the chalice and head on in.”

Bucky immediately locks onto that second part. “The what?”

The guy pulls out a black goblet filled with dark red liquid.

Bucky immediately takes a step back.

The guy holds it out. “It’s the Ghost’s essence. Dennis prepares it before every meeting.”

Bucky and you stare at it.

You lean in, sniffing inconspicuously. “What ingredients are in the Ghost’s… essence?”

The guy shrugs. “Dunno. Dennis just goes into a room, talks to the Ghost for a bit, and comes back with this. It’s different every time.”

Bucky’s stare is flat. “Oh yeah. That’s normal.”

“Here, try.”

Bucky does not move. “I’m allergic.”

“To what?”

“Yes.”

The guy frowns. “You haven’t even tasted it–”

“I’m allergic,” Bucky repeats. “Real bad. Death and everything.”

You nod solemnly. “I already had some.”

The guy blinks. “You did?”

“Yep, just couldn't help myself. Found some around here and I felt the Ghost really call to me.” You beam rather convincingly.

“I think it’s calling to you again, you should try some more,” Bucky tells you.

“Nope. Had plenty. Gotta save some for the others,” you say loudly, kicking his foot again. “It was great, though. Ghost tastes great– I mean, got great taste.”

“Well in that case, here’s your cloak and you can head on in,” he smiles at you before turning to Bucky. “You’ll have to pay, though.”

Bucky’s face scrunches. “I’m in the fuckin’ show too.”

“So you are from Lo–”

“I was not on Love Island,” he declares definitely.

“Right,” he drags, like he doesn’t quite believe him. “Five bucks.”

Bucky stares at him. Troy smiles right back.

Bucky grumbles, relenting as he reaches out into his pocket to shell out five dollars.

Bucky had taken the mandatory black cloak with all the enthusiasm of someone being handed a parking ticket.

You, on the other hand, are already swirling yours around your shoulders like you’re about to perform a monologue.

“Personally, I’m not too fond of the silhouette, but it’s fine for a last-minute fit, I guess.” You adjust the hood, pulling it low over your eyes before striking a pose. “Do you think I look cute?”

Bucky blinks. He wasn’t expecting the question. His brain short-circuits almost immediately.

You tilt your head, waiting.

He cannot figure out what to say, so he simply lets out a grunt. It’s extremely embarrassing.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Bucky makes a face.

Instead, he moves to something else entirely. Flips his cloak over his shoulders, tying it into a perfect, military-precise knot in two seconds flat.

You raise an eyebrow. “Well, that was fast.”

“It’s a knot. Not rocket science.”

You step in closer, reaching out to tug lightly at the strings of his cloak. “Did you go full Boy Scout at some point? Or was that just, like, a super useful skill in your assassin era?”

Bucky does not move. “Are you done?”

You grin. “Nope. I like being all up in your space. You’re even hotter up close.”

He immediately steps back.

“Coward.”

“Don’t want you ruining my knot.” Bucky tugs it tighter, then glares down at your very haphazardly tied cloak. “Jesus. That’s a disaster.”

"I was going for a more casual look."

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Give it.”

“Oh, so now you want to touch me?”

Bucky freezes for half a second, until you laugh and then it turns into a half-hearted glare.

Then, without reacting, he reaches out and untangles your mess of a knot with infuriating ease.

You watch him carefully as he ties it. He’s surprisingly gentle, fingers working quickly.

“You’re being very careful.”

“You’ll find a way to strangle yourself otherwise.”

“Is this your version of caring?”

Bucky ignores you.

“Oh, it is.”

“Just– shut up. Five minutes. I’ll pay you.”

Bucky steps back, hands off. The knot is perfect. He gives it a quick tug to test it, then nods.

You stare at him.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You grin, pulling the hood over your head. “I just think it’s adorable that you want me to live.”

Bucky mutters something unintelligible under his breath and gestures toward the meeting hall. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The room is set up like a middle school talent show.

Rows of metal chairs, some folding, some clearly stolen from a diner, all arranged in a rows in front of a small, elevated stage. The stage itself is haphazardly draped with black fabric, trying to give the illusion of magic but mostly looking like a supermarket Halloween clearance aisle.

There is, for some fucking reason, a fog machine in the corner, already hissing out an unnecessary amount of smoke. The whole room smells faintly of lavender essential oils and burnt plastic.

"I gotta say, I expected more," you hum, adjusting your cloak as you scan the room.

“Like what?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Maybe some candles? You’d think they’d at least have, like, a bowl of blood or something.”

Bucky side-eyes you. “Not everything has to fuckin’ theatrical all the time. Just ‘cause you’re floating around 23 hours of the day, scaring the shit out of everyone.”

You grin. “Oh, so you do think my theatrics are effective.”

Bucky realizes his mistake immediately. “That is not what I said.”

"No, no, I heard it," you smirk, nudging his shoulder as you lean in slightly. "You're saying that my supernatural entrance at your window was extremely well-executed."

Bucky glares at you. “I am saying nothing.”

"You're saying I have a flair for the dramatic. That my execution is flawless. That you—"

Bucky reaches over and yanks your hood over your face.

"Mmph—" You flail immediately, dragging it back. "Rude."

Bucky hides a smile to himself but doesn’t say anything.

You narrow your eyes. “You know, you should consider a little showmanship yourself.”

"No."

"I mean, look at you," you gesture vaguely at him, ignoring him. "You've got the sexy ex-assassin, current caveman aesthetic locked down. I’m imagining a trench coat. Maybe a few monologues in the rain. You’d be unstoppable.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “What do I have to do to get you to shut up?”

“Put your tulips on my tulips–”

He gets up and moves one seat over, away from you and the heat blossoming on his face.

You follow right behind him with a grin, satisfied.

Mercifully, something your attention is drawn to the people entering the room before you notice his face flushing.

The crowd is a mix of true believers and people who are clearly just here for the novelty of it. Some attendees look fully committed, hoods drawn, faces solemn. Others are whispering and pulling out their phones, probably posting about this on some platform.

You, however, are too busy fiddling with your cloak.

"This fabric is trash," you mutter, pulling at it. "What is this, polyester? It’s so staticky."

"That’s the real issue here," Bucky mutters.

"It is when I keep getting shocked," you say, rubbing your wrist where the fabric clings.

Bucky watches you for half a second too long when you tug at it with annoyance, brows pulled together.

Maybe he should’ve been honest earlier when you asked how he thought you looked.

Instead, he clears his throat and looks away.

More people take seats.

The atmosphere changes suddenly when a man in his late thirties walks up to the podium.

He wears a deep purple cloak, slightly different from the ones given at the door. His hair is combed neatly back, his expression calm and composed.

He raises a hand. The murmurs in the room die down almost immediately.

You lean toward Bucky slightly. "Okay, so we have our medium."

Bucky doesn’t respond, but his jaw shifts slightly.

The man smiles. "Welcome, seekers of truth."

A few people nod reverently.

Bucky leans toward you. "You owe me five bucks."

"What?"

"I bet you earlier that he was going to say ‘seekers of truth’ within the first two minutes."

You peer at him. "I don't remember making that bet."

“We absolutely did.”

“You’re just trying to get back the five bucks you spent on the cloak.”

On stage, Dennis continues.

"Tonight is special," he says smoothly. "The Ghost’s energy is stronger than ever."

A few people murmur in agreement.

Bucky leans in again. "If I start screaming, do you think they'll kick me out?"

"Fuck around and find out, babygirl."

Instead of responding, he reaches over and yanks the knot he had tied securely for you loose.

You glare at it. Then at him.

"If you wanted to take my clothes off, you could have just asked," you whisper. “At least buy me dinner first.”

"I hate you."

"You don't."

"I’ve never hated anyone more."

"You don't," you say, tapping his knee lightly. "You like my company, even if it causes you physical pain. That’s why it sucks even worse for you."

Bucky makes a sound that is a little too like a growl.

The speaker, oblivious, raises his hands again.

Then, with a slow, practiced movement, he turns back toward the stage.

The room settles. The tension shifts.

Bucky doesn’t like it.

Not because it’s weird, exactly– he’s been in weirder places. But because he knows a performance when he sees one.

Dennis moves deliberately. Every step, every gesture, designed for impact.

And then, in a voice as smooth as a radio host’s, he speaks.

"The Ghost moves among us tonight," he says, pacing slowly across the stage. "I felt it earlier. A shift in the air. A whisper."

Bucky leans toward you.

"Did the Ghost also tell him to crank the fog machine to maximum?"

You bite back a grin. "It adds ambiance."

"It adds a fucking fire hazard."

You both glance toward the corner of the room, where the mist machine continues pumping out thick, curling fog.

It’s a lot, and smells faintly chemical and like no fog Bucky has ever smelt before. It spills along the floor, reaching all the way to the back row of seats.

Dennis stops, tilting his head.

"The energy here is special," he murmurs. "Do you feel it?"

A few people murmur in agreement.

Bucky does not murmur.

Instead, he tunes in, watching the room, the way people react. Watching the way Dennis pauses just long enough to let silence work in his favour.

It's polished. Which means it’s bullshit.

You’re half-listening, half-scanning the room. Not just in the way you usually soak in information, but in a subtler way. Like you’re looking for something.

Bucky notices. He wonders if he should ask.

Dennis closes his eyes briefly, as if receiving a message.

"Some of you are new," he says suddenly, his voice shifting slightly. "Some of you have never been here before. You’ve been drawn here. Led here. Perhaps by curiosity, or fate, or something deeper. Whatever the reason, you are here now."

And then Dennis gestures to the audience.

A few nods in the audience. Someone exhales softly, like they’re already halfway into a trance.

Dennis begins to pace. Slow, measured steps, his fingers twitching slightly as if he’s channeling something.

"The spirit has whispered to me once again." His voice lowers. "I have seen visions."

A murmur spreads through the audience.

Dennis stops. Closes his eyes for effect.

"Dark visions. Visions of the Great Ghost of Nickasta’s past."

Dennis opens his eyes, gaze sweeping the room. "Tonight, we will consult with– is someone filming?"

Every head snaps around, straight toward you and Bucky.

Bucky doesn’t move.

You blink. Then, very slowly, you look down at the camera in your hands.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” You raise your hand slightly, like a student in class. “We're new. The Graveyard Shift here to witness the—”

You dig around in your pocket, pulling out a folded-up flyer, squinting at it in the dark.

"—transformative power of communicating with ghosts."

You fold it back up and look at him expectantly.

Dennis’ smile tightens. "Recording is not encouraged."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

Dennis stares at him. With just a touch too much hesitation, he says “It disturbs the Ghost from reaching full power.”

Bucky’s head cranes.

"Keep that thing on," he tells you as if you had any plans of shutting it off, before raising his voice. "Why not? Don't you wanna get your message out there? Help people?"

Dennis' clasped hands remain tight.

"It is not my message," he says smoothly. "It is the Ghost’s. I am merely a vessel."

Bucky’s lips press together. "Great. Free publicity for the Ghost."

"Yeah, we're doing pretty well on YouTube," you add, twirling the camera slightly in your hands. "Could be doing better on Instagram, but this guy refuses to go live."

Bucky glares. “It’s not gonna happen. Let it go.”

Dennis’ jaw tightens slightly. His gaze does another quick sweep of the room.

Then, finally–

"No." He plasters on a tight smile. "You may continue. But know this—some things cannot be captured by a device so primitive as a camera."

"I’ll take that risk." Bucky leans back in his chair, smug, before adding under his breath to you, "He’s definitely scamming."

You snort. "Give him a chance."

"I gave him five bucks."

"And you got a very hot cloak out of it, which your shoulders look incredible in."

Bucky glares ahead.

"What visions were you having?" someone in the crowd shouts, following it up with a strange laugh.

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together.

Dennis claps his hands together, a smooth pivot away from the interruption.

"Ah, yes, the visions!" he announces, voice swelling with importance. "The Ghost has revealed to me a story of great suffering! Of betrayal! Of a spirit trapped! A mighty beast who could not be contained!"

A few people in the crowd gasp, others burst into tiny giggles. Bucky wonders if others were here for the shits and laughs too.

"How big?" someone in the crowd shouts.

Dennis' eyes light up. He lifts his arms wide, stretching as far as he can.

"He was... huge!" he exclaims, pacing the stage, cloak billowing slightly behind him. "Larger than life itself! And he was trapped, my friends."

A few people gasp softly.

Dennis cries out, "Trapped in chains by the very people who claimed to ‘love’ him!"

Bucky’s face remains blank.

"His mighty beast was strong, yes, but he was misunderstood. He wanted to be free, to live among the people in peace. But no! They took him, they made him fight, and then they... they trapped him!"

Dennis throws himself against the table, inhaling deeply like he’s just been hit by divine revelation. "They made him climb a tall tower!"

He wonders if it actually hurt the guy, all the throwing himself around that he was doing.

"They paraded him for all to see, mocking him!"

Bucky's eyes close briefly, as if in pain. "Okay."

Mist grows stronger around the room, almost like he’s stuck in a room with a bunch of vapers.

His nose scrunches up immediately, eyes stinging lightly as he blinks.

“What the hell is that smell,” he blows the air in front of him.

“Chemical, with undernotes of sweetness,” you note. “Is that what the Ghost smells like or is it a creative interpretation?”

“It's gonna give me a migraine.”

“Breathe through your mouth, then,” you say, raising the camera up and zooming into Dennis doing… whatever.

Bucky just shrugs the stupid cloak off his shoulders and ties it around his face in a makeshift balaclava.

“I feel it,” Dennis announces, throwing his hands in the air. “It is here.”

“What is?” the crowd cries.

“My migraine,” Bucky answers.

You shove at his knee with yours.

Someone stumbles to their feet. “The beast... the spirit... it’s... it's all so beautiful!”

People around him burst into giggles.

“I can feel it, it’s... inside me!” someone in the front laughs loud enough to drown out the music.

“Yes! Yes! The Ghost is in all of you!” Dennis shouts, pointing. “We are all like the beast, misunderstood and bound by chains, but we must rise above it all—

“I am rising,” the same cloak guy from earlier chuckles, knocking the chair behind him to the ground as he stands up. “I see the Ghost.”

“Oh,” you comment, looking around to see everyone with their hands up in the air.

Bucky's arms stay firmly crossed over his chest as he sits slumped in his miserable little chair, staring at the crowd around him around him.

“Everyone's doing something,” you observe through all the loud laughter.

“I can see that,” he says, noticing that your knee continues to brush against his after you shoved at him before coming to a rest. His throat constricts in a way that makes talking a little more difficult.

He pulls the stupid cloth tighter around his face because whatever the smell was, it clearly was giving him a physical reaction.

“I’m having FOMO.”

“By all means, do not let them make you feel that way,” Bucky grumbles, in what he thought was a tone dropping with sarcasm.

“You're right,” you say, dumping the camera on him before standing up with your hands in the air.

Great. Now he was responsible for this thing too.

“They tried to tear him down from his tower,” Dennis shouts.

“Who?” you shout back like it’s a fucking improv show.

“The Witch! The righteous witch, walking along her path of gold!”

“What?” you stop immediately. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It’s the pink lady from Wizard of Oz,” Bucky says casually.

You turn to him, eyebrow raised.

“His great beast is King Kong. Tower, beast, misunderstood, made to fight,” Bucky replies. “Nick and Asta are characters from The Thin Man.”

You lean toward him. "What?"

“He’s bastardizing movies from the 20s.”

You squint toward Dennis, who is still in full Shakespearan mode.

"Can you feel the injustice, my children?" Dennis exclaims. "Can you see the Ghost at work?"

You grin. "Are you telling me you sat through movies in the ‘20s?"

"I was alive in the ‘20s, what the fuck else was I supposed to do?"

Dennis continues, "We are all on a journey, a journey just like those travelers in the great dust storm– oh yes, yes, the spirit shows me! We must keep pushing forward, even when the sand storm rages!"

Bucky grimaces immediately. "Grapes of Wrath."

"What?"

"Saw it when it was released. Thought it was boring as fuck."

You try to stifle a laugh. "You look so young, sometimes I forget you were childhood friends with Adam and Eve."

Bucky glares at you.

Dennis throws his arms out. "Another! Another in the room with us! This mechanical Titan with a heart of gold! They saw him as just a machine, but no, no! He was so much more! The spirit showed me! He was a reflection of the true power within us all—"

"Metropolis," he mutters. “Thea von Harbou's novel."

“Bucky, you fucking nerd.” You tap his shoulder, grinning. “Look at you, busting scams and quoting movies made during the dawn of time. Do you know how hot you are?”

“What?”

“I said, are you single? I’m asking for a friend.”

“Uh huh,” he replies, when the mist pumps into the room.

“I’m the friend.”

“Got that,” he replies, focusing on literally anything else.

Dennis continues without missing a beat. "But wait! Not all of you have followed the spirit’s true path!"

The room goes quiet. Dennis' eyes scan the crowd before he points suddenly.

"You! Yes, you!"

For a second, Bucky thinks he’s pointing at him.

"You betrayed the spirit, didn’t you? You–"

You poke Bucky. "Did you betray the spirit?"

"Only when I felt like it," he mutters.

However, the man in the row ahead of you suddenly lets out a panicked noise.

"I– I needed to go to the bathroom so bad!" he cries. "The line to the club was so long, and the bouncers weren’t letting anyone in, so I just cut ahead–"

Dennis gasps. A few others in the room let out soft, horrified whispers, as if the man had committed a felony.

"No!" Dennis shouts, pointing like he’s passing divine judgment.

The poor guy visibly withers in his seat.

"You have broken the trust of the divine!" Dennis booms. "You must atone!"

The man trembles. "W-what should I do?"

Bucky mutters under his breath. "Is everyone here on drugs?"

Dennis softens slightly, his voice taking on a careful, patronizing tone.

"The spirit demands retribution," he says. "But the Ghost is merciful. And today, so very generous. For a small donation, you will have the chance to cleanse yourself from the darkness."

Bucky watches the guy scramble for his wallet. "Is he selling forgiveness?"

The man hands over thirty bucks.

"This is literally how the Church split,” he mumbles.

You suppress a laugh. "Did it affect your Sunday plans?"

Bucky shoots you a dry look. "I was born in 1917. The Church split four hundred years before that."

"Oh, right." You nod seriously. "I just assumed you were there when Martin Luther nailed his stuff to the door."

Bucky exhales, pressing the heel of his palm into his temples.

The fog thickens.

Dennis' voice rises. "Everyone quiet! The Ghost is speaking!"

You turn to Bucky. "The Ghost is speaking, Buck."

Bucky groans. "You mean till now he’s been freestyling?"

Dennis throws his hands up toward the ceiling. "I feel it! It is here!"

Bucky’s nose twitches. The smell is stronger now, almost becoming hard to see through–

A split second later, you both realize.

Your eyes widen. "Is that–?"

"Nitrous oxide," Bucky confirms, standing up.

"Pumping laughing gas into the room, are you fucking kidding me?" you curse. “We need to air this place out.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Bucky turns sharply, scanning the room. He watches as shoulders slump, as people laugh for no reason. A guy near the front sways slightly, blinking like he’s forgotten where he is.

Someone else lets out a dazed giggle.

Bucky’s focus zeroes in on the mist machine, still hissing. There are small metal canisters stacked neatly beside it, refilling the room.

Bucky crosses the room in four steps.

Dennis barely has time to turn and register the movement before Bucky grabs one of the small pressurized canisters, gripping it in one hand.

"Hey! What are you—"

Bucky doesn’t answer, instead throwing it straight through the window.

The glass explodes outward, scattering onto the pavement outside.

A rush of cold air floods in.

The sound shocks the room, pulling some people out of their haze. Others are still too fogged up to react.

Dennis' face twists in outrage. "What the fuck?!”

"Show’s over," he mutters, chucking the second one too.

It slams into the glass and tumbles outside, hissing as it empties into the night.

Dennis looks like he might actually explode. "You’re ruining–"

"You can talk to the great Ghost through your one phone call in jail," Bucky interrupts, brushing glass off his sleeve.

Dennis lets out a furious noise, grabbing the stupid silver chalice from the table beside him and hurls it directly at Bucky’s head.

Bucky barely tilts his head to the side but finds that there’s really no need.

The chalice stops midair. Hangs there. Slowly floats back to the table, settling back into place.

Dennis' rage turns into something closer to panic.

"Let’s not get pissy now," you remark, voice syrupy sweet.

"Fuck you," Dennis snarls.

And then, in an act of desperation, he grabs a knife from the altar.

It’s cheap plastic. It’s definitely a prop. This guy was fuckin’ nuts.

Still, he lifts it like he’s going to lunge at Bucky.

Except his own cloak yanks tight around his arms.

Dennis lets out a choked sound as it wraps, pulling his limbs against his sides.

The curtain behind him rips off its hooks, swirling around him.

In seconds, he’s bound to the chair behind him, like some kind of villain in a medieval play.

The room stares.

You smile, pleasantly.

"Enough," you say, voice cooler than it should be.

Dennis glares daggers at you.

Bucky glances at you, mouth twitching slightly.

Only then do you notice silence has fallen.

You look at the crowd, only to find them watching you.

Someone in the back lets out a horrified whisper.

"The spirit is here."

The crowd erupts.

"Where?" you ask, genuinely confused.

"The Ghost!" someone screams. "It's you!"

You blink. "Oh, me?"

They nod fervently.

A few drop to their knees.

You process this for a moment. Then grin like you just won the lottery.

"Oh, right. Yeah. Of course it’s me." You lift your arms slightly. "Hey, y’all."

The crowd gasps.

“Guide us.”

Bucky groans. "Some fuckin’ role model you’ve got there."

You pretend not to hear him. Instead, you do what you’ve seen Wanda do a million times, even though it really did nothing for you.

You lift your hands slightly. Let your feet rise just a little off the floor.

The room erupts in gasps.

"Fuck’s sake," Bucky mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

You clear your throat. "Yes, it is I. Spirit of Stick Blasta."

"Nickasta," Bucky corrects.

"Nickasta," you confirm. "I have traveled a long time to be here."

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty millennia."

Bucky watches as you fake-peek through your half-closed eyes.

"I have some wisdom to share," you announce.

The crowd leans forward.

Bucky leans back.

"First!" you bellow. "Do not listen to anyone who stands on stage and says they've got a spirit moving through them. They're lying."

"But you’re doing that," Bucky heckles.

"Except me. I’m legit," you add quickly.

Bucky watches as you subtly flip him off with one of your raised hands.

"Second!" you continue. "Do not pay people for forgiveness."

You pause. "Unless that person’s name is Prosecutor and you’re bored of how long the case is being—"

"Next one," Bucky interrupts loudly.

You wave a hand dismissively.

"Third…" You falter. "I don’t know. Does anyone have suggestions?"

The crowd stares.

Bucky facepalms.

"Right. No suggestions." You clap your hands together. "Meeting adjourned."

The room is silent.

Then, someone whispers, "What… what do we do now?”

You land lightly on the floor again, brushing nonexistent dust off your cloak.

"For realsies, though, I suggest you get any money you paid this guy back. And then sue him into oblivion.”

Dennis makes furious muffled noises from under the curtain still binding him.

You glance at him.

With zero effort, Dennis gets dragged backward, vanishing backstage.

The crowd stares.

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Everyone out," Bucky orders.

The crowd obeys instantly.

Still dazed, still giggling from the leftover gas, they shuffle toward the exits.

Bucky looks at you. "Are you fine?"

You ignore him.

Instead, you call after the crowd, "And call someone to pick you up!"

They nod vaguely.

"I already called the paramedics, they'll be here in a minute!" you shout. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Bucky’s expression tightens.

"Are you fine?" he repeats.

You wave it off. "Oh yeah. It takes way more substances to get me high. All this was covered under the Leviathan Weapon of Mass Destruction starter kit. What about you?"

"Me too." Bucky shrugs. After a pause, he clears his throat. "You didn’t have to tie him up."

"He was annoying,” you say flippantly.

"I wasn’t actually in danger."

"I know."

"It was probably grape juice."

"I know."

"I didn’t need help."

"I know."

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. "What’s your play here?"

"My play?" You scoff. "I know this emo lone wolf thing is something you’ve been cultivating carefully for years, but sometimes, people can do things for you and have it not be a play."

Bucky stares. "Like what?"

"Like-- I don’t know– trying to protect you even if you don’t need it." You turn on your heel, hopping down from the stage. "Or like checking to see if you’re still breathing when you’re lying face down on the table."

Bucky does not respond, feeling his fingers get all fidgety.

“C’mon,” you tell him, halfway out the door. “We’ve got some explaining to do.”

He clears his throat, rolls his shoulders back and starts behind you.

“We’ve got all the footage. So that should be good." You turn to eye him. "But you know what’ll really help our case? You keeping that cloak on.”

Bucky groans, yanking at the fabric that hung across his neck like a bath towel. "I’m gonna set this thing on fire."

"You won’t. You are the cloak now.""

"I will."

“You’re still wearing it. I think you actually like it.”

Bucky grinds his teeth. "I’m leaving."

"In the cloak?"

"Shut up."

"I think it makes you look distinguished."

Bucky storms toward the exit.

You follow, grinning the whole way.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to know when this fic updates, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications! it's the only way tumblr will let me have a taglist and i don't post there at all except for fics </3

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you

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whatispersonalspacejyp · 2 days ago

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Nightly activities

Genre: Smut, (slight gang au)

Pairing: Bang Chan x (f) reader

Word Count: 1319

Warnings: Cunnilingus, nipple play, nipple piercings, blow job, using condoms (cause safety first), after care

Authors note: maybe I'll make it in some kind of universe with the other members as well ;)

Date: 15 February 2025

I turned off the water and walked out of the shower, grabbing a towel for my hair and wrapping it up before taking a second bigger one to dry myself. This whole situation is just weird: once a poor person, now living in a luxury mansion under the protection of Stray Kids.

Putting on my panties and a shirt and for my dignity a bathrobe. It was 2 pm, and all of them were most likely asleep, but I didn’t want to risk anything. I want some water and a small snack. The door softly opened as I sneaked out of it, I didn’t want to alarm any of the others. The kitchen was pretty much on the other side of the building, but still a few slept on this side.

I walked into the kitchen to grab a small snack and some water. Once I had everything I turned around and got scared as Chan just stood there, watching me like a hawk. Chan smirked as he noticed my scared expression before walking to me, easily lifting me up on the counter. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” His hands stroking my thighs all while staying quiet, slowly revealing more and more of them all while looking at my face. I felt my face burning up, why was he so hot? Chan’s hands stopped at the panties with a small smirk before slowly pulling at them before going for a kiss. While I was shocked at first, I quickly collected myself and started kissing him back. It was something new, all the men before him were so quick so eager, and only cared for themselves. By now many of them would have put their dicks inside and were going at it like a wild animal. But not Chan, he was going slow, lifting me slightly to get rid of my panties, and just kept on stroking my thighs.

“You’re such a pretty little thing.” He whispered in my ear before going down to my core. “I want to taste you.” He said looking up at me, wanting confirmation, so I nod my head. Chan smiled before kissing my inner thighs, slowly going toward the core. My head fell back at the sensation of his lips on my clit, then something more wet, his tongue. The sudden feeling made my hands go to his hair, pulling at it. It felt so god damm good. His hands still stroking my body before going down too, rubbing my clit while with the other hand, he pushed a finger in. No one has ever done this before. It felt sad when Chan suddenly stopped and moved up again towards my face before kissing me again, tasting myself on him. “I want you, sweetheart, I need you, but not here.”

Chan lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as we descended into the long hallway to his room. Once in his room, he threw me on the bed. His room had a red hue due to some decorative lights on the wall. Chan turned back and undid my robe. I move up to my knees to undo his button-up shirt. Chan just stroked my arms while I did that. I helped him get rid of his shirt before he took a step away from the bed to get off his shoes and pants, I decided to take off my shirt at that moment before looking at Chan. His body looked like a god, it made me excited. I wanted him too. Chan smirked again before crawling onto the bed, attacking my neck. Nipping, biting and nipping at it, claiming me as his.

Chan moved his mouth down towards my breasts. “Oh baby, those piercings look so good on you.” He purred as he started stroking my nipple and moved his mouth the other one to lick it. “You like that baby,” I whined out a yes before Chan quickly stopped and grabbed my arms.

Chan pinned my wrists, while his other hand was shoved in between my legs. Stroking a bit before pushing one of his fingers inside of me. I bite back and moan at the feeling. Chan moved closer and started running his tongue over my lips before pushing inside of me. We swirled our tongues before pausing, barely touching each other's lips to get some air. “Chan… please.” I cried out. Chan just smiled and pulled his fingers out. “Suck.” Chan held out his fingers to my mouth and I started sucking them clean. “Good girl.” Once Chan was satisfied enough he pulled them out and I quickly got of the bed towards the edge, making Chan follow in slight confusion.

I sank on my knees in front of Chan who sat at the end of the bed. I started stroking Chan before my swollen lips went around his cock. I hollowed my cheeks around him as I started sucking him, even playing with his ball for more pleasure. Chan growled slightly and grabbed my hair to get more control. All that made me look up at him. Chan looked at me with hazy eyes, even smirking a bit. He then started fucking my mouth to get to his release. “Oh, god, yes.” He choked out before cumming in my mouth. Chan pulled out as smiled as he noticed my lips had darkened and was both wet with saliva and his cum.

Chan moved to his nightstand and grabbed a condom out of it. Chan ripped the package open and rolled it around his cock. I in the meantime got on the bed again, waiting for Chan to move towards me. Chan crawled towards me and started kissing me. I moaned at the feeling of him entering me, holding onto Chan. “God fuck, you’re so wet.” his lips brushed against my ears, before ghosting over my neck and started with a slow pace. “Faster,” I begged. Chan shoved his hips a bit harder against mine and started picking up his pace. My hands have found his back and hair. One raking through his hair while running my fingers lightly over his shoulder blades. Chan nuzzled his nose in my neck while trying to keep his moans and groans quiet.

The thrusting made me see stars. I started clawing at his back making Chan let out a breahily moan. “Baby… oh god, please you feel so good.” He loses the rhythm as his climax approaches, one of his hands moves to hold mine. Chan started rubbing my clit all while hitting that G-spot. I clenched around Chan's cock, making him leave out an animalistic growl and sloppy speeds up to thrust to his own release. The feeling of him continuing to thrust felt like bliss, making my back arch. “Oh fuck, oh yes, there fuck.” Chan panted out before coming himself. While he rode out I felt my body going limp while trying to catch my breath.

Chan pulled out and collapsed next to me, both of us panting. A musky smell of sweat hanging in the air. He then moved to me and kisses my forehead before removing his condom and throwing it in the bin. I looked at Chan for a few seconds, seeing him leave into what I thought was the bathroom. I moved back to look at the ceiling before closing my eyes.

My eyes opened at the feeling of something wet between my legs and made me let out a shakingly moan. “Sorry baby.” Chan whispered as he cleaned me with a wet towel. I relaxed again at his words and seeing what he was doing. Chan smiled and threw the towel away and grabbed the duvet which had fallen of the bed and pulled it with him on the bed, covering us both with the blanket. I moved closer to Chan and he put his arms around me, holding me close. “I love you baby.”

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deadly-diminuendo · 2 days ago

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A little smut compilation...

Hello, darlings! I was originally hoping to have something new for Valentine's Day, but alas, I still have much writing to do! I can say though I've officially reached the start of writing the smut scene for A Fitting Reunion. 👀 For a bit of fun today (and absolutely shameless self-promotion), I've put together some of my favourite bits from my published works.

CW: both UA and AA, mention of breeding, inappropriate use of tadpole, somnophilia, oral sex + piv sex

Those Three Little Words | Tumblr | AO3

You settle between his legs, and you wait for that final nod that grants you this gift, this chance to give to him what he gives to you so fervently. And when he offers his assent, hungry eyes heavy-lidded with lust, you take him into your eager mouth. You stroke and you suck, swishing your tongue to work the underside, seeking out those sweet sounds that signal his satisfaction. You revel in the way he loses himself in pleasure, head lolled back, jaw open, groaning, moaning, trusting in you.

The Ascendant Takes a Bride | Tumblr | AO3

You reach up for a kiss, eliciting from him a growl that rumbles down your throat as you taste his tongue. Never have you felt this close to another person, and you long to get even closer. You touch his face, his chest, his shoulders, wanting to explore every inch of his skin as you take every inch of his cock. When you throw your arms around his back, the scars your fingertips find there briefly distract you, but you quickly decide that is a story for another time. Experimenting a little, you pull your legs back and angle your hips, the slight adjustment to your position an even better fit than you thought possible. You squeal when he presses into a delightfully sensitive spot—and so he does it again, and again, and again, repeatedly, rigorously, relentlessly. You concentrate hard on your impending climax, your mind conjuring up an image of him filling you to the brim with come night after night. “You are mine. Mine to treasure. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed.”

You Were My First | Tumblr | AO3

“Last night, when you went back to bed… You touched yourself, didn’t you?” Oh. You were less covert than you thought. “Yes,” you admit, struggling to maintain your composure as he begins to trace slow, soft circles around your clit. “And you were thinking of me?” “Yes,” you sigh, a little more sheepish about this confession than the first. “Good girl. I want you to show me what you did. Show me how to please you.” You feel a tingle in your mind as he seeks to open the connection between you. So you let him in.

EDIT: Tumblr link for the above now fixed!

You Will Know | AO3

He climbs up to join you, pushing you flat on your back, crawling over you. You freeze in place, hopelessly pinned between the solid surface below and his strong frame above—and yet all you can think about is how badly you want him to plunge inside you. “Too long you have kept me waiting,” he says, halfway between a purr and a snarl, the glide of him along your folds making you feel wild and hot. “Too long you have denied me. But you’ve also denied yourself, haven’t you? This is where you want to be, isn’t it? Right here under me?” “Yes,” you admit, and with that one simple word, Astarion buries himself inside you.

Sweet Dreams, Darling | Tumblr | AO3

Astarion continues to rock his hips against yours, moving faster now, taking full advantage of your kindly offering. You feel delicious wrapped around his cock like this, your body perfectly conforming to his shape. He does miss your adorable little moans—you have always been enthusiastically vocal for him in bed—but he must admit the endless creaking below and the wet slapping of his flesh meeting yours make for pleasing sounds in their absence. Barely a second passes before a pretty noise escapes your open mouth—only a faint whimper, but it makes him throb with the feral need to fill you. You little minx. Even in your sleep you know just how to rile him. Well, if you are to tempt him with such provocative encouragement, then he has no choice but to fuck you harder.

My Masterlist | My AO3

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #bg3 #my writing

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scrumptiousstuffs · 1 day ago

Note

Hey anon here

I know I will be sounding very stupid here and as much as I love being a delulu fan but I know how the bl industry works and as for a fact the entire entertainment Business for that matter, it's about engagement and fan services, I saw almost all the couples of gmmtv put stories about their dates and how they celebrated their valantine with each other but then realistically speaking I know for a fact most of it was fan service coz no way each cp in a company is dating each other so what's your take on this whole thing, also I'm not saying they are faking it or something like if some of them are dating then that's really good but all of them it's hard to believe

Also I'm a firstkhao fan and well as much as I wanted them to post something just to feed my delulu but then they didn't and that's so them and how many chances do you think of them dating two different people is true as I saw on fan speaking about it and I know it was for fun but then why not it's their Life after all and we are just fans who live them together

Hi anon.

So, I’m not going to say I know much about how CPs and the entertainment business work.

However, I think you are right in saying that most official CPs (and even some who are not - like Kapook and Ciize!! 😉) put up some sort of photoshoots or coupl-y type of activities (either going for dinner/sunset dates or making reels of giving each other beautiful bouquet of flower etc.) are doing a level of fanservice - be it for the fans to squeal over, promoting their upcoming series or to attract engagement to better their work prospects.

But I also feel most of these CPs are genuine friends in real-life and for them, doing these sorts of activities are fun for them. After all, you get to hang out with a close friend whom you cherish, even if you have to put up a photo (or 2) +/- video reels on your social media as an “obligatory post.”

What I do feel somehow sad for the CPs are when fans (+ media outlets) keep asking insistently “what are your plans with so and so?” - I’m pretty sure JoongDunk got asked multiple times these questions leading up to Valentine’s Day. And then asked again during their recent work event on 14/02/25 - what their Valentine’s dinner plan is? What gifts did the boys buy each other? How do you guys show each other your love? (Or something to that effect) - cause I saw Dunk (to his credit he was very professional), answering that Joong’s way to show love is by physical affection while he showed his by cooking/baking with Joong always the first one to taste his food.

Maybe I’m in the minority, but my personal opinion - if the CPs want to tell us, they can do so without anyone else badgering them about it through their social media posts at their own time and choosing.

As for FirstKhaotung (they are also my OTP 😂anon!!!)…I admit I was puzzled when the fans are disappointed about the lack of “Valentine updates” from them.

Firstly, both boys wished the fans “Happy Valentine’s Day” on Twitter (even if First was trolling us with a picture of P’Tha in the middle of him and Khaotung 🤣)

Secondly, both boys posted IG updates of them wishing the other Valentine’s Day with song choices that I could only interpret as love confession to each other… 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Thirdly, are we all that surprised the boys don’t put up videos/pictures of them giving each other flowers/chocolates? (Or doing couple photoshoots?) - I get the feeling they are just happily nesting in Khaotung’s brand new house with 3 fur babies around them while playing video games after perhaps brunch/lunch + shopping together (cause let’s be honest, that will be their version of a perfect Valentine’s Day).

So , Iike you anon - I am not surprised by the minimal Valentine posts/photos from them (in fact, I was pleasantly shocked the IG posts from them happened at all - which led me into more delulu land hahah)

As for them actually dating another person 🤷🏽‍♀️…who knows. If/when it happens, I’ll cheer them on. However, all I know is that whoever is dating First/Khaotung, will actually be dating them as a set rather than one person 😂. My head canon is that F/K going on a date with someone, and the bestie who is NOT on that date will just tag along anyway 🤸 …

#delulu land is fun as long as we know it’s delulu #khaotung thanawat #first kanaphan #firstkhao #CP culture #asked and answered #Valentine’s day

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abductedhiko · 2 days ago

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Soup

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! Here’s a jegulus oneshot for the holiday

Not beta’d im sick and lazy

This oneshot is a muggle au btw

Tags: @sunshinewhosketches @im-a-mess-of-a-person @oh-phoenixx @printershorts @invasiveroadkill @butyoureastarr

Enjoy Earthlings 👽

The drive home from work was dull, cloudy, and dark.

James rubbed one hand tiredly at his eyes and sighed. He was exhausted from the extra hours he had put in at the office, and he knew it was showing through sluggish movements, eyebags, and greasy hair. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not when he had no one at home that would complain of his state.

Regulus was knee deep in his studies, so he was probably at his own home with a cup of tea and nursing a sore hand from writing pages of notes. So he was out of the question.

All of his other friends were taken and busy with their partners, Peter was engaged to this nice girl he met at university and Sirius was planning to move in with Remus soon, so they were most likely unavailable.

And that left him alone, again.

The only thing James had to look forward to was putting a frozen pizza in the oven and putting on the 4th season of the bachelor, observing the drama and lives of strangers that were infinitely more interesting than his own. He would watch until he slumped into his couch and eventually fell asleep during the middle of an episode.

Exciting. Thrilling, even.

James stopped at a red light. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, glancing out of the window.

To see a young couple making out sloppily, their hands groping each others backsides. It looked less like making out and more like they were parasites, sucking at the other’s mouth as would a leech.

James groaned before putting his head against the wheel, earning a loud hoooonk from his car.

He tiredly stuck the key into the keyhole of his apartment, unlocking it and stepping inside.

“I’m home.” He said aloud. He had expected no one to answer, as usual.

The first thing he was met with was the warm, sweet aroma of oranges mixed with burning candles wafting pleasantly to his nose. His home wasn’t as desolate as he thought it’d be, it seemed more cozy instead of cold and sad like usual.

“Welcome home!” Came a soft voice from the kitchen.

James confusingly stepped out of his shoes, shrugging off his work jacket and hanging it on a coat hanger. He then tiredly walked down the hallway and peaked around the corner with caution.

There, Regulus stood in an apron. His black curls had been pinned out of his eyes with hairpins, and there were was flour smudged on his nose and cheeks. He was busy stirring a large pot of what looked like soup.

“It smells amazing in here.” James muttered, making his way to the dining table and slumping over the table.

“Soup’s almost done, love.” Regulus replied, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. He tasted it, before dumping a spice into the pot and stirring again.

James hummed. “I thought you were busy with exams?”

Regulus shrugged. “Dorcas threatened to shred all my notes if I didn’t spend some time with someone on Valentine’s Day.”

“Valentine’s Day!” James sighed. “I must’ve forgotten. Those extra hours really took it out of me. What’s in the soup?”

“Potatoes, broth, carrots, chicken…” Regulus paused, trying to recall everything he added. “I’m sure there’s more, I must’ve forgotten.”

“Mmm, sounds good.”

Regulus turned off the stove, reaching for a ladle and scooping bits and chunks of soup into two bowls. “I also made Orange Muffins for desert.”

Regulus set a bowl in front of James, which he took gratefully, before setting next to the man with his own.

James eagerly stuck a spoonful of soup into his mouth, before yelping in pain and doubling over.

Regulus let out a little laugh. “I just got it off the stove, my love. It’s hot.”

James rolled his eyes, before blowing on another spoonful and biting into a chunk of potato.

The meal tasted like home and snow-days spent inside and being fussed over while being sick. The salt in the broth took him back to his parent’s house, where everything was warm and fine and not so lonely. When he didn’t have to overwork himself in order to avoid the growing void that had hallowed him out. When time’s were simpler, before everyone grew up and grew apart, busy with their own lives. Times when he was a kid who had no worries other than finals.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

Before he knew it, James was crying. Tears leaked from his eyes and he quickly shoved another bite into his mouth.

“What? Was the meal not good?!” Regulus asked worriedly. “James?”

But James cried and cried. He couldn’t help it, he cried until his nose began to run. He cried until he began to hiccup. All while Regulus continued to watch.

Regulus a gentle arm around his head, bringing his face against his shoulder. James buried his face into the crook of his neck and clung to the other man.

Regulus held him like that until the tears in his eyes dried.

Later in the night after they put out the candles and ate dinner, they laid with their legs tangled on the couch. They were watching some random movie about the power of Valentines Day, and it was bad. James listened to Regulus’ heart beat, his head laid against the other’s chest as Regulus rubbed his back.

“This is a stupid movie.” Regulus muttered sleepily.

James let out a little chuckle. “At least it has a good message.”

“The message is such a cliche, though.”

“What should it be then? ‘Don’t burn the Orange Muffins?’”

“That! Was an accident, Potter!” Regulus sputtered and James laughed. “I was busy with you!”

“We didn’t even do anything…yet.” James smirked.

Regulus batted him in the head.

“Mhm, yet. Maybe if you’re lucky.”

James raised himself up to be closer to Regulus’ face, to the point they could feel each other’s breath. “I’ve been working real hard. Please?”

Regulus rolled his eyes before crashing their lips together, kissing him senseless.

#hiko writes #marauders era #the marauders #marauders #jegulus #james fleamont potter #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #regulus x james #sunseeker #starchaser #happy valentines #harry potter fandom #harry potter #fandom stuff

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searchingforserendipity25 · 2 days ago

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Just Before Spring. On Ao3.

The way Aldo went on about it, one would think St. Valentine had gone and gotten decapitated on his birthday specifically to spite him, several centuries in advance.

"The poor fellow," Thomas chided lightly, not for the first time. His voice did not carry far, and did not need to, over their small table. The window beside Aldo gave them Rome, enough of a view to threaten rain and bad traffic. "I know it is inconvenient, Aldo, but he was a martyr, and a miraculous healer besides."

He had fished out his glasses, and was peering down at the wine menu. It was sweet of him to put up the show, when they both knew they would end up skipping the good ones for their usual dizzying saccharine rosé.

"The poor fellow has a dozen little chapels all over the world with his metacarpals wrapped up in gold and studded with rubies," Aldo said. "Is it too much to ask for? All I want is a nice birthday dinner with a dear friend, nothing much. It’s the same problem every year. It is my birthday, I am allowed to kvetch.”

He had been lucky, he knew; all his other siblings had been named for the saint's feast day on which they had been born.

Not Aldo; his parents had taken pity on him. Bad enough all the inevitable fuss, and the unfortunate childhood anguish around valentine cards, the having and the not-having of boyish signatures. The seminary had been a relief, in that regard. No expectation of romance now, and so much the better. Whatever there was of it, for him, was not the saintly kind.

Thomas did not count. Even miraculous St. Valentine, wise in the many iterations of love, wouldn't know what to do with the two of them.

“Always, dear,” Thomas agreed. He smiled over his frames at him, eyes gleaming in the familiar flickering light. Aldo reminded himself: nothing votive, no devotional turn of the heart. “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. "But you have to admit the couple's discounts are quite reasonable. Split up a fish course, and then a steak?

Aldo set down a focaccia slice and displaced the ostentatious floral display between them, to better spy what the table behind Thomas was ordering.

"Make it bass with the house sauce and all the pairing, it’s looking good. Let's go crazy, it's not Lent yet."

Around them: other small round tables, voices tilted close for intimacy. The candle smoke really was quite heavy.

By the end of the night it would linger on Aldo's lapels, his hair, very noticeable when they walked arm-in-arm down to the Apostolic Palace, up and down the slick cobblestones, avoiding rain in some awning or another, talking the night through. Every year, another year older.

The lighting was too warm; someone had thought it a tasteful idea to order red candles. A Pavlovian instinct to think votive thoughts asserted itself. Aldo did not pray much to his patron saint. Aider of unlikely lovers, the poor fellow was busy enough most of the time, and more so on this day; Aldo had left him to it, besides a few timely reminders.

Aldo Cardinal Bellini prayed in his heart, not for the first time either, Don't go getting ideas, Valentine, this here doesn't count.

Not the marrying kind, Aldo Bellini. That had been clear enough all his life.

He wouldn't have been, even if he had not followed his calling and been ordained, and lived to trade cards with men grown into their years. Long ago Monsignor Lawrence and his good memory for personal reports and relevant birthday details had surprised him with a gift of a dinner reservation on the day he liked to pretend was not his. Aldo had known, sure enough; he wouldn't be the kind to bother St. Valentine for any other sort of candle light again, if he could have many small feasts like this instead.

“Cheers,” Thomas said. He gave up on the pretense, and closed the menu, unfolded his napkin. His feet beneath the table nudged Aldo’s, teasing, like a brother or a lover or an old spouse. It was Aldo's birthday; he was allowed to decide on fish and meat and full pairings, with dessert to follow, and that the the distinctions between loves did not much matter.

"Cheers," Aldo said, and kicked him back, gently, to make him smile. “Rosé?”

#aldo bellini #thomas lawrence #conclave fic #conclave #aldo bellini x thomas lawrence #lawrellini

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bulkyphrase · 2 days ago

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Steve Rogers + BDSM: A Valentine's Day Rec List

Happy Valentines day! This year's list is all about bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, and/or sadomasochism (a theme I love to pieces)!

For previous years' lists see:

Steve Rogers + Hydra Trash Party

Steve Rogers + Tentacles

Living on Your Breath by Sineala (@sineala) (Stony, Explicit, 110,343 words)

Summary: The Avengers have faced Onslaught and come home. The team has assembled again. And Steve is finally together with Tony. They're in love. Everything is perfect. But this happiness is all too brief, as Tony is kidnapped by forces unknown. Steve rushes off to rescue Tony, only to find that Tony has been brainwashed and turned against him. Now Steve, captured and tortured by the man he loves, must sacrifice everything he has to stop Tony from becoming a monster. Their relationship will never be the same again... if they both get out of here alive.

To Be Nobody But Yourself by ArwenLune (@primarybufferpanel) (Romanogers, Teen And Up Audiences, 1,730 words)

Summary: "Okay," Steve said, a little hoarsely, trying to sound like he understood this and it wasn't unsettling him at all. "Okay."

The rest are below the cut, sorted by ship

Bruce Banner/Steve Rogers

To Taste by felinefelicitations (@felasintumbld) (Bruce/Steve, Explicit, 15,617 words)

Summary: It isn't that Bruce does not like Steve (quite the opposite). It's that Bruce very much can't have Steve, not the way he would like. After all, Steve is Captain America, and Captain America is a paragon of command and control. In other words, not submissive. (Or how Bruce is sometimes the least observant scientist in the world, Steve is shyly in love and tells this to Bruce with food, and the team mostly just wants to make sure their supply of baked goods doesn't dry up.)

every bell that tolls me by thingswithwings (@twwings) (Bruce/Natasha, Bruce/Steve, Explicit, 19,899 words)

Summary: Bruce Banner, practical masochist. Or: Bruce gets a dom and a boyfriend, but they're not the same person

Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff

Ground Me by vassalady (@vassalady) (Romanogers, Mature, 1,461 words)

Summary: When Steve needs to let go, he goes to Natasha, who takes care of him.

Flesh Beneath by Isagel (@isagelc) (Romanogers, Explicit, 5,675 words)

Summary: There are never any scars.

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

(there are a lot of these)

Mercy in You by Sineala (@sineala) (Mature, 9,598 words, No Archive Warnings Apply)

Summary: When Tony comes back from a very bad D/s date, in pain and abandoned by his dom, Steve offers to help Tony out and give him all the aftercare he so desperately needs. Also available as a podfic read by Pywren (@phyrrhicvictory)

So Much to Confide to You by Sineala (@sineala) (Stony, Explicit, 16,988 words)

Summary: After an attack by the Masters of Evil, Avengers Mansion is in ruins. Tony has come back from California to help the East Coast team pick up the pieces -- literally. And when the team finds items of a certain intimate nature in the wreckage of the mansion's bedrooms, Tony is of course the one who steps forward to claim them. This leads to two problems: Problem Number One: They're not his sex toys. His toys are in California. Therefore, one of Tony's longtime friends is also extremely kinky and he has no idea who. Problem Number Two: One of Tony's longtime friends happens to own an Iron Man butt plug. Oh, God.

I won’t leave you falling by BlossomsintheMist (@blossomsinthemist) (Stony, Explicit, 14,653 words)

Summary: Tony doms for Steve, which involves some specially enhanced red rope, cock rings, two vibrators, and a lot of orgasm control. It works out. Bottom Steve, trembling and desperate to come, loving dom Tony, plenty of aftercare.

You’re My Medicine by BlossomsintheMist (@blossomsinthemist) (Stony, Explicit, 11,691 words)

Summary: It was just that Steve liked harder kinks, and it seemed like the kind of thing that would appeal to the intense sensation play side of him, always pushing himself and looking for something to send him flying higher. It wasn’t the same as a flogger stinging over his back, but it was more intimate, more invasive, Tony figured—the same intensity, but in a totally different way, and maybe … gentler, softer. Something it would be easier for Tony to give him the way he wanted it, even the way he liked it. Written for Day Fifteen of Kinktober: Sounding.

Not In Kansas Anymore by fohatic (@fohatic) (Stony, Explicit, 28,585 words)

Summary: It was truly uncanny, how alike they both were. His voice. His mannerisms. His meticulously-groomed facial hair. If he didn't know any better, Steve would've thought that it was the same man he’d left back on Earth-617... The only noticeable difference between them was that look in his eyes... Steve hadn't missed it, the way that this Tony was watching him as if he were a rabbit that had wandered into a tiger's lair, regarding him with an unsettling sort of amusement as he invited him deeper into the penthouse, brown eyes sharp and smoldering with something that Steve didn't recognize. Steve Rogers attempts to covertly gather intel on a mysterious weapon from a parallel universe's Tony Stark, and ends up in a predicament that he never saw coming.

There's a First Time for Everything by viklikesfic (v_angelique) (@viklikesfic) (Stony, Explicit, 8,562 words)

Summary: "What are you, Cap, some kind of masochist?" Later, Steve will blame his response to Stark's quip on the heavy-duty painkillers Bruce is administering via IV in serum-resistant doses. He smirks, hissing just a little at the way the motion pulls at the cuts on his face, and looks at Tony dead-on with his one open eye. "Buy me a drink and maybe I'll tell you."

The Prize by sabrecmc (@sabrecmc) (Stony, Explicit, 318,625 words (WIP))

Summary: Steve ends up as a concubine in the royal harem.

The Least Difficult of Men by isozyme (@isozyme) (Stony, Explicit, 46,153 words)

Summary: It isn’t until Tony watches Steve lean into the punch that he thinks oh, this is going to be a problem. Steve’s taking hits on purpose in the field, so Tony suggests a safer option. It's simple: Tony smacks Steve around, Steve gets the pain fix he’s looking for, everyone leaves happy. Things do not stay simple. The one with repressed masochist Steve and sadist Tony and everyone getting off on pain a whole bunch.

Indulgence by FestiveFerret, One and Five Nines (Obani) (@festiveferret) (Stony, Explicit, 30,263 words)

Summary: All it took was one word from Tony, and Steve fell to his knees, every time. He wished he didn't need this so badly.

In the Springtime of His Voodoo by shaenie (Explicit, 9,821 words, No Archive Warnings Apply)

Summary: “I’m removing Captain Rogers from this base, but not from active duty. I want him as SHIELD’s liaison to Stark Industries first and foremost. He’ll report directly to me,” Fury says. “As it is, your identity as Captain America is not public knowledge and it will remain that way until I say otherwise. That said, if you think you can get Tony Stark to work with you if you disclose that information, you have permission to do so.” Also available as a podfic read by paraka (@paraka)

Miscellaneous ships

(that sounds a little dismissive, sorry. I love these fics as much as the others, but there's only one of each ship for them)

Children's Work by blakefancier (@blakefancier) (Stoward, Explicit, 21,833 words)

Summary: "Howard is ten years old when he presents as a submissive." In a world where everyone is either a dom or a sub, sex is only a tiny part of those roles. Mostly, it's about how you view the world and yourself, how you interact with other people, most especially your soulmate. Please, read the notes before starting this story.

Lamb and Martyr by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (@dsudis) (Stucky, Explicit, 39,589 words)

Summary: "You could, though," Steve said. "If you were willing to hurt me."

Tie Me Down, Set Me Free by AzureTiger (@azuretiger) (Thundershield, Explicit, 10,855 words)

Summary: It’s always important to maintain a healthy work-life schedule. Steve isn't very good at that, and needs to learn when to stop. People learn in different ways, and Thor is more than happy to give a hands-on lesson.

#steve rogers #marvel fic rec #happy valentine's day

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captainx-camino · 23 hours ago

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Good day, Jayvik Nation!

Announcement:

My Partner and I have a date set and a room booked to do a very spicy 18+ Jayvik photoshoot at the end of the month.

Now, I cannot understate that this shoot will be 18+. I will probably only get to share a few heavily cropped images on this site, if at all. That being said, if you are over 18 and interested in seeing this shoot, you can easily find it by following xcaminoarts and/or Kadavercosplay on Bluesky!

More info below the cut...

Once again, please do not follow if you are not 18+. This shoot will not be censored on Bluesky outside of the site's mature content settings.

It is themed as a post canon, what if they survived and are now in some other time/place together idea. Viktor will be somewhat back in his more human form, but there may be some scars so tw for that.

The plan is for these shots to be framed as romantic, as if they have finally professed their feelings for one another, but make no mistake, it will be NSFW and there will be nude bodies and genitals in some of the images.

This shoot will also be featuring a real trans masc person playing Viktor, so it will be a trans Viktor based photoshoot. If you cannot respect that or trans people's pronouns, this isn't the shoot for you. Please do not come to our shoot just to be rude to my husband.

There will be a few of the more common kinks referenced in some of the images. Mainly for probably puppy!Jayce and the use of collars, eating out, dom!Vikror, etc. But these will not be the vibe of every picture and more so a few each to cater to some of the more popular tropes in the fandom. There will be something for most tastes available.

We may also even do a few bottom!Jayce leaning images, but that still has to be discussed with my partner regarding his comfort levels with it and those will likely be more tame.

This is by far not our first time doing NSFW photos and we are hoping the shoot comes out well and with something for everyone to enjoy who's interested. So, if you have any requests for something specific, please feel free to comment it on this post and we will do our best to facilitate it if we are able!

Much love, the Jayce and Viktor husbands ❤️

#jayvik #jayvic #arcane #jayce talis #jayce x viktor #arcane jayce #jayce league of legends #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #cosplay

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emsylcatac · 2 days ago

Note

is ML awakening good/worth a watch? I never watched it because ppl kept putting down the show to prop it up as being better at the time so I didnt want any weird biases to cloud my judgment. On the other hand, I remember ppl criticized s5's finale for not having adrien being relevant but then praise the movie's finale despite it not having marinette be relevant (correct me if im wrong, but sounds like things wouldve solved faster if she gave up and didnt believe in herself )

Hey! 😊

I think it depends on your tastes: if you really love the show and the characters, you probably won't like the movie. But if you're salty about the show (especially if you've been salty about it for a long time) then from what I've seen, people tend to like the movie more. Though you might also end up liking both the movie and the show, recognize each their flaws and qualities and have a fun time without feeling like you have to compare them!

So my advice would be :

If you love the show and the characters (and especially Adrien's characterization in the show), I don't think watching the movie is really worth it. But if you have friends who love the show to watch the movie with, it can be a fun experience to watch it together and laugh at it.

If you like the show but aren't necessarily too invested in it or even if you're invested in the show but are a casual watcher who doesn't analyze everything, I'd say you can give the movie a try and you'll probably have a good time at best, or quickly forget about it at worst.

If you are salty about the show and were especially disappointed in the S5 finale (or more about Adrien's non-involvement in the finale fight) and are looking for more Chat Noir / Hawkmoth confrontation than what we got in the show's finale, and if you aren't too attached to Adrien's characterization in the show, I would say you'll probably love the movie and should watch it!

I'll share more of my personal opinions / experience undercut that also answer some of your questions about the finale regarding Marinette and Adrien's involvement without spoiling the plot too much, but beware because I'm not a fan of the movie so it's up to you to read my biased opinion 😆

So even though I was disappointed in a few things in S5 (namely Adrinette dating pre-reveal), I would take that over the movie any day 😅 The characters were ooc to me (especially Adrien, I really didn't like their take on him), the writing is pretty basic imo, the musics aren't "bad" per say but they're cheesy and not at all memorable (and they sing wayyy too much imo - take a Disney and make it worse in terms of musical interruptions). And you're right, the movie finale has more Adrien in it - in fact, it feels a lot like fanservice in terms of Hawkmoth & Chat Noir type of content, but to the expanse of their main character: Marinette. Which is kinda disappointing for a story with a female lead imo. So to me, the movie finale wasn't satisfying to watch - more frustrating than anything because of the conclusion of it (I don't wanna spoil it in case you decide to watch it). We also don't really get to see the characters develop their relationship a lot (which makes sense because you can't have the same development in 1h45 than in 5 seasons), so it also doesn't help in making the finale satisfying to me. And I will say those who were satisfied probably were because they have seen the characters interact in the show and are watching the movie as if Adrien & Marinette had the same development, which they don't have.

I've watched the movie 2 times, one with the ML French culture gang at the theatre and we honestly had a great time laughing at how bad we thought the movie was, but our opinions were the same. And another time with @yeet-noir & @amimons because they hadn't watched it and wanted to see what I meant when I said it was bad. Again, we had fun making fun of it but they also didn't like the movie and I think we were overall frustrated with the fact that we think that it's not depicting a good image of the show, especially for people who only watched the movie (and we were frustrated at people saying it's tooooons better than the show hahahaha). But that's our personal opinion, and someone who loved the movie would tell you a different story for sure!

I hope it helped, sorry I'm def not the best person to be neutral because of my opinion on the movie hahaha 😅 but no matter what you decide to do and how you personally end up feeling about the movie, the most important is that it brings you enjoyment 😄

#ask #anon #again these are my personal feelings #ppl who liked the movie pleaaase don't come harass me again like back then ahzhdhzjd #awakening salt

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flem17ng · 2 days ago

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It was always you.

word count: 1.3k

Summary: After the kiss with Melissa, Shauna hallucinates Jackie and comes to terms with some feelings she may have had for her ex-best friend. (ghost Jackie kiss ofc)

Note: kinda self indulgent because i miss Jackie and have to make everything about jackieshauna. and also you can’t tell me there isn’t something behind shauna picking the only other blonde girl to make out with…

☆ ☆ ☆

“So what the hell shipman? You full lesbo now or something?” Jackie bit out, causing shauna to whip around, knife in hand.

“Fuck off” she mumbled back, already feeling the heat in her cheeks rise has Melissa’s footsteps receded into the woods.

“No now I really want to know” Jackie smirked, arms crossed and hip popped the same way Shauna remembered her. She wasn’t wearing the clothes she died in anymore, now adorned in a clean relaxed outfit, one she’d worn so many times, the feeling of the fabric was burnt into Shauna’s fingertips. Perfectly in season, perfectly fitted to her lovely frame. Her hair was light, clean and loose around her face. She looked like the Jackie that Shauna thought about most often.

“It’s nothing” shauna grunted, taking a step forward, knife still raised towards Jackie’s stupid ghost face.

“I mean I get it Shipman! You get lonely out here sure but come on! Hat girl? Really?”

Shauna frowned taking another step towards her dead friend. If ‘friend’ really was what she was in the end anyway.

Jackie only laughed, head tipped up, canine teeth displayed to the sky above. Shauna shivered. It was all too real, too well remembered. Jackie was so clean and Shauna felt so, so dirty.

“So is this lesbo thing just a stuck-in-the-wilderness type thing or…?” she uncrossed her ams and stalked towards Shauna, footsteps silent even on the dry autumn leaves that littered the forest floor.

“Or maybe it’s always been there huh? You always were a bit shy in the change room” her voice took on a fake lilt, the tone she used to take with girls who thought they could talk to her at parties.

“Poor innocent Shipman! Taking a little extra peak in the showers? Looking a little to long and Tais muscular legs maybe?”

Shauna flinched, staring Jackie down with a withering look that would make anyone else in the team pause. Jackie just smiled, big eyes cruel and curious.

“Or maybe you really did just sleep with him to imagine it was me.” Jackie stated with an air of finality, jaw set, eyes twinkling. Shauna’s mouth went dry.

“Shut up Jackie”

“Oh no” she cackled, almost manic, “It’s all coming together now. Little shauna, stuck in my shadow! But you never really hated it, did you? Huh? I bet you loved being close to me. Breathing my air, sleeping in my bed?” Jackie’s volume grew and Shauna had to remind herself that no one else could hear her.

“You sick perverted-“

“i’m warning you! I’ll eat you again, fucker!” Shauna screamed, leaping forward as she backed Jackie up against the tree where Melissa had been only minutes ago.

“Oh I bet you would” her voice lowered, perfect throat uneffected by the knife shauna had pressed there, deep enough to draw blood in any other circumstance.

She studied Shauna with her keen eyes, the same eyes shauna had always prayed to be the focus of. Jackie was soft under her blade. soft and warm and shauna wished she could pull her eyes away from her open mouth.

“Oh I get it!” she jeered, smirk falling back to her lips with a cruel grace.

“What.” Shauna bit out, feeling stupid for how little she was saying. Jackie always seemed to have a way of making her look dumb.

“It’s because she looks like me huh? Blonde hair, same height. A bit more masculine than my personal taste but I guess nothing is as good as the original” Despite the trademark narcissism of her words, Jackie’s voice was strangely soft, clawing at Shauna’s chest and lungs and heart.

Shauna snapped her eyes up from Jackie’s lips, staring directly at her now. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t quite muster the rage to push the knife deeper, to step back and walk away. Instead she swallowed thickly, feeling her free hand itch to touch Jackie just once. Just one more time.

“So” she croaked clearing her throat as Jackie’s freezing breath hit her cheek. “So what if you’re right?” Her chest loosened with the admission, her breath freeing itself from her ribs.

Jackie, to her credit, did not look shocked. She smiled, not smirked but smiled, teeth showing behind her perfectly chapsticked lips.

Shauna leaned forward, their noses brushing slightly. She was careful now not to press the blade deeper but too stubborn to take it away. “I did think of you” she breathed, “when I fucked Jeff. you were all I thought of. His car smelt of you, his clothes, his hair.” Jackie opened her mouth in a silent gasp and shauna’s eyes once again found her lips. “I imagined it was you. Every. Fucking. Time. Jackie.”

“And this time?” Jackie whispered, eyes darting pointedly towards the far off camp.

Shauna’s free hand gave in now, reaching for Jackie like it always had, like it always would. It grasped onto her shirt, tangled in the soft fabric. Her palm pressed against her abdomen and Shauna, for a second, forgot that this was all in her head.

“And this time?” jackie repeated, her whisper much breathier than it had been a moment before.

This time… Shauna stared at her, knife finally falling from her hand as her replaced the hard blade with the soft cup of her hand. Jackie was right. Fuck, of course Jackie was right. She wanted to touch Melissa, to kiss her to hold her and feel her in all the ways she had wanted, no, needed to with Jackie.

“Jackie” Shauna gasped, fingers tightening in her shirt and in her hair. God she’d missed the feeling of Jackie’s hair.

She could have had this. She could have had Jackie if she had swallowed her pride and told her. She could have had Jackie if it wasn’t for Jeff, if it wasn’t for Jackie’s stupid mother, and the stupid 90s and the fucking stupid plane crash. God she was angry, all she felt these days was anger.

“Shauna.” Jackie gasped, eyes much darker than before.

It all came crashing down then, all the years of wanting, of hating, of yearning and backstabbing. All the years watching Jackie with Jeff and hating them in silence. All the quiet unslept nights of nothing but Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.

Shauna was quick to anger these days, and maybe that’s what this was. Or maybe is was the glint of Jackie’s canines behind her smile, and the way her hand had found her hip. maybe it was the softness of her neck beneath her hand and the warmth of her skin that had Shauna itching to bend down and bite. The feeling was very similar to anger, very similar to the special type of hate Shauna held for her.

She shoved Jackie back against the tree, pressing her further into the bark untill Jackie smirked like she’s gotten the reaction she wanted.

“Damn Shipman I didn’t-“

“Shut up”

Shauna followed her words with her mouth, chasing them as she crashed her lips into Jackie’s. She swallowed her gasp, biting down on her lower lip before soothing it with her tongue.

It was fake. She knew this. She knew it was all in her head. Some fucked up hallucination conjured from vivid memories and vivid desires.

But god it felt real. It felt real as Jackie kissed back, just as desperate as Shauna felt. It seemed real as Shauna clawed at her shirt and ran her dirty fingers through Jackie’s clean blonde hair.

It was ungraceful and messy and full of grunts and sighs and half choked moans, but god was it perfect. Shauna kissed and bit and sucked at this stupid hallucination and Jackie returned it all full force.

She still felt angry, the special type of rage she bottled up just Jackie taylor, but something about this, feeling her again and again and again, turned the anger into something else that left her mind chanting the only name it ever would. Repeating it over and over like the prayer that it was.

Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.

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