#and I turned him down because I was at work and I immediately began thinking of all the worst things that could happen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thevillainswhore · 3 months ago

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Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears.

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him.

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down.

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since.

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right.

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class.

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.”

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.”

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair.

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance.

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over?

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair.

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating.

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long.

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress.

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock.

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee.

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away.

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour.

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that.

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow?

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place.

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind.

What if you were his perfect route for revenge?

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college.

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over.

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved.

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble.

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse.

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one.

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you.

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels.

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too.

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career.

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen.

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance.

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string.

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?”

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.”

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud.

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.”

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.”

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.”

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?”

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of.

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.”

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?”

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you.

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?”

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!”

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled.

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats.

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant.

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table.

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven.

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.”

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.”

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.”

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop.

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.”

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.”

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.”

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table.

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!”

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.”

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it.

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset.

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up.

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.”

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.”

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table.

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten.

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you.

Not that he was complaining.

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you.

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.”

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted.

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.”

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.”

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor.

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.”

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.”

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged.

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it.

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.”

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.”

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness.

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.”

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.”

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread.

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt.

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.”

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house.

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?”

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.”

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up.

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?”

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.”

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!”

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you.

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?”

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.”

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.”

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.”

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?”

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously.

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?”

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.”

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.”

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.”

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear.

Jackpot, he smirked to himself.

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?”

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?”

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?”

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone.

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.”

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.”

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?”

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.”

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.”

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it.

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.”

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.”

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.”

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.”

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair.

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips.

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?”

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands.

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.”

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again.

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.”

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.”

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak.

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?”

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move.

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you.

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position.

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you.

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.”

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him.

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself.

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.”

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.”

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.”

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound.

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again.

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you.

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!”

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.”

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more.

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.”

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you.

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man.

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation.

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly.

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.”

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer.

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.”

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole.

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!”

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his.

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.”

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.”

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you.

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?”

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him.

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.”

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy.

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.”

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.”

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you.

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets, but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?”

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!”

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.”

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?”

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of.

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.”

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app.

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.”

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane.

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.”

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further.

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet.

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high.

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.”

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.”

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you. Please, it’s you!”

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.”

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan.

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle.

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.”

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?”

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.”

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.”

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.”

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter.

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy.

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating.

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.”

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat.

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight.

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop.

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him.

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you.

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers.

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?”

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.”

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee.

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump.

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.”

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.”

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen.

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up.

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction

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nightingale-prompts · 3 months ago

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Batboy Meets Batfam

First | Previous | Next

"Relax Batty, it's just one dinner." Dick parked the car inside the Wayne family manor's garage.

"But I hate billionaires. Can't we just go to Batburger and go home." Danny whined slumping in his seat.

"What's so bad about it? He's your grandfather now." Dick asked.

"The last billionaire I met was the only other of my kind. And he was awful. Tried to kill me, clone me, marry my mom, kill my dad, ruined my life. That last one was something he achieved." Danny's wings materilized and wrapped around him as he sulked.

"I know it's hard Danny and I can't promise no one will ever try to hurt you like that again but I can promise I'll stick by you. I can also promise to kick the butt of anyone who tries messing with you." Dick said ruffing Danny's black hair that popped out from under his leathery wings.

"Still don't wanna go." As Danny said this he began to shrink.

Dick sighed, he had learned recently that Danny was a shifter of some kind. It was useful to hide his identity but he would also use it to get out of doing things. When Dick told Danny to clean his room or study Danny would shrink to the size of a toddler and say "Im baby" to get out of it. Dick is ashamed to admit that he's let Danny get away with it because baby bat pictures are precious and worth their weight in gold. He has a wallet full of pictures now.

But Dick has to put his foot down this time.

"Danny being little won't get you out of this. Do you really want to meet your new family like this?" Dick asked.

Danny huffed and turned in his now ill-fitting hoodie the size of a 3-year-old.

"Alright come on." Dick gave up scooping the toddler-sized teen under one arm and walking into the manor. "Alfred still has Bruce's old baby clothes somewhere."

"Ahh!"Danny yelped.

"What? Don't want that? If you show up as a baby, they will think you are one. You know Tim Drake is going to be there. He's going to be in the same school as you. Do you want him to think you're a baby?" Dick said holding the kid at eye level.

In surrender, Danny grew back to his normal size.

Dinner was oddly quite as everyone studied Danny closely.

Barbara was the least concerned as he talked about work with Dick and pushed Danny a bowl of strawberry salad. She wanted good aunt points. Danny would love her the most.

Cassie studied Danny's features. It was almost creepy how much he looked like Dick. She'd believe it if Dick was his biological father. Except for the eyes. Danny had a very particular eye color they were blue in the center but kind of had a green ring on the iris. The condition was called central heterochromia and it's rare.

Damian wasn't glaring like he usually would. He looked almost wide-eyed at Danny but remained silent.

Jason was absent as always apparently he was moved by Dick's announcement.

Then again Danny was supposed to be a surprise.

Tim and Danny seem to strike a cord immediately. Danny despite how silly he was the teen was very intelligent. Tim wasn't as subtle as he wish, mostly because Danny cornered him in conversation.

"So you're more used to living in a small town?" Tim smiled politely.

"Hmm? I didn't say that exactly. I said Im just new to the city." Danny responded.

"So you're from a different city? Metro or Star?"

"Neither, It's nowhere you'd know. Not really notable."

"You're going to be family soon, of course i want to know."

They went back and forth for a while. Tim was probably irritated after finding nothing about Danny's identity. And that meant Bruce was probably suspicious as well. Dick had to bet that Bruce's overactive paternal instincts would overwrite his need to investigate.

"So Danny, have you heard of the new vigilante in Bludhaven? The one they call Batboy?"Bruce asked wiping his mouth with a napkin as he ate.

This was the question Danny was waiting for.

"Of course! Have you seen the pictures on social media! Everyone is talking about him. Like, he has wings like a bat. Do you know what I'd do to get that power?! I mean he's not Superman but come on its so cool. We don't have metas-Is that what you call them? Yeah, metas. We don't have them where I'm from so I didn't think I'd ever met one. Dick said he met him the last time he saw Nightwing and promised to get me a picture but he didn't and he said he forgot." Danny put on a pretty convincing fanboy routine.

"I see. So Dick told you he's friends with Nightwing?" Bruce probed.

"He didn't need to tell me. Nightwing found me after I ended up in Bludhaven. I was pretty banged up and he parched me up and took me to the police station. I tried to leave but he told me that Detective Grayson would look out for me." Danny said digging through his salad to pick out the fruit and nuts.

"What about your parents?" Bruce asked softly.

"Bruce," Dick said in warning.

"Its fine...my parents didn't want me anymore. I can't go back. They'd probably kill me. But it doesn't matter anymore, they aren't here." Danny said stiffly feeling uncomfortable for saying a bit of truth.

They say the best way to lie is to have a bit of truth. Danny disagreed. The best way to lie is to have no truth, so they can't tell the difference.

Dick pulled the teen closer as Danny pulled his hands inside this hoodie hiding one of the burn scars on his arm but just enough to show that they were there.

Bruce didn't say another word.

Damian seemed to make his mind up at some point and joined in the conversation.

"Do you eat meat, Nightingale? I've noticed you haven't touched anything with it." Damian sounded oddly cordial.

"Ew, no. I don't eat meat. My friend always said meat was murder and taught me about how evil slaughterhouses were. We once raided a local farm to-oop. I forgot there are detectives at the table. I promise I'm a law-abiding citizen and not an eco-terrorist...anymore." Danny smiled too innocently.

Damian nodded in understanding. They had found common ground. That still doesn't mean he liked Nightingale. But he couldn't fight him since he didn't seem to know anything about their vigilante lifestyle.

Damian had to begrudgingly admit that Danny's presence was welcome. Soothing even.

It didn't matter. He and Drake still had bigger plans. Finding out who this "Batboy" was. They just needed Dick give up some information about the bat metahuman.

Tim had his suspicions that it was Danny but Batboy had stark white hair with black streaks and green eyes. Not to mention wings.

They would have to agree to disagree.

"Danny you have to eat something other than fruit. Eat the rest of the salad." Dick tried to sound stern but caved almost immediately when Danny pretended he didn't hear that.

Bruce internally sighed. Does he step in and help or let Dick figure it out. How does one be a grandpa to a non-vigilante who you can't threaten with no patrols?

*Bonus*

Danny when he see fruit.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dc comics #nightwing #danny fenton #danny phantom #damian wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne

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stargirl-int3rlud3 · 10 months ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

adults of jjk x reader

🗯 ! swearing, cuddling, snoring, mentions of the sound of heartbeats, sleepwalking, drooling, insomnia, almost being crushed by Toji !

synopsis; how i interpret jjk characters would be like to share a bed with. — ♡

GOJO; In my opinion I think Gojo snores, not like loud ass snores (well, maybe sometimes), but like soft snores when he’s deep in sleep. The soft noises he admits while asleep always tends to lull you right to sleep even if you weren’t previously tired. Gojo subconsciously cuddles you in his sleep, however, it wasn’t always like this. It took awhile for Gojo to be truly comfortable having someone else sleep in his bed because he had gotten so accustomed to being by himself. One time he even freaked out when he rolled over in bed and felt someone on the other side of his bed, you had to calm him down and reassure him it was just you. Continuing, Gojo sometimes rolls himself off the bed. When you started sleeping in his bed he’d roll to your side and then when his body realized he couldn’t roll any farther he rolled the other way off the bed.

Due to an exhausting day at work, Gojo had headed to bed earlier than usual. You quietly make your way into Gojo’s room seeing him laying shirtless with both his legs and the blankets sprawled chaotically across the bed. A tingly warmth brought its way to your face as you could never quite get over how genuinely attractive and fit your boyfriend was. Crawling into bed with as much cautions as you could muster, you hear the soft snores release from his slightly parted lips. You laid on your back staring at the ceiling until you realized your brain was still quite awake, this is when you made the decision to scroll on your phone for a few. Just as your eyes began to feel tired and had started to close, a loud THUD made your eyes widen and your body sit up. Instinctual, you look over at Gojo to find him not where you had last saw him, you scramble to the other side of the bed to see Gojo rubbing his head which you assume he hit when he fell off the bed. You place yourself between his scrunched up legs to examine his head, giving it a few kisses before looking back into the beautiful eyes you had fallen in love with. A light dust of pink is brushed across his cheeks as he gives you a laugh, you push his shoulder which then results in him pulling you to the ground on top of him. He reaches on the bed and pulls a pillow and a blanket from off of it. Placing the pills under his head and the blanket over you two, there you two fall asleep on the floor together.

GETO; Unlike Gojo, Geto gets immediately used to the feeling of you in bed, so much so that when he doesn’t feel you in his bed he gets worried. He needs to be touching you at all times when you guys are in bed. I believe Geto to be a light sleeper, small things can wake him up but he also falls asleep easily. Geto sleepwalks every now and again, you have to double check all the doors are locked so he doesn’t leave and get hurt or lost. When sleepwalking he doesn’t do anything particularly weird, usually he just walks around and then either goes back to sleep in bed or on the couch. It really freaked you out the first time you found him sleepwalking.

On one particular night you had been falling in and out of sleep constantly making it difficult to truly go to sleep. Geto had his arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in your spot next to him. While in the midst of falling in and out of sleep you must’ve not realized his arm had left your waist until you heard noises coming from somewhere outside of the bedroom. Slightly freaked out, you turn to Geto but he’s no where to be seen. Relief began to flood throughout your body as you get up to go looking for your boyfriend.

“Geto what’re you doing up, it’s so late?”

You rub your eyes as they make out Geto’s figure standing completely still in the kitchen.

“Geto?”

No response once again. At this point you were even more freaked out. Hoping he was just messing with you or something, you get closer to him and reach your hand out towards his shoulder. He swiftly turns and heads for the bedroom, freaking you out due to the fast movement. You made an executive decision to just sleep on the couch for the rest of the night.

When morning hit you were woken up by Geto asking you why you were sleeping on the couch, you explained his oddness last night and he apologized before telling you about how every once in awhile he sleepwalks. He made sure to make your favorite breakfast even though you insisted that he didn’t have to do that.

NANAMI; Nanami is also quite a light sleeper, but he needs some kind of noise to put him to sleep as well as complete darkness. Well, if you need some light because you can’t fall asleep in the dark cause it freaks you out he’ll absolutely let you do so. He prioritizes you sleeping over him sleeping. Nanami is always very warm so he usually doesn’t sleep with a blanket but instead a thin sheet of some sort and because his body is often quite warm you don’t have to worry about a blanket you just cling to him. Nanami also makes sure you have a glass of water by your bed every night in case you get thirsty.

Sleep had began to consume you when you and Nanami were curled up on the couch watching a movie and now even more so. Nanami held you up as you wobbled to your shared bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and made sure you were comfortable and cozy. A whine admitted from your mouth causing Nanami to turn back to you. You shiver and begin to rub your upper arms to show him you were cold as he was about to get a blanket, you whined again. With a soft smile on his face, knowing exactly what you wanted, he crawled into the empty space next to you and you buried yourself in his warmth. The warmth of your loving boyfriend drifted you right to sleep so much so that you began to snore a little. Unfortunately, to your dismay, you had gotten parched in the middle of the night so now here you were trying to move as slowly and quietly as possible out of Nanami’s arms. Which you somehow successfully did and were currently tip-toeing to the kitchen but as you opened the door and stepped out of the room an obnoxiously loud creaked echoed through the room instantly waking up Nanami. “My love? Why are you awake?” Nanami’s soft voice asks. “Um..I was thirsty” “Let me get it for you” He quickly gets out of bed and passes by you to get you a glass of water from the kitchen. When he comes back and hands it to you, you give him a sweet smile and a kiss on the cheek for his act of kindness. After that, you two are back to sleep in no time.

SHOKO; Sleep hasn’t been in Shoko’s vocabulary for awhile, she’s an insomniac after all. However, she tries her best to get as much sleep as her body will allow when you give her those big, pleading eyes. Who is she to say no to someone as cute as you? She has noticed that she sleeps more when she sleeps with you so now you try to sync your sleep schedule to hers, well, for the most part at least. You’ve even gotten her to take melatonin. If Shoko gets tired somewhere and falls asleep in your lap then you’ll stay there until she wakes up. To be honest, you’re just happy she’s sleeping.

You were sitting in the morgue waiting for Shoko to finish up what she was doing when you felt something in your lap. There laid Shoko’s head. You couldn’t contain your smile as you grazed your fingers through her hair. It didn’t take very long for Shoko to fall asleep, you knew it wouldn’t. She had a long day and she’d been exhausted since the minute she started. So, you spent this time admiring every bug and small feature that graced your girlfriend’s gorgeous face. Everything about her was beautiful, she’s beautiful. A few hours pass when Gojo walks in about to be his usual loud self when you give him a glare and hold your finger up to your lips. He marvels at the sight of a peaceful Shoko fast asleep in your lap. “Wow, you got her to sleep. You deserve an award for that” You roll your eyes at the man’s joke before looking back at the women in your lap. “God you’re really in love with her” In seconds, a red hue tints your cheeks as you flip Gojo off. He laughs knowing he just read you so easily, but in your mind all you could think is how could someone not love Shoko. “Are you sure you’re okay staying like that? Your legs must hurt” “I’m fine Gojo, I’d rather have her get as much as she can” Gojo leaves you two be so he doesn’t accidentally wake up Shoko and is forced to face your wrath.

UTAHIME; Utahime will never admit it but she loves to listen to your heartbeat to fall asleep. The sound just calms her so easily. Utahime is a heavy sleeper, she very rarely will wake up if you accidentally make noise. She doesn’t mind if you have your head laying on her shoulder or your holding hands when you sleep but she needs her own space. You both like to have your own sense of space but there are times where she wants to be closer (aka when she wants to listen to your heartbeat)

The sunshine soaked you and Utahime in its rays as you lay in the grass relishing in the warmth. The mix of the warm sun on her skin and the sound of your heartbeat echoing throughout her brain made her start to feel really sleep. She tried her best to stay awake but was soon succumbed to sleep. You watched as her eyes fought to stay open before fluttering closed. Her porcelain like skin shined brightly in the sun as you begin to feel yourself drifting to sleep and soon enough you are also sleeping in the warm rays of the sun with Utahime peaceful asleep on top of you.

INO; Ino is a big cuddler, to be fair he’s a big softy in general. He prefers being little spoon and will proudly admit that to the world. Now don’t get me wrong he has his moments where he wants you to be little spoon mostly because he likes the sight of you laying on top of him. Anyways, he snores AND drools when he sleeps but it’s not a lot of drool like it’s just a little bit and it’s actually so cute. He’s cute (he’s very pookie). He doesn’t exactly snore quietly but it isn’t that loud, like it’s not unbearable. He also cannot sleep without you now that you’ve started sleeping in the same bed.

Ino had been talking about how exhausted he was waiting for a call from his job so you told him, he could just fall asleep on top of you and you’d wake him up when he got a call from his job. He thanked you and in no time he was sleeping soundly. It didn’t take very long for the exhausted Ino to fall into a deep sleep and begin to snore. You had to hold back your giggles to not make the boy centimeters away from you. Not long after that he had began to drool on your chest. It was slightly gross but his cute face as he slept was far greater than any kind of grossness. You held him closer as if it might make you two fuse together so neither of you will ever have to leave each other. To both of your guys dismay, his phone rings and you’re forced to wake him up. As he blinks his eyes open and picks up the phone he realizes the drool stain on your shirt. A pinkish blush spread to his face as he scratches his head and mouths the words ‘sorry’. You kiss his free hand, letting him know that it’s okay. He smiles at you and give you a kiss on your head before returning back to his call.

TOJI; This man is pretty damn huge, he’s a fucking wall for crying out loud so the only space you ever really have is if you lay on top of him. I mean, hell, he’s not complaining. Sometimes you have to check if he’s dead because he sleeps so heavily and doesn’t make any noise. Toji does have a tendency to roll around in his sleep which isn’t always good for you cause he has almost crushed you a few times.

It was a peaceful night of sleeping. Toji had held you especially close since he had been gone for so long. Every bump and curve of your body was kissed by Toji. He hadn’t left your side since he came back, and you weren’t complaining. Once night fell and the moon came out, Toji hurried you off to bed. Toji wouldn’t outwardly admit it but he missed you sleeping on top of him. It just felt right with you and so when you weren’t there he began to sleep less. As you crawl your way on top of Toji, he smirks at you and caresses your face in his hands. Purely on instinct you push your face farther into his hand, enjoying the feeling of his skin on yours. He leans in to give you a goodnight kiss, this one lasts longer than usual but you don’t mind at all. Within no time at all you two are sound asleep. Toji is so sound asleep that he begins to turn his body, an action you don’t notice until it’s too late. Ot only takes you a few seconds to realize that there’s a giant hunk of a man crushing your rib cage. You try pushing him back over, doesn’t work. You try poking and smacking him, hoping that he’ll wake up, doesn’t work. You try wiggling your way out and that works for a few but it also takes a lot of energy out of you. You pinch him and he stirs a minute so you continue with that until he grumbles and his eyes open with an annoyed look. That soon fades (for the most part) when he realizes he’s laying in top of you. Quickly, he moves and places you back into op if his chest. You thank him and tell him to never do that ever again. He just shrugs and goes back to sleep while playing with your hair.

☆ | I struggled a bit with Utahime’s and Ino’s so sorry if they aren’t what you expected them to be!!

#luv₊˚꒰🩰꒱‧#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #ino takuma x reader #ino x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #utahime iori x reader #utahime x reader #jjk x reader

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marvelwitchergilmore · 4 months ago

Text

Nobody Important

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say.

Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.

When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you.

Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them.

Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”

Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was.

“Who are you?”

“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”

“That depends. Who are you?”

“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”

Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for.

However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”

You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”

“Okay, fine. What are you?”

You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Alright, listen bub-”

“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”

Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up.

“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with;

“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”

He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway.

Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that.

But he still had questions.

Unanswered questions.

Like who the hell were you?

A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again.

In the kitchens.

The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad.

Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies.

And somehow

It was relaxing to him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you.

“Err, no. I was just-”

“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t really drink..tea.”

Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers.

You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove.

“Here, try this.”

“Oh, I, uh-”

“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink.

And he did.

“Is this where you work?”

You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out.

“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”

You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”

Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”

You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”

Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea.

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”

Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy.

“Hey, what did you put in this?”

Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish.

Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear.

Then he jerked up.

With a grunt, he looked around him.

He was in his room.

The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen.

Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination.

The Professor’s office.

Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm.

“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“What the hell happened?”

“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”

Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office.

“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”

Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him.

“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”

Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”

Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”

“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”

Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”

“She started it!”

You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”

With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door.

“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”

“Have to admit, though. I did help.”

Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had.

Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you.

Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with.

But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you.

Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things.

It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.

Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears.

“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence.

“Are you going to drug me again?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”

“Really, like what?”

Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”

“They actually sell this stuff?”

You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”

Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it.

Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”

Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness.

“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”

“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”

You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”

“Will you?”

“Will I do what?”

“Go to bed, too?”

You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”

“What are you even doing?”

“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”

Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again.

“Okay, fine.”

And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep.

The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it.

Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt.

You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did.

He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you.

More so, when he saw your shoulder.

From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up.

Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night.

“New recipe?”

You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”

“Better luck next time.”

And then you both just…talked.

You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet.

“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”

You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked.

“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”

It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”

Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it.

Until the day he found you napping on the sofa.

Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas.

The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed.

And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor.

“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”

Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

Fast asleep.

He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you.

Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point.

Hell, even he needed sleep.

But you were just constantly forever going.

Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second.

You were fast asleep.

Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while.

Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision.

You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up.

Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again.

He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for.

A heavy blanket.

He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace.

Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered.

He turned around but you were still.

Then you whimpered again.

“No,” you whispered.

Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again.

He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away.

Except you reached out for his hand.

Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep.

But it didn’t look like it was a good dream.

You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out.

Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room.

A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor.

Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him.

“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly.

“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”

Your head shifted. You were searching.

“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”

“L…Logan?”

The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.

He was shocked. Maybe…

“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”

The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened.

And glowed.

They were still your eyes just…brighter.

“Logan?!”

He had stopped speaking. You were panicking.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”

The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again.

Then everything stopped.

Everything went silent.

Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved.

Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,”

You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare.

“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”

He took you by your shoulders then your face.

“It’s Logan.”

You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him.

“Logan,” you breathed.

“Yeah…”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling.

“What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”

You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest.

Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand.

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Nothing-”

“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”

You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged.

Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed.

“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”

“So what happened?”

“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”

“And that’s what the nightmares…”

You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”

You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever.

Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget.

“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”

Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going.

“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”

“Was he the one that-”

You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”

“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”

You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”

The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed.

“I just can’t.”

Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”

You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile.

“Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your head still in his hands.

“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”

It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him.

“You don’t-”

“I can stay.”

You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile.

Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him.

“Thank you for staying.”

It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea.

Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”

You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist.

As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing.

The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months.

From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room.

And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed.

Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him.

Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time.

And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter.

Because Logan already knew.

And so did you.

And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him.

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muntitled · 5 months ago

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Attention!!!

'- Summary: the one where Jake fakes being sick all for your attention

'- Warnings: Established Relationship, Language, Lying, Manipulation, Slightly toxic themes, Perv!Jake, Coercion, Smut (+18) mdni, Locker room talk, Oral sex, Dub/Con, Cockwarming, Spit, Bodily Fluids, Squirting, Oragasm Denial, Dom/Sub Themes, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Edging, Unprotected Sex

'- A/N: very unethical, very bad, pervy Jake. You have been warned.

Jake had been far more physically affectionate than usual since he caught the flu. That should've been your first sign.

The first signs of his sickness began with you lying supine on the couch, absolutely immersed in the fantastical world of your current read while Jake spoke idly to himself, gaming away on the television with your legs propped on his lap. You were so immersed in your novel, you might've actually missed the first cough he let out.

Then the second.

And then finally the third that had your brows furrowing with concern as you lowered your book.

"Babe?"

"Hm?" Jake asked distractedly, he had just broken in his copy of FIFA 23, a gift from you that had him nearly fainting on the spot. He was addicted to you.

While he toggled with the controller, he missed the slightly worried look etching across your face but when he did finally catch it, he did a double take- glancing at your slowly frowning lips before dragging his eyes back to the TV screen.

"Why so blue, babe?" Jake still spoke distractedly, with his head turned sideways, his eyes remained glued to the screen. He coughs once more, causing you to discard your book to the side completely. The couch undulates underneath you both as you sit up, pulling your legs off Jake's lap. The whole time while you moved, he kept his gaze on you in his periphery, heart beating rapidly when you pushed against his side and placed your hand on his temple.

"Baby, are you getting sick?"

Jake couldn't form any words at all because your chest was pressed against his bicep and he nearly dropped his controller at the discovery that you weren't wearing anything under your oversized shirt.

Seeing you so concerned about him, it stirred something sinister in the pits of your stomach, something that craved to be nurtured by you.

"You're so pretty, you know that?" He looks away from the TV screen momentarily to stare at the curve of your breasts protruding from your flimsy shirt. Jake immediately decides that is enough to pause the game indefinitely, as he drops the controller, pulling you into his lap. Your frown deepens like the unmistakable pool of worry growing in the bottom of your stomach. You let Jake cuddle into your chest as you continued to feel warmth around his ears, his jaw, his neck.

"I think you're coming down with something,"

"You're right," he says, pulling back to pull his shirt over his head, "It's lethal. Experts say the only cure is to have my very attractive girlfriend riding me till I-"

"Jaeyun, I'm being serious."

He had begrudgingly taken the medicine thereafter but still his advances were strong …

"- it was the best head I ever got in my fucking life dude, I'm telling you" Jake says to Jongseong over the phone. As he reminisces, he treads from the kitchen to the living room, cradling a steaming bowl of Butternut soup you had whipped up for him to combat his "cold."

"You're diabolical-" says Jay, through the receiver.

"I made her cum too," Jake scoffs, "I'm not a complete monster."

He honestly didn't think it was a crime. Sure, he might've already recovered from his sickness 2 days ago but he'd give up one thousand sick-free days if it meant you'd dote on him as you've been doing the past week.

Jake lowers himself onto the couch thinking about how utterly domesticated you've looked, prancing about the kitchen in a little housewifely dress to cook up his soups to make him feel better. The only downside is that your soup worked a little too well, and here he was, with a raging hard-on thinking about how much you loved on him.

"She's going to kill you, you do know that?" Jongseong's snicker is as clear as day, and Jake rolls his eyes.

"She's not going to do shit. She likes me like this as much as I do-".

"You’re sick-" Jongseong groans.

"Precisely," Jake laughs, and in his cocky display he nearly doesn't notice you standing in his periphery. Once he does, he's ready to end Jongseong's call in a heartbeat.

"I'll call you back," he mumbles over the line, mouth parted slightly as he stares at you over the rim of his bowl of Butternut soup. You're distractedly searching for something with nothing wrapped around your body other than a linen white towel. Jake immediately discards the bowl on the coffee table, spreading his legs wide as he makes grabby hands at you.

"Not now, Babe," The way you speak to him, so positively filled to the brim with warmth and love, that has him melting into the couch.

"I need you," he says, fingers flexing as he urges you to throw yourself into his arms. "I need you real bad,"

"What you need is more cough medicine," you're slowly sauntering towards him, despite your words (it was so difficult to say no to him), and the second you're even a small centimetre within the radius that surrounds him, he sits up and grabs you, caging you in his arms, never to let go. You yelp as you are pulled onto his lap- a sound that bleeds into a gasp when you're forced to feel the erection bulging his grey sweatpants.

"I need to run to the pharmacy, Jake,”

Your boyfriend is utterly insatiable as he guides his lips to the back of your ear, licking and kissing at the skin all while drinking up your cute little gasps. Your back is pressed against his front with your ass pushing against his bulge, it's an absolute wonder that he stops himself from bucking up into you.

“Need you so bad, baby-” he mumbles, kissing up the side of your face with his eyes fluttered shut, “Need you to make me feel better-’ you're breathing heavily, ready to push yourself off of him until he mutters, “You want me to feel better, right.”

Your voice is soft and affirming as you predictably mumble, “Yes, Jake, of course-”

“Then let me in, baby-” he sinks his fingers into the softness of your belly, and dips to plant even more kisses down the side of your neck. Jake marvels at how malleable you are in his hands. Like perfectly sculpted clay.

It is only when he finally reaches around to tug at your towel that you are snapped from your daydreams. “Jake- I need to get you stronger meds, you've been sick for way too long-”

“Fuck- I'm so hard for you baby,”

“Jake…” he interlocks his hand around your wrists, guiding your palm back to the space between your ass and his bulge. “Feel how much I need you,” Jake mumbled in that petulant way that had you complying with his crude sexual advances all week. -And you couldn't even lie to yourself at this very moment, your core was steadily soaking your underwear. You loved how needy he was. How much he needed to be inside you. And you've indulged him, this entire week, after he'd drank his medicine, Jake would always somehow end up inside of you, fucking you relentlessly as if there was no sickness at all.

“J-Just need to be inside you, yeah?’ he's already lifting you with one arm circled around your waist. It's enough for him to pull his sweatpants down, his hard, heavy cock far too eager for you to sink down on it.

“Jake- babe-”

“Here, lick this-'' Jake immediately stuffs two fingers in your mouth and you're immediately silenced. It's how he manhandles you, how utterly in control he is despite being sick, that has you humming and moaning around his fingers. The second he pulls them out, he's reaching under the towel to rub your puffy clit.

“You're so wet, I think you want this too, Princess.”

Jake mumbles into the side of your head, spouting all his dirty vitriol in your ear like he knows you enjoy, all while slowly lowering you onto his monstrous cock.

“Oh my God, you're such a slut-'' he mumbles drunkenly as the head of his cock stretches you open. It fills you in a way that's not only satisfactory, but so deliciously addictive until soon, you're moaning phonography moans, as you push your ass back down onto him, fucking yourself on his leaking cock. “Just like that, fuck-” Jake's head is in the clouds, whike his mouth is hung open, utterly delirious with lust. You bring your knees onto the couch and Jake sits back, making way for you to sit in reverse cowgirl, enough to pull even more of him into you.

“M-Make me cum first,” you mumble, immediately resulting in Jake reaching around to rub furious circles around your clit.

“Fuck, I'm so close, Jakey-”

“God, babe, please cum for me-” he chants so many ‘babe’s’ so many ‘pretty pleases’ until you're squirting around him, with your cunt convulsing around his cock.

“Oh my fucking God, don't stop-” but that's exactly what you do once your high is over. You stop.

“W-What the fuck!?” Jake asks, bucking up into you, after your hips stop moving on top of him at all. He clamps his hand on your sides, urging you to move but you do nothing of the sort.

“Did it feel good, lying to me?” He doesn't register your words, far too hellbent of reaching for his orgasm that lays just beyond a metal threshold.

“Wh-What-”

“I heard you talking to Jongseong.” You seethe, craning neck back to glare daggers in his half-lidded, distressed eyes. “You lied about being sick.”

Jake throws his head back, whining before trying to fuck uo into tou again, “Baby, just sit back down, I'm so close-”

“How long, Jake,” He's trying to be serious, he's trying to sound apologetic, but the sternness in your voice has him reaching the edge.

“P-Past week, fuck!” Jake is in both heaven and hell as a small bit of precum dribbles from his cock still inside you. It twitches and throbs and Jake's fingers sink deeper into your skin. “Okay I couldn't resist you, you were so good!” he finally admits, “And your soup was so good. And the sex too! Everything was so good. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Your next words send a tidal wave of disappointment scorching his stomach. “I don't think you should get to cum- It seems like a bad idea to reward bad behavior with positive reinforcement.”

“Don't talk science at me, just fuck me!”

“I hate you.”

“Don't say that, babe- fuck-I'll cum,” He squeezes you tighter, keeping you firmly situated on top of him. His lips press into your back as he whines helplessly, pride be damned.

"L-Let me cum, babe, please. Im so sorry, I just love you too much. Way too much. And I love when you love me." There are invisible bloody strings pulling at your heart.

"I always love you though, Jake." And as you relent, immediately starting to move your hips again, Jake squirts his cum inside you whole his hips buck wildly into you.

“Just like that, Princess-” he mutters, gasping for air as his orgasm falls upon him. It's vicious and blinding after all that dangerous edging and he moans loudly into the open air. “So sorry-” he mumbles with his hips still bucking up inside you, “m’so sorry. I'll do anything to make it up to you…”

#enhypen #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen headcanons #enhypen x black reader #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #jake smut #jake x reader #jake sim #sim jayun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun smut #jake sim fanfic #enha fluff

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okwonyo · 19 days ago

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（标题） STRAWBERRY HEAD.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡⠀a guy with a fun costume flirts with you at a party.

( 엔하이픈 희승 ) ୨୧ f .. r 12OO fluff meet cute ── flirting skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

지아 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒ㅤ i am not leaving tumblr everrr don’t worry, luvdolls 💌

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

it always ends up the same. no matter what the conversation is, no matter how it began or where; it always ends up with the same conclusion. why don’t you have a boyfriend, yet?

as always, you groan while tilting your face to the ceiling. like a tradition, it is like you are begging a superior being to end your misery now and just take you before they all start to recall all your failed dates and talking stage over the past few months. it is not like they are that many, anyway.

you can try to tell each one of the people surrounding you that you are not interested in a relationship, that you think boys are fun to mess with but truly useless and that you are fine on your own— they never listen.

you successfully disappear amongst the crowd of diverse book, movie and game characters— and even … fruits? — costumes to get a drink. suddenly feeling very thirsty.

no one notices you, too hang on debating on your love life when you are not even there to begin with.

pouring something into your glass, you feel someone standing a bit too close to you.

“hey,” a voice greets you loudly. making your heart jump all the way to your stomach.

you almost giggle as you turn around; a tall, grown man in a bright red hoodie, the same color as his joggings and a strawberry sort of hat wrapped around his head.

his voice is way too deep to go with his costume.

a smile tugs your lips, “hi.”

he smiles back. this time with a much much softer, he tells you back, “hi,” he eyes lingers on your face. “you come here often?”

you actually giggle at that, with your face falling towards the ground, with his face following yours, with his gaze never leaving you as he smirks.

you cross one arm under your chest and plant your free arm’s elbow in your wrist, holding your drink close to your mouth, “please, don’t tell me that line has ever worked for you,” he chuckles at that, “i wouldn’t stand it.”

the strawberry head shrugs, “tried and tested true for a reason,” then he leans his shoulder against the wall next to you.

“what’s your name, bambi?” he asks you, biting down his lip as he smiles.

the nickname comes from your doe makeup and the little tail on your skirt. looks like you are not the only one who makes nicknames.

you respond while turning to face him, “what is yours?”

“heeseung,” you admit it, ‘strawberry head’ will be missed but you like this one better.

“it’s cute,” you nod and he laughs.

“and yours isn’t?” he immediately says back. he rolls your name on his tongue, dear god . “it suits you well, i like it.”

you huff humoredly, “i will tell my parents you are a fan,” you don’t forget to emphasis on his name and hold your drink up, “heeseung.”

“i hope i will be able to tell them myself one day,” he teases when you drink, making your choke.

well, that was quite risky— although, still very smooth, you will give him that.

your eyes wide and your mouth falls open is a surprised smile. your face must be funny because heeseung lets out a genuine laugh, that goes beyond the sound of the loud music.

“take me to dinner first!” you tell him, while watching his body vibrate because of his laughter.

the tall man gets serious pretty quickly after the words leave your mouth, he looks at you like he had you exactly where he wanted.

“well,” he starts and his smirk is back again. “what about tonight?”

you can only blink at him for a moment. as if it was written on it; you scan his entire face in a hope of an answer. oh.

“diner?” you ask, he hums. “tonight?” he hums again and your knees weaken a bit. “but we barely know each other!”

“we can get to!” his smile is more than evident in his voice, on his pink lips. “over diner!”

he got you pressing your lips together and fighting back a smile like a highschool girl. the debate doesn’t take very long in your head, you just need to bite your inner cheek to get yourself to say it.

strawberry head’s face is full of apprehension and enthusiasm, so much that you wonder who looks the most idiotic between the two of you.

you sigh, then giggle, “fine, you convinced me.”

the guy smiles. and after you successfully say goodbye to your friends while avoiding all their questions, everything gets wrapped pretty well.

soon you stand a few meters away from heeseung’s means of transport.

“you have a bike,” you sound half impressed, half incredulous.

heeseung, with his strawberry costume, has the audacity to look at you with an utterly shocked and offended expression splashed on his face. he even puts his hand on his heart.

“am i not cool enough to have one?” he asks as he leans on his motorcycle.

you take one step closer to him, letting your fingertips run through the leather seat. it is cool, very much so. him, despise his bright red ensemble, too.

you chuckle, “it just doesn’t match your costume,” you confess and he chuckles. “you are like my very own james dean,” you turn your gaze back to him, “very cool to me.”

his look softens, his hand offered to you and helping you when you get on the passenger sit. he speaks again :

“i promise to take care of you.” he whispers before letting your hand go gently. “i know a good restaurant a couple of blocks away.” you want to ask him if he doesn’t feel a bit ridiculous wearing this. “are you comfortable?

you thank your past self for choosing a black short instead of a skirt to wear with your black top and boots, “yeah,” you nod. “thank you.”

the wind runs through his hair when he takes off his strawberry head. it takes your breath away instantly. he was already beautiful before but now, this is something beyond and different.

of course, his hair is pink.

“wouldn’t like to see it flying, would we?” he jokes and you only blink, eyes following him as he gets behind the bike and puts the strawberry in the box. he takes a helmet and comes back to you.

he gets on the bike, so close to you when he turns around.

your world completely collapse when he puts the helmet on your head for you, “i only got one,” he speaks, eyes focused on his fingers adjusting the helmet. “didn’t know a pretty girl like you would let me carry her around, you know?”

thankfully, the tinted visor can hide your blushing face. and your stupid smile. halas— it can’t hide your giggles.

“i saw it in a dream of mine,” you respond when he turns around. you embrace his waist, “i knew the trajectory of you life would be changed tonight.”

heeseung laughs again.

as he starts the engine you whisper in his ear, “is it the part where you tell me to hold on tight?”

“i think you are doing that already, doll,” he taps your hand.

and man, what a ride it was.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

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hazelfoureyes · 7 months ago

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Alastor in Rut (one shot)

Rutting Alastor x Fem Rabbit Reader

Less than confident and lacking much in the way of assertiveness, you find hell to be scary. But, a very kind and helpful deer demon has a solution! Just in time, as an unexpected rut hits him and he feels the need to reel you in.

this is pure self indulgence. Shout out to @jazzmasternot , @lustylita , @sugoi-writes , and @minkdelovely for keeping me sane and horny (with art lol)

「Warnings/Promises: actual warning - mentions of accidental vehicular homicide and reader's death, Marathon Smut, p in v, finger almost in a?, anal is considered, knotting because fuck it, attempt at breeding, womb flooded, not dubcon but everyone in the hotel thinks it is, slightly repetitive fucking because he wont waste semen on other holes, Alastor would fuck anyone but you’re the most amusing, Alastor doesn’t think he’s the good guy which is honestly kinda cute, deadass talk about making you carry his fawns?? Why is it so hot?? Knock me up deer man bleat bleat bitch, implied previous relationship with a human man, plans to cuckold your ex, heat, blue fire isn’t hot, you’re tricked into a deal with Alastor, kinda size kink, demon Alastor, minor aftercare, a little sexual choking (as a treat)」

Hey--- we're all here for something. This is 10000 words, 5300 or so is smut. Smut starts at the bright green divider for you impatient and horny deeries.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL DNI

The line for reception was long, but that was to be expected. After the extermination ended early and Adam killed on television by a maid, the Hazbin Hotel had been busy. Or so you overheard others saying. You’d only been in hell a day, lucky enough to catch the advertisements and hear the gossip for the hotel soon after your descent.

You recognized the princess immediately, but not that tall man beside her. He wasn’t doing anything, just staring and smiling. Was he friendly? Were there friendly people in hell? Truly friendly. Not high school girl friendly. Or hungry witch friendly. He had witch vibes.

“Hiya welcome to the”, she took a deep breath in, “Hazbin Hotel! I am Charlie! This is Alastor! What did you do to bring you to hell? Gotta know so we can cater your redemption activities to your sins!”

She was staring at you so happily, pen over paper. Your eyes nervously shot to the man, who leaned down in response.

“I fell asleep driving and killed someone, and myself.”

Everything about Charlie was frozen still except the sudden glossiness forming over her eyes. “You… you… were you like, a thief or… did you…… push old ladies into traffic?”

You shook your head no.

“Gluttonous? She asked.

“No, I wasn’t a fan of overindulgence.”

“Prideful, then?”

“Unfortunately… I don’t think too highly of myself. Living or dead.” Your hand came to your down turned rabbit ears, sad and limp. Even in death you weren’t the right kind of anything.

“Uhh,” Charlie clicked her pen furiously again and again, “Lustful?”

“Just the one partner. My highschool sweetheart.”

A sweat was forming on Charlie’s brow, “Sloth?”

“I did fall asleep behind the wheel… but it was from working 25 hours of overtime this week.”

Charlie put the pen down, “I don’t think you belong in hell. You made an accident. That’s not how sins should work…”

Your eyes bore holes into the desk, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think heaven cares much about that.”

“Poor thing. Let’s circle back, Charlie.” Alastor’s large hand rested on your head, patting twice.

She nodded, “Good call. I’ll just,” her tongue stuck out as she began to write, “make a new category just for you! Other.”

Yeah that made sense, you thought. That was fitting. This truly was hell. Finally you stood out, as the one who didn’t fit in. You supposed that’s what a wallflower deserved for murder.

“Follow me little one.” The tall Alastor instructed you as he snatched a key from the hook and walked past you.

Happily. Small tail uncontrollably swishing as you followed a foot behind him.

A hum of approval, Alastor noticing the distance you kept.

“You obey instructions well.”

You always did. “Thank you.” Tiny and soft, your response made his shadow shift and smile.

It wasn’t a compliment, but the fact you took it as one interested him. Subservient.

Fun.

“I take it that you really were a good girl in life, weren’t you?” He swiveled on his heels to face you, the sudden change causing your face to run into his lower chest.

A song of apologies fell from your mouth as you backed up, tripping over your own pathetic attempts at platitude and falling back onto your ass.

He was tall before but now he towered over your, hand outstretched to help you up. You offered a thank you before taking it.

Clawed fingers tightened around your palm. Not letting you pull away. “You’re new to hell, right?”

A glance around, no one else in the hallway, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. But also, you mentioned work this week.”

A nod, “It’s been maybe a day.”

Delicious.

“Could I offer you some advice?” He leaned down, hand tightening further. Wide eyed and a little frightened with the change in atmosphere, you just nodded again. “It’s very dangerous out there for little prey animals like yourself.”

“Aren’t you also a prey animal?”

His hand uncurled.

A moment of tension, Alastor leaning down further.

A strange sound was coming from his microphone, the best approximation you had was a car radio going haywire skipping through the channels.

“Room 243!” His body popped up and he held the key out for you. The hallway lights seemed to be glowing brighter now.

You grabbed the key, “Thank you!”

Two fourty three was just past him. A small tremble kept you from getting the key in on your first and even second try.

You didn’t even stop to turn on the light, just pushing the door closed behind you as soon as your body was through the threshold.

The relief barely left with a sigh when you heard it, “You know…”

Frozen, your eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see the shining of his red and pink eyes in front of you.

“I’m somewhat of a deal maker. For a small price, I could help you. Perhaps, you’d like a change of appearance?” His voice seemed to be coming from the walls, above and beside you all at once.

Something lifted a floppy ear. But his eyes were too far from you for it to have been his own hands. A small scream as you smacked at the appendage.

“What do you say? I can use a little magic to make you happier with your new form.” A dark whisper into your right ear.

Your hands flew to your head before you dropped to your knees to escape the hidden things touching you.

“What do you want?” To your left now. “Let’s make a trade. A deal.” Above your head.

His eyes were gone. Just darkness and a soft laugh echoing around you.

Your mind was reeling through possible answers, what did you want? At that moment? In general?

An answer tumbled out, too quietly.

“Hmm?” His eyes reappeared closer to you and glowing a bloody red. “Speak up, my ears are quite a bit higher than your mouth.”

A second attempt, “Safety. I wanna be safe.” The laughter got louder, mocking you without words.

“A little tougher of an ask.” The sound of something slithering near your feet made you pull your knees tighter to your chest. “But! I’m here to please. In exchange for protection from the more nefarious of hell’s citizens I’ll need something worth my while.”

Of course, that is how deals work, right? A promise with compensation.

“I don’t have any money, or possessions yet. Maybe I should try again later?” You were lost in the light of his stare and found the darkness deepening around him.

A considered hum, “Well, you’re already dead. You’ve no need for your soul. Damned as it is, give it to me instead. To keep safe. And I’ll always answer your calls for rescue when in harm's way.”

Why would…what use was a soul, you wondered. Was he right? But if he wanted it, surely it had value. You were too new to this world, scared to say yes and part with what little you had.

At the risk of angering the demon in the darkness of your room, you whispered to yourself and hoped he would hear it, “I think I shouldn’t.”

Hissing in your ear, “Disappointing.”

The lights flickered on, an empty room. A bed. A nightstand. A closet. A bathroom. No tall smiling dealmaker.

A tremor stayed in your hands through the night.

To your surprise, when you ran into Alastor the next day he was more than kind. He was eavesdropping when you asked Charlie if the hotel needed any staff. Not only did you want to be of use, you were hoping to earn some money. He quickly slid beside Charlie suggesting things you could do.

Wow, you thought. He didn’t hold a grudge at all. Maybe he had been trying to help before?

It took a few weeks, but you found a groove. You were a floater between the staff, helping Husk with the restocking of his bar, following behind Niffty with supplies her tiny arms couldn’t carry, and keeping notes for the activities Charlie held. It was vital for you to feel needed and everyone seemed happy to have you around. Hell wasn’t so bad.

“Dear,” Alastor found you holding a basket of towels in the hallway on a rather standard weekday, “I need an errand runner. Do you mind?”

You had been finding Alastor’s presence enjoyable, a little secret you held. He was always smiling, which made you smile in turn. And his manners, well, perfect. You couldn’t understand why such a sweet man was in hell, but then you considered you were also in hell. Mistakes happen, perhaps he was also damned by technicalities.

Not that you would ask him, you barely spoke a word to the deer demon. Every time he was around you your throat would close up. Oftentimes you would pull your hands behind your back to shield the wiggle of your too-honest tail.

When he would speak to you, you would get so focused on the sound of his voice and watching his mouth move you’d actually not hear a damn thing he said. You must have looked like an absolute airhead, always replying, “What?” every time he finished a statement.

“Hellooo, anyone home in there?” He knocked gently on your skull. Ah, those big hands again. He watched the pink bloom across your cheeks, your hands coming to your ears to pull them down as your mind wandered off. A snap of his fingers finally brought you back.

“Sorry, what?” Your eyes were bright as you finally made the journey all the way up to his face.

“Welcome back. I need some stuff picked up from a shop downtown. I can’t leave right now, mind hopping over for me?” The grin he offered you made you melt.

“Of course!” That damn tail shaking behind you, “What am I picking up?”

He waved his hand, “Not important, it’ll be all wrapped up and waiting.” The radio effect of his voice grew, “I’ll write down the address.”

Terrible handwriting. You could barely read it, but didn’t want to insult him so you just nodded as he followed you to the doors. Pausing, you realized it was your first time leaving the hotel alone.

“What’s wrong? Not up to it?”

You shook your head, “No! I can do it. Thank you.”

A pounding in your chest made you question if you were actually dead. But despite your concerns, no one bothered you beyond some catcalling and intense glares. Staring at the paper, you struggled to decipher the address. Was that a 7 or a 1? A 4 or a 9…? You were in the general area, the street name lined up and the first couple numbers of the address too.

You brought the paper closer to your face, maybe if you really inspected it you could figure it out.

A shriek, dropping the paper to felt a small goblin-like creature pushing at your knees. Another, then another, began to appear from the shadows of the street. Black and white little creatures pushing and pulling at your legs until you tumbled over.

“Help!” You thought it was a shout, but it came out as a soft spoken request, the tone itself adding a ‘please’ to the end.

They weren’t hurting you, just knocking you over every time you tried to stand up like grade school bullies. You managed, the creatures relenting momentarily before a stockier one materialized. A step back, what did they want? Money? You pulled out your wallet and opened it but the large one smacked it to the ground.

That quick heart skipped a beat when your back hit against something solid. As your head bent backwards, you could see those red and pink eyes looming over you.

“Oh dear. Trouble already?”

You could cry. You did cry, a little, at the sight of a familiar face. With a flourish of his hands, those previously unseen tendrils whipped from his back and flung the aimless attackers away.

Rescue! You hugged his waist, a chorus of ‘thank yous’ and ‘Oh, Alastor!’ into his chest.

“Now now, can’t even be a proper task rabbit. You really do need some safeguarding.” He peeled you off him, brushing his coat off. Your mind thought back to the offer. “And I don’t see my purchase… didn’t complete the task either?”

You shrunk, you’d entirely failed him. His smirk was one sided, eyes half lidded and expression dramatically disappointed. Alastor sighed and turned to walk away from you. You’d let him down. He’d been nothing but accommodating and gentle.

“I’m sorry! Alastor!” You grabbed his wrist, eyes shut so you didn’t see the green glow of arcane symbols floating up around him. “Can I please have that deal? Please. I’m sorry, you have my soul as payment.”

Painless, selling your soul. With a handshake, a little light show, and a whirling of magic, you had done it.

“Excellent choice!” Alastor patted your head, “I’ll come to your aid when you’re scared for your life! Aaaand in return, your soul is mine. Easy peasy, yes?”

Fine, not an issue in the slightest. “Do I need to do anything?”

“About what?” His eyes wandered to inspect his fingernails.

“My soul.”

A barking laugh, “No. You’re tied to me now, dear. As for my end, just call my name when you’re in danger and I’ll,” a flourish of his talons, “rescue you.” His smile strained as he peered down at your little face, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m so happy to have the help, thank you Alastor! You really are just, amazing. Your mother raised you right.” Your hands were holding your cheeks, grateful and feeling a little less alone.

The mention of his mother made his back straighten, a bloom in his chest he knew all too well to be pride. Finally, someone was vocalizing his better qualities. Well, other than Charlie. But impressing Charlie was like making a dog think you’d thrown a ball. Just a little quick whirl of your hands and a couple sweet words with a smile and she’d be all wagging tail as she ran to retrieve nothing.

But he supposed you were very much like Charlie, easily tricked and distracted. Had you really not noticed those goons were his? Or that the address wasn’t real? Were you stupid or naive? His head fell to the side unnaturally as he watched you talk. He wasn’t listening, though. He took in your features, slight but average. His hand came out absentmindedly and felt at one of your long and limp ears. He didn’t see you blush or caught how you stiffened.

Naive. Terribly naive.

Perfectly usable.

He dropped your ear and turned to leave. “I won’t rescue you twice in one day. Best to follow me home if you value your life.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You hadn’t told anyone about the deal, a secret for yourself to keep. Partly because you were embarrassed you needed the help, and partly because you had been warned extensively to not make a deal with the deer demon. Everyone had such a peculiar idea of Alastor, it seemed to you. Even after making a deal, he was still…Alastor. Always offering a joke, or playing something jaunty in the shared spaces. You could vent and whine and Alastor would hum as he read. Always offering a gentle pat to the head when you were sad or did something he liked.

So when Alastor suddenly left the group in a sweat, hands shaking and body rocking slightly side to side, you were quick to follow behind him. He bumped off the walls a couple of times before making it to his room and falling forward past the threshold.

You waited for the door to close before running down the hall and knocking.

“Are you alright?” You pressed your cheek against the wood and listened for any reply.

Alastor was still on the floor when you knocked, which worked out well. He leaned against the door, ears flat with his condition. He took a deep breath, voice dropping an octave and carrying easily to you, “Just— an out of season rut. Unexpected and unwelcome. Without any does nearby it’s quite odd.”

“Oh, are deer not like rabbits? Rabbit does are always in estrus! Mating actually triggers their ovulation. Neat, huh?” Silence, Alastor’s ears turned forward focusing on every other word.

Does, always, oestrus

Mating, triggers, ovulation

“I had pet rabbits when I was little. Isn’t that funny though? That they’re also called does.” You worried he thought you were weirdly interested in rabbit sex. “We had them as pets. So….,” a silence you misinterpreted as awkward.

Alastor tapped a long claw on the door before dragging it down the wood. A line was etched behind, “Is that so?”

You knelt down to get comfortable, “How long will it last?”

“Ah, hard to say. I've only suffered through a few. Alone, perhaps a week.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“With an appropriate partner, a deer demon would rut for two days. One for mating with his doe, one for guarding his doe from rivals who could still interfere with conception.”

His doe. You both found your throat running dry at the words.

You nodded, “Oh wow, I guess that’s why you always see bucks locked together in fights.”

“Precisely.”

“But...can sinners actually conceive?” You gulped, the idea was a little naughty to you. The entire conversation was actually making you uncomfortable. The kind of discomfort that made your breath pick up. The kind of discomfort that shifted to hunger with just a few words or a well placed look.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. Once fully in the hold of a rut or heat, demons aren’t motivated by logic.”

You nodded again, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Oh okay…” the idea of Alastor rutting into his own hand desperate to fill a womb made your knees come together. “Must be hard for you. As an asexual.”

A hum, confusion breaking his creeping fog for a second, “A sexual what?”

“Nevermind.” You shook your head, shaking off the topic with the motion.

Alastor could smell your arousal wafting under the door. A feverish chill ran through him, drawing the fog back into the recesses of his mind.

“Well… I’ll let you rest. I know you can’t call me, so I’ll stop by to see if you need anything.”

His mouth opened to correct you— he could call you in a sense, and he didn’t need help as he had minions he could summon with a snap.

“That sounds lovely, what a helpful thing you are.” The words came out strained, his jaw tensing. How much longer could he hold out? The thinnest lie held in place that he’d suffer alone through the week. Already compromised by his errant shadow, flat against the carpet beneath your thighs.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Within hours Alastor was lying on the floor with his limbs splayed out. The sweating was the worst, not the heat. He could feel ticklish drops dripping down his stomach. His hair was sticking to his face, adding to the mounting overstimulation. Wet, hot, clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. A clawed hand pulled off his bow tie. His fingers shook too much to handle the tiny buttons of his shirt so he gave up and ripped it open.

It fell into a pile with the bow tie and soon his pants and socks joined. Sitting up on his elbows he looked down at his underwear, he wasn’t hard yet but he knew the smallest touch could trigger what could be days of painfully swollen erections.

He fell back to the floor with a huff, hands raking through his hair and gripping his ears a little rougher than he’d meant to. A gasp, red tipped talons feeling down his ears and slipping around his already growing antlers.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, strong hands squeezing his prongs, tugging them forward as he imagined anyone riding him. Using his appendages as a handle while he bucked up into them. His hips were already moving, lower back rising off the carpet as he rolled his body up into the imaginary mate he despised his desperation for. His mind flicked through faces. Husk’s pained but satisfied expression, Vox’s tears as he whined, Carmilla’s lusty eyes paired with surrendered sighs. He lingered briefly on Angel’s smirk as his hands roamed down his chest and his thighs in tandem.

But through the darkness of his imagination he saw two watery and timid orbs, tears welling as eyebrows rose in confusion. Pleasure making the features soften. Soft. Soft velvet ears he could tug on in turn, a little bushy tail he could grip.

A doe.

The only doe he knew of in the hotel.

The radio on the writing desk flipped through channels, piecing together the sounds to form the words he was trying to forget, a magazine ransom note cut from sound bites.

....out the windows

....always and forever,

....in yesterday.

....rusty cage

May you never....

Hating how I....

....pull the trigger

....say you love me?

....congratulations

The relevant sounds spiked in volume, mocking him.

He walked to the radio and hurled it across the room. Aggression. Already he was losing himself to hellish biology.

A minor part of him didn’t want to use you. You always looked at him with such adoration, which he’d come to look forward to when others weren’t giving him adequate attention. You also seemed to genuinely see him as a friend, as much as he didn’t directly feed that idea.

But using people was how the world worked. Everyone was using someone. You had said how much you wanted to help… Alastor leaned on the desk with both hands and watched the sweat fall onto the wood and leather writing surface.

How was his body leaking from every pore but his mouth was so dry?

His shadow reached for the thrown radio, the light flickering on. That dark doppelgänger using a song to offer another piece of torment for him, ‘you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.’

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You had been speaking to Husk about what you could do to help prepare the bar for the weekend when a green light began to form around your neck.

“Did you— Did you make a deal with him?!” Husk dropped the dish rag, hands shooting to your shoulders, “Hold on! I’ll— fucking hell. Fuck!”

“Wait what’s wro-,” you were standing inside an unfamiliar room, just at the door, before you could figure out why Husk was panicking. Looking up, you locked eyes with Alastor. The room was dark, curtains drawn shut and ceiling lights off. A slight glow from a roaring blue fire to your left. His eyes were those familiar glowing red orbs in the darkness of his large canopy bed. “Oh, Alastor.” You finally noticed the third light source. A neon green large linked chain was wrapped around his fist. Following the squared interlocking pieces down the length of the bed, across the carpet and up as you looked down to find it ending on you.

Your hands touched your neck, feeling the cold metal of your collar.

Alastor took a deep breath in, a shaky exhale following.

Oh. You’d heard from Angel how his deal with his boss often materialized as a series of smoke rings linked and attached to him.

Before you could question it any further you were sliding across the floor, hands and feet struggling to find purchase as he reeled you toward the bed. Alastor lifted you by the glowing chain around your neck, evidence of the deal you so easily accepted.

“Can a deer breed a rabbit?” He mused, breath ragged as he struggled to remain in control of his impulses, “Doubtful. But I’ll give it my sincerest efforts, regardless.”

“Alastor-! You don’t want to do this, it’s just your rut.” You pulled back, legs kicking and piling up the blankets. It was fruitless.

He laughed, incorporeal radio studio audience joining along. You couldn’t stop from glancing at the straining fabric of his black boxers. Setting a small hand on his chest to better attempt to push away you gasped, “You’re burning up!” The fear of the moment left you entirely, replaced with deep concern.

He gripped your wrist with his free hand, not letting go of the chain in his right, “The fever is unbearable. My mind is slipping away.”

“Is this normal?!” Your hands came to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. You remembered how your grandmother always checked your temperature, and pressed your lips to his sweat slicked brow. “You poor thing…”

When you pulled back you were met with the bright and blown out pupils of Alastor’s gaze. He was staring at your mouth, the green of his magical connection to you reflecting off his glossy eyes.

“Poor me.” He’d been sitting with loosely crossed legs but got on his knees. His face rose until he was looking down at you, hand now holding your chin, “You promised to help me.”

Your eyes were looking everywhere but his face.

His hand on you tightened, cheeks squished together as he pulled your head up, “Are you a liar?” Of course not. His hand made your head shake left to right.

The trembling of your hands was obvious to you both. A cruel laugh, “Do I scare you, little bunny rabbit?”

In life you weren’t popular. No one hated you, but, well, you never had much luck attracting the men all the women seemed to want. No one of power or consequence ever paid you any mind.

Alastor was scary. But were you scared? Someone strong wanted you. Someone people feared was saying you were good enough for them.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt your tail wiggling side to side. Your body always betrayed you. Your own death had been the doing of your body’s inability to listen to you.

He couldn’t see the tail but the way your face screwed up in shame tipped him off. Letting go of your face, super heated finger pads slipped down your back. He slotted your tail between two fingers. There was no reason for it to be such an intimate action, but your entire body trembled.

Another deep sigh from Alastor, closing his fingers around the base and pulling gently. A test. Your head dropped to hide your reaction.

“Ah ah, eyes on me.”

He hummed happily as you did as you were told.

But the moment was cut short, you jumping when a rough knock came to the door.

“Alastor!” Vaggie was turning the knob despite knowing it was locked, “Is she in there? Open the fucking door.” A kick, a threat, “Now.”

“I’ll need your answer.” He leaned back onto the pillows piled behind him. Making a point, he lifted your chain and dropped it. It dissolved into nothingness before it could hit the bed.

“I’m here!” You said barely loud enough to be heard through the wooden door. Your eyes were drawn to Alastor’s lap as he pushed down his underwear to free his deep red cock.

His hand tenderly touched his base, hissing with the contact.

“For fuck’s sake Alastor!” Vaggie yelled, “You have three seconds to open this fucking door before I rip it off the hinges.”

Alastor’s head fell back with a moan, stifled as he bit down on his lip.

“One!”

As his fingers slid up his length and touched his leaking slit his entire body violently shook.

“Two!”

He opened his eyes just barely. You hadn’t noticed the antlers on his head were quite a few times larger than normal.

“I’m okay!” You shouted, the loudest noise you’d made since your death, but not the loudest you’d make by the end of the day.

Silence.

Mumbling.

Vaggie spoke up again, “Are you sure? Come out and talk to us first.”

His hand began stroking himself, precum spilling down. Something soft and fuzzy was settling over the front of your brain.

You scooted backwards off the bed, eyes staying on his lap. The light color of his inner thighs. The little bit of red and black tail you could see squished down under his ass.

“Hello!” You opened the door just enough to shove your head through. “Hi there gang.”

Husk’s arms were crossed and his foot tapping, “Are you really okay? No matter the deal he can’t fucking make you stay in there with him.”

While you weren’t sure that was actually true, it wasn’t an issue, “I wanna stay! He needs someone to watch his fever and-,”

A brief rush of cool air up your shirt before a hot mouth was pressing into the small of your back.

Vaggie’s eyes narrows, “and?”

“And! And. Yes.” Your eyes shut, “and take care of cleaning up after him.”

They shared a glance, “He can just make his little creatures do it.”

A surprisingly long tongue ran up your spine.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god! No! I couldn’t let my friend,” you sucked your bottom lip in as his hands wrapped around your waist and undid the button of your pants, “rely on strangers.”

Husk sighed, “Alright, just… like, call us or something? If you need anything.”

You began to nod but the door was shut and locked by Alastor before you could reply.

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

Your face hit the wall as you lost balance when he pulled down your pants and panties with one yank and buried his face into your crotch. His tongue licked at the wetness pooled at your entrance.

Any moans would probably still have been heard by the other two so you tried to keep quiet. Alastor didn’t seem to care though, growling into your skin.

The fever seemed it would spread skin to skin, but when he pulled away you found your body quickly cooling. Taking a moment to breath before turning back, you wondered if you’d made a great decision or a terrible one. When you turned, Alastor was settling back into his previous spot. “I could rip the rest off of you or you could undress yourself.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it. You made quick work of removing your shirt and returning to the bed as you had before.

"Turn around."

You turned to face the door.

"On your hands and knees."

You paused briefly, but did so.

As you bent over, little tail high and trembling, Alastor’s clawed thumbs spread open your bottom lips. Perhaps it was embarrassment or just the nerves but you were twitching open and close.

You heard a low “Fuck” before the feeling of heat dripping onto you made you jerk forward. One of his hands came to your shoulder to hold you in place, the other kept your hole open as his seed continued to dribble down onto it.

He hadn’t been trying to cum, but his body was already responding to the opportunity before it; a breedable and submissive doe. His cock trigger-happy at the sight of your pussy, inside pink and clenching.

A tiny yelp as he fell over you, joining you in an all fours position but larger body caging yours between his limbs. He laughed again when the back of your head hit him square in the chest.

“You are uselessly small.” His body rumbled over you. “Clever girl to make a deal for protection.”

A burning stiffness slid down your folds. You could feel from even how little contact he made he was too big. Was it a bad time to tell him you’d only had the one partner on earth? A rather boring but sufficient sex life. If Alastor was hoping for a sex kitten he’d be deeply disappointed in you.

He hummed imagining dropping his weight and feeling you fruitlessly squirm under him.

“Mating triggers ovulation, I recall you said. I just need to fuck you into it, right sweetheart? Maybe if I do a good enough job,” his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, “your body will actually respond. Your belly will swell with the evidence of my virility.” Both hands slipped down your hips and came to nestle above your womb, tenderly caressing the protective layer of fat there, “could your little form handle it?” Little form? Not quite. But to him everyone was little. Claws leaving faint red marks as he dragged them up your ribs, around your sides and pressed your back down to get your chest into the bed and ass in the air.

A squeak, your legs flailing with what little motion they had as you turned your head, “Well that’s for actual rabbits not--.”

His hand came over your mouth, “Shhh, there's safety in the quiet. Don’t you know? We’re most vulnerable when we mate.” On the utterance of the word you’d been avoiding to even think about Alastor’s still hard cock squeezed its way into you. Your body was willing, but your pussy wasn’t ready to accommodate him. Not that your living partner had been small, but he wasn’t a seven foot tall rutting deer demon. And with height came a girth and length you’d not anticipated. You had seen it, yes, but that didn’t translate to much once Alastor was entering you.

His hips were snapping back as soon as he sank in. It frustrated him endlessly that he wasn’t trying to fuck you with such a lack of control. He couldn’t have been sure he’d have done it any differently had the circumstances been changed, but he liked to think he’d retained some skills over the long years alone.

The way he whined made him sound like a weak man, which he was in that moment. You wanted to call out his name, do the things you were used to doing during sex, but his hand was still over your mouth.

As if he heard your thoughts, his fingers spread open over your lips. Pinky under your chin to keep his hold on you.

“Alastor,” the tenor of your voice surprised you.

“Stick out your tongue.” He sounded far away, despite being right behind you. When you did as he instructed his hand shifted. Two long fingers went into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue. Immediately his fingers and your chin was dripping with drool. He whined again, louder, the noise growing into a growl as his speed began to pick up.

You could feel the thin flesh at the bottom of your entrance stinging as it was failing to stretch enough for him. It would have bothered you more but the way his burningly hot cock's head was pressing into your cervix was making your eyes lose focus.

Without ceremony, you felt a rush of heat deep in you. Your shins lifted from the bed as you squirmed, weak attempts to escape the deep press.

His hand left your mouth and you felt it working on the base of his cock that was not yet in you. He mumbled something, it sounded like an apology, before you felt him pop the rest of himself in. You choked on your scream, not knowing what he had put in you.

It throbbed, new and stronger spurts of his seed felt against an indescribable place.

A brave hand reached between your thighs and felt at the space between your bodies—- well, would have felt at that space. But there was none. You were flush against his lap. Your fingers slid down to feel taut balls pulled up into his body.

He shivered as you traced between them, checking neither were … inside you.

“I should have warned you, but my ability to speak wasn’t—,” he waved his hand around, “available.” You tried to pull away but found you both were locked together. “A knot. Not an accurate representation of a deer… and technically useless.”

That word meant nothing to you. “Is it normal?”

His thumb pressed at the virgin tight ring of muscle just above your pussy, you instinctively jerked away but just made yourself gasp as that large knot in you threatened to further tear you if you kept it up. “I don’t normally do it so early in a mated rut.”

You surrendered, trying to relax your upper body into the bed. “How do we get it out?”

A mocking chuckle, “It’ll deflate, so to speak, in a couple minutes. It’s just keeping my little doe in place while I finish filling her up.” He patted your ass.

It was mortifying to be suck in that position.

“Have you ever used this hole?” He rubbed some of your wetness up to your asshole.

Your tail lifted, “My boyfriend didn’t like anal.”

Alastor massaged around the puckered ring, “I didn’t ask if he used his.” Your head turned to look at him, shaking it ‘no’. You noticed his face looked less strained now, and that his finger didn’t feel like a fire was just under his skin. “Ah, well. I won’t need it today anyway.”

He didn’t see the bright blush that came over your face. He spoke so easily about the topic, a topic you’d never heard him speak on before. One you’d been told he had no interest in.

An error you made, assuming a lack of interest meant a lack of knowledge or experience.

When he finally could pull himself out of you, you felt a rush of warmth down your inner thighs. Looking under you, past your chest and between your legs, you saw the thick white semen escaping from your stretched entrance.

You’d never seen such an opaque release before. You wondered if it was a hint at his…potency. You wondered more what was happening in your body at that moment.

“Will it come out on its own or do I need to clean it?” Finally sitting up, your fingers felt the mess still dripping out of you.

Alastor leaned back onto his legs, ears turning in your direction as you asked, “Is this your first time? Your little boyfriend never finished in you?”

Crossing your arms, you turned to him, “Don’t be patronizing to him. And no, okay?”

He felt the heat rising from his gut again, cock twitching at every bit of the scene before him. Insolent body language, an attempt to scold him, and an admission. You watched him sit back up, a sudden reminder how much taller he was as darkened eyes looked down on you. The blue of the fire cast half of his face in shadows. “What’s this? My obedient doe wants to defend another man in my bed?”

Your hands nervously came to the ends of your ears, “I didn’t mean it like that.” A finger twirled, telling you to turn around. You hesitated. Did he want you to leave? He didn’t want to look at you? You hadn’t—, “I’m sorry.”

With a blink, his eyes were black. His fingers longer as parts of him seems to stretch between the joints. He twirled them again as his smile grew wicked.

Desperate to show him you hadn’t wanted to upset him, that you wanted to stay, you turned around. The fear of not knowing what he would do next was sending waves of electricity to your lap. You realized you hadn’t touched yourself yet, not that this was the time to start.

One by one, those freakishly long fingers curled around the small of your waist and lifted you off the bed. The tops of your feet were sliding across the dark maroon blankets beneath you both.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as he pulled you against him. He positioned you above his renewed erection, your legs opening a little in instinct.

Grateful now to be turned around, you let your face run the full range of feelings as they washed over you. Fear, arousal, anticipation.

“What a wasteful man.” He brought you down with a painfully slow speed, head just now meeting your sticky wet hole. “He never flooded your soft cunt?” He pressed in a little easier this time, but as you sank to take him all in you felt a sting where you’d slightly torn earlier. “When he dies, I’ll be sure to find him.” Cruel. “And make him watch me breed you.” You clenched, yet another betrayal by your body.

You were reduced to gasps as he stayed stock still and moved you on and off his cock. “Am I bigger than he is?” You could feel his breath against your back as you were lifted and brought back down again slowly.

You nodded. A terrible liar, you didn’t even try to fib.

He stopped with his head barely in you.

A squirm.

“I’m sure I just didn’t hear you. Try again.”

“Yes.” You were full again as he got his answer. A creaking sound you didn’t recognize startled you.

“Do I fuck you better than him?”

Ah you understood. Your hands held at his fingers digging into your body. “Yes.” Another creaking sound as he quickened your rise and fall.

Alastor’s antlers were wide and multi-pronged as your affirmations jostled around behind his eyes. Your ‘yes’ somehow made you tighter, wetter, hotter around him. His hips started moving again to meet yours. Perhaps he his dick grown a little during his shift to a more demonic form, or maybe you enjoyed the line of questions. All he knew was you were squeezing him like your body didn’t want him to ever pull out again.

Blood dripped from his lips as he cut his own skin, through gritted teeth a final question, “Do you want my fawns?”

Your legs pressed together, you knew there was only one answer and yet you asked yourself. Did you want that? To carry his children? A moan cut through your thinking, “Yes!”

The fire roared, a response to his own reaction.

Alastor felt his mind slip under again, noticing the wild way his shadow was dancing around the walls before his senses all dulled except touch.

The bed drifted away from under his knees and the walls melted like spent candles. Just sounds echoing off space as your moans deepened. As if learning, you began to whisper ‘yes’ to yourself as you felt a building pressure in your stomach.

Every thrust into you further separated your brain from your body. Your eyes lost focus as you watched the door bounce. No, wait, you were bouncing, right? Bouncing up and down the stiff rail of Alastor’s arousal. Your head fell forward, gasping as you felt him harden further while buried deep in you. He was going to cum again, you could feel it, you would feel it. The thought made your body shake as a pressure grew steadily in you.

Not a new sensation, but a different one.

“Louder,” another thinly veiled demand from Alastor that seemed to come from somewhere else entirely. Your eyes noticed a small light on the floor near the wall. A radio, buzzing with the same crackle as his voice.

“Yes,” you ground out, his hands were slippery with sweat as his nails dug in to ensure he didn’t lose his grip on you. “Yes, yes, yes.” He brought you down entirely and only let you off a little, an unspoken fear he would release too close to your entrance and he’d lose precious seed he needed your body to receive. “Yes! Alastor!” You weren’t sure who was talking now, as it surely couldn’t be you. You’d never —

“You’re better than him. You’re bigger and stronger and and he never —- he could never…”

He was suddenly regretting the position, unable to watch you fall apart as he so lovingly spread you open.

With a shriek, your back crashed into his chest as Alastor fell backward into his pillows. He didn’t miss a beat. He continued fucking up into you but let one hand reach your clit. When you whined, he breathed into your hair, “I need you to orgasm.” Other hand pressing down on your womb, “Many cultures believed a woman couldn’t get pregnant without finding her release first. Surely it’ll take. Cum for me my doe.”

You shook your head, “Alastor that isn’t possible.” Not that you were arguing against the way his finger was rubbing up and down on your swollen clit, you just felt the need to remind him of the obvious. Your eyes wandered up and back to see the hauntingly wide antlers now. His transformed face barely visible in the shadows.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His mouth kissed at the base of your ears, hand over your womb pressing in and exaggerating the feeling of his cock bulging from under your skin. “Darling,” he groaned, “Are you ready for my knot?”

You moaned at the words. No, of course not.

“Yes,” you got quiet, embarrassed again. Your hand snaked up and behind to hold his shoulder for stability.

“Relax,” he hissed, feeling your body tensing in anticipation.

You tried your best, but between his strumming finger and the sting still at your entrance you struggled to let things go limp.

This time you felt it growing beneath you. Alastor was ready as well, pushing it in before it was swollen so large he’d have to force it or just suffer with it outside.

Lubricated with the multiple loads already fucked into and then out of you, the knot pushed past your entrance with ease. But then you felt it expanding in you. Eyes crossing as they rolled back with the foreign sensation. It didn’t hurt, but a little alarm was going off in the back of your brain. How could something natural feel so unnatural? And how—

Your body locked up, muscles from thighs to neck tight. Alastor’s finger hadn’t stopped, and as the second knotted release flooded you with his feverish need, as his knot trapped every drop and forced it up past your cervix you tripped into your first orgasm. Different from your own hand and toys, the build up hadn’t been a slow ratcheting climb. No, you were rolling through waves of nearly pained pleasure. The spasming forced your body to feel him even more, pulling him deeper, triggering another wave to crash into you.

Alastor wanted to praise you, a rush of hormones and ego expanding his chest but the sensations had him so overwhelmed he was manually breathing. His hand didn’t want to stop, because then the way your pussy was positively sucking him in would also end. But your little cries and moans got increasingly choked and strained.

The calm briefly offered by knotting a mate during his rut came to your rescue, Alastor dragging a still barely moving finger up your body and going slack into the pillows.

Deep breaths, both of you fighting to slow them down. Alastor was experiencing another moment of clarity, only slightly upset he had doled out so much tenderness.

But for you, there was no deep fog of a heat to numb the sensations and let the more bothersome bits of consciousness turn off. Your mind was just as clear as normal. A little lusty, but nowhere near Alastor’s altered state. As you laid against his chest, waiting for him to be able to pull out, you could feel the pains and aches setting in.

Alastor summoned a minion, food set down on his desk under a silver cloche. Your eyes caught the black and white creature before it was whisked away.

Sitting up, you flinched but fought against the pain, “Alastor. What was that?”

His hands pulled you back down by the shoulders, skin on skin, “My minion. One of many.”

Exhausted, you could only sigh, “So, the errand.”

His hands went up defensively, “Oh come now, did you really think I was the good guy?” You didn’t reply. The silence began to bother him. Odd, given he usually didn’t give a fuck.

But he’d asked a lot of you, and you agreed willingly. You did as you were told. A little twinge of concern he had actually upset you wiggled between his ribs.

His hands slipped down your waist and settled over your stomach, “…Are you hungry? If you stay like this, I can help you eat.” You took a deep breath in, but didn’t even move to look at him. He squirmed ever so slightly, “I can only assume you’re… quite sore. Perhaps a bath? But I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out much cleaner than we are now.” His smile was smaller, just lips; no teeth. As his antlers withdrew and his limbs all returned to their proper places he could turn his head enough to look at your face.

Alastor felt relief wash over him to see you deeply asleep in his arms. It wasn’t a bad idea, to sleep before the next spell hit him and he was too far gone to think about baths or meals.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alastor awoke in the dark. He found his hands and ankles tied behind his back, his body naked and sweating. He was on fire, pieces of himself lifting in the hot breeze and blowing away. He could feel his body fragmenting. You were just a little ways away and he tried desperately to reach out to you but as his eyes adjusted you were suddenly too far. If he could just get you to take a single piece of him, a shard of himself, he would live still. Even when the rest of him was dead and gone, he’d be alive in your hands. A raging stress, the fire now reaching his bones. It wasn’t too late. He still had time. Just a sliver of his existence was all he needed to get to you.

When you woke up, your body was at the foot of the bed. Looking over you saw Alastor lazily stroking his painfully hard erection. His gaze downcast, vision cloudy with unmet needs.

“Alastor?” With shaky arms you lifted yourself. You were hot. Was it the fire? No, before it had no heat. A little damp outline into the comforter formed where your body had been.

“You’re awake.” He reached over and grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and rolling you onto your back. Hand still around your ankle, he pulled your leg against his chest.

“Alastor.”

He sunk into you without hesitation, hips rolling into you roughly. Your body was rocking against the bed, wood creaking against wood with the steady force of his thrusts.

It felt good. Better than before, your walls felt soft and puffy around him. Alastor’s head was low, groaning every time he bottomed out. You could see just enough past him to watch the bed canopy swaying above you both before he folded you in half and leaned fully over you.

His eyes were unfocused like his mind, staring into the bed. A large palm at either side of your head, his back curved as he angled his hips to reach deeper yet.

“I’m so hot.” You were struggling to get the words out. It felt so good, the deeper in you he reached the more you seemed to be melting away.

Your hips were lifted off the mattress, held up entirely by his cock as he continued to rut into you. He could feel the fever in you rising.

Bent and tangled together, his head was nearly above yours. He was sweating, hair stuck down and ears folded back. A bead fell from his cheek and hit your forehead. He was working so hard. Such a strong man. A strong buck.

Something in you snapped. Something twisted and burned in your belly. You brought the other leg up to let yourself be folded in half completely, and his eyes wandered to your face. Your frontal cortex was just static as the lights were shutting off in most parts of your more human faculties.

Everything got quiet in you, a deep seated feeling of security creeping up your legs and sinking into your bones. With Alastor in you, nothing bad could happen to you. If you were carrying his offspring you’d be guaranteed a new level of protection. You needed it. You wouldn’t survive if you weren’t fucked and bred by the overlord.

How could your body be wrong when the feeling was so natural? So intensely confident?

“Alastor!” Your nails dug into biceps, hands clamoring up his arms to cling onto him, “breed me, please.”

He was caught alight, mind on ablaze with his raging fever. Your plea was a magnifying glass concentrating the sun into him and sparking a wildlife. Alastor was defenseless against the way your words affected him.

He could feel it, he could smell it, your heat triggered finally. His lips caught yours as his hands slipped up the blanket with how he had to contort to reach your mouth. You moaned into him, teeth on teeth as neither of you had any ability to finesse things.

“On your knees,” he instructed. You scrambled to turn around as he briefly left your body. A desperate whine in the seconds that stretched on, the emptiness unbearable. It hurt to have him anywhere but balls deep in you.

His hands slipped around your tail that still tried to swish side to side. When he tugged you gasped, the closest sensation you had was having your hair pulled. Chills ran up your spine. You nearly fell forward, but a strong hand wrapped around your neck and pulled your head back. He lined up, adjusting his legs wider to get down to your level.

“Are you feeling it?” He nipped at your shoulder, “Your heat?”

You pushed your ass back and pressed his tip into you. The sound that tore through your chest was answer enough for him as you tried your best to move along his length all on your own.

“You’re okay,” he squeezed lightly around your neck, pussy twitching around him as lightning snapped through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

Words that made your head spin. His body on yours felt like security. Everywhere his skin touched yours was a gulp of cold water in a drought.

A cliche, as he began to move again and his cock hit your g-spot every couple thrusts, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. His fever was matched to yours, no heat exchanged as warm and wet flesh moved around warm and wet flesh. Was that your hand or his on your stomach? Both were searing, both soft and slick. One of your hands was reaching down to hold his arm for support.

Eyes slipping shut, you imagined this was what being high felt like. You were out of your body entirely, feeling his dick slipping in and out of you from a different plane of existence. There was a sense your mouth was moving but no awareness of what you were saying. Truly just babbling as Alastor’s speed hitched. A clawed hand on your hip cut into you as he pressed deeper with every thrust.

He guided you down onto your stomach, hand now resting on your right shoulder to keep you in place. You were entirely flat, his knees parting your legs so he could get flush against your core.

His knot was in place as he began to swell. You felt it again, him flooding your womb as he released directly into your twitching cervix. A euphoria filled you so totally you were sure you could feel the cells of your body humming.

Like a cool breeze had blown down, your fevers broke nearly immediately.

“Oh,” you squeaked, Alastor’s hand releasing you as he lied on top of you. The weight of him was oddly arousing as it gave a clear comparison of your smaller size. “I think you’re right. Estrus.”

He nodded, rolling you both onto your sides, “Would you like the good news or bad news first?”

Resting your head on his extended arm, you tried getting comfortable despite the sticky feeling of your skin and the burning in your thighs, “bad news.”

“You won’t be walking straight for days.” He said it with a heavy tone of pride.

“Oh geez…,” you could feel his knot still throbbing between your hips, “The good news?”

“Your heat is going to make me even more desperate to fill you,” his free hand ran down your sides and slipped between your legs to feel where you two were connected.

You turned your head the best you could, “That’s not good news, Alastor!”

He laughed, “I lied. Oh well!”

While the good news had been a lie, the way your body’s shift into meeting Alastor’s instincts upped his feral responses was not. You nibbled on fruit and bread and cured meats in the small windows the clouds around your humanity parted.

But when they’d roll back in, a tempest of feral wants crashing into you both, you’d find yourself clinging to the deer demon.

You could have had an apple in one hand and be mid bite when his musk would reach you and your grip would loosen. With just a moan and a lifting of your hips Alastor would be dragging you closer, crawling over your body, mounting you wherever you two happened to be.

It wasn’t that you’d become confident by the end of the day, but that you’d lost all semblance of shame and embarrassment.

When Alastor pulled you onto his lap and placed your hands on his peach fuzz covered antlers, you didn’t need verbal instructions. It took all of your arm span to reach them, so you held tightly as he thrust up into you. None of his noises had been as intoxicating as the ones he made when you were leaning over him and squeezing his prongs with every jostle of your womb. Perhaps he’d lost his shame too, loud and long moans the other residents had to have heard spilling from his open mouth.

The wet slap of your ass coming back down onto his thighs as he bounced you was barely registered. Head hung low to meet his black engulfed eyes, you didn’t notice his smile was gone for the first time since you’d met him. Pinhole red pupils were locked on your face and imperceptibly roamed around your lust filled expression.

One hand reached up and rubbed the soft skin of your downturn rabbit’s ears between his thumb and index finger. Soft. Velvet.

A sensation that was wholly pleasant, not sexual in any nature but feeding the comfort provided by Alastor’s cock buried to the hilt. He wanted to enjoy the smile it gave you but he could feel his orgasm climbing exponentially.

There it was again, the darkness of your combined heat and rut slinking in. Body to body, your own sounds harmonizing with his and losing distinction. “Alastor–,” eyes drifting shut, “Please. I feel empty.” His previous loads dripping down your thighs, then down his own, and soaking into the carpet. “Fill me up. Please, can you breed me?”

His hand pulled down on your ear, “That was never in question.”

You let go of his extended prongs, arching your back to take a kiss. More. His tongue in your mouth, another hole full of Alastor. His hands both reunited on your ass and used the flesh there like handles. He fucked up into you, withholding the growing at his base, until he felt you cumming around him again. As your body sucked him in with rolling spasms, he pressed you down on his upthrust. A pained moan as it was pushed in a little late.

Lightning behind your eyelids, your mouths hanging open and pressed together.

Both of you a pile on the floor, a cold blue flame and soft music playing from the still broken radio. Uncharacteristically, Alastor’s arms wrapped around your smaller form and clung to you. The sensations were popping up one by one. Sticky skin, sweat rolling down your face, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You’d have to peel each other apart. Which you did, eventually. When Alastor could pull out, he followed through on the bath he’d been thinking about.

You protested, reminding him you’d be soaking the floor with displaced bath water as soon as the next urge to mate came around. But he laughed, smile back in place as if it had never left, “Sweetheart if I do my job right you won’t even realize you’re not in bed until you’re knotted and knocked up.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He hadn’t been lying about the protective second day. But what he hadn’t anticipated was just how long that aggressive desire to keep others at a distance from you would last. While your deal had been in place for a little while before his rut, it wasn’t until after your time together in his room that it seemed to ever be used.

But you didn’t need to call out for him, like he had said. No, anytime someone even looked at you with a nasty thought, you were graced with his presence. Most people figured it out quickly enough, but occasionally new and brave idiots would approach you with trouble.

So when a tall and imposing creature cornered you in a shop, hand holding something sharp and shiny and asked, “Scared, little hare?", you could only smile as your face was lit up by a green glow and offer a little advice, “No, but you should be.”

deleted scene ˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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thebluester2020 · 2 months ago

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[GI] Kinktober Day 10: "Exhibitionism"

Summary: After your stunt with Tartaglia, you are forced to deal with the repercussions of Capitano's not-so-well-hidden jealousy.

Warning(s): Reader is fucked in front of an audience, Dub-Con, Degradation, (Probably a whole slew of other warnings that I can’t think of rn).

Side Note(s): Okay so—I switched it up last minute to exhibitionism because I realized that I get confused easily between that and voyeurism (+ I have more of a love for exhibitionism anyway).

Also, this is kinda an unofficial pt. 2 to the "Sharing" fic I posted? I mostly kept to the same "storyline"(?) because it was easier on the brain for me.

Your relationship with Capitano has been in a...weird spot, to the least, ever since that day between yourself, Tartaglia, and Capitano.

At the end of it all, the men didn't even get what they had originally wanted. You were far too fucked-dumb to even decipher who was who, much less come up with enough letters capable of yelling out a name. But, for the sake of being tired himself, Tartaglia had admitted "defeat" and carried on his merry way! Eventually, he left Capitano's war band and continued on his own personal mission, leaving you behind and working for Capitano permanently like you were originally supposed to.

But it's been awkward.

Capitano was curt with you, only speaking to you when he needed to. If you were caught taking a moment to relax, you began to pray that Capitano wouldn't happen upon you, he'd only immediately order you to get back to work!

No longer did he greet you warmly and no longer did he seem to care about your well-being. When the entire war party moved, he no longer expected you to be by his side, nor did he constantly check to see if you were! You could've been at the very back of the party and he wouldn't have given a single damn.

You had a mind to call your boss out on his behavior, pull him aside, and ask what the issue was and...whether or not there was still something between you both.

Although, you already had a mind to think that any feelings that may have started to blossom had long since been crushed underneath heel and foot.

Until today that is, when you were in your tent and finishing up some reports.

. . .

You quickly rose to your feet when Capitano suddenly entered your tent, bowing your head as you murmured a respectful 'Lord Capitano' in greeting.

He responded with a gruff noise of acknowledgment. "There will be a feast held tonight," Capitano said.

Your brow cocked, a feast? You hadn't heard anything relating to a feast at all. "Our efforts and missions have been going smoothly, I figured it's overdue to reward everyone in this camp. Even you." You bit the inside of your cheek at the cold way he addressed you. Had you known that accepting Tartaglia's offer—that rogue ginger-headed charmer—would lead to such an awkward tension between you and Capitano, you would've never allowed Tartaglia to trick you!

"...That's...that's kind of you." You said before sighing.

He nodded his head before turning to leave, prompting you to quickly stop him. "M-My Lord," You started off. "About that day...are you still—"

"I'll be taking my leave,"

"Lord Capitano!" You said more firmly this time, walking around your desk and beginning to close the distance between the two of you. "You can't continue to avoid me, n-not to mention treat me as I—" You stopped in your tracks when the first harbinger turned his head to look at you. And although you couldn't see his eyes, nor his expression behind that dark mask...the danger that oozed off of him. It made you audibly gulp as you took a few steps back.

You bowed your head in silent apology. "...You will come to my tent before the feast officially begins." Then, he walked out. A cold bead of sweat dripped down your neck at the vague order. Either it would be nothing aside from more work, Capitano deciding to kill you, or...hopefully, he'd finally get over his attitude and talk to you.

You couldn't stand how things were at the moment.

So, when the time finally arrived and the feast was ten minutes away from the beginning. You found yourself in Capitano's tent, your hands resting neatly in front of you as you stood at the entrance of his lavish tent. "My Lord, the feast will begin soon." You gently reminded him. "Shall I alert the soldiers of anything before it begins?" You continued.

You didn't receive a response until Capitano emerged from the covered part of his tent, adorned in the usual attire he wore when he appeared during important Fatui functions or battles. "No," He answered. "Simply follow me." Your brow rose as he walked past you, but nonetheless, you dutifully followed after him outside and back into the steadily warming air thanks to the bonfire that had just been set up.

As the soldiers began to gather, however, Capitano clearing his throat before he broke out into an, admittedly, very admirable speech as he thanked and showed gratitude towards his soldiers. Certain things started to stand out to you as your eyes washed over the crowd. Such as...the doctors and nurses of the camp weren't present, surely they deserved some praise and appreciation too? Too many times have soldiers or even your boss himself had come into the camp injured from head to toe! They'd quickly patch them up and almost seem to perform magic, you've heard soldiers state that one doctor in particular was good at numbing the pain!

There were none of the cooks, blacksmiths or even the younger soldiers that were fresh into the party, tasked to simply stand aside and watch.

All this boiled down to this "feast" being composed of nothing more than the more experienced soldiers, simply leaving you with a number ranging around the hundreds.

As pieces started to merge together although...a heavy hand placed itself on your shoulder, and then, you tuned back into the conversation. "...You will all bear witness as to my secretary learning who she truly belongs to, hopefully with an audience, she will learn not to be so easy for others."

What had just happened?

. . .

"Apologize." Capitano gruffly ordered you as the loud sound of your squelching cunt echoed through the camp. Not even the whistling winds could muffle your desperate panting as Capitano fingered your soaked cunt, taking special care to not knick you with his claws. "Apologize for being such a desperate whore..." He hissed out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "...for being so easy to fuck, not even having the courtesy to quiet yourself down despite being in a camp full of my soldiers."

Your cheeks burned with shame as you could feel hundreds of eyes on you. You didn't know whether you wanted the soldiers to be disgusted at the sight and turn away or if...you preferred this in a sick way, although there were some women amongst the crowd, the heavy sound of panting amongst the men made you clench around nothing, your slick beginning to drip and run down from your cunt and onto Capitano's lap.

Something that the ever-vigilant Captain didn't miss.

"You shameless whore." He snarled in your ear, your body shuddering at the feeling of his sharp teeth grazing the skin on your ear. "You're getting even wetter at being watched?" The harbinger nearly had a mind to laugh at how your legs twitched, as if you wanted to curl into yourself at his cruel words. He almost allowed himself to feel bad, until he smelled how your arousal grew at his words.

Oh...so you liked this.

Well...that explained everything.

Slowly, he took his fingers away from your cunt, a string of arousal still connecting him to you as he brought them up to his face. "So that's why you fucked my fellow harbinger." He sneered, opening and closing his index and middle finger, playing with your slick.

"H-Huh?" You moaned, both in disappointment and confusion. Despite the cold, your body burned with desire, one that grew more potent by the passing second as you felt Capitano's obvious hard-on behind you. You were grateful for your tears blurring your vision, for as Capitano continued to let you sit in his lap exposed to his soldiers, you at least could fool yourself into thinking that no one was paying attention.

But only for so long.

A scream tore from you as the Captain's fingers returned to your sex, his fingers dipping into your pussy before they had quickly found your g-spot whilst his other hand wrapped around your torso to begin flicking rapidly at your clit. All the air in your lungs were nearly knocked out of you at the rate of how quickly you were approaching your climax, your hands fruitlessly clawing at Capitano's forearms as drool started to dribble from the side of your mouth, your eyes starting to roll into the back of your skull.

"C-Captain..." You moaned. "O-Oh Archons...!" You keened.

He didn't relent. "Take it," He ordered as if he were ordering a soldier. "Considering you've taken me and Tartaglia at the same time...you should be used to the pleasure." He chuckled gruffly.

He tightened his hold on you as you squirmed. "Slut," He spat. "Quit squirming."

It was only when Capitano suddenly bit down on your shoulder were you pushed off the edge, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your body stilled and your vision turned completely white. For a long while, you drifted on that cloud of sheer bliss...until you were brought back down by the feeling of something hard slapping against your cunt, snapping you back to reality before you were face to face with the harbinger's cock.

Starting off at a lighter color at the base before turning into a dark purple towards the middle and upwards at the tip. You shuddered when you remembered that Capitano's cock was inside of you...not even a whole two weeks prior! The ridges along his dick were intimidating, especially with the way it twitched and oozed pre-cum.

You gasped when he parted your cunt wider with his fingers. "If you won't apologize with your mouth..." He started off before he lifted you a little, as easily as he would carry a sack of flour before the tip of his cock pressed against your opening. "...Maybe you'll be more apologetic with your pussy."

. . .

Capitano didn't waste any time to wrap a hand around your mouth, although, the sheer size of his hand nearly engulfed your entire face. As he pressed you impossibly closer to him, he made sure to get really close to your ear as he spoke to you. "Make sure to look my soldiers in the eye as you apologize to me with this cunt of yours." He said before he slowly pushed himself into you.

Immediately, you broke his command, your eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head. Something that Capitano quickly corrected with his free hand slapping the side of your thigh. "Look at them." He reminded you. As more of his dick sunk into you, your eyes blurry and struggling to focus as you looked at the soldiers before you. You accidentally made eye contact with one of them, all before...your eyes glimpsed at his noticeably hard cock.

In fact, you noticed how all of them were hard.

Your cunt clenched tighter around your boss' dick at that realization. "Fuck—" He whispered. "You must've noticed, hm? How they all yearn to fuck you? My secretary." He continued.

When your pussy twitched at his words, he lightly pinched your side in punishment. "Greedy pussy...still eager to take more cock despite having me inside of you?" A muffled yelp resounded against the harbinger's hand when the rest of the Captain's dick was suddenly pushed into you. More moans followed suit as his fat tip began to poke and prod at your sweet spot, deep inside of you. "Don't worry, I'll curb your greediness soon." He whispered, the sheer possessiveness in his deep voice making goosebumps pop up all over your skin and down your spine.

More than you cared to realize, you loved when your boss was possessive over you. And that love only grew more when he started to move, his balls slapping against your skin as he took up a brutal pace almost immediately. You tried your best to keep your moans quiet when he suddenly released his grip over your mouth for it to take up stationing itself on your waist, aiding in pulling you down faster and harder against his pelvis. But it was so fucking hard to be quiet when he was fucking you like he was afraid of loosing you. As if you'd be gone the second this was all done.

"C-Captain..." You groaned. "F-Feels so good...!" You continued to cry out, blissful tears running down your face as you lost yourself in the feeling of his cock. Delicious sparks ran up and down your spine at the feeling of the ridges alongside his cock rubbing against your walls, your arms coming to loop themselves around the back of the Captain's neck as his groans started to become more and more audible.

His cock was touching all the right spots inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyes. "Fuck—" He snarled. "Archons...your cunt is squeezing me so tightly." He groaned, his head coming to bury itself in the crook of your head before he whispered more words you were too cock-drunk to decipher. You whined when he sped up the pace of his thrusts against you, your cock-drunk babbles turning from moaning to pleading for him to go easier on you, much to the harbinger's amusement. "Too much?" He mocked, faking sympathy as he fucked you harder in turn. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

He was suffocating you in the best way possible as each time his cock slid into you, it practically punched the air from your lungs, the scent of sex in the air making it feel like it was hard to breathe. But you loved it. You assume that's why your second orgasm snuck upon you so suddenly, the presence of people watching your boss fuck you silly on his lap...the degrading words he whispered into your ear in combination to the pleasure. It was all making your mind spin. "You're fucking tightening up on me..." Capitano grit his teeth together, his claws beginning to dig into your skin.

"Gonna cum?" He asked before he kissed the side of your neck, lightly nipping it as he felt his orgasm begin to approach as well. "Cum all over my cock then." He cooed, the feeling of his twitching dick battering against your cervix making you let out a few more strangled moans before you froze again him with a loud cry.

"Fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck." He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm for a few more thrusts until he stilled against your still twitching pussy with a loud hiss of his own. You moaned softly as you struggled to come down from being dicked down, a dopey grin plastering itself onto your face as you looked behind you with both a happy expression and a shy one.

The harbinger, although dazed and hidden behind his mask, smirked confidently, the way he moved to run his fingers through your hair shockingly gentle.

He doubted you would want to go and find someone else to fuck after tonight.

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httpknjoon · 13 days ago

Text

mister cute guy with the white jacket | myg

plot | that one time popstar yn surprised everyone by inviting her live band's bass guitarist with her on stage for a performance.

w.c | 2323

pairing | bass guitarist! yoongi x popstar! reader

genre | fluff (?), enemies to lovers

main masterlist

DAY 62 of Love Is... On Tour

"Please wear this tonight."

The tour's wardrobe supervisor knocks on Yoongi's hotel room door. Almost instantly, when he opens the door, he is handed a white denim jacket with a customized design on the back, bedazzling with rhinestones. It shows his initials in the middle of what seems to be an arrowed heart.

"Oh, is it a new outfit or something?" he asked since the live band members already had their two sets of costumes that fit the aesthetic of your tour.

Instead of answering, Paul pulled down his dark shades and looked at Yoongi in an are-you-seriously-asking-me-that mode. But Yoongi's expression didn't change. He still has the same unaware look that tells your tour's wardrobe supervisor that he still hasn't got the memo.

"You didn't hear the news?" Paul asked him.

"What news?" Yoongi replied, scratching the back of his head.

The corners of Paul's lips pulled up like he was suddenly excited. But he bit it off before it even turns into a full smile. Yoongi squints his eyes at this. Why is he trying not to smile? What was the news?

"You should talk to Cal before the rehearsals."

They were on their way to the arena for the soundcheck for tonight's concert, Yoongi had the jacket folded in his arm, when Fred, their drummer, took notice of it.

"That's a nice jacket you got there," he said, scanning it.

"You didn't get one?" Yoongi asked, getting more confused.

Fred shook his head and asked the others if they had their own jacket. But everyone said no and went back to doing what they were doing.

Arriving at the arena, other live band members began warming up their instruments on stage while Yoongi immediately searched for your personal assistant. He just needs to know why he is getting a jacket because he also learned the other members were not.

It is a little strange because he surely is not your favorite person here to make Cal get him a customized piece of clothing. Ever since he got abruptly signed up for this tour, you two barely had any interaction without having petty disagreements or bickering over little things. You two just see things differently, it's obvious to everyone. But Yoongi needed the gig and you needed a new band after your last one suddenly left. So you two still work together, just more civil with each other.

"Hey, Yoongi." Art, the tour manager, was the first person who greeted him when he got backstage to search for Cal.

"Hi, Art. Have you seen Cal?"

The older guy looked around behind him, "I think I saw her in the catering area— By the way, tell the guys to eat before soundcheck,"

Yoongi nods his head, "Okay, thanks."

He walked forward, looking for that area. After passing by three dressing rooms, he finally spotted your assistant lined up to get food presumably for you and herself since she had two plates on both of her hands. He walked up to her side.

"Hey, Cal. Can I ask you about something?"

"If it's a yes or no question, sure. If it's a long conversation, wait for me after I feed YN," she replied, before turning to the catering staff to tell them your specific menu.

"Okay, is— Why do you have to feed her? I'm sure she can—"

"Oh, cut it off. YN's been feeling under the weather since last night and she needs to take a rest. She's not eating anything but I need to make her so she has energy for later." Cal is quick to cut Yoongi's pettiness, sounding like your mother for a moment. "What's the question."

Yoongi, who feels a little guilty now, cleared his throat before asking, "Is this jacket mine?"

"Yes," Cal replied before walking after getting your food.

He followed next to her as she walked back to where you were resting.

"Why do I get one?"

"Because she wants you to wear it for tonight."

"And why?" Yoongi asked again since he feels like he is not really getting a more helpful answer to his concern.

Cal stopped in front of your dressing room, where your name was printed on a piece of paper that was taped on the door. She looked really busy and hurried.

"Lemme just take care of YN quickly. Then, I promise I'll talk to you in an hour." she sighed. "Now, can you open the door for me first and then come look for me here after soundcheck?"

Although dismayed that he didn't get any explanation, Yoongi opened the door for her to let her inside your room and left to do the sound check.

Before the soundcheck began, one of the staff members said that you would not be able to do both the soundcheck and rehearsals today since you were feeling unwell. That's when Yoongi knows that you need to rest badly. Because in almost eight weeks of touring, he has already seen you practice with a portable heating pad when you were having cramps or do a soundcheck with a cooling pad stuck on your forehead.

You love performing and being on stage, Yoongi can see it. So he cannot help but wonder how you are right now.

"She picked you for that."

Just like she promised, Cal talked to Yoongi to explain about the jacket before the dance rehearsals. They sat on one of the thousands of empty seats in the arena while the stage was being set up like a dollhouse.

Yoongi sips in his iced coffee, "For what?"

"We asked her if she wanted to do anything special tonight. She said she wants you as her partner for Bed Chem."

What? Yoongi stopped and slowly put down his coffee to look at Cal. What partner? You already have one of your dancers for that. Plus, he had seen that performance every night. Why would you want him there?!

Cal watched as his expression changed from plain to confused to shocked. He was speechless but his head was exploding with loud questions. So before he can say anything, she explains further,

"We thought that it was going to be fun. She wanted to start a small concert surprise tradition, where she would have an unexpected guest to go with her on stage for that song. For now, we thought of doing it one by one with the live band since you guys are earning some fans in the audience too since this tour began."

That's right. Ever since they got this gig weeks ago, every band member's social media following doubled— tripled in Yoongi's case. He was surprised to get a lot of attention online that they occasionally talked about on Twitter and TikTok. He has seen fan cams, which he finds a little weird but flattering at the same time.

"Don't worry, there will be a rehearsal for it later. Someone will tell you what to do and one of the dancers will stand in for YN. So you will know where to stand and all." Cal added.

Yoongi was silent, staring at the stage in the distance. He chewed on his lower lip, contemplating if he should do it.

"But if you don't want to do it, it's o—"

"I'll do it."

As soon as he agreed to do it, Yoongi joined the rehearsal for the Bed Chem performance. He rolled his eyes to his band members who came to eat their lunch while watching him on stage. Of course, they find it funny knowing that you two don't really get along.

"Is he going to dance?" Noah, their lead guitarist, asked for fun.

Seeing how terrified Yoongi was by that idea, the choreographer immediately denied it and just directed him to his points and what to do. To conclude it, Yoongi can just say that it has a lot of touching.

Next thing he knows, people are filling up the empty seats in the arena and Yoongi is putting on his white jacket before getting on stage. Yoongi still hasn't seen you all day. He heard from two staff members that you were mostly asleep in your bed all day and only got up to get ready for tonight.

"How are we doing, Chicago!"

Yoongi watched you from behind while you greeted everyone on the center stage after your first two songs. You were just as lively as your normal state, totally opposite from what he was told earlier today.

"I was in a sheer dress the day that we met..."

Six songs into the concert, the song he had been dreading waiting for began playing. You were on the bed where the performance would take place. You are now wearing a pastel pink sheer babydoll dress over your sparkling bodysuit, with a glittery garter strap on each thigh.

Fans sing along with you while Yoongi continues playing with the band. He tried to stay focused and not feel nervous about what was about to happen. His stomach is twisting and all he can do is to play the right chords in his guitar. But the feelings heightened even more when he was quickly shown on screens when you sang the lines:

"Who's the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent? Like ooh..."

Considering that this is the first time happening on the tour, the audience was surprised at first. Screaming. The, they were curious why did the camera swiftly focused on him. Then they resumed one vibing and singing along until...

"Who's the cute guy with the bass guitar and the big bad mm? Like ooh..."

Your fans squealed as soon as they realized that you changed certain words in the song lyrics, obviously pertaining to your bass guitarist, Yoongi. Then, you were walking out of the curtains around the bed.

It's hard to act like he doesn't notice you when there's a spotlight following you in every part of the stage you walk on. Yoongi tries to focus on playing his bass guitar but he can feel you walking in his direction. The cheers got louder. Yoongi doesn't like how warm he feels at the moment. You just did a few walks in front of the band before you went back on the large bed on the stage to do your choreography with your dancers.

"And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time, and I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine, and I bet it's even better than in my head..."

Just a few lines before the last chorus, the bit they rehearsed for began. Your dancers ran to him like they were encouraging him to go to where you are, on the bed.

"How you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things, that's bed chem..."

Then, they pulled him with them on the edge of the bed. They leave him alone just in front of the curtains. At this point, the audience was truly engaged and loud.

"Are you free next week? I bet we'd have really good-"

That's his cue. Ignoring the heavy thumps in his chest, he slipped slowly between the curtains. He is on his knees as he gets closer to you while you look directly at him singing the last runs for the song.

Ha (make me go), ha And I know Ha (make me go), ha And I know

Your vocals play in the background while you two begin acting your little bit. Just like what he rehearsed with one of the dancers earlier, you ran your fingers in his damp, jet-black hair. Your index finger then traced down to his next and played with his silver necklace. You two simply look at each other deeply, aware of the fact that the temperature is indeed getting higher.

Fuck, it's too hot in here, Yoongi thought. And you look so good under this red light they put you two into. He mindlessly tucked a few hair strands covering your face behind your eyes. Although it's not in the bit you were told, you just let him. It's fine, it's just hair.

Ha (make me go), ha And I know Ha (make me go), ha Ooh, oh, baby

Just when Yoongi began removing his guitar strap, the curtains began closing. The fans went crazier. With only your silhouette seen from the outside, you lay on your back while he began removing his jacket. The instrumental is slowly fading out. And when he's about to be on top of you, the lights dimmed down.

Behind the curtains, you lay under him. Both his hands were on each side next to your head. The lights were already down but you two can still see each other, the fans' cheers are still dying down on the background.

"How are you?" he asked, breaking off this strange tension between you two. His deep voice didn't help the tightening feeling blooming in your chest.

"Hmm?" you simply hummed, not really knowing what he's talking about.

"Cal said you're not feeling great this morning." he explained.

No one's really doing anything. You're still under him and he's still on top of you. And you are not really annoyed by it.

"Oh, uhm, feeling better now, I don't know, maybe because of the adne—"

"143 seconds left. Get ready for costume change. Kim's waiting outside the curtains."

A voice in your in-ear monitor made you pause. Suddenly, you snapped out of it. You remember there was a concert going on and the stage manager was waiting for you to get you backstage.

"O-kay. Costume change. I need to go."

Yoongi backed up as you quickly got up, leaving him alone. Still in the dark, on his knees, his mind went blank for a second.

What the fuck was that?

He shook his head, snapping out of it, before picking up his guitar and going back to his original place.

note | first yoongi fic after so many years! how was it? thank you so much for reading 🤍

PERMANENT TAGLIST

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#bass guitarist! yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi au #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #bts drabble #bts aus #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #yoongi fanfic #bts suga #httpknjoon

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pinejayy · 26 days ago

Text

╰➤ A Helping Hand

paring: trafalgar law x f!reader ,, implied relationship

summary: law is locked away in his office as usual and he seems stressed out, and you offer a helping hand and mouth to relieve his stress.

warnings: dry humping, handjob, blowjob, dirty talking, teasing, fingering, hair pulling, face fucking, eating out.

✦•·················• 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃!! •·················•✦

Once again your boyfriend Law was hidden away in his office doing paperwork…Again. It’s been awhile since you’ve gotten alone time with your boyfriend.

At the moment the crew was doing their daily work around the ship and you were helping Bepo clean the deck. And you couldn’t help but think about your boyfriend, looking around. Bepo was clearly distracted…the bear was taking a nap on the floor. Which gave you an idea. If he was getting a break then maybe you should get one too. Smirking to yourself, you sneak away and walking towards his office.

You knock on the door and he didn’t reply, and you slowly open the door and Law was working as usual. Again? How much paper work does someone have? Watching him you could tell he was stressed out. Maybe you could give him a helping hand.

Walking into his office, and locking the door behind you. "Hello Captain."

"Why aren't you doing your chores with Bepo?" He said, not even sparing you a glance. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment. Walking towards him, he seemed really focused on his work. So you decided to wiggle your way onto his lap. Sitting, which earned a soft sigh from Law. He placed a small kiss against your check. "Need something, I'm busy at the moment. I need to finish this report.."

As he spoke he seemed uneasy and stressed. "Paperwork again?" You spoke softly and Law just nodded at your words. "It's always paperwork with you, you need a small break. You look like you're all stressed and pent up."

Which was true, Law tends to avoid any needs or getting breaks because of 'paperwork'.

"Well sorry to break it to you but that's the life of a Captain..." Mumbling softly at your words. He placed one hand on your thigh and gave you a firm squeeze. While he was still working and writing away.

"Why would a pirate even need to do paperwork? It's not like you're turning it in to someone." You say softly, leaning in and nuzzling your face to his neck. Taking in his secent. "You're probably the only pirate who does this boring stuff."

Law couldn't help but squeeze your thigh more, being this close to you is making him uneasy...he needed something but duty comes first. "I'm just making sure everything runs smoothly on the polar tang, I need to do this paperwork." He gave a quick glance before going back to his paperwork.

You stay quite, the room was filled with his soft mumbling and the pen against the paper. He really did seem uneasy. Which gave you an idea..

"Aww Captain. May I offer a helping hand."

"No, no offense Y/N...but if I allow you to help me out with the paperwork you'll only make it worse and I'll have to work on it mo..." He began to speak but was cut off. His words seemed to be stuck on his throat.

You were moving your hips against his thigh, whimpering against his neck. Law couldn't help but feel his cock twitch. He groans softly, placing the pen down. Grabbing your hips with his hands and he held you in place. And he began moving his hips upwards. Dry humping you, and immediately you look at him and smirk. You could already feel his cock grow harder by the the second.

"I'm trying to work here and you come here and do this crap." He groans, moving his hips against yours. To which you move your hips against his making him twitch slightly.

"Aw I'm just offering a helping hand."

"Like I said ...you'll only make it worse...you can't do the paperwork properly."

To which you smirk and flick his forehead which earned you a cold look from Law. "Aw why don't I just show you what I meant." You cooed softly and place a gentle kiss against his neck and slid down and onto your knees.

"You just work Captain...and I'll be here." You say and look up at him, he watches you as you were on your needs and he sighed.

"Whatever...just hurry up."

And with that you began to undo his belt and his pants. Law lifted his butt slightly so you could pull his pants off with ease. "Just do your paperwork. Since you love it so much."

Law just grumbles at your words, but in reality he felt really pent up. His cock twitched slightly he needed something .. anything.

You couldn't help but lick your lips as you watch his hard dick pressed against the fabric of his boxers. Slowly you wrap your fingers against the waistband and pull them down slowly. And once they were off his dick sprung up. Pre cum leaking from the head, and you couldn't help but lick your lips at the beautiful view.

He tried to focus on his work but he needed something...he was almost willing to beg. So he was tapping his foot against the floor. "Tsk Tsk Tsk Captain. Someone is very impatient. But I'm feeling like a good girl today and I won't tease you as much."

Law groans and throws his head back, enjoying himself. He did need a break after all. And since you were offering a helping hand he might as well take your offer.

You lean in and place a long and slow lick under his cock. Eyeing him and studying his reactions. And he seemed to be enjoying himself so you continue.

Dragging your tongue along his dick and rub his balls slightly. Making him groan. "Stuipd Brat...my paperwork..."

"Well be my guest. Do your paperwork since it's the only thing you do around here."

Law couldn't help but chuckle at your words. "Sounds like you're jealous of my paperwork..hmm" He teased slightly.

To which you gave his cock a small squeeze making him moan softly. "Hmm maybe a little. Because at least you do your paperwork. I don't remember the last time you did me." Adjusting yourself.

Giving his cock one more lick before spitting on it and humming softly, watching the spit drip down. "It's been lonely without you, and quite frankly my fingers and toys don't get the job done...not like you do."

He sighs and spreads his legs more, making himself comfortable. "I know I know.. I promise tonight I'll treat you real good, make you feel real good."

Biting your lip at his words. "You better keep your promise Captain." Teasing slightly and moving your hands slowly against his needy cock making him whimper softly. You couldn't help but feel the wetness between your legs grow even more, especially with his soft moans.

As you move your hand against his cock Law was moaning softly, his head against the headrest of his chair. "Good girl ..."

Making you whimper softly, moving your hands slightly faster and you look at him and god it was a beautiful sight.

"God Dammit woman... can't wait to fuck you....fuck you hard that you won't be able to walk."

His lewd words where getting to you, and you stroke him slowly. Teasing him, batting your eyelashes.

"Aw...you would want that right? Me underneath you Captain. Moaning into your ear, moaning your name out." Cooing out, your strokes getting slower and steady, making him groan at your words. He couldn't help but grab a hand full of your hair. Making you yelp softly, Law’s breathing was getting heavier by the second.

"Don't give me that innocent look...you little tease.. "

"Aw but it's true, I bet you want that Captain. I bet you need me so bad. I need you Captain. I need your cock inside of me." You keeping teasing him. Giving his cock a tight squeeze, and suddenly his grip on your hair tightened.

"Oh yeah? You want to keep running your mouth with these dirty words ya?" He growled slightly and the next words he spoke was in more of a demanding tone. His so called 'Captain Voice.' Giving your hair a slight tug before speaking up once again. “Considering you want to run that dirty mouth of yours with nonsense, let’s put that pretty little mouth to good use.” And with that Law couldn’t help but rub a thumb across your lip.

“Now be a good girl for me…and make your captain feel real good.” He said, grabbing his cock and slapping your cheek slightly. “Now open wide baby.”

Biting your lip at his words, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. And he placed the tip of his cock against your tongue. Already tasting the salty precum against your tongue. Wrapping your lips against the tip and proceeding to suck on it slightly.

“That’s right…just like that baby. Such a good girl.” He said and leaned his head back. Enjoying himself and attention his dick is getting.

The room was filled with soft moans spilling out from Law and dirty words along with your slight muffed gags and moans. You could feel the wetness between your legs grow even more.

Moaning against him, he groans and grips your hair and guides your head to his desire pace. You continue to bob your head against him, using your tongue to press against the bottom of his cock making him moan. “Fuck…keep going…good girl.”

Law kept bobbing your head up and down, and he could tell you were desperate for something and he smirks. “Go on Princess, touch yourself.”

You wasted no time, you pulled away slightly from him which there was a small ‘pop’ sound. Not breaking eye contact with him, you slowly undo your bottoms and tug them down. Just enough for you to shove your hand into your panties. And before you could touch yourself Law spoke up. “Now I want you to maintain eye contact. Can you do that?” To which you nodded and Law grabbed his cock and slapped your check with it. “With words. Use your words.”

“Yes…Yes Captain.”

“Good..that’s a good girl.” He teased, and held his cock against your lips. “Now open up again.”

And with that you obeyed and opened up once again and took him in your mouth once again. Slowly you drag you hand into your underwear. And wasted no time playing with your clit.

Moaning around him sent a shiver across Law’s back. As you continue to bob your head up and down. You slowly inserted two fingers inside of you. Moaning even more. You desperately needed him inside of you.

Being lost into your own pleasure, Law thought that you were moving a little too slow for his liking so he held your face in place and started to thrust up. Face fucking you. Which made you gag around him.

“Relax…relax your throat…” He demanded and stopped for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, and once you relaxed he wasted no time holding your head still and using your mouth as his personal sex toy.

While he was face fucking your mouth you couldn’t help but feel more aroused by his actions. You fingers moving faster inside of you, curling your fingers slightly to get the prefect spots. Your gags and moans were music to his ears.

“I’m close…hold still ..” He moans out. And Law had to bite his lower lip from moaning out. God it’s been awhile since he’s had a release.

His thrusting where getting sloppier and that’s when you moved your fingers away from your needy pussy and you began to rub his balls. Giving them a slight squeeze. Making Law moan your name out. “God dammit Y/N….”

And with that he let out a loud moan, to which he quickly let go of your hair to cover his mouth. Cumming hard into your mouth. Spilling his warm juices against your tongue.

Swallowing every last drop he could offer.

Bobbing your head a few more times before pulling away from him. A trail of saliva and cum dripping down from your lips. Giving the head a few more kisses before Law growled and grabbed your hair and dragging you up to you feet and before you could say anything he already slammed you against the desk. Tugging your bottoms and underwear fully off. Opening your legs. Exposing your wet pussy to him and he wasted no time diving into your folds.

“Need to taste you…so badly…” Moaning into your folds.

His tongue was everything, not finding a place to pay attention. You could tell he was very desperate to taste you. And in reality you’ve never seen him this needy, especially while eating you out.

He pulls away slightly and groaned under his breath. Rubbing your clit as he watched your face reactions. He spreads your folds slightly, exposing your more. Leaning in once again, he gave you sloppy licks.

Your moans had gotten louder and Law quickly gave your clit a soft bite making you whimper.

“Shh…the crew could hear us.”

You cover your mouth and nodded. Which Law smirked and dove back into his meal. He placed your thighs on his shoulders so he could eat you out better. “So good…you taste so good.” He keeps mumbling.

Slowly he sneaks his fingers inside of your. Thrusting them in and out.

God this combination was going to make you explode. His tongue against your clit and his deadly fingers inside of you.

Law felt yours walls tightened around his fingers and he chuckled and eyes your reaction. Your eyes were locked onto his his. He wanted to see you cum. Law gave your clit a few more licks before you were already moaning his name and reaching your own climax.

“Oh captain!”

Law quickly licked your juices up and your moans didn’t seem to quite down and he growled. Moving up towards you and took your lips against his. Sharing a deep and heated kiss. Forcing his tongue to roam around your mouth.

Both tongues covered in your guys juices where now being mixed between the both of you. And both of you were loving this. Before the kiss could get even more heated he pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Thank you…I really need this.”

You were panting slightly. “Of course..I needed this too silly.” Kissing his check, and he couldn’t help but blush slightly. “I love you…I love you Law.”

Law stayed quiet and felt butterflies in his stomach. “I love you too Y/N.” He smiled and placed a kiss against your forehead.

The office was silent for awhile before he spoke up again.

“Now. About your comment from earlier. How I do more paperwork than you. Hmm how about I change that Princess.”

#x reader #one piece #op #anime #smut #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #law #law smut #law x reader #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut

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solxamber · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I've been thinking abt hanahaki lately, so I wanna see your thoughts on how OB boys handle hanahaki?

Idk I've feel like I've been thinking too much lately.

Overblot Gang x Reader (Hanahaki)

hi! thanks for the request <3

Riddle Rosehearts

Red roses are a traditional symbol of love and passion, but also perfectionism.

It started with a cough. Just a small, insignificant cough. But Riddle Rosehearts, ever the rule follower and disciplinarian, dismissed it as a minor inconvenience, despite the occasional stray petal that would land on his perfectly polished shoes. He didn’t dare look too closely at the flower. He knew the bloom too well—the telltale sign of unspoken love: red roses.

Riddle spent weeks trying to suppress the symptoms. He even scheduled extra tea sessions, convinced that a well-brewed Earl Grey would soothe his throat. But nothing worked. Every time he caught sight of you helping Ace with his homework or smiling brightly at Deuce, another rose would bloom in his chest, sending petals into his lungs until his coughing fits became more frequent.

One day, as you were organizing some papers in the Heartslabyul common room, you heard Riddle let out an uncharacteristically loud cough followed by the clinking of ceramic.

"Are you okay, Riddle?" you asked, peeking over your shoulder.

"I-I'm fine!" he spluttered, quickly shoving something into his pocket. His face was flushed, though whether it was from embarrassment or lack of oxygen was unclear. But as you moved closer, you noticed a bright red rose petal caught in his hair.

"You’ve got something in your hair—wait… is that a rose petal?" you asked, eyes widening in realization.

Riddle froze, his hand instinctively reaching up to where the petal had been. He sighed, clearly defeated. "I… may have developed a small case of hanahaki."

You raised an eyebrow. "Small? You’re practically growing a garden!"

Riddle’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. "W-Well, it’s because of you…"

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then it hit you like a ton of bricks. "Wait. Me? You like me?"

Riddle looked down, nervously twiddling his fingers. "Yes. I’ve been in love with you for a while now. But I never had the courage to say anything."

You smiled softly, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Riddle, I like you too. You didn’t have to choke on roses to get my attention."

His eyes widened, and the redness of his face softened into something warmer—hopeful. "Really?"

"Really." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Now, let’s work on getting rid of those flowers, shall we?"

Leona Kingscholar

Sunflowers represent adoration, loyalty, and longevity.

Leona Kingscholar thought he could out-stubborn his hanahaki. After all, he was the second prince of the Sunset Savanna. What were a few flowers compared to his iron will? But as soon as the bright yellow sunflowers began to sprout in his lungs, even he couldn’t ignore the constant tickle in his throat.

Every time you visited Savanaclaw to drop off some notes for Jack or just to say hi, Leona would immediately turn away, trying to suppress the blooming in his chest. He figured if he just kept avoiding you, the flowers would go away on their own. Spoiler alert: they didn’t.

One day, you found Leona lying under his favorite tree, seemingly asleep. Except for the fact that his face was slightly scrunched up, and he was… holding a bouquet of sunflowers?

"Leona, are you okay? Why are you holding a bunch of—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Leona sneezed, sending a spray of sunflower petals flying everywhere.

"Seriously?" you said, crossing your arms. "You’re allergic to flowers now?"

Leona groaned, sitting up and glaring at the petals scattered around him. "It’s not allergies, herbivore."

"Oh. Ohhhh. This is hanahaki, isn’t it?"

Leona’s ears flattened against his head, his tail flicking irritably. "Tch. Yeah, whatever. So I’ve got hanahaki. Big deal."

You smirked, leaning down to meet his gaze. "So, who’s the lucky person that’s got you coughing up sunflowers?"

He shot you a look that could melt steel. "Don’t make me say it."

"Say what?" you teased, grinning. "That you have a crush on me?"

Leona’s lips curled into a frustrated snarl, but he didn’t deny it. You, however, found it oddly endearing. You sat down beside him, resting your head against his shoulder. "You know, if you just said something sooner, you wouldn’t have to deal with all this floral drama."

Leona sighed, finally letting his pride crumble. "Yeah, well… I guess I didn’t think you’d actually like me back."

You smiled, slipping your hand into his. "Looks like you were wrong, prince."

Azul Ashengrotto

Forget-me-nots symbolize true love, remembrance, and the desire to be unforgettable.

Azul thought he could handle it. After all, he was a master of contracts, deals, and manipulation. Surely he could manage a little thing like hanahaki, right? Wrong. The moment forget-me-nots began flooding his lungs, he knew he was in trouble.

He had tried everything. Eating seaweed soup, drinking warm tea, even avoiding you for a while. But every time you walked into the Monstro Lounge with that infectious smile, another batch of petals threatened to spill from his lips.

One day, you walked into the VIP room only to find Azul coughing into a napkin, looking suspiciously flustered.

"Azul, are you okay? You sound awful."

"I’m fine," he said, though his voice was hoarse. You noticed the blue petal sticking to the corner of his mouth, and your eyes widened.

"Wait… are you coughing up flowers? Is that… hanahaki?"

Azul stiffened, quickly stuffing the napkin into his pocket. "I… I don’t know what you’re talking about."

You raised an eyebrow. "Azul, I know a petal when I see one. Is there something you want to tell me?"

He looked away, clearly embarrassed. "I… may have developed feelings for someone," he muttered, his face turning a shade that almost matched the hydrangeas.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. "Really? And who might that be?"

Azul hesitated, his confidence wavering for the first time in a long while. "It’s… you."

Your smile widened as you leaned forward, gently brushing a petal from his cheek. "You could have just told me, you know. I like you too, Azul."

Azul blinked, clearly caught off guard by your confession. "You… do?"

"Of course I do," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Now, let’s work on getting rid of those flowers before you drown in petals, okay?"

Jamil Viper

White gardenias represent purity, humility, and attachment.

Jamil had always prided himself on his self-control. But when white gardenias started blossoming in his chest, that control was tested like never before. It didn’t help that every time you walked into Scarabia with that bright, infectious energy, another flower seemed to bloom.

Jamil tried to avoid you as much as possible, focusing on his duties as Kalim's right-hand man. But one day, while preparing tea in the kitchen, you walked in unexpectedly, catching him mid-cough as a cluster of white petals floated to the ground.

"Jamil, are you okay?" you asked, moving closer. "You’ve been coughing a lot lately."

"I’m fine," he said quickly, wiping away the evidence. But it was too late—you had already noticed the petals.

"Jamil… are those gardenias?" you asked, eyes widening.

Jamil froze, realizing there was no way to hide it now. "I… yes," he admitted reluctantly.

You tilted your head, confused. "Wait… who do you have a crush on?"

Jamil looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment. "It’s… you."

You blinked, completely caught off guard. "Me?"

He nodded, clearly mortified. "I’ve been trying to keep it under control, but…"

You laughed softly, stepping closer and gently touching his arm. "You could’ve just told me, you know. I like you too, Jamil."

Jamil’s eyes widened, a look of pure relief washing over his face. "You… do?"

"Of course," you said, smiling warmly. "Now, let’s get rid of those flowers, okay?"

Vil Schoenheit

Purple lilacs signify the first emotions of love and pride.

Vil Schoenheit, perfection incarnate, found himself undone by the one thing he couldn't control: love. The moment purple lilacs started blooming in his chest, he knew he was in trouble. But, ever the professional, Vil tried to maintain his composure, even as the flowers threatened to spill from his lips every time you were near.

He spent weeks trying to cover it up, using his beauty products and makeup to hide the occasional petal that escaped. But one day, while rehearsing a scene with you in the Pomefiore dorm, he let out a cough that sent a cascade of purple petals fluttering to the ground.

"Vil?" you asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Vil sighed, knowing he couldn’t hide it anymore. "I’ve developed a… condition."

"Condition?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You mean hanahaki?"

He nodded, his usual confidence faltering. "Yes. And it’s because of you."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Vil looked away, his voice softening as his usual poised demeanor faltered. "Yes, it’s because of you. The lilacs—" He gestured at the fallen petals, a touch of frustration and vulnerability in his eyes. "—are a sign of feelings I’ve been suppressing. I thought I could control them, but apparently, even I am not immune to such trivial things as unspoken love."

You blinked, utterly stunned. "Vil, you mean… you like me?"

His gaze met yours, golden and intense, and for once, Vil didn’t hide behind his mask of perfection. "Of course I do. You have this… light about you that pulls me in, even though I know I should stay composed. I’ve tried to ignore it, to keep things professional, but—" He coughed again, more petals spilling out. "Clearly, it didn’t work."

You couldn’t help but smile softly. "Vil, you don’t have to hide how you feel. I like you too."

His eyes widened, the surprise evident on his usually composed face. "You… do?"

You nodded, stepping closer. "You’ve always had this aura of untouchable beauty, but I’ve always admired more than just your looks. You’re passionate, driven, and underneath it all, incredibly kind. How could I not fall for you?"

Vil’s lips quirked into a small, relieved smile, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You certainly have a way with words. Thank you… for not making me feel foolish."

You smiled back and took his hand gently. "There’s nothing foolish about love, Vil. Let’s work on getting rid of these flowers, okay?"

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Vil felt truly at peace. The lilacs could bloom no more, now that his heart was finally unburdened.

Idia Shroud

Black daisies are a symbol of mystery, depth, and the unknown, often associated with secrecy and unspoken feelings.

Idia had always assumed he’d die alone, surrounded by his beloved games and tech, without the messiness of real-life emotions. But life, it seemed, had other plans, and those plans came in the form of black daisies—thick and suffocating, crawling up his throat every time he saw you.

For someone who preferred the solitude of his room, the thought of interacting with you was terrifying enough, but dealing with hanahaki? That was a nightmare. So, Idia did what he did best—he avoided you like the plague.

Unfortunately, his plan backfired one day when you burst into his room unannounced, holding a takeout bag and cheerfully asking if he wanted to eat lunch together. Idia spun around in his chair, trying to hide the fact that his hoodie pocket was stuffed full of crumpled napkins—each one littered with black daisy petals.

"S-Sure! I’d love to!" he stammered, though his voice cracked slightly. You gave him a strange look, noticing the sweat beading on his forehead.

"You okay, Idia? You’ve been acting really weird lately."

Before he could reply, he let out a loud cough, sending a flurry of black daisy petals across his desk. Idia froze, his eyes widening in horror.

"Oh no," he whispered under his breath. "No, no, no, not now…"

You stared at the petals, then at him. "Wait a second… is this… hanahaki?"

Idia turned about fifteen shades of red. "N-N-NO! I mean, y-yes, but…"

"But?" you pressed, stepping closer. "Who gave you hanahaki, Idia?"

He buried his face in his hands, mortified beyond belief. "Y-You! It’s because of you! I know it’s impossible and I’m an idiot for even thinking about it, but I—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You like me?"

Idia peeked through his fingers, his hair flaring blue in embarrassment. "Y-Yes…?"

You chuckled softly, finding his awkwardness endearing. "Idia, you don’t have to be so nervous. I like you too."

He blinked, processing your words as if they didn’t compute. "Wait… what? Y-You do?"

You nodded, smiling at him. "Yeah, I think you’re really sweet. And your nerdy side is kind of adorable."

Idia’s face went from pale to bright pink in record time, his hair turning a neon shade of pink. "I-I think I’m gonna die."

You laughed, handing him a napkin. "How about we avoid that, okay?"

Malleus Draconia

Nightshade flowers represent danger, mystery, and passionate, dangerous love but also healing and protection.

Malleus wasn’t particularly bothered by the concept of hanahaki. After all, he was a powerful fae prince, one who had lived for centuries. But when the dark, velvety petals of nightshade began to fill his lungs every time he thought about you, he knew that even he wasn’t immune to the whims of the heart.

At first, he tried to rationalize it. He would stare at the nightshade petals, wondering if his fae biology was reacting to something. But deep down, he knew the truth. He had fallen for you—hard. And while Malleus wasn’t one to shy away from emotions, he hadn’t quite figured out how to express them yet.

One evening, you found him sitting in the courtyard of Diasomnia, looking unusually thoughtful. As you approached, he turned to greet you with a smile, but his voice was interrupted by a soft cough.

"Are you alright, Malleus?" you asked, concerned. "You’ve been coughing a lot lately."

He hesitated, clearly debating whether or not to tell you the truth. Then, with a soft sigh, he opened his hand to reveal a single, dark nightshade petal.

You blinked in surprise. "Wait… is that hanahaki?"

Malleus nodded slowly, his expression serious. "It is."

Your heart skipped a beat. "So… who’s the lucky person?"

He gazed at you, his eyes filled with an unspoken depth of emotion. "It’s you," he said simply.

You stared at him, stunned. "M-Me?"

Malleus nodded, his voice as gentle as the breeze. "I have cared for you for quite some time, but I did not wish to burden you with my feelings."

You felt your cheeks heat up as you stepped closer to him. "Malleus, I… I care about you too."

His eyes lit up with surprise, as if he hadn’t expected your confession. "You do?"

You nodded, smiling warmly. "I do. I didn’t realize you felt the same way."

Malleus smiled, the nightshade petals slowly fading from his chest. "Then perhaps we can face this together."

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of his magic flow through your fingers. "I’d like that."

Masterlist

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moonlinos · 10 months ago

Text

Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back.

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday.

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

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