#Tips On How To Last Longer In Bed Eye-Opening Unique Ideas

[foodieforthoughts]

Thank you, Daddy

Summary: August loves to gift his girl some creamy pie on her birthday.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Warnings: 18+, explicit smut, male!dom, fem!sub, spread eagle, handcuffs, use of toys, fingering, orgasm denial, squirting, edging, cunt slapping, slight degradation, chocking, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, cream pie, cum swallow, bodily fluids

A/N: Are you seeing those warnings? This is the filthiest smut fic I have ever written! Thanks to @agniavateira for listening to my ideas and providing with helpful pointers.

Title: Thank you, daddy

Lying in complete nakedness, your legs spread wide with little to no movement possible, you kept an eye on the sinfully beautiful man standing by the table picking up a bottle of lube in his hand. You discreetly tried to strain your wrists against the handcuffs tied to your ankles, trying to make no sound.

"Don't." Came his firm command. Steel blue eyes glared at you, halting your movements in an instant. You craned your neck to look at him, dropping your gaze down his shirtless body, travelling to his pelvis. Gulping nervously, you stared at his hardening cock straining against the front of his pants.

Your heart picked up a pace when August walked towards you, pink silicone toy in his hand glistening with the lube slathered over it. He had not even touched you and yet your cunt was already dripping wet. Desire burned in the pit of your belly when he knelt on the bed, his fingers delicately gliding up your thighs, stopping to hover over your warm center.

"You angered me today, kitten." He drawled, voice laced with formidable authority. Your senses tingled under his ardent gaze, mouth going dry as his fingertips brushed against your folds.

Biting your lower lip and bucking your hips to rub your pussy against his hand, you smiled coyly at the beholder of all your wildest fantasies. "I thought daddy liked my dress."

"I did. What I didn't like was how you decided to forgo your panties." August gritted his teeth, leaning to come to your face. His breath was laced with the smell of whiskey; his unique musk flooding your nostrils, stirring a voracious need. Eyebrows knitted together, his cerulean eyes bore into you with ferocious intensity. "Bending in front of the other men, flashing your cunt. Aren't you a little slut?"

His warm breath washed over your face, spreading over your heated skin as he took a moment to close his eyes. You looked at the tempting curve of his lips under the hood of his moustache, wetting yours with the tip of your tongue as a rapturous hunger took over you. You tried to touch his thigh near your ankle, the chain of the handcuffs jingling with your movements. Grunting as he opened his eyes, stealing your breath away with the fiery ardour in his orbs, August moved the toy from one hand to another and you heard the familiar buzzing of the vibrator. Before you could utter a sound, his mouth was on your neck while he rimmed the vibrating silicone phallus around your aching entrance.

Your body jerked in response, licentious moans falling from your lips as August assaulted your trembling pussy with the toy. You hissed when he bit down on the sensitive spot at the junction of your neck, your thighs quivering as he inserted the pulsating artificial member, twisting it to rub against the bundle of nerves inside. You closed your eyes with a shriek when August sat up, bringing his other hand to land a slap at your tits, moving to rub at your clit.

"Ask for permission when you want to cum." August growled, thrusting the gratifying object repeatedly inside your squelching cavern. You pulled at your restrains, wanting to touch your man, to feel his muscles under your fingertips. But August deprived you of that want, keeping your legs open with his elbow resting on your thigh while he drew you closer to your high.

As he worked his calloused fingers on your painfully stimulated clit, you felt the tightening in your belly, fervid urgency building up inside you. You gripped the sheets, groaning as the walls of your pussy clenched around the toy.

"Can I cum, daddy?" You rasped, the coil ready to break with your looming orgasm. "Please, can I cum?" You begged, tears springing in your eyes at the torturous denial of pleasure.

"Apologise for what you did." August ordered, hammering the toy inside you, leaving your glistening pearl to press down on your pelvis. You groaned at the renewed flame of wanton need to let go, crying as you couldn't hold it in any longer. With a scream you felt the coil snap, clear liquid spraying in a jet of stream, dampening the sheets as you saw stars behind your closed eyelids.

But it wasn't a moment for you to bask in your ecstasy as a stinging slap to your cunt made you yelp in agony.

"Ask." August scolded angrily, bringing his hand to smack at your reddening petals again. Your body lurched at the impact, your juices dribbling down your folds.

"Sorry, daddy." You sobbed, gulping lungful of air before apologising again. You couldn't help but whimper when August pulled the toy out of your trembling hole, only to moan when his fingers entered your cunt. Your toes curled as he hooked his digits, pounding his hand inside you and prodding the spot that had you arching your back.

"Daddy, please," You begged, heaving as the coil began winding again. "Can I cum, please?" You asked, writhing as August's fingers moved fervently, edging you closer to your release.

The dark walls of his bedroom echoed with only your strained moans and August's heavy breaths. Sweat covered your entire body as you concentrated on following August's orders or be punished again. His commanding "Yes" was all it took as your inner walls convulsed around his fingers, with an all consuming orgasm accompanied by shuddering muscles and luscious bliss.

While you floated down from your euphoric heaven, August discarded his pants and pumped his rigid cock with his hand.

"Daddy, I want you." You squeaked, reaching out to him with your bound hands.

Laying on your body, dark scruff on his chest grazing your flushed skin, August cradled your head in his hands. Caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, he captured your lips for a blazing kiss, moving his tongue along with yours, as you groaned into his mouth. His cock laid heavy and thick on your thigh, twitching when you sucked at his bottom lip until it turned red.

"You are a slut," He gently slapped at your cheek, smirking as he reached down between your bodies. He lined his bulbous tip at your unguarded entrance, and menacingly whispered, "But you are my slut." He brought his hand to your neck, pressing down, as he shoved his entire length inside your yielding cunt.

You wheezed, shutting your eyes at the intrusion. August rammed into you with fervour while keeping a steady pressure on your fragile neck. Your lungs fought against your rib cage, straining to take in air.

"Daddy," You chocked out, the sound of August's heavy balls slapping against your ass mingling with your gasps. He grunted above you, his pelvis rutting against your clit, the tip of his cock knocking at the apex of your womb.

When he let go of your airway, the sudden rush of unbridled delectation had your core squeeze around his cock, struggling screams leaving your lips as you were overcome with grappling rhapsody. August kept your legs from closing in on him by digging his fingers in the soft flesh of your thighs. He impaled your tormented pussy, chasing his high and with a guttural, animalistic groan he shot his thick load inside you, painting your walls white.

Sweat slicked bodies struggled to catch their breaths, as August rested against you. You winced when he pulled out, sitting back on his knees and running his fingers through your folds.

"Open up." He instructed, his eyes glimmering with malice, as you watched him get the thick concoction of your juices up to your lips. You licked his fingers clean, purring as you swallowed the salty liquid.

"Happy birthday, kitten." August pushed your hair out of your face. "You didn't ask to cum, but I'll let that last one pass."

Holding onto your ankles, you grinned at him and gleefully said, "Thank you, daddy."

[ionlyjoinedforstuffilike]

The Pain of Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,900

Rating/Warnings: E (18+), smut, hurt comfort, angst, description of injuries and mention of weapons and violence.

Summary: Tending your wounds from a fight you're not sure you've won, Steve arrives uninvited to your apartment. He helps clean you up but will his presence only cause you more pain? (Takes place before cacw)

A/N: Thank you to @barnessupremacy for both inspiring and supporting me to write for Steve.

The face staring back at you barely recognisable, the purple spreading across your eye, down your cheek, swelling at the cut near your brow, your lip split, pretty sure your tooth cracked though you prayed it was just the ache of your battered jaw. The bruising trailed over your body, you turned this way and that, looking at them in front of the mirror, assessing the damage. A map of carnage half hidden by your cami. Definitely cracked ribs, scrapes on your hands, knees. It really didn't feel like you'd won the fight. You weren't really sure you had.

You'd discarded your outer clothes slowly and painfully before dumping the contents of your pharmacy run on the vanity. Bandages and antiseptic to try and clean yourself up, strong painkillers too though you were depending on the large scotch you'd poured until they kicked in.

Life after the Avengers was supposed to be easier, safer. But then you had chosen to freelance, you had chosen this case, to confront a group of very violent men alone. Investigating security breaches, corporate espionage of course came with risk, but a breeze compared to saving the world. Though back when you were your backup had been a group of exceptional individuals with unlimited resources. It wasn't easy to walk away, everyone made an effort to ask you to stay, more out of politeness than genuine need, after all whatever you offered the team was hardly unique and easy enough to replace. You couldn't stay, it had gotten too hard. Not to fight. Not to get up and face unknowable foes. No, you couldn't be near him and not be with him. Not anymore. Steve was the reason you joined, he was the reason he left. At first you convinced yourself it was a silly crush, though soon you realised it was so much more, not just one side and that made it was harder to brush off. Every time you thought you were moving forward, he'd pull back. You couldn't compete with ghosts. So, breaking your own heart, you walked away.

Sighing as you stretched, testing out the ache and strain of your muscles, you picked you a cotton ball, dabbed it to the bottle of antiseptic then to your knuckles, cursing the sting and the situation. A few knuckles and string of expletives later you heard something. Gathering your drink, you moved out to the hallway, waited, listened and there a few moments later - three quiet but distinct raps. You placed your glass on the hall table, exchanged it for your Glock and made your way to the door. Heart hammering, wondering how the hell the guys from earlier got your address, you hadn't been followed, maybe you had and you were simply distracted by your injuries to notice. You removed the safety as you peered through the peephole.

An unimpressed chuckle escaped you, rattled against your tender ribs, you flipped the safety back on on twisted the door handle. Letting the door swing open as you made your way back through the hallway, dropping the gun with a clunk before snatching up your drink and going back to the bathroom. He followed. You'd taken up the cotton ball to continue tending your wounds when his reflection appeared in the mirror. Hands in pockets he leaned against the door jamb, his plain t-shirt stretching across his biceps, he'd taken off the jacket (probably hung neatly on the hook by the door).

"Should I ask?" He blue eyes finding yours in the glass. "Are you okay?"

"You should see the other guy." your smirk quickly followed by a wince as the antiseptic hit your skin.

He walked towards you, his tall broad frame filling the space and towering over you, "I don't care about the other guy." His hands went to your waist, picking you up he placed you next to the sink, then took the cotton ball from your hand and carefully began pressing it to your cut. "It looks pretty bad, maybe we should get you to a medic."

"It's fine. This is how non superhumans look after a fist fight."

He ignored you, though you caught the slight arch of his brow. He continued to clean the wound, moving closer to attend it better, his firm body close enough that you could feel the heat, heart hammering once more when he blew gently across the gash, his lips almost brushing your skin.

"Why are you here Steve?"

"I came to convince you to come back home."

"It's not home Steve. It is a compound where colleagues live and train."

"It's my home." a soft whisper, and you know your words had stung. Regret and the throb of your heart ate at the silence.

"I can't."

"Why?" His hands resting either side of you as his blue eyes searched yours.

"I'll get hurt if I stay."

"You're hurt now."

"That's not how I mean." It was your turn to whisper, "You'll hurt me." His frown was instant, expression pained as if you stabbed him square in his gut. "I want to build a future and you're always looking to the past." His eyes scrunched shut as you twisted the knife.

He said nothing just gathered a clean cotton ball, kneeled down and started to tend to your knees, one hand underneath cupping your calf keeping you still as he dabbed at the scrapes. Then after the longest time he simply said, "I want you home."

You both stayed silent as he finished his task. You gulped the last of the scotch while his fingers danced over your skin seeking out damage, once all cuts and grazes had been cleaned, he started examining your bruises. Gently moving limbs, this way and that, checking for more sinister injuries, broken bones, his hands finally finding their way back to your waist. You winced as his hands pressed against you, carefully he tugged the cami up to expose the bruise blossoming over your ribs, his fingers touching so tentatively, "I think they are broken."

"Cracked maybe."

"We need to go to a hos-"

"Steve I'm fine," reaching for his cheek, try as you might you couldn't hold back, the wall you'd build weak and crumbling and tears filled in your eyes. He broke your gaze, focusing back on your torso, leaning forward placing his lips to the spot, kissing across your broken body. You didn't stop him, instead carded your fingers through his blond hair. He stood then, to kiss your lips. It was soft and sweet and everything you'd imagined. But you had imagined more, you spread your legs tempting him closer, kissing him back more forcefully. He returned the urgency, though the yelp as your split lip was disturbed slowed you both. Steve's fingers inched up under your shirt, pushing it up, breast now exposed to the air you ached wanting him so desperately to touch you there, he's hesitating, knowing that once the move was made he couldn't go back. The line irrevocably crossed. Maybe you should have hesitated too, instead of running head on into the danger you had tried to escape, but now in the moment you didn't care. You wanted him, yearned for him.

When his thumb grazed your nipple, you shivered and melted into him, arms around his thick shoulders. His large hands becoming more assured, cupping and squeezing, you groaned as he rolled the pebbled peaks. As wonderful as it was, each and every movement fuelled your desperation and his too. He tugged up your vest, pulling it over your head, quickly followed with the removal of his own. His tanned chilled muscles beautiful and perfect but you focused on his belt buckle, fumbling to unfasten it. Steve was back kissing you, his firm flesh hot next to yours, his hands cradling your head as yours dipped down the front of his trousers and felt the hot firmness there. The evidence of his own yearning. Deep growls emanated from his chest as you stroked his hard cock, hand encircling his shaft pumping up and down. Steve lips broke their connection, resting his forehead to yours, eyes closed, lost to the pleasure of your touch.

"Let's go to the bedroom," you shook your head and gently squeezed him, "I can be more careful then."

"No, here." You knew it was probably a better idea to let him take you to bed, let him love you so softly and sweetly yet it was fear that stopped you. Fear that once you left the confines of the small bathroom the spell would be broken, and his reservations would take charge. You needed him, right then and there - and that was what you told him.

His hands dropped and hooked into the underwear, pulling them from you, then returned to his space between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, circling the sensitive nub before delving deeper, teasing your entrance. Head hazy from lust and medication, the ache and pains of your body were nothing to the needy tension coiling in your core, desire ever growing, consuming every thought and feeling. Your mewling caught by Steve's mouth when his fingers entered you, first one then the other, twisting and flexing and working you open. All the while your hands roamed his body, unable to settle - tangled in his hair, swept across the taught muscles of his back, down over his abdomen to the fine fair hair near his pelvis. You needed all of him, spent so long willing him to you and now you had him the very way you wanted most, and you couldn't get enough.

"I need you." you whimpered.

He removed his hands, pushed down his khakis and boxers, you wanted to see all of his magnificent, but his lips never left you, your tongues engaged in a dance he wasn't willing to end. It was a small sacrifice for soon you felt the tip against you, moving up and down your wet slit till neither of you could stand it any longer, he pushed forward. Your cunt wet and wanton still needed to stretch to accommodate his size, gradually inching his way into you, you're lightheaded and starry eyed when he finally reached the hilt.

He rocked slowly, his movements hesitant not you thought from the act but from his unwillingness to cause your battered body more discomfort. You settled your hands on his broad shoulders, encouraging him with your touch, your moans. It may have been that or the firm grip of his desire that caused him to quicken. Each thrust more wonderful than the next. Steve grabbed at the thickness of your thigh, pushing your leg out and up, you screamed not from the jolt to your tender ribs but from pure ecstasy, the new angle tilting you just right so his hard cock rubbed against that most magical spot. Again and again, thrust after thrust and the tight coil snapped and came for him, once and twice before he stiffened and throbbed within you.

Panting, Steve's head rested on your shoulder, his lips puckering now and then against your skin, you kissed him too, pecks to the side of his face, temple, hair.

"Are you okay?" his asked, voice raspy.

"I will be."

[reidyoulikeabook]

Right Where You Left Me

Ship: BAU! Gender Neutral! reader x Spencer Reid

#Request - Could you do some angst with “you dont deserve my forgiveness?” Any ship!

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mention of death, violence, injury (not serious), angst, mourning, a lot of tears. Also, swearing, anger, fighting (verbal, not physical.)

Summary: You and Spencer Reid had been together for a year before he ‘died.’ You grieved him. You mourned him.

A/N: Title stolen from my (current) favourite Taylor Swift song. Not sure how I feel about this one but! Here it is anyway! My requests are open & pls feel free to let me know what you think!!

14 days and 30 minutes exactly

You don’t think about the day Spencer Reid died. You can’t, because even remembering he’s dead feels as if an ice bucket has been tipped over your head. Not even now, two weeks later, have you really gotten over the initial shock that you felt. Every waking moment felt like you were trying to solve some kind of never-ending puzzle. Each emotion was overwhelming, too much to process. It felt like things would only start to get better, like everybody promised they would, when you started to be able to name the emotions rather than describe them as the physical sensations they brought on.

And you didn’t think that’d happen anytime soon.

The shared apartment was too much. You hadn’t slept in your bed since he’d been gone, and forbid anyone else from going into the bedroom. It was a sanctuary.

You understood now more than ever why victims families never changed a thing about the room of their loved ones. Every single thing felt deliberate. Theirs. It was a reflection of the time they were most alive, living. A unique snapshot of them in motion. The mess they left that they expected to come home to.

Rationally, you knew that wasn’t true. There wasn’t a sock hanging off Spencer’s bedside table, or a clean cardigan balled up on the floor, for any reason other than he’d been in a rush that morning, and had left an uncharacteristically large mess in his wake. In more ways than one.

***

2 months, 5 days, 8 hours

Being back at work helps somewhat, but the office feels empty without him there to ramble off factoids about anything and everything, to hear Morgan calling him ‘kid’ every five minutes. He only called you that now.

Simmons is nice, really he is. It isn’t his fault he’s there in place of Spencer and you try hard not to feel personally aggrieved by his presence. He doesn’t do anything to antagonise you, he stays out of your way more than anything. You don’t do anything to purposely make him uncomfortable: you do try to be agreeable and make small talk. But it’s hard not to look at him without thinking how, if everything was how it should be, Spencer would be stood in his place.

***

3 months, 26 days, 3 hours.

There is no ‘new normal.’ You’ve heard the term tossed around a few times in relation to grief, but if there is a new normal you’re still struggling to find it. When you’re not on cases, there’s no ‘normal’. You still don't sleep in your own bed. Sometimes you stay on Rossi’s, or Morgan’s, or Garcia’s couch. Sometimes, read: maybe once, it’s in the spare room at the place you and Spencer used to share. Sometimes, when you get worried about being a burden, it’s a hotel. It’s easier to feel as if you’re choosing to stay away from home, rather than acknowledging that home, as you understand it, no longer exists.

You still wake up and instinctually search for Spencer most mornings. Sure, work is keeping you occupied and you smile a little more these days. You even allowed yourself to be dragged out for drinks last weekend. But nothing feels like it should. You don’t know if that’s normal for grief or if you just aren’t moving forward at all, doomed to tread yourself deeper into the melancholic quicksand that’s got a hold on you.

You talk at length about it with Garcia over wine one night.

“Nothing feels right,” you admit, “Everything just feels...”

Garcia waits, just tipping her chin slightly to encourage you to continue. She’s got the counsellor act down and you’d have the decency to feel embarassed if you weren’t just so damn exhausted all the time.

“I feel trapped, I guess. Like I’m frozen. I keep thinking maybe it’ll get better once the trials over. Once the whole legal aspect of it is over and put to bed, then maybe I’ll have some closure on the whole situation,” you mumble, “I just don’t know how to move forward. I don’t feel like I’ve moved forward. And I know it’s only been three months but I’ve only stayed at our apartment twice and I can’t bring myself to move any of his things and...”

She just waits. In that moment, you’re so grateful for her.

“I’m stuck here. I can’t change anything. I can’t bring myself to move any of his things. I’m paying rent on a place I don’t live in but I can’t move because how can I live somewhere he’s never been? I feel like I’m stuck. I can’t move out of the world he lived in but the world is moving on even without him. And I’m just...I’m just here, Garcia.”

She nods sympathetically, placing her hand on your arm, “Maybe it’ll help when the case is wrapped up. When you have that closure.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “Yeah. I hope so.”

“There’s something you’re not saying,” she says, gently, “And you don’t have to say it. But if you’re holding back because you feel guilty then you don’t have to feel guilty about anything you say to me, my darling.”

You start to well up then. The pressure in your chest is heavy, something akin to guilt. It slices into your chest, cut glass sitting between your ribs and slicing you open every time you breathe in. You’ve been thinking it a lot lately. Too much. It’s making you feel awful and you can’t decide if putting it out into the world verbally is going to be a release or make it feel too real.

Garcia waits patiently.

You decide to believe it’ll be the former, then whisper, “I wish I loved him less. I wish I’d loved him less so this wouldn’t hurt as much.”

And then the sobs come. The sobs that wrack your chest and sting your eyes and leave you looking like you’ve been on the receiving end of an upper cut. Because how could you? How could you possibly want to take back any of the love you had so willingly, freely, given to the person you loved most? What kind of person did it make you to want to take back the good memories: to wish that instead of having waffles on the couch that last Sunday, you’d had a fight about the library fine he’d gotten because of you? How could you want to switch the puzzle pieces to create a less idyllic picture of your life together, just so you wouldn’t feel so much loss when you looked at it?

She just rubs your back through it, knowing that no words can help but still saying the thing she thinks you need to hear most, “That doesn’t make you a bad person, sugar plum. That makes you human.”

***

4 months, 6 days, 14 hours.

Hotch calls you all into the briefing room.

“A few months ago a decision had to be made. Somebody had the potential to make an incredible breakthrough on a case that had been airtight for years. But it wasn’t possible for that individual to complete that work without cover. They needed to be officially gone,” Hotch’s voice booms but you swear you can hear a hesitation, “It wasn’t necessary at the time for you to have that information. Providing you with it would have compromised the safety of one of our agents, and the integrity of their investigation.”

You glance around the room, confused, noticing everyone is sharing the same bewildered look. Except Emily.

“I apologise completely for having to keep this from you, it was a decision that was not taken lately, and I did not have the final say. That being said, any discontent about this decision should be directed towards me,” he glances towards Emily, and she’s looking nervous now.

Hotch lets out a huff, somehow more tense than usual, “SSA Reid was not killed after the attack in Seattle. That was his cover, but he was investigating a case.”

He’s still talking but you can’t hear anything. SSA Reid was not killed. SSA Reid was not killed. You flip the sentence over a hundred times. And for the millionth time since SSA Reid was killed, you have no idea what you feel.

There’s uproar from everybody. Shouting. And then Hotch says something and everybody is looking at you, scanning you for a reaction and you have nothing. Nothing at all.

“Hi,” a voice from the doorway, nervous and shy, a voice you’ve only heard in dreams and voicemails and recordings from nights out that you must have watched hundreds of times by now, if they were tapes you would have worn them out long ago.

And you know you can’t face him. You can’t face any of them.

You look around the room, first at Hotch whose eyes flicker with what looks like remorse. Then, at Emily who just looks guilty as all hell. You don’t look at him. You can’t look at him.

The tension in the room is palpable but in your peripheral you see Garcia and J.J flock to the doorway, embracing him.

Rossi, is the one who comes to you, “____?”

You stare at him, completely blankly, “Yeah?”

“You need to speak to him. Need to hear him out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, allowing him to help you to your feet. His reassuring hands on your shoulders turn you around and you meet his face. The face of the boyfriend you spent the last four months mourning while everybody watched you fall apart. And half of them knew.

So that’s what you feel. Anger.

“Glad you’re back,” you snipe, pushing past him, “Glad you’re alive.”

Everybody watches you go. A tense silence fills the room. Spencer clears his throat, after what feels like an eternity, muttering, “I-I’ll go after ... I’ll go and see if I can...”

It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, if he’s honest. Although he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting.

“____ please, just let me talk to you, I’m sorry, please just let me have a chance to explain,” He manages to catch you at the elevator just in time, slipping through the gap with his lithe body, “Please. I need to explain. I need to apologise.”

“You can apologise as much as you want. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You’ll never deserve my forgiveness.”

The venom in your tone leaves him floundering.

“___ please,” he’s begging, and you won’t look at him because you can hear the tears in his voice and he’s begging again, “Please, please look at me, please listen to me. You have to understand, you have to give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’ve never been this angry at him before. But you are now. It consumes you, you’ve never understood a crime of passion before and you’re not going to put your hands on him, of course, but fuck do you understand it now. How a person could just snap. The rage swells in you, screaming. Every muscle in your body is tense. It takes all you have to ball your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure they break the skin. You’re furious. Furious at every single one of them.

“You lied to me,” you spit, “You lied to me and let me think you were dead. You and Hotch and Emily. I didn’t sleep in our bed for four months, Spencer. I’ve spent the past four months frozen, like, I couldn’t move forward without you. I didn’t start to move on. I've spent the last four months falling apart and trying to find a way to put myself back together without you, and then what, you just come back? You think we can just go back to normal? Spencer, I didn’t feel alive this past few months. I’ve been floating through, barely keeping it together. And for what? A case? That was important enough for you to do this to me?"

It’s true, you’ve spent the last four months feeling like you were the one who died. That you were united in being ghosts, except you were haunting all the places you used to go together, and he was just haunting your dreams. And he’d been alive. This. Whole. Time.

You storm out of the lift, lifting your head to look at him for only the second time in four months, “Please. Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”

He knows you aren’t wrong. Knows he doesn’t know if he could forgive you if the roles were reversed. Knows, more than anything, that he’s really fucked things up. You’ll never forgive him. That’s what you said, and right now, seeing anger like never before in your eyes, he has no reason whatsoever to doubt that isn’t completely true.

You don’t even make it to the parking lot before you feel your resolve melt into absolutely nothing. Anger descending into relief, hot tears cascading down your cheeks as the mantra starts again on a new loop in your head: SSA Reid was not killed.

[sebbybooks]

Wreck My Daydream

Part Two

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

18+

Tagged🎄

@wayward-mikaelson

Cataglottism

(n.) kissing with tongue

I’m already wet and Sebastian barely even touched me.

I hardly gave myself a moment to be ashamed or even stir in the crass words I was using even if I had only thought them. Like a diary I suppose there was no need to lie to myself considering it was one hundred percent true. I, Nellie Lennox, was unabashedly met with unending desires that washed away my trepidations that led up to this moment.

In its place I felt this newfound sense of possibilities that I wasn’t actually making an ass out of myself with my sudden confession of feelings for Sebastian. In my defense I didn’t just wake up one morning after having some epiphany as to why I wanted to be with him. The thought of us together made itself at home in the back of my mind.

Almost like a what if. . .

However, I couldn’t help but be terrified of all the ways it could go wrong. What if I had made things weird between us forcing us apart? Life would be a bitter existence if Sebastian wasn’t around in some capacity. For the longest time I tried to find him in different relationships. It is a messed up philosophy, but it almost worked. Whenever things would get too serious it nearly terrified me. I was their someday and they were my maybe. I owed this last relationship that is still so freshly cut more than that.

I owed myself that.

On the unique and rare chance I somehow got lost in a very realistic maladaptive daydream, I’m pretty certain Sebastian wants this too. Just thinking about what he had told me seconds ago made my heartbeat drum to a dizzy rhythm. Imagining myself getting fucked to the beat of it was a completely different type of sensation.

Retraining my focus on the now I could see it in Sebastian’s face all the wheels going around in his head. Confusion? Uncertainty? Regret?

“You don’t get to do that.” I tell him. I felt like I was going to climb out of my own skin if he left me suspended in the silence for a second longer. Sebastian tipped his face closer to mine, our lips gingerly brushing against each other. Perhaps he was feeling ambivalent in regards of his feelings for me? After all this was sprung on him in the middle of the night.

Sebastian shook his head as if he was at war with himself. “I want to.” His voice was strained and dangerously low, like something was causing him utter misery being this close, yet not knowing exactly when to pull away.

“Then why don’t you.” I dared him.

I was growing impatient with this slow burn we had somehow started. I wanted to play with this fire. If I got burned in the end by his touch then so be it. At least I would forever be marked with a reminder of knowing that I at least went after something I wanted with no apology. I wanted to see how far he was willingly to go.

Sebastian removed his hand from the security of being wrapped around me. I feigned a disappointed sigh at the lack of contact. My entire body must have been on autopilot , because I didn’t recognize the position I was in. I practically sat in his lap with one leg wrapped around him and the other one mindlessly dangling over the bed. Of course the mind reader that Sebastian was naturally grabbed ahold of the side of my thigh and wrapped it around his back.

It wasn’t like I was naive to sex or never had my fair share of romantic conquest. Regardless of my experiences I still felt like a gigantic ball of nerves. The way he stared down at me with a heated look in his eyes as if he wanted to posses every inch of me. Hell, I felt like I could come undone from that alone.

The hand that was planted on my back slowly drifted downward trailing the curve of my backside gripping my ass through my thinly silk hunter green shorts that matched the top. Earlier I had berated myself for wearing scantly clad pajamas to bed. Now I am thanking my lucky stars I opted out of the option of wearing a red Christmas onesie that had polar bears wearing scarfs around their necks. They were ones my mother insisted the whole family wear.

If I had I probably would not have been able to feel his erection that was restrained in his sweatpants. Trying to situate myself closer I rocked into him slightly, massaging myself on him. My ears didn’t miss the subtle groan Sebastian let out from the feel of my weight pressing further into him.

His silence wasn’t lost on me and he still hadn’t answered my question so I did it again. I wanted him to say something. My nervousness abated at this point. I twined my arms around his neck, grinding myself against him again and again. All the while Sebastian watched my every movement with a hint of a star struck look in his eyes. The feeling was certainly mutual I was even shocking myself at my behavior.

“Nellie,” Sebastian finally says, voice husky. He usually only ever calls me by my nickname so I was more than sure that he was not fully himself.

“I’m a big girl Sebastian I can handle whatever you need to say.” I tell him, holding in my breath.

“Alright,” he said with uncertainty. “You and me, this, it’s not a good idea.” His tone was barely audible and even more so he sounded hurt. Everything in me froze.

“And why is that?” I asked him more confused than ever. Suddenly feeling absolutely self conscious as I over analyzed every intimate word I just shared with him. I was even more horrified by the fact that I was dry humping my best friend.

He let out a darkly laugh. “It’s pretty damn obvious Nells.” Sebastian says rather ominously.

“...It’s not actually.” For someone that wants nothing out of this, Sebastian was holding on to me like an anchor and I on the other hand just wanted to get away and sink.

Admittedly, I was losing this game of tug a war. There was only so much I was willing to endure even I had my limits. “You’re giving me whiplash Sebastian .” I tell him honestly, “ I’m not like those other girls you go for that are satisfied with you just dangling yourself in front of them like a piece of cake that I can’t have. I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t say it just to hear you say the same.” My voice could only rise so high in pitch.

I definitely didn’t want to wake up the upstairs guest that would love nothing more than to recap this conversation over breakfast. Then like an unexpected bolt of lighting startling you from a distance, Sebastian kissed me.

Sebastian

I am a selfish bastard.

My mind fell quiet when I looked at her. I wanted to swim in the serenity and peacefulness that was this smart, vibrant, sexy, and uniqueness this woman possessed. I only wondered even in the darkness could Nellie see my eyes as plainly as I can see hers. If so could she see the shame reflecting in them? I could feel the nagging weight of my conscience siting on both of my shoulders, arguing back and forth over what I should and shouldn’t do. It was kind of ironic that the devil in my ear insisted that I give in to the angel in my lap.

God knows I waited for her and that I would keep waiting if I had to in this lifetime or the next. It was always going to be Nellie for me. I wanted to tell her all of this, but the longer I held on to this slice of heaven I was given during this random hour. I also knew that this moment was fleeting. I basked in the way she looked at me, the way she held on to me like I was an object of virtue. I also got a sample of what it would be like to lose her the second she began to slip away on her own accord. So, I did what any poor fool would do in my position. I kissed her.

It wasn’t exactly suave or how I imagined it would go. My mouth sort of crushed against her unmoving lips in a rushed and unskilled manner. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what I was doing, I certainly could do a hell of a lot better than this. An yet, it was still like I predicted it would be, filled with pure unadulterated pleasure. Nellie’s lips were sweet and warm, exactly how I imagined forbidden fruit to taste like.

A perfect mixture of firm and softness that drove me wild. She flattened her hands on my bare chest as if to brace herself. Nellie pushed herself away, but her face was still so close to me. She didn’t speak and neither could I. I forced myself to look up at her and hoped that she could see I would do everything in my power to earn her forgiveness. That it was a mistake I will make right somehow.

“Nell,” I let out an exasperated breath. “ I have a need for you that goes deeper than just lust and I know that it will never truly be sated. The killer thing is I’m already at risk of losing you before I even had you.”

Nellie stared hazily up at me.“You already have me.” She whispered, our lips still grazing. Those four simple words set off a firework in me. This time when I kissed her our mouths came together like we needed to feed off of each other’s oxygen in order to survive. I’d suffer if I didn’t have it.

My mouth was greedy for hers, and I could imagine she felt the same. The moment I felt her lips slightly part open to let me in, less than a second our tongues slid together in a torrid and sensually slow pace. We kissed like a couple of eager teenagers. My heart threatened to leap from my chest when the tip of Nell’s tongue moved across my bottom lip. She tastes like gingerbread , mixed with some other divine flavor that I can only assume is Nellie. She arched herself closer into my chest and I could feel the points of her hardened nipples through her top. I seized the opportunity to press her body close because I needed more.

I wanted to feel the heat of her soft skin on mine. She returned her arms back around my neck tightly holding me in place as she angled her head kissing me back with the same ferocity. Deeply, and oh so thoroughly by the way she sucked on my tongue. I had a rough grip on her ass keeping Nellie steady as she straddled me. I was so damn hard for her. If my dick could get even harder it was bound to. Nellie did that thing again where she grinds down on my erection and I cursed at myself to not combust. I grabbed ahold of her hips guiding her to move faster, harder.

I kept telling myself to savor her, fucking take my time with this moment. I couldn’t just rip those tiny little shorts off and sink myself into her over and over until we’ve both had enough. But even then I would always need more of her. I wasn't a sentimental man, with Nellie I at least wanted to try. I wanted my first night with Nell to be a little less spontaneous than this. It wasn’t like I came prepared for festivities filled with endless fucks. Plus the added fact I couldn’t let things get too carried away especially since she still didn’t know what I have done.

Yeah, I am a very selfish bastard.

I didn’t want this to end. I wanted my mouth to explore every single part of Nellie. I wanted the taste of her to live on my tongue. I wanted to go as far as she and my consciousness would allow me.

“I need to touch you.” I panted, between every nip and kiss I left on the delicate area of skin under her jaw.

“You’re already touching me.” She says with a soft laugh, which was a melody to my ears. I was but at the same time I wasn’t. I needed to rid Nellie of any barrier that prevented me from branding her skin with my touch.

“This…off.” I tug gently on the bottom of her tank top before returning my hands to rest on her thighs, caressing them as I sucked on her neck for dear life. Going back and forth between grazing her neck with my teeth then licking over the area to soothe any imprint I’ve left.

Nellie crisscrossed her arms reaching for the hem of her top gracefully pulling it over her head. She purposely fell backwards onto the mattress aiming her shirt at my face. For as long as I’ve known Nell she was never one to be shy in her own skin.

“Imagine how unsexy that would have been if I hit my head on the headboard.”

“As long as you didn’t hurt yourself I would have just pretended that I didn’t see a thing.” I teased.

“Ah, to think they wonder where all of the good men have gone.” Nell scrunched up her nose pretending to be lost in critical thought.

I cock my head to the side. “Mm-hmm. Are you mocking me?”

“What if I am?”Her plump wet lips spread into a smile.

It was miracle I caught a word of what she said to me. I swallowed a groan as my eyes drift over the area of her body that was naked from the waist up. Nellie was clearly a stolen painting from the Louvre that I had no intention of returning. All I could do was stare.

With her legs still draped around me, my hands slide up the curve of her torso passing her ribs. I sensed that she was watching me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of her just yet. The pads of my fingers traced over to her breast and my mouth practically watered at the sight of them. She was ethereal.

“Don’t suddenly go mute on me Sebastian.” She let out a shaky breath.

I’ve heard her say my name a thousand times. Hearing her say it in this state created a feeling of warmth that filled my chest. I could only begin to imagine the different ways I wanted to hear her call out my name. My gift, my best friend, my Nellie. Those last words had a sting to them even as I thought them. Deep down I knew that was never going to be true.

I eased all the way down my tongue traveling around the dip of her navel. Creating a path up the center of her abdomen. I knew that Nell was extremely ticklish. The slightest form of contact would automatically turn her into a ninja. From the way she was pressing herself back into the mattress I knew she was trying her hardest not to flee. Of course I found it rather enticing so I made sure to spend extra time over the areas of her exposed skin I knew to be the most sensitive. Brushing the tip of my nose between her breast my mouth finally latched on to what I’ve been waiting for.

“So fucking beautiful.” I say as I graze my mouth over the stiff peak of her nipple. I was in awe over the ability that they simultaneously could feel hard yet felt extremely soft. I dragged the tip of my tongue around the bud of it in a languid movement before sucking it in deep. I loved listening to the sounds she made while I sucked and devoured as much as I could fit into my mouth. I wanted to hear a symphony of the noises that escaped from Nellie.

Going for one after the other not wanting to miss out on either. Nellie kept a limp hand pressed into my hair keeping me close as if I dared to stop.

Writhing underneath me Nellie gasped,“Touch me.”

Now she understood what I meant. My own body felt betrayed by my decision. I literally ached from pain and pleasure. Truthfully I wouldn’t opt for a better scenario than this. I would be more than gratified with giving Nellie an orgasm or two.

Still leaving featherlight kisses across her chest. With one hand I reach down and brushed along the dip of Nellie’s hip, then began to tug away at her shorts. To my surprise she was bare underneath. This was a new and uncharted territory we were crossing.

Tell me to stop, say that this is just the wrong time, tell me we would never work. Those words never escaped me, the sound of the goddamn doorbell intervened for her. My movements hesitated then shortly I picked up on inaudible chattering out in the hall. Nellie turned her head in the direction towards the door which I hoped like hell was locked. “Maybe we should go see what’s going on.” Her eyes widened.

“Or we could stay here and not shame the fact that I was two seconds away from wrapping your legs around my face while I tasted the slickness between your thighs. ” Nellie released a ragged breath and I meant every word.

To my dissatisfaction we were composed in under three minutes. I felt a strange sense of comfort and pride seeing that ever so often I’d catch Nellie looking in my direction smiling like she had some big secret she was bursting to tell. Which only made me feel like an even bigger asshole. The walk downstairs was surprisingly noisy. Someone had plugged the Christmas tree back up and there was a chilly wind breaking in as the front door came to an immediate shut.

Nellie’s parents were both moving around in a fast pace trying to find new spots to put a couple of suitcases. I had to swallow down a chuckle at the sight of their bold choice of pajamas. Nellie had already beaten me to the bottom of the staircase just as I rounded the corner of the spiral stairs.

“Cousin!” Vanessa squealed rushing over towards Nellie, who excitedly embraced her the same. They exchanged a few excitable words to each other that I tuned out. I was busy focusing on the six foot son of a bitch with a puppy dog expression on his face standing awkwardly behind them.

“Now you know Nells Bells you can’t have Christmas without good ole St. Nicholas can you?” She winked at a stone faced Nellie who just looked straight ahead at her ex boyfriend Nick. “I hope it’s okay I brought him over with me. I saw him at the airport dozed off in a chair.” Vanessa whispered as she leaned into Nell, like she just earned a gold star. Soon as Vanessa’s wild dark brown eyes caught ahold me I knew my bubble was about to pop.

“Something told me I was off the naughty list this year.” Vanessa bit at her glossed up lips and made a beeline towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She smelled like an overtly sweet perfume that tortured my sinuses. “Did you forget how to work a phone or what? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I miss you.” She cooed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nellie watching the two of us. This was my punishment.

[wallwriterstuff]

The Big Bad Wolf ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Warnings: A bit angsty at first, but otherwise it’s very fluffy 

Words: 5092 

Taglist: @thelastemzy​ @kpopgirlbtssvt @a-avaunce @college-is-coming​ @alecvolturiswifeforever​ @broskibowser​ @volturidoll13​ @raindancer2004​

Summary: 

Part 1: Little Red Riding Hood   Part 3: What Soft Lips You Have  Part 4: And They Have Lived Happily Ever After 

Demetri ponders why his mate doesn’t seem to feel what he feels, tries to plan ahead, and makes an important promise to the one person he can no longer be without. 

What did she dream of?

When her face scrunched like that. When her body twisted like it was trying to escape or flee or maybe curl closer? When her lips moved but no discernible noise escaped them. When she sighed contentedly.

What did she dream of?

When her fingers clenched into thick wool. When her cheek rubbed the same fabric. When vibrant eyes fluttered behind closed lids.

What did she dream of?

He still had no answer despite years of watching her – at least that was how it felt. He could vividly recreate her face in his mind, from the soft curve of her jaw that gave her face that classic oval shape the Swan Sister’s shared to the iridescence of those big Y/E/C eyes. In reality, he simple hadn’t stopped staring since she sort of collapsed into him, her exhausted body no longer capable of keeping her upright once he used the advantages fate had bestowed upon him to try and calm her from her obviously terrified state. Demetri couldn’t honestly say he blamed her, being afraid of her current situation. The moment she had stepped on the plane his mate had been subject to stares, the probing and malicious kind of looks that only those who thought they were above you could really give. Those looks gave way to open shock and clear, intense dislike when Demetri ushered her into the small booth of the Private Jet, the one reserved for the Higher Guard only.

To add to her worry, Aro had drifted over before long to discuss her change, Caius’s open dislike for her enough to make it clear only Demetri seemed to be overly bothered about whether or not she could endure the transformation. He was determined to make it so, bargaining for at least a night of sleep since the poor thing looked so drained. Her sister was pale it was true but there was something about the bags under her eyes that didn’t sit well with him. Alone, afraid, his mate looked nothing like the strong woman who had spoken out against the injustice her family were facing, and he would have devoted every last inch of himself to seeing her smile if only the timing was right. But he had scared her to, hadn’t he? His reaction to what was obviously a very upsetting scar of all things…

It was the principle of the thing! To think someone else’s venom had entered her bloodstream, that someone else had tasted the alluring wine lingering in her veins! The thought had driven him to near madness as most other things about her had that day. It had started off quite gently, as the mate pull should be he supposed. Her scent had made him pause, watching from a distance as she spied on them with no real idea of the consequences it held for either of them, breathing her in one deep inhale at a time as he tried to figure out why the scent was so alluring – then recoiling in surprise when he realised it was because it was all his favourite scents rolled into something unique and tantalising on the tongue. Curiosity had been the first major emotion, itching at his brain, and when Aro’s impatience had forced him to reveal himself to her, it had been quiet, reverent awe that came next.

Awe that he could have the privilege to gaze upon a creature so lovely, from the red tinge to her cold skin to the soft waves of hair that almost begged him to run his fingers through it. The moment he had dared meet her gaze the world calmed, like a storm had brewed and raged within him without him ever noticing until that moment. There was nothing and no one, not a sound or a directive that could have moved him for the seconds it took the mate pull to thrum in the back of his mind, slowly beginning the momentous task of realigning every instinct and every fibre of his being to her, making her the focal point of his existence. This experience was supposed to be sweet and slow, yet watching her wilt under Aro’s stare, knowing the danger she was in, had only sped it up, fate intervening to ensure he protected what was his so he didn’t lose it too soon. The moment his Master leaned forward he knew well his intentions, and Demetri couldn’t honestly recall what happened next since his body had took the lead and given his mind a backstage pass to watch the show from afar.

“You’ve been out of sorts since you met her. Is the pull that strong or is there something more at play here?” Felix asked, a low murmur that only their little booth would hear. Though they made no effort to be friendly his friends had, at the very least, kept their conversations at a more human volume so she would not be left out. Even if she did not take part in their discussions she was not excluded from them. Demetri reflexively tightened his grip, still unable to move his eyes from her for even a moment. He still felt like he was on high alert, like he was waiting for the enemy to come crashing in at any moment and take her from his grasp.

“Yes Demetri do tell, you’ve fawned over her like one might an infant.” Jane looked thoroughly amused at his discomfort and he made a mental note to pay her back for it later…when he could think straight. Every now and then, she would inhale deeply, curling tighter into the cloak he had wrapped around her before she had practically fallen into his lap, pressing tighter to his body as he held her close. He couldn’t understand it himself. Instinctually she knew, her body just…knew, surely? His scent, his presence, it had calmed her as it should. If her body knew to react to this bond, then why couldn’t her mind process it? Did she actually feel anything? Did she not have any of the confusing, intense emotion that he felt?

No…no it had to be the bite. That stupid, stupid bite. He couldn’t stop seeing it in his mind’s eye. She didn’t feel like his, that was the problem. He held her in his arms and she had come with him willingly but she wasn’t his, not till he erased that venom and replaced it with his own.

“Alec…I have a rather large favour to ask you.” He said finally, looking up at him. The boy tilted his head, silently studying the tracker before he nodded once.

“Then ask.” He invited. Even now he had to fight to keep his gaze on Alec, his eyes already itching to look back down and watch her expressions shift as she dreamed. It would be the last dream she ever had. He hoped it was a pleasant one.

“I need someone with me Alec, I cannot turn her alone…I suspect they know that, that that is my punishment for my disobedience on the battlefield earlier. I would have no one else do it anyway but…Alec if I cannot stop myself, please, I beg you stop me.” Demetri implored quietly. Alec seemed surprised at the intensity of the agony that was conveyed in his eyes. Demetri couldn’t really have explained it either, but every thread of his existence was tied so inextricably to her’s in the space of a few short hours that all he knew was that to lose her would be to lose himself. It had all happened so fast it was dizzying, but slowly the fog was clearing and his way out of this mess was clear. Turn his mate, ensure her safety throughout her newborn year, then they were both home free having proven their loyalty to one another and their coven – whether Y/N was there by a deal or by choice.

“Wouldn’t my gift be more effective at dissuading you?” Jane wondered.

“It would also be a wonderful way of ensuring I bite down and pull her throat out with my teeth.” Demetri pointed out, flinching slightly at the grotesque mental image.

“I can strip your taste. You would not want to keep feeding as it would feel pointless then.” Alec said finally. It was as close to an agreement as Demetri knew he would get and he nodded his gratitude as the jet began to descend. She stirred multiple times, his little human struggling to return to slumber each time she awoke as they moved between the landing strip and the Castle, something not even the warm embrace of his cloak could cure. She was blazing like a fire in his arms but seemed content with the temperature, dozing on his shoulder and then his bed after he left her cocooned there. Since she liked the warm, he made sure to stoke the fire before showering. He stayed under the warm water a long time, mind swirling with a number of burgeoning thoughts he couldn’t seem to shift.

His mate was right in the other room and yet she felt so far away from him. His whole life had changed drastically in the blink of an eye, and the price he was paying felt far too high. Her life was quite literally at stake, hanging in the balance where the only thing stopping the momentum from tipping too far to the wrong side was his self-control. Demetri had only ever bitten with the intent to feed, never feeling compelled to create company given he had never been a nomad and alone. Did he even have the self-control for this? The thought plagued him because that was his punishment, and he knew he had to endure for the sake of Y/N and himself. To lose her would be to condemn himself, yet with Chelsea on their side he was sure if Aro still felt he was of use he would never escape that particular torment.

By the time he had stepped out, dried and changed into something comfier than his official battle uniform, Y/N had slipped out of his cloak to curl up in front of the fire instead. With a pillow trapped between her chest and her knees, she hugged them close and stared into the flames, face half-covered by fabric and eyes red rimmed. It wasn’t difficult to smell the salt lingering on the damp fabric and understand what had happened in his absence. Oh, how his heart broke…

“I thought you were sleeping.” He said. She jumped, furiously wiping at her eyes before she somewhat relaxed again into her original position. She had tied her hair back now, long Y/H/C waves messily scraped into a bun that hadn’t managed to capture every strand. He felt another painful pinch in his chest when she refused to look at him.

“I don’t really sleep.” She mumbled. Demetri frowned slightly, inching closer to test her boundaries. She didn’t say anything, merely let him slip ever so slowly until he was sitting beside her, his knees drawn up so he could rest his forearms on them – and keep his feet away from the fire. They sat in silence for a long while, Demetri counting every painful minute in his head as they ticked by, moments with his mate draining away like sand in an hourglass he could never get back. Why was it so hard to talk to her? Every time he opened his mouth he closed it again almost immediately, not knowing if something he said might set her off or upset her more. What did she speak about to others’? So much to learn and so little time till she was lost to the thirst for a while…

“Forgive me, for the way I acted when we returned to your home. It was…selfish.” He settled on that, a safe enough topic he supposed given it was the only real experience they had shared together.

“Yeah, it was.” she couldn’t seem to bring herself to speak any louder than a mumble. Demetri grimaced a little bit, staring into the fire dejectedly.

“I spoke without thinking, reacted without really thinking either, about the pain that wound must have caused you.” He continued.

“I’ve felt worse pain.” She frowned deeply and Demetri couldn’t help but flinch.

“Such as?” he asked, though the sense of foreboding growing in his gut told him he already knew the answer, deep down. Y/N looked furious with him then, her big eyes turning on him with so much hostility he could have sworn she might have actually won if she lunged to fight him in that moment. The anger and upset that radiated from her bled into him, seeping through the cracks in his calm façade and piercing his unbeating heart. He would have given anything to remove that look from her face, that pain in her chest.

“Such as? Such as! Are you aware that you’ve just taken me away from my family, the people I love, without even letting me say goodbye? Do you even comprehend how much I don’t want to be here? That the only reason I am is because you and me are supposed to be this miraculous soulmate story incarnate when the reality is the only thing you feel for me is utter disgust?” she snapped. Demetri wasn’t certain she knew for a fact she was crying, or how much her words wounded him, but he couldn’t keep the offense off of his face. It was a mortal blow to his ego and his pride, his character as a man, yet as furious as he wanted to be with her he still couldn’t bring himself to be. She was young and hurting, deeply wounded and trying to create a chasm between them where fate wouldn’t allow it to exist in an effort to deal with that hurt.

“I do not feel disgust for you nor was it my choice to bring you here! You made a deal with Aro knowing full well the terms which you were agreeing to. You are the reason you are here Y/N, and so long as you choose to stay with me my every effort will be expended into protecting you from yourself. Foolish girl, can you not see he has us both trapped? That we are both being punished here? My own disobedience may have sped up the arrival of your fate but it is one you readily signed yourself over to.” he hissed.

He hated it. The revulsion boiled and writhed in his gut as he ground his teeth together, his mind buzzing with a thousand other angry words he forced back down his throat lest he make things worse. None of this was right. He shouldn’t be arguing with her like this. They should be happy, shouldn’t they? Happy as everyone else who was lucky enough to find their mate…shouldn’t they?

“I don’t have a choice, and neither did you,” She reminded him, “or clearly you would have chosen less damaged goods.” The air between them was polluted with their anger, their grief, and yet…her voice wavered. The sentence itself was so wrong but the tone of her voice, the way her hand moved to her throat, that pinched expression that suggested she was tortured by her own insecurities, was really what gave it away. How could he be angry at her now? With a drawn out sigh, Demetri scooted slightly closer and turned himself toward her, scrutinising her side profile.

Y/N closed her eyes, no doubt sensing his gaze and wishing it would leave her skin. He reminded himself she was fragile, that his little human would shatter easily under too forceful a touch, and drew his finger beneath her eye with such care it barely touched her skin and did little to remove the tears he wished he could wipe away. They had started all wrong, but it didn’t mean they had to continue the same way. Maybe it was inappropriate, maybe it was the wrong time, but he needed her to know it was something he could move past. He needed her to know that she wasn’t damaged goods, that she wasn’t something he regretted or felt the need to change – at least not in that way.

His fingers clasped around her wrist, afraid to grip too hard but ever so careful in the way he pulled her palm from her throat. Demetri closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to her temple as she froze up beneath him, feeling the icy tips of his fingers brush her delicate throat. Her pulse hammered beneath the pads of his fingers, blood rushing beneath her paper-thin flesh…

“Relax, trust me.” He whispered, tracing the indents of teeth in hardened flesh. He didn’t feel quite so angry about it this time, though he couldn’t say he was thrilled by it either. Demetri exhaled slowly, held his breath, and dipped his head a little lower.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, jerking her head backward. She didn’t move out of his grip though and there was the slightest hint of fear on her face. Demetri shook his head.

“I will not harm you,” he vowed, moving slowly so as to give her time to move away again, “You are not broken goods Y/N, and the way I see it I _did _choose you, though not consciously perhaps not consciously. Your very soul reached out to mine and I accepted what I knew would be best for me. You were never a choice, you were a necessity.” His bold words had left her utterly stunned and she didn’t fight him at all as he placed his lips over the marred flesh of her throat. He placed two kisses against that scar that brought them so much pain, just two, but it was enough to set them on the right path this time. Demetri pulled his head back, watching her carefully as she stared at him in utter astonishment. His head had cleared, his mind set right; he had never been as certain about anything in his life as he was about Y/N, whether the rest of the world was against them or not.

“But you said…you said your only hope was to…” she looked so confused in that moment it almost made him swoon. How adorable she was when her nose scrunched like that! He could watch the expression all day, but she needed an answer.

“What I said remains true, I have every plan to change you in the same way in the hopes I might not have to remind myself another ever dared lay a hand on you, but there will be contingencies to ensure I do not fail and you are safe. All that matters to me now is that I succeed in this endeavour.” He confessed, settling back against the sofa’s edge once more with a quiet sigh. The silence that followed was far more comfortable than the first one, something more companiable in the air between them. He was pleased she scooted a little closer to him so they could watch the flames together, their crackling no longer drowned out by the exchange of angry words. He wanted to ask her a thousand more questions, get to know her, but there would be time enough for that later on. For now he wished only to bask in this silent moment where things felt more right between them than they had since they met.

“They’re hoping you’ll kill me, aren’t they?” her quiet voice broke that silence a few hours later, as the sun was starting to set in the sky and night fell over Volterra. She was running out of time and Demetri wasn’t sure when that had begun to bother him to this extent, but the room was going to feel so empty without her heartbeat to fill the quiet.

“Yes. I believe that that is my punishment to endure for my disobedience.” He agreed, voice equally as quiet as he turned to look at her. He couldn’t remember when she had placed her head against his shoulder, but she lifted it now to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong though, I did, my mouth got us both in trouble.” She frowned. Demetri chuckled ruefully.

“Your mouth will get you into trouble for a while yet I believe, but my own impudence in placing myself between you and Master Aro was equally as displeasing to them. I wilfully subordinated your sentencing in front of many witnesses outside of our coven, after all.” He grimaced. He would change nothing about that moment, he had decided, not when it brought him so tangibly close to forever with his mate. It was right within his grasp now, an eternity of being fulfilled, happy, of having a purpose beyond the walls he once held so dear – he had something new to protect.

“So…they want to punish us both then…and being an out of control newborn is only going to make it worse for both of us.” She mused, though she didn’t seem in the least bit concerned. In fact, if Demetri had to guess, she was rather looking forward to the chance to raise a little hell within their walls. He was as worried and exasperated by the idea as he was amused by it.

“Indeed it just might, though I promise not to let you get too out of hand.” He nudged her lightly with his arm and she giggled, the sound absolutely melodious to his ears. He almost begged her to do it again purely so he had a better chance to commit it to memory, something to keep him company while she endured the change and reminded him of the better times to come. Finally, it felt like he had done something right…now he just had to keep that sweet smile in place.

“You promise huh? Way I see it, its a bit us vs them right now isn’t it? If they can be so unfair to you of all people…” she trailed off. Demetri felt his own smile fall slightly, his expression somewhat vacant as he pondered the accusation. In truth he did feel somewhat betrayed. Chelsea had actually threatened the Masters’ when she first brought home Afton and they wanted him killed, yet she received no punishment, so why had he? He was protecting what was rightfully his after all, someone he could never be truly happy without again. What was so wrong about it?

“Us and them…”he echoed, the thought both perturbing and…thrilling. She hummed, suddenly pushing up onto her knees beside him, eyes alight with fierce determination.

“You’re making a lot of promises but there’s nothing to say you’ll keep them so…lets make a real promise, right now.” She instructed. His eyebrows rose slightly.

“In my day and age when a man gives his word it is an ironclad contract little one, the breaking of which eroded his position in society and status as a man.” He replied slightly insulted. Her head tilted.

“Well we’re not in the Bible era anymore so…” she shot him a devilish grin as he snorted and feigned an offended expression, “It’s a real simple promise. Since we’re supposed to be the next Gomez and Morticia, and we’re clearly the only ones willing to see if that can work out, then I say we promise right now it’ll always be us against them. Hell, it’ll be us against the world if we need it to be. Whatever we do…we back each other up.” She proposed, offering her hand to him. Y/N extended her pinky but left her other fingers curled in, and Demetri wasn’t too sure what exactly was expected of him as he mulled over her words.

They felt right. Wasn’t this what the mate bond was supposed to be? Someone to always support you? Protect you? Someone to always have your back? If not his mate then who? Maybe the Masters’ who would so readily forsake his happiness weren’t the best choice of allies…

“Though I do not know what half of your speech actually meant, I can promise you this. Whatever we do, we back each other up.” He agreed, offering her his hand in the hopes she’d guide him through this next part. Demetri couldn’t honestly say he had any clue what was so different about this handshake and how it was any more significant than any other, but as she looped her pinky through his and shook his hand he couldn’t help but smile. With a firm nod and a sharp exhale, she suddenly reached down and pulled her jumper off with a flourish, revealing an expanse of pale skin and a wonderfully bright blue lace bra Demetri struggled to look away from as he choked on the air he was breathing.

“Okay so first step, you turn me.” She seemed completely unbothered by her partial nakedness, even when he struggled to stop the venom pooling in his mouth and his fingers from reaching out to drag her closer. She looked entirely confident in him and though he wanted to be flattered Demetri had his mind on very different matters in that moment.

“I – you –  Alec is going to- to help.” He choked out, eyes wide and completely fixed to her chest. She visibly lost some confidence then, a beautiful, vibrant shade of red painting her cheeks as her arms came up to cross her chest with a squeak.

“O-oh. I…I th-think I need a shirt then?” she sounded almost as strained as he felt and with a quick nod he dashed to his closet to find her something appropriate. He dutifully kept his head turned away while she buttoned up one of his shirts. When she cleared her throat to let him know he could look again she was still blushing brightly, and Demetri managed a slightly strained smile.

“So er…Alec’s room is just down the hall, er…shall we?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“No need, I heard my name and decided to drop in.” Alec’s voice was smooth as ever but there was an underlying hint of mischief there that made Demetri tense, and it wasn’t until after the deed was done that he dared speak his mind.

“How much did you see, Alec?” he didn’t risk looking at him, not wanting to see the shit-eating smirk he was sure was going to be on Alec’s face. He focused instead on cleaning the blood from her skin and ensuring she was comfortably resting upon his sheets. She started to twitch a bit, a pained grunt escaping here and there as Alec’s mist retreated from them.

“What I did or didn’t see is of no consequence…though I think you’re in for an interesting life if she’s as willing to undress herself for you after the change as she was before it.” His cackling could be heard down the hall as he fled from the room before Demetri could hit him, the tracker closing his eyes and counting to ten before deciding he could let it go for now. He had much bigger things to attend to after all. He had never been one to fuss too much over little things, but suddenly the sheets on the bed were not tucked in enough, the curtains letting in too little or too much light, the air in the room too stale and then too full of scents when he opened the window. There was no such thing as perfection and yet, as she burned, Demetri strived for it.

It felt worth it though, when she finally opened her eyes. It was rather amusing to him to watch her take it all in, the thousands of different smells and the way they tasted in the air, the shimmer of her skin, the speed with which she had sat up and moved. Demetri almost envied her when she finally locked eyes with him, the minute way the vivid red irises widened and the soft gasp that escaped through parted lips telling him she too had felt that momentous pull realigning her entire being with his own – he wished he could experience it again. She approached him with such caution it was almost comical, and Demetri was the one to reach for her first. She jumped at his touch but quickly relaxed into it, letting him hold her hand and squeeze lightly.

“This feeling…”she whispered, her own voice startling her with the musical notes it now contained. Her fingertips traced soothing patterns against his palm and Demetri held back a contented sigh, too enamoured with watching her explore the new feelings and beginning to understand his position in all of this.

“Intense?” he guessed, lifting his free hand to push back some of her hair. The slightest of scars remained where he hadn’t quite managed to cover Riley’s teeth marks with his own, but the majority of it was gone, sealed over with the same venom that had stopped her heart and ensured she would hand the organ and all it contained to him. She nodded distractedly, following his hand with her head until he caved and cupped her cheek tenderly with a low chuckle. His thumb stroked her cheek lovingly, his heart bursting in his chest. She had done it, his mate had defied them all with a little help and now…now there was nothing more for them to do than enjoy eternity.

“Is it forever?” she asked innocently, looking up at him through her lashes. Demetri pulled up the hand that was holding hers, lacing his fingers through her own and leaning down to press his forehead to hers.

“Always and forever little one, it’s us against the world.” He promised. Their noses brushed as her head tilted, pushing forward and pulling back as if trying to decide if she should or not. Demetri decided for her, meeting her halfway and letting their lips meet in the first of many sweet kisses to come. He had never tasted her blood thanks to Alec, but he was sure now that if the boy had failed at his task he certainly would not have been able to stop and his mate would not have been standing before him, sweet and alive and willingly walking into his embrace. The taste of her was sublime, addictive even, and he knew he’d never tire of kissing her. Though she’d need to learn to be a little more careful with him first.

A/N: Usually I wouldn’t do this but I tried a few new things here today I’d like some feedback on please! How do you like the taglist? Should I keep it? Add anyone to it? Take anyone off it? And how do you like the idea of a gif or a picture (when I can find them) to brighten up the post a bit? All that’s left to do now is rejig my Masterlist a bit...Thanks for reading folks. 

[bang-fantansies]

Sasaeng BTS Profiles: Yoongi Edition

Warning: Heavy mentions/implications of suicide, mentions/implications of overdosing on medication, insomnia, unhealthy behaviour, obsessive behaviour, poor mental health, self-denefse killing, homelessness, nightmares, mention/implications of side-character being drunk, death, blood, gore, destruction of evidence, crime, profanity.

I did my best to include any triggering topics mentioned in this post, but if you see any more potentially sensitive topics I may have missed, please let me know!

This does not represent Bangtan as people or a business, nor does it represent anyone/anything associated with them. This is purely fictional and was made for entertainment purposes only; not to slander anyone or any company.

Mental Stability: 3/10

2:50 AM.

As was the same battle every night, Yoongi lay in bed, the whole world sleeping apart from him. He couldn’t help it, of course - believe me, he would if he could - and this was what made the thoughts in his head run wild.

Each thought had a voice, all unique to their varying degrees of uselessness, yet the message they chanted was identical.

“Sleep! Sleep!” they cried. They’d grown louder over the years as Yoongi’s insomnia worsened, and in spite of their efforts to help their master, they did the complete opposite.

That dream - red and monstrous - drowned out any measure of volume the voices could hope to muster. 

The sound of a man gargling with his own blood made Yoongi feel as if he was suffocating, and more often than not he’d jolt up in bed, forced to replay the events of his early adult years.

Before finding his current residence, Yoongi had been forced onto the streets by unjust circumstances, leading to a great deal of situations he’d rather keep buried beneath the layers of his memory.

One such situation involved another homeless man - drunk, Yoongi had assumed - competing with Yoongi for a bottle of liquor he had scored.

Yoongi’s only use for such a thing was to sell it off and use the money to find a cheap room and a meal. But his opponent had refused to accept such nonsense.

“Such fine wine shouldn’t go to waste!” Yoongi could still hear him say, voice ringing in his ears.

“And it won’t if you just let me pass, you stupid old prick.”

In short, the drunkard had taken Yoongi’s tone very personally and caused his own demise by making a haphazard attempt on the younger’s life, resulting in having the bottle of wine he oh-so desired slammed into the side of his head, shattering and giving Yoongi a sharp enough tool to puncture his throat with. 

Yoongi fled the scene not long after, keeping the remains of the bottle to hand until he could destroy the evidence later on.

Nowadays, while he was far from sleeping rough, he hardly slept at all for fear of his actions whispering cruel and dark remarks into his ear.

As it would for most, this took its toll on Yoongi’s health; physical, emotional, and mental.

The pressure had proven to be too much for him to handle, and on this night, he had decided he’d had enough.

On his computer desk stood a bottle, a proud shade of orange with its contents revealed in a cluster of black ink, made to resemble actual handwriting, written across a label stuck to its front - the only semblance of privacy Yoongi was allowed. Its white cap was ajar, and though no scent came from within, Yoongi could practically smell the prescription enticing him to a snack.

And under normal circumstances, he would have declined as he had many a time before. 

But these were no longer normal circumstances.

Yoongi rose from beneath the bed sheets, any semblance of humanity he’s once held having burnt out alongside his will to continue.

He knew what it meant to live - to love the act of being human - but he was no longer human. He most similarly resembled a shell; cold, hollow, and filled with the shadows of his own mind.

And so he had made his decision. Despite his lethargy shackling him to the bed, he made a reach for the bottle, popping off the cap and peering inside.

A glass of water sat on his bedside table, bubbles sticking to the water-covered walls as a result of disuse.

Yoongi counted the pills, assuming that the amount he was left with would be enough.

At this point, he figured that if he was to find no rest in life, he would surely find it in whatever lay beyond his broken, mortal body.

In these last moments, Yoongi granted himself his last comfort.

He brought his laptop beside him and searched his favourite artist on YouTube.

He only had a few artists in his arsenal that he could dispense at family dinners or reunions he’d been invited to.

he never was an adept conversationalist: even at friends’ parties where a guest he didn’t know would be obligated to talk to him on account of appeasing the birthday girl or boy.

For a second, Yoongi faltered.

His mind backtracked to the joy he’d felt with his friends, and in turn the joy he had granted them.

Was he really going through with this...?

A stab of doubt was all it would take to make Yoongi withdraw from his initial intentions, and he cut the tie with said doubt immediately, pushing his friends to the back of his mind.

He was exhausted - tired of helping and appealing to others; now it was time to take care of himself.

From the tiny speaker in his laptop came the sound of solace: his favourite track from his idol.

He lay back, pill bottle and water placed on his bedside table as he basked in his last melody.

Through the duration of the song, Yoongi’s unease had worn away - eroded by the tides of his own resolution.

The song eventually clambered to a fading finish. Yoongi knew what came next.

He sat up and tipped the contents of the bottle onto the table, a hill of oddly-coloured tablets forming.

He threw the bottle somewhere behind him, hearing it land in a hidden corner of the room.

Pale hands scooped the pills up like candy, bringing them to Yoongi’s lips.

And like a saving grace emerging through a storm, a miracle unfolded.

A soft sound played beside him; the sound of angel wings and promises of a better future.

Yoongi didn’t so much as falter as he did pause, lending his ear to the tune.

It played notes from an instrument Yoongi didn’t even think existed - a soft twinkling stalked by a voice he had yet to have heard on his musical voyages through Soundcloud and YouTube.

For a second - just a second - the doubt that had made such a ruckus to enter had now slithered through the back door of Yoongi’s mind.

What was this music?

Reluctant, he lowered his hand to his side, though held tightly on to the pills.

Turning the screen to face him, he came face-to-face with someone other than his idol.

Her eyes looked a soft shade of (e/c) in the no-doubt filtered lighting of the video, though the sincerity she held within them was far from fabricated.

The background was crystalline - faux crystal props - oversized and oversaturated. They were littered around the studio in which the woman sang, and beneath a purple hue she sat on a stool, an air of comfort radiating from her.

As to what she was singing, Yoongi had no idea.

He let the music play for a moment, considering his options.

What harm would it do him to listen to something new? It wasn’t as if he’d be able to after he was gone, anyway.

Lying back down, Yoongi stared at the ceiling, the lack of light or patterns making it easier for him to focus solely on the music.

His fatigue embraced him like a long-lost mother, shrouding him in a warmth unmatched by that of any real person.

The singer’s soft humming filled the desolate room. And if Yoongi wasn’t mistaken, he could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

He forced a bitter smile, doubtful that his mind would actually allow him any such solace as sleep.

To humour his weary self one last time, Yoongi shut his eyes, sighing deeply and sinking into the mattress.

*

The next time Yoongi opened his eyes, his room was still dark. And as if it had never left to begin with, his bitter smile returned.

I knew it, he thought. Though the victory of beating his already hell-level expectations filled his overflowing spirit with grief, disguised and diluted by the anger that had slipped into the mix so long ago.

Sitting up, Yoongi lent his ear to the room once more.

He could hear the soft hum of the woman’s song no longer, and it was in this second that he realised he didn’t remember actually hearing the song end.

It was on one minute, and off the next.

Suspicious, Yoongi glanced at his half-lidded laptop, faced with a blackened screen as the device had switched itself off.

With a push of the power button, the power returned, and in a blast of light the screen sprung to life.

Through the tips of his fringe, Yoongi checked the time.

11:15 AM.

He recoiled.

That couldn’t be right - surely.

Logging in, he noted how his battery was running low, despite having been fully charged before he lay down.

The screen gave way to the last application he’s been using, and clear as day the same starry-eyed woman with the voice of velvet was on-screen, though the video she was in had long since ended.

Yoongi checked the time again, pulling his fringe back so as not to trick himself a second time.

11:16 stared back at him, steadfast and unwavering in its absolution.

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in a sense of alarm.

He rose from the bed, tearing his curtains open.

A cityscape greeted him, and the sun waved from its fixture in the sky. It was daytime.

Yoongi stumbled back, carding a hand through his hair.

There was absolutely no way he’d-

...Had he actually managed to get to sleep?

Yoongi checked his phone, watch, and alarm clock; no-one dared deceive him of date nor time.

He was willing (and already considering) to accept the idea that he’d time-traveled; the concept of having a decent night’s sleep was as foreign as a language to him.

Nevertheless, he hadn’t the time to dawdle in such a concept, though he made absolute certain to when he was at work.

*

His colleagues seemed to notice a change in Yoongi’s behaviour.

Though he was often dazed into bouts of silence by his exhaustion, this quietude was new. Different.

A few co-workers commented on how he looked much livelier. And more alive, he felt.

In spite of this, the constant what-ifs of the morning had followed him - clung to him like a cologne.

What if...what if he was actually dead?

He considered this, deciding against his theory.

If he was dead and this was indeed Heaven, he should be receiving a lot more good fortune for all the shit he had to deal with in his life.

No, this was neither Hesven nor Hell. Or Purgatory.

Yoongi also considered that he was in a coma, but that didn’t add up, either.

He tested to see if he was comatose. Nothing.

He was still trapped in his same-old reality. But at least he could think clearly now.

*

By the time he got home, his body yearned for the sweet release of music, and he sought the comfort of his favourite artist - as he usually did on days as long as this.

Shoving his bedroom door open, he grumbled at the brightness the room held for a change.

He’d forgotten to shut his curtains before he left.

In the dwindling light of the afternoon sun, he saw the pills scattered across his duvet, the sole remnants of his almost-actions.

He cringed, forcing them to the back of his mind.

He could acknowledge the gravity of his decision later. Right now, his head was filled with the phantom melodies longing for a vessel.

Yoongi has attained the good sense to charge his laptop, and as he switched it on, he was greeted with the same lady who had pulled him to sleep the night before.

Or, Yoongi supposed, who had just happened to be playing on the night he was finally able to sleep without the nightmare scaring him awake.

Such wonderment remained at the back of his mind as he went about his business.

Through his own music, the whisper of the lady’s tune plagued him. So much so that, after a good three hours of composing, Yoongi found himself eyeing the tab he’d left open from before.

Having returned home from work later, his body was weighted with the day’s contrivances and stresses, as well as its successes and joys.

Emotionally, Yoongi had given all he had to offer, which, if he was to admit it to himself, was far more than he usually did.

He considered that it was more than likely it wasn’t just the song that had sent him to sleep.

On the contrary, he believed that a multitude of factors had to have been at play in such a miracle.

He wished to replicate the conditions of the night before: he kept his room dark and a glass of water on his bedside. He packed his pills away and placed them on his bedside, too, taking care not to lose any in case their service was required again.

He set the woman’s song up, lying in bed and playing it.

The creeping horror of the notion of never obtaining such a quality of sleep again was the only odd variable in this equation, and though it quietly consumed Yoongi’s thoughts, the hum of the song muffled it.

The song was no longer than 4 minutes, though the eternity that stretched between Yoongi and his voyage to the fabled land of dreams made it impossible to tell how long it had been.

He was not yet familiar enough with the song to place a time on the segment he was experiencing.

His concerns faded as he simply let himself be.

If it works, it works, he told himself.

The next thing Yoongi remembered was hearing a bird chirping nearby his window.

He cracked an eye open.

Much like the night before, his room remained in a state of quiet disarray, though only noticeable to the trained eye.

His laptop lay near his side, screen dark and lifeless.

Yoongi checked through a crack in the curtains. And sure as anything, the sun had risen once again.

*

Over the next couple of weeks, Yoongi researched the song, its creator, and whether it was really the secret to staving off his insomnia.

He had discovered that the creator’s name was (Y/N) - a popular artist who had fans far and wide, as well as domestically.

He found more of her particular songs - the ones that she hummed.

He tested both the original and these humming bird songs (as he called them), and to his delight, the humming birds worked.

Yoongi would go to sleep and wake up at reasonable times, rather than the odd dips in and out of consciousness he would try to induce on his own terms.

It was just your music that soothed him so, and from the day he uncovered this, he vowed to be your loyal follower.

Though, with any influential fan can blossom obsession, and as Yoongi became ever more eneamoured with your gossamer vocals, he feared the day that your songs would no longer support his sleep.

Or, God forbid, you stopped singing.

He often fretted over such a premature worry, though he couldn’t deny how it had all but devoured his thoughts.

Months into his expedition into your music, he decided to finally take action to ensure that your voice would never die - never fade with age, accident or abuse.

No, he would preserve it like the fine wine he had failed to so many years ago - to be sipped and savoured for eternities to come.

Sasaeng Masterlist

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

#MountainLife

Summary: When a typical winter storm sends her car into a snowbank, Y/n finds herself face to face with her favorite actor. Will Jensen be able to dig her out or will the day have other plans for them?

Pairing: None, purely platonic

Word Count: 2.7K+

Warnings: Language, very minor car accident (no injuries)

Author's Note: Single-digit temperatures, lots of snow, and one wily Brit (@winchest09) gave me the idea for this mess. Also, Jensen in those damn sweats didn't help either. But in all honesty, I don't think I've been warm for three weeks. This helped make me smile through the shivering and I hope it does the same for you. xoxo Alex

Check out Alexandra's Library for more works by yours truly!

The chill that had settled in her room overnight roused the woman before her alarm had the chance. Y/n tucked herself further into the heavy blankets that she adorns her bed with every winter, but it was no use. The cold had successfully awoken her for the day, and not even the pocket of heat her body had created under the mountain of cotton could protect her now. 

With a huff, she climbed from the fraction of warmth her bed provided and slipped on her heavy robe. Her feet shuffled as she made her way to the large bay window on the south side of her bedroom and tugged open the curtains. The expanse of her backyard and the woods that lay just beyond was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, large snowflakes continuing to fall as she observed the scene in front of her. Y/n smiled at the undisturbed white that shone brightly against the beginnings of the early morning sunshine, her tired eyes trailing to the back porch and the pile of snow that rested against the beams. From the sight, she could guess they had accumulated a foot so far, a little less than the evening news had predicted. 

Since she was young, she had always had a loved winter and the unique beauty and serenity that heavy snow would bring. Some of her best memories were playing in the snow all day only to come home, chilled to the bone and pink in her cheeks, to a piping hot mug of cocoa. But as she grew older, that love had turned a tad sour when snow days turned into digging her car out and stressing the whole drive to work about the idiots on the road who act as if they have never seen snow before. She still basked in its wonder and beauty, but she hated having responsibilities that forced her to deal with its less than fun side. 

Considering where she was located, the woman knew she would need to give herself extra time to get to work this morning, seeing as her drive and the main road would not be plowed by the city. Even though she had woken early, it still wasn’t enough time to pull out her snowblower and do the entirety of her drive. It was up to her SUV to get her into town in one piece. 

With that thought in mind, she was quick to make it through her morning routine. She made sure to cut time wherever was possible. A shower that didn’t include washing her hair which allowed her to leave it down to frame her face, lighter than normal makeup, and one cup of caffeine instead of her normal two. Y/n decided against packing a lunch today and made sure to bundle up in heavy layers. 

With enough time left to nearly double her commute, she headed out the door and into the SUV. The cabin was warm, the heat running full blast from when she started it ten minutes earlier and she sighed as she settled into her seat. The driveway met her with instant resistance to the spinning of her tires, but it was nothing the rubber couldn’t handle. The woman was cautious, taking the gradual incline of her drive at a slow pace to give her time to react to any sign that the tires were slipping. 

Once she hit the main road, things were not much better. It seemed that most of the blanket that covered the mountainside had remained untouched, making her drive the first to lay down tracks. She could hear the snow brushing the underside of the vehicle, causing her to slow her pace even more to avoid any possible damage it may cause. At this point, the car was crawling down the hillside, barely rising above 25 miles per hour as she reached the valley. 

Y/n made her usual left turn towards the city and where she worked, the back road winding up through the mountains before leveling off in town. It could be treacherous this time of year, but it wasn’t a path she hadn’t taken before. Having grown up in the area, Y/n had learned how to handle the slope and the snow from the moment she walked out of the DMV with her license at seventeen. In fact, the night before her driver’s test, they received over a foot of snow. If she could pass under those conditions, she was set. But not even the years of experience could have prepared her car for the hidden patch of ice that had settled beneath the snow. 

The tires slipped against the smooth surface as she turned the corner, sending the rear of the SUV fishtailing to the right. Instinct had her correcting the path of the car before she could think about it, the turn of the steering wheel flipping the direction the vehicle was careening in. 

“Fuck,” Yn hissed as she worked to fix things, making sure this time to not overcorrect her car. Her grip on the leather wheel was tight as the realization that she had to let whatever was going on happen, bracing herself as the car continued to slip into a snowbank on the side of the road. Luckily, at her low speed, the impact was minimal and she prayed the damage to her fender would reflect that. With a sigh, she pushed slowly on the gas, attempting to see if her car would get back onto the road, only to feel the familiar slip of the tires. The vehicle was only able to find enough traction to give her maybe an inch, but the incline was unforgiving. 

“Well, shit,” she grumbled, pulling her phone from her purse before shutting off the car and hopping from the heated cabin. The snow crunched under her boots as she rounded the car to see if there was anything she might be able to do. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the tools in her trunk that would even come close to digging her out of the trouble she had gotten into. The frustrated woman kicked the rim of her tire, knowing full well it wasn’t her car’s fault she was in this mess, but it made her feel a tad better. She rounded back to jump back into the waning heat of the car to make the necessary calls to work and a tow truck. A voice rising behind her halted her hand on the handle. 

“Hey! Are you okay?” The deep voice carried across the open street and to the troubled woman. Y/n spun her head to the sound, certain she recognized that distinct timber of the person calling out to her. Sure enough, as she blinked through the thick snowflakes falling through the air, she was greeted by the visage of the very last person she had ever expected to see. He wasn’t wearing much for a cold snowy day, just a pair of heavy sweats and a thick green henley topped off with snow boots, a beanie, and a pair of gloves. The tall man skidded to a halt a safe distance from her, a snow shovel hanging from one hand. 

“Ma’am, are you hurt?” the return of his voice snapped her back to the reality that he was indeed standing in front of her. She was quick to straighten her features, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way her jaw had dropped. 

“Uh, yeah… I mean no, I’m not hurt at all,” she fumbled over her words and silently cursed her lack of finesse. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping and a small smile gracing his lips. 

“I didn’t think anyone would try and get into town today,” his brow rose as he attempted to hide the amusement on her face. Y/n was a good sport though, nodding her agreement to his assessment. “I heard the commotion from my porch and came running.”

“I can see that,” the woman took in the flush to his nose and cheeks and the way his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the hot air from his mouth swirling into a white mist before disappearing above his head. With a giggle, she pointed to the shovel in his right hand. “Is that for protection?” 

“No, I was clearing my porch thank you very much,” he tilted his chin at her. “You want some help getting out?” Y/n turned to look back at the mess behind her, a grimace returning to her face. 

“You can try, but I’m pretty sure it’s hopeless.”

“Start her up, I’ll shovel,” and with that, he scooted past her and began to dig out the snow around her tires. Y/n suspected it was useless to argue and went back into her car. Most of the heat had faded by now from the inside, allowing the bitter bite of the mountain air to creep back in. She turned the engine over and waited for his signal. He appeared back at her door, slightly out of breath from his exertion and Y/n had to fight biting her lip at the sight. 

“Try her out, let’s see if that helped,” he panted, his lips parted as his chest heaved. With a nod, she put the car in gear and pressed against the gas. The vehicle rocked underneath her, but the tires still struggled to gain any traction. He disappeared to the rear, attempting to push the car to give her the extra power needed. But it was no use. The snow was too deep and too heavy. 

“It’s over,” Y/n sighed and put the car back into park before turning it off. The annoyed woman hopped back into the cold morning air. “Seriously, thank you for helping but I think my only option is calling for a tow.” 

“You might be right.” Y/n watched the gears turning in his head through the faded green eyes she had dreamed about many times before. He pursed his lips, still trying to come up with a way to get her out and the woman wasn’t sure her nonchalant demeanor would last much longer in his presence. She bit down on the tip of her tongue and fished her phone from her pocket, looking up the number for the local tow service. 

“Thank you though, for helping out a total stranger,” Y/n lifted the phone to her ear. 

“No problem, honestly. I’m Jensen by the way,” he indicated, not offering his hand to her considering the state of the country, and to be honest most of the world, at the moment. 

“Oh-” An automated machine picked up after the first ring, halting her reply. The message indicated the state of emergency the governor declared meant they weren’t taking calls until the weather let up. The shivering woman grimaced and hung up the phone. Jensen raised a brow at her, taking in the clear downstroke of her mood. 

“The governor declared a state of emergency,” she answered his unasked question. “I guess I better call work and let them know I won’t be in, I hope it does leave them too shorthanded because with the state of the roads that wouldn’t be good. And I should probably call my insurance company, but we will see if they even answer considering,”

“Ma’am?” Jensen interrupted her ramblings.

“Y/n, please,” she corrected. “I was rambling wasn’t I?” The worried woman hadn’t realized the words were coming out of her mouth, the anxiety over her current situation overtaking her mind for that brief moment. 

“A little,” he confirmed. “Listen, do you live close?”

“Not exactly. I’m about five miles down Sierra Trail.”

“Join me then?” Jensen suggested, indicating the drive that assuredly led to his house. Panic rose in her gut at the suggestion and her instant reaction was ‘that’s not happening’. The man standing across from her, no matter how many times she blinked, remained, and yet she still didn’t believe this wasn’t all a dream. 

Of course, she had recognized Jensen as soon as his voice registered in her brain. He was only the one man she had spent more time watching on her television or scrolling past online. The man had saved her life and he had no idea. The last thing she could do was just waltz into his home when he didn’t have all the facts. He deserved to have all the facts.

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” 

“I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything. My wife and kids are doing some finger painting in the kitchen as we speak and we haven’t left the house in weeks,” The man’s face softened as he looked at her, trying to convince the wary woman.

“It’s not that,” Y/n chuckled, earning a confused look from her favorite actor. The woman chewed on the inside of her lip, contemplating how to phrase the next thing she wanted to tell him. 

“I-” A smile spread on her face as she got an idea. Y/n held up a finger to him and stepped to the rear of her car. She raised a gloved hand to brush away the accumulation of snow on the small side window to reveal the anti-possession decal that clung to the glass. She turned back to him with a sheepish grin, “I’m actually a huge fan. I just thought you deserved to know that before you invite me into your home.” 

The numerous expressions that flickered past his features finally settled into a soft smile. “Well, thank you, that’s very kind. If you are a fan then you probably know that even if you planned to steal my underwear and sell it on the internet later, or even keep it, that I can’t let you stay out here on the side of the road and in the freezing cold for who only knows how long.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, you are welcome to stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, her heart glowing in her chest at his offer. The fangirl inside her was losing her mind and trying to piece together what specific alternate reality fanfic she had fallen into. “I promise not to steal your underwear then.”

Jensen let out a snort, his head rearing back in laughter. “Well, I’ll make sure to count them before you leave, just in case.”

“Deal,” Y/n grabbed her belongings from her car and secured the vehicle before following Jensen. They crossed the road and dredged up the gentle slope of the Ackles’ drive. Y/n was finally beginning to feel the bite of the winter against her exposed face as the house came into view behind the heavy trees. The design was typical of the area and not much different from her own, well besides the sheer size of it. 

The stairs were sprinkled with salt and half the porch held evidence of his attempt to clear it, only for the still falling snow to already destroy his efforts. The sound of children’s chatter filtered from the house as Jensen pushed open the front door. He toed off his boots onto a matt behind the front door and Y/n moved to follow his lead. 

“Here,” he held his hand out to take her bags as she copied his action. “I’ll find something for you to change into and we can put your wet clothes into the dryer.” 

“You really don’t have to do that,” her instinct to refuse anything offered to her was too strong to stop. 

“Y/n, just relax. You are not sitting in wet clothes all day and that’s not just because I want to protect my furniture,” Jensen joked, also taking her coat as she shrugged it off. 

“That’s easy for you to say,” she grumbled, following behind him further into the house. The voices of his family grew louder as they went and the woman was sure even at his distance, the actor could hear her heart thumping inside her chest. 

As he passed under an archway, the tiny shriek of ‘Daddy’ met their ears, halting her in her steps. Y/n let her eyes close and took a few gulping breaths in one last-ditch attempt at steadying herself before she would spend her day with the Ackles’. 

Somebody should pinch her...

Forevers: @22sarah08 @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @anathewierdo3467 @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88​ @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @tatted-trina6​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @tranquility-or-chaos​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

[xbunnybunz]

Flowers Between Ribs [Sans x Reader]

Summary: Papyrus is cooking downstairs and Sans is asleep. Of course, you would take this opportunity to stick flowers in his ribs... You did not know he was sensitive there.

Genre: Fluff

Date: July 21, 2016

-----

It was an unusually peaceful day. A comfortable yet rare silence had settled in the humble abode of two skeleton brothers, which was usually bustling with noise and strange misendeavours. The sun was just starting to set, and the hues in the sky cast their light into the house. Gradients of the fading twilight slipped past the curtains and washed over the room, bathing it in it’s palette of orange, pink and purple watercolor.

You would soon attribute the odd spell of quiet with the absence of a certain boisterous skeleton-

“SANS, WE HAVE RETURNED WITH THE INGREDIENTS FOR DINNER!” Papyrus kicked the door open, almost sending it off of its hinges.

The door bounced off of the wall with a splintering ‘CRACK,’ and would’ve slammed back into Papyrus’s armful of groceries if you hadn’t jammed it open with your foot.

Whew, that was a close one. There were eggs in there.

“AND I BROUGHT A GUEST! (Y/N) IS STAYING FOR DINNER AGAIN TONIGHT!”

You poked a head around Papyrus’s towering frame and peeked inside the familiar house. As always, it was relatively clean, leave for a sock in the corner. (Which was bombarded with sticky-notes.) You visited Papyrus and Sans on a regular basis, and knew this place better than the back of your hand. Scanning the room, you realized that something was missing- or, to be specific, someone.

“Hey Papyrus, do you know where Sans is?” You ask as you shift the brown bags in your arms, and walk towards the kitchen. Papyrus follows close behind, scanning the room as well.

“WELL, IF HE ISN’T IN THE LIVINGROOM, HE MUST BE SLEEPING UPSTAIRS.” Papyrus set the bags down on the counter and placed his hands on his hips, “THAT PILE OF LAZYBONES.”

You chuckled and plopped your share of groceries on the counter as well, snatching a particularly light paper bag off the table. “I’ll go wake him up, then! You better get started on cooking Pappy!”

“AH , YES. I SHALL BEGIN CREATING MY WONDROUS SPAGHETTI! HM, SHALL I USE GLITTER GLUE OR PUFFY STICKERS TODAY?” Papyrus thought out loud to himself.

As you slipped out the door, you couldn’t help but shudder at the skeleton’s strange sense of taste.

Sure, Papyrus may be sweet, but unfortunately that didn’t make his cooking any more palatable than a third grader’s macaroni-and-glitter art project.

Still, you were kind of thankful he sucked at cooking- it was what strengthened your bond with the brothers so much. Whenever you were free, you’d come by their place and give Papyrus some cooking tips (“GEE (Y/N), THAT MAKES QUITE A LOT OF SENSE. I THOUGHT THAT WHEN PASTA CAUGHT ON FIRE, IT MEANT IT WAS SPICY; ISN’T THAT WHAT THE COMMERCIALS MEAN BY ‘FIERY HOT?’”) while also preparing nice meal for the three of you. Of course, you’d leave room for one or two bites of Papyrus’s self-proclaimed “MASTERPIECE SPAGHETTI, NYEHEHEH!” which seemed to satisfy everyone.

With the bag delicately pressed to your chest, you tiptoed quietly upstairs toward Sans’s room, faintly hearing the telltale signs of light snoring. Luckily, he had left his bedroom door slightly ajar and unlocked, making your job a lot easier. (You knew Sans couldn’t be awakened by the mere sounds of knocking, and you didn’t have the adequate tools to lockpick.

(NOT THAT YOU LOCKPICKED.))

You shouldered his door open quietly and were greeted with the sight of his room- something people could politely describe as… organized chaos. It wasn’t often that you came up to Sans’s room. Perhaps you’ve been in and out of here once or twice when you were sleeping over and needed extra pillows, but that was done rather quickly.

You never really paid attention to anything (except for the odd flashlight-lamp-contraption on his dresser.) Taking a closer look at the room now, you notice many odds and ends you're surprised you didn't spot before. A dusty treadmill, heaps of clothes and stray socks littering the floor- and… A hurricane of a mess. Literally.

Typical Sans.

Stepping over the oddities strewn across the bedroom floor, you make your way over to a sleeping Sans, peacefully snoozing away while sprawled on his back. The corner of your lips quirk up a bit further upon hearing the faint clanging of pots and pans downstairs, along with the occasional “NYEHEHEH!”and you figure Papyrus  is entertaining himself: you'd let Sans catch z’s for just a little longer.

You plop down next to Sans’s bed and rest an arm on the edge of the mattress, propping your head up on it. Your eyes latch onto his chest, rising up and down at a slow and steady pace. No nightmares this time, huh? You let out a small exhale and give the sleeping monster a small lopsided smile.

Despite his endless slew of lame jokes and easygoing attitude, you knew Sans always had a torrential wave of thoughts consuming his mind- in both sleep and his waking hours. At one point, you had gotten worried enough about his worsening eyebags and asked if he was alright, only to receive a broad and somewhat conventional reply. You begrudgingly changed topics, taking the hint- but pressed him for answers once Papyrus called you up begging for help at 7AM on a Saturday.

You had dashed over there with a bad case of bedhead and mismatching socks, assuming the worst- only to arrive and find Papyrus in desperate need to use the only bathroom in the house- which Sans had fallen asleep in while brushing his teeth. “no need to get so pee-ved, can’t a guy get some bath-room to himself for a bit, heh?” “Sans,” You huffed “Look, we can tell something is bothering you- and it must be pretty bad, to lose sleep over.” He shifted from one slipper-clad foot to another, eyes darting away from you.

No response.

You sigh and place a hand gently on his arm, furrowing your brows at him. “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but take care of yourself, okay? We can’t have you injured for small things that could’ve been helped, yaknow?” Sans chuckled and lightened up considerably as Papyrus came out of the bathroom, looking much more calm.

“hey, eye’m bagging you to let this go, (Y/N).”

“SANS!“

And that concluded your semi-serious conversation about Sans’s health. You knew Sans was only avoiding a direct answer to save you and Papyrus the trouble of being worried, but there was a nagging feeling in your mind that there was something more than that. Something that he was… Protecting you two from?

Your eyes travel from his rising chest to his ivory face, completely relaxed despite the constant grin that was plastered from cheek to cheek.

From afar the bony surface seemed flawless and smooth, but up close you could spot small imperfections. Chips on the surface, tiny indentations, ridges and occasional scratches decorated his face, and you found yourself struggling to keep your hands to yourself. It was strange how these small markings could be argued to be unattractive- but to you, be so entrancingly unique and beautiful.

It made Sans who he was.

Your stare catches on parts of his exposed lower ribs, a result of his white shirt and unzipped blue jacket riding up during his tossing and turning.

Your cheeks betray you and flush a deep red rivaling Papyrus’s cape, and you hurriedly avert your gaze elsewhere. It was then that you remembered what you had brought into the room with you, and an idea popped into your mind.

Smiling coyly, you pick your head up and dig a hand into the brown paper bag, careful to subdue any obnoxious crinkling. You pull out your hand. In between your pointer finger and your thumb was a dainty little flower with vibrantly colored petals and a thick, robust stem.

After you had gone grocery shopping with Papyrus, you spotted a flower vending cart next to the park you two passed to go home, covered from wheel to canopy with beautiful, multicolored flowers of all variety.

“GO AHEAD, HUMAN. I SEE YOU HAVE TAKEN A LIKING TO THE PRETTY WEEDS.”

Papyrus gestured for you to go with a wide and genuine smile, but you were too busy cringing at the unintentional jab to really notice.

“I SHALL WAIT FOR YOU HERE UNTIL YOU HAVE FINISHED LOOKING! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM EXCELLENT AT WAITING! AMONG OTHER THINGS OF COURSE.” You wondered if bringing up the incident where he could barely wait for the bathroom would be appropriate, but bit your tongue.

Instead, you tossed him a grateful smile and went to pick out a handful of snipped daisies, bluebells, bleeding hearts and carnations.

Chuckling at the memory, you twirled the powder pink carnation between your fingers and eye Sans’s uncovered ribs. You honestly had no idea what to do with the snippets of flowers, and had only bought them in the spur of the moment. But now, you had an idea Would he feel it? He was asleep… This could be payback for that time he stacked ritz crackers on your forehead as you napped on the couch- needless to say you got a faceful of saltine cookies once you awoke. (“aw, come’on (Y/N), don’t be mad! I’m crackerin’ up over here!”)

Carefully, you slipped the smooth, dark green stem of the carnation between his second to last rib. Seeing that it stayed put, you felt a burst of happiness and immediately worked to place as many as you could in the exposed expanse of his bones.

Selecting a line of deep red bleeding hearts, you nestled those on the innermost part of his fourth to last rib. A cute daisy followed, placed snugly next to the bleeding hearts. You decorate his outer false ribs with baby blue bluebells and tuck some red carnations comfortably against the tip of his Xiphoid Process, grinning to yourself. Lines of fresh white daises and bleeding hearts dangle from his floating ribs, and you can’t help but admire your handiwork. The vividly colored flora somehow both complimented and contrasted perfectly against Sans’s milky white bones, framing the already strong and alluring structure with a collection of complimentary daisies and bluebells, gradiented red and pink carnations, and elegant yet sharply colored bleeding hearts.

After a few moments, you catch yourself staring and shake yourself out of your stupor. Glancing inside the brown paper bag, you are confronted with one more healthy-looking daisy sitting alone at the bottom. Removing it from its confines, you stare blankly at the garden in Sans’s ribs, wondering where to put the final flower.

Finally, you decide to place it with the other daises, but- Accidentally, your fingertips brush along Sans’s costal cartilage, and static shoots up your arm.

Oh, geez.

He was unexpectedly warm for a skeleton, and insanely smooth.

Your hand instinctively draws back as you sharply inhale, eyes darting up to Sans’s face. Fortunately, he was still asleep- although a strange bluish hue had dusted his cheeks. There was no way...

Was he… Enjoying that?

A shiver travels up your spine as you hear him give an almost inaudible but throaty groan, and you press your fingers to your lips. You didn’t ever really have a chance to find out what monster anatomy was like- but it was rather odd to you that ribs of all places could be a potential erogenous zone. Slowly, you lower them back onto the same spot and wrap the pads of your fingers around the bone, giving a longer, harder rub.

The response is immediate. Phalanges curl into the bedcovers and metacarpals twist into bedsheets.

Sans arches his back with a whimper and brings his ribs into your palms, reminding you of lesser dog and his keening.

Except this one moans.

Sans unconsciously bucks into your hand and gives a crescendo of a guttural moan, sending your heartbeat sailing and skin crawling. Your head whips towards the bedroom door to make sure Papyrus hadn’t heard and come up to check on you, and once you were in the clear, you yanked  your hand away despite the tingling in your fingertips that urged you on.

Well, attempted to. Your eyes widened into saucers when you feel boney fingers- the same ones that were grappling at the bed a few seconds earlier- wrap themselves around your wrist and hold you in place- if not pulling you closer.

Sans gazed at you with one half lidded eye, a lazy but knowing smile licking at his usual cheesy grin. “mornin’.” You gulped and flushed red. Caught. “I-It’s more night than morning, but…” Your eyes followed his gaze to the small flower show in his ribs, and when you glanced back at you with a grin and a raised eyebrow, your blush reached the tip of your ears.

“I-“ You rushed to explain yourself, but found yourself tripping over your own words, “T-The flowers looked pretty and- and your bones were there and i thought it'd look good and alsobeacuseoftheritzcrackersthing-“ You visibly deflate with  complete and utter embarrassment, wishing you could either turn sink between the wooden floor boards or turn into one of the many heaps of clothing on his floor.

“it’s kind of like a garden.” Sans smiled at you, his long fingers still wrapped firmly around your wrist.

You mutely nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“the only thing im missing are butterflies in my stomach, but you already give me those.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the comment, and your pupils rapidly dart to-and-fro, intensely staring at anything BUT Sans. Ohgoshthiswasembarassingwhydidyouthinkitwouldbeagoodideaatall-

“hey”

You feel the metacarpals around your arm pull you forward so you were practically on the bed with Sans. Before you could part your lips to protest, another set of fingers brushed along the breadth of your jawline and firmly but gently grasped your chin and turned you to face him.

“look at me.”

He was so close- maybe just a little more and- Sans plucked the daisy you forgot you were holding from your hands, tucking it into your hair.

“don’t think I don’t know what you were doing, kid.” Sans chuckled mischeviously, the laughter coming from deep within his chest. Maybe it was just your imagination, but was his left eye glowing cyan…?

“I, uh-“

“(Y/N)!” A loud voice called from downstairs, “THE PASTA WAS COOKING TOO SLOWLY SO I PUT CANDLES IN THE POT TO MAKE MORE FIRE INSIDE.” Silence follows. “THE CANDLES HAVE DISAPPEARED.” More silence. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL MAKE ANOTHER BATCH!”

As you opened your mouth to respond, Sans stopped you with a finger to your lips. “let’s finish what you started, hm? you might wanna keep quiet."

His eye flared

"my room's right above the kitchen."

[ill-skillsgard]

Can you write something inspired by Bill's look in Do you like the taste of beer?😇 You are his night guest when you are in town for work but he's just a friend of a friend that you think is too pretentious. Cute but nothing special. That's until you see him in just his boxers and without glasses...

The lodging situation was not what you expected at all. Your semi-close friend from school promised a nice, clean apartment where you could spend the weekend with no one to bother you. The apartment belonged to his friend, which made the owner a friend of a friend, and you didn't do so well with people you didn't know. 

Your friend assured you'd be alone for the duration of the weekend, so when a tall, bespectacled man greeted you the moment you unlocked the door with a key you got from a hidden lockbox attached to a pole in the parking lot, your blood drained into your feet. 

"Oh! Oh my God, did I come at the wrong time?" You asked the brown-haired man standing in the hallway. 

"No, no, you're fine. I just wanted to say hi and explain some things to you before you..." he gestured at your arms full of bags. "Do whatever it is you're doing. Getting some work done?" 

You looked down at your overnight bag and satchel full of supplies. "Uh, yeah. I'm passing through and didn't want to pay hotel rates. They're insane in this city."

The tall man nodded broadly, having fully understood your complaint. He tucked his palms into the sleeves of his grey sweater and stepped out of the way. You cringed at the thought of making yourself at home in another person's space, but it was too late now. 

"You can use the entire apartment, of course," the man announced as he padded through the kitchen toward the counter and a cell phone plugged into the wall. "Have anything you want to eat, although there's not a whole lot. If you want to order food, the buzzer number is sixty-two thirty-four. All I ask is you clean up after yourself. Recycling, trash and compost are all under the sink. Dishes go in the washer. There's a gym on the top floor if you want to work out."

"I'll be okay," you said.

The man pressed the bridge of his glasses and motioned you down the hall. You followed him to an open door into a sizeable room. The setting sun blinded you both until he drew the curtains, cutting off the view of the glinting city. "Here's your room. I'm next door, but you don't have to worry about me."

Confused, you said nothing and set your bags down at the foot of the bed. It seemed your friend had misinformed you, but what were you to say? That you were uncomfortable staying in the apartment when the owner was still there? It would be terribly obtuse to show any kind of ungratefulness. After all, you were paying nothing to use the space, and the loft was nicely decorated and warm—the exact kind of place you'd rent out for a weekend of uninterrupted concentration.

He promised not to be a bother, but warned you might cross paths in the kitchen. He had an ensuite bathroom which minimized the chances of you bumping shoulders in the hallway. After his brief rundown, he left you on your own. You sequestered yourself in the room, put on your headset and texted your friend about the presence he'd omitted.

After a few hours, you forgot all about the man and dove into your work, resurfacing only after you'd chipped off a large amount of productivity. When you slipped off your headset to give your ears a break from pressing into your skull, you heard muttering on the other side of the wall. 

He spoke in another language, something Scandinavian and fraught with resentment. You rubbed the shells of your ears to restore blood flow, then replaced the headset and turned the volume up on your favourite song.

The morning forced you out into the kitchen. You could no longer beat your hunger off with a force of will. Shy as ever, even in the empty kitchen, you searched for something to tide you over, then decided you'd pack up your laptop and find the nearest cafe to sit down and order a hot drink and a sandwich. At least there you didn't have to worry about a stranger regarding you in their home.

The door at the end of the hall opened, followed by the slapping of bare feet on the wood floor. The man turned the corner into the kitchen, groggy and without his glasses. Your eyes widened at the sight of him in tight black boxer briefs, cupping a prominent bulge. 

"Good morning," he said.

"Hi."

He turned toward the counter, giving you a full view of his broad back and shoulders, the backs of his thighs and his mussed brown hair. Only then did you notice his true size; how tall the man was compared to you. When you had reached for a cup, you had to stand on your tiptoes, getting a knee up on the counter to propel yourself. He didn't struggle at all. Everything in the high cupboards was easily reachable.

And he caught you staring when he turned around. You pretended like you weren't analyzing his figure, but it was too late. It was your nature to watch, to catalogue the people and features and structures around you. But in the uncertainty of another's territory, your scrutiny was inexcusable.

"See something you like?" He asked.

"What?" You chuffed, cheeks suddenly inflamed.

He stepped away from the open cupboard and motioned toward the array of herbal tea. Your lungs deflated, but your skin remained hot.

"Oh, um... No, thanks."

He toyed with the string on the tea bag he'd selected, reaching to adjust the glasses missing from his face. You noticed the unique golden green of his eyes and how they commanded attention by being the brightest things in the room.

"Well, maybe I can interest you in something else?"

You don't know how it happened, or rather, you wished not to admit how easy it was for you to forget your discomfort in favour of joining him on the sofa. With his little boxers around his ankles and your underwear stretched away from your opening, he placed you on his lap and let his cock find your opening. 

Driven by hormonal impulse and a lust to explore unusual scenarios, you let the man fuck you as hard as he pleased. He clamped his large hands on your hips and pulled you forward, barred your arms behind your back, reached up between your shoulder blades to wind his fingers through your hair, and kissed down your neck and chest, ignoring your nipples in favour of smoother plains of skin. He let you keep your outfit on. All he wanted was your wetness. He didn't even kiss your lips. This wasn't about romance, and he would not make sure you orgasmed after him. 

The only thing he asked was for permission to come inside of you, and when he did, it was no fireworks show. He pumped his cock in and out, enjoying the added lubrication coating his shaft and your insides, then sighed and set you next to him like a used sex doll ready to be packed up and stored away for next time. He stood up and kicked his boxers off his ankles and then swept them off the floor to wipe the residue from his cock.

"I'll get you a towel. Unless you'd rather use the shower?"

Cleanliness was the furthest thing from your mind, but his expectant look made you fear he was dropping a hint.

"Oh... Sure," you said.

"Thanks, by the way. That was nice."

"Was it?"

"I enjoyed myself."

"That's good," you rolled your eyes.

"Sorry, are you not satisfied? You didn't have to ride my dick, you know. You could have said no."

"No, it's fine."

It was awkward to sit on the sofa while he stood nearby, stark naked with one last clear bubble of fluid threatening to plummet from the tip of his spent manhood.

"Oh, I see what's going on here," he stuck his finger in the air. "You wanna come too."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"You're right. How rude of me. Well... If you're spending another night, perhaps we can get together again?"

You said yes, skipped the cafe and waited around until sunset, listening to him argue with someone on the phone out on the balcony. And though you couldn't understand a word he spoke, you knew he spoke to a lover; someone who had no idea you were a pane of glass away and full of this stranger's cum.

[babyybitchhh]

Oh! You are taking requests! That’s awesome! ✨💫 I’d like to request a scenery where the reader lost her sister to Douma (she lacks proof... it’s an strong gut feeling?... she’s right tho) so, she get on his “good side” working in his cult to get a chance to avenge her sibling... her acting convincing and the “betrayal” amuses him to no end, so he decides to play with her before... eating/transforming her? Your choice! I’m a sucker for horror so it could be as dark as your heart allow it! 💜💃

Sorry this took so long cxnvldsnvoen and even though I tweaked the storyline just a wittle bit, I hope you like it! <3

Words: 2639

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Warnings: Cunnilingus, involuntary urination, cannibalism (sort of, you know the drill with Douma), body horror? Sexual gore? Yandere?? I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to tag this one.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362824/chapters/66015442#workskin

♥♥♥♥

You were easily the most insincere person he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

The lie itself was written all across your face in bold, slashing brushstrokes for the whole world to see if only they’d look close enough but so few ever did. He alone was privy to your deceit. Only he saw that dishonest smile for what it was, always so placid and warm even though it just barely concealed the hissing viper within. The unwavering mask of false loyalty you greet him with and the rage waging war behind your eyes every time you look into his face. Everything was right there, completely out in the open as if you couldn’t be bothered with trying to hide it, and Douma loved that aspect of you perhaps most of all.

Just as any good figurehead should, he’d nurtured the darkness within you until it sprouted roots and festered, growing ever larger as your hate for him also grew. Welcomed you and your heavy burden with open arms. Encouraged it even. You were simply too fun to play with and he was ever so curious to see how far into depravity you would ultimately spiral because of him. In some ways it was sad. Pathetic even that you would devote what was left of your miserable life to being a duplicitous little bitch when there were so many alternatives that were far, far more pleasant. But it was also undeniably thrilling at the same time, almost intoxicatingly so.

To think that he had angered you to the point of not only chasing after him like a pitiable stray but to also go so far as joining his congregation just to get close … this was a uniquely exquisite indulgence he wouldn’t soon rush to squander. Particularly not when keeping you around afforded him so many plushy benefits.

“You’re trembling.” A dangerously sharp nail traces its path down the length of your twitching stomach. He pauses at your belly button, toys with the notion of jamming his finger right through it and into your guts, but ultimately decides to save it for another day. Humming faintly, Douma resumes his tauntingly slow descent south. “Are you cold?”

You refuse to look at him and instead push the side of your face deeper into the pillow. It was always like this no matter how often he opened up his chamber doors in welcome. You simply refused to stop playing your part even when he had you spread out like some shameless whore on his bed of silk and that would never cease to amuse him for as long as he allowed you to live. You’d have been quite the accomplished actress if only you hadn’t been going up against the head performer himself. That you were out of your league was, to him at least, painfully obvious but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that just yet. 

No, not yet. There was still more of you to savor.

Bending close, Douma presses a lingering kiss to the center of your stomach. He can taste you on his tongue, blooming notes of stale meat poisoned with bitter fury, and it elicits a quiet groan out of him. You were the finest decadence he’d had in his bed in a very long while.

“Poor thing, that just won’t do. Let me warm you up.”

You squirm against the sheets as he pecks his way lower, issuing expertly timed sighs at the appropriate intervals. He appreciates just how committed you are to the act. Wonders if you found some pathetic young sod to practice with before presenting yourself to him or if you were simply a brazen slut by nature. It’s hard to say which prospect delighted him more, though Douma hardly cares to know the answer, particularly when he presses two fingers to your outer labia and carefully spreads them open.

So soft and fleshy, the petal-like folds make his mouth water. He could imagine no greater joy than nibbling on those puffy little lips and taking nipping bites at the swollen pearl bud that peaks up at him even now until you were bordering on hysterics, fighting him tooth and nail to get away. Only then, only when you were a frenzied animal trying to escape his taloned clutches, would Douma allow himself to sink his teeth in at long last. He was certain your sweet cunt would give way under his jaw without much resistance, if any at all. It would be just like biting into a peach.

But you weren’t quite ripe enough yet. You were almost there -- so, so very close he could just about feel the meat of your womanhood being rendered and chewed between his molars -- but still not there. He would satiate his abominable hunger only when you were blackened, mind, body and soul with your hate.

Eagerly licking his lips, Douma leans down and swipes the tip of his tongue across your clit. The way the meaty nub clings to his taste buds, dragging against the salivating muscle until it pops back into place with a plump jiggle, delights him to no end. It was so swollen that even it’s protective hood did very little in the way of concealing your arousal. If he didn’t know any better, he’d almost think you’d had to go months on end without release. Evidently, though, your cunt just enjoyed being on the receiving end of his attention that much even when your brain was most assuredly in total disagreement with that sentiment.

He moans, very faintly, at the thought of your brain. The day of feast couldn’t come quick enough.

“Oh, sweet dove …” Douma coos, nuzzling into your clenching pussy as if he were a cat marking its territory. “Are you really so neglected? I’m not sure how you’ll ever forgive me for making you suffer like this.”

You choke down an unintelligible sound that’s half sob, half moan and bring your hand up to coquettishly hide your mouth from his line of sight. “Douma-sama … please …”

He can hear it in your voice. The lie. The obvious, blatant, belligerent lie and it goes straight to his cock.

Undeniably, you sold the performance with every aspect of your body language right down to the way you shyly spread your legs further apart for him but the lie was still there. It was simply too big to hide. Not the small, pardonable white lie a god could be swayed to forgive with the right offering but a massive, all encompassing falsehood that had long since swallowed up your ego like a gluttonous black hole. You weren’t a person any longer but a container merely housing the selfish urge for vengeance.

You were so damn close.

Nails digging into the plush swell of your thigh, Douma lays himself out flat between your legs and presses his mouth to your slit. For as brief as the gesture is, he still comes away with glistening wet lips and he greedily licks up the evidence just as a carnivore might lick its bloodied chops. Delicious.

“Don’t fret, my dear. I know exactly what you need.” A pause. Another playful kiss to your gushing cunt. The savory smacking of his lips is quickly followed by a dreamy, almost wistful sigh that makes you shudder, though it's impossible to say if that reaction was one of pleasure or abject disgust. Not that it really mattered either way to him. “Just relax. Let me take care of you and then you’ll be free to scurry off back to bed like a good little girl.”

You visibly tense under him and, smothering the cruel laughter that tries to claw its way up his throat, Douma glances at your face.

Still partially obscured by your clenched fist, you continue to hide from him as if you were an untouched maiden being ravaged against your will even though you’d spent countless nights with him in his room like this. Always, always playing your role. The tension in your neck, however, told a different story. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you were biting your tongue and he derived a great deal of joy in the knowledge that you despised being talked down to so much. It just made him want to do it even more.

“Do you have any idea how good you taste? You’re like the sweetest forbidden fruit to me.” Tilting his head, Douma seals his lips around your pulsing clit and mouths at you. You arch, shoving your bare tits into the air with a quiet hiss but, still, you won’t look down at him. That suits him just fine though and he comes up off you a moment later with an obscenely loud, attention grabbing slurp that makes you twitch. “I could just eat you up, you know that?”

“D - Douma-sama --”

His tongue abruptly darts out, mercilessly lashing your clit.

You outright squeal, jolting at the sudden onslaught of stimulation before catching yourself and forcibly choking back any other sounds you may have been inclined to make. Douma is not so easily deterred though and he laps at you hungrily, attacking the engorged pleasure button from every possible angle until you’re a quaking mess underneath him. He could help himself to your sopping little cunt for hours if given the chance, high as a kite off the very real urge to consume you in the most literal sense, but it doesn’t take long at all to have you writhing uncontrollably. Although unfortunate, it was expected given just how needy and swollen you were -- and just for him at that. Who could have ever guessed?

“Oh, darling,” He pants, groans into the meat of your pussy. His eyes start to roll back in doped out bliss when your wild twisting drags those petal soft folds across his mouth as if you were intentionally teasing him now. Begging him to just take the plunge and take a bite out of you already.

It was almost enough to break his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to gorge himself on your delectably tainted body until he was too stuffed to move but the part of him that knows precisely how satisfying the payoff will be keeps him in check. It’s too soon -- still too soon to indulge -- and he has to make do with simply drooling all over your poor defenseless cunt while it creams around nothing except your hatred of him. Of all the meals Douma has enjoyed in his lifetime, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would be the one he’d relish the most.  

So caught up in the ecstasy inducing thought of finally eating you, truly eating you, he doesn’t notice you withdrawing a razor sharp pin from your hair until it’s right in his face. Blinking incandescent eyes at the foreign object, Douma allows himself another lazy lick at your still palpitating cunt and you seeth through gritted teeth, the glinting metal trembling in your hand.

“Get. Off.”

He acquiesces without a fuss.

You don’t even try to hide your surprise as you warily watch him sit up so that he’s kneeling on the futon between your spread legs. Clearly you’d expected a different reaction out of him and that makes Douma smile. You don’t seem to appreciate that though and you jerkily sit up straighter, jabbing the pin at him in warning.  

“Wipe that smirk off your face, demon!”

“Or what?” He asks sweetly. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Yes! I’m going to kill you and take revenge for my sister!”

Brows drawing up in affected pity, Douma pins you with a withering leer. “If you’re going to kill me anyway then I don’t see any reason why I should stop smiling.”

Balking, you sputter indignantly. “You - you horrid fiend --”

He moves too quick for you to react. His arm swings, slamming into your wrist with enough force to send the pin flying. You reel back with a haggard gasp but he grabs your forearm in a pinching grip and yanks you close again. Bringing his opposite hand up, Douma rams his palm into the underside of your outstretched limb. The resulting crack is instantaneous and horrible. Your face crumples in agony.

You scream.

“Now, now,” He purrs, letting your arm fall limp at your side. In a shell shocked panic, you try to reach for it as if to reset the bone yourself but he all too easily catches your shaking hand in his. Cradling it close to his chest just as one might do with a lover, Douma smiles at you as he effortlessly snaps your other arm just as he’d done the first. “Calm down. Everything will be alright.”

He can barely hear himself over your frenzied shrieking. It’s hard not to take pity on you when you’re like this, looking for all the world like nothing more than a wounded animal. Confused and so incredibly scared. Almost out of your mind with pain even as regret and terror flash at him through wide, glossy eyes.

It really was a shame too. You’d been so close to reaching full maturity but, well … this would probably do the trick just as well. Not right away, of course, because the only thing currently running through your mind were baser instincts that served no real purpose other than keeping you alive. You were in no mindset to humor your feelings of resentment and hate for him, or the loss of your sister for that matter.

Was that really what had prompted you to seek him out like this? Douma couldn’t exactly recall but it was a believable explanation. He was certainly willing to accept it, at least.

Deciding that the details didn’t really matter, he reaches out to grab your shoulders and shoves you back down on the bed. You wordlessly stare up at him in wild eyed terror as he rises above you like some sort of beautifully horrific wraith, preternaturally sharp teeth glinting in the low light when he grins at you. The shock must be starting to set in because your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Not so much as a peep, as though your voice box had been stolen.

He can’t help the deranged titter that bursts out of him. You were so damn cute .

“Don’t worry, darling. I won’t kill you. Not yet, anyway.” Contently sighing, Douma leans close to nuzzle his nose against yours in a mockingly affectionate gesture that only makes you shake harder. “You’ll stay here with me until you’re rotting from the inside out. I want you to despise me with every fiber of your being first and then, when you can’t even look at me without being consumed by rage, then I’ll finally eat you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You don’t respond - maybe you can’t - but he does feel the moment your bladder finally gives out and seeping wet warmth spreads across the front of his pants. A shudder of revulsion works its way down his spine and he clucks at you, letting his mouth tug into a disappointed frown.

“Such a high maintenance little girl … what should I do with you until then, hmm?” Douma thoughtfully puts his head to one side but quickly perks up at a sudden thought that has him smiling from ear to ear with nothing short of manic glee. “Oh, I know! Maybe I should break your legs too. Then you won’t be able to do anything at all without my help.”

An insignificant, fraying part of your conscience that had managed to cling to its humanity must register what he’d said because you begin shaking your head, still as silent as any mute, and that just makes his grin widen.

“I bet you’ll really start to hate me then, won’t you?”

[works-of-fanfiction]

Call Me When You’re Bored [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

Summary: Bucky and the reader are great friends, but they share a unique agreement. No feelings, nothing serious - just the promise to satisfy the other occasionally. Loosely inspired by the lyric, ‘you call me when you’re bored and you’re playing with yourself’ from The Sound by The 1975.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Masturbation, swearing.

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: I haven’t written smut in a long ass time. This isn’t the most hardcore smut out there but I hope it isn’t too terrible! It’s a short one, but enjoy 🖤

———————-

‘Call me tonight.’ Bucky replayed your words in his head as he rode the elevator to his floor. Those three words alone excited him to no end, which was evident through the growing discomfort in his jeans. He shuffled around the small space inside the elevator, his hand lingering beside his pocket where his phone was. Waiting for you to give him the signal was agonising. He could barely control himself as the elevator came to a stop and he rushed towards his room. Fortunately, everybody else was either out or downstairs, and Bucky certainly thanked his lucky stars for that.

He immediately found his laptop and logged in, his hands unsteady from the growing anticipation of what was about to happen. The two of you had done this plenty of times before, but after a three-week dry spell whilst he was away on a mission, Bucky had grown desperate. Desperate to the point where feeling your fingertips brush against his arm earlier forced him to sit with a strategically placed cushion on his lap for the remainder of the afternoon. It was no secret to the Avengers that you and Bucky were great friends, but they had no idea about the secret you shared after dark. You spent a lot of time in everyone’s company and grew comfortable around them, but not once did anybody notice the looks you shared with Bucky. How you could turn him on just with your eyes, or with a simple gesture such as touching his knee.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment when this little arrangement begun. There’d always been tension between you and Bucky, but nothing you ever acted upon until you had one too many glasses of wine one night and found yourself flirting with him through text messages. Bucky had been confused at first, but once he decided to play along, he knew there was no going back. That night ended with the two of you breathless, your phone stuck to your ear as you revelled in the sound of Bucky uttering your name as he came undone. You never expected it to become a regular occurrence, but now you found yourself calling him at least once a week. You just couldn’t help yourself; your hand between your legs, teasing and heightening the sensitivity as you awaited Bucky’s answer. Hearing the filthy words that came out of his mouth could push you to your limit quicker than anything, or anyone else.

And you definitely had the same effect on Bucky. Initially, he didn’t know how to react when he started to share such personal experiences with you. But after a while, he became addicted to the thrill of it. Throughout a normal day you’d just be two close friends, hanging out and chatting like everyone else. Then at night, he’d meet a whole new side of you and find himself weak at your words, groaning at the sound of your soft moans and whispers of his name. It was no surprise that he was excited as he took off his jeans and shirt and sat down on the bed.

His phone eventually buzzed and his face lit up at your name on the screen.

I’m ready.

He read the message and tossed his phone aside, as he opened the app and proceeded to video call you. On the other end, you were sat on your couch with your laptop positioned on the coffee table in front of you. You’d drawn all of the blinds around you, closing you off from the outside world. It always felt so wrong, yet so right; scandalous almost. There you were, alone and overwhelmed by your own arousal, your heart skipping a beat as Bucky’s contact picture appeared onscreen. You swiftly answered, and the familiar sight of a shirtless Bucky propped up against the headboard made you throb with excitement.

It didn’t take long for you to both be writhing underneath your own touches, a string of expletives leaving your mouths like prayers on repeat. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He watched intently as you spread your legs wide for him, lifting your skirt and sliding your hand into your underwear. Those damn white panties. He loved them and how they were slightly sheer so he could see the outline of your fingers through the fabric. You loved to tease him at first, not quite giving him the full show until you were ready. You enjoyed slowly teasing yourself with your panties still on, staring down the camera lens at Bucky as if you were staring straight into his eyes. His sharp breaths and strangled moans were a sure sign that he enjoyed it too.

You spread your legs a little wider, shuffling closer to the camera so you could give Bucky the best view. He groaned loudly as you hiked your skirt up further, showing off those thighs he would dream about grabbing and burying his head between. Although the two of you had never been physical together, it didn’t stop Bucky from imagining what you’d feel like beneath him. He often envisioned himself hovering over you, pinning you down and feeling you squirm at his touch. He imagined covering your entire body in kisses, leaving a trail until he settled between your legs with his breath hot on your soaking wet pussy. Those thoughts always accompanied him as he watched you like this.

Your eyes were glued to the screen as you enjoyed the show Bucky was putting on for you. You bit down on your bottom lip, watching as he stroked his hard cock for you. The image of Bucky naked with sweat covering his body was like nothing else you’d ever seen. You knew you could never get tired of sharing these moments with him, witnessing the way he touched himself and how wild he would be just from watching you. You didn’t even have to touch him to drive him crazy and you loved it.

Bucky’s grip tightened around his cock as he watched you slide your underwear down your legs. He found the perfect rhythm, his hand pumping quickly. You aimed to match his pace, your fingers dipping between your folds, making your entire body shudder with pleasure. Your fingers circled around your clit, the feeling unbelievably intense. It felt like you’d waited forever for Bucky to get back from his mission to get him ‘alone’ like this. You hadn’t touched yourself since before he left, so even the slightest pressure was sending shockwaves through your body. You could already feel yourself getting close, but you weren’t ready to stop watching Bucky just yet. You wanted it to last, you wanted to admire him for a few moments longer.

“I wish I could feel you right now,” you said seductively, pausing for a moment to give Bucky a still image of your legs spread apart for him. His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips as he gazed at you, at your pretty pink pussy he loved so much. As your hand started to move again, he could see how soaked you were as your wet fingers glistened under the light. His breath got caught in his throat, a sound which could only be described as a whine leaving his lips. Your words only turned him on more, and he wished he could be by your side with his hands exploring every inch of your body.

“Fuck,” he breathed, as you pushed a finger inside yourself. His name rolled off of your tongue which to Bucky, sounded like the most exquisite poetry. His cock twitched, and he had to stop himself from finishing right there and then. He swiped his thumb over the swollen tip of his cock, his eyes instantly screwing shut at the immense sensitivity. “Y/N...” he moaned with gritted teeth. Sweat was dripping down his forehead as he forced his eyes open to look back at you.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer,” you admitted, your legs beginning to shake. With two fingers circling your clit and your spare hand clutching at your breasts, you could feel yourself edging closer to your climax. The sounds leaving your mouth were out of control, and could only be matched by the groans coming from Bucky. As you focused on one another, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. Neither of you had ever experienced such an intense sexual connection with anyone before, and every time you called each other it was even better than the previous time.

“Y/N, I - I’m go -“ Bucky started, barely able to string a sentence together before you interrupted him with a loud moan. You looked right into the lens, a flirtatious smirk appearing on your face.

“I’m almost there, Buck. I want you to finish with me,” you gasped. Bucky didn’t take too much encouraging. He matched his pace to yours and felt his orgasm lingering. The way he writhed on the bed was enough of a telling sign for you. “Come for me,” you encouraged, your voice hardly above a whisper. Bucky couldn’t take it any more. His strokes became lazier and his moans turned into something of a low hum as he reached his release.

The sight of Bucky finishing onto his stomach was enough to make you come so hard, you felt like you could fall off of the couch. You covered your mouth with your hand as you practically screamed in pleasure. Your thighs stuck to the leather of the couch, and your upper body thrashed against the back cushions. Both of your bodies fell limp, and you sat in silence as you attempted to catch your breath. Bucky couldn’t help but admire you in all of your post-orgasm glory. Your cheeks were flushed red and your baby hairs stuck to your face. Bucky looked just as good, his tanned chest rising and falling as he ran his hand through his messy hair.

“I missed that,” Bucky hummed, reaching over to his shelf where he kept his towels. You couldn’t really move yet as you were still coming down from your high. Bucky smirked, still watching you as you covered yourself back up with your skirt and tried to fix your hair. You caught his eye and cheekily smiled back at him. You didn’t have to exchange many words afterwards, you both usually knew what the other was thinking. Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about how it was worth the wait, how you’d always be worth the wait. He hoped one day he’d get his hands on you, but he had no idea that you wanted the same.

The two of you ended the call and you stood up, releasing the breath you’d been holding as you’d watched Bucky clean himself off. You couldn’t ignore how much you wanted him and how you longed to have him touch you someday. So you went to bed that night only to dream of him; unaware that he was dreaming of you too.

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun 

iv.xvi. (m)

Traveling with four children was a big challenge. You were happy that Mia and Xiaojun flew with you. So everyone could take a child during the flight. You were all on your way to Switzerland because Audrey and Emilian bought a new house there and have now settled here. Mia immediately took the opportunity to introduce another part of her family to Xiaojun. You were glad that he was with because he was very good with Sunoh and he even sat on his lap when starting. You had booked first-class tickets and so everyone had a bed. The twins were with you, but they were restless throughout the flight. Flying was not good for them and they kept crying and crying. When Miga fell asleep in Jaehyun's bed, he came to you. "Hey, Sunoh and Miga are sleeping now. Can I help you?" It was more of a rhetorical question because at that moment he picked up Kiwoo and cradled him in his arms. He then lay down next to you and started singing something to the babies. In the beginning, they looked at their father with fascination. The singing made them both calm and at some point their exhaustion became obvious and they closed their eyes. "Oh my god. Silence ... I can't believe it." You take a deep breath and lean on Jaehyun's shoulder. Your babies were each in your arms and it hadn't been this quiet for a long time. But suddenly Jaehyun heard a sob from you. "Hey, what's going on?" He turned to you and looked at you worriedly. "I don't know either ... but when we were the last time in Switzerland, I got pregnant and ..." Suddenly several tears ran down your cheeks. "I think I'm a bit emotional with the hormones, but our angel ... it just hurts so much." You also didn't know why it came over you now. But it hurt you again that day and all the memories came up. "Hey, that's okay." Jaehyun put Kiwoo in his arm so that he only has to hold it with one hand and then put the other arm over your shoulders. "No, I should be glad that I have four healthy children ..." You shake your head and want to push this feeling aside. "But you are. But it can still hurt you, that's okay. It was our baby." Jaehyun kissed your head gently and you cuddled more to him. "Maybe the twins are our two little angels that we lost?" Jaehyun said and you look up at him in surprise. "Hmm ... I never saw it like that." You look at Geon, who made his hands into small fists and pressed them to his cheek. He always slept like this and you always found it unique. "You did such a great job with all of them. I'm so proud of you." Jaehyun then kissed you and you stayed together the whole flight.

"I can't believe you're there. And I'm finally getting to know my new nephews." Audrey was almost screaming with joy when she came into her house. She immediately picked up one of the babies and compared the twins. "How can you tell them apart. They are identical." She laughed and stroked the other twin. "Because they have very different characters." You smile and look at your babies. "Hello, Aunt Audrey." Miga grinned and looked up at her aunt. "Ahhhh why are you so big? Sunoh is huge too." Audrey smiled and also looked at your son, who was very sleepy and shy behind your legs. "The last time you saw him, he was a baby, wasn't it?" Jaehyun laughed and Audrey nodded, eyes wide. "Yes! He was so small." After Jaehyun took one of the twins from your sister, she now greeted Mia. "I'm so glad you're here. Where's your new boyfriend?" She looked up from her little sister and Xiaojun took a step forward. "Hi," he said shyly and smiled. He was pretty nervous about getting to know her. But Audrey was probably the easiest sister of all, she really liked everyone. "Oh my god! I've heard so much about you. Welcome to the family." She hugged the boy tightly and he looked uncertainly at his girlfriend. "Audrey, let them arrive. I'll show you the rooms." Emilian pulled his wife back a little.

You were all pretty tired from the trip and it was also in the middle of the night. The house of Audrey and Emilian was not completely furnished, so you sleep in a room full of mattresses, which was fine with you because your children slept with you and so you had enough space. The good thing was that you also had your own huge bathroom. And when Jaehyun sang the children to sleep, you take a hot bath. The warm water felt incredible on your skin and you could relax a little. It was good to see Audrey again, but today was also a day that was very tiring for you. "How are you now?" Jaehyun suddenly came into the room and closed the door. He put down his phone so you can hear it when there's something over the baby monitor. "Better. It's good that we're a bit away from home." You smile gently and turn to the side. "Do you mind if I sit down to you?" Jaehyun looked at you and you shake your head. He opened his belt, took off his shirt and then his pants. When he was completely naked, he sat across from you. You were rarely horny because of the breastfeeding, but somehow he triggered something in you today. "You know you're staring at me?" Jaehyun had leaned his arms against the edge and was looking at you. "Can I no longer look at my husband?" You shake your head and slide down a little bit into the water. You close your eyes briefly and feel your muscles relax, but when you open your eyelids again, Jaehyun stares at you. "Hey, now you're doing it." You splash a little water at him. "I can't stare at my wife?" He grinned broadly and looked at you cocky. But then Jaehyun sat up and leaned over you. "Uh Jaehyun, I don't know if I'm right. But I feel something hard between my legs." You look down at you and Jaehyun just grinned. "No idea what that is." He winked and reached down to himself. He took his length in his hand and stroked your delicate pearl. With wide eyes, you look up to him and everything in you has been stimulated. With his tip, he circled over and over your clit. Your breath grew louder and you put your palm on his trained chest. He looked deep into your eyes and your mouth was open. At some point, his tip slipped down and slowly pushed into you. While you take him in completely, he leaned down to kiss you at the same time. And then he starts to fuck you. And you almost forgot how well he did it. While you had sex almost every day at the end of your pregnancy, you had only slept with him once since birth. But everything just feels good at the moment. Jaehyun pressed his moving hips into yours and the water splashed against the edges of the bathtub and even partially beyond. You moan softly and surrender yourself completely to him. But the next moment you hear a noise on the baby monitor. "Mum-aw-mam." It was clearly Sunoh who said something. You look up at Jaehyun, who lowered his head in disappointment. "Wait," you whisper because Jaehyun was about to pull out of you, but you stop him. "He talks sometimes in his sleep. When he really wakes up, he doesn't mumble." If Sunoh really woke up, he would probably cry because you weren't there. Jaehyun didn't move and you wait a few seconds. It stayed quiet and Jaehyun looked at you while grinning. "Fuck me on," you whisper, put your hands behind his neck and pull him closer to you. You didn't have to say this twice. And he brought you two to climax that night.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[kenzieam]

Not You - Chapter One

@jewels2876​​​​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​​​  @iammarylastar​​​​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​​​​  @badassbaker​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama, potential infidelity

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL

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So... I know I should be finishing my old stories...

But I’m not, lol. I keep getting new ideas.

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In this one, Bucky finds his dream woman, the one who takes his breath away but what if she’s already taken? What’s more important, your own happiness or the happiness of others, namely your friends? And, if you have to steal it, was it yours to begin with??

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Bucky turned away from the sink, nearly dropping the glass in his hand as his heart exploded into a frantic, startled tattoo.

The girl met his eyes shyly, looking quickly away and Bucky swallowed hard, hearing his pulse hammering in his veins. “Can I help you?” He asked, voice raspy. Christ, in all the time he’d been tending bar he’d never been so simply struck by someone before.

“Um, may I have a white wine, please?” Her voice was soft and cultured, sounding faintly European in the way she pronounced her consonants.

“New around here?” He inquired, if simply to keep from gaping at her simple perfection.

She gave him a guarded smile. “I guess so. I’m supposed to be meeting an… old friend, but there was a mix-up with flights.”

Bucky poured her drink, waved off her money. “On the house,” he pronounced and, this being the fourth double shift he’d worked this week as a favour to his boss and a co-worker with a family emergency, they’d better not squawk going over the receipts later.

“Thank you.” She murmured demurely, lids fluttering closed as she took a sip.

Bucky glanced across the bar, there was no one needing his immediate attention and the siren song of this woman was too strong to ignore. “I’m James.” Somehow his nickname wouldn’t fit the moment, he thought as he extended his hand to her.

She smiled softly, still shy. “Valentina.” She offered after a faint pause, reaching up and taking his hand, he felt her softness against his callouses, a faint tingle where they touched.

Bucky opened his mouth to continue, to ask her more questions about herself, an ember of attraction beginning to glow brightly in his chest. Did she feel it too?

“Hey!” One of the waitresses, Teagan, bellowed from down the bar. “I need four beers!”

It was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue to tell her to come around and grab them herself, but Teagan was a brat who’d either make a mess or take a bottle for herself if he didn’t watch her. Why the boss hadn’t skidded her by now was anyone’s guess, but Bucky imagined it involved a good oral game. At least she’d propositioned him at least once and he’d said hell no.

With an apologetic glance Bucky turned away, quickly filling Teagan’s order but then a crush of orders came in from individuals bellying up to the bar and he was tied up for far longer than he wanted. Finally, he had time and stepped in front of her, noting her empty glass. Valentina was texting, frowning at her screen. She glanced up and startled, an unguarded smile lighting up her face and making Bucky’s heart stutter anew.

“Another?” He managed to ask, voice cracking. Jesus, he’d never been so simply taken by a woman before and he’d spent enough time as a bartender to read her body language too. The feeling was definitely mutual.

“I’ll just have a water, please. My… friend will be done work soon; I should get going.”

Faint panic gripped Bucky’s heart but he made himself pour a water like a sane person. “I, um….” He licked his lips.

“I need an order!” The other waitress, a cougar named Lola, yelled. She would never go behind the bar, preferring to trying to chat up the nearest guy while she waited for Bucky.

Shit. He needed more time.

“I… can I have your number?” He blurted, feeling like a thousand different kinds of fool, mainly a lovestruck one.

Surprise flitted across the girl’s face, then a tentative smile. “I shouldn’t…”

“Please?”

“Hey!” Both Teagan and Lola were there now, hands on jutted-out hips.

“Just give me a minute.” Bucky pleaded, turning away from Valentina and rushing over, mixing drinks like a madman, throwing furious glances at the waitresses, who snapped gum and stared vapidly at his manic movements.

Finally, he thrust the last glass at Teagan then turned back to Valentina, an apology dying on his lips.

She wasn’t there.

He’d missed his chance.

Fuck.

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Her skin was unbelievably soft, her scent a heady mix that made his pulse race and nestled deep in his soul. His body responded to her readily, heart hammering in his chest as he caressed her shoulder, pulled her down to meet his greedy lips. She moaned and writhed against him, grinding her core against his painfully hard cock.

Peeling off her shirt he kissed first one breast than the other, slowing down to lav attention to each when she moaned again, fingers clawing through his hair to hold him close.

“More, god Bucky-” she whimpered, tugging almost painfully at his locks.

“Fuck-” drawing out the curse, morphing it with a groan of need, Bucky rolled, pinning Valentina beneath him. Grinding his hips to hers he reveled in her gasp, her stuttered hitching breath.

He couldn’t wait any longer, pulling at her panties, a feral growl spilling from his lips when she matched him, yanking at his jeans, pushing them down over his ass just enough to free his cock and then he was pushing inside her, into her sweet heat and fighting off his rushing climax at the ecstasy found there.

“God, baby-” he gasped, hips thrusting helplessly, hopelessly caught in sensations and pleasure. Never before had he felt such bliss, been so ensnared in the web of a woman.

Valentina moaned, arching up to pull him deeper, legs wrapping around his hips, tangling with his jeans still bunched there; her voice broke as she whimpered his name, clawing at his face to pull him down to her mouth again, her desperate kiss stealing his breath with it’s intensity.

He could feel his orgasm rising dangerously fast, but he didn’t care, couldn’t and wouldn’t stop such a freight train of heavenly sensations, he only wanted Valentina to crash into the abyss with him.

And then she tensed, walls tightening around him as her own climax hit, crying out his name and dragging him right down with her. With a roar he surrendered, giving into his release with a shudder, face twisting as his cock throbbed almost painfully inside her, spilling his seed in thick pulses-

Bucky startled awake with a gasp, hand still gripping his shaft, the waves of his powerful orgasm still crashing over him and, even as the shudders of pleasure skated across his skin and through his body he winced, feeling a thick, creamy mess pooling on his belly.

Jesus Christ.

He hadn’t had a fucking wet dream in years, and yet ten minutes contact over a bar-top with a beautiful stranger had him spilling in his sleep like a teenager.

Groaning, he glanced down at himself then cursed. Fuck, he had laundry to do now too, he hadn’t shot so huge a load in a long time; fuck, this woman had him all sorts of tangled up.

And all he had was her first name. Not even a goddamn phone number.

Still grumbling, still wincing and cursing himself, Bucky rolled from the bed, used the already soiled sheet to wipe his belly clean then pulled them from the bed and piling them in the corner to launder later, storming nude to the bathroom he and Steve shared in their two-bedroom apartment, not caring whether his oldest friend got an eyeful or not.

Only once the water grew cold from the scalding he’d set it at did Bucky emerge, toweling off and striding back to his room to pull on sweats and grab a coffee. Steve had set some brewing before leaving for his morning run and Bucky needed a hit of caffeine like he needed air.

He’d just taken a sip when the front door opened and Steve walked in, glistening with sweat and still breathing hard.

“Morning,” Bucky grunted.

“Hey, Buck. How’s your morning?”

Trust me punk, you don’t want to know. “Fine.”

“Got to sleep in at least, that your last double shift for a while? What was that anyway, four in a row?” Steve moved past him, pouring an ice water from the fridge, and swallowing half the glass in one go.

Bucky grunted in answer, but Steve had always been the more loquacious of their duo.

“Work tonight?” Steve continued, reaching for a box of cereal.

“Nah, night off.”

“Good, Sam wants us to come over. His girlfriend’s moved back, and he wants us to meet her.”

Bucky frowned, trying to remember. While he was friends with Sam, it was Steve who worked with him and was the closer of the two. Then he remembered, she’d grown up with Sam, gone all through grade school with him, just like him and Steve, and they’d been roommates all through university, also like him and Steve. Apparently, they’d started dating after graduation and, when she’d been offered a special project in Europe almost two years ago, they’d gone long-distance, her moving across the ocean and Sam moving here, becoming immediate friends with Steve when they started working at the same job together.

“What’s her name again?” Bucky asked, not really caring. His mind was still stuck on the mysterious Valentina, not on Sam’s girlfriend, whom he wouldn’t even know from a hole in the ground, he’d never even seen a picture of her before.

“Lev?” Steve replied, quirking a brow. “Something unique like that, yeah… Lev, Sam calls her Levi.” He pronounced it like ‘levee’, shrugging.

Bucky nodded absently, Valentina’s hypnotizing violet eyes holding his attention. God, she’d had the most beautiful eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, long and full lashes; and her hair, an auburn shade like he’d never encountered. Either natural or the best damn dye job he’d ever seen, she’d stood out from the crowd with her looks alone, not even counting the magnetism and aura she gave off…. Christ, he was in trouble.

“You there?” Steve’s amused voice broke in, his punch harmlessly bouncing off Bucky’s powerful shoulder.

“Huh?” Bucky rolled his shoulders, shrugging off the hit. He hadn’t had much of a chance to hit the gym this week, what with working so many doubles in a row, and he needed to go; blasting away all his frustrations and anger lifting weights and hammering at the heavy bags kept him level and calm, soothed the latent edginess of his soul, which had, upon reflection, gone strangely serene last night when he’d laid eyes on Valentina too.

“You’re a million miles away, jerk.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Just-” he broke off, wiping his mouth with his hand and shaking his head.

“A girl?” There was genuine interest in Steve’s voice; while he didn’t begrudge his oldest friend’s continued one-night stands, he’d always wanted Bucky to find someone to share himself with, someone to soothe the man’s seeming natural-born vulnerability and loneliness that not even close friendships could compensate for.

Bucky felt a thrill at the thought. Yes, this was about a girl. The first time he could honestly say that. His reddening face answered before his mouth could and Steve hooted, slapping him on the same shoulder he’d just punched.

“Really?” The blonde’s eyes were sparkling. “Tell me.” He snagged the milk from the fridge and poured some over his cereal, overfilling it in a way that always made Bucky nervous. The man’s milk to cereal ratio was whack.

Bucky hesitated, struck with the sudden incongruous thought that speaking her name aloud would somehow puncture the spell, convince the universe to rip her away, make her all a figment of Bucky’s imagination.

“Her name’s Valentina.” He couldn’t help a quirk of his lips when Steve let out a girlish squeak and clapped his hands, as if this were the best news he’d heard in years.

“And?” He prompted, leaning against the counter, picking up his bowl of cereal and lifting the spoon to his mouth, brow raised in question.

Bucky let out his breath in a rush, not able to hold it back anymore. “And she’s fucking perfect, man. I mean, I saw her, and it was like… fuck, I mean she just… grabbed me.”

“Like literally?” Steve grinned, milk dribbling off his chin when he gave Bucky a smartass grin.

Bucky rolled his eyes and continued. “No, but Steve…. Her eyes, Jesus, and her smile? I… I didn’t know what to do, it was like I’d just ran into a brick wall or something.”

“And her? What was she like? Was she hit too?”

Bucky nodded slowly, replaying her actions in his head. “Yeah, I think so.” A huge grin split his face and he was suddenly struck with the urge to throw his head back and roar.

“What’d she say? Did you guys talk?”

Bucky shrugged. “We didn’t get much of a chance, I had Teagan and Lola last night-” he threw Steve a look because Steve knew as well as Bucky how useless both waitresses truly were.

“Bummer.”

“Yeah. I asked for her number but then got busy and… fuck man, when I turned back, she was gone.”

“Shitty.” Steve commented, shaking his head.

“I know.” Bucky felt a moment of real panic but forced himself to breathe.

“You want to skip Sam’s tonight? Go over there and see if she comes back?”

He was torn, he really was. Would she be back? For all their pretend animosity, Sam was a real friend to him though, and he hadn’t seen the smirking bastard in a few weeks, he needed to go. “Nah, I should go see Sam, it’s been awhile.”

Steve noticed his struggle and considered. “Chap working today?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied.

“Ask him to keep an eye out. If she shows, he can give her your number. He owes you.”

He did. “Yeah…. Okay. I got a bunch of errands to run today anyway, I’ll stop by.”

“You want me to wait until you’re back to go to Sam’s?”

Bucky shrugged, they only lived a floor apart, Sam being one down from them, its not like Bucky would get lost, but he appreciated his friend’s consideration. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem. I got a few things to wrap up too, see you later?” Steve had finished his cereal and was already walking towards his bedroom. He and Steve had been roommates, in one apartment or another, for years but this was far and away the nicest, a pre-war building neither would be able to afford alone and, until a few months ago, Sam had been in the same boat, but his roomie, a quirky, somewhat eccentric kid named Tony, had left. It was good timing that his girlfriend was moving back now, almost fated.

“Later.” Bucky called, then forced his mind away from Valentina. He’d get nothing done today if he let her stay there.

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Later that night, Bucky followed Steve absently down the flight of stairs to Sam’s floor. He’d gotten all his errands done, convinced Chap to keep an eye out and had even had time to fantasize about Valentina in the shower, groaning her name in release as he’d stroked himself to completion, pulsing his thick seed onto his fingers and the shower floor. He’d leaned his head against the tiled wall, breathing heavily and wishing feverishly for the real thing before straightening with a growl and finishing his shower, body still aching with want.

Steve knocked and waited; usually they’d just knock once and head on it, but neither wanted to walk into something they didn’t want to see.

After a moment, the door was thrown open and Sam’s familiar face split into a huge grin. “Hey!” Always a happy, personable guy, there seemed to be an extra level in him tonight, no doubt finally having his girl back with him. “Sit down,” he pointed to their usual perches on the couch and armchair. “Lev will be right out.” He focused on Bucky. “How you been, man? It’s been a while. Steve says you’ve been pulling doubles down at the bar?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, leaning back in the chair, and getting more comfortable. “Chap’s mom fell down and banged herself up some, I took his shifts so he could go help her for a few days.”

“You’re too nice, man.” Sam grinned, shaking his head. “Steve said Teagan and Lola were there? Christ, what a pair.”

Bucky quirked his brow in agreement. “Yeah, it was special all right.”

“Sam?” A female voice called.

“Yeah, baby?” Sam leapt to his feet. “Lev’s pretty jet-lagged, she was sleeping most of the day.” He explained as he disappeared down the hallway. Quiet voices too low to make out floated back but Bucky caught something that sounded like ‘you look fine, baby girl, before Sam reappeared, his huge grin back. He glanced over his shoulder, pulling gently on someone’s hand, then turned back to his friends.

“Steve, Bucky, this is my girlfriend, Lev. Lev, this is Steve and that’s Bucky.” He pointed to each man in turn, but Bucky’s eyes were locked on Lev.

What the hell?

What kind of cosmic fucking joke was this??

Leaning into Sam’s side, nestled into his one-armed embrace but staring at Bucky with shock equal to his, was a heartbreakingly familiar face.

Valentina.

[trashassassin]

Two Halves of a Whole | 1: Torture (V x Reader)

Wow, at last, I’ve finished a thing! And they said it couldn’t be done, they being me of course. Truth be told, this has been sitting in my google docs, finished and unedited, for way too long. And then I got all ready to post it when I remembered that I hadn’t come up with a name for the series yet and I had to sit on that for a while. It’s a whole mess, as per the usual.

These stories were originally going to be used for Kinktober, but then I accidentally a whole series instead. I originally had this idea planned for a megafic, but this format works out way better for it, imo. It’s going to have a bit of a coherent storyline, but it will be told out of order, so you definitely don’t need to read all of them if you don’t want to. The last one will be the most important in regards to the plot if you actually care about that as opposed to just the “plot” hehe. Anyway, I’m rambling now, so let’s get on with it!

In celebration of the recent announcement of DMC 5 Special Edition, I have begun crafting a series all about Vergil and his twink-y human half finally getting all the love and affection they deserve in life! Here, we are kicking things off right by torturing poor V with sex toys.

Word Count: 1987

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content, BDSM/Bondage, Strong Language

You weren't sure you would ever grow used to the amount of power you felt in situations such as this. Physically, V was quite a bit larger than you and was more than capable of overpowering you in spite of his slight frame.

And yet, in this instance, he would have allowed you to do anything to him and the thought of it was intoxicating.

You positioned yourself so that you were straddling him, your legs falling to either side of his abdomen, then reached over and gently tugged on the restraints that held his wrists. 

"It's not too tight, is it?" you asked. 

"No," he replied. "It's fine." 

He was already breathless and you hadn't even touched him yet, a fact that filled you with a sense of pride.

You were both still fairly new to this, so you were always careful to check in every once in a while and make sure you hadn't accidentally crossed any boundaries. With the power he had offered you came a great deal of trust and you weren't about to break that. 

You smiled at him, a gesture that he returned, then reached down toward the nearby nightstand to pick up today's tool of choice: a small, black vibrating wand.

It was one that you had used on yourself a number of times, so you were already familiar with its settings and which ones you preferred. 

Learning V's own unique preferences would be easy. This was evident enough from the few times you'd already been together. He was incredibly expressive, his desires laid plain, whether he wanted them to be or not. It was this, among other things, that made him so ideal for the role you'd put him in.

"Have you ever used anything like this before?" you asked, caressing the wand suggestively with your fingertips as you did. 

"You know I haven't," he replied, the smallest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"I was just curious. We'll start off on the slower setting then, cause it can be a little intense if you're not used to it."

"I think I can handle it." 

You leaned over him once again and whispered in his ear, "then prove it. Don't cum until I say you can."

You sat back upright and the brief flash of uncertainty that passed his face did not escape your notice.

"Hold out your hand," you said. 

He did as you asked and you switched on the wand, then lowered it to his palm, which he eyed curiously as it buzzed from the vibrations.

"We'll start off slow," you continued. 

You were going to give him a bit of a chance; this was supposed to be fun for you too, after all. 

You repositioned yourself so that you would have a better vantage point, coming to sit just at the edge of the bed, then slowly lowered the wand until it pressed against the tip of his cock. 

His entire body tense and he gasped.

You pulled the wand away and said, "I told you." 

He narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. 

"Try to focus on your breathing. It'll help you last longer." 

You pressed the wand back to his skin and he flinched a bit, but this time, managed to regain his composure for the most part. 

Using your free hand to keep his cock steady, you maneuvered the wand up and over the head, then down the shaft where you brought it to rest just above your clasped fingers. 

"You're so hard already," you purred. "This is gonna be easy." 

You dragged the wand back up at a slow and even pace, and his breath stuttered a bit.

"Does it feel good?" you asked. 

"Yes," he replied. 

His voice was low and husky, as it always was when he was very aroused, and you found yourself getting a bit distracted by it. This was shaping up to be more of a challenge for you than you’d anticipated.

You brought the wand down again, then followed its upward motion with your hand, using it to stroke up and down his shaft as you used to wand to circle the head. 

His back arched and the wand slipped, nearly causing you to drop it. 

"Keep still," you scolded. 

"No promises," he said. 

His voice came out strained, as though he were holding his breath. That wasn't exactly what you had meant when you told him to focus on his breathing, but it amused you how hard he was trying. 

"There are a few more settings I can try," you said. "Let me know which one you like best." 

You clicked the button on the wand's handle, causing it to switch from the basic vibration setting to one that spun in one direction, paused, then continued in the other direction. You began to run it up and down the underside of his cock and studied his reaction carefully.

He squirmed a bit, but that was all you managed to get. 

Perhaps the pauses between the turns were too long. You pressed one of the other buttons and the rotations sped up just a little bit.

His eyes squeezed shut and he clenched his hands, causing the ribbon that held them to visibly tighten. 

"How's this one?" you asked. 

His lips parted into a smile and he sighed. 

"Good," he said.

You held the wand in place for a moment, allowing him to grow used to the sensation, then switched to the next setting. 

This one elicited the response you had been hoping for. His hips rose from the bed, forcing you to readjust and a throaty moan escaped his lips in spite of his continued efforts to keep his breath held. 

Once he'd returned to his original position, you fell back into your previous rhythm of sliding the wand up and down the length of his cock, your hand following in its wake.

His arms tensed, pulling his restraints taut, and his breath came in uneven pants. 

You began to move a little faster, trying your best to keep your pace steady in spite of the unpredictable jerking of his hips. 

"Wait!" he gasped. "Slow down." 

You contemplated for a moment whether or not you were going to comply with his request, and eventually decided that you were, if only to draw out the experience a bit longer.

You turned the intensity down back to where it had started, then gave a few more lazy strokes before pulling the wand and your hand away. 

His cock pulsed a few times in the absence of your touch, forcing a drop of precum to the tip. You were so tempted to reach out and tease him again, but decided against it for the time being. 

"You're so close already," you said with an exaggerated frown.

You kept your face lowered so that he would be able to feel the warmth of your breath as you spoke. 

"It's not my fault," he said. "You're really good at this." 

The breathy tone of his voice coupled with sight of his cock only inches from your face, which pulsed again in desperation for your touch, sent your head spinning.

You suddenly became aware of your own labored breathing and, given the proximity you had so carefully calculated, he was aware of it too. 

"I wanna fuck you," he said, followed by a rough sigh. "So bad." 

You cocked your head to one side and feigned nonchalance, even though you wanted this just as badly. 

"Maybe if you pass my test," you said. 

You held up your free hand and, with deliberation, wrapped it just beneath the head of his cock, using your thumb to swirl the precum around the tip as you had imagined doing moments before. This provoked even more, and it began to run down over your fingers. 

"This is torture," he groaned, and you couldn't help but smile.

"I know," you said.

You were beginning to feel the same way, but you weren’t about to let him know that.

You ran your hand, which was now quite sticky, up and down the length of his shaft before withdrawing it and using it to hold the wand steady as you switched it back on.

"Ready?" you asked, and he nodded.

You picked up exactly where you left off and he reacted within seconds, his eyes fluttering closed as his head tipped back against the pillow beneath it.

You had to struggle quite a bit to keep your hand in place as he had taken to thrusting into it this time around.

“I told you to stay still,” you said. “You’re only making this harder for yourself.”

“Sorry,” he said.

He slowly lowered himself back onto the bed and did his best to stay there, but you could tell how much he was struggling. His hands were clenched again and his arms were drawn up tight, pulling at the restraints so hard that you were certain there would be a mark on his wrists when you removed them later.

Just as he’d begun to relax again, you turned the intensity up by one, the new setting leaving almost no gap at all between the pulsing vibrations.

He moaned and started to thrust into your hand again but managed to catch himself before you’d even opened your mouth to scold him. 

He flushed, both from arousal and from embarrassment, you guessed. You got the impression that he was ashamed of how vocal he got in the throes of passion, a quirk of his that you found quite endearing.

With his hands restrained, his only option was to bite down on his bottom lip, first one side, then the other, but it was no use. Every time you managed to hit a particularly sensitive spot, he cried out again, in spite of his best efforts.

You turned the intensity up one more time and mentally began counting down from thirty before you would allow him his release.

“Almost there,” you encouraged, but you weren’t sure he was still paying attention to what you were saying.

He began shifting from side to side as though he were trying to escape your grasp, but you weren’t about to allow him to do that.

“Slow down,” he gasped, but you’d already made up your mind.

You weren’t going to give him the relief he was looking for this time.

“Just a little bit longer.”

Only a moment after you’d said this, his face contorted in pleasure and the first spurt of cum hit your hand, the rest coating a good majority of his abdomen.

“Stop!” he cried out, and you switched off the wand as his cock continued to pulse wildly between your fingers.

When it finally came to a stop and his breathing began to return to normal, he opened his eyes and looked up at you with a sly smile.

“Well?” he asked.

“Not quite,” you replied. 

You’d only managed to make it to twenty-six.

“That was hardly fair,” he said. “Were you even keeping track?”

“I was.”

This was only a partial truth. It was hardly your fault that you’d gotten a bit distracted along the way.

“You did your best,” you said as you stood to undo his restraints. “Let me know when you’re ready to try again.”

His eyes widened.

“With that thing?” he asked, pointing to the wand, which now sat inert where you had once been sitting. “I’m not sure I can handle that again today.”

“I warned you.” You chuckled. “Maybe I’ll try something different.”

Perhaps next time, you would try with your mouth or your hand instead. So many possibilities ran through your mind as you stared down at him and he stared back at you, a contented look on his face.

For now, at least.

As soon as he was ready, you planned to start your unique brand of torture all over again.

[joetatoeheads]

Beautiful X Ethan Dolan

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: NSFW (18+) contains smut

Masterlists

Ethan watched as she undressed in front of him. The room was dark but there was some moonlight coming in from the small window at the corner of the room. She paid no mind to the idea of being caught naked by a bystander waking by or by neighbors next door who walk past her window. No, all her attention was the half-naked man on her bed.

Neither of the two were the types of people to do one-night stands. But Ethan wanted to try something new and Y/N wanted excitement in her life after spending so many years behind books. Neither were virgins, but neither had dozens of notches on their belt so it was a perfect scenario.

Ethan would come over to Y/N’s apartment, they would have sex, and then part ways. Y/N was careful to remove the robe as slow as possible as she walked towards Ethan. She watched as he spread his legs wider as she came closer. ‘This was going to be a fun night’ was all Y/N could think about.

When the robe hit the floor, Ethan looked at Y/N soft smile and grabbed her left hand. Ethan kept his eyes on her as he kissed her palm, her wrist, and every so often he would kiss higher and pull her more towards him. She left out this little gasp when Ethan got her close enough to kiss her stomach. Then he kissed higher as he got to her sternum and Y/N had arched into his kisses with pleasure.

Y/N grabbed the back of his head and in that moment wished he had longer hair so she could pull on it. Ethan kissed one of her breasts but was careful to not go to close to her nipple. He wanted her to squirm a little more before doing anything like that. The feeling of Y/N slowly moving her hand from the back of Ethan’s neck to his chest was electrifying.

They both wanted to take things slow for the time being. They only wanted one night with each other and neither was damned if it was going to last a couple of minutes. The two briefly stared at each other before Y/N had pushed Ethan down on the bed. He placed one arm behind his head while the other guided Y/N on top of him.

The feeling of her lips on his neck were enough to let Ethan forget about everything. As the feeling of her small kisses started going down further Ethan unknowingly grabbed onto some of Y/N’s hair and pulled slightly. It was more of an instinct than anything but the sweet sound of her soft moans told Ethan that he should remember than for later.

“You are so perfect,” whispered Y/N.

Ethan could barely reply before Y/N had started to unzip his pants. She was painfully slow with that as well but stopped as the zipper went down. Ethan felt her come up and felt her kiss his neck again, “You really are an angel, aren’t you?”

She was telling him such nice things but the feeling on her on top of him and the kisses and bites she was currently leaving on his neck were mesmerizing. Ethan could not find the right words and that’s exactly what he told her.

“I can barely talk while you kiss me… I can – “ That’s when Ethan felt Y/N’s hand palm at his erection and let out a groan of satisfaction.

“Can what?” She was smirking but she did not know if Ethan could tell.

Her hand didn’t move and that was all Ethan was thinking about. He forgot that he should answer her or maybe compliment her but even that was too difficult. Ethan used one of his hands to grab onto Y/N’s waist to keep her in that position.

Rubbing over his briefs, Ethan used his other hand to grab onto the back of her neck and pull her into a kiss. That was the first one of the night but Y/N had pulled away from him. Ethan, being the determined man that he was, and twisted his wrist to grab onto more of her hair and lightly pulled. It exposed her neck to him and for her to understand that he did not appreciate her pulling away from him.

Ethan kissed her again and Y/N did not pull away like before. Ethan still had in hand in her hair and lightly pulled, “Good girl.” Those two words had earned himself a moan.

The two barely knew each other and rather than go straight to the fucking, they chose to take things slow and get to know each other. If they knew each other a little bit, then perhaps the sex would be better? Either way, it was still something the two were willing to try. Ethan wanted to explore more thinking Y/N had herself a little praise kink.

“Tell me what you want to do.” Said Ethan.

Y/N, still on top of him, had moved her hips a little but Ethan shook his head, “Not right now. Be a good girl lay on the bed. Your feet will be towards the headboard and I want your head hanging off the edge a little bit.”

Y/N got up and obeyed him being careful to not hang off the bed too much in fear of slipping. Her view was a bit awkward as she watched Ethan pull his dick out of his briefs and pump himself.

“Open up your legs, bring your knees up.” Y/N obeyed still waiting for what was going to happen. “Show me how wet you are.” Y/N reach down between her folds feeling warmness. “Good give me your hand.”

Y/N obeyed showing him how wet her fingers were. Ethan placed her two fingers in his mouth swirling his tongue, tasting her. The gesture was unexpected and Ethan was slow to remove them from his mouth.

“Touch yourself.”

Ethan watched as Y/N fingered herself as her body showed him how close she was to an orgasm, Ethan grabbed her hair and pulled her back. The motion caused Y/N to open her mouth slightly and Ethan put his thumb in her mouth. Y/N sucked his thumb for a couple of seconds before Ethan replaced it with his dick.

Y/N was struggling a bit with the position but was enjoying herself too much to say anything bad about it. She wasn’t sure if this was a kink or a preference but the feeling of Ethan’s hitting the back of her throat made her feel warm inside. with her fingers still insider her, Y/N pumped faster wanting to reach an orgasm. For Ethan he decided to change the position and still wanted to feel her warm mouth on him.

There was a pop sound as Ethan removed his cock from Y/N’s mouth. “Get up.” Y/N turned over so her stomach was on the bed thinking she had done something wrong. “Stay on the bed. Sit down on the edge of the bed.”

Y/N moved herself and Ethan put his hands in her hair again pulling back so she would look up at him. Ethan saw saliva run down her mouth and onto her breasts a little bit, “Do you know how perfect you look right now?”

Y/N didn’t say anything in return, instead she wrapped her hand around him, slowly stroking him as she leaned in and pressed a small kiss to his tip. Ethan’s let go of her hair and tapped her check twice which Y/N had taken it as a gesture to open her mouth. Relaxing at the touch, Y/N slowly sucked him into her mouth again.

“So fucking good,” groaned Ethan. All Y/N could do at the moment was moan with him still inside her mouth, “You like this don’t you? Such a good fucking girl for me?” The moaning was affirmation for Ethan. “Let me hit the back at that throat again? Show me.”

Dropping her hand, both hands now were resting on Ethan’s hips as Y/N relaxed her throat more for him. As Ethan felt her mouth around him more, he moaned and petted her hair which had only turned Y/N on more. A praise kink. Out of everything, that was not what Ethan was expecting but he had no objections to it right now.

Wanting to let this night continue on, Ethan pulled away and Y/N’s mouth was now empty. The two stared at each other as Ethan used his thumbs to slowly wipe away any spit around her mouth. It was a sensual gesture that both would never forget.

“Lie back down.”

Ethan could give almost any order and she would follow them, eager to please him. Then he was kissing her again and the weight on him on top was enough to bring Y/N to an orgasm. The feeling of his body on her made Y/N rub her hips against him. Men like Ethan, were more like gods and she thanked what ever higher power there was in the world for bringing her a man like Ethan.

“I want to you to ride me.”

Another demand from Ethan that Y/N was more than eager to oblige to. Ethan turned them over placing Y/N on top of him and some insecurities washed away. He was strong enough to flip them than Y/N would not have to worry about her weight. Unknowingly, the darkness was meant to hide her insecurities with the stretch marks that were visible all over her body. 

Ethan loved her view of her bdoy taking him and her warmness that his dick was now in. Y/N closed her eyes as the feeling of Ethan going deeper. It was painfully slow for Y/N, but with Ethan’s hands on her waist, he was controlling her. Y/N opened her eyes as Ethan was fully inside her. The moon provided Ethan the only light to her face. There was a small smile on her lips as he leaned forward to give her a kiss.

Ethan groaned against her lips as Y/N rocked her hips up. His eyes locked with hers as he started moving. Y/N matched his rhythm until his whimpered in his ear, “Faster please, please.”

The begging in that moment had turned Ethan on more. He picked up the pace at the sounds of Y/N’s moans and whines. Y/N heard Ethan’s heavy breaths and occasional grounds leave his lips. Never did she think she could make a man feel this way. This was all so different.

For a brief moment the two were separated which caused Y/N to let out this unique sound that brought a smile to Ethan’s lips, “Lay down.”

Complying, Y/N felt Ethan’s weight on her again as he grabbed her calves and had Y/N placed one leg around his waist. Then the feeling of Ethan inside her with a different angel sent her into a new state, “Fuck.”

He drove into her over and over watching her squirm and pinch her own nipples for added sensation. Ethan started kissing down her neck as Y/N grasped onto his back for friction since he had a buzz cut. This was only thing Y/N had wanted to change about Ethan in that very moment. The feeling of her nails made him groan in pleasure and bit down on her skin.

The new feeling as he pounded into her made Y/N almost drive herself over the edge. She clutched to him loving the feeling of his teeth on her neck.

“God you feel amazing.” Y/N could only moan in agreeance. “Be a good fucking girl and come for me.”

She whined and nodded as Ethan grabbed both her hands in one of his and laid them above her head. The dominance he was showing her would always be something she would remember. He felt her tightening around him, “Show me.”

Y/N came with a loud, shaky, and beautiful moan. Ethan dropped his face into her neck remembering that he had bitten her. He came hard and barely remembered that he was a heavy man as he relaxed on top of Y/N. She welcomed the weight of him as he was still inside her. When he finally stirred and lifted himself up, he remembered that he paid very little attention to her breasts.

Ethan unexpectedly kissed her again and laid himself beside her. He grabbed a blanket that was off to the side on a chair and placed it on top of her. Once she was warm Ethan sat up at the beautiful woman lying beside him.

“Stay the night.” Whispered Y/N.

Ethan fixed the pillow before pulling Y/N’s body next to him. She slowly removed his hand which ended up fondling one her breasts. Ethan was enjoying the feeling of her under his large hand but she had removed the hand from her body.

“I’ll be right back.”

Ethan watched as she left the blanket on the bed and walked across the room naked. He heard a door open and Y/N walked up but she did not turn on the light to the bathroom until the door was closed. Ethan had thought about joining her but the sound of the lock had crushed those ideas quickly.

20 minutes later, Y/N returned to the bed in a robe but would not let Ethan touch her. She motioned him to the bathroom to take a shower which he had not expected. Ethan returned to the room after to a newly made bed but knew that would not last long.

“Are we sleeping?” asked Ethan.

“We can do whatever you want.”

Ethan watched as Y/N spread her legs and open her robe up to show the top of her breasts. Y/N let her hand travel down her body and disappear under the robe for a couple of seconds before Ethan grabbed onto her hand and opened up her robe.

Both were too tired to have sex but they could still do other things. The two got into bed under the mountain of blankets Y/N had just put on. Ethan wanted Y/N’s back to him so he could have access to her breasts. Now he could give them the attention they deserved.

Ethan placed several kisses on her shoulder as he had Y/N open up her legs. His hand wondered around her thighs teasing Y/N to the point she would let out whines again. She wanted faster but Ethan had other plans.

With his right hand under her pillow, and his left hand was making its way to her hips. The slow touch caused Y/N to jump a little. It was an odd place to get the shivers but her hips bones were sensitive. If Ethan managed to wake up before her, he planned on walking up her up with his mouth and preferably an orgasm.

Finally, Ethan moved his hand over her breasts with a gentle squeeze. Y/N was enjoying her feeling on his large hand on her. When his thumb circled her nipples, Ethan grew hard again at the noises she was making.

Then his hand slid between her legs and Ethan tapped her thighs which she now had understood as ‘open’. Y/N felt his fingers stroke her, one sliding inside her, and she inhaled at the new feeling. When Ethan removed his finger Y/N had let her hips move forward to stop the empty feeling.

His thumb spread her outer lips open and massaged before moving inward. As his finger slid up and down over her drenched opening, Y/N started to move her hips forward more frequently. Finally, he inserted one finger into her, but Y/N had wanted more. As he slowly withdrew the one finger, Ethan felt her clench around him.

Sliding back and out, going between one finger or two, Y/N moaning out his name which made Ethan removed his fingers.

“Tell me what you want right now?”

“I want to cum.”

“With what?”

“Your mouth.”

“Use my hand… show me.”

Y/N grabbed Ethan’s hand and placed it on her breasts. She then dragged his hand down to cup her wet pussy made Y/N moan, “There.”

“Lay down on your back with your hands above your head. No moving them.”

Eager to obey, Y/N grabbed onto the sheet as Ethan closed his lips on a sensitive peak. He rolled her other nipple between his fingers while lightly biting on the other. While Y/N’s hands remained on top of her head and on the bed, her hips are moved forward.

When he sucked her nipple, Y/N’s hips moved again and she felt this ache between her legs. Ethan propped himself up on one forearm as he pressed a finger into her. As he placed kisses on her neck, Ethan inserted another finger. Y/N grabbed Ethan’s hand in hope of his going faster.

“Ethan.” Moaned Y/N.

“Be a good girl.” reminded Ethan.

Ethan’s fingers circled her clit but pushing two fingers deep inside her. Y/N could feel an orgasm coming as she began to clench around his fingers. His teeth nipped at her neck again and her breathing started to pace up. Ethan withdrew his fingers as she let a whimper out.

His hands grazed her breasts and fondled them thankfully paying attention to them. Rolling her nipples between his fingertips, Y/N arched into his hand. He reached down between her legs again and rubbed her clit with his finger. She was close to an orgasm earlier but he had stopped her from getting there.

Y/N watched as Ethan lowered himself down her body opening her legs in the process. The feeling of Ethan’s tongue was something Y/N had never felt before. A guy had not gone down her in the few times she had a sexual encounter.

Ethan’s fingers went inside her again as he licked and sucked her clit in alternate motions inside her. Y/N felt her legs shaking as she grabbed onto the sheets. A loud moan filled the room as Ethan kissed his way up Y/N body.

“You’re so beautiful,” smiled Ethan.

[whitecatindisguise]

He Will Pay

WARNING: description of injuries, mention of torture, panic attacks

Chapter 5

Varian’s mind was spinning, his vision blurred. He didn’t know what was going on and he didn’t dare to hope for anything. Adrenaline lowering, black spots started to appear at the corner of his vision. He heard some muffled voices but he couldn’t hear anything clearly.

Then, the door opened again and Varian didn’t dare to look up. There was a gasp and someone shuffled their feet, clearly uncertain.

“Holy- Captain! Over here!” he heard someone shout but it was all clouded, as if he had some cotton in his ears.

There was more shuffling, more people now. Varian didn’t know if it was even real or not. Someone swore and one pair of footsteps moved away hastily, some more following him after a short moment.

Someone approached him and he felt a hand reaching for his shoulder. He tensed and tried to move away, a muffled plea reaching from behind the gag.

“Hey, it’s okay, buddy” he heard a familiar voice and he whirrled his mind trying to remember who did it belong to. Was this person good or bad? He couldn’t remember.

“Shh, Varian. It’s okay” the voice reassured again and slowly reached out again, this time for his mouth. “I’m going to take out the gag now, okay?"

He nodded automatically, and felt a tugging at his mouth, as the material was gently removed. He gasped when it was finally gone, taking heavy breaths.

“Good, now I’m going to take care of those shackles” the familiar person stated. This time he didn’t react in any way, but they still reached out to his wrist and shuffled for a bit.

There was a clank and his body fell forward, not supported by the chains anymore. Before he reached the ground, he felt some warm arms catch him.

“I got you, buddy” the owner of the arms stated. Varian’s vision clouded but he still managed to make out red coat and gold sun ornament pinned to the chest.

“Eu...gene...?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“It’s me, kid. I got you. You’re safe now.” the older male reassured. Through the fog he saw him remove his coat and put it over the boy’s bare shoulders.

Varian hummed in response. He snuggled closer to the man’s chest, the feeling of safety making him sleepy.

“Will you... be there?” He asked as Eugene scooped him in his arms and stood up. He felt more like saw the quizzical gaze, his eyes already closing. “When I... wake up...” He explained.

“Of course, little buddy” Eugene smiled at the dozing alchemist. “Team Awesome, remember?”

Varian didn’t reply, already sleeping, his chest rising and falling steadily. For the first time since his abduction, he felt safe enough to sleep.

~~~~~~

The first thing his mind registered was the light. He didn’t open his eyes yet, but he could clearly notice the light seeping  through his closed eyelids.

Then came the sound. The quiet chirping of the birds, singing cheerfully to their hearts content. The shuffling of material, someone moving around, quietly, as to not disturb his sleep.

Next was the sense of touch. He felt a small breeze move through the room, but not in the way it did on his bare body back in that cold room. He felt himself lying on something soft, covered with material, probably a blanket.

He slowly opened his eyes and squinted at the sudden light, so used to the darkness for so long. He tried to rise a hand to cover them, but it felt heavy and he only managed to move it few inches before it fell back limply on the covers.

“Varian?” a familiar voice, in a good way, sounded in his ears and he moved his head to the right. Eugene sat on the chair next to him, his face relieved. “How are you feeling, buddy?”

“Sore...” he replied, voice hoarse. Eugene smiled and scooted closer to the bedside.

“You need anything? Water?” he asked, the boy nodding. The male stood up and moved away, coming back in a minute with a glass of water. He helped the alchemist sit up and tipped the glass for him to drink.

Varian was uncomfortable with the way he was treated, but he decided it was for the better, as he was barely able to lift his hand, even less to hold anything. He drank greedily, the liquid soothing his dry throat.

When he was done, Eugene put the glass on the nearby table and sat back, both of them staying in a silence. After a moment, Varian started to feel uncomfortable with all the silence. He cleared his throat, to which Eugene looked up.

“How... how long was I...?” He started to form a question, but wasn’t able to finish. What did he even wanted to ask. Kidnapped? Abducted? Taken?

“You disappeared two weeks ago” Eugene’s voice was quiet, and he could hear guilt in it. “We tried to find you the moment you didn’t show up for work, and your dad told us you didn’t come home for the night. But it was like you’ve vanished into a thin air. No trace, just... gone”

Varian mulled the words in his mind, trying to grasp the idea. Two weeks. He was held capture and tortured for two weeks. His breath quickened as his mind relieved the moments of his captivity. The feeling of sword entering his body, acid eating through his skin, white-hot metal pushed against his bare body.

Before he had time to register, he was already hyperventilating, eyes wide open in terror but not really seeing the reality. His hands grasped the covers as he felt every injury he endured from the hands of the Saporian male.

A voice reached him from somewhere to his right, but it was muffled and barely recognisable. A hand was put on his shoulder and he reacted on instinct, crying and trashing, begging to stop.

The hand retracted but the voice didn’t and it took all of his strength to understand what was it saying. They were trying to calm him down, whispering reassurance of safety. He willed his breath to slow down, remembering where he was.

He was at the castle, Eugene was right next to him. Andrew was not there, he wasn’t going to hurt him. He repeated the words like mantra, steadying his breath and calming himself down.

By the time he was finally calm, several minutes have already passed and he was sweating from exhaustion. A hand reached for his shoulder and he didn’t shook it off this time.

“You okay now?” Eugene asked, concern in his voice. He slowly nodded and took a few more deep breaths. His hands hurt from where he clenched them over the cover and he uncurled the fingers, letting them release the tension.

“Sorry” he mumbled, his head down in shame. He heard Eugene shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to apologize, you’ve been through a lot” he replied. There was a silence again, and Varian breathed more evenly now.

“How did you find me?” he asked. He wanted to know. He needed to know.

“Well” Eugene’s voice wavered. “For the first few days we didn’t know what to do. The whole guard was put to their feet, and even the townsfolk tried to look for any sighs leading to you, but to no avail. It was then that your dad decided to send for Hector and Adira.”

“They are here?!” Varian’s head shot up at the names. He didn’t have many occasions to meet with his step-uncles but what he remembered from when he did made him uncomfortable.

Adira and Hector (he still couldn’t get used to callintg those people aunt and uncle) were... unique. Although somehow distant, they usually got uncomfortably overprotective over the young alchemist.

“They stay at the castle, along with your dad”. Eugene nodded. “If it wasn’t for them, I don’t know how much longer would it take us to find you. They arrived week and a half after you disappeared and almost immediately found the lead. It was only several days after their arrival we’ve managed to trail down Andrew back to his hideout.”

Varian nodded absent-mindedly, trying not to think how would the things go if Eugene didn’t find him when they did. He felt a chill go up his spine and he shook his head, banishing the thought.

“Were they mad?” he asked and Eugene chuckled nervously.

“Yeah....” He scratched the back of his neck, before he continued. “Hector went complete feral when he saw you back there. We’d already apprehended Andrew, but he reached him faster than the guards could react. Before Stan and Pete managed to pry him off, Andrew was pretty beaten down. Several head injuries, cuts, bruises, broken ribs...” Eugene counted on his fingers. “And Adira just stood there, ready to come in once Hector was finished.” he added with a tired sigh. Varian chuckled quietly.

“Sounds like them” he mumbled and the older male smiled at the comment. “So they are staying at the castle?”

“Yes, them and your dad” the male confirmed. “I can tell them you’re awake and they can visit you later. But now, I think you need to rest.”

Varian tried to argue but a large yawn stopped him before he could say anything. His eyes blurred and he could feel the exhaustion creeping in. He nodded slightly and let Eugene help him get comfortable, his mind already half-awake.

He thought he felt the man gently brush his bangs away as he snuggled deeper into the soft bed. With a small smile on his lips, he was asleep before Eugene even left the room.

---------

So, turns out it’s NOT the last chapter. It was a lot less angsty than the previous ones. I still have some ideas I want to explore, so it might or might not end with the next chapter. Hope you’re ready for it.