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momoswifee · 2 months

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Peaches and a Broken Car

Pairing: Mina x reader

Synopsis: Mina decides to take some time off and when she goes to her parents' house, her car suddenly breaks down leading her to meet Yn.

Warnings: The reader has abandonment issues and tbh I think that's it for now.

w/c: 5558

a/n: I've been working on this for a while now, I'm planning on making this a mini-series? I'm really excited to finally put this out and for you guys to read it! Again, I really appreciate criticism so that I can do better next time, so if you have any, please let me know :) Also big thanks to @cry4mina for their amazing brain that helped me figure out what to do with this story :)

Pt1- Pt2 - Pt3

Mina had always loved the art of performing. She found the idea of immersing herself so much in a character that she could be able to portray characters and tell their stories just by using her body language and facial expressions in a certain way fascinating.

She loved the way she could tell stories of people for thousands of people to see, it was something she was very proud of. However, the fame that came with it was something that she wished was not part of this ordeal. Fame was something that many always wanted to achieve, the idea of being adored by many and of being an idol to others was for some their life dreams. However, Mina never wanted a loud and busy life, she had always preferred the quiet aspect of it.

After finally finishing filming an adaptation of “All the Lovers in the Night”, which she considered to have been one of her most challenging works, she was on her very much-deserved holiday, which she planned to spend with her parents, who had recently moved to a quiet little town just an hour or so away from the city.

“...turn left in 300 meters”

Finally, Mina thought to herself, after hearing the GPS’s directions, showing how close she was to arriving at her parents.

Suddenly, she hears a clicking sound before the car starts jolting.

What the hell?

Suddenly, the car comes to a halt, letting out a whooshing sound as a small cloud of smoke come out from its hood.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters as she gets out of the car after trying to park it as much to the right as possible. After a minute of silence, she tries to restart the car, in hopes it wakes up.

A glimmer of hope forms inside her as she hears the car slowly start before the familiar clicking starts again, making her turn it off, knowing she wouldn't go anywhere with that car soon.

Fuck

After the failed attempt at restarting the car, she decided to get out and see if she could call for car support so that she could get over this as quickly as possible. As soon as she’s out of the car, she's trying to call for support but soon notices that her battery is running out, making her dial the number as quickly as possible.

“No no no no no” she mumbles as she watches her phone die. “You have got to be kidding me” she almost screams in exasperation.

I cannot believe this is happening right when I decide to go on holiday, she thinks to herself sighing.

After a while of sitting on the hood of her car, taking breaks from trying to restart her car long enough to connect her phone so that it could charge a little bit more to call for assistance, she sees a ball of white fur bark and run towards her.

“Hi buddy!” she exclaims when the dog adorably walks up to her, pushing his head closer to her tight as if to ask for pets, making her laugh and crouch down giving him her full attention, slightly compensating for all that had happened until that moment.

“Otis!” Mina hears from the direction the dog had come, assuming the voice as being the owner’s. “You can’t just run off like that.” says the voice, slightly off-breath as it approaches them.

“It’s fine really!” Mina says, trying to sound reassuring, “He seems like a good boy…” she trails off as she looks up, meeting your gaze. As she looks at you, she feels her shoulders instantly drop, as if every ounce of stress accumulating in her throughout the day had vanished.

“I’m sorry, he really just ran off as soon as he saw the car here.Is that your car?” you ask her as you leave Otis in her grasp to check it out.

“Uh yeah, I guess it had some engine problems? It never had any problems before, I was not expecting it at all” she answers, still upset at her car breaking down so near her parent's place.

“If I could, I would totally help you out, but I’m not that good with my hands when it comes to cars,” You tell her sheepishly, “I do have the contact of a mechanic in town who could probably figure this out with no trouble” you add for Mina’s great relief.

“Really? And do you think they could come today?” she asks with a hopeful tone.

“Hold on, I’ll give them a call,” You tell her as you take out your phone to quickly call the mechanic. After the short call, you walk back to deliver the news. “It shouldn’t be long before they get here, they said they would come in maybe 20 minutes since it’s not that far.” You explain, making Mina feel like a big weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“I don’t even know how to thank you…” Mina says, smiling softly at you, making you laugh.

“It’s fine, Your car will be in good hands too, don’t worry,” You say, shrugging. “You know…I really wouldn’t feel good with myself leaving you here alone though… would you like to come to the farm while we wait? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to!” you say, quickly adding the last bit, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable.

“I’d really appreciate it.” Mina says, smiling at you relieved, knowing that she’s going home soon.

As you both walk to your house, you attempt to make small talk to avoid the awkward tension, learning that Mina is going to be spending her holiday time with her parents, in search of peace and quiet.

After arriving at your place, Mina notices that you live on something alike to a farm, but a little smaller. As you wait by the porch, playing with your dog, Mina has the opportunity to check your little farm out, taking notice of the various fruit trees you had.

She learns that you had once been a Hockey player in the city but due to a knee injury, you had retired and decided to come back to your hometown to help your parents with their business, eventually leaving it to you.

After a while, the mechanic finally shows up at your house, with the car already towed, honking to call for your attention, making you smile instantly.

“Hey pretty!” You say, getting up quickly to greet the person driving the car. Said person getting out quickly as well in time to greet you properly with a hug. “Mina, this is my friend Jeongyeon, she will be taking your car to the shop and give you a ride to your parents since it’s probably on the way.” You explain, detaching yourself from your friend, who gives Mina a small wave to greet her.

“Well, I hope you have a good rest.” You say, guiding her to the car with Otis on your tail trying to get more pets from his new friend.

“I’m sure I will.” She says, leaning down to pet Otis for the last time before she leaves.“Thank you for letting me stay here while I waited for the tow.”

“Of course, it was really nice having you here.” You say, smiling shyly at Mina.

Honk

“Hey, love birds! It’s getting dark, we should really get going, so I can drop Mina off and close the shop in time!” Jeongyeon calls from the truck, making you both blush at her nickname.

As she gets in the truck, she sees you waving goodbye and then remembers she had forgotten to ask you for your number. Before she can get out to ask, the truck is already getting out of your house.

After a short-ish and quiet drive, she’s finally home. When she opens the door, her parents come rushing to hug her, worried because of the calls that went unanswered by her. After letting them know what had happened, she just went straight to bed, too tired to keep them company for much longer.

As days go by, Mina has finally begun to feel more and more at ease, more in contact with herself. One day, as she’s preparing lunch, she hears someone knock at the door.

“Mina, please get the door!” she hears her mom call from outside.

When she opens the door, she sees a surprising face on the other side. There you stand, carrying a crate with a mix of fruits and vegetables, wearing your hat backward, sporting a small smile on your face.

“Hi”

“Please come in” Mina hurriedly says, not wanting you to carry such a heavy-looking crate for too long.

“I didn’t know you were the Myoui’s daughter.” you say as you enter the house and put the crate by the table.

“Yeah…” she answers, still a bit surprised to see you there

“I come here once a week to deliver fruit to them since the crate is usually a bit too heavy for your mom to carry” you explain, not wanting to seem like you just like to pop up to people's houses.

“Thank you for that,” she says, touched by your consideration. “She told me that this week we’d be getting the fruit delivered, but I guess I forgot what day it was coming.”

After an awkward silence from both parts, you finally ask her how her time there has been, if she had her car fixed. “Oh yeah, thank you! They already have the car ready to get picked up. I’m going this afternoon.” she answers, grateful for the break from the awkwardness.

You only nod at that and give her a small smile, and you two get awkward again and stay silent for a bit, not knowing what to say.

“Yn honey hi! Thank you so much for bringing the produce!” The older woman says, going to hug you.

“Of course, I’m always happy to help!” You tell her with one of the brightest smiles Mina had ever seen, making her instinctively smile as well.

After exchanging pleasantries, you decide to go back to work. As you’re almost out the door, Mina follows you, not wanting to let you go without asking you for your number.

“Yn! Wait up!” Mina says, following as you’re almost inside your truck.

“Yeah?” You say, peaking your head out of the car, almost hitting it as you rushed to see what it was that Mina wanted.

“I uh, I wanted to know if I could get your number?” Mina asks, suddenly shy.

“Yes! I mean, yeah, sure, of course.” You say, trying to act nonchalant as you quickly hand her your phone.

“Let’s keep in touch, yeah?” Mina says as she hands you the phone, giving you a big gummy smile, making your insides melt. You’re only able to give her a nod, unable to answer her verbally.

❂

“Did you just giggle?” JIhyo says, barking out a laugh as she sees you staring at your phone after receiving a message from Mina.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, rolling your eyes. “Did a puck hit you too hard on the head?” you joke, trying to avoid talking about your shameful giggle at a text from a girl you had just met.

“Hardy har har” she says, rounding the corner and following you as you move through the furniture looking for the renovated table Jihyo had ordered. “You can’t just lie to me, I know you like the palm of my hand! Jeongyeon back me up??” Jihyo says, turning to her friend for support.

“Hm? Sorry, I was not paying attention at all. Can we speed this along, though? I have a job.” The older one says, putting her phone away as she moves to meet the other girls in the middle of the furniture maze.

“Who were you texting though” Jihyo insists as she picks up the end of the table to carry it out.

“Oooh was it the girl I picked up from your place?” Jeongyeon joins in, teasingly wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“A girl?” JIhyo says, almost dropping the table. “Why am I the last one to know about this?”

“There is nothing to know about.” You tell them as you slowly put the table down, ready to put it on Jihyo’s car, ready for her to stop pestering you. “She had trouble with her car a while ago, so she stayed at my place while she waited for Jeongie to pick her up to take the car to the shop. Since she’s staying here for a while, we decided to keep in touch-” you try saying, but are cut off by teasing “ooohs” and whistles from both girls. “Just as friends!” you quickly add, rolling your eyes.

“You know it would do you some good to get out of the house,” Jeongyeon says, bringing you closer when she sees you trying to get away from their teasing by going back to the shop.

“I do get out.” You say almost indignantly, making both of them snicker.

“You getting out of the house to go to work or to go to the farmers market does not count. You don’t even visit some of us in the city as frequently.” Jihyo says, already getting inside the car. “You don’t giggle at texts, you’re a loser, but I’ve never seen you like this. If this girl does that to you, you should give it a try, even if you’ve only known her for a short while. Get to know her.”

You only mumble in agreement, not wanting to commit to something yet. After Jihyo leaves, you try sneaking off into the store, knowing Jeongyeon will still try to talk about what had just happened.

“Nope, come here.” She says when she sees you slowly backing away, pulling you by the hand to sit on the bench outside your store. “I know this is scary, you don’t like getting close to new people-”

“I do like it-” you start

“Let me finish,” she says, cutting you off. “It’s good for you. We get together often, but since you came back you’ve been pulling out of social interactions. Mina seems like a sweet girl.” She continues, holding your hand gently. “I’m not saying you have to make a move, you’ve only known the girl for what? Two weeks?” she asks, getting an inconclusive hum from you. “Just get to know her, she told me she’s staying here for vacation when I drove her to her parents. You can make a new friend.” she says, ending her little encouragement speech.

“You sound like my mom.” You grumble.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I love your mom.” She says, patting your head as she gets up. “I'll call you later, ok?” She says, already walking away.

It’s not that you didn’t want to get to know Mina better, you’d like nothing more. Even after days of texting back and forth, sharing jokes and facts about you, you were still hesitant about letting someone else in.

You sighed and looked at your phone, still open on the messages app with Mina’s text waiting for your response.

Do you want to meet tomorrow? I can’t wait to see you again :)

You smile down at it before finally answering.

I’d love to. I can’t wait to see you too :)

❂

“This one almost fell off!” Mina says excitedly as she puts the peach inside her basket.

“Yeah, they’re good to go right now, I’ll probably take them to the market this weekend.” You say, chuckling at her enthusiasm. “You should be careful though, if you pick them out with too much force, some parts that will get spoiled more easily.”

After your friend's visit, you decided to invite Mina to your house to create a more intimate environment so that you could get to know her better without any stress from people being around.

"Oh, look at this one! It’s you!" she says laughing, holding one out for you to see.

You move closer to her, trying to see what she means as she points at the fruit.

"You know, cuz you're a peach." she says, maybe in an unusual attempt at flirting. After a moment of silence, she turns away from you and goes to another tree to get away from what had just happened. You only stare at her with a dumb smile on your face, completely infatuated by her.

“Are you flirting with me?” You ask, moving closer with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Me flirt- flirting? Why would I- No of course not” Mina says, stumbling over her words as she moves further away.

“Why did you call me a peach, then?” You ask chuckling, finally able to be close to her again.

“Well because you look like one.” She says shrugging, looking away, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Yeah, cuz we share oh so many similarities.” You say, tilting your head, trying to look at her.

“Yeah, both round and red.” she says, shrugging, making you bark out a laugh.

“You’re saying I’m round and red?”

“You’re insufferable” she huffs and turning away again, only making you laugh more.

“You can’t say I’m insufferable, we’ve only known each other for two weeks or so” You exclaim, still laughing.

“Would it be bad if I was?” Mina finally stops, turning to you, and looking into your eyes. As you look at her, you find yourself unable to form any words, this seeming to be becoming a recurring occurrence now.

You only shake your head no and move closer to her. You see her tense up as if she had stopped breathing, and unconsciously do the same. As you get closer to her, you’re now able to check ever single detail on her face, every single line, every single mole.

“It would not be bad at all” You say, almost whispering with your voice shaking, as you adjust the straw hat on her head as it was slowly falling forward.

“Yn!” you two suddenly hear, making you both hastily make some distance between each other.

“Mom?” You call out, having recognized the voice, moving towards the sound, taking Mina’s hand in yours to follow you not noticing her almost freezing up at the contact.

“Hi baby” she enthusiastically says, with open arms ready to engulf you in her arms. She, however, stops mid-way when she sees you holding hands with an unknown girl. “Who is this?” she asks, with a mischievous smile forming on her face.

As soon as you realize what she’s talking about, you feel your face heat up, realizing that you were holding hands with Mina. Quickly, you let go of her hand, not wanting to make her feel comfortable, too embarrassed to notice the slight look of disappointment that had crossed her face as you did so. “This is Mina, she’s the Myoui’s daughter.” You explain, weekly gesturing to the girl beside you.

“Well, it’s really nice to meet you!” your mom says, going to hug Mina, surprising her.

“She’s always like this” you mouth to her when she looks at you for help.

“Don’t run from me!” You hear as you see Otis speed away from your father, who’s chasing him.

“Dad, stop pestering Otis.” You say, sighing, going in the direction your dog had run.

“It’s not pestering, he loves it!” The older man says, before spotting Mina. “And who is this?” he says with a curious gaze and a little smile playing on his lips.

“This is the Myoui’s kid.” Your mom says, introducing her, and instead of a warm hug, he instead offers a warm smile, one too similar to yours. After a bit of short talk, and your parents wanting to start sharing stories about how you were as a child, you volunteered to walk Mina home.

“They seem fun” Mina says as she walks by your side.

“They’re pests.” You say fondly, not being able to contain your smile.

“I’m glad we could do this today…” Mina says, sneaking glances at you, catching you doing the same from time to time.

“It was really fun, yeah.” You say with a smile. Out of nowhere, a gust of wind hits you both and sends Mina’s hat into the field. “I’ll pick it up don’t worry.” You assure her, trying to chase it.

“You don’t have to!” She calls after you, going after you.

“I want to, stay there, I’ll be back in a minute.”

After no longer than 5 minutes, she hears a thud and a groan, making her look your way, only to see you holding her hat looking quite disheveled, with furrowed eyebrows grumbling.

“What happened?” she asks worried, seeing small tears on your pants.

“I didn’t see the roots” You mumble, dusting yourself off with your free hand, before offering her a beaming smile. “I got your hat though! Here, let me put it on,” you say, dusting it off of any dust it might have before adjusting it on Mina’s hair again. “There.” You say, smiling, finding yourself in the same position you both had been in before your parents had come home.

“Thanks” Mina mumbles, looking away, not attempting to make eye contact.

As you both continued your walk, you could feel your fingers brush hers, making your face erupt in flames. You decided to look at her, sneakily and found yourself breath taken. It wasn’t just her shy smile that had your knees trembling, but also the light coming between the trees and how they hit her skin, how her eyes gained a new shine as she watched the birds chirping above you. You would never admit this out loud, at least not to her, but even though you had only known her for such a short period of time, you were absolutely smitten.

“We should do this again,” Mina says as she steps on her parent’s porch. “I had fun.”

“Yeah.” You manage to get out, fiddling your fingers. “I’ll text you?” you ask, receiving a nod. “Yeah, I’d like that.” she says, getting closer to you. Before you can process it, Mina kissed your cheek and was already inside the house.

❂

“We've actually been hanging out a lot, even if she's working too. Last Tuesday she took me to the lake, we spent the whole day there. But now she won't even answer my texts” Mina sighs, not knowing what to do.

“Well you've already tried talking to her, I'm honestly not sure what else you can do.” Sana, her friend, says through the phone.

“Well, yes, but I actually thought things were going well.” The girl continues, pacing around.

She knew that she couldn’t expect anything romantic out of this relationship, at least not at that moment, but she did think that your relationship was progressing in that direction, and she was happy about it, there didn’t seem to be any problems until you suddenly stopped answering her texts and only came by her parents place when she wasn’t there.

“I’m not sure what to tell you, honey, I wish I could offer you more words of comfort, but it seems like this all came out of the blue so…” The older girl says.

After a long talk, Mina decides to come down, only to see a very familiar crate full of veggies and fruit sitting at the table. She realizes then that Yn had come over to deliver the produce as usual, managing to avoid her again.

“Mina hi! What can I do for you?” Jeongyeon says as she gets out from under the car she had been fixing, oil stains all over her. “Is your car giving you trouble?”

“Not the car, no.” Mina answers with a dry chuckle, looking around.

“What happened?” Jeongyeon asks, cleaning her hands, and guiding Mina to her office so that they could talk more freely.

“I just…” she started, frustration settling in. “Is Yn alright? Has anything happened? Was it something I did?” Mina ends up asking, rapidly.

“Hey no what?” Jeongyeon says, holding her arms, trying to calm her down. “It’s not you, ok? You did nothing wrong.” She says, trying to reassure her. “Yn has a complicated relationship with people. Has she told you about her retirement?” She asks getting up, getting a cup of water, and giving it to Mina, but only getting a negative nod as a response to her question.

“I’m not sure whether it’s my place to tell you about all the details, that’s something Yn should tell you if she thinks she wants to. She had it pretty rough with her team after her injury, it hit her pretty hard.” Jeongyeon says, sighing after remembering how everything had impacted her friend. “After her injury, some people on the team started blaming her, people that were supposed to have her back, people that Yn trusted a lot. After that, she got too much in her head and started self-isolating. Those people leaving her, blaming her, made her start to think that others would do that too.” She ends, frustration lacing itself into her tone.

“I didn’t know…” Mina says, almost in a whisper. “That must have been tough.”

“It was, she has been trying to get out more and get better, but you know how these things are…” Jeongyeon says, searching for understanding in Mina’s eyes. “I know it doesn’t excuse her keeping you in the dark, but I hope it at least explains it.”

“It does, but I still want to try and talk to her.” Mina says, getting up, ready to see if you were at your shop.

“Yeah, but if you want to try today, you won’t have any luck. She went to the city, she’s hanging out with a friend.” Jeongyeon says, guiding Mina out, almost apologetic.

“I’ll see if I can catch her at the market then.” Mina decides, gaining a nod from Yn’s friend.

As Mina walks home with this new information she starts to understand why you had done what you did, however, she can’t help that she felt hurt by those actions. She decided that she had to confront you, to ease her mind and also in turn ease yours.

A couple of days later, her mom had decided to go to the market so Mina took that opportunity to go see you. When they arrive, they see you at your stand with your dad and waste no time to go over there.

“...yes, Yn only started producing this type of tomato this year, but I really like them, especially in salads, they really bring out the taste…” says your father, engrossed in his tomato talk with a possible customer. “Mina! Hi!” He suddenly exclaims as he notices her presence. “I haven’t seen you in a while, have you been enjoying your time off?” He asks, after making sure the other customer did leave with the tomatoes he was so enthusiastic about.

“It’s been great yeah!” Mina answers him with a tight smile, more focused on Yn and how she’s suddenly checking every single peach on the stand for defects.

“she’s really been able to relax more, she works too hard”

“Do you come here often?” comes out of Mina’s mouth before she can stop herself, feeling silly since she is literally at her stand. There is a small victory since a small smile shapes itself on your lips unintentionally.

“Yeah…” you say, not wanting to prolong this conversation, too scared of where this might go.

“How have you been?” Mina tries again, not feeling deterred.

“Eh I’ve been alright.” You say, offering her a small smile, but looking away almost instantly.

“Are you not going to ask how I’ve been?” Mina says, trying to meet your eyes, finding them guilt-ridden. “Well, I haven’t been that great. My friend, or at least someone I thought was my friend, stopped talking to me and has been avoiding me. I’m not sure if she’s doing it because of anything I did, but she won’t even answer my texts so I can’t really know.” Mina finally lets out, unthinkingly letting out her frustrations on the situation as well.

“No! No. I- It was not you, it was all me. I get too inside my head and end up pushing people away. This is no excuse, especially since I’m not even explaining it well, but I am still sorry Mina.” You quickly say as you fiddle with your fingers.

“You know, I wouldn’t have left.” She says, after a silent moment. “I texted a lot, I would think that that was an indicator right?” she says chuckling trying to lighten the mood, making you smile slightly relieved. “You do have to make it up to me…”

“I’ll do my very best,” you tell her, now smiling more openly.

❂

As time progresses, you two end up making up, and you start visiting the city more because of Mina since she had returned to work.

Knock Knock Knock

“Coming!” Mina yells from the kitchen, hurriedly going to the door, not knowing who could be at such a late hour. Once she opens the door, she is pleasantly surprised to see you there holding a bag of takeout with one of your big smiles on your face.

“Hi” you say, already going inside, not wanting to stay out in the cold. “I brought take out from that place down the road.” You explain, already going to the kitchen with a familiarity Mina hadn’t noticed until now, but still a welcome one. As you both ate, Mina started realizing that the silly infatuation she had felt over the summer had evolved into a full-grown crush, and suddenly she didn’t know how to act.

“Do you want to watch a movie after?” You ask her with a mouthful, which was honestly disgusting, but for Mina, who found herself realizing that she was unbelievably down bad for you, it was somewhat endearing.

“You’re so gross.” She says, with no sentiment behind it, a love-sick grin starting to spread on her face. “You choose, I’m cleaning up the dishes.” She says, getting up quickly not wanting you to see her smile like that.

Once she returns to the living room, she finds you already sprawled comfortably on the couch with Spider-Man on the screen waiting for her to press play. Once you were both comfortably watching the movie play, you decided to explain to her little details that could help her better understand the plot and the reasons behind some behaviours of certain characters, and even though she had tried so hard to pay attention to those details, the only things she could focus on were how your eyes lit up, how you knew all about this fictional universe and how invested you were in it.

“...and that’s why-What?” You ask, finally noticing her unnerving stare.

“You’re such a nerd,” she says softly, her voice filled with adoration, making you flush under her gaze. “Tell me more about it.”

“Do you actually want to know?” You ask her, laughing, knowing she was probably not paying any attention to your side information.

“I like listening to you talk.” She shrugs. “It’s cute. I might have to try and get a Marvel contract, maybe then you’ll talk about as me as passionately as you talk about Peter Parker.” She says, inching closer to you, with a teasing smile, and at that moment you thank everything divine for not being too close to her, or else she would’ve felt the heat emanating from you, from how flushed you were starting to get because of this banter of hers.

“Do you think I’d make a good spider woman? Hm?” Mina says, feeling more confident after looking at your state, already so close, she could see your chest rising rapidly. “I’d let you try out the iconic upside-down kiss…” she finalizes, feeling a surge of confidence she normally didn’t feel, as she gently turned your face towards hers, getting closer and closer, already being able to feel your ragged breath mixing with hers.

“Mina…” You breathlessly whisper, following her lead, your mouth opening slightly, not being able to stop your eyes from following her every move.

She only hums in response, tilting her head slightly to kiss you gently on the cheek, lips so soft you could’ve missed them. Instead of stopping there, she starts to slowly trail little kisses in your mouth’s direction. As she’s almost there, her eyes find yours as if asking for permission. You don’t even try and answer verbally, knowing full well you would not be able to do so, instead, you just let your hand go to her nape and gently bring her closer to you, letting your lips finally meet in a soft kiss. As you try to deepen the kiss, you feel her smile against your lips, making it impossible to do so.

“What are you smiling about?” You ask, still impossibly closer, lips almost touching, not even wanting to think about putting some distance in between both of you.

“Nothing” she simply says, pulling you in for another kiss, sharing the same thought of not wanting to be apart from you a minute longer.

#twice x reader #twice imagines #mina x reader #myoui mina x reader

341 notes · View notes

comfortless · 7 months

Note

The way you write König makes me cry and dry heave cuz you balance his loser unhingeness and his heartbreaking tenderness is✨ ART✨

Now I feel like you would be able to EAT this prompt up but imagine König as Frankenstein’s creature that is this big ass hulking mass of body that immediately makes the town grab their pitchforks but he can DESTROY them in seconds. But inside he is just a little guy who just wants somebody to hold and love (and other activities if ya know what I mean

Keep doing what you do❤️

A Place For Us

Frankenstein’s creature! König x fem! horologist reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. discrepancies!, reader is implied to have anxiety, angst & fluff, non-malicious stalking?, loner/loner dynamic my beloved.., brief mentions of previous murders and religious imagery, codependency, smut; masturbation, unprotected piv.

notes: receiving this ask was so funny to me because @melancholic-thing and i have been bouncing this idea around forever (i simply could not have brought this any justice without ghost’s input— if you see this please know that ily dearly). thank you, anon for your kind words and finally giving me the push that i needed to write it! 💘

wc: 10.6k

You’re good at fixing broken things; tinkering with them with a set of well-polished tools until they begin to tick, or chime, or cuckoo.

Some take longer than an afternoon sat before the wooden desk, weeks or months— a year, once. Oiled parts and small cogs, the three arms that jerk and glide over a face riddled with numbers that all lull you into feeling that your work is not just some monotonous service only the rich buzzards could afford, but as if you were a healer of sorts; a little cleric stationed to bring life into whichever jagged, broken thing has been dropped or kicked at her doorstep.

This one, however… you’re convinced it’s as good as dead.

No matter how many times you take apart the little, gray pocket watch, the arms refuse to move. Its ticking sounds less like that of the beating of the heart and more like the grinding of dry teeth, a corpse begging, pleading to let this attempted resurrection come to an end.

Your tweezers wrench the face free, and all at once it proves too much— bending and warping beneath the metal grip until it cracks, a split right through it, down to its very center.

“How…” Your voice fills the void of ticking, pseudo-silence surrounding you. A word slipped out in frustration and unknowing before you finally toss the wretched little thing onto the desk with a clatter and step aside.

The house is as dark and brooding as always, too large for a woman on her own and a workshop that hardly counts as a proper business. Shelves of broken clocks serve as decor where potted plants and well-loved photographs should sit in their stead. Books of study for modern devices such as these in place of the poetry and worn love letters other women seemed to have in abundance.

This place was starved out of light, even with the flickering glow of candles and the electric humming of the unnatural yellow one above.

The sun is no stranger, either, your curtains neatly pulled aside to allow for it to filter through like an invited guest. Only it doesn’t, not on such a melancholic gray day.

You need a walk, a distraction, or this hungry home would be certain to rip away your work from the shelves and swallow you whole instead.

Isn’t it such a tragedy that, someone who pours her creativity and all of her love into time, all she seems to do is waste it?, the gaudy wallpaper seems to taunt, all the colors of filthy maroon and darkened blue flowers seeming to make it feel more imposing and less of a comfort.

Your hand curls around the handle of your umbrella, a sturdy thing, but just as drab as the rest of the home. Then, the package you’ve been putting off delivering to the elderly woman in town. Best to get it done with now, maybe upon your return the hands that fix could do so once again.

Shame about the clock face though. You would certainly have to patch together another and pray the pocket watch’s owner wouldn’t notice.

The wind is not what you had anticipated.

Outside is different. The howling of it past the windows and shuddering through the attic felt perfectly at home in your shoddy little house, but as the door swings shut behind you, it feels entirely alive. Cold and bitter and angry— the things you keep repressed that nature lacks the tact to.

The trees bend and sway from its invisible yet incessant pushing. The hand containing the package falls down to the lap of your skirt to keep it from flying up just as your other clutches the umbrella ever tighter to keep it from billowing out into the air to be left discarded miles away.

It isn’t a short walk to town, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, it almost seems as though you’re in more tender company than the lumber and the ticking clocks.

The path through the forest is overgrown as always, branches are pushed aside and your skirt is lifted to avoid burrs and thorns.

You should have had the sense to bring along a coat, because when the thunder does strike up and the rain finally begins to fall in heavy, hurried drops, you find yourself shivering terribly with the package guarded against your chest.

Lamplight would have done well, too.

You would have almost happily allowed yourself to toss aside the umbrella and be battered by the rain if you could only see. The forest is dark on days like this, with the canopy of thick branches and their dense leaves blocking out any sliver of light cast down from overhead.

It’s only by sheer luck that you don’t manage to trip, toss your delivery into the shadow of a tree and lose it entirely before you do make it out. When the trees finally part to the barren hill overlooking town you breathe a sigh of relief, a quiet thanks for the grayed light above.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way through the quiet town. The shop windows are all lit aglow with the silhouettes of people inside, strangely dancing like shadows through a fog. A place you can not be, can not touch.

The stares the townsfolk give you make your skin crawl, as though they are so close to being what you are but not, only tied down to your world when they think themselves lofty. Their eyes always seem to question, scrape under your skin with sharpened arms, ticking and flaying, always asking: Why?

You face forward as your skin begins to prickle, not from the wet or the chill but a subdued sort of fear that nestles burning into your chest, sets your heart rushing like a rabbit.

The streets are silent enough, a small blessing; any passing strangers are hurriedly skittering through the rain and muck to hide away in their homes, children ushered with a hand to their back by flustered looking mothers, complaining in hushed voices about the rain. You only smile at them and step aside when your paths cross.

They never smile for you.

It’s why the broken clocks are delivered to your doorstep rather than brought inside, addresses and names from muffled voices calling out beyond your thick wooden door, coins and bills pushed through the mail slot to lie cold on the welcome mat. The bell above the door never chimes, and you only make your deliveries on days like this, when the rain or the dark blanket you up to keep you safe and eternally somber.

You leave the package on the doorstep, covered from the rain by a small, vermillion awning. One sharp knock is given and you’re back on your way, back to the old house, to the simplicity of the ticking, the comfort of the old cobweb on the vaulted ceiling and the drab gray of the bleakness.

There are puddles now, glistening with any light they can suck into their depths, threatening and taunting as the dull stares and that rickety old desk you really should fix. You think for a moment, that perhaps no one would even notice if one of those dark pits of rain water pulled you in entirely, only to splash through it with ease, dirtying the ends of your skirt.

The rain lessens when you crest the hill, the forest less a tangle of clattering limbs and now only a gentle sway reaches the tops of the trees, light filtering through them, as if to guide you on your way. It doesn’t lessen the bushels of thorns, the tree limbs downed and scattered over the path. In some small blessing, you’re able to scramble over them without having to plan a visit to a tailor to repair a ripped gown; scrubbing the mud from it would surely be tedious enough.

The droplets splatter against the dirt and fallen leaves in hushed bursts, the forest alive as always with the cooing of nesting birds in spite of the rain. The only thing that seems out of place is a sudden, soft thud, the snap of a branch underfoot. Just one footfall, and things return to a placid state amidst the sky’s tears.

You raise your head to glimpse in the direction, gaze sweeping over the figure of a man some paces off to your left. Beneath the shadow of a broad, twisting pine layered in thick branches, his details are mostly obscured, a thin trail of silver light only casting aglow the glimpse of a blue eye.

He’s only large enough to notice, shoulders slumped and chest rapidly rising to fall like a frightened animal; as his silhouette shifts just so you even consider that he’s shivering.

There’s something in that stare of somber blue that splinters at the wall of discomfort; it is not accusing, not bitter, worn and cold. Curious. Something akin to your own.

Damn your sweetness, your inability to simply let things be even as that ache twists around in your chest, clawing at a cage of bone and hissing that you keep silent. Be on your way. Don’t look back.

Instead, you extend your umbrella outward, toward him.

“Awful rain, hm?,” you chime.

The figure visibly tenses, seems to shrink into himself for a moment before straightening and giving one solemn nod.

“You can take my umbrella. I’m almost home, anyway.”

That seems to spark something, not much, but the stranger does take a step forward. Your eyes catch on the wet, matted hair clinging to his head, cascading down to shroud a face you still can’t quite make out.

The poor thing stirs something in you, a deep sympathy that clouds even the judgment of that flighty, skittish thing resting deep inside.

Even from such a distance it’s clear that he’s been neglected, likely cast off by the town even less favorably than you have. His scent carries on the breeze, like dirt and wood and misery.

You extend the umbrella again before realizing he won’t come any closer with you being there. So, you lower it to the ground, avoiding the mud as best you could and leave it. If he took it, fine. If not, you travel this path so often it would be collected in time.

The figure mutters something as you rise, a low string of foreign words that you can only interpret as being spoken out of surprise, perhaps even gratitude.

You smile toward him as you wipe fat, slithering raindrops from your brow.

“You don’t want to catch a fever.”

With that, you’re back on your way, thoughts of the rugged stranger weigh heavy on your mind as the roof of your home comes into view, stilted and in the same drab navy as the flowers on the wallpaper.

You could have done more. It had been instilled into you to not to open the door for someone you did not quite know, yet a part of you longed to take care of something not simply fed by oil, something only capable of telling you how much time you’ve sat alone as thanks.

Surely it was best not to let it distract you.

This was good enough.

The key is produced, the door opened, and just like the many times before that you have forced yourself from this place, the house seems less unsettling upon your return.

As what little daylight remains fades away into night, you find yourself seated, toying with the old pocket watch once more. It’s the only one that doesn’t make a lick of sense, a puzzle that can not be solved. For all the polished parts and meticulous tinkering, it still won’t work properly.

It grates and growls as though rusted, the cogs shifting inside with each movement of the arms are well-polished yet seem to do little but hiss and spit.

This is the fourth time you have taken it apart only to put it back together with no improvement.

There was little to be known about the man who owned it, some pompous, arrogant creature that you had only seen in passing. He had turned his nose up to you, you were sure of that, only to deliver this dying thing to your door the following day.

Your work had always been compared to your father’s. Though you possessed a similarity in skill, you were not what the townsfolk had deemed to be respectable. An unwed lady out on her own, biding her time repairing what they had broken rather than feeding hungry mouths delivered from her very womb, how terribly scandalous.

The pocket watch is set aside as you busy yourself tailoring a small sheet of metal for it. The graduations are carved in with a sharp razor, impeccably angled. Then, the Roman numerals, just before it’s slotted back into place.

The likeness to the former face is nearly uncanny, it’s only sturdier and less susceptible to ripping from the mere touch of tweezers. The rust s gone from the casing, and at long last— it ticks; no grinding growl as the second hand begins its revolution. The fickle thing just needed a touch up, you supposed as you flick off the desk lamp and rise to your feet.

The curtains are drawn as they always were when you step into the bedroom. The muddy dress is finally peeled away as you change and slink into the covers, and just for a moment, you almost think that you feel the animal between your breasts begin to settle too.

———

There’s a letter stuffed into the mail slot: crumpled with no postage stamp, scrawled across some scrap of paper that surely was plucked from a garbage bin.

You marvel at the lack of care for a moment before your fingers do find themselves pawing at it, unfurling the worn edges to find the words: Thank you.

Written in thick black ink, there’s a clumsiness to it, the dance of a quivering hand holding pen. You think back to the elderly woman you had made that delivery to only yesterday; had she trudged through the mud and muck just to bring you this?

Her thanks was only needed in the blessing of payment, and she had already generously done just that when she left her little humming wall clock at the door.

You flip the note over, inspecting it carefully. There’s a line there, too, hastily scratched out in the same black ink, the lines crossing and digging leaving little pinprick holes in the paper.

Holding it to the light, you can just barely make out the words: I have been alone.

Your mouth dries at the sentiment, tongue flicking out to try and force a wetness to your lips. The animal begins its keening howl, a chain rattling as claws sink into your innards; the very same agitated fear that starved you out of comfort day in and out.

The man in the forest, perhaps. You were sure that you would have remembered seeing someone so disheveled and tall about town, and if not for a certainty that he had not followed you home, you would have assumed it was him. Gratitude finally said, and well on his way to someplace else.

There’s nothing here for him or anyone else, surely he could see that. Even you could.

The walls around you seem to bulge, the room shrinking once again as every little thing held within begins to taunt and yowl. Safety was only a temporary luxury, it always has been.

The letter is discarded onto a table, as you opt to hazard a peek out of your curtains instead. The gray from yesterday remains as thick clouds crowd above, threatening another storm. The treetops and tall grass dance in the breeze, freeing leaves and breaking flower stems. There’s no one standing there to greet you, to explain themselves for the strange message that they had left.

The town had probably already driven you to madness, picturing things that were not there while old fools jab you with ominous letters and jeering stares to see just how long it would take to watch you fall apart.

Another delivery day it would be, then; best to get it out of the way before the rain begins to fall.

Maybe you could even retrieve the umbrella along the path, discarded, battered from the rain and likely unused.

You don’t bother packaging the pocket watch, choosing to hastily stuff it into the pocket of your coat instead. Courtesies be damned. Tea and a warm bath would do well when the house was sated by your absence, when you were finally given time to breathe.

In your haste, you nearly kick over what’s been left on the uppermost stair leading to your door.

You find a table clock covered in a thick black fabric, a little note attached to it giving the owner’s name and address, and a small bag containing payment.

It’s all securely placed inside, next to the ugly letter on the table.

Your umbrella doesn’t wait on the path, but you’ve hardly the mind to care. Your hand tightens around the pocket watch as you cord your way down the path and back into town, rushing amidst the foliage until the sounds of your footfalls are dulled by the street.

Reaching the house, a towering narrow building that smells like tobacco even from outside, your hand curls to knock at the door in the same breath taken as the chain is plucked to place it on the knob, intent on scurrying away immediately to avoid the disgusted gaze of the man that waits inside.

You don’t quite make it far enough before the door swings open and you’re greeted by a round face, nose upturned and lip curled into a sneer.

That isn’t imagination.

There’s a genuine hate in this man, seeping down into his bones that makes him almost seem to reek like sulfur through the cloud of cigarette smoke that wafts around him. It’s the face of someone who would love nothing more than to see your own damnation, watch the earth suck you in until your wails fall silent and a fire roars upward in your wake.

“This isn’t my watch, dear.”

“Parts needed to be replaced,” you explain, voice tight and keening like a wolf in a trap, “I assure you that I—“

“It’s shoddy work. Any clocksmith up north would have done better for half the price..”

It goes on like this for what feels like at minimum thirty revolutions, but it must have only been five or so. His droning voice makes it hard to keep track, buzzing as he examines your work, hours wasted upon aiding such an awful creature.

He only seems to grow bored of his chiding when you fall to silence. He wants a reaction, not a wide-eyed fretful stare and pursed lips caging in any sound that may bubble up from your throat.

In one final act of detestation, the watch is tossed to the ground, stomped in repetition until the hands snap, the ticking quiets, and you see months of your work brought to ruin in a mere seven seconds.

He storms back inside and slams the door shut as you stoop to collect the little, broken thing, cradling it in your palms. Maybe it wouldn’t be fixed again, but you’ve hardly the mind to let anything be left abandoned like this.

Though the anger builds, white bitter smoke billowing through your veins, it remains tucked away inside eventually communing with the animal, all but entirely snuffed out when your steps lead you to the front door of the house.

The window to the right is open, not broken. The curtains were pushed aside as though to allow a breeze to enter. A muddy footprint, vast and long scales the siding, but there’s no exiting one to join it.

You stare and listen, taking one quiet step towards the open window to strain your hearing. Nothing. Inside, it’s quiet, only the sound of the breeze rattling that note left on the table, the ticking and the familiar creaks and groans of the house settling.

So, you enter.

With the poker from the hearth in tow, the rooms are investigated one by one. Each and every one of them clear of any intruder. Even the attic, for all of it’s imagined ghosts sits empty, stale and silent. There’s no one here, nothing out of place or broken that hadn’t already been cast out from the world and delivered into your hands.

Strangely enough, it’s more peaceful like this; the leaves could be heard rustling outside, birds calling, even the chirps and strumming of crickets too late to flee the onset of chill seeping through this purgatory, filling the mundane void with sounds of life and peace.

You leave the window open.

The pocket watch is left on the desk, the kettle filled with water and placed upon the stove to heat, all before your eyes trail over to that little table beside the front door.

The only thing amiss is there, your intuition roars at you: “Look, look. Just look.”

The table clock from this morning sits there, the wood casing dusty and the hands perpetually stuck to sit at six o’clock, easy to enough to break, and easier still to fix. An overworked battery and a little oil would be its saving grace; if only things could be so simple for yourself, for the thousand or so others that surely must feel the same— clawed, fretful little rabbits.

Your eyes narrow momentarily, vaguely recalling that the damned thing had been covered when it was dragged inside. Something sable and thick, a scrap of a heavy dress shirt perhaps, verily stained. Odd that someone would have broken in merely to steal something so useless, but stranger tales have been told. For all you cared, the perpetrator could keep it.

You entertain the idea of the wild man in the trees, thick and sturdy as one. Perhaps he left the note, stole warmth from your home and found comfort in that useless old shirt after leaving that roughly scrawled note. Though the idea would horrify others, it only sets your ceaselessly racing pulse at ease.

Toying with the idea that someone so very much like you lurks the hills, found a home in your eyes and paid a visit, kind enough to wait until you were in town as to not scare you… and the kettle begins to whistle.

———

You had forgotten to close the window last night. Or maybe it was left as an invitation, a silent offer of your companionship for the unknown thing that occupies your already haunted mind these days. Something in your subconscious dared you to simply forget, see what happens, and you’re not entirely disappointed to find out that yes, something has happened.

There are three flowers laid out there in a row, smushed by the weight of a heavy palm: a daffodil left golden and proud despite the way her petals fray and wither, and two others wild and unnamed with blue and white colors leading to vibrant green stems. And roots. He hadn’t the time to pluck them proper, nor had a sense of gentleness to his touch in doing so.

It’s the first time you’ve laughed in months, a giggling that makes your chest ache from a sudden mirth through all of this wretchedness. Who knew it would only take three flowers and the appearance of someone so disconnected? You take them and place them in a vase in the same spot, careful to add just the right amount of water to keep them living for a time.

Someone brought you flowers— actually brought you a gift, not a job. You remember those eyes, too. His hands may not have been gentle, but that look was.

Though darkness still creeps internally, you’re resolute in what you must do when you prepare for the day. You’ve never really worn this dress— a soft, white thing with billowing sleeves and tight cuffs that brings a swell to your breasts and cinches your waist. One of the women about town had given it to you in lieu of payment for repairing her husband's watch, left a note prattling onward for three pages about how a woman should dress to find a man. Three!

You’ll find him, thank him for the flowers, bat your eyelashes just a little and retrieve your umbrella. That’s all. The rain would be back, more deliveries would have to be made, and if you could manage a friend from all of this well… surely things could work out for you, just this once.

Your steps are less hurried and more tentative this time around. You don’t barrel through the woods like a galloping mare, mindful of your dress as you lift the fabric at the hips to avoid thick, slickened mire. There isn’t much to do about the thorns nipping at your ankles, leaving little scratches like cat’s claws in their wake.

The thought that maybe this was a ridiculous idea only settles in your mind after an hour of searching. You don’t even have a name to call him by, not an idea on just where he may be or what his intentions truly were, all further punctuated by the fact that you’ve found yourself in the midst of a wild orchard, the yellowing grass nearly reaching your knees as you reluctantly allow your dress to flow free. Thick clusters of apples hang above your head, each nearly ripe, some even fallen to leave a fragrant sweet smell in the wake of their rot.

Thunder roars above, distant but loud, cruelly threatening the wake of a downpour that would so easily sully the delicate thing you wear. Your chest aches from exertion, from whichever horrid fear it's settled on today, and you’re nearly fully convinced of your own madness when something does finally catch your eye.

There’s a cabin, nestled between the trees, old and lacking glass panes for the windows. The roof is covered in moss, walls creeping with the old green of vines and nearly hidden away entirely by the tall grass that rises above its face.

You could wait out the storm in the dark there, rethink your steps until you find a way back home and the prospect of actually entering a building that wasn’t the very picture of your own agony stirs something within you.

You don’t bother to knock, only waltz right in and let the door shut softly behind you. It creaks as it goes, whining from the rust laden over its hinges. As expected, the cabin is mostly barren; a set of dust laden chairs sits on opposite ends of a table missing a leg, a large bookshelf housing only a torn copy of Paradise Lost and a journal, a few dirtied dishes are left on the floor, and in the corner…

There are a lot of things that make you feel small.

You couldn’t live up to your father’s name in town. The thought that you were not an equal to the other ladies with their fine jewelry and dresses, rings wrapped around their fingers, that was a sore spot despite the way you refused to admit to it. Even the hounds lurking about the butcher’s shop on lonely night deliveries, baying and growling when your feet carried you too close.

None of those things could even compare to how you felt now.

The rug he lies beneath is large on its own, but your flower-giving, grateful titan seems even more so. It’s as though walking into a bear’s den and expecting a mere squirrel. Even curled into himself in sleep, he seems impossibly huge.

You couldn’t see much of him that first night, but now… where the rags that make up his clothes reveal a series of long scars along his legs, the hairy arms that seem far too thick: all of him, all of him is massive.

Your rabbit heart does not claw or fight you now, it only flutters, placated by the sight of something so… was there really a word for it? The idea that someone so imposing could strike the match of attraction within you. Feelings were strange, each comes sharp and new like the deliberate twist of a knife through a body, soft like warm bread.

You smile as you wander to his side, recognizing the cloth he wears over his head immediately as the one stolen from your house. Your dress is smoothed at your rear as you lower yourself to sit on your knees at his side, quiet and slow.

“Hello,” you whisper, placing a hand on a shoulder that dwarfs it entirely, feeling the bulge of muscle beneath the ripped shirt, the ridge of keloid scars from deep cuts laid into his skin.

The titan’s eyelids flutter for a moment as he begins to stir, staring up at the ceiling, teetering on the edge between waking and dreaming. Then, those cold blue eyes lock onto you. A flash of disbelief crosses them, just for a moment before something flips and from the holes ripped into that makeshift hood you see an expression that seems almost agonized.

“Hello,” he rasps after a long moment, shifting onto his side to prop himself up and raise his head to level with your own.

His breathing is shallow, almost panicked and you finally think to bring your hands to your lap instead, avoid touching him and potentially startling the poor man further.

“I wanted to thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.” You pause as you study what little of his expression you can make out through the mask, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners only giving a glimpse of a smile. All teeth, probably, an excited one that even the imagination of warms your heart. “I put them in a vase. I didn’t want them to die.”

“I should not have…” His voice is softer than you ever imagined that it could be, well-spoken as the words are pulled from his throat. You find yourself transfixed, almost, praying that he continues if only to hear the delicate strumming of his tone, the soft sigh of breath that leaves him afterward.

“Es tut mir leid.”

The apology is followed by a low sweep of his gaze, slowly crawling from the peek of your cleavage to your hips to rest where your hands lay clasped in your lap.

He hardly seems to know what to do with himself, what to say, and all at once the realization dawns on you that no, he isn’t merely paying his thanks and seeking conversation. Perhaps that was part of it then, but now… he seems almost entranced.

You recognize those looks, from men in passing when they leered, but from him… from this weary, haunted stranger. It only seems a silent sort of reverence; as though longing for something he’s been deprived of.

“No, it’s fine, it made me happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes, it was sweet.”

He falls silent at that, conflicted if the pinch of his brow were anything to go by. Then, sudden, he takes your wrist and jerks your hand toward his face, thumb brushing over the small calluses over each pad of your fingers. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails, even more scaring along those massive hands and you shiver. It’s not fear it’s… something akin to it, opposite by the way it dances and writhes in warmth rather than the cold.

“You have the hands of a maker.”

Strange, sweet Goliath.

His words are spoken somberly, as if there is more to say that he holds back. A part of you warns that you’re not prepared for it anyhow, so you let him continue that motion, brushing over your palm with a featherlight touch until it begins to tickle.

Your giggle prompts him to raise his head, watery eyes threatening tears when he hears that sweet sound bubble up from within you. His hand curls over your own, trapping you in his grasp as though little else matters to him more than the need to touch you in some way.

“You have kind eyes.”

“I am not kind.”

You shake your head at that, flicking your thumb across the top of his burly hand, marveling at the smooth skin of his scars and the rough texture of the hair that dots his knuckles.

“You’re sweet to me, and that’s all that matters.”

It could have been a mistake, how easily you’ve taken to this bizarre titan. Any lady with proper regard for her standing and womanhood assuredly wouldn’t have said something like that to a beast that has the stature and the scent of something wild.

Still, the words leave your lips far too quickly to draw back; he responds with an urgency.

You find yourself pulled ever closer by the iron grip on your hand, tugged into the rug-turned-mattress by this man as he cages you in to meld against his chest. He’s everywhere, warm and burning against the chill of your skin with flesh touched by hellfire.

You only sigh pitifully when his arm wraps around your waist. When was the last time you had even felt an embrace? You couldn’t recall, and even if you had, it would have paled in comparison to one such as this. You breathe him in like a summer’s breeze, tasting a hint of the apple orchard beyond on your tongue when you open your mouth to speak once again.

“See..?”

The tension in his muscles seems to melt away; if your heart is like a hare then surely his must be more akin to a bull. It takes some time before he softens entirely against you, despite his initiation. His breath is almost a pant when his hand trails upward along your back, feeling every ridge and dip and curve, breath catching in wonder as you allow it.

“You are soft like…”

His head dips to press into your shoulder, breathing you in, humming his approval at the mingling scent of clock oil and tea leaves that lingers on your skin. Even from beneath the hood, you can feel the way his lips brush over you, his mouth parted in a voiceless plea.

“… like one of the flowers.”

It’s almost torture really, how someone could be so comforting, so endearing.

His hand trails further, drifting over the backside of your dress to curl against your thigh threatening something if you don’t conjure the sense to stop him. It stokes the fire within you, glowing ember in place of a brain, it seemed. You feel weak, lost in a foreign touch and sweet, clumsily spoken words.

If the townsfolk could see you now, herded up in this stranger’s arms, surely they wouldn’t dare to cast any disapproval your way. Not one of those meek little devils would have a word to say… not now or ever again.

“You’re like… a tree then,” you whisper as you finally will yourself to twist away from the grip, already mourning the loss of warmth as a cold wind filters through the openings in the cabin.

He doesn’t sulk as you pull away, only seems content to have been blessed with that much. That mist remains in his eyes before they shut again, willing himself to rise to sit up just as you do.

“Will you stay?”

You glance over the cabin again, with all of its dust and cobwebs. Your umbrella sits in the corner, propped upright with its handle leant against the wall, out of place amidst the dilapidation prevalent here.

This wasn’t a home at all, just a quiet, cold purgatory. Though the halls of your own may mock your solitude, this place seems to echo his very being: alone, broken, rotting and so, so very cold.

Your heart bleeds as you weigh your options, expression growing sullen and torn. He notices, tentatively takes your hand again in an almost practiced way of providing comfort. Had he ever even…

Your thoughts begin to drift again, and you force yourself to settle on a choice. It’s not your heart that should be damned, but that horrid seed of doubt constantly burdening, stealing from, and clawing at you.

“I should get home, before the rain.”

“Verstanden.”

“You can come too.”

There’s an audible hiss of breath through his teeth, that peculiar look of agony crosses his face again… and finally, he weeps.

———

König, you think to call him.

He teaches you German from time to time, in turn for you allowing him to watch as you work away at the clocks. It feels fitting in a way. Not because he harbors the self-importance of a noble figure, nor his stature; he’s simply become something impossibly important in the week long span you’ve spent together now.

You’ve decorated the guest room properly for him, and in turn he’s brought you firewood, foraged and hunted so that neither of you have had to bother with the town. The fire raged in the hearth as the cold continues to set in, and your walks to town have been enjoyable now. He accompanies you to the hill on some nights, draws you a bath when you come home, even cooks.

So… maybe a king was not entirely appropriate, but calling him a servant certainly wasn’t either. Even with the way he seems to melt and become docile at the slightest brush of your hand, the way you know with a certainty he would die for you if you spoke the word.

And still, you call him König: the king of your heart.

There are flowers at your windowsill each morning, still clinging to their roots. You bake the bread while he cooks stew with herbs gathered from the little garden just beyond the walls of the home, one he’s graciously told you he’s wanted to expand for you. Books you’ve overlooked for years have been read end to end by him, and he especially seems to like those with art of flowers drawn into their pages, always seeking you out to show you, explain their meanings, expressing the beauty that he sees in them and within you.

You don’t know where he’s come from, what his life was like before this, and with the same respect that he gives to you… you don’t ask.

“We’re starting a new story,” you had said the first morning over a breakfast of hastily made apple dumplings. To which he had agreed, with a somber hum, nodding his hooded head.

Though you do wonder about his secrets, his face. Seeing him now is all it really takes to make you smile.

He comes through the door, hauling in the massive grandfather clock that a carriage had left only this morning. The bob and the lyre both appeared broken at a glance, but your heart sinks when you read the name on the note left attached to it.

The same petulant little man that had stomped that poor watch to pieces right in front of you, no doubt he had broken this one too in some sort of tantrum. What was it now? Had the poor clock chimes a bit too loudly during the night? Was that deserving of a foot lodged right into its heart?

“König, do you mind just leaving it there?” You gesture toward the middle of the room, watching as the muscles beneath his shirt don’t even seem to ripple from exertion.

“Natürlich.”

As you set to work, pulling away parts, straightening out bends and replacing what’s broken, he kneels at your side watching with rapt attention. There’s no fixing the pendulum bob entirely, it’s far too bent and scraped, but you wouldn’t be replacing that with work of your own either. The bastard gets what he gets and that will do.

In truth, your work since having König here has only improved, and perhaps you’re showing off a bit, but the way he watches you tinker with the dusty old things as if mesmerized fills you with pride. You could fix anything, yes, with him at your side you wanted to.

The house doesn’t echo wasted time anymore, only that crowding feeling of something buzzing and chirping, budding up in the spaces where shadows should crawl: love. You wouldn’t trade it for the loneliness to return, not ever. A new sort of fear that stings just as much as it does caress.

So you work in silence, only breaking it to answer the sparse questions that he throws out.

When the clock is shoddily finished, you wipe the oil from your hands on a rag, and take König’s own large arm as it’s offered out to you to stand.

“I will carry it for you tonight,” he suggests, delicately brushing a bit of dust from your sleeve. His touch does linger, always lingers, trailing up to massage at your shoulder and cup at your neck. The swell of heat that arrives at your face then, the press of your thighs beneath your skirt… it’s always the same.

“I thought that you didn’t want to go into town?”

Your shoulder meets his chest as you press against him, doing very little to calm your body’s frustrations. The blood within you stirs like a violent wave feeling him this near— cleaned up and dressed in some patchwork conglomerate of your father’s old clothes. He smells like a union between the earth and sea, salt and alder leaf, a hint of thyme and lavender.

His eyes glitter when his gaze roves from your face to chest, hand skittering down to curl at the small of your back. To anyone else, you would look the picture of husband and wife perhaps.

“I would go anywhere with you.”

A fresh normal, like the rise of spring, those words and touches that suggest more: threatening while you plead in silence for him to just give you a push, unlace your dress and finally feel and see him properly.

“Then… yes, let’s get the cursed thing out of here tonight.”

His grip tightens around you just for a moment, fingers curling and flexing into the soft linen covering you, bunching it up just so at your back before he relents, draws away.

“You dislike this one?” König sounds almost hurt, perhaps he favored it, being tall and similar to him in some way. Another odd thing, hard to place, but he’s never seemed to like you talking down about your own work, a habit that needed breaking.

“No,” you begin to explain, curling your arms around his middle as you both stare at the thing, ticking quietly before you, “its owner is just a pain.”

“I can tell. You seem nervous, meine geliebte.”

“You haven’t taught me that one yet,” you point out, not playing coy, despite the look he gives you that suggests you know.

There’s always that ache when his eyes narrow and that playful glint reaches them. How someone could look as though they’ve suffered dozens of lifetimes of pain and still have that look, you did not know, but it excites you. A furious, needy excitement.

“Beloved,” is all that he says.

The stare relents as he heads back out into the garden, leaving you to sort yourself out.

———

“You’re sure that you can carry it the entire way?”

It’s not that you could help, really. The thing must have weighed as much as yourself, strung up over König’s back with a rope he had found lying someplace in the garden.

“Ja, it’s fine.” He’s not out of breath in the slightest either. You realize then that if you put on all your charms bending, arching and delicately maneuvering your hands to fix the clocks, the assuredly this was his way of doing the same. You try to reign yourself in from staring at the damp spot on his shirt, clinging to his broad expanse of chest, the way that his thighs seem to tense with each step forward.

You can’t— you merely trail behind him until you take the lead to bring him right to the other man’s doorstep. Your hands find the ropes that keep the clock saddled to König’s back, carefully untying them as he stoops down to let its wooden legs rest against the ground below. It scrapes, the consequence of being so heavy and forced to stand on those four tiny legs, and only then does it decide to make a cacophony of noise signaling the new hour, a trilling sort of bong that makes even your ears ring as it breaks up the silence of the night.

You don’t even need to knock, because the door flies open immediately. The man stands proud, unperturbed by your giant companion as he shoves past you to inspect his clock. There are no greetings, no pleasantries, and if you were just a bit more careless with your reputation, smacking him would have only brought you satisfaction.

“Not good, but it will do,” the little man huffs, knocking at the glass casing over the clock’s face with his knuckle. “Be a dear and have your friend bring it in for me.”

You’ve no doubt that König senses your annoyance as he cocks his head at you, but when you give a curt nod in response, he does what’s requested. The clock is set in a large den. It’s not as opulent and gilded as you had expected, just a simple home housing a very infuriating man. You watch from the doorway, swaying on your feet as König rights the clock and pushes it where he’s directed. Just a few more seconds and the two of you would be well on your way, and perhaps he would even teach you a new curse for a man like that.

He comes uncomfortably close to König’s side, a smug look plastered over his face that only seems to exaggerate just how greasy and mousy that you know him to be. Something is whispered that you can’t quite make out, a dare, a mocking taunt, something that pisses you off even without the knowledge.

The hood is pulled off by thin fingers, cast aside to the floor beyond the pair.

The man’s face goes pale before you even get a glimpse of König at all. He backs away, mouth gaping as König calmly moves to retrieve the cloth. You think you hear the word “monster” mumbled amidst a slew of incoherent babbling, but when your companion turns to face you, you feel no fear.

König’s face is like patchwork, scars connecting all together. They run like small streams up from his jaw and over his chin, splitting his lip at the corner of his mouth and dancing up to his eye. The nose is broken in places, several times over likely, crooked with a bump that only seems strangely cute. The unkempt hair lining his jaw should be trimmed, but… there’s no monster here. Only a man who has seen and felt pains that you could not bring yourself to imagine.

His head dips when he notices your wide-eyes stare, a sort of shame hidden away behind strands of long, black hair. He shuffles out of the house and shuts the door behind him, standing rigid as he expects the worst, for you to wail and sob and gather a group of townsfolk to herd him far away with fire and stones.

You only take his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t bother to hide himself away again during the walk back, his hand remains in your hold, trembling every now and then and gripping you tighter as he struggles with the thoughts no doubt raging in his skull like a storm. You offer your comfort as you lean toward him, head pressed against his arm even as you turn the knob and step inside.

You warm a bath for him then, a task that is no easy feat. König does not offer his help, resigned to some belief that this is only a temporary pity.

He allows you to peel away his clothes, graze your fingers over his body, over the scars all with a barely contained creature scraping out from inside: the untamed bull that you can not see. You press a kiss there, over his heart, feel it’s beating against your lips, pulling away only when his thumb strokes your cheek.

Each new sight of him is just as wonderful as they have always been. It’s not that you take pleasure in seeing the way he must have suffered; the now healed bullet wound over his abdomen speaks volumes of just what people are capable of when met with the sight of something that they do not understand.

The questions burn at the back of your skull, bitten back as your jaw tightens.

You help him wash with soap and a soft cloth, carefully removing any patches of dirt and dust that have lingered despite his near-daily bathing since living beneath your roof. The rough beard is trimmed in full, until all that’s left is a trail of dark stubble lingering along his jaw, broken up by scars like thin spider silk that make up the entirety of his body.

His hair is a mess, too, matted and clinging to his skull in wild clumps. You’re gentle with the brush as you free the tangles, clipping at what can not be saved with sharpened scissors, and massaging at his scalp as he murmurs his approval. It’s such a subdued, gentle cooing from his chest, a purr almost that shatters your heart and forces it back into place instantly.

Whatever he was or was not, you were certain this stray had never felt a touch like your own, if he had ever been touched by human hands at all.

König seems to settle greatly once you’ve tended to him and it does seem to finally dawn on him that you’re not repulsed, you’ve touched most of his damaged body, and have only brought him the gentleness that should have been commonplace by now. This isn’t some elaborate torture method— it’s only tender.

“Your turn, hm?”

That, however, brings you pause. Your hands rest on his shoulder, carefully trying to loosen a stubborn knot when you abruptly still. As if that were all he needed for encouragement, his hands cinch your waist, pulling you up and over the rim of the tub as you whine your protests in hushed little hisses. All for naught, as you find yourself submerged below the waist.

“I’m still dressed,” you sulk as the water dampens your dress, now seated between his parted thighs.

König only gives a laugh in response as his arms encase you in another embrace, his head resting against the dip between your shoulder and neck as his chest is brought to press against your back.

“And you’re still mine.”

His fingers trail further down to the wet fabric billowing amidst the soft, lapping waves of the water, pulling it up until it rests just above your hips. There’s no tact, only a clumsy sort of desperation rarely seen upon men, especially not of his stature.

You allow him to loosen the strands of lace at your back, bring your clothing up and over your head to leave it resting and dripping over the rim, pooling below onto the boards of the wooden floor. Your undergarments follow to join the flooding pile of soaked linen and lace.

You’re flustered certainly, grateful for the water surrounding that conceals the warmth that echoes your fondness for this titan between your legs.

You even considered that he would be more shy, not… as eager to begin to wash you, and not with the cloth but with his own hands, nimbly moving over every dip and curve coating you in the slick residue of soap, leaving suds in its wake. He starts at your shoulders, breath growing heavy the more you soften and relax against his chest.

It’s only a matter of time before his hands find and cup your breasts, and you swear that you can feel the grin that splits his face as you melt further against him. König gropes at and massages you there, eager fingers deliberately stroking at your hardened nipples until you quiver and sigh.

You find purchase moving your arms to your sides to grasp at his biceps, muscles flexing as he works his way down your trembling abdomen to your mound, kissing at your shoulder as you purr your encouragement.

The praises that leave your lips come tight and barely restrained as a finger trails against your slit, moving up to circle your clit before diving back down to prod at you.

Your head is gently tilted back by his free hand, your face peppered in clumsy, messy kisses as a digit sinks into you. It’s lazy work, trying to find a rhythm with your squirming. He only seems satisfied when it presses further, curling against the spot that makes you mewl sweetest, and finally, he kisses you full on.

It’s delivered as sloppily as his fingering, any trailing thought left in your skull dims, fuzzy with sheer bliss as his thumb begins to pet at your clit in tandem with each push and drag of his index. It doesn’t help that you feel his own growing need, hard and hot against your lower back, throbbing with each sound pulled from your mouth, his hips jerking on occasion to drag his shaft against your backside.

“König, we should get out,” you murmur through a flood of heat that curls and urges and presses at your lower half to seek some satisfaction, have him bed you proper. “We can go to—“

His mouth meets yours again, hungrier and more determined than before, the water rolling with each flick of his thumb. In a mere moment you feel that heat stoke to an inferno, blazing from your stomach to cause your feet to kick out, water sloshing over the side of the tub as you ride out each passing wave of paradise crying openly into his mouth.

When your trembling does subside, he kisses your cheek and pulls you up from the water, wrapping you up in his arms. His stare remains ever burning, pupils blown to a coal black, dreamy in the way he slinks back just to drink you in further. You can’t keep track of all of the places his eyes seem to dart, which touch to settle on and relish as he paws at you from chest to rear, as if mesmerized that you are no mere illusion.

You’re giving him everything; no longer the king of simply a beating organ tucked beneath your breast, but your body, bed, wherever he chooses to conquer next, of all the things that he’s been deprived of.

“We will go to bed, beloved,” he rasps, sounding more present than ever. The nightmares lurking behind his eyes have long past now: all focus is turned to you. You’re the only thing that’s ever loved him in return. “We will… become one.”

“Have you ever…” Your own voice fails you now, the evident want between you two incapable of making this any less… tedious. It was tedious, a flighty feathered thing that seems keen on slipping out of your grasp at any moment. If it were to be his first, surely it should be special, somehow, someway. If it were not… you dreaded that thought, a bitter envy sours on your tongue until it’s shaken off.

“No,” he states simply, shrugging.

Though a sense of relief seems to flood you at that, you dare not show it. You will take him to your bed, climb atop him and show him how these things work, a slow sort of love and the rest could wait.

It was foolish to believe that König would settle for such a thing, wild and only temporarily tamed by your sweetness: he is entirely different the moment you’re herded into the bedroom. The desperation of his touches has faded out entirely, replaced with what feels almost like a rage.

He wouldn’t take out humanities sins on you, no, but he would years of brutal neglect have left him starved and it just so happens that you’re an outlet for it, something to feed from by way of spilling his soul and his seed all into you, taken back with the kisses and praises that would surely come after this union.

You’re unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, lying at your side as he climbs in behind you. He whispers his requests into your hair, even as his hand wraps to pull your thigh up before you can bless him with a nod in response. He struggles for a moment, parting your labia with the obscene, ridiculous thing that hangs between his legs. It drags over you in repetition, oiled like the clock cogs before the head of his cock finally finds the opening his finger explored only minutes earlier.

You almost expect him to break you right then, force you to take what your body— no body- had surely been made for, but he only thrusts the tip inside and gives you some time to adjust, roll your hips down centimeter by agonizing centimeter.

“You are… Does it hurt you..?” His voice is a breathless pant, trying to hold himself together despite the daze he’s found himself in, buried not even three inches into your cunt.

“No… you can move,” you breathe out, eyelids fluttering as you tilt you head to look at him over your shoulder.

König clings to you as he sinks further, grasping at your waist to pull your further down, sharp breaths hissed between gritting teeth as he delights in the way your womanhood grips at his shaft.

Just as before, there’s no rhythm to him, he takes the sounds that leave you as a direction, huffing into your ear words that your mind could not hope to translate. There’s an indulgence to it, shared between you both as his hand curls tighter against your thigh, spread open and accepting of the brutal pace he takes to have just a taste of what it feels to be a normal man.

His words falter at a point, when you feel your body tightening around him, sucking him in, closer, nearer as your head lolls back. The inferno from before pales in comparison to the blaze that overtakes you now, his voice strained with bliss as you begin to moan for him. With each drag and soar of his cock spearing you open, you’re only brought further to a glimpse of Eden. If this were the fall of man, you find you couldn’t question Eve for relishing in it.

“… you gave me a name,” he rasps, “A home…”

All at once that glimmer of heaven crashes down around you, bathes you in the glow of something lofty and holy as he pulls you close and drives himself to the hilt within you. The throbbing and pulsing of his length pulls you over just as his seed spills within, drips thick and flooding as your own sex drools in tandem, sharing a perfect rapture both clandestine and sacred. He gives you another generous thrust, ensuring that he’s carved a space inside no other man could ever hope to fill.

You fret when you find him weeping, quiet tears rolling down his pale cheeks to spill over your shoulder, but the gentle smile on his face is pacifying as you twist around to face him. “And now you have my love.”

“I’ll cherish it,” he murmurs, voice broken and pitiful as you’re maneuvered upward to rest against the feather-stuffed pillows against the headboard.

You curl against him, head resting on his chest, an arm draped over his waist. He takes your hand into his own, appraising it like the first time you properly met. Hands of a maker. Your mind wanders to significance in that statement, the things that needn’t be told are finding ways to curtain you anyhow when he speaks again.

“Could you fix me?” He asks, tracing over the calluses on your fingertips, still bathing in the afterglow.

The question, though you felt it coming, still hurts to hear him speak it: breathing life into a thought that should have never existed to begin with.

“There’s nothing to fix.” Though you speak true, though you know he feels your sincerity, his eyes are heavy when he looks to you again. “Why would you ask me that?”

The story that he tells you then is one of horror. From his maker down to the things he’s done, seen, felt: hated from the moment he woke into this strange world, the horrible loneliness that pushed and bedded down inside of him like acceptance never would. The people that he’s throttled in some desire to finally have someone like him; men, women, it made no difference. All of it is bared with only one message eternally prevalent: he has only ever wanted to be loved.

In truth, he was a monster. Not because he was given the instinctual urge to be, but because it was all he knew. Gnashing teeth from demons hurling that word out with every stone they threw, every shot and stab at his heart.

You listen, despite the way it hurts, pull him a little closer when he ends his tale with your meeting, how he knew you were the only blessing he would ever receive in his lifetime— however long that may be.

You were good at fixing broken things, but König never needed to be fixed. Only found.

———

“Now you’re supposed to say it,” you hum, as his hands reach to the hem of the hood— his- covering your face. They rove beneath the fabric, curling against the skin of your cheeks, tracing small patterns there, some rotations like the clocks, others the childish hearts scribbled into books.

“I vow to take you as my wife.”

“You’re bad at this.” You giggle when he does finally push the cloth up past your nose, above your eyes and further until it’s pulled back like a veil.

“I will love you endlessly,” he continues, returning your noise of elation with a huffed laugh of his own. “I already do.”

“I love you, too.”

No one in town would ever properly marry you two, not if one look could make a weak man fall to his knees in horror, but here, beneath the roof of a home once echoing the same voice that haunts him… it was good enough. The moon seems to echo your vows with dancing rays, stars twinkling in approval as the calls of night birds carry through the open window.

There are no rings, no written formalities to be stored away with dust-ridden papers, preyed upon by mites. It’s far more sacred, genuine than the flippant affairs and arrangements that go on with those that would so readily cast the both of you aside. In truth— the thought of them rarely comes; doesn’t even rile up that intense fear inside of you any longer.

Everything only seems easier with the blooming garden outdoors, and the man who gazes upon you like he sees divinity itself behind your eyes, in the softness of your flesh.

When you kiss, it’s something from a fairytale, flowers strewn at your feet and the veil removed from your hair by a gentle hand.

Eden doesn’t seem so much like a memory lost to time, after all.

#könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction

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thecurseofcassandra-if · 3 months

Text

[DEMO] [Last Updated: June 28, 2024]

"Hold fast, Child of Cassandra. Those who heed not your words will understand in time. What approaches cannot be contained."

You’ve been on the road your whole life. Orphaned at birth and failed by the systems meant to keep you in line, you’ve learned how to take care of yourself. After years of being haunted by strange visions that nobody believes, you stumble across the small town of Charity’s Cross - and everything begins to fall into place.

Play as a young wayward prophet, haunted by visions and cursed to never be believed. Inspired by mythology and ancient folklore, The Curse of Cassandra is an urban fantasy story about family, belonging, and the places we call home.

Explore the town of Charity's Cross, and uncover long-buried secrets that really should have been left untouched.

Run into a group of misfits, and become part of a family that accepts you flaws and all.

Queer joy! Just a whole lot of queer joy and celebration <3

No romance (sorry, not sorry). This is a game about love, but romance is not the focus. You're allowed to headcanon whatever you'd like about your prophet's sexuality, but your interactions with the cast will always be strictly platonic.

The Prophet - That's you! Human, but with a touch of bloodline magic that haunts your every step. In other words, you're cursed, and it's a real pain.

Daniel Weaver [he/him, 52yo] - Werewolf, kindergarten teacher, all around softie. Would do anything to protect his family, and that includes you.

Arthur "Art" Shields [he/him, 45yo] - Werewolf, caretaker, one of two people in the family who actually knows how to cook. The house is his happy place, and he makes sure it's welcoming and comforting for whoever may walk in the door.

Catrin Galanis [she/her, 49yo] - Gryphon, antiques dealer, gives hugs like handshakes. Once the guardian to a magic stash of treasure, she now guards her own treasure: her children.

Carmine Levesque [she/her, 137yo] - Vampire, fashion designer, the person that's always in the house despite not technically living there. That bat up in the rafters might not be her... but you'd better wave just in case.

Ari Galanis [he/him, 21yo] - Werewolf, college student, sunshine personified. He's earnest (perhaps a little too eager) to meet someone new and bring them into the family's dynamic.

James Weaver [they/them, 17yo] - Werewolf, high schooler, introvert extraordinaire. Getting them to participate in family game night is like trying to wrangle a cat into a bathtub.

Sadie Graves [she/her, 13yo] - Banshee, middle schooler, going through a bit of an angsty phase. She's not exactly the most pleasant to interact with sometimes, but her family supports her wholeheartedly.

Eleni Doran [she/???, 4yo] - Changeling, kindergartener, weird little girl. Nobody's quite sure anymore where she came from, or even what she is, but she's the one person that actually believes your visions.

#interactive fiction #twine interactive fiction #twine if #twine game #twine sugarcube #interactive game #curseofcassandragame #if demo #wip

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ahsxual · 6 months

Note

stu macher x fem reader where stu is her best friend and hes a tattoo artist, so he gives her a tattoo and goes down on her mid tattooing ?? just bunch of smut hehe 🫶🏻

Tattoo Your Pleasure On Me

Warnings: minors dni +18, oral sex (f!receaving), fingering, lots of teasing, overstimulation, reader's first tattoo, reader loves horror and the tattoo is related to that, squirting

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1,9k

A/N: I swear you guys have the best ideas... I hope you enjoy this as much as I did! Thanks for sending me your request, dear anon ✨🫶🏼

Today you were feeling more nervous than usual, yet the excitement was definitely palpable too. However, you couldn't be judged, since your best friend was going to do your first tattoo ever. You've always wanted to tattoo something meaningful, yet pretty on yourself. You thought that tattoos and body art were pretty cool, that it would convey a powerful message that would stay with you for the rest of your life. It was certainly a big commitment and you were so ready for it.

Stu used to tease you about wanting to tattoo your whole body with whatever came to his mind and, when you agreed to do it on your own terms, he was surprised and immediately thrilled. Now, here you were, at his small tattoo studio laying on the tattoo stretcher, as you trembled slightly and your eyes wouldn't move away from the ceiling.

"Hey sweet cheeks, just chill alright? I promise you're in good hands! Probably the best hands in town, actually." Stu chuckled loudly in an attempt to calm you down in his own way, which actually worked if you were honest. His goofiness and serenity always reassure you whenever you felt nervous, and that's why he was your best friend, after all.

"Yeah, I know. It's just... you know, first times are the scariest." you chuckled nervously, as he looked at you while raising his eyebrows in a perverted way.

"And the next times always feel better, don't they?" he stuck his tongue out playfully and laughed at his own not-so-innocent comment. You rolled your eyes at him, as you also laughed softly at his remark.

"You know, you really surprised me with this one, Y/N. I never thought you would want me to tattoo you, but oh man, I'm glad you did.! You'll be even sexier than you already are!" he gasped, before laughing when you punched his arm, as he sat on his chair next to you with the material he needed.

"Stop messing around and do it already, Stu!" you shouted at him playfully with a broad smile on your face, as you watched him get super excited for what was about to happen.

"Alright alright, you're the one in charge here, ma'am! So... just letting you know it's gonna hurt a bit, so tell me when it gets too much, ok?" he warned you more seriously this time and you nodded slowly, your anxiety starting to show again.

He noticed your behavior change, so he placed his gloved hand on your thigh to calm you down. You immediately felt a warm sensation run through your body... an unexpected, yet pleasant reaction to his comforting touch. You decided to ignore that strange feeling for your best friend for now, so that he could concentrate and finish his work.

"But don't worry, ok? It's gonna be all good and I'm here if you need anything. You will love it, trust me! Now, if you'll excuse me..." you smiled at him, before you let him pull down your shorts just a bit.

You wanted to tattoo a knife with a rose entwined just above your genitals and at the end of your torso. It was meaningful for you, since you've always loved horror movies and, most of the time, you had a crush on the killer or villain, so that's why the rose was also included. You thought it was something simple, subtle, sexy and somehow meaningful to you. As you can imagine, Stu was absolutely smitten with your idea and immediately wanted to be the one to tattoo it on you.

When he started to place the inked needle into your sensitive skin, you gasped in pain. Stu looked at you initially worried, until a smirk appeared on his face.

"You got this, doll. I know this is a delicate area, but I'll take good care of you. I'll make it quick." and he started tattooing you again.

You tried to hold in a few gasps of pain, when suddenly he touched an extremely sensitive spot of yours, which made you accidentally moan in pain. You bit your lips hard after muttering an embarrassed "sorry" as your cheeks turned red. When you looked at Stu expecting him to make fun of you, he was instead staring at you for a moment with a serious, unreadable expression and dilated pupils, before returning to his work without saying a word. You found his behavior strange, as you felt even more embarrassed now. You've just moaned in front of your best friend, so it's totally normal to feel like that!

As time passed, you were admiring his work with a slight grin on your face since he was almost done, before he changed his position, causing his finger and the palm of his large hand brush against your core. You tried your best to keep quiet so as not to reveal the wave of pleasure you suddenly felt, and now your clit was uncontrollably aching for more contact. And to make things worse, he simply left his hand right there to finish the last details of your tattoo. For a moment, you wondered if he'd done it on purpose or not.

"You're ok there?" his low tone made you jump, as you weren't expecting him to speak and because his voice sounded... deeper somehow.

"Yeah, I uh.... I'm good, don't worry." you gave him your fakest smile, so as not to show him how extremely turned on you were by that sight: his focused face and blue eyes fixed on your hips, as his large, gloved hands moved the needle with such precision; his forearms were visibly tense to hold your skin and the needle with his other hand.

He had already finished your tattoo, but pretended he was still working so he could discreetly touch your clothed pussy. If he wasn't Stu Macher and you didn't know him so well, you would have thought he hadn't done it intentionally. However, you knew him well and clearly were aware of his real intentions. You held back a moan as you tried to pull your hips away from him, but he seemed to follow your movements, pressing harder until it was quite obvious of what he was doing.

"Someone seems to be turned on by being tattooed by their dear "best friend"." he smirked widely as his tone changed at the word that described your relationship, but best friends aren't supposed to feel turned on by each other, right?

"I can feel your wetness through your shorts, doll. Are you sure you're alright?" he teased you while frowning innocently, trying miserably to act clueless. Your breathing began to get heavier, as you looked at Stu with a desperate look. He read your body language expertly, before he stood up to lean closer to you and whisper softly.

"What would you do if I ripped off your pretty shorts and panties and ate you out until you're begging me to stop, huh? Does that sound as good to you as it does for me, baby? You know, just your reward for behaving so well and being such a good girl for me..." he licked and bit your earlobe, before kissing your neck with his warm, wet tongue.

One of his hands stroked your clothed clit, while the other was gripping your hair. This time, you moaned loudly at his gestures, without trying to stop him and actually encouraging him to continue.

"You have to answer me with words, baby. Otherwise, I won't do anything to you. So, how is it gonna be? Are you gonna let me make you cum in my mouth? Because I swear... your tattoo his really doing something to me, love..." you suddenly grabbed Stu's short hair and pulled him into a hungry, sloppy kiss. He reciprocated immediately, his tongue fighting for dominance over yours as he took off his glove. His right hand slipped inside your shorts and rubbed your soaked pussy.

"Holy shit, Y/N... I've never felt a girl this wet before. Is this really all for me? Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me..." he said between long breaths, clearly losing control.

It was then that he broke the kiss and positioned himself between your legs, before he removed your shorts and drenched panties in one swift movement. He barely had time to admire your pussy, no longer in control of himself, as he opened and grabbed your legs firmly before diving into your dripping cunt. He started to give you long licks and fucking your wet hole with his long tongue, before sucking your clit and shaking his head like a starving man. You were moaning like crazy, the feeling of his mouth on your pussy being too much for you to be able to hold back your orgasm. He must have been incredibly experienced with other girls, because there was no way that was his first time eating pussy. He was devouring you as if you were his favorite and last meal, and that he also needed to eat you out to get oxigen to live. It wasn't long before your first orgasm came.

"Fuck Stu, I'm gonna fucking cum! Please don't stop, just like that!!" you shouted, before letting out a scream mixed with a powerful moan, as the intensity of your first orgasm was something you had never experienced before.

While you were recovering from your first orgasm, you noticed Stu approaching to see your reaction with his mouth and lips covered in your cum, while he held your trembling legs.

"This is what I mean when I say I want my girl to almost pass out from pleasure!" he laughed at his own joke, before kissing your inner thighs. "Come on baby, let's do it again! I'll be so disappointed and embarrassed if I only make you cum once."

As you tried to process what he had just said, you felt his lips and tongue once again on your pussy, making you wince and shudder from overstimulation. He didn't seem to care about your pleas to slow down, and to tease you further, he added two long fingers inside you, before curling them in the right spot.

"Fuck Stu no, that's too much!!" you screamed desperately as you tried to reach his head, but his hand was faster and stronger, so he grabbed your arm and put his over your belly. The moment he applied that pressure to your uterus while pinning you down, as he fastened his fingers deep inside you and sucked your clit harshly, you felt a strong pressure inside your lower parts that was almost painful. Seconds later, while you were still screaming and moaning Stu's name, you squirted all over his face and fingers. If you thought your previous orgasm was intense, nothing could describe what you felt at that moment. Stu let go of you slowly, before he looked at you dumbfounded and with a proud look plastered on his face. You stared at him back with concern and shame from what you just did.

"Omg, I'm so sorry Stu... I-I didn't mean-"

"Just shut up and do it again. Now that I know you're capable of doing that... you're not leaving until you do it again, you understand me?"

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thepettymachine · 2 months

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Wandering Souls Challenge for TS3

Heeey so I made another challenge. Might be the last one I ever make who knows. But I got inspired by the Postcard Legacy for TS4 and made something similar but not similar to it. It took a minute to make but I hope you enjoy

Wandering Souls Challenge is a 10 generation legacy challenge where you go through multiple jobs and careers with story elements involved. This is a challenge if you don't wanna do just one career all of your sims life and don't mind moving around + mild drama but not soul shattering.

Tag: "wandering souls challenge" or "@" me

Rules:

I didn't really make any but don't feel obligated to do everything as an objective. Somethings you probably aren't going to get to everything and that's okay. If you do everything congratulations, if you don't move on.

I have no designated way to play this (ex: what town do you recommend in playing with this), I'm giving the player what they want to do within the confines of this challenge. It's your sandbox not mine.

You do have some optional goals for extra fun if you choose to do so.

Have fun

Carry On Wayward Son

When you were young, you didn’t take anything as serious as your music. Your obsession with the chords became as necessary as breathing and you’ll do anything but sell your soul to the industry. But as you grew older and had a family, you wish for more structure with your music in hopes for it to reach the people that desperately need to hear it. So you find an indie record company and work with them because your artistic freedom is still the forefront of why you’re doing all of this. Plus feeding your family and paying the bills.

Objectives:

Start by making money through collecting tips while working part time jobs

Half way through your YA years, you try a Singing career or being part of a band but it doesn’t work out

As an adult, you enter into the Music career for more structure and to reach a larger fanbase

Pick a branch between classical or rock

Your lover/(s) must be all creative types like you (artist, sculptor, architect, musician, street artist, etc)

You encourage your children to also pursue the arts

Master all 4 instruments (guitar, bass, piano, and drums)

Get at least 3 tattoos somewhere on your body

2. Jeffrey Jeffrey Simzos

If the Grinch and Scrooge had a love child, it would be you. You couldn’t really get behind your parent’s idealistic dreams about music and art, it felt unstable and unrealistic to you. You want wealth and power at your fingertips and anyone at your beck and call. Whether its through a wealthy spouse, your boss, the corporate ladder, or getting into politics, you will reach the top. For there is no redemption arc and no grace to be given for Greed has already devoured the remnants of your dead beating heart.

Objectives:

Have bake sales as a child and dislike any attempts at the arts

Join the Business career

Be enemies with all of your coworkers

Go from a small house/apartment to a big mansion/house

Be the owner of multiple businesses around town + an additional home

Marry a rich sim you definitely married for money

Have at least one child with the butler or maid you hired

You become more power hungry so you join Politics after reaching level 8 of Business career

Steal campaign funds

Your kids must be the top of their class, no exceptions (straight A’s, no skipping school, be apart of a club) or they are sent to boarding school

You are not close with any of your children

Optional: woohoo your boss

3. Yes Chef

Because excellence was required of you as a child, you tend to have a strong work ethic and unrealistic expectations for yourself and others while despising what you had to endure in your upbringing. The one good thing out of it was discovering your love of cooking. Cooking was a way for you to escape your worries and as an adult you desire to be a chef, going against everything your parents raised you with. You started from the bottom and found your way all the way at the top as head chef. But something is missing and so you explore other cultures and find new excitement in nectar making. You figure when you retire, you wanna spend the rest of your days being a nectar maker on a giant farm in the countryside.

Objectives:

Start at the diner for the first half of your career, then move over to the bistro for the second half

Bartend for bars at night for extra income

Read every recipe and learn all the fancy drinks

Master Cooking & Mixology

Marry your childhood friend or high school friend you haven’t seen in years

Cook your spouse and children their favorites meals at least once

At the top of your career, you get bored and visit travel other cultures for their cuisine (go to France, Egypt, and China to learn their food recipes)

Get inspired by nectar making

When becoming an Elder, move to the countryside, retire as a chef, and become a self employed nectar farmer.

4. Country Roads, Take Me Home

You’ve always found interest in nature as a kid and instead of wanting to be in the comfy suburbs or stargazing the city’s skylines.You even had a knack for bringing stray animals into your home but they always seemed to run away when you left for school (according to your parents). That’s why instead of working a typical 9-5, you fulfill your childhood dream of being on a farm and working with your bare hands. Building a life you always dreamed of yet will work hard to maintain. There’s no sleeping in for this dreamer.

Objectives:

As a child you were part of the scouts

Live on a farm or ranch

Work as a self employed gardener

Master the Fishing, Gardening, and/or Riding skill

Adopt 2 strays (horse, dog or cat)

Marry your helper on the farm or Marry a townie that loves the outdoors/animal lover trait

Wake up in the early hours of the day

Have a big family cause free child labor

Raise a horse from baby to elder

Optional: Own a cow plant

Optional: Win the highest horse competition (racing or jumping)

5. He was #1

You’ve always had an interest in the outdoors but sports was your passion and you’re very good at it. So good, you were being scouted by agents who hoped to take you to the pros and have your name chanted by the thousands. Your dream did come true but another did not. You’re a closeted hopeless romantic who always wished to find their soulmate and have a family, but being a professional athlete with a recognizable face has made it difficult for you to find true authentic love. What will it take for you to find love and will you have to choose between your two greatest loves or can they both coexist together for your sake.

Objectives:

Enjoy your outdoor activities (playing ball, going to the pool, camping, etc) once a week

Find love through online dating

Go on 3 dates with a person before committing

Host a big wedding party and bachelor/bachelorette party and if possible, ask your partners parents for their blessing

Master the Athletic skill

Become a stay at home parent when you reach level 6 of the sports career

After a sports injury that takes you out of the field. You find yourself recovering and unemployed and decide to take care of your children while deciding your next move.

You realize you want to be a sports agent so you go back to college as an adult and get your physical education degree

Reach level 10 of Jock social group.

Join the Sports Agent career

Gain the Eternally Faithful Moodlet

6. You Blinded Me with Science:

Curiosity killed the cat or in your case it just made you curiouser. You couldn’t keep your hands still and always have to be tinkering with something. So much so that you lost your beloved job at the science lab because you kept goofing around with some scrap from the town’s junkyard during company hours. No worries, you just decided to go all in with being a self made inventor and creating gizmos and gadgets the world has never seen before. Except one day, you find a mysterious device you’ve never seen before and upon activating it, you end up in the future. There are alot more prettier machines than the ones you’ve been messing around with and you sorta take one home with you. Oh well what’s the worst that can happen.

Objectives:

Start out in the Science career but get fired after reaching lvl 3 in inventing and join the Inventor self employed career

You spend your weekends messing around in the town's junkyard and blowing stuff up for your experiments. The neighbors even catch you dumpster diving around town

Marry someone just as eccentric and quirky as you (ex: eccentric, neurotic, insane, socially awkward, slob, etc)

Master the handiness and inventing skills

Create all inventions, including a simbot

Make some of your children through the Time Machine (past: child - YA/ future: elder, you can age down if you wish)

All your children’s traits have to be randomized

Optional: Go into the future and obtain all the gadgets to bring them back home to the present

Optional: You even bring back home a plumbot and learn how to take care of one

Optional: Leave the Inventor career and present and work in the Astronomy career in the future.

7. Who You Gonna Call?

This generation can be played in two different ways. The choice is up to you. (Also double heirs can be accepted for this gen)

Super Skeptic Route:

The question you’ve always asked yourself was “Are Ghosts Real?” You believed in the supernatural, the horror stories, and the abduction of Bella Goth and was hoping to find evidence in the graveyards. But alas you could never find your ghosts and your dreams were crushed. Now as an adult, you’ve become a skeptic and believe it all to be a charade and try to speak sense into the “sheep” around you to see the light. Until one day you do encounter a ghost and for the last time, you investigate into the question, “Are Ghosts Real?”.

Objectives:

Work in a graveyard in your teen years

Have the Supernatural Skeptic trait.

You dabble in Alchemy but it never takes effect on you.

Join the Con Artist branch of the Fortune Teller career

Encounter 3 ghosts to convince you that ghosts are real

Leave the Fortune Teller career to become a Ghost Hunter

You convince Ghosts to move on/ Set them free rather than have them experiment on by the science lab (avoid opportunities that say otherwise)

Do all investigations (spirit invasion, paranormal investigation, poltergeist haunting, ghostly presence, angry ghost invasion)

Ultra Fan Route:

As a child, you always found yourself interested in what couldn’t be reasoned or argued against, the supernatural. You obsessed over horror stories, wandered into graveyards, deep subreddits of conspiracies behind Bella Goth’s abduction and studied too many ways to become one. You started to give up hope of ever becoming one. Until one day you befriend a fellow occult member of society and it changed your life forever.

Objectives:

Work in a graveyard in your teen years

Have the Supernatural Fan trait

Master the Alchemy skill

Start a side hustle of being an author writing primarily in the horror genre

Publish 15 horror books

Join the Mystic branch of the Fortune Teller career

Befriend a supernatural of your choice to be turned into

Get 1st place at Trivia night at the Vault of Antiquity

8. Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Being a doctor was something you always thought you wanted to be. It came with status, notoriety, respect, money, student loans, and it was something more stable than what your parents were able to give you. You worked hard and got into the Medical career where you met your spouse and lived in a beautiful home with your two kids and pet. It’s like everything worked out in the end. But your desire to see the world burn just keeps rearing its ugly head and you can no longer contain the person you thought you repressed for so long. It desires the status and respect you’ve obtained but also infamy, underlings, and power.

Objectives:

Have the Evil trait

As a teen, be a straight A student, work a part time job, and be best friends with your parents, enemies with your siblings (if applicable)

Choose to go to college on full scholarship or enter the Medical career immediately.

Marry a fellow coworker whose as ambitious or hardworking as you

Live in a nice home with a white picket fence, 2 kids and a pet of your choice

Befriend some townies who work in the Criminal career

Donate to criminal organizations at least once a week

Leave your job in the Medical career in your adult years

Join the Criminal career

Choose the Evil branch of the Criminal career and reach the top

Optional: Divorce your spouse, find a new home, bring the kids (or don’t) and marry your criminal coworker.

9. Baywatch

You used to work in law enforcement until the red tape got to you and so you went to become a private investigator. Solving crimes and digging through trash got exhausting and difficult as you try to serve others yet the system kept letting you down. After having a midlife crisis, You’ve come to realize that helping people can be simple, enjoyable, and have a great ocean view. Being a lifeguard wasn’t in the career plan but saving lives from the depths of the oceans and looking good in red too. Not a bad career change.

Objectives:

Join the law enforcement career

Become friends with/date your cop partner

When reaching level 5 of the career, you leave your job to go into the Investigative career to get away from the red tape

Continue being an investigator until your Adult years

Have a midlife crisis and complete all the wishes or go get therapy at the hospital

At the end of your crisis, you join the Lifeguard career

Find an island or befriend a mermaid

Master the scuba diving skill and logic skills

10. Master of None

Oh the journey you have been on. From caring about the music to fighting robbers in people’s homes, you’ve been through it all. As you worked hard for what you wanted, You have reached this crossroad and wonder what it all means and what it meant before. Maybe discovering yourself is what the journey is all about or maybe it's the experiences that shape you that gives you your form. Regardless, you’ve been feeling torn about what to do now and with no destination, maybe you start to express who you truly are. Who knows. There is no rush in the process or a destination in sight, only the curiosity that keeps your soul wandering on the journey.

Objectives:

Join at least 5 different careers you haven’t played in this challenge (Education, Magician, Firefighter, Stylist, etc)

Have 3 best friends you maintain until Elder

Start dabbling in painting or sculpting in your free time outside of work.

Meet the love of your life

Be apart of your community - take opportunities that involve helping your neighbors/fellow townies

Pamper yourself - go to a place in town for some you time once a week

Learn a new skill once a week (you don’t have to master it)

If applicable, befriend your grandchildren

Optional: turn your hobby into your job

Thank you for playing. Feedback is welcomed

#sims #sims 3 #simblr #ts3 challenge #sims 3 challenge #wandering souls challenge #hahaha so i had started this one around the time of the nsb and got tired and left it alone #and then remembered it like 8 months ago and thought to finish it #and i finally did.. so this took a year...#so many revamps but its done now #hahaha imma wander the mall now

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dropsnectar · 5 days

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Fawning Rose: Vine Monster x GN!Reader

The Adventures of an Elven Herbalist Part One

NSFW or NSFT

This is my first time writing anything in 6 years so keep that in mind. Also my first smut fic. Or monster fic. I literally learned about the sexual parts of plants for this fic. Don't know how I got here but this was fun! btw if you don't like oviposition, I marked the parts with three !!! before and after that scene, so you can skip it if you want.

WORD COUNT: 3167, or 7 pages on Docs

It had been a long journey from your home country, having to cross an entire sea to get to the sleepy elven town of Hairevick. An Herbalist, you could craft pills to treat a human flu, create a poultice for a dwarves sore, work-tired limbs; even brew potions to help a beastmen ease out of a mating season-- but it was still lonely. Their were no elves about, except for the rogue eccentric nomad.

Feeling as you had fully mastered your craft in that area, and curious about your kind, you set forth in hopes of bettering yourself. However, when introducing yourself to your neighbors, you found everyone to be polite, but detached. As far as elves went, you were quite young, and the people of Hairevick were elder and not so trusting of outsiders. But worse of all, everyone here seemed to have an excellent knowledge of the local flora and fauna, and their uses in maintaining health. There was no need for an herbalist, especially one so unfamiliar with their lands.

You spent the entire week mourning your state over glasses and pints of botanical alcohol-- The local tavern drinks were amazing!-- until you finally met a sympathetic face.

He had long silver hair and the wisp of a ginger beard around his sharp jaw; a peculiar trait. He greeted you friendly enough, asking how you were settling in. It turned out that he owned a store in town, selling odds and ends. He even had a little apothecary in the corner, where those who couldn’t be bothered to make a forest run would buy herbs and tinctures.

Starved for companionship, you bombarded him with questions about clients, and local herbalism. He was jovial, and after quite a few dregs of honey yarrow grog, offered you a book on the local flora. After some midnight bonding over stories of patients, he gave you a proposition.

He was having some issues procuring some materials from a special plant, a Fawning Rose. It had incredible healing properties, but a bad habit of uprooting itself and fleeing from anyone who wasn’t a youth. If you could lure it out and bring back anything, be it petals, roots, greens, he would pay you handsomely. Maybe even give you some lessons on how to work with local plant life.

It was for this reason that you found yourself two days into a trip to the heart of the Haire Wilds bordering town. It was not going well.

***

The cool air caressed your skin as you entered the grove. You had caught a peculiar sweet smell, somehow floral and buttery at the same time, and had followed it with hope filling your heart. The scent had gotten so thick you could taste it, strong as a tea on your tongue. Blue wildflowers covered the ground, interrupted by the common tree route or vine.

Your eyes followed the vines or small roots, colored a sage with a speckled gradient to midnight blue. They traveled up into the middle of the grove. Sunlight, so rare this far into the Wilds, fell down in large delicious specks from the trees. They refracted off a large flower, almost two yards in width. Its petals were raspberry pink, turning blood red in the middle. Vines from its base led upwards and rested on the low boughs of the nearest trees, framing the flower and its various young buds like some sort of ethereal art study.

You grew excited, feet tripping over roots as you ran forward, losing a shoe. You lost balance again and landed face first into the crook of a particularly large vine and hit your head. Hard.

Hot pain crashed through you, making you curse as you steadied yourself. You tried to get up but the heat struck your temple like lightning as you moved upwards. Alright. Best to stay down then.

As you waited, you were able to see past the stars in your eyes and notice a slight powdery substance on the vines. It, too, was pink.

Maybe it was the thrill of finally finding the damn thing, or the head injury, but you felt different. You could hear your heart pumping hard in your chest, pleasantly tight. Your breath was ragged, the air pushing a hard, chilling heat through you.

Like a particularly good run, your mind registered. A high.

Your limbs started to tingle at the tips.

The rose’s perfume felt more like a mist now. You were only a few feet away from the base flower, and the scent had turned heady. Your hunger from a missed meal seemed to be surfacing, goaded on by the delectable smell the plant was giving off. While the pain eased and the stars disappeared from your eyes, you noticed that the lightheaded fuzzy feeling stayed.

Uh oh. Not a concussion.

You had to work hard to bring the fear into your mind. There was very little anyone could do to help you out here. The best you could do was not move around too much, and hoped the Fawning Rose would cooperate.

Suddenly, you notice some movement from the roots under your palms.

No no no not now! Please, I haven’t harvested you yet! You thought as you tried to scramble up.

The roots moved upwards with you, shoving you onto your side. Sliding around your feet, one took your other shoe with it as it slithered about under you. Another seemed to upend itself and squeeze cooly between your toes. You jumped a bit, but your gaze and mind were slow.

Something thick gilded itself on your shoulder making you look up. Vines, three, four, five of them descended and started rubbing themselves against you like cats. The movement was kicking up clouds of the pink pollen, making you sneeze as you wiggled against the plants outer limbs.

A part of you was horrified, thinking that perhaps you had scared the thing off. After all, you had been warned that this type of rose was particularly skittish. But the plant did not seem to be gathering itself to run away, rather it was pulling you closer to itself, the dragging tearing at the underside of your clothes.

Try as you might, you couldn't seem to think. Foggy, fuzzy, your mind was like cotton. The tingling in your fingertips has spread through your body, and an embarrassed part of your brain noticed your lower body was starting to awaken too. A warmth was beginning to pool in your gut, slow and lazy. Tingly. Fuzzy, like your head.

The vines continue to rub against your body, tearing the rest of your clothes away until only skin remains. They were relentless, cool against your hot skin. Their outer layers were textured but still smooth; a foreign sensation but extremely exciting. It felt almost like something was licking you, the powder giving a wet feel as it spread itself all over. Liquid heat glazed the innermost parts of you, much to your embarrassment.

Aphrodisiac. You finally registered. You started to curse out that damned store keeper.

You’d been played.

You were now at the base of the flower, with even more roots and vines cradling and moving over your body. You were… pushed? Pulled? A foot into the air, close enough so that some of the smaller buds were leaning over you, as if they were getting a good look at you. You felt a knowing, a presence from this plant now. It really was looking at you.

Some desperate part of your mind, far far back in your mind, tries to set off danger bells. That you needed to get up and run.

Ooze started to secrete from the smaller buds, and the already overpowering scent of floral butteriness seemed to multiply. It dripped out onto your belly, warm and tingling, then your chest, your inner thigh, even a bit on your cheek.

The syrup dribbled down into the planes of your mouth as you wriggled under the vines. A particularly mischievous one pushes through the plush cheeks of your ass and moves up, poking at your entrance, causing you to gasp.

The liquid touches your tongue. It tastes just as it smells, deliriously delicious. Sweet. Hot. It was divine compared to the little rations you’ve been eating the last few days. Like youd been starving and had sudden.ly been given free reign of a pastry shoppe. But no pastry could top this silky butteriness

What little heat that had kindled inside you was now a roaring flame, putting your past arousal to shame. You groan, and pull your head up, sticking your tongue out for more. A part of you is screaming to stop and run, but it is a stupid part that is buried instantly under your sudden overwhelming need. You are desperately horny, and you deserve to feel good after all the trouble you've been through lately.

Still sticking out your tongue, you start to moan even louder as the vine messages your entrance with its thick girth. At the same time, one of the buds above your face seems to notice your desperation, and leans down to your lips.You lick at its plush petals and sweet sweet nectar seeps into your mouth. It tastes much like a floral pastry and you suck greedily as it pushes itself deeper in.

The petals are so soft, yet still firm in your mouth as a river of nectar floods your throat. You giggled around it as it started to take its full effect. You felt light as air, so good.

The vines had moved over to allow a bud to circle itself around your most sensitive part. You gasped out as it started to suck you, making stars flood your already glistening eyes. Your wet lashes fluttered as it began to suck wave after wave of pleasure out of your body.You had never felt so good, you noted somewhere in your sex drunk mind. The whole time, the bud leaked nectar, completely soaking all parts of your groin.

The nectar left your skin feeling sensitive, and completely soaked. This seemed to please the vines, which continued to massage the oil about you, then finally push in. You cried out at the sensation. Drool started to pool out of your mouth, mixing with the nectar.

The vines rubbed lazy curving lines around your walls, making your hips jerk and shake. They seemed to know what they were doing as they started out slow for a time, then sped up their pace, thrashing about inside you. You clench around them, overwhelmed by the unyielding sensation. The pooling heat in you was building high, and you could tell the walls were about to break.

A rogue, mischievous bud had decided to examine your hole, tracing around your entrance in lazy circles. The petals were so soft, softer than skin. The texture made you feel desperate. As if to read your mind, the bud stopped. It must have been blooming because you felt little feelers, probably stamans, tracing about your genitals, wet with its lovely, delicious pollen.

You swore and whined and pleaded for more as the vines fucked you through it, voice garbled by nectar. Another, thicker vine veined in indigo added itself to its companions and you finally came. The rush was like being tossed in the ocean, a shock that completely enveloped your entire body in cold, pulsing ecstasy. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your juices spilled down on the forest floor below.

The echoes of the waves of pleasure were still rocking through you when the vines surrounded your body started to move you upwards again. The vines were slow and delicate as they handled you, as if you were precious cargo. You were brought upwards, almost as if they were about to set you on your feet. Your neck was out, as you were still suckling the addicting flower liquid.

You noticed through your long damp hair that you were positioned just over the center of the Fawning Roses main flower. A drop of nectar slipped out from inside you and dribbled down and onto the flower's green pistil. The stigma was thick, with four fat lumps at the top. The stamen surrounding it swayed, almost as if there was a breeze. Their magenta anthers rained down more pollen, causing a beautiful gradient against the deep red at the middle of the large petals. It was a truly breathtaking sight.

A single vine wiggled towards your face and pushed back your hair. You found the gesture almost sweet, leaning into its touch. You remained like that for a time, before the vines started to lower you on to the stigma.

No no no, you tried to whisper, some understanding dawning; but the bud was being aggressive with its feeding, pushing further in your mouth. It had a job, and its job was to make you so desperately horny and stupid, you’d let this flower breed you.

The stigma was a hard fit at first. Its lumpy texture felt so good rubbing against you, you couldn’t help but hump back into it. The vines around you squeezing your skin, tilting your hips this way in that, trying to make the fit. The surrounding stamen started to rub their anthers against you, two started focusing on your nipples. You continued to hump the stigma, smearing the nectars from your groin all over it. Then, finally, finally, You were able to squeeze it in.

The vines had taken over the humping for you now, pushing you down harder and harder onto the pistil. The lumps dragged against your walls in such a beautiful way, that you screamed out babbling whines. Your skin was covered in nectar and bright pink pollen. Every part of you was being squeezed, rubbed, oozed upon with tingling liquid, that you weren’t even sure you had a body anymore, just pleasure. After you came for the fourth time, you started to feel a pulsing within the pistil. It was like the thing seemed to grow within you.

! ! !

Ridges started to squeeze against your entrance, rubbing against your walls. They moved up, up, up, into the deepest parts of you. There was a sudden burst of warmth, then something small and squishy. You marveled at the texture, as the flower continued to lower you down on the pistil, now at a slower pace, in smaller movements. You ached so badly, but the new sensation of the objects and warmth inside you made you wanna keen louder. They felt sort of like eggs.

Seedpods. You registered lazily. You were being turned into a seedbed.

This realization only seemed to turn you on even more. They felt so good, rolling about inside your walls. The warmth they brought rivaled the cool temperature of the pistil, a delightful duality.

You moaned with every bulge, push, then pop of warmth and heaviness. It was getting to the point now where the vines were pulling you up off the pistil to make more room for the seeds.

! ! !

You were cumming so much now you lost count. It was getting to the point that you were just continuously orgasming, as the seeds and the pistil dragged against your most sensitive parts.

You may have been like that for hours, days even, the nectar kept you so dizzy you couldn’t tell time. But at some point you were so full that the pistil seemed satisfied. The wriggling stamen around you stilled, and the vines carefully lifted you off the pistil, giving one last drag within your walls.

The bloom inside your mouth slowly dragged itself out, making you whine in protest. The vines carefully laid you down at the foot of their roots, arranging your body in a comfortable position. The vines slowly retreated from your body. They lazily moved about, sometimes knocking into each other in a way that was almost comical. Their movements seemed lazy, almost like it too was spent.

As the last vine left your skin, it caressed your cheek. Within you some affection of your own seemed to bloom. The haze that was in your mind was starting to dull, and replaced itself with the need to rest. Your heavy eyes closed and you gave into sleep.

***

You awoke without opening your eyes. You could feel that the curving mound of roots you’d been sleeping on had been replaced with fluffy grass and soil. The smell of freshly tilled earth flooded your nose, and you jolted upright, eyes wide.

The grove was quiet, and empty of the Fawning Rose. All that was left behind was you, the upturned soil it had left behind, and light dusting of pink pollen on the trees. Even the sweet pastry-like smell had left the grove.

You looked down at your naked, sore body and groaned. You could see a trail of bruises from where the vines had gripped you, along with dried out nectar and tons of pink pollen. Your stomach puffed out a bit more than normal, meaning all of this had NOT been a dream. Much to your surprise, nothing hurt though. Your body felt great, healthily spent like you had just run a marathon. Considering how hard you had been working there should have been some pain, but there wasn’t. Just the pleasant pressure of the seedpods against your insides.You recall the conversation with the shop owner at the tavern. Looks like this is the flower's healing abilities at work.

You continued to search around the grove. Your clothes were still in shreds on the forest floor, but your bag was safely tucked under one of the trees the flower had rested its vines in. With some effort, you managed to get yourself off the ground to pick it up, waddling the whole way.

The pollen was still working its magic on you, but you guessed you had been exposed to it long enough to build a slight tolerance. Or maybe the growing rage within you was doing the trick. You pulled out one of the many glass bottles, and a silver knife. You went to work, scraping the dried nectar and pollen off your body, into the jars.

I’m gonna charge that asshole so much money, his kids will be poor. You seethed as you spent hours getting your money's worth off of every plane of your body. You’d have to birth those seed pods later too. Your insides grew warm at the thought.

You tried not to think about how you were going to have to walk home naked, where you’d been and what you’d been doing laid bare upon your skin. It’d be free advertising tho, you tried to reason.

You'd make a killing. Aphrodisiacs were rare, and extremely expensive, especially to a crowd of immortals. I think I'll sell these seed pods on my own though. You smiled.

You’d make sure to be properly prepared the next time you went into the wilds.

Might do a part two, maybe with slimes next time? Also sorry about any switching of tenses, I have a hard time with that! Hope you guys enjoyed!

#monster x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #monster #vines #tentacles #monster x gn reader #teratophillia #terat0philliac #tentacle smut #vine smut #monster smut #ovipositor

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nightdivinity · 8 months

Text

Drink Responsibly: Chapter 1

ABO!Vampire!Batfam x reader

Minors! Do! Not! Engage! +18 only!

Platonic!Alfred, Bruce x reader, Possessive! Batboys x reader

Warnings: Bad life choices, possessive behavior, a/b/o, they're vampires, loooong age gaps, no proofreading, reverse harem.

Writer's Note: I am so tired. I exist only because of caffeine and spite. So here you go, Chapter 2 is done as well. It will come out Friday hopefully.

Grey eyes stare into yours as you try your hardest to not squirm under the intensity. How did you get to be where you are? You have no clue. Honestly, there shouldn’t have been a callback. You should not have landed this opportunity for the second interview. The initial screening process should have weened you out in the first place.

From what you had gathered from the chatty chauffeur in the town car, (the town car! They knew you had no car to get to Wayne Manor, let alone to your job. Yet they still sent you someone to go pick you up from your ratty apartment.) This was all ordained by someone much higher than Mr. Pennyworth in front of you. The talk with the chauffeur had almost put you at ease until you looked out the window and saw the heavy iron gate open to Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. There’s no doubt in your mind. You shouldn’t be here. In more ways than one.

It made your bandages itch the more you thought about it. You couldn't scratch them like the feral animal you were deep down inside. At least, not when you're being as heavily scrutinized as you are now.

“I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into my dear.”, the butler says.

“I want this job.”

He sighs then and reaches for the cup of tea sitting on the table next to him. When you got to the Manor, Mr. Pennyworth had met you at the front step. He still ushered you through a side entrance and a winding set of narrow hallways until you reached the sitting room you were now in. Not that you were complaining about being treated like a servant when you were trying to like hell to land the job.

If ever there was an excellent place to kill someone, this was it. You find yourself thinking as you look away from him and study the art on the walls. The manor itself was far removed from society and the small windowless study with the ornate crackling fireplace was oppressive as much as it was impressive. No one would ever hear you scream.

“The issue is not a matter of want. The issue is a matter of need.”, he says.

You watch him take a sip as a bead of sweat collects at the back of your neck. It was getting too hot in here, and the bandage around your wrist was itching.

“I need it. No one wants to hire me”, You reply.

You’re not sure what you expect after you say that. Half of you were expecting him to start grilling you like he did during your interview two days ago. That one had taken place in daylight, in an ostentatious conference room at Wayne Enterprise's.

You were still waiting for him to pick you to the bone and say, “Why is that?”. The other half feels like the admittance makes you guilty. Guilty of going out that night. Guilty of getting caught in a crowd surge while blackout drunk. Guilty of the infected thralls that were unleashed by the Scarecrow goons. Guilty of killing the infected that had started ripping you to pieces. Not that you remember any of it, frustratingly enough. No one, not even the news, gave enough information on that night. Why was I there?

“How are you doing dear?” Pennyworth asks.

You blink. No one has asked that yet. Not by anyone that you feel genuinely wants to know the answer.

“Good. Sore, and I believe honesty is the best policy. I can’t dance like I used to.”, you joke.

It falls flat in the cramped space as you give him a tight grin. His grey eyes dart momentarily to the crutch that was resting next to the chair, and to the cast going slightly above your knee.

“Yes, honesty is such an important quality nowadays. Might I say, it is fortunate that you survived.”

“No one else thinks that. I’m just thankful that Duke was there. I was told he was the one that got me to the hospital. Now he’s gone and got me this interview.”

It’s funny. Time from that night seems disjointed. While you were black-out drunk, you do feel as though you were only in the club for five minutes. The attack happened at 12:45 am. You remember waking up in the hospital and finding your chart on your way to the bathroom. It said you were admitted at 2 am. The next time you managed to grab it, it had said 12:59 am. Not to mention your wounds were healing at a faster rate than most Omegas. Something was picking deep inside your skull.

“Luckily this job is not strenuous if you are up to the task.”

You nod at him. You need this.

“Well, there are rather strict rules. Breaking them is a breach of contract that will be handled severely. This isn’t like a regular job out there. Any problems that arise will not result in a simple firing.”, he pauses before continuing, “For example, personal electronic devices are prohibited in the Manor. Your bags will be thoroughly checked by me upon arrival. You will be allowed devices that are monitored by security.”

“I can’t just be cut off from my family”, you protest.

“We don’t want you to. You may make phone calls during your allotted time off. They will happen here, or in Master Bruce’s office with either him or me in the room. Your predecessor was fond of skirting her duties and we have found the need for such restrictions.”

“While excursions are discouraged, they are not prohibited. We will go over those security measures at a later time. You are to be readily available when called upon at any time they require something. While day workers are employed here, at no point are you allowed to interact with them.”

You can’t help the way your brows furrow. This was going to be a long year if you were to take this opportunity. With each rule, you wondered if this was why the position was empty for so long.

“I tend to the bedrooms, and at no point should you enter them unless invited by the occupant. You will be given a room as well, and I would appreciate cleanliness. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all served at the same time, tardiness is prohibited.”

“Will I be helping in the kitchen?”, you ask.

“No. Not unless you want to, if you are going to cook, please notify me accordingly.”

“So, wait. I’m confused. Just what is my job here?”

Alfred sighs and for the first time since you’ve met the prim and proper gentleman, he seems a bit haggard. Which did not make you feel good.

“It gets awful lonely here in the manor. As I’m sure you are aware, Alphas live for a long time. Particularly ones infected such as those in Wayne Manor. Now and then it is refreshing to have something that brings more life into such a place. The children have taken an interest in you, and that is enough for Master Bruce.”

“I’m not a toy.”

“No. You’re fortunately not. What you are being offered is room and board, all you have to do is adhere to the rules. In exchange, you have to be a friend. Surely you know how to do that”?

If he had asked your friend, he’d have been met with a resounding no. After that night you had found yourself crippled in the hospital with no friends to speak of. Your friend had been peeved, rightfully so, that you had just packed their wasted butt into a car with a stranger. You had been miffed because hello?? They weren’t the ones chomped on by a deranged rabid Beta. They had made it home in one piece, even getting past the front door and into their bed. Both of you had been wasted, so why act like it was all your fault? You were getting tired of the world treating you like you were the root cause of life’s issues.

“I won’t be doing any of that”, you ask.

Now he just looked downright uncomfortable. You were almost embarrassed, but the question needed to be asked. Being hired to be a friend to Alphas that were at least a century old likely resulted in you waking up in a bed that’s not yours.

“Only if you consent to it. You won’t be reprimanded for not doing it, or if you do find yourself in that position.”, he clears his throat, “Healthcare and dental is provided. Due to your circumstances as an Omega, blockers will be provided along with your daily vitamins. Your health and safety is paramount to us.”

You had nothing more to say. Silently you sat there, running through any alternative options, and yet you kept hitting a wall. There was no denying it, this was the best option you could be given. All you had to do was smile and nod and make it a year. By then you should be able to get your feet back underneath you and be able to reassess your situation. Who knows? You might just like it.

“I’m going to say, you have a deal”, you smile at him.

“Then please, call me Alfred.”

He gets up then and holds a hand out to you to help you out of your chair. His smile back is warm, creases folding up from his eyes, a drastic change from the cold persona that you had started becoming accustomed to.

“Shall I call for the town car Ms. (L/N)?”

This was the start of a beautiful friendship, you decided. You nod your head as he pulls you up and gives you a brisk but friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Duke, you don’t have to do this”, you protest.

It was the thirteen-hundredth time you’ve said it. When Alfred closed the interview, he had taken the time to walk you to the front door, pointing out so many rooms that it all went over your head. You almost made it to the front. Then Duke saw you and took over from there.

“No, no, and for the last time, stop. I want to do it”, Duke grins up at you.

He was on the floor, taping up the last of your boxes. You hate to admit it, but you’re not sorry in the slightest as he does all the heavy lifting. The best part about it was getting to see all the muscles in his back when he turned around. Yum. Hey, you were a red-blooded Omega. There were just some things you couldn’t fight.

“Be careful not to break that”, you warn.

“Right, because what will the world do without these little tchotchkes?”, Duke laughs.

Somehow, not surprisingly, he dodges the stray crutch that you toss half-heartedly in his direction. At this point, he was used to you trying to weaponize your “mobility aide”.

It all started when he helped you get back to your apartment, in a wheelchair that he bought. Then he abandoned said wheelchair and carried you bridal style up several flights of stairs. Citing that the elevator was too dangerous because it hadn’t been inspected in the past decade. Even ignoring you when you told him that it would be far more likely for both of you to fall to your death in the stairwell. This was all two weeks ago, and he still refuses to use the elevator.

He was on the floor now, humming and throwing your shit in boxes. You weren’t sure how he did it. When you agreed to the move, you had been internally wincing and panicking. Thinking it was just going to be you, hopping pitifully around the room. Probably taking breaks and reminiscing over the stray artifacts of your life. You would’ve needed at least three days max to get packed. Duke cut it down to two hours.

“Sooooooooo”, you draw out, “Tell me about the others.”

“There’s not much to say, not a lot that I can either way. What do you want to know?”

Your eyes narrow as he turns weirdly evasive. He always got a little cagey when you brought up his adoptive family. Never quite answering the question.

“What are they like? Are they nice?”, you ask.

He pauses and stands, turning his back to you so he can put a box on the trolley. We’re going to take the elevator. You thought with a smug sort of glee at the realization. That means you’ll be in your wheelchair. See, you’re slowly reclaiming your independence. Sort of.

“Um. Cass is really nice, but you won’t see her often. Same with Steph. They both kind of do their own thing and no one lives at home besides Alfred, Bruce, and me. Though that might change.”

He pauses again. You stick your tongue out at his back only for him to whirl around to face you. Quickly you snap it back in and try to appear innocent as you stare up. Ew. Popcorn ceiling. You wonder for a second if you could have asbestos in your lungs from that.

“Dick, I mean Grayson, he oversees the training of the Alpha taskforce in Bludhaven. Jason avoids Bruce like the plague while doing the most to get his attention, and I can't really get into what he does for a living. You don't want to know. Tim lives and breathes at Wayne Enterprise’s various global sectors, some of the time, he’s the hardest to track. Damian has been somewhere in Pakistan. Where? I don’t know. I would avoid him and Jason if at all possible. Not that you'll likely see them."

You had to smother your cry of relief. This was going to be a lot easier than you thought. There were only going to be three people that you had to worry about. Maybe you were going to finally complete a New Year’s resolution now that you had time. The world was looking up for you.

“I think that’s it, are you ready?”

His question breaks off your train of thought. You can’t help but groan when he gets near you, arms outstretched, ready for a hug and humiliating you. To make matters worse, he says the worst thing possible.

“Up you go!”, Duke crows.

“No! To the chair! Put me down you overgrown bat!”, you say.

Thankfully he does, gently plopping you down in the cushy seat and stooping to ruffle your hair. You were hissing mad. Not that he cared. Just to goad you further, he reached over to the handles behind your back and rang the obnoxious little bike bell he attached to it.

“Run”, you warn him.

He laughs while sprinting with the dolly all the way to the elevator as you try like hell to mow him down. Both of you completely missed the way his phone kept blowing up with notifications, the small dings being mistaken for a bike bell.

#abo batfam x reader #vamp!batfam #vamp!batfam x reader #batfam x reader #still tagging yandere #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #i've got four essays due by the end of this week #going to my corner to cry now

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 3 months

Text

Completed Series

Get yourself a snack, enjoy these wonderful series and leave some love for the creative writers :)

♤ - includes sexual themes

Also, this gif has me in a chokehold

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Something domestic [50k] @fandoms-writings

ex-military amputee!Bucky x fem!Reader

Summary: Needing an escape from the loud and busy city life, Bucky comes to stay with you on your little farm. He didn’t expect you, a hardworking and beautiful woman with struggles of your own, to take his breath away and make life a little less dreary.

{personal comment: This is one of a kind and it got stuck in my head immediately. The way Bucky heals is beautifully written and I love how the animals of the farm got included}

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For the love of the game @pellucid-constellations ♤

College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

{personal comment: I love the changes Bucky goes through and the way all the characters are portrayed. This story never fails to give me butterflies every time I come back to it}

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Undisclosed @pellucid-constellations ♤

Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.

{personal comment: The story is so creative and I got hooked on the few hints of the reader's backstory in the first parts and how it got revealed. Overall, it was a great mix of angst, fluff and Bucky in love}

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Scars @chickenfics

Bucky x reader Western AU

Summary: Running from a past that haunts you and a future that is unsure, the last thing you wanted was to take up with a stranger. Strangers, you'd learned, are almost always more trouble than they're worth. But when dangers from the life you're trying to leave behind get too close for comfort, drastic times call for drastic measures, and the stranger you'd once feared becomes the only person you can trust -- and perhaps the only person you'd call your friend. Now you both just have to make it out alive...

{personal comment: I'm a sucker for Western AU's and this piece of art satisfied me to no end. I love how naturally a connection bloomed between the two and the way they learned about each other. I would give so much for being able to read this for the first time again}

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A World of Our Own @shreddedparchment ♤

Bucky x Reader Castaway AU

Summary: You and a man named Bucky crash land on a deserted island. Can the two of you come together and make it until rescue comes? After you begin to fall for the mysterious Bucky Barnes, will you even want to be rescued?

{personal comment: I was astounded with the idea of this story and the creativity that came with it. It was lovely to read how Bucky and the reader grew closer over time and how they dealt with getting rescued and having to adjust to a 'normal' life on mainland again}

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Just One Kiss @sarahwroteathing

40s!Bucky x 40s!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

{personal comment: This is such a lovely series. Bucky is a sweetheart and those letters were giving me all the feels. I loved all the characters and how they are written}

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Awake My Soul [78k] @foreverindreamlandd

Bucky x reader

Summary: It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

{personal comment: The storyline of this series is so creative and I was hooked since the beginning. So much thought went into this and the background of the characters, and I'm beyond grateful I got to read this lovely piece of art}

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Burn The Witch @dreamwritesimagines ♤

Bucky x reader

Summary: The mission was simple; get closer to the Winter Soldier and start a relationship with him to get the necessary information for your superiors to use.

Everyone told you not to get your feelings involved.

You should have listened.

{personal comment: I loved reading about how Bucky interacts with the two different personalities the reader portrays without knowing it’s the same person and how she switches between those two. The other characters are great as well and I really enjoy your writing style here]

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The Bienville @indyluckycharlie ♤

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky is the young CEO of his family’s publishing house. A year into the role and working his ass off, he’s finally taking a much needed vacation (upon the advice of his well-meaning family and friends).

Solo and feeling a little lost, Bucky finds himself getting a little attached to the front desk receptionist, a local who grew up on the islands and dreams of bigger things.

{personal comment: I've read this a few times already and will definitely do it again. I loved how Bucky relaxed more and turned so charming, and how they built that connection so naturally. I felt everything I read and it was beautiful}

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Harmless @shurisneakers

Bucky x Villan!Reader

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with.

{personal comment: I had so much fun while reading this and it’s so damn creative. It was lovely to read how they grew closer over time and the many things they did for each other]

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Heart to a Gunfight [38.3k] @lailannajacobs

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did.

{personal comment: This is so lovely and I found myself grinning so much while reading this. But I also enjoyed the little angst in there and how they ended up together}

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Leave This Town @avengerofyourheart ♤

Mechanic!Bucky x reader

Summary: Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

{personal comment: I'm a sucker for Mechanic!Bucky and I really love this creative piece of art}

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Vacant Mirrors @whirlybirbs

Bucky x reader

Summary: Shit’s been rough. Shit was rough even before the blip. Dr. Hart shares an office with dr. Raynor, and you share a waiting room with Bucky Barnes.

{personal comment: I enjoyed this so much and went through so many emotions while reading it, feeling everything so vividly. This includs all I need of Bucky Barnes and I'm in love}

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The Two of Us [39.7k] @bucky-bucket-barnes ♤

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.

{personal comment: We all love a good enemies to lovers and this was really exciting to read. It got me hooked so fast and I loved it till the end}

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Everything Backwards [35.2k] @buckybabybaby

Bucky x reader

Summary: When you make-out with a ‘James’ on a night out, you don’t expect to see him again, so imagine your surprise the next day when it turns out he’ll be your new sort-of-flat-mate. As Nanny for Peggy & Steve’s three children, you’ve hit the jackpot, but now the guy across the corridor is threatening to ruin it.

{personal comment: I really loved how Bucky softened and the way they formed a connection. The interactions with the kids are lovely, I enjoyed this so much}

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Sky full of Song [65k] @wkemeup ♤

Pirate!Bucky x Pirate/Siren!Reader

Summary: Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship; on the ocean where you belonged, at the side of a captain you swore loyalty and heart to. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed.

{personal comment: This series is amazing and the storyline has such a nice flow to it, that had me hooked so bad. Bucky's so respectful and protective and I read this so many times already, it might actually be sad. But I'm in love with this art}

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365 Days @abovethesmokestacks

Bucky x reader soulmate AU

Summary: "You all know how it is, the one constant in this hellish life: You have a soulmate. No idea who it is, no clues whatsoever, only 25 years to find them. In 364 days, my time’s up. It sounds like a lot, but so does 25 years, and look where that got me. So, for better or for worse, I’ll try. I’ve got twelve months to find whoever my soul is knit together with."

{personal comment: I didn’t think I'd be into solemate au's but this was really lovely. The small glimpses into the life of Bucky in between really piqued my interest}

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All Good Things @sagechanoafterdark

Ghost!Bucky x witch!Reader

Summary: After only three days of dealing with the annoying specter haunting you, you break the rules and accidently give a ghost a body. So what do you do when you find out the man you’re now sharing your your apartment with isn’t really a ghost and that haunted touch is a little warmer than you realized?

{personal comment: The concept of this story is so interesting and captivated me instantly. I had fun reading this and went through a lot of emotions throughout}

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Wild horses [22k] @whitewolfbumble

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: Kicked out of school and exiling yourself in a town time forgot, one little incident lands the sights of the locally infamous Avengers biker gang square on you. Wild horses run faster and there was no chance to turn back now.

{personal comment: I'm smitten with this story, it’s so nice and I found myself relate to the reader so lany aspects. It’s some lovely work}

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The Thrill of the Hunt [12k] @rookthorne ♤

Scare Actor!Bucky x reader

Summary: Ancient game of cat and mouse, a fight for survival between a predator and their prey, wasn’t a new phenomenon — it had been practised for centuries and it was an art that very, very few perfected. For years you had chased the craving to find someone that had mastered the art of the hunt, and for Halloween, you had gone all out and visited a haven unlike any other.

It was there that you found your match.

Cloaked in nothing but black and shrouded in a sense of lethality, you would have to run from this shadow in an adrenaline fuel haze unlike any other. A chase for the ages, the very one you desired.

And if he caught you, your world would end as you knew it.

{personal comment: This is so thrilling and was really exciting to read. The switches between him as Bucky and then his character had me reeling}

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Want one? @hootyhoobuckaroo

Demon!Bucky x reader

Summary: The reader summons a demon by accidentally drawing an occult symbol in sandwich condiments. The demon, a strange yet oddly charming being by the name of Buchanan, begins to frequent her little apartment. It’s only a matter of time until she can make her way past his guarded exterior.

{personal comment: The story had an interesting concept, and I really liked it, it’s endearing}

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Drifting @real-jane

Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky saves the life of a woman when she's buried in an avalanche. Faced with the possibility that his cover might be blown, Bucky must keep the woman alive, and try to keep her from finding out who he is... or what he's done.

How long can he hide?

{personal comment: I don’t read a lot of fics written in the third person but this did me in and I had to try. Couldn't stop, the writing style is captivating and I was really invested}

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A dish served cold @artficlly

Outlaw!Bucky x reader

Summary: After the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. Fate brings you to Crimson Junction for a reason, and that reason is Bucky Barnes.

{personal comment: This series got me so invested. I'm loving the captor/captive energy and although I do feel bad for Bucky, I am so grateful the reader doesn’t instantly fall in love with him and forget about the reason she tracked him down for in the first place. I got so excited when they talked about what happened and I'm thrilled to find out that there is going to be a sequel}

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Salt the earth @mallowswriting

Childhoodbestfriend!Bucky x reader (best friends to enemies to allies to lovers/Road trip AU)

Summary: Brock Rumlow is a slick, charming, wise-cracking businessman that you are lucky to have a claim to. Brock Rumlow is your fiance. brock rumlow is going to suffocate you.

Brock Rumlow is going to be surprised when you disappear, nothing left behind but a note. But once you’ve gone through with steps 1-4 of your 5 step escape plan, you find out that the ‘friend’ nat told you to meet - the ‘friend’ who is going to drive you across the country to the utopia of safety that is new york - just had to be Bucky fucking Barnes.

“If you’re so annoyed with the music, you can drive.”

“You’d never let me drive this car.”

“Exactly. Now shut up.”

{personal comment: Read all this in one go, just couldn't help myself. The way that connection forms again all throughout the bickering and heartfelt conversations and the way the backstory of them both is introduced is so captivating. This was a nice read}

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Something more @tellmealovestory ♤

bestfriend!Bucky x reader

Summary: After a bad breakup you ask your best friend to take your virginity. It’s just friends with benefits. What could possibly go wrong? Modern AU

{personal comment: Bucky is such a sweetheart, so soft and considerate, I'm so smitten and I really enjoyed the way the sexy times are written}

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That Summer @tellmealovestory ♤

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’ve spent every summer since you were a child in the idyllic beach town that you call home three months out of the year. This summer should be no different except for the addition of Bucky Barnes. Sparks fly upon first meeting, but it’s only a summer fling, right? Modern AU.

{personal comment: This made me feel so warm, it’s beautiful. I love this relationship and how it’s portrayed}

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It’s a Deal @justreadingfics ♤

boytoy!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’re out of a relationship of 10 years and you’re just in desperate need to get laid, no strings attached, no romance, no complications. You dear friend Natasha feels like she’s going to regret this later, but she might have the perfect guy to fulfill your needs.

{personal comment: I love fuckboy!Bucky falling in love and this was just what I needed}

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Relationship tutor @samingtonwilson ♤

College!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.

{personal comment: Another beautifully written series. I love the many friendships, especially the little interactions with Sam. And Bucky's a lovesick idiot, and I find myself craving that a lot, so that was perfect}

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No such thing @sanguineterrain

College!Bucky x College!Journalist!Reader

Summary: You’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular running back. You don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? Turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: James Barnes is insufferable.

{personal comment: Sassy reader here and I loved it. Their bickering is everything and I enjoyed how they grew a friendship to realizing there is more}

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Breaking the Rules @redgillan

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

{personal comment: I enjoyed this so much. It’s incedibly relatable, real and it’s enemies to lovers, so that’s a huge bonus in the first place. Bucky's backstory touched me and I love how she needed some time to process everything and not just jump at the chance to be with him}

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky series #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky fic rec #fic recs

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