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holdmytesseract · 24 hours ago

Note

Hii! It’s me again, back at it with another request (your writing is just so good! I can’t get enough of it).

So this is another dad!Daryl one, one where the reader is pregnant. So we know that some of the Saviours in season 9 didn’t particularly like Daryl because of everything that happened. What if a couple of the Saviours cornered the reader and kidnapped her, taking her to some place to keep her in. Daryl, naturally, is seeing red and will do just about anything to get her back. Angst with a happy ending.

Love you if you write this, love you if you don’t! 💜

What I do, I do for You

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When two Saviors kidnap you - Daryl's pregnant wife - in order to score him off, the archer sees red and does everything to safe you... Everything.

Set in Season 9!

Warnings: Lots of bad stuff is happening, so please act with caution! usual TWD stuff, a lot of angst, pregnancy stuff, violence, blood, character death, murder, brief mentions of rape, FLUFF, Justin & Jed (yep, they're a warning), please tell me if I missed something!

Also, protective!Daryl alert. He goes absolutely feral.

Word Count: 6.9k

a/n: @dixons-sunshine I really hope that I could do your request justice. 🙏🏼 I loved to write it and tried to give my absolute best. 🧡

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ya sure 'bout that?" Your husband asked with a tinge of concern and fear in his voice. "Ya really wanna come?" You gave him a smile and stepped closer; invading his space. "Positive. I am drop-dead serious about it," you announced and raised your hands to his chest; adjusting the lapels of his angel-winged vest. "I absolutely hate it when you're away and I'm alone in Alexandria... Especially now..." Your gaze fell onto your yet small baby bump; Daryl's blue-greyish eyes following.

He couldn't suppress the soft smile on his lips, neither the quickening of his heartbeat. The man who had lost more in his whole life than he had won, had still a hard time to believe that he actually wasn't dreaming. That this was real. You. The 'wedding band' around your ring finger. The life he was granted to spend with you. Or hence, the new life growing inside you. Him, becoming a father. It was too good to be true. Daryl had to pinch himself on a regular basis, and still questioned himself how a man like him deserved something so precious. Luckily, you were always here to erase the bad thoughts ghosting through his mind... And to remember him how valuable he was to you - and to all the people around you whom you called family.

"A'right. 'M gonna take ya with me to the Sanctuary. Yer maybe right. Best way ta protect ya 's keepin' ya close to me I s'ppose," he agreed in the end and leaned forward to bestow a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled. "Thank you so much, baby. You won't regret it, I swear."

"I know, sunshine," he finally answered; his voice huskily with emotion. From the both hands resting on your hips traveled one to the front of your body; gently cupping the bump which was his child. "But 'm not sure..." You pouted. "Please, Dar... I don't want to miss you... And we both know I'd be the safest within your presence."

The archer chewed on the inside of his bottom lip for a long moment; contemplating his next words.

Oh, how wrong the both were going to be...

Barely two days later, you and Daryl made your way to the Sanctuary. Not on his bike, though. The archer had made that clear the moment you and him left the basement apartment you called home. "Hell nah. We ain't takin' the bike. 'S outta question. 'Specially in yer condition," your husband had said, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile. Sure, you understood him and got his point, but you were also aware that this wasn't a 'condition'. You were pregnant. Not sick. And besides, not even that far along. About four months was Siddiq's guess.

Of course, you hadn't even tried to reason with the archer; knowing already that you'd fight a battle you couldn't win. So, you had followed him without a word to one of Alexandria's cars - certainly not horse; Daryl would rather walk than riding on a horseback, even if it would take him days to get to his destination on foot - and were now comfortably seated in the passenger seat. Daryl steered the car to the place you actually still despised deep down in your heart; not having forgotten the things Negan and the Saviors had done. What they had taken and almost took from you.

A few former Saviors were out and about. Most of them tending to the crops and other things planted in the makeshift gardens. The lot of them greeted you and Daryl with respect; some even gave a smile, but others... If looks could kill. The coldness and hate in theirs eyes sent a shiver down your spine. Of course you knew that some Saviors didn't quite... appreciate the mercy you showed them, neither the things you did for them. They were still hanging on to Negan. Daryl knew as well - and he didn't tolerate them. Unfortunately, he had to. At the end of the day, he bent and listened to his brother; being faithful and loyal.

You passed by lots of beautiful places on your way; proofs that mother nature had taken back what belonged to her. But you also saw a lot of rotting corpses trudging and staggering down the abandoned streets, meadows and woods. Life and death battling over the world domination. Nobody would've seen it coming that the line between decay and reincarnation was going to be that thin at some point - and here we were.

"Ya a'right, sunshine?" Daryl's deep, but comforting and definitely slightly worried voice urged suddenly to your ears. You blinked and tried to refocus again. You didn't notice that you had your head in the clouds; lost in thoughts. Neither did you notice that Daryl had parked and turned off the engine of the car. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry. Just spaced out a bit." Daryl nodded and gave you a last look, before he opened the car door and moved to get out of his seat. "C'mon. We're here."

It was strange to be back at the Sanctuary. Only the mere look at the huge, old factory caused an uneasy feeling to spread within your stomach. And you could tell that Daryl wasn't quite at ease either. How could he? After all he had to go through here... After all the traumatizing experiences...

"Daryl." A blond woman approached the two of you. Your eyes scanned her face; realizing that you knew her. Laura - if you remembered correctly. The archer jutted his chin into her direction; silently addressing her. The both of them started to talk. Something about the crops and an incident with a 'living' walker as a scarecrow. You didn't pay fully attention to your husband and the former Savior, since you could clearly feel a pair of eyes on you. In search for them, you looked to your left; meeting eyes with a man. Tall, longer black hair and a beard. He was quite a few yards away from you but you could clearly tell that he was the one watching you.

You blinked and waved it off. It was most likely 'cause he had never seen you before.

"Let's get our stuff inside. 'S gettin' dark soon." Your husband's voice caused you to redirect your attention. "Yeah..." You nodded; still a bit absentmindedly, and followed Daryl inside the building.

He led you down several corridors, until you reached a spacious room with a bed, attached bathroom and a few other basic things. While Daryl put down his backpack and your bag alongside his beloved crossbow, you sat down on the bed; feeling a dull ache in your feet. "Ya okay, darlin'?" Of course, Daryl noticed immediately. His senses seemed to be even sharper since you told him about the pregnancy. You nodded. "Sure, Dar. Just some swollen feet." He gave you one of those cute, little smiles you adored so much. "Guess yer in for a foot rub tonight then."

It was the fourth day you spent at the Sanctuary. Daryl tried his best to be around you as much as somehow possible, but unfortunately, there was a lot of work to do for the 'leader'. So, you just decided to stay around him. Luckily, you had a few books packed and you'd always find a comfortable seat - no matter where. You just felt safer when your husband was close, and you could tell that it was much appreciated by him that he could throw a watchful eye on you from time to time.

Daryl wasn't the only one who had his eyes on you, though... Day after day, you could feel the unpleasant stare of that man who already had watched you at the day you set foot here... Justin, like you got to know. He didn't let a single opportunity slip to eye you. It was highly uncomfortable and quite confusing. You didn't know why he was doing what he did. It wasn't like you knew each other. You never even had exchanged a single word! Yet he was always looking... And when you'd catch him, he just gave you a little smirk - what didn't make you feel any better.

After day two, you just accepted it and tried to brush it off and ignore it. You didn't dare to confront the man. If you weren't pregnant, you wouldn't have even give it a second thought and walked straight up to your 'stalker', but... You were pregnant and didn't want to risk anything.

And telling Daryl wasn't an option in your eyes either. He was already so occupied and definitely way more on edge now that he was back at this former hellhole. This wouldn't end well; you knew it.

"You gotta come! Reilly and Mark are fighting. They're yelling at each other like kindergartners!" Daryl scoffed. "Dun care. They can handle their shit alone." The Savior standing opposite you frantically shook his head. "Man, if you don't intervene, this is gonna escalate! They're gonna beat each other up - or worse! You know how they are!" The archer groaned and rolled his eyes. Unfortunately was that idiot right. He couldn't let this escalate, even if he didn't care if it did. He had silently promised Rick to keep this place sane and running, so... "Fine," he finally answered, and turned to you. "Ya gonna find the way alone, sunshine?" You nodded, and placed a hand on his chest with a soft smile. "Of course. Go. I'll be waiting for you in bed. I'm tired." Your husband nodded and gave your hip a soft squeeze; an apologizing look on his face. He didn't want to leave you alone - but knew he had to. Turning on his heel, he followed the Savior and vanished around the corner.

"Dixon!" You flinched at the sudden, unanticipated voice of a man echoing down the corridor you and Daryl just walked through. You were actually on your way back to your room; ready to call it a day. Well, apparently not...

The archer stopped and turned; you both witnessing Dean - a Savior, of course, sprint around the corner. "Dixon!" "Wha'?" Daryl snarled in annoyance. He have had enough of that day. All he wanted was to disappear in that room and not leave it - and you, until tomorrow.

"Hello, Y/N."

You sighed and gazed behind you down the empty corridor, as you felt a flutter within your belly. You smiled; placing a palm underneath your baby bump, which was well hidden since you wore way too big, but comfortable clothes from the day you got here. "I know, munchkin. Daddy's gonna be back soon. Let's go to bed. We could both use some sleep," you talked to your unborn baby quietly; the smile never leaving your lips.

Everything was eerily quiet. Well, no wonder. It was quite late and most of the Saviors were already sleep, you reckoned. Hopefully me too, soon, you thought; pushing down the door handle and opening the door to yours and Daryl's room. You switched on the light - thanks to the generators.

An unknown voice suddenly urged to your ears; causing you to flinch and almost stumble right back out of the room again. You spun around to seek out the origin of the voice; finding the man who had watched you for days sitting on that one chair in the corner of the room with a smirk on his face. You swallowed hard.

"Justin, right?" You tried to sound brave, even though you had a very uneasy feeling brewing within your gut. "What are you doing here? Can I, um, help you?"

Justin's smirk widened. "Oh yes, indeed. You can help me... Close the door, love. I wanna talk." You did what he said and slowly closed the door, but your hand kept gripping the handle - just in case.

"I have never see you before," he started. "Surely we both crossed paths before without knowing - blame it to the war." "Most likely, yeah..." You answered. Justin shook his head and let his eyes wander over your body again. You felt like a piece of meat. "You're a true sight for sore eyes, Y/N... What a shame..." You frowned. "Shame?" The black haired man nodded. "It's a shame you have such low standards and waste your time on a man like Dixon. You are his girl, aren't you?" Your frown deepened at his words; feeling anger bubble up inside you.

Just as you wanted to speak up, the Savior cut you off. "Or... Wait... Are you just his little toy? An occasional fuck? God, how pathetic," he laughed to himself. "What do you get in return? Protection? Food? A shelter? Or are you doing it for free? His dick that good?"

Your jaw almost dropped at the foul words leaving Justin's mouth. He definitely went to far. You've had enough. Nobody threw mud at Daryl like that. Nobody. You were not having it.

"I'm his wife! I-" "His wife?" Justin cut you off once more; laughing. "So this is some serious shit, huh? Wow... Never thought a guy like Dixon could pull such a hot girl like you. You're too good for him, you know," the man said with a dramatic sigh and pulled himself up from the chair. With calculated steps, he crossed the room - and the predatory smirk he wore on his lips, made you feel even more uneasy than you already felt. "You certainly deserve..." Justin licked his lips. "...better."

The Saviors eyes widened, "Fucking hell... He... He knocked you up?" and he laughed. "You're dumber than I thought." Justin shook his head; still smiling amused. "We're witnessing the fucking end of this shit show called life," he gestured around himself. "And you don't know better than get pregnant with that asshole's bastard child."

You swallowed hard and took a step back, feeling your back pressing against the door; grip on the handle still painfully tight. "N-No, I don't. Daryl is more than enough. H-He treats me right." "He treats you right?" Justin asked mockingly, "Aww, how cute." and chuckled. "What if I told you that other men could treat you so much better?" He whispered in a low voice and reached out a hand to cup your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Your heartbeat quickened; pumping adrenaline through your whole body in fear. Your primal instinct to run already knocked against the door to your brain, but another instinct was stronger just yet... Protecting your baby. So, out of instinct, your free arm wrapped around your baby bump, before you could even stop yourself - and it didn't escape Justin's notice, of course. Your well kept secret suddenly wasn't a secret anymore.

The last sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back. Insulting the husband of an expectant mother wasn't wise. But insulting the child of an expectant mother was suicide.

It was the whistle which sealed your fate.

Before the rational part of your brain could intervene, did your palm already collide with Justin's cheek; slapping him hard.

A soft groan of pain left his lips as he stumbled back. His hand immediately rubbing the now stinging skin. "You bitch!" The Savior exclaimed angrily. "Alright, that's enough." Justin stomped back over to you and already reached out his hand to grasp your wrist, but your instincts kicked in again. This time, they told you to run. So, you did.

Quickly opening the door, you stormed outside and wanted to flee - but you unfortunately didn't get far.

Suddenly another Savior appeared in the corridor ahead of you - and you immediately stopped. Frantically turning around and searching reverently for a way to escape, you soon figured out that there was no way out. One man in front of you, Justin coming up behind you. And in the blink of an eye, you found yourself in the same situation like seconds earlier - just that it was way worse now. Pressed against the wall; trying to shield your unborn child from any possible harm and danger. "P-Please, don't p-please..." You begged for mercy, but it was no use. The men just laughed; having you cornered. "Not so brave anymore, are we?" Justin snickered. Tears stung your eyes. "T-The baby, p-please..." You whispered through tears; feeling your knees buckle and almost give in from underneath you. Silently, you prayed to every God and higher force, that Daryl would walk around the corner now.

He didn't.

"Get her. We're gonna make that asshole pay." It was the last thing you heard, before the other man lashed out. You felt a throbbing pain in your skull and within seconds went everything black.

Grumbling in annoyance, Daryl made his way finally back to yours and his quarters. To solve the stupid, boyish conflict between those two primitive idiots took longer than he thought it would. It got him even more tired than he already was. All the archer wanted was to sleep with you safely in his arms.

However, when he reached your shared room he found the door ajar; causing his heart rate to quicken on an instant. Without wasting even a second, he literally stormed in - only to find the room empty and deafeningly quiet.

"Y/N?!" He called out, but didn't receive an answer. "Y/N?!" In a frenzy of panic, Daryl started to search for you. To his sheer horror, he couldn't find you. Fear and the nagging feeling of guilt and failure already eating away at him. He swore to protect you. You felt safe whenever he was around - and now he had failed you; failed to protect you and his unborn child. Whatever happened to you, Daryl could tell that it wasn't something good. This was the Sanctuary, after all. This hellhole was worse than what laid behind the gates.

Nevertheless, he hoped to find you unscathed, and that all of this was just a big misunderstanding.

Of course... He should've think of that. Jed was - among a few others - a Savior, who didn't quite like how things went down. Negan being defeated... Rick's plan to 'convert' them to be better people... Daryl taking over the Sanctuary... It didn't suit their plans. Daryl knew they hated it - and they hated him. So, why wouldn't Jed - or hence, any of them, do something to get at him? And what was the best way to inflict pain to somebody? Exactly. By hurting someone the person loves.

Life didn't treat the archer kind - of course. You were nowhere to be found. Not in the kitchens, the sanitary rooms, nor the common room; his next destination being the gardens.

"Daryl?" A female voice suddenly urged to his ears - not yours, though. So, he simply ignored it. "Daryl?" Laura stepped into his view. She was on watch and saw her visibly distraught 'leader'. "What the hell is wrong? You run around like a mad man. What are you looking for?"

The archer froze in his movements for a moment; breathing labored. "Y/N. Can't find 'er. Somethin' happened to 'er. Someone took 'er. I'm sure 'a it," he spoke in a low, deep voice. Threateningly. "Ya know somethin' I should know?" Eyes full of a anger were staring the Savior woman down. And Laura knew that this wasn't a version of Daryl you wanted to get yourself into a fight with.

"Not really, no, but..." She frowned; seemed to recall something in her memory. "I saw Jed hanging around in the hallway of your room this afternoon." The archer clenched his jaw.

He shouldn't have let you accompany him.

"Daryl?" Laura's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. The archer wanted to answer, but all he saw was red. He stormed off; driven by anger, fear and the urge to protect what was his - the most important one of the few good things in his life.

Without any unnecessary detours, Daryl went straight for Jed's room. Not even blinking, he barged through the door; slamming it shut behind him and causing the Savior, who was just about to get changed for the night to flinch badly. Jed spun around; his eyes landing on Daryl. "What the hell, Dixon?!" He complained; not noticing the hands of the archer, which were curled into fists, nor the rage in his blue-grey eyes. "Fuck off! This isn't your-" Before Jed was even able to finish his sentence, had Daryl already crossed the distance with three big steps and grabbed the Savior by the lapels of his shirt; pinning him against the wall. Sure, Jed was strong - but not as strong as the bulky archer. Plus, the momentum was clearly on Daryl's side, since he had caught him by surprise.

Daryl growled lowly in his throat. It wasn't a warning. It was a threat.

"What-" "Shut yer damn mouth 'n tell me where she is," Daryl growled; accentuating his words with pushing Jed a little harder and caging him entirely between the wall and his broad frame.

The man scoffed and pawed - in vain - at Daryl's bare forearms and the bulging veins and muscles located there; trying to free himself. "What the fuck are you talking about, Dixon?!"

"Ya ain't fuckin' with me, asshole. Ya know exactly what 'm talkin' about." His grip on Jed's shirt lapels tightened. "Where is my wife," Daryl punctuated every single word. The Savior glared into the archer's eyes for a moment, before he scoffed once again. "I have absolutely no clue where your little whore is! Perhaps she ran off and found a better dick than your-" Daryl had enough of the bullshit Jed was giving him. Without even letting him finish his sentence, Daryl pulled him away from the wall and threw him harshly to the hard ground. "Dun'cha dare talk about Y/N like tha'." His voice was deep and quiet, but not lacking with danger. "And now tell me where she is." "I told you, I don't know!" Jed tried to defend himself further, but Daryl knew he lied. He could feel it.

"A'right. Then we gonna do this the hard way," Daryl stated and lunged at Jed; fists connecting with the man's jaw and stomach. Jed fought back, of course, landing a few blows himself. Their bodies hit the floor multiple times. Blood flew, bones cracked and furniture got destroyed and wrecked as both men were fighting for the upper hand. In the end, though, had Daryl clear advantage over Jed. He was the more skilled and stronger fighter, and had the Savior snugly wrapped up in a chokehold. "'M gonna find 'er anyways," Daryl grunted; panting and being out of breath. "'N I dun care 'bout how many of yer assholes I gotta go through. I'll kill every damn one of ya if tha's what's it gonna take," he snarled and tightened his deathly grip around Jed's neck; his biceps bulging. "So, do yerself a damn favor 'n tell me where the hell she is!" "Fuck you!" was all Jed answered. The archer growled once again and squeezed, which caused the man to gasp and flail; helplessly trying to escape.

Only when Jed was on the verge of passing out, did he decide to finally cooperate. "Alright, alright!" He spluttered and choked. "I'm gonna tell you!" Daryl loosened his grip, and Jed frantically gasped for air. "S-She... She's in one... one of t-the cells..." The man coughed; still trying to get air back into his lungs.

The Savior didn't have to say more. Daryl knew what - or well, where he meant. "Try anythin' stupid, I'll kill ya," the crossbow-wielding archer warned Jed and gave him last death glare, before he left him on the floor in his room with bruises already forming on his neck.

This ain't 'bout me, damnit, he reminded himself. I gotta keep my wife 'n baby safe.

A lump formed in Daryl's throat as he made his way to the 'cells'. An area he thought he'd never ever in his life set foot in again. Being back at the Sanctuary was bad enough, but the mere thought of going there was even worse. It caused his stomach to flip. He could've thrown up all over the floor if he had let himself...

It still looked the same like back when he was imprisoned. The same way too squeaky clean floors. The same doors leading into the same rooms. The only difference was the infirmary, which had been moved to another part of the other building. But except that... Everything was the same. Daryl had to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a moment to keep his shit together and save himself from an approaching panic attack. His labored breath, shaky hands and the forming sweat on his skin a clear indicator.

"Y/N?" Daryl whisper-shouted; hoping to be close to you and receive an answer. He didn't. The archer had to go a little further to find you, and now that he was standing in front of one particular room with his heart almost breaking free of his ribcage; getting to know that it was locked as he twisted the door knob, realization dawned on him. Of course they'd lock her up here, Daryl thought as he eyed the way too familiar door. That was a part of the sick game they played.

With another deep breath, Daryl fought against the traumatic thoughts which wanted to push themselves to the forefront of his brain and shoved them aside; locking them away and focusing on you.

Precautionary, he freed his knife from its sheath and sneaked down the corridors; checking every room. After all, he didn't know who or what awaited him. Storming into this blindly wasn't probably the best idea, since he was convinced that Jed didn't do this alone.

Clenching his jaw, he had to fight another panic attack; even going as far to cut himself with the knife in his shaking hand, in the hopes that the pain would redirect the attention of his brain. A small grunt of pain escaped his lips as the red liquid dripped down his arm.

"H-Hello?"

His desperate action got interrupted by a soft, weak voice coming from the other side of the door; causing the archer's knife to clatter to the floor and a relieved, shaky breath to leave his throat.

"Y/N?!"

The answer came promptly.

"O-Oh my gosh, D-Daryl! I-It's locked, a-and I can't move, I-" "I know, sunshine, I know. Dun worry, 'kay? 'M goin' to get ya," he cut you off with the intention to calm you down. Taking a few steps back, he let the anger and rage take over his system once again and stormed forwards. The door might have been locked, but it definitely wasn't the same door like ten years ago. It had aged and got less stable, so when the archer's strong, bulky frame connected with the door, the lock gave in and the door busted open. Sure, it took him three tries and most likely cost him a bruised shoulder, but Daryl couldn't care less.

"C'mon. Let's getcha outta here 'n see a doctor. I ain't takin' any risks." Your husband shifted and gently slid an arm under your knees and around your back. "Hold on to me." You wrapped an arm around his neck, but shook your head. "Y-You don't have to do this, Dar. I can walk." "Nah," he stated, "I'm gonna do this. Yer hurt 'n pregnant." and lifted you carefully up to carry you bridal style. You didn't protest further. Why should you? He got a point after all...

The bright light from the corridor flooded the dark room and helping him to get a better look at you. You sat in the corner on the cold floor of the dark room. Your wrists and ankles were tied together with a thick rope - way too tight as he noticed, since he could see the material already cutting into your delicate skin. Tried blood was on the right side of your head.

Daryl's heart shattered into a million pieces, seeing you like this. Fear and concern coursed through his veins. "Y/N..." he whispered in a hoarse, broken voice and immediately dropped to his knees beside you, quickly freeing you off the too tight ropes, before one hand gently cupped your cheek, while the other found its way to your growing baby bump. "Ya both okay?! Ya hurt?! In pain?!" Tears of sheer relief gathered in your eyes; threatening to fall as you felt the gentle, loving touch of your husband and knowing that he was here with you. That he saved you.

"I-I'm okay... W-We are okay. Thanks to you," you breathed; smiling as tears rolled down your cheeks. It's been probably only hours since you lastly saw Daryl, but what had happened happened. The shock was profound.

The archer's eyes scanned your body thoroughly for any visible injuries. "Wha' 'bout yer head, sunshine?" "N-Nothing that can't be fixed," you stated and gazed deeply into his worried, loving eyes. "I'm s-so glad you found me. I-I was so afraid..." Daryl lowered his head to rest his forehead against yours. Your hands slipped behind his neck; tangling a few chestnut brown strands through your fingers. "Yeah, me too." Daryl's eyes fluttered shut, before his lips caught yours in a lingering, desperate kiss.

"Just Jed 'n Justin?" You nodded against his shoulder. "Justin waited for me in o-our room. He insulted you. S-Said I deserve better a-and..." You trailed off; feeling tears blurry your vision once again - but this time, it wasn't happy tears. "Ya dun have ta tell me, darlin'. Dun wanna pressure ya into talkin' 'a me." You swallowed hard and buried your face further in his shoulder and neck; "I-I want to tell you." inhaling deeply. Daryl's natural scent, mixed with leather and smoke filled your airways and - like always - had that soothing effect on you. "I-I think he was only a hairsbreadth away f-from raping me, but-" "Wha'?!" Daryl instantly cut you off. Every single muscle in his body tensed as he came to an abrupt halt. You could tell. "He didn't, Dar. I-I slapped him a-and tried to flee, but then there was J-Jed."

"Which one of those assholes did tha' to ya? Jed 'n who else?" Daryl asked in a drop-dead serious voice as he slowly made his way with you down the corridor. You swallowed hard; having to recall the horrible memory. "J-Justin."

Justin. One word - one name was enough to get Daryl's blood to a boiling point once again. He and that prick didn't get along from the very start - and this wasn't the first time the archer and Justin got in each other's ways... There had been a lot of situations where either of them was only a second away from beating the other up. Justin was - like Jed - one of those assholes who wanted Negan back. A Savior through and through.

The clattering sound of - most likely dishes urged to yours and Daryl's ears and managed to quickly redirect both your attention.

"'M gonna kill that sonofabitch," Daryl growled lowly under his breath, but you understood him anyway, of course. "Baby-" "Nah. Ya ain't gonna talk me outta this, Y/N," your husband stated firmly, while opening the main door to the building and stepped outside. Meanwhile, the sun had risen; fresh, crispy morning air hitting your bare arms.

"He's going to pay for tha'. He put you 'n our baby into danger. I ain't havin' tha'." "I know, babe, and you're right. He... He has to pay. But Rick's gonna-" "I dun care 'bout wha' Rick's gonna say. This ain't 'bout him. This' 'bout my family. We both know tha' he'd do the same in the end 'n-"

Justin stood a few feet away across from you and Daryl on the yard. What you had heard was indeed dishes breaking; the shards and content laying on the ground in front of the man. It looked like he had been just on his way to bring you some 'breakfast'. But now, the Savior stood frozen to the ground; eyes directed on you and Daryl. Your husband held his gaze, of course, and if looks could kill, Justin would've been dead already. You felt your archer's muscles tense once again, before he gently let you down. "Sit, 'kay? 'N stay there, please," he whispered and jutted his chin at a wooden bench. You did what he said and slowly walked backwards over to sit down; eyes never leaving both men.

The tension was literally cuttable with a knife as Justin and Daryl stared each other down. The archer out of pure hate and the Savior still in shock and in realization at failure of his plan. You knew this was going to escalate. Two 'alpha males' with completely different, but strong intentions.

Daryl knew it, too. It would've escalated someday anyway. For him, it was just sooner than later.

"Fuck," cursed Justin out loud then; awoken from his rigidity - and instantly started to run. Daryl wasn't having this, of course, and sprinted right after Justin. "Fuck, indeed..." You muttered to yourself; feeling your heart rate picking up. You had to fear for your life and the life of your unborn child for hours and now you had to fear for the life of your husband. Mental stress was your current program as it seemed - something not just you felt... You could feel some movement inside your baby bump. "I know, I know... I'm sorry, munchkin... I just hope your daddy knows what he's getting himself into..." Your palm cradled your protruding stomach in an attempt to soothe your antsy 'roommate'.

Meanwhile had Daryl caught up to Justin and tackled him to the concrete ground - where they still were. Fists connected with several body parts; each of them trying to gain the upper hand. Justin was definitely stronger than Jed. The archer had a hard time taking him down and couldn't do so without taking several hits and punches himself. However kept him the anger and adrenaline going, and gave him the strength he needed.

Somehow, they had made their way back to you. You gasped as both men entered your field of view again - just in time to witness Justin's fist colliding with Daryl's jaw, who let out a grunt of pain. Your eyes widened and you were instantly on your feet; breath hitching in your throat. "Daryl!" He had turned his back to you; spitting out some blood and blindly reaching out his arm to signal you to stay where you are. "Nah, stay back! I got it!" He yelled and violently shoved Justin away, as he wanted to deliver another blow.

You took a step back again, but didn't sit down; face full of concern. You wouldn't let him die. That much was certain. You'd intervene before that happened. How, was the part you hadn't figured out just yet...

The fight went on - without mercy. Daryl, you and Justin knew that only one would walk out alive. Neither the archer, nor the Savior intended to stop. Sure, you could stop it, but how were you supposed to do that?

The sound of a cracking bone almost send you into another frenzy - until you saw that it wasn't a bone of your husband's body. It was Justin's. His nose, to be precisely. The man winced in pain; crimson red blood already tripping down his nose and onto his shirt and the ground. Justin was clearly in a daze; stumbling a few steps back. This didn't slip Daryl's notice, of course. He knew that this was the moment. He had to grasp this chance and use it, before it was too late. The archer was well aware that he was hurt, too and didn't know how much longer he was able to hold on. So, without thinking twice, Daryl reached for the other knife in the sheath attached to his rugged jeans, freed the blade, spun around - and slit the Savior's throat in his movement. Your eyes widened to the size of plates; watching the man splutter and helplessly trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was in vain.

The clatter of a knife caused you to avert your eyes and look at your husband, who had sunk to his knees only a few feet away from Justin's now dead body; panting heavily. Your heart immediately screamed at you to look after the man you loved. Not wasting a second, you ran over to the archer; crouching down beside him.

"Daryl?" You cupped his cheeks and gently lifted his head to make him look at you. "Baby?" Heavy, clouded blue eyes gazed into yours. "You okay?" He nodded meekly. A breath of relief left your lips, although you could already see the bruises forming on his face and the dried blood on his lips and chin. Your thumbs caressed the rough, stubbly skin beneath them, before you gently pulled him closer and rested your forehead against his. Daryl sighed; his bloody hands gripping your wrists. "Y/N, 'm sorry, I-"

The bubble you and Daryl had been in bursted. You lifted your head; only now noticing Rick and a lot of other people standing around you. Mostly Saviors. Swallowing hard, you stood up; holding onto Daryl and helping him up as well. "Rick-" You started, but the leader of Alexandria interrupted you; shock, disappointment and anger clearly visible on his face. "You killed 'im? You killed Justin? Why?" You wanted to speak up again, but Daryl leapfrogged you. "'Cause he was a damn asshole, tha's why!" "Daryl, that's not-" "He kidnapped Y/N, Rick! He hurt her! He wanted to rape 'er 'n do god knows what to 'er!" Your husband yelled at his brother. "Wake up, man. We can't change them, Rick. They are wha' they chose ta be... 'N I ain't no longer puttin' my family on risk for this bullshit," Daryl stated firmly and wrapped his arm around your waist; anchoring you to him. "Let's getcha outta here, sunshine."

He didn't get any further. Another voice cut suddenly through the air. Familiar, but unexpected.

"What the hell is goin' on here?"

Rick was way too stunned to speak; could only watch as his best friend guided you across the yard.

Slowly, you slid closer and placed a hand cautiously on his bare back. "D-" "I failed ya." You couldn't even utter his name, before the words spilled from his lips. "I failed ya 'n our kid. Swore ta always protect ya 'n now look wha' happened..." You sighed. Of course... He blamed himself for this. You should've seen it coming. "Dar..." You spoke up again in a hushed voice; sliding even closer to him. One hand found its way around his waist, the other still resting on his upper back. "This wasn't your fault. Please stop blaming yourself. It was Jed and Justin's doing. Not yours," you tried to soothe his raging thoughts of guilt and littered his shoulder blade with tiny kisses.

A few hours, a visit at the infirmary and a shower later, you sat in yours and Daryl's room - still in the Sanctuary; trying to process what happened.

Only the mattress dipping beside you managed to rip you out of your thoughts. Daryl, who had just taken a shower as well sat down on the edge of the bed; muscles tensed and without saying a single word. He hadn't said a lot anyways since the incident. Sure, the archer had never been a man of words, but... You could tell that something was still bothering him.

You, though, stayed awake and watched him sleep with a soft smile on your face; fingers carding through his soft, still damp hair. "I just hope you reconciled with your brother, Mr. Dixon. You both need each other and you damn well know it."

Daryl shook his head. "Nah. 'S my fault, Y/N. Should've protected both 'a ya better." "You are protecting us the best you can, Daryl," you stated firmly; shifting once again to sit beside him. "You risked your life more than once for me. And you did what was right yesterday evening. You did what you had to do. You acted like a leader should act." "But-" "Nu.Uh. No buts," you cut him off and gently placed your lips in on his to keep him from speaking; entangling them in a sweet kiss. "We're right here, okay?" You prompted; taking one of his hands and placing it on your baby bump, while you intertwined the other with yours. "We're right here and we are completely fine." Troubled eyes gazed into yours; his touch never ceasing. "'M sorry," Daryl whispered; voice quivering.

"C'mere." You laid back on the bed and gently tucked at his hand; inviting him to join you. He immediately obliged and melted against your body with his head resting on your chest, while he was holding onto you for dear life. "That's it, baby... Relax. Deep breaths." Your husband followed your words, and found himself drifting off into dreamland at some point. He was just way too exhausted and unable to resist your soothing, comforting touch.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @thevegandarkelf

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insidekatmind · 2 days ago

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Time together~Levi Colwill

Wearning: +18,smut

A light summer breeze enveloped the hotel terrace, where the blue pool seemed to merge with the clear sky. The water reflected the rays of the late afternoon sun, creating plays of light on the calm surface. There was no one there, just the two of you. A moment of peace after weeks of hectic life.

You sat on one of the loungers, while Levi approached the pool, resting a hand on the edge. He was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, but his gaze was unmistakable: intense, protective, always attentive to your every move.

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” you said, smiling. “It feels so surreal, after everything that’s happened.”

Levi slowly turned to you, taking off his sunglasses. “It’s surreal because we never stop. We’re always in a rush. But now… we can finally breathe.” He leaned towards the water and dipped his hand in, running it over the surface. “This is what we needed.”

You stood up from the lounger and walked over to him. “You really need to relax, you know? You’ve been so tense lately.”

Levi sighed, looking at you. “It’s hard to turn your mind off, you know.” He walked over to you and took your hands, lacing his fingers through yours. “But… with you here… maybe I can.”

“Just maybe?” you smiled teasingly.

He raised an eyebrow, that gesture you loved. “Don’t make me make promises I can’t keep.”

You laughed, pulling him toward the pool. “Then let’s see if I can at least make you relax a little. Get in the water with me.”

Levi hesitated for a moment, then slowly took off his shirt, revealing his sculpted body and battle scars. His gray eyes locked with yours as he slipped into the water.

“Come on,” he said in that deep voice that made you shiver.

You dove in next to him, the cool water enveloping you. When you surfaced, Levi was inches away from you, his hands sliding down your sides.

"So," he murmured, with a hint of a smile, "what did you have in mind to make me relax?"

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. "I was thinking of something simple. Like… just staying here, not talking about anything. Just you and me."

Levi nodded slowly, his gaze softening. "You know, I don't mind at all. That's all I need, just this."

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in silence, as the sun set and the shadows lengthened.

After a while, Levi spoke again. "Why Barcelona?"

You bit your lip, thoughtfully. "Because I wanted us to have a place that was just ours. A memory that belongs only to us. And then… I've always dreamed of getting lost with you in a city full of life."

Levi was silent for a moment, then pulled you close, holding you tightly. "Then losing you will be my priority."

He looked into your eyes, and in that moment the whole world seemed to fade away. "It doesn't matter where we go," he said softly. "As long as you're with me, anywhere is fine."

You stayed like that, floating in the water, with the Barcelona sky darkening above you and the distant sound of the waves rocking you.

It was perfect. It was yours.

"You look gorgeous, as always," he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. His fingers traced the outline of your swimsuit, appreciating your curves. "This swimsuit really suits you."

You laugh and hug him kissing his jaw "I put it on for you" you say seductive

Levi closed his eyes as you kissed his jaw, feeling your soft lips against his skin. He pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Is that right?" he murmured, a grin on his lips. "You want to tempt me, huh?"

"yes love, all for you" you reply and kiss him

Levi growled low in his throat, your comment making him lose all restraint. He grabbed your waist and pulled you tight against him, claiming your mouth in a hard, hungary kiss.

"You know how to drive me crazy," he breathed against your skin, his hands gripping you possessively.

you smile and kiss his neck "you know love we had sex everywhere except in Barcelona in the pool" you say seductively

Levi's eyes darkened with desire as your words sent a shiver down his spine. He grabbed hold of you tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"You're right, we haven't done that yet..." he murmured, his gaze burning into you. "And it's a shame, because that means we haven't marked the pool as ours yet…"

You smile "so why don't we fix it?"

Levi couldn't help but grin, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. "You're damn right we will," he growled, his hands roaming over your body. "We're going to make this pool ours."

He picked you up, holding you close, and walked to the edge of the pool, "You're getting cold, love. Let me warm you," he said, laying you down on a lounger nearby.

you smiled feeling levi's hands touching your thighs. you got off the edge and went back into the water lacing your hands on his neck as you lowered his swimsuit.

Levi's heart hammered in his chest as you came back to him, your hands encircling his neck. He groaned softly as you began to pull down his swimsuit, relishing the touch of your skin against his.

"You're impatient," he said with a cocky smirk, pulling you close.

"I can't resist you" you say and kiss his neck while you move your swimsuit a little to let his cock enter inside you

Levi's breath caught in his throat as you kissed his neck. He could feel your body rubbing against his, his self control hanging by a thread. "You tease," he growled, his hands running down your body, "always pushing my limits."

As he felt your skin against his, he groaned softly, his body instantly responding to yours. "You drive me crazy, you know that?""You're perfect," he murmured, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "You're mine. All mine."

He moved faster, taking you harder, the water sloshing around you. "I need more... I need more " with every word he said his thrusts increased and your moans became louder and louder

Levi groaned lowly as your hips moved against him, your kisses igniting a fire within him. His hands gripped your body tightly, guiding you, his touch possessive and hungry.

"God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "It's like you were made for me."

you moan and put your nails on his back "you always fill me up so good"

Levi groaned as you clawed at his back, your words driving him wild. "You're not the only one who's filled," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "With you… I can never get enough."

He moved his hips against you, pressing himself against you, his body burning with a primal need for you. "I can never… get enough of you," he repeated, his lips finding yours in a fevered kiss.

The sounds of the water moving and your moans filled the empty pool, drowning out any other noise. With the city of Barcelona spread out before you, the only thing that mattered was the two of you, lost in a passionate sex

Levi could feel himself nearing the edge, his body taut with need.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "You're mine. All mine."

He moved faster, taking you harder, the water sloshing around you. "I need more... I need more " with every word he said his thrusts increased and your moans became louder and louder.

Levi groaned as he heard your moans growing louder, knowing he was pushing you to the edge. He continued to move, his body responding to yours, his need for you driving him on.

"You're close," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I can feel it. I can feel you "You're squeezing my dick" he started fucking you in the pool and you started screaming.

Levi groaned as he heard your moans growing louder, knowing he was pushing you to the edge. He continued to move, his body responding to yours, his need for you driving him on.

Your name came out of his mouth like a whispered prayer, the sound becoming more urgent and desperate as he drew closer to his own climax.

"Please," he groaned, his body tense as he tried to hold back, "please, love, I need you. I need to feel you come for me. I need to come inside you" he murmurs and moves your swimsuit top a little and kisses your nipple

"yes baby please" you'll cry soon because of how beautiful it was. Something snapped inside him as he heard your plea, your soft words sending him over the edge. He let out a guttural moan, the sound filling the empty and he started fucking you faster which made you come but he didn't stop with the movements and started thrusting faster coming inside you.

Levi laughed breathlessly, still holding you close, his body pressed against yours. "I think we left our mark here... and not just on the pool" he replied, with a smirk. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath.

"You're going to tire me out, love" he teased, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

you giggle softly and stroke his hair "better if we fix ourselves otherwise if someone comes they will see us like this" you say amused

You smile and give him a kiss on the jaw once you've adjusted yourself.

Levi smiled as you kissed his jaw, appreciating the gentle gesture. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting over your form before he spoke.

"You know," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, "there are a lot of other places in Barcelona where we can make our mark too."

"I can't wait to discover them" you say seductively

Levi's smirk deepened as your words stoked the fire within him. "Trust me, love, there are plenty of places left for us to explore," he murmured, his gaze darkening.

He stepped closer to you, his body so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him. "And I can't wait to show you every last one."

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theorderisgone · 1 day ago

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ꕀ ﹒Under the Same Sky

PAIRING // KARASU TABITO X GN!READER

SUMMARY // Amid years of playful rivalry, Karasu Tabito subtly reveals his long-held feelings for you during a rainy walk home, leaving you questioning the true nature of your relationship.

CONTENTS // oneshot, fluff, academic rivals to lovers, pre blue lock, ooc (??) karasu. wc 681

Karasu Tabito had always been good at keeping secrets. His talent for masking emotions was as sharp as his instinct on the soccer field or his knack for solving equations in record time. But there was one secret he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he tried: he’d liked you since middle school.

Not that you’d ever notice.

You were his academic rival, after all. The one person who could make his blood race for reasons he’d never admit. Since the day you walked into his life—head held high, confidence radiating like the sun—Karasu had been hooked. Not that he’d ever let it show. Instead, he let the rivalry take center stage, a perfect excuse to keep you close without revealing too much.

It was late in the evening after school, and the two of you were stuck in the library. Finals were around the corner, and neither of you would back down from the unspoken competition of who could study harder—or longer. The rain pattered against the tall windows, the only sound besides the occasional rustle of pages and the rhythmic tapping of your pen against the table.

“Do you always fidget when you’re stuck on a problem?” Karasu teased, leaning back in his chair. His sharp eyes flicked up from his notes to you, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

You shot him a glare, tapping your pen harder just to annoy him. “Do you always run your mouth when you’re pretending to study?”

“Pretending?” he echoed, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m a genius at multitasking.”

“You’re a genius at being obnoxious.”

He chuckled, kicking his legs up onto the empty chair beside you. “That too.”

By the time the library announced its impending closure, the rain had only gotten worse. You gathered your notes and textbooks, trying to figure out how to make it to the train station without ruining all your hard work.

Karasu slung his bag over his shoulder, lingering as you struggled to balance everything. “You really gonna walk in this storm?”

“Do I have a choice?” you muttered, double-checking that your notes were safely tucked away.

He shrugged, his usual smirk replaced by something softer. “Guess not. But you could let me carry that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why? So you can hold it over my head later?”

“Nah,” he said casually, but his tone was surprisingly genuine. “Just thought I’d help.”

You hesitated, but eventually handed him one of your textbooks. “Fine. But if you drop it, I’m never letting you live it down.”

“Deal.”

The two of you walked side by side under the dim glow of streetlights, the rain soaking through your shoes as Karasu balanced your book in one hand and held his bag with the other.

“You know,” he said after a long stretch of silence, “we’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Doing what?”

“This. The whole ‘rivals’ thing.”

You glanced at him. “What about it?”

“It’s just...” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? How we’re always trying to one-up each other.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Funny how?”

He shrugged, staring straight ahead. “I dunno. Guess I just... don’t mind it as much as I used to.”

That made you pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Karasu tilted his head, smirking down at you. “You’re sharp, aren’t you? Figure it out.”

You frowned, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. But before you could ask, he changed the subject, his voice light and teasing again.

“You know, I’m still gonna beat you on the next test.”

“Oh, please.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Keep dreaming,” he said with a laugh, but the faintest hint of pink dusted his cheeks as he glanced away, hiding his expression.

And for the first time, as the two of you walked through the rain, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind his playful words—something he wasn’t quite ready to say aloud.

author's note // idk how to feel about this one lowkey. kinda wna write a rin version of this, but we'll see how it goes!!

#blue lock #ꕀ ﹒theorderisgone #blue lock x reader #karasu tabito #tabito karasu #karasu tabito fluff #tabito karasu fluff #karasu tabito x reader #tabito karasu x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #academic rivals #academic rivals to lover #blue lock x yn #blue lock x you

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winxanity-ii · 2 days ago

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⌜Godly Things | Chapter 20 Chapter 20 | divine interlude begins⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

You stared blankly up at him, your breath caught in your throat. It felt as though time itself had stopped, the world around you falling away until there was nothing but the god standing before you.

Your eyes refused to blink, terrified that if you did, he might disappear—that this might all be some cruel trick of the mind, a fleeting dream ready to dissolve into the shadows of the courtyard.

Apollo chuckled softly, the sound light and warm, like the chiming of bells in a gentle breeze. His lips curved into a boyish smile, the kind that carried an effortless charm, and yet there was something unshakably ancient in his gaze—a depth that made your chest tighten.

"Are you going to keep staring at me like that?" His golden eyes sparkled with amusement, their light so vivid it felt as though the stars themselves had been captured within them.

You wanted to respond, to say something, but the words caught in your throat. All you could do was stare, your heart pounding as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming yet strangely soothing. The faint glow that surrounded him brightened as he moved, as if the very air bowed to his radiance.

Even though it was night, he seemed to carry the essence of daylight with him, his golden aura casting faint, warm light over the cool blues of the evening.

Then, to your utter disbelief, he crouched before you. Even in this lowered position, his form towered over you, his broad shoulders and long limbs giving him an almost giant-like presence, much like Hermes.

But where Hermes' energy was sharp and quick, Apollo's was steady and calm, like the sun at its zenith. His crown of laurel leaves gleamed faintly, their delicate edges catching the moonlight, and the soft rose of his cheeks seemed to glow against his pale, flawless skin.

"Much better. I'd hate to think I frightened you, little muse."

The words sent a shiver through you, the term of endearment catching you off guard. You felt your lips part, a small, breathless sound escaping, but you still couldn't find your voice.

Apollo smiled again at your silence, tilting his head slightly as he studied you. His hair, golden and shimmering as it fell in soft waves around his face, and you couldn't help but notice how the faintest movement seemed to catch the light as though the strands themselves were alive. His expression was warm, unhurried, and his presence—though immense—carried no malice. Only kindness. Only care.

"I've always watched over you, you know," he said, his voice impossibly soft, as though he were sharing a secret meant only for you.

Your heart stuttered at his words, the weight of them pressing against your chest. "W-Watched over me?" you managed finally, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your gaze flickered uncertainly, confusion clouding your features. "Why?"

"Because," he said simply, reaching out slowly. His hand—large but gentle—hovered near your face, as though he were giving you time to pull away. When you didn't, he brushed his fingertips lightly against your cheek, the touch sending a jolt of warmth through your skin. His smile deepened as he continued, "You've always been my little muse."

The term repeated, softer this time, and it felt like it settled somewhere deep within you. Your breath caught again, your mind racing to process the sheer weight of what he was saying. Apollo—the god of music, poetry, and light—has been watching over me? The thought felt too big, too surreal to grasp, and yet there he was, looking at you with a fondness that made it impossible to doubt.

"But... why me?" You swallowed hard, your voice trembling slightly as you struggled to find the right words. "I'm just... no one."

Apollo tilted his head, his golden eyes narrowing slightly in a mix of confusion and concern. "No one?" he echoed. "What could you possibly mean by that, my little muse?"

Your chest tightened under the weight of his gaze, the warmth in his tone both comforting and overwhelming. You dropped your eyes to the lyre in your lap, tracing its intricate design as if the act might steady your racing thoughts.

"It's just..." You hesitated, swallowing against the lump in your throat. "I'm no one special. I'm just a handmaiden. A servant. I've made mistakes. I've... failed people." The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, and your voice cracked as you added, "How could I possibly carry what you're asking of me?"

Apollo's expression shifted, a flicker of something—sadness, perhaps—crossing his features before he leaned closer. His presence felt even more radiant now, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill creeping into your chest.

"You speak of failures as if they define you, but they do not. Your light shines not in spite of your mistakes but because you rise after them. Because you endure."

His words struck something deep within you, but the doubts lingered. "But what if I can't? What if I'm not enough?" Your head fell, staring at the ground, unable to meet his eyes.

Apollo reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your chin as he guided your gaze back to his. His golden eyes burned with a quiet intensity, their light impossibly steady.

"You are more than enough," he said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "You always have been. The world sees a handmaiden, perhaps, but I see the muse who can shape it with her voice, her music, her heart. You are a melody the world cannot do without, a light that reaches even where shadows try to reign."

The sincerity in his voice struck you like a chord perfectly played, resonating through your very being. Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they weren't born of fear or anger. They were something else entirely—an overwhelming mix of gratitude, disbelief, and something dangerously close to hope.

Apollo tilted his head, his amber eyes holding yours as though he were waiting for you to believe him. The warmth in his expression softened slightly, replaced by a faint furrow in his brow as though a thought had just occurred to him. "Do you not recall my blessings?"

Your brow furrowed as his words settled over you, their meaning slipping just out of reach.

Earlier, you and Telemachus had already gone over what seemed the most obvious gift—the effortless way music had always flowed through you, the way instruments seemed to sing under your touch. It had been undeniable, yet even then, the rest had felt fragmented and unclear.

"I..." you began, your voice faltering as you searched for an answer. "I don't know. I thought it was just... music. That was the only thing that made sense."

Apollo blinked, his golden eyes narrowing slightly—not in anger, but in something deeper, something searching. It was as though you had spoken a riddle he had not expected. He said nothing for a long moment, simply watching you, studying you. His fingers, still resting under your chin, remained unmoving, but there was a new weight in his gaze.

A frown ghosted over the sun god's lips, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something strange beneath his golden radiance—hesitation, uncertainty. Not at you, but at the notion itself. As if the idea that you didn't know had never once crossed his mind.

When you spoke, your voice was quiet, contemplative. "There were... more?"

Apollo's eyes widened slightly, his surprise evident. "Of course, my little muse," he said, his tone gentle yet tinged with something deeper. "I have constantly blessed you..."

He trailed off. His sentence, smooth and effortless as all things about him, suddenly cut itself short as though a realization had struck him mid-thought. His golden glow, steady and warm, sharpened slightly at the edges.

For a moment, his perfect face scrunched into an expression that was almost unrecognizable—distaste, perhaps even anger. His brows knit together, his jaw tightening in a way that made his glow seem fiercer, harsher. Not at you, no—it was something else, something beneath the surface.

You shrank back slightly, unsure of what had sparked the shift, but just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. His features smoothed, his golden light softening, as though he had caught himself slipping into something he hadn't meant to show.

The smile that returned to his lips was gentle, reassuring, but there was something lingering behind it, something unreadable. A question he did not voice.

"Do not worry," he said softly, his voice like the first notes of a lullaby. "Whatever confusion lingers will fade in time."

Before you could respond, he lowered himself gracefully to the grass beside you. The sheer radiance of his presence felt overwhelming, but there was something disarming about the way he settled himself at your side, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee.

His warmth was immediate, an almost tangible heat that seeped into the air around him and chased away the coolness of the night. It wasn't oppressive—it was comforting, like the gentle rays of morning sunlight breaking through a chill.

You could feel it in the way the grass seemed to brighten under his weight, in the faint shimmer of light that clung to him even in stillness.

Apollo turned his gaze to you, his smile softening further as he rested an arm loosely on his raised knee. "You don't need to carry all these questions alone. I have been with you from the very beginning, and I will not leave you now."

His closeness felt surreal, his golden presence so overwhelming yet strangely calming. You glanced down at the lyre resting in the grass between you, its faint hum now blending with the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. The connection between you, the lyre, and the god beside you felt undeniable, a thread woven too tightly to ignore.

Finally found the courage to speak. "So... why now? If you've been watching me all this time... why come to me now?"

Apollo's eyes softened, and he tilted his head again. "Because the time is right. Because you are ready to see what has always been there."

Your gaze flickered to his face again, drawn to the quiet intensity in his expression. His beauty was undeniable, otherworldly, yet it was his presence—the warmth, the light, the unwavering care—that left you breathless.

"You are my muse," he said again, his voice impossibly soft, as though the words themselves were a gift. "And there is no one else like you."

The declaration settled over you like a blanket, and for the first time, you felt the faintest flicker of belief stir in your chest. The doubts that had clawed at you earlier seemed smaller now, quieter, as though his very presence had the power to keep them at bay.

You didn't have all the answers—not yet. But with Apollo sitting beside you, his warmth and light chasing away the shadows, you felt something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in what seemed like forever.

Hope.

The feeling settled in your chest like the faint warmth of a rising sun, fragile yet undeniable. A peaceful silence grew between you and Apollo, his golden presence filling the space like a steady flame. The hum of the lyre at your feet had faded, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply exist in the quiet, the weight of his words still echoing in your mind. But the questions lingered. The uncertainty. The need to understand.

Clearing your throat softly, you turned your head toward him. Apollo's attention snapped to you instantly with such focus that it made your breath catch. His expression softened, his brow lifting slightly, and the faint smile that tugged at his lips was filled with quiet encouragement.

"Yes, little muse?"

The kindness in his tone gave you just enough courage to speak. You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze as you stammered, "I... I was just wondering... about the gifts you mentioned. What are they? I mean, beyond... the music?"

Apollo's smile widened, and his entire demeanor seemed to brighten, as if your question had brought him genuine joy. "Ah, my gifts. Of course. It is only natural that my muse would reflect my greatness." His words held no arrogance—only an easy confidence that felt oddly reassuring rather than overwhelming.

"First, there is music." He gestured lightly to the lyre resting between you. "You have mastered every instrument you have touched, haven't you? And not just those that exist now—no. You will master those yet to come, for music flows through you like the rivers of my domain. You make it sing, and in doing so, you honor me."

You blinked, stunned by the sheer weight of his declaration before thinking back to every melody you had ever played, every instrument you had held. It had felt natural, yes, but you had never considered what it truly meant.

"And your voice," Apollo continued, his gaze unwavering. "It rivals even the most revered singers in history. Orpheus himself would weep to hear you."

Your eyes widened at the comparison, lips parting in disbelief. "O-Orpheus?"

"Indeed, though even his songs could not stir the gods as yours will."

The words felt almost impossible to grasp, but Apollo spoke them with such quiet certainty that you couldn't bring yourself to doubt him as he continued.

"And then, there is your connection to healing. To life itself." He paused, his gaze growing thoughtful as he studied you. "You have an affinity for medicine, for soothing what is broken and helping it mend."

"Medicine?" you asked hesitantly, confusion flickering across your face. "I don't... I've never made a salve or prepared a remedy before in my life."

Apollo's expression turning almost fond. "Medicine is not always about plants and salves, my little muse," he said quietly. "Sometimes, simply being there—offering your light, your warmth, your presence—is enough to heal what cannot be mended by mortal hands."

The words settled over you like a blanket, their meaning sinking in slowly. You thought of the times Queen Penelope had sought you out in moments of distress, her gaze softening as she listened to your words or your music. You thought of the animals that flocked to you, their trust immediate and unshakable.

You had never considered these moments as anything more than coincidences, but now...

"You mean... You mean that's... part of it too?"

Apollo nodded, the gentle warmth in his expression never wavering. "Of course. You are a reflection of me, my muse. Music, healing, light... all of it flows through you. It always has."

You looked down at your hands, his words feeling like the final pieces of a puzzle sliding into place, revealing a picture that had always been there, waiting for you to see it, and for the first time, you began to understand.

"I... never realized."

"Now you do," Apollo simply said as he leaned back slightly, his tone steady and kind. "And that is enough for now."

The breeze stirred around you, carrying with it the faint scent of cypress and the sea. The warmth of Apollo's presence beside you felt like a quiet balm, his radiance soft but unyielding.

But as the moment settled, a flicker of memory intruded, unbidden and sharp against the calm. Your mind flashed to the courtyard, to Callias' grin and his panpipes in your hands. The frustration of that day—the way the notes refused to come smoothly no matter how you tried—pricked at you, a faint irritation amidst the revelation of your supposed mastery of music.

You turned to Apollo, curiosity pushing past your hesitation. His golden gaze shifted to you immediately again as though your every movement deserved his full focus; it startled you how easily he gave you his attention.

"May... May I ask you something?"

"Anything."

You hesitated, fingers brushing absently against the grass as you searched for the words. "If... if I'm truly blessed with the mastery of all instruments, then... why can't I play the panpipes?"

For a moment, Apollo stilled, his head tilting slightly as though considering your question. Then he sniffed, an almost imperceptible sound, his lips curving into a wry smile. "Ah, the panpipes," he murmured, his tone carrying a trace of something between amusement and disdain. "A curious little instrument, isn't it?"

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

Apollo let out a soft sigh as he turned toward the sky. "It is not the instrument itself,ut the one who inspired it—a satyr named Pan."

"Pan?"

"Yes," he said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "Long ago, Pan dared to challenge me—a god—to a contest of music. He played his pipes, and I played my lyre."

The shift was subtle, but you caught it—the brightness in his golden eyes dimming slightly, the warmth of his aura pulling inward as though some unseen shadow had passed over it. His voice, usually fluid and golden, carried an undercurrent of restrained irritation, a sharpness buried beneath the surface like a blade hidden in silk.

"Midas, foolish as he was, judged Pan the victor." The words were light, almost indifferent, but there was something clipped in the way he said Midas. His lips pressed together for the briefest moment, and you swore you saw the faintest flicker of something sharp in his gaze—resentment, or perhaps something darker.

"Needless to say, it... soured my view of the panpipes."

The air between you grew still.

You blinked, startled by the revelation. "So... I can't play them because of that?"

Apollo waved a hand dismissively, his tone lightening, but there was something too fluid about the motion, too carefully measured."Perhaps," he said, a glint of humor returning to his eyes. "Or perhaps my little muse simply doesn't need such a crude instrument. Your talents shine far brighter with the lyre."

His words made your cheeks warm, and you found yourself unable to hold his gaze for long. But before you could respond, Apollo leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes shimmering with interest. "Now, enough about that," he said, his voice softening back into that effortless charm, like the sun breaking through storm clouds. "Sing for me, little muse. I've heard your songs from afar, but I would hear them here, now, with you before me."

The way he spoke made it impossible to refuse, his tone a gentle command wrapped in warmth. Slowly, you nodded, your fingers brushing the lyre as you adjusted it in your lap. It felt only right to sing for him—a hymn to the god who now sat before you, radiant and impossibly real.

You strummed a soft chord, the notes weaving through the night air like a whispered promise. The melody was simple, one you had known since childhood, though it carried a weight you'd never fully understood until now.

"Hail to thee, Apollo, bright and fair, Lord of light, whose presence fills the air. Golden archer, healer kind and true, Grant thy blessing, guide us ever through..."

Your voice trembled at first, but as the hymn unfolded, it steadied, gaining strength with each word. The notes carried a quiet reverence, your fingers moving instinctively across the lyre's strings as though the music was drawn from the very air around you.

Apollo closed his eyes, his expression softening as he leaned back slightly, his golden aura flickering faintly in time with your melody. He began to hum quietly, his voice low and resonant, a perfect harmony that sent shivers down your spine. His head tilted gently to the side, his movements unhurried, like a flower swaying in the breeze.

You couldn't help but watch him as you sang, his face bathed in the soft glow of his own light. His hair, curly and golden, brushed his cheeks with every slow sway. The faint curve of his lips, the way his brow remained smooth and untroubled—it was breathtaking.

The sight of him—so at peace, so immersed in your music—made your heart ache in a way you couldn't quite name.

When the final notes of the hymn lingered in the air, fading like the last rays of sunlight, Apollo opened his eyes, the golden depths shimmering like molten sunlight as they met yours. "Bravo." His hands came together in a soft, measured clap, his expression bright with approval. "To hear such devotion from my muse—it is more than I could ever ask for."

Your face warmed at his praise, and you ducked your head slightly, unsure how to respond. But Apollo leaned forward then, his hands reaching out to cup yours where they rested on the lyre. His touch was impossibly warm, his fingers firm yet gentle as they surrounded yours.

The closeness made your breath catch. His gaze held yours, unwavering and so intense that it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you. His eyes glimmered, their light flickering faintly, and you were suddenly acutely aware of every detail—how his thumb brushed the back of your hand, the faint glow of his skin, the way his long lashes hovered just shy of grazing his cheekbones.

"Another."

You swallowed hard, nodding as words failed you. Your fingers, still cradled in his, strummed the lyre again, the soft notes spilling forth like water over smooth stones. This time, the melody came more naturally, your voice lifting once more in song.

Apollo leaned back slightly, his head tilting as he closed his eyes again, the golden glow of his aura brightening as he swayed gently to the rhythm.

For the remainder of the night, the courtyard belonged to the two of you. The stars above seemed to dim in deference to Apollo's light, and your music wove a bond between mortal and divine—each note a thread in a tapestry that only the heavens could witness.

☆

On the other side of the palace, Telemachus stood on his balcony, overlooking the endless sea that surrounded Ithaca. The moon hung high above, its silver light spilling across the waves, making them shimmer like scattered jewels.

The faint sound of the town drifted up from the cliffs below—laughter from taverns, the distant hum of conversation, the occasional bark of a dog. It was all softened by the distance, a quiet symphony of life carrying on as the prince lingered in his own thoughts.

Telemachus rested his forearms on the cool marble railing, his eyes scanning the horizon where the sea met the sky. The night air was crisp, carrying with it the scent of salt and the faint aroma of flowers from the palace gardens below. He let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as the weight of the day pressed against him.

Since leaving the shed, his thoughts had been consumed by you—by everything you had revealed and seemingly confirmed. He had gone straight to his mother to personally inform her that you wouldn't be attending her that evening, that he had given you the night to rest.

Penelope had been startled by the news, her delicate brows arching in surprise. "You gave her the night off?" she'd asked, her tone laced with a humorus disbelief. "You, Telemachus, who so often remind me of duty and decorum?"

Her words held truth, but he'd nodded nonetheless. "She's been carrying more than we realized," he had said simply, his tone firm enough to leave no room for argument. To his surprise, Penelope had accepted it, though not without casting him a curious glance as she returned to her work.

From there, Telemachus had retreated to his chambers, intending to let the matter rest. But peace had evaded him. He had instead paced the length of his room, his mind churning with thoughts that refused to quiet.

The memory of his conversation with Athena weighed heavily on him, her cryptic words playing over and over in his mind.

"Apollo's favored one."

At the time, he had been baffled. He'd tried to piece together her meaning, running through every possibility. Was she speaking of someone in the town? A warrior, perhaps? He had even considered Pisistratus, his best friend, though the thought felt absurd almost as soon as it came to him.

No matter how hard he tried, every theory felt like grasping at straws—until later, when the answer began to take shape.

He'd seen you then, your form silhouetted against the fading light as you moved through the courtyard, your lyre in hand, its golden frame glowing faintly in the twilight.

Something about the sight had stopped him in his tracks.

The plants around you seemed to lean ever so slightly toward your presence, their leaves catching the last rays of sunlight as though drawn to you. Even the stray animals scurried near in a peculiar calm. The servants who passed you smiled, their expressions softening as though they couldn't help themselves.

And then—his gaze had caught on the lyre. He'd never seen it before. In the dying light, its frame gleamed with an almost unnatural brilliance, the gold too rich, too luminous to belong to something made by mortal hands. It seemed to pulse with its own radiance, as though the strings themselves thrummed with something beyond human understanding. The way you cradled it, fingers brushing reverently over the strings, made something in his chest tighten with unease.

It was as if the world itself bent subtly around you, drawn to your light in ways Telemachus hadn't fully noticed until now.

And then, like a whisper over his shoulder, he'd felt her again. Athena. Her presence was unmistakable, though she didn't speak aloud. Instead, her words seemed to echo in his mind.

"Apollo's favored one."

The realization had struck him like a bolt of lightning, both thrilling and terrifying all at once. And the lyre—it had to be his. Apollo's. That was the only explanation.

Yet, even as he approached you and confirmed what he already suspected, the truth hadn't brought him peace.

If anything, it had shaken him further.

It didn't make sense. It didn't fit neatly into the world Telemachus had known all his life. And yet, it was undeniable.

Now, on the balcony, the rhythmic crashing of waves against the cliffs below pulled Telemachus back to the present. The sound was steady, relentless, as if the sea itself demanded his attention.

You were Apollo's favored one. The truth of it hung in the air like a heavy cloud, impossible to ignore. But what did it mean—for you? For him? For Ithaca?

The thought made his chest tighten, a faint unease curling in his stomach. Telemachus didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but there was a small, nagging part of him that felt afraid. Not of you, but of what being favored by Apollo might bring.

Apollo was a god of duality: life and death, healing and plague, music and vengeance. The same god who could soothe a battlefield with the beauty of his lyre could also strike down mortals with arrows of pestilence. His favor was never straightforward, never simple.

What if Apollo's light burned brighter than you could bear? What if Apollo's favor come with challenges that Telemachus couldn't protect you from?

The thought made his chest tighten again, a quiet frustration building within him. He didn't want to feel this way—this mixture of unease and doubt—but he couldn't shake it. The unknown loomed too large, and the stakes felt too high.

But even as his thoughts churned, a memory surfaced—of seeing you earlier that evening. There was the look in your eyes when he had spoken to you in the shed—uncertain yet determined, overwhelmed yet grounded.

"You're stronger than you think," he murmured, almost as if saying the words aloud would make them true for himself as well.

Telemachus let out a deep sigh, his breath catching slightly as he rubbed a hand down his face. His head fell into his hands, fingers threading through his dark hair as his mind whirred uncontrollably. "Am I... a hypocrite?"

It wasn't lost on him that he, too, was shaped by divine intervention.

Athena had been a constant presence in his life, guiding him, protecting him, just as she had supported his father through his trials. Telemachus had accepted her favor without question, had trusted her wisdom and her will.

So why did Apollo's favor make him uneasy?

The answer came quietly, dangerously: it wasn't just about Apollo's favor—it was what it might mean to the god himself.

Gods, especially male gods, were known for their whims, their desires, their penchant for pursuing whatever or whomever they wanted without thought. History was riddled with their conquests.

How often had it ended in ruin? How often had those mortals been discarded, their lives irreparably changed because a god had decided they were worth noticing?

The idea churned his stomach, his jaw tightening as his mind wandered further down the path he didn't want to take.

What if Apollo's favor wasn't just about your gifts, your talent, your light? What if the god wanted something more? Something... deeper?

His fists clenched against the stone railing, his knuckles white as the sharp taste of bitterness crept into his thoughts. A crude, sneering voice whispered in the back of his mind, one he hated but couldn't ignore.

Yeah, Telemachus, scared she might actually go with him—might fall for him?

The thought struck him harder than he cared to admit his breath catching in his throat. His grip on the railing slackened, his shoulders stiffening as the whisper echoed louder in his mind.

Would you—could you—be drawn to Apollo's light? Was that it? Was that what truly scared him?

Yes. A part of him was afraid.

Afraid that you might find yourself drawn to Apollo, taken by his light, his attention, his divinity. How could anyone—mortal or otherwise—resist such a presence?

And who was he to compete? He, a mere prince, burdened by the shadow of his father's legacy and the expectations of a kingdom. What could he offer you compared to Apollo—the embodiment of music, healing, and light itself? His mortality, his humanity, his unspoken feelings—they all seemed small, insignificant against Apollo's divine radiance.

Flashes of your soft smile came to his mind unbidden, the way your laughter had filled the courtyard, light and genuine. His chest ached at the memory, a sharp pang he couldn't ignore.

And yet, his own hesitations loomed over him like a shadow. How could he fear Apollo's intentions when he had barely been able to articulate his own?

He exhaled sharply, leaning heavily against the railing as the cool night air brushed his face, carrying with it the faint scent of the sea, but it did nothing to quell the storm inside him.

This wasn't about the gods—about Apollo. Not entirely. This was about you. And if he let his insecurities cloud his judgment, if he let his jealousy fester, he would only be failing you—and himself.

He didn't know what to do, what to say, or even what to feel but all he knew was that the thought of losing you left him more shaken than he was willing to admit.

"I'll protect you," he murmured, his voice firm despite the uncertainty in his chest. "From Apollo, from the gods, from anything."

The resolve steadied him. Whatever trials Apollo's favor brought, Telemachus would stand by you, no matter what. For you. For Ithaca. For himself.

As the waves crashed below and the moonlight shimmered on the sea, he felt his unease quiet slightly, tempered by the decision he could control.

Whatever the gods intended, he would be ready.

A/N: hey, winxies! just wanted to clear some things up/answer a few questions i've been getting about my spammed updated. I know it might seem like I write super quickly, but I promise I'm actually a very slow writer, lol. let me explain my chaotic process:

1. drafting: I start with a rough outline of the arc or key events (inspired by my daydreams or random sparks of inspiration). these are usually wild, borderline crackfic ideas or pure fanservice moments. 2. best pick: I refine the chaos to fit the narrative and overall plot of the story/project. 3. slow but steady: using the outline, I write in short bursts—200-300 words per day—across multiple projects to keep things fresh and avoid burnout.

right now, i have a little extra free time because i'm on break and aren't working atm, so i've been pulling all-nighters and diving headfirst into my drafts for absolutely no reason other than sheer chaos. 😂 plus, i have prewritten chapters to work with, which makes the process feel faster than it actually is. but trust me, the polishing stage takes forever—adding dialogue (which is so fun because my sister and I rp the scenes—she's the MC/reader, and i voice everyone else! 😭✨), tweaking paragraphs, or expanding descriptions (which often result in my overlywordy/redundant descriptions, but I'm working on it!).

honestly, each update is a mix of excitement and obsession, and it often depends on which fic aligns with my current fixation—which, right now, is 'EPIC: The Musical' and, by default, 'Godly Things'. i'll get stuck on one word or a single sentence for hours, tweaking it until it feels right. other times, i'll go down rabbit holes researching the tiniest details to make scenes more vivid. writing is definitely slow and chaotic for me, but i wouldn't trade it for anything—it's all part of creating something i hope you'll love as much as i do. so, yeah, just wanted to give a heads up if it feels like i dropped off the earth; i'm most likely just writing haha *releases deep breath*...welcome to my writing process.🎉🎊🎉🎈

p.s. all the important characters are introduced, now, the messiness is about to start😈 see you next update lovelies.... p.p.s i may have another divine whispers ready already, i just wanna ask if i post it an hour after this, will you guys be okay waiting a wee bit longer so i can wrap up my other book kne/ as well as cmiyc??? 👀

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 22 hours ago

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(Thunderbolts) I feel like it would be really funny. There's a x reader where Bucky had a wife, and she just walks in during one of their meetings, holding their kids and like "where the hell were you? All I need a frozen pizza and some diaper wipes."

And alexie teaches one of the kids their first word but it's not mama or dada. It's Gin.

Bucky is pulled away quickly for a mission, leaving you holding the babies...and worrying about your husband.

Warnings: 18+ for language, domestic fluff, Thunderbolts!Bucky before the film, Dad!Bucky, reader likes pineapple on her pizza, I feel this is something I need to warn for. I don't really write kids in fics normally and I've never written Alexi before so…please be kind! Rated F for fluff and K for kids.

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Not going to lie I'm nervous writing anything about Thunderbolts before it's out but Thunderbolts!Bucky does live rent free in my head. It's not exactly as you requested but I hope you still enjoy it anyway!

Padruga - female friend in Russian

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Being married to Bucky Barnes was everything you'd dreamed about since the first time he'd strolled into your boutique and nervously asked if you had any gifts suitable for ex-assassins with limited wardrobes.

After a few hours searching for items he'd bought a new jacket for himself, black leather of course, and a smaller woman's jacket. Your heart had sunk, of course there was a woman already in his life. Tall, handsome, a rakish mop of hair flopping into his piercing blue eyes, she was a lucky lady.

Bucky had looked at you, those blue eyes looking straight into your soul, "it's for my sister, sort of, well, she's not my real sister, but she's like a - it's not for …I don't have a girlfriend."

"Oh, good." And then you kicked yourself for sounding so stupid. Bucky had given you the widest smile and written his number on a scrap of paper.

"Call me." He'd winked.

It was becoming harder to appreciate your luck when you were covered in bath water, probably the only shower you were likely to get unless Grant went to sleep quickly.

Bucky had been called out to an emergency meeting on his way to the store and as much as you loved his dedication and hard work you really, really, needed him to come home with the groceries.

You were running low on literally everything and you knew eventually you'd have to do a full shop, but now just the essentials would do. You couldn't have a repeat of lunch, hunting down some crackers, cheese and cucumbers sticks.

Distracted for a moment, Grant lined his rubber ducks up on the edge of the tub, splashing them in one by one.

"Look Mama!" He said, gleefully, "'dis one is Daddy!" He took the duck, left wing coloured in black, and made it dive into the heap of bubbles surrounding him.

"Well done, Sweetie!" You cooed, turning away quickly to hide a yawn and checking your phone.

Get your ass home or I'm ordering the pizza in instead

From the nice place

Get me some fries?

and I'm getting pineapple

Doll cmon now youre being cruel

It wasn't unusual for Bucky to keep his work secret, but he would normally be able to say when he was coming home. Perhaps it was really important.

Grant had just gone to sleep when the doorbell rang and you cringed, setting your pineapple heavy pizza down on the coffee table and pausing your movie.

There was a familiar silhouette in the frosted glass -

"Alexi, is everything okay?" The door swang wide open before you could even reach it. It had definitely been locked, but it was hard to keep any of the team out for long.

"Padruga! I am returning the small one." A very familiar mop of hair popped over Alexi's shoulder, face covered in cookie crumbs. For all that Grant was like you, Natalia was all Bucky, soft curls and sparkling blue eyes.

"Mommy!" She jumped from Alexi, landing heavily in your arms, "we went to Dairy Queen and I had two ice creams and one of those ice creams was vanilla and the other was choca-chol-choco-brown-extreme-blizzard-extreme."

You turned a cold eye on Alexi, "I thought we said park, dinner, home?"

"Ah how can I resist to spoiling the daughter of the Winter Soldier, if she wants extreme blizzard milk drinks I cannot say no." He shrugged, an indulgent smile peaking out of his beared.

"God," you rubbed a hand over your face. "She'll never sleep - Petal, can you go and get your pjs on please, I'll come up and help you do your teeth."

Natalia climbed the stairs quickly, sounding more like a herd of elephants than a four year old.

"Do you know what's going on with Bucky? I expected him home by now."

Alexi looked concerned, but didn't immediately start a tirade about the strength of the Winter Solider, so you felt reassured it couldn't be too serious.

"He is discussing planning with Wilson and his comrades. I have advised against it but he trusts the Captain and so we do too."

"We?"

"Yelena has been very helpful and is talking to the rest of the team. We will have a plan soon."

"So you're heading out for something?"

"Yes. I am sorry."

"Fuck."

"In Russian you can say, yebat, Mommy." Natalia's little voice floated over from the hallway and you cringed. Everytime she came back from spending time with Alexi or Yelena she seemed to have learnt a new Russian word, which wouldn't bother you, except they were almost always curse words.

"I'm all for her being bilingual, but could you maybe teach her how to say her favourite colour or something." You grouched.

"Sorry."

Alexi took a slice of pizza and left the address of the current discussions on a scrap of paper stuck to the fridge before vanishing in to the night again with the promise that you could "call anytime."

It had been two days since Bucky left on his bike to, "have a quick chat with the team, baby, don't worry, I'll swing by the store on the way home." And you were starting to move from slightly annoyed to a see-saw of furious and anxious.

He'd text a few times to let you know they hadn't left yet but the situation was complex, he'd be home very briefly before they left, just to see you and the kids, but other than that he was holed away for the foreseeable.

One week after Bucky left and you were truly stir crazy. There was only so many times you could have the same conversation with the other parents at the park before you lost your mind.

You really didn't care if Timmy or Charlie or whoever had cut their first tooth. All you cared about was what your husband was doing somewhere, anywhere, and when he'd be home safe in your arms.

It was 2am when the call came in, he was home, safe and unharmed, at the abandoned airstrip twenty miles past the town border. Yelena and Alexi were with him, also safe.

Grant was a heavy, floppy, weight in your arms as you buckled him into his car seat. But Natalia was wide awake and excited, clutching her bear to her chest and staring at the street lights in awe.

"I can't wait to see Daddy," she sighed, snuggling the top of the bear's head. You made sure to put his cologne on it, every day, while she was out at kindergarten, the same way you sprayed his pillow. So you'd both have a memory. Grant's blankie was the same and, still asleep, he pressed his chubby cheek into the cotton.

"I can't wait either, Petal, we'll be there soon."

You drove through the night, the darkness closing in around your car, streetlamps dwindling and stars appearing as you made it out of the town and towards the airstrip. There was a single plane looking almost abandoned, its tail at an angle, on the landing strip. But there was the faint glow of artificial light under the door of a metal supply shed beyond it.

You slowed the car, expecting there to be someone at the gate to the airstrip before remembering it had been closed a few years previously and there would be no one to care. It must have been a rough mission, to come back like this rather than through a real airport. It was normally Sam who let you know about his return and you could collect him from the big airport in the city or he'd appear in the night from some taxi or hire car.

You double checked to make sure the doors were locked on the car, the children dozing in the back. Grant was drooling on his blankie and Natalia, despite her assertion that she would "definitely certainly mostly stay awake until Daddy, Mommy" was bumping her head on the side of her car seat every time her eyes closed.

You stopped the car opposite the shed and flashed your lights, ready to drive off if they didn't flash back.

It went dark, then light, dark…light and the door opened. You put the handbrake on and jumped from the car, leaving the door flung open in your haste, and raced towards Bucky.

He dropped his duffle bag and swung you into his arms, latching around your waist and lifting you easily. His lips were chapped and there was the tang of blood when you pulled away from a cut on his upper lip. You cupped his face in your hands and inspected him as best you could in just the headlights.

"You're okay." You sighed, breathing him in, burying your face in his neck and squeezing your legs around his waist.

"I'm alright Doll, don't worry about me. Are you okay?" His voice was rough with sleep, his cheeks chapped with cold and he smelt faintly of fire which was disconcerting. But he was here, safe, holding you close.

"Glad you're back, baby." You smiled, kissing him again. It was amazing, even after all these years, ever though he'd been on a hundred missions. It still gave you butterflies every time he came back, not just that he returned at all, but that he came back to you.

Behind you came the sound of little fists banging on the windows.

"Daddy!" Natalia shouted and Bucky carried you, giggling, back to the car.

With practiced ease he unbuckled both children and held them close.

"My little monsters, have you been good for Mommy?"

"Yes!"

"No!" Grant giggled.

"Sounds about right." Bucky looked over Natalia's head and smiled again, soft and slow.

"I'm glad you're back." You repeated, "but if you ever take two weeks to 'pop to the store' again we're over." You wagged your finger teasingly.

"Don't worry, I got everything we needed." Bucky carried the children back to his duffle, shuffling them around so he could lumber back with everything in his arms. "Look in there."

You unzipped the bag and inside - a pack of wipes, a bottle of laundry soap and two frozen pizzas.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes x female!Reader #Bucky Barnes/female reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky fluff #bucky #Dad!Bucky #domestic fluff #Domestic Bucky

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angelic-writer · 2 days ago

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Mavis made his way through the sea of people to get to his locker. No one spoke to him. No one paid any attention to him. He didn’t mind this, actually. It allowed him to pass through undetected like a ninja. It was a perk of being one of the quiet kids. Although, sometimes, he wished he had more than just four people to talk to.

He spotted Carter through the crowd and gave him a quick “Hey!”. He waved back in response, smiling at him.

Compared to Mavis' drab appearance, looking like he just got out of bed, Carter’s hair was combed back in a neat fashion, his eyes sparkling like he just got a good night’s sleep. His attire consisted of a black shirt, blue jeans and a red flannel jacket. He was a bit of an anomaly at school. Most girls talked to him, but he had never gone out on a date with them. He was popular, but he was always seen talking with Mavis. People had asked him to hang out with people of his social status, but he always turned it down. “I don’t want to leave my friend alone, you know?”

Carter grew concerned when he saw that Mavis' eyes were droopy. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah. I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” He answered, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh… Did you…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Dream about it again?”

Mavis let out a shaky sigh. “Yeah. I thought I got past that. I thought it had gone away in middle school.”

“Listen, if you need to talk, I can come over and we can. Or if you don’t want to, we can just talk about whatever. I’m fine with anything.”

Mavis smiled. Whenever he was around, his mood would improve a bit. They had both been friends since they were kids and they bonded over their family struggles. With Mavis' family, his parent’s feuds that constantly aggravated him. With Carter’s family, his mother having medical problems. He remembered the day of a particularly nasty fight where Mavis' mom and dad got into a screaming match. He had gone to Carter's house, crying, wondering if his parents didn’t love him anymore. “Is it my fault?” He asked him in tears. “Is it my fault mommy and daddy are constantly arguing? Weren't they supposed to love each other?"

Carter was quick to rescue him, offering a shoulder for him to cry on, reassuring him that his parents still love him. For the rest of the day, they played some of his favorite video games, played hide and seek outside with Mavis hiding in the shed, and even let him play with some of his action figures. Even though he felt uncomfortable about barging into his house unannounced, the fact that his friend was there for him in his time of need made it all worth it.

Mavis and Carter both got their textbooks out of their respective lockers and were about to walk to their classes when they heard a familiar voice.

“Hey guys! You lookin’ pretty snazzy today!”

They both turned to look at the source and their smiles widened. There they are. Tyler Lechner and Gavin Ozpin. They were both seen as the punk kids in school, always getting into trouble with school faculty. That was definitely why Charlie hung out with them. Tyler had a hoodie that had the logo of a rock band on it while Gavin was all decked out in his scene kid gear - ripped, black jeans and a ripped, denim jacket. He had multiple piercings in his ears and one of his eyebrows had a shaven mark on one side. He even got himself a tongue piercing which Mavis couldn’t help but cringe at. He remembered how he reacted the first time he saw Gavin's new look.

“Whoa! Dude, you look... Different. What'd you do?” He had asked him on their first day of sophomore year.

“Well, Charlie and Ty took me to a few places. We thought it would, y’know, change our status quo a bit.” He fluffed up his hair. “Gave me some curls too.”

“What status quo?” Carter asked.

“Uhhh….”

Tyler stepped in. “He just wanted to look different this year.”

“So, spent another boring night without internet?” Gavin asked, leaning against the lockers.

“Actually, it’s pretty beneficial. It allowed me to catch up on some reading.” Carter said.

“Pfft! Who has time to read anyway? There could be so many other things we could be doing. So many TV shows we could be watching. But thanks to the mayor’s bone-headed decision, our rights are slowly being taken away!”

“Gavin, you know there’s a reason behind the curfew and electronics rule.” Tyler said.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s because they’re trying to keep us safe from the mimics. But I mean, they didn’t have to say that we can’t use our cell phones after 9, right?” He waggled his cell phone. “I mean, I doubt someone’s face could appear on something like this and kill you.”

"I mean, it could be possible considering what they can do."

“Well, it’s best to be safe and follow the rules. You don’t want to get fined again, do you, Gav?” Mavis asked.

“No…”

“Good.”

They changed the conversation to something more suited for the morning. The point Gavin made about the cell phone restriction made Mavis think… There hadn’t been any reports of mimics coming through phones as of yet. Now that he thought about it, there wasn’t really a good reason for this rule. Maybe the mayor caved in after several paranoid calls from parents. Something about their children being influenced by Satan or the mimics. Business as usual in Crestwood county.

Other than that, life resumed as usual for the teens. Tyler and Gavin were talking about who knows what while him and Carter started quizzing each other to prepare for Mr. Bentley’s test.

"Hey Tyler? Where's Charlie?" Gavin asked.

"She's probably hanging out with her gal-pals. She always want to keep up the bad girl attitude." Tyler responded.

"Hmm."

Although he said that, they already knew who Charlie was.

Project Mimicry (Vol 1) - Chapter 1

"In the beginning, God created the heaven and the Earth." - Genesis 1:1

1983

"This is a test. This station is conducting a test of the Emergency Broadcasting System. This is only a test."

A long, screeching noise blared from the old TV. The Markson family had a different program on when they announced the test. It was some cowboy show their dad loved so much. For eleven year old Jade, it made her stomach churn. It was an odd sound, different from the sounds of horses and gunfire that came from the living room while they were doing family worship. It made her want to jump into her mother's arms and pray to Jehovah for the noise to stop.

Her mom, dad and brother were silent as the attention signal droned on. After a minute, it stopped.

"This is a test of the emergency broadcasting system. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with federal, state and local authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. If this had been an actual emergency, the attention signal you have just heard would have been filed by official information, news or instructions. This station serves the northern Alabama area. This concludes this test of the emergency broadcast system."

Jade fiddled with the pages of her book, trying to think of the right words to say. Her brother, Caleb had resumed work on his drawing, seeming to not care about anything. Her mother let out a small sigh. "I swear, can they not scare the kids like that?"

"Mom..." Jade quietly said. "Why do they send out something like this? What if it hadn't been a test? Are... Are we gonna die?"

Opal got up from her chair and pulled her into her arms. "Oh sweetie, we're not gonna die. Everything's gonna be okay. This whole thing will blow over in no time."

"Well Jade," Opal's husband, Simon, chimed in. "They played the test on our TV because they want to inform us on what's happening. The world is at a very turbulent time at the moment so they are doing their best to keep us informed. If we were actually under attack, we would've been hiding in the basement." He let out a small chuckle.

"Well, what can we do to make it better?" Jade asked.

"Pray to Jehovah, of course. Our safety is his priority and if we pray to him, he'll protect us."

Jade smiled and snuggled into her mother. Jehovah is the only thing she knew. She may not be like the other "worldly" kids, but she didn't need all those material goods. She didn't need to see the latest movie or buy the newest toys. As long as she had her family and Jehovah, she can get through anything.

Caleb let out a soft coo.

"Oh, we didn't forget about you!" Simon lifted him out of his baby chair and gently rocked him. The whole family began to giggle.

This was their life. This was their routine. Jade was determined to be a good older sister to Caleb. And soon, he will be baptized.

-------

December 24th, 1983

"This is an important message from the Crestwood police department. This is not a test. I repeat, this is not a test. The Crestwood police department has issued a Shelter-in-place Warning for the county of Crestwood until further notice. Reports of unknown figures have been confirmed by law enforcement and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. For your safety, until 5 PM to 6 AM, stay home, lock all doors and windows and, in the event of a break-in, have access to a loaded weapon at all times. Do not call 911 unless you need to report an emergency. The Crestwood police department and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders thanks you for your cooperation.

Stay tuned for a message from the representative of the Department of Babylonian Crusaders."

"Hello. My name is Dr. Lloyd Evans from the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. We have been receiving reports of unknown organisms that we've decided to call mimics. You may have already gotten the alert from the EBS about this phenomenon, but we're here to tell you about what those mimic types are and what you can do to protect yourself.

The first type are the defensive mimics. They are a sub group of mimics that take on the role of a protector when they find a human. Some pose as aggressive mimics to ward off other humans or they deceive humans they perceive as harmful with their harmless look and kill them. Think of it as a predator camouflaging itself in order for them to eat their prey.

There are three types of defensive mimics. There are Batesian, Mullerian and Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics.

Batesian mimics are harmless. They pose as a harmful mimic to ward off anyone they tries to hurt them or their human.

Mullerian mimics are two or more mimics that advertise themselves as harmful to ward off predators. These mimics often work in groups of two or three.

Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics take the form of a less harmful mimic to deceive the predator and kill them.

These ones can be considered safe, but you should still be wary of them. Aggressive mimics are the ones you need to watch out for. Now, aggressive mimics are the type of mimic that pose as humans to kill them. These types use mind games to toy with their victims. If they haven't committed suicide, the mimic will finish the job.

Predators are a mimic group where they take the form of a loved one, deceive them into thinking they are the real person and then use psychological manipulation. Those are the most dangerous types of mimics and we strongly advise to avoid them at all costs.

Parasites are [REDACTED DUE TO SIGNAL GLITCH]

Now, here's what you can do to keep yourself safe. Stay in your homes after 6 PM, lock all windows and doors and keep a loaded weapon with you at all times. In the event of a mimic attack, follow the S.A.F.E. principle.

S - Secure yourself in a room.

A - Access the situation. Learn how the mimic operates.

F - Fire your weapon. If the mimic attacks, do not hesitate. It can mean life or death.

E - If possible, escape. Do not let them win.

We hope this message keeps you safe. We're very sorry for the interruption and we hope you have a Merry Christmas!"

Though this message was broadcasted to most TVs, some of them reported the S part saying something different. According to reports, it said "Surrender yourself to the Lord."

--------

1987

The young man's back was pressed up against the wall. The shotgun he had in his hands had one shell left. The creature that was at his door kept calling out to him in a mockery of his wife's voice.

"Ralphie... Please let me in... I'm sorry for sca-a-a-aring you back there. You know how I am."

His grip tightened. That wasn't her. That wasn't his wife. She was dead. And now, he was going to die too. His eyes started to fill with tears.

Marla... I'm so sorry... I couldn't protect you... I couldn't save you from these things.

The image of his wife sprawled out on the kitchen floor flashed in his mind. Her neck that was gushing blood... He swallowed, trying to hold back his vomit. They had followed the rules. They had done everything the broadcast said. What did they do wrong? They had to have done something wrong for something like this to happen.

He gritted his teeth. Pondering over this won't help him now. Remember the S.A.F.E. principle, Ralph. Remember.

He secured himself in his bedroom, grabbing his shotgun so he could protect himself. He analyzed the situation. The creature, the mimic, was trying to use his wife's voice to lure him out, using his nickname. Ralphie was what she would call him when he came home from work. The way she said it made his heart soar. However, when it said his nickname, it felt like nails on a chalkboard.

The high school sweethearts had moved into the rural Alabama town after they had gotten married in New York. They thought getting away from the bustling city life would help them. They were in the talks of starting a family when the broadcast came on, talking about reports of mimics.

"Talk about bad timing. On Christmas too." Marla had said while bringing out the cookies and milk. "Let's hope Santa gets there okay."

"I hope so too. But hey, look on the bright side. This lockdown will end at 6 AM tomorrow. We've still got time to celebrate, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Besides, anything's fun with you." She gave him a light peck on the cheek.

A low sob escaped him. There was so much they wanted to do together. So many things they had planned. Their entire life... They were now gone.

Oh Marla... Why did they have to take you? What did we do?

God, please... Please help me.

He wiped his face. No, crying and pleading to some higher being isn't gonna solve anything. I have to survive. I have to live on for Marla! If I can get out of here, I could alert the police.

With a sense of courage taking over, he pointed his shotgun at the door. The mimic had begun to claw at the door, no doubt leaving scratch marks in the wood. "Ralphie... Please... Let me in. It's so cold. My neck hurts. Help..."

"Shut up... You're not her..."

The doorknob rattled.

"You're not her. You're not her! You're not her!!"

There was a sudden loud banging making him jump. "Ralph, open the goddamn door! You'd really leave me out here with these things?! How could you?!" The thing screeched.

"You're! Not! Her! Leave me alone!! You killed her, you monster!! You're not- You're not her!" He screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Just try and get me! I dare you! I'll fucking shoot you if you try anything!"

"Ralph..." His 'wife' had begun to cry. Normally, it would cause him to go over and hug her, but he will not be swayed. What it was doing, it was disgusting. It's desecrating his wife's memory, his image, his everything. The nerve of the creature...

The door flew open, allowing Ralph to see the monster. Though it was hard to see through the darkness, what he could see made him freeze.

Its form was tall and lanky, its arms and legs stretched out to an almost inhuman degree. What little hair it had on its head was beginning to fall off. Its skin was beginning to sag. Ralph could swear he was beginning to see bones. The mimic looked at him with empty eyes yet it pierced his soul with an intense glare. It opened its mouth to speak, but all that came out were rasps and gargles.

Ralph began to shake, his aim wavering as he stared at... He didn't even know what he was seeing. It was human, but at the same time, it was not. It looked like his wife, but it was like looking at a decomposing carcass. The smell... It smelled like rotten eggs left out on the hot sidewalk. Bile threatened to come up his throat, but he held it in.

One shot. He had to make it count. If it failed...

The creature began to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made you cringe. It was an ear-piercing, gurgling laugh that was like if you tried to imitate a toy clown on its last legs.

Ralph pressed his finger on the trigger. Taking a deep breath, he screamed out.

"I will not let you kill me!!"

The gun went off.

--------

2017

The group of kids stared at the small house as their two older brothers talked to the movers. The smallest one of the bunch hugged her teddy bear. Though leaving their home state of Florida didn't seem like a huge deal at first, Catherine still had her doubts. Sure, they were free from all the hurricanes, but they still had friends there. They still had people they could talk to.

But now, she and her brothers moved to a new town. There was no one she knew there. And there was... an abundance of churches. Lots and lots of churches.

@chibisrpblog

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opheliachoi99 · 12 hours ago

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Ocean Eyes ♡̷

MICHAEL KAISER X READER

ABOUT : A short scenery where you appreciate his beautiful ocean eyes, from lifeless, to full of life inside his ocean eyes.

note : this is a short one because I just wanna appreciate my love for Kaiser. Enjoy!

— You were only an elementary student during the time and you noticed the transferee in your class keeps on hugging his old, scratched, taped soccer ball, while curling in his desk, wearing a black hoodie almost everyday. You could barely see his full face.

When someone touches his soccer ball he immediately smacks the shit out of them, it's as if that ball was his lifeline.

You noticed his fists were filled with bandages, you felt worried. But there was nothing you could do, you were too afraid to approach him, he seemed scary-looking in your perspective.

A few days passed, and you noticed he hasn't came to class. You checked the attendance sheet and his present days were a total blank. You bit your lower lip, curious of what had happened to him.

You were walking home when you noticed a kid underneath the big bridge near you, trying to kick a familiar ball that bounces back to him in the face. You found it funny where he repeatedly kicked the soccer ball towards the wall and bounces back towards his face, causing him to groan in pain, but continuously repeats the same actions.

You approached this kid and you gasped as you were familiar with him "It's you! Transferee!" This kid turns to you "Huh?"

You gasped again when you saw bruises and scratches on his face. "W-what happened to your face?" You innocently asked.

"It's none of your business." He coldly replied. You were a stubborn one so you approached him grabbing your band-aid collection in your bag "Let me put these!"

"H-hey!" He could barely move as if he was traumatised when someone forcefully touches him. You removed his hood and you paused.

You stared into his lifeless eyes, but you adored how beautiful his eyes were. Those beautiful ocean eyes. You were mesmerized, your touch softens. You two were stuck in the same position, he was looking helpless so he gave up defending himself. "You're strong.."

"Y-you have beautiful eyes.." You stutter as you placed band-aid on his face one-by-one.

Soon after, you two started talking casually "Thank you.." "Does it still hurt?" He shook his head. "Not quite anymore.." You smiled "You know me right? I'm your classmate! You couldn't notice me because I was always in the back doing some doodles.." You pouted "I know you, but you don't know me.. I'm Michael, Michael Kaiser.."

You smiled "Michael... Can I call you micha?" He stared at you for a second "Sounds weird but okay.." You jumped for joy "You're my friend now! Come to school tomorrow okay? You've been absent for days now." You pouted. "I got to go, my mom might be looking for me by now, you should go home too!" You waved goodbye, leaving Kaiser fascinated about you.

Ever since then, you and him were inseparable. You knew he was abused by his father ever since his mom left them, and you knew why he had a soccer ball with him everyday, it was his only friend. His dream was to be a striker, so you were more interested in him and supported his goals all the way.

9 years passed since you two became the closest, but a year ago, he confessed. In which you and Kaiser are now a thing.

You realised, that Kaiser was a good-looking guy, ever since he dyed his hair tips metallic blue, and had a blue rose tattoo on his neck, and rose thorns all the way to his biceps and to his wrist, and a crown on his back hand.

Gosh he was divine..

It was his game today, which is a huge one, because if he wins they would be competing for FIFA, and one step closer, his dreams would come true.

And of course you were there, because without you, he wouldn't be motivated at all.

And obviously they won, leaving you so happy that you had to jump out from your seat, and the first thing Kaiser did was to run towards you. Everyone saw and it was viral online and it was on the news too! Everyone seemed to notice you were the girlfriend of their star player since he approached you and you were wearing his jersey "KAISER, 10"

As he was hugging you, you felt warmth "I'm so proud of you my micha.." You glanced in his ocean eyes.. "You're so beautiful schatz.. I love you.." He kissed you passionately, everyone in the stadium cheered.

His eyes from being lifeless, to being so fulfilling, because you loved him. All because you were drawn to his ocean eyes.

Fin.

#blue lock #bllk #michael kaiser #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #blue lock x reader #ocean eyes #kaiser michael #micheal kaiser #kaiser #kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #blue lock drabble #bblk drabble #michael kaiser drabble #drabble

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douxkise · 3 days ago

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This short piece of Mammon fluff is a gift for @anonymouse-is-here and although she has seen it already, I thought it would be nice to share it with everyone too. No Mammon content is ever too much Mammon content, right? 🌹

Note: MY ENGLISH IS CURRENTLY RUSTY, GIVE ME A BREAK

The greatest winter with the Great Mammon

Mammon was cold. That's it. So cold he could barely move. He felt a wave of cramps coming all the way to his toes and couldn't help but shiver. The demon took in his surroundings and everything he saw was the white, thick snow that extended for miles and piled up to his thighs and only added to his already freezing body.

He cried out for help and there was no answer. Of course no one would come to his rescue; he didn't even remember how he got there in the first place.

Mammon managed to take a couple of steps before his body gave up, sending him straight to the snow. Oh God, he was going to die for good this time. The freezing cold caught up to him in an instant and he felt himself getting sleepy. Weird, huh? Suddenly, the gelid snow on his cheek didn't bother him so much anymore.

"HELL NAH!" he yelled, sitting up and throwing all the pillows on the floor while trying to regain consciousness.

His eyes darted around in a haste, scared he would end up as a giant ice cube in the middle of nowhere. It was only a nightmare, thank Diavolo. He exhaled and saw his breath in the air. Oh... So that's why it hurt to breathe. His own room was cold as hell.

Only then he remembered something. Mammon turned to your side of the bed and, just as he thought, it was empty and the blanket was gone as well. Although the sheets were already cold, your scent still lingered, engraved in his mind and invading his nose. He missed you already, why did you have to disappear like that?!

"It's too early to be stealing Mammon's blanket, ___...." Rubbing his eyes, the white haired demon got up and decided to look for you; there was no way he was going back to sleep without you on his side.

It took Mammon a couple of minutes to notice the silence at Serenity Manor; the sun had barely risen, after all, no sane demon should be awake, but there he was. He walked all the way through the mansion and hadn't heard anything from any of his brothers — or you, for that matter — which led him to start getting a tad bit antsy.

The common room remained the same, though, its gigantic windows hiding nothing from the outside and, as he expected, the backyard was covered in snow. He took in the scenery before him; the chilly atmosphere wasn't enough to hurt him the way it did in his dream and the snow-covered trees were kind of pretty, he admitted. Mammon almost felt peace at the moment. That is, until he saw you.

There you were, standing outside in the snow. What were you thinking? Getting out of the mansion — without winter boots, nonetheless —, were you trying to freeze to death?!

"Oi! Ya ain't gettin' sick on my watch! Get back inside, ____!" He called through the door that led to the yard, waving frantically to get your attention.

You turned around with a smile that never failed to melt his heart. That childlike glint in your eyes that he only ever saw whenever the first snow of December started falling. You beckoned to him and, certainly, watched as he took a deep breath before facing the snow.

"It's snowing, Mammon! It's officially winter!" You told him, opening your arms in an obvious invitation for a hug.

"Tsk, talk about being childish," he grumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist in a bear hug.

You two just stayed this way, your bodies rocking slowly from side to side while you admired the beautiful winter scenery.

"Hey... You know what?" You pulled away just enough to look into his blue eyes. "Thank you for being with me, Mammon. I'm really glad we're spending winter in the human realm this year."

"Of course, the Great Mammon will always be here for ya, babe." You could hear the embarrassment in each of his words even though he tried to hide the deep blush on his face with an overconfident demeanor.

After a few moments, the winter breeze started to be too much for you. You couldn't help but shiver a bit, and it didn't go unnoticed by him; he scoffed and took both your bare hands in his. To say your skin was cold was an understatement. Honestly, he was expecting it already, you did this every year and it never got old; the first time was during the Devildom winter. However, this year he was braver, bolder even, and decided to be a gentleman and kiss your hands.

Mammon started by kissing your fingers, one by one, pretending he hadn't seen the pinkish tint on your cheeks.

"Mammon... What are you-"

"Don't speak," his voice went low in a soft command, although it sounded almost like a plea. Oh, to be that confident all the time... His life would have been so much easier.

The sudden change in the atmosphere caught you off guard; you weren't expecting him to get affectionate out of the blue, neither were you ready for it this early in the morning. You kept watching him as he kissed every inch of your hand, until he got to kiss your palm. You pulled both hands back abruptly and now it was Mammon's turn to be surprised. He stared at your flushed face and smirked to what could only mean one thing: he found out you were ticklish.

"Oh... That's good to know." His smirk only grew as well as his confidence.

"Don't you dare, Mammon." You warned with a mischievous smirk matching his, already backing away from him when he started following you.

And just like that, you were play fighting in the snow. Mammon had that familiar hungry look in his eyes, his laugh echoing through all of the backyard of the mansion as he tried to tickle you over and over. Truth be told, you had no chance against him to begin with. You only got away with running from him for as long as he allowed, but even so you ended up tripping and falling on your stomach.

"Looks like the Great Mammon won again, huh?" He chuckled as he turned you around and trapped you underneath his body.

"You're ridiculous." There was your smile again, making his heart speed up without his consent. Your entire face held the expression of pure happiness while you stared fondly at him.

As you two laid down on the snow, you noticed just how beautiful this demon was. You already knew it, of course, but it was always a welcome surprise when you got to be so close to him as you were. His eyes as deep as the most beautiful starry night, his lips just as inviting; you started to think Mammon could have been sculpted by God himself and the laugh that followed was inevitable. How could you forget that God himself took his time to create an ethereal being such as the Great Mammon?

He didn't even have the time to ask what you were laughing at when he felt your cold hands pulling his face down until your lips barely brushed against his. Mammon's hand trembled in anticipation, his fingers making their way to your hair as he made sure to remember every tiny detail of you in that moment.

"Hey! Get away from them!" Asmodeus' loud voice echoed through the backyard and both you and Mammon jumped out of your skins, unable to move fast enough to even start thinking of a believable excuse for the position you were in.

You dreaded looking in the avatar of Lust's direction and you weren't actually surprised to see all of the brothers' enraged expressions glaring at Mammon.

"Here we come, I guess, Mammon," you sighed as he helped you up with the biggest blush you had ever seen.

"Gimme a break! I ain't doin' anything!" It was the only thing he managed to yell back; you knew too well he was, indeed, doing something.

"Stop this buffoonery at once and come to the dining room. Breakfast is ready." Lucifer announced and left the rest of the brothers to follow after him.

"They will never let you live this down." You chuckled, patting the remaining snow off your clothes.

"Hah?! What if they don't? Joke's on 'em, you belong to me!" Mammon answered with a new wave of confidence.

"That's right, Mammon. I'm yours."

In a bold move, you grabbed him by the shoulders and filled his entire face with loving pecks. No space was left forgotten; you kissed his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, the eyebrows as well, his forehead and ended with a peck on his lips. You watched him squirm under your touch and laughed again; how could the avatar of Greed himself be so unbelievably cute? You loved him so much.

"Now let's go have some breakfast, Mammon," You called, not waiting for him to make up his mind. You took his hand in yours and pulled Mammon inside, excited to finally spend with him what promised to be the best winter holiday so far.

#obey me mammon #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me shall we date #obey me #omswd #obey me fluff #om mammon #mammon

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cocostyles · 2 days ago

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Love Lies Bleeding — Naruto Uzumaki

pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x fem uchiha reader!

word count: 1216 k

summary: Naruto hasn’t been present since he became Hokage.

warnings; fem reader, heartbreak, breakup, english is not my first language

part two

Years had passed since you first met Naruto Uzumaki. Back when you were just children dreaming of becoming ninjas, he had lit up your life with his contagious smile and unshakable optimism. You had fallen in love with his determination and charisma, seeing in him not just the hyperactive boy who dreamed of becoming Hokage, but also the man who would one day change the world. You always saw his great potential and had faith in him. Now, that dream had come true. Naruto was the Seventh Hokage of Konoha, and while the world celebrated him, you felt more alone than ever.

Over time, you had learned to accept that Naruto had responsibilities that extended beyond you. However, that understanding began to turn into an unbearable weight that barely let you breathe. The dinners he promised to attend turned into cold plates. The nights he said he’d be home early ended with you falling asleep on the couch, waiting for him after crying yourself dry.

One day, after a long silence between the two of you, you decided to talk to him.

“Naruto, I feel like you’re not here with me anymore. You do so much for everyone else, but… what about us? I miss you.”

Naruto looked at you with those blue eyes that had always melted your heart. His gaze softened, and a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

“That’s not true. I love you more than anything. How could you doubt that?” he said, taking your hands. “I know I’ve been busy, but I’ll find my rhythm soon, and we’ll be fine.”

You wanted to believe him, but that very night, you found yourself alone again. He had promised to be there, but an “emergency” had pulled him back to his office.

As time passed, the emptiness in your chest only grew. You truly tried everything to rekindle the connection you once had, back when you went on missions together: preparing his favorite meals, decorating your home to give him a warm welcome, even finding moments to visit him at the Hokage Tower. But Naruto always seemed distracted, absorbed in something you couldn’t reach.

One sleepless night, you decided to take a walk. The streets of Konoha were quiet since the war, illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. Without realizing it, your steps took you toward the Hokage Tower. As you approached, you noticed the light in the main office was still on. Curious, and with a strange feeling in your stomach, you decided to go up and see if you could convince him to leave his work behind and come home, just for tonight.

As you reached the door, you heard laughter. It wasn’t Naruto’s laugh—you knew it well. Nor was it the kind of laugh one hears in a formal meeting. It was feminine, sweet, and intimate. Your heart began to race as you stepped closer, your hands clammy and cold. Then, you saw them through the crack in the door.

Naruto was leaning toward another woman, someone you immediately recognized as a kunoichi who worked closely with him. They were far too close, their hands brushing against each other, looking at one another as if they were the only people in the world, sharing a moment that left no room for misinterpretation.

The ground seemed to disappear beneath your feet. Everything you had built with him—all the trust, promises, and dreams—shattered in that instant. But then, anger surged through your veins, burning away the shock. The pain and rage churned in your chest, suffocating you, but you refused to remain silent. With firm steps, you pushed the door open, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoing in the room.

“Naruto?” Your voice trembled, but not from fear—from barely restrained fury.

Both of them turned to you, startled. Naruto stood up immediately, his face pale.

“Love… this isn’t what it looks like.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze fixed solely on him. The disappointment in your eyes was unmistakable. It felt like your heart was being ripped apart, the betrayal cutting deeper because he had been your friend before anything else.

“Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like while I’m at home waiting for you, doing everything I can to keep this relationship afloat, you’re here… having fun?”

Naruto froze. You were right. He had neglected you for something that offered a fleeting distraction in his relentless life, something that wasn’t even worth it. That’s why he hadn’t left you—because he still loved you more than anything, just as he had since you were children, when he used to tease you about marrying him someday, and you’d laugh, saying he’d never deserve you. How right you had been.

The kunoichi stood, uncomfortable in the heavy silence between you.

“I should go…” she murmured, but you raised a hand, stopping her instantly. Your Sharingan flared to life, its fiery red gaze freezing her in place.

“No. Stay. This isn’t just my issue—it involves you too.” You turned your attention back to Naruto. “So? What’s going on here?”

Naruto swallowed hard, avoiding your gaze. “It’s not what you think. She was just helping me with some documents. It’s late, and we were just relaxing a little.”

You let out a bitter laugh. The sound sent a chill down Naruto’s spine—it reminded him of Sasuke’s icy fury, and for the first time, he felt afraid. He had never seen you like this.

“Relaxing? Do you know how many nights I’ve spent alone while you’re ‘working’? How many times I’ve convinced myself this is just a phase, that things would get better?” Your voice cracked. “How long has this been going on?”

“I’m not doing anything!” Naruto responded, louder than necessary. But his uncertain expression betrayed him.

You shook your head, the pain and frustration finally spilling over as tears you could no longer hold back.

“You always said you loved me, that I was your priority. But I’m not, am I? You don’t even have the decency to admit it!”

The kunoichi stepped back, startled by your rising anger, and tried to intervene. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble—”

Without looking at her, you spoke coldly, your voice sharp as a blade. “You’ve caused enough trouble. Leave.”

She nodded quickly and left, leaving you and Naruto alone in the room, the air thick with tension.

“I…” Naruto began, but you raised a hand to stop him.

“No more excuses, Naruto. I always tried to be understanding, but this… this is something I can’t ignore.”

Naruto tried to approach you, but you stepped back, the thought of his touch repulsing you.

“I need you to stay away from me,” you said firmly, though your heart ached as the words left your lips. “I want you out of my house.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the office, leaving Naruto alone, guilt etched into his face. The frustration boiled over as he swept everything off his desk, tears burning his cheeks.

That night, as you walked home with your heart in pieces, a decision began to form in your mind. You needed to leave Konoha, at least for a while. You had devoted your life to someone who had once meant everything to you. But now, you realized you had lost Naruto long before that night.

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lilacwatchguard · 2 days ago

Text

The Blue Glow Softens You And Me

If this looks familiar it is also on my ao3 under the same name by Lexitennant2 :)

Relationship: Jayce x Viktor

Warnings: 18+smut, most if not all are in tags but; sex, praise kink, dom/sub undertones, pwp, use of 'puppy' as term of endearment but could be interpreted another way if you really want to, I'm not here to judge

Summary:

Jayce feels dirty.

He's only known Viktor for a week now but the man is constantly in his thoughts. He wants to touch him, to bask in his partners attention and hang off his every word. He's obsessed and he thinks he'll never get a chance with Viktor but then...Viktor sees him in the shower and he sees his own wants reflected back at him.

Maybe there is hope.

Word Count: 15,189

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jayce feels dirty.

Physically , he’s still sweaty from the forge, the small towel for his face hanging limply around his neck. There’s black tingeing his fingers; could be oil from the machines or any other number of countless substances lingering in the forge. His white tank top clings to his chest and he wants to pull it off, feeling itchy from the cooling sweat, but he’s walking the halls of the academy and he can’t walk through it shirtless. It’s probably taboo that he's not in his uniform, but he forgot his change of clothes in the lab he shares with Viktor.

Which is where he’s heading now, keeping his head ducked low to ignore the stares he’s getting - some appreciative, some disgusted - and hurries his pace.

Not because he wants his clothes - well that’s not the main reason, he would love a chance to shower, the hot water hitting pleasantly sore muscles, changing into academy issued sweats so he can keep working in the lab - but because Viktor is still there.

Mentally, he’s dreamt of fucking Viktor on their work bench, the blue glow of the hextech highlighting every sharp angle of Viktor’s face, and giving him a soft ethereal glow. It kind of scares him, this wanting , he has for his partner. His science partner. He wants to bite and chew on that stupid mole that sits a little above his upper lip. He wants to lick and trace the curves of Viktor’s angled nose. Jayce wants to sit him in his lap and tear him apart, slowly. Wants to know what sounds he’d make, if he’d bite his bottom lip like he does when they’ve reached a snag in their research.

Fuck, it’s only been a week since councilor Medarda gave them their chance to stabilize the hextech. Seven days since Jayce’s ears started ringing when he registered Viktor’s excuse later in the night, after they’d finally found a way to come back down.

Oh this isn’t my bedroom.

Who fucking says that?!

Jayce had already been a little hot under the collar, the exhilaration from the weightlessness, of his Arcane dream finally, finally coming to fruition. The leftover adrenaline from getting caught outside Heimerdinger's lab.

He’d started out picturing Mel.

She was stunning. Only an idiot couldn’t see it. Her eyes were sharp but playful, her lips full. The glittering gold that shimmered on her face made her seem like a dessert, brushed with gold dust. A rich cake that Jayce wanted to try. But when his mind drifted to her waist, imagining grabbing the white fabric of her dress and bunching it up to pull it up, to reveal her to him, the waist had changed.

There was no white dress anymore, the white now the vest of the academy’s uniform. The waist was slightly larger now but still ridiculously small for who it belonged to.

Jayce hadn’t even paused with palming at his cock, which was hardening faster.

Jerking off to Viktor had made him cum so hard he saw stars.

He’d laid in his bed, in the aftermath, panting heavily and feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

He felt guilty. He shouldn’t have even been jerking off to the councilor let alone Viktor. These were two people he knew , arguably not that well, but it was clear their future’s would become intertwined after this night.

And they had.

He doesn’t think he’s left Viktor’s side for more than a couple hours over the span of the week. They both were night owls, though Jayce at least tried to get some semblance of sleep with naps on the lab's saggy couch.

It was with sleep delirium that Jayce spent half an hour unsure if he was actually tracing Viktor’s face with his fingertips, or if he was hallucinating the entire time. Viktor never brought it up but Jayce could’ve sworn he’d felt the beginnings of stubble under his fingers; a warm cheek in his palm.

Jayce takes the towel around his neck and uses it to wipe some more sweat off his forehead. The towel is soaked in his hand and he grimaces.

Clothes bag. Shower. Something to eat. Stolen glimpses of Viktor at the chalkboard, his long fingers twirling the chalk in one hand while he leaned heavily on his cane.

Jayce pushed open the lab doors, slinging the towel on the table, wincing when it made a wet smack.

“Ah good thank you, I always thought our notes needed a biohazard intermingled with them,” Viktor says dryly, not even looking up from where he’s sitting, hunched over the lab table with notebooks strewn everywhere.

“It’s just sweat Vik,” Jayce says lightly, though he does go over and pick up the towel again, spinning in a half circle to figure out where to put it. He should’ve just left it at the forge. They had a basket for used towels there but Jayce had wanted it for the walk over.

Viktor lifts his head up and raises an eyebrow.

He looks Jayce up and down, sending a fire straight to Jayce’s groin and he has to think of naked Councilor Hoskel to stamp down anything stirring downstairs.

“Yes well, your sweat just got several pages wet,” Viktor says, licking his lips and looking at the papers that indeed have a wet splotch on them.

“Shit were they important?” Jayce asks, deciding to just drop the towel - he’ll deal with it later - and walks over to scoop the papers up.

Viktor waves a dismissive hand and sighs.

“No, no. Just more useless equations that make me question if I ever knew math in the first place.”

Jayce sets the papers down in a neat pile and rounds the table to stand behind Viktor. He doesn’t really think much of his actions as he puts both hands on Viktor’s shoulders and gives them a harsh squeeze.

Viktor tenses under his touch and lets out a slow breath.

“How long have you been working at it? Since I left for the forge?” Jayce asks, bending over Viktor so he can get a better view of what his partner is working on. The back of Viktor’s head is now pressing against Jayce’s chest but for once he’s not focusing on all the places their bodies are touching. He’s more focused on trying to remember when the last time he saw Viktor take a break was. The other scientist was always pushing himself to the brink and it was up to Jayce to reel him back.

Viktor seemed to forget he was only human.

“Yes,” Viktor says, his voice sounding oddly choked to Jayce’s ears and he gives Viktor’s shoulders another squeeze.

“You feeling ok V? You know if you work yourself too much you’ll get sick,” Jayce says, worry in his tone as he takes one of his hands off Viktor’s shoulder so he can put the back of it against Viktor’s forehead.

“You don’t feel that hot,” he mutters out loud and Viktor shudders against him.

Jayce is suddenly aware of how he’s looming over Viktor and he pulls away reluctantly, giving Viktor space.

“Right well, I’m going to quickly shower and get changed, in the mean-time think about what you want for dinner. We can order in.”

Jayce is half-way across the room by the end of his sentence, his heart beating fast and his ears starting to get hot with embarrassment. He locates his duffle bag under a chair and heads off to the decontamination showers.

After the stabilization of the hextech, Viktor and Jayce had been given one of the larger labs in the academy. It was meant for practice labs with up to ten students so it was quite large and had its own decontamination suite. There had been some changes made since it was only two men working there instead of a class, but there were still a few showers and sinks for safety reasons.

Jayce threw his duffle bag onto a bench and started stripping off his clothing, letting it all pile onto the bench next to the duffle.

“Jayce, do you think you could-”

Jayce stops himself from turning around fully by just a hair and looks over his shoulder.

Viktor is standing in the doorway, his eyes widening in shock.

“That was fast,” he murmurs, his eyes staying level with Jayce’s upper back

Jayce feels the heat from his ears traveling down to his cheeks. He coughs, awkwardly, wanting to shield himself. Another part of him wants to present himself to Viktor instead. He knows he’s good looking, he’s not arrogant but he’s not stupid either. But he’s not just going to flash Viktor just because the other scientist is eyeing him like he’s something to eat-

Wait.

Viktor is leaning against the doorway now, his eyes at half-mast, his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s looking up at Jayce through long eyelashes, a soft blush to his cheeks.

“Do you think I could what?” Jayce asks, his voice hoarse as he keeps his body tilted away from Viktor’s stare, his neck straining from how far he's looking over his shoulder.

Viktor holds up the fucking sweaty towel in his hand, his grip on it tight enough that Jayce can see the whites of his knuckles.

“There’s a laundry basket in here,” Viktor says, adjusting his stance against the doorway.

“Figured this was the best place for it,” he says, clearing his throat and tossing the towel at Jayce who whirls around to catch it, realizing his mistake at the last minute. He tries to shield himself but he over-corrects and his feet are sliding on the tiles. He lands on his stomach and a whoosh of air rushes out of him.

“Fuck, Jayce are you ok?” He hears Viktor ask and tentative steps of Viktor’s loafers hitting the tile.

“Never fucking better,” Jayce says into the floor, letting out a low groan and turning his head so his face isn’t smushed into the floor anymore.

“You were airborne,” Viktor teases, crouching down carefully by Jayce’s face.

“Just leave me here,” Jayce whines, his knee starting to ache from the fall.

He feels long fingers moving through his short hair and he squints up at Viktor.

“We can do something eh, simple for dinner. The fish place outside the university?” Viktor asks and Jayce does his best to nod as he melts under Viktor’s touch.

“Go take a shower then, you reek,” Viktor’s nose twitches and he pushes off the floor. It’s clunky and there’s a wince on his face as he relies heavily on his crutch, but today has to be one of the better days that he even entertained the idea of squatting for less than a minute. Jayce waits until Viktor is officially gone before he heaves himself off the floor and glares at the offending sweaty towel.

He picks it up and tosses it in the laundry hamper and stomps over to the showers.

He doesn’t even wait for the shower to get lukewarm before he’s under it’s spray, wanting to wash away the embarrassment of that moment.

Viktor’s face flashes behind his eyelids and he rests his forehead against the tiled wall.

The way Viktor had been staring at him had been hungry. He had been looking at Jayce like he had wanted him.

Fuck, that couldn’t be right could it?

He hits his head softly against the tiles, trying to shake that image out of of his head but it’s unmistakable.

Jayce reaches blindly for the soap dispenser and gets a good handful before slathering it all over himself.

He needs to think of something else, anything else.

Viktor’s plush bottom lip with the imprint of his slightly crooked canine; eyelashes long and thick over doe shaped eyes, a warm chocolate color; bitable cheeks a pretty pink.

Jayce can’t help the groan that escapes his lips as he feels himself hardening.

If Jayce had approached Viktor would the other man have stayed put? Would he have let Jayce push his naked body against him, pinning the slighter man against the doorway. Jayce’s hand moves down his stomach to his hardening cock. He gives it a rough stroke, shifting on his feet as the heat in his stomach pools lower and lower.

He growls in frustration and reaches for the shower knobs. He twists the cold all the way to the left and lets out a yelp as icy cold water blasts him directly in the face. It’s pleasant to his burning skin for a few seconds and then he’s dancing in place as he freezes his ass off.

Jayce finishes his shower, properly, with lukewarm water and washes his hair as well.

When he finally dries off and has his sweats on, Viktor’s already sitting on their lumpy couch, a take-out menu in his lap and a pencil tapping against his bottom lip.

“The fish place is closed, apparently there was a robbery and several people were killed,” Viktor says and Jayce stumbles to a stop.

“Oh my god, what? How have we not- oh very funny,” Jayce huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as Viktor lets out a chuckle.

“Relax Jayce, they just aren’t open on Tuesdays,” he says and pats the space on the sofa beside him.

Jayce flops onto it dramatically and lets his shoulder rest against Viktor’s.

“Your sense of humor is lacking,” he says and grabs the takeout menu out of Viktor’s hand.

“Sushi? Seriously Vik,” Jayce scoffs, eyeing the menu with distaste.

Cooked fish was bad enough but raw?

He could already sense the puppy dog eyes from a mile away so he stubbornly reads the item description for one of the foods.

Caviar, cream cheese, eel sauce -

“Please Jayce, you know how the upper city food makes my stomach upset,” Viktor pleads and Jayce rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s why you can plow through enough sweetcakes for a man twice your size,” he says and Viktor nudges his shoulder sharply.

“Jayce,” He whines, and it’s not sexual. It’s not , but Jayce has been finding it harder and harder to not lump his lab partner and carnal thoughts together. Especially after not getting off in the shower.

“Sure, ok,” he huffs and drops the menu in Viktor’s lap, getting off the couch so he can take a moment and breathe.

“They have other food options,” Viktor says, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Jayce can hear him flipping through the pages of the menu, and Viktor starts to ramble.

“There see! They have noodles and rice, that spicy chicken dish you like. We don’t actually have to get anything from here if you don’t actually want to-”

“Viktor it’s fine,” Jayce says and goes back to sit next to Viktor.

“It doesn’t seem fine,” Viktor says softly and Jayce wants to smack himself in the face.

He’s pretty sure he’s the only one who can get Viktor to second guess himself. It’s not a power he likes to wield, it makes him feel guilty that Viktor seeks his approval.

“I had a long day,” Jayce says as an excuse and Viktor makes an ahh sound.

“Did you meet with councilor Medarda again?” Viktor asks and uses his pencil to start filling out his order.

“Huh?”

Viktor puts a checkmark next to some salmon sushi before he speaks.

“She’s a very beautiful woman Jayce, it didn’t escape my notice how you looked at her,” he says.

But you’ve missed how I look at you every time, Jayce thinks.

“Viktor, come on,” he says and feels Viktor shrug against his shoulder.

They sit in silence as Viktor hands over the pencil and menu to Jayce. He flips to the back to the cooked food options that he can stomach. He knows sushi is the closest thing Piltover has to what Zaun eats but he doesn’t like fish. Raw especially makes his mouth pucker and he wants to gag it up. He’s eaten it before to humor Viktor but Viktor put a stop to that once he realized just how badly Jayce disliked the food. They only got fish or sushi when Viktor was really craving it, and the place had other foods Jayce could get.

He scratches haphazardly at the box next to the spicy teriyaki chicken and ponders over rice or noodles when Viktor speaks, breaking the silence.

“Do you find her beautiful?”

Jayce tenses and stares intensely at the menu.

“Do you?” he asks, tapping the rice and the noodle option, back and forth, hesitating on which one to go for.

“As much as anyone else,” Viktor says, his answer hesitant.

Jayce isn’t expecting that and he looks up from the menu finally to look at Viktor.

“So that’s a yes then?” Jayce asks and can’t help but let disappointment settle in his chest. Which is hypocritical of him seeing as he’s had dreams about Mel.

“Eh…” Viktor trails off and won’t meet Jayce’s eye which makes Jayce feel confused and almost a little hopeful.

He decides to extend an olive branch, provoked by the earlier moment when Viktor had stared at his naked back.

“She is really beautiful but she’s not who I’m interested in.”

And fuck that was too much. He doesn’t mean to word it like that and he prays Viktor doesn’t pick up on it but it’s Viktor.

Viktor cocks his head to the side, causing some of his hair to fall in his face and Jayce resists the urge to brush it back. To tuck it neatly behind Viktor’s ear.

“There’s someone you’re interested in now?” he asks, his voice low and rumbly. There’s a look in his eyes that Jayce can’t grasp and he feels a strange tension in the air.

“Um…maybe?” he says, his voice squeaking at the end.

“You haven’t said anything,” Viktor says and there’s a slight hardness in his tone that has Jayce wanting to sink to his knees.

He’s never seen Viktor like this before.

He should probably be getting annoyed. They’ve known each other for a week, Jayce didn’t owe Viktor anything. If he was actually interested in anyone else it wasn’t like it was Viktor’s business, but Jayce liked this side of Viktor. It was almost like he was jealous.

Viktor’s leaning closer in his space now and Jayce leans back.

He’s aware of the couch digging into his back, of Viktor’s hand resting in between the space between their thighs, his long fingers almost touching Jayce.

There’s a knock at the door and they both flinch and sit further apart.

“Come in!” Jayce calls, clearing his throat.

Sky stumbles in, a pile of folders in her arms.

“I’m so sorry about this but Heimerdinger wanted me to drop this off before I go home.” She waves the folders at them earnestly and Jayce gets up with a sigh.

Probably more legal shit they needed to sign.

He takes the folders gently from her and rolls his eyes internally as he reads the first few lines of the top folder.

It is more legal papers. The council sends it to the older yordle and then Jayce and Viktor receive it. Godsforbid either of them actually be involved in the rules and regulations of their own research and invention/

“Um, it is getting late,” Sky says shyly and Jayce looks up at her but her gaze is focused on Viktor.

“Did you have any dinner plans?” she asks Viktor, her tone hopeful.

Jayce feels his blood freeze.

“Actually, he’s coming by my place for dinner,” the lie comes out smoothly and Sky’s eyes widen and she puts up a small smile but Jayce can see she’s disappointed.

“Oh ok, maybe next time?” she asks, and Viktor softly replies, “next time.”

That has her spirits up again and she leaves the room with a cheerful goodbye and that she’ll see them in the morning.

Jayce picks up the menu again and selects the noodles.

“I’ll go and give this to Callisto and they’ll pick-up the order for us-”

“What was that?” Viktor interrupts, his voice deceptively casual.

Jayce clenches the menu tighter in his hand.

“You getting hard of hearing V? I said I’ll go and give-”

“Don’t be obtuse Jayce,” Viktor snaps and he’s standing up now. The crutch stays tucked tightly under his arm as he walks the few steps to stand before Jayce.

“You just lied to Sky.”

Jayce scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“You don’t want her to think that we live in the lab do you Vik? Like bats? Lab bats,” he chuckles at his own stupid joke but it dies down quickly as Viktor stares up at him.

“Jayce,” Viktor says, his voice low again and Jayce can’t take it.

“I’m going to give this to Callisto!” he says, his words rushed and walks calmly out of the room.

That’s a lie.

He speed-walks, attempting to appear casual but he hears Viktor call out after him and he all but sprints to get out of there.

His clothes feel tight and he’s getting sweaty again, but he manages to calm down when he gets to Callisto.

They’re standing at their usual booth and accept the takeout menu and charge Jayce’s student account. They say the food will be ready in forty minutes and Jayce keeps a hysterical giggle from escaping.

Forty minutes, there’s no way I can avoid Viktor for that long, he thinks to himself. He lingers outside for the booth, long enough that Callisto is eyeing him weirdly, so he finally leaves and heads to the lab. He realizes he's left the pencil at the booth downstairs but he decides against wasting time to get it, he needs to just face the music.

When he lets himself in, Viktor is waiting.

He pushes Jayce against the doors as they shut with a click.

Viktor isn’t the strongest, but he’s caught Jayce off guard. He keeps his hand spread flat against Jayce's chest and stares up at him defiantly.

“Talk. Talis.”

The words are clipped and harsh.

“Viktor please,” he says and he doesn’t know what he’s pleading with Viktor not to do.

There’s a line they’re about to cross, Jayce can feel it. They have the potential to be great partners, no matter what kind, but Jayce has been too scared to take that step further. To solidify what direction and what type of partners they will be.

He wants Viktor as a friend but he also wants him as so much more.

It’s probably insane given their short time together but Jayce is certain of this. He doesn’t half-ass things, he dives head first but he’s been hesitant because he hasn’t been able to get a good read on Viktor. They’re learning each other surprisingly fast but not fast enough for Jayce to know where Viktor stands.

Until today.

Until earlier when Jayce saw his own hunger reflected back at him in Viktor’s eyes.

“Who are you interested in?” The hand presses harder against his chest and Viktor leans up slightly, making Jayce take some of his weight.

Jayce swallows hard.

“If it’s not Medarda is it…is it Sky?”

Viktor looks unsure now, no longer determined and confident. He blinks rapidly like he’s trying to gather his thoughts and then he’s wincing.

“Oh shit it is Sky isn’t it, Jayce I’m sorry-”

Jayce doesn’t let him finish. He presses his lips harshly against Viktor’s. He wants to be gentle but he misjudges how close they are and his own eagerness.

He knows where Viktor is getting the idea from, he thinks because Jayce lied it was to stop Sky from having dinner with Viktor because Jayce wants Sky. But it’s the opposite. Jayce wants Viktor.

He will always want Viktor.

It seems to click in Viktor’s mind as he lets out a soft moan and he starts kissing Jayce back.

His lips are slightly chapped and have grooves where he’s bitten the skin off, but there’s soft patches too and the juxtaposition is driving Jayce wild.

He breathes in heavily through his nose, stubbornly not wanting to take his lips off of Viktor’s now that he has him like this.

The hand on Jayce’s chest closes around the fabric of his sweatshirt, holding on for dear life it seems. He hears the distinct ting of the metal crutch hitting the floor and then Viktor’s body weight is leaning fully on him, his other arm snaking up to cup the back of Jayce’s head, a pillow between the door and Jayce’s head.

Jayce holds Viktor around his waist to support him, one hand staying firmly locked around the man while the other dips down to rest partially on Viktor’s ass.

Jayce licks at Viktor’s lips, pleadingly.

Viktor moans again, pressing closer and opens his mouth.

He tastes sweet and bitter. Like black tea and honey, coffee and cream. Jayce doesn’t know if it’s just his taste or whether there’s a mug of sweetmilk lying around somewhere but he doesn’t care. He wants more, no, needs more.

He let’s his tongue take over. It’s like he’s a desperate man searching for a drop of water in the middle of the desert. His tongue nudges at Viktor’s, wanting a response. When Viktor hesitantly greets Jayce’s tongue with his own Jayce let’s out a low moan. He suckles at Viktor’s tongue until they both pull apart.

They’re panting heavily, their chests raising and falling together.

Viktor has drool in the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, Jayce leans in and laps it up.

Viktor lets out a whine and Jayce feels heat rush straight to his dick.

“Not…Sky then,” Viktor huffs out, letting his hands move to Jayce’s shoulders.

“Not Sky. Only you,” Jayce says and Viktor smiles so wide that Jayce feels like he’s staring at the sun.

He leans forward and nips lightly at the mole above Viktor’s lip just because he can .

Viktor let’s out a disbelieving laugh that’s mixed with amusement.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” he practically purrs, his slender hand coming up to cradle Jayce’s cheek.

Jayce shyly looks away and Viktor adjusts his hold so he can grab part of Jayce’s chin and make him look back at Viktor.

“I’ve seen you looking at me, hard not to with all the time we’ve spent together. You’re not subtle Mr. Talis,” Viktor says, pulling Jayce in for another kiss.

So he has noticed, Jayce thinks, feeling giddy.

This one is slower, more dragged out, but it doesn’t lack any of the heat or passion of their earlier kiss. Jayce tightens his grip around Viktor and starts to walk them back towards where the couch is.

“How could I not look at you,” Jayce mumbles against Viktor’s lips.

It’s a little awkward with Jayce having to support most of Viktor’s weight and he’s not exactly paying attention to where he’s walking, he’s just aiming for the general idea of where he thinks the couch is.

Viktor let’s out an oomph as they walk straight into a table.

“Maybe open your eyes puppy,” Viktor says and gently taps Jayce’s cheek. Jayce sheepishly blinks them open and carefully walks them over to the couch.

He lays Viktor down, making sure his bad leg is stretched out on the couch. He kneels in between Viktor’s legs and Viktor’s good leg hooks around his waist as he settles down over Viktor. He uses one elbow and forearm to prop himself up, his hand by Viktor’s head, as the other hand wraps around Viktor’s arm.

“Good boy,” Viktor whispers, pushing up his pelvis to meet Jayce’s.

Jayce whines, hiding his face in Viktor’s neck as the slender man wraps an arm around Jayce’s back to bring their bodies closer together.

“See how you make me feel Jayce? Feel how hard I am?” Viktor says harshly into his ear as he thrusts up again.

Jayce nods fast, attaching his lips to Viktor’s exposed neck.

Viktor shudders under him and tilts his head up so more of his neck is available for Jayce.

Jayce is greedy now that he can touch Viktor. He sucks and licks, trying to leave as many marks as possible. He discovers another mole, one hidden usually by Viktor’s high collars and cravat. He’s not wearing a cravat today and his top button is undone so Jayce has easy access. He nips at the mole, giving it the same treatment as the one on his partner's cheek.

“Gotta get this off of you,” he mutters, slipping the hand not supporting him down between their bodies so he can untuck Viktor’s shirt out of his pants.

“Impatient,” Viktor says with amusement, turning his head to kiss Jayce’s knuckles.

“You have to remove my vest first,” he says and raises an eyebrow when Jayce pauses his frustrated searching for skin under Viktor’s white button-up.

“Um, right,” he says and shakily pulls away from Viktor, sitting back on his heels. He doesn’t want to be away from Viktor for too long but he needs their clothes off faster. He starts unbuttoning Viktor’s vest and sneaks glances up at the shorter man.

Viktor is looking up at him, his mouth slightly parted and his cheeks flushed. His hair spreads out against the arm of the couch and some shorter strands have fallen forward, just shy of covering his eyes.

Jayce reaches up and brushes them away, letting out a sigh when Viktor hums contently and nuzzles into Jayce’s touch.

“Look at you,” Jayce whispers and Viktor’s eyes flash in the dim lighting of the lab.

“You can do more than that,” Viktor says earnestly.

He tilts his head up and takes Jayce’s thumb into his mouth.

Jayce blanks out, his other hand clenching down on Viktor’s vest as he watches Viktor start to suck on his thumb.

Viktor’s mouth is a furnace, his tongue soft and silky, catching on the rough pad of Jayce’s thumb.

Jayce is pretty sure all his blood has gone to his dick as he watches Viktor’s cheeks hollow out, his eyes fluttering, and he starts to feel light-headed.

Viktor pulls off with a pop , looking utterly blissed out.

“Hurry up,” he commands. It’s soft but definitely an order and Jayce goes back to the last two vest buttons. He helps Viktor wiggle out of the vest and then practically rips Viktor out of his button-up, his patience running thin.

He’s covered in moles.

Jayce really needs to figure out what his obsession is with the man's moles but he’ll deal with that later. He takes off his own sweatshirt and preens at how Viktor looks at him. It seems like Viktor can’t settle on where to look for long, his eyes bouncing from Jayce’s pecs, to his arms, to his stomach.

There he feels a little self-conscious and struggles to not cover himself.

He’s fairly muscled, his years in the forge making his body chiseled but he’s always had a layer of soft fat that doesn’t seem to go away. No one’s ever complained about his stomach before and it’s not like he’s fat, but the v of his hips are not flat and he is able to pinch his stomach and hold some of it in his fingers.

Viktor on the other hand is slender and lithe. His arms have some muscle built up from having to support himself and he’s not underweight but Jayce can see the shape of his ribs. He shifts under Jayce’s gaze and Jayce tracks the movements of his muscles, the flex of his stomach and the soft shudder that wracks his body.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day?” Viktor asks. He’s not looking at Jayce now, instead looking at the back of the couch where his fingers are twisting and pulling at a string that’s come undone from the backing.

He sounds defensive and Jayce hurries to remedy the doubt that seems to have crept up between them.

“I can’t help it V. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you, and now you’re here and your m-mine.”

He can’t help but stutter over his words because is Viktor really his? Could Viktor possibly crave him as much as Jayce wants him to? Call him a helpless romantic but when he’s pictured himself in a relationship he wants it all; he wants to walk down the streets with Viktor’s hand in his. He wants to argue about how hot or cold they need to keep their bedroom. He wants to bring him over to Caitlyn’s and have a family dinner, he wants Viktor to meet his mother and have her fuss over him. He wants to know every crack and crevice in Viktor’s body and his mind. He wants to be known too. He wants the knowing looks they’re already sharing to blossom fully. Viktor already knows his coffee order and he’s already cataloged every micro expression Viktor has when he’s irritated or annoyed.

Something must show on his face because Viktor’s face softens and he sits up, unraveling his leg from around Jayce.

He pushes at Jayce until he has him sitting how he wants and then he sits down on his lap.

Jayce tries to protest but Viktor waves him off.

“If my leg starts bothering me I’ll let you know,” he says firmly and cups Jayce’s cheeks in his slender hands.

“We should talk about this, what this means for us,” he says, removing one hand so he can motion between them and then puts it back.

Jayce swallows, his head a little foggy with how their dicks are pressed against each other even closer than before. Viktor seems to sense this and moves his hips back a little but not too far because Jayce’s hands quickly grab onto his hips to keep him there.

It’s torture but he knows he’ll lose his mind even more if Viktor moves too far away.

“I think I’ve done most of the talking so far,” Jayce says, squeezing Viktor’s hips.

Viktor sighs and drops his hands from Jayce’s cheeks. They fall into their laps and Viktor starts playing with the strings of Jayce’s sweatpants, keeping a careful distance from Jayce’s straining cock.

His knuckles keep brushing against Jayce’s stomach though and he’s having a hard time concentrating.

“Vitya, ” he pleads, the name falling out from his lips and Viktor inhales harshly.

“I will not be some…notch on a bedpost yes? I believe that’s the saying,” Viktor says, his nose scrunching in distaste and Jayce remembers how thrilled Viktor had been when he’d learned about ‘crank it’. He thinks about those other students and the lockers he’s punched, overhearing how they talk about his partner, like he’s an object and not a person.

“I don’t believe you’re like that, you don’t think of me as some fetish, some new thing to fuck and add to a tally of life experiences,” Viktor snarls out and Jayce knows the anger isn’t directed towards him, it’s towards the whispers he must’ve heard ever since he stepped foot into the academy.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t still fall into a one night stand category,” he says, and Jayce squeezes his hips encouragingly when it looks like he’s not done speaking but he’s been silent for a minute.

“If we do this, we can’t pretend this never happened. I can’t pretend.” Viktor stresses, his hands moving from the strings to rest firmly against Jayce’s stomach. He jolts at the coolness meeting his heated flesh and Viktor waits, the question unspoken but hanging in the air.

But it’s not even a question because now that Jayce has him, he’s never letting go.

Even if one day Viktor turns into some mad scientist or decides to start wearing dresses, Jayce would follow him into eternity.

His mind halts on the image of Viktor in a dress, one of the clingy ones that councilor Medarda wears that show off her legs…

Viktor clears his throat and Jayce comes back to reality, realizing his nails are digging into Viktor’s hips.

“That’s a lot of thinking going on in that pretty head of yours Jayce,” Viktor says, pointedly looking at Jayce’s hands on his hips.

He eases his grip, apologizing.

“I can be intense,” he starts out and Viktor gives him a ‘yeah-duh’ look and he scrambles to get the rest of the words out. “When I like someone I give them my all. My mom says I wear my heart on my sleeve, so all this that we’re doing together, it’s because I want all of you Viktor, and I want you to have all of me .”” Viktor looks at him like a deer in headlights, like he’s stunned by the possibility.

That Jayce could want him so badly that it hurts.

“I’m obsessed with you V. You say you’ve seen me watching you in the lab yet you look surprised,” Jayce says gently and Viktor leans forward, digging his hands into Jayce’s stomach. He looks like a bird, studying its prey. He’s got a calculated look on his face like he’s analyzing Jayce.

Jayce can’t resist and leans up to meet him, licking at his nose.

Viktor sputters as Jayce’s tongue traces over the curves of his aquiline nose.

“You really are like a fucking puppy,” Viktor says, swatting Jayce’s face away so he can rub the saliva off his nose.

Jayce sits back feeling proud of himself. That’s two fantasies he’s completed in the short amount of time they’ve been together. Which reminds him, the food.

“We have about twenty more minutes,” he says, looking at the clock on the wall behind Viktor, bouncing his knee so Viktor will pay attention to him again. Viktor slides down so their crotches are pressed against each other again, as Jayce’s leg dislodges him from where he was sitting. Jayce drums his fingers against Viktor’s hips and looks at him adoringly.

“I want our first time to be in bed,” he says shyly and Viktor’s smile is perfect. Crooked and small but still one of the best things Jayce has seen. Second only to the Arcane.

“I’m sure there are other…activities we can familiarize ourselves with,” Viktor says cheekily, the heel of his palm moving from his stomach to his cock, Viktor’s touch sending a bolt of pleasure through Jayce.

“Yeah. Definitely,” he pants out and surges forward to kiss Viktor again.

Jayce finds himself losing himself in the kiss again, the world around them turning sluggish. He tries to keep his touch light but Viktor protests at every turn, shoving his lips harder against Jayce’s, grabbing Jayce’s larger hands and pressing them into his waist.

Jayce knows Viktor’s not a doll and would hate to be treated as such, but Jayce can’t help it.

Viktor huffs in frustration, momentarily breaking their kiss when Jayce once again meets Viktor’s thrust but with a subdued passion. It’s taking everything in him not to just toss Viktor over one shoulder and have him against one of the lab tables or the workbench.

“Jayce,” Viktor says quietly, a warning in his tone.

Jayce can sense where this is going and he sighs and wraps his hand around the entire circumference of Viktor’s wrist.

“I know I won’t break you V but don’t you want me to be gentle?” he asks. Maybe it’s only because he’s been with girls before and there were certain expectations with how rough he could be. He liked it too, being gentle with them and getting to cradle them and draw low moans from their throats. The pressure just shy of too hard only when he started rubbing circles into their heat.

But maybe it needed to be different with Viktor.

“How about you tell me what to do,” he says eagerly, before Viktor can say anything.

Viktor looks at him, considering what he’s said.

“You want me…in control.” He says it as a statement and not a question but Jayce nods.

“Sex is a learning curve and I’ve always been a fast learner,” Jayce teases, flushing when he sees how interested Viktor looks now.

“We can work with that,” Viktor says softly and then starts to get up, pulling a whine from Jayce.

“Ah-ah-ah,” He tuts, shaking a finger at Jayce.

“If I’m in control of this then we’re putting me fully in control. If you don’t like something, tap my arm three times, or if you’re able to speak then say…” Viktor trails off looking at Jayce expectantly.

Jayce’s head is already in the clouds at the implications of what Viktor is suggesting. His partner seems more confident now, like he’s slipping into a role Jayce only really sees when he’s deep in the throes of his work. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he looks up at Viktor.

“A safe word Jayce,” Viktor prods gently.

“Um right…” Jayce says as his mind rushes a mile a minute.

Fuck he needs a safe word? Ok something cool, something not embarrassing

“Sushi,” he says and then stares at his hands in abject horror.

Sushi is what he’s going with?!

“At least it’s not your own name,” Viktor smirks, standing in between Jayce’s spread legs and tilting his chin up with a finger. “That’d be even more egotistical than signing every page in your notebook.”

Jayce huffs, willing the urge to stomp his foot, like a child, to go away.

“It was just one notebook,” he pouts.

Viktor raises an eyebrow.

“Ok a few of them and really it’s smart ok. Especially after we’ve created the hextech together I mean, anyone could have found my notes and done who knows what with them,” he says defensively.

“Of course baby,” Viktor says, brushing his hand through Jayce’s hair.

There’s a curl of something in Jayce’s stomach as he realizes there’s no mocking in Viktor’s tone. It’s not sarcastic or teasing, he’s just being comforting.

“Right well…what do you want me to do?” he asks, his throat feeling thick like he’s about to cry.

“You want to be such a good boy for me don’t you,” Viktor says, the hand leaving Jayce’s hair to cradle his jaw.

“Yes,” Jayce breathes out, surprised he isn’t stammering.

“You always make sure I’m taken care of, what’s one more chance for you to do the same here hmm? Do you want to make me feel good Jayce?”

Jayce nods and there’s now a finger prodding at his lower lip. He opens his mouth to let the finger in but it barely goes in, staying teasingly just out of reach, barely pressing against his teeth.

“Take off your pants,” Viktor says and steps away, giving Jayce more than enough space.

He hurriedly unties the strings to his sweatpants before realizing he needs to take his boots off. He toes them off with haste and shimmies the pants down, cantering his hips upward with a grunt so they’ll slide off faster. He leans over to pull off his socks and then sits there in just his underwear. His fingers rest on the waistband but Viktor makes a soft noise and Jayce looks up.

“Stand up.”

Jayce does so, trying not to seem too eager. He’s aware of how hard his cock is straining in his briefs, leaving not much to the imagination.

Viktor steps up to him and trails a finger over his clothed cock. He inhales sharply and tries not to buck under Viktor’s wandering fingertips.

“Look how hard you are already,” Viktor says, the palm of his hand working gently against Jayce’s cock. He can feel it getting heavier, the ache getting stronger. If Viktor keeps this up Jayce fears he’s going to cum in his underwear like he’s a teenager all over again. He tries to see how hard Viktor is but Viktor’s pants are a darker brown than his and he can’t really discern the shape really well.

“Can I touch you?” Jayce asks and Viktor shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he says completely composed and Jayce wonders how he can be so calm right now while Jayce is short-circuiting like faulty wiring. The hand on his cock slides upwards to the waistband of his briefs and Viktor slowly pulls them down, revealing red and angry lines where the waistband has dug into his skin.

Viktor hisses in sympathy, rubbing at the sore spots with such tenderness the urge to cry is back again.

“I’m getting you a new pair,” he says though it sounds more like he’s talking to himself out loud rather than to Jayce.

He motions for Jayce to pull his underwear down the rest of the way and he wastes no time doing so.

He’s now completely bare in front of his Viktor.

It’s oddly thrilling to be looked at like this. Normally he’s the one undressing the women in front of him, taking time to delicately undo their corsets and peel away their lacey underwear. But now he’s the one undressed and standing before Viktor. He puffs up his chest, can’t help but pose a little.

Viktor smiles, noticing what he’s doing and exhales softly.

“My man of progress,” he says softly.

Jayce’s dick twitches a little and he groans, which makes Viktor take that final step to press himself against Jayce.

Jayce’s hands move of their own accord, trying to grab the fabric of Viktor’s pants so he can pull them off, but Viktor shakes his head softly and grabs both of Jayce’s wrists in each hand.

Jayce knows he can change their positions easily. Even if Viktor tried to put force on his grip, years of the forge and Jayce’s own size would easily overpower Viktor. But Jayce lets him maneuver his arms so they hang at his side. Their chests rise and fall together and Viktor releases Jayce’s arms, giving an unspoken command for Jayce not to move.

He moves his hands slowly across Jayce’s torso. His fingers slide over collarbones and flex over Jayce’s pecs. He’s like a canvas, Viktor’s fingers the paintbrush. Viktor takes his time, learning every curve and dip of Jayce’s exposed chest. His fingers linger in space between Jayce’s chest and stomach, his diaphragm, and then his left hand lays flat there while the right continues its tortuous path. His body shivers and Viktor’s left hand drifts down to Jayce’s stomach.

Jayce feels self-conscious again with the attention Viktor is focusing on his stomach. His cock is leaking precum, looking red and eager for Viktor to pay it attention where it curves up, but Viktor pays it no mind.

The right hand joins its partner on Jayce’s stomach and Viktor gives Jayce’s stomach a soft squeeze and Jayce lets out a squeak.

“Viktor,” he admonishes, but Viktor pays no heed to his harsher tone, leaning up to nip his lower lip.

“I plan to worship all of you Jayce, that’s what will please me I’ve decided,” he says, his breath hot against Jayce’s mouth.

“And for me to do that I need to appreciate all of you, will you let me do that? You want to be good for me don’t you?” he says hotly and starts kissing Jayce in earnest.

A whine, high-pitched and needy is pulled out of Jayce’s chest and escapes his mouth without thought. He didn’t think he could make those sounds.

Viktor’s cool skin is starting to get warmer, but nothing can match the burning Jayce is feeling from within.

He’s being led back to the couch, the back of his calves hitting the low couch making him stumble. He lands on his ass and he takes a minute to catch his breath as Viktor stands above him.

The lab lighting doesn’t do him justice but he’s still gorgeous. His hair frames his red face, his upper body getting a light flush as well. There’s a mark on his neck from where Jayce had sucked and he’s pleased with himself. He wants to mark Viktor more.

“Hand me that pillow,” Viktor commands, pointing to a square plush purple one. Jayce hastily grabs it and offers it up.

Viktor puts it down at Jayce’s feet and carefully kneels on it.

Jayce has a brief moment to wonder where Viktor’s crutch is, in case he needs it anytime soon, but then Viktor’s hands are on his ankles and slowly trailing upwards in deep caress and he loses his senses again.

Viktor doesn’t so much dig into his legs as almost caress them with a reverence Jayce never would’ve expected.

Jayce can’t really see his face but he can for sure feel him, his nose dragging along Jayce’s calf, his mouth leaving the barest of kisses; butterfly kisses. His thumbs rub mirroring circles on Jayce’s ankle bones between each kiss. His hair is all Jayce can see until he starts to move upwards.

“Such a pretty boy, my Jayce,” Viktor purrs, his accent sounding thicker to Jayce’s ears. When he reaches Jayce’s knees he gives them two soft kisses on each one. He taps the inside of Jayce’s left knee and Jayce hesitates before lifting it. Viktor presses in closer, moving Jayce’s left leg up further so it hooks over his shoulder. He starts leaving open mouthed kisses against the soft skin of Jayce’s inner thigh. Starting at the top of the thigh and working his way up.

Jayce feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He’s starting to pant again, groaning with each gentle lick Viktor administers to his inner thigh. Viktor squeezes his right knee, the fingers actually digging in this time as he bites down on Jayce’s inner thigh.

Jayce lets out a yelp and shudders. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he wants them on Viktor so badly. They are basically one with the couch cushions with how hard he’s clenching them, gripping them like a lifeline as Viktor licks at the bite, soothing it.

He taps the right inner knee and Jayce raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” he pants out and Viktor looks up at him with dark brown eyes, the pupils almost taking up the entire irises.

“Move Jayce,” he says and as soon as Jayce has his other leg over his shoulder he moves swiftly, attaching his lips and giving the right inner thigh the same treatment as the left. His hands hold onto the outer sides of Jayce’s thighs, keeping them spread open to his liking.

It could’ve been hours, or it could have been minutes, but Jayce loses track of time until he is brought back to awareness by Viktor nuzzling his nose deep into the space where his pelvis and leg connect. He was right there, but he expertly avoids touching Jayce’s cock, only his hair brushing against the underside making Jayce tremble and grab the cushions harder.

“Please,” he whimpers, not knowing what he’s asking for.

Viktor huffs and gently kisses the spot before leaning up more so he can rest his chin on Jayce’s stomach.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Viktor whispers, his gaze adoring.

Jayce bites his lip and Viktor watches the motion with an intensity that has Jayce almost cumming on the spot.

Viktor trades bites and kisses across the supple flesh of Jayce’s stomach, paying the most attention to the rolls that have formed because of how Jayce is sitting. His nose dips into every crevice.

He pauses his ministrations, flinching and trying to hide it by resuming his kisses but Jayce never misses any of Viktor’s motions, he’s attuned to them. He could also feel the flex of Viktor’s hands on his thighs.

“What’s wrong? Your leg?” he asks, licking his dry lips.

He’s guessed right judging by how irritated Viktor looks.

“It seems I cannot be granted this simple pleasure with my…imperfection reminding me of itself,” he hisses out, wincing and letting go of Jayce’s thigh so he can massage his own leg.

“ Vitya ,” Jayce says, carefully bringing his legs down. Viktor's attention snaps to him but he looks defeated.

“I’m sorry,” he says bitterly and Jayce releases his hold on the cushions, flexing his fingers. It hurts from how long they’ve been curled up and the strength at which they were holding on to the cushions, but he pushes that pain aside. He reaches out for Viktor, resting one hand on his shoulder and the other goes to cradle Viktor’s cheek.

“It’s not an imperfection,” he says harshly, stroking the sharp line of Viktor’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“You have no imperfections in my eyes Viktor.”

Viktor leans in to his touch, turning his face to press a fleeting kiss to Jayce’s palm.

“I wish I had your confidence,” he says and uses Jayce’s knees to push himself up.

He stands there for a moment seemingly lost in thought. Jayce is about to call to him when hungry eyes find him and he’s at a loss for words.

“Jayce, you trust me, yes?” Viktor asks and Jayce nods eagerly.

“With everything.”

There’s that flash of surprise on Viktor’s face and then it’s gone.

“Scooch over then,” he says, flapping his hands at Jayce until Jayce makes room on the couch.

Viktor hobbles over a few steps closer to the couch and sits down carefully. He quickly removes his shoes and socks and unbuttons his pants. With a grimace he gets them off.

Jayce can see more moles trailing down the expanse of Viktor’s legs. His bad leg looks a little thinner than his good one but there’s nothing else to distinguish the two.

He takes off his underwear too.

Jayce has never found a cock nice to look at. Not that he makes a regular habit of looking at any besides his own, but when he was younger he did some exploration of himself. He may have only had experience with girls, but he had magazines still stashed under his bed of naked men.

Caitlyn had been the one to get it for him, though she never revealed her source. It was in their late teens that Caitlyn had confessed to him that she didn’t like men, after another awful male suitor her parents had arranged for her to meet.

Jayce had never really put much thought into his own sexuality. He liked girls, had slept with some already by that time, and no man had ever turned his head but he took it anyways. For science was his excuse.

It lay untouched for a long while, before Jayce casually decided to browse it. He could see some attractiveness in some of the naked males but nothing really gripped his attention until one particular slender male. Jayce still remembered the photo, the man draped suggestively over a chaise lounge, his skin dark and glistening, his cock in one hand while the other tugged at his collared shirt - the only thing he was wearing.

That was the first time Jayce jacked off to a man.

After that discovery, he still leaned more towards women, but every now and then he’d try to capture a guy's attention but he always failed miserably.

Caitlyn said it’s because he exudes a straight aura, whatever that means.

But it’s never been a man’s cock that has drawn him to a man, and he never really understood the allure with some of the girls he slept with, their mouths eager to taste him, but now.

Well now he had an inclination of what it was all about.

Viktor’s cock looked beautiful to him, the urge to touch and taste growing stronger the longer he looked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the elegant curve, the color, the precum that leaks from Viktor’s tip and drips down the base as Viktor lays himself down on the couch, oblivious to Jayce’s stare.

“Alright Jayce, I need you to sit on my chest,” Viktor says and Jayce coughs.

“Um..you want me to…huh?” he asks and looks at Viktor in disbelief.

“Sit on my chest. This is the most comfortable position for me right now I’m afraid, so I’ll need you over here so I can suck your dick,” he says, patting his chest like an owner calling their dog to them.

“I’m not sitting on your chest ,” Jayce hisses, and Viktor has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“You said you trusted me, yes?”

“Well of course but-”

“Then why aren’t you trusting me to know my limits? We’re running out of time Talis,” Viktor says, jerking his head in the direction of the clock and Jayce gives up.

“Fine, fine, but if my big ass crushes you it’s your fault,” he grumbles. He slowly crawls on all fours, hovering over Viktor and hesitating for a second before he sits back, his knees on either side of Viktor’s chest. He doesn’t lower down though, his nerves getting the best of him.

Viktor’s hands snake around and grab Jayce’s ass, giving both of his cheeks a firm caress.

“Your ass is rather nice,” Viktor says, giving one a squeeze.

“I’m not going to break,” Viktor says after Jayce still hasn’t sat down.

“I’m just, uhh, getting more comfortable,” Jayce lies, making a show of shifting on his knees, thankful that even though the couch is relatively old and shitty, it's quite wide and soft. There’s no added stress to Viktor’s back and they’re not at threat of falling off.

“ Sit ,” Viktor barks out, not believing his bullshit.

Jayce sits.

Viktor lets out an oomph and Jayce immediately tries to get back up but Viktor holds him by the ass, his nails digging in.

“See I told you,” Jayce complains, feeling guilty as Viktor looks up at him with a slightly pained expression. He manages to get off of Viktor, hovering once more.

“That’s because you just dropped on me, you overeager puppy.”

Jayce flushes.

“Now, slowly, sit down,” Viktor says patiently, guiding Jayce with his hands.

Jayce’s cock is hovering right by Viktor’s lips and he swears he can feel Viktor’s heart pounding under his ass.

“Look at this, all just for me,” Viktor says, his breath hitting Jayce’s cock, making it harder than he thought possible.

“ Vitya, please,” Jayce pleads, starting to get fed up.

“Say that again,” Viktor demands and Jayce is helpless to comply.

“Vitya, please for the love of everything, suck my fucking cock right now or-” his words are choked off by Viktor almost inhaling him into his mouth.

His lips pull off before Jayce can even register what’s happened.

“Whose in charge here Jayce?” Viktor says, his dark eyes demanding under his long lashes.

“You are,” Jayce whines and presses his finger against the mole under Viktor’s eyes.

“And whose setting the pace?” Viktor asks, allowing Jayce to trace around his mole.

“You,” Jayce says breathlessly.

“Remember that Jayce. I know you’d look so pretty begging for me, but that’s for later, so don’t give me a reason to make you beg sooner,” Viktor warns before his mouth is engulfing Jayce’s cock again.

Viktor’s mouth is hot . It’s just like when his thumb was inside Viktor’s mouth but his cock is more sensitive and the sensations all feel new. It’s velvety soft in there and Viktor’s tongue is exploring with tentative licks and prods. He’s careful off his teeth, barely grazing them as he takes Jayce in deeper.

The heat in Jayce’s stomach starts coiling and more precum comes out. He knows he’s not going to last long like this. It’s embarrassing and he tries to warn Viktor but he doesn’t know if he should use the safe word or just tell Viktor to release him.

Viktor does something with his mouth, a mixture of tongue and teeth that has Jayce hearing the blood rushing in his ears. He moans out some gibberish words, managing to get out a ‘I’m close’ and ‘I’m going to cum’.

This seems to encourage Viktor and he doesn’t pull off, instead he’s sucking with abandon, his cheeks hollowing more and Jayce can’t hold it in. Not with Viktor sucking him off like he’s the sweetest treat in all of Piltover.

He cums with a shout, the world going black and filled with stars as he cums into Viktor’s mouth, only vaguely aware of Viktor’s hands clamping onto his sides, his fingers sinking into the fat of his love handles.

“Fuck,” he shudders and watches through half-lidded eyes as Viktor pulls off of his cock, giving the tip a gentle kiss.

“You did so good for me Jayce, you were wonderful,” Viktor purrs.

Jayce slides off of Viktor and nudges the other scientist until he’s trapped between the couch and Jayce.

“What about you?” Jayce asks, trailing a finger up and down Viktor’s side and ribs.

He looks down between them and is shocked to see Viktor is flacid.

“I came with you,” Viktor says, looking at Jayce smugley.

Jayce kisses him desperately, not minding the taste of his seed mingling with the taste of Viktor.

He wants to lay here forever, his face pressed against Viktor’s cheek, his body draped over the slender man, but there’s a throat clearing and Viktor nudges him gently with his shoulder.

“The food will be here shortly,” he says and Jayce sighs heavily.

“I forgot about that,” he confesses and Viktor laughs.

He feels Viktor’s laugh reverberate through his whole body and he smiles, brushing sweaty hair off of Viktor’s forehead and gives a kiss to each of the moles on Viktor’s face.

“We still have time to clean ourselves in the bathroom,” Viktor says and Jayce reluctantly rolls away and hops off the couch. Viktor barely has time to sit up before Jayce is scooping him up in his arms, holding him bridal style.

“Jayce,” Viktor scolds.

“You took care of me, let me take care of you. Didn't you say that's what I like to do?” Jayce asks, easily carrying him and navigating around the lab to the showers.

He sets Viktor down gently onto a bench and grabs a clean towel, soaking it in the sink before taking the time to gently wipe away any of Viktor’s cum from Viktor’s body. He wipes himself off with a new towel as well, feeling sticky from the sweat their coupling had produced.

“Are you going to carry me back?” Viktor asks, not seriously, as Jayce throws their towels in the hamper.

Jayce raises an eyebrow and easily has an armful of a spluttering Viktor in his arms again.

“You are being ridiculous!”

Viktor’s face is a stunning shade of pink and Jayce kisses him, savoring the feeling of his lips before bringing them back into the main room.

He lets Viktor down so they can get dressed, sneaking glances at each other.

There’s a knock on the door just as Jayce smooths down his hair and Viktor goes over to the door, crutch secured under his arm once more.

Callisto is at the door as Viktor swings it open. They eye the scientists with disinterest and hand over the large bag of food. Viktor thanks them and closes the door with his shoulder.

“Great timing, I’m starving,” Jayce says and walks over to Viktor to take the bag from him.

“We have to fill you up with something for now until I can later,” Viktor says, patting Jayce’s stomach and walking around him in the direction of their mini fridge.

Jayce is frozen in place, his mind processing what Viktor just said and he almost drops their food.

His cock gives a twitch of interest, images of Viktor fucking into him long and slow fill his head and he can't help the sound that slips from his mouth.

“Jayce,” Viktor says warningly, looking over his shoulder as he stoops to dig in the fridge for drinks. “Food first, the rest later. ”

Later, there’s going to be a later, Jayce’s mind does a dance of happiness and he rushes over to start spreading the food on the table.

There’s plenty of sushi for Viktor to focus on and Jayce catches himself staring at Viktor’s lips as he slurps up some sashimi. He hurriedly shovels the chicken into his mouth. Normally he’d like to savor the food, talk to Viktor about their lab work or some gossip he’s heard, but he’s impatient. The promise of what Viktor is going to do to him is exhilarating.

“Relax puppy,” Viktor reaches across the lab table to squeeze Jayce’s forearm.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Jayce flushes and chews his food a little bit slower.

Viktor starts talking about the Kiramman gardens, expressing curiosity in what grew there. The conversation morphs into Jayce telling Viktor about the misadventures Caitlyn and he shared. He talks about how at twelve they had been racing each other. They’d been too close to the ponds and Caitlyn had elbowed him, trying to get him to slow down. The momentum had sent Jayce flying and he’d grabbed onto her by instinct, taking her down with him. They had both fallen in, getting soaked instantly.

Viktor laughed with his whole body, tilting his head back and his shoulders shaking.

Jayce doesn’t think it’s that funny, but he loves watching Viktor laugh. He rests his elbow on the table and props his chin in his hand, content to watch Viktor.

Viktor shares his own stories of growing up in the undercity in return.

“I’d have liked to have seen the boat you made,” Jayce says and Viktor looks at him surprised.

“It wasn’t anything special,” he says shyly.

And there’s that uncertainty in Viktor again that Jayce wishes would go away. He’s usually so confident. He’s professor Heimerdinger’s assistant afterall, that’s not a position the yordle just gives out on a whim, but something like designing a mechanical boat as a toy in his childhood trips Viktor up. Kids around that age would still be struggling to fold paper to make airplanes - Jayce knows this from experience, a childhood annoyance of never being able to fold the lines just right to get them to go far.

“Can you imagine it? I would’ve been able to get you scraps from my family’s forge and you could’ve made us an army of boats,” Jayce says, excitement getting the best of him and Viktor looks a little less shy now.

“I think I would’ve appreciated that,” he says softly, and returns his attention back to his sushi.

They eat the rest of their meal in companionable silence. They sort out their leftovers and clear the table. Jayce throws everything away while Viktor puts their containers in the fridge.

Jayce stands, uncertain now as he watches Viktor close the fridge.

“Um…your place or mine?” he asks, his usual suaveness is gone.

“My place is closer,” Viktor says and goes to gather his things. Once he’s loaded with his notebooks and his bag, they both wordlessly leave the lab.

They take the elevator down and Jayce sneaks glances at Viktor the entire time.

“Are you nervous?” Viktor asks and Jayce jumps at getting caught.

“A little,” he confesses and Viktor shuffles his papers so he has a hand free. He reaches down and intertwines his fingers with Jayce’s, gripping firmly.

“It’s just me,” he says and that’s just it.

It’s Viktor. It’s finally happening and it’s Viktor.

The touch helps ground Jayce but not that much.

They walk the streets of Piltover holding hands. Jayce is now holding Viktor’s notebooks and carrying his bag, there was no feasible way Viktor would be able to hold his crutch, his belongings, and Jayce’s hand while walking.

It’s late enough that not many people are out but it’s not like Jayce wants to hide away this simple affection. Hell, he wants to race down the streets with Viktor in his arms, shouting to everyone how lucky he is.

He settles for walking as close to Viktor as he can, which earns an annoyed and amused noise from Viktor as he keeps messing up the scientist's strides.

“Do I need to tell you to heel,” Viktor mutters and Jayce stumbles. He keeps to himself after that, careful not to walk into Viktor again, feeling ashamed.

He’s done it to Caitlyn before and his mother and well, anyone he’s close with while they’re walking. He gravitates towards their space and suddenly they’re walking further to the side than where they started and he hasn’t even realized it. Caitlyn usually shoves him and his mother gently reminds him of his space but he and Viktor haven’t ever walked together for long stretches of time like this one, so it hasn’t happened. Or at least it didn’t happen for long enough for Viktor to comment on it.

Viktor sighs and releases Jayce’s hand.

Jayce gets a sour taste in his mouth and his shoulders start to sag, but then Viktor is in his space, hooking his elbow around Jayce’s arm.

“I didn’t say I minded it,” Viktor says and they walk the rest of the way like that, bumping into each other every once in a while making Jayce smile and feel light.

Viktor’s home is one side of a townhouse near the edge of the academy district. There are flower pots on the stoop but it’s too cold for anything to be in them. Inside there’s a fire that automatically lights when Viktor turns on the lights. The kitchen is simple but has a certain charm to it with darkwood and dark blue accents. The table is piled high with textbooks and notebooks. There’s a new set of kitchen tools on the table that has Jayce puzzled. He walks over to it, noticing a post-it on the box.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Viktor asks, opening one of his cupboards and Jayce makes a noise of agreement.

“Sky got you kitchenware?” he asks, tapping the see through screen of the box.

“Oh yes, she saw how old my last set was and bought me a new one,” Viktor says, sounding bashful and he scratches at the mole under his eye.

Jayce feels something hot flow through him but it’s not a pleasurable warmth. No this is an angry warmth.

“She’s been here before?” he asks, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice but failing.

Viktor sets two mugs down on the counter and leans back against it, setting his crutch off to the side where there’s a custom made nook for it to rest in.

“Sky and I grew up together. We were closer when we were younger and reconnected at the academy,” he says slowly, his gaze steady on Jayce like he’s trying to understand him down to his core.

It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on Jayce’s head. This is new information that he should be tucking away, he wants to learn everything about Viktor after all, but this particular information curls around his heart and makes him unsteady.

He didn’t even know Viktor liked to bake.

“Jayce, come here.”

He hesitates, his eyes glued to the post it note.

I found this cute set at Nobles and thought of you! I can’t wait to taste what you’ll create next

- Sky

There’s even a little heart doodled next to her name.

He turns away and walks over to Viktor.

“Closer,” Viktor huffs and Jayce goes until the tip of their shoes touch.

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation to be honest with you,” Viktor says, a disbelieving smile on his lips and Jayce cocks his head to the side, confused at the reaction Viktor has to his jealousy.

“Sky is nothing more than a friend , Jayce. I need to tell her in blunt words but I…I’m not used to others holding affection for me. Really, I only took any notice of it today when I saw how you reacted to her asking me to dinner.”

He rubs his hands up and down Jayce’s sides and Jayce relaxes.

“I’m being silly-” he says but Viktor cuts him off.

“No, it’s natural for someone who likes another person to…eh…” he trails off and looks embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with the slightest of color.

“When two people love each other,” Jayce teases, meaning to say like and not love but now it’s there in the open between them.

“Yes,” Viktor says, his eyes wide and hopeful as he looks up at Jayce.

“I was jealous when I thought of anyone holding your attention,” Viktor whispers, licking his lips.

Jayce leans down, caging Viktor in by putting his arms on either side of his slighter frame and slotting one of his legs in between Viktor's.

“Yeah?” he asks, his breath coming out as a long exhale, causing Viktor’s hair to stir.

“You don’t like it when I’m not giving you all my attention,” Jayce states.

They hadn’t had many interactions with others since they’d spent most of the week in the lab, only really leaving for their apartments - or in Jayce’s case, the gym and the forge as well.

But there had been one time, when one of professor Heimendingers students had come to the lab instead of Sky or Heimerdinger. He’d been starstruck by Jayce apparently and Viktor had made a blunt comment to the boy about his overeagerness. Jayce had chalked it up to Viktor just being fed up with the boys floundering all over Jayce, not any actual jealousy because he’d become distracted by all the compliments the newcomer had been giving him.

This new angle was intriguing. It seemed that Viktor was just as caught up in Jayce as Jayce was caught up in him.

“No,” Viktor says simply, his hands playing with the short strands of hair at Jayce’s nape.

“Then you have my attention,” Jayce says, closing the distance between them to kiss Viktor.

With his lips still on Viktor's, he uses one hand to nudge the mugs off to the side. He then gently but firmly grasps Viktor’s hips and lifts him up onto the counter.

The angle is better this way and Viktor molds his upper body to Jayce’s wrapping one good leg around his waist like when they were on the couch.

“I could take you right here,” Jayce pants out as Viktor breaks the kiss and moves down to kiss at his jawline.

“Hmm but you said a bed Mr. Talis,” Viktor says, moving further along Jayce’s jawline until he reaches Jayce’s earlobe. He nibbles it gently, before pressing a tender kiss just under Jayce’s ear.

“And I’m still the one in control,” Viktor says.

Jayce’s knees feel weak and he leans his forehead onto Viktor’s shoulder. The other man continues his ministrations to Jayce’s earlobe and down to his neck.

“You are still ok with that, right?” Viktor asks, pulling away and pushing at Jayce’s shoulders until the bigger man lifts his head up.

“We can always renegotiate, have you inside me.”

Jayce shakes his head slowly.

“No, no it’s ok. I like the idea of you inside me just as much as I like the idea of it the other way around.”

Viktor looks at him critically.

“Next time then,” he says and Jayce can’t help but nod, the butterflies in his stomach swirling around.

Next time.

“Let’s go to my room then,” Viktor says and Jayce moves back only enough to allow the man to slip off the counter and onto the floor. He immediately starts kissing the shorter man, crowding him against the counter again.

“We can’t- Jayce you need to-” Viktor tries speaking but Jayce is determined with his kisses.

Viktor gives a particularly hard nip to his lower lip and he pulls away reluctantly.

“At least let's take off our shoes, I’m not having dirt trekked all over my house,” Viktor pants, running a hand through his hair trying to tame his tresses. It’s really no use as Jayce’s hands have made good work of messing up the thick wavy hair.

They toe off their shoes and Jayce tries to be patient, he really does. He follows Viktor, who is using his cane now instead of his crutch. They almost make it all the way down the hall before Jayce figures he’s been patient enough and scoops Viktor into his arms again.

“Is this going to become a…thing?” Viktor asks dryly, one arm around Jayce’s neck and the cane still in his other hand.

He kind of looks like he wants to smack Jayce with the cane.

“If it makes you feel any better I’m just impatient and you’re light. I’d do this with any partner,” Jayce soothes and a complicated span of emotions show on Viktor’s face.

Jayce is telling the truth though. He knows a part of Viktor assumes he’s doing this because Viktor isn’t moving fast enough or he thinks Viktor is weak and needs to be carried. Jayce’s mind doesn’t see it like that, he just wants to hold Viktor and get to the bedroom too. The simplest solution is to just carry Viktor to satisfy those needs in him.

“Alright,” Viktor says, sensing the truth there and carefully stretches to lean his cane against the wall. It still falls but it makes less of a clatter than if Viktor had just dropped it.

“Proceed,” he says and waves a hand for Jayce to continue.

“Um, Vik, I’m not a mind reader,” Jayce chuckles. “Which one is your room?”

Viktor points to the door that slightly ajar at the end of the hallway and Jayce speedwalks to it, his steps only faltering when Viktor starts licking and sucking on his previous lovebites he’s scattered across Jayce’s neck.

They’re both going to need to wear turtlenecks for the foreseeable future.

Jayce guesses where the light is on the first try, flicking the switch with the back of his arm. It’s awkward and the switch digs into his arm making him wince but no way in hell is he letting go of Viktor. He closes the door with his socked foot and neatly side-steps some clutter on the floor.

The bed is massive . There’s also a ton of pillows, some of them longer and more squished so Jayce assumes they’re support pillows for his partner's leg. He pauses, trying where best to put Viktor down.

He sits Viktor down onto the edge of the bed and starts taking pillows and placing some of them on the floor after he can’t find a good enough spot. Viktor starts taking off his clothes while Jayce starts putting the rest of the pillows not on the floor against the headboard. He makes a nice mountain and catches the tailend of Viktor taking off his briefs.

He makes a mental note that a lot of the pillows had silk cases.

Viktor hadn’t struck him as someone to have those kinds of luxuries but maybe that’s why his hair was always so silky looking and felt so nice under his hands.

Viktor wordlessly scoots across the bed and beckons Jayce forward with a finger.

Jayce quickly undresses, taking everything off so he’s naked too and crawls over to Viktor. Hell even the comforter under them is soft as fuck.

Once he’s propped up comfortably against the pillows, Viktor is on him.

He’s a good kind of weight on top of Jayce and he gets lost in the sensation of all that flesh against his.

It seems Viktor is impatient now that they’ve finally reach here, as he soon is slipping his hand in between them and grabbing both their cocks so they rub up against each other with each thrust. His thumb swirls the tip of Jayce’s cock, rubbing smoothly because of the pre-cum.

Jayce moans and holds on tight to Viktor’s shoulders, his head thrown back into the pillows.

“Do you think I could make you come from just this?” Viktor asks, his lips pressed against Jayce’s pecs.

Jayce just whines.

“Answer me,” Viktor commands, his lips finding Jayce’s nipples and playing with the bud there. He sucks it into his mouth and tongues at Jayce’s nipple while the taller man tries to get an answer out of his mouth.

“Yes Viktor but…please, I need you inside,” he keens as Viktor sucks harder, his hand releasing their cocks so he can brush his fingers teasingly against Jayce’s balls.

“What do you want me to do?” Viktor asks and Jayce thrusts his hips up, jostling Viktor so their cocks still slide against one another without the other man's hand on them.

“Please,” he begs, the heat in his stomach coiling and spreading.

Viktor’s fingers are against Jayce’s lips and he opens his mouth without thought. This time Viktor slips them all in.

“Suck,” he commands.

Jayce is eager to obey, coating the digits in his saliva as he licks and sucks. The fingers taste slightly salty from sweat and metal. He loses himself in the feeling, his eyes crossing as he tries to stare down at the fingers in his mouth.

“So good for me Jayce, such a good boy. You’re going to look even more beautiful on my cock,” Viktor rasps, stroking the side of Jayce’s face.

Jayce keens again and sucks harder.

“Oh pretty boy,” Viktor coos and pulls his fingers out of Jayce’s mouth, replacing them with his tongue.

Jayce can’t get enough, the kiss getting sloppier and wetter with each passing second.

“Have you done this before? Even just to yourself?” Viktor asks after they’ve broken apart and he’s scooted down to lay down between Jayce’s legs.

Jayce shakes his head no, feeling shy.

“It’s going to be uncomfortable and there may be a little pain. I’m going to stretch you and take care of you though, and you just tell me if you need a break or it’s too painful, ok?” Viktor says.

Jayce nods, feeling heady with how careful Viktor is being in this situation.

“Tell me with your words Jayce,” Viktor says and Jayce chokes out a yes.

“Ok, good boy,” the praise rolls off Viktor’s tongue so easily and it shatters something in Jayce each time.

Viktor tells him to bring his legs up and he does, revealing his hole and giving Viktor easier access.

Viktor kisses Jayce’s hole, making him shudder and the muscle to flutter, and then Viktor’s saliva coated finger is breaching.

It’s a strange sensation to say the least, having Viktor’s finger up his ass, wiggling around to start stretching Jayce out, and he can see his own chest starting to get red from how flushed he is.

“You’re doing so good baby,” Viktor says, inserting a second finger. This one makes Jayce feel a little uncomfortable and he shifts a little.

Viktor coos softly and kisses the underside of Jayce’s cock. He mumbles soft affirmations and slowly starts a scissoring motion inside of Jayce.

He withdraws his fingers, leaving Jayce feeling strangely empty, and dips his fingers in his own precum and Jayce’s so they’re slick again, before interesting them back in.

Jayce moans low in his throat and clutches at the pillow behind his head.

A third finger goes in and he hisses, starting to feel a fullness he’s not sure how to process yet, and then VIktor’s finger curls and his knuckle brushes against something that makes Jayce shout.

It’s pleasure beyond belief, the uncomfortableness gone as he’s gotten used to the feeling of Viktor’s fingers inside him.

“More,” he gasps out and Viktor looks up at him hungrily.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Viktor asks, his fingers stilling inside Jayce.

Jayce nods fast, wanting Viktor inside him. He needs it to happen like he needs to breathe, he needs to have that feeling again.

Viktor’s fingers withdraw and there’s a hollowness now inside Jayce and he whimpers. The whimpers turn into senseless pleading as he watches Viktor lick his fingers.

Viktor makes a pleased noise and Jayce feels the desire spark again in his stomach at Viktor liking the taste of Jayce’s cum.

“There’s lube in the top drawer, can you be a good puppy and fetch it for me?” Viktor asks, giving a kiss to the inside of Jayce’s thigh.

Jayce hurriedly moves, nearly kneeing Viktor in the face in his haste to get up and grab the lube. He starts apologizing but Viktor just laughs and there’s a twinkle to his blown pupils.

“My eager sweet miláček,” Viktor says fondly and waits patiently for Jayce to hand him the lube.

“What’s that mean?” Jayce asks, watching intently as Viktor uncaps the bottle.

“Little love, or darling,” Viktor says, leaning over to kiss Jayce sweetly on the lips.

“I like it,” Jayce says.

“Do you have one for me?” Viktor asks, spreading Jayce’s legs wider with his free hand so he has room. His cock is right at Jayce’s hole and he starts squeezing the lube into his hand.

“ Mi vida , my love,” he says easily.

Viktor smiles a bright and lovely thing.

“I like that too,” he says and starts covering his cock with the lube. Jayce watches in a trance.

Once Viktor is satisfied he lines himself up and takes the base of his cock in one hand and starts to push in. He takes his time, watching Jayce’s every bodily twitch and facial expression, keeping a slow and even pace until he’s fully bottomed out.

“You feel so good, so tight,” Viktor says, and leans down so they’re pressed chest to chest.

He kisses Jayce, hugging Jayce to him almost desperately. Jayce wraps his arms around Viktor’s back, feeling each notch of his spine as he trails his fingers across each one. He plays a large hand on Viktor’s ass and another one on his lower back. He feels a divet in Viktor’s back and explores it more with his touch.

Viktor has back dimples.

Jayce can’t wait to explore more of this gorgeous creation he’s so lucky to have as his.

“You can move,” Jayce says, finding himself aching from the lack of movement.

Viktor starts moving, his hips dragging slowly as he thrusts in and out. It’s a pleasant feeling, this added fullness and the slight burn of having something larger than Viktor’s fingers inside of him. But any pain dissipates as Viktor starts to speed up and he hits that spot again.

Once he finds it he keeps hitting it. Jayce digs his fingernails into Viktor’s back and ass, trying to get him even closer, like they could merge and become one if he just cradled Viktor close enough.

The room is filled with their harsh pants and skin on skin. Jayce is lost to the sensations, the same for Viktor.

Jayce is not even sure they’re really kissing anymore, it’s more like they’re breathing each other’s air and sometimes their lips make contact as the force of their bodies keeps them brushing against each other.

“Jayce yes, uhhh, my little sweet thing, you’re so pretty, so good for me,” Viktor says, over and over, more and more compliments and praises fall from his lips as he pounds into Jayce, hitting that spot over and over and over again.

Jayce can feel his stomach tightening and he whimpers.

He squeezes Viktor’s ass again, kneading the soft flesh there and whispers that he’s close.

Viktor makes a delighted noise and the praises get lost to the rushing in Jayce’s ears.

He feels Viktor shudder against him and the most beautiful noise escapes Viktor and then there’s cum filling him up. Viktor looks beautiful, his arms digging into Jayce as he releases inside of him, his eyes closed and his kiss swollen mouth slightly open.

“Jayce,” he calls out and that does it for Jayce.

He cums too, and his vision goes black.

He comes too with Viktor pulling out of him.

He almost begs Viktor to stay inside but holds his tongue.

“Let me get a rag to clean us off,” Viktor says, brushing a tender kiss on his lips before sliding off Jayce to get off the bed.

He doesn’t make it but to the edge of the bed before he lets out a muffled cry and his hand falls to his leg.

Jayce sits up instantly, post sex haze clearing at seeing his lover in pain.

“I’ll get it,” he offers softly, pressing a reassuring kiss against Viktor’s neck.

“The room to the left,” Viktor says, sounding put out as Jayce crawls out of the bed and heads towards the bedroom door.

The bathroom is as comforting as the rest of the house, the light over the mirror a welcoming yellow. He lets the water run until it’s warm and then runs a washcloth under it. He turns off the faucet and twists the washcloth to remove the excess water before going back into the bedroom.

Viktor has taken off the top comforter - clearly they got it dirty - and it’s folded neatly on the floor by the end of the bed.

Jayce takes his time cleaning Viktor’s stomach and the inside of his thighs.

He blushes when he realizes there’s fluid leaking from his ass and he blushes as Viktor takes the washcloth to clean him up.

Once Viktor is satisfied, he tosses the washcloth on top of the comforter and pulls Jayce into the bed.

He has one of his long pillows already in the bed and Viktor situates himself before tugging Jayce more firmly into his side. The mountain of pillows have also already been rearranged so they won’t wake up with sore necks from sleeping with too many pillows, though Jayce is more than happy to use Viktor as his pillow.

Viktor doesn’t seem to mind either, pressing his lips against Jayce’s forehead as Jayce snuggles further into his lean body.

“I think this is the first time we’re both in bed by three am,” Jayce says and Viktor snorts.

“Maybe we can make it a habit,” Viktor says, holding Jayce tightly and urging Jayce to tangle his legs with Viktor’s good one.

“How do we turn off the lights?” Jayce yawned, stretching his body before curling back up against Viktor. He rested a hand on Viktor’s stomach while his other one stayed between the two of them. It was probably going to fall asleep and give him pins and needles, which he hated , but he’d sacrifice it if it meant staying like this with Viktor.

“Did you know that I am somewhat of a scientist?” Viktor says and claps his hands, descending the room into pitch dark.

Jayce almost squeals because that’s so cool.

He settles for kissing Viktor’s collarbone instead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Viktor says, not a question, but a fact.

“See you tomorrow,” Jayce answers back, sleep finally catching up to him and dragging him under.

They have all the time in the world now. They’re young, they have the hextech and each other in their futures, and Jayce has never felt so safe and content before. It would be him and Viktor, in all timelines and in all possibilities, them .

#jayvik #jayce x viktor #plot what plot #plot with smut #ao3 fanfic #jayce is obsessed with viktor #viktor nation how we doing?#praise kink go brrrr #bottom jayce #top viktor #dom/sub undertones #viktor's moles

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astcrion · 3 days ago

Text

oh what delirious visions threatened to drown him! ones of the beastly things he would do to simply hear his name uttered like that again! astarion knew what he said and yes, the very heart of his early surge of panic still existed in him somewhere but it was quickly, and thoroughly, being buried in a new grave.

his old death was fading, a new one came to crush what little remained. he did not know what to call this new reaper, only knew he wanted more of it far more than he ever dreamed he could want his demise.

"just fine?" astarion was panting. why was he panting?

"you seem to be more than fine. and don't i?"

the question hung in the warm air between them like steaming breath on a frigid night. it did not dissipate so easily and that annoyed astarion, who had wanted what little thought he could muster to be concentrated on the incredible sensation blooming from his groin and tying knots in his gut.

his lip curled and he dropped his hand from the rope of blue mane to sink both hands to tav's hips, to then slide fingers downward over the curve of tav's ass on either side of the base of his tail, even against the strong grasp the appendage presently had taken.

the line, astarion's mind echoed the words even as his mouth chased it away by seeking to kiss up the sharp cut of tav's jaw. his lashes fluttered as he shut his eyes and listened for the horse-hoof beat of a heart. where is the line, he wants to follow you, only you.

you're in charge here.

"fuck me," he decided, the words murmured against the shell of tav's ear. "come undone around my cock tonight."

it was a demand, not a question. his fingers had slipped under the band of tav's trousers and his glassy nails marked the flesh there with a cold, relentless grasp.

The rules had gone and changed again. Rather, Astarion had chosen to cast them out and as much as Tav craved explanation - something concrete, something decisive - it was clear that were this not okay, they'd have separated fast as lightning already. It was happening because Astarion wanted it to, simple as that, and any further ruminating on that would be saved for the after.

After he'd had his fill of those smooth porcelain lips. After they'd made a mess of themselves that would surely draw eyes on the post-party limp back into camp. After Tav's self-control had dissolved into pure desire shown in the tremble of his thighs and the python-like grip of his tail around the arm at his waist.

Why think about it now, when he could be a good boy like Astarion said? Those hips positioned below his rose to slide the hard line of Astarion's length along the inseam of Tav's trousers and he was gone. No more thoughts. No more worries. Only the softest whined, "Mmmhm," pushed up his throat as he agreed to do as he was told.

Feel what he'd done simply by offering a few drops of blood and hungry kissing, he most certainly did.

With his head tipped back by the hand in his hair, his glossy eyes were forced to focus on little other than the way the moonlight settled on Astarion's forehead and in the soft curls atop his head. Which was just as well, really, because he wasn't focusing on that at all. No, his hips were rolling hot and heavy down onto Astarion's cock, thighs clenching and unclenching as heat and wetness gathered between his thighs.

Would he be ruining these trousers tonight?

Tav whimpered on a particularly good rut that dragged that cool hardness over an especially sensitive spot, eyes rolling shut and harsh pants puffing between dropped-open lips. His tail clenched around Astarion's arm, the spaded end flailing mindlessly against the crease of his inner elbow. His head tipped to the side, a silent invitation.

"Astarion -" Tav choked, hips dropping to rest completely in the pale elf's lap. He wanted more, something - he didn't even know what. "What are we - what are you..." He swallowed, only to realize he may have been drooling on himself a bit. "What's the plan?"

Gods, he felt pathetic. "Just this is fine, I just -" His brain was finally catching up to him, despite the insistent throb between his thighs threatening to steal all thought for the rest of the evening. Astarion hadn't completely taken his mind from him just yet, as Tav thought. "What you said. This is... a bit more than kissing. Where is the line tonight, Starlight? I want to be a good boy. Like you said."

#usfw #ninehclls #oooooooof

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theenemyod · 7 months ago

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Alex Strike was in my dream good

Alex Strike was trying to kill me and my brother in my dream, bad.

#also hey no Master Joseph this time #The golden tower shoved it's way into my brain while I was sleeping #and ik it was TGT because I was in a tower when he was throwing chaos and shit at me and brother #though he looked human.#not like a devoured #wasn't wearing the mask at least #and that's the one bit of character description i remember for the devourd Alex #and the cool eyes #but no in my dream he still had blue eyes #And the tower wasnt golden #idk #magisterium #alex strike

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allpromarlo · 5 months ago

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tall man with long hair….save me tall man with long hair……..

#this applies to A Lot of people but #haven’t met him yet (i’m still stuck on fucken jarilo vi. help) but jing yuan………..#urghhshdhsjhs #pretty….pretty man….#i just know his hair feels like silk and downy i just KNOW it #i keep seeing fanart of him and girl he’s doing things to me #motivated to go through robo bitch faster so i can look at all these men #on that note i had a dream that i pulled gepard last night. imagine my disappointment when i found out #gepard is another like he don’t have long hair but UHHHHHNMM #i’m looking for a man in finance #TRUST FUND 6’5 BLUE EYES #hated him when he beat my ass twice in a row but now??? ahehe #nobody cares abt him anymore idc i luv him #hsr #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #pretty pretty man #why is his type LIGHTNING #some of these attack types just do not make any sense why the fuck is blade wind??#like why is he not physical are you dumbbbb #n e ways

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tonycries · 10 months ago

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Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing.

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h.

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly.

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air.

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome.

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real?

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique.

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot.

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks.

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo?

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-”

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine.

And then it’s all black.

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact.

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into?

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment.

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful.

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that.

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.”

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-”

“It’s al-”

“I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.”

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about.

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling.

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso.

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye.

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve.

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh.

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again.

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,”

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him.

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that-

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory.

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit.

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you.

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock.

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.”

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock?

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well.

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins.

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him.

All for him.

It’s too much.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.”

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon.

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind.

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand.

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could.

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him.

You.

And then he’s cumming.

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him.

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow.

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course.

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved.

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt.

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time.

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R.

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right?

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture.

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success.

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him.

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm.

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing.

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting.

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue.

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that.

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously.

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?”

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions.

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples.

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping.

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing.

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips.

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face.

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue.

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water.

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do.

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide.

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need.

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you.

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue.

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs.

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could.

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life.

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl.

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips.

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same.

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat.

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later.

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face.

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt.

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well.

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him.

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more.

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty.

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass.

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them.

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him.

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders.

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more.

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him, “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get.

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you.

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut.

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want.

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully.

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually.

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves.

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed.

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.”

Except maybe those.

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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brunchable · 2 months ago

Text

𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿

Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? If you're not up for a few second-hand embarrassment sit this one out lol. Summary: Your coworker peer pressured you to look up SergeantBarnes in Pornhub, reason? Because apparently you're missing out. A/N: This would make a good mini series. . .but we'll see. I had a dream. . .that he was a guy next door, just wanted to-of course-add a twist to it asdfghjkl.

It was all Amy’s fault. And Trish’s. And okay, maybe you shared a little bit of the blame for caving to the intense peer pressure at work. But still.

You’d been minding your own business in the break room, scrolling through lunch menus, when Amy had sidled up, leaned in with that conspiratorial look on her face, and whispered, “Have you seen him yet?”

“Seen who?” your eyebrows creased as you asked, confused.

Trish popped up out of nowhere, clutching her latte in her hand. “Girl, SeargentBarnes. The guy is legendary—I mean, a literal internet icon.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference while they exchanged a look that practically screamed, amateur. They started talking all at once, dropping cryptic phrases like “too hot to handle,” “you’re gonna die,” and, “you’ll never look at men the same way again.”

So there you were that night, alone with your laptop, curled up in bed and biting your lip as you debated whether to type it in. It’s just curiosity, you reasoned. Research purposes.

Your eyes widened as the screen filled with… well, humanity, in all its naked, unfiltered glory. Your face heated up so fast you could’ve sworn it was the same shade as your throw pillow. Videos lined up like some weird buffet, titles more scandalous than anything you’d ever whispered in confession, and… was that a whole category devoted to delivery men? You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from yelping, mortified at the intensity of it all.

“I need to go to church after this,” you muttered, squinting like that would somehow censor the thorough dedication people were showing in their, uh, procreation endeavors.

“SergeantBarnes,” you muttered to yourself as you typed, fingers hovering uncertainly over the Enter key. Then, with a sigh, you hit search, and… oh.

You nearly choked on oxygen. Because there he was, in HD glory, right on Pornhub, with that cocky grin and those blue eyes that looked like they’d been crafted in a lab. And he wasn’t just standing there looking smug—oh, no, he was on a mission, shirtless, flexing, and smirking at the camera like he was the world’s best-kept secret. The scene panned to him sitting on the edge of a bed, peeling off his belt with one hand, a glint in his eyes that seemed to say, this is what you came for.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, equal parts horrified and morbidly fascinated, as he proceeded to… well, get very familiar with his costar. SergeantBarnes was apparently an expert at multitasking, using every muscle, every inch of his well-equipped arsenal. And the way he was delivering lines? He was clearly treating the camera like it was his soulmate.

By minute two, your jaw had dropped. By minute five, you’d set the laptop on your nightstand to “watch responsibly.” By minute ten, you were convinced Amy and Trish had permanently ruined your life.

And the costar—she was practically putting on an Oscar-worthy performance, her reactions so intense you half expected her to start speaking in tongues. Every time SergeantBarnes’s… rod of justice plunges deep inside, she gasps like she was witnessing a miracle. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Come on, is that really necessary?

As you watched, he gave a low, rumbling sound—half growl, half sigh—that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. His gaze burned through the screen with a confidence that was practically magnetic, and suddenly, you understood exactly why the costar was gasping. A new, unbidden heat pooled between your legs, making you shift uncomfortably, instinctively pressing your thighs together as if that could somehow stop the flush creeping up your face. Oh no, now I wish I were her, you thought, immediately cringing at yourself.

With a mix of half-laughter and half-horror, you reached over and slammed the laptop shut so fast it was like you were trying to save yourself from spontaneous combustion.

“Holy—oh, wow,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your face. “Okay. That was a one-time thing.”

Or so you thought.

Except now, every time you even glanced at your laptop, SergeantBarnes was right there in your mind, reminding you exactly why he was internet-famous. It was becoming a bit of a problem.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stumbled out of your apartment, looking like something that had been left out in the rain and dragged through a blender, mentally cursing last night’s “research” session. The world had no right to be this bright, and your regret levels were at an all-time high as you lugged the world’s heaviest box down the hallway.

You were so absorbed in avoiding a complete breakdown that you barely registered the deep, too-familiar voice beside you.

“Need help with that?”

“Thanks, but I got it,” you muttered automatically, barely sparing him a glance.

Except...then you did.

You looked up, squinting in confusion. Because, standing in front of you, in the perfectly mundane hallway of your perfectly mundane building, was him.

You froze, your brain spinning like a buffering screen. Okay, this guy’s insanely handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, stubbled jaw, eyes so blue they should have a health warning on them. You stared, mentally cataloging each feature, when—wait a minute... WAIT. A. MINUTE.

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling as your brain finally fired up. Is that…? No, it can’t be.

But it was. Oh, it absolutely was.

SergeantBarnes, the very star of last night’s “educational” viewing, right here in the flesh. And suddenly, like a tractor beam had locked onto you, your gaze dropped right to his crotch, where you’d witnessed things you could never un-see.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed. His brows shot up as he followed your very obvious, very treacherous line of sight, glancing down at his jeans before looking back up at you with an infuriatingly smug grin.

“Uh… nice shoes?” you blurted out, your face feeling like it was on fire. You vaguely gestured to his boots, wishing you could vanish right into the walls.

“Thanks,” he replied smoothly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re pretty sturdy. But, you know…” He paused, his voice dropping just a hair. “I don’t think they’re what you were looking at.”

Your heart sank as you forced yourself to look up, his amused blue eyes practically laughing at you. Abort. Abort mission. Oh God, we are way past mission failure.

“Uh—no, I just… um…” You floundered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that might save you from the hole you’d dug. But no words came. Not even the faintest semblance of a coherent thought. Just one long, silent scream echoing in your brain.

“Bucky,” he offered helpfully, sticking out his hand like he wasn’t SergeantBarnes from Pornhub, but just some guy offering to help with a box. “New neighbor, by the way.”

You stared at his hand like it was a booby trap, your brain short-circuiting as it reminded you exactly where those fingers had been. That hand had gripped… things. It had been places you’d only dreamed of, doing things you’d probably need a core workout just to survive. You could practically see the “viewer discretion advised” warning flashing in your head as you hesitated, still staring at his hand as if it might explode.

But, against your better judgment—and every shred of dignity—you slowly reached out and shook it, feeling your own fingers betray you by sweating as they made contact with his very… experienced ones.

“Uh… hi… I’m… yep.” you blurted, mentally cringing.

“‘Yep’? That’s a good name,” he said, smirking as he let go. “You sure you don’t need help? You seem… a little flustered.”

Flustered? Understatement of the century. If your dignity had been a cup, it was empty, bone-dry, and cracked. You forced yourself to focus, eyes straight forward, pointedly ignoring the very tempting crotch-level view.

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” you squeaked, cringing at your own voice. Oh God, calm down!

But he just chuckled, that same dangerously cocky smile from last night plastered all over his face. “Alright, Yep. Guess I’ll see you around.”

As he turned to leave, you stood there in the hallway, clutching the box like it was a life raft, heart racing a mile a minute. You’d just had a very public staring incident with SergeantBarnes, your new neighbor, and all you’d managed to say was nice shoes.

I’m gonna need new coworkers, you thought, practically burying your face in the box as you scurried to your apartment.

The door slammed shut with a bang that could probably be heard across state lines. You dropped the box unceremoniously, ignoring the loud thunk as it hit the floor, and whipped your phone out, fingers flying across the screen like you were composing a manifesto.

Guys, you’re NEVER gonna guess who my neighbor is—

You paused, staring at the screen as the rest of the text formed in your mind: THE SergeantBarnes. LIVE. IN. THE. FLESH.

But then another thought stopped you dead in your tracks. Oh no.

You could already picture it: Amy and Trish showing up like rabid fangirls in their “I Heart SergeantBarnes” merch, carrying suspiciously flimsy plates of brownies. Trish would have binoculars. Amy would be taking notes, probably trying to “accidentally” leave her phone number under his door. You shuddered, imagining them cornering him by the mailboxes, all of them acting like they were definitely not the type of women who had his entire catalog bookmarked on their phones.

A horrible realization hit you. If I tell them, this man’s gonna be living a nightmare right next door to me. Not just a nightmare, a Trish-and-Amy-sponsored fan club nightmare, where they might even break into song—probably chanting, “SergeantBarnes! SergeantBarnes!” while he tries to get his groceries.

You looked back at your unsent message and deleted it in one go, feeling weirdly proud of yourself. Yeah, no. I’m not letting them anywhere near him.

Totally altruistic, of course. It had nothing to do with keeping the eye candy to yourself.

You took a deep breath, looking around your empty apartment like you were expecting the FBI to burst through the door at any second. Sure, you’d just been in the hallway with the actual SergeantBarnes, but maybe… maybe you were imagining things. It had been a long day. Moving was stressful. Stranger things had happened, right?

With a surge of resolve (and denial), you dashed to your bedroom, practically sliding across the floor as you went. Your laptop was waiting innocently on the nightstand, and with a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure you were still alone, you opened it up, clicked incognito mode like you were hiding state secrets, and went straight to the website you’d sworn off only hours ago.

“Alright… just to confirm,” you muttered to yourself, feeling your cheeks burn as you typed SergeantBarnes into the search bar, mentally bracing yourself for the flood of results.

And there he was. The whole page filled with him, in various… positions. You swallowed, scrolling until one video caught your eye: “Sergeant Disciplines the Bratty Recruit.”

You snorted, almost slamming the laptop shut. “Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

But curiosity was a dangerous beast, and before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger had already clicked play.

The video started, with SergeantBarnes in all his glory, wearing what looked like the world’s tightest military uniform. His face was as smug as ever, that telltale glint of mischief in his eyes as he muttered something absurd like, “Think you can handle me, recruit?”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, cringing as you half-covered your eyes but peeked through your fingers anyway.

But there was no denying it—the face, the voice, the ridiculous, smoldering look into the camera. There was no escaping it now. It was 100% him. The same guy who was now living approximately ten feet away from your own front door.

As the video continued, your disbelief only grew. This man… this man is next door, could eating cereal right now, you thought, torn between horrified fascination and the urge to laugh. Because there he was, in full “disciplinary action” mode, doing things you could barely process, and here you were, watching it again, just to make sure it was really him.

“Oh, I’m doomed,” you muttered, slapping the laptop shut. You weren’t even sure if you were embarrassed, impressed, or maybe just a little terrified of your own neighbor.

× × × ×

Over the next few days, it was like living in a twisted sitcom. Everywhere you went, he was there, lurking like some kind of sexy, mildly inconvenient specter. It was uncanny. You’d turn a corner, and bam—there he’d be, giving you that polite nod and a smirk that clearly said, I know exactly what you’ve seen.

It started small. You’d step into the elevator, praying for a peaceful ride, and ding! in he’d stroll, flashing that devastating grin. Instantly, you’d stiffen, gluing yourself to the opposite wall, practically trying to meld with the buttons, heart pounding like you were about to pass out. You couldn’t even look him in the eye without flashes of his, uh, “filmography” playing in your mind. Every single time, without fail, you found yourself studying the very clean floor of the elevator as he leaned casually against the wall, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” he’d ask, all smooth, innocent charm. Meanwhile, you were there like, Oh, totally, perfect day to run into my favorite Pornhub star.

You were in the laundry room, blissfully alone, humming to yourself as you separated your clothes like a responsible adult. Whites here, colors there, delicates—well, you were kind of just tossing them wherever at this point. Then, suddenly, you felt it: a shift in the air, a presence. You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up, a sock suspended mid-toss in your hand. Why do I feel like the music should be getting dramatic right about now?

Slowly, as if sensing his approach, you turned. And there he was—Bucky, striding in with a laundry basket filled with a suspiciously pristine pile of perfectly folded, incredibly manly clothing. It was as if he’d just stepped out of some kind of… laundry commercial. Or worse… one of his own videos.

You blinked, eyes widening as a thousand clichés suddenly flashed through your mind. Oh no, why does this feel like the start of a porn? you thought, biting your lip as you realized the two of you were, in fact, very alone, surrounded by washing machines and suspiciously warm lighting. You mentally kicked yourself. Snap out of it! This is laundry. Regular, boring laundry.

Bucky caught your eye, giving you an amused once-over. “Doing some laundry?” he asked, his voice low and casual, but somehow it felt like the most suggestive question in the world.

You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Uh-huh,” you managed, trying to sound like a normal human being. “Just, uh… laundry.”

Your face felt like it was on fire as you realized half of your load was underwear, strewn everywhere. Panties, bras, socks—they were all there in their mismatched glory, practically screaming, We’re personal items! Pay extra attention! You yanked your gaze away from the pile, mortified, and flung the sock into the washer like you were trying to disarm a bomb.

You slammed the washer lid down, feeling like you’d just revealed way too much. But Bucky only grinned, strolling over with that maddening swagger. He tossed a shirt into the washer beside you, leaning against it with a smirk.

“Nice sorting skills,” he commented, eyes flicking down to the very obvious pile of bras and lace that you’d tried to hide. “Very… thorough.”

“Yep!” you squeaked, feeling like you might explode. You fumbled with the detergent bottle, struggling to open it as your brain went into full-blown panic mode. Why does this feel like one of those videos? Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. Pretend you’re alone. Pretend this is fine.

But of course, he wasn’t making it any easier. He folded his arms, watching you with a raised brow, the picture of calm while you were desperately trying to load underwear without dying of embarrassment.

“You know,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh, “usually people try to separate colors from whites.”

“Oh, I do! I mean, I… it’s a system,” you stammered, feeling like you were caught in a lie by the laundry police. “Sometimes it’s… it’s an artistic choice.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with that insufferable amusement. “Artistic laundry, huh? Didn’t take you for the experimental type.”

“Yep,” you said, forcing a laugh as you stuffed in the last sock, your hands moving at lightning speed, desperate to finish and escape.

But as you turned to leave, he held up a stray bra that had somehow escaped your grasp, dangling it between two fingers with a raised eyebrow.

“You forgot this,” he said, voice dripping with that same mischievous humor.

You stared at the bra in horror, feeling your face go molten.

“Uh… thanks,” you mumbled, practically ripping it out of his hand and stuffing it into the washer, slamming the lid down one last time before you spun on your heel and speed-walked out of there.

Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly, his voice echoing in the hallway. “See you around, neighbor.”

Yep, you thought, already halfway down the hall, never doing laundry again.

By day three, it got ridiculous. You’d ducked into the mailroom, hoping he was out doing normal human things—maybe mowing a lawn or whatever. But no, as soon as you opened your mailbox, there he was, standing by his own, sorting through a stack of letters. You froze, briefly considering whether you could just flee and come back later for your electric bill.

And then… the grocery bag incident.

You were in the hallway, arms overloaded with bags because, naturally, you’d ignored the cart right by the entrance and had instead decided to carry it all in one go. You were so close to your door when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Need help?” he asked, that voice making you nearly fumble every bag in your arms.

You turned, scrambling to say, “No, I’m good,” but of course, in your panic, one of your bags tipped, and a lone, horrifying item fell out and hit the floor. You watched, paralyzed, as the little bottle of lube rolled out with an audible clatter, spinning lazily to a stop right in front of him.

You could practically feel the heat exploding from your cheeks. No. Oh no. Not like this.

You looked up, meeting his amused, slightly raised eyebrows as his lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile.

“Uh,” you choked out, unable to form a single coherent sentence. Think fast, make it sound normal, you told yourself, even though every possible explanation was racing out of your head.

He bent down, picking up the bottle with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes, inspecting it like he’d just found evidence of some grand crime.

“Hey, everyone’s got needs,” he said, deadpan, but that twinkle in his eye was anything but innocent. “Don’t worry.” He tossed you a wink, handing the bottle back like it was no big deal.

Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as your brain scrambled to form a sentence. Finally, the words tumbled out like a train wreck, your dignity left somewhere back at the grocery store.

“It’s… it’s for my friend,” you squeaked, clutching the lube bottle with both hands like it was a sacred artifact. He raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too entertained for your liking. “She’s, uh, she’s constipated.”

A moment of silence.

“She needs it to… you know, help with a suppository.” You forced a grin that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “She, uh… can’t get things moving. Really jammed up in there.”

Bucky’s face twisted in barely suppressed laughter, and his shoulders shook as he struggled to keep a straight face.

“Right,” he drawled, nodding with an expression that was one part pity and two parts are you for real? “That’s… thoughtful of you.”

You felt like you were overheating, a human furnace on the verge of combustion.

“She’s desperate!” you blurted, doubling down on your ridiculous story, even though every fiber of your being was screaming to stop talking. “I’m just being a good friend, you know? Supportive. I mean, she’s the one who’s backed up.”

He nodded again, still fighting a smile, the look in his eyes a mix of amusement and something else that made your pulse race.

“Sure,” he said, “nothing like helping a friend in need.” He paused, that wicked smile growing as he added, “In my experience, though, there are plenty of other uses for it.”

Your soul left your body.

He held out his hands in mock innocence, chuckling as your eyes widened to saucers.

“Just saying,” he winked. “Versatile stuff.”

And with that, he turned, strolling down the hall with a casual wave, leaving you frozen and mortified, clutching the bottle to your chest like a lifeline.

“Gotta… go,” you managed, voice barely a whisper, stumbling the last few steps to your door as you fumbled with the keys, practically falling inside.

The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, staring at the ceiling and whispering, “I’m never leaving my apartment again.”

Just as you were about to bury your face in your hands and live in the sweet, silent embrace of shame, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, still reeling from the lube disaster, and saw a text from your friend, Clara.

Clara: Hey!! Did you get the lube?? Need it ASAP, things are… not moving over here, if you catch my drift.

You groaned, staring at the message, letting it sink in that yes, this entire disaster had been real.

You: Yes. Got it. Never speaking of this again.

Clara: Bless you, you lifesaver. My digestive system owes you a standing ovation.

You rolled your eyes, still red-faced. Clara had no idea you’d just had to explain the entire situation to your painfully attractive neighbor—who now likely thought you were a walking sitcom.

× × × ×

It started subtly—just a little teasing, or so you thought. But it quickly spiraled into a game you could only describe as Bucky Barnes: Merciless Teasing—Extended Cut. Every time you crossed paths, he managed to twist the knife just a little deeper, making you sweat, stumble, and practically choke on your own words.

The first time it happened, you were hauling a huge box out of your car, trying to look capable and independent, when he strolled up beside you, leaning against the car with a smirk.

“You act like I’m a celebrity,” he said, eyebrow cocked. “Every time you see me, you look ready to run.”

You fumbled, nearly dropping the box.

“Nope! I’m just…uh, busy!” you squeaked, scrambling to walk away at top speed, box clutched to your chest like a shield. But you caught his laugh as you rushed off, making you want to evaporate on the spot.

The next time, you were in the stairwell, headphones in, desperately trying to avoid any more awkward run-ins. Naturally, the moment you looked up, there he was, lounging at the landing like some kind of paid actor in a commercial. You froze mid-step as he raised a brow.

“Look at that,” he said, giving you the once-over, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time you see me. Is it something I did?”

You stammered, turning pink.

“No! Just, uh… headphones! Music! Loud music!” you blurted, before speed-walking up the stairs, praying he didn’t hear the Spice Girls song you’d been blasting. Behind you, his chuckle echoed up the stairwell like the final taunt of a villain.

But the absolute worst came at the coffee shop.

You were in line, looking at your phone, hoping you could just breeze in and out. The moment you placed your order and turned to leave, there he was, standing right behind you, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Hey, neighbor,” he drawled, eyeing your coffee cup like it was some incriminating evidence. “Funny running into you here. Or… do you keep running into me?”

Your face flushed, and you tried to think of something clever, but it was like all your brain cells had gone on vacation.

“Nope! Definitely just getting coffee! I don’t even… live near here!” you babbled, immediately regretting everything.

“Oh, interesting,” he replied, his grin widening. “Because I could swear you live right next door. But hey, if you want to keep pretending you don’t know me, I’ll go along with it.” He handed you your coffee with a wink. “See you around… or not.”

But things took a turn for the mortifying when, one evening, you were pacing the hallway on the phone with Clara, trying to vent without actually collapsing in a pile of awkwardness.

“It’s him, Clara!” you hissed, oblivious to the fact that you were pacing right outside Bucky’s door. “I’m living next door to SergeantBarnes! Can you believe this? I’ve seen everything he has to offer! I’ve practically studied him!”

Clara was howling with laughter, but you were too wrapped up in your frustration to care.

“And he knows, Clara! He keeps showing up everywhere, saying stuff like, ‘You seem nervous’ and ‘You keep looking at me like you know something I don’t.’ I swear, he’s doing it on purpose!” You paused, sighing dramatically. “The man is basically torturing me!”

“Yeah?” Clara snorted. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing! I’m gonna hide in my apartment forever! I mean, the guy is—” You froze mid-sentence, sensing a presence that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Please, for the love of all that is holy, no.

You slowly turned, and there he was. Bucky. Leaning against his door, arms crossed, looking like he’d just won the freaking lottery.

“Oh… my god…” you whispered, feeling your soul leave your body. He was watching you with an expression of pure, unfiltered amusement, one eyebrow quirked, lips pulled into that infuriating, knowing smirk.

“Well,” he said, voice laced with mischief. “That makes one of us.” His eyes glinted with barely-contained laughter. “And here I thought you were just a fan of my boots.”

You could practically feel your brain cells going up in smoke.

“I… uh… well… I…” you stammered, cheeks burning. “Boots… are great,” you managed, wanting to sink into the earth.

“Yeah? Because I seem to remember you looking… elsewhere last time,” he teased, stepping a little closer, enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

“Oh, no! Just… boots!” you squeaked, backing up, practically tripping over yourself. “I really should go… water my… uh… plants!”

He chuckled, savoring every second of your panic. “Good luck with that,” he said, throwing in one last wink as he slipped back into his apartment, leaving you in the hallway, feeling like you’d just gone through a slow-motion car crash.

Back in your apartment, you slid down the door, hands over your face as Clara’s laughter erupted over the phone.

“Boots?” she howled. “THAT’S what you went with? Boots?”

You groaned, banging your head back against the door. “Shut up, Clara.”

× × × ×

Determined to reclaim a shred of your dignity, you strode into the local coffee shop, praying for a quiet morning with zero embarrassing encounters. But, as if on cue, the universe had other plans.

There, right at the counter, was Bucky. He spotted you instantly, his face lighting up with that all-too-familiar grin that had haunted your dreams. There was no escape.

He waved you over, and before you could even think of pretending you hadn’t seen him, he was calling out, “Morning, neighbor! What’s your coffee order again?” His voice was loud enough that half the shop turned to look.

“Oh, um… it’s…” you stammered, but he’d already waved to the barista.

“Got it covered,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve got a feeling you like it with extra cream.”

You choked on your own saliva, feeling your face turn crimson as he handed you the cup with a wink.

“Unless I’m wrong?” he added with a smirk, feigning innocence.

“N-Nope, that’s right!” you managed, grabbing the cup like it was a shield. “Extra cream… perfect.”

He chuckled, gesturing to an empty booth in the corner. “Great. Then you won’t mind sitting down with me for breakfast.”

“Oh no, really, I should—”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, got somewhere better to be?”

You froze, helplessly aware that the entire coffee shop was listening in. You managed a nervous laugh, mumbling, “Well… no, I guess not…”

Before you knew it, you were sitting across from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, your cheeks burning as he sipped his coffee and watched you with a smug smile.

“So,” he said, leaning forward, “what’s a girl like you doing watching a guy like me online, anyway?”

Your jaw dropped, coffee cup halfway to your mouth. “I—I wasn’t watching—It was research!” you spluttered, already kicking yourself for falling right into his trap.

He chuckled, clearly reveling in your embarrassment.

“Oh, sure, ‘research,’” he said, nodding like he totally believed you. “I get it. You know, it’s important to be informed.”

You practically shrank into your seat, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. “Could you not say that so loudly?”

He smirked, taking a long, deliberate sip of his coffee.

“Relax, I’m just curious,” he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell his aftershave. “Gotta say, it’s a little flattering to have a fan right next door.”

Your brain completely short-circuited. “Fan? I—no! I mean, not like that… I… I barely even…” You could feel the lie crumbling in your throat as his smirk deepened.

“Uh-huh. Then why did you look like you were about to sprint every time you saw me?” He tilted his head, studying you, eyes twinkling. “And I swear you turned pink the second you walked in here.”

Your hands shot up, covering your cheeks. “I did not! You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Because it’s like clockwork. Every time I’m around, you look like you’ve been caught red-handed. I don’t mind, you know,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

You let out a strangled laugh, ready to crawl under the table.

“That’s… obvious,” you muttered, feeling as though you might combust at any second.

“Okay, so since we’re having breakfast together, how about you tell me: any favorite scenes?” He laughed, looking entirely too amused as he stirred his coffee.

You practically choked on your coffee, face flaming as you tried to hide behind your cup.

“I—I can’t believe you just asked that!” you squeaked, horrified and unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, clearly enjoying every second. “It’s just small talk. I mean, who better to ask than a neighbor?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please pretend this conversation never happened?”

“Nope. Can’t do that,” he replied, laughing. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Just as you were starting to pray for an earthquake to swallow you whole, you glanced up at him, cheeks still flaming.

“Did you… did you know I recognized you this whole time?”

He leaned back, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“Of course I did,” he said, laughing. “Figured it out the second I saw that look on your face. I just wanted to see if you’d ever bring it up.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, feeling mortification seep into your very bones. “And you kept messing with me?”

“Of course,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a wicked grin. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to crack. Guess now the ice is broken, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re the worst.”

He winked, finishing his coffee. “Yeah, but I make breakfast interesting, don’t I?”

You laughed, feeling the last traces of embarrassment fade away—well, at least enough to breathe normally again. But just as you started to feel almost… comfortable, Bucky tilted his head, giving you a curious look.

“So, neighbor,” he said, smirking, “I’ve gotta ask… what’s your name?”

You blinked, realizing with a jolt that you’d never actually told him. In all your attempts to dodge, deflect, and survive the relentless teasing, you hadn’t even bothered to introduce yourself.

“Oh… right,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I, uh, guess I never actually said.”

“Nope,” he replied, leaning in with a grin. “I just assumed you wanted to keep a little mystery between us.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Trust me, I’m not that mysterious.”

“Really?” he replied, eyebrows raised. “Because all this time I’ve been calling you ‘Yep.’”

Your face went red as you remembered the first time you’d stammered a barely coherent “yep” instead of an introduction. “Oh my god. You haven’t been calling me that in your head this whole time, have you?”

He shrugged, smirking. “It’s kind of cute. Suits you, actually.”

You groaned, but laughed despite yourself, finally holding out your hand across the table. “Alright. I’m Y/N. Officially.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, taking your hand, his grip warm and firm. His smirk softened into something a little more genuine. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Officially.”

His hand lingered in yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no innuendos—just the two of you, sitting across the table, smiling like two normal people who’d just met under… semi-normal circumstances.

Then, just as you were starting to think maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this weirdly charming neighbor situation, he leaned back, that mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes.

“Now that we’re on a first-name basis,” he said, winking, “you can tell me all about your favorite scenes. You know, for professional feedback.”

You burst out laughing, face in your hands as he watched you with a triumphant grin. Yep, you thought, already regretting nothing and everything.

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