#do i love this look. The eye make up the cropped jacket the silk shirt and waist belt i can even deal with the weird boots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bestiesenpai · 4 years ago

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Spoiled Rotten - Toji Fushiguro

Half baked gangster/shady business dealer toji fushiguro idea...hope ya like it lol. Femme reader, 3k words

Content warningsss: a lot a lot of the word daddy lol, drinking, biting, drug usage(cocaine to be specific)

“There’s my little minx.” It’s his deep, smoky voice that you hear first when you open your door one late Friday night, dripping in an expensive borderline too short silk dress. A cropped white fur coat is your only protection against the crisp night air, the rest of your body - bare legs, open chest and feet clad in high heels - is exposed.

“Hey daddy.” You purr, sliding into his waiting arms. The scent of Toji’s cologne engulfs you, the warmth from his own thick fur coat surrounding you as he kisses the top of your head.

“See you got the purse I sent.” He pulls away slightly, thumbing the chain of the purse he had sent over this morning.

“Mhmm, I love it. Exactly my style.” Beaming up at him, you giggled as he slid an arm low around your waist.

“Daddy knows his girl well.” His hand dips down to squeeze your ass and then he’s closing your door, nudging you to the chauffeured blacked out SUV waiting on the street. “Now let's get going.”

As soon as you’re in the car, you’re seated in Toji’s lap, his thick legs spread out to support you. He keeps a hand on your back to keep you steady as the car rocks, and the other hand is high on your thigh, thumbing the hem of the dress just barely covering you.

“You look so fucking sexy.” Gripping your thigh, Toji lets out a low groan. “Gonna be the prettiest girl in that whole place.”

“Thank you daddy.” You press a few kisses to his jaw, lightly staining his skin with your lipstick.

“I got you a gift, I want you to wear it tonight.” Leaning over, he flips a compartment open in the center console and pulls out a velvet box. Curiously, you take it and unwrap it quickly.

“Oh wow!” Inside the box is a drop pearl necklace, delicate gold chain weighed down by a single pearl and then a slightly smaller one above it.

“Lemme put it on for you.” Shrugging your jacket down your shoulders, you sit as still as possible as Toji places the necklace on you. The pearl dips down your chest, nestling right at the curve of your breasts. “What a fucking treasure.” His fingers skim along the edges of the necklace, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You kiss him as a thank you, the scar on the edge of his lip a familiar sensation. He smiles into the kiss, hand coming up to grab your chin softly and open your mouth. Sliding his tongue past your teeth, you let out a squeak as the car comes to a full stop.

“We’re here, sir.” The chauffeur announces, knowing better than to say anything else or to look at Toji without permission.

“Let’s go doll.” Sliding you off his lap, Toji opens the door and helps you out. There’s a gust of wind that whips as you step out, almost making you jump back into the car. Pulling you closer to him, Toji doesn’t let you escape that easily.

“This the new club you opened?” Fixing your gaze on the bright, warm flashing light bulbs in front of you, you do your best to ignore the cold. It looks like something straight out of a movie: overly buff doormen, a long line of people dressed to the nines hoping to get in before the club closes. There’s VIP guests mingling outside, some smoking cigarettes while some are clearly high.

“Boss.” One of the bouncers nods and lets the two of you in without question. Immediately you’re thrust into the hustling club, scantily clad waitresses passing by with trays of drinks for wealthy clients sitting at semi-circular tables along the wall. Red velvet lines every seat and gold accents drip from the ceilings.

There’s a dance floor in the middle of the club, crowded with people trying to have a good time. Toji always knew how to throw a party, a star DJ headlining the opening night. All it takes is a nod to a member of his security team and you’ve got a strongly mixed drink in your hand, the fruity pink color doing nothing to hide the hard bite of alcohol.

“Whaddya think?” Toji asks over the music, taking your jacket off your shoulders and handing it to someone along with his own coat. With the garment now off you can see his physique more clearly in a crisp fitted black button up and slacks, the tight shirt highlighting his muscles perfectly.

“It’s great!”

“There’s more floors, follow me.” To the side of the room is a stairway tucked away he leads you to, a few people mingling along the steps. The sound of the pumping bass fades away and the atmosphere shifts.

Coming upon the second floor, you’re greeted by a room full of card games. Poker, blackjack and roulette tables were full of people playing, mountains of chips just waiting to be bet.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to open a casino?” His proposition to open this part of the club had been rejected last you’d heard.

“Yeah well the mayor owes me a few favors.” Patting your shoulder, Toij flicks his chin out to the room. “Wanna play a game, baby?”

“Okay!” Flitting away to a blackjack table, you could feel the eyes following you, sizing you up first and then landing Toji. There were several people here that would love to take you home, you could feel it in the way they eyed your legs and bare shoulders and it made a satisfied smirk worm its way onto your face, putting a bit more obvious sway in your hips as you walked.

“Putting on a show I see.” Toji chuckled as he sat down at an open table, immediately pulling you onto his lap. Waving his hand, a stack of chips are brought to the table and put in front of him, and another drink is brought for you.

You played the game of blackjack marginally well, not particularly caring if you won or lost. It was all Toji’s money after all, he would win it back and then some by the end of the night. There was no need to worry about playing smart, all you had to do was have fun.

“Shit, lost again.” You huffed, seeing the last of your chips taken away.

“Let’s play some poker, some friends of mine just walked in.” Getting up and moving tables, you greeted the friends Toji was talking about. They were people you’d seen before, and you could make decent conversation with them, but when you were seated at the poker table there wasn’t space to talk.

Toji kept you snuggly in his lap, one hand cupping just under your ass every time you moved and kissing the top of your head as you snuggled into his shoulder. Following along with the cards, you helped him play, earning back a few chips and slightly redeeming yourself from blackjack.

“Daddy, I wanna go dance.” You whispered in Toji’s ear forty-five minutes later, getting antsy and bored.

“Go have fun baby, I’ll catch up in a few.” Sliding you off his lap, Toji kissed your hand and sent you on your way. There was a security guard trailing you, one he’d hired to be with you whenever the two of you went out.

“Can you get me a drink? Just the same one I’ve been having will do!” Patting the burly man on the shoulder, you grinned widely as he nodded and left to the bar. You didn’t have to wait long for him to come back, handing you the drink silently.

Downing it quickly, you hopped onto the packed dance floor. The bass vibrated strongly from the floor up your legs, making your feet go numb the longer you danced. You tried to keep an eye out for Toji, see when he came downstairs so you could drag him onto the floor, but he took far too long to keep your interest.

Dancing with multiple different people, you paid no mind to the hands that glided along the small of your back or across your arms. It all added to the experience of the club, the music drowning out any attempts at conversation.

The ache in your feet couldn’t be ignored any longer now. A good number of songs had passed and you were tired. Not bothering to look for Toji, you sauntered over to the bar, the security guard snagging you an empty seat with ease.

Downing a glass of water and ordering another drink, you spun around in the bar stool and scanned the club. It was packed with even more people and as the front doors swung open you could see the line to get in was still as packed as ever.

“Hey, how’s it going?” A voice cut into the little bubble you’d made for yourself, a flash of white streaking across the corner of your vision.

“Hm?” Turning to face whoever had just sat down, you were face to face with a lanky man with wild white hair, black sunglasses low on his nose to reveal sharp blue eyes.

“I saw you dancing earlier, you looked really sexy.”

“Thanks.” You were unimpressed and he could tell by your tone. Crossing your legs, you turned fully back to the bar and swirled your drink, the scent of alcohol wafting up to your nose as you took a sip. The stranger’s eyes roamed all over you, drinking in the expanse of slightly sweaty skin before him.

“I’m Gojo.” He stuck a hand out, flashing you a grin as he waited for you to shake it.

“(Y/N).” Grabbing his hand with your thumb and forefinger, you shook it. You weren’t really interested in the man, but after taking another look over your shoulder and not seeing Toji, you shrugged slightly. No harm in entertaining yourself for a bit.

“Such a pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Thanks.” The cheesy line made you snort, a smile spreading on your cheeks despite yourself.

“Even prettier when you smile.”

“You really are a charmer, huh?” Leaning your head on your fist, you sized him up. He wasn’t particularly well dressed, just good enough to get in.

“Depends, is it working?”

“Depends. Buy me a drink?”

You end up making conversation with Gojo far longer than anticipated, somehow getting wrapped up in a story he’s telling that sounds too good to be true. He’d bought you two more drinks and you were certainly feeling the effects.

You were leaning far too close to him, nearly sliding off your own stool as your legs tangled with his. Your chest had dipped forward, the necklace dangling off your neck and the neckline of your dress plunging lower. A hand was now resting on his forearm, gripping it tighter as you laughed at something stupid he said.

“You’re so stupid!” You’re laughing far too loudly but you’re too tipsy to care. Toji’s prolonged absence had irked you enough that you didn’t care who saw you cozying up to this new guy; you wished someone had the nerve to say something to you, or better yet go right to him and tell him that his little minx had her eyes on a new prize.

“I’m tellin’ ya it’s the truth!” Gojo laughs right back, stretching out his long arms and putting one around the side of your seat, caging you in even more. Giggling at the absurdity of what he just said, your gaze snakes out across the club, out past the intimate little space you’re in.

Toji is sitting right at a VIP table a few feet away, his jaw cocked to the side and a pissed off look in his eyes. When you make eye contact, you giggle again and blow him a kiss, turning back to Gojo and putting a hand high on his shoulder, nearly wrapping it around his neck as you laugh extra loud in spite.

“How’s the liquor treating you, baby?” Gojo asks, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. The sound of his voice calling you that name doesn’t hit the same as with Toji, but you let it slide.

“Just fine.” You croon, fixing Gojo with your best smile and making his already pink cheeks flush a little deeper. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Toji sit up a little straighter and his sleeves have been pushed up to his elbows, baring his flexed forearms.

Looking directly at Toji, your fingers slid up the back of Gojos neck, finding the hair at his nape and twirling it between your fingers. Scraping your nails lightly against his neck, you’re not listening at all to what he’s saying now. An excited ripple runs through you, settling in your stomach as Toji stands up.

“Alright, funs over.” He huffs, yanking your hand off Gojo and pushing him away from you.

“What the fuck!” Gojo shouts, clearly startled by the sudden intrusion.

“Look who decided to show up.” You quip, pulling your hand from his grasp and waving over the bartender. “I’ll have another, thanks.”

“Get lost pal.” Gojo attempts to push Toji away but the man doesn’t budge. He tries to grab your wrist again but Gojo stops him, grabbing onto his arm tightly. “Hey, don’t touch-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Toji grunts, glaring harshly at Gojo. “Don’t get involved with shit you don’t know about.” You have to bite back a giggle behind your drink as Gojos mouth hangs open slightly. Grabbing your shoulder, Toji gets you to turn halfway to him. “You’ve had your fun, lets go.”

“Mmmm…” Tapping your chin, you pretend to think it over. “No thanks.” You can practically see his blood boiling, even more so when you put a hand on Gojo’s knee.

“You really want to play this game, baby?” Cocking his head to the side, Toji fixes you with an intense look. He’s pissed at how flirtatious you’ve been, but you know he loves it - otherwise there wouldn’t be the slight uptick to his mouth.

You get to take one sip from your drink before it’s taken out of your hand and you’re pulled from the bar stool. Toji has a tight grip on your wrist, almost enough to hurt as he drags you away from the bar.

Pulling you back up the stairs, he takes you to a side hallway and into a room tucked away, quickly locking the door behind him.

“Just can’t fucking help yourself, huh?” Toji barks when the door closes, pushing you into the room. It’s a decent sized office with two small plush couches facing each other, an opulent circular coffee table in the middle.

“I was bored, you took too long.” Pouting on one of the couches, you cross your arms under your breasts and push them up, looking away dramatically as Toji sits down next to you with his legs spread wide.

“S’not my fault, baby. Daddy had to take care of some business.” Throwing an arm over the back of the couch, he tugged you closer. “I’m all yours now.”

“Hm.” Still not done with your act, you kept your body turned away from him.

“You really gonna act like a brat right now?” He hums, curling his fingers around your upper arm. “I’d hate to smear that pretty makeup when I start spanking you.” As he speaks, he hauls you over his body, seating your ass right in his lap and giving your thigh a harsh spank. “But maybe you’d like that, huh?”

“Daddy!” Throwing your head back against his shoulder, you whine loudly, rubbing your ass into him. “You promised not to do that anymore!”

“Yeah and you promised to be a good girl.” Tilting his head to the side, Toji smirked at you. “Seems you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, quickly moving to straddle his lap. Spreading your legs wide, your dress rides up, revealing the special thong you’d worn to go with this dress. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you give Toji a quick peck.

He chuckles against your lips, hands sliding down your back to grab your ass firmly, holding you tightly against him. His fingers dig into your flesh, grazing the fabric of the thong and hooking it under his fingers.

“You know I love it when you wear this.” Toji hums, toying with the fabric. You giggle coyly, kissing his jaw and wiggling your hips in his hands. A low growl comes from his chest as Toji descends onto you, latching his lips onto your neck and kissing you roughly.

“Daddy!” Your fingers tug at his hair as his teeth sink into your neck. You moan loudly, tugging his hair again when he smacks your ass.

“Fucking brat.” He snarls, licking the teeth marks he’d left in you and smacking you again. “Love to get me all riled up huh?” Grinding you on his lap, Toji trails kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

Moaning in his ear, you nod drunkenly. Your fingers fumble to grab the collar of his shirt and unbutton it, eager to feel his skin underneath. Just as you get one button undone, Toji snatches your hands away.

“Who said you get to touch me?”

“Please, daddy.” You pout, trying in vain to get your hands free. “Wanna feel you so bad.”

“What about that chump at the bar? You seemed pretty happy touching him.”

“No, I don’t want him, I want you!” Bouncing on his lap, the alcohol was clouding your senses, making you way more desperate way faster than normal. “Just wanted you to pay attention to me.”

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” Toji chuckles, letting your hands go and helping you unbutton his shirt. Pushing his shirt off his shoulders, your hands greedily felt up his body, diving down to give a few kisses to his neck and chest.

“Love you daddy.” Your words are slurred, fingers already dipping down to his lower stomach.

“Fuck yeah you do.” He shivered, pushing you away slightly and digging in his pocket. “Bet you’ll love me even more with this.” In his fingers is a small baggie of white powder that you’re all too familiar with. Dipping his finger into it, Toji holds it under your nose and you sniff it up obediently.

“Thank you daddy.” As the drug begins to take effect, you smile stupid at Toji, dragging your nail across the edge of his lip and along his scar.

“Don’t ever say your daddy ain’t spoiling you rotten.” Taking a hit for himself, Toji throws his head and back and grunts, rocking you in his lap. “Completely fucking rotten.”

#jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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unintentional-edgelord · 2 years ago

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Okay last one I swear (for now that is hahaha, Ashe has an outfit but I haven't worked out the colour scheme)

Introducing the dudes! Minus Siarnaq and Thetis because I kiiiiinda forgot to add them/didn't have outfit ideas for them.

Info on their outfits and individual pics in the read more below!

Absolute fashion disaster/frat boy Vent! I like the idea that he's technically the powerful/manly of the heroes and I thought a letterman jacket would invoke those kinda "American Superhero" vibes. Having said that though, the top underneath is actually a sleeveless crop top paired with high gloves. Vent is also absolutely shredded and that crop top/glove combo is deliberate on his part to show that off. He likes having fun with fashion!

Puts a fair bit of effort into his hair, hence the bun, and threaded through it in pink are little neon bits that glow in the dark! I imagine they're very common in 24XX as part of clubbing getup.

Poor Aeolus who is regretting his life choices right now; the other guys absolutely messed up his hair and popped his jacket collar.

His shirt is silk and has gold thread all woven throughout (I wish I had a thinner pen for that detail work!) and he's That Bitch™ who decided a frock coat was appropriate dancing garb. In his defence, he's a classically trained dancer and thought they'd miraculously gained a sense of class/style and decided to invite him out to an evening of "proper" dancing. Ie, with a waltz and a roulette of partners involved. Poor guy was quite disappointed!

As a note, he's also albino and legally blind in one eye (hence his fringe to cover it, he's a little vain!) and his eyesight isn't fantastic, hence the pince-nez style glasses. Ironically enough though, he's got the sharpest eyeliner of the entire group.

That jacket was an utter nightmare to colour

Grey is just so happy to be here! Look at him, it's his first dude's night out!

But if his outfit looks familiar, it's because it was intentionally designed as a homage to Nero from DMCV. I think it looks good on him! So distressed denim jacket and a lovely comfy mahogany jumper underneath; cool, casual and ssstylish!

Having said that - there's little touches from the other Megamen in there. Aile lent him the necklace that she got from Giro as a good-luck/"come back safe and give it back" charm, so he and Vent are symbolically bros here, and the vaguely skull-shaped earrings he has on are a loan from Prometheus. Additionally, both Prometheus and Pandora argued over who got to do his eyeliner.

Pandora won.

And then there's this bitch.

Absolute delinquent/greaser/biker vibes for Prometheus with his leather jacket; there's a cape-like bit at the back with a massive flame decal on it that he stuck in himself (I'll have to do a sketch of the jackets' back) and his turtleneck has silver thread to give it a chainmail like appearance. His sword earrings are based off of an actual pair I've seen in a shop, and the bright red eyeliner is something he wears to make his eyes pop and stand out under the bright colour of his hair.

The thing about Prometheus is, he's actually very vain and also took the time out to shape his eyebrows prior to going out; dude spent a million years fixing his eyeliner, picking an outfit, and meticulously messing up his hair.

The outfit may also look a little familiar, and that's because it takes some cues from @dumpsterfirepropaganda 's version of Prometheus from the absolutely delightful "It's That Damn Fluorescence," wherein he has the vibes of an "80's Greaser Vampire."

Pretty fitting imo!

This turned more into an analysis of the fashion and why they all dressed like this haha, but enjoy anyways!

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lobakmerahs · 4 years ago

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Morning Breeze

Summary: A morning routine that Levi and reader go through before they start off their day.

Warning: none, except for some spelling or grammatical errors if I may put some.

A/N: This is my very very very first one shot that I have ever written in my entire existence in this world lol, this scene that I wrote had been in my head for days so I had to pour it out, not that I’m complaining though. Oh and I suck at giving title, welpp sorry hehe. Whoever stumble upon this post, I hope you enjoy reading it and I apologize if it is too boring or detailed. Thank you, for reading anyway :)

You are laying on the bed while facing the window as you watch the sky starts to change colour and the sun starts to rise slowly, having the sunshine creeping through the window and travelling through the translucent curtain of your bedroom. The atmosphere is so calming, it fills your heart with calmness.

You turn your body around slowly and carefully not to wake up your bedmate that has his muscular arm hugging your waist. You wish your little shiftment won’t wake him up since you know how hard it was for him to get such a decent sleep. As you fully faced him, you indulge into his sleeping features, his steady breathing and his peaceful sleeping face. He looks so calm in his sleep and you sincerely pray in your heart that his insomnia would slowly be recovered because there is nothing else that you wish for him except his well-being.

What felt like a few peaceful moments, probably sensing that someone is staring at him or probably due to the room that has gotten brighter from the sunshine, Levi slowly opens his eyes, to land his soft gaze at you, breaks a lazy smile before pulling you tighter to his warm sturdy body and closes back his eyes. You return the hug gratefully and inhale his body scent that smells just as fresh as the morning breeze, you feel your heartbeat synchronizes with his and feel beyond happy to be able to just wake up in the morning to him being alive, well and completely yours.

Not long after the hug, you move back a bit, creating a distance between the both of you and continue staring at him in awe. Presumably feeling a bit embarassed with your stupidly adorable stare, he moves his hand that was on your waist, to your eyes as an attempt to cover them from keep staring at him. You giggled and took his hand to place them back to your waist. You then bury your hand into his hair. His dark hair was thick and soft, you played with it and tucked some of his long strands behind his ear. Then, you moved your fingers to his wide forehead, thumbs rubbing circle on his forehead which made Levi hums in relaxation, for someone who is as touch starved as Levi, having you to touch him like that feels so good that he is almost sure that he’s still dreaming. Slowly, you drive your pointing fingers to his long and sleek eyebrows that frame his eyes perfectly.

You recalled how his eyebrows were always either furrowed with worries or twitched with annoyance when he was awake. From the eyebrows, you move your finger to touch his eyelids carefully. Under those eyelids laid a pair of eyes that was always stare intensely at people which made those who was in his sight shivered uncomfortably, but you are always exceptional from it, always receiving a look that shines with care. Moving on from the eyelids, your finger travels to his short but compact eyelashes and to his dark circles under his eyes. You notice that Levi's dark circles are not as prominent as they were before he declared you his, probably effected by your sleepyhead that he was able to get more sleep when he was with you than he ever was in his entire life. Meanwhile, Levi stays quiet and calm as if he is sinking into your smooth touches on his face, feeling grateful with how you appreciated his facial features. Gently, you laid your hand on his cheek, his skin was just as soft as silk as you rubbed circles on it in a loving manner. Then, you traced his sharp jawline using your pointing and middle finger, his jawline was one of your favorite spots on his face for you to kiss.

“Ouch,” you suddenly said and looked at your two fingers with furrowed eyebrows as if you were really in pain. Your voice made Levi’s eyes shot opened and you could see his eyes were gleamed with worries.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your jawline is so sharp....... It cuts my fingers.” You said slowly and showed him your fingers that were totally fine and perfect, you spoiled little bratty brat. You couldn’t tell whether he wanted to smile at you or glare at you both for the same reasons. Yet he chooses to take your fingers to his lips, kisses them and places them back on his jawline expecting you to continue your little morning adventure on his face which you certainly do. Levi decides to keep his eyes opened on you to drink in his morning view as his heart swells with love and affection for you. Your long, thick and wavy hair with just the perfect amount of mess from your sleep spreads across your pillow, your face is the definition of serenity and what boosts his pride even more is how focused you are on him as you are appreciating every single detail and every inch of his face much to his pleasure.

You move you fingers slowly, touching his jawline and move to his sharp chin. You are holding his chin with your thumb and pointing finger, while caressing it with your thumb. From there, you gently move your thumbs upwards, to rest it on his lips. His lips are plump, soft and in the perfect shade that contribute to his masculine features. His lips though rarely crack a smile, yet still are able to warm your heart with his love through his soft kisses as well as his comforting words that are delivered in his deep husky voice. Then you use your pointing finger to run it along his pointed nose, to both sides of his nose and stopped at his nose bridge. As you leave feathery touches on his nose, you remembered how he always buries his nose into your hair to inhale the smell of your hair, one of his favorite scents as he always claims.

You held his nose with your thumb and pointing finger, then.....

"BloOop bLoOopP bloOoOopPp," you make that weird sound while pinching and releasing his nose alternatively with your two fingers before you crack a small giggle and look at Levi to find his reaction.

Levi smiles helplessly at you before lets out a small, deep chuckle using his husky yet sexy morning voice that successfully brought butterflies to your stomach.

"Weird brat." He finally spoke.

"Your weird brat." You corrected him.

"Hell yeah. My weird brat, mine, forever."

~🌞

You were tucking your shirt into your pants while standing in front of a long mirror when you saw Levi was buttoning his grey crisp shirt.

"Levi, wait---". You suddenly said which caused him to stop and looked at you in confusion, you were two buttons late anyway. So you walked towards him, hands reaching to his half exposed body, showing off his sturdy front since you stopped him from buttoning his shirt.

"Did you forget...? I want to do it." You firmly said and grabbed his shirt to continue sealing his body while he rested his chin on your head. It is your favorite routine among many others, to help each other getting ready every morning because both of you are always busy and the moments before you both start to work are always precious and they are always utilized to the maximum. Once done, you grab his wrist and walk to the chest drawer that is located beside the mirror, you take his cravat and carefully tie it on his neck just the way he likes it. Levi obliges obediently and watches attentively as you work your fingers on his cravat while he twirles his fingers to your long strands. As you are done with his cravat, you help him putting on the leather strap of his ODM gear as well as his light brown cropped jacket that proudly displayed the Wings of Freedom.

Once Levi has done getting ready with his uniform thanks a lot to your loving help, he feels like it is his turn to return the favor. He notices that you are fully dressed now, in your crisp shirt, same type like his but in your favorite colour, black trousers and knee high boot, but you haven't worn your cropped jacket and haven't done your hair as it is still covering half your clothed body. So he takes the hair comb that was on top of the chest drawer and grabs your wrist to stand in front of the mirror while he stands behind you. Then, he starts to comb your hair as gently as his can to avoid causing you pain from your tangled hair.

"Let me do your hair today, Y/N." He says as he brushes your hair. You always style your hair in a hairbun since one, it was your favorite hair style, two, it was easy and fast but only if you'd practiced enough though, and three, because it would keep your hair away from your face so it wouldn't disturb you from your work. But, Levi has never actually done it himself although he enjoys watching you with your hair routine.

"Levi, are you sure? You've never done it before though." You ask while feeling partially worried about the outcome and partially grateful for his simple gesture of showing affection also knowing how he loved your hair just as much as you did.

"Tch, nothing to worry about. I've seen you done it countless time and it looks pretty easy to me." You smile upon hearing his answer and your smile grows wider since you can tell that it won't be the perfect hairbun that you always style just from the feeling of Levi's tough hands twirling your hair to the way he brings it to your head. Nevertheless, you wait patiently for the result. You felt hair pins being inserted into your hair and fingers mindlessly touching here and there around your head.

"Done." Levi said, the slight hesitant wavering in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by your sharp ears.

You look with excitement at your so-called hairbun that was made with care and love by none other than the love of your life, Levi Ackermann, humanity's strongest soldier and you bite your lower lip so hard to stifle your laugh that your body shakes. But since you feel worried that you might bleed your lip from biting too hard, you let out your controlled laugh.

"Levi........ That's a bird nest!" You exclaimed, pointing at the reflection of yourself in the mirror, precisely to the hairbun and proceeded to cover your mouth while you are laughing. Levi can’t help but smile at your laughter probably because his silliness for being so confident with his hairstyling skill was received as a source of happiness to you which is also to him eventually and the fact that he effortlessly makes you laugh without even needs to crack a dark humour as well. Most importantly, both of you got up early that morning and didn't delay on getting yourselves ready, so both of you are not in a hurry at the moment, so you can mess around with each other while not having to worry about being late.

"Let me try again. I'll get it right this time." Levi sounds eager to try for his second attempt which you just nod with a huge beam. This time, you guide him with clear and precise instructions of doing your hair bun, from rubbing the hair oil onto your hair, then hold your hair in the centre of the back of your head, twirling it slowly and bring it back to your while swirling it. Finally, you ask him to clip your hairbun by using your favorite hair claw clip - the one in the shape of a butterfly coated with your favorite colour, it’s one Levi bought for you on your birthday knowing the obsession that you had for hair accessories. He proceeds to clip your hair carefully and takes a step back when he has done.

Hairbun? Done.

"Perfect." You stare in awe as he releases his hands from your hair, his furrowed eyebrows due to his extreme focus on your hairstyle seem to relax upon hearing your word. He smiles in relief to you through the reflection in the mirror.

"Thank you, Levi. You finally made it," you say wholeheartedly and grin at him. Then you turn around to face him and planted a quick peck on his nose when he seems like he has been waiting for his reward.

"Not enough, one more." He demanded with one arm strongly held your waist-not wanting to let you go, greedy old man. Then you place a few more kisses across his face before he helps you with your cropped Survey Corp's jacket and both of you head to the door together to begin you and Levi's day as the soldier, serving humanity.

Levi opens the door for you, which you walk out with a soft pat on his chest as a sign of gratitude. Both of you walk side by side towards the mess hall to have breakfast while sharing each other’s schedule for the day as well as the works that need to be done. That is how the mornings goes for today, tomorrow or any other day, a morning that starts off with full of gratefulness, love and care for each other in hope that the love that you both shared remain fresh as the morning breeze.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #attack on titan fic #aot fic #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot anime #levi ackermann #levi aot #levi ackermann x reader #levi x reader #levi ackermann fic #levi ackermann imagines #survey corps #levi ackerman

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writteninsunshine · 2 years ago

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Cut From The Same Cloth - Michael/Firkle Smith - SFWish

Title: Cut From The Same Cloth

Author: Keith

Fandom: South Park

Setting: Unspecified Fashion Show

Pairing: Michael/Firkle Smith

Characters: Michael, Firkle Smith

Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 828

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Part Four of the Writer’s Month 2022 Collection

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Age Gaps, 10 Year Age Gap, Michael is 29, Firkle is 19

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything!

Summary: Michael's business was taking off, and he owed it all to his perfect muse.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! I just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a writing Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Tumblr/Twitter!

I’m trying to do Writer’s Month this month and to keep myself working on these to get all of them done hopefully, I’m going to aim for 500 words or less.

This particular fic is heavily based off of my husband’s (punkocalypse) portrayal of Michael! I really wanted to play with this, though I’m not super confident in my ability to describe clothes very well. Hopefully I can bang something out that makes sense.

Smaller warnings for: CGL Mention, and various dark, poetic expressions of love. They’re both afraid to say the ‘L’ word but they still love each other very much.

Writer’s Month Fic Masterlist

Cut From The Same Cloth

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Firkle sat in silence as his hair was styled for him, he sat in silence through the makeup process, even if he was unsure of the vast coverage of his eyeshadow. When the black and purple spiderweb was added to the corners of his eyes and trailed down his cheeks, he couldn’t help but harken back to his emo phase. But Michael knew what he liked and looked good in, even if he’d never done it before, so he trusted his lover’s artistic vision.

The black hooded cropped jacket barely covered his pierced collarbones, and the half-sleeves were attached to it by a thin belt in the back. They were belted down the sides with shiny purple rivets and D-rings, matching the halo made on the hood and down the shoulders. Two thick, dark purple chains glinting in the light swooped down his stomach and hooked around his hips to connect again in the back. They bared the harness beneath the jacket and over the white spiderwebbed fishnet shirt beneath it, over the shimmering purple skeletal hands made of silk grasping his chest.

The straps of the harness zigzagged tight on his sides, connecting with the two O-rings in the middle. Another belt just above his navel dripped four more leather bands down his thighs, front and back, attached to rings of lace and leather around his thighs. They disappeared beneath the purple peek-a-boo lace skirt dragging halfway down his thighs in yet another spiderweb pattern, over the crushed velvet hotpants he wore for his modesty.

Boots crawled up his thin legs, the heels behind the platforms carved to perfection in the shape of a spinal cord. Skulls missing the mandible adorned the counter above them, and the whole shoe faded from a dingy white to a stained, dark brown at the base of the platform.

Each piece had been designed with Firkle in mind, from his head to his toes, his makeup to his black to purple faded nail polish, and Michael had spared no expense. Firkle was his perfect muse, the creature he could return to for inspiration if his creativity was stopped up, and this entire collection was made with him sitting in the forefront of Michael’s brain. Granted, he couldn’t model all of them, and Firkle had protested being a model in the first place. Michael had eventually gotten him to agree, showing him the pinnacle of the collection that caught his eye, much like he’d thought it would.

It blended them both together, spiders, human remains, bones, and Firkle’s unique style, his color palette, even. Michael always knew what Firkle needed, what he wanted, and it was intensely important to him to make it happen. Firkle was his other half, the extra limbs that made them a two-headed arachnid, the large, unblinking oceanic eyes that brought the world into the darkness. Their connection was too strong, too deep; A successful removal of either from the other would probably kill them both.

As Firkle started his easy walk towards the stage, a familiar, large, spidery hand gripped his wrist and tugged him to a stop. Instead of pulling his younger lover in harshly, as he was prone to do, Michael was careful with his movements, like trying to preserve dragonfly wings. His hold was gentle, and he was conscientious of every crease in his clothes, and watchful of his makeup when he kissed those purple-stained lips.

“You look radiant…” Michael whispered against his mouth, “I knew you would, but I didn’t expect to be so breathless.”

“Will I snatch your breath like a cat, then? Preferably while you sleep, a benign asphyxiation?” Firkle smirked for but a second before it disappeared again and he closed his eyes, “I’ve never done this before. Modeling. I still don’t know why you wanted me to star in this.”

There were certainly models that had been doing this longer than he had, that would know what they were doing.

“Because, baby, Daddy made this for you.” Michael’s thumb grazed over Firkle’s cheek gently, only smearing a few of the darker threads just a smidgen. He always did love when Firkle was a bit of a mess, “And I did a damn good job.”

“I’ve never met a spider that spun a better, more beautiful web.” Firkle’s captive smile returned for a second before he turned to look over his shoulder when the music started, “I…” He sighed, slumping forward just slightly, “That’s my cue, I guess.”

Michael took hold of his hand once more, pressed his lips to Firkle’s cheek, and turned him in a slow half pirouette. Smacking Firkle’s ass playfully as he let go of his hand and the younger began to saunter away, Michael offered a lopsided smirk as Firkle turned to look at him with an amused snort.

“Break a leg, preferably someone else’s.” Michael cooed, watching him go before exiting the back rooms to take his seat up front to watch the show.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: I have been having so much fun with these little prompts, I’m hardly getting anything else done. Expect a big influx in writing from me, though, I’m hoping to at least do ten if not the whole thing. I hope you all enjoyed it!

Prompt: setting: fashion world

#South Park Fanfic #South Park Fanfiction #Writersmonth2022 #Michael x Firkle Smith #South Park Goth Kids #cw age gaps

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shadow--writer · 4 years ago

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And I'm Gonna go There Free, Like the Fool I am and I'll Always be

How chaotic can one Shade with the ability to word get? just learned to do a fancy thing too look at me go

The answer is very. Will I make a series after this? Who knows it’s very tempting. God I should make a post about this au as well lol. I pounded this out in one sitting btw. (song btw).

--Maeve x Lucas (WITH some Amani x Zora in there too bitches look at me)--Modern au but not fight club lol my own kinda modern au-ish--4.2k words holy shit--

TW: none!

Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, tHEY ARE SO CUTE OMFG, Amani is a shithead, good lord I hope I got Zora’s character right, dancing, how much domestic fluff can I fit into one fic, FRIENDSHIP, dorks in love

In which dance lessons take a...different turn. Also Amani breaks into Maeve’s apartment and steals a barstool.

@mineshaft-birdie @dela-png

The day was a slow one. It was midafternoon and they had just finished up spring cleaning.

She swayed her hips, humming along to the music playing. Lucas watched her from his spot on the couch, his off tune hum making her smile. She arched her back, leaning back with another sway. Her fingertips brushed the floor before she brought herself back up to her feet.

He clapped making her giggle. “Amazing,” he said, a smile clear in just the tone of his voice.

“I can teach you, you know,” she said, looking back at him. He held out a hand for her to grab, leading her to sit down on his lap. She straddled his hips, tucking her feet under his thighs. “How to dance, I mean,” she said, kissing his cheek.

“You’ve seen me dance.”

“Exactly. You’ve seen me cook and yet you still try to help me. I want to do something for you in return.”

“Like teach me to dance?”

She leaned back, smiling. “Yeah! It’s fun. It’s great to let off steam, and it’s quite a workout. Besides I just...want to see you dance.”

“...I look like a dead fish a little kid is playing with.”

“Whoa that was specific.”

“...mmmmhm.”

She snorted, kissing the tip of his nose. She was not going to ask.

She pushed up off his lap, shrugging her jacket off. He let out a low whistle, making her laugh as she tossed the jacket aside.

“Didn’t know it would be this kind of dancing.”

“Oh hush.” She shot him a look over her shoulder, throwing her hair up into a messy ponytail. “Can you help me move our furniture? Unless you want to move to my studio?” Her aerial silks studio. Only reason she bought this apartment.

That and the nice view (along with walking distance to work but shush).

“...I might wreck your TV.”

“Studio it is then. If you want to get changed that’d be good too. Jeans aren’t uhh...the best to learn a dance in.”

He let out a low sigh before getting to his feet. “Studio?”

“Yeah I just need to clean it up a little.”

“...you’re not gonna back down from this, are you?”

“Nope! Now go change.” He ruffled her hair against her protests, steps heavy as he walked to their bedroom. “The shirt is optional!” she called after him.

He snorted, yelling back. “So is yours!”

She bit her lower lip to keep from grinning, fixing her ponytail. She grabbed her phone, going over into the studio to pin up her silks. On her way she picked up a little green box from the table in the hall. That same table Lucas kept bumping his legs against.

She giggled at the thought, feeling nerves and butterflies flutter in her stomach as she looked at the box. She told Amani about what she was planning to do and today felt...right.

Shoving it in her pocket she went to pin her silks up.

He walked into the studio by the time she was finishing pinning the last one. She knew he had walked in due to the laughter.

So yeah maybe she was on her tiptoes on a ladder.

Har de har har.

“You know if you needed help you could’ve just asked,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. She turned to look at him with a little huff, the ladder shaking under the abrupt movement.

“Well I’m sorry I was cursed with being short.”

“You sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m doing just fine thank you,” she sniffed, turning back around. She finished pinning the last silk, climbing down and putting the ladder back where it was. Smoothing down the front of her crop top she turned to look at him.

“Okay now. That’s done, we can get into it!”

“...hurray.”

“Oh come on a little more pep please.”

“...hurray?”

“....that’ll have to do for now. Now where do you want to start?”

“Something easy?”

“...hmm wanna try mambo?”

“Is it easy?”

“Well not easy easy but it’s not that complicated. We can start with some of the simple movements, like the forward back step. If you’re feeling up for it I can also teach you how to dip.”

“Dip?”

She pursed her lips, walking back over to him. He had shed his jacket and opted for sweatpants. She was a little disappointed he still had his shirt on but she could wave it off. They both were in socks, making mambo a little harder but she was up for the challenge.

“Here I can show you…” she said, grabbing his hands. He just watched her as she shifted one of his hands up on her shoulder, the other on her upper arm. She did her best to keep her hands on his upper back, leading him into a small side shuffle to lead into the dip.

Keeping her body straight she shifted her weight into dipping him. His hands gripped her arm and shoulder, eyes widening.

Good gravy was he heavy.

“The hell are they feeding you?” she breathed.

He blinked before laughing. “Ouch firefly, that stings.”

She rolled her eyes, lifting him back up. She let out a little huff of air as he kissed her softly. After pulling away he stood upright. “So that’s a dip. Think you’d be up for learning it?”

“It doesn’t seem super hard.”

She brightened. “It really isn’t! When you do dip me though, don’t lean close, it hurts my back.”

“Ah! Gotcha.”

“For now it’s forward backward mambo steps!” She grinned a little, adjusting the ribbon in her hair. He stared at it for a moment, the deep blue bringing out the darkness of her hair. She smiled, grabbing his hands again.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked.

“Aislin bought it for me a while back. Haven’t had the chance to wear it.”

“It’s beautiful on you.”

“O-Oh,” she stuttered, her cheeks warming. She ducked her head a little, embarrassed. She still wasn’t used to his out of the blue compliments even after being with him for so long.

He coughed, squeezing her hands. “Dancing?”

“Yes! Right! Dancing!” she chirped, head snapping back up. Her brows were set with determination.

She was going to get him to dance well. She would or she’d die trying.

“So...where do we start?” he asked, just standing there awkwardly.

“Well first with foot movements. Then hand placements. Put it together. Forward and back are the easiest steps, but it gets harder with more complex hand movements and spins.”

He looked horrified, she quickly cut back in. “For now though, forward and back. After you learn to dip me maybe we can learn side to side.”

He nodded, a stubborn gleam sneaking into his eye.

“So first is how you move your feet.” She let go of his hands, moving to a spot in front of him. “We start on the second beat, and when we dance together we start on our right foot.”

She stepped forward on her right foot, brought it back to the middle with her left, back behind her, and finished by bringing it back to her left in the middle.

“Oh that...doesn’t seem all that bad.”

“When you move faster it gets a little tricky, but yeah! Not super complicated. When you add the hips in…” she repeated what she did, but swaying her hips side to side along with her arms. “Now you try it with me!”

His movements were a little jerky, and he kept overstepping the middle but…

“You’re doing great!” she said with a large grin, backing up to set up music on her phone. Soft riffs of a guitar played as she shuffled her playlist.

“Can we...try it together?” he asked, eyes lighting up at her praise. He held a hand out for her to take. She walked closer to him, his hand warm and all encompassing around hers.

“Sure. Arms.” He squeezed her hand once before letting it go and held his arms out. She lifted his left arm up, lacing their fingers together. She moved his other hand to the small of her back, resting her arm on top of his, not quite reaching his shoulders. One issue with a height difference was that dancing would be a pain.

“Like this?” he asked, fingers tapping on her back. She squirmed a little at the touch, making him smile.

“Yeah! But not as tense,” she said, starting them off. He fell into it pretty quickly, what she dubbed his ‘focused face’ coming back into play. She felt a dopey smile climb across her face as she looked at him.

When he got closer she shifted him back with a small glare. “Dance space, my love.” She let go of his arms to gesture. “This is mine.” She made a circle with her arms, he did the same. “That is yours.”

She grabbed his hands again. “No looking down,” she said with a giggle. “My eyes are up here. You can do this.”

They quickly fell into a rhythm, he was catching on quickly.

Then his arms got too loose. And he got very grabby, his hands traveling down south to her butt.

“Noodle arms!” she gasped, moving her arm from his shoulder to swat his hand. “No wandering hands!” He pretended to pout, falling back into the dance again.

He went in for a kiss, she moved her head so he got her chin and neck. His lips traveled down her neck as she squirmed, pushing at his chest with a laugh. “You are invading my dance space!”

She let go of him, pointing to her space again. “This is my dance space.” She pointed back to him. “That is yours. Let’s try it again.”

They went back to it for another moment, her eyes darting to her feet, before he tugged her closer, tilting her head up. “Don’t look down,” he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Look right at me.”

She snorted, stretching up on her toes to kiss his neck. “Hey now! Dance space!” he said with a laugh, pushing her back into position. His hair was escaping the little ponytail he had tied at the nape of his neck. She fought the urge to run her hands through it as it curled around his face in an adorable way.

After their laughter quelled they settled into the movements. His tongue peaked out from between his lips as he concentrated, brows furrowed. He was slowly getting the loose but structured part of the arms, them moving in sync.

Then ‘Toxic’ started blasting. She started humming along, lip syncing to it. He snorted, losing the rhythm a little as he watched her lose the mambo, moving her shoulders to the beat.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“Very much, but you’re still ridiculous.”

She arched her back away from his hands, spinning out of his grip, lip syncing but with passion. He laughed, moving back closer to her. She held and shook her head at ‘spinning round and round’ as he hooked his fingers through the belt loops of her pants.

“Do you feel me now?” she sang softly, smiling. He rolled his eyes once before kissing her. She giggled, swaying back and forth in his arms.

“What’s up bitches!” someone yelled from behind them. They jumped apart, Lucas yanking his hands out of her belt loops, her tripping over her own feet, face burning crimson. Toxic still merrily played behind them.

“Amani, you spooked them.”

“Good.”

Maeve spun to look at the intruders. Ah. Of course. Amani. Oh but Zora was with her. That was great. The only voice of reason in this fucking group had just broke into her house. Ah yes that bode well.

Maeve rubbed her temples before cracking an eye open. “How the fuck did you get into my- ...is that a barstool from my kitchen?”

“Yeah,” Amani replied with a shrug.

“...you just broke into my apartment, grabbed a stool from my kitchen, and brought it into the studio with you?”

“Well there’s no other fuckin places to sit in this studio besides the floor and I’m not an animal!”

“...yeah. Sure.”

“Maeve!” Amani gasped, offended.

“Well sweetheart, we did break into her apartment.”

“Not my fault she keeps the spare keys by her bed!”

“So that’s where they went!”

“...Zora I can’t believe you fed into this,” Lucas said once he got himself together from the embarrassment of being walked in on. “I thought you were the smart one.”

“Oh no I’m the one who acts smart but is the worst out of all of you.”

“WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?!”

Amani had set the stool down and was sitting on it the way a man on the subway would sit.

Aka Legs spread and looking like she was going to melt right off of it. Maeve could feel a headache coming on.

“Was bored,” Amani offered.

“...so you decided to commit a crime?”

“Yeah.”

“Amani I’m gonna need a better answer than that for I am three seconds away from throwing you out a window.”

“Ouch Maevey that hurts.”

“One...two.”

“Got bored and decided to say hi. ‘Sides I brought the keys back.”

Maeve turned to look at Zora. Not the answer she wanted but it would do. “And you. What is your excuse?”

“Amani dragged me along. I was also bored.”

She turned to look at Lucas. “So these are the people we surround ourselves with?”

“Apparently.”

“Look without us you two would’ve been gettin it on in the studio. Woulda made a mess,” Amani cut it. Maeve felt her ears go red.

“We were not,” she sputtered. “I was teaching him to dance!”

“...uh huh.”

“That’s it!”

“It’s true! She’s teaching me mambo.”

“...can he actually dance it though?”

“Amani I’m hurt by that statement.”

“Well can he?”

“We’re learning forward backward steps Amani. He can’t mess those up.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Amani I thought we were friends!”

“Exactly.”

“Amani!”

Maeve snorted, looking over at Zora who was trying not to laugh. “Bored you say?”

“Well that and Amani just wanted to see you two.”

“...see us?” Lucas asked. “Why?”

“Uhh to congratulate the happy couple on their engagement, duh.”

“Amani!” Zora hissed, gesturing to both of their very empty ring fingers. Amani didn’t see her girlfriend’s increasingly panicked hand movements.

Maeve felt her heart stop and sink straight into her feet. All the colour drained from her and Lucas’s faces.

“...engagement?” Lucas peeped.

Amani watched their reactions, face growing more confused. “What? You did ask her, didn’t you?”

“...no.”

Amani’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Oh SHIT.”

Zora smacked her forehead. “Oy vey,” she muttered. “Amani, baby, I love you but-”

Maeve didn’t hear the rest of her sentence, she only turned to look at Lucas. He still looked broken, she swore she could hear dial up streaming from his ears.

“Darling?” she asked softly. He turned to look at her, cheeks reddening.

“I have something to tell you,” they both sputtered at the same time.

She blinked. “You first.” Again said at the same time.

“No you,” she said.

“No no, yours sounds important.”

The box in her pocket grew heavier with every heartbeat. God damnit Amani.

“Well I...um,” she looked away, fidgeting. She never really felt nervous like this but...it was a big moment.

She turned to shoot a low glare at Amani who only offered up a small nervous smile. God fucking damnit.

“Well I was planning on doing this while we were alone,” she huffed, looking back at Lucas. She shoved her hand in her pocket, trying to fight the stutter out of her voice. “But apparently we had two guests coming over.”

“Just get it over with- OW!”

She looked just in time to see Zora elbow Amani in the side. Amani muttered bitterly about how that ‘fuckin hurt’. Zora only shot Maeve a smile and a thumbs up.

While she appreciated the sentiment…

She looked back at her boyfriend, letting out a low sigh. “I love you.”

“...uh oh.”

“Oh hush you.” He chuckled. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. “Fuck, I love you,” she whispered. He blinked, almost shell shocked. “I want to marry you,” she blurted out.

“Yeah I love you- w-what?!”

She pursed her lips, letting out a little sigh. “Goddess I’m no good with words. Sometimes I wonder how I even got to date you. I’m blunt and mean and rude and vulgar but…” she dragged the box out of her pocket. “I managed to fall in love with a dumbass and a dork so it isn’t all that bad, right?”

“Maeve?”

“Holy fuck Lucas she’s asking you to spend the rest of your lives together!” Amani yelled from where she was sitting.

No yelp, in fact Zora was nodding. The look Maeve shot her said all she needed to know. “What? Ami isn’t wrong.”

“You two are the worst,” Maeve groused.

“You want to...marry me?” Lucas finally let out.

She opened the box she was holding, rolling her eyes with a little smile. “Well yeah. After I kill Amani.”

“HEY!”

The ring itself was simple. It was only an engagement ring after all. Her grandfather made it a while back when she brought up the whole ‘getting married’ thing (he talked her ear off too. Her phone bill spiked). It was a silver band with a deep green stripe running through the middle. The green shimmered into something lighter when she moved it.

“That’s funny,” he said, hand disappearing into the void that was his sweatpants’ pocket. He could shove both her and his hand in that thing. Of course she was jealous of it.

He pulled out a ring. Not just any ring but her mother’s wedding ring.

She felt tears well in her eyes. She had told him about it a while back when they first started dating. She didn’t know he remembered. The ring was a simple small silver band. It was braided into a celtic knot with a little turquoise at the top where the knots met.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.” He shot her a lopsided grin, her heart skipped a beat. “I uhh...I’m also no good with words but I love you, firefly. Of course I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I fucking love you giant.”

“There she is. I was getting worried with all your sappy talk.”

“Oh shut up,” she laughed.

“But I didn’t get an answer.”

“Neither did I.”

“Well mine is ‘of fucking course’.”

“Hey you stole my answer!”

He chuckled as she slid the ring onto his hand. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. My answer is yes.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“You stole what I was gonna say.”

He laughed again, kissing her knuckles as he slipped the ring onto her finger. “You love me.”

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t.”

“FUCKIN FINALLY!”

“Amani you’re the one that almost ruined it.” “I DON’T CARE!”

A little sigh. “Sometimes I wonder why I love you so much.”

“For my stellar personality obviously.”

Zora giggled, Maeve turned in time to see her plant a kiss on Amani’s cheek. “That and just because I love you.”

“I cannot believe Amani almost ruined this,” Lucas muttered. She turned back to him, laughing as she got closer. She grabbed his left hand with hers, liking how their rings glittered when they moved. He ran his thumb along her knuckles, pausing at the jewelry.

She lifted her head up, him leaning down to kiss her.

Then Amani started screeching like an alarm. “THIS IS THE PURITY UNTIL YOUR WEDDING NIGHT ALARM. No handholding of any kind.”

Maeve giggled, joining in on the tomfoolery. Lucas sighed. “No need to worry, I am pure. We haven’t even shared a kiss.”

Oh yeah they all knew that was a fucking lie.

“Oh? Not one kiss?” Lucas asked, grinning.

“Nope. My lips are innocent. Saving them for my wedding.”

He bent down close, surprising her with an open mouth kiss. She let out a little squeak as his tongue tapped her teeth once before he pulled away. “That good enough for a first kiss?”

“Well it was supposed to be on my wedding night but…” she smiled, fiddling with the ring on her finger. “It’ll do.”

Amani let out a dramatic gag. “You two are disgusting.”

“Imagine what they’d be doing if we weren’t here,” Zora said, love clear in her tone.

Amani gasped. “You’re right! Defiling the name of marriage I say!”

“Oh like the two of you are any better,” Maeve shot back. “Do I have to recount the amount of times I’ve caught you two in the storage closet at the pub?”

Zora chuckled. “Well you and Lucas in the pantry aren’t any better.”

“Let’sjustcutitandsayifanyofuswerecaughtbyourbossatworkwe’dbefired,” Lucas sputtered out, face going red.

“Aww, but baby I thought you liked the thrill,” Maeve cooed.

He shot her a low glare. Amani cackled. “Degenerates!” she yelled.

“Amani, my love, my sweetness. Pot. Calling. Kettle. Black,” Zora said.

Amani gasped, melting completely off the stool. “My own girlfriend! Betraying me! Oh woe is me! The agony!”

They all giggled at Amani’s actions, she and Lucas scooting closer together. He wrapped his arms around her waist, swaying back and forth. The music and dancing lessons were long forgotten.

“How about we go out for dinner tonight,” Maeve offered.

“What? Like a double date?” Amani asked from her spot on the floor. Zora was laughing too hard to help her up.

“Hmm...no. More like a party!”

Amani’s eyes lit up. “HELL YEAH A PARTY! We gonna get smashed and cause chaos?”

“...well sure.”

“Fuck YEAH!”

“...you are making my life so much harder,” Zora sighed, smiling. She looked back at Maeve again. “Who knew a pip squeak like you could hold your liquor so well.”

“I am not that short!”

“I will beat you at one of those games Maevey!”

“Maeve, you are the shortest out of all of us. You look like a kid.”

Maeve pouted. “Yeah I can still drink you all under the table. Yes even you Amani Ms. ‘can’t-play-guitar-sober-but-somehow-can-drunk’.”

“OH SHUDDUP!”

Lucas laughed, squeezing Maeve’s hip before going over to squat by Amani.

Zora walked over to the now abandoned Maeve. “Well...how are you feeling?”

“Like I’m gonna wake up any second?”

“That’s fair.”

“You think you and Amani will do this?”

“What?”

“Get married.”

Zora’s eyes remained on Lucas now crying about how gravity was increasing on him. Amani let out a squeal as he fell on top of her.

“Well...maybe. I haven’t thought that far. I love Ami but who knows where our future lies.”

“A wedding with you two would be pretty chaotic.”

“Oh yes definitely. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“LUCAS GET OFF ‘O ME YA SEMI TRUCK!”

“Amani that hurts my feelings!”

“GET OFF!”

“For that comment? No!”

Maeve and Zora giggled. “I am happy for you and Lucas. Sorry Amani almost ruined it, don’t think she realized.”

“Oh no I’m more mad about the fact you two broke into my apartment again. You should just take the key.”

“...you sure about giving us the key?”

Maeve sighed. “You’re gonna take it anyways. I can just get another spare made.”

“Amani is gonna take that as an invitation to come over as often as she can.”

“Good to know. My room locks will be changed.”

Zora snorted. “Once again, congrats. Sorry you had to do that infront of us.”

“Remind me to strangle Amani later.”

“...mmm fine but don’t wreck her pretty face.”

“Noted.”

“When are we gonna go! I wanna party!” Amani whined from where she weaseled out from underneath Lucas.

“You do realize this is a celebration of mine and Maeve’s engagement right?”

“Yeah it’s also an excuse to tell embarrassing stories.”

“...oh no.”

Maeve perked up. “Oho? Stuff I don’t know? Let’s go.”

“First we’re gonna give you a makeover,” Amani said, walking over to drag Maeve out of the studio.

Zora untied her blue ribbon, handing it over to Lucas. “Milady’s token of her affection,” she said with a curtsy. Maeve’s protests went unheard.

He bowed, making Zora smile. “I thank you for the token of her affection. I will treasure it always.”

“You better be planning to give that back later,” Maeve groaned as Amani dragged her away.

“Depends. It is a token of my love’s favour.”

“Ugh I hate you.”

“But you’re still marrying me~”

She sighed. “Of course. How could I forget.” She looked back at Amani. “And the fuck are you doing?”

“Gods you need your ears checked. I am giving you a makeover for your engagement party.”

“What? Why?! I look fine!”

“Well the high waisted pants with your crop top is cute and all, I want to make you so fucking hot Lucas kneels over.”

“She does that every time I see her,” Lucas called from the doorframe.

Maeve glared at him. “Don’t encourage her.”

He only smiled, waving at them as they made their way to her room. Zora was making sure Maeve wouldn’t escape. To her short ass it was like two very tall amazon ladies were her escorts.

Or in this case prison guards.

“I’d like to see them try to make you even more gorgeous,” he said with a wink. “It’d be a fun challenge.”

“We have Zora on our side!” Amani grinned. “You get dolled up too and then we go cause a ruckus!”

Maeve sighed.

It was going to be a long, chaotic night.

7 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 50 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Chapter 50! This feels like some kind of a milestone, even though we still have a looong way to go, including the longest Thanksgiving Day ever. ;) To everyone following this story, we love you so so much, and would love to hear what you think. Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet’s injury caused her to open up to Sutan in a whole new way.

This Chapter: Welcome to the Thanksgiving Chronicles - Part 1 of ??

***

“Sutan?”

“Yes?” Sutan looked to the right when he heard the water turn off, Violet’s head peeking out of the shower stall, her dark hair wet and loose. They were in the bathroom, Sutan brushing his teeth while Violet had gotten in the shower to get ready, his girlfriend taping up her leg with the plastic covering the hospital had provided.

“Remember when you said you didn’t mind helping me?”

“Mmh?” Sutan bit the inside of his cheek, hiding a smile as he nodded. He had offered to hop in the shower with her to help her get ready so they wouldn’t be late for Thanksgiving, but she had refused him straight away, Violet often fiercely independent, even when it only made things that much harder for her.

“Would you,” Violet sighed, moving a bit of her wet hair behind her ear and Sutan had to work hard not to laugh, annoyance practically radiating from his girlfriend. “Would you help me? Please.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Sutan grinned, throwing his toothbrush in the sink, pulling his shirt over his head as he kicked off his pajama pants, earning a laugh from Violet when he made his way into the shower. “Scootch over!”

“If I could do that,” Violet raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed underneath her frankly fantastic tits, pink nipples erect in the cold air, “I wouldn’t have asked you in here.”

“Clever, and beautiful.” Sutan smiled, reaching behind Violet to turn the water on, grabbing her hip to turn her around. “Now, what are we dealing with?”

“I can’t get to my legs.”

“One good scrub,” Sutan took Violet’s body wash, a whole new slew of products turning up one by one in his shower, “Coming right up.”

“Do you do this often?” Violet looked over her shoulder, one of her hands against the wall to help take her weight.

“Do what?” Sutan squeezed the bottle, rubbing his hands together to make sure he had a decent amount of foam before he started washing Violet’s ribs, quick sure strokes gliding over his girlfriend's skin.

“Help girls shower. You’re very enthusiastic.”

“No,” Sutan smiled, pressing a quick kiss against Violet’s shoulder. She didn’t sound jealous, just amused and a little confused, like she didn’t understand why he wasn’t kicking up a fuss about helping her. “But I like doing things with you.”

The answer seemed to appease Violet, or maybe she was growing tired, because she didn’t say anything else while Sutan washed her stomach and hips. He kneeled down, hoping she wasn’t getting too tired to make the drive to Long Island as he took another squeeze from the bottle, quickly washing her thighs and moving down.

“Turn around lovely eyes.”

Violet did as he asked, putting her shoulders against the wall to take her weight as Sutan lifted her leg to wash her foot. He had meant it to be quick, to get the job done and over with so they could get going but when he touched her, he practically felt Violet take in a deep breath.

That was when he noticed.

It wasn’t just the water that made his girlfriend wet, her inner thighs slick, and now that he was looking, she was practically throbbing with arousal, her pink nipples stiff, her eyes closed, her mouth hanging open.

“Well well well,” Sutan smirked, moving even closer on his knees, her ankle still in his firm grip. “What have we here?”

Violet gasped as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against her upper thigh, a hand reaching out to grab his hair, but instead Violet rocking into his touch, he got a very different reaction.

“No.”

Sutan paused immediately, looking up at her, his lips still against her skin. “No?”

“No,” Violet shook her head, her eyes still closed but now it seemed like it was in embarrassment, her fingers twisting into the strands of his hair. “I can’t,” Violet swallowed. “If you do, if you touch, I don’t think, I can’t keep my balance.”

“Oh.” Sutan chuckled, the cast so big and clunky she was absolutely right that she’d likely topple over if she lost her concentration. “Of course. Sorry.”

He pulled back, ignoring his own cock that had started to chub as he stood up, but Violet didn’t let go, didn’t pull away. Instead, she pulled him in, catching his lips in a kiss, their chests flush against each other, her shoulders still against the wall, water running over both of them now.

“Please,” Violet broke the kiss, and Sutan grabbed her hip, forcing her to let go of his hair. He turned her around, another gasp coming from his girlfriend as she reached out with both hands, bracing herself against the wall. “Oh.”

“My gorgeous girl.” Sutan grinned, pressing a kiss against the nape of Violet’s neck, one of his own hands on the wall. “Feel more secure now?”

Violet nodded, but she didn’t rock against him, didn’t command that he started to fuck her or finger her.

Instead, she put her own hand on top of his, pulling him up, up, up, until they were holding the shower head together.

“Oh fuck,” Sutan groaned, the sound broken even to his own ears. “You dirty little slut.”

Sutan had already figured that Violet didn’t really touch herself, the length of her nails and the reactions to his fingers in her cunt more than giving it away, but she came so unashamedly once she felt safe with him, came like someone who knew their body intimately, and now, Sutan finally knew how.

“Is this what you do?”

Violet nodded feverishly, a small moan escaping her as she pushed back against Sutan, slotting their bodies together, letting go of his hand so she could adjust the temperature of the water.

Sutan grabbed the showerhead, taking it off the wall and aiming it at Violet’s stomach, moving it down, down, down until he could finally slot it between her legs.

Violet gasped, her arms nearly buckling as a wonderful moan left her. Sutan cupped the shower head, holding it close, Violet shivering as he pressed kisses against her neck, her hips rocking desperately.

It was sinfully hot, Violet allowing him into this private and personal part of her life, letting him see her, feel her, touch her, his cock against her back, the water slick slide all he needed when she was this perfect.

Violet cried out, her fingers desperately scratching the tiles, and Sutan came with her, holding her tight, both of them gasping for air as Violet shook through her orgasm.

***

Courtney had expected Bianca’s apartment building to be nice, but when she entered the lobby and saw the concierge sitting behind a huge desk, she had to wonder if she was in the right place. She’d spent ages agonizing about what to wear, finally settling on a black and white houndstooth Moscino mini-skirt that had come from Ivy, a cropped pink and black sweater that she hoped didn’t look at cheap as it was, and a pair of black knee-high boots. She felt okay in it, but stepping up to the concierge, suddenly realized exactly how much her cheap H&M jacket spoiled the whole thing.

“Um...Hi, I’m here to see Bianca Del Rio,” she said, unsure of how the process went.

“Your name?” he asked, flipping open a book.

“Courtney Jenek.”

“Ahh. Here you are.” He pressed a button, saying, “Head over to elevator 2 and I’ll send you right up.”

“Okay, thank you.” She hesitated before turning around and asked, “Um, just...how will I know which apartment is hers once I get to her floor?”

“You’ll know,” he said, an amused smirk pulling on his lips. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

She nodded again, still a little confused, and walked over to the elevator.

Of course, he was right, because the elevator opened right into her fucking apartment. Courtney’s jaw dropped a little as she stepped into the foyer, feeling more out of place than she’d ever been in her life. It looked like a palace: marble floors and a huge crystal chandelier hanging over a grand staircase. Could this really be where Adore’s sister lived?

A second later, two little chihuahuas came skittering around the corner, yapping happily, and Courtney knelt down to pet them.

“Hey! You made it!” Bianca rounded the corner next, looking as impeccable as ever. Courtney swallowed hard, eyes traveling up from her blue stilettos to her black pencil skirt and colorful silk wrap blouse, finally to her dimpled grin, brown eyes shining. “I see you’ve met my terrible children.”

“They’re adorable,” Courtney said, clearing her throat and standing up, after giving one of the dogs once last scratch behind the ears. “What are their names?”

“The chill one rolling over for you is Sammy, and this little attention seeker is Dede,” she laughed, gesturing to the dog who was chasing her own tail in excitement. “Here, let me take your coat.”

She opened an enormous walk-in coat closet, bigger than any closet Courtney had ever had, and hung Courtney’s jacket carefully, as if it was actually worth anything, draping her scarf and hat over a hook.

“That’s a great skirt,” she noted, gesturing to Courtney’s outfit, making her feel a twinge of pride--after all, Bianca knew fashion, and something told Courtney that she didn’t dole out compliments unnecessarily. “I loved that collection.”

“Thank you. Um...this is for you…” Courtney felt a little crazy handing over the hemp Trader Joe’s bag with one sad little bottle of Shiraz. “I found an Australian wine, ‘cause, um…I hope you like it. I asked Adore what you prefer but she wasn’t much help.”

“Is she ever?” Bianca asked, taking the wine bag with a wink and leading Courtney into a living room straight out of a magazine.

“Excuse me!” called Adore’s voice, strolling up to them with a cocktail in hand. “I was very helpful. I told her that as long as there was alcohol in it, you’d drink it.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, that’s true. I guess you’re not totally useless.” Bianca tucked a lock of hair behind Adore’s ear and pressed a kiss to her cheek, the sisterly affection softening her harsh words. She then grinned at Courtney. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to bring anything.”

Courtney looked around, even more gobsmacked than she’d been before. There were park views from every window, high vaulted ceilings, a wet bar where Bianca had set down the wine, and a full concert grand piano, gleamingly white, in the center of the room. Still, as big and grand and expensive as everything was, there was something warm about it - decorated in graphic black and white with some soft gray here and there, and fun, brightly-colored accents.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Ooh yeah!” Adore exclaimed, skipping behind the bar. “I made one up for today, you’ll love it! It’s called The Lying Pilgrim.”

“It’s basically just a cosmo in a tumbler,” Bianca said.

“No, it’s a Lying Pilgrim. Hashtag never forget,” Adore insisted.

Courtney chuckled. “Sounds great.” She let her fingers graze the keys of the piano, wondering what the acoustics were like in this enormous room, and then pulled them away, aware that it might be for looking and not touching.

“I know that piano’s a little much, but Fame insisted that it fit with the aesthetics of the room, and sometimes it’s easier to buy a piano than to argue with her.”

“No, I like it,” Courtney said. “Your place, is...unbelievable.”

“I know, right?” Adore chimed in, shaking up the cocktail vigorously. “To think, she lives here and I’m stuck in that crappy apartment that’s barely a one-bedroom.”

“Your apartment is cute,” Courtney countered, “And free.”

“Also, fuck you, because you could live here,” Bianca said.

“Uptown? Gross.” Adore wrinkled her nose as she strained the drink over ice. “Plus you said I can’t have a cat here.”

“You don’t have a cat!”

“I know, but if I need to be free to have one if I want!” Adore exclaimed, handing Courtney’s drink over to her. “You know what I mean, right?”

Courtney accepted it, shaking her head. “Sorry Adore, but your problems are not relatable.” She couldn’t imagine being offered a bedroom in a place like this and turning it down. Adore was nuts.

“Ha!” Bianca laughed triumphantly. “So, are you guys hungry? I can pop some appetizers into the oven.”

“Awwww, are you actually pretending to cook?” Adore asked, reaching over to pinch Bianca’s cheek. “That’s so cute.”

“No, but I do need to heat up the food the caterer dropped off. Unless you’d like cold mushroom caps?”

“Heaven forbid!” Adore clutched her chest, and Courtney giggled. “Come on Court, I’ll give you a tour while Bianca heats up some overpriced Totinos.”

“Bitch…” Bianca started, but Adore had already scampered off, pulling Courtney by the hand. “Stay out of my closet!”

“Of course, I would never go into your closet without you!” Adore exclaimed from the foot of the stairs, then winked at Courtney, putting a finger to her lips, mouthing, ‘I’m lying.’

***

“Thank you,” Sutan smiled at the Starbucks girl, rolling up the window. Raven was sitting on the edge of her seat, her eyes glued to the tray that went from one twin to the other while Sutan restarted the engine.

They were on their way to celebrate Thanksgiving on Long Island, Raven’s soon to be mother-in-law opening her house for her children and their partners. It was the first time Raven had company in the backseat, and while Violet didn’t say much, it was nice to not be the only one who didn’t understand Indonesian, nice to know she had an ally if needed.

“So,” Raja smirked, slowly turning the first coffee around. “We have a decaf for Violet.” She popped it out, reaching into the backseat to hand it to Violet. “A double espresso for Sutan.”

“Thanks Raj,” Sutan grinned, plucking his cup from the tray.

“And a-” Raven could feel her heart speed up, her drink just within reach. “Cold brew for me-”

“OH MY GOD!” Raven hadn’t meant to yell, but she couldn’t help it. She grabbed the back of Raja’s seat, shaking it hard. “Give me my fucking coffee!”

Everyone was completely silent for one, long, second, and then, Sutan started to laugh, Raja joining him.

“Princess,” Raja hiccupped, her perfect lips parted as she laughed and laughed.

“Fuck,” Sutan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, the other one firmly planted on the wheel. “Raven, holy shit.”

“Gimme-” Raven reached in between the seats, snatching her Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino Blended Creme. “Assholes.”

“Aw baby,” Raja smirked, and if Raven didn’t love her, she would have kicked her seat. Raven sat back down, Violet giving her the tiniest smile as she stuck the straw in her mouth, taking one, long, deep sip, the chocolate goodness swirling on her tongue.

She only had a 6 hour window, and she was going to enjoy every single second on that clock.

***

As Bianca pulled a tray down from the shelf, she began to hear music and laughter from down the hall. She cocked her head, listening, and realized that Adore must have broken out the karaoke machine, the telltale opening chords of ‘Summer Nights’ from Grease playing, soon followed by Adore and Courtney’s giggling voices on the microphones.

She smiled to herself, glad that they were having a good time. She knew for a fact that the best thing for Adore when she was feeling depressed was silly, wholesome fun. And while she didn’t have any first hand information about Courtney’s work life, she was fairly certain that an excuse to blow off some steam would be much needed there, too.

Bianca took her time with the appetizers, arranging the little mushroom caps artfully on the tray, ladling butternut squash soup into her prettiest teacups and then sprinkling the chives that the chef had included for garnish. This was way more work (or thought) that Bianca normally put into food, but for some reason she felt compelled to serve a beautiful and delicious meal today. She picked up the tray, balancing it carefully as she walked down the hall.

When she got to the den, they were in the middle of what looked like a dance lesson: Courtney was teaching Adore a routine to Britney’s ‘Toxic,’ encouraging her as she tried to follow along. Bianca leaned against the door frame, watching Courtney shake her little butt and whip her hair around, an amused smile tugging on her lips. On a turn, Courtney finally noticed Bianca standing there and she stopped cold, pink creeping into her cheeks.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Bianca said, shooting her a grin and setting the tray of appetizers down on the coffee table.

“Um, wanna go from the top?” Courtney asked Adore, and Adore nodded, a hand pressed to her side.

“Okay.”

Bianca walked over to the wine fridge, getting down a glass and pouring herself some Burgundy. She sat on the couch, eyes glued to Courtney as she danced, noticing that she was hamming it up a bit more than before. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was for her benefit.

Courtney glanced over at Adore, exclaiming, “There you go, Dore! No, kick higher!”

“My leg doesn’t bend that way,” Adore defended herself, still breathing hard as she tried to keep up.

Courtney laughed, ending the routine with a sexy flourish.

“Very nice. You’re a true showgirl,” Adore said, flopping onto the sofa.

“Thank you. I should really try out for the Rockettes, huh?”

“Nah, you’re too short to be a Rockette.”

Courtney responded by blowing a raspberry at her, which made Bianca start cracking up into her wine. She knelt down on the rug beside the coffee table, reaching for one of the napkins on the tray and picking up a stuffed mushroom cap. “Oh, um...is any of this vegan?”

“All of it.”

“Oh!” Courtney’s face broke out into a grin. “That’s amazing, thank you so much!”

“Uh...you know there’s a sofa right there,” Bianca said, gesturing to the giant suede L-shaped sofa that took up a large portion of the wall.

“I know, but all your furniture looks too perfect, I’m afraid to touch it.”

Bianca laughed, patting the couch cushion and assuring her, “I promise it’s for sitting, not for looking.”

Courtney grinned, giving a little shrug and moving to the sofa, sitting beside her just as she tasted the mushroom, eyes widening with delight.

“Good?”

“Sooo good, oh my god!” she exclaimed, reaching for more, and Bianca smiled, taking one for herself.

“You know...B dated a Rockette once,” Adore threw out casually, now flipping through the karaoke book.

“Wrong,” Bianca said immediately.

“Yes you did!” Adore insisted. “I remember because we went to-”

“I did not date a Rockette,” Bianca said. She swirled the wine around her glass before smirking and added a corrected, “I dated two Rockettes.”

Courtney burst out laughing, picking up one of the cups of soup and saying, “Good on ya!”

Adore, however, had scrunched up her face distastefully. “At the same time?”

“No! Number 1 introduced me to Number 2. All above board, thank you very much.”

“Why did I only meet one of them?” Adore asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Well, because you were only 16, and very impressionable, and that second one was a filthy, filthy girl.”

As Courtney’s eyes widened over her teacup, Bianca caught her eye and gave her another grin, enjoying the now permanent blush in her cheeks.

“Wow, what a responsible guardian you were,” said Adore. “Oh hey, Court, I found ‘True Colors’! You still wanna sing it?”

“Yes!” Courtney leapt up excitedly, taking the mic and turning it back on.

Bianca settled back against the sofa as Courtney started to sing, sweetly directing the lyrics to Adore, who giggled and fluttered her lashes. Her expressive voice was the biggest surprise yet, unexpectedly rich and powerful. When she’d told Bianca that she wanted to get into pop music, Bianca assumed that she meant the kind of manufactured, auto-tuned, generic dance music that always blended into the background at clubs. It seemed, listening now, that Bianca had underestimated her.

She found herself in a bit of a trance, captivated by the performance, even more than she’d been by the over-the-top sexy dance moves earlier. At one point, she realized that Adore was shooting her a rather curious look, and tried to snap herself out of it, tearing her eyes away to look down at the food.

Courtney walked towards Adore, tipping her chin up to recapture her attention.

“I see your true colors and that's why I love you So don't be afraid to let them show--Your true colors True colors are beautiful like a rainbow…”

As the song faded out, Bianca could see tears shimmering in Adore’s blue eyes, and she jumped up to give Courtney a bear hug.

“You okay, honey?” Courtney asked.

“Yeah, I just needed to hear that today,” Adore sniffled, and Courtney gave her a wet kiss on the cheek.

Bianca wasn’t sure what made her more uncomfortable: the naked display of sincerity, or the fact that she’d been almost as equally moved by the performance as Adore.

“Ugh, what’s with the Hallmark channel shit?”

“Well, sorry Bianca, but some of us have hearts,” Adore said. “Call the Wizard and see what’s taking so long with yours.”

“Ha! Good one,” Bianca chuckled.

“Sorry about bringing the room down,” Courtney said. “I just can’t resist a ballad.”

“No no, it was good,” Bianca assured her, suddenly feeling a bit bad for giving them shit, wishing she knew when to keep a lid on the sarcasm. “You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you.” Courtney met her gaze, biting on her lower lip, green eyes shining, and this time Bianca couldn’t bear to look away.

“B, you gonna sing something?” Adore asked, a cheeky smile on her face, since she knew the answer to that full well.

“Uh, no,” Bianca said. “I’m gonna go heat up the rest of the food. What do you guys think about sitting down to eat in a half hour ish? Emphasis on ‘ish’?”

“Sounds great! Do you need help?” Courtney asked.

“No, you relax. Have fun.”

“Are you sure?”

Those bright eyes again. Bianca felt her stomach lurch.

“Positive.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t need a hand?”

Violet bit her lip, considering it for a second. She was getting better, the terrible fatigue slowly seeping from her bones, but everything was still annoyingly difficult, so she held out her hand, Raja and Raven already halfway up the little walkway to the small yellow house.

“There we go,” Sutan grinned, taking her free hand and pulling her out of the car, his arm going around her waist which almost caused Violet to drop her crutches.

“Sutan-” Violet laughed, her boyfriend practically radiating excitement and she allowed herself to bask in it, his apparent confidence that this would be an amazing day making her feel brave.

“Come on,” Sutan placed a quick kiss on her lips, her hand still firmly in his.

“Sutan,” Violet pulled on his hand. “I still need-”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Sutan smiled, reaching into the car and grabbing the white orchid Violet had brought along. She wasn’t sure if she actually needed to bring a gift, but it had felt rude to show up without one, orchids apparently Murni Amrull’s favorite flower.

It was impossible to smooth down her skirt when she had to hold her crutches with both hands, so Violet chewed the inside of her cheek, taking deep breaths as Sutan opened the door, Raja and Raven already disappearing inside.

“Bunda! Kami Rumah!” Sutan yelled into the hallway, the indonesian rolling off his tongue.

“Sutan!” Violet watched as a woman came around the corner. She had dark brown skin, grey hair in a bun on top of her head. She was wearing a floral dress with a white apron on top, a gigantic smile on her lips. “Selamat Datang di rumah!”

“Halo,” Sutan grinned, bending down to give her a tight hug, and it was then that Violet realized the woman barely made it to her chest, the Amrull twin’s mom a tiny little woman.

“Hello, hello,” Murni looked at her, the smile still firmly on her face. “Sutan, introduce us.”

“Of course,” Sutan smiled, standing up straight, his arm around his mom's shoulder, the orchid in his other hand. “Bunda, this is Violet. Violet, my mom. Murni.”

“Bunda means mom in Indonesian.” Murni looked at Violet, her eyes warm and kind. “I bet my stupid boy didn’t tell you that.”

“Hey!” Sutan huffed, but he didn’t remove his arm, still pressing his teeny tiny mom against his side.

“Hi, it’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Amrull,” Violet smiled, hoping that she was making a good first impression, that she wasn’t a disappointing sight. “I brought you a gift-”

“Ah! Right.” Sutan perked up, handing the pot to his mom. “Di sini anda pergi.”

“For me?” Murni took the flower, holding one of the leaves between her fingers, a moment of anxiety flashing over Violet as she examined the blossoms closely. “I love it. Thank you.”

Violet smiled, Sutan’s mom everything she had never dared hope for.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #bitney #raja x raven #violet chachki #raja gemini #courtney act #bianca del rio #adore delano #raven #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au #smut

6 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 5 years ago

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Merry Christmas, I Love You

12/25/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 6,670

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, angst, pining, jealousy, fluff

A/N: So this was initially supposed to be a Holidays-non-specific fic...but as I kept writing, it was feeling forced so I turned it into a Christmas fic because it felt better that way for writing. I’m so sorry! Anyway, I hope you like this one. I always enjoy writing for Bucky. Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! xoxo

Things have never been easy for you. Family. Friendships. Relationships. Nothing, except for work.

Somehow, you’ve been able to come in, day after day, with a smile on your face, no obstacles set before you that upset the delicately crafted balance here at the Tower.

That is until the morning you walk in and something terrible—something that you could never have anticipated—is sitting on the edge of your desk wearing rough deep-sea colored jeans, organically weathered around the nicest, most bitable ass you’ve ever seen.

Okay, so maybe it’s been a while since you’ve gotten any and any semi-attractive person now-a-days seems to get your engine revving, but this guy…this man is sin incarnate and you nearly lose your step as you slide to a halt by your office door.

“What are you?” You ask, sputtering the words out senselessly only to have the Sin turn and look at you with clear blue eyes. Ice blue. A little gray. A little piece of heaven staring at you out of a brooding face, topped with what looks like freshly cropped burnt chestnut hair.

You’ve seen it long. You admired it from a safe distance. Now it’s gone but in its place is sheared perfection. He looks like a new man.

“Sorry?” He asks, his voice like chocolate fudge, slow and oozing and coating your insides with thick, sweet…oh man, you’re a goner.

“Um…” You shut your eyes, shaking it lightly to clear your head.

Not looking at the hot man helps.

Wait…you’re stupid. You know exactly who this hot man is. You just didn’t expect to ever see him this close and, in your office, sitting on your desk casually lounging around like some beefed up supermodel.

“I-I meant, what are you doing…here?” You clear your throat, clutch your legal pads a little bit closer and finally open your eyes.

He’s standing now, hands shoved into his pockets, muscled chest straining against the black t-shirt he’s chosen to torture you with, the burgundy leather jacket doing little to hide his muscle.

Who the fuck dressed him?

“Oh.” He says. “I’m working here. With you.” He explains and you nearly choke.

You start coughing again, hacking up a lung as your face burns and your chest nearly caves in.

Bucky because you know very well who he is, hurries towards a small bottle of water you keep handy on your desk and takes it to you.

You take it, try to wheeze out a thank you but cough harder. You gasp, then take a drink as he stares at you, eyes narrowed with polite concern.

“Fighhhne.” You wheeze, waving a hand at him gently to reassure him. “I'm fine.”

He nods straightening up. Just noticing how tense he was, you feel your neck burn.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in here.

“Are you hot?” You continue to wheeze, breathless with embarrassment and a strange and sudden desire. “It’s hot in here.”

Moving around him you move to the window behind your desk, a large glass panel in the glass wall of your office. You slide it open and a rush of chilly New York winter air nips at your skin.

Finally, your head is clear. Sharp. Your wits back in place. You turn to him and he’s shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“What do you mean you’ll be working here?” You ask, a need for clarity rising.

“Fury sent me here.” Bucky shrugs. “I guess Sam’s got the go ahead to start up a team and he wants you to head home base.”

You let that sink in, trying to wrap your head around going from administration duties to somewhat field duties.

“You’re gonna be my handler.” He nearly whispers, voice dropping a bit. Why is he telling you this like it’s a secret?

“Oh, just your handler?” Another voice quips but you don’t have to wonder whose it is. This voice you know.

“Sam?” You call and he comes around the small partition in front of your door.

With that charming smile, the one that has all the ladies in accounting falling to pieces with its easy confidence and promise of romance, Sam gives you a nod and stops beside Bucky.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s good to see you again. You look good. How’ve you been?” He asks, eyeing up Bucky who looks at him and shrugs.

“I’m fine.” You nod, tempted to smile. “Thanks. So, you’ll both be under my umbrella?” You nod.

“There’s a few more but yeah, it’ll be mostly me and Buck. Who best to watch over us? I thought we’d be safest in your capable hands.” Sam flirts.

“Sam…” You huff a small laugh, relaxing a bit now that there’s a buffer. Not that he’s much of a buffer. Sam is fucking hot too and if the window weren’t still hurling frozen wind at you, you’d be overheating.

Sam chuckles-“What?” Sam says—and you look out the window. There’s a small smack but when you look back up at them, nothing has changed much save for Bucky standing with his arms crossed instead of his hands in his pockets.

“…that is my name.” Sam insists, his lips curled up into a playful smirk while the man beside him broods a bit more.

“Well, first off, if I’m going to be your handler, I’m gonna need you to be a bit more professional.” Smiling you move to your desk and deposit your notepads, running a finger across the notes from your latest office meeting.

You won’t need these anymore.

“I’ll do my best, but it’s hard to concentrate on work when my handler’s just so pretty.” He teases.

You huff a small laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t change, do you?”

Sam looks down at your desk, his eyes suddenly darkened by sorrow.

You feel bad but you won’t linger.

“I’m glad.” You assure him. “Sometimes I forget how to laugh.”

And like a switch has been turned, Sam’s smile is back.

“Don’t worry. Together, I think the three of us can give the world a few reasons to smile again.” Sam nods, sincere.

You look at Bucky who stands with a frown twisting his handsome face.

“I look forward to working with you, Agent Barnes.” You offer a small smile, hoping to ease his grimace.

He looks up at you, startled, as if he’s just realized you’re there. Great. There goes that crush. Another one that doesn’t know you’re there.

“Bucky.” He says. “Please.”

“Okay.” You smile a little wider and his eyes finally focus. “Bucky. I look forward to getting to know you.”

He stares at you and he sizes you up. That small frown never leaves his face which only makes you wonder whether he disapproves of what he sees.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck.

This is not good.

As Bucky looks you over, from the tips of your red pumps to the collar of your soft gray business suit—a silk red camisole peeking out from underneath—he knows that he’s fucked.

The moment you smiled, frazzled by Sam’s stupid flirting, he knew that you’re trouble.

That look of curiosity on your pretty face…what is he getting himself into?

Bucky likes you.

He likes you a lot.

“Bucky?” You call to him, your voice wrapping around his name just so that it makes his heart pound.

“Do you even have any training in the field?” He asks, kicking himself internally that he’s on the defensive now but he wasn’t expecting this.

He wasn’t expecting to come in here to find you, a beautiful woman, clumsy and real. There’s nothing fake about you so far and Bucky can see the goodness that you radiate. He wasn’t expecting Sam to come in here, flirting shamelessly, making you laugh.

Rude bird.

You blink, slightly taken aback.

“She’s not gonna be out in the field, Buck.” Sam defends you, and that grates Bucky more.

“It’s still something she should have.” Bucky argues stupidly. Why can’t he shut his mouth up?

“I-” You begin, sounding saddened and Bucky could leap out of that window behind you if it would end this inescapable awkwardness he’s dredged up. “I don’t.”

You shake your head then bite your lip. Thinking hard while Bucky fights the urge to touch your mouth.

“I’m actually not sure why Fury sent you to me. I’ve never…I mean, I did go into training for S.H.I.E.L.D. when I first started here a few years ago but I failed out of the academy. I couldn’t get myself to do what needed doing and I—this was a better fit for me.” You bristle. “So, no. I don’t have any field training. But I’ll do my best.”

Before he can open his mouth and make this worse, Bucky sighs, exchanged a look with Sam, then turns and leaves.

As he pushes your office door open, he can hear Sam reassuring you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. He’ll come around. We’ll make a great team.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Your voice is flooded with gratitude.

Fucking Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~

You watch from your seat in the old crumbling building on two ten-inch displays as Bucky and Sam rush into the abandoned bunker. It’s not so abandoned now, filled with a terror cell known as the Maw. They’ve killed sixty people in four days and there will be no taking of any prisoners today.

“Are we sure he’s here?” Bucky asks, the feed from his body cam shows him sliding along the floor under a small break in the outer wall. Immediately inside there are five enemies.

As he stands, they fire, and you grip the edge of the fallen and splintered door that is your makeshift desk until he’s taken the entire group out. Not one left alive.

“Yes.” You answer, remembering his question. “He’s here.”

As Bucky breaks into a run down a long dark hallway, you focus on Sam’s cam and watch as he circles up over the building.

“Sam, do you see anything?” You check, knowing that he must be running his thermals.

“Just a whole bunch of cowards.” He quips. “There. Bucky, third basement down. There’s a wall weak enough to break through right behind them.”

You look at Bucky’s cam and it changes position. He’s running faster, sliding from doorway to doorway before he throws himself within one as gunfire rains down on him from an open door at the end.

You slide the big heavy laptop you use for recon over and pull up all the schematics of the bunker you’d found in your research of the building.

“Y/N, find me a way down.” He grunts, returning fire when he can.

“Already on it.” You inform him, sneaking a glance as he slides out from his hiding spot to one closer to the shooter.

His hallway ends in a T and he’s on the left-hand side.

“There.” You say, “Down that hallway to the right, straight ahead. There’s an elevator shaft that should be non-operational. You can slide down straight to the third floor and round back towards the wall Sam saw.”

Bucky is already running. As he approaches the shooter, he holds up his metal arm to block three bullets. There’s a click—an empty clip—then Bucky pounces, twisting the man’s arm to break it then he practically throws him into the wall. The man falls to the ground, but Bucky doesn’t stop.

He’s sliding on the ground towards the elevator shaft as he approaches and throws his metal hand out to dig his fingers into the wall. He slides down one floor before he releases and freefalls, then at the last moment he grabs the top lip of the floor he’s going to and swings himself in.

“Down the hall, two rights, and you should be against that weak wall.” You tell him. “Sam, status?”

You look at the other display and watch as Sam dips and dives, gunfire lighting up his cam. He throws his shield and it bounces off one thug to hit another then magnetically flies back up to Sam.

“There are civilians in that holding cell.” Sam realizes, and without a second thought he flies for it. “Six guards. I’ll take them out quick.”

“Get them to safety. I’ve got these guys.” Bucky says confidently as he rounds the last right and races for the back wall to the inner room of the final floor.

“Bucky…” You begin, fear taking root in your heart as you think about the fact that Sam will be too busy with those civilians to come quickly.

This isn’t your first time out with them. You, Sam, and Bucky have been together for a year now. One whole year.

Somehow, you have been an asset to their team. Sometimes Sharon comes along, sometimes there’ll be a few others. But at the end of the day it is always you, Sam, and Bucky.

You’ve been there when Sam broke his arm. When Bucky dislocated his shoulder. When they were both shot. When Sam wouldn’t wake up for three days. You’ve been there for every after mission dinner. You’ve been there for every holiday spent in safe houses and hospitals.

Bucky and Sam had even bought you a cake when your birthday came around and all three of you ate it on the tower roof, both men still in mission garb, sitting on the ramp of the jet.

Through it all, though you always worry, there is only one thing that makes you lose focus. One thing that has brought you to Fury’s office several times to resign because you can’t do this job. Not like this. Not when you’re this distracted half the time.

When Bucky’s in danger, your heart stops. When he’s injured, you’re nearly in tears. You’d cried that first time he was shot, but luckily Sam was shot too so really, you managed to pass it off as sorrow for both of them.

The time Sam wouldn’t wake up, those tears were just for Sam…but Bucky was pretty torn up about it and you’d offered what comfort he was willing to accept which wasn’t much.

Bucky has kept you at arm’s length this entire time. Welcoming enough to make you feel like part of the team, but far enough that you’re pretty sure he still think you’re absurdly underqualified for this job.

You’ve watched him with his other teammates, even the ones that randomly come by, and he’s not with them like he is with you.

Watching him team with Sharon or T’Challa, you can see the difference.

He likes them. He doesn’t simply tolerate them.

Despite this disappointment, it does not fail. Every time that he’s taking on too much, your focus goes straight to him.

You pull his cam footage closer just as the wall in front of him explodes.

Cement and iron rain down on him and the hallway, rumbling as the building groans with the loss of support.

You stand, pushing your chair back hard as you clutch the display closer.

“Bucky!” You call, seeing nothing but darkness. “Bucky? Get up.”

Voice rising with panic, you blink hard, trying to see through the cloud of dust in the darkness in the screen.

“What happened?” Sam demands, returning fire at the thugs he’s facing.

“The wall exploded out.” You say, quiet because you can’t breathe.

There is no movement. Bucky isn’t moving.

You don’t give yourself enough time to think.

“Is he okay?” Sam asks, but he’s too busy to do anything about it.

So, you do.

Flipping open your bag, you pull out the handgun you’d been issues when you took this job and run. Down along the stairwell from your safe room. Across the street towards the bunker, along the small alleyway beside it to the back where the original entry point had been made.

You keep an eye on the display you’ve brought with you and watch as the rubble shifts. You see a gleam of dark metal and see that it’s Bucky pulling himself out of the pile, but then there are more glints of sleek black metal.

Guns. At least eight of them, all pointed at Bucky.

“Fuck.” You push yourself faster, ignoring the way your legs protest.

Your tac pants tear as you finally enter the building, catching on exposed reinforced metal piping and wood.

You’re not even careful about your running. You don’t look around for enemies. You don’t care. You have one goal and that’s all that matters.

You enter the T and race for the elevator shaft. A final glance at your display tells you that they’ve got Bucky kneeling in the rubble he’d been buried under. All of the other thugs in that room have their guns pointed at him, one man stands a little taller than the rest. No gun in his hand, but a long serrated knife. He’s talking, smirking down at Bucky as he squats down before him to run that knife’s point along the seam of Bucky’s metal arm.

Dropping the display, you reach for your belt hoop and pull from it a compact grapple. You shove it into the floor by the open elevator shaft and throw yourself down without hesitation.

You fall quickly, reaching the third floor in less than five seconds.

You have to release the cable in order to stop and you use the momentum of your fall to swing yourself into the doorway.

Landing hurts but you’re on your feet, racing down the hallway as fast as you can.

Instead of taking two rights however, you take one right, then a left.

They aren’t expecting you to barrel in through the door they’d been facing. Their only defense had been on the wall Bucky tried to go through.

So, when you shove the door open, you aim and kill one, two, three guards with quick precision shots.

That’s when they turn, and you run to take cover behind a tall steel shelf.

Bullets bounce off the metal as they land near your head.

On the other side, in the room that you can no longer see, you can hear Bucky fighting. His metal arm deflecting bullets and slamming these thugs into the floor.

The shooting at you stops so you peek out and aim. You get one of them in the leg, the other in the gut. You’re about to fire again, killing a fourth, when a loud pop and a burning sensation pierces your arm.

You cry out, and duck back behind the shelving out of sight.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouts, the scuffle between him and his enemies increasing in pace.

There are fewer grunts and they’re moving closer.

You groan, holding your hand over the wound in your arm but force yourself to peek out again, this time aiming where the shot that hit you came from.

Distracted by Bucky’s approach, the man behind the name of Maw doesn’t see you aiming at his head.

Before you can fire, your arm falls, losing strength and the shot goes through his neck.

He sputters and chokes on his blood, falling to his knees just as Bucky finishes with the last of his goons. He moves to the man and with one swift flick of his arm, the man’s neck breaks, and he falls to the ground, unmoving.

Your eyes are on Bucky, scanning him for injury as you press your hand harder against your own wound.

He’s okay. You gush stupidly. He’s not hurt.

A small scratch on his cheek. Otherwise, he’s fine.

And he’s suddenly at your side.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks, voice hard and angry.

“No.” You tell him.

“Let me see.” He pushes your hands away and stares down at the hole in your arm.

As blood gushes out, he reaches down to his belt to pull a heavy but thin cord that he begins to wrap high on your arm. It hurts. It pinches. It’s too tight.

“Ow.”

“No shit.” Bucky growls at you. “Sit still.”

You do, not having realized that you were squirming.

“What the hell did you come in here for?” He demands.

“You were in trouble.” You explain, leaning your head back to watch him finally tie the tourniquet. “And Sam was busy.”

“I coulda handled it.” He’s clenching his jaw, flexing the muscle in his anger as he reaches down to pull what looks like a small syringe from a small pouch on his belt.

“It’s okay to need help.” You tell him calmly, loving the way his brow is furrowed in concentration.

“I don’t need your help. Not here.” He chastises, pushing the tip of the syringe into your wound to press in what looks like powder. It hurts but you’re starting to not feel much of anything.

He tosses the syringe away and begins to wrap up your wound with a small roll of bandage.

“This isn’t the right kind. We’ll have to get you back to the Tower quick.” Bucky sighs.

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask him, feeling woozy and finding that filter that you usually use strange absent.

Bucky frowns, then gets up and reaches down to help you up.

He tucks you underneath his arm and supports most of your weight as he leads you out, refusing to answer your question.

“Y/N okay?” Sam’s voice filter in through your comms.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Lost a bit of blood though. Faster we get her back the better.” Bucky says, cutting you off before you can answer.

“Just getting these last few civilians out. I’ll meet you at the jet. Two minutes.” Sam promises.

The trek up the stairs is exhausting. You’re dizzy and tired. The adrenaline is wearing off and you find yourself leaning against Bucky more and more the higher you climb.

When the freezing air hits you outside, your head clears for a moment and you remember that you ran out here without your coat.

It’s freezing.

You look up with your mouth wide open. It’s snowing!

“It’s snowing.” Way to go, brain.

Bucky frowns as he looks up and with you struggling to keep up, he stops. He wraps his arm more securely around your back then with his other, quickly dips to pick you up.

You groan when the movement jostles your arm but lay your head on his shoulder anyway.

“I like it here.” You whisper, stupidly talking without thinking.

You place your hand on Bucky’s chest where you can feel his heart pounding. Absolutely thrumming against his ribcage.

“Were you scared?” You ask him, wondering if Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, can really get scared.

For a moment he says nothing. Then, “Yes.”

You nod. “It’s okay.”

“Stop talking.” He chastises, just as your body is engulfed in warmth.

Not even two second later, your entrance into the jet is followed by the soft whoosh of Sam’s wings and then his feet as he climbs in and moves towards the pilot’s chair.

“She okay?” Sam asks, glancing at you as Bucky settles you into a seat and straps you in.

“She’s a little delirious but she’s okay. Should be fine as long as we get her back soon. She needs stitches. Bullet went clean through.” Bucky says, focused on your arm as the jet pulls away.

“I like you.” You tell him. Blinking slowly as his fingers stop fumbling with your bandage.

He looks at you, ice sapphire eyes burning into your own with a million unasked questions.

“Why do you hate me?” You wonder, feeling sleepy.

“I don’t hate you.” Bucky explains, brow furrowed with subdued anguish.

“I like you.” You tell him again. “I want you to like me back.”

Bucky opens his mouth but shuts it again, looking over at Sam who seems to be intentionally ignoring the two of you.

“Sometimes I think about what it would be like to kiss you.” You continue, words slurring together as the shock of being shot catches up with you. “Kiss me.”

You see him leaning up towards you just as your vision turns black.

~~~~~~~~~~

Recovery is a bitch.

You hate having to wear a sling. Especially because you’re decommissioned from field duty for a while. Bucky and Sam don’t stick around. They make sure you’re okay and then they go off on their next mission.

Sharon is brought in to help. She takes your job.

You watch two days later as they come into the small shared space in Tony’s old lab where you had set up home base for them. They walk in and head straight for the mission board—a high tech computer screen with touch—and sift through a few open cases.

They don’t seem to see you sitting on the sofa by the kitchen, wrapped up in a blanket, sipping hot cocoa.

You watch them, taking in their dynamic. Sam is just as playful with Sharon as he is with you. They seem to have a deeper connection though. A shared sorrow. All three of them do.

The biggest difference is Bucky’s demeanor. He smiles more. He’s laughing at something Sharon said.

Your chest aches. Wondering if maybe this is what’s for the best? He seems to be more at ease with Sharon there to support them in their missions. She’s got the skill.

You’ve read her file. Part of it. The parts you were allowed to read.

She’s amazing.

Much more qualified.

“You’re coming, right?” Bucky asks her, watching her as she stares at the board.

“To what?”

“The Christmas party.” Bucky tells her. “It’s tomorrow night. We should be back by then.”

“Why would I come to the Christmas party?” She asks, a laugh in her voice.

“Because it’ll be fun.” Bucky reasons, then turns to Sam and nods at her. “Right?”

“Yeah. Pepper’s got Happy planning the whole thing. We might have to surrender our IDs when we come in and consent to a pat down but there’ll be plenty of booze. Music. Dancing.” Sam teases her the same way he teases you.

She laughs. “I’ll think about it.”

“It’ll be more fun if you come.” Bucky continues, reaching out finally to pull on her sleeve. “Come.”

You curl up a bit more, shrinking into the cushions of your seat. Hating the way your chest feels like it’s caving in.

Of course, he’s going to like her. She’s Sharon Carter! Great niece to Peggy Carter. A legend in her own right.

This must be why he never brought up what you’d said in the jet. You were slurring and mostly out of it, but you knew what you were saying.

You’d finally told him. You like him. You do.

And he hasn’t said anything about it.

You shift too far to the left and your arm grazes against the cushions beside you.

You gasp, shocked by the pain.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice calls out.

No.

You blink hard, hoping they look clear and not like you’re pining for Bucky Barnes.

Sam rounds the sofa and smiles down at you.

“Why are you hiding out here, making no noise? One gunshot wound and you think you’re a world class spy?”

You say nothing. You’re in hell. You just look up at him.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, moving to sit beside you.

“Y/N is here?” Sharon asks, moving towards you.

Fuck.

When she comes into view, you can see she’s wearing a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. body suit. Winter edition so it’s a little thicker. White pants and top. Gray straps to holster her guns. That’s empty right now.

“Hey, long time no see.” She smiles at you kindly and you force a smile in return.

Sharon is nice. You’ve always like Sharon. She’s kind and friendly.

“Yeah.” You say stupidly because it’s the only thing you can get your throat to work out.

“Heard you were shot saving Bucky’s ass?” She offers, looking over her shoulder at Bucky who finally moves towards you.

You shake your head once, that smile still plastered in place.

“Are you not feeling well?” Sam asks, reaching out to place his hand on your back.

You shake your head, letting the grimace that your poor heart is feeling seep out as discomfort in your arm.

“I’m gonna go…” You tell him, voice quiet and strained.

As you get to your feet, Sam helps you. You don’t see Bucky.

You know that he’s there, standing somewhere behind you, but you don’t want to turn to see him. What’s the use?

“You need help getting to your room?” He asks, but you shake your head. “Okay.”

You move past him and don’t look back. You don’t stop until you’re in your room, door shut behind you.

Moving into the bathroom you wash your face with your one hand, trying to clear your mind.

As you shut off the water you hear your bedroom door click shut.

“Sam?” You call and follow the sound back into your room.

But there’s no one there. It stands empty, just as it was when you came in.

As you move to take a seat on your bed, your eyes spot a small bottle of pills on your bedside table.

You grab them, quickly reading the label because these are not your pills.

Take two tablets every eight hours as needed for pain.

Rising to your feet, you move for your door, throw it open and look down the hallway to catch Sam to thank him before he can get too far but your voice catches in your throat as you watch wide shoulders and a glinting dark metal arm walk away from you.

With his delivery done, Bucky leaves you without a word.

~~~~~~~~~~

Wincing you slip off your sling and reach down to straighten your dress. It’s short. Shorter than you’d thought it was, but it’s pretty, with long loose sleeves that cinch at the wrist. Dazzling white with silver sparkles stitched into the soft fabric.

You’d seriously considered sitting out this party. You aren’t exactly in the mood. Not happy. Not comfortable. Not in the Christmas spirit.

Rejected, your mood has taken a sour turn. You’re mostly sad all the time which is hard enough but with the pain in your arm, it feels worse than it actually is.

However, you’ve never missed a Christmas or Holiday party since you’ve started working here and you’re not about to start now.

When you finally arrive, the party is already in full swing.

Pepper and Happy have outdone themselves, turning the largest ballroom in the Tower into the prettiest winter wonderland that you’ve ever seen.

All the tables are covered in gleaming silver and white tablecloths, decorated with assorted bobbles in silvers, whites, pale blues, and grays. White lights are strung up along the ceiling and left to dangle in carefully placed icicle patterns, more clear baubles with shining white lights at the center adorn the spaces between the tables where people chat and eat merrily with golden forks, knives, and spoons.

There is no red holly or green garland, but all around the room you can see the soft green and white splash of mistletoe hidden in small nooks and over random spots in the room.

“Y/N!” You hear Sam’s voice before you see him and search the room for him. “Over here!”

He waves at you from across the room near the large metal door that leads out into the hallway that’s lined with an endless stretch of conference rooms.

He looks dapper in a velvet black tux, silver bowtie around his neck.

You smile at him and move towards him but as you cross the table comes into full view and you see that Bucky is sitting beside him to his left—looking sinfully good in a navy tux, white dress shirt, and a black bowtie. Beside Bucky sits Sharon, in a red satin dress with capped sleeves and a round neckline.

Her dress, as you approach and she stands, you can see if floor length and she looks absolutely beautiful.

“Wow.” You tell her. “Sharon, you look amazing.”

Sharon blushes. “Me? Anything looks good when all you wear is tac gear. Look at you! You’re stunning!”

You almost look at Bucky but stop yourself just as your head tilts.

“Have you eaten yet?” Sam asks, moving around the table to pull out your chair, sitting you right across from Bucky.

“No.” You admit.

“I’ll go get you a plate.” Sam says.

“You don’t have to. I’m not really hungry.” You tell him.

“You have to eat.” He chastises. “I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you, disappearing into the crowd as Sharon scans the crowd.

“I’m not hungry.” You repeat to no one in particular. Just talking because you’re nervous as hell and you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you.

“You have to eat.” He says, and finally you look at him.

He’s watching you, those blue eyes more ice-like tonight because of the décor that surrounds him, but for once he doesn’t look like he’s angry. His face is carefully controlled. A small curios tilt of his head as you stare at him and say nothing.

“Bucky!” Sharon exclaims. “Pepper’s here. Let’s go say hi.”

She smacks his arm and moves around the table to head over towards Pepper, escorted by an adorable Morgan wearing a bright red dress with tulle for days. She doesn’t look happy about it.

“I’ll be right back.” Bucky tells you, and you turn to watch him get up and refasten the button on his front and move after Sharon.

Left alone, you feel yourself beginning to relax. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all, right? Bucky doesn’t like you but he’s not hating you either. Sharon is as nice as always and Sam as attentive, but you know he’s only fussing because you got shot.

You’re beginning to wonder why he’s taking so long with that plate of food—not that you want it but you’re getting lonely over here—when you look around towards where he disappeared to and spot him chatting up one of the girls from accounting.

She looks absolutely flustered and it makes you smile. Good for her.

You scan the crowd, looking for Sharon and Bucky to see if they might be on their way back and find them standing with Pepper, Morgan in her arms.

They’re chatting pleasantly for a moment before Happy leans in to say something to them.

Sharon looks confused, Bucky a little nervous.

Happy points up above their heads and your heart drops.

Sharon and Bucky look up to find a cluster of mistletoe strung up above their heads, nestled between two large silver baubles.

Happy holds out his hands, shrugging, but clearly enjoying himself.

Pepper is also smiling, all of them finding the moment utterly entertaining.

Look away, Y/N. You try to tell yourself, but your eyes are glue and your heart is pounding.

You try to swallow but your mouth is too dry, and your throat is clogged up. A lump the size of your fist settled right within it.

You watch as Sharon grabs Bucky’s bicep and leans in towards him. He leans in too, faster and much more eager.

They kiss.

You’re shattered.

As they pull away quickly, Bucky reaches up to wipe at his lips with his fingertips and cautiously seems to glance your way.

He sees you watching and stands up straighter.

You look away, rising to your feet as quickly as you can and move around the table to head straight for that metal door.

“Y/N!” Bucky calls but you can’t stop now. Not with your heart in your throat.

The quiet of the hallway is welcome and you hurry towards the first door you see and pull it open. Inside the conference room, the blinds are drawn, and no one will be able to see you in here. The long black glass table and the sterile silver rolling chairs that line it are familiar, but you really wish you were in your room right now.

This place gives you no comfort.

You look up, spot another set of large glass doors and sigh, knowing that there might be some comfort out there.

They lead to a balcony, a small one, and as soon as you move out onto it, cold winter wind freezes you.

It bites at your skin, harshly drawing your attention away from your aching heart pain.

The wind whips your hair, making a mess of the careful style you’d tried to put it in.

Shutting your eyes, you sigh once again, hoping that this ache…this broken heart will mend quickly.

All of this started as a lusty dream. A quick bit of desire conjured up when you’d walked in and spotted Bucky sitting on your desk.

How had it grown into something more meaningful? Why do you have to like him?

The sound of the door opening turns you around and you see Bucky look inside. He nearly turns to leave when he spots you on the balcony outside.

He stalks towards you, feet stomping on the floor. He throws the balcony door open and lumbers towards you with intent before wrapping his right arm around your waist to pull you tight against his body.

His metal hand takes hold of your bicep and he pulls you to him roughly as he leans down to kiss you hard.

Startled, for two seconds all you can do is stand there as his lips move against yours, warm and wet. When his tongue slides along your bottom lip, you melt into him and shut your eyes to finally return his kiss.

His metal hand tightens, and you pull back, “Ow.”

Confused, he looks at you, then his hand as you curl that shoulder up.

“Shit.” Bucky exclaims. “Sorry. Fuck.”

You laugh. “Ow…”

He releases you and looks at the spot where you’re shot and watches as a small patch of red begins to grow.

“Damn it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I…I forgot.” He explains.

He meets your eyes and he seems to regain whatever determination made him pull you to him so hard.

“It was mistletoe.” He explains. “That’s why I kissed Sharon.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you run?” He demands.

“Because it sucked.” You explain. Duh!

“I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N.”

“Me too.” You nod.

“I only want you.” Bucky sighs, reaching up to caress your frozen cheek.

“Me too.” You smile.

The side of the Tower suddenly flares to life with millions of tiny Christmas lights, bathing the two of you in warm yellow light.

You both admire the sight for a minute, appreciating the beauty.

“Merry Christmas.” Bucky says, drawing your eyes back to him as he wraps his arm around your waist tighter.

“Merry Christmas.” You tell him, smiling as you lean in to kiss him again.

“I love you.” He sighs, stopping your advancement as your heart nearly bursts through your chest. “Be mine?”

You laugh once, giddy beyond belief. “Yes.”

Bucky smiles.

“I love you, too.” You promise, and he pulls you in for a kiss, this time carefully avoiding your wounded arm.

“Well it’s about damn time!” Sam says, both you and Bucky stopping with your lips barely touching to look over at the large balcony doorway.

“No kidding.” Sharon says, smiling at the two of you with a smug little smirk. “Good call on the mistletoe.”

Sam smiles proudly. “They needed the push.”

You glare at him, feeling a little spiteful at the hell you just went through to find this heaven.

“Excuse you?” You warn.

“Oof, I mean, dance, Agent Carter?” Sam asks, offering Sharon his hand as he selectively avoids your angry gaze.

“Uh…yeah, good idea.” She takes his hand and lets him lead her back inside.

Bucky chuckles but reaches up to take hold of your chin and turn you to face him once more.

“I’m gonna have to buy him a better present.” He laughs, then leans down to kiss you silly.

The end.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky christmas fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #christmas fanfiction #marvel christmas #sam wilson #sharon carter

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typinggently · 4 years ago

Note

I feel like feral Bruce would Absolutely rock crop tops. Idk I just feel like he would go ham with a crop top on lil bit of glitter in the hair you know. ✨ (love your posts btw🥰)

Firstly - thank you so much, lovely!! And when I tell you that I had a list of Summer Fun Facts for the Feral Bat that included crop tops… Great minds, truly!!! But after your ask I got thinking about the concept for a moment. Let’s say it’s -

Feral Bruce in Crop Tops Hour!

(I also went above and beyond to find actual pics and outfits but very few really resonated with what I had in mind, so I hope you’ll forgive me if this will be a bit of an exercise of imaginative dress-up)

Let’s start with the glitter hair!!! I feel that’s very much a Brucie look. You know Brucie loves to spend all night in Gotham’s hottest (or coldest) clubs, and he needs the Looks to match. So what I could imagine would be his hair gelled back with a nice layer of glitter, to really sparkle in those flashing lights. Then some nice dark, high-waisted jeans, some shoes he can dance in and a loose, almost see-through crop top with BRUCIE bedazzled on the front. Just, you know. In case someone doesn’t know who he is. It’s a great look because the high-waisted jeans and the shirt actually cover a fair bit of his body, but the airy and loose quality of the top that just hints at the outlines of his body, as well as the occasional flash of pale skin makes it look like he’s much more undressed than he really is. And come on. It’s a hot look.

This whole thing reminded me that I actually mentioned Bruce in a Crop Top before, as part of his workout gear – that is, a pair of tapered tracksuit bottoms, a grey leotard with a velvety bat on the chest and a cropped sweatshirt that says FUCK on the front and OFF on the back. Since his fighting style is built equally on grace and strength, dancing and gymnastics are an important part of his routine. So yes, he absolutely needs his bat-leotard. Also it’s cute. And the FUCK-sweater (Alfred doesn’t like it much) is usually a good way to have his peace, since many mainstream gossip mags don’t like having that word printed in bold letters on their pages, so paps don’t photograph him that much when he’s jogging through Wayne Manor Park or just outside for some other fitness-y reason.

Apart from being sexy and weird, of course, Bruce can be a tad eccentric. So of course his autumn outfit for casual strolls through the foggy streets of Gotham with all the gothic facades and grimy streets would be a big woollen coat (you know, the kind that billows behind you a little), dark jeans, heavy boots and a torn shirt. And by that I mean the thing is in tatters from about the sternum down. It looks like he wrestled it from a lion and put it on, really. And it’s probably either a bright, autumn colour like red or orange, or it’s white with something written on it. If you got close enough to read it, it might be parts of Dracula, which someone with odd sleeping habits might’ve written on there over the course of 5 hours, while listening to the “Charcoal” Album by Brambles on repeat. Halloween season, and all that. His body appropriately looks even paler than usual, from the glimpses people get when the wind picks up and blows his coat open and does this man never get cold?

Bruce can be eccentric in a more cubist way, too. You know those trousers with the wide legs that look almost like floor-length skirts when you’re standing still? Black, of course. And for a jacket? Top? We have an origami-like construction, probably with wide sleeves, probably white, with the folds parting at the front to reveal basically his whole torso. This is something he just likes to wear in summer, at home. It’s fun to dance or even walk in, since the shapes move so interestingly, and it’s terribly distracting to Clark whenever he comes over since he never manages to guess just when he’ll get to see Bruce’s bare skin. Tantalising, truly. (Clark wishes the man would wear. something ordinary just ONCE when they’re together so he can keep his mind on the things that need to be done)

And hey! Bruce can do that! Casual? No problem! Loose hair, free of product. Sunglasses (it’s summer). Jeans. T-shirt. Very normal. But – just make it a little shorter, you know? Have the shirt be tight, and end at around the dip of his waist. And let’s have the jeans sit low on his hips, so the happy trail and his v-line are nicely visible. And you know, since we’ve already gotten this far, let’s just make it a Superman-themed shirt. Now wouldn’t that be a fun outfit for Brucie to visit Metropolis in? “Oh, no, no. Not Mister Wayne, please. I’m undercover. I’m in Metropolis. See? I’m wearing the shirt? With the, you know, the sexy sky man? But yes, call me Brucie. Yeah, that’s better. What am I – ? oh, here? Just for fun, just for fun. I thought I’d come look at some tan people for a change. But look at this – now I stick out! Trés uh? Bad. Horrible. Well, not that bad. It’s a nice look, yeah? Here, you want to take a pic of me in front of- what’s that thing?” (Brucie always talks so much when the paps see him, they never get to ask any questions)

And finally – the Galliano 2011 inspired look. You know I had to. Let’s give him a black silk shirt, unbuttoned after about the third button. It’s not quite a crop top per se, but you see an awful lot of his torso, so let’s count it. Black suit trousers and suspenders, but the suspenders are worn underneath the shirt, which gives that lingerie flavour to the whole look. Then let’s give him the smokey eyes and voilà! That’s a Look to wear around home while waiting for Clark to drop in and ask about what he was doing in Metropolis. (Clark really wishes the man would wear something ordinary just once…)

#feral bruce hours #battinson #feral bruce fashion #superbat #skinnysnakeshoes #ask #formatting continues to be an absolute pain - I really hope this is somewhat bearable to read on the app and on desktop

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yikesharringrove · 5 years ago

Note

could write steve femme with billy sugar daddy who loves to spoil his princess.

So, there’s a fluff here, a little angst, and a LOT of daddy kink, and some fucking KINKY SMUT I have no idea where it came from, so, you have been warned. Like I said, I have no control over these boys Ever and Billy got real horny I had to google a lot of Stuff I’m sorry.

There’s some child abuse right away, Steve’s dad is shitty and homophobic.

Also they have an age gap, bc I wanted sugar daddy Billy to be older, Steve is 19, Billy’s thirty, it’s not really mentioned, but if that is something that makes you uncomfortable, pls don’t read.

Also modern au.

Its fucking filthy why is Billy so gross.

Read on ao3!

Steve was seventeen the day his dad caught him putting on makeup.

He was in a little skirt, the sweet pastel blue was nice on his pale skin, the lace of the bralette poking out from beneath the old t-shirt he had cropped himself.

He was finishing his highlighter, smiling coyly to himself when his dad walked in, whatever question he was going to ask dying on his lips. He slapped Steve right across the face, told him he had an hour to pack his shit and leave, letting him know, with no holds barred, that he would rather have no son than a queer one, a disappointing one, an embarrassing one.

So Steve packed his shit, and lived in the Henderson’s spare bedroom for a little under a year, saving up as much money as he could before buying a bus ticket to California and never looking back.

He found a shitty L.A. apartment on Craigslist, a few girls looking for another person. It was small, but well kept, and cheap and the girls were sweet, didn’t mind that he had just as much makeup as they did, would often swap clothes around.

He worked any job he could find, always holding at least two at once, typically juggling three. It was while working part-time as a server at some fancy place he met Billy Hargrove. The guy was beautiful. Had curly blonde hair he would tie into a bun, these piercing blue eyes. He worked in some kinda tech, had made probably millions doing something Steve would never understand. But he took a liking to Steve, would come a few times a week to the restaurant, would insist on sitting in Steve’s section, went as far as reserving the same table every Monday Friday and Saturday, the nights he knew Steve had shifts.

He would typically eat alone, would smirk up at Steve and lick his lips, delighted when Steve would get a little red.

He always left ridiculously large tips, wads of cash Steve would shove in his pocket.

After close to two months, of this, of light flirting and triple-digit tips, Billy finally made a move, politely asking Steve if he would be interested on going on a date sometime.

Steve was overjoyed he hadn’t gone on a date since he was seventeen, about two years ago. He told Billy he’d love to, but he worked every night. To that Billy offered to double whatever he would make on Saturday night, his own exorbitant tip included. Steve just spluttered, saying that was unnecessary and he can just call out.

So they went out on Saturday night. Billy picked him up from his shitty apartment, the girls he lived with cooing over how beautiful Billy is, like Steve doesn’t already know. He closed the door of the expensive vintage car behind Steve, sliding into the drivers side, eyeing Steve and saying you look gorgeous. Steve had wanted to keep it simple, not release his entire femme self on this guy, had worn old slacks and a button-down, but his nails were painted, and he had on some makeup, foundation, contour, highlight, light blended eye shadow and the thinnest black liner, right on his lash line, false lashes short, understated. It was much less than what he wanted, but didn’t know how well that’d go over with Billy.

Billy took him to some nice place on the other side of town, and was the best date Steve had ever had. He was polite, asked all the right questions, gave all the right compliments. Had fed Steve bites of expensive foods off his own plate, expensive foods Steve hadn’t been treated to since his rich parents kicked him out. He walked him to his door at the end of the night, kissing him chastely with a promise to call the next day.

And call he did. He told Steve he was outside, to get dressed and meet him, that they were going shopping. Steve flew out the door, not even realizing he had thrown on a shift dress, a black faux silk one with lace trim, topping it with an old denim jacket. Billy just ran his hands down the creamy fabric and told him he looked so pretty for me today. They went to designer stores, and Billy shelled out what must have been thousands on Steve, buying him pretty silk dresses, cute little skirts, making Steve show him everything he tried on.

Their next date was dinner the following weekend, Billy having to leave town for work, but called Steve every night. Steve quit one of his jobs, the juice bar down the street that paid minimum and left him wanting in the tip department.

They went out, and Steve wore a lovely green chiffon dress Billy had purchased for him, had giggled when Billy had spun him around, taking in the floaty sheer fabric. They had sex for the first time that night, Billy had taken off the black lace panties with his teeth before eating Steve out for maybe hours. Steve stayed the night at Billy’s place, a spacious penthouse apartment in the city, huge windows giving a panoramic view of the hills.

They had been together for a month when Billy called himself daddy, had eased Steve into it with a don’t you want to be a good girl for Daddy?, while Steve nodded and sobbed, coming on Billy’s fist.

Steve didn’t need convincing, but Billy still sat him down, explained what being a daddy meant to him.

“I want to take care of you. Want to buy you pretty things, want to keep you happy, want to keep you safe.”

Steve was kicked out at seventeen by his neglectful father, he was on board with the idea of having Billy, of having his daddy take care of him.

So he quit another job, just keeping the one fancy restaurant, the tips making up for the part-time hours.

They had been together for six months when Billy asked him to move in. Had said Daddy just wants you where I can see you, take care of you.

So Steve had kissed his girls goodbye, left them enough rent to cover his share for a few months, and moved in with Billy.

Billy gave him an entire room to keep his wardrobe in. Had a beautiful white vanity built against one wall for his makeup, had shelves to display shoes, bags, jewelry, had even filled some of the shelves with new things, new outfits made from liquid soft fabrics.

They celebrated that night by shopping for beautiful lingerie Steve modeled for Billy, posing as he took photos of Steve with an old Polaroid. He fucked Steve with a vibrator for two hours after that, edging him until he was inside, letting him cum if he begged.

So Steve found himself living the most luxurious life, spent most of the day in nothing but pretty lingerie, his daddy’s shirts, or nothing at all. He was at his daddy’s beck and call. He quit his final job, having no reason to keep it, wanting no reason to leave his daddy’s side.

Billy was paying bills in his office when Steve came trotting in, silently pawing at Billy’s legs, wanting to crawl under the desk.

“Use your words, Sugar.” Billy didn’t even look up at him. Steve whined. “Words, Baby, be a good girl.”

“Want you in my mouth. Wanna keep you warm.” When Steve got all up in his emotions about something, he would do this. Would climb under Billy’s desk and let his cock sit in his mouth. Would let his mind go blank and let himself drop. So that’s what he did, carefully took Billy out of his slacks, and put his mouth around him, just rested the weight of his dick on his tongue, not sucking, just, sitting.

He liked the darkness of the space beneath the desk, the smell of Billy, his cologne mingling with his natural musk, and he loved the taste, Billy’s skin clean, the salty bitterness of cum was always on his mind, would be on his tongue once Billy finished his work, let Steve go to town.

He had been sat down there for a while, thinking about nothing at all, just letting himself be, when Billy’s hand pet through his hair. He looked up through his false lashes, blinking slowly at Billy.

“You look so pretty, on your knees for me. Know how much you love having Daddy’s cock in your mouth. Why don’t you take me a little deeper, Princess?” Steve moaned as Billy got hard, taking him as far as he could.

Steve loved gagging on Billy’s cock, loved when it hit the back of his throat and his eyes welled up and drool ran down his chin. He sucked for a few minutes, bobbing his head, feeling his own cock harden in his panties, peeking out the top of the lace band. Billy pulled him up by the hair, settling Steve on his lap before standing, walking through the apartment holding Steve, making his way to their bedroom.

The bed was a queen, Billy liked it smaller so that he could cuddle Steve, never wanted him too far out of reach. He put Steve gently down on it, taking in his flushed chest, the way his little panties clung desperately to his hard cock, the way his nipples could easily be seen in the sheer babydoll.

“So beautiful, all dressed up for Daddy.” Steve blushed.

“I have a surprise for you, Daddy.”

“For me? That’s so sweet of you, Kitten.” Steve rolled over, pressing his hips in the air.

The panties were open in the back, just in the right place to see the jewel tip of the plug he had stuffed himself with. Billy knew it was one the big ones, knew Steve was asking for it rough tonight.

“You get yourself all ready for me?” He flicked at the plug, Steve whimpered. “You know that Daddy loves fingering you, Baby. Loves fucking you open with one of your toys. Why didn’t you ask Daddy if you could do this yourself?”

“I, I thought you would like it. I’m sorry, Daddy.” Billy tutted.

“Sorry won’t cut it, Daddy’s going to have to punish you.” Steve whimpered as he squirmed on the bed, watching as Billy got up and went to the large drawer they kept filled with sex toys. He selected carefully, bringing a few things and placing them behind Steve. “Strip for me, Baby Girl.”

Steve did as he was told, always did as he was told, slowly pulling the baby doll up, avoiding the perfect makeup on his face, letting the smooth material drop to the ground. He turned around to push the panties down, knew Billy would want to stare at his ass, always wanted to stare at his ass. He re-situated himself on the bed, laying on his back, looking at Billy expectantly.

The first thing he did was gag him.

The pastel pink ball was a favorite of Steve’s, he loved feeling used, so drooling around a gag as Billy did whatever the fuck he wanted to him, was pretty good.

The cuffs came next. They were leather, padded on the inside so they wouldn’t hurt Steve’s delicate wrists, wouldn’t leave red marks and burns like metal cuffs and ropes did.

When Steve was ready, Billy folded him up, cuffing his wrists to the headboard, the spreader bar keeping his legs open tucked under his hands, forcing him open, on display for Billy.

“Since you were so bad, Daddy’s gonna try something new.” He began shifting the plug in Steve’s ass, pulling it out. He swapped it for another, a slightly smaller one Steve dreaded. It was long, and when Billy turned it on, controlled it from an app on his phone, it dug right into Steve’s prostate. “I’m gonna leave this in, but I’m gonna try a new toy on you. make it so you can’t cum, no matter how much you want to.” He showed Steve the new toy.

It was small, a little silver ball at the end of a curved piece, attaching to a ring.

“I’m gonna put this inside you. Really plug you up.” Steve moaned when he realized it would be going in his cock. “Yeah? You want that?” He nodded as best as he could. Billy grinned opening one of the bottles of lube they kept in the drawer as well, kept stashed all around the apartment.

He lubed up the little thing, sliding the ring over Steve’s dick, settling it just under the head. “You ready, Princess?” Steve modded again and Billy pressed the little ball in.

Steve was so full. His ass was plugged, mouth gagged, and now there was something filling his penis, keeping him hard but anything inside.

Billy stood up, coming up the bed and settling in near Steve’s head. He had once tied Steve up with the vibrating plug, and left for his office for an hour or so. Leaving Steve alone through his orgasms had been bad, Steve had been a crying mess when Billy found him again, and not in a good way. He had held Steve close all night and apologized profusely for being a bad daddy, and he never left Steve’s sight when they were fooling around.

The vibrator jolted inside Steve and he whimpered, let Billy rake his fingers through his hair, pet down his thighs and tell him he was being so good for Daddy.

Steve writhed as best as he could, cuffed and bent as he was. He was drooling around the gag. Billy sat next to him, whispering praise into his hair, touching his pretty skin. The vibrator was buzzing roughly right against that spot. Steve was moaning, making as many noises as he could around the pink gag. He couldn’t take it.

“You can cum, Princess. Whenever you’re ready. You don’t need Daddy’s permission.” His back went tense, his legs straining against his arms where his wrists were keeping the spreader bar in place. His balls tightened, but it felt like it went on for hours. The little ball plugging his cock up kept everything inside, kept him from any relief.

His eyes were wide as he looked at Billy.

“You always look so beautiful when you cum, with nothing but a big toy in your tight little hole.” Billy was now pressing on the base of the vibrator, shifting it around inside Steve. “You have another one for Daddy?” Steve nodded, feeling like he hadn’t stopped cumming. “Let me see.”

He felt tears begin to run from his eyes the next time, still chasing release, but getting nothing.

It was intense.

Steve was sobbing out around the gag, spitting out muffled pleas, begging his daddy to let him find release. His legs were shaking, thighs trembling as Billy turned off the plug, the thing getting four unsatisfying orgasms out of him.

“Such a good girl, for Daddy. You want my cock, Baby? You want Daddy to fuck you.” Billy was moving back to his hips, wiggling the vibrator in him, one eyebrow raised.

Steve nodded, eyes wide.

Billy slowly took the plug out, Steve’s eyes rolling back his back tensing. He took off his slacks, throwing his expensive clothes in a heap on the floor, knowing the maid would get them later. He poured more lube onto Steve, dragging his cock through it, slicking himself up as Steve whined.

He pressed in roughly, Steve gasping around the pink gag.

Billy didn’t give him any time, setting a bruising pace, Steve barely holding on to his sanity.

He was drawn tight, the silver ball stoppering him up. He felt like an elastic, pulled tight, near snapping if he didn’t get to cum soon, like seriously cum he felt like he was gonna break into pieces.

“You want Daddy to take it out? Make mess outta yourself?” Steve nodded, eyebrows drawn. Billy leaned down, draped himself over his body, rasping in his ear. “Well, not until Daddy gets to come.” He bit at the lobe of Steve’s ear, upping his pace, hips punishing.

Steve had come again while Billy was fucking into him, had dropped into that space, let his mind go blank except for the steady stream of DaddyDaddyDaddy.

Billy went still, tense on top of Steve as he finished, cumming deep in Steve. He slumped for a moment, breathing deeply, taking in Steve’s scent, the floral perfume Billy had to keep buying him, he used it so much.

Steve whined and he came back to himself, back to his baby underneath him, still cuffed and bent, plugged.

“So good, so perfect, Princess. Always give Daddy just what he wants, what he needs.” Steve gasped as Billy thumbed at his cock, running the pad of his fingers along the silver ring. “You made Daddy cum, you can have this out now, you want that?” Steve nodded, eyes pleading.

Billy slowly took the ring off, the silver ball coming out of him.

Steve felt like he was exploding. His pent up orgasms ripping out of him. He swears he must’ve blacked out.

When he came back, he was cleaned up, the cuffs gone from his wrists, the toys put away. He was under the covers, Billy holding him to his chest. He shuffled around, making a soft noise.

“Welcome back, Princess.” Steve smiled as Billy kissed the top of his head. “That okay for you?”

“Yeah, it was, it was good.” Billy just brought him in closer, tightened his arms around his baby.

“I love you, Stevie. Love you so much, Princess.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

#this is pure filth im so sorry #i had to google a LOT of shit for this #mainly sex toys #harringrove #yikes writes #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #lemons

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nalgenewhore · 5 years ago

Text

crossing lines - part two

like the teeny tiniest bit NSFW......just a tad

The sun spilling through the window was what woke him and still half asleep, Lorcan reached across the bed, searching for what, he wasn’t exactly sure.

When he felt nothing but empty sheets, he slowly sat up, his shoulder stiff and sore. He was alone in his room and he sighed, yawning as he rubbed his eyes and spotted a note with his name on it.

He moved slowly, not completely conscious. Lorcan picked it up and read,

I went home to change and get my wallet, I’ll be back at 9:30 to pick you up

-E

The clock on his desk told him he had six minutes and Lorcan cursed, lunging out of bed. Elide Lochan wasn’t exactly known for her patience and would tear him a new one if he was late to go dress shopping for a dance he asked her to. Or, told her that she was his date. Semantics.

He hastily tugged on a pair of black jeans, doing his belt up as fast as he could and he grabbed a t-shirt, a plain white one. Lorcan threw his hair up in a messy bun, held together with one of Elide’s scrunchies and he grabbed his leather jacket, nearly forgetting socks before he was shoving on his high-top chucks, once white, but after countless nights out and forgotten moments, they were slightly grey. He sacrificed a few precious seconds to cuff his jeans, Elide would understand.

Lorcan crashed down the stairs, skittering to a stop when he saw Elide seated at the kitchen bar, slowly sipping on a cup of tea. She looked phenomenal, dressed in a cropped knit sweater and a high waisted plaid skirt, high socks pulled to her mid thigh.

On her feet she wore a pair of platform Mary Janes, her long hair falling in soft waves down her back. Lorcan was silent as he gazed at her, his heart breaking and growing all at once. Elide turned, her mouth open like she was ready to yell at him to hurry up, but her plump lips, painted a deep burgundy spread into a wide smile, “How often do you spy on me, Salvaterre?”

Elide slid off the stool, grabbing her keys and phone, waltzing up to him, her legs seeming like they went on for miles. “Kk, we gots to go, lots of shopping to do, Lor.”

She slipped her hand into his elbow, scrunching her nose up at him, “What are you, deaf? Hi, how are you, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re beautiful.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and his eyes widened as she blushed, ducking her head down.

“Shut up.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“El,” he whined, “I don’t care what dress you choose, just pick one!”

It had been hours, or so it seemed. She had dragged him behind her to every store possible. Lorcan had never learned more about different fabrics and prints and cuts and slit or no slit, what strap she wanted, what kind of neckline. Elide’s voice, tinged with irritation, “You’re the one who gave me no time to shop!”

He felt kind of bad. All he had to do was say yes or no, but he usually just said I don’t care. And it was true, he didn’t. None of the dozens of dresses she had tried on felt right. They were too poofy, not poofy enough, too liquidy, too sparkly, he found little details that he didn’t like and decided he didn’t like the entire ensemble.

Elide was the one who actually had to try on every damned dress and he could tell she was getting more and more tired, every time she slipped her hand into his elbow, she held on a little tighter and walked a little slower.

The door opened and he heard the sound of fabric swishing, but he didn’t look up from his phone quite yet, busy fighting with Gavriel over text, trying to convince his coach to let him play at next week’s game.

“Ahem,” Elide said, her hands on her hips when he finally deigned to glance up, flicking his gaze over the dress she wore.

It was perfect.

It was blood-red silk, spaghetti straps that attached to triangular shapes covering her chest, the neckline dipping down low, just enough to show some of her ample cleavage. It was tight around her taut stomach and tiny waist, slim around her hips and legs before flowing out gently just above her knees. There was a thigh high slit running up the left side, showing off the lean length of her leg when she walked.

There was a small train that pooled on the floor behind her and when she spun slowly, he saw that the back dipped down to just above her ass. “I don’t know about-”

“It’s perfect.” He couldn’t look away, slowly dragging his eyes up her body to meet her gaze, “It’s perfect, El. Get it.”

A small smile twisted her lips and it was she who looked away first, nodding as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “Ok, I’ll get it.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Ten minutes later, Elide was thanking the shop owner while they exited, her paper bag, her dress wrapped in wrapping paper, in Lorcan’s hand.

“You and your boyfriend have a good day now, love,” the older woman said, her face kind.

Elide laughed, shaking her head, “Oh, we’re not dating, we’re just friends. Best friends.”

The woman’s smile faded the slightest bit as Lorcan nodded, agreeing to Elide’s statement. “Just friends.”

“Oh, well, have fun,” she said and she waved as Elide opened the door and they were out on the sidewalk.

Elide was laughing beside him, “How many times do you think people have said that to us?”

Too many and yet, not nearly enough because it was clear that Elide still didn’t get it. Not that he could blame her, he’d been in love with her for years and never said a word. He forced a laugh, the sound foreign in his ears, “I don’t know, I wonder why.”

Elide shot him a quizzical glance, but before he could ask her what, it was gone and she was stopping in front of a store, a wicked glint in her eyes. Elide did not say a word as she dragged him in, letting go of his arm to clap her hands.

Lorcan looked around and made a noise of protest, “El, why are we here?” he whisper shouted, scowling at her as he blushed, the store filled with lacy undergarments.

Elide sighed, “None of the ones I have match.” She pouted, fingering a corset, her eyes travelling over everything.

“And why does that matter? You’re my date and it’s not like we’re gonna fuck,” he shot back at her, gesturing between the two of them. His heart was pounding in his chest and he tried to keep his pulse in check.

“So? They’re pretty and I want new ones,” she stated, patting his cheek and beckoning him behind her with a single finger. He followed her without question or hesitation, avoiding the gaze of every other person in the shop. “Just sit down in this room, I won’t be long.”

He sighed and sat down on the plush couch, resigning himself to his fate. The floor-length mirrors on the walls surrounding him and the little pedestal in the middle, as well as the curtained area, told him what this room was.

Lorcan groaned and dropped his head in his hands.

He was so, so fucked.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“I just-” whined Elide, looking at herself in the mirror. She was clad in red lace, turning this way and that. “I fucking hate my tits, like, what?”

It was no secret that Elide was… blessed in the chest department. They had always been above average, but senior year had gifted her with another growth spurt of sorts. Lorcan avoided looking at her now, knowing he wouldn’t be able to control the look in his eyes if he saw her. “What are you talking about?”

“How have you not noticed? They’re fucking huge,” she cried, cupping them for emphasis. All the blood in his body shot south.

Gods, he was not a good person. She was his best friend, the girl next door and all he could think about right now was marking her pale skin with handprints and dark hickeys as he bent her over the couch.

Fuck, he needed to get out of here. Old women, abandoned puppies, warts, he thought as he dug his nails into his palms, waiting until he could stand perfectly normal. Elide turned and stared up at him, her brow quirked up. “And where do you think you’re going?” She cocked her hip to the side, her fingers drumming on the waist band. “We’re not done here.”

She pointed to the couch and he sat back down, crossing his legs tightly. Elide turned her back to him, scrutinizing the set in the mirror. Lorcan let his eyes travel down her back, the red lace wrapped around her waist before travelling down to her ass.

His gaze locked onto the curve of her backside, perfectly framed by the red panties. “See something you like?” questioned Elide, a teasing tone in her voice.

It took everything in him to meet her eyes, willing his face to hide every thought racing through his mind. “The tag is sticking out.” Well, that was partly true.

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Tuck it in for me?”

Lorcan breathed in deeply before slowly standing and walking up behind her, sending a shock through her lower back as his fingers brushed against her skin. “Sorry,” he murmured, tucking the tag back in for her.

“‘T’s all good,” she replied, her gaze hooded as their eyes met in the mirror.

It was he who spoke first, “Um, I’m gonna go get us a table at Mistward, alright?��

Elide nodded vaguely, still holding his stare, “Mm-hmm, sounds good.”

Without another word, he left, clenching his jaw.

What the fuck was that?

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan was on his third coffee when Elide finally arrived, dropping down in the seat across from him, a little paper bag with ribbon handles placed on the table between them.

It seemed whatever had happened was forgotten as she plucked his cup from his hands and sipped, making a disgusted face, “Ugh, I forgot you drank coffee. Can you fetch me a tea, love?”

Although it was phrased as a question, it was nothing of the sort, it was a command and Lorcan stood, smiling despite himself. “Yeah, one sec.”

“Ooh,” she exclaimed, popping her chin on her fist, “a cranberry-orange muffin would be amazing as well.” She crossed her left leg over her right and swung her foot, smiling lazily up at him.

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” Lorcan commented as he backed away and turned, walking up to the counter. He heard Elide’s tinkling laughter behind him and couldn’t stop the smile that grew.

The barista called for the next person and he stepped forward, “Hey.”

“Hi, what can I get for you today?”

He perused the menu, but it was unnecessary, “I’ll get a sixteen ounce Earl Grey and do y’all got cranberry-orange muffins today?”

The barista smiled at him, his voice smooth and even, “Yeah, want that warmed up?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” Lorcan pulled out his wallet, “I think that’s all for now, man.”

“Perfect and it’s for here, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head. “And it’s on card, please.”

“Alright,” the barista, his name tag reading ‘Nox’, turned the tablet over to Lorcan, indicating where he could pay, “go for it.”

Lorcan tipped and paid the man, moving to stand by the pick-up counter, accepting the muffin set on a little round plate. He took it back to Elide, who had her eyes closed and her face tipped to the sun. “El,” he said, putting her muffin down in front of her. He didn’t sit, simply stood up straight and went to lean against the wall by the counter.

A few moments later, a familiar body, one he knew nearly as well as his own, slid up beside him. Elide tucked herself into his side, her fingers toying with the silver chain around his neck. Lorcan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and folded her in, her forehead resting against his sternum, his chin on her head.

He felt her smile into his chest and she fingered the zipper on his jacket.

“Lorcan, you know that I love you, right?” she whispered.

“Yeah, I know, I know that,” he responded, not letting his broken soul shine through his voice, “Love you too.”

@myfeyrelady @schmlip-scribble @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @lizzziebear @bamchickawowow @la7sorcellerie @julemmaes @welcometothespeaknowworldtour

#crossing lines #cl 2 #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #hmmmm we almost there i think

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine:

Erik getting the readers hair wet after she spent all day in the salon getting it done and she flips out on him.

You went over two years without getting your hair silk pressed but today was the day you and Erik had a scheduled “early 2000’s” photo shoot so you wanted to switch things up. Your hair was almost waist length and you knew it would cost you a pretty penny to get all of that thick 4A hair pressed out.

What you hadn’t expected was for the process to take almost four hours. Clearly, relying on friends to do your hair wasn’t a good idea. Your appointment was scheduled for 9:00 am but as soon as you got there the salon was backed up and it seemed like every woman with natural hair wanted a silk press today. The shit was ridiculous. You waited for about an hour before a booth was actually ready for you. This didn’t include having to get your hair washed and detangled, deep conditioned, steamed, then blown out, and then silk pressed. All of this cost you around $100.

You were finally finished around 3:15 pm, cranky but in love with your silky hair. It was trimmed, shiny, and soft. You allowed your stylist friend to take a few pictures for social media, saying ‘thank you’ to all the women who envied you’re hair. Your 4A hair was actually waist length. Erik wouldn’t know how to control himself once he saw you like this.

Erik: Y/N, where are you? I’m stopping by chic-fil-A to get us something to eat. What you want?

This was Erik’s text to you.

Y/N: crispy chicken deluxe with waffle fries and a lemonade.

Erik: Aight greedy I got you 🙄

Y/N: thank you meany 😘

Erik: You didn’t answer my question though. Where are you?

Y/N: leaving the salon. Remember I told you I’m getting it done today?

Erik: Shit 😂 I forgot that fast. I can’t wait to see it 😏

Y/N: I bet you can’t. I know what you’re thinking.

Erik: I’m glad you know.

—————————-

Finally home, you pulled out your 2000s outfit. Playboy bunny crop top in pink, pleated plaid skirt colored pink, white, and black, silver rhinestone shades, lip gloss, and a pair of air force 1s.

You needed a quick shower before the shoot and Erik was close. Stripping down, you wrapped your hair, securing it with a few scarves to insure that it doesn’t get wet or frizz up. You enter the bathroom, turning on the shower before entering carefully, pulling the curtain closed behind you. While you washed your body, Erik enters the house, dressed in a clean suit from work at the Outreach, his work bag and both of your food. After placing the food in the kitchen, Erik walks to the bedroom, taking off his bag, shoes, and suit jacket.

Erik: Y/N? You in the shower baby without me?

He could smell the peppermint Castile soap you used frequently. Erik took off his shirt, walking to the master bathroom. He spots you through the glass door, cleaning off your beautiful body. He admired you with lust, more than ready to bend you over the tub and fuck you. Without warning, Erik walls up to the shower, opening the door and wrapping a hand around your waist. You squeal in surprise, soaking wet body pressed against him.

Erik: you taking showers without me, babe?

Y/N: I’m sorry you were taking too long.

Erik: I told you I was close baby girl.

Erik runs his hands all over your ass, titties, and pussy. You moan, hands on the shower wall while he touched you all over.

Erik: bend over baby girl.

Y/N: Erik, wait until I get out, okay?

Erik: I can’t baby I need some pussy.

You suck your teeth, Erik’s lips against your ear while he whispered to you. You loved it when he did that. Erik bends you over, his hand spreading your pussy open to put his fingers inside of you. He put three in there. You gasp, arching back against him while he finger fucked you from the back.

Y/N: oooo Daddy

You made sure your head was away from the shower, moaning deliciously while his fingers got you wet.

Erik: you want Daddy to buss it open?

Y/N: fuck yes

You couldn’t help it he had you fully horny now.

Y/N: hurry up daddy we gotta go to the photo shoot.

Erik pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them before pulling his pants down, kicking them off. His dick was standing at attention, his left hand stroking it while his right hand was on your hips. He slowly enters you, both of you sighing in unison as he started pumping his hips. The sight of your wet booty and warm skin made his dick even harder. The sight of you creaming his dick made him increase his pace, fucking you with you body bent over until your hands were touching the floor of the shower. He was going ape shit inside of you and now was the time to panic. When Erik went Killmonger in the pussy you had to hold on for the ride and pray that you would still be able to walk afterwards.

Erik: This pussy always cream on Daddy’s dick.

He slaps your wet ass causing it to sting.

The more he fucked you, the more your mind became fuzzy. Everything else didn’t matter and clearly your hair included. While Erik fucked your brains out you slipped, head falling directly under the water. You scream, Erik still fucking into you at a rapid delicious pace.

Y/N: ERIK! MY HAIR!!!!!

You try your best to touch it but erik was fucking your pussy so good you couldn’t even function.

Y/N: ERIK! *moans* IM GONNA KILL YOU!

Erik: shut up and cum on this daddy dick!!!!

You claw his arm, ready to fucking cuss him out but the moment the head of his dick stroked your g spot you lost your mind. You cum all over him, Erik still going. Your scarf was off, silk pressed hair curling back up from the large amount of water. All of that hard work, all that money, down the drain.

Y/N: ERIK! Erik I swear to God I’m gonna kill you!!!! *moans*

Erik: *grabs wet hair* WHOSE KILLING WHO THOUGH?

He was non stop. You looked back at him with a glare, hands pressed to the wet wall while he stroked your pussy. It was so good you wanted to cry. He had the fucking nerve. Your hair was completely ruined now and all he wants to do is fuck the shit out of you.

Y/N: BABY IM SO MAD AT YOU!!!

You were but damn.

Erik got some good dick.

Erik: I’m so sorry baby girl, Daddy sorry *strokes faster*

He said that very loosely. You groan with a mixture of anger and pleasure, eyes low and the feeling of yet another orgasm creeping up.

Y/N: FUCK YOU!!!!

You cum again, ready to be through so you could punch him in the chest for this but he had a firm grip on you, pumping his dick in and out until the feeling of him swelling stretched your walls. You moan with him, his nails deep in your skin as he cums all inside of you and deep.

Erik slips out, his cum dripping down your leg. The minute he was out you turned to him, face frowning. Erik admired the curly hair, unable to fight a laugh.

Erik: Baby girl don’t be mad at me, I didn’t mean to

Y/N: I spent Damn near four hours in the fucking salon, Erik, four. This shit cost me $100 to get it done!!!!! You don’t care all you cared about was getting some pussy.

Erik: how man times do you want me to say I’m sorry?!! If you want I can pay for the shit again. Damn, my bad.

Y/N: I’m not going to this photo shoot.

You step out of the shower, practically running out of the bathroom. Erik follows behind you, calling out to you.

Erik: *laughs* Baby, I’m sorry.

He gets down on his knees, looking up at your naked frame while you angrily throw your clothes back into the closet.

Erik: you can wear it curly. It looks better curly anyway baby.

Y/N: that’s not the fucking point.

Erik: what you want me to do? You want me to do your hair for you? I can put it in those two buns with some butterfly clips.

You look over at him, scowling. He pouted, hands up in prayer hoping you wouldn’t be mad anymore.

Y/N: Stop doing that. I’m not falling for that shit again. I’m pissed the fuck off.

Erik: I love you.

You roll your eyes. Erik pulls you over to him, holding you against his chest. He smelled good and felt good. You wanted to be so mad at him but the was Erik. He was annoying and aggravating but you couldn’t stay mad at him forever.

Y/N: You get on my fucking nerves.

He laughs because he knew when you said that you weren’t mad anymore.

Erik: Is that your way of telling me you love me?

Y/N: You know I love you.

You did no matter how much of a handful his is.

Erik: listen, I’ll pay for your hair, nails, and those Louis Vuitton slippers you wanted. How about that diamond choker? I can get you one of those too.

He always tried to make it up to you.

Y/N: how about all of it? I mean, I think I deserve that much.

Erik: You do, *kisses neck* I got you baby girl.

You groan, melting from his kisses.

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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