#My fanfics

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Captain Scarlet and the Singing Squadron - Chapter 4: Scarlet vs Black, part 2

(Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 -p1, Chapter -p2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 -p1…)

Hehehe... I did a bit of whump :3

@uniwolfcorn @teapotteringabout @skymaiden32 @knyee @janetm74 @the-original-sineater @thundergeek59 @riallasheng @mariashades @yarol2075 @voidparadoxical @llamawrites @river-sam2 @coco9728 @hebuiltfive @thalassastra @bassic-ally @pareidoliaonthemove @graverinth

-0-0-0-

Captain Scarlet was sitting on a hill not to far from the camp, keeping a close eye on the Vitaly Power Plant.

Letting the gentle wind blow through his dark hair. The breeze seemingly sounded like a song from the old warm days.

In the moment of peace, a thought about last night’s nightmare brought back doubts about his own existence. What the Mysterons had done to him – making him wonder if he was still human.

He threw a glance behind him, catching a glimpse of Maestro briefing Sergey and others underneath the wings of their planes.

Even though they were shadows of their former lives in the land of the living, if his new friends could retain and preserve the great human qualities beyond the mortal plane, then, they had managed to remove his doubts about himself.

Suddenly, he felt a certain sense of dread. He felt a grim presence near him.

Captain Scarlet leaped from his position when he heard a gun shot!

His foot barely missed a bullet as it zipped into the soil next to him! He turned around at the direction of the sound, to be met with a silhouette of a pale -faced man standing on a hill not to far from him.

Captain Black stared at him with Death in his soulless black eyes.

“You will not escape from us, Captain Scarlet. The Mysterons will have their revenge!” the former Spectrum officer spoke coldly.

Scarlet gritted his teeth as he hissed,

“You darn try…” before giving chase towards the Mysteron Agent.

He dodge-rolled when Black began shooting at him, finding enough distance to pounce and tackle him on the grass.

They rolled down the hill, throwing each other punches and kicks on their way down.

But Captain Black found an upper hand and pinned Scarlet hard into the ground, pulling a gun into his frontal lobe!

“Scarlet! You are a Mysteron yourself! Why you still believe of being among the Earthmen?” the Mysteron Agent grunted through his teeth.

In a split second, Scarlet thought back of Maestro and his regiment, and his friends at Spectrum. And the answer that crossed his mind almost made him smirk at the Mysterons’ apparent ignorance of how humanity was built.

“You can keep faffing all you want, Captain Black!” he huffed at him, “You’ve categorially underestimated the power of the human will!”

The Mysteron threw a deathly stare as his eyes glowed dangerously green.

“How disappointing… Now die, Captain Scarlet…” the deep Mysteron voice that came from Captain Black’s mouth resonated though his ears.

Scarlet squinted angrily at the barrel of the gun pointed in-between his eyes, his hands gripping grass, watching the finger slowly about to pull the trigger.

Two strong hands suddenly grabbed Captain Black’s shoulders, pulling him up with a tremendous force that he was flung some meters away from Scarlet.

“What do you think you’re doing, soukin syn!?” was Sergey’s growl, standing between the downed Spectrum Captain and the Mysteron Agent.

“Out of our way, Earthman!”

Black, without remorse, shot the veteran pilot. Prompting a gasp from Scarlet as he reached out his arm to catch his new friend. But Sergey didn’t move. He stood firmly, unaffected by the bullet. Glaring at the agent with restrained temper.

“Akh tyh gad!” cried an angry voice, immediately followed by Black being tackled by non other than Maestro!

The throwing of punches ensued! With the other pilot going after them to help his friend!

Scarlet watched with awe as he saw the rest of the squadron appearing and rushing to aid their commander.

“Captain Scarlet! Are you alright?” a familiar, young, accented voice called to him, as he suddenly felt arms picking him up and sat him down.

“I’m alright, thanks Romeo,” he smiled at the Uzbek pilot, who appeared next to him.

They watched Captain Black attempting to fight back. Trying to kill the pilots with his gun and other means to kill an ordinary person.

But that only made the pilots, and especially Maestro, angrier. And they hit the Mysteron Agent where it hurts!

Black eventually managed to struggle out of the brawl, limping out like an injured animal with a broken pride.

Seeing the opportunity, Captain Scarlet got up and charged with a battle cry. Throwing himself at the former Spectrum officer, tackling him violently to the ground. The momentum caused them to roll across the hills.

The pilots followed them just a bit, watching as the Spectrum Officer squabbled with the Mysteron Agent.

With enough force, Scarlet threw his enemy away from him.

As he got up, he saw Black staring. Not at him. But at Maestro and his pilots. For the first time, there was fear and confusion in his eyes.

He could tell those emotions didn’t come from Conrad Turner – the poor soul trapped at the hands of the alien race. It was from the Mysterons themselves.

“Who… are you?” he – they – gaped.

Maestro frowned and took one firm step forward.

Immediately, the battered Captain Black sprinted the opposite way. With a limp in his step and holding one bruised arm. As he ran, there was a moment where he laughed – in another voice. Conrad’s voice. Laughing at his captors.

Chills ran down Captain Scarlet’s spine upon hearing that.

“Did you hear that?” he murmured softly.

“Da. Poor fellow…” Maestro replied with melancholy, as he appeared kneeling beside him.

They watched as the former Spectrum officer vanish into thin air. The Mysterons teleported their host elsewhere.

Scarlet and Maestro threw a glance at each other. They shared the same thought: Conrad lived in a tragedy, and both warriors, from different times and views, hoped he would one day find peace.

[notafunkiller]

out of style

Summary: A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

Pairing: ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, oral séx, no condom (but f is on birth control), language, a little alcohol, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 7.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

What an ass... He has no shame at all. And the worst part? You’re still somehow surprised by it. As if you haven’t known him for years.

You look away, making sure to take a sip from your wine before focusing on the conversation again. It’s Nat’s big day, and you’re so happy for her, but listening to this story for the seventh time is exhausting. Same reactions, too: “Wow, he’s so well trained.” or “The wedding bands didn’t fall even once. Enzo is fantastic.” He’s a trained dog, you don’t get why they’re so fucking impressed.

You give Nat a smile before you excuse yourself to go to the bar. Maybe you should get a cocktail, the wine tastes terrible. On the way, you notice Steve talking to Miss Sunshine in the right corner, and you just nod toward him politely, trying to look unbothered. It’s his best friend’s girlfriend after all. What did you expect? Plus, maybe it’s just a polite conversation.

“A Sex on the Beach, please,” you murmur to the bartender.

“Vodka so early?”

You turn your head with a sigh just to see a guy you recognize from Nat’s engagement party. A fresh haircut, a simple suit and wandering eyes.

“Is there a time limit for a cocktail?” you respond, rolling your eyes when you notice he is still fixated on your chest.

He immediately raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat next to you.

God, if you hate one thing about being single besides the lack of sex is this… needing to deal with those men. It was perfect when Bucky used to take care of them.

“I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart.” You scrunch your nose instantly. God no!

“Here you go!” The bartender places the glass gently in front of you, and you’ve never been more grateful to see her.

“Thank you!” You smile before taking a huge sip, hoping it will turn him off and make him get away.

“A vodka tonic for me.” His tone is commanding, and you try not to roll your eyes again as he leans in closer. “We’re matching.”

“Huh?” You choke.

“Vodka lovers.”

Alright, time to get out of here!

You quickly grab your glass and stand up, making sure to fix your dress just in case, but his eyes are already on your breasts again. For fuck’s sake! How is he Steve’s cousin?

And talking about Steve, you almost jump when you hear him saying your name.

“Hey.” You’ve never been happier to see him.

You can’t say the same thing about his friend, who’s right next to him, looking the creepy blondie up and down.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asks with obvious concern.  “Do you feel okay?”

“Hey, man! The food is great and the company even better. Look at her, such an eye candy, am I right?” He chuckles at his own disgusting comment. “I mean, you’re married. Don’t answer that, I don’t want Romanoff on my back.” And after all of this, he has the audacity to wink at Steve. But before you can throw your cocktail over his shirt and make a scene, Bucky’s already getting in front of you, blocking your view with his huge back.

“If you want to keep your teeth, get the fuck out of here and never, ever get even within three feet of my wife. Am I fucking clear?”

His tone is so cold, harsh, and arrogant at the same time, but also so possessive. It surprises both: you and Steve, because he immediately looks at you confused before dropping his eyes on your hand.

He must be looking for a ring.

God, you never hated Bucky more than when you see blondie standing up and going straight outside just like that. It makes you even angrier because it’s always a man who has to explain the obvious signs to these assholes so they leave. You say no? You are playing hard to get. You are with a man? Then it’s all off-limits.

You sip your cocktail with frustration, the taste of vodka lingering on your tongue.

Then, you take a step toward Bucky, grabbing his arm and turning him so he can face you. “Listen and listen good, I’m not your wife and I don’t need you to play the macho hero! I can handle myself, so back off!” You wanted to leave after saying this, but the way he looks at you makes you change your mind. His eyes softened, showing a trace of your old Bucky, and it only pisses you off more. He labeled you just like that... “I divorced you for a reason, I’m not your property or responsibility. Stay out of my fucking business or I’ll show you exactly how well I can take care of myself!”

You hand him your half-full glass and storm out, seeing red. Or well, blue.

You anticipated that he’d come after you, of course you did. You know him, as much as you hate to admit. You still know him well. Too well.

And when you hear his sigh behind you, you don’t jump.

“You can handle yourself, but he was all over you. Sorry for being a gentleman.” He apologizes sarcastically. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Too bad, Barnes! I am not your little wife. I am not your girlfriend. I am not even your friend.” You turn your head to look at him as he’s standing on the other side of the balcony. “And I am not that flavor of the month of yours, you have to kill these habits.”

He raises his head. “Flavor of the month?”

“Yeah, your plus one. You know, you should take care of her instead of trying to play hero and calling me your wife.”

“Keeping an eye on me? He smirks. “Thought you divorced me for a reason.”

Fuck him! He thinks he got you... “I did! You couldn’t open your mouth to say what bothers you, remember?”

“Well, I opened my mouth to do something else, far more exciting.”

You gasp, incredulous at his audacity.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, walking toward him. “Seriously!”

“What is wrong with me? You tell me! You divorced me for a reason.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother? Fuck off already, Bucky!”

“You got angrier with me now than back there with him. Unbelievable!” He shakes his head.

You take a deep breath, trying not to have a crisis. You are not gonna let him get to you. “Look, can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”

He instantly looks at you shocked as he leans in. “This as in,” he waves between you two. “Our marriage? You think I can pretend our marriage never happened?” His voice grew louder, his words punctuated by sharp, angry inflections. “You think just because we divorced, you get to ask me that? How can you...”

You’re taken completely aback by his whole attitude, and it’s like you’re back in time at your wedding as he made you sneak out so he can make you come on his tongue after saying all sorts of things.

You don’t know why you suddenly remembered that, but you need to snap out of it.

“I meant the whole interaction, you annoying man!”

“How was I supposed to know?” He looks much more relaxed now, though, and before you can think about it, you’re poking his chest.

“Why would I tell you to forget about our marriage, Bucky?” You smile. “You are more than free to think about me as you fuck your little flavor of the month. I am not gonna stop that.”

You see his eyebrows raise instantly as his gaze drops to your finger. “My little flavor of the month? How many times did you think about me fucking her?” His hand finds your wrist. “Did you wonder if I’m fucking her from behind as I choke her? Did you imagine me coming all over her tits? Did you-”

You grab his cheeks, just the way he likes it, to stop him.

“You think I have nothing better to think about? I have my own dicks that occupy my thoughts,” you lie through your teeth, and he knows it. God, he knows it as he chuckles right away.

“What’s so funny, Barnes?” You let go, expecting him to do the same, but he’s still holding your other wrist.

“You have no dick to think about. I know you broke up with your last flavor of the month, honey.”

He knows how much you hate being mocked with the word honey, but you bite the inside of your cheeks. “It’s funny really,” you fake giggle, looking up at him. “You assume I don’t have someone already. Maybe I’m just enjoying my life after our divorce... new dick every month since I am a free woman. I don’t even need something serious. You know how much I love sex.”

His smile immediately drops, his face reddening.

“You are absolutely infuriating!” Even his tone carries a sense of irritation.

“Aww, what happened?”

It’s his turn to grab your face, making you gasp. You don’t remember the last time he touched you, and you’re shivering.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, and you know it!”

“I don’t play games, Bucky, that is your specialty.” You smile, trying to maintain your composure. “Now let me go and get back to your little girlfriend. You can be mad about how many dicks she thinks about.”

“You can’t do the whole non-attachment shit. I know you well, don’t forget that. You’re my...” He talks so fast you’re surprised he stopped. You know what he was gonna say, of course you know. The audacity!

“I am not your wife, Bucky. You literally have a woman with you here tonight. We divorced, we live in separate places, and we fuck different people.”

“Who are you fucking, huh?” He almost spits the last words. “Tell me! Nat said you’re single.”

“You’ve been asking Nat about my personal life?” And she is spilling to him? No way.

“Fuck...” he frowns, dropping his hand from your face. “No.”

“Steve!” You realize. “God, this is pathetic! Why do you keep tabs on me, huh? Can’t you just mind your own business? Is your life goal to piss me off?”

“I’m not the one calling Jessica the flavor of the month.”

“Ha!” You laugh in his face. “Well, you have no success in getting a girlfriend. And they all look pretty familiar.” You can’t hide the venom in your voice. “The differences are they’re just taller and with less in the chest department. Quite interesting, don’t you think?”

“So you’re keeping tabs on me too!”

“You flatter yourself. It’s quite obvious, look at Jessica. Does she know you were married to me? Does she beg you to fuck her mouth? Does she...” You take a deep breath. “Does she call you daddy, James? Does she ride you until you lose control and turn her on her back so you can pound her?” You don’t care anymore. Right or wrong, you’re gonna let it all out. “Do you praise her? Tell her how wet she is for you? How your cock is made for her? Do you... do you tell her you love her while she’s coming? Do you fucking call her your good girl?”

“Jesus-” You don’t let him continue his sentence, interrupting him.

“Does she take you like I did? Does she beg for you because she feels empty, James? Does she? Did any of them?”

“Stop. It.”

“Why? You didn’t stop!”

He sighs, reaching out to grab your cheeks gently. “No one does, are you happy? I don’t even fucking try. I don’t let anyone call me daddy, I don’t choke anyone and I definitely don’t fuck anyone like I fucked you. Are you happy? Seeing me miserable and pathetic? Are you enjoying it?”

You can’t deny the satisfaction and relief you feel when you hear that. Dating post-him was a very bad experience overall, so him not upgrading, indeed, in any way, makes you feel victorious. At least, you’re both suffering.

“Yeah, I actually enjoy that.”

“What about you?” He snaps. “Do you do all of that?”

“I don’t want to be called daddy, James.”

“You know exactly what I meant! You call those losers daddy? You choke around their cocks? Do you beg for their small dicks to go deeper and finish yourself off after it?”

“Like I begged for your small dick?” You ask annoyed, knowing how dumb this lie is, but what else can you say? No one compares to him and never will.

His response shocks you as he reaches down to the zipper of his worn jeans and pulls it down.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“Wanted to, you know… give you more mocking material in case you forgot how small it is.”

You have to think twice about what to say because the first thought was: I have enough videos, thanks. But you can’t. You can’t expose yourself like that.

“James, what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“With my small dick?”

You look away for a few seconds, not wanting him to read you. “Why are you doing this? We divorced, you’re seeing someone, I’m good by myself... just let it go.”

He smiles at that, and you realize you indirectly told him you are indeed not fucking anyone.

“Why would I let go of my wife?”

You’re slapping his chest before you realize what you’re doing. “Stop this, Bucky! Just fucking stop.”

He’s hurting you, how can he not see that?

“You said you divorced me for a reason. You said...” he pauses. “You ordered me to leave you alone. Well, what if I don’t want to?”

“What are you, a fucking stalker?”

“No!” He almost screams. “I am fucking in love with you, you infuriating woman!”

“W-what?”

He can’t be joking about this, can he? He is not cruel. He is not vile. This isn’t a game.

“I’m in love with you. I love you. You own me... you fucking control me.”

“How?”

He laughs hysterically, running his hands through his hair before pulling. “I am fucking obsessed with you: how you are, if you’re doing well, if you miss me, if you’re fucking someone else, if your date went great, if you regret being with me, if someone else makes you smile wider. I dream about you, I am so miserable I couldn’t be with anyone. With Mia it lasted a month. I wasn’t... I wasn’t okay. I am not okay.”

You look at him, waiting for more. “Go on and zip your jeans, we’re in public.” You  watch him quickly do what you demand before you continue. “And what about Jessica tonight? Or Alexa a month ago? Why are you lying to me?”

“It’s not real. Jessica... I was just trying to make you jealous, okay? I was sneaking looks all night, have you not noticed at all?”

You don’t smile, despite your huge instinct to. Instead, you cross your arms, watching him drop his gaze straight to your boobs.

“Why would I notice, James?”

“Well, how did you notice Jessica looking a little like you, that she’s with me here?”

Fair point...

“Just...” You’re suddenly gripped by this crazy urge to just fuck him right here. You even regret telling him to zip back up. You could have just lifted your dress as he lowered his briefs and took out his cock. And just like that, you could have just fucked against the wall or something. You would have let him rip off your panties too. You just need his cock so badly! “Shut the fuck up!” You snap, grabbing him by his neck so he can lean in enough for you to be able to kiss him. And oh, you kiss him!

You don’t have to fight to dominate the kiss, surprisingly, because he lets you. He lets you bite his lip and almost draw blood, he lets you unzip his pants again and push down his unfit-for-a-wedding jacket, and most importantly, he lets you be his again, as pathetic as that might sound. You feel him emotionally, not just physically.

Without wasting more time, you drop to your knees, making sure only your dress and shoes touch the floor directly. You drag down his pants and briefs at the same time from your position, and he looks at you surprised.

“I thought we’re in public and you were fucking some-” his words die as you bring your tongue to the head of his cock, tasting the precum, but not sucking even a little bit.

“Weren’t you saying something?” You tuck your hair strands behind your ears as you mock him. You love being on your knees for Bucky. He has this dominant energy, but he always makes you feel in power even when he fuck your mouth. And you enjoy it, you feed on it. One of the reasons you missed him so much. And he can take mocking. “Please go on. I am all ears.” You breathe out on his dick. “And tongue.”

“Oh god,” Bucky’s voice is a moan at this point, and you laugh. So easy...

“I’m your god now? Aww! Come on, do I have to do everything tonight?”

He looks down at you confused. His blue eyes are almost grey, and you know he’s on cloud nine already just because you’re there.

“What?”

“Oh, you need translation. Well,” it’s all you say before wrapping your lips around his dick and using both of your hands to push him as deep as he can go inside your mouth. He moans at the same time you gag, and his balls slap you in the face. He instinctively looks at you to ask if you’re okay, but you are more than okay. You are fucking alive. You encourage him to fuck your throat at this point by squeezing his ass cheeks and touching his balls.

“God, look at you! That pretty black dress…” He pulls out and back in not as forcefully as he can, but enough to make you start tearing up quickly. “On your knees for your man. That mouth!”

You find yourself moaning at the feel of his fingers grasping and tugging at your hair. Jesus, how you missed this...

“You have the sweetest mouth.” Does he even realize what he’s mumbling? “I could die right here. Right now,” he says and thrusts harder, which makes you close your eyes. You can barely see anything because of the tears, and he’s already close. “My pretty baby, my fucking girl.”

You’re getting wetter and wetter the more he talks, and it’s crazy. You’re cold and your jaw is hurting, yet you love this.

“Not caring if someone can catch us, just making sure you mark me again. God, I'm gonna come, baby. Gonna... should I p-pull-”

You don’t let him finish his sentence as you grab his ass to make sure you keep him there, in your throat, as he comes while moaning your name.

When he finishes, he immediately helps you stand up, before he kisses you desperately, his tongue immediately licking your bottom lip to get access. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You moan in the middle of the kiss because his semi-hard cock is right where you need it, and it’s like torture...

“Need to taste you, okay, baby?” He asks with so much need in his voice. He sounds so whipped. “Need my pussy. Can I take you to my room?”

That is perfect, a dream at this point. But you need to make him a little more desperate.

“But the wedding… They would kill us.”

“I am sure you care sooooo much about this wedding and Nat’s stories. More than about getting my tongue on that pretty clit of yours and making you come all over my face.”

You can’t hold back your laughter.

“Fair point, Mr. Barnes. I deserve my orgasms, especially after listening to you pathetically trying to seduce me by admitting how desperate you are.”

“You dropped to your knees on this balcony just to mark my cock as yours.”

You pull his hair a little. “You said it yourself, it's already mine. Now get that ugly jacket and carry me.”

Bucky snorts, kissing your cheek. “You bought me that ugly jacket.”

“I know.”

*

You don’t know where you left your phone and even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. All you can focus on is Bucky taking off your dress and groaning at the sight of your cups. You couldn’t wear a full bra, so you improvised. They could barely hold your breasts, but no nipples showing? Win.

“Hurry up!”

“Jesus,” he moans and reaches for your cups. Desperate man... you roll your eyes, but let him uncover your breasts and grab them into his hands eagerly. He’s not just holding them, he looks and touches them as if he’s never seen boobs in his entire life, let alone yours.

“James...” You sigh, throwing your head back in pleasure when he finally gets your nipple into his mouth. Your hand finds his hair instantly, and you watch him suck happily while playing with your other nipple.

“You’re quite hungry,” you say with a smile, stroking his hair. You missed this so much. His need to always touch or sleep on your boobs, the way he grabs them while he’s pounding you... You shiver in anticipation when he switches to the other tit.

“Fucking shit, I missed them so much.”

You snort. “My boobs?”

“Mine.” He’s not sucking anymore, he’s eating them, shocking you.

“H-hold on a second, Bucky. They’re breasts, not my clit.”

“It’s been a year, love. Let me get my fill. I died without them. Died!”

As much as you wanted to think only about the part he missed your boobs, you can’t help the jealousy that clouds your mind. You were divorced, yet the image of him sucking someone else’s tits makes you want to hit a wall. Mia all over him... You pull his hair angrily. “You surely had other tits in your mouth, Bucky, for the past year. Don’t pretend this is any different.”

He immediately stops sucking. “You... you can’t believe this. Tell me you don’t believe this.”

You look away, too proud to face him. “What am I supposed to believe, huh? It’s been one fucking year.”

“I’ve been yours this whole year. I’ve been thinking about you, fucking my fist while watching... our videos, as fucked up as it might be. I tried to date, but I failed, and trust me, it has nothing to do with the size of my dick and my age. No one is you. No one smells like you or talks like you. No one is my brat with the god complex.”

“God complex?” You raise your eyebrow, keeping your face straight. “Fuck you.”

“I will fuck it out of you as I usually do, don’t worry.”

“Then why does it keep coming back?”

He chuckles. “Because you want to get fucked all the goddamn time.”

“Like you don’t!” You puff. “Come on, I breathe in your direction and you get hard, Bucky.”

“Did you see yourself? Did you have sex with yourself? You cannot judge me!” He grabs your breasts again. “There is no comparison, okay? You have no rival. Never did, never will.”

“That’s all?” You puff, amused. “My looks?”

“Do I even have to say… Your god complex exists for a fucking reason. You’re the smartest, most sarcastic, and feistiest person I’ll ever meet. One mocking comment, and you know how I get.”

“Pathetic?” You mock him on purpose just to get the reaction he is talking about. You love it when he compliments you.

“Is this why you divorced me? Cause I am a pathetic son of a bitch?”

You  take a deep breath. “I divorced you because you refused to communicate properly with me anymore, and you know it.��

“So not because of my small dick, either,” he remarks, making you roll your eyes.

“No, your small dick is one of the reasons I am here.”

Bucky dramatically touches his heart. “So you’re using me for my sex skills!”

“As if you don’t beg me to use you. Come on, put that mouth to good use before Nat comes after us.”

He doesn’t disappoint as he finally rips your underwear off, just like you fantasized about, and you use this as the perfect opportunity to fish for more.

“What happened, Jamie? So eager. Aren’t you a little good-”

The word boy comes out as a moan when you feel his index finger curled up inside you suddenly.

“What happened, honey? Too big for you?”

“Dick!”

“You’ll get that. I just need to erase the memories of having little pencils in here. That must have been traumatic.”

“You’re such a jerk!” You snort, but he’s right. It was really bad.

Bucky shrugs, finally kneeling properly between your legs before lifting them on his shoulders. God, yes!

“Gonna give my pussy some loving.”

“D-didn’t know you have a pussy, James.”

He smiles against your inner thigh. “I certainly keep what I lick.”

“Eww, what the fuck.”

He snorts, kissing your slit. “I am joking, baby. Tried to imitate one of those dicks you thought you could replace me with.”

Petty fucking bitch! You grab him by his hair and push him closer to your pussy.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!”

His tongue feels like heaven, indeed, on your clit. You’ve lost count of how many times you remembered him eating you out so you can come this year. He's just so good at eating your pussy.

You let out a satisfied sigh when he adds a second finger. You start to feel like before… like you and Bucky are still married and with no problem. Like you're happy. He makes you so happy. Made.

So you stare at his hair and stroke it as he sucks on your clit, completely squashed between your thighs, and try to hold back your tears.

When he adds his third finger and starts tracing eight figures on your clit with his tongue before he flattens it, you know you’re about to come.

There is something about the way he always manages to make you vulnerable even if it’s not intentional, to cut you open and get in... and you don’t want it to be over. You can’t let him go again after tonight. You’d suffocate.

Your efforts to delay your orgasm and not tear up are futile because when he sucks a little harder, you come and start sobbing somehow. The orgasm is strong and even though you’d want to watch Bucky, you close your eyes, letting yourself go, and shut your mind down for a second. Everything feels so overwhelming. So amplified…

You’re grateful he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, either, even though you felt him hesitating when he heard you crying. You really needed this.

As soon as you finish, you drop your legs, furiously trying to wipe your face. He knows the difference between crying because of a crazy orgasm and you being emotional. He instantly gets back on the bed next to you and pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve had in two years.

“God, I’m...” You don’t know how to continue this phrase. You should not feel sorry for crying and you’re not pathetic for it. “I m-missed you so much, Bucky. Why did you give up?”

You feel his warm breath on your forehead. “I never gave up, baby, I swear.”

“B-but you did. You didn’t even try for more than six months. When I told you...” You take a deep breath. “That I want a divorce, you didn’t even look at me. Once, Bucky! Not even once…” You show him your index finger. “You simply agreed. You gave up on us. I was waiting for you to say: no, let’s try. No, I’ll communicate. Your words...” You sob. “Your words would have been enough for me. You should know that.”

“Oh my god, baby, please, breathe!” He kisses your forehead over and over again. “I never gave up, I swear. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell you all of that, but you asked me for divorce. It felt like you wanted out. You were tired of fighting... you were tired of me. And I didn’t want to tell you to stay just so you could either stay with me out of pity or reject me. I would have died... To look at you and beg, and to see you detached.”

You shake your head into the crook of his neck. He cannot...

“How would I be detached if I tried for six months? How would I get tired of you?”

“Exactly. You tried for six months. I thought you snapped out of it...”

“Out of what?” You whisper, scared to say it louder, but he hears you anyway.

“Out of love.”

You immediately lift your head to look at him. He’s crying, too. “Bucky...” You bring your fingers to his cheeks and start to caress them.

“I just couldn’t remember us like this. I couldn’t look into your eyes and see you staring at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, when did we fail to communicate this much?”

He knows you don’t expect an actual answer, so instead of speaking, he holds you, and kisses you, and makes you giggle.

The more you move into his lap, the better you feel his erection pressing against your pussy. So close, yet so far.

He groans, placing his hands on your hips. “Careful.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be careful. I want you to fuck me raw right now.”

“Right now? He snorts, using his position to his advantage and moving. And just like that, you’re suddenly pressed with your back against the bed, and his mouth covers the valley between your breasts. That didn’t take a lot of convincing.

“Did you fuck anyone else without protection?” You ask unsure how to formulate it without it sounding a little weird. You’re not even sure you want to know the answer if it’s positive, but still.

“No. Only condoms and well... to be honest more my fist,” he chuckles, helping you get on your back again by bringing a pillow under your head. “I tested myself, of course.”

You nod, trying to hide your happiness. You selfishly wanted this: no one but you to feel him without any barrier.

“Good.”

“What about you?”

“No one for me, either.”

You would laugh at his proud face if you didn’t know he might use it to tease you later. You can use it too, though.

“Come on, baby, spread your legs for me. Daddy’s home.”

You laugh surprised, but you do what he says. You really missed having him between your legs.

Needy, you reach for his T-shirt, that for some reason is still on, and you tug it down, showing him you want it off.

He hesitates for a couple of seconds too long before grabbing his T-shirt by the neck.

“Come on, what did you do? Got a tattoo?”

You get your answer as soon as he’s finally naked.

“Oh, God!” You instantly lift your hand so you can grab his necklace. “What the fuck, James...”

“I told you I never gave up on us.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been keeping it on since we divorced?”

He blushes, looking away. “Yeah.”

“Even when you were with other girls?”

Your heart is racing.

“Never took it off.”

You giggle, touching the surface of the ring over and over again.

“No wonder why nothing worked.”

“I had no intention to make it work.”

You say nothing, just looking into his eyes and letting him see how fucking much you love him, how he could never be a stranger, and you kiss him, wrapping your legs around his ass to show him what you need.

“I want you to pound me, okay? I want to feel you for days, do you hear me? I am so wet and ready. Please, just fuck me!”

You shiver a little when you feel the back of his hand brushing against your clit while he brings his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna make you mine again, alright? Gonna make you forget this year and everyone who,” He finally thrusts inside you. “Tried to get you.”

He’s thick. Really thick, and you can’t believe how you managed to survive without this stretched-out feeling for a whole fucking year.

“I hate you so much!’

He snorts. “I am pretty sure you love me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my cock inside you after one year.”

“This is the problem!” You hiss when he pulls almost completely out. “One year, Bucky!”

“Aww!” He says a bit mockingly before thrusting all the way in again. Oh my God... you close your eyes. “Is this your bratty way of telling me you missed my small dick?”

“Bratty? You think this is bratty?” You ask him sarcastically before bringing a hand to his ass. “Harder!”

“Harder, huh?” He quickly unwraps your legs and turns you on your belly before you can react.

You gasp, shocked by how fast he is and hating the emptiness, but he ignores it, bringing a pillow under your pussy.

“Ass in the air, come on.”

You comply immediately, staring at his face from the side. He looks like he’s on a mission, with his hair already in all directions and the wedding band hanging around his neck.

The first thing you feel is his mouth on your ass cheek, licking on a spot before biting.

You hiss. “James!” It hurts, not more than a spanking, but you weren’t ready for that.

“Mine.”

You snort, wiggling your ass. “Yeah, yeah. Now gimme my cock.”

And he does. He so does, he’s not slowly entering you, no. He pushes in almost fully with only one thrust, making you bite into your pillow.

“You missed that, didn’t you? The way I fill you up is so good. The way...” He slaps your ass. “No one can make you feel so good. No one can fuck you like the desperate whore you are for my cock.”

You moan loudly into the pillow. You love being called a whore like this. Because he is right and he is obsessed with it, anyway. “B-Bucky...”

“Tell me whose cock you love? Tell me.”

He’s thrusting so fast at this point that you can barely even hear him.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, no. That is not what you call me like this.”

“James...”

He suddenly stops thrusting, and you whine, lifting your spinning head to look at him over your shoulder. No matter how much you try to tilt your hips to make him move, you fail.

“If you want to get fucked, baby, you gotta call me the right-”

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy. Happy now?”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not that happy with your tone.

You smirk.

“I see you need a lot of battiness fucked out of you.”

“Then why are you not fucking me, daddy?”

“Oh, goddamn it!” He’s not holding back now, moving like he used to. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you love me... that no one, fuck- no one is like me!”

His voice tinges with a hint of neediness... maybe even urge. His vulnerability takes you a little aback because it’s stronger than his mocking. He’s genuinely seeking for reassurance as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire, desperation and longing. He’s searching for validation in your eyes the way you were earlier, so you give it to him.

“You’re the only one for me, J-James. I love you forever. I never... I n-never stopped!” You can’t keep your head up a second longer as you drop it on your pillow, moaning.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You half-snort, half-moan. “W-we can’t.”

“We can.” The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy almost covers the sound of his voice.

“We... we have to apply first.”

He spanks your ass again, and you scream, the sudden pain making you feel so good.

“So wet for me. They stood no chance. T-they don’t know how hard you want it.”

“Daddy, please... Please!” You’re a moaning mess. You just need a little harder. Just a little.

You’re not sure if you’re gonna have a voice after this. He’s pounding you so hard.

“My good, good girl.” He’s squeezing your hips, and the sound of your skin slapping is echoing. “God, gonna come for me? Jesus, wanna fill you up with my come too. Please, baby.”

You don’t know when or how he manages to do it, but he sneaks one of his hands under your body and pinches your nipple. You gasp, the wave of pleasure hitting you as he keeps fucking you. You feel your body weakening when he says your name over andl over again, but you don’t open your eyes for a while, letting him fuck you desperately while playing with your breast.

“Gonna- fuck, take my come, wife! Take me!”

He’s coming so much... surprisingly much even for him. You can feel him dripping down your thighs even when he slows down, then stops his movements before he falls on top of you as soon as he finishes.

“James...” You groan. “You’re heavy.”

He places a small kiss on your back, and you giggle.

“I love you.”

You melt, but he moves to the side before you can reach for his cheeks.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him. “So much that I let you drag me out of my best friend’s wedding reception.”

Bucky snorts, brushing his nose against your face. “Pretend all you want, I know you were bored as fuck.” You feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whine. It’s a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, wifey.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

“Yet, but you were and you will be again this week.” He takes your ring finger into his mouth.

“Bucky!”

“What? We need new rings.”

You try to pull out your finger. “No, we don’t. I have mine.”

“We need...”

“How about we use all that money for a vacation instead?”

“Neah, honeymoon is honeymoon.”

He finally lets your finger go. “We are not buying other wedding bands.”

“I am not debating a new engagement ring, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you know it’s the best deal you can get.

“Fine, a new engagement ring,” you agree while rolling ro his side and placing your head on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Don’t want to or can’t?”

You decide to surprise him by biting a spot right above his nipple. He groans while you simply laugh.

“You just can’t be subtle, can you?”

“If you’d wanted subtle you’d have gone for someone like Steve.”

“Eww, Bucky. I have your come dripping out of me and you bring up Steve?”

“You literally talked about Nat a sec ago.”

Then, as if a switch was flipped, your eyes widen. “Oh shit, my phone!”

“Where did you forget it?” Bucky asks casually, so used to gathering your things for you. You really missed that, too.

“Table. God... Do you think they know?”

“Know what?” He giggles, raising both of you until your backs touch the headboard. “That you dropped on your knees in the middle of the wedding to suck my cock? Or how I fucked you raw until you cried.” A sudden realization crosses his face. “You asked me to fuck you raw. Are you... still on the pill?”

You roll your eyes. “You think I’d let you fuck me like this for the first time we talked to each other properly since we divorced if there was a big chance to get pregnant?”

“I assume you are still on the pill, don’t be patronizing!” He kisses your nose, which he knows tickles you.

Ass...

“You are asking a dumb question instead of getting your ass downstairs to bring me my phone.”

“How is that dumb? I wanted to know if I should get you a pill or something.”

“So you don’t want babies with me!” You try not to laugh as you say it, biting your lip to keep your face serious.

“Why do you act as if I told you I don’t want a baby with you?” He chuckles when he sees you pouting. “We’re just getting back together and no way you’d want a baby now. But if I am wrong, let’s go for it. I can give you a baby, just get off the pills.”

“You don’t give me a baby, James. We have a baby together!”

He sighs, getting off the bed to get his clothes back on. “Obviously, but I am the one coming inside you. This is what I meant. I am all in. But we need some adapting time at least.”

You should stop this whole teasing-testing thing. You both have the same opinion after all. You might have a baby, and you know he’d be involved one hundred percent, but not now. Absolutely not.

“I know. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re such a tease.” He snorts, putting on his pants. “Before I go, do you want me to run you a bath or should I bring you a towel?”

“Do you plan on staying there?”

He turns his head to you instantly. “Yeah, sure. I am gonna eat some steak and brag about fucking my wife.”

“Alright, alright. Bring me a snack and we can take a bath together. Actually,” you think about it better. “I’m gonna clean up and wait for you.”

“You want me to fuck you again, don’t you?” He asks as he fixes his jacket.

“Why? Is this all you could give me?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Sure.” You spread your legs at the same time you grab your own breasts, making him groan. It’s so easy to get to him. And it’s hilarious.

“Jesus, you’re planning to kill me.”

“Not you acting as if it’s the first time this happened.”

“It is the first time in over a year, baby.”

You feel yourself softening again. “True. Now, please, please, please, don’t give them any details and bring me a snack.”

“What snack?”

“Anything, make me a plate, I don’t care.” He nods before reaching for the keys. “Oh, and Bucky? Tell your flavor of the month you don’t need her anymore.”

“I told you she is not-”

“And tell Nat I’ll make it up to her!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. You don’t need him to defend a random girl’s honor.

“You’re so jealous.”

“Lock the door!”

You giggle satisfied when he closes the door and let yourself scream out of happiness while staring at the bite he left on your ring finger. Mrs. Barnes never got out of style.

[dragcnbreak]

AHHH THE AGE REGRESSION ONES R SO CUTE I NEED MORE!!!!! maybe one where reader is having like a breakdown/ptsd flashback which results in them regressing involuntarily and mike comforts them? could be headcanons or a fic idrc :3

IM SO GLAD PEOPLE GET THE CG MIKE VISION… here is my attempt at writing something along those lines!!! I hope u enjoy nonnie <3

◞♡࿐

The Schmidt household was practically a second home to you. You crashed on the couch more often than not and even had a drawer full of your things in Mike’s room for easy access. Your living situation was less than ideal and you felt more comfortable with Mike and Abby than anyone else so it just worked out.

That’s how you found yourself outside their door one morning, knowing it would be just Mike at the house as Abby had already left for school. You used your key and offered a shaky smile to the sleepy man on the couch. “Hey.” He says at first, taking a few seconds to look up at you. When he finally does, his eyes widen at the tears running down your cheeks and he rushes towards you.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Mike asks, using his thumb to wipe under your eyes. You don’t answer but instead, you start to sob loudly. He’s definitely awake now, all his attention on you. He helps you the best he can to the couch so you can sit down. The second he sits down with you, you fling yourself into his arms and continue your breakdown.

Mike is quick to hold you, rubbing your back softly and whispering soothing things like “it’ll be okay” and “I’ve got you”. It helps more than he knows and the both of you sit there for what seems like hours.

When you begin to quiet down, you detach yourself from him and rub at your eyes. “Are you feeling any better?” Mike asks you and you nod lazily, a sudden tiredness washing over you. “T’ank you, Mikey.” The slurring and the nickname alerts Mike to the fact that sometime during your crying session, you slipped into littlespace.

You didn’t age regress too often, specifically around Abby. But Mike was always more than happy to take care of you when you did, especially when you were sad. “Of course, baby,” he uses his favorite nickname for you when you’re in that headspace, “how about we get you something to eat and drink and then you go take a nap?” He continues.

You nod again, “m’kay.” The idea of eating doesn’t sound too bad and you know you need to stay hydrated, even more so after crying. Mike grabs the television remote and turns on Abby’s favorite channel with all the cartoons. He gives you a kiss on your forehead and then hurries to the kitchen.

He and Abby had just had breakfast so he heats up the remaining pancakes and bacon, periodically checking on you. He slathers the pancakes with butter like he knows you like it and also cuts them up. Mike then delivers them to you on a plate.

You lighten up a bit at the food, starting to dig in as he goes to get you a glass of water. He comes back and sets it on the table in front of you. Before too long, you’ve finished your food and water and are back rubbing your eyes tiredly again.

“How about that nap?” Mike offers with a knowing smile. You nod and make grabby hands, indicating you want to be picked up. The man isn’t the most built but he works out enough to easily pick you up, knowing how much you like it when he does. You wrap your arms around his neck while he holds your thighs not too tight.

In a few seconds, you’re in Mike’s room and he deposits you carefully on his bed. He tucks you in so you’re nice and safe and comfortable. He’s about to turn away when you stop him. “Can we cuddle, please?” You ask and he already knows he’s not going to say no. He hums and slips into the bed, fortunately already in comfortable wear.

In the bed, you turn to face the wall opposite the door and Mike catches on, wrapping you up in his arms. Before he knows it, you and him fall asleep even with the sun peeking through the blinds at you both.

◞♡࿐

this was kinda therapeutic to write because ive been going through a tough time myself :( tysm for the request <3

[nuttersincorporated]

After the Leave Together Ending

The Princess and the Protagonist have left. However, the Long Quiet and the Shifting Mound remain. Of course they do, only a small part of them broke free and left the Cabin together. The Protagonist didn’t kill the Shifting Mound and they left the Hero and the Contrarian behind when they departed.

The Hero was right, the other voices didn’t take long to turn up. The Princesses came too. Some we know from the game and others are new.

At the heart of the Cabin sit the Long Quiet and the Shifting Mound. Look at them one way and you’ll see two separate beings, side by side. Look at them another way and you’ll see them overlap and melded together. No matter how you look, you’ll see that they love each other.

Sometimes, a bit of the Long Quiet or the Shifting Mound will brake away and become their own person. This does not diminish the Long Quiet or the Shifting Mound in any way. If you take something from infinity, you still have infinity left.  Some of those people choose to re-enter the whole, other stay separate.

The Smitten and the Damsel are never far from each other but they do have other friends. The Smitten writes epic poems of courtly love, all dedicated to his beloved. The Damsel sings and paints beautiful pictures. If you ask her, she will paint you and show you what you look like (there are no mirrors in the Cabin).

The Stubborn and the Adversary fight and fight and fight. They’ll stop to chat with the others if anyone wants to talk though. It’s a weird relationship. It would be horribly unhealthy for anyone else but it works for them.

The Nightmare gets a bit of a wide berth from most the others but she is loved too. Sometimes, she rejoins the Shifting Mound other times, she hangs out with one of the newer Voices. He’s called the Phobophilia (lover of fear) and he loves her dark creativity.

The Cold is learning to feel again, the Paranoid is learning to trust and the Hunted is learning how to feel safe.

The Cabin is no longer a prison; it is a heart, a home and a world. It grows and changes to fit the needs of those who live within it. They can leave if they want to but most choose to stay.

If they do leave, it’s almost always a Princess and a Voice together. The only expectation was the Contrarian. The Contrarian left alone; they were also the only one who came back.

The Hero and the Thorn are thinking about leaving together. They’ve been in the Cabin a long time. Hero and Thorn are friends with everyone. They’ve helped make this Cabin a home for them all. However, any of them can do that if they want.

It might be time for a new adventure, outside of themselves and where they aren’t in control of their whole world. Hero and Thorn haven’t decided yet.

There is Cabin in the Woods. The Cabin is a heart and the Woods are a body. They are the Shifting Mound and the Long Quiet. They are one being, they are two beings and they are many beings all at the same time.

This is a love story.

[stardustvanfleet]

Backstage Baby (Jake Kiszka x Groupie!Reader)

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!!!

PAIRING: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

WORDS: 4k

WARNINGS: Dom!Jake. BASICALLY PWP. rough unprotected sex, edging, daddy kink, light choking (blink and you’ll miss it), mix of praise and degradation, nicknames (baby, princess, good girl, slut), my obsession with jake’s silver medallion, ending with flirtatious fluffy aftercare.

A/N: i’ve been writing band rpf for years, but this is my first gvf fic! ever since seeing them in boston on 9/15, i have literally been walking around in a daze, daydreaming about going backstage with jake……. and this is the result lmfao. title inspired by B-Side Baby by Adam Ant. i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss ideas with….. and also just cry and lose my mind with LMAO. anyway— i hope you enjoy! XO, li

••••••••••••••••••••

No matter how many times you saw Jake up there, he still made you breathless.

That furrowed concentration on his brow as his expert fingers flew across the strings… his hair falling across his shoulders… the way he would rock and grind against his guitar, glowing under the lights as sweat dripped down his forehead, his chest bare and slick from perspiration…

You didn’t really ever plan on becoming a groupie. The effect that Jake had on you had been intense enough long before you started following Greta Van Fleet around the country, before you’d even once thought you’d ever be in a room with him smaller than a stadium. But you hadn’t expected anything like the way things had actually gone. They had always said real life was stranger than fiction, but you had never thought its twists and turns could be this earth-shattering.

It had started with the eye contact. The first few times it happened, you couldn’t be sure if you were imagining things, your head perhaps fuzzy from the thrill of numerous front-row nights in a row… but when Jake crouched down and leaned towards you mid-solo, his eyes meeting yours with a jolt of electricity, a wicked smirk on his face, you realized with a heart-stopping shudder that no, you hadn’t been imagining his eyes on you.

Those looks would intensify as the tour continued. He’d always somehow find you in the front row, letting his cool and confident gaze rest on you as he played, just long enough to leave you squeezing your thighs together involuntarily. One night, you had been approached by a stagehand, who simply passed you a note with directions to an afterparty, and even though the note had no signature, something deep down told you exactly who it had been from.

That was your first night with Jake, and you had left the next morning with aching legs that felt like jelly. Since then, every night had been fucking cinematic.

Tonight was no exception. It had been damn near impossible to take your eyes off of Jake before you’d even had any opportunity to speak to him, but now, knowing exactly what he was able to do to your body, how fucking incredible he could make you feel… seeing him like that onstage made you positively throb throughout the show, taking all of your energy just to keep your composure.

As the concert winded down, you slipped out of the pit up front, making your way to the backstage entrance. The security guards, who recognized you by now— still an odd feeling — let you in. You headed towards where you now knew the band would be coming down once they left the stage, your heart already pounding with anticipation, heat already beginning to pool between your thighs. You took a deep breath, tugging on the hem of your top, which you had intentionally chosen due to its short length: you loved the way it highlighted the curves of your waist and hips, and hoped Jake would too.

And, as always, once they emerged, it seemed as though everything was happening at once– pulling out earpieces, handing off instruments and passing equipment along – but your eyes were only on Jake, and, you realized with a shudder that wracked your entire body, his were on you.

Once his guitar had been handed off, Jake wasted no time in heading right towards you, grabbing your wrist, and leading you down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew exactly where he was taking you, and you instantly felt a wave of overwhelming desire wash over your every inch. It was truly absurd how little he had to do to turn you on.

//

He pulled you into his dressing room, and immediately pushed your back up against the closing door. Jake’s large hands pinned your shoulders against it, a soft clicking sound occurring as the door locked automatically. His lips collided sloppily with yours, kissing you with a hunger that sent your head spinning, sparks of heat igniting deep within your core.

When he finally pulled back, grazing your bottom lip with his teeth as he did so, a shiver went down your spine, and it took you far longer than intended to regain composure and open your eyes. When you did, his heavy-lidded dark eyes were on you, pupils blown wide with desire. The dominance behind his expression was enough to cause an involuntary whimper to escape you, the sound of which brought out a smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“So needy today… What a dirty girl,” he said, his tone dripping with authority, making your knees immediately weaken. His eyes never left yours as he continued teasing, knowing by now what it did to you. He leaned in, making sure you got his next few words right in your ear. “You wanna get fucked tonight? Hm?” His voice was low and seductive, leaving one hand on your shoulder to keep you pinned to the wall, while his other one stroked first down your arm, then back up, your skin lighting up under his touch. As his body pressed up against yours, you could feel him, rock-hard and throbbing against your thigh, the sensation almost overwhelming as you found yourself nodding your head as hard as you could, already difficult to find the words.

That wasn’t enough, though, not for Jake. The hand that had been stroking up and down your bare arms moved abruptly to your jaw, holding it firmly in place so his gaze was locked on yours. “I asked you a question, princess.” Your lower lip trembled desperately as Jake tilted his head ever so slightly, his expression and tone just the right amount of patronizing as his hips began to roll at a slow but steady pace against you, breathing out, “You want this cock?”

“Yes, fuck,” you managed, already feeling lightheaded at just his words and close proximity.

“There you go,” he chuckled condescendingly at the sound of you using your words for the first time. He continued to rock up against your thigh, letting the hand on your jaw slide to your throat, but not lingering there too long, not giving you yet what he knew you wanted— just staying long enough to drag his long fingers down the sensitive skin of your neck, as if examining every inch of you. What a fucking tease.

“Jake, please,” you found yourself begging, taking your free hand and gripping the lapel of his black jacket— all he was wearing over his tanned, sweaty torso, which had been making your head spin all night— “I’m so fucking hot for you. So fucking wet for you. I want you so bad, please…”

The sound of your desperation made a low sound somewhere between a chuckle and a growl rumble in Jake’s throat, and if your panties weren’t soaked through already, that alone would have been enough to get you there.

Your begging had satisfied him, for now. Jake finally released his grip, freeing you from your position pinned up against the door, only to lead you over to the white leather couch in the corner of the room. Before having you sit, however, there were two things that needed to be done. First of all, he shrugged his black jacket off from his shoulders, throwing it to the floor behind him, leaving him standing before you in nothing but those sinfully tight pants and that silver necklace that drove you wild. Through your lightheadedness, you could tell how horny he was, too— his pants left almost nothing to the imagination, and the sight of the achingly large bulge straining against the tight black fabric was making your head swim, to say nothing of the heat between your thighs.

That was when he lowered himself just enough that his lips were in line with the top button of your jeans, and you felt all breath leave your body as he looked wickedly up at you. Going slowly enough to make you squirm, but not so slowly that you’d protest, Jake unzipped your bell bottoms. His gaze never left yours as he pulled them down your legs, revealing inch after inch of your skin to him, his tongue flicking out across his own bottom lip hungrily as he watched himself undress you— this gorgeous present, all his to unwrap.

As you had anticipated, your light pink panties were so soaked they had been rendered essentially useless as a means of covering you up, and the feeling of Jake’s eyes devouring the sight of your pussy through them were only making you wetter.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out, his eyes glancing up to meet yours for a moment before looking right back down at the burning heat between your legs. After a second or two of him just looking intently— as if committing the sight to memory— he spoke, saying, “Drives me fucking crazy…” as one of his hands found its way to the inside of your calf, stroking slowly up, further and further, “...how fucking wet you get for me, before I’ve even touched you. Goddamn.”

“Jake, please,” you begged again, your voice cracking a bit as you spread your legs to give him easier access to your inner thigh, his long fingers stroking and massaging you only centimeters from where you needed his touch the most. “I need your fingers… I need them… please.”

Your final “please” had such an undertone of neediness, desperation, it must’ve been exactly what Jake had been looking for-– and immediately, your eyes rolled back into your head as his long middle finger began to stroke deliciously up and down your clothed slit. He started at your entrance to gather your wetness through your panties, then slid upwards and flattened his fingertip out, letting the pad of the digit trace tight circles over your throbbing clit. Immediately upon the contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out, clapping a hand over your own mouth as you, in a cloud of arousal, watched Jake play with your pussy from his position between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he kept up his steady, rhythmic circular motions.

Time seemed to stop for what could have been seconds or minutes as Jake massaged your clit and teased your entrance through your dripping panties, and it was only when your eyes were watering and whimpers were falling from your lips that he pulled his hand back, the loss of contact making you let out an involuntary whine.

But once his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, you realized he wasn’t teasing any longer— he was escalating. The thought made you shudder as he tugged the soaked scrap of fabric down your legs, Jake’s face flushed with heat, that gorgeous hair of his falling across his shoulders and sticking to his forehead.

Once your panties were off, he tossed them to the side, standing up and leaving you trembling on the leather couch as his hands moved down to his own waistband, his eyes meeting yours and his tongue once again swiping across his bottom lip hungrily. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he moved to pull his pants down— which, at this point, were pornographically tight— and, Jesus Christ, he looked angelic as they came off. His skin was glowing with sweat, and warm light from the dressing room’s lamps was glinting off the silver medallion around his neck. When he took his cock out, you let out yet another involuntary whimper.

Hard and thick, the tip already glistening with his arousal, just the sight of it made your mouth water. He wrapped his hand around his length, beginning to pump it up and down just slightly as he lowered himself onto the couch next to you, watching with blown-out pupils as you pulled your crop top over your head, revealing to Jake that you hadn’t worn a bra underneath it, your tits bouncing free. The realization made him growl under his breath between strokes of his cock, groaning, “Fuck… you do that for me?” Your nod made him groan all over again, rasping out, “Mmmm… you’re such a dirty girl… C’mere.”

The simple command was all you needed, giving into your desire and practically pushing yourself against his slick, toned body. The feeling of his hot skin against yours alone made you moan out loud as Jake’s hands found your hips, pulling you into his lap. Once you were straddling him, you were so close to his cock that you felt entirely lightheaded, knowing that if you rocked forward, your clit would get the most incredible friction rubbing up against his length…

But you didn’t have to do anything yourself. Before you could organize your thoughts, Jake was kissing you again, messy and filthy, his tongue and teeth everywhere, his mouth moving sloppily from your lips to your neck and back again, and suddenly you hadn’t any thoughts left at all beyond Jake, his hands, his body, and the feeling of his cold silver medallion pressing up against the skin of your breasts— grazing your nipple, making you gasp into his mouth, eliciting a dark chuckle form the man beneath you.

One of his hands took yours and guided it to his cock, and when your fingers wrapped around the velvety skin of his length the both of you shuddered in unison. Jake’s mouth immediately dropped open from the pleasure, murmuring another, “Fuck, princess,” his other hand slipping between your legs to start toying with your clit again. It didn’t take long for your legs to start to tremble. You were aching for him to fill you up.

You both worked each other like this for a minute or two, eyes growing more half-lidded and cheeks flushing ever pinker as you built up to the main event. Finally, after what seemed an achingly long time, Jake finally spoke, words coming in between his heavy panting that was making your whole body tremble.

“You want it, baby? You want this cock right now? You want Daddy to fuck you like the cute little slut you are?”

You moaned so desperately you hardly recognized your own voice. He always knew exactly when to bring things up a notch, and how. You were nodding your head before you could even speak, finally finding the words to beg, “Please, Daddy. I need it, I need your cock,” staring at him with lust-blown doe eyes.

Jake let out a true growl this time, and sat back further, spreading his legs wide, his cock thick and hard and waiting, your wetness all over his thigh from where you had been straddling him. When he spoke again, his voice was low and authoritative. “Then sit on this fucking dick.”

The sound that left your lips in response to his words was something beyond desperation. With trembling thighs, you positioned yourself over Jake as he gave his cock another couple strokes, lining himself up at your entrance, and saying lowly, hotly, “Look at me.”

You obliged without even having to think, and with your eyes on each other, taking in every little change in expression, you started lowering yourself onto him. Slowly but surely, you felt every single inch of his hard cock stretching you out, and as you took all of him as deep as possible, you made sure to keep your eyes right on his as your mouth fell open. He loved to see what he was doing to you.

He only waited a moment, giving you enough time to grab onto his shoulders for leverage, but not enough time to catch your breath, before his hands found your hips. His fingernails dug into your skin, something sexy, dangerous, and dark in his eyes that you instantly recognized. Oh. There would be no working slowly into things tonight. Tonight, Jake was entirely in control.

Roughly, quickly, he lifted you by the hips, before pushing you right back down onto his cock, making you cry out in ecstasy. It was only a moment before he lifted you right back up again, then shoving you back down onto him, giving you no rest from the sudden and overwhelming pleasure. His sense of timing, perfected from years of playing guitar, was more obvious than ever as he started to build up a rhythm that was dizzying in its relentless repetition. The way he was filling you up felt so fucking good, and it only intensified when Jake began to fuck up into you while pressing you down onto him, getting deeper and deeper with every thrust. You couldn’t hold back anymore, starting to moan out his name as he fucked you.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Jake groaned out, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead onto his chest, “Such a good girl… taking my cock so fucking well. Goddamn. So fuckin’ filthy.”

“Fuck, fuck, thank you, Daddy,” you were moaning, broken sounds falling nonstop from your lips as Jake slammed his cock into you, but when your eyes threatened to roll back into your head, he once again took your jaw in his large hand, forcing your gaze to stay on his.

“I told you to keep your fucking eyes on me when I fuck you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip, Jake’s relentless pounding hitting you right where it felt the best, the angle at which he was fucking you giving him perfect access to your sweet spot.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged, the combination of his cock filling you up and that low, sexy voice of his right in your ear completely emptying your mind of any other thoughts besides how fucking good he was making you feel.

Jake was speeding up now, and it was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes on him with the pleasure building so intensely within you. You knew you were close, and his labored gasps and breathless growls made it clear that he wasn’t far behind.

“Fuck, baby… that perfect pussy… she’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he was groaning against you, and you were nodding desperately and moaning out obscenities, tears forming in your eyes from the unyielding ecstasy. One of your arms was still around his shoulders, while the other had a white-knuckled grip on his silver necklace as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts.

He must’ve been able to tell you were close by the way your thighs began to shake, the way your moans turned into desperate, tiny whimpers, because you didn’t even have to say a word before Jake sucked his pointer and middle fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and slick before lowering them to trace tight circles onto your clit.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was all so much; so deliciously overstimulating— Jake’s cock deep in your pussy, his fingers working your clit just right, his dark eyes looking at you so intently that even the act of him simply watching you as you fell apart felt so fantastically filthy and sinful.

“Does my little slut wanna cum?” Jake growled through gritted teeth, still thrusting up into you as he managed one of those patronizing smirks that drove you wild, “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You let out a desperate whine, whimpering weakly, “Jake— fuck, please, Daddy.” Every word took all of your focus and energy to stammer out, with Jake surrounding what felt like every inch of your body, from his cock pumping in and out of you, to his fingers on your clit, and the heat of his skin against yours.

“Be a good girl now,” he continued between grunts, fucking you deep and hard, his lust-blown eyes never once leaving yours, “I’m gonna count down. Then… and only then… you cum on my fucking cock.”

You managed to make the only sound you could— a whimper that sounded so pathetic and slutty you hardly recognized your own voice. Trying to find words now would be hopeless. It was all so much. It felt so fucking good. Tears began to spill from your eyes as Jake’s thick cock slammed against your g-spot over and over again, in perfect time with his calloused fingers relentlessly circling your clit.

He chuckled condescendingly. You could tell— he knew you were too fucked out to answer him.

“Here we go, princess… five…”

You were trembling, moments away from the edge, utilizing every bit of energy you had left to hold off the orgasm that threatened to overtake you any second.

“Four… three…”

You could barely breathe. Every sensation, every feeling, was layered on top of one other. The pressure on your clit. Jake’s eyes, watching you unravel. The feeling of his cock swelling inside of you as he pounded into your cunt. His other hand still gripping your hip for leverage, surely leaving bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

“Two…”

He leaned right in, giving you a look so fucking intense and hungry that you felt yourself go lightheaded, that heat building, building… so close, so fucking close… he just had to say…

“One. Cum for me. Fucking cum.”

The moment the command left his lips, it was all over. The white-hot coil within you snapped, and your body was overtaken with bliss, shaking uncontrollably as you clenched down onto him, the feeling of your release all around him making Jake groan out a pornographic, “Oh, fuck.”

He kept up his pace as he fucked you and worked your clit through your orgasm, repeatedly biting his lower lip in concentration as he groaned out, “That’s it, baby, give it to me, soak my fucking cock.” The pleasure was dizzying, damn near overwhelming, and through your haze it was impossible to tell for just how long he helped prolong your climax while chasing his own.

With a delicious moan and a string of obscenities, Jake pulled out of your cunt just in time, thrusting into his hand and covering your stomach in his cum. Even through your post-orgasmic haze, the sight of him cumming all over you was so incredibly filthy you found yourself whimpering all over again, watching him through glazed-over eyes as he rode out his high.

When you both finally collapsed onto each other, panting, covered in sweat and cum, Jake groaned out a breathless, “Holy fuck,” before taking his hand and running it through your hair. There was a tenderness in his gaze and a softness in his tone as he asked, “Are you okay, baby?”

You nodded, slowly but surely coming back down to Earth. When you managed a dazed grin, he chuckled a little, smirking affectionately. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips— this one far more gentle, but no less passionate. When Jake pulled back, he breathed out, “That was so fucking hot, baby… goddamn. You’re something else.”

You felt a blush creep up in your cheeks as he stroked your hair, then your back, his tender touches grounding you as you caught your breath against his chest. It was only after a good long while, once the stickiness on your stomachs became too much to bear, that he helped you to your feet, your thighs already feeling a familiar ache, knees still wobbling a bit. By now, you had found your words, and you thanked him, giggling shyly despite yourself.

He wrapped a plush towel around you, cleaning you up as best as he could, grabbing another towel for himself. It was after this, though, that he spoke.

“Come back to the hotel with me tonight.”

His words took you by surprise. Yes, you’d been to his hotel rooms before— but generally, you’d head there in order to fuck, not after it already had taken place. He must’ve been able to read your expression, because he continued, “I wanna take care of you, baby. It’s the least I can do… there’s a jacuzzi, we can get a nice bath going for you… and there’s a king-sized bed…”

And… you were blushing again. Of course.

You chewed on your bottom lip with nervous excitement, your heart already starting to beat faster. “Jake… that sounds perfect.” He smiled at you, looking utterly radiant, and you felt butterflies in your stomach all over again as he put his arm around you. “C’mon, gorgeous… let’s get you some of my clothes to put on. I’ve got a sweatshirt in here somewhere…”

As you melted into his touch, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The night was only just beginning.

••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: thank you so so much for reading!! i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts either in the notes or through tumblr DMs. my ask box is always open for filthy thoughts, and i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss with 🥰 i’m also starting a taglist for any new fics i post, so be sure to let me know if you want to be added! XO, li

[lullaebies]

No clue if your still taking asks for Aegon III and Jaehaera but what about one where they were secretly courting (Aegon giving Jaehaera gifts like jewels, books she likes and maybe telling her a few stories or singing songs?) they do a similar thing to Daemon and Rhaenyra in the brothel (maybe they’re in a tavern or something?). Maybe Aegon II or Daemon catch them, regardless of how they are caught both are confront and Aegon III ends up asking Aegon II for Jaehaera’s hand in marriage then and there?

Maybe Aegon II’s like: “You ruined my daughter who else will wed her now?”

Meanwhile Aegon III: “Wed her to me. I’ll take her as she is”

Maybe it causes and uproar with the Blacks and Greens both protesting against it while Alicent, Daemon and Rhaenyra hear this conversation and are like “oh no…” cause this has happened before and the chances of it happening again are so unlikely. And maybe they’re confronted like when Aemond lost his eye and everyone yells at each other?

(Also it would be funny if both the Greens and the Blacks were to absorbed in their bickering they didn’t even notice Jaehaera and Aegon III’s feelings for each other? And it isn’t until this happened that they realize how deep this runs and maybe they all overreact to this?)

A/N: I will note here before I start that I actually wrote a very similar request to this already over here. Not sure if you were aware of it but bringing it forward for any case, you may enjoy this one too. That being said, you provided a different dialogue route, so I'll still do this req too. What I linked is from Jaehaera's POV - this will be from Aegon III's POV.

—

“Unhand my son,” his mother yells at his uncle. “At this very moment!” 

Although sobered by now, Aegon still feels as if the world moves too fast to comprehend. One moment he is in a tavern with Jaehaera, playing with the earrings he himself had bought  her a moon prior and tasting the ale she drank from her very own lips, and in another, he is grabbed, tossed and dragged back here. 

Aegon the Elder has a vice grip on his collar. The man is no towering figure, he is in fact smaller than him, but he had the very hold of death when he had caught them in the tavern’s booth. He tasted the blood in his mouth still from several punches. Tomorrow, his eyes would not be the only thing purple about him.

His uncle releases a dismissive sight. It is only when his father steps forward, clutching Dark Sister’s grip, that anything changes. Prince Aemond stands tall with his brother, and Ser Criston Cole goes to charge against his father, but before any fight can take place, Aegon the Elder throws him to the floor. 

He hears Jaehaera squeaking, held aside by her mother and twin brother. The peasant garb she had worn to the city hasn’t dimmed her beauty even a smidge. Her usually pin-straight hair is a mess, and his only comfort at this moment is remembering how his fingers felt running through it. Her lips are still flushed and bruised from kisses, vibrant red because of him, for him. 

His fingers twitch towards her on the floor, while his brothers surround him.If he had the strength to push them all away, he would. Let me be where I want to be.

“You dare batter a prince? In what world do you think it will go unpunished?!” His mother is still raging. 

“This very one, half-sister,” Aegon the Elder yells back, sounding nearby beastly. “I’d sharply question him, but I saw for myself. He touched my daughter.”

Queen Alicent, still in shock, soon blocks his view of Jaehaera. “How long has this been going on for? Tell me now, Jaehaera,” she begins her questioning. His Haera looks the most vulnerable fawn as all eyes in the room land on her, fiddling with one of her fallen earrings. “Tell me so we can fix this.”

She sniffles hard, teary eyes glancing at him in concern. “A little more than..” she stutters. Queen Alicent presses her shoulders. “A little more than a year.”

Before Aegon could even comprehend the confession, Aegon the Elder comes forward once more, swinging his leg and kicking him straight in the face. “You fucking rat!” 

“Father!” Jaehaera lets out a wail. While Aegon groans in pain, head slammed against the floor once more, it seems as if an all out war is brewing in the room. Kingsguards rush to the middle of the room, while his brothers are ready to jump his uncles. Even Jaehaerys comes to push Joffrey away from reaching his father.

Aegon the Elder, as his mother and father introduced him, had been a sullen slob with only hatred within his very core. But his Uncle stands over him and looks at him with fire that implies anything but hatred, at least when it comes to his daughter.

“More than a year... You think my daughter is a common whore for you to flaunt and kiss at taverns? You think she’s a plaything for you to call upon whenever?” he hisses at him. “You ruined her. You have been ruining her! Your mother may have never taught you consequences, but they exist, in this world. Who would wed her now?”

There are many answers to that question. Normally, in their family, it would be one of her brothers, but Jaehaera has noted she and her close family all dislike that idea. Lords that see an opportunity, perhaps; Jaehaera is the only granddaughter of the King, with a dragon to boot. Anyone with eyes, is another thought, as he remembers her round pouts, and long lashes that bat curiously whenever he speaks.

Yet the truth is, there has been only one answer.

“Wed her to me,” he pants out, the blood from his nose dribbling aside. His voice is unwavering, ever clear in the quieting room. “I will have her. I want her.”

She is mine, as much as her father hates to admit it. She is meant to be mine.

The atmosphere shifts in the room. Jaehaera is frozen in place, teary eyes begging. His brothers and mother all turn to gasping stones, but it is his father that has his eyes completely changed. He moves away from Ser Criston Cole, staring at him.

“You will have her?” Aegon the Elder nearly spits out. “Little prick. You will have her when I fade to ash.”

“That is it,” Queen Alicent then says, pushing her son away from him. “Prince Aegon will meet a maester before we all turn to speak mindlessly. I must see Jaehaera to her own maester as well.” The woman sighs.

To check if I took her, is implicit in her words. I should have. Should have wedded and bedded her before any of them could take her away. Jaehaera’s mother and brother take her away, while Prince Aemond and Ser Criston Cole both convince his uncle to step away from him. 

“After we know…” Queen Alicent grimaces. “We will speak of this more, Princess Rhaenyra.”

“We shall,” his mother says. “Do trust this will not be forgotten, Queen Alicent.”

Aegon is helped onto his legs by his brothers. Talk of concussions, responsibilities, and temporary madness all come his way from all fronts as they walk the Red Keep’s hallways. At the end, it is his father that takes him to the maester’s door. His father keeps a stern face. Aegon knows his father does not like that side of this family, he knows he hates them more than anything. However, he keeps his pride about him. 

“I don’t regret it,” Aegon says when they are by the guest room assigned to him. “She is meant to be mine. I will ask it again.”

“You will not,” Daemon answers him, cutthroat. His father’s hand reaches to squeeze on his upper arm, hard.

Aegon gulps. There is something sinister about his father’s gaze.

“Ask, that is. You said all that needed to be said, and I know it will be true,” Daemon tells him. “You will have her. One way… or the other.”

His father turns on his heel, and leaves him be. Jaehaera is there at the back of his mind, sweet lips and violet eyes, with her beauty marks and her gentle voice comparing to the calm of moonlight, but the bride price may be costlier than just the blood dripping down his face.

[ivorydragoness44]

Van Helsing x Reader: Up To The Task

Word Count: tba

Warnings/Notes: mentions of an injury (not graphic), snarky banter. Gender neutral reader.

Summary: The Reader finds an injured Van Helsing. But does he want help?

The night was cold, more so when a eerily gentle breeze brushed across your exposed skin. You adjusted the scarf around your neck. The temperature usually did not bother you, but there was just something particularly odd that night.

As you walked along the cobbled streets, you scarcely passed by anyone. It was late. Why would anyone be wandering around at such an hour? But you were.

Heavy labored breathing caught your attention. Whoever it was sounded tired as you approached a gap between two buildings. You slowed your pace to one of caution.

There on the ground sat a man, leaning against the sturdy wall. His head was reclined, as if looking up to the sky in a time of need. But when he heard your shoe make contact with a particularly loud spot on the ground, he noticed you.

Looking over his shoulder, you could just make out the face under the rim of his hat. The most wanted man in all of Europe. What were the odds? Though, as the situation may be, hopefully the odds were in your favor.

His eyes shifted over, catching yours. "You never saw me." Giving you a stern once over as you stepped between the buildings, he huffed to himself.

Initially, you were not going to engage, but something told you otherwise. "You're hard to miss, Mister Van Helsing." Not moving for a moment, you watched him. Analyzing. However, he made no move toward you. It went against everything you had ever heard about the man. But then again, what was the word of other people? People who had only witnessed him at a distance or not at all.

Stepping around him, you looked for the source of his visible discomfort. You followed up the length of his arm. At his shoulder, you noticed the wound. Cut through his coat and sweater, it was a nasty little gash by the redness soaked into the ripped fabric. His gloved hand pressed against it. "You're hurt."

He gave a dry laugh. "I've had worse." Smile faltering with a quiet snarl of pain.

"I'm sure you have."

Inching closer to him, you knelt down to his level. You reached out, but he made no move to stop you. Not even a glance, until he was within their reach. You moved aside his dark hair. The wavy locks distracting you momentarily. "For a terrible wanted man, you have such kitten soft hair."

Thick brows knitting together, he frowned at you. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Helping an injured person," you said. You stilled your hand to try to get a better look at his injury. "Who...or...what caused this?"

A weak smile pulled up the corner of his mouth. "Heh...I think it's best if you didn't know."

You nodded. "Fair enough. But for now, I'm going to at least tend to those wounds. Let someone help you for a change, Mister Van Helsing."

"That would be a change... Wouldn't it?"

With his strange excuse for consent, you continued. Pushing his coat off, you tried your best to be gentle. At least he helped with meagerly shaking his arm out of the sleeve. You needed better access to reach and look at his shoulder.

Slowly, you pinched at the soft fabric. Managing to lift it out of the way, you finally got a better view of his injury. With scarce moonlight and street lamps to aid you, you peeked underneath at his skin. "It doesn't look to bad."

"It sure feels like it." He grumbled, trying to get a look at it for himself.

"I thought you said you'd had worse?." You eyed him with playful skepticism.

"That was before you touched it."

"My apologies." You said, releasing the material from the grasp.

He sucked in a breath and gave a smile. "I don't think anyone's ever apologied to me. Not that they had any reason to."

Your brows furrowed at his words. "Never?"

"No," he replied quietly.

"Hmm, well, there's always a first time for everything." Straightening up, you uncoiled your scarf from around your neck.

"I guess that's true." He eyed you then with soft confusion. "What are you--?"

Grabbing ahold of his arm, you pulled it away from his body. "Small injury or not, we can't have you with an open wound in this night air." Gingerly, you wrapped your scarf around his shoulder. Only a small muffled groan or two was kept restrained from him as you did so.

"There," you said, tucking the fabric into itself. "Now, being that it was your shoulder, I can safely assume that you can stand. Unless there's another wound that you have failed to mention."

Though he pursed his lips together, his brown eyes held no harshness. Without a word, grounded his boots and pushed himself up from the wall, taking his coat with him.

As you stood as well, you took into account his confident stature. It must have been like second nature to him. But what could have ever happened to make him as such a man?

"Satisfied?" He asked, his features becoming strikingly more playful despite his ordeal.

You gave a small smile. Fearing him did not seem possible, but there was one thing you did not think to be worried about before. The fear of being captivated by him.

"Come, Mister Van Helsing," you beckoned as you stepped around him. "Your wound needs to be cleaned and dressed."

"You're going to trust a stranger into your home?"

"You trusted a stranger to check your injury," you countered.

"Touché."

[fanfics-for-you]

what's in a name? || Patrick Verona (TTIHAY) x gn!reader (Modern!College!AU)

AVAILABLE ON AO3 (SOON)

Inspiration: ✨️Patrick Verona✨️

Summary: Patrick Verona is apparently the most intimidating guy on campus. You just want to get by, pass your classes, and get to your actual dreams. When you casually approach him one day and decidedly are not scared of him, Patrick has some questions.

TWs: light language, use of Y/N (only like twice), second person POV (you, yours).

[[A/N: This is basically under the concept that you approach Patrick first, and aren't really as afraid of him as anybody else. He's intrigued. Also this is a college AU, because I am in college and I think it's weird to write about high school lmao. ALSO,,, I know this is incredibly niche and a dead tag, but... I watched the movie recently and was violently possessed to write this. The parasites in me what to continue this universe, but idk. Anyway. Enjoy :)]]

You were exhausted. Totally and completely exhausted.

You'd stayed up all night for your chem quiz, and still, didn't think you did great on it. Which made your day ever so worse. So, when you went to the library, and someone was sitting in the spot you always sat in, you halfway wanted to cry and halfway wanted to rip your hair out. Normally, such a thing wouldn't be a big deal, but today it was. So, with a certainty that rivaled a lawyer in court, you stomped over to the chair.

For a moment, the guy didn't even look at you. He kept staring at his friend, a surprisingly 'metal' dressing guy who was talking avidly about something.

You cleared your throat.

That's when they both looked at you.

You were entirely focused on the one in your seat. A taller guy with built shoulders, curly hair and a sharp jaw. In normal circumstances, you'd probably think he was hot. Today was not normal circumstances.

The man raised an eyebrow.

Okay, so maybe it was a little normal circumstances, but that wasn't relevant.

"What are you doing?"

The man answered, simply -maybe a little confused, "Sitting?"

"That's my spot," you clarified, pointedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" the man pretended to start getting up before pausing -speaking sarcastically, "-Oh wait, I've just remembered, this is public property."

Mindlessly noting that he had an accent that you couldn't quite place, you rolled your eyes, "I sit there everyday. Just give me the spot."

"You weren't sitting here all day," he pointed out, "-or else I wouldn't be here."

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, "I was busy failing a chem test, now get up."

His eyes skimmed over your face, thoughtfully, "Do you know who I am?"

"Why-" you sighed out, frustrated, "-would I know who you are?"

Even despite the comment, he did seem familiar somehow but you weren't going to tell him that.

He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, and didn't say anything. You felt like you were going to explode in fiery flames.

You groaned, "Oh my god. There are thousands of seats on campus, just go sit somewhere else."

"Exactly," the man countered, "-why don't you sit somewhere else?"

"Because-" you huffed out a breath, "-that's my spot."

"And why is this spot so important to you?" He shuffled slightly, moving his hands along the cracks of the seat, "-You got something good stashed in 'ere?"

"Dear god," you huffed out a breath in defeat, "-Whatever. Enjoy your seat, asshole."

And with that, you spun on your heel and pulled yourself deeper into the library. Taking a breath in, you pulled yourself into a seat not too far from the original, but you were around the corner so you wouldn't have to look at his stupid face. You soured just at the thought.

You pulled open your chem book, and read through it -trying to figure out which ones you definitely missed, that way you could get the ballpark for what your grade might be. You really needed to know, to make sure your GPA stayed in the range for your dream university.

But, in the middle of it, you heard someone plop into the chair in front of you (it was a group of chairs, like for a group of people if necessary).

Before looking up, you spoke -sharply, "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Your eyes shot up at that familiar accent, and you frowned.

"You got the seat," you pointed out, bitterly, "-What the hell do you want now?"

"Your name," he answered simply.

You blinked, (what?) before settling back into your seat and flipping to the next page, "Yeah, no."

The man seemed to move forward, and unwillingly your eyes flickered to him (his curls moving with the motion), "Why not?"

"I don't give my name out to strangers," you retorted -flicking your eyes down to your book, "-especially not assholes."

"Don't know if I can change who I am," he smirked, "-but, I can work on the stranger part."

You frowned, eyeing him particularly, "Seriously, what do you want?"

"I already told you," he replied, fidgeting with something in his hands (you weren't paying attention), "-I'm Patrick, by the way."

"Well," you exhaled, sharply, and ignored his name, "-you're not getting it."

"Well," he repeated with the same sort of grin, "-I'll just have to work on that too, then."

You looked up at him again and squinted at him -trying to read him somehow. All he did was grin at you, a charming kind, of course, that made crinkles on his cheeks. You ignored the flutter in your chest that it gave you and darted your eyes back down to your book.

The next day, you were in better spirits. After studying for an entirely different class, you were pretty sure you aced that test. So, you weren't as pissed, thankfully. Until you went into the library to sit between classes like you always did.

You paused in your step and frowned.

The guy (Patrick, your mind treacherously noted) was sitting by your chair, mindlessly tapping his fingers along the arm of the chair. He wasn't in your chair, thankfully, but still, he was in the one beside it. Pointedly close.

You huffed out a breath, and moved toward the chairs, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," he repeated.

You raised an eyebrow.

He seemed to take that as a repeat of the question -before saying, confidently (too confidently), "I'm studying for a test."

"You don't seem like the studying type," you retorted, throwing yourself into the chair and pulling out your laptop -realizing it was no use to try and get him to leave.

Patrick pointed out, "You don't even know me."

"And I don't intend to," you replied with ease, flicking your eyes to meet his, "-your point?"

He grinned the same bright one from before, amused maybe. Your heart skipped a beat, so you dropped your eyes back down to your laptop. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to look away.

"What's your major?" He asked, thoughtfully.

"I won't tell you my name," you leveled, scrolling through your online schedule for homework, "-but you think I'll tell you my major?"

"Well," he reasoned, "-a name is much more identifiable, but your major," he shrugged, "-not so much."

You eyed him again for a second, before saying, "What if you just want to look up my classes and hunt me down?"

Patrick smiled again, before asking, "What is your next class?"

"Why?" You ask, pointedly, "-So you can force me into talking to you again?"

"Preferably," he replied, grinning cheekily.

You raised an eyebrow, and bit your lip to pull down a smile that begged to quirk up, "I'm not telling you that either."

"What if I just follow you when you leave?" He questioned, curiously, "-Figure it out myself?"

"And what if I-" you smiled at him -patronizingly, "-call the campus police?"

He raised both eyebrows as if to say 'touché' without saying it out loud. You bit down another smile and moved back to your computer -pulling out your planner and jotting down dates.

"Your pissiness," he suddenly spoke, "-Are you often filled with boiling hatred?"

"No," you sigh out, before shooting him another patronizing smile, "-that's special just for you."

He laughed then, and something warm zinged down to your toes (you ignored it), "Do you seriously not know me?"

"Do you know how many Patricks exist in the world?" you point out, "-No, I don't know you."

"So you do remember my name," he smirked, patting along his lap with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but didn't say a word.

It ended up like that for the rest of the time, Patrick shooting questions now and then, and you shutting them down. His stupid smirk and low, rumbly, accented voice, you hated that he actually seemed kinda nice -all things considered.

But, as you stood up to leave, you decided on something.

"Literature," you said simply, gathering up everything into your bag.

He paused, shooting up his eyebrows, "What?"

"My next class," you answered, nonchalantly pulling your bag onto your shoulder, "-Intro to Literature."

Patrick grinned, bright and shiny, "Gen Ed?"

"Yeah," you answered, moving to put the last few things in your bag.

"Can I walk you?"

Your eyes snapped to him then, curiously -detailing the rather honest look, before answering solidly, "No."

He burst into laughter then, throwing his head back against the chair -you mindlessly watched his curls fall back with the motion and then snapped your eyes away.

"Same time tomorrow then?" He asked, still laughing a little bit (something in you twinkled).

"Nope," you exhale a breath, ignoring the disappointment that swirled into your chest, "-I'm not on campus tomorrow."

He seemed to falter for a second, "Do you live on campus?"

You raised a solid eyebrow, you really think I'd tell you that?

"Right, yeah, okay," Patrick conceded, holding up his hands in faux surrender, "-What days are you on campus?"

You paused, pressing your lips together, but something in you did it, "Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays."

He grinned a little brighter, "Are you here around the same time on Mondays?"

Something in your chest flipped, but even still, you answered, "That's what you have to figure out. Not me."

And then, you spun on your heel and walked out of the library. His laughter trailed out behind you, and if you had a small little smile on your face at the noise, that was only for you to know.

Monday came, and you woke up early and made your way to campus -the first class of the day was at the crack of dawn. You physically despised it, but so is the schedule of a college student. Plus, you still worked, so the earlier the better for your schedule -didn't mean it didn't suck though.

Sipping on your drink, you wandered back toward the cafeteria -crossing the main connecting area, where everything led to. There was a baseball game going on, not an official one by the looks of it, in the grass. Your eyes hinged on the game for a few seconds, the echoes of laughter shooting toward your ears. It looked fun, but you weren't too invested in being outside for that long. Before you could look away though, your eyes caught on a familiar frame.

Patrick.

His hair was tied back, and he was wearing a pretty bland tank top (just grey), with some typical jeans. With his hair pulled back, you could see his jaw more distinctively -the sharp lines clear from even this far away. (Not that you were looking.) The sun bore down on them but all of the players seemed to be happily distracted. And you kinda were too.

You pursed your lips, for a moment, and looked forward again after a breath, heading toward the cafeteria again confidently.

Before you could get very far, though, you heard a familiar accent.

"Hey!" He yelled, a little distant -footsteps following his voice, "-Hey!"

At first, you weren't sure if he was talking to you, so you kept moving.

"Shit, I don't know what to call you," he called out, breathless and much, much closer.

You spun on your heels with furrowed brows, and met his eyes over a few people's heads. The grin that swallowed his face whole should've been criminal, bright and twinkly and... charming.

Before you could say anything, he was by your side with heavy breaths -assumedly from playing baseball and getting over to you. Leaning over slightly, he leveled out heavy breaths. You were almost concerned enough to offer him water, but he seemed to settle himself before you could.

"Hi," he echoed, "-'Ve been looking for you all morning, what time did you get here?"

You blinked, all morning?

"I get here early, 7, and immediately go to class," you answered, a little blankly (looking for you, looking for you, looking for you).

"Oh," he paused, "-I got here at 8. There's classes at 7?"

"Obviously," you respond, because you did in fact just say it.

"Did you-" Patrick started, before pursing his lips together, "-Are you going to the library now?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "No, I'm going to the cafeteria to eat between classes. Why?"

"I'm actually quite hungry myself," he avoided the question, "-Do you mind if I tag along?"

"What about your game?" You furrowed your eyebrows even further -eyeing him curiously.

"'S just to fill time," he explained, "-It's nothing serious. They're sure to find someone to fill in for me."

You flicker your eyes along his face, trying to read him. What's your prerogative?

After a moment, you come up with nothing and instead, just turn on your heel -leading the way to the cafeteria.

"I'm taking that as a yes, then?" Patrick called out from behind you, catching up and matching your stride with ease (despite you making no move to slow down).

You decidedly don't answer him, and say something focused elsewhere -eyeing him as you walk forward, "Do you always stalk people this much?"

Patrick laughed, catching your eye with his warm brown ones (they were almost sparkly under the sun of the day), "Only the ones that blindly hate me."

You pressed your lips together in a flat line (trying not to give anything away), "I didn't say that I hated you."

His face lit up at the words (and you couldn't decide if you regretted it or not), "Well, you could've convinced me."

You roll your eyes, and keep walking forward, "Not telling you my personal information isn't... hating you."

"I'm not sure not introducing yourself is exactly anything but hatred," he argued back, fluidly.

"I just told you that I don't hate you," you point out, "-so it isn't."

"Does that mean you'll eventually tell me your name?" Patrick asked, curiously.

You turned to him, flicked your eyes over him, and then looked forward again, "Maybe on good behavior."

He burst into laughter, brown eyes set on your face, "You're quite an enigma, you know that?"

"And you're not half the mystery you portray," you fire back, naturally, with the flow of the conversation.

He grinned at that, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite label, "You know, I don't think I've met a person like you. You're fearless in like a-" he motioned with his hands, "-casual way."

"I'm not fearless," you argue, approaching the door to the cafeteria, "-I'm just confident."

"Do they not go hand-in-hand?" Patrick offers, getting to the door before you and promptly holding it open for you -unflinchingly.

Something warm stirs in your stomach at the gesture (and his woodsy scent that brushes your nose as you walk past him), but you ignore it, "You can be certain and still be afraid."

"But knowing you're right doesn't necessarily mean-" Patrick followed you in, matching your stride again, as if it's natural, "-that you're confident."

You furrow your eyebrows, genuinely intrigued, "What do you mean?"

He paused, maybe a little shocked by your attentiveness, "Plenty of people know they're right and still concede to someone else because they don't want to fight it. You-" he pointed at you, "-will fight it."

"Well," you purse your lips, avoiding his eye contact, "-maybe I'm only like this with you."

"You," Patrick paused, "-You're not this fiery ball of rage with anyone else?"

You eye him for a second, before saying flatly, "Maybe."

"All of this seething hatred and impressive indifference just for me?" He grins, the big teeth-showing kind, "-I'm touched really. Because I am special to you in some weird kinda twisted way-"

Before you can stop yourself, you let out a laugh at his words -just a quick one. Barely there.

But you could still see the delight smooth along his face, and just knew he caught it.

"How much of that have you been holding back?" He tilted his head curiously, before continuing to push it, smirking, "-Oh I bet you think I'm hilarious."

Your heart skipped a beat at the smirk, and you simply pressed your lips together and turned on your heel to the food counter. There wasn't even a second before you heard footsteps following you.

"You're not denying it, you know," he called after you, close on your tail.

You peer over the selection of food, eyeing the different items thoughtfully, "But I didn't confirm it either."

"Still not denying it," Patrick hummed, sing-songy.

"You know," you turn to him (mindlessly noting that he is very close), sharply, "-someone can have one good joke and still be unfunny."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes set on yours -challenging, "Then tell me why it came out like you were holding it back?"

You blinked at him, once and then twice, the sudden closeness sent a shock through your brain and the challenging tone of his voice nearly gave you full-body shivers. You can't find words to say, and you can nearly see it processing on Patrick's face (the way that he had made your mind melt for a moment), so you turn to the counter and point at something random for them to pick out for you.

The woman eyes the two of you suspiciously, but still diligently pulls out a to-go plate and piles the... mashed potatoes onto it.

"Oh my god," he finally says after a moment (you ignore it).

You go through a few other items, and the woman gathers them onto the plate. You pay, grab your plate-

"You like me," Patrick retorts, and you're not even looking at him but you can tell he's got a shit-eating grin.

Your brain malfunctions for a moment, but you step toward the tables and fire back (on autopilot), "I won't even tell you my name."

He's hot on your trail, following you diligently, "You're avoiding the question."

You spin to him, and reply -sharply, "You didn't ask a question."

His eyes flicker along your face, taking you in (you want to squirm but you steel yourself in place -your eyes now challenging), and then he grins so bright that you'd need sunglasses in any other scenario.

"Oh, you're really into me," he continues, low, gravelly, accented voice rumbling through your ears.

You screw up your face into something defiant, roll your eyes, and turn back to slide into a table. Patrick follows you like a lost puppy. Well, an incredibly arrogant lost puppy.

"You're still not denying it," he slides into the chair beside you and you hate the way your brain swims at the woodsy smell that brushes your nose.

"'Thought you were hungry," you say, simply (avoiding the question and decidedly not denying).

"It was very obviously a ploy," Patrick chimed back, with natural ease -tilting his head slightly and looking at you with twinkling eyes, "-They had pizza out there for all the players. I've already eaten."

Your fork froze for a millisecond (even still, you were sure he caught it), and after a moment, you pulled it to your lips. Maybe conquering both of your lack of response and the way your mind lit up at the idea of 'he just wanted to see me'.

His smile and eyes seemed to soften slightly, as he leaned his head down to catch your eye and guide it back up to your natural gaze (your heart skipped a beat). His brown eyes were soft and if you were honest, maybe a little affectionate.

"What's your name?" He finally said after a soft few moments.

And just like that, for you, the moment snapped, and you rolled your eyes -turning back to your food.

"Oh, come on," Patrick tried to catch your gaze again, "-Look, I'll tell you. Patrick Verona. That's my name-"

You bit down a smile, as he motioned to you with his hands.

"-Now, your turn, tell me yours."

You raised an eyebrow.

Patrick let out a half-laugh, before leaning forward slightly on the table -not quite a breath away, but certainly closer.

"You're so stubborn," he laughed, "-I'll beg. You want me to beg?"

You can't help but let the smile slip onto your lips then, "Why would you beg for my name?"

"Because I want it," he pointed out, still grinning "-Because I want to know you, and personally, I think it should start with a name."

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you let your fork hang there on the path to your face. You took a moment, scampered your eyes along his face (dark brown eyes so incredibly soft, curls coming down from where he put them up in individual tendrils). Your resolve was weakening, it was really and truly broken under Patrick Verona's hand.

Stupid pretty boys-

"Y/N," you said finally (quieter than intended), immediately pulling a bite to your mouth.

Patrick blinked, "What?"

"'S my name," you explain -shortly, moving a hand in front of your mouth as you chew, "-Y/N."

His eyes lit up at the words, that stupid charming grin smoothing onto his face as he repeated, softer than expected, "Y/N."

You shove down the fluster that begs to climb up your cheeks at his accented voice saying your name. It's something you'd never really thought about but now that it's said, you probably should've thought about it.

Patrick leaned back in his chair, eyes still set on you. He was still grinning, as he said simply, "Suits you."

You furrow your eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He raises his hands in faux surrender, laughing to himself, "Jesus, you're a true ball of rage, you know 'at?"

"I'm not-" you huff out, and take a deep breath in, "-I'm not mad."

"Defensive then," he mends, "-You act as though I'm about to strike any minute."

You pursed your lips, "Whose to say you aren't?"

"Me," Patrick laughs, "-This entire conversation. The way I've acted around you since the beginning-"

"Oh, shut up," you roll your eyes, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your lips, "-you were an asshole once."

He groaned, but something like amusement was twinkling in his eyes, "You are the most stubborn human being on this earth-"

"You took my spot," you interrupt, sturdy.

"-It's public property," Patrick argued back, "-and how was I supposed to know it was yours before I sat in it?"

You paused, for a moment, before saying, "You couldn't. But, you could have given it to me when I asked."

"And then we wouldn't be here," he explained, now fully grinning, "-and wouldn't that just be such a bore."

Your eyes swam over his face a moment, Patrick Verona. And his dumb persistence. And his stupid handsome face-

God.

You let out a long sigh, picking around at your food. Eyes watching the swirl of your fork, you debate a few different things to say. Finally, after a few spare seconds, you made up your mind.

"Yeah," you hum, flickering your eyes up to his, "-it would."

Patrick grinned, big and bright and twinkly (you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest). His eyes, the deep brown that if you weren't careful you could stare at for way too long, were soft but still sort of happy, eager. Definitely eager.

And maybe, just maybe, you could get used to-

"I told you I could work on the 'stranger' thing," he suddenly said, smirking, "-You never should've doubted me."

"What?" You raised an eyebrow, confused.

"You said-" Patrick explained, "-you don't give your name out to strangers. And I said I could work on that part-"

You level a look at him.

"-And look, I did," he continued, before adding with a smirk, "-I have successfully escaped the cavernous barrier, deeper than the ocean I'd say, that walls you off from any poor soul who wishes to know you-"

"You're really pushing it, Verona," you chime back, fiery (but not quite all the way).

"What?" He raised his eyebrows, like he said nothing at all to warrant the reaction, "-You can't tell me that it's not like pulling teeth getting to know you. Or trying to anyway-"

You press your lips onto a flat line, "Wow, you must be a sort of masochist, then?

He faltered for a second, before laughing a little, "Oh absolutely, I chase the high of you ignoring me for 2 hours straight every day."

You rolled your eyes, biting down a smile, "I despise you."

"Better that than indifferent," he responded with ease, "-I prefer you feeling something rather than nothing at all."

"Oh my god-"

It continued like that, a back and forth, as you finish eating your mediocre cafeteria lunch. The silence is sparse but not uncomfortable when Patrick isn't running his mouth, that is. It was nice. Insanely nice. You'd probably never had as much fun on this campus as you did with him, just in general, but...

"Same time Wednesday?" He poses with a cheeky grin, leaning onto one hand against the table -closer to you than before.

You felt something warm swirl into your stomach, as your eyes flickered over his face. He was still smiling, like he wasn't able to stop when he was here with you. And something in you never wanted to see it go away anyway.

So, with a slight head tilt and a brighter grin than what you'd let slip past all day, you repeated.

"Same time Wednesday."

[glendover]

all my Aaron Minyard centric fanfics

pov Aaron Minyard and usually with a focus on the twinyards

low pain tolerance (words: 2.628) - Aaron gets his monthly migraine shot, but he freaks out and needs Nicky and Andrew to comfort him (with a hint of Kevaaron)

stray kittens and other things I’ve found (words: 4.460) - pre aftg, Aaron and Andrew find a kitten on their way back home, Aaron finds out some other things too, especially that kittens and Andrew aren’t scary

driving past the red lights into your arms (words: 3.624) - Andrew teaches Aaron how to drive a car, but on a ride where Neil joins them they have a fall out, that is until Andrew finally communicates with Aaron

I love you 120bpm (words: 5.235) - kevaaron!!! Aaron’s smart watch sends him an alert mind make out session (I made a post about this idea years ago and then one day just wrote this)

can my silence be enough? (words: 13.745) - Aaron is mute and through care and love from his family he finds his voice back (with a bit of kevaaron)

don’t go where I can’t follow (words: 8.579) - pre aftg, Nicky kills Tilda and Drake, Andrew and Aaron live at a foster home and learn about all the things that make a family

linearity keeps the world moving (words: 3.262) - aftg x w.bg crossover 1, Aaron plays a brutal online game to keep his brother alive unfortunately the game isn’t really fair

the temporary death of Andrew Minyard (words: 3.795) - aftg x w.bg crossover 2, Aaron begs Andrew to let him kill him, really it’s for the greater good Andrew just let him kill you

I’d die to be somebody you could love (words: ongoing) - heavy focus on the twinyards, Aaron struggles with his life, but what could fix him is patching up his relationship with his twin so he tries and Andrew tries too

deafened by the sound of it all (words: 28.684) - kevaaron!!!! and I mean it, basically Aaron has a secret crush on Kevin and while that secret gets out a few others get revealed too (with some twin bonding AND a little plot twist so I can’t say too much)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (7)

Summary: Truths are revealed and Reader has to decide what that means for her revenge plans.

Content Warnings: Talks of Past Character Deaths, Blood and Violence

Author's Note: Really building up for more and more angst here, aren't I?

Chapter 6/Masterlist

---------

Rhysand is gone when I wake up in the morning, the mat beside me cold, the fur not enough to fully keep the chill out. There’s some dried meat and bread laid out beside the mat for me, but he’d tied the tent flap closed whenever he’d left. I pack the food back up and start the familiar process of rolling up the fur and blankets. I have no appetite, and the more monotonous the task, the less I have to think about last night. There was no time to finish the conversation, not with the men scrambling to ensure we had no more surprises. Rhysand hadn’t come back to the tent until long after exhaustion had pulled me under. I was only coherent enough to register the warmth of his body beside mine before I’d fallen back asleep.

I wait until everything is packed, save the tent itself, to slide back into my chest piece. The leather feels heavier today. Everything does, really. I toss my quiver over my head and strap it in place, the silence making the heaviness worse. There are too many thoughts to be had inside this little tent. Too many emotions I don’t want to touch. I sigh as I untie the tent flap and step out into the early morning light. Cassian should have checked in by now, the fact that all the men are still here is a good sign.

A few of the men are already taking down their tents, the small amount of personal supplies piling up near where most of their horses graze. It won't take long for them to be saddled up and on the move again. This is a process that feels as familiar as breathing; I tear down the tent without waiting for Rhysand to come back from wherever it is he and Azriel have wandered off to--their mounts are the only ones missing from the herd but I can't see them over the rocky incline we're perched on.

Perhaps that is for the best. I think if I saw Rhys now I’d throw up. I need the answers, but I don’t know how to face them. I don’t know that I want to believe him. 

I tear down the tent and get it all nice and packed away before I remember that Andras was still alive when I’d fallen asleep last night. A quick glance to where he’d been tied up shows me nothing but a blood stain and all the tears I’d tried to keep at bay last night come flooding to the surface. 

I’m so tired of the bloodshed. Why does it always end this way? Is that all we are? Just brutes that kill and maim until we share the same fate? Is that all life is supposed to be?

I’m spiraling deeper and deeper by the time I hear their horses return and I am grateful I don’t have powers to advertise it to everyone the way their shadows had last night. I make myself busy, hands shaking, as I hear their boots hit the earth as they dismount. Rhys’s eyes are on my back as I tie the rolled up tent, I can feel them like a brand.

What have I done?

He and Azriel separate, one set of footfalls falling away, down the path to confer with the scouts, the other coming my way. It would be weird that I knew him by the sound of his gate if I hadn’t learned early on in life that the best way to stay safe was to mesmerize the sound of everyone’s footsteps. Can’t be underprepared for a fight if you know who’s coming your way. 

Except this time, there’s nowhere to run. All the supplies are packed and they go on his horse. I might as well be chained to the beast.

“Did you eat?” He sounds as tired as he had looked last night and my chest feels like it’s going to cave in on me. 

“Wasn’t hungry,” I mutter as I brush my hands over my pants and turn to face him. I should just rip the bandaid off, right? I

The jasmine and citrus scent of him is overwhelming, invading my senses; I hadn’t realized just how close he was until I’d turned, nearly into his chest. I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes--something I really shouldn’t be doing, but he doesn’t have the cowl on today. I must be a sucker for pain, because I want to be able to see his face. 

“Are you ok?” The same shadows that had circled his eyes last night still remain. I’m not sure he slept at all. At least we both feel miserable. Yesterday I might have been happy about it; today I just feel like an asshole.

“I’m-” Cauldron what am I? Certainly not fine, and truth be told, I don’t feel like lying about it. Not to him. Not after all the lies I’ve already spun. 

“If this is about last night…” he pauses, frowning, and gives himself a little shake. “If you’ve changed your mind-”

No, no, no, we definitely cannot be talking about my loyalties! Just because I feel guilty for doing it, doesn’t mean I have to admit to it, right?

“Did you kill Andras?” I blurt instead. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, because looking at him for too long is too damn hard and I keep looking at the blood stain on that tree. And, well I am curious about that. I do want him to tell me no. I want someone, in all of this, to be less of a monster than I thought. 

“Yes,” he says.

My heart plummets into my stomach. 

“He slit Avos’s throat and left his body in a ditch, there were already animals feeding on him by the time we located him.”

I visibly shudder and he cups my cheek in response. “I meant what I said about not liking violence, but there are things I cannot let go unpunished.”

These are his people, those are his fighting men, it is his job as their warlord to protect them, and if he cannot, it’s his duty to avenge them. I know this. I was raised on that belief. But yet I still feel responsible. If I’d never given Tamlin a reason to throw me out, I never would have ended up here, and Lucien never would have had to bring anyone out to try and rescue me. I would have been blind to the truth of my own people, but at least no one would be dead because of me. At least my heart wouldn’t feel like it was trying to rip itself from my chest to avoid all these terrible things that keep happening.

“Come on,” he gently nudges me towards where his horse is waiting, munching on some grass, when I don’t respond. I don’t miss the hurt that flashes across his features at my silence either. “We have to get moving and we have things to discuss.”

I don’t argue as he helps me into the saddle. He settles in behind me, firm and steady and I have never felt so many conflicting feelings towards a person in my life. I don’t want him to touch me until I know the truth of the matter; I need him to hold me and distract me from the reality of the situation. I want to be far away and I never want to leave all the same. 

He calls for his men to get moving and in the span of five minutes, all supplies are packed and stowed and we’re once again moving along the lip of the mountain, a glittering trail of starlight trailing from his hand as he stitches the wards. The pull of his magic is stronger today, I see the ward more clearly, but more than anything I feel it. It makes the hair on my arms stand on end and that thing in my chest stirs again at its response.

It’s a long while before he speaks again. “What did Tamlin tell you about that night?” His voice is subdued, I don’t know if it’s hesitation or the strain or doing this while warding. 

I shiver as I run my fingers absently through the horse’s mane. I don’t even know the animal’s name. I don’t know anything at all, not because no one told me, but because I hadn’t cared enough to ask. “He said you rode in, attacked my parents while they slept…” 

A growl rumbles through his chest at that. 

“He said they were dead by the time he got there and that he managed to fight you off long enough for our men to assemble and they scared the rest of you off.” I run a hand over the scar above my ear. 

 “Why?” 

I twist in the saddle to look at him, nose brushing along the underside of his jaw. He has a scar there I hadn’t noticed, just a little nick like he’d been caught by the tip of a blade just beneath his chin. “Why what?”

“Why did he say I did it?”

“Because you could,” I whisper. “Because you wanted to put us in our place.”

He stiffens. “And you believed him?”

“I-” The truth hovers on the tip of my tongue, too much of it and he’ll see me for what I really am. “Why were you there?”

“I had a sister,” Rhysand whispers. “She was a little younger than you, I think.”

Had. My stomach flips.

“Our people had been meeting to discuss alliances against Amarantha. It was suggested that Tamlin and my sister marry, to unite us.”

I’d never even heard an alliance mentioned. My father hated the Illyrians, even in all my earliest memories. I would have been old enough to be told this was happening, my mother never so much as whispered a possibility that Tam was to marry. 

“I never knew,” the words slip out as that stirring in my chest turns into a cavernous ache that might just split me right down the middle. I never knew any of this. Everyone, my father, my mother, Tamlin, hell even Lucien, lied to me.

“If I had known about you then, I would have suggested us as an alternative. She was never keen on the idea of marriage, but you were one of your father’s well kept secrets.”

Marriage? I sleep with the guy one time and he’s thinking about how he could have married me? I can’t be that good in bed. I think this idea of a mating bond is going to his head.

“It is tradition for mothers and daughters to stay a few nights with a betrothed family to ensure that they are a good fit. I was supposed to go with the convoy to make sure they arrived safely, but I got called out here to help fix a broken ward at the last minute.”

His magic stutters for a moment, as if remembering.

My stomach feels like it’s in my throat. 

“As I was returning to camp, so was their convoy, or what was left of it. We got their heads in boxes.”

Tears drip down my cheeks and those illusive fangs tear right through my gums as what little magic I have flares. 

“We thought it was Amarantha at first. My sister was unmarked so she could be married to someone outside of our clan and my mother…” he clears his throat. “You’ve seen our different crests. The Dark Bringers are what is left of the Night Court’s nobility. Even though they merged with the Illyrians decades ago, they always considered them lesser. They held council and refused my father’s request to mark my mother because of her lowborn status, and insisted he marry another to continue the bloodline. So neither of them bore the protection of the clan and it is Amarantha’s style to attack any unmarked for the fun of it.”

That’s why he was so insistent about me taking his mark in the beginning.

“We were halfway to the Middle, prepared to invade the Imperial City, when one of our spies sent word that there were two sets of Illyrian wings being carted around the Grasslands as trophies.”

There had been a lot of commotion that day, but I’d never seen anything, I’d been inside, dealing with one of my Mother’s episodes before that fight with Tam. I’d conveniently missed every single one of the details I’d needed to see the truth, and I can’t tell for the life of me if it was intentional on either of their parts. This could be a tactic to turn me against Tamlin, couldn’t it? I’d used my own sob story to get inside the camp. But why would he lie now? I’ve already taken his mark, I’ve already slept with him, what would he gain?

“My father intended to kill everyone when we got into camp,” he continues. “He ordered the men to kill everything that moved and burn the rest. I wanted vengeance as much as he did, I will not deny that, but I did talk him down from harming the women and children. Enough innocent blood had been shed. We agreed on that by the time we rode in, but… he was ahead of me and I had gone looking for Tamlin.”

How the hell was Tam even alive after something like this?

“In retribution, my father killed your mother first,” he swallows hard, remembering that detail, and I feel the tears fall anew down my cheeks. “I don’t know why he changed his mind or if he only said he wouldn’t so I wouldn’t stick so close to him. We never really saw eye to eye and there isn’t a day I don’t wish that I had stuck with him when we rode through camp. I could have stopped him. I could have…”

He could have saved her. 

“I’m sorry,” his breath is warm on my face as he whispers in my ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“I gave up trying to find Tamlin in the chaos when I heard her scream, but I was too late. By the time I got there, your father had managed to run my father through, but not fast enough to keep his own head from rolling off his shoulders. They died together.”

“And Tamlin?” I ask softly.

“It is tradition to bury a warlord with his sword. I took my father’s sword and I left him there. He had dishonored our traditions in killing your mother, and the Illyrians would see it as a weakness that he died alongside his enemy. So I took his sword and decided that my first act as warlord would be kill Tamlin and merge what was left of your people with mine. I would not abandon the women and children, they could come live in the valley if they took my mark and swore fealty. Except I found Tamlin and Lucien, not fighting, but trying to burn what was left of my mother’s wings.”

How could they have done this? Tam could be cold and cruel but this was… horrific! And Lucien? Lucien who had always said that he and Tam would have made better poets than warriors? Lucien who had often joked that the three of us should run away and start a traveling music group?

“I nearly killed Lucien,” he continues. “Truth be told, I thought I had.”

That was one of the few things I did know. He’d been in a coma for a week.

“And I had Tamlin by the throat, but…” his hand tightens around my waist. “I heard someone calling for him, and for a moment, it sounded like when my sister would call for me. I think it might have been you, now that I’ve gotten to hear your voice. But I never saw you. I just… I realized that if I killed him, I would leave someone alone, as I had become. And I didn’t want to start out my time as Warlord by doing that. So I offered him a truce.”

Gods, I’d saved Tam by pure accident, by being so distraught that I’d done exactly what I’d always been told not to do and had yelled for him in the chaos. Worse, Tam was alive because Rhys had been the better male and in response to that mercy, he’d made Rhys out to be the monster to hide what he had done. 

“We wouldn’t kill each other that night, or otherwise, and we would go our separate ways. As long as neither of us raised a hand to the other, our clans would leave each other alone.”

I don’t want to believe that Tam is capable of such atrocities, but the longer I am away from him, the more I realize just how scared of him I have been my entire life. It is not that he has done terrible things, but that deep down I was always scared he was capable of them. I walked on eggshells around him to avoid his anger. He’d lash out and throw things, push me around, belittle me, but he’d never scarred me like my father, and yet, deep down I knew there was a chance he could be pushed to those extremes, I’d just, never dared acknowledge it. Somehow, I’d always rationalized his outbursts as my fault. I pushed him. I gave him too hard a time. I was being too demanding or making too much work for him. I had not let myself consider that maybe I was not the problem in our relationship. 

“Maybe I made a mistake in letting him live,” he says. “I just… I didn’t want to turn out like my father. I wanted to be better.”

What have I done? I wish the ground would open up and swallow me. Despite every reason to be the monster everyone always made him out to be, he was a good male. And I turned out to be my father’s daughter. 

I slide my hand over his, intertwining our fingers. “You are the better male, Rhys.”

He squeezes my hand in return as his chin drops onto my shoulder. He has to be exhausted from warding and Lucien and keeping watch over the camp last night. The burden of carrying it alone must be astronomical. 

“I’m sorry for all of it, I truly didn’t know any of it,” I say.

“Can I ask you something?” 

Please no!

“Yes.”

We reach a creek that flows down from the mountain peak. In winter it might be little more than an ice bed, but for now, it is just warm enough for the water to still flow down into the grassy plains beyond. 

We stop to let the horses drink, Rhysand helping me off the horse to stretch my legs, his great wings flaring out behind him, as he asks, “Why did you stay, if you thought I had killed them?”

I debate on if the creek is deep enough to drown myself in for a moment. Probably wouldn’t get very far. Especially since he’s standing chest to chest with me.

“I-” I can’t tell him the truth now. If he were to find out what I had planned to do, he’d throw me out! I’d be on my own all over again. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go back to Tam, not after this. But now that I know the truth, I truly have nowhere to go. If he were to throw me out, I’d be on my own in the Wastes forever. No family. No shelter. No one. 

I don’t know who I’m supposed to be or what I’m supposed to do, but I can’t be alone again. I won’t survive out there!

The guilt may very well eat me alive, but he can’t ever know. “I wanted to see for myself what kind of male you are.”

He cups my cheek, “And what have you decided?”

There is one truth I can give him. “That there’s a lot more to you than I was told, and I’d like to know you better.”

He grins and my heart drops into my stomach. When he kisses me, I kiss him back, hands threading through his thick hair. I won’t ruin his life, he deserves to have something good and happy after all the pain my family has brought to him; I just have to lie to give it to him. I’m already in this deep, is there really any going back now?

---------

Tag List:

@judig92, @randomperson1234sblog, @nyxbranwenn, @lilah-asteria, @barb00235

-

@landofpetrichor, @hjgdhghoe, @buttermilktea11, @yourforeveryoungblog, @sassyn

-

@zoeisdreaming6, @minnieoo, @girl-math-aint-mathing, @raisam, @inloveallthetime

-

@blessthepizzaman, @bxtchopolis, @erencvlt

-

As always, if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! :)

[lawomi]

The Moment Law Starts to See you Differently.

One of @grandline-fics prompts.

LinkTree for Twitter, Ao3, ext.

Summary: The artist of the Heart Pirates is invited to discuss their journal detailing their adventures by their very own Captain.

CW: gn!pronouns, SFW, Fluff, Canon compliant

You are a Heart Pirate. You had joined the notorious crew lead by the Surgeon of Death long ago, sometime after the very start of Trafalgar Law’s journey. He was 18 when you had both met and now you were sailing away from Wanokuni, a place that left your captain ranked on par with the now Yonko: Monkey D. Luffy. It had been an incredible journey so far, one beyond the simple words in your journal.

You sit scribbling in your journal within the library of the Polar Tang. It was small, but it was built alongside one of the Tang’s large portholes, allowing you to admire the vast blue of the sea or the reefs the Tang would make use for cover. A knock came from the door, bringing you out of your concentration.

In came Trafalgar Law, a man dear to you whom you wrote about often… Quite often. You close your journal a bit too hastily, standing straight and saluting your captain. He acknowledges your presence with a nod, dismissing your salute and watches as you sit back down, shyly peeling your journal open again, continuing your scrawling.

Law stands before his collection of books, the ones he does not keep in his office – most often outdated ones or ones he’d already studied several times over – and pulled out a specific one, opening it to the glossary. You can’t help but stare at his back, as was common for you, instead of write. Noticing the sound of lead on paper ceasing, Law turns his head towards you.

“Is everything alright, Y/N-ya?”

Casually, you smile and close your journal again, “I-It’s nothing, Captain. How are your wounds?”

Law absentmindedly adjusts his posture, as though testing his body. “I’m doing rather well. I still need time, of course. So do you. I’m happy to see my crew resting now.” He smiled softly at you, causing your heart to leap into your throat.

“That’s wonderful to hear, Captain.”

You respected this man so deeply, you had romantic feelings for him for years, but you knew those emotions would only distract him from his dreams. Not to mention, he never expressed interest in you. At least, nothing you could pick up on. Despite his intimidating demeanor he was rather affectionate with not only Bepo, but his other crewmates, too. He wasn’t uncomfortable with their outbursts of love, although he kept to himself otherwise. He was the same with you. You’d pat him on the back or give him a high five. Sometimes, usually while drinking, you would wrap your arm around his waist in a friendly embrace.

When you had developed feelings for him, you had made it a habit to deliver his coffee when he needed it. Bepo would always deliver his tea to help him relax, but you would deliver the snacks alongside him as Bepo was prone to eating them himself. The bond the Heart Pirates had with their captain was deep and you were no different to him than they were.

Law’s black shoes clacked along the Tang’s metal floor as he approached you, leaving comfortable space between the two of you on the library’s couch. He continued skimming his book which appeared to be a book on islands. He was likely trying to find details on Winner island in advance to reaching it. You beam in his direction, admiring his focused, pouting profile, then return to your writing.

A few minutes pass and you jump at the fact Law had leaned over to watch you write. You flush furiously, closing the journal impulsively, and stare at him. He chuckled at your response.

“Sorry, curiosity got the better of me. You’ve had that journal a long time, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you what you’ve been working on all this time.”

“Well,” you try to maintain a clear voice, confident tone. “I’ve been documenting my journey. Of course, it’s all my perspective so it isn’t too exciting.”

“Now, now, I’ll be the judge of that,” Law smirked a sly smirk, playfully lifting a hand as though he’d snatch the journal from you. You hug it to your chest tightly, “No!”

His laughter filled your ears, your face burned due to both the sound and the embarrassment. “Why don’t you tell me what you wrote; show me whatever you want to show me. I wouldn’t mind listening.” Law had a playful but affectionate gleam in his eye, one that told you he meant what he said.

You clear your throat and flip through the pages, showing Law one of your first drawings in the journal. It was of the Polar Tang. Law’s keen eyes could see as you flipped that there were portraits as well—namely of him. For now, he kept quiet.

“That’s outstanding,” he remarked, wide eyed as he looked over the drawing. “I know you’ve already done plenty of art around the sub, but this is so detailed. You even labeled it. Incredible. It reminds me of the paintings you do sometimes, but only in pencil!”

Your blush deepens, you slightly lift the journal as though you would close it, shy he was staring so intently. “Th-thank you, Captain,” you manage a warm smile.

“Show me more?” He offered, returning your expression.

Thus you begin the longwinded explanation. From the start of your journey where he’d met you on your home island on the day of an art festival and was so impressed, he invited you aboard. He had hopes in your ability to sew and had you help design and embroider many of the custom outfits he and the others wore. You tell him how proud you are to be a Heart Pirate, eyes shining and arms animated as you explain.

Law can’t help but mimic your smiles and chime in now and again as you spoke. A trend slowly became apparent to him as you delve into the journey further and further. You remembered many things, particularly about him, thanks to writing it down. When you flipped the book to show him drawings, he noticed small doodles of primarily himself as you speedily sifted through pages. He couldn’t help but feel flattered, albeit a tad curious as to why you drew him so much.

The bigger drawings you showed him were of Penguin & Shachi, too. Bepo showed up especially often. Surprise washed over him as you show him a drawing of you hugging him in farewell along with the crew as he headed for Punk Hazard. He swallowed dryly. He didn’t want to show weakness nor regret. He protected his crew by leaving them behind. Still, this drawing had feeling in every brush stroke, in every detail, it made his heart heavy.

Then came the details of your and the crew’s journey without him. He laughed at your antics together and was thankful to hear you had all worked together flawlessly to reach Zou. You told him how much you loved Zou, his eyes widening slightly at the shine in your eyes. The love seeping from you to have come to know the minks, but the absolute joy and tears that flowed out of you as you explained his return took him aback. He gazed at you, brows furrowing and frowning slightly in concentration as your eyes were averted as you spoke. Something about you had always been special to him, but now…

As your explanation came to a close, your journal reaching Wano which was still being filled out, you lean against him in an affectionate nuzzle. “Thank you for listening, Captain.” You were surprised to be met by Law’s tight shoulder, his body having tensed when you touched it. “Oh no,” you remark, gently petting where you’d leaned in. “Did I hurt something?”

Law was hiding under his hat, trying to disguise a blush that had bloomed from ear to ear. “You’re fine,” he said, clearing his throat. Once he recovered, he looked up at you again with intense, loving eyes. “I appreciate you. You are an important part of my crew. I’m happy to have let you join us, so – um – thank you.”

Red now yourself you giggle and nod, standing from where you sat. “I’m going to help the others for lunch. Thank you again, Captain.”

Law nodded, back to his usual stoic expression, watching you intently as you walked away. There was something about you he hadn’t realized affected him so deeply. He found himself recalling how much be loved working on uniforms with you, how much he missed you in particular throughout his journey. Something had clicked during this story you told, something he felt he may need to discuss, one day…

[lipstickghoulie]

Crimson Plots

•Astarion/female Tav (lots and lots of menstrual and blood talk, period oral, period sex, dirty talk, Astarion being manipulative since this is set around act one, PIV, creampie. Over 5k words. Could be seen as a sequel to my “Loss of Innocence” drabble or not. Version with breeding kink is available on my ao3)•

The first time that Astarion had sniffed out that Tav was on her menstrual cycle was the same night that they made camp after their rather tumultuous initial impression. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, beyond being moody since it was clear that she was on the tail end of it since the smell was so faint as to be nearly imperceptible even to Astarion’s nose. He knew that, even as charming as he could be under the right circumstances, there was no possible way that he could see himself talking his silver tongued self into her pants before the time had passed for him to try such a rare treat… especially since he had been holding a dagger against her neck earlier that day. His luck, or lack thereof at the time, had made him even more broody even though it was doubtful that he would have gone against Cazador’s edicts that early on.

Cazador’s rules about not drinking from thinking creatures, unfortunately, had extended to women on their periods. The few spawn that had been willing to test how serious that their master had been about that warning were found out very quickly and been made into violent, stomach-turning examples that still made Astarion shudder to think about to this day. How exactly the bastard had known that those unlucky spawn had indulged on the fine red between someone’s legs was anyone’s guess and not something that Astarion had felt wasn’t worth his time to poke the boundaries of personally when he was already frequently on Cazador’s shit list in those days anyhow. Why add more tortures and indignities on the pile?

But a few weeks later, Astarion was still a free man and away from Cazador’s rules and compulsions. He had already fed on Tav’s lovely neck and nothing had happened. He had finagled himself into her bed and hopefully her loyalties. Things were definitely looking up for him… and he began realizing that this chance might come up again with him having full opportunity to lap at a different source of her blood. Why not break this rule too? He liked eating pussy, especially Tav’s sweet pussy, so he couldn’t stop thinking about how much more delicious it might be while juicy with her sanguine fluids.

Some might uncharitably call what Astarion started doing as scheming. The fact that in the days leading up to when he guessed that her period might be starting, he became a lot more amenable to Tav’s do-gooding inclinations. That he had a placidly encouraging smile on his face instead of his typical scowl when she glanced at him after helping some pathetic and downtrodden soul for free, that he would give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder (even if half-hearted) instead of crossing his arms over his chest at the thought of Tav assisting these people who didn’t deserve her generosity. She didn’t seem to catch on that he might be up to something and merely seemed grateful to not deal with any pushback on her decision making. Some people would definitely call what he was attempting as plotting when he started squirreling away the choicest food supplies when they would be looting all of those thousands of tedious barrels and wooden trunks during their adventures. A cinnamon roll here, a shiny apple there… all tucked away into Astarion’s pack for him to kindly present to her later with a tender smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When she responded with a huge hug and watery, appreciative smile that seemed a bit too emotional for the gift of simple snacks, Astarion could barely hide his grin. She seemed hormonal, even her scent changing into something headier and muskier, and hopefully that meant that his desired goal wasn’t too far off.

And when the next day came around and he could catch a whiff of blood coming from Tav’s tent after they started making camp for the night? The smile on his face was definitely predatory and sharp. Astarion ducked into his own tent just to grab a fluffy towel, that he had nicked for this express purpose the last time that they had traded with a merchant, before sauntering over to her own canvas enclosure.

He almost felt bad when he lifted up her tent flap without greeting her first and walked right into Tav getting changed, her nudity on full display. Every soft curve of her physique, every enticing muscle, all calling to him as she yelped Astarion’s name in shock at the intrusion.

“Sorry, my love,” Astarion said immediately, though his inflection spelled out that he was anything but sorry and was, in fact, enjoying the view. The iron rich, cloying scent of blood was even stronger in here and it was enough for his mouth to feel parched in sheer, reeling want. Hells, if that’s what her moon’s blood smelt like, it must taste even better than he had been imagining. “I caught the scent of blood and I thought that I should come check on you, make sure that you aren’t injured?”

Tav winced, both in embarrassment and in pain, touching a spot on her lower stomach as she seemed to prioritize that over trying to be modest over her bare frame. She paused before stuttering out quietly, “Ah, uh, no. I’m not hurt. I mean, not really. It’s my… period? And while I have cramps, I’m not, like, dying or anything…”

She stopped talking and chewed on her bottom lip, face pinking in humiliation. Tav was so adorable in his eyes right now. So bashful over normal bodily functions and clearly having no idea that this was practically catnip to a vampire.

Astarion stalked forward, giving her his most sympathetic pout and sheepdogging her over to where her simple and plain bedroll lay sprawled out. He murmured, “Oh, pet, that is so unfortunate. I really hate to see you in pain like this. If you’d permit me to, I could help you out, chase those mean old cramps right away? I have heard that pleasure can make them subside for a while.”

The towel was already being unfurled in his hands and laid out over her bedroll to protect it from any messes that may occur. Astarion was nothing if not benevolent about spilled blood. Tav blinked at him a few times in confusion but didn’t protest as he took her shoulders in his hold and delicately guided her down to sit on the protective layer of cotton.

“You mean… like sex? I thought that men didn’t like doing that when women were in this state,” Tav squeaked out, puzzled and blushing even harder at his offer. “I would hate it if you were disgusted by me after this, Astarion.”

Obviously he meant to do a lot more than sex but as always, Tav’s naivety was so twee.

Astarion crooned, nearly sugary in tone, “I could never be disgusted by you, dear Tav. I want to do this and I’d love to help you out. Consider it a favor between lovers. But only if you want to, of course.”

That last part was one that he actually could say that he meant. Astarion might have been a tad grumpy if she said no but he’d accept it with no ill will. But how he hoped that she’d say yes and he knelt in front of her in anticipation, unable to stop his heated gaze from flicking over the apex where legs met and where all of her tempting sanguine offerings pooled where he couldn’t quite see yet.

There was a beat of silence, then two, then Tav nodded and laid back a little. Her movements seemed unsure but it was more out of self consciousness than reluctance to let him do this, which was good enough for him. Astarion hastily pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it into the corner of her tent to recover later. It wouldn’t do to stain it when they both knew already that he was already a messy eater when it came to only her neck. With a beaming and victorious grin, he tapped her knees apart so he could survey his prize.

She was even more jawdroppingly stunning than he thought she’d be, with her center tearing up with the most impressive red drops, like rubies calling to him and glimmering under the light. Some of her blood hued darker in some areas, almost black, and he couldn’t wait to test out if the difference in color meant a difference in flavor. Astarion scooted closer until he was close enough for his breath to ghost over her responsive folds and cool the liquid there, making Tav shiver.

His tongue chased the thick river of blood up her upper thigh, clearing a path up her skin that revealed a cute little vein in her flesh. Astarion immediately nipped at with his sharp teeth, unable to resist marking somewhere that he knew he would return to later, like a reminder to himself. Tav’s moan broke off in an admonishing shriek of surprise, though it quieted when Astarion soothed the bite with another long, lingering lick and batted his eyelashes at her contritely from his spot between her legs.

Gods, he knew that he should be careful. With the metallic and deliciously bright pop of her monthly blood coating his tastebuds, it was getting harder and harder to pretend that he was doing this solely for Tav’s benefit and simply doing her a favor that she would have to repay to him at a later time. All she’d have to do is look below the waist and she would catch on to how Astarion’s straining erection pushed at the front of his breeches and begged for relief, precum dotting the dark fabric in a way that he couldn’t ever remember happening before. Normally his arousal was not dripping down the length of his dick as if it was crying with want at the mere thought of being buried in a tight, needy hole.

“Is this helping at all, pet?” Astarion asked in a carefully put-together tone of concern. He was just trying so hard to help her out, after all. “Or do you need a bit… more?”

And without waiting for an answer, just to give Tav a small taste of what he was offering while he received a taste of his own in return, Astarion made confident eye contact with her as he slowly dragged the tip of his tongue up the frills of her clit.

The way that Tav moaned out his name was more beautiful than any song he’s ever heard, more of a masterwork than the best blade forged by the most skilled of blacksmiths. The breathless and shocked undertone was something extra that made his dick twitch against the fabric prison of his pants. Thankfully he had been too eager when plotting out this excursion and had foregone his usual underwear so that was one less barrier. Resigned now that he needed to free himself, Astarion hastily reached down and unlaced the front, finally letting his cock spring free with a sigh of relief. It leaked a few stray drops of clear precum onto the towel underneath them but with how Tav was already starting to paint it crimson as she dripped under his steady attention, he wasn’t too worried about her noticing.

Astarion sweetly pressed a kiss against her clit. Tav tried to jerk away instinctively, her knee almost knocking Astarion in the cheek as her leg reared out. His hands shot back up to grasp her by the upper thighs and firmly hold her open for both his eyes and mouth to devour at his leisure. He didn’t think he had ever seen a more delicious sight as Tav trembling, eyes wide and pupils dilated, as he spread her apart to admire the way her arousal and blood mixed together and drenched her lower lips and down the curves of her ass.

“What’s the matter? Doesn’t it feel good? Aren’t I helping your pretty pussy feel so loved?” Astarion asked innocently, his thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of her thighs as he stared up at her from his kneeling position. “It would be rude to stop me now before I’ve even gotten enough of a taste to satiate me, you know…”

“P-please continue, I just got startled-“ Poor Tav stammered out, cheeks turning an adorable shade of bright pink that made Astarion want to make her even more flustered, just to see how far down that blush might travel.

Astarion was already leaning forward to deliver another mockery of a chaste kiss to her swollen clit. Though he couldn’t resist flicking his tongue out before he pulled back this time to trace the pearl slowly, making sure that some of his saliva drooled out past his smiling fangs to coat it until it was glistening. Oh, it really felt right to him for her to be coated or filled with Astarion’s spit and cum. As much as he was using her for his own purposes, he really did love marking Tav up as his in any form that he could. A traitorous part of his mind slithered and snickered and pointed out how awfully obsessive he was over a woman that he was just using, but Astarion ignored that voice in the back of his head as well as he ever did… if a bit uneasily.

Enough playing with his food. Tav was turned on enough that she was pliable, distracted and surely wouldn’t notice how much fun that Astarion was having. He would prime the pump, so to speak, and then have the sweetest meal that he could ever look forward to. One of his hands fell off of their holding position on her leg to slip between her folds, two fingers sliding right into her slippery, inviting core. Even with how sensitive that Tav probably was right now, he met no resistance so after a few unhurried pumps into her, he added another finger.

Tav’s cunt struggled to take the width of three fingers but much like she did with his cock usually, the greedy slit still stretched and sucked his fingers in wetly. Astarion never forgot in moments like this that he was the only one to ever touch her like this, the only one to ever defile her holes and fuck her, and pride swelled inside of him at the thought. He would make damn sure that he remained the only one to ever possess her so completely too, if he was able to continue using his cunning to stay in her good graces like this even after the illithid threat was taken care of.

Her hands reached out desperately, trying to grab onto Astarion’s forearms so wildly that she nicked him with her nails, her voice shaking and high pitched as he worked at her with his wicked fingers, “A-Astarion, that feels so nice, please…”

“Aw, I know, I know, you poor thing,” Astarion tutted in false sympathy, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head; I’ll take such good care of you and make those pesky cramps go away.”

Tav’s crimson liquid was drenching Astarion’s hands, a mixture of it and her juices running down the planes of his palm and wrist by now. The metallic and animalistic scent of sex and blood was so heavy in the air that Astarion could feel his mouth watering. He knew he’d have blood packed deep under his fingernails after this for days and normally, the thought of anything messing up his perfectly manicured nails would have infuriated him but now? The idea of seeing the reminder of this delightful excursion even while putting a dagger into an enemy’s spine during battle was very appealing indeed.

On the next come-hither movement into her pussy, Astarion’s fingertips glanced upon that spongy section that made her twitch and keen out his name again. He couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips as he immediately pressed forward harder, increasing his speed between words as he crowed out triumphantly, “Right there, darling? Show me just how great it feels when I touch… you… right… there… my good girl.”

Astarion had made thousands upon thousands of people come before; he had it down to a precise science what he could do to make someone, anyone, lose their composure in minutes. But it never had felt like this before as Tav’s walls squeezed around his fingers and she found her climax. He usually never felt anything at all but with her, he felt smug, excited, hungry… he tried his best to chalk it up to being starving and surrounded by blood even as that small voice deep in his brain laughed at him.

Tav didn’t even have a moment to catch her breath before Astarion was spreading her open again and descending on her. He had delayed his gratification as much as he was willing to now, he wasn’t a patient man and he had been practically saintly in the restraint that he had shown tonight (at least in Astarion’s opinion). He took a few testing licks of the leaking trails of Tav’s cum and life force mixed and gods above and below, it was a good thing that he wasn’t standing otherwise his knees would have buckled and he would have crumpled like someone being released from a ‘hold person’ spell.

Her blood was always the best that he had ever supped and that went beyond simple-minded sentimentality at how she had been the first thinking and humanoid creature that he had fed from. It made him feel more awake, almost alive, in addition to tasting like the most bubbly and effervescent (if metallic) wine he had ever enjoyed. It tasted even better right now though and while Astarion couldn’t tell if it was because it was coming from her pussy or because of her orgasm, all that he knew was that he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he breathed, then caught a clot of blood on the flat of his tongue, closing his eyes in bliss for a moment as he swallowed thickly. It slid down his throat like some sort of exotic jellied syrup and he knew in that moment that the time for teasing was over. Any former illusion that he had of restraint was gone and as dead as he was.

Astarion’s mouth dove to seal over her as he moved now to bully as much of his tongue into her as possible. Her voice seemed far away now, partially because of her thighs trying to push themselves closed around his ears, though that just added to the pleasure for him as her soft skin rubbed against the erogenous points of his ears. Thankfully she seemed to still be very much into this if the garbled cries of “yes” and “Astarion” were any indication. Though the way that her hole clenched and kindly produced more liquid of both arousal and the crimson variety was definitely another sign that Tav did not want him to stop. Not that Astarion was sure that he could, not when he felt drunk on her, addicted past all logical reasoning and rationality, his tongue pistoning into her like something more machine than vampire, his grip desperately trying to pull her closer as her blood ran down his chin and neck like juices being let loose from a freshly bitten peach.

After these dreadful business with the Absolutist cult and everything else was done and dusted, Astarion decided (rather deliriously), that he would have Tav tied up and spread open for his feasting pleasures during her monthly menstruations every month for the rest of their lives. Just a perfect treat, helpless to the ravages of his mouth as he drank his fill of her until his stomach was full and she was limp and mindless from countless orgasms. She was rather squirmy right now so he thought she might even thank him next time if he restrained her and licked at her while he placed her on his face to sit on it. Why not take advantage of how Astarion didn’t need to breathe? Yes, this seemed like a fine plan to him, even if he was normally adverse to planning things out at all.

This was a fantastic position too though, with Tav on her back and Astarion looming over her, even if her hands had become too weak to grab at him further and just clutched at the towel still doing its best to absorb any falling bodily fluids underneath her sweaty frame. Astarion already knew that he would spirit that towel away later under the guise of being helpful and trying to help launder it. Really, it would end up disappearing into his tent for him to hold up against his nose and inhale during the times that he would jerk himself off to this memory, to let the lingering traces of Tav’s fluids guide his mind back to this place mentally when he was alone.

Astarion nudged his nose into the swollen ridge of Tav’s clit on the next thrust of his tongue into her and unexpectedly, that was enough to make her cum again. She whimpered this time instead of wailing as his mouth was rewarded with a gush of sticky, aroused blood. Astarion had enough volume for both of them though as he groaned so loudly into her cunt that he was sure that his tongue vibrated where it was happily trapped within her spasming, gummy walls. His precum was dribbling off of his erection in persistent streams now, even wetting his heavy and wanting balls, and he truly knew that if he didn’t bury his dick deeply and thoroughly into her soon, he would go mad beyond help. She had bewitched him with the tang of her gifted blood and now his brain swirled with nothing but thoughts of Tav, of owning and taking and ravishing her in every position possible (and some that probably weren’t, anatomy-wise).

Almost regretfully, Astarion backed up slightly and let his tongue free from her wonderful cunt, taking one last lap of enjoyment at a cheeky river of blood that had escaped his notice. Tav was starting to sit up, giving him a dopey and grateful smile as she said, “Oh, Astarion, I already feel so much better, my cramps feel like they’re nearly gone, thank you!”

“We’re not done yet,” Astarion growled darkly, pushing Tav back down with an impatient hand shoving between her perky breasts until she flopped onto the bedroll bonelessly. Any pretense of amused condescension and helpfulness was gone as if it had never been there at all, he no longer cared if she thought he was doing her a kindly favor now. He did briefly soothe her shock by running the same fingers that had returned Tav to her laying down position over her stiffened nipples, pulling on them until they ached and her spine arched. She had the cutest tits, Astarion mused to himself almost fondly. He would enjoy spraying his cum over them one day, covering those sensitive nipples with white pearls, if he could ever convince himself to blow his load somewhere other than her welcoming holes.

He couldn’t wait any longer to fuck her though. Astarion yanked off his pants the rest of the way, uncaring as he heard stitches come undone in complaint at the brusque way that he got disrobed. He could always repair any rips later, he reasoned, but he didn’t want to waste any more precious seconds instead of being balls-deep in Tav’s eager and weeping slit. Grabbing the damp base of his dick, Astarion lined himself up with her hole and stuffed himself inside in one brutal motion. Tav cried out, mouth slack and cheeks still so adorably flushed, but didn’t protest at his rough treatment even though she had to be overstimulated by now. Fuck, her pussy was even hotter than normal with it being heated further by both her production of menstrual blood and his amorous attentions and Astarion had to shut his eyes for a moment and just exhale for fear that he’d go over the edge in one embarrassingly short thrust.

“You are so perfect, every time,” Astarion said lowly, giving an experimental push of his cock and smirking when he was reassured that he wouldn’t cum right away. “I could spend the rest of my unlife attempting to stretch out this little cunt and never tire of it.”

“Astarion, you can’t keep talking to me like that, it’s too much,” Tav complained, voice simultaneously pleading with him to stop and to keep going. Poor darling didn’t know what she wanted, Astarion thought to himself, entertained. It’s a good thing that he knew exactly what her body needed.

“Oh, it’s too much? It’s too much for me to tell you how I love how needy and desperate that you are for me and only me? How I love how gorgeous that your pussy looks when it’s trying to fit around my cock?” Astarion purred out, smirking, manhandling her a bit to tilt her hips up just a touch and go back to his former position of holding them open as securely as if his hands were iron manacles. His bruising grasp left stains of her own blood behind on one of her thighs as a pointed reminder of how he had fingered her open and bathed his hand in the generous bounty that the very center of her had offered him.

Tav only cried out shrilly in response and when he felt her flutter all around him, Astarion lost interest in bantering at her much more anyways. Pussy this fantastic, this divine, was surely how Strahd met his downfall, Astarion thought to himself, crazed as he watched blood bubble and well up in the crevice between them as he fucked her. The notion didn’t deter him even a little though as he picked up speed, his hips a blur as he pounded his dick into Tav again and again. He knew she would be feeling this for days to come, struggling to sit down and even walk on their trek to the crèche, and that made a strangled, lustful whine erupt from his throat. He was humiliating himself now with how he was practically drooling as he took her, his hair messy from her thighs ruffling up his typically styled curls, at how shaky his pants of exhaled breath were. To distract her from how much she was driving him to ruin, Astarion looped her legs loosely over the juts of his hips and dragged his hands up her arms until they intertwined with hers.

This wasn’t something he usually did either; holding hands during sex. It felt oddly right, here with Tav, though. Their noses bumping against each other as he lay almost prone on top of her, driving his cock into her with mindless abandon as their eyes locked desperately, as if they could connect with more than just the tadpoles in their skulls, fingers entangled with hers even as one of his was still wet with her blood and desire. Astarion leaned forward and gave her a hesitant kiss for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, unsure if she would be turned off by the remnants of the drying bodily liquids there either but no. She met his kiss as openly and without reservation as when she would ask him for a kiss anywhere else and it made something pinch in his chest where his heart lived.

A few more frenzied thrusts and Tav was grabbing his fingers just as tightly as her pussy clutched at his cock, her eyes wide and surprised as she came yet again. This was the time that pulled him along with her, unable to resist any longer and unwilling to stave off his own pleasure for even a minute further. He could feel his length pulsing seemingly for ages as his hips slowed, spilling what felt like an ocean of semen into her until it spurted out around the sides of his dick. As he delicately started to pull out, it wet her pussy lips so well that Astarion longed to lap at them again and gather up their combined essences in his mouth and experience how they tasted together. He could tell by how disheveled and cock drunk that Tav looked that she was too overstimulated for that right now so he just resolved to try it next time, chuckling at the idea. Instead, he gathered up some of the escaping white strings of his cum, swirled beautifully in some spots by the ruby color of her blood, and pushed it steadily back into her puffy, slick hole where it belonged. She mewled at the sensation on her sore walls but let him do it, too exhausted and fucked out to do much than give Astarion an exasperated look.

He settled back in over her and tucked the top of her head under his chin, rolling them both slightly so then they could both lay on their side comfortably. Astarion couldn’t help but be amazed at how happy he felt in this moment. His vampiric hunger wasn’t completely gone (as it probably never would be as long as he remained a spawn) but it was placated enough to just be a tiny rumble instead of the ravenous, quavering earthquake that it usually was. Even as messy, blood-sticky and cum-tacky as they both were, Astarion felt content and peaceful.

Tav’s voice was small and drowsy as she murmured against his neck, “Thank you for all of that, Astarion. It feels like my cramps are gone completely, you were so right.”

Oh. Yes. He had nearly forgotten that had been his ruse for doing this in the first place.

“Well, I usually am right about most things, darling,” Astarion sniffed haughtily, pulling her in closer against his side as he basked in her warmth and grateful adoration. “Maybe we should make this a frequent occurrence whenever your period comes to visit. I do hate to see you suffer so…”

Tav muttered her agreement and nuzzled further into him peacefully. Astarion smiled and allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the snuggling. He had earned it, being so selfless and helping her out so thoroughly… Astarion couldn’t get through the thought without chuckling. Still, he had manipulated his way into what he wanted yet again, he had Tav at his side and devoted and what more could he want than that?

[notafunkiller]

What if I am too much?

Summary: When Sam's girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, teasing, language, pet names, spanking, daddy kink, metal arm kink, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I want to thank @marvelouslizzie for her help!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“Oh, you’re alone?”

You turn your head in the direction of the voice and smile politely. You don’t recognize this woman, but she looks at you like she does.

“Uh, yes. Hello!”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

You instantly blush, ashamed, and search for Bucky’s face in the crowd. Nowhere to be found. Damn it!

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says before coming next to you. “I’m Misty.” Brunette, tall and beautiful.

“Where did we meet?”

“Sam’s birthday, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were too busy clinging to Bucky’s side all night.” She sounds serious, and you freeze, having no idea where this came from. She simply laughs, grabbing your arm with some kind of bionic cold hand for a second before letting it go.

It’s not like Bucky’s. It’s more... robotic.

“Clinging?” You ask confused.

“Yeah, you know, always sitting with him, holding his arm, following him around.”

You puff, already annoyed by this random woman. “Following him around? I’m not a dog!”

“Didn’t say you are a dog, honey. Just pointing out the obvious.”

You try to hold your tongue, pushing aside the impulse to start a fight. This is a night about Bucky. Not you or your discomfort. And she is his ex-co-worker-friend’s girlfriend. Your anger can wait.

“Alright, but how does my clinging affect you, though?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally! I just meant to be friendly. It’s a girl’s advice. Live a little, being insecure is not gonna save your relationship.”

A piece of advice no one asked for. A take you never even considered. You’re not insecure and you’re definitely not keeping Bucky to your side all the time. You don’t… He is free to do whatever the hell he wants.

“Thank you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be so defensive, honey! Gonna get a cocktail, want some?”

You shake your head, feeling a hole in your stomach after she leaves you alone, and you basically run to the bathroom, trying to calm down. What if she is right, though? What if Sam heard or saw something? Maybe Bucky is extra grumpy or unhappy. Maybe he even complained…

You never thought sitting with Bucky is a sign of clinginess. You thought it’d help... he is not the most comfortable person at events. He gets stared at a lot, he hates small talk, and you really like being close to him. Gosh, you are clingy!

The rest of the night passes like a blur. When you come back, Bucky’s waiting for you, and despite your instinct to wrap your arm around his back and let him hold you, you keep a little distance, giving Sam and his nosy girlfriend a fake smile, while Bucky keeps staring at you strangely.

You even manage to avoid touching him all week somehow, except for a few kisses now and then. Your period came, and as he tried to hold you, you had to fight tears while telling him not to. You’re sick and tired and you miss him, but you want to give him some space. You’ve been suffocating him for so long... You make sure to cry only when he’s out because he might hear you even in the shower. He has super hearing after all.

You thought it would become easier every day, but quite the opposite. Every time you’re close to giving up, you remember Sam’s comment that he made a week after you met him about how Bucky always likes his space and what Misty told you, so you fight against your wish.

Until Sunday afternoon.

You’re in bed, scrolling down on Instagram as Bucky comes out of the shower. You try not to stare at him, but how can you not? He looks absolutely incredible.

What you don’t expect is him trying to get on top of you to tickle you with a huge smile on his face. He’s so adorable.

“B-Bucky, stop!” You laugh as his hands get under your T-shirt. He loves making you laugh no matter how he does it. “N-no.”

“Oh, I will,” he says playfully.

But what he failed to tell you is that stopping means sneaking his head under your T-shirt, which starts to rip a little because of the stretch, and resting it on your boobs.

“Bucky!”

He puffs, annoyed. “Why the fuck are you wearing a bra in the house, bubba?”

“Cause it’s a bra?” You ask back sarcastically, but you know this is weird. You always complain about needing to wear it outside. But inside? It’s even worse.

“Unacceptable.” He quickly rips your bra in half, not bothering to unhook it, and you feel his beard on your breast all of a sudden, making you shiver. Fuck, you really miss this.

“B-Bucky, come on, your hair is a little wet!”

“Bubba, please...”

“Bucky! Why did you do that?” He immediately takes his head out of your T-shirt, and you almost cry. He looks do lost and scared.

“Baby, do you not want me anymore?”

“What the fuck?” You groan. This is the last thing you wanted him to think. All you tried to do was to make him happy and feel less pressured.

“You don’t let me touch you. You don’t want to cuddle with me. You don’t wake me up with kisses. You don’t get on top of me You don’t hug me! What did I do?”

Your heart aches for both of you. “Wasn’t that better?”

“Better for who?” He cries. “This was the worst week of my life since Hydra.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be true, Bucky.” You sigh, getting closer to him. “I thought you like space...”

“I do, but not with my fucking baby!”

You melt at his words, truth be told. He said it so passionately, but you’re so confused.

“I thought I was being too clingy, touching you too much, you know?”

“What? Where did this come from?”

You close your eyes. How are you supposed to answer this without sounding like a petty bitch?

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” You feel his hands grabbing your face so you can look at him. “It means I did something wrong.”

You frown, upset that he thinks that. He’s been nothing but kind, understanding, and loving to you, and you hate how he feels like he failed you or something.

“Sam’s girlfriend told me I am clingy... always with you, never leaving you alone to breathe basically. And it reminded me of Sam saying how much you love your space, and I just...” You try not to cry, you really do, but you cannot hold back the tears this time, which Bucky immediately reaches to wipe with his flesh fingers.

“Jesus, baby! I don’t give a goddamn shit about what they say, you aren’t allowed to listen to anyone! Just let me touch you.”

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky lifts you a bit so you can sit on his lap. You can hear his heartbeat, and you find that so peaceful.

“I thought you’re gonna break up with me, honey.” He whispers in your ear. “I was terrified when you didn’t let me cuddle with you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” You don’t know what else to say. You hurt both of you for days just because you let some woman get inside your head, but you had good intentions. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I should be the one saying that, not you, bubba.” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder. “God, I missed you so much, it feels surreal to touch you.”

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Promise to never do this shit ever again!”

“I’ll try,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize you want me to touch you so much.”

Bucky lifts your head. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

“Punish me?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, for believing some stranger over your man. For pulling away and giving me a heart attack. And for depriving yourself of my cuddling skills.”

You giggle. “What if I let you suck my nipples for a whole week anytime you wanted?”

“I already do that!” Bucky lifts your T-shirt as he speaks, and you gasp.

“You do not!”

“Yes, I do. Remember when I came home from the last mission and I made you come by-” He lowers his head and licks your right breast, avoiding your nipple.

“Fuck you, tease!”

“I am the tease?!” He snorts, continuing to lick.

“You’re always the tease. Now kiss me and gimmie your cock.”

“I won’t give you anything until I punish you.”

“Jamie!” You scream when he turns you around, ripping off your shorts in half, along with your underwear before placing you on his thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck to you for keeping yourself away from me.” You feel him caressing your ass for a few seconds before slapping your right cheek with his flesh hand. You squirm, gripping into his hip.

“F-fuck!”

“Count.”

You groan. “Jamie...” He spanks you again but harder, and this time you moan. “T-two.”

“Nope, we start over.”

“O-one.”

“Good girl!”

The third and fourth aren’t as hard as you want and you find yourself wiggling your ass in the air.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” He snorts, amused, and before he can bring his flesh hand in the air, you grab his metal arm.

“Please, daddy, use this one!”

Daddy? It didn’t take too long for you to get back in the mood.

“Can’t use it, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!” You cry. “I need it, pleaseee. I’ll ride your face as many times as you w-want.”

Bucky still doesn’t agree. “Baby, it would hurt.”

“Let it hurt!”

You want it to hurt because this pain is not unbearable, quite the opposite. It pushes you over the edge faster.

He sighs and listens to you, bringing his metal hand to your ass, but you barely even feel it when he slaps. You groan, upset.

“I said slap! Do you want me to hover?”

“I can fucking hurt you.”

“I told you to hurt me!” You beg. “Please, honey! Please, please, please.”

He does it again, not hard enough for you, but you count anyway. Again and again.

“Jesus, you’re making my thighs so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

Bucky’s moan comes somehow from the back of his throat, and the last spanks are perfect. He gently caresses your ass, cooling it off with his metal hand, and you smile. “You’re so dirty sometimes, but also such a good girl taking your punishment perfectly.”

“I am sorry,” you whisper.

“For what exactly?”

You pout, grabbing his face. “For all of it. But you’re you, Bucky. You’re the greatest guy in the world, I just didn’t want to be annoying.”

“You were annoying when you didn’t let me even hug you.”

You know that, but sometimes you can’t help but do dumb things, thinking about him. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t happy, obviously. And neither were you, bubba. Promise me you’ll talk to me first next time.”

“I was just stupid…”

“No.” You feel his thumb all over your lips. “You were worried. I love you and I really need your touch, okay?”

“I noticed,” you laugh.

“Good, now feed me my boobs, and then I wanna see you riding my face as you negotiated.”

You fake sigh and grab your boob. “Open up.”

*

You’re not sure how to react when Bucky drags you straight to Sam and his girlfriend as soon as you get inside the museum.

“Hey, Buck-”

“Who do you think you are?”

Misty gasps while Sam and you freeze.

“Wow, wow, wow, man. Hold on a sec, what is going on?”

“What is going on, Samuel?” Bucky asks rhetorically through his teeth. “Ask your little girlfriend where she got her audacity from to tell my girl she is clingy. That she basically spends too much time with me. Who the fuck gave her the permission to even speak to her? So she either apologizes and keeps her mouth shut, or we’ll have a big problem.” Bucky turns his head to look at Misty. “From one metal arm to another. Wanna try me?”

“You did what? What the hell?”

Misty frowns, staring at you. “You went to complain to him for giving you a friendly, harmless advice?”

Bucky instantly grabs her metal arm wrist before you can answer.

“You got three seconds to beg for her forgiveness before I snap your hand in half. And I am not bluffing.”

Sam doesn’t even try to get between them, simply watching, and Misty immediately gets teary.

“I’m... sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing her wrist. Holy shit! You haven’t seen him like this in ages. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry. I should have minded my own business!”

“Yes, you should’ve,” you say without regret. “But I forgive you.”

Bucky lets go with a grunt before nodding to Sam and bringing his hand to your hips, leading you toward the exit.

As soon as you are outside, you don’t even care if someone can hear you as you speak. “Fuck, I wanna suck your cock so badly!”

Bucky laughs. “I see. In the car… is that okay for you?”

You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Perfect.”

[just-a-casual-newtasaur]

The Homestead

The Homestead (Newt x Reader)

Word Count: 369 words

Warnings: cuddling, kissing, very cringy and sappy writing from me.

Summary: when you have to sleep in the homestead to be safe from the grievers, you find yourself close to a particular blond boy

(Warning: this is very sappy, viewer discretion is advised)

you lie on the floor of the homestead. the boys small snores and the grievers clicking outside, are the only sounds you hear.

turning over, you see the boy you had talked to only hours before, as you planned to sleep next to each other.

you shiver a little as a draft drifts through the boards of the homestead. drawing one of Newt’s jumpers, that he had insisted on lending you, more tightly around you, you see the blond boys eyes flit open.

you look into those dark eyes, as he reaches out a hand. taking it, you put it up by your cheek, not taking your eyes off his.

he inches closer and you let him until your foreheads are touching. stroking your hand with his thumb, he puts his other hand in your hair.

he twirls it in his fingers gently, moving into you and brushing your nose with his lips. you smile and he returns it.

this time you move in and as you press your lips lightly against his, you feel his mouth turn up into a smile.

you feel your chest flutter as he pulls back and looks at you with warmth in his dark eyes.

you pull him closer and wrap your arms around him. he puts his head next to your ear and breathes, “we’ll be out of here before you know it love”

“I wouldn’t mind staying here for a little longer.” you smile at him and see a wide grin spreading across his face, even in the dark.

you move closer together so you’re pressed up against each other.

and then you’re kissing again, more passionately than you can remember. you hold his arm that wraps around you.

he whispers to you, soft strings all slurring into a warm hum in your head.

you hear an annoyed voice, “can you two lovebirds keep it down, some of us,” Minho stresses the word ‘some’, “are trying to sleep.”

“Sorry” Newt say, but he doesn’t sound at all sorry.

Minho grumbles something about there being a time and a place as he turns over.

you press your forehead against the boys and he closes his eyes, sighing quietly.

“Good night y/n”

“Goodnight”

[e-vay]

Savor Every Second - A Sonamy “First Time” One-Shot

[A/N: Yes, the title means what you think it means! Rated T. This fic is also available on AO3 if you prefer to read it there.]

[Additional note: I listened to "Sleep Well” - d4vd while writing this]

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

“Chaos Emeralds coming your way,” Super Sonic stated into the communicator on his wrist. He used two fingers to salute to his friends flying nearby in the biplane. He balled his hands into fists and braced his arms across his chest before throwing them outwards, expelling the seven Chaos Emeralds from him and into the dusk.

“I’ve tracked their trajectories!” Tails shouted excitedly. The plane made a tactical turn and headed in a pointed direction. “Great work, Sonic! Knuckles and I will work on collecting them. You take it easy and we’ll regroup tomorrow to go over…”

Sonic yanked his communicator off him and tossed it to the ground below, not able to focus on the fox’s instructions. As he slowly drifted to the ground, his fur fading from a vibrant glowing gold to its regular cobalt shade, his attention was entirely on the pink hedgehog in the distance running towards him. Her grin stretched from both corners of her muzzle and tears were welling up in her eyes.

Amy waved one arm in the air to signal the hedgehog slowly descending from the setting sky. She laughed incredulously and blinked away her tears. She knew better than to doubt her team (and especially the hero she had been calling “boyfriend” for the last several months), but this adventure was an especially close call. There was sure to be a huge celebration with the gang after they met back up for debriefing, but at the moment all she wanted was to wrap Sonic in her arms and revel in the fact they managed to survive this most recent campaign.

As the distance closed between the two, Amy couldn’t help but notice Sonic’s eyes darken once they locked with hers. That intense gaze made her weak in the knees and she had to slow her gate to keep herself from tripping. The second his feet touched the ground, he sprinted to her at full speed and swept her up in his arms, pressing his lips into hers. She kissed him back with equal passion, thrilled to be in his embrace. Their lips communicated without the use of words: I love you. Thank Chaos you’re alive. Thank Chaos you’re mine.

Sonic never made his concern apparent whenever they were waging war with whatever latest enemy crossed their path, but this time was too close for comfort. Sure they’d had near-death-experiences before (an occupational hazard), but not since he and Amy had officially started their romantic relationship. What if they didn’t make it this time? What if he couldn’t tell her he loved her once more, couldn’t hear her contagious laughter again, breathe in her scent, taste her… He steeled himself during battle to make sure that wouldn’t happen, but it did put everything into perspective for him. 

He needed to savor every second with her.

Sonic slid a hand up Amy’s back and clutched the nape of her neck, soliciting a dreamy sigh from his mate. He used the opportunity to open his mouth to hers as well, deepening the kiss. With careful coordination, he dropped to his knees and leaned forward, resting Amy on her back but not leaving any space between them while doing so. She mindlessly hooked her legs over his hips to bring him even closer. Her fingers laced their way into his quills and the sensual tugging made his fur stand on end. 

He finally broke the kiss just to smother his lips down her muzzle, under her chin and into the crook of her neck. The feel of his mouth against her and his hot panting made Amy tremble beneath him. The two had spent the last several months kissing and even enjoyed some not-so-innocent “exploration” here and there, but she was certain she’d never get used to this. His touch caused her to swelter and radiate so much heat that she was convinced she’d burn him. She let out a sharp gasp and writhed under him when he sucked on a particularly tender spot near her clavicle. Amy loved that he not only discovered that secret weakness of hers; he exploited it often. “Sonic,” she exhaled longingly.

The hoarse sound of his name on her breath sent pounding waves of electricity throughout his entire being. He wanted to hear more of it, in varying pitches and volumes.  

As his lips made their way back up to meet hers, his hands snaked down her delicate frame. Her form baffled and mesmerized him. She was so strong with such firm, toned muscles and yet some areas of her body were so splendidly soft and malleable in his hands. He traced her sides, her waist, her hips, finally gripping hungrily onto her thighs that were so tightly wrapped around him. They could feel the pummeling of each other’s heartbeats with how tightly their chests were pressed together, but it still wasn’t close enough. He needed to be a part of her.

“I love you,” Sonic moaned breathlessly into Amy’s mouth. Releasing his grasp from her thighs, he placed his hands on either side of her face and directed her to look up at him. His eyes roved over her as he hoped he could communicate this next part as urgently as he felt it. 

“I need you.”

It was as much a statement of fact as it was a desperate, ravenous plea. 

Amy’s breath hitched. This was finally it: the threshold they had danced dangerously close to but hadn’t yet crossed. The yearning fire broiling in her lower torso was so intense that only two words were able to escape her quivering lips.

“Have me.”

The split-second she gave her permission, Sonic bit the tip of his fingers and quickly yanked off his gloves before using his bare hands to rip open her dress.

♥ ♥ ♥

Amy’s eyes fluttered open from her slumber and for a moment she couldn’t recall where she was. She blinked until her eyes adjusted to the darkness and it was revealed she was in her bedroom. She raised her arms above her head for a full-body stretch, but a tender ache in her lower half stopped her short.

It wasn’t a dream. She combed her mess of quills from her face and laughed in disbelief.

What had started out there on the forest floor continued back here at her home. Her cheeks grew warm as she recollected everything that transpired. But with so many rounds that went on for Chaos-knows how many hours, some of the details got a little hazy. That was okay. She had plenty of mental snapshots to enjoy: his vivid green eyes boring into hers, their tangled forms writhing in the moonlight, the delicious harmony of their moans, his… dedication.

Amy decided she’d better snap herself out of it before she got too riled up again and awoke Sonic. Sonic…

She turned over in bed and couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment to see it empty. “Oh well,” she thought. Even before they were dating, an agreement was made that the aloof blue hedgehog could come and go from her place as he pleased. It was in his nature to be nomadic. Still, it would have been nice to have woken up beside him after the evening’s festivities…

From the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure gingerly tiptoeing in the doorframe. The shadow froze in place as soon as she looked over.

“Whoops, did I wake you?” Sonic whispered, a glass of water in his hand. Amy sat up in bed, thrilled to learn that he hadn’t left just yet. “Not at all,” she replied. “Have you been up long?”

“Nuh-uh,” he replied at his regular volume before taking several long gulps of water. He walked over and plopped down on the edge of the bed. “I was out like a light, but…” Sonic looked over his shoulder at her, a cheeky grin plastered across his face and his voice had a feigned bewilderment to it. “I’m so parched for some reason. ’Wonder why…” the corners of his mouth stayed curled in a smile as he finished the last sip from his glass.

“How quickly you forget,” Amy teased. He set the cup on a nearby nightstand before suddenly tackling the pink hedgehog, rolling and tumbling the pair to the complete other side of the bed and tangling up in the sheets. He planted himself on his back so Amy lay on top of him. “How dare you,” he sneered but only in jest. 

She pecked his lips as a form of playful apology. “How do you still have so much energy?!” 

“Crazy, right?” He closed his eyes and smirked matter-of-factly. “I’m aboutta tell Knux he can keep his Chaos Emeralds. I just need my ‘Amy fix’ to go Super Sonic.” He punctuated the sentence with a goofy shimmy. 

Amy buried her face into his chest to stifle her laughter and hide her blush. “Stoooop,” she pleaded bashfully, but she did delight in the implication that she had such a strong impact on him. 

The two sighed in unison, grateful to be alive and overjoyed to be in each other’s arms. Sonic stroked her tangled quills, silently admiring how ridiculous her hair had gotten from their activity. The slow rhythm of their breathing started lulling each other back to sleep. 

“I love you, Sonic,” she whispered drowsily into the sweat-matted fur of his chest. 

“I love you, Ames,” he mumbled before dozing off once again.