#and while things you brought up are red flags some of them have nothing to do with disability
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flamingpudding · 1 year ago
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Jail Buddies
Once a month, Jason makes an effort to meet Dick on purpose. Sometimes even more. After all, he was a good little brother checking in with his brother. Though he had a rather uncontroversial way of doing so. One that involved getting led into a jail cell of your local police department and loudly demanding to speak to Officer Grayson.
Okay, maybe it wasn't like that it was an effort to check on his brother and just one of his many listed dumb moments of recklessness he got caught for. And he was maybe using his brother to get out without having to call Cass, Steph, Duke, Tim, Damian, Alfred or Bruce, in that order depending who was willing to bail him out every time Dick had his 'Little Wing you won't learn if I keep bailing you out.'-Phases again. Or if Dick was being petty because of a recent prank war.
Either way, while Jason was waiting for Dick to make his entrance in his cell he noticed the teen boy sharing the cell with him staring at him wide eyed. He arched an eyebrow, and decided on a whim to make friendly conversation.
"So what got you here kid?"
The teen blinked as if just realizing Jason had addressed him before grinning a bit feral, his blue eyes having an unnatural glow. "Vandalism."
Jason's eyebrow rose again, but the teen continued.
"Trashed mu place and gave my guardian's car a pretty paint job and some other stuff."
"You vandalized your own place? And got arrested."
"Fruitloop decided an overnight stay was a better punishment then leaving me unattended."
The teen shrugged and Jason couldn't help but feel like he just had heard a red flag. He opened his mouth to question the kid more but than his brother finally made his entrance.
"Little Wing! What did you do this time!?" Jason could see that Dick was out to start a rant but changed tunes when he noticed the teen.
"Danny or Dan? You are here again? When did they bring you in? Trouble at home?" Dick asked, and Jason clearly saw the telltale signs of information fishing bat style.
"Danny and the usual." Danny, as Jason now learned the kid's name was, shrugged nonchalantly like this wasn't the first time he and Dick had had that exchange.
"Seriously buddy? I had a rebellious phase as teen too but to regularly trash your home to the point that someone calls the police or vandalize your guardian's cars, buildings, advertisements or anything that has to do with him is not a solution kid." Jason arched an eyebrow at Dicks tone, feeling slightly reminded of whenever Dick lectured one of them.
"Oh I know. But it's a nice stress reliever, plus you guys are nice here. I get pizza as dinner whenever I stay the night." The kid grinned and Jason couldn't help the snort that earned him a little glare from Dick.
Instead of arguing further his brother let out a suffering sigh and let Jason out of the cell, waving him towards the exit and following him shortly after giving the kid one more look that looked like a mix between stern and pleading to stop being a rebellious teen.
Once out of earshot, Jason then chose to ask. "So what's the kid's deal?"
"Nothing, just a rebellious teen reminds me of Damian when he first appeared. He has a twin and a little sister as far as I know, both of them also known here. Their guardian is an upstanding man, though." Jason heard the hidden but.
"Did someone look into it?" He hummed more as a cover.
"Higher ups don't know, but i am running an investigation." Translation Bruce is unaware, but Dick was using Bat resources for looking into the kid's residence.
"Nice kid, didn't think he was a regular." He only commented.
"Nice and polite, you wouldn't think he did some of the things he was brought in for. Distrustful though, despite his friendly nature."
Jason nodded as Dick went through the papers to bail him out, a thought popping up in his head. Clearly, something was up with the kid that had his brother worried, and it looked like he was stuck on just doing his investigation. So, being the thoughtful little brother he was, Jason decided to help his brother.
In his uncontroversial ways, of course.
"Yo Danny, also here?" Jason grinned as he was led into the same cell the teen was in a week later.
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dreamesamu · 11 months ago
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THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED
in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him
starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader
genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 
warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading
author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.
choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi
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you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.
truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.
here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 
“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.
“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.
“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.
“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.
“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.
"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.
your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.
"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.
"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."
"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.
"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.
you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.
"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.
you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.
but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.
"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.
"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.
you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.
and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.
"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.
"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.
you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.
the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.
on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.
"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"
excuse me?
"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.
but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.
maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...
---
"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.
"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.
"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.
"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.
your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.
"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.
then he fumbles. something is missing...
oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.
"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"
you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.
"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"
lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.
"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"
there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.
so his question remained unanswered.
akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.
he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.
and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.
you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.
but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.
"please. can we talk?" he pleads.
---
you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.
"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."
your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?
akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.
"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.
you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.
"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."
"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."
he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.
"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."
---
"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."
akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.
"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.
"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"
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© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.
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navybrat817 · 5 months ago
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Deep in the Woods: Part 3
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Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.
Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4
Chapter Summary: Tension is thick with you and Bucky as you two have lunch together.
Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k
Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, bits of insecurity, sexual tension, kissing, reader ignores red flags like she's colorblind, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.
A/N: Next part of our lumberjack is here! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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Since Bucky already unpacked the food, you helped set everything on a couple of plates. He said he was starving, and you didn't want to keep him waiting. You also didn’t know what kind of plans he had for the rest of the day. He could eat what you brought and send you on your way if he wished.
“This really does look delicious,” he commented, helping you carry everything to the dining room. “Especially the cookies.”
“I hope you like them,” you smiled, setting your plate on one end of the table. “Oh, thanks,” you added when he pulled the chair out for you.
“Did your ex not pull your chair out for you?” he asked, a hint of bitterness coming out when he said “ex”, but you may have been projecting.
You also swore you felt his fingers brush your shoulders when you sat down, but the touch faded immediately. “Why do you ask?”
“You just seem surprised that I did that,” he replied, taking his own seat across the table.
“Oh. Well. He did it from time to time,” you said. Some considered it to be an outdated gesture, but you always thought it was sweet. Your ex did it at the beginning of the relationship, but that quickly faded. That should’ve been a sign that it wasn’t meant to last. No one should ever stop trying or caring in a relationship. “It’s nice that you do that.”
“Time to time. What kind of boyfriend is that?” he muttered like he hadn't heard the last thing you said, taking a large bite of his food. “A lot of men today don’t know how to treat a woman. Bet he never took you dancing or dressed up for you either.”
Your eyebrows shot up. The bitterness surprised you, but it didn’t upset you. There was no reason to defend your ex, and Bucky came from a different time. You were sure he treated women well and they likely felt lucky to date him.
“No, he didn’t really dress up for me or take me out dancing,” you confirmed. The more you thought about it, the more you wondered why you settled. Was it what you thought you deserved? “Which is fine since he wasn't really a good dancer.”
“I'm a good dancer,” he blurted out before he cleared his throat. “At least, I used to be.”
“I’ll bet you still are,” you smiled softly. He didn't quite smile back, but there was a tug in the corner of his mouth. It did break your heart a little to wonder when he last danced with someone he cared about. To be fair, you knew nothing about his dating history. It could’ve been years ago or recent. “Though most dancing today is just…”
“Grinding,” he finished for you, licking a bit of the food from his lips.
You swallowed your bite hard, proud of yourself for not choking. Picturing Bucky grinding wasn’t the best thing to do while eating. “Wow, did you make this table?” you asked. A change of topic was good, and if he caught on he didn’t call you out on it. Plus he mentioned that he made some of his own furniture. That was a safe and natural topic to discuss.
“I did,” he answered, running a hand along the table top. “One of the first things I made.”
“It’s gorgeous,” you smiled. He really had a talent, and he could probably sell furniture if he really wanted to.
“Thanks,” he smiled gently. “Not just for the compliment, but coming over. It's…” He tapped a finger on the table. “It’s really nice having company.”
You glanced around. There was a bench on both sides of the table instead of chairs, and it was easy for you to imagine his friends and members of the Avengers gathered around for a nice meal. But how often did that happen?
“I’m not much company,” you said before remembering he didn’t like you self-depracting. “But thanks for inviting me over. That was nice of you to do that.”
He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes locked deeply with yours. What was it about his stare that made you want to duck your head? Was it because he seemed to look right through you? “I think you’re great company,” he said, bringing a small smile to your face. “In fact, I think you should stay here with me.”
You blinked a few times. “I should… stay? You want me to stay here?” you asked. Exactly how long did he want you to stay?
“Yeah, after lunch. We can hang out for a bit longer and talk. Maybe play a game,” he suggested, finishing the food on his plate before he grabbed a cookie. “Unless you have somewhere else to be or have other plans?”
“I don’t really have anywhere to be,” you said. It wasn't like you had any plans either. Any excuse you came up with would've sounded lame if you tried. Spending more time there before you went back to your cabin wouldn't be so bad. “What games do you have?”
Bucky didn't answer since he bit into the cookie. With a groan he watched you watching him as he devoured the treat, making sure to eat up every single morsel. He licked his fingers and lips clean once he finished and you had to press your legs together, which did nothing to relieve the sudden heat there.
If that was how he ate a cookie, how did he eat… No, it wasn't good to let your mind wander.
“Y-You like them?” you asked, your voice breathier than normal.
“Like them? Do you have any idea how delicious your cookies are?” he rasped, the muscles rippling in his right arm as he helped himself to another. “So fucking sweet. Could just eat you up.”
The wave of heat flowed up to your neck. “I’m sorry?” you asked.
“Could just eat them up,” he replied.
“Oh, right.” Of course, he was talking about the cookies, and you hadn't heard him correctly.
“I went years without dessert,” he said almost more to himself than you, but he continued to stare when he finished his second. “Didn’t realize how much I missed it until I didn’t have it.”
Your heart went out to him. If you ever wanted a treat, you had the privilege to buy one or get the ingredients to make them yourself. He didn’t have either option and that wasn’t by choice. What he had to endure, at least the information you were privy to, you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy.
“You’re more than welcome to eat the entire plate if you’d like,” you offered, chewing your lip as you thought more about it. “And, you know, if there’s something you’d really like or if you have a favorite treat or dessert, maybe I can bake it for you?”
“You’d do that?” He looked touched before his cheek twitched. “Even after I was an ass to you and you already made lunch for me once?”
“Well, you weren’t a complete ass to me and this lunch was for both of us,” you teased a little. “And I really don’t mind. I like to cook and bake.”
“Yet you do data entry,” he deadpanned.
You shrugged. “Data entry is a job that helps me pay my bills, and that’s why I do it. Nothing more.”
“So, you wouldn’t miss it if you ever had the chance to quit?” he asked curiously.
“I mean, I might miss it if I don’t have something else lined up, but it isn’t exactly a dream job. I don’t know if I actually have a dream job, but I could never be a professional baker or cook because those are things I love to do, and I want to keep enjoying them without pressure added to them,” you said. You respected people who went for their dreams, but you felt like doing those hobbies as a job would somehow taint them for yourself. Doing them for fun and spoiling those close to you made you happier.
“That makes sense. You want to keep the purity of it,” he said. You had to agree with that. “You know, I did offer to let you use my kitchen while you’re in the area. Maybe you can bake for me here or we can bake something together.”
Lunch and meeting his cat. Playing games. Baking together. Bucky must’ve been desperate for the company if he wanted you to hang out with him. What other explanation was there? “That would be nice,” you smiled. Using his kitchen would be amazing.
“But we can figure out what to make together later. You asked about games.” He licked his fingers again with a hum and you almost looked away. “I have a deck of cards, or I have stuff like checkers, chess, or Scrabble.”
Plenty of games for two. “I’m fine with…” you stopped talking when fur brushed against your leg, making you giggle. “Hey, Alpine.”
Bucky smiled softly. “Al, let her be.”
“Oh, she’s fine,” you smiled, reaching down to pet her. She was a sweet cat. “Is she strictly an indoor cat or does she ever go on walks or anything with you?”
“I carry her or put her in my coat if we venture away from the house. Not because I think she’ll run off, but because of some of the other animals in the woods. I don't want her to get hurt or worse.”
“That makes sense.” Your heart ached at the thought of something taking Alpine away, but it warmed at the image of the burly man carrying her around in his coat. “You said you came out to the woods with her. Did it take her a bit to get used to the place?”
He nodded. “It was a little bit of an adjustment, but she loved it once she got used to it,” he said, resting back in his chair and observing you as you ate. “I don't think she’d ever want to go back to the city since she loves this place so much. She has everything she needs here.”
Something flickered in his eyes and you weren't sure why his tone sounded strange. It was almost as if he was trying to convince you and himself that she loved it there. “Well, as long as she’s happy and you're happy and the place feels like home, that’s what matters, right?”
“Right,” he whispered.
“Though I imagine it must get a little lonely since you're so far from the city,” you commented, wishing you hadn't said so. He wanted to get away after the rough mission he experienced and didn’t need you commenting on his possible loneliness.
“It can be,” he said, leaning his arms on the table and gazing at you. “But it isn’t so lonely right now.”
“No, it isn’t,” you said, the conversation you had with Kenna popping up in your mind. Maybe he was lonely and you were, too, and he was still shirtless and he could make you forget that loneliness for a short while and help with your sexual frustration and… something was stopping you from going there. “I guess it's too bad I won't be around after a couple of weeks,” you smiled sadly.
Bucky frowned and abruptly stood up from his chair. “I’m getting another drink,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble. “You want one?”
You frowned a little, too, when you saw his eye twitch. Did your comment somehow upset him? “Sure, thanks,” you replied, watching him grab both glasses and walk out with heavy steps.
You sighed once he was out of sight. For a second you wanted to believe that Bucky was giving you an opening, but you didn’t take it. But what if you hit on him in return and flirting with you wasn’t his intention at all? How awkward would that be if he turned you down or told you to leave? You’d have to hide out in your cabin for the rest of your trip.
If Kenna were there she’d tell you to get out of your head.
Alpine brought your attention to her with a small purr, brushing against your leg again. “You really like it out here, huh?” you asked, giving her another pet. “I can see why. It’s beautiful, peaceful. Don't have to worry about noisy neighbors and traffic and crowds.” You paused and giggled. “But I guess you never had to worry about traffic and crowds. Only Bucky did.”
“Not anymore.”
You jolted when Bucky set your drink down. You hadn’t heard him come back in. At least he wasn't frowning anymore. “Sorry. I was just-”
“It’s fine. I talk to her, too,” he said, nodding to your plate. “You haven't finished your food.”
“Oh, I think I was just caught up in our conversation,” you said, going back to eating.
Instead of taking his seat at the head of the table he took a seat on the bench to your left. Alpine hopped in his lap and he rubbed her head, but he kept his eyes on you. “The bowl of stew you had yesterday was a small helping, too. Do you not eat enough?”
You coughed when you took your next bite and his hand went to your back since he was close enough. His hand was huge. Warm. Why were you thinking about that? “I eat plenty,” you defended yourself after you took a drink. He didn't remove his hand. “Three meals a day and snacks in between.”
“Sorry. That was rude of me to ask that way,” he said, slowly pulling his hand away. “Just making sure you're taken care of since you’re out here all by yourself.”
“It's okay.” The question surprised you, but you weren't at all angry or put off. It was actually kind of sweet that your well-being mattered. “But you don’t have to worry about me. Unless it involves chopping firewood, I can take care of myself.”
He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t quite believe you. “I know all about taking care of myself, but it’s tough some days having to go it alone,” he said, watching meticulously as you worked on finishing up your plate. “You shouldn't have to.”
Your well-being wasn't Bucky’s responsibility as flattering as it was that he cared. But the fact that a virtual stranger cared more about your safety or if you ate enough more than some who knew you for ages hurt. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. And once your getaway was over, you’d be back in the city and back to your routine and Bucky would be back to his routine, too.
“It is tough some days,” you agreed. That was why you wanted to have a good and caring partner to lean on so you could ask for help if and when you needed it. What you got instead was a cheater, but you were better off. “You shouldn't have to go it alone either. No one should,” you said, deflecting a bit so you didn’t focus on your thoughts and feelings.
Bucky sitting so close and watching you made it hard to think properly. Taking your next breath didn't feel natural either. The short time you spent together hadn't accustomed you to his lingering stares or being the center of his attention. It was a lot. Not bad, just a lot.
He hummed once you ate your last bite and took your plate for you. “We can play in the den.”
“You have a den, too?”
“Yeah. I almost thought the place was too big for me, but I like the space. Also has perfect lighting when I read,” he said.
“That’s really nice,” you smiled. It was also the perfect amount since he eventually wanted to have a family. “My apartment has this little nook where I curl up with a pillow and blanket when I read.”
“A reading nook,” he said, glancing behind him. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Everyone should be comfortable while they’re reading,” you said, Alpine hot on your tail as Bucky led you to the den.
It wasn’t as large as the living room, but still spacious and it had the perfect small table for you two to sit and play a game. “How do you feel about Scrabble?” he asked.
“I’m semi-confident in my skills,” you said, tucking your legs beneath you when you sat down. “Do Sam and Steve like to play games?”
“They don’t mind them, but these games have been sitting here collecting dust,” he replied, bringing the game out. “Now I finally have a partner to play with.”
Your brows furrowed. You assumed one of his friends would play a game with him if they stopped by, but maybe they did other activities. “Well, I hope I’m a worthy opponent.”
“I’m sure you are, but I’m pretty good myself,” he said without a hint of bragging. “Winner picks the next game,” he added, more like a statement than a suggestion.
“Oh,” you said. He assumed you were staying for more than one game. You couldn’t exactly blame him since you confirmed you had no plans. “Yeah, okay. Winner picks the next game.”
He smiled triumphantly. “You’re not a sore loser, are you?”
“No,” you giggled, helping him set up the board. His fingers brushed yours when he handed you the letter pieces, tingles shooting down your spine. It was sad how starved you felt for some affection, and it felt selfish to indulge. But was it selfish when he was single and so were you? “Are you?”
“I try not to be,” he said, taking a seat to your left again instead of across from you. “Either way it’s a win though.”
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“Because even if I don’t win this game, we’re still going to play another and there’s a chance I’ll win that.”
You tried not to smile. “That’s a good way to look at it.”
“I imagine that’s how you look at things,” he said, tilting his head. “A little bit brighter than most.”
You froze. Kenna said something similar yesterday. “I’m sorry, what did you say you did after you left yesterday?” you asked curiously.
“Spent most of the day and evening inside. It was uneventful. Why?”
“No reason,” you smiled. There was no way he was by your cabin after he left yesterday. No possible way. It was silly to even think that for a moment.
“You asked for a reason,” he said. “Why?”
“Well, I was chatting with a friend just outside of the cabin yesterday and I thought-”
“You thought what? That I was hanging around and eavesdropping?” he asked, your eyes rounding at the bite in his tone. It was reminiscent of when he discovered you attempting to chop firewood.
“No!” Why had you opened your mouth? “I just heard a couple of noises like branches snapping, but it was probably an animal or something. I don’t really know the surroundings here.”
He nodded after a moment. “There are animals in the woods, so it’s good to be on guard if you’re sitting outside. One of the reasons I have a security system is so I can see all angles outside of the place,” he said, his shoulders relaxing. “Sorry if I sounded upset. I just…” His jaw clenched. “I thought this was going well, but you’re scared of me just like everyone else.”
Your face fell and his apology didn’t make the guilt you felt go away. If anything, you felt worse. Things were going well, and you blew it. “No, I’m sorry, and I’m not scared of you, Bucky.”
“You’re not?” he asked, his eyes boring into yours.
“I’m not,” you answered. You had no reason to be scared. If he wanted to hurt you or do anything else, he would’ve done so already. “But if you want me to go-”
He grabbed your wrist before you could move. “Stay,” he whispered, sliding his hand down to grip yours. It was a strong grip, but it didn’t hurt.
“You want me to stay?” you asked. A gorgeous hero wanted to spend time with you. He really was as desperate for your company as you were for his. But it had to be because you were the only person nearby, right?
“Yeah.” He nodded to the table. “I mean, we already went through the trouble of setting up the game,” he said, his voice lighter.
You smiled a little. It was a good sign that he wasn’t kicking you out. “You did,” you agreed, not pulling your hand away. It felt nice.
“And maybe the overall winner can pick dinner instead of another game. Could be something simple. I have plenty of stuff here to make.”
“Dinner? Wait, I’m staying for dinner?” you asked, confused. He hadn’t mentioned anything about dinner tonight. “I thought I was heading back to the cabin after a couple of games.”
“Why would you do that? I thought we were having fun,” he said, tilting his head. “What, you’d rather eat alone?”
“Oh, I am having fun, and I don’t want to eat alone.” It has been a fun afternoon so far. It continued to surprise you that he wanted you around. “You sure you don’t mind? It’ll be dark after dinner, and I wouldn’t want you-”
“I don’t mind walking you back if it’s dark. I’d prefer that, actually.”
“Okay,” you smiled. Dinner would be nice. “And I want you to remember what you said earlier because when I win so you can’t act grumpy.”
“You think I'm grumpy?” he teased, complete with a grumpy stare.
“From the short time I’ve known you, you do give off grumpy vibes,” you teased back, the tension fading away.
“I’m an old man. I think I’ve earned my right to be grumpy,” he said, carefully looking over his letters.
“Well, you don’t look like an old man,” you said. Not with the way he was built. “You look really good,” you added, feeling the need to do so.
His thumb moved along your hand and you weren’t sure if he was doing it intentionally or not. “Glad you like what you see,” he said in a low voice, his eyes flickering to yours.
Before you could concentrate on the heat spreading in your body, he went back to the letters and carefully placed his tiles on the board. The room remained silent when he set the last tile down and you tried not to react when you read the word. It was almost impossible not to, especially with how he kept rubbing his thumb along your hand.
QUIVER
“Quiver.” You swallowed a little. “So, that’s 18 points. I guess I have my work cut out for me, huh?”
Your eyes stayed on the board when he moved a little closer, feeling the warmth that rolled off his body. He wasn’t lying when he said he ran warm. “I guess so,” he murmured.
Clearing your throat, you tried to concentrate on choosing a decent word. You couldn’t think of anything spectacular, and you were blaming that on Bucky since he was so close. You felt his eyes on you, too, and you dared to sneak another glance at him. He looked like he was two seconds away from devouring you. And you wanted him to.
“Fuck it,” you whispered, leaning in and pressing your lips against his.
It wasn’t a passionate kiss or anything over the top. Just a soft, chaste kiss to test the waters, to break the tension that you were certain at this point both of you felt. He didn’t kiss you back since you pulled away before he could, but he leaned forward like he was chasing your lips. And he refused to let you look away when he opened his eyes, cupping your cheek and silently demanding that you stare back at him.
If he looked like he wanted to devour you before…
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart racing when he brought his metal hand to your face, too.
“I’m not,” he whispered back, slowly leaning in.
A flash of lightning nearby illuminated the woods outside the window followed by a roll of thunder that made you jump back before he could kiss you, your heart racing again as the sudden sound of raindrops followed. “It’s raining?” you asked. You didn’t know it was going to storm today.
“Yeah,” he said. He didn’t seem to care at all since he was too busy staring at your mouth. “Supposed to rain through the rest of the afternoon and part of the evening, so it’s a good thing you’re here with me.”
“Oh. Yeah,” you said. There was no way you’d make it back to the cabin without getting caught in the storm, but that was the last thing on your mind when his thumb moved over your lips.
“What’s wrong? Were you scared I’d kick you out? Make you get all wet?” he rumbled, your breath hitching when he slid one hand to the back of your neck. “You don’t need to go outside to get wet for me.”
“Bucky,” you gasped.
His lips skimmed yours before he pulled away. “But why don’t we try to finish our game?” he suggested, your mouth falling open. “We’ll see who breaks first.”
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Moving fast! Our poor girl. To be fair, this was meant to be a romantic vacation for her, and I'd ignore the red flags if a shirtless Bucky was paying attention to me. So, which one is going to break first? What do we think will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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hxrsheykisses · 5 months ago
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It’s me again girl💔 could u do the eltingville boys with a reader that has a bf that mistreats them? I would like to see how they react ESPECIALLY if the bf is preventing her from hanging out with them (wink wink) - 💐 anon
THIS IS GOING TO BE SO GOOD!!! I love making drama with the boys cause I just know that they will be a hot disastrous mess💔 thank you so much for requesting 💐 anon!!♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
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They gon run fades
Cause this whole thing will send them on a mission. They ALL will postpone the club meeting to have a discussion to lowkey lay hands on this lil boyfriend of yours. They may not be all that in physique wise but they aren’t gonna allow him to not only keep you away from them, but to also mistreat you.
They all had their own personal experiences with your boyfriend so they knew that he was just a bitch.
Bill, we all know that he is an asshole, it’s no secret. But before Bill could even give him shit, he beat him to it. Your boyfriend was talking some nonsense that hurt his ego—taking shit on his interests and his looks while he ain’t look nothing special himself. Bill’s ego is the most sensitive thing about him so anything and anyone can make it hurt bad. He was already tweaking out after that first encounter.
Pete automatically knew from the start when you brought your boyfriend around. He could also tell that you acted so differently when he was around and that set off some red flags. So Pete has been wary of him. He didn’t appreciate how your boyfriend would talk to you as if you were stupid and treated you like shit. Now, Pete ain’t just gonna sit around and listen to him bark and yap so of course he spoke out about it to him. Your boyfriend just said some snarky comments about how Pete was doing way too fucking much and that set him off.
Josh would be the butt of the joke whenever your boyfriend was around and it’ll all be about his weight and shit. Josh would say stuff back but he doesn’t go far enough. Your boyfriend seems be appear to be experienced in knowing how to make people shut the fuck up apparently so everytime Josh tries to shoot his shot with a insult or two, it all comes crashing down on him.
Jerry has said something one time to your boyfriend when he flat out called you out of your name, like he said how it wasn’t cool for him to call you that considering how you two are dating and stuff. Obviously that all went out. one ear and out the other and it had Jerry boiling on the inside because he just couldn’t stand watching your boyfriend treat you in such a fashion—with no shame too.
The point where it got serious was when your boyfriend prevented you from doing anything with the boys. This meant no club meetings, no hanging out outside the meetings, plans, or even simply making small talk if you were to cross paths—everything was a big no no. (And if I remember correctly…) You guys were 17 year olds—why was your boyfriend preventing you from hanging out outside? Why is he trying to take the ropes and keep you away from them when you are damn near grown?
The boys have planned a confrontation after sneaking and talking to you (wasn’t an easy thing to do…), they convinced you that your boyfriend wasn’t a good guy for you to be with and how they can tell that it’s taking a toll on you. It was a tough decision but it was the right one. So, they all planned on scheduling a confrontation with your boyfriend…the plan was to catch the two of you walking around the block, and all the boys basically team up against your boyfriend. You on the other hand, with some extra backup, you will make the official choice to break up with him.
The situation was terrible and resulted in a small physical fight between the boys but in the end it all worked out with some bruises and cuts in the end—you were finally free from the grasp of your shitty boyfriend at least’
On a real note, the boys were really worried about you and you were always on their mind when you and this bitch were dating. They didn’t want you to end up getting hurt more than you already did by this guy and they weren’t going to sit around and allow it to happen. Sure, they aren’t necessarily good people themselves but you are their friend and they can’t risk seeing you get hurt like that.
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moonknightly · 2 months ago
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lost in a moment, every moment when we touch—
poe dameron x afab!reader
word count: 2.8k+
warnings: porn with really no plot, alcohol consumption (and poe's kind of pushing it without really pushing it), rough sex, idk nothing special it's just drunk sex with your boyfriend after you leave a shitty bar for the night, i use “fuck” a lot because “kriff” just wasn’t hitting the way i needed it to
notes: happy may the fourth babies<3 i haven't written for my man in years but here he is
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It’s rare that you find yourself able to step away from the fast paced, chaotic world this never ending war has brought upon the galaxy. You hardly have a moment to breathe before jumping from one mission onto the next. 
Not that you mind, of course you don’t mind. You knew what you were signing up for when you joined the Resistance. 
So of course you look a little out of place when you wind up with a night off after another successful mission and end up at a questionable bar with your comrades. The music is loud but so different from rapid gunfire, and it’s dark but not like the endless galaxy outside of your X-Wing. The stimuli are so completely unfamiliar while harboring traits you should be accustomed to. 
One thing that you think will always be familiar, however, is Poe. 
He looks relaxed. Sure of himself. Confident. You know better than to believe that the man never feels nervous or out of place like you’re feeling now, though he could’ve fooled you—he always seems so stoic, so sure, even when he has to fake it. 
But you know that he’s not faking it now. He really is just relaxed, taking the full opportunity of a night away from the Resistance and the Order to let himself be. The crowd doesn’t bother him, the burn of alcohol sliding down his throat isn’t as foreign to him. He looks as comfortable here as he does when he’s flying. 
And it’s hot. You have to fucking admit, you find it so hot. 
Maybe it’s the shot (two?) that he’s ordered for you, maybe it’s leftover adrenaline, you’re not sure. You think it could be because he’s just…hot. You’re allowed to objectify your boyfriend, right? It feels like you’re objectifying him. Oh Maker are you-
“How many shots is it going to take to loosen you up, baby?”
His voice shocks you out of your thoughts. Your eyes flash towards him and fuck, the way he’s looking at you-
“Are you trying to get me drunk, General?”
“Maybe.” He says it so nonchalantly, like he’s not doing something kind of questionable, something that should’ve been a red flag for you. 
But it’s Poe. You trust Poe. 
He clears his throat when you don’t answer and your attention is brought back to his infuriatingly handsome face. He’s always handsome, Gods he is so so good looking but the alcohol has you wanting to crawl into his lap and wrap your legs around his middle while he tangles a hand into the back of your hair and you wonder if you’d be able to taste traces of booze-
You had to have made a face. Had to have. Poe looks amused and he’s chuckling, watching you with that certain fondness in his stupid brown eyes that he only has for you. 
“Can we get a third?” Poe asks the bartender (so it was two) as they make their round. 
You laugh quietly under your breath, cheeks warming just a bit. “So you are trying to get me drunk.” 
“No baby,” he hums, easily slipping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his side. His body feels like it's on fire, he’s always so warm and inviting and sturdy. You’re able to release some of the tension that seems ever present in your body when he’s holding you. “I’m just tryin’ to get you to relax is all.”
“That so?” you hum, allowing your hand to inch its way under his shirt so you can gently touch the small of his back, craving skin to skin. He shivers. 
Poe only hums, his smile turning into more of a smirk as two shots are placed down in front of him. He slides yours across the bar towards you, raising the small glass to his lips just as you did, timing his shot so you take them together. You’re getting used to the burn, but it still causes you to pull a face. Poe however, looks completely unphased by the scorching liquid sliding down his throat. 
And he missed a drop. It’s rolling down his neck, mingling with leftover sweat and oh no, oh no. You want to catch it for him before it dries and turns his skin sticky. You want to lean forward and lick the column of his throat and relish in that sweet and salty taste on your tongue that could only belong to him, you want-
You let your thoughts run wild for a moment, and again you would probably feel bad about some of the things you’re thinking but he’s your boyfriend, it has to be okay. 
When that shot hits your bloodstream and that drop is still near his collarbone, you indulge in those not so innocent thoughts. 
You lean forward and grip the edge of his shirt gently, tugging it to the side, just enough to expose more of his collarbone to you. Poe watches with curious eyes and a tilt of his head, lips pursed, and he’s about to ask what you’re doing when your tongue hits his warm skin and his words dissolve into the quietest of moans. You gently lap at the spot, only soaking his skin further and when you finally give him a little bite, let your teeth graze against his skin, he loses it. 
He’s the first to pull away, keeping his hands on your waist, eyes dark and locked on yours. You glance at him, looking him up and down once, twice, and you don’t remember his pants being so tight when you’d walked into the bar. 
“What are you trying to do baby?” he husks, voice strangled, trying to control his desire and failing miserably. 
You shrug, trying to keep it innocent. “I was just trying to clean you up.”
His mouth falls slack, just a little, and his pupils are completely blown. He licks his lips and what should’ve been such a simple action isn’t. His wet tongue peeking out of his mouth, running along his bottom lip…you’re struggling to keep your composure, just like him. You still don’t have the upper hand.
And Poe notices. Oh, of course he notices. 
“Tell me what you’re thinking about honey.” 
He perches his elbow on the bar, tilting his head to the side as he regards you carefully, intent to hang onto your every word. 
But your words escape you. Completely escape you. He’s winning this game of cat and mouse and he knows it. 
He’s sure another round will get you talking, so he orders you each your fourth. You reach for the glass to throw it back but Poe stops you, easily plucking it from your fingers. 
“C’mere,” he purrs, leaving his own glass on the counter as he grabs your chin and forces your head back. You open your mouth without him needing to ask, without needing to even think about it really. 
It’s so interesting, how you obey him even when there’s no verbal command given. 
Poe brings the glass to your lips and slowly starts to tip it back, letting the stinging liquid flow down your throat slowly this time, prolonging the burn. Once you’ve finished the shot, Poe moves his grip from your jaw to the hair at the back of your neck and he pulls, bringing your lips crashing onto his. He smirks into it when your hands meet the tops of his thighs, and he thinks he’s finally going to get you into his lap so he can discreetly grind against your ass while you makeout at the bar. 
But you dig your nails into his skin instead, pausing again, holding still. 
He groans quietly in the back of his throat and pulls away, just enough for him to look into your eyes, the furrow between his brows prominent. 
You’re smiling, just a little bit, cheeks flushed and eyes a little wild. You lick your lips before you speak. “If we start this here I don’t think I’d be able to stop you from bending me over the counter in front of everyone.”
Poe tilts his head, as if he’s considering how right you actually are when the reality is, yeah, he knows he would. If he could get away with it, if he was on a planet where nobody knew his name, he would.
“So?” he asks, unable to keep the amusement off his face and the little bit of humor out of his tone. “You’re saying you don’t want everyone to watch you get split open on my cock?” 
You hit his chest, attempting to chastise him for his vulgar words but he’s said worse, and you don’t actually hate it. Poe just laughs because he knows as much. 
“Fine, fine,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he runs his hands up your thighs, fingers grabbing onto your hips. “Then why don’t we get out of here before that happens, hm?”
You don’t need him to ask twice. You’re just as eager to get him somewhere quiet and alone. 
Poe throws a handful of credits, enough to pay for your drinks and probably more, down on the counter before standing with you. He reaches for his last shot, still untouched on the counter in front of him, and throws it back. He doesn’t even flinch, again, and his hand immediately falls to your lower back as he starts to guide you through the busy bar. Nobody looks your way, nobody pays attention because this isn’t anything new. Poe’s only been going home with you for a long time now.
You’d already reserved quarters for the evening, knowing you wouldn’t want to fly back to base after getting hammered. The room isn’t anything fancy, but it’s clean and the bed is softer than anything you’ve laid on in years. Poe doesn’t even worry about taking off your clothes before he’s pushing you down onto it. 
He kisses you and somehow his lips are even more frantic than they had been at the bar only ten minutes before. He moans as he licks into your mouth, familiar and warm, bringing one hand up to cup your jaw and keep you still for him. You’re completely pliant underneath him while he kisses your breath away, letting him take the lead. 
His lips break away from yours though, sooner than you’d like, and you whine but it’s quickly replaced by a sharp gasp when he nips your collarbone. He closes his lips around your skin, sucking gently at first but then you can feel his teeth start to sink in. When he pulls back, he traces the small, red bruise with the tip of his finger.
“That’s for not letting everyone watch,” he teases gently, his smirk playful. “I thought it would be a good reminder, but this will have to do.” 
“Mm, I don’t think anyone really needs a reminder,” you chuckle. You can’t help but dissolve into a quiet laugh, but the sound is cut short when Poe kisses you again. 
This time, he doesn’t pull away. Not until you’re panting and writhing underneath him, lips glossy and swollen, eyes glazed. His cock is so hard in his pants, it’s a surprise the zipper didn’t bust. You rub your thighs together, trying to clench just right so you find some sort of relief. You’re both more than ready, just from a little kissing and what you’d call foreplay at the bar. 
You’re pretty sure Poe Dameron could look at you a certain way and you’d be ready, though. The thought makes you laugh again as he grabs your hips and easily flips you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up and back until your ass meets his clothed dick. He doesn’t ask you why you’re laughing, too preoccupied with tugging your pants down from your waist to your thighs, and just like before the sound is cut short again, replaced with a sharp gasp and a moan as his hand falls to your ass in a stinging slap. 
He smacks your ass a second time before you hear the soft clanking of metal, and you know he’s undoing his belt. You bite your lip in anticipation as you feel him notch the tip of his cock at your entrance, but he doesn’t push into you any further than that, not yet. He wants to hear you whine for it.
And you do. You whine and you moan quietly and try to push yourself back onto him, but he doesn’t let you. Poe sighs, feigning disappointment, and not a second later you feel his hand wrap around your neck and he’s pulling, pulling you up until your back meets his chest and his lips land at the shell of your ear, his breath hot and heavy. 
“So kriffing needy,” he hums as he finally slips all of the way inside of your tight body. “So warm, and so kriffing, kriff-” 
“I think you might be the needy one,” you whimper, turning your face to glance at him over your shoulder, except he never lets you, his fingers around your neck holding you effectively in place. 
Poe huffs, drawing his hips back before snapping them forward again, just once. Just to give you a taste. “I think you might want to hold onto something before I blow your back out.”
Except he never lets you do that either, not before he’s started a relentless pace against you, his hips slapping against your ass with each thrust and you wonder briefly if he actually could blow your back out like this. You wouldn’t be surprised. He’s almost brutal, the way he fucks you but it’s exactly how you want it. Rough, fast, heated. You want to be completely surrounded by him. 
“That’s it baby, just take it. Just take it.” 
He has one arm wrapped tightly around your middle to keep you upright and close while his hand that had previously been around your neck drifts down to the hem of your shirt. He tugs the fabric over your head with as little difficulty as he can manage, bra coming with it, pace never changing. He watches your tits bounce over your shoulder as he fucks into you from behind, fingers slipping down to play with your clit. 
Your eyes roll back as he plucks pleasure from your body with each little stroke of his fingers and the delicious drag of his cock inside of you. His moans in your ear shoot straight to your pussy each and every time, and you feel like you can’t breathe. He’s fucking you so thoroughly, so deeply you feel like you can feel him in your throat.
It’s quick, and it’s exactly how you need it. It’s not a night full of pleasure and cumming your brains out until you’re so cock drunk you can’t remember your own name, although you can’t seem to think of anything other than his. Or say anything for that matter.  
He rubs your clit faster, applying just a little more pressure as he angles his hips up, bullying that spot inside of you over and over again. 
“Kriff, baby, come on,” he moans, tongue swiping out to lick along your ear. “I’m gonna cum, I need you to cum too.” 
You’re so close. Right on the edge of falling into oblivion but you just can’t quite get there. A little cry escapes your throat, one that makes a growl tear from Poe’s. 
He collapses forward suddenly, caging you in under his body as he continues to rut himself into, chasing both his and your release like it’s the most important mission he’s ever completed. It’s then, once you are actually completely surrounded by him that you let go. 
You’re not sure if the sounds leaving your body are moans or screams or some combination of both. Your hearing fades and your vision turns stark white behind your eyelids. You’re not sure how long you stay there, suspended in absolute bliss before he lets you come down, slowly slowly slowly, fingers still playing with your clit as he finally stills inside of you. You can feel Poe’s warm cum leaking out around him and dripping down onto the mattress below.
His lips are still at your ear, and you let yourself focus on the sound of his breathing as you try to remember how to do so properly. You’re covered in sweat, but so is he, and your limbs feel like they weigh twice as much as usual. It’s so hard to move, and you don’t want to. You want to stay in this little bubble, trapped underneath him where all you have to do is lay there and take it like he tells you. 
You let yourself live in that little daydream as Poe settles on top of you, too tired himself to even pull out or roll over but you don’t mind. Not at all.
The war can wait.
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wttcsms · 2 years ago
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when you know, you know, atsumu miya ;
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pairing atsumu miya x f!reader word count 1k synopsis atsumu considers marriage to be a trap, until he realizes that even a lifetime commitment to you isn't long enough content contains fluff, talks of marriage!!!! he's a softie
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It starts off like this: nobody sees Atsumu Miya getting married — not now, not ever, not in the foreseeable future, nor in any of the millions of alternate and parallel universes that may or may not exist.
You’re just not the type of person we see settling down. 
Yeah, that might be true, but it still stings a little. It stings when he sees the white picket fences, and the cars with the MY KID’S AN HONOR STUDENT bumper stickers. It stings when he happens to accidentally catch a rerun of those family-centered sitcoms; the ones where they argue during the day and make up at night, with some cliche moral to the over dramatic situations that have occurred onscreen fifteen minutes ago. It stings when he watches his teammates get engaged and he has to congratulate them — he’s genuinely happy for them, don’t get him wrong — but still… 
It doesn’t matter. Atsumu Miya has long since held the firm belief that he’s just not the type of person the whole “fall in love, get married, have a family, cue the domesticity cuteness overload” schtick is meant for. Besides, it’s not like it’s something he’s spent years obsessing over (maybe months, at most). 
He rationalizes his bachelor status (that’s been a part of him for so long that it’s getting to become somewhat of a red flag for potential girlfriends) as him being the only one left with his priorities straight. After all, he doesn't have to worry about things like parent-teacher conferences or crayon drawings on the wall or trying to buy flowers to make sure the wife isn’t too mad when he comes home late. 
After all, he tells everyone, settling down is still settling. 
And Atsumu Miya, under no circumstances, ever settles.
Which is an ideal he clings to with such a tight grip, if it were flesh and blood, it would be suffocating. He doesn’t, he decides after a while, believe in marriage. 
(That is to say: he doesn’t believe that it’s possible for him. 
It’s not what he says explicitly, but it’s what he truly means.) 
So, when he tells you this on your second date, you’re a little stunned, but you’re quick to recover. Okay… So that’s the explanation you’ve been waiting for. The reason why this six feet two inches tall professional athlete with a bank account he generously withdraws money from has been single for so long is because he doesn’t believe in marriage. 
Other than that, he’s been nothing but great. Near perfect. So, all you do is nod and continue on with the original topic of the conversation. Eventually, your budding romance blooms into something much bigger than either of you ever anticipated or saw coming, and while you yourself have never mentioned the M-word after that date, it’s all Atsumu can think about right now. 
Marriage.
The concept of it looms over your relationship; a perpetual gray cloud that threatens to flood this perfect little relationship and have it all go down the drain. You never brought it up after he basically told you he would never marry anyone, and he never brought it up purely because — well — he’s a bit of a coward. 
He’s the type of person who’s set on his own convictions, by the way. If his balls ever drop, and he decides to Man Up, he figures he’ll start the conversation just like that. His stubbornness is nothing new to you, but him figuring out that he might be wrong makes his stomach feel funny. It’s sick and twisted. 
“Hey, what do you want for dinner tonight? I’m at the store right now, and I’m in the mood to cook.” He can picture it clearly: you, standing in one of the grocery store aisles, phone balanced in between your ear and shoulder as you compare the ingredients of the name brand and generic cereal. 
He’s in the locker room, about to pack up his gym bag (that you’ll complain reeks) and head back to his apartment (that’s starting to feel a lot more like yours, with the way your skincare products dominate the bathroom counter), and it hits him so suddenly, he has to sit back down on the bench. 
Atsumu Miya thinks that marriage isn’t for him, and as a defense mechanism, he decides that marriage sucks anyway. But through the tinny speakers of his phone, he can hear you toss something in the shopping cart. He hears the faint crying of a toddler in the background, and then he starts to think about what it would be like to walk around the store with a baby that takes after you. Right now, you’re already sleeping in the same bed with him at least four times out of the week, but it would be perfect, he thinks, to get the privilege to wake up to you every morning.
“Atsumu?” You try to get his attention, and Atsumu tries to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling he gets when he considers a future with you. Settling down is still settling, he tells himself, and then he thinks of the way you looked when you caught the bouquet at a friend’s wedding. The pleased smile on your face, the triumphant way you held the flowers over your head, head thrown back in glee; you looked absolutely radiant. You caught his eye, and you quickly lowered your hands, giving him a sheepish grin. 
He realizes now that if anyone is settling, it’s you. You don’t know that he notices the way you tear up at weddings, or how excited you sound when you get back from dress shopping with one of your friends. You want to get married, and the only thing stopping you is him.
He’s spent ages deluding himself into thinking that he’s somehow losing if he decides to trap himself into a marriage with someone, but no one can accuse him of settling when it’s you he’s marrying. You’re the prize. You’re the only person in the world he wants to give his last name and an obnoxiously big ring to. 
“Make whatever you want, baby. I’ll eat anything.” He’s checking the locations for the nearest jewelers in his immediate vicinity. “I might be a little late, though. I have to check on something.” 
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shiny-jr · 2 years ago
Text
from IGNIHYDE
- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.
- Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud.
- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.
- Note: This seems a little more low-key than Diasomnia, but the obsession is there if you squint. It’s just way more low-key than the previous group. For some reason I feel like I maybe wrote Ortho a little off? Not sure. Feel free to tell me your thoughts.
Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore
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The break ends quickly. Too quickly. Before you know it, you’re back in front of the mountain of unread letters that appears even more ominous than before now that you could guess what sort of dark contents they may hold. 
For your own peace of mind, you’ve decided to read only two and then take a pause right after. 
The first of which was just a simple long white envelope. That’s it. There was nothing that stood out about it, no special seal or stamp. It was just the generic type of encasing that made it look like it was some sort of bill instead of a letter containing what was bound to be a message that unsettled you in some way, shape, or form. 
When you removed the letter, you was surprised to see that it wasn’t handwritten, it had been typed and printed out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who this was from. 
Player, 
I messed everything up.
I don’t even see a point to doing this, writing this for you. I mean, if I were you, I’d never want to see my no-good miserable face ever again. I’d go to every length just to avoid even speaking to me again, and to spite them I’d never even show myself around again. But–– Ortho was making a letter and brought my keyboard to my lap. He said it was worth a shot, and if anything, it could be used as an apology so... sorry.
Any sorry would sound half-assed, considering what happened. It’s not like it matters, since I’m sure you wouldn’t read this. I imagine you would figure out it’s from me, and proceed to tear it up, burn it, whatever. And honestly? Valid. At this point, I’m sort of using it as a vent. Usually, I’d be telling Ortho all this, but all these thoughts I’m having would only bum him out and he’s depressed enough as it is. 
You know what sucks besides all of this? The fact that I genuinely tried. I actually tried to be a help for once, and like it always ends, my attempt to help screwed it up even more. Maybe if I had kept my mouth shut and minded my own business while holing myself up in my room like I always do, things wouldn’t have turned out this bad. If I just did what I was good at, which is nothing, Ortho and I might’ve avoided the shitstorm. Everyone else is currently throwing pity parties and plotting these super over elaborate schemes to try and interact with you by luring you out of the Ramshackle place. 
Ortho’s been coming up with plans too with other guys from the dorms that are just so desperate for your attention. It’s sad to watch, pathetic too, but I don’t have the heart to tell him not to bother with it. And me, I know better. If I were in your position and I saw all these attempts, it would definitely make me extra bitter and just hate everyone even more. Oh, I just remembered something worth mentioning. You may not believe me, I mean, I wouldn’t believe a single word coming from me, but I wasn’t actually going to hurt Grim. You though? Before I knew who you were? Yeah. Don’t get it twisted though, I was just doing it to fix everything until the whole truth got leaked not too long after.
Call me stupid, I guess. When I first saw how others revered you like how a bunch of creepy basement-dwellers look at a pretty perfect idol on a shiny bright stage, it was a major red flag. I wanted nothing to do with you. But when you started worming yourself into my life and I started getting attached, well, that made me a creep too for liking you. Red flags be damned. What can I say? Your presence even through Yuu, made me feel like I mattered, which is something I don’t experience a lot. 
You’d never know it, but I took risks just to be in the same room as your avatar. 
Missing special events on games, losing the chance to catch a concert live on screen, even ditching group calls with teammates and friends... All of that was utterly worthless if I got at least a solid sixty seconds by you. 
Unlike everyone else, I know better than to just show up at your doorstep and beg for forgiveness like some misguided puppy. Malleus and co. have been making sure you’re not disturbed, guarding you like a pack of guard dogs or something, preventing anyone from embarrassing themselves and messing up any further. Ortho said I should at least try to call you, I think he just wants to hear your voice. But why bother? 
Don’t get it wrong, I’m not just letting everything go just like that. As much as I’d like to, and I know it’s probably the “healthy” and “good” thing to do, I don’t want to. I’m not good, you know that already. I’ll keep in the background this time, and try not to mess up again. Although no guarantees, because with my lousy luck, I know something will inevitably go wrong. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you. I wouldn’t want to make the mental image you have of me in your mind even worse, if its even remotely possible for it to somehow get worse. I just can’t let go. Even if you looked at me like trash, avoided me like the plague, or straight up tell me ‘I hate you’ to my face, I still won’t let go. 
And, well, all I can really think of right now besides you, is Ortho. Even if I can’t show my disgraced presence to you anymore, I still hope you’ll see Ortho. At least if Ortho could explain to you that he was acting on my plan, he might get lucky and be next to you again. Maybe. Hard maybe. 
But me? No, I don’t ever deserve to be anywhere near you anymore. For now, I’ll go back to how things were way back... when your vessel hadn’t yet had the misfortune of meeting me and I just watched your every move from monitors like some sort of loser schmuck. 
I think I’ll just imagine how things would be if I hadn’t doomed all my chances. If I had a chance... maybe I would’ve actually worked up the gall to sit next to you, or even look at you, or, hell, talk to you. At least, I’ll always remember when you used your avatar to look at me and it didn’t feel bad... like, almost like you didn’t see me as some lame nobody. That must’ve been my mind just playing tricks on me though, right? There’s no way that happened... 
Enough of this mushy stuff though. I’m sick of it. 
Just throw this in the fire without a second glance. 
Idia Shroud 
In order to get this over as quickly as possible, you decided to continue without taking a breather. The quicker you finished reading them, the better, that way, you wouldn’t even give your mind any time to fully process what you were reading before overwhelming your vision with more lines and lines of words until they became blurred together. 
You wouldn’t stop, because if you stopped, that would be allowing your mind the opportunity to spiral out of control. You needed a distraction. 
This wasn’t exactly the good type of distraction either, it was more like adding gasoline to the fire, but part of you had to know what they would say. No matter what feelings you held, the curiosity outweighed it. 
The second letter is identical to the first, a simple long white envelope with no particularly interesting details about it other than the fact that it had zero stains and no wrinkles on it. It was pristine and clean, not even a drop of ink on it. The insides of the envelope itself were blue, with small white lines on it, but upon closer inspection it became obvious that they weren’t just stripes, they were skull symbols so tiny that it was hardly noticeable. 
Of course, as you expected, the letter inside was not handwritten. It was folded so precisely into thirds, and unfolding it displayed the typed and printed words neatly stacked in indented paragraphs. 
Greetings, Player, 
First, I want to apologize sincerely. 
Secondly, I want to tell you how much I have missed you, and my brother has missed you as well! I don’t believe I can fully comprehend how you are felling at the current moment, and I cannot even accurately guess to what emotions you are experiencing. In my attempt to alleviate the situation, I’ve been running millions of simulations of possible alternative futures in order to take the best route where things might return to a semblance of normalcy. 
Well, a new normal, now that you’re here! However... when each simulation yields a result, I can’t help but feel as if something is wrong. That’s when I realized there was a key component that was off. It was you, or rather, Yuu. We know of Yuu and their mannerisms and opinions, but that isn’t really you. Yuu is a vessel, and extension, that’s partially based off yourself. 
So none of us know the true you. At least, not yet! I’m hoping to change that. Just when I think I’m beginning to understand you, things like this happen. But, that’s what makes you so exciting! There’s always some unforeseen detail and amazing new aspect of yourself to learn about. Once I get a proper grasp on what you’re truly like, I can use that new knowledge to make you happy, just as you made me and my brother always smile!  But also, I want to use it to make it up to you. Honestly, I’m scared that you’ll hate me. In the simulations I ran that gave inaccurate results due to those missing components, nearly all the results had a bad ending... 
I don’t want that. I want to have a ‘normal’ way with you and Idia! A good normal! Like where we might all have movie nights in the Ignihyde dorm with freshly popped popcorn and candies as snacks, or study days when we read over notes and help each other out, maybe you might even be able to convince Idia to leave his room so we can all share lunch in the cafeteria like a group of friends would typically do! That’s what I want! I don’t think I could stand knowing I made you cry or was the cause of your pain. I never hurt you, right? At least not physically. 
Believe me, I had made attempts to meet you. But those in Diasomnia won’t allow it. I was tempted to charge up the technomantic beam installed within my form, but realizing it wasn’t necessary, I didn’t. Idia was right when he didn’t make an effort to even join me, and Malleus Draconia with his own have realized it too. You aren’t ready yet. Even if I’m more than prepared to see you, I can’t rush you. So, I left this letter in their hands, hoping it reached you. If not, there’s no worries. I’ve prepared a dozen more printed copies and if that fails, I’ve created a digital copy! 
Since I couldn’t tell you in person, I’ll tell you through paper... 
I’d like to invite you to formally meet me. I’m even prepared to surprise Idia with this! That’ll cheer him up for sure. You always made him happy, so us properly meeting you would be a dream come true for us both! 
If you’d like to do something upon meeting us, I’ve organized multiple activities for us to participate in. The other first years have reached out and expressed their own desires to make up for the mistakes they made. So, I met with them a few days ago to make plans you might enjoy! These plans are still in the preparation phase, so I can’t reveal them quite yet, but soon I will! 
Anyways, I just wanted to make you aware of this. And I want to say ‘I’m sorry’ even though it feels minuscule to what I’m only guessing must be the strong emotions you feel toward what occurred. But I wanted to let you know that I always want to be your friend, and I always will be, even if you don’t really like me anymore. Friends are supposed to be there for each other, right? So I’ll be there for you now. Remember, I’m a high-tech being, I can be of great use to you if you want! Even if you’d rather just use me as a tool, I would be happy. If you want someone obliterated to ashes or are just looking to answers as to what the weather might be, I would gladly help you with that and so much more! 
And it’s not only me that could be useful to you, my brother can too! Although he probably won’t say it, he depends on you a lot. You’re like a battery to him, you give him the energy he needs. If you’d let him, let us both, we’d be there for you in a zeptosecond! 
There’s one thing I know for certain. You’re the common variable needed for our happiness, no matter the scenario or result, you are a requirement. And I’m certain we can bring you happiness as well. Myself, my brother, and everyone that treasures you, can bring you joy if you allow it. All I want is to see you happy, and everyone else happy as well. So will you please at least consider seeing us again? Soon? Please? 
Hoping to see you soon. 
From your friend, 
Ortho Shroud  
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societyfolklore · 7 months ago
Text
Mess is Best
Title: Mess is Best (Prompt- baking together but neither know what you're doing) Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Kids x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky gets talked into Christmas baking with the kids and things turn to chaos while Mom naps.
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Word Count:  2.1k
Warnings:  This ones just Fluff! All Fluff.. (No Beta Read)
A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge) -  Day 20 just went for something a little softer this time. Domestic and cute. The house was anything but quiet that morning. The holiday season had brought with it a whirlwind of preparations- decorations were finally all up (though the boxes were yet to be returned to the attic and had just been stacked in the corner of the living room) the dining table covered in gifts and paper waiting for wrapping to be completed, and the faint hum of Christmas carols playing from the kitchen radio. The smell of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of snow that had clung to Bucky’s boots when he brought in the tree earlier.
You had spent the entire morning orchestrating the chaos, directing the kids to hang ornaments (even if most ended up clustered in one spot), wrapping presents, and trying to keep the sugar-fuelled excitement from reaching a fever pitch. By the time midafternoon rolled around, your energy was spent. After some gentle but persistent nudging, Bucky finally relented, letting you retreat to the bedroom for a well-deserved nap.
Now, the house was suspiciously quiet. Too quiet.
Bucky stood in the kitchen, his arms crossed as he eyed the two culprits in matching Christmas jumpers. Laura and Jack, their faces glowing with the kind of mischief only children could muster, stood before him like tiny conspirators. Their hands were clasped in front of them, and their wide, hopeful eyes made Bucky instantly wary.
“Alright,” Bucky said slowly, narrowing his eyes. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing bad!” Laura chirped, her voice an octave too high to be convincing.
“We just wanna make cookies,” Jack added, tugging on Bucky’s vibranium hand. His small fingers left smudges of glittery red paint from earlier craft projects. “Please, Dad? It’ll be fun!”
“You sure about this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do we even know how to make cookies?”
Laura puffed up her chest. “How hard can it be? We have the box mix!” She held up the box like it was a sacred text, her enthusiasm unwavering. Bucky’s eyes flicked to the counter, the bowl sat waiting, surrounded by a chaotic assortment of sprinkles, chocolate chips, and food colouring. The kids must have raided the pantry while he wasn’t looking.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Mom’s going to kill me.
Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen looked like a Christmas tornado had blown through. Flour clung to every surface, creating a fine white dusting on the counters and the floor. The air smelled faintly of vanilla and chaos as sprinkles formed a rainbow mosaic across the tile. A suspicious puddle of milk was pooling near the sink, with a tiny trail leading to where Jack had ‘helpfully’ tried to clean up by tossing a damp paper towel onto it.
Bucky stood in the centre of the mess, his hands on his hips, surveying the damage. Laura and Jack beamed at him, their faces dusted with flour like a pair of pint-sized chefs who had just survived a battle.
“Alright,” Bucky said, holding up his hands as though calling a truce. “Let’s try this again, taking it one step at a time, reading the box this time. What’s first Gumdrop?”
“The box says mix the powder with eggs and butter!” Laura announced triumphantly, waving the instructions like a battle flag. Bucky had to admit her enthusiasm was contagious, even if it set off alarm bells in Bucky’s mind.
“Easy enough,” Bucky muttered, grabbing another mixing bowl from the pile of clean dishes. He grabbed an egg from the carton and cracked it against the rim of the bowl using his vibranium hand. The crack was… overzealous. Eggshell fragments rained into the bowl, some pieces sinking into the shiny white powder like tiny shipwrecks.
“Ew, Dad!” Jack squealed, pointing at the bowl with a mixture of horror and delight. “There’s crunchy bits in there!”
“Not anymore,” Bucky said, fishing out the pieces with exaggerated precision, his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. He held up the last piece with a flourish, as though presenting a trophy. “See? Problem solved.”
Laura and Jack erupted into giggles, their earlier exasperation forgotten. The sight of their laughter made Bucky’s heart lighten, even as he felt the weight of impending doom over the state of the kitchen.
“Alright, next ingredient,” Bucky said, his tone determined. “Butter. Where’s the butter?”
Jack pointed to a stick of butter that had somehow ended up on the far end of the counter. It was half-unwrapped, a small dent where someone had poked it with their finger. Bucky sighed, grabbing the butter and tossing it into the bowl with the mix.
“You’re supposed to cut it up first,” Laura pointed out, crossing her arms like a tiny authority on baking, pulling a face that reminded Bucky how much she looked like her mother.
“Details,” Bucky replied with a shrug, grabbing a wooden spoon. He began mixing the ingredients together with an awkward vigor that sent a small cloud of flour puffing into the air.
The kids giggled again, and Bucky found himself grinning despite the mess.
By the time the dough was mixed, it resembled something out of a science experiment. The thick batter clung stubbornly to the wooden spoon, dotted with an outrageous amount of chocolate chips and sprinkles that the kids had insisted on adding (‘for maximum Christmas vibes!’ Laura had proclaimed, dumping the entire bag of sprinkles into the bowl without hesitation). The mixture sparkled in the light, an unholy concoction of sugar and chaos.
Bucky scraped some of the dough onto a baking sheet, attempting to shape it into a neat circle. The result was… underwhelming. The dough spread unevenly, forming an amorphous blob that barely resembled a cookie.
“Alright, your turn,” Bucky said, stepping back to let the kids take over.
Jack immediately grabbed a handful of dough, plopping it onto the sheet and mashing it with his fingers. “I’m making a snowman!” he declared, though the result looked more like a melting pile of snow. Laura took a more artistic approach, carefully shaping a star that ended up with one overly long point.
“Dad, look!” Jack exclaimed, holding up his hands, which were now completely coated in sticky dough. “I’m the Cookie Monster!” He made exaggerated chomping noises, pretending to eat his dough-covered fingers.
“You’re definitely something kiddo,” Bucky replied, shaking his head with a laugh. “Alright, let’s get these in the oven before you two eat the entire batch.”
He slid the tray into the oven, brushing stray sprinkles off the counter as he closed the door.
“Perfection is overrated,” Bucky muttered, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
“Exactly!” Laura said, grinning as she high-fived him with a hand still sticky with dough. Damn her smile lit up the room, Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he looked at their mismatched creations. The cookies might not win any awards, but they were unmistakably theirs.
While the cookies baked, the chaos continued to escalate. Laura’s eyes lit up when she spotted the small box of food colouring on the counter. “Let’s make frosting!” she declared, grabbing the box with all the authority of a professional chef. Jack clapped his hands in excitement, already imagining the colourful chaos.
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Frosting, huh? You know how to make that Princess?”
“How hard can it be?” Laura shot back, echoing her earlier mantra.
They found a bowl and dumped powdered sugar into it with reckless abandon. Laura squeezed half the bottle of red dye into the mix, and Bucky watched in mild horror as the powder transformed into a neon pink mess that could probably be seen from space.
“Uh, maybe we should tone it down a bit,” Bucky suggested, but his kids were on a roll. Jack added a splash of milk—more than necessary—creating a runny, vibrant concoction that sloshed precariously as they stirred.
By the time they were done, the frosting bowls looked like a rainbow had exploded. There was bright green, electric blue, and a suspicious shade of orange that none of them remembered mixing.
When the timer dinged, signalling that the cookies were ready, Bucky opened the oven with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. The cookies, had personality. Some were lumpy, others were oddly shaped, and one snowman had mysteriously developed three arms during baking.
“They’re beautiful,” Jack said proudly, holding up the three-armed snowman with a grin that could melt the coldest heart.
Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Beautiful might be a stretch kiddo, but they’re definitely unique.”
The decorating phase was pure, unfiltered chaos. Frosting ended up everywhere: on the table, on the kids, even in Bucky’s hair, where Jack had accidentally swiped him during an enthusiastic frosting application. Laura took her time, meticulously painting each cookie with an alarming amount of detail, while Jack adopted a more freestyle approach, dumping entire containers of sprinkles over the cookies until they resembled glittery mountains.
“Are those… abs?” Bucky asked, squinting at a gingerbread man Laura had decorated.
“Yep! It’s Uncle Steve in is uniform!” Laura replied, grinning as she added a tiny shield made of frosting.
Bucky groaned, covering his face with his hand. “Steve can never see this.”
Jack held up another gingerbread man, proudly announcing, “This one’s the Hulk!” The cookie was covered in green frosting and looked more like a blob than a superhero, but Jack’s enthusiasm was infectious.
“Sure is Buddy..But aren’t these suppose to be Christmas cookies”
“He had a Santa hat!” Bucky had to squint to work out where the hat was suppose to be.  
By the time the last cookie was decorated, the kitchen was a disaster zone. The counters were sticky with frosting, the floor was a minefield of sprinkles, and the kids were covered head to toe in sugary chaos. And yet, as Bucky looked at their creations—imperfect, colorful, and uniquely theirs—he couldn’t help but smile. These were the moments that made the mess worth it.
Just as the last cookie was finished, you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn. You froze in the doorway, your gaze sweeping across the scene. It was a masterpiece of chaos: the counters were caked with frosting and dusted with flour, sprinkles sparkled like confetti on the floor, and a faint aroma of slightly burnt sugar lingered in the air. The kids stood proudly in the middle of it all, their faces streaked with frosting, holding up their creations like trophies.
Bucky, standing amidst the chaos, was a sight to behold. His dark hair had streaks of bright red frosting smeared through it, and his shirt bore the evidence of the day’s adventures: flour handprints, a sprinkle trail, and a suspicious smear of neon pink. He held up a cookie shaped like a lopsided Christmas tree, his expression both sheepish and amused.
“Mommy!” the kids squealed in unison, abandoning their cookies to rush toward you. They tugged at your hands, eager to show off their masterpieces. “Look what we made!”
You raised an eyebrow, your gaze shifting from the grinning kids to Bucky, who gave you a lopsided smile. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said quickly, holding up the misshapen tree cookie as if it were a peace offering.
You stepped further into the kitchen, carefully avoiding a rogue puddle of frosting, and picked up one of the cookies. It was a snowman with three arms and a slightly charred bottom. Holding it up to the light, you examined it with a critical eye, the kids watching with bated breath. Then, to their surprise, you took a bite.
“Well,” you said, chewing thoughtfully as their anticipation grew. “It’s… edible. Mostly.”
The kids erupted into cheers, their laughter echoing through the kitchen. Bucky let out a relieved chuckle, running a hand through his hair and wincing as he encountered the sticky frosting streaks.
You reached out, swiping a bit of frosting from his cheek with your finger. “Next time,” you said with a smirk, “maybe wait until I’m awake.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied, pulling you in for a quick kiss. His lips tasted faintly of sugar, a sweet reminder of the chaos you’d walked into.
The kids clamoured for you to try more cookies, each one presenting their favourite creation with the kind of pride usually reserved for art gallery openings. As you laughed and indulged their enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but take in the scene. The kitchen was a disaster, the cookies were questionably edible, and Bucky looked like he’d been through a war zone. And yet, in that moment, surrounded by laughter, love, and the sticky sweetness of family, everything felt absolutely perfect.
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phoward89 · 1 year ago
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Masterlist
Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.
WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker!Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC. DarkCoriolanus, Jealous!Coriolanus
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Chapter 2:
While Coriolanus is in his office, high up on the top floor of the Citadel, raging and having an internal meltdown about your relationship, you’re walking down a crowded downtown sidewalk, hand in hand with Odysseus. The two of you were heading to a cafe near the office for lunch.
“I'll cook you dinner tonight. How does that sound for a third date?” The bronze-haired man offered, his smile full of sunshine and dimples. Odysseus' smile was contagious: you couldn't help, but to smile widely back at him.
“Last time I had a man cook for me I was 18.” You honestly admitted as a fleeting memory of Coriolanus, all skin and bones, stirring a pot of cabbage popped into your mind.
“I know that it's rude to ask a woman her age, but I must know, how old are you?”
“I’m not offended, Odysseus.” You assured him before revealing your age. “I'm 24, by the way.”
Leaning in, as if he was going to tell you a big secret, he smiled- large and scandalously, and revealed, “I'm 28.” Bumping your shoulder lightly with his, Odysseus teasingly chuckled, “Guess it's time for me to bust out the wheelchair since I'm the Old Man of the Sea in this relationship and you're the youthful mermaid.”
You let out a laugh, a genuine laugh, at your boyfriend's words. You've only known him for a day, but so far he's proven to be nothing, but respectful and kind. He's unlike anyone you've ever met before.
Odysseus was very bubbly and it was refreshing. After being with someone so cold and calloused for so long, being with a warm soul was like a breath of fresh air.
“I don't know much about such things. Is it something common to District 4?”
Odysseus nodded, only to say. “The Old Man of the Sea is the water god, Triton.” instead of leaving it there, he decided to explain the legend of the sea god to you. “He's very wise and it's said that if you can manage to capture him and hold on as he changes into many forms that he can answer any questions that you have, about anything at all.”
“Had anyone ever caught him?” You curiously asked as the cafe came into view.
“Some claim to have caught him, no one really pays them any mind, now do they?” He chuckled.
Odysseus' smile brightly widened as he animatedly explained the lore of mermaids to you, “And a mermaid, according to folklore, is a mythological water spirit that's the most beautiful siren of a woman on the top half, while having a fish tail instead of legs for the bottom half.” Coming to a stop at the cafe, he held the door open for you while continuing his sea creature lecture with, “They can both wreak havoc by causing shipwrecks and can be benevolent by granting boons; some even forgo their own mermen and fall in love with human men.”
Guiding you to one of the bistro tables (since the cafe was on of those seat yourself and someone will be with you in a moment type places), he told you with a faraway look in his sea-green eyes. “My Pops says that my Ma was so beautiful that he's positive that she was a mermaid who struck a deal to gain human form.”
From the way his voice slightly quaked while mentioning his mother, you knew that she was most likely dead. How did you know? Because Coriolanus’ voice did the same thing if and when he ever mentioned his late mother (which was rare and far in-between).
“How old were you when she passed, if you don't mind me asking?” You tentatively asked, knowing that it might be a touchy subject, while taking your.seat at a windowside Odysseus brought you to.
“I don't mind you asking, honey.” The bronze haired man assured you, taking his seat across from you at the table. Grabbing the menus from the display rack on the edge table, near the window, and handing one over to you, he simply said, “I was about 9.” Opening his menu, he sadly explained, “There was a hurricane in 4 that completely flattened the beach side community her family's house was at. Even tho she was a strong swimmer, she drowned.” Staring a hole into his menu, he bitterly spat, “President Ravinstill refused to send help or aid, or to even evacuate that part of District 4 because Panem was in the early days of the war.”
“You and Poseidon were here, in the Capitol, while she was trapped in 4.” You concluded while scanning your own menu.
“Yes, that's how I ended up living a privileged life in Capitol City while my mother and her family’s beach house was swept off of its foundation; lost to the depths of Davy Jones' locker.”
“My father was an officer in 12 during the war. His commander helped him smuggle my mother, older brother, and me here, to the Capitol, during the Dark Days.”
“He was found swinging in the trees outside of 12 with General Snow, wasn't he?”
“Yea.” You nodded, only to change the subject by announcing what you thought looked appetizing on the menu.
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Coriolanus was barely holding it together whenever he walked into his penthouse. As he went to hang up his coat and place his leather briefcase on the side table by the coat rack, he felt his Grandma'am’s eyes on him.
Her stare was scrutinizing, making him feel as if he was a little boy again- getting scolded. He hates that feeling. The feeling of not being perfect, of failing. He strives to be the best, at everything he does, so Grandma'am staring him down with thoughts of shame unnerved him.
Grandma'am didn't have to say it, he just knew that she was disappointed in him. But why? He's successful as the Head Gamemaker, he's going to announce his run for Senate, and he's engaged to be married to a young lady from a very prestigious banking family. He's well on his way to success.
On his way to becoming the President of Panem in a few years time. Something that Grandma'am has always wanted for Coriolanus. Shouldn't she be proud of him, not staring him down with shame?
“How have I disappointed you, Grandma’am?” Coriolanus asked the old woman, keeping his voice cold and even, as he shrugged out of his favorite maroon trench coat; hanging it up on the corner rack after placing his briefcase on the nearby sphere shaped side table. Made out of mahogany, of course. Only the best for the Snow family.
Which is why you feel like you're not a fixture in the penthouse anymore. You're not good enough to be a part of the Snow family; to be with Coriolanus. There's something better out there for him, but you've come to accept it and move on.
Coriolanus hasn't moved on, but he won't allow himself to admit that he's fucking up his life by listening to Strabo Plinth when it came to the affairs of his heart. Oh, yes, that's right, the platinum blonde man turned into a cold creature that destroyed his own heart; refuses to acknowledge love. All he knows now is hate, indifference, and lust.
Truthfully, he's in denial when it comes to you and his feelings. He just chalks it up to being possessive and lustful over you, but honestly it's love. A dark, twisted take on love since he's a broken man and doesn't know how to love, but it's love none the less that he feels for you.
“Your father would be ashamed of you, Coriolanus. I know that I am; so is your cousin, Tigris.” The white haired woman, dressed in all her fineries, told her grandson. “Most of all, your mother would be heartbroken knowing that her son turned his back on the love of his life.”
Grandma'am’s words cut Coriolanus deep as he walked over to the sitting area in the main room. Her words cut so deep, it felt like a long double edged sword piercing through the spot where his black, cold, dead heart is locked up in his chest.
His jaw clenched painfully as he stormed gracefully, thanks to his long legs, over to the open sitting chair across from his Grandma’am. He felt his soul bleeding in his chest as he sat down. The old Snow family matriarch’s words burned Coriolanus worse than if he bathed in gasoline and lit himself on fire with a match.
But Coriolanus Snow’s a very proud man; he won't admit that Grandma'am's words hurt him. That they rang true; made his conscious berate him. Made him feel a pang of self loathing and guilt.
No…
Coriolanus will act like he didn't do anything wrong, even tho he did.
“I didn't turn my back on the love of my life because I don't have one.” Coriolanus denied in a flat out lie.
Lie, lie, lie!
You're the love of his life and he knows it, but he's just too goddamn afraid to admit it. So fucking scared of being hurt, used, manipulated, and weakened by love. He’d rather deny his feelings for you then face them.
Coriolanus can face anything headon, except for his feelings. The man didn't do feelings. And that was such a shame, because he truly did love you.
Too bad he was too focused on his political ambitions; couldn't see how much you loved him and vice versa.
Grandma'am blanched at Coriolanus’ words. Those words hurt her deeply. She loves you, as if you were one of her own, and knew how large of a role you played in her grandson's life. And to hear Coriolanus write the love you too share so easily, as if it was nothing, made her wonder where she went wrong with him? Tigress turned out fine, so why was Coriolanus so…so cold and dead towards the girl that he's loved his entire life?
Watching Coriolanus as he reached forward to grab a piece of candy from the large 3-tier candy dish set in the middle of the glass coffee table, Grandma'am sadly wondered, “I didn't raise you to be like this, Coriolanus. How can you be so cold when it comes to Y/N, your sweetheart?”
“She was never my sweetheart, Grandma'am.” Coriolanus retorted coldly. The frostiness in his baritone even sent a chill down his own spine, but it was too late to take it back now. The glacial sharp sentence was now in the universe, floating around; sure to manifest and take hold.
The remark and the attitude that accompanied it would surely come back to bite Coriolanus in the ass; to haunt him. There's no way on earth, in heaven, or in hell those cruel and icy words won't find their way back to you. Because they will…
“I see.” Was Grandma’am’s clipped response. Those two words held so much sadness and disappointment in them. The old woman's wrinkled face turned sour as she informed her grandson, “I just hope that she didn't ruin her life sitting around; waiting for your love. She turned down quite a few wealthy suitors, even a General’s son, as I understand from Tigress- who felt that Y/N was wasting her time on you because you've changed- turned hateful and cold.”
What? You turned down opportunity after opportunity to get out of poverty; all because of your silly notion of being in love with him? Of wanting more than what he can offer you?
You willingly choose to work for scraps, having your ideas used by your boss- to be claimed by them as theirs instead- for advertisements and marketing plots, instead of being pampered on and made a socialite by a rich man. What’s wrong with you? Were you truly foolish enough to believe that love could pay the bills; could be more than enough for you? Were you foolish enough to want the insecurity of love over the security of wealth?
Coriolanus never took you for a foolish girl, but now…well he doesn't know what to think. Why would you hold out hope for him to love you, to pick you, to give you things he's incapable of if you weren't foolish. You knew as well as he did that he has to do certain things to climb to the top, to reach his political goals, and that entering a union of love with you isn't one of those things.
“Waiting around for me to love her; to propose a marriage that would only hinder my political aspirations, makes her one of the biggest fools in Panem, Grandma'am.” Heartlessly shot out of Coriolanus’ mouth before he could think twice. He didn't even recognize his voice, but it truly was his.
“I don't know what happened to you, grandson, to make you so hateful. That girl's loved you ever since the Dark Days and you seemed to love her back, but I now see that you were just using her. Using her like that little songbird of 12 used you up years ago during the 10th Hunger Games.” Grandma’am spat at Coriolanus, causing the hardened young man to just flash her a deadly look. A look that would make most people cower in fear. But, Grandma'am Snow wasn't like most people. She did raise General Crassus Snow after all and he had some of the most hateful pale blue eyes in the Capitol.
Coriolanus' face was cold as stone, his eyes flashing with fury, as he seethed, “Don't you bring up that dead district whore to me, you old bitch. I'll take any of your other ramblings, but not talk about that songbird.”
The disrespect and loathing in her grandson’s tone worried Grandma'am. She's never seen Coriolanus in such a light, but she didn't like it.
Her grandson was nothing like his father. No, Coriolanus was worse than Crassus. Despite being a strict man that believed in totalitarian rulership, Crassus Snow was capable of love. He loved his wife dearly and unconditionally. But his son, well, it seems like Coriolanus has closed himself off to love.
And that scares Grandma'am.
“I think, since you're newly engaged, that it's time for you to find your own penthouse to live in.” The Snow matriarch told her iciscle of a grandson while watching him lean forward to grab another piece of candy from the extravagant candy dish.
Popping the piece of candy into his mouth, Coriolanus simply said, “If that's what you want, then I'll move out.” Standing up, he said, “I'll go call the Plinths' realtor, see if there's any penthouses available in one of the new Luxe buildings downtown.”
No, Coriolanus wasn't going to see if there was a penthouse available in any of the new Luxe buildings, but in your specific building. Because, by living in your building, he'll be able to give you gifts without being stopped by that troublesome doorman with high morals. He'll also be able to fix things with you, get you to see his logic and agree to come back to him. Coriolanus will be able to break you and Odysseus Odair, the Capitol’s biggest manwhore, up before you become too enthralled by him. Before he loses you to him.
Despite denying his feelings for you and calling you a foolish girl for loving him, the thought of you possibly falling in love with somebody else terrifies him. It eats away at his soul, knowing that right know you're probably thinking about the date Odysseus took you on last night.
Coriolanus is jealous that you're moving on (after a damn month!) with somebody that he views unworthy of you. And he's going to put an end to things, make you return to his side.
And the perfect way to do that is living in your building. So, hopefully, Coriolanus can purchase the penthouse in your Luxe complex.
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After a long day at work, you went home and got changed into something comfortable before going across the hall to Odysseus’. You felt a bit nervous knocking on his door. Yes, he did invite you over and said he'd cook dinner for a third date, but it's been a while since you've been invited to a man's apartment. In fact, the last time you went to a man's apartment was the night that you ended things with your ex.
When the door opened, revealing Odysseus in the doorway dressed in a simple tank and shorts, you felt your mouth go dry. His tan skin was glowing, bronze hair effortlessly framing his shoulders in waves. But it was the face splitting smile, brighter than the sun, that took your breath away.
How is it that he can always flash you that smile every time he's around you? Can he truly be that happy to see you? You last saw him a few hours ago for lunch, he couldn't have missed you that much- could he?
“Come on in.” Odysseus urged you, pulling you into the apartment with an excited look on dimples face. “I got shrimp and asparagus risotto on the stove.” He told you, gently closing the door as you walked into his place; taking in the decor.
The decor was nothing like how you expected a modern, upscale apartment to look like. The walls, instead of being the standard white, cream, or light grey that's standard in the building, were different shades of blue and green. Also, you noticed how a pair of hammock-like chairs made up entirely of rope and nets hung from the ceiling. Instead of a sofa, like most people had in their apartments, Odysseus had floor cushions that were shaped to resemble a couch. The coffee table was a chunk of driftwood with glass on it, while the TV was set on a table painted various shades of blue to resemble waves. And the wall decorations of various shells really set off the beachy vibe of the apartment.
“Is this how houses are decorated in District 4?” You asked, standing in the middle of the mainroom- taking everything in.
“Yea.” Odysseus nodded. “Wait until you see the kitchen, you'll love it.” He told you, only to grab your hand and drag you into the kitchen.
The kitchen, that was decorated with mounted fish all over the walls. The beautiful white cabinets had all of their doors taken off. The back walls of the cabinets were painted teal, creating a contrast with the white shelves and frame. And the once white marble countertops were painted (Yes, he painted over marble!) seafoam green. The kitchen island stools looked to be made out of a mix of driftwood and rope, which made you wonder how sturdy they were.
“Sit down, honey. The risotto’s almost done.” Your new boyfriend beamed, guiding you to sit down on one of the stools (that you were iffy about). “You're going to love this risotto; recipe’s a simple one from 4, but it's delicious.” Odysseus told yoy, going over to the stove and stirring the contents in the pan so it wouldn't burn.
“Do you eat anything other than seafood?” You asked, hoping that he did. Honestly, you didn't eat seafood religiously, so if Odysseus did then…well…guess you'll have to deal with it.
“Fish’s healthy for you, Y/N.” The heir to the largest luxury cruiseline out of District 4 told you while taking the risotto pan off of the stove and placing it onto the countertop.
Which was bad, because without a trivet to rest on the heat from the pan can ruin the counter. Does he not give a shit about ruining his counter? Hell, Coriolanus would be having a stroke if you pulled that shit- placing a hot pan on his marble counter without using a trivet.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute, wait a goddamn minute! Why the fuck are you thinking about Coriolanus, your ex, when you're about to have a nice home cooked meal with Odysseus, your current boyfriend? What the hell's wrong with you?
What? Are you going to be that girl that compares apples to oranges in bed too?
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Odysseus’ warm hands skirt across your body as his mouth leaves feather soft kisses all over your skin, but it feels foreign to you. Honestly, you're not used to soft caresses and lightly peppered kisses. Of lips pressing against yours firmly, but faintly. You weren't used to a man swiping the tip of his tongue along your lower lip in a way that was both sensual and questioning all at the same time.
No.
You're used to hungry, sloppy butterfly kisses which turn into bruising bites all over your skin. You're used to cold, rough hands squeezing and grabbing at you. You're used to lips harshly clashing against yours in hungry desperate kisses. Kisses that seemed to be from a man starved and he shoved his tongue down your throat without warning. Desperate kisses that turned into opened mouth ones, complete with spit swallowing, tongue sucking, and bottom lip biting.
You're not used to softness. Instead, you're used to roughness. But perhaps you could get used to softness.
Or at least you tell yourself you'll get used to softness as you lay naked underneath Odysseus, splayed out on the floor cushions, as he languidly rolls his hips against yours. His movements are reminiscent of ocean waves crashing against the shore. His thrusts were slow, but powerful.
You felt like you're going to explode as Odysseus’ mellow movements slowly worked passion into you. Your pussy begged to be pounded, craved for his cock to bruise against the spongy spot inside of it. But instead of brute force, your cunt got gently caressed by Odysseus’ large cock (well, he had the length, but not the girth you're used too. Oh god, are you really comparing your boyfriend's cock to your ex’s cock? Yes, yes you are and you'll probably go to hell for it.) evertime he dragged it against your tight walls, only to push back into you again.
You bucked your hips, whining out, “Faster, Odysseus. Harder, please.”
Odysseus just smiled lazily, making his dimples protrude deeply in his cheeks. Bringing one of his hands up to stroke your cheek, he said, “I see you're not used to making love, honey. But, you'll get used to being worshiped like the goddess you are.”
His words were sweet and sent your heart fluttering a mile a minute. And the smoldering look he gave you as he snapped his hips just a little bit deeper, a little bit harder, for you and your head spinning.
And soon, before you knew it, your cunt’s clamping down around his cock and your nails (no longer crimson, but now a simple French manicure) are digging into his shoulder while you whimper, “Odysseus.” over and over as you cum.
Odysseus after feeling you cum around his cock, coating it in your stick juices, quickly pulled out of you. The feeling of emptiness crashed into you harder than any storm wave hitting a pier ever could as Odysseus knelt between your legs, quickly pumping his cock until he cum with your name on his lips. The feeling of his warm cum spurting out onto your belly made you twitch in surprise. 
You weren't used to having hot cum shoot onto your body, you were used to being filled up with it. Was there a reason why your boyfriend didn't want to cum inside of you?
But before you could ask him, he was pushing himself to stand while announcing, “I'll get you a towel so you can clean up.”
“Okay.” You simply nodded, laying on the floor cushions while spent with white pearl like seed slowly sliding down your stomach.
After a few minutes, Odysseus came back with a towel. He gave it to you, before collecting his shorts and pulling them on. As you cleaned his cum off of your stomach, he gathered your clothes- which you thought was odd.
Coriolanus never gathered your clothes for you after fucking you. No, he used to pull you into his arms; pressing you to lay into his side, while carding his fingers thru your hair. Some times, after a particularly rough and hard fucking, he'd draw a bath for the two of you or he'd hold you in bed while telling you that you did so well; that he was proud of you for not using the safeword- only to remind you that next time if you need to use the safe word (red) that you can and he won't think any less of you.
But you're not with the platinum blonde man (who doesn't give a shit about you, who's engaged to the heir of Panem's biggest bank now) anymore, you're now with a bronze haired man who’s habits you'll just have to learn. Have to get used to.
Flopping down on the seat cushions, Odysseus handed you over your clothes. “I thought you might want to get dressed so you won't be could while we watch tv.”
“You want to watch tv?” You asked, finding it strange that he brought up tv instead of cuddling.
“Yea, there's supposed to be a fishing documentary on soon and I don't wanna miss it.”
A fishing documentary…Of course, he wants to watch something about District 4. Well, you can't fault him for that. He has a tie in a way to the district and just wants to learn all he can about it, since he resides in the Capitol.
Plus, you suppose that you can cuddle with him while watching the documentary together.
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Coriolanus walked behind the realtor (a middle-aged man that Strabo Plinth had on speed dial) as he opened the door to the penthouse suite of the Luxe apartment building that you reside in. “You're in luck, Mr. Snow, that nobody's applied for this unit; that I was able to fit you in for an after hours showing as well.”
“Yes, Mr. Grand, it seems that I'm very lucky that I'm the only one inquiring about this penthouse.” Coriolanus told the realtor, a calculating line of a smile on his face, as he took in the vast space of the main room. 
It was twice as big as the Corso penthouse; surely you'd be impressed by it. This was your building, even if you did live on a lower floor (where the working-poor of the Capitol were), so Coriolanus knew that you’d like his new penthouse once he convinced you to see it. And, despite just starting the tour with the realtor, it was his place.
The platinum blonde master manipulator was going to move in as soon as possible, because it was the only way to get you back. He had to get you away from that peacock Odair before you did something stupid, like let him seduce you and get knocked up. You're not allowed to get knocked up by anyone, other than Coriolanus that is.
Yes, Coriolanus feels that he's the only one that can give you children. Nobody else better put a baby in you, unless they have a death wish.
But unknown to Coriolanus, Odysseus isn't ready for children yet (He may or may not have a few baby mamas and paternity test disputes floating around that his rich daddy Poseidon’s taking care of) which is why he practiced the pull out method with you while ‘making love’ on his floor cushions.
If only Coriolanus knew…well…he'd be having a coronary.
Not about the pullout method (no, that's something he'd be thankful for cause he's the only one allowed to cum inside of you), but about you making love to Odysseus on the floor. That fact right there would make Coriolanus made enough to kill. He's already jealous that you went to dinner with Odair, but if he ever found out that you fucked him…oh boy…it'd be like a throat punch to his ego.
It'd also be a dagger through his cold, dead, black, too small heart that secretly holds love for you. 
But what Coriolanus doesn’t know won't hurt him. Besides, he's engaged to Livia Cardew and should be worried about her, not you. But, no matter what, he'll always worry about you because you're the one he wants in his life- despite driving you away by entering an arranged match for money, power, and glory.
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thewintersoldierdisaster · 10 days ago
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wait was yesterday gunnar’s first 4th of july? 🥺
it was! our little half american/half swedish/all canadian baby is 7.5 months old and celebrating his first fourth of july! 🥹
you and willy and gunnar are having euro summer - sweden and then back to toronto and then back to sweden with a detour to cannes before st tropez for the annual nylander vacation
and you’re thrilled about it, you love seeing willy show gunnar all of his favorite swedish spots and south of france spots plus, it’s a really relaxing trip because there are so many people who want to watch gunnar which gives you and willy plenty of time to spend together
the only thing that’s a little bit of a bummer is that you wanted to bring gunnar back home to beach haven for the fourth, where you have so many good memories of your childhood fourths. there was always a parade in the small town and everything is decorated and the treats are always top notch
(red white and blue ice cream was always your staple for the day when you were a kid - vanilla, strawberry, and blue raspberry that stained your skin for hours. you were looking forward to giving gunnar a taste)
the fireworks on the beach with your family around a fire pit on blankets with s’mores and drinks was your favorite part of the day and bringing gunnar and willy and cuddling with them on the sand would’ve been fun
you’re not feeling overly patriotic this year, your usual enthusiasm tamped down with the state of the world, so maybe it’s not the worst thing that you’re in europe and you don’t have to see the fake patriotism all over social media and the news and you can just focus on spending time with your little family
still, you pack a red white and blue themed outfit for gunnar and a striped sweater for yourself - minimalist patriotism just for your own private celebration
gunnar looks adorable in his gear and you send your parents pictures of him in the firework patterned swim trunks, the little red wings baseball hat your dad had sent (much to willy’s protests), and the classic old navy flag shirt you’d picked up too - for nostalgia’s sake
while you’re in st tropez, camilla puts together a charcuterie board with red white and blue colored foods, grinning when you get emotional at the nod to your nationality
willy knows how much your childhood fourths mean to you so, and you don’t know how he did it, he surprises you with sparklers to light after the sun goes down
“this is really sweet of you,” you murmur, arms looped around his neck, kissing him softly
“it was nothing,” he assures you, hands roaming up and down your back. “just bringing some of the light you brought into my life, into yours.”
it’s enough to make you cry and you bury your face in his chest until willy tickles your sides to make you laugh
he holds gunnar while you light the sparklers, both of their faces lit up in glee with the light they give off. gunnar kicks his legs and freaks out, grabbing for the sparklers while shrieking with laughter
you swap at a certain point, gunnar in your arms while willy waves the sparklers in his face
you keep it up until the supply runs out and then collapse onto one of the outdoor couches, gunnar tucked in between your bodies, your legs draped over willy’s lap
“thank you for today,” you whisper to him, letting gunnar play with your fingers and chew on them
“thank you for this whole year,” willy shoots back and kisses the top of your head
and what a year it’s been, with so much more to come 🤍
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ipso-faculty · 1 year ago
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Infinity symbols: a guide to their variations
Infinity symbols are popular in graphic design for good reason. In this post, I'm gonna describe ways to vary up the designs of infinity symbols. My goal is to educate fellow neurodivergent people on how to make infinity symbols that don't look like the Métis flag.
The neurodiversity community has been using rainbow infinity symbols since 2005. Here are neurodiversity flags from 2013, 2016, and 2019:
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However, there's a problem with some of the new flag designs for a flag that is autism-specific. Here are some of the contenders:
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These use a solid white infinity symbol. The solid white infinity curve is a symbol of Métis.
The Métis flag, created in 1815, has a white lemniscate on red background. Nowadays the Métis use the blue version more often. And to the right is the Métis queer pride flag:
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For those unfamiliar, the Métis are one of the major Indigenous groups in what is now Canada, with most of their >600,000 population in the western and central parts of the country. The word métis means half-breed in French; lower-case m métis refers to those with mixed Indigenous and European ancestry. Capital-M Métis refers to the specific culture of métis that emerged, distinct from both Indigenous and settler cultures, and speaking hybrid languages such as Michif.
The issue of likeness has been brought up many times. While I can believe the autistic flag makers didn't know about the issue when making their designs, I know at least one of them was promptly informed of the issue and dismissed it.
The autistic community writ large has been pretty dismissive about this issue. I wonder if some of the defensiveness comes from not seeing an alternative - thinking that infinity symbol design is all or nothing.
I have some good news: it's possible to make infinity symbols that don't look Métis!
HOW INFINITY SYMBOLS VARY (PART ONE)
ASPECT A: TOPOLOGY
The first way we can categorize infinity symbols is their topology. These four varieties are most common
Topology 1: Open infinity symbol - this is the oldest style of using a figure-8 shape to represent the mathematical concept of infinity. On the left is the version Euler used.
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Topology 2: Lemniscate - a closed curve. On the left is the Metis flag. The curve is one solid entity: notice how the rainbow gradient on the right fills the whole thing.
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Topology 3: Infinity *loop* -  imagine you take a hair tie or rubber band and twist it. One part of the infinity loop is clearly in front, with another part clearly behind it. Loops are well established for neurodiversity and I think we should stick to using these.
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Notice in the left example how the pattern flips between left and right. Also compare the rainbow gradient on the right to the lemniscate rainbow gradient above it. -
Topology 4: Infinity *ribbon* -  instead of a hair tie, use a ribbon. Ribbons have sides, producing an infinity loop that shows two sides.
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ASPECT B: THICKNESS
Line width can vary, which also helps to convey a loop! Again, I think we should be sticking to infinity loops when it comes to autistic/ND designs.
Option 1: Constant Thickness The lemniscate on the Metis flag has a constant line width, as does this neurodiversity rainbow gradient from 2016. I think we should avoid constant thickness.
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Option 2: Variable Thickness A variable thickness can help to reinforce that an infinity symbol is a loop rather than a solid lemniscate. There are a lot of ways to play with line thickness!
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Many neurodiversity infinities are variable thickness and I think we should opt for this to steer clear of Metis territory.
THIS WILL BE CONTINUED IN A SECOND POST (tumblr has a limit of 30 images per post)
But just in case the second post gets lost in reblogs: I think variable thickness, combined with a loop topology, is what we should be using for neurodiversity & autism. E.g.
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CONTINUED IN NEXT POST
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viridwns · 1 year ago
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How does each uppermoon see reader? like what do they see in her. Is she just a piece of meat? is she just nice too look at? do they actually care for her? I would really like to see more interaction with reader and akaza. he treats her so well.
also, I'm not sure if it's obvious but has the reader had sex with akaza and Kokushibo? I think it hinted that she's done it with muzan and Douma. but what about the other two?
Miscommunication
Let me clear some things up for you.
I try to write the characters in character, but if I would really stick to that, my story wouldn't exist. Muzan would've killed the reader on sight. If we're being realistic, none of the demons would 'fall in love' with a human.
I've not deep dived into how the demons see reader, but I'll try my best to explain. Warning: this can be ooc :)
As far as we have seen, our main moons and Muzan do have feelings, but they're all focused on aggression, anger, or jealousy. In exception for Douma, who doesn't feel anything.
But if we drag Nezuko and Tamayo into this, we can see that even demons are capable of caring and even loving.
Only the four mains are...well...red flags and very toxic, so I don't think they experience all those tender emotions the same way. As previously stated, they are driven by intense feelings. Instead of gentle loving and caring, they twist it into owning and keeping alive.
They do care for the reader, just not as a normal person would. They don't like it when she gets hurt when they have no control over it. When they do, they don't see the problem. They'll know she'll heal, and they know exactly what she can take. But if it's out of their hands, who knows what can happen to her. They really, really want her so she has to stay in perfect health for them.
Douma is just a whore for entertainment and reader was perfect for it. He didn't feel anything for her, just found her amusing and time killing while in the infinitycastle and later his cult. If he got bored of her, he would get rid of her. Sure, he thought she was good-looking and wouldn't mind killing some time in bed (he has his needs, just mindless sex), but nothing special. Until Douma just couldn't get enough of her. He found her so amusing. Every sound, movement, or any other reaction drove him crazy. He didn't understand this sort of excitement and the need to just be with her all the time. Douma wanted to feel like this all day, every day. He didn't even realize that maybe this is what having emotion is supposed to be like.
To Douma reader is like a thirst he can't quench. He needs more and more and more of her until he is satisfied, which is never.
Akaza, our only upper who is not just driven by strength, but also by his make shift empathy he seems to have. He felt bad for reader when he first met her. Nothing more, really. He just wanted her suffering to end already. And then it all sort of changed when he saved her from danger. His reality from now got mixed with the reality from his past. He got the sudden need to protect her at all costs and to care for her like he once did for someone else. Reader is a replacement to make a happy ending come true that was robbed of him so many decades ago. She is his second chance.
Kokushibo is focused on his rage, his jealousy. The plaything Douma brought a long did nothing for him. Although...seeing how his two colleagues treated the poor thing, he had to admit it got him a little intrigued. Her fighting them off was the beginning. Kokushibo didn't know why, but he somehow respected her bravery. He wanted to know just how brave she was. The actual 'romantic' feelings came much later, though.
In the beginning, Muzan didn't care for her. She was just a human Douma brought along. Not his concern. She would die eventually. He didn't have time to waste on an inferior being that didn't contribute to his plans. Dear old Muzan did hear Douma's thoughts, though, and that of the rest. Peaking his interest is something not many can do. Now she's earned his time. Muzan doesn't develop real feelings until quite a while. He's just interested in what will happen to reader. But the more he hears the others and the more he spends time with her, the more he wants to keep her all to himself. She interests him, he wants to keep experimenting with her, and no one can say no. Douma can wait with eating her (if he was still planning on that), she needs to satisfy Muzan's curiosity first.
They mostly see her as a plaything, a pet to entertain them and to keep busy. She is there to fill a void all of them got when turning into a Demon.
Now Akaza does treat reader the best, but that doesn't change the fact that he doesn't let her do anything, and I mean anything. She's human, she's fragile, everything can hurt her. He also thinks she can't decide anything on her own. Akaza tells reader what to wear, to eat, and to do. He helps her brush her teeth, grabs things for her, and even spoon feeds from time to time
He's very controlling because he is so scared of loosing her. When he's in control, he'll know exactly what will happen to reader.
Between chapter one and two of the story, they all did it with her. The first was Douma, but that was even before he really got obsessed with her, and the rest wanted her as well. It was only after they made the compromise to share her that the others went to bed with her. When Douma thought it was funny to fuck her brains out for everyone to see, just to show how lovely her reactions were. They couldn't really control themselves, it was like a primal urge hit them.
Kokushibo just...did it. No emotion or foreplay, just pure instinct. Akaza controled himself and talked her through it, slowly sushing her sobs and protests with praises and easing himself into her.
Muzan was the last. He had resisted for a long time because he wouldn't stoop so low and sleep with a human because he couldn't control himself. He wouldn't allow someone weaker than him to have so much control over him. But sometimes, he just snaps when it becomes too much. It's a nice way to forget about his anger and frustrations he found.
It was all noncon in the beginning, but it slowly turned into dubcon as the reader just gave up.
I hope this answers your questions!
As I said it might be a little ooc, but oh well.
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wormchamp72 · 24 days ago
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Bigot Beatdown On the Rocks
So a crazy thing happened while I was in Florida...
I was at a country club lounging by the pool (my grandparents are retired in Florida—I'm not some rich kid, in case you're wondering), soaking up the sun but not swimming because I'm not the swimming type. I was wearing my Jeff the Killer shirt (I made it while my phone was confiscated), drinking Shirley Temples, and just kicking back and relaxing when I noticed a middle-aged man sitting a couple seats down from me.
He was balding and clearly forgot to apply sunscreen, and he had this horrible white goatee—think a washed-up Colonel Sanders with a spray tan. He was giving this one server a hard time, sending back orders even when there was absolutely nothing wrong with them.
"There's ice in this drink! What kind of dim-wit puts ice in a margarita!" the man exclaimed.
"Sir, you asked for a margarita on the rocks," the server said. She was clearly overworked and tired of dealing with this man's BS.
"On. The. ROCKS! That means with salt around the rim! I should know, I took a bartending class in college!" the man screeched.
The woman sighed. "Fine." She took the drink back and brought the man a fresh, iceless margarita.
The man was insatiable. He took one look at the new drink and scoffed. "What's wrong with you?! There's two lime slices in this! The last one had three!" He shot a glare at the server, and his eyes locked on a pin on her jacket. His tone turned from simple arrogance to disgust. "What's that on your jacket? One of those gay brainwash flags?"
Now, let me get one thing straight (no pun intended)—I am a fierce queer ally, and my mom is bisexual, so when I encounter homophobia, I am not one to leave it unchallenged.
The server somehow maintained a straight face, but at this point, my blood was boiling. "Actually, sir, it's a lesbian pride flag. I'm wearing it for pride month."
"Pride month! I don't want your woke PC bullshit shoved down my throat!" He grabbed the margarita and tossed it to the ground. "No wonder the service is so bad here. Just what I'd expect from a place that hires QUEERS."
I couldn't just stand idly by anymore and watch this woman get abused by some entitled man. I leapt from my chair and marched over to this impetuous fool. "Why don't you stop shoving your bigotry down our throats? This hard-working woman has done nothing to deserve this treatment. You've probably never worked a day in your life."
"Bigotry! These LGBT-ABCs are doing nothing but trying to indoctrinate you into their pedophile mafia! Don't you understand, boy?" the man squawked—he was worse than these darn Miami flamingos.
"Oh I understand alright," I said. "I understand that you're a BIGOT who's only hobby is bullying poor service workers trying to do their jobs. And being a fan of Jeff the Killer, there's nothing I hate more than a bully."
The man's face turned beet red. "Well, I'm not leaving until this L*SBO gives me the right drink!"
I smirked wittily. "Oh yeah? We'll see about that."
Just then, I gave him my best Jeff the Killer smile, a time-tested trick I have for scaring off bullies. All the spray-tan color drained from the man's face, and I swear I saw him blink back tears.
"F-fine! But I'm not leaving because I'm scared of you gays! I...I have somewhere else to be!" the man cried indignantly.
"Like a tanning bed?" I retorted.
The man stumbled away, tail tucked between his legs, and left the country club in shame.
After a beat of silence, the server put a hand on my shoulder. "Thanks for that," she said.
"He's been like that all week!" another woman added from the pool.
"Thank goodness for heroes like you," an elderly man with an ally pin on his shirt said.
I was baffled. All I'd done is stand up for what I believe in—isn't that what anyone would do? "Hero? I wouldn't go that far."
"It's okay," the server said. "We will."
Before the server could leave, I pulled out my wallet to pay my tab. The server shook her head. "Pay? For you, it's on the house."
"I insist!" I said, but she wouldn't take it. "Well, at least let me say I like your pin."
"Thanks, my girlfriend got it for me," she said. As I turned to leave, she nodded towards my shirt. "Hey...nice shirt."
Just then, I noticed a Jeff the Killer pin below her lesbian pride pin. I nodded back with a knowing smile.
"Us Creepypasta fans always have to look out for each other," she said.
"Whether you're a member of the Creepypasta fandom or the LGBTQ+ community, you shouldn't have to deal with people telling you you're lesser for it," I said solemnly.
"Jeff the Killer would be proud," she said.
I turned and left the country club, noticing a few thankful nods from fellow patrons and staff. I admit my heart did swell with pride a bit—and I left with a spring in my step, knowing I'd made the world a better place.
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insanityclause · 5 months ago
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As the third of Jamie Lloyd's three-in-a-row Shakespeare adaptations, Much Ado About Nothing is as bright and engaging as the other two were ill-judged and boring.
The radical revisionist's take on Romeo & Juliet brought in young audiences thanks to the casting of Spider-Man star Tom Holland. But it was devoid of scenery and passion, and in its stark black-and-whiteness with sudden splashes of blood red it was derivative of the director's stunning Sunset Boulevard minus that show's dramatic heft.
Then came The Tempest, which, some comic business aside, was even bleaker and more barren, and featured Sigourney Weaver as Prospero in a performance that felt phoned-in.
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Like his other Shakespeares, Lloyd's version of Much Ado About Nothing doesn't have much in the way of scenery - just a table and chairs and a giant red heart, the walls and wings of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane's stage laid bare.
There are no costume changes either, unless you count Tom Hiddleston ripping open his shirt to reveal abs of steel.
What the director's third bash at The Bard does have is Hiddleston's magnificent flair for comic timing as Benedict, a solider back from battle, and Hayley Atwell's cleverly conflicted turn as Beatrice, who is engaged in her own war with Benedict.
In this gloriously giddy take, the alliterative pair are sparring partners who insist on bitching and bickering when it's clear they are made for each other.
Meanwhile, everyone around them is meddling in the forthcoming nuptials between lovesick Hero and her suitor Claudio, while bumbling constable Dogberry is nowhere to be seen; he's been completely cut in a streamlined two-hour show that only flags a little when things take a dark turn at the start of act two.
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Dance classics from the 90s are pumped into the auditorium before it starts. Pink confetti is all over the stage and rains down from the rafters. Benedict and his bros come on to Fight For Your Right To Party in an hilarious bit of dad dancing.
There's a masked ball with giant animal heads that could have been borrowed from The Masked Singer's prop room. Mason Alexander Park's Margaret belts out a song or two.
It's like a hen party, stag night, wedding and reception all rolled into one, and it's an absolute blast. Everyone in the cast is having a ball, with Hiddleston and Atwell as energised leaders of the pack. He's a peacock milking the audience for applause as he spoofs his heartthrob image, she's a spitfire with a supreme skill at making Shakespeare's words sound thoroughly modern.
What emerges is an amusing musing on their reluctance to give in to love, in an absolutely fabulous night at the theatre where everyone is encouraged to get up and dance at the end. Purists will probably hate it, but I loved it. 
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
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bm571158 · 5 months ago
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Free Now LN4 (Part 32)
By what felt like some kind of miracle, by the start of the second practice session the mechanics had located the leak and were starting the tedious process of putting Lando's car back together in the hope of getting him out on the track before the end of the session.
He had reappeared back in the garage as they were putting the final few bits on to the car to get it ready, race suit on and helmet it in hand with his Dad trailing behind him. By the time he reached where Lottie was sitting, he'd already got his helmet on and was pulling his gloves on, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder as he passed her and quickly made his way to get in the car, eager not to miss out on any more practice time than he already had.
A couple of minutes later the car pulled out into the pit lane, disappearing out of view as he headed out onto the track. Lottie smiled at Lando's Dad as he walked over to join her. "Hi, Adam."
"Hi, Lottie." He smiled, pulling up a chair to sit beside her as the two of them watched the screen in front of them. "I'm sorry about earlier, Flo called me."
"He's stressed, I get it." Lottie nodded sympathetically. "Where was he?"
"I don't know." Adam admitted. "I was looking everywhere for him and only ran into him on the way back here to find you. I've got no idea where he went, it's not that easy for him to hide around here."
"Do you think he's going to be okay?" Lottie asked hesitantly.
"Well, the car is working now. That's a good start." Adam shrugged. "He's driven round here before at least, and they'll have the data off the other car as a starting point."
"How is he feeling about it?"
"I don't know." Adam admitted. "He didn't say a word to me on the way over here. He's uh... he's different this year. I don't think any of us realised how much all that at the end of last year had affected him."
"He puts a lot of pressure on himself." Lottie agreed quietly. "He thinks he's letting everyone down if he doesn't win."
Before Adam could answer her, there was an annoyed groan from the team in the garage behind them, and Lottie and Adam looked up to find that Lando's car was stopped on the track, causing a red flag.
After a few moments he climbed out of the car, apparently unable to get it restarted, kicking the wheel in frustration before he walked off shaking his head.
"Shit." Lottie and Adam sighed in unison. The garage behind them was a hive of activity as the team started discussing what might be wrong, and what they were going to do to try and fix it now. People were combing through the data in an attempt to find the source of the issue, others already heading out into the pit lane ready to retrieve the car as it was hoisted onto a trailer to be brought back to the garage.
The camera shot panned to Lando, sitting on the other side of the barrier, still wearing his helmet but even without being able to see his face Lottie could tell from his body language quite how miserable he was.
"Something tells me this may not be the happiest of weekends." Adam sighed. "It'll take him a little while to get back, I think. You might want to give him a little bit of time to cool off. I can walk you back to the hospitality if you like? I'll tell him come and find you once he's sorted things out here."
"Yeah, okay." Lottie agreed, because there was very little point in her sitting in the garage if nothing was happening. "Thank you."
"No worries, come on." Adam stood up, holding out a hand to Lottie to help her up. "I'm sure you could probably do with having a sit down and getting some rest. Cisca's been asking after you."
"I'm alright." Lottie promised as she got up, taking a minute to get her balance on her feet before she walked slowly towards the exit, Adam following closely behind her.
"You definitely look like you're getting better on your feet." He agreed. "Just make sure you don't over do it this weekend. He'll be a while, sit down and get some rest."
"I will." Lottie promised as the two of them slowly made their way back to the McLaren hospitality.
"I'm going to go back and see if I can find out what's going on." Adam told her, leaving her at the door. "I'll let Lando know where you are, I'm sure he'll come and find you when he's done."
"Okay." Lottie agreed, stifling a yawn. "Thanks."
She wandered inside and made her way into Lando's drivers room so she could have a lie down for a bit while she waited for him. As much as she had been trying to tell everyone that she was fine, it had been a long day and Adam really had been right when he said that she needed to get some rest.
His drivers room looked like a bomb had gone off as she stepped inside, and clearly at some point during the delay when they'd been trying to fix his car he had been in there. The room had been clean and tidy when she had left with him that morning, but now his clothes were strewn across the floor, a couple of things that were usually on the shelf above the bed were lying on the floor broken where she assumed they'd been thrown in frustration. The mirror on the wall opposite where she was sitting had a small crack in the bottom left hand corner, a shoe sitting below it presumably the cause.
She quietly picked the clothes up, hanging them in the small wardrobe and then picked up the other items and placed them back on the shelf so that the room looked a bit better. Then she pulled on one of his hoodies, the air conditioning in the hospitality making it much colder than outside, and laid herself down on the bed to have a rest while she waited for him to come back.
She fell asleep quite quickly, tired from the busy day and all the previous nights of broken sleep. When she eventually woke, Lando was shuffling around the small room getting changed.
"Sorry." He mumbled. "I was trying to be quiet."
"It's okay." Lottie mumbled, stretching her aching limbs. "What time is it?"
"Nearly five." He told her, tugging his shirt over his head as he kicked his shoes off. "I'll take you back now, if you want?"
"Are you not done?" She asked, although she should have known from the grim expression on his face what the answer was going to be.
"I'll drop you off and come back, I want to stay until I'm sure they actually know what the problem is this time." He told her.
She wanted to try and reason with him, that there was nothing to be gained by him exhausting himself standing in the garage all night watching the team work. It wasn't going to be something that he could personally fix, and the team were not going to work any harder with him standing over them all night. She somehow doubted looking at the anxious frown line on his forehead and the tense set of his shoulders that he was going to listen to her though.
"I can ask someone else to take me home, or get a taxi if you're busy?" She offered, slowly getting up. "I don't want to hold you up."
"It's fine, I'll drop you off so I know you got home safe and then come back. It won't take long." He reassured her, pulling his shorts back on before he slipped his feet into his trainers. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much today, it's been a really shit weekend."
"I don't know if you can say it's been a shit weekend. It's only Friday." Lottie joked.
"I know." Lando groaned. "Don't remind me."
She opened her mouth to tell him it was all going to be okay, but stopped herself before the words could slip out. He didn't want to hear it, and he wouldn't believe it so there was very little point in saying it. The truth was, neither of them really knew what was going to happen and whether the team would be able to fix things in time. There was no way to know how the weekend was going to go.
"Alright, are you ready?" Lando asked, standing in front of her.
"Yeah." Lottie nodded, getting up. His hands automatically fell to her waist to steady her as she stood, his hold on her tightening as she went to step away from him. She stopped, giving him a questioning look.
"I'll make sure I'm not home too late." He said softly. "I am sorry."
"It's alright." She said softly, her hands landing on his shoulders, fingers gently working over the tense muscles of his shoulders.
"It's not alright." He sighed.
"Don't worry about it now." Lottie suggested. "Let's just get through this weekend and see how things go?"
"Shit, that's how things are gonna go." He sighed, resting his forehead against her shoulder.
"You don't know that." She reminded him. "I know it's not been a good start, but it doesn't mean that tomorrow is going to be the same."
"Let's just get you home and I'll come back and see what the damage is." He suggested, unwilling to accept her suggestion that it may not be an absolute disaster. He couldn't see any scenario in which the weekend didn't turn out to be an absolute disaster, despite Lottie's relentless positivity.
She didn't argue with him, just talking his outstretched hand and allowing him to lead her out of the room and towards the exit. The hospitality area downstairs was quiet, she imagined most of the team still hard at work, and they quietly headed out into the paddock both lost in their own thoughts.
As they walked through the paddock hand in hand, the swarm of fans that gathered as they spotted Lando became larger and larger, until the two of them had to stop walking because there was literally nowhere to go.
"Guys..." Lando protested, various caps and shirts being thrust in front of him to be signed, cameras appearing from all directions as people tried to get photos. He was wishing he'd brought one of the McLaren team with him, they were always good at keeping people out of the way. "Guys, we really need to go. I'm sorry." He tried again.
Before he could try and push his way though though, someone knocked in to Lottie and sent her flying to the floor. They hadn't knocked into her partially hard, but she was far from steady on her feet and by the time she'd realised she was falling it was too late to save herself and she was already hitting the floor.
"Shit, Lottie. Are you alright?" Lando asked, kneeling down on the floor beside her before she'd even really had a chance to process how she'd ended up on the floor in the first place.
"Ouch." She mumbled, holding up her palms to look at them, the skin all grazed from where she'd put her hands out to break her fall.
Lando turned to the small crowd of people still hanging around. "Can you all please just go away now?" He snapped. "I'm not signing anything else."
With that, the crowd dispersed and they all scurried off, leaving Lottie sat awkwardly on the floor with Lando looking at her. "Are you alright?" He asked again, eyes raking over her as if inspecting for damage.
"I might need a minute." She groaned, because as the shock of hitting the floor wore off, everything was really starting to hurt. She'd hit the floor and taken the full impact on her injured side, landing on all the metalwork that was pinning her leg back together.
"Can we get you up off the floor and sit you down somewhere for a minute?" Lando suggested, glancing around conscious of the fact that there were quite a few sets of eyes, and no doubt cameras, on them. He knew she'd end up being upset if it was plastered all over the internet later.
"I don't know if I can." She mumbled, biting her lip as she tried to blink back tears. "Shit..." her breath came in short, uneven gasps, the tears now streaming freely down her face.
"It's alright, you're alright." He said softly, glancing around for someone to come and help. "Carlos!" He yelled, loudly enough that half a dozen other people also turned to look at him, but the Spaniard did break into a jog, heading over to them.
"What's going on? Are you okay?" Carlos asked, arriving beside Lando.
"Can we just get her up off the floor and get out of here so these people aren't all looking at us?" Lando asked, giving Carlos a pleading look.
"Sure." Carlos nodded. "What happened?"
"Someone knocked into me." Lottie choked out. "I'm sorry, I couldn't catch myself in time."
"It's not your fault." Lando reassured her. "I can't believe the way they all crowded round. Well, I can... but you'd think they'd have a little bit more respect."
"Can we go to that bench over there?" Carlos suggested, pointing behind them. "Or Williams is just down there if you want to get out of the way?"
Lando looked down at the Williams hospitality, and back at Lottie, as if trying to do the maths on what would be easier.
"If we can get down there it might be better." Lando agreed. "Alright, are you ready Lottie?"
She nodded, biting on her lip as Lando and Carlos grabbed an arm each and pulled her up, a quiet cry of pain escaping her. As soon as she was on her feet, Carlos grabbed her crutch and handed it to her. Lando kept his arm wrapped firmly around her waist, not about to run the risk of her hitting the floor again.
"Can I do something?" Carlos asked as Lottie took an uncertain and painful looking step forward. He stepped forward with them, hands outstretched as if ready to catch her.
"I can do it." She mumbled, taking another painful step forward.
"Maybe we should take you to the hospital?" Lando suggested uncertainly, looking at her as she struggled to put her weight on her leg.
"It's fine, just give me a minute to get over it. It just really hurt." She mumbled, hobbling along a couple more steps beside him. "And you need to get back to the garage."
"Oh I don't care about the fucking car at this point." He waved a hand dismissively. "Let's just worry about getting you home first."
They reached William's fairly easy, Lando and Carlos helping her sit down on a chair outside.
"Can you stay here for a minute, mate?" Lando asked Carlos. "I'll run back and grab my dad."
"Sure." Carlos nodded, pulling up a chair to sit down opposite Georgie.
Lando leant in to give her a quick kiss, then ran off back towards McLaren, calling "I'll be quick!" Over his shoulder as he disappeared.
"Are you alright?" Carlos asked quietly. "Do you need something?"
"I'm alright." Lottie nodded. "Embarrassed and a bit sore but I don't think anything is broken."
"It's not been a good weekend for you guys, no?" Carlos smiled sympathetically.
"No, it's maybe not been the best." Lottie agreed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She had half a mind to ask Carlos if her makeup was halfway down her face, but he was so nice he'd probably lie and tell her it looked fine.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Carlos asked again.
"You're as bad as Lando." Lottie joked. "I think I'm fine, I might just be a bit sore for a few days. I'll be fine once I get home and lie down."
"Alright." Carlos nodded. "I don't know if Lando will be as easy to convince. He really likes you, he worries about you."
"He worries too much, I think." Lottie answered.
"It's nice he's found someone." Carlos shrugged. "He was so stressed at the end of last year. It's nice he's got you to support him now."
"Except when I'm making a fool of myself and falling over." She joked.
"Does sound like you just fell over of your own accord to me." Carlos pointed out. "Either way, it's nice to see him happy."
"He'll be happier if the team fix his car I think." Lottie sighed.
"They'll fix it." Carlos told her confidently. "They're a great team. They'll do whatever they need to do to make it work for him tomorrow. I'm sure of it."
"Can you convince Lando of that?" She asked. "I'm not sure he's feeling as confident as you are."
"He always sees the worst in every situation." Carlos told her, giving her a knowing look. "We were teammates, we've been friends for a long time. I know how he thinks, it's just how he deals with it. He will be fine."
"I hope so." Lottie agreed quietly.
It didn't take long for Lando to reappear, this time with his dad in tow, the two of them wearing matching expressions of concerns.
"I'm fine, Lando." Lottie reassured him as he opened his mouth to ask if she was okay again. "Can we please just get home so I can lie down for a bit?"
"Are you going to be alright to walk?" Adam asked, looking back and forth between her, Lando and Carlos.
"I think so." She nodded, taking Carlos's outstretched hand as he pulled her to her feet. She bit on her lip hard enough draw blood as she tried to suppress a groan of pain, her entire body protesting. It was definitely going to hurt in the morning.
"Thanks, Carlos." She forced a smile as she took an awkward, uncomfortable step towards Lando. He immediately wrapped his arm around her to support her.
"Alright, let's go." He nodded. "Thanks, Carlos."
"I'll see you tomorrow." Carlos called. "Take care, Lottie."
"How are they getting on with the car?" Lottie asked as the three of them slowly made their way towards the exit.
"What?" Lando looked at her blankly.
"The car?" Lottie repeated. "Have you heard if they've fixed it?"
"I don't know. Let's just think about getting you home now and I'll worry about that later." Lando sighed. "It doesn't matter."
"It does matter." She protested.
He didn't answer her, just guiding her gently in the direction of the exit. "Are you alright? Do you need to stop and have a rest?" He asked. "Dad's going to go and pull the car around." He handed his car key to his dad who set off towards the car park.
"Let's just keep going." Lottie got out through gritted teeth. It was like torture taking each step, the whole side of her body aching with each movement, but she knew if she stopped she wasn't going to want to get started again and she still needed to get home.
By the time they'd reached the exit, Adam had arrived with the car, leaving the engine running as he got out to open the passenger door for Lottie.
"Thanks, Dad." Lando shot him a grateful smile.
A quiet groan escaped Lottie as Lando helped her into the car, the seated position in the car being more uncomfortable than standing up as she was forced to bend her leg.
"It won't take us long to get back, I'll be quick." Lando promised, closing the door and jogging back around to the other side. He stopped beside his dad, poised to get back in the car. "Can you go back to the garage and find out what's going on? I was going to drop Lottie off and then come back but..."
"I'll go." Adam nodded. "Get Lottie home and let me know if you need anything. I'll call you when I have an update."
"Thanks, Dad." Lando jumped in the car, closing the door behind him as his dad turned to head back into the paddock. "Alright, let's get you home."
Lottie was quiet on the way back to Lando's place, and he kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to check that she was okay. She still hadn't said a word when he parked the car up at home, getting out of the car and going to help her out.
"Alright, are you ready?" He asked when she made no attempt to move.
"No." Lottie admitted. "It really fucking hurts."
"Alright, come on." Before she could protest, he'd scooped her up out of the car, just like he had that first night at Flo's, setting off across the car park to the elevator.
"Lando, put me down." Lottie protested. "I can walk."
"Not gonna happen." He shook his head. He wasn't about watch her grimace with each step that she took, not when it was his fault that she'd been knocked over and was in pain in the first place.
He quite impressively managed to navigate unlocking and opening the front door, carrying her straight through to the bedroom before he eventually set her down on the bed, kneeling down to take her shoes off for her.
"Lando." She sighed, fingers running through his hair as he knelt in front of her. "Lando, I'm okay. It's fine." She reassured.
"It's not fine." He muttered unhappily, fingers trailing up her leg, hitching her skirt up so he could see the grazed skin of her leg, the skin already turning purple as it bruised. Then he captured her hands, looking at her grazed palms. "We need to clean these up."
"It's fine." She repeated softly. "I need to have a shower anyway, it'll all wash off."
"Come on, if you want to shower I'll help you." He suggested, getting to his feet.
"I can walk to the bathroom." She protested.
"I know." He told her. "But it's my fault that you got hurt, so let me take care of you."
"It's not your fault, Lando." She said softly, making her way to the bathroom with him following behind her, watching her every move like a hawk.
"It is." He muttered unhappily. "If I hadn't have been there with you, then they wouldn't have knocked into you."
"Stop." She told him firmly, watching as he reached over to turn the shower on, already stripping out of his clothes. "Not everything is your fault. Accidents happen and I'm okay."
He didn't answer her, just watching as she slowly undressed herself, eyes following the colourful bruising that was already spreading across her skin.
"Lottie, I-"
"Shhh." She cut him off, shaking her head. "It's okay, I'm okay." She stepped in to the shower, pulling him in with her. The two of them standing facing each other under the warm spray of the water. She turned her palms up to the water, allowing the spray to wash the dirt off her grazed palms.
Lando's eyes were still on her bruised hip, his fingers gently tracing over the grazed, broken area of skin from where she'd hit the floor.
"It's okay." She repeated quietly.
"I just.... I..." he stumbled over the words, unable to form a sentence that actually expressed how he was feeling. His eyes filling with tears that blended in with the spray of the shower as they ran down his face.
"We're okay." Lottie repeated, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "It's just been a bad day, that's all. Tomorrow will be a better day."
"What if it's not?" Lando asked quietly.
"Then we'll worry about it tomorrow." She suggested.
"I can't do this, Lottie." He whispered, his voice breaking as he said the words. "I can't. It's all going wrong." The tears were flowing freely down his face now, mixed with the water droplets from the shower.
"It's going to be okay." She reassured him. "They're going to fix the car, they've got all night to sort it out."
"And then next week something else will go wrong." He muttered unhappily. "And then the weekend after that..."
"It will if you think about it like that." She sighed. "One step at a time, alright? Let's just get some rest, you can call your dad and see what the update on the car is, or you can go back and see how they're getting on yourself."
"I'm not leaving you here on your own." He answered immediately.
"I'll be fine, Lando." She repeated yet again. "It's just a bit of a bruise. I'm a bit sore, but that's it. You can absolutely go and check how they're getting on if it means that you might actually get some sleep tonight instead of worrying about it."
"I'll call Dad in a minute." Lando told her. "I'm not leaving you."
"Alright." She agreed, because arguing with him seemed futile. She was never going to convince him to go now that he had set his mind to it. "I'm just going to wash my hair and then I'll lie down for a bit."
Lando was quiet for a minute, watching as she lathered the shampoo in her hair. "I think you should stay at home tomorrow."
"You're being ridiculous. I am fine."
"I'd feel a lot better if you stayed at home and got some rest." He told her, pausing for a second as she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. "Please, Lottie."
She hesitated before answering him, she wanted to be there to cheer him on and offer some support, but she wasn't sure if her insisting on being there was just going to cause him even more stress. "Let's talk about it tomorrow? In the morning?" She suggested. "Let's just get some rest for tonight, yeah?"
"Okay." He agreed quietly.
21 notes · View notes
love-toxin · 1 year ago
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hi! hello! just wanna say that i will give Tsung, Mel, Seóirse, Makoi, Adrain and Shura the most sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, life changing, death dropping, flabbergasting, hypnotizing, heavenly, astonishing, leg trembling, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, leg shaking, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing head. (not my words, but i live by them.)
let's explore this anon :)
(cws: gn!darling, bullying, humiliation kink, orgasm denial, "dubcon" but not really, spit, teasing, gagging, extended cum release™, name-calling, dom/sub dynamics)
Tsung Lý
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"Please please please please ple--please--fuck-!"
Tsung could never just shut up when you were doing your thing. God forbid you ever wanted to get frisky with him outside the bedroom, he'd probably alert the whole city to your activites and you'd have to deal with your boyfriend getting all scared and fidgety when you were just trying to get some.
"Shut up." You huffed as you brought your head up, mouth slick and lips swollen from the treatment you'd been giving him. "You're too loud."
"I'm s-sorry, baby." Tsung's whines only served to irritate you more. He was such a wimp. That quivering lower lip--no wonder everyone thought of him as a freak. You gave him a tough squeeze and he doubled over on himself, shoulders shaking as he gripped your head and tried desperately not to make a sound. The slow, wet strokes of your fist up his soaked cock filled the air with hushed, laborious breathing from his panting chest. You wanted desperately to mock him for being so hard again, but that would undoubtedly only make him hornier.
"I-I...I wanna cum-"
"You can't."
"Please."
You rolled your eyes, and wordlessly, you stuck your head back down and nuzzled it into his lap, your hair sliding through his fingers as he babbled out some plea that soon melted into nothing more than a cry of pleasure. The moment your lips touched his cock, all thought was out the window.
"Please, baby!" He cried hoarsely, desperately begging with every stroke of your tongue on his spit-soaked length. "I-I'm gonna die! Lemme cum, please, ple-hease!"
As much as you wanted to remind him "You're not gonna die from getting sucked off" it wouldn't make a difference anyways. Tsung's fingers tightened around your head, he bucked once, and he was in your throat--miles and miles deeper in than he could handle without creaming it up like a milk carton exploding.
"Glk-!" The sound of your gagging only made him stiffen up more as he came. While your nails digging into his thighs surely hurt, Tsung's grip just tightened on your head and he wouldn't let you up--in the heat of the moment, apologies spilled off his lips for his terrible indiscretion of holding your head down while he beat your poor throat raw with needy thrusts. All that filled your ears was the wet shlucking of his cum filling your throat, lubing him up to glide with relative ease despite how tight you were clenching around him. "It's like fucking one of your other holes. It hurts. It feels so good. I love you!"
Over a minute later, you finally managed to pry yourself off of his lap with a bout of coughing and gasping desperately for air. The slime that coated your mouth all the way down tasted of nothing but salt on your tongue, while Tsung laid back as gutless as ever, pale thighs shaking gently as his cock continued to spurt little jets of milky-white pearls all over himself.
"F-Fffelt so good..." He gasped as if risen from the dead, though Tsung could still barely move since he was still--still!--cumming. And he wondered why you made him wait for his orgasms. Because of this.
"Making a goddamned mess." You muttered with a hoarse throat, yet your mouth started to wet as you watched his jerky thrusts into empty air. Salivating. Drooling over a preppy freak that you found humping your pillow, and just took ownership of him since he praised the ground you walked on anyways. Tsung was a million walking red flags, and he was a creep that obsessed over you so much he basically developed a crazy sex habit cause of you. Because you're so "perfect" in his words.
You laid your head on his thigh and watched his quivering slowly draw to a close, the cum stop bubbling up, and his breathing finally even out. A series of sticky little puddles soaked into your sheets below him, the dip of his stomach, the tip where it all collected--you leaned in to lap it up and wriggled your tongue against his slit, which earned you a yelp and a desperate hand on your shoulder like he wanted you to stop. As if. The sensitivity was just a bit much.
"C-Can't do another-"
"Yes you can." You gripped his thick shaft with slick fingers, each one wetted with your spit as you let a glob of it drool out of your mouth. "You ruined it for me, try it again."
"Nooooo-" He moaned weakly and squirmed, but wouldn't pull your wrist away from him. It was all just an act, a show, and loathe as you were to give him a compliment he was an incredible actor. He could even turn your focus away from the gleam in his scarlet eyes at the thought of being touched again, of being forced to cum again, but as good as he was at pretending nothing could hide how easily he grew stiff in your hand again. Tsung shed tears as you started your strokes and began the process anew...yet you were certain that the second he got the chance, he would take over and cum in your mouth without permission, again. Again, and again, and again--that's how it always went, right up until he couldn't take your magnificent torture anymore and passed out cold and sticky.
This little freak was so fucking dead--once you worked up the stamina to punish him properly, that is.
(cws: gn!darling, brat taming, cockwarming, choking, lazy sex, extra spicy teasing)
Mel Mimiya
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Mel had so little pomp and circumstance in matters of carnal pleasure--if he hadn't explained his reasons to you, you would've thought he simply couldn't be bothered to put in the same effort with you that he gave to his clients at the hybrid club. For them he would purr, and stretch, and jingle around in that little bell collar, tending to every one of their needs with a smile and a sweet voice.
But at home he was an animal, and nothing more. He humped your face with urgent vigour some days, while others he laid back and let you bring yourself to all the heights you pleased while he watched. Though no matter what, he always looked at you as though you held the world. Today was no exception.
It had been quite the long day, however. Mel was tired. Lazy. Hadn't gotten enough of a nap on his break. Now, he was taking it out on you--his adorable partner that really missed him while he was out.
"Use your tongue," He murmured amongst his nest of blankets, all laid out like some prince on his royal bed. "Lick it slow, sweetie. Had a long day."
Only half-listening, you proceeded with your plan of working him right down your throat--while his day was long and full of exertion, yours was long and occupied with nothing but thoughts of going home and going to town on your catty boyfriend. He put you in your place the minute you had him in your mouth, though. Mel flicked your forehead gently as you choked down all his inches at once, forcing you to start and pull back off with a cough. "Slow, I said. You're such a little shit-stirrer." He chided, laughing in that breathy, nearly hoarse voice of his that made your stomach twist in knots. "So needy."
"You like it." You pouted, flicking out your tongue to at least get a taste of him, which he would've paid for dearly if he hadn't allowed it.
"I do." Mel reached down and ruffled your hair with a loving, gentle touch. God, his smile could spin gold, undoubtedly. "But I'm tired, baby."
"Then let me help you relax." Your fingers squished as they wrapped around his length, your slow strokes coaxing a whine out of his throat that made him tilt back his chin in pleasure. You watched with giddy glee at his lithe tail coming alive to loosely wrap around your forearm as you did so.
"You don't even know the meaning of the word," Mel gasped, but once again, you weren't listening. Your attention was zeroed in on the way his slit pooled with a clear liquid, the little puddle atop his cock gleaming in the dim lights you turned down to set the mood. "Don't ignore me. I know you can hear me."
His stern tone really didn't do as much when he could barely keep his voice from cracking, nor his hips from squirming away from the stimulating touch of your hand. The second flick of your tongue sent him reeling, and his ringed fingers grasped at the sheets with the softest, whiniest "myaow!".
"Good kitty." Your moan rumbled right through his lap, your lips far too eager to take him in despite how squirmy he was already.
"B-Bad human," Mel gasped right back. The glower on his face right then would scare off any prey--but you had something you wanted, and only the utterance of his safe word would keep you from getting it. He so rarely used it though, because he really just liked being a tease. "You need a leash." His last syllable ended on a groan that sent delectable shivers all down your spine. "A muzzle, too."
Just to show him what you really needed, you twisted your grip at the base and made his hips buck, incidentally plowing past the roof of your mouth with a deep hiss. Mel's tail flicked to and fro while he squeezed his eyes shut, only for one of those violet irises to squint down at you with a growl at the sight he beheld. Your lips pressed right against the flattest dip of his belly, thin, dark hairs tickling your nose where you'd seated yourself. Mel couldn't help but watch with held breath as your face grew darker and hotter the longer you kept yourself down; yet you wouldn't come up for air until the very last moment you had to.
Both his furry ears twitched with delight and a sense of pride, to say nothing of the utter heat you brought on by enveloping his entire length in such a tight, soft hole that kept spasming and pulsing around him the longer you warmed him.
Mel's fingertips brushed the hair from your eyes to see you better. The vision of you like this, for him, would never fail to remind him of all he had to be grateful for--even when the moment was broken by you frantically yanking your head back and coughing as he slid out from your lips, your head obviously spinning from the deprivation as you immediately took a minute to clear your throat--and catch your breath, of course. You knelt there with a hand on your chest, huffing and puffing ad nauseum, until a peal of clear laughter rung out and Mel flopped back into the sheets.
"You're way too cute. Try again--take a deep breath this time, sweetie. Let's train those lungs of yours, ah?"
(cws: gn!darling, size difference, bondage, cock worship, soft -> rough, selkie heat cycles in action)
Seóirse Braonain
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"Baby, you're gonna break the bed."
Seóirse was aghast. How you could blitz him with one of the wettest, sloppiest, bone-rattling orgasms he'd had in his life, and expect him not to start going numb and dazed and flailing about when you started back up all over again...it was criminal. It was foul.
But it was something he needed desperately, as humiliated as he was to admit it. He was a creature that desired pleasure, as many were, but more particular he was than that--he needed pleasure from you, or else what was the point of even living? If your attention wasn't on him, what the hell did he even wake up in the mornings for?
There were caveats to that, though. For one, Seóirse was big. Like, big. So in order to make sure he didn't rip a hole in your throat, or choke you to the point of collapsing one of your lungs...
...You had to come to this humiliating conclusion. He had to be tied down like an animal, bound at the wrists and ankles--subdued--and only then would you get down on your knees and service him as if it were your only job in the world.
And the worst part was that you were right. Deep down, when you had your hands on his thighs like you did right now, and you were teasing his third leg with those dastardly kitten licks? All Seóirse wanted to do was grab your head in his enormous hands and thrust. He wanted your belly pumped so full of cum he could see it swell. He wanted you to cough out his seed for a week after he was done.
But he wanted to be a good boy, and he didn't want to hurt you. So he let you tie him up to the bed, and he tried, god, he tried not to let his strength overwhelm you as you played with his cock in your soft hands.
"Mwah," Another kiss pecked so delicately to his tip, which had already flushed so dark it was nearly purple. The blood that rushed to his privates in heated moments like these always made his mind fuzzy--it made it so much harder for him to think straight, which was why he usually tried to enter you when he was only half-soft. That was....lower down, though. Your mouth was different. Much different. He could stand completely at attention and not hurt you, not even have to worry about stretching you too much or going too deep, especially when he was tied up as he was right now.
But the problem was you. When he could see that determination in your eyes, the grin on your lips, the way you poised yourself over his legs and looked at him like he was a treat?
Oh, he was completely done for.
Your lips pressed together in a soft line, glossy and wet from your own spit and the water wetting his skin from his latest swim. You always teased that he tasted of saltwater, but it never seemed to bother you--nor did the sudden, weighty shift of his erection as it twitched, excited from the warm air you puffed against it. You laughed and your eyes sparkled, and your kiss...it soon turned into more.
Seóirse watched with wide eyes as you moved to swallow the tip, how your lips managed to stretch around the blubbery flesh without pause. You were getting good at this. Your nostrils flared with a soft inhale to prepare, and you bobbed your head down--far enough that it was only an inch or two, but enough for his arms to strain against the buckles in an instinctive desire to ensure you were okay.
"M-My love?" He tensed, fist closing and releasing suddenly at the pulse of your heart around him. You merely glanced up at him and winked with a soft stroke to his inner thigh. I'm okay. That's what your gestures told him, though could he be blamed when his own size was the reason you had to train yourself to take him? He knew he would see a bulge in your throat soon, and once you fit a little more in it appeared, and he suddenly started having a much harder time just staying still.
His left foot yanked on the leather cuff around it as he writhed, the material squeaking wretchedly against his skin as his body jerked of its own accord. Your mouth was just so warm. Your tongue slaked over each vein with loving precision, every sensitive cell in his body crying out in the face of your unwavering worship. He wished so badly to be half the size just so he could ravish you without restriction, so that these damned restraints could be thrown out and he could fuck you and ravage your body like-
Cree-aack!
Seóirse's eyes flitted from you, to his left wrist, and back to you again. The cuff, once attached by a chain and padlock to the corner of the bedframe, still hung snug and tight around his giant wrist. However, the wooden pillar of his bedframe had snapped off completely, leaving the broken piece to fall and tumble to the floor by the bed with a clatter, leaving the chain to dangle uselessly from his cuff.
What possessed him to then reach down and grab your head was pure, unadulterated selkie lust, and nothing more of his reasonable mind. Seóirse yanked your mouth up and off his cock with whatever self-control still remained, and in an insatiable heat, pulled you by the back of your head to smush those pretty lips against his shaft.
Thank god you were so understanding. You would understand his desires--hell, you had a dopey grin on your face the moment he took control, and ground his dick against your face in long, deep strokes. The spit and water and precum that dribbled and soaked him down to the balls was all that could save you from the immense friction of him thrusting that monster against your face, his attention especially focused on those lips that kissed and licked and suckled around whatever spots you could manage to latch on to. This was the only way to fuck you without injury, without permanently scarring his one true love--and with the giddiness that came over you as he climaxed faster and harder than he ever had before, and painted your face with pearls of creamy, thick seed like he'd never have the courage to do when he made love to you before...
Well, maybe he would just have to make this new way of lovemaking a guilty pleasure habit.
(cws: gn!darling [w/ one unserious mention of 'princess'], dirty talk, facefucking, rimming mention, degradation, mild humiliation)
Makoi Azumako
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"We literally just fucked."
"And?"
Your head poised over his lap, your hand resting at the base of his hip. Makoi had barely caught his breath before you were shimmying down there, your body still wet with sweat and spit so your skin gave off a sheen in the dim light. He'd only lit a few lamps in the paper lanterns around the room, though the futon was soft enough not to make much noise in the night as you shuffled around. The last thing you wanted was to wake up one of his relatives in the house, especially after just getting away with being all cozy under the covers.
"You want me to suck you off, or not?"
"Well...shit, I won't say no." He sighed, and folded his arms back to rest his head against them. "You're really a fuckin' freak, though."
"I'll bite you."
"Fuckin' do it." Makoi grinned down at you. He could never let you get the drop on him--he was always so smug. "Show me those teeth, kitty. Bet the blood turns you on. Freak."
"M'not actually gonna bite you."
"Good, or I'd have to beat your ass." He narrowed his eyes and reached down. His fingers slid with confidence around his soft knob of flesh, the limp appendage stirring as his grip tightened around the base. "Now get to work. Ain't gonna lick itself."
"Asshole." You muttered with a huff, easing your tongue out to swipe a lick over the warm mound of muscle. It still tasted of you from earlier.
"Wanna lick that too? Then keep the tone, brat." Just as he spoke, a gasp that was too soft for his attitude fluttered off his lips, and he settled lower into the pillows to enjoy himself.
"...Maybe a little bit."
"Freak." He groaned with an arch of his back as your tongue met the base of his shaft, his fingers fisting into the pillows under his head. "Tell you what, you can shove your tongue up there if I get this kinda head every day. Ffffuuuuck..." His voice slurred, eyes rolling back the second your lips met his sack. "Goddamn angel mouth. Give it a kiss, princess."
You rolled your eyes at the nickname, the exact one that he used to tease you more often than not. Makoi guided his cock by the base to tap the head between your eyes, and with little provocation--despite how degrading his command was--your sticky lips met his tip and you flicked out your tongue to lap up the salty, bitter taste of precum. He urged you on all the while, watching greedily as you swallowed inch by inch his thick, veiny cock, up until your nose was buried in a bush of black hairs at the base.
"Mmh." He laid back again, one hand perched behind his head while the other gripped yours through your hair, just to make sure you stayed in place. Just to tease, he tilted your head in a slow circle to watch how your throat bulged with his length, to see how your eyes watered until you beat once on his thigh and he let you pull off and sputter before you choked. Makoi laughed, and in the midst of you huffing out another insult, he gripped your hair again and shoved you down open-mouthed on his dick again, ensuring you took in every last inch again like the good cockwarmer you were.
"Just shut up for once, babe. Sound so much cuter with a mouth fulla dick." He humped his hips once just to see your reaction, and at the sight of you braced to take him without gagging he couldn't help but let out a pleased sigh. "Yeah, you like that? Bet you love suckin' on this fat fuckin' cock. E'en more than you love humpin' it, right?" He cackled wickedly as his hips slowly started to pump against your face, voice slurring at a faster pace now that he had a warm hole to plunge into. He was always like that. Cockdrunk, but it was almost always his own cock he got high off of.
Shluk, shluk, shluk, shluk--the sound vibrated in your ears with each thrust, the tip of Makoi's dick making a distinct smack each time it kissed the back of your throat. His hips forced your head to tilt back each time, like every buck was a strike to the face, and the feel of his balls smushing against your chin when he paused and slapping the skin wetly when he didn't was just plain degrading. Mako loved to embarrass you in private, but maybe you also just liked to be embarrassed, too.
"Fuckin' like that?" You could just slap that smirk right off his face, whether it got you off or not. Makoi's chest heaved over your face with long, laborious breaths; whether he liked it or not, he couldn't keep up a pace this dirty for long. Not with you. Not when you were just an absolute angel for him. "Suck dick so fffuckin' good, christ-"
A cord snapped in your boyfriend--something deep and primal, no doubt--and in a matter of seconds, his hands were gripping your shoulders and he was throwing you over on your back, his cockhead just barely smearing your own spit on your lips before he plowed his way back in; now with his knees by your head and his body hunched over you from the neck up. With one hand gripping the back of your head and the other glued to the floor by his totally sweat-soaked futon, Makoi's voice rumbled through your body with a string of vile comments one after another: "G'nna fuck you fuckin' stupid after", "Don't you dare goddamn spit", "Lessee that fuckin' gag reflex"--each word vibrated through your very bones and had you moaning around the bulge wedged deep in your throat, in exactly the spot where Makoi pounded in his last thrust before there's a groan that you're sure resonated throughout the whole house.
Glug. Glug. Glug. Glug. The noises your swallowing made were enough to plaster a dazed grin across Makoi's face, who seemed more than satisfied with feeling your throat rise and fall with his hand cupped over it. Then, and only then, would he slowly slide his way out with a final pop and a breathy sigh at the milky trail he left down your chin. Still grinning like an idiot, he brushed his thumb over the sticky skin and licked it off, before planting a kiss squarely on your swollen lips.
"Fuckin' cutie. So lucky you're mine."
(cws: gn!darling, established marriage, hatefucking, rough sex, crying, adrian's submissive & breedable for once...sorta)
Adrian Moorwell
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Adrian was barely through the front door when you jumped him.
It was a surprise attack--no particular occasion, you just couldn't help but get worked up through the day. Your husband was gone too long and you'd been fighting for the whole weekend. Part of you thought he might've been happy to get away from you and your complaining, if only for a bit. But it seemed as though he was only in shock as you dropped to your knees and pawed at him, ripping open his pants so fiercely you popped both buttons off. He'd have to sew them back on later. For now, you had one thing on your mind.
"Honey--honey, wait! L-Let me get the door closed-" Adrian stumbled, his file folders hitting the floor for papers to scatter as he fumbled with the door handle behind him. Too late. You already had his pants halfway down his thighs, and though you had few neighbors to snoop on you, perhaps the birds living in the trees that lined the walkway would forever be traumatized by your face planted squarely in your husband's crotch.
You hummed almost absentmindedly as your lips sealed around the crease in his tight boxers--you thanked god he always wore the ones close to his skin, because without even an ounce of stiffness in it, you could see the imprint of his cock in them from a mile away. You wouldn't bother with pulling them down; it was more entertaining to feel him pulling lightly on your hair when you started suckling him through the wetted fabric.
"Shit!" A rare curse exploded out of his mouth as the door thudded closed, and with a thump his back fell against it and you had Adrian in the palm of your hands--or more aptly, on the flat of your tongue. Even you could hardly believe the sheer length of him bundled up in all those tight pants his students would gawk at and whisper about, and even colleagues of his would wonder between themselves if he really was packing all that people thought he was. If you ever cared to assure them, you would say that he most certainly was.
Adrian fiddled with his fingers on your scalp for a moment before shakily speaking up. "I f-ffigured you were still-"
"I'm still pissed." You cut him off, and he flinched as if you had bit him. Honestly, you were more annoyed that he forced you to pull yourself away to answer rather than what he asked in itself. "Take it out."
"Wh--Why?"
"I wanna see it."
Finally, Adrian huffed, and his attitude started to come out as he straightened himself out--though he gave in and kicked his pants completely off his legs first, leaving him only in a pair of underwear with the biggest, darkest stain on the front.
"I'm your husband, not a whore."
"Just show it to me."
He sighed, and against his better judgement, he slid his thumbs beneath the waist of his wine-coloured boxers and slowly peeled them down his hips, the fabric rolling up in waves as they came down those long, dark legs. Even still half-soft, his cock stood out impressively against the rest of his lower half, though he stood awkwardly in his front hall still wearing his turtleneck from a day of teaching classes. Next to his spouse that he'd been fighting with all weekend, suddenly on your knees for him. You moved in for the kill, but at the last second Adrian's rough palm stopped you by the forehead and gently pushed you back.
"You're not doing this in the hallway." Ignoring your huff and the pout spelled out on your lips, he stepped past you and trusted you would scramble up to follow, which you did. "Let's go to the bedroom."
"S'too far." You replied from behind, and in the instant that Adrian stepped through the doorway into the sitting room, you let slip a smirk and started pushing him back until he stumbled and fell backwards into the sofa. Not even his scowl could mask the wide-eyed stare he gave you once you stood over him and stripped off the robe you'd been wearing since your afternoon shower. Even in the heat of an argument, he couldn't deny the power your body held over him at any given time.
You threw the robe at his face and on instinct, he breathed in despite his annoyance at having his view blocked. The moment he yanked it off and tossed it aside, you'd already gotten down again and crept towards his lap like a lion stalking its prey. Over the arm of the sofa you clambered, and before he could sit up completely your five fingers met his chest and you shoved him back against the other arm, your eyes dark and misty with lust.
"Honestly, I wanna fuck you, but you pissed me off too much this week." You murmured as you pawed your way down his body to his lap, so your knees propped your ass up while your cheek came to rest on his inner thigh, inches away from your prize. "So I'm gonna suck you off, and you're gonna take it, and then I'm gonna find something to do while you sit here and mope."
"I don't mope." Adrian scowled down at you. "At least give me a kiss first."
For his demands, you leaned up and pecked him carelessly on the lips before returning to your position.
"See that? It's called a compromise." Your teasing earned you a roll of the eyes from your husband, who you could tell had had about enough of you dredging up your recent string of arguments.
"Why don't you just save your words and get to it?"
Oh, now he was getting spicy. You masked a huge grin and went to work almost immediately--the flat of your tongue met his tip and Adrian gasped, his hips could barely stay still on the couch and lifted the moment he felt you touch him skin-to-skin. His hand flew to your head but it wasn't to stop you this time, rather it was to hold himself in place like an anchor as you slobbed your soft tongue messily all over his lap. Thank god your nearest neighbors were all the way down the road, or you'd be subject to some noise complaints for sure--and maybe some 911 calls for the times your husband moaned like he was being fucking murdered.
“Jesus! Ssslow down, fuck, fuck-!” Adrian's voice cracked into a pitchy whine that pierced right through your ears, and if you could smirk with a mouthful of him, you would. His waist jerked sideways as his body inched away from the intense shocks of pleasure, nearly toppling you off the couch in the process. With a hand planted on either side of the dips where his hips and waist met, you used your leverage to pin your husband's body down to the cushions. No matter the hands that pushed on your head or his pitiful begging as you noisily sucked down his dick, he had something you wanted and nothing was gonna stop you from taking it. Rather than pull off to gloat, you let him see the bulge of his own cock nestled in your cheek, and teased him with the warmth you rubbed all over it in that little pouch of heat and spit.
This'll show my prick of a husband the meaning of spite. That was the thought that came to your mind in that moment, and understandably so. Your plan initially was to work him up, blueball him, and leave him hanging all night. That was what he deserved for being such an asshole during all those fights you had over the weekend, because Adrian wasn't usually so clingy and with such a bad attitude as he was then–nor was he usually so cold during whatever fights you had over your marriage. It actually really hurt your feelings. But you didn't want to tell him that.
But contrary to your initial frustrations, you knew your plan was abandoned when you peered up at him and saw the glisten of tears trailing down his face.
“Please,” He mumbled in a quiet, soft tone. “I love the way you make me feel.” He couldn't quite get those next two words out; “Don't stop”. So you decided to spell each letter out with your tongue, and watched as Adrian's head hit the arm of the couch while he shrieked with the pleasure wracking his oversensitive body. Maybe later you'd bother to ask what had him strung so tight that whole time, and he'd tell you about all those ugly reasons why he felt so possessive over you. How the voice at the back of his head told him he needed to own you. But whenever you reminded him of your love for him, he just melted into a puddle of worship and wonder why on earth you would ever love a messed-up old man like him.
Either way, he was an “old man” that was getting his dick sucked into the netherworld tonight. Adrian never had any idea how much his teary eyes turned you on, at least not until you kissed them off his cheeks and slid your ass up into his lap. Fuck leaving him high and dry–not even the worst frustrations in the world could keep you from watching your husband's eyes roll back in pleasure as you rode the professor brainless.
(cws: gn!darling, dubcon, noncon photography, exhibitionism, "i got sold to the azumakos" wattpad plotline, cum drinking, praise, pet names)
Shura Roanoke
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"Would you look at that shit?" Shura's grin was like a panther's--unsettling and surely up to no good. Click. The flash on his camera blinded you momentarily, but the spots blotting your vision was nothing unusual by now. In fact, you were just getting used to it.
"Smile. Oh, wait--looks like you've got your mouth full." His laugh was like the windchimes you'd heard from the neighbor's porches; clear and soft, yet it pierced through the din of the dark room you were in and the red lights that accented it. As the sound of your spit shucking as it lubed up your lips, the yakuza pressed his thumb to your cheek and implored you to open them wider. Don't wanna hurt the new toy.
That was what you were here for. Your father was a yakuza head--and a bad one at that. He'd stolen money from the wrong people many times, and made enemies of those he should never have even been in the same rooms with. But when it came to gambling, he was all in all the time. And when the Azumakos came knocking to collect his enormous debt to them, he left you at their mercy and skipped town to escape what he'd wrought. "Piece of shit." That was Shura's first comment to you when he arrived at the sketchy little hovel where you'd been left, but you'd soon learn once you saw his grin and listened to his proposition that he wasn't talking about you--but that didn't matter anymore. As far as they were concerned, you were now an Azumako with all the rest of them.
"Show me those pretty eyes, pumpkin. Wanna get a good shot, yeah?" Shura aimed his phone down and brushed the hair from your face, just in time for another click and to see his expression light up at the newest photo on his screen. "Oh-ho, Mako is gonna love you. Suck it more-" His shoulders shook when you obeyed, and his eyes rolled back in the moment at the tight squeeze around his dick, which he'd buried right to the hilt in your soft, warm mouth. "-Shiiiiit, that's good. Don't even need another hole, yeah? Think I'm fine with just this one."
Apparently growing satisfied with the album's worth of photos he'd taken of you choking down his cock, Shura set his phone aside and leaned into the kiss of his tip against the back of your throat, head tilted back in pleasure as he gripped the seat beneath him. The other yakuza that were with him had dispersed somewhat to look around for members of your father's gang, but a few hung around in casual conversation nearby as if Shura getting blown two feet from them was totally normal. You'd learn later that they weren't part of the core "family", just some low-level thugs and gangsters who needed cash and a bodyguard job. But the few pairs of eyes burning holes into you weren't unnoticed, and Shura gingerly stroked your hair as if he was trying to comfort you.
"Ignore them, sweetness. Just wanna watch the show is all--you're all mine." He dipped down to whisper that last part, before leaning back with a deep sigh as he eased your head down to bob it on his lap again. One of his bodyguards came up within a few inches of you and muttered something in his ear, which Shura didn't seem to care one way or another if you heard or not.
"...Mhm. Well, take care of him, then. Make him pay, yeah?" The other man in the suit vanished from the room, and Shura looked down on you with a peaceful smile.
"That's it. Just keep stroking me with that soft tongue. Y'know, Makoi can find whoever he wants to get him off--I kinda like the idea of making you mine." He tilted his head at you, peering into your very soul as his hand guided your head up and down, up and down his thick cock. "Yeah? You like that? Wanna be my little arm candy? I bet you'll like gettin' licked out every night. I'm a fair guy--scratch my back, I scratch yours. You can't imagine what my tongue can do."
He winked down at you, and the laugh that escaped him melted into a fuzzy, open-mouthed moan that he couldn't even try to hold in.
"That's it, that's it, that's it--more, lil' more, just--fuck--u-use your tongue on the--fffuck, there!"
The sweet spot he was guiding you to, wherever it really was, seemed to work more than wonders as Shura's voice cracked and he threw his head back against the chair. You watched with awe as his adam's apple bobbed in time with his gasps of your name, and your mouth flooded suddenly with an immense heat--one that you couldn't hope to combat, only to bear as ropes of sticky seed shot down your tongue and into the depths of your throat. Shura held you there firmly to take in every sloshing ounce of cum that spilled on to the bed of your swollen tongue, every bitter swallow until his thumb ran across your lower lip and you opened up to show him a clean mouth.
"Ohhh! Impressive!" He laughed jubilantly while tucking himself back into his pants like nothing happened. While the future ahead was still hazy and scary, at least Shura's optimism was comforting. But his smirk as he picked his phone back up, and the possessive touch of his hand as he pulled you up on his lap was...less so.
"Now, let's pick out the best pictures to send to the guys. They're nice, I promise--you're gonna love your new big brothers, pumpkin."
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