#every time i imagine myself in my head i see myself with a flatter chest

[wereh0gz]

Is my discomfort with my boobs gender dysphoria, body dysmorphia, or just a general discomfort with the sensations of having a human body that comes with possible neurodivergency

[wth234]

Priest Nanami

You were there every morning at 9am sitting in the front pew right in front of the podium ready for mass. It wasn’t like you to attend mass this often but after stumbling in one day, seeking some sort of salvation and placing your gaze upon the priest, you knew there was a god.

The members were mostly elderly with some young families mixed in. Everyone held up the Father in high regards thanks to his powerful sermons and genuine generosity towards the community. He seems to have a strong aura enforced by his strong beliefs that he successfully displayed each Sunday.

Today you knew it was time to confess. Father had preached today to do what is right in the eyes of the Lord. He stated “I will not look with approval on anything that is vile. I hate what faithless people do; I will have no part in it.”

You’ve never felt more guilty. You knew showing up wasn’t to seek salvation anymore, it was just to ogle him and let your mind run. Even though he was wearing the cassock, you could tell he was well built by the way it hung off his shoulders. Always with a stoic expression and completely modesty dressed. You’d hate to admit that that was what turned you on the most. Your imagination ran wild thinking about what his body looked under and what type of expression would he make if he were on top of you. Admittedly, you wanted his attention. You’d wear modest clothes that hugged you body seductively and when you went to take bread, you’d always looked him in the eyes as the placed it in your mouth. Each time he’d sharply inhale and avert his gaze. Through service it seems impossible to hide your true intentions. On the outside, you’d seem to be attentive to what the Father peached, yet you always say with your legs interlocked trying to hide that sensation.

It was time to confess these lewed thoughts. Today after mass you went to the confession box. You waited to the end until you were sure it was just him & you left.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is the first time I’ve come to confessed myself. ”

“Speak child and let me help you wash away your sins.”

You wavered, did you really want to tell him your sinful thoughts about him? You could see his silhouette through the screen and he knew it was you by the sound of your voice.

With a shaky voice, you confess “I have been having troublesome thoughts about a certain well respected man.”

“He is older than me and lives by the word of God and every time I see him, I feel an arousal I can’t contain.”

You could see his outline stiffen up at the words you spoke. Father replied, “Confess, what makes up these thoughts?”

“I let my imagination run and think of how his stoic expression and serious demeanor would change if we were in bed.”

On the other side, Father knew where this was heading, he knew you were taking bout him. He had noticed your lustful gaze, your wandering eyes as if you tried to see through his godly robes. Admittedly, he looked you with the same gaze. He loved how your dresses hugged your chest and how they draped off you ass. It was modest clothing and it wasn’t your fault they flattered your curves. At home he’d think of you and get hard yet he’d always resist the temptation but today how could he, you were right besides him confessing your sinful mind.

He could feel the blood start to flow. With every lust filled word coming out your mouth, how you wanted to caress “this man’s” face and blond hair, see his body uncovered, run your touch up and down his back, chest, stomach, legs, everywhere and make him moan. Oh, he could only imagine how your touch would feel as the threw his head backing taking a deep breath. Then you admitted to acting on these thought and touching yourself. How his serious manner and restrained gaze along with your imagination were enough to drive you over the edge.

He could hold it in anymore he palmed himself through his robes as you spoke. He wanted nothing more than to touch himself freely then and there but he knew at least his outline could be seen through the other side & he held back. Each word out your mouth riled him up even more. Your guilt made you tear up and hearing you cry turned him on even more.

What a dirty priest. He’d become devoted to God as en effort to set aside earthly desires yet her he was, shamelessly mastrubating to a sinners confession.

You declared what you’d always imagined. How his hands would run roughly wild across your body fondling every inch as he placed his body weight on you while he kissed your ears and neck. All this while shamelessly grinding against you.

Even thought now he was doing way more that palming himself, his stiffness was unbearable. It was like you were describing a sex scene and him and you staring in it and that was exactly what it was. With a tight grip he stroked himself to your voice as he bit his lip to keep quiet yet had already noticed his hastened breathing.

His silhouette was obvious. You could see everything as you spoke and purposely provoked him even more. This man had lost all restraint and you wanted to see how far you could take it thank to you.

He thought of how soft your body must feel, how small you’d look under him, and easily he could grab your hips and slam himself inside you. He wanted to pin you down to the bed and stare at how your chest would move with his stroke and how your voice would moan in pleasure his name. He wanted to have you in a mating press placing his full weight on you with every thrust as he’d shut your voice with a deep kiss and have you moaning in his mouth instead.

He could hold it in anymore and made a mess of his robes.

“Father?” You called out as you finished blatantly telling him you desires. He hadn’t said anything in a while.

In a shaken voice he replied with an assigning a penance and dismissing you. He needed to free himself from you. You had corrupted him yet he looked forward to seeing you again next Sunday.

[gothic-thoughts]

No One Left Behind

Zoro Roronoa x Black Fem Reader Angst

Enemies2Lovers, Exes2LoversAU, PirateAU

CW: she/her pronouns, sword fighting, drinking, cheating allegations, jealous rage

Word Count: 1250 (give or take)

You were sitting in the same bar they met in, where they had their first sword fight with a half-empty bottle of wine resting on the table. You were here frequently drinking to forget the man you should never have wasted your time with. Why do you even come back here? To see if he would come back or to keep hurting yourself over and over at the memory?

You grab the bottle by the neck and chug, throwing your head back to finish the bottle. You stop when it's less than half full but almost choke seeing that familiar green hair sitting at the bar. Blinking rapidly, you try to free yourself from your daydream while coughing wine out of your lungs when Zoro glances over at the sound of the choking.

He shrugs and shakes his head, not recognizing you as he resumes sipping his drink, angering you even more than your memories. You stand abruptly with a loud and annoyed groan to grab his attention again as you yank off your bandana and pull your curly hair from the ponytail, shaking your head slightly to let it fall to your shoulders in its original poofy state. Zoro quickly stands from his seat with wide eyes, a small smile slowly spreading on his lips.

“.....(Y/n).....” He starts walking closer, “You...changed.”

“Oh, so you do remember me after running off?” You snap, running fingers through the curls to fix it up better, “How wonderful.”

“Run off...? The hell are you—”

“And not only did you run off without a word,” You pull your sword, gripping it tightly, “You had an orange-haired woman with you. She and some...stretchy kid. Didn’t know you liked redheads, that’s new.”

He pauses and crosses his arms. “Put that away, that wasn’t what you thought it was.”

“Oh so, you think I'm stupid? You saying I imagined you running off with another woman, another pirate at that? Never pegged you for the type to gaslight, Roronoa.”

“And jealousy doesn’t look good on you, (Y/n). That ‘orange-haired woman’ is one of my crew mates, her name is Nami.”

“Tch, crew? Crew?!” You laugh as you walk towards him, sword aimed for his chest, “You....have a crew?! Bet that means you see her every day...and night.”

Blinded with anger, you swing but Zoro quickly sidesteps the blow with ease, making you slice clean through the nearest table. He sighs in annoyance and looks at you as you stand up straight with a piercing glare in his direction and ready to swing again.

"As flattering as this is," He rests his hands on one of his 3 swords, "You're being irrational; I'm telling you, she's just one of my friends.”

“You’re telling me the pirate hunter ran off with pirates without a word to his pirate lover for 3 years? And you expect me to see the only pirate woman you ran with as a friend?”

"Alright, I'll give you that. Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m telling you that they’re friends; she's just a friend.”

“You're lying...” Your voice cracks, breaking with distraught, “You're lying.”

“You know what, I take that back actually,” he says, avoiding your quick slices, “You didn’t change at all; you still don’t listen.”

Zoro continued dodging your slashes around the bar, stepping back to allow any nearby bottles, chairs, and tables to be sliced instead. Patrons moved around the bar with gasps and screams, some even leaving to escape being cut in half. The swordsman continued to expertly and narrowly dodge and back away with his hand on his 3 swords, still not wanting to fight.

"(Y/n), I know you're angry, but you're not getting a fight."

“Not if you keep running." You huff, walking towards him with the point aimed at his chest, "I swore to myself that I'd kill you, you lying son of a bitch.”

"Really now?" Zoro flashes a smug smirk, “You are good, but I sincerely doubt that'll happen."

“I’ve been waiting 3 years for this day; I’m pretty fucking committed.”

“Quite an impressive grudge, I’d expect nothing less from you."

"Then give me a fair fight."

"Answer is still no. Honestly, I’m just letting you get this out so we can talk.”

His random confession caught you off guard, and in the second you took to think, he pushed the side of the sword away from his chest, sending your weapon over the bar. You kick him and take out your dagger before slashing his forearm. He backs away into a pillar for a breath, letting you press against him with the small blade to his throat. Zoro relaxes, raising both eyebrows at your threatening glare and misty eyes. You squint, causing the moisture to overflow down your brown cheeks.

“You fucking!" You punch him in the stomach, making him groan slightly, "You let me win!”

“Cuz that's what you want; you’re obviously too mad to listen to reason.”

“I don’t wanna hear that bullshit! I wanted a fair fight!” 

“As much as I wanted to, I don't want to hurt you when you clearly don't know what you're fighting about. That being said....”

The fed-up swordsman grabs your wrist, slowly guiding the dagger back at your face to startle you a little before snatching it and throwing it through a window with an annoyed grunt. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, leaving you to gasp.

“Shut up and listen. You're right, I ran off without a word, and I’m sorry, but it wasn't just because of her. It was because they needed my help, Nami and Luffy. I didn’t cheat.”

“You--”

“Hush! It’s not like I wouldn’t tell you I’m leaving, I didn't have time. We were being chased by Marines and needed to go. She's like a little sister to me, that's all.”

Your breathing started to settle now that you were actually listening. Zoro sighs in relief, arm keeping you as close as possible. He quickly links his lips with yours, strong hands sliding up your back while yours glide up to his broad shoulders and rest the other on the back of his neck. You cup each other's faces, and grasp at each other's shirts while groaning into each other's mouths desperately. You part, panting in the space between them.

“I swore I'd kill you if I saw you again for breaking my heart.” You scoff, chuckling, “So...you're just a pirate now?...

He nods a little. “I'm on Luffy's crew...my friends.”

“I guess that means our relationship isn't forbidden anymore, ex-pirate hunter.”

“Yeah, that also means that." He smiles a little, "(Y/n), would you consider joining us? You could be a pirate with me, of course, it'd be a little different."

“No more cat and mouse~”

“Oh, I know how much you love to be chased. But, if you ask me, it could be a lot more fun.” He kisses your cheek softly, “And if you decided to, that means we’d never be apart for as long as we did. Just think about it.”

“Tch, never?”

He nods, looking straight into your eyes. “Never. I know you work alone, but just think about it.”

“I just might, pirate hunter. You owe me a dagger, by the way. That window faces the dumpster.”

He chuckles, picking up your sword and handing it to you.

"You're impossible."

[henrywintersdearestgirl]

Wasn’t sure about this one, but I also have to feed my doves some content:)

My kind of Picturesque:

Richard Papen’s point of view:

Growing up poor gives people certain habits, some better, some worse.

I was so used to mine that I couldn’t even decide which one it was categorised into.

Ever since I could think, I always found myself longing. After everything I didn’t have or never could have. Expensive items, designer clothes, being an orphan and certain people.

I always found myself wishing I was someone else, someone classy and rich, like Francis Abernathy or Henry Winter, smart minds and big bank accounts.

There was one exception where I didn’t want to be a certain person, but longing to be with one. With her.

Sure, I always found certain people attractive or nice, and I even wished about being with them, but longing is a whole different thing. Longing consumes your mind and keeps you up at nights, daydreaming and lost in fantasies.

She lived in the dorm next to mine, I found that out the very first day I arrived at Hampden. I was in a rush to the office to deliver some papers and I forgot it in my dorm room, my head and thoughts were messy from being tired and just straight up nervous. I didn’t even notice that the room I barged to wasn’t mine.

That is when I first saw her, I stopped in my tracks and let out a loud gasp, she was dressing when I accidentally barged in.

I have never seen such perfection before, she was only wearing black cotton underwear, her chest area was completely bare for my wandering eyes to see. At first she looked like a deer in the headlights, then she began to smile slyly. “Howdy, neighbour?”

She was completely unbothered by the fact that her breasts were completely out.

“I-I’m sorry…” I said and I slammed the door shut.

In the office I couldn’t focus on anything and everyone had to repeat everything they said to me multiple times.

I always had trouble sleeping, but that night I found myself in a deep long sleep. I suppose masturbating all night tired me out, but I just couldn’t help myself. Her naked body was on my mind every second. The thought that she was in the room beside me aroused me even more. I fantasised that she was also doing the same thing I was, touching herself, maybe even thinking of me like I was thinking of her. Maybe she was groping her own breasts, those beautiful and tender, soft pink nippled breasts. I wanted to touch her, feel her and get a taste of her so bad, to run my hand along her soft stomach and bury my head between her thighs. I imagined her being so desperate for pleasure that she came knocking on my door, that didn’t happen.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of her voice. Not in the way I would have preferred, but it was her voice nonetheless. “Stupid motherfucking shoe!” That I heard after a thud.

My still dazed thinking from my sleep made me bolt out of bed and make my way to her room. To apologize to her for what happened the day before, and mostly to just get a chance to see and talk to her.

I knocked on her door and she opened it seconds later. She was getting ready. Her hair was a big mess, her pretty face had makeup on, she was wearing a raggedy old band t-shirt and some kind of shorts. She flashed me a toothy grin. “Morning, neighbour!” She turned on her heel and the door opened wider for me to step inside.

“Morning.” I felt somewhat awkward but she didn’t seem bothered by it.

“Did I wake you up? I am terribly sorry about it, it’s just that I was looking for something on the top of my wardrobe and a shoe fell right on my head.” She said while rummaging through her closet.

“No, you didn’t, don’t even mention it…” I leaned against her door frame with my arms crossed, I didn’t know how to hold them without being awkward. “Listen…?”

“Y/n, y/l/n.” She said as she threw herself down on her chair. “Carry on, Richard.” She began styling her hair.

“Y/n, right.” I was flattered that she knew my name already, her name tasted like honey on my tongue. “So, about yesterday… I am terribly sorry for barging in like that, I really thought it was my room, sorry.”

“Oh, please, it’s all good, don’t even mention it. I didn’t make you too uncomfortable did I?” She turned towards me with a foxy grin.

Her gaze made me nervous, I could feel the blush creeping up my neck. “N-no, I-, no of course not! Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all.” She stood up and came to me. “Wanna get breakfast?” She put her hand on her hip. I was beaming on the inside from her offer, it was one I could not decline for anything.

“Yeah, sure.”

She giggled excitedly. “Good, meet me in front of your door in half an hour, is that enough for you?”

“Of course, see you then, I guess.”

I turned on my heel and hurried back to my room. I barely found an outfit that was casual and didn’t reveal that I was trying to impress her. I brushed my teeth and got myself together. Half an hour later she was knocking on my door.

She was wearing a lace trimmed top and skirts, and what surprised me was that she was wearing cowboy boots. She looked absolutely beautiful.

We talked and talked at breakfast, she was the best company I ever had.

We have been friends ever since then.

We used to go over to each other’s rooms a lot, to talk, to borrow things, anything really. The more I saw her, the more I fell in love with her. She was everything. She loved golden age Hollywood, fashion and diet coke, there was always one or two can of them in her bag. She was also awfully fond of cowboy boots, had one of them in nearly every colour. It turned out that the day she woke me up with her cursing, it was a cowboy boot that fell onto her head.

Her and Judy were really good friends too, us three even did coke in a burger king parking lot one time.

Everyone liked her, to my biggest surprise, even the Greek class liked her. Everybody knew her, her wild hair and cowboy booted outfits.

Bunny always said what a fun chick she was. Henry never really said anything, but he always checked her out when she went by us. Camilla and Francis adored her.

There was one time I remember so vividly. Me, Camilla and Francis attended one of those college parties before going down to the country house. We had quite a few drinks and suddenly while we were talking in a quieter place, trying to sober up a bit before hitting the road, Francis’s eyes went wide and his face paled. We panicked that he was sick, but he just pointed his finger behind us. We were in the same state of shock moments later when we saw Judy and y/n making out wildly at the wall.

We might have been perverts for this but we watched it all. They kept on switching places and pushing the other up the wall in passion. Judy was in a skirt and a colourful blouse, while y/n had a black mini dress on, usual to herself she wore brown cowboy boots and even a hat, she was so sexy.

They gripped each other’s hair, Judy pushed her against the wall while kissing her neck, her chanel red nailed hands found their way under her dress and there was no sugarcoating what she was doing to y/n, nor there was no sugarcoating in the noises she was letting out, Judy was whispering in her ear and occasionally it made her moan.

Minutes later, they switched places again, y/n got on her knees and buried her head under Poovey’s skirt.

We watched her go down on her and based on Judy’s reaction, she was very good at it.

When she finished, she wiped her mouth seductively and kissed her one last time before dragging her back to the party.

This made the three of us sober up properly, and even aroused. We went to the car and didn’t say a word on the road, we didn’t need to, our body language told everything. Me and Francis trying to hide our excitement and Camilla blushing and fidgeting made it obvious that she was in no different state than we were.

When we arrived, we found Henry in the library, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of us. “Did something happen?”

The three of us needed another drink after that, we told Henry all we saw and he just kept his set face. “Interesting.” That was all he said.

“Sooo… she likes girls?” Said Francis after a somewhat comfortable pause. He looked at me, studying my expressions, he knew that I was fond of her. I wanted her every second, I knew that my chances with her were near zero, but this could make it a proper zero.

“She can like men, too. She’s young and wild, this doesn’t define her.” I was awfully surprised as Henry said this.

Later on I found out why Henry knew that she was attracted to men.

While in Hampden, they hooked up occasionally. They weren’t in a relationship, I don’t even know to this day how it started out. I was mad at Henry at first, that he got to touch and feel her, but it’s not like I made big efforts to get her. I always thought that she would come to me, she never did.

At the beginning of our last year of college, she got discovered. It turned out that she was a talented actress and a big director from Hollywood noticed it. She always had a certain sparkle to her, as well as timeless beauty. Her name was placed on billboards and movie credits.

Nonetheless, she finished her studies at Hampden, like she wasn’t one of the brightest actress of our generation. She was the same person, the wild haired cowboy booted girl next door. It was like nothing had changed.

When we graduated, I fell out of touch with everyone, except Francis, who I exchanged letters with from time to time. I had one last breakfast with her, we talked and had an emotional goodbye. I tried to hold my tears back while hugging her with all my might. I didn’t know at the time the secret she was carrying.

Many, many years later, I moved to New York, mostly for the job I got at a university, and in the city I could also keep an eye out for Francis, who was mostly bored all the time. Y/n really made a name for herself, she kept her life private mostly, so I didn’t know where she was or what she was up to these days.

One day while I was on my way to the university I was teaching at, I ran into Henry. It was refreshing to see him, we chatted for a while and he invited me over to dinner in his apartment.

I was glad that I could catch up with him, I didn’t expect that it wouldn’t be only the two of us at dinner, the discovery still makes my stomach knot.

I arrived and Henry greeted me, he lived in a huge apartment that was packed in antique furniture. Suddenly, two little boys in suits came to say hi. Claude and Vincent Winter were their names. They looked identical to Henry, pale skin, icy blue eyes and dark raven hair. They were well mannered smart children.

I was about to ask if he had a wife or something while we were sitting on the couch, sipping whiskey, until a little girl waddled out in her little pink dress. It made me smile, Henry being a father to twin boys and a little girl. At first she had her back to me, she sat in her father’s lap and nuzzled herself close to him. Until Henry gently cooed to her that it was impolite to not greet their guest.

When she turned her head, my breath got stuck in my throat. She was the perfect copy of the girl that lived next door to me. Her hair long and her eyes big. She smiled at me. “Good evening, mister.” I could only nod in my shocked state.

Henry stroked her hair gently. “Go get Mama, would you?” She catapulted out of his lap to do as she was told.

“You have three children?!” I downed my whiskey down in one swallow.

“I do, yes. That was Heidi.”

“When a-and how?” I stammered out.

“Well, Richard, I don’t think I have to explain the process of reproduction.” He gave a little chuckle.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. Do you have a wife?”

He didn’t answer, he just looked to the side and smiled. I heard her before I saw her. “Howdy, neighbour.” My heart nearly stopped, I turned my head so fast in her direction that it was a miracle that I didn’t break my neck. She looked more mature and more like a mother, but still the biggest beauty I’ve seen. There were still some girlish features on her. Her once wild hair was cut off, now she had hair like Marilyn Monroe, it suited her.

She sat down next to Henry and leaned into his touch, her left hand was caressing his that was wrapped around her waist, a golden ring on both. It was no mystery, they were married and the three little clones were from her.

“Hold on a second, how old are your children?” That was the first thing I said after I told y/n that she looked good.

“Vincent and Claude are six, Heidi is three.”

We last saw each other in Hampden, six years ago.

“You were pregnant when we graduated, weren’t you?” I put the pieces together in my head. She smiled and nodded. I tilted my head for further explanation.

They did explain it all to me. While in Hampden, they hooked up occasionally, even after she got famous, nothing serious. Senior year it was, when in spring it turned out that y/n fell pregnant with Henry’s baby. She had no idea what to do, but Henry was there for her and he helped her make her choice, to keep his baby. He took her out, gave her gifts and cared for her. They fell in love, they married in the summer of our graduation and they kept it a secret. Y/n was in a big movie while her pregnancy wasn’t showing, and after it she took a break from Hollywood. They ran away to a little Italian villa and y/n gave birth to twin boys in Italy.

We sat down to dinner, and while I was awfully mad at them at first, I noticed how meant to be they were.

She suddenly spoke up. “Richard?” She snapped me out of my haze. “Remember our last breakfast together, on June 16th?”

“How could I ever forget?” I could never.

“Well, that is the day I realized I was having twins. When I hugged you I felt my bump against you, and I was convinced that you felt it too.” She giggled. “Did you?”

I didn’t remember, I was so focused on trying to say or do something that will make her mine that I didn’t even notice her pregnant belly poking at me, the pregnant belly that was carrying my friend’s babies.

“I didn’t, no.”

Dinners with the Winter’s became a usual thing, eventually, Francis started to tag along. Heidi adored him. I became Uncle Richard to their children, and I liked it.

Did I ever stop longing after her though? Never, she would always be the wild haired girl next door in cowboy boots to me.

[glowingbadger]

So, having not played the games myself and only knowing about things from wiki and the occasional fanfic referencing in-game events I'm in the unfortunate position of adoring Tellius characters with no outlet. But scrolling down your blog has me thinking because you mentioned wondering about situations where Soren or Volke would get down and dirty. So picture if you will "I almost lost you forever" post-battle sex for Soren and stress-relief sex w/dirty talk for Volke.

oh no Friend Anon you activated my trap card

Volke came to mind first, but honestly, your idea for Soren is like one of the only ways I could even imagine him fucking because of just... how he is as a person lmao. So Soren will be coming in the future, I promise you- I keep wanting a good excuse to write him, after all.

To be clear to others btw, I'm not taking new requests right now, this one just hit me in Some Kinda Way. Which is why the impossible has happened and I'm posting writing two days in a row lmao.

Final side note, I literally can't tell you guys how shook I am that FEH has made it clear that the 'e' at the end of Volke's name ISN'T SILENT?? Like... Vol-keh?! What the entire shit.

** quick little TW for both characters being slightly buzzed

Volke (Fire Emblem PoR & RD) x AFAB Reader

NSFW drabbles 18+

"We- we should... go to a room," you say in a breathy whisper, though you're still tugging the front of Volke's cloak, opening one clasp at a time from where you shakily stand, pinned with your back against the storage room wall, "What if... the owner, or- or the barkeep..."

"The owner of this place owes me a few favors and more than a few back-payments," Volke's voice rumbles at the crook of your neck, "As for the barkeep... I frankly don't care what he happens to see," his hands slide under your tunic and up your back, sending shivers through you, "Do you?"

Instead of an answer, you tug him into a deep, messy kiss, and he groans out his approval. Your bodies are warmed by friction and the pleasant buzz of ale, the aches of weeks spent marching and fighting and surviving melting away with every new inch of skin his hands conquer. You feel the graze of his facial scruff against your skin as his tongue teases yours and his body traps you between him and the wall. You've finally managed to open the various layers of his clothing enough to run your hands up his nicely carved abdomen to his chest. Volke utters another low, masculine groan, and his hands grab your backside and pull you firmly against him. Then, his lips are traveling down the side of your neck, and your head is spinning from the heat, his body, the scent of booze and earthy pipe smoke that lingers on his clothes and hair. When at last he reaches the base of your neck, he presses his teeth to the tender skin, and you gasp out his name, your nails raking down his toned musculature.

"Keep making those cute little noises and we'll definitely attract unwanted guests."

"I- I can't help it, you-!"'

His low chuckle grazes across your skin, and before you realize, he's undone the front of your breeches with a single hand that is now pushing down into them.

"I never said I minded."

"Oh-!"

Your head tilts back and you cling to the front of his clothes as his fingers begin to pulse between your thighs. Perhaps you shouldn't be surprised that his hands are inhumanly dexterous, stroking around your clit at just the right angle, hitting just the right pace.

"So- what... is this gonna run me?" you huff the words out between weak whimpers of pleasure, attempting a confident, casual tone.

"I don't charge for these kinds of services," Volke matches your playful tone, in his own subtler way, "Business and pleasure- you understand."

"Shame, that," you gasp as his middle finger rolls a tight circle around the nub of your clit, "You'd... make a killing... Mmmhh..!"

Volke gives a short laugh.

"I'm flattered."

His pace quickens, his touch just a little firmer, and by instinct alone, your hips begin to shift in time with him. He's silent now as he drives you relentlessly closer to the edge, and with your bodies so close, you can't even look up to read his expression. You can only hold onto him in your desperation to steady yourself while his expert fingers send jolts of electrifying pleasure up your center. If he keeps this up for much longer, your knees may very well give out.

"Volke- ohh- fu-fuck, Volke, I'm-!"

"Don't."

His voice at your ear plunges through you, warming you more deeply than any liquor. Then, he pulls his hand from between your legs, and before you can question him, he turns you by your hips to face the wall.

"I want to feel it when you cum."

You brace your arms against the wall in front of you as Volke holds you with your back to him and his lips at your throat once again. Those skillful hands cup your breasts, squeezing and fondling them for just long enough to appreciate their shape in his palms before he moves on, and you arch back against him as his touch travels down your body. When he returns to your hips, he tugs you back to him so that his fully erect cock ruts against the swell of your ass, and you whimper his name. The way he manhandles you is firm and decisive, but not overly harsh, and never without that sense of control and deadly grace that he's known for. It's making your head spin. You need more. Mercifully, he doesn't plan to make you wait.

Volke pulls your clothes out of his way, then grabs a handful of your ass with one hand while his other works his stiff member out from his own clothing. Without a word or any ceremony, he presses the head of his cock to your drooling pussy, then begins to push inside, holding you in place against his thrust. The bulge of the tip and the slight curve of his shaft have him grinding into you in a thousand incredible ways, and your eyes begin to roll back before he's even bottomed out within you. You've wanted this too badly- the thrill of it all has very nearly wiped any thoughts of battle and training and strategizing from your mind. His member is slick with your release in no time, and he grunts into your ear as he begins to fuck steadily into you from behind.

"You feel good... damn good. Squeezing around me like that... Mmh..." His hips pitch forward, driving him in you to the base, filling you, stretching you, forcing a blissful sigh from your parted lips. The hand fondling your ass grips you more firmly, enjoying the erotic sensation of your plump flesh as it jiggles with every thrust. Then, you feel a quick, sharp slap across your backside that causes you to moan aloud, and Volke plants both of his hands on the wall in front of you. He's warm around you, the scent of liquor still potent on his breath, yet each sensation only heightens that of his throbbing cock plunging deep within you over and over.

"Damnit-" Volke's breath hitches, and he groans as he momentarily eases his pace and pushes his member into you slow and firm, "Can't afford to get... addicted to this."

The words seem more for him than for you, muttered in the midst of his efforts to steady himself. But before you even think to question him, his arm is around you and his hand is trailing down the front of your body. Never easing the persistent sway of his hips, his fingertips stroke across your clit once again, and you let out a desperate, blissful moan. Any concern you'd had about being discovered here has long vanished; the onslaught of pleasure is simply too much to bear. His dexterous fingers tend to your most sensitive nerves while his thick member stretches you perfectly around him.

"Fu-fuck, Volke..!"

"That's it, come on- let me feel it," his cock twitches, throbbing at your deepest point, perhaps provoked by the knowledge that you're so dearly close to release. Then, the sensation rushes through you like a crashing wave, and for a moment, you're dizzy and unsteady on your feet. Bracing yourself against the wall and Volke's sturdy frame, you shiver and whine his name as your cunt flexes around his length and your climax overtakes you. Amidst the overwhelming sensation, you barely register that Volke is panting harshly against your ear, his pace stuttering as he feels you cumming on his cock. By the time you feel yourself coming down from that incredible high, you're still shaking, barely keeping yourself upright as he chases his own satisfaction at last.

Volke doesn't say a word- only traps you in place with your back to his chest and both of his hands now gripping hard at your hips. He thrusts forcefully once, then twice, sheathing himself fully in your warmth until you feel his member pulsing with his own release. The way he's throbbing against your tender and over-stimulated inner walls is a shock to your system, but you rally your strength to stay upright while he pours volley after volley of thick cum into you. He utters an earnest and lustful groan, subtly swaying his hips to grant just a bit more of that intoxicating friction as he rides out the last of his orgasm, having filled you and then some. At last, you're both panting, sighing with the blissful aftershocks as the distant sounds of clinking mugs and rowdy tavern-goers float around you.

"Holy... holy fuck..." you gasp as he finally eases out of you. Volke takes a moment to fix his clothes, then turns you to face him, and you hold onto the front of his cloak while you regain your balance. "You... you pent up or something? You've made a real mess of me..." True enough, his load is already dripping slowly down your inner thigh.

"I'm a busy man. Not a lot of leisure time for someone in my line of work during a war. Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Then, another drink," he smirks, "If you're not spent, anyway."

"Generous of you," you reply, wearing a matching grin while you make a passing attempt at sorting your clothes and hair, "though if you're so busy, I'd hate to take up your valuable time."

Volke's shrewd eyes conspicuously scan your body once before eventually meeting yours.

"As I said- business and pleasure."

[caseythebunnyboy]

Howdy!

Thank you so much for the drawing! It's amazing. I love your art. I apologize for bringing down the mood I know it bothers you not but last thing I want to do is make you sad! From now on I will only grace you with pure nasty truly deplorable thoughts from a lonely cowboy and my day to day life (aka more deplorable thoughts)! I'll fill you in (full pun intended) as my work will keep me busy soon. I'll describe myself more so you can have a general picture of me :] I'm 6'2 I have no clue on my weight but I am a large man. My thighs and calves are like tree trunks. My hands are incredibly calloused from working for 6 years nonstop. I am very skilled with my hands and fingers tying knots all day and playing the banjo (you can take a man out the south but you can't take the south out of the man) and I have no better way to describe it other than my hands are huge. I have short-ish curly hair and I have a tan almost all of the time when it's not winter. If you want to know anything more about me I am more than happy to oblige your request.

I must admit that while it may sound a bit creepy. I lay awake at night I have thoughts of you. I make up scenarios in my head. I look at your kink list and see how similar we are and can't help but imagine using you in thousands of different ways. Tying you up. bending you over and pounding your little boycunt over and over again until your brain is mush and you're full of cum. Then I untie you and hold you in my arms. Singing to you softly as we drift off.

I'll leave the fantasy there but I hope to hear from you soon. 🤠

thank you so much! but wuh 🥹 please dont feel restricted to only being horny on here! im fine with people talking to me about other emotions, since i know people arent just horny 24/7. its fine!! i wont hate you forever if you show any other sign of feeling that isnt being sexual, i promise.

(rest of the response is under the cut because again, dont wanna clog peoples dashboards 😵‍💫)

i shall also paint you a picture of me in exchange!

im 5'4, last time i checked i was 81 (?) kg, i dont remember the specifics but i was around that weight. my thighs are also big but in more of a marshmallow pillow-ey way than a tree trunk way! my hands are very small, clumsy, soft and frail, with my entire hand from palm to my longest finger (the middle finger) being around 7 inches 😊 the only "toughening up" they got is when i would practice my countrys martial arts, i still practice every once in awhile but very occasionally so they never made my hands calloused 🥹 iam... not skilled at all with my hands. my arm starts shaking and hurting if i draw for too long with no breaks 😵‍💫 i have black fluffy-scruffy hair that can never calm down or stay in one place, and my skin is just naturally always tan since im a person of color 🐇

if youd like to know more about me, id also be happy to oblige! what i want to know about you, is if youve ever cum to the thought of me, hehe 💜 just curious! you dont need to answer if youre not comfy doing so 💜💜 and also! can you claim an emoji and put it at the end of your asks? so i know its you and so you can have a little hashtag, like how 🗝️ anon has one!

anyways! i hope to hear from you soon as well! youre so sweet, cowboy anon 🥹 id love to kiss you all over your face, but thatll just have to wait 🥲 see you soon! (hopefully 💜)

honestly, it doesnt sound creepy at all to me... would it be creepy for me to say im flattered and slightly aroused that you think about me so often? if so, then i guess we're both "creepy", hm? 💜 and jeez, id actually really like that. i love people who can be rough and fast during sex, but the moment its all over theyre back to being sweet and caring 😊 would love to doze off on top of your chest, humming along to your song after you finish breeding my boypussy over and over 💜💜

also side note, ever since i read your ask i cant stop thinking about how nice it would feel for your rougher hands to rub and touch my softer skin... the contrast between their textures would made my head so much dizzier whenever you grab my parts 😵‍💫😵‍💫 make of that what you will...

[pizzawendell]

reading this back it's a little bit personal not really anything to content warning but I appreciate that I mostly post about the most inconsequential shit ever on here so if you don't want to hear about my dreams/gender feelings move along. It also blows way past all of the punchlines that I was angling for when I started so it reads as a fairly rote piece of confessional writing which is a genre I for one don't like and you may not too. Also the way I wrote it often reads as though everyone in the world is trans which is both funny and desirable. Gonna post it anyway because it's not a perspective I've seen much of so if someone stumbles on it they might enjoy it and also I don't have to justify every post I will post it it'll be good for the economy.

I had a dream a while ago where I had breasts and it's sorta hard to articulate how that made me feel in a way that makes sense to most trans people. I think most people hear that and basically assume it's a sorta textbook sublimated desire thing, but it was really the opposite. Ever since moving back to a flat with a full height mirror (or indeed mirrors at all) I've been able to much more meaningfully engage with myself as a person with a body and ask myself what I want that body to look like. One of those questions was my chest because it's something I could very feasibly do something about. I spent a lot of time visualising all sorts of different ways my body could be (flatter, boobier, rounder, pecs etc) and I really wasn't sure. I think the subconscious gets placed on this pedestal in the trans community bc for a lot of people things have to get pushed down for all sorts of reasons and I was trying to trigger the sorts of bolts of realisation a lot of people describe when they realise exactly who they want to be. At first I thought this dream might be that, but the longer I sat with it the more I realised that I really really didn't want to look that way. In a sense, I'd triggered one of those moments but in the negative. I think when I say that a lot of people would kinda assume it's bullshit because there's a million stories of trans people who have some sort of moment where they avoid acknowledging their desire for binary transition and then later realise they were just ignoring super obvious signs and everyone has a good laugh about it. I worry a lot about how to express this because being trans is already more or less the experience of being told repeatedly that you don't know who you are or what you want and it's pretty easy to get in your head about that. There's this practice- especially on twitter -of people placing knowing bets about who's gonna come out as what and it's generally a good time, but I think that whenever I try to express this stuff some bit of me is imagining the DMs of fictional strangers (I am very healthy and well adjusted) doing that whole thing and smugly assuming that my experience fits into some traditional hero's journey arc where at some point I have to refuse the call but will inevitably end up at the some totally different place they see as the end point of the story. This whole process is obviously not falsifiable bc if someone doesn't follow the path set out for them it can always be explained away as repression or the closet or something else. I don't much care if some random jerk calls me an agp or whatever but I do want trans people to believe me when I say I've thought a lot about this and know how I feel. This basically verificationist enterprise of trying to call shots exists more or less to soothe those doing the calling, since by nominally recognising the signs in others they bulwark themselves against the broader societal notion that trans people are just confused or naïve. It feels a bit exceptionalist to declare that I'm just built different and simply don't want what the majority of people in my position want. Odds are that I ought to fit where the smart money would put me. I'm sure people do it for lots of other reasons as well (and indeed me armchair diagnosing them falls into a lot of the same patterns of thought I ascribed to others) but I do generally try to avoid it as an activity because I know the ways it's inadvertantly given me all sorts of brain worms. So I worry a lot about how to express all of this in a way that won't set off assumptions that someone's about to win five dollars or whatever. All this to say that it's not bullshit that even though I had a dream where I had tits the more I thought about it the more dysphoric that idea made me. I know what I'm talking about.

A perpendicular question to all of this was whether I wanted to take oestrogen. A big problem I have is not liking facial/body hair one bit and arresting that along with getting softer skin as a little bonus sounds pretty neat. I came to the hilarious realisation that if I took oestrogen I would also want top surgery at some point which is 1. Very funny and 2. Not a practical approach to transition. I had a subsequently hilarious realisation while playing Fire Emblem that the kind of chest I want is basically just an 'athletic' one without all of the chest hair that makes me feel awful to look at. Just a full on 'oh I should look like that they/them ass anime boy' moment. It's a funny place to be in because the part of me that doubts myself wonders if it's trans 'enough' to basically want a body type that just requires an exercise regime to achieve. It's dumb and bioessentialist to conceive of transing your gender as a process of simply swapping your biology with some opposite but a lot of me feels like it ought to be that way. Also, I kinda wish there was some way to achieve it with pills or injections (other than the laser) bc I'm not wildly excited to reincorporate exercise into my life. This dovetails neatly with my feeling like there's girls with anime profiles on twitter betting on me because I am already openly trans and they bet on whose egg will crack. What better example is there of insecurity about my desired body than imagining people gossiping about how a trans person would never want that? Nevertheless, I can't help but feel the worry. I want to be seen for who I am by my own people but I always feel like the outside result expresses the interior in an unclear way. Part of me likes the worry because it's part of the telemetry of knowing my feelings are real. If it was all made up as some psychological trick, I probably wouldn't be this anxious for people to believe me. In my experience lying is much less stressful because what you're saying is designed to fulfil all of the listener's expectations. While I enjoy the reassurance, I would rather possess the capacity to feel that I knew what was inside was also clearly without.

So I find myself looking at a cis man who looks a lot like me and gendering. How can you wish that were you? That is you you stupid faggot! And yet. For a while now I've been trying to land my expression somewhere between fem gay and masc lesbian (in a cool and and unproblematic way I promise) without any particular interest in looking androgynous and that is honestly just not a long way to go from where I started. He's just like me for real and also merely an ingredient in the stew I am cooking. I really am like if a man and a woman had a baby.

This got away from me a bit and so the original joke has been submerged in a mini essay which has also let its conclusion run away from it. Anyway a middle aged woman asked me what my pronouns are last month so I guess I'm doing something right.

[peachsayshi]

HEYYYYYY PEACH!!! It’s your evil!suguru advocate anon here (hope you missed me 😉). I like to self appoint myself as your voice of reason 💕 which means I heavily encourage you to write about evil!suguru. I know I said I’ll wait a while (like this 🧍🏻‍♀️) cause you were being oh so generous with the drabbles you made for my previous asks but imagine how happy I was when I saw your post on evil!suguru x Virgin reader 🥹. So the moment you’ve been waiting for😈… “hi peach! Voice of reason here, PLEASE PLEASE WRITE ABOUT YOUR IDEA IF THE INSPIRATION IS THERE!! I mean we can all agree that he is the love of our lives and we should really celebrate that don’t you agree? *whispers* you know you want toooooo~ hey peach I just had this AMAZING idea I think you should hear 😃 ✨evil suguru✨ ahhahahahahaha 😀😐🫣🥵” Well, that’s all I have to say and I leave it to you to make your final decision 🫡

Hello, my Evil!Suguru Nonnie! 💕💕

I hope you didn't think that I have forgotten about this post. I just need to find myself in the right kind of mood to write evil!suguru and it seems like it’s your lucky day 😈

A/N: (minors & ageless blogs dni)

TAGS: geto being evil & manipulative, forbidden romance, corruption kink, dub con, virgin reader, cock warming, fluffy and angsty at the same time? 

For Suguru, being with you is about possession - it’s about claiming your body as his own in every way possible. He thrives off your naivety and takes pride in watching you squirm because it feeds into his power over you. 

You were such a meek human, humbly arriving at his temple with your vulnerability on your sleeve, and pleading him to save you. He happily cured you of all your ailments...but he manipulated you into being indebted to him, which meant that he had a perfect excuse of keeping you around. 

Nobody had the courage to question why he had one of these “monkeys” shadowing his every movements but Suguru made it a point to emphasize that he was making an example of the lesser kind. 

He still had his reputation to uphold despite what was happening behind closed doors. 

Suguru secretly indulged in using your body to service him, sadistically challenging himself by basking in the pleasure of your company.

He enjoyed tasting you between your legs, and playing with your own sanity as he edged you to your release. He humiliated you by having you ride him bare, repeatedly making a mess of his clothes every single time you both climaxed. He kept you close to his chest as he watched you touch yourself with sheer amusement, taking in your breathless cries when you reached your orgasm. 

You were an object for his own entertainment, but tonight he had failed to commit to his cardinal rule of refusing to have sex with you. 

How was he supposed to hold back after you admitted your inexperience? 

He could feel you trembling beneath him when he aligned the tip of his cock to to your entrance. Your nails dragging down his chest and leaving strikes of red when he finally pushed, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the unfamiliar sensation. 

His heart pulsed against your palm and Suguru intertwined his fingers with your own to allow you to squeeze his hand instead. Your body relaxed underneath his strong frame, your lashes flattering back open and you were surprised to meet the tender gaze in his eyes. 

Your lips parted when you inhaled, the warmth rushing to your face from how close his mouth was to your own.  You’ve always thought he was striking, but with him merely inches from you, you were able to really see the beautiful details in his features.

You contemplated his face, mapping over him as he found himself doing the same thing with you. 

His eyes were dark, like the mysterious abyss of space, and mirroring the locks of his hair. You could see the slight bags underneath them, taking a moment to ponder if he ever actually got a full night’s rest. You followed the line of his nose before focusing your full attention on his lips. 

You gulped at the realization that he’s never actually kissed you before, and shivered when you were reminded with the fact that it’s because doesn’t care for you.

He was repulsed by you - by your kind, and you knew that he truly hated you with every fiber of his being.

A fact that he repeatedly shared.

There was a fear that climbed up your throat because you knew that this man would hurt you. You threw caution out the window when you gave yourself to him, instantly regretting not thinking this through and wishing you didn’t just follow his command like an obedient fool.

You turned your head away. 

Your fingers tightened around his hold, but then released when you felt a kiss on the side of your neck. The act was so soft, you didn’t even notice the brush of Suguru’s lips on your skin. Then there was second one just below your ear, a third to your collarbone, a fourth to your shoulder.. each one steadying your erratic heart. 

“You’re lovely...” he murmured against your ear, in a tone that was completely foreign to the deadly shaman you’ve grown accustomed to serving. 

Your mind must be playing tricks on you and you returned to meet his stare for clarification, “I’m-I’m sorry, Master Geto, I didn’t hear-”

His lips met yours, and everything went still.

You didn’t expect your body melting into him as little sparkles twinkled behind your closed lids. You didn’t expect him to loosen his hand and allow you to tenderly caress his jaw when he slowly took the time to taste you. Nor did you expect him to sigh with relief as he lifted away before pressing his forehead on top of yours. 

He held your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing over your puffed bottom lip.

“Nobody can know,” he breathed.

His words were cold enough to put out the slow flame that had been sparked, and you recognized the unspoken threat when he slowly laced his hand around your neck.

As long as you kept your mouth shut, you would be protected.

Yet, there was something else in his order that you couldn’t brush over - something that could have easily been mistaken as desperation.

You nodded your head agreement.

Suguru tracked his hand down to your waist, while the other held one of your thighs open.

“Good girl,” he praised while hiding his smile against your neck, before pulling out and making you moan in response as he carefully thrusted back in.

TAGS: @damn-geto @pensivespecter @ekaterinatepes @jelly-jellx @lollipopd @shuxjodie @mikasackrmann @alreadyblondenow @nanamikentcs @aizumie @mrsmorgenstern @artemisthestar @velvetlight333 @sluttoru @smoothy-ve @bisexualwomanofcolour @bloombb @shadowsorceress @dont-ask-me-pls   

[oh-holy-slut]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, blood sharing, mentions of death, oral sex

Word Count: 2,6k

Summary: Stefan forced Damon to try his animal diet. Damon hated it, but didn't had a choice... until Reader makes a suggestion. Suddenly things get steamy.

Being with Damon was complicated. Him and Y/N have seen each other a lot in the past weeks. The two of them had a lot of fun; saw a lot of movies. Actually, Y/N was sure Damon secretly hated many of those. However, anytime Y/N suggested another dramatic, romantic cliché movie like "Last Song" - the vampire groaned, put his arm around her shoulder, let her head rest on his chest and endured every single second of the movie of her choice.

Damon even flirted and teased Y/N here and there, but didn't lead to anything more intimate so far.

Today was another of those days. Y/N stuck around at the Salvatore boarding house, brought a few of Damon's favorite groceries and a bunch of movies, of which she thought that they will suit his taste. Even if they were a little to bloody and brutal in her opinion.

"Pick one!", she demanded, holding all three Blu-ray sleeves in front of him. Damon just shrugged, not bothering to even look.

"Don't be a killjoy, Damon Salvatore!" Y/N sighed.

"Tell me what's wrong or pick a movie. You've got no choice. And besides that... Which number of drink is this?" Y/N frowned, pointing at the liquor in her friends hand. Damon usually consumed his beloved bourbon with pleasure.

But the man on the couch didn't seem pleasured at all. His facial features totally hardened and a look in his eyes like he was ready to rip someone's heart out.

You put the disc's back in your handbag, closing the zipper and put the bag on the floor.

"Fine. No movie night today. Who are we going to kill?"

A small smirk appeared on Damon's lips, finally looking towards Y/N.

"Stefan and his hero hair. He made me go vegetarian... well, for a vampire... and I can't get myself to eat one of those chipmunks, bunnies or bambis." He shook himself with disgust.

"And why did he count you in? You clearly aren't excited about the changing... So, why did you agree?"

"He said, he would kill me, which is kinda funny. But-" Damon made a wide gesture "he stole my daylight ring. And he wouldn't give it back until I stop feeding on innocent people - and kill them."

"So, you truly let your younger brother blackmail you like that?! Wow... I don't know how to feel about your dieting or your new path. Or whatever this is supposed to be."

"You don't like me killing people either", Damon maintained, while taking another sip of bourbon.

"Well, I don't", Y/N agreed, took a step forward, stole the glass from the vampires hand and put it on a small table nearby. "But I don't believe in forcing as a method to get people to change their minds. I believe that change for the better must be an intrinsic motivation," she added quickly, giving the vampire an innocent smile.

Damon's lineaments suddenly turned from annoyed to curious. "Any suggestions, little one?" The vampire raised an eyebrow and a little smirk showed up on his lips. On the one hand, Y/N blushed over the nickname, Damon called her.  On the other hand she felt skittish looking forward to making a deal with him. Not only a deal. It's far more than a simple agreement.

It's Y/N, actually giving Damon a part of her. The red elixir of life. She was about to give him total control of her body and she not even for a heartbeat doubt that Damon will use it against her.

"Actually... Yeah. There's something on my mind." Y/N said chewing on your lip. "I could open up a vein for you. I mean, you could feed on me. And since you have my permission, there's nothing for anybody to have objection about."

Damon frowned and gave her an incredulous look. "You would do that for me?" The vampire couldn't believe, he understood correctly. Why would Y/N want to get involved with him feeding on her? What's in it for her? Damon tried hard to connect the dots, but he wasn't able to. It all seemed to make no sense. Y/N wouldn't have an advantage of that. The vampire hesitated, pinning his dangerously blue eyes on the girl in front of him.

"Is it so suspicious of me, that I'm trying to help my closest friend?" It pierced Y/N's heart, realizing, Damon's trust in her was rather fragile. "Never mind", she waved the pain away and forced herself to keep her composure. "I only had a hasty idea; you really don't need to fee-"

Suddenly Damon appeared behind Y/N, using his vampirism. "Shhhh", he whispered softly. "I never said, that I don't want your blood. I'm thinking about if we are going to cross a line? Blood sharing can be very personal..."

"It can be? It is personal already. Believe it or not - I'm not gonna offer my veins to all the vampires of Mystic Falls." Y/N rolled her eyes, her arms folded on her chest to point out the indignation she felt right now.

"Kinda sensitive today, huh?" Damon gently stroke a strand of hair behind her ear, Y/N could hear this smug smirk through his words. It was a true 'Damon thing' to do. "I didn't mean it like that, princess." He sighed; unsure if he should agree or not. Damon didn't want to act selfish towards Y/N. He compelled a lot of girls for the purpose of drinking blood in the past. He literally used them as long as they weren't too annoying - and then he acted like they have never met. Damon Salvatore couldn't imagine this scenario with Y/N. They've been so close, the vampire couldn't stand loosing her. The offer was risky, but it also could bring each other even closer.

Damon tried hard to avoid any serious attraction between Y/N and him, afraid of messing up. Indeed, he found himself thinking, and even dreaming, about Y/N more than he wanted to admit. She was smart and had this special sense of humor, the vampire adored so much. She was the only one, who could make him feel good no matter what. Needless to say she had that glimmer in her eyes, when she did something she truly loved. In these moments she was even more pretty. Y/N was hard to resist.

And maybe now he could have her like nobody else. At least the vampire gave in. He wanted her blood. He wanted her.

Y/N flinched by the feeling of Damon brushing her neck with his lips.  "Oh, Damon", she gasped. "Bite me." Y/N almost begged for the vampire's teeth breaking through her skin. Damon loved the sound of her husky voice. In less than a heartbeat he turned into his vampire shape. "If you insist", he grinned devilishly, ready to place his teeth on to her skin.

Suddenly Y/N made a slight move forward with the intention to interrupt her friend. "Did you change your mind?" Damon was close to switching back to human, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Mostly a lack of understanding, but also a little of disappointment and even anger. Was Y/N playing games on him? While Damon Salvatore was sorting feelings, Y/N turned around, standing now in front of him.

She was so close, not even a piece of paper would fit between them.

Y/N slightly exhaled breath, her eyes darting between the vampires eyes and lips. It was the first time Y/N saw him like this. The icy blue of his eyes, she loved so much, has turned darker. Purple veins appeared under his eyes; Y/N couldn't help herself. Damon's appearance fully intoxicated every fibre of her being. Her fingertips found their way gently brushing over his dark purple veins. She felt heat and softness, while tracing one of them.  It took her a few seconds to get out of trance, realizing what she had done. "Sorry", she murmured with a voice barely audible. "Don't apologize, little one." Damon tilted his head, his lips curled up in a self-assured grin, exposing a perfectly white vampire fang. "I never saw you like this before, you loo-"

"... look like a monster?"

Y/N shook her head. It was nothing like that. Yes, he did look unfamiliar. And she should be scared under normal conditions. Instead, his look hit her in an unexpected way. He looked hotter as a vampire, if it was even possible. 

Y/N cleared her throat, looking up at Damon. "I feel... attracted to you."

"So nothing's changed", Damon teased, raising his eyebrows. The girl in front of him softly slapped him on his shoulder; which was only possible because the vampire permitted. "You are always so full of yourself." She smirked, feeling more confident being to something, they have had been so many times before. Granted, he was terrifying accurate, but she wouldn't serve her feelings on a silver platter.

"I'm still into it. You can bite me; feed on me. I only needed to see you before..." 

A shockwave of electricity flowed through her body the second Damon took her hand and pulled her close.

"I'll be careful", he promised, nuzzling his head into the nap of her neck. Damon once again placed his lips on her soft skin. 

Suddenly a harsh pain made Y/N feel like in a kind of haze. She flinched and let out a groan at the same time, unintentionally biting her lower lip. 

During Damon embedded his fang deeper and deeper, she started feeling dizzy. Her hands searched for the vampires upper body, finally wrapped around his neck. She needed him to lean on. A narrow trickle of blood flowed down her neck. Let Damon feed on her felt like flames licking up every fiber of her body. 

With every passing second Y/N could feel her control slip away. Her body was now firmly pressed against Damon's, like she would want to merge them into one.

Damon noticed her staggering, wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her.

Bloodlust already messed up the vampires mind, so he continued feeding on Y/N.

A tempting moan escaped her lips, but she didn't care to cover up. Y/N's heart was racing, her eyes flattering. It was almost as if he was about to push her over the edge, but in a different way. "Mmm, this...this… feels soo weird... and so good...", she whispered under a shallow breath.

As soon as Damon heard her fading voice, he abruptly

quitted drinking from her.

"Fuck!" He rapidly laid her on his lap and checked Y/N's vital signs, to make sure she was okay. Instinctively he bit his wrist, pressed it against Y/N's mouth. He knew his blood would heal her, but it wasn't going fast enough. A few seconds passed through, to him they felt like centuries. Y/N finally blinked and Damon was relieved. He cupped her cheeks, his gaze never leaving hers. "I thought, I'd gone-" Damon cleaned his throat. "I'm so glad, you are doing well", he whispered, while trailing her lips with his fingertips. "So, fuckin' glad..." The vampire exhaled a deep breath. 

"It... You made me feel good. Strange, but good", Y/N appeased and flushed over the memory. "Maybe you got a little carried away, but I don't mind. I wouldn't trade the feeling for anything."

Y/N quickly interrupted herself, before she could reveal too much.

However, Damon used his vampire skills, noticing that Y/N was hiding something from him. "Isn't there anything else you want me to know?", Damon asked without taking his eyes off her. Y/N shifted and flushed even more. "It's unfair. You use your vampirism to get everything out of me."

"Well, if that were the case, I could easily compel you." Damon shrugged and found back to his smugly self. "Tell me, what you are hiding". He said in a seductive voice.

"I wanted to get lost in you."

Her confession sent shivers all over the vampires body. At first he could not decide, how to handle this. "Are you sure that's what you want? I could really hurt you..." Y/N hummed.

In the next split second, Damon pinned Y/N against a wall, smashing his lips on hers, kissing her with all the passion he had to give. The vampire devoured Y/N with a new kind of hunger. He didn't know he could crave someone so much.

"Fuck me, Damon..."

The vampire felt him getting hard, only by hearing those little three words out of her mouth.

"Say it louder. Tell me, what you want me to do."

Y/N pulled him closer, gently biting his earlobe.

"Fuck... me, Damon." It took her a second to focus and forming the words again. After she was near to climax earlier, it wasn't a long way getting to the edge once more. "Make me cum... You almost had me there..."

A deep moan got over the vampires lips, once he understood, what Y/N was trying to tell him.

With the next blink Y/N found herself in Damon's bedroom, lying on his bed.

From now on there weren't many words needed. Damon's hand's found their way under her shirt, cupping her breasts and make her moan over and over again.

He closely listened to the rhythm of her heart, making sure he would be able to delay her climax to the point he needed her to.

"Don't cum yet... I want to taste your little pussy first."

Y/N grabbed the vampires head, running her fingers through his dark hair - pushing him down, since she was unable to form a single word.

As Damon got down, he didn't take his eyes off Y/N.

He used a hand pushing up her skirt and lightly stroking over her panties with his fingertips.

"My girl is so wet", he praised in a low husky voice."-and I barely touched you."

His dirty words in combination with his touch lead to another moan, almost turned into a scream.

Damon pushed the fabric aside, leaving sloppy kisses on the inside of her thighs.

Y/N's eyes fluttered, when his soft lips reached her middle.

Damon's tongue licking around her entrance was driving her nuts.

"...so delicious..." were the only words she was able to catch up. Damon knew, he couldn't thrill her forever, so he got back to her. He spit on his palms, stroking his hand over his crotch. In under a second Y/N finally felt this releasing pressure of his cock. It was like a switch went off in her brain and she braced herself for the hard thrusts that would follow.

Damon dimmed the whining noises Y/N made with a passionate, hungry kiss.

He cheated with his vampirism to give it to her deeper and faster, knocking out all the air of her lungs while Y/N screamed out Damon's name. Her walls clenched around him and made him twitch. It was like her pussy massaged his dick the best way possible.

Every time he hit her harder and rougher he was making sure he hit her spot with every thrust.

Damon gathered speed one last time and pushed her over the edge until she was a moaning whimpering mess.

With her last contraction around his shaft, Damon was cumming inside her.

"You are so tight, little one", he whispered under his breath. "We should make arrangements more often."

Please like or/and reblog if you enjoyed reading or/and want me to write more stories about Damon.

Thanks guys ❤️

[wonderlandleighleigh]

I’m sure you’ve probably done something like this, but could you do a Lenny Midge reunion after a really long time apart? Maybe he surprises her by crashing Gordon Ford or something

June 1961:

"We have a surprise guest tonight, Midge."

Midge looks surprised from her spot at the microphone. "We do? I thought tonight was Sophie Lennon."

"She cancelled last minute," Gordon responds. "So we had to scrounge somebody up last minute. He hasn't been here in New York in quite some time."

"That could be anyone," Midge responds. "Not everyone can stand the overcrowding, the smell during the summer, the wait time at the local deli. Being a New Yorker is rough."

Gordon chuckles and taps his cards on his desk. "Well, he'll let us know whether he's missed it or not. Please welcome Lenny Bruce."

Midge whirls around, eyes wide as Lenny steps out. He's sporting his normal black suit and tie combo, and he looks.

Well, he looks good.

Especially because Midge hasn't seen him in six months. Not since they'd sorted out their Carnegie Hall fight. Not since he'd had to disappear out to California.

He steps up to her briefly, giving her an affection kiss on the cheek and muttering an "I promise to explain later" before smiling at the crowd and heading for the couch.

"Welcome home, Lenny," Gordon grins, glancing back at Midge. "You seem to have had quite the effect on our resident comic."

"I do try my best," Lenny admits with a smirk. "She's quite the lady."

"We love her around here," Gordon nods. "So? How is it being back in New York?"

"Oh, not too bad," Lenny shrugs. "Just about the same as it always is. I saw a rat last night when I got to town."

"Did you?"

"Yeah, ugly fellow," Lenny says. "The police uniform was not flattering."

The audience laughs at that, as does Midge.

And she's trying to hold it together. She really is. He's been in California handling some family business and working as well.

They haven't talked much. They're both busy.

It hits her hard, standing behind her mic, how much she's missed him.

"I myself have often thought that doing a complete redesign of those uniforms would benefit everyone," Midge chimes in, getting with the program. "They never fit right. The color should be flattering but it never, ever is. And those hats."

"And you would know about hats," Lenny jokes. "More hats than God."

"I would love to see God's hat collection, could you imagine?" Midge bandies back. "Every hat in history."

Gordon chuckles. "I've been warned about the two of you commandeering my show."

"Oh, we don't mean to," Lenny shrugs. "Clearly we were the kids who wound up in the principal's office twice a week every week. We can't help it. We're the bad eggs."

"I used to be a good egg," Midge claims. "I just got knocked on the floor and I cracked."

"Yes, a cracked egg, yelling at a police officer in her rain-soaked nightgown from inside the cruiser," Lenny reminisces. "That was our first date."

"Says the egg who took a little catnap on the sidewalk on 8th Avenue that one time," Midge smirks.

Lenny laughs along with the audience at that and turns to Gordon. "You see? We're terrible."

"Yes, I do see," Gordon nods. "Talk to me about what you're up to."

He does, talking about the steady work in California. The articles he's written for Playboy. That he's got a bunch of gigs lined up here in New York.

"Are you just here for the shows and then it's back to California?" Gordon.

"No, actually," Lenny admits. "I've missed this terrible place too much, so I will be sticking around for a while. Get ready for the Daily News to start talking about my arrest record again, in painful detail."

It pivots to Gordon asking about his arrests and how he feels about it.

He's staying.

He's staying in New York.

Something in Midge's chest loosens, and she has no idea how she manages to get through the rest of the show, but she does, and once the camera's stop rolling, she heads back to her dressing room, nodding for Lenny to follow.

He does, and once the door closes, she turns to him.

"I should have told you-" he starts, but doesn't get to finish, because Midge is kissing him desperately, and they're stumbling toward the wall to get some balance.

"Are you seeing anyone?" she asks as she holds him tighter, pulling him closer.

"Well, you, I thought," he admits. "But otherwise, no. Why, are you seeing anyone?"

Midge shakes her head, shoving at his suit jacket. "You're moving back?" she asks as his fingers toy with the zipper on her dress.

"I am," he confirms. "Lined up some good gigs. Needed to get away from my mother. Brought my kid with me." He kisses her again. "Missed you."

Midge whimpers softly. "We shouldn't be doing this in here. Gordon wanders around looking for people to talk to after the show..."

"What, you don't want him to get an eye-full?" Lenny smirks, nibbling at her neck. "I see how he looks at you. It's not appealing to make him jealous."

"Not when it could cost me my job," she laughs softly, pushing him away gently. "I missed you, too."

"Get your stuff," he tells her, kissing her again softly. "I'm taking you to dinner." He kisses her again, a little more deeply. A little more of a promise. "And then, if you are amenable, I'd like to have you for dessert."

Midge smirks. "Maybe we should skip dinner."

[wallflowerimagines]

Hi! I looove your posts! Thank you so much for sharing your writing!

I was wondering… could you maybe write about the Four Lords with a shy S/O that gets bold and defensive when someone insults the lords? or calls them names? And the Lord’s reaction to the S/O acting different? Dk if im explaining myself >.<

Again! Love your work! Have a great day!

We stan protective partners on this blog!!

Warnings: uh...insults? They're pretty over the top😅 Also swearing.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Honestly, Alcina is more than able to defend herself.

She's got a tongue like a viper, and the thickest skin imaginable. If you really want to hurt her feelings, you have to be someone whom she already respects to a certain degree, or she won't even be phased.

Still, when she leaves a room, there's always some idiot that thinks it's a smart idea to talk shit.

Maybe it's a maid, maybe it's a guest in the Castle, but either way you're not having it.

"God, you're annoying." There was a pause before they opened their mouth again, and you rolled your eyes. "No please, by all means, continue to share your lack of taste with the rest of us."

You disassemble this dumbass, starting small with comments about their personality (trying to keep it classy), but escalating the more they choose to double down on the comments.

Alcina comes back into the room to find you practically screaming at this asshole.

"Look, all you have accomplished here today is revealing that you are a fundamental disappointment on every possible level. My life is worse now that I've heard you open your mouth, you disrespectful, shit licking worm fucker."

Alcina is stunned. You do not give off "aggressive guard dog" vibes at all, yet here you are defending her tooth and nail. While she had seen brief moments of your inner strength and protective streak (mostly towards her daughters) she just...never thought you would do the same for her.

It's not because she doesn't trust you or love you! But nobody has ever done something like this for her before? Ever? She's never had anyone try to protect her--not physically, and not even verbally. She's been so independent for so long that it's... Strange to see you support her so openly.

She doesn't need you to do this for her, she doesn't even expect it, but you do it anyway for no other reason than the fact that you love her. You want people to give her the respect she deserves.

I'm going to be real here: Alcina has never been closer to swooning before in her life. You're overcoming your shyness because you believe in her so much-- it's not a gesture meant to be romantic, but Alcina can't help but see this as a massive statement of your commitment to her.

Seriously. This is such a massive thing for her that if proposals weren't already on her mind, she is mentally picking out a ring for you the minute this happens.

Then, of course, she glides into the room, kisses you until you're breathless and babbling, and smirks at the unfortunate peon who thought they could get away with insulting House Dimitrescu.

She's in such a good mood that she's considering going easy on the idiot. Maybe removing their tongue would be enough of a warning?

Donna Dimitrescu

You don't really know how it's possible but apparently some people don't like Donna Beneviento? Some people think she's scary and unpleasant????

Wild. Can't imagine what that's like.

The two of you are honestly the sweetest, most toothrottingly adorable couple-- blushing when you hold each other's hands, sneaking glances at each other across rooms, giving each other kisses and forgetting whatever was on your mind...

Honestly, anybody who's critical of your relationship with your girlfriend is just a hater. Fuckers can pound sand😤

Still, you are pretty shy, so it takes a lot for you to defend yourself if someone comments about you. It can take a lot of courage to stand up against rude remarks, and sometimes it's easier to walk away.

Defending Donna, on the other hand?

The minute someone even thinks about dismissing her, you are ready to throw hands.

"My lovely girlfriend already said no, meaning you're either deaf or too stupid to pick up on simple social cues," you purse your lips and give the rude and pushy Villager a patronizing once over. "You and your opinion are equally useless. Get the fuck away from us."

Donna blinks.

She... Was not expecting this??? At all?? You're so nice! You always tell her about your attempts to avoid confrontation! What's going on??? How did you get the guts to say what she's always wanted to say?

Meanwhile, Angie is LIVING.

The little doll chimes in to assist you with the verbal homicide, working as a tag team to absolutely murder this moron. She's half partner, half hype man, and is so excited to do this with you. Normally, she has to protect Donna all by herself, but she's relieved and reassured that you stepped in first.

'USELESS IS TOO NICE, THOUGH! THAT IMPLIES THEY AREN'T A POINTLESS, RANCID, LONELY FREAK. THEY LOOK LIKE THEY CRY WHEN THEY MASTURBATE.'

You high five Angie, still glaring daggers at the unfortunate villager.

The two of you continue to ream into the villager, while Donna hovers nearby.

As surprised as she is, she's also grateful. She's only really ever had Angie to help shield her from insults and disrespect (and occasionally inducing horrifying hallucinations that make people claw off their own skin), but having you in her corner makes her feel safe.

Not to get totally sappy, but you're like her knight in shining armor in a lot of ways. And the fact you two are so similar is really motivating-- She wants to one day be confident enough to return the favor. Until then, she's happy to watch her two favorite people have fun insulting some stranger ❤️

Salvatore Moreau

With you being so shy, Salvatore is surprised how often he takes the lead in your relationship.

He's not normally all that outgoing, but you seem to bring out a side of him that's very protective. Whenever you have a bad day he wants to bundle you up and keep you safe from the world.

If he so much as holds your hand you start stuttering and avert your gaze. It creates a feedback loop where you both get flustered, but Moreau has never felt steadier. Despite your shyness, you make sure he knows how much you love him.

You're sweet as pie and twice as kind--Salvatore is the luckiest man in the world, nobody can convince him otherwise 💕💕

So it comes as a total shock that when a passing fisherman spits in your path and calls him a freak, your entire demeanor does a 180.

Your posture straightens and you look the villager dead in the eye, "I don't believe anyone asked your opinion."

Salvatore: 😳

This is not the time, and he totally knows it, but, uh, something about your tone??? Really does it for him???

While he's attempting to process why exactly he's starting to short circuit, you proceed to verbally shred this person to bits with clinical efficiency-- nothing is off limits.

They might try to defend themselves, but it's useless. You do not let up.

"Ugly? Monster? Bitch your teeth are throwing gang signs, don't throw stones from your shining glass house."

You insult their appearance, what they're holding, their smell-- you get so fucking mean that you might even make them cry.

Moreau is just lost right now, trying hard to figure out how exactly you were able to gain all of this confidence so quickly.

He's not upset! In fact he's very flattered! But, he also doesn't want you to get into a fight with some unimportant stranger. (After all, if they so much as throw a punch, they're straight up dead. Moreau is a patient man, but he's not that patient. You do not hurt his partner and live to tell the tale.)

He may a healer but...

Eventually he steps between you and the fisherman in an attempt to deescalate the situation, but you just kiss him on the cheek and step around him, determined to make your point.

Blushing hard, Moreau lets you do what you want. What can he say? Fish man likes himself a protective partner 💞

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is not the most social guy to begin with, so any opportunities you have to stick up for him are already pretty slim.

He mostly knows you as the shy, sweet, easily flustered partner that lets out a cute squeak every time he sneaks up to hug you from behind.

Karl's honestly happy just to spend time with you all alone in the Factory. It's not the best or healthiest mindset, but he'd be perfectly content to only ever see you for the rest of his life. Spending time with anybody else feels like a boring waste in comparison.

But occasionally, you do head out into town with him. Heisenberg wants you to be safe so he doesn't do it often, but running errands with you is a weakness of his. It's domestic in a way that he's never experienced before.

He likes it ❤️

What he does not like is the shopkeeper starting to give their opinions on the quality of your relationship with him.

Most insults Karl will let slide because he doesn't particularly care. However if anyone makes a comment on how scared (shy) you look around him, how you must be being threatened into being with him, how poorly Lord Heisenberg is treating you...he won't stand for it.

But before his fingers can even twitch towards his hammer, you snap.

"You're clearly the blindest cocksucker I've ever met--so wipe the cum out of eyes and mind your own fucking business."

Karl does a double take.

He's heard you curse before, but quietly. The words coming out of your mouth are WILD right now, he has NEVER seen you so angry. You're defending him with the aggression of a wild animal, and it's simultaneously HILARIOUS, but for some reason he's also getting a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest?

He doesn't need you to protect him like this, but seeing you blatantly argue how much you love and cherish him in public reassures him in a way he didn't know he needed.

Still, hearing you call the shopkeeper "shit for brains" is the funniest thing that's happened in years.

Heisenberg starts laughing, and the more you shout at the idiot, the harder he laughs. Is it weird how hard he wants to kiss you right now?

Eventually, he just has to drag you away, cackling as you continue to shout insults at the unfortunate shopkeep. There's got to be an alley around here for some good old fashioned privacy 💕

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

[valdomarx]

“Geralt. My dearest friend. My closest companion. Light of my life, fire of my-”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Seeing as how I’ve made you famous, and I flatter myself that this has eased you path somewhat, why, this very inn not only took us in but even offered us a discounted rate-”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Testier this time.

“Ahh. Well. Let me put it plainly: I’m in need of a favour.”

Geralt raises one eyebrow, in an expression he knows speaks volumes.

“I need you to come with me to Lettenhove this winter and pose as my fiancé.”

Geralt nearly drops the sword he’s sharpening. A million thoughts whip through his mind, but one is most pressing: “Why, for Melitele’s sake?”

Jaskier waves a hand in a vague and non-descriptive gesture. “It’s a court thing, you know how families are, and my mother has made it abundantly clear that it’s time for me to settle down and this year I’m to return affianced or else she’ll select someone for me. And I can’t get hitched to some local lady, Geralt, I simply can’t, it’ll ruin my bardic appeal, not to mention my employment prospects, and of course I won’t be able to travel with you, and it’s-”

Geralt holds up a hand to ward off the wall of words. The idea of no longer travelling with Jaskier is unconscionable, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. And they spend so much time together they’re practically married anyway. How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Geralt, you are wonderful.” Jaskier beams and throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt growls, but secretly, it’s actually rather nice.

-

“Mother, this is Geralt, my fiancé.”

Cold, clear eyes look him up and down, assessing him, and pinch into an expression suggesting he has been found wanting. Geralt decides against opening his mouth and further cementing that opinion.

“A witcher.” Her voice has the familiar twang of Jaskier’s, but with the flat, expressionless cadence he associates with the higher echelons of the aristocracy.

“A witcher!” Jaskier confirms in a cheery tone. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She sniffs in a manner which makes it clear that exciting would not be her first choice of word. “I see. He will be joining us for this year’s Yuletide?”

“He will.”

Her face draws back into the impassive mask of the well-bred. “Very well. You will stay in the east wing.”

“Thank you, mother.” Jaskier executes a stiff bow which Geralt copies and they beat a hasty retreat.

-

“That went rather well!”

Geralt blinks. “Jaskier, I’m fairly sure your mother means to have me killed in my sleep.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always like that. She’s actually softened up a lot since dear old dad died, gods rest the grumpy bastard.”

Geralt struggles to imagine how such staid, cold people could possibly have produced a son as bright and warm as Jaskier. They might as well be a different species.

Jaskier pushes open a door to a grand suite, all plush velvets and gold ornamentation, a thick woven rug underfoot. It’s the most opulent room Geralt has ever seen, but Jaskier pays it no mind and throws his bag casually on the bed.

“We’ll have to stay here together,” he says apologetically, not looking Geralt in the eye. “But the bed is plenty big, or I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather -”

Geralt is still taking it all in: The space, the furnishings, the frankly enormous bed which looks divinely comfortable. And there, through the next room, that looks like-

“Is that a copper bathtub?” he asks, eyes wide. Such luxuries were a rarity indeed.

Jaskier grinned. “It is. Let me get some food sent up and I’ll wash your hair?”

Geralt grumbles, just for the effect, and decides that putting up with tedious aristocracy might have its benefits after all.

-

Yule festivities in Lettenhove are, mercifully, a mere matter of days. First there is the fitting for formal attire, which Geralt scowls through but Jaskier promises will be made up for with plenty of good food and wine. Then there are several deeply tedious aristocratic parties, which Jaskier sails through and Geralt spends mostly hiding in dark corners, as is his wont.

Occasionally, Jaskier will grab him by the hand and introduce him as, “Geralt, my husband-to-be,” and something funny will flip over in his stomach which will require several drinks to settle. When he returns to his dark corner he’ll find his heart pumping a little faster as his eyes track Jaskier flitting around the room. It’s probably just indigestion from all the rich food.

Then there is the formal family Yuletide dinner, a spectacularly awkward and singly unpleasant evening spent around a long, cold table with Jaskier’s mother and various cousins, who regard Geralt with expressions ranging from bland disinterest to active hostility. The food is heavy beyond measure and the conversation cruel and bland by turns.

They cover the need for raising taxes, the many failings of the servant class, and the petty squabbles over jewels and titles that seems to be the bread and butter of these people. With each hateful line, Geralt feels his blood rising. If it weren’t for Jaskier making pleading eyes at him, he’d take great pleasure in explaining some hard truths to them.

When a cousin begins expounding on useless lazy peasants in the estate, complaining that they can’t work because of plague, but we all know they’re simply idle, Geralt grits his teeth so hard that he swears the sound must be audible.

Beneath the table, Jaskier takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Staring down at their joined hands, Geralt detaches from these awful people and their awful conversation and focuses on the simple warmth of Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his own.

-

They make their escape from dinner as soon as can be considered polite, and Geralt takes a second to lean against the door to their room, breathing deeply.

“You did well not to throttle anyone,” Jaskier says with a reassuring smile. “If we’d had to listen to cousin Edrick for a minute longer, I might have launched over the table with a carving knife myself.”

Geralt reaches for him without thinking, and once again Jaskier’s hand slips into his own. It’s grounding, to feel something genuine in this place surrounded by artifice.

“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Geralt doesn’t even ask where they’re going before nodding.

-

They sneak away from the estate out of the servants’ door and follow a winding path toward a cluster of lights in the valley below. The path into Lettenhove town is quiet and calm, and as they walk the snow begins to fall in soft flurries, covering the ground in a peaceful white blanket.

The town looks picture perfect when they arrive, a charming jumble of thatched cottages and a small, cosy inn from which bright light spills out into the snowy night. When they enter the barmaid runs over to hug Jaskier and the proprietor slaps him on the back, and Jaskier has a kind word and a waved greeting for every person in there.

Geralt feels something unwind in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was tight and twisted until now. Seeing Jaskier in his element, among people who love him for who he is, instead of among that cold, hateful family, he feels right in a way he hasn’t for days.

Jaskier is already buying drinks and passing them around, and he excitedly waves Geralt over. “Bree, Geoffrey,” he addresses the couple behind the bar, “This is Geralt.” A shy smile sneaks over his face. “My fiancé.” The couple gasp in delight and congratulate Jaskier, then they’re embracing Geralt like old friends and pushing a drink into his hands.

“Come on, Geralt, join us!” Bree smiles warmly. “It’ll be the ten o’clock bells soon, and we must have Jaskier lead us in a song.”

The evening is a whirl of music and dance and loud, terrible singing, which the entire town seems to join in. For once there is no corner for Geralt to hide in, so he stays by Jaskier’s side, basking in the reflected glow of these people’s clear adoration of his bard.

-

When the midnight bell chimes and Geoffrey turns them all out for the night, the revelers wend their way home still singing and drinking. As the place empties out, Jaskier slides over to Bree to press a kiss to her cheek and a bulging purse into her hand. She tries to wave him off but Jaskier tucks the money behind the counter all the same, and Geralt watches, a deep wave of fondness sweeping through him.

The snow is still falling when they step out into the now-quiet street, soft, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking in Jaskier’s hair. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair falls in an messy sweep over his eyes; without thinking Geralt reaches out to brush it away behind his ear. Jaskier’s blush deepens as he does so, but he shivers in the cold.

“Here.” Geralt unclasps the thick cloak from around his neck and sweeps it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier’s mouth forms a little o of surprise and he looks up at Geralt, something tender in his eyes.

Geralt’s gaze is caught by the snow flakes settling on Jaskier’s lashes; he’s so focused that he almost jumps when Jaskier reaches out to take his hand. The sky seems to glow with a soft orange light as the clouds reflect the last few fires in the town below; everything is warm with Jaskier’s hand in his despite the chill in the air.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly. “For being here with me.” And leaning in, his breath caressing over Geralt’s face, he touches his lips to Geralt’s cheek in a ghost of a kiss.

Suddenly it occurs to Geralt that this will be it, tomorrow they’ll head back on the path like none of this ever happened, no more holding hands or being close, no more being introduced as Jaskier’s betrothed. And despite the hellish parts of this experience he really doesn’t want it to end. He likes being Jaskier’s person, and he likes Jaskier being his.

They are still standing close together, mere inches between them, and it’s no effort at all to lean in, slowly, cautiously, to find Jaskier’s lips with his own, to place a tentative kiss there. And then Jaskier’s hands are fisting in his shirt and tugging him closer still, and his arms go around his waist and Jaskier is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it, their mouths slotting together like they were made to fit each other, and everything is blazingly bright like the white of the snow.

When they pull apart they stay with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, and Geralt can see a smile cracking wide over Jaskier’s face.

“I like being engaged to you,” Geralt says quietly, unable to keep it in.

Jaskier’s smile widens even further. “I like being engaged to you too,” he says. He kisses him again. “Fiancé.” Another kiss. “Husband to be.” And another. “Partner.” One more. “Beloved.”

“I like the sound of those.” He suspects he may be wearing the same dopey grin as Jaskier is.

“Then let’s make it official.” Jaskier bites his lip. “Marry me?”

Jaskier is a picture of perfection, eyes gleaming and cheeks ruddy, snowflakes in his hair. Geralt’s heart has always been right here.

“I’d be honoured.” He considers for a second. “But not in Lettenhove.”

Jaskier’s laugh sparkles with joy. “Anywhere but here.”

[laedback-taurus]

No one touches his girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: none Word Count: 1622 A/n: This is pretty much an insert of you into the events of Madripoor, with an overprotective Bucky.

The relationship between you and Bucky is an odd one, anyone can see that you both deeply care for each other but neither of you has told the other this. You had stayed by Steve’s side as he did everything to save his best friend from the hold of Hydra, falling for the broken man as you did so.

You had made vow to yourself that when he came out of the ice again in Wakanda, you would be there, you were going to do whatever you could to help Bucky free himself from the Winter Soldier, Bucky falling for you as you did so.

You stood by his side during the battle in Wakanda, only to end up losing him in the end. Losing him had devastated you, you had been by his side for so long now that you did not know what to do without him.

You had worked tirelessly with Steve and Nat to find a way to bring everyone back, to bring Bucky back to you, but you always failed. Until Scott appeared with his theory of time travel, then Tony figured it out and that is when you knew that all hope was not lost.

You had found him during the heat of the battle against Thanos, running to him as soon as you locked eyes with him. He opened his arms and you crashed into him, mumbling into his chest about how much you missed him. He kissed your hair and told you to save it for later, we had a war to win.

You had been there for him when Steve left him, choosing Peggy over him. You could tell it hurt him; he just didn’t want to show it in front of his childhood friend. You held his hand as he looked at Steve, who lived a full life in their time without him.

You had stayed in touch with him in the weeks after the final battle, he got himself an apartment, which you had a key to visited often, he was going to therapy and was apparently “making amends”. You were sitting with him when the new Captain America was announced, demanding that you go with him to find Sam, to which he objected but of course you won and set off with him.

And now you were here, in Madripoor, with Sam dressed like a pimp, Bucky dressed as the Winter Soldier and with Zemo of all people. You followed Zemo through what he referred to las Low Town, sticking close to Bucky, your silver dress not leaving much to the imagination. If you had been paying much attention you would have noticed how much Bucky hated the attention you were getting because of it. His jaw clenched as he started down a few men who were looking you up and down with clearly bad intentions. You enter the club with men, making your way over to the bar, you could hear all the whispers in crowd over Bucky’s presence. You did catch a few women sending him flirty looks, which you didn’t appreciate at all, although you did have to admit, he looked incredible in his Winter Soldier outfit.

You stood at the bar, still quite close to Bucky for security, watching Zemo interact with the bartender.

“The usual?” he asked Sam who gave a short nod. The bartender pulled out a snake, placing it the bench and began cutting it open. You quickly turned away at the sight, looking at Bucky, who was leaning against the bar. He sent you a subtle concerned look, you smiled to let him know that you were alright. You stayed facing Bucky, knowing that Sam was about to down the shot behind you. Suddenly a man appeared behind the four of you, all of you turning to face him when he spoke.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here” He warned, his attention on Zemo.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” He gestured towards Bucky.

“New haircut?” the guy asked, Bucky just stared back at him. You were getting slightly uncomfortable, and Bucky was picking up on this.

“or bring Selby for chat” Zemo finished. The guy walked away, shaking his head slightly.

“A Power Broker? Really?” Bucky asked Zemo.

“Every kingdom needs its king, lets just pray we stay off his radar” Zemo replied.

“Do you know him?” You asked.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury and executioner” as Zemo spoke you noticed another man slowly approaching you. “Winter Soldier” Zemo spoke in Russian, Bucky nodded.

“Attack” He said, just as the man placed his hand on your shoulder. The frighten look on your face was enough to set Bucky off. He grabbed the man’s hand, twisting it back away from shoulder. Bucky looked back at you quickly as if to check if you were alright then proceeded to slam the man into the ground. You watched as more men advanced on Bucky, him taking them all down with ease.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t slightly flattered by how quick Bucky was to protect you and you did kind of like the over protectiveness of his actions but seeing him now, it was as if nothing had changed, he could revert back to the Winter Soldier so easily.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form” Zemo stated to both you and Sam. He was right and you hated that he was. You placed your hand on Bucky’s metal arm when Zemo spoke. “Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us” He whispered to you.

“Well done, Soldier” Zemo spoke in Russian once again.

“Selby will see you now” the bartender spoke as Bucky let go of the man he had pined to the bar, letting him fall to the ground. Zemo turned to leave, you looked at Bucky, worried about him.

“You okay?” You asked, he just looked at you and went to follow Zemo.

---

So, deal with Selby did not go to plan at all. The four of you had been running down a street, trying to dodge the bullets being fired at you when you turned into an alleyway. Bucky stood ready to protect you when suddenly shots were fired from a window above, saving you from the goons that had been after you. Turns out the person who had saved you all was Sharon, who was now living in Madripoor after stealing cap’s shield and Sam’s wings. She had taken you all back to her place, sending the men in one direction to clean up and change, taking you in another. She brought you into a dressing room and motioned to the clothes around the room.

“Pick anyone you like and change into it; I’m going to check in with the others” She said with a smile as she left you be.

It had taken a while, but you soon settled on a satin emerald, green dress that had thing straps, a low v at the chest and followed out from the cinch at your waist. You were struggling with the zipper at the back when there was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” You called out, turning to the door, holding the front of your dress up, so it didn’t fall down and expose you.

“It’s Bucky” an all too familiar voice replied.

“Come in” You offered, and the door slowly opened. There stood Bucky in all black, everything fit him perfectly, from the pants to the blazer, he looked gorgeous. “Perfect timing Buck, I can’t zip my dress up, could you get it for me?” You asked hopefully.

“Of course, Doll” He smiled, kicking the door shut on his way over to you, you turned so that your back was to him. You felt him gently move your hair aside, he swiftly zipped your dress up for you, something you didn’t expect wad him placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder, making you smile and blush slightly. “You look beautiful” He told you, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hands finding you waist.

“You don’t look too bad yourself” You admitted, turning around to face him, his hands back on your hips and your hands now resting on his chest. “Are you okay?” You asked, he knew exactly what you were referring to.

“I’m okay, I was more worried about you” He admitted.

“Me?” You asked.

“Yeah, you looked frightened when that man put his hand on you, something snapped in me seeing you like that…I didn’t like having to see another man touch you” He said, looking straight into your eyes now.

“I didn’t like having another man touch me” You admitted. He smiled at you, moving his hands from your waist to cup your cheeks.

“I was waiting until I was free, until I could fully trust myself and I know that this is probably way overdue by a few years but…y/n, can I kiss you?” He asked, already leaning in slightly, his nose brushing against yours.

“Of course, you can Bucky” He smiled at your response and brought your lips to meet his. The kiss was full of all the unspoken love between the two of you, the longing for each other all these years and just pure passion. Bucky pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, hands still cupping your now warm cheeks.

“No one touches my girl” He whispered, making you smile, knowing that you were now his and he was yours.

“I’m all yours” You smiled before pulling him down by his blazer and kissing him again.

[erimeows]

Feverish

You were surprised to have been called to the med bay a little bit past nine in the evening, woken up by your phone ringing and Ratchet on the other end. You clutched your robe close to your body as you raced through the hallway, sleep in your eyes and worries in your head.

The lead medic had given you no explanation, only telling you to come meet him outside of the med bay as soon as you could before he hung up on you.

You wondered if it was an emergency, if someone was injured or dying, if something had happened during patrol- Wait, no. Their night patrols didn’t start for another hour or so, and if it had been an emergency, someone like Bumblebee or Optimus would’ve called you in a panic.

Still, the whole situation was weird, and you were worried, so when you saw Ratchet outside of the med bay leaning against one of the walls, you immediately approached him with your concern etched in your features. 

Upon seeing you, Ratchet stood up straight, then put a strong servo on your shoulder in a reassuring manner before looking down at you. His pale blue optics burned into your (e/c) eyes, and though you tried your best, you couldn’t read his expression.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the medic spoke.

“Optimus Prime has fallen ill.”

“What?” You immediately sputtered, and your eyes flew to the door of the med bay; closed, you couldn’t even see Optimus. You just prayed that he was okay. In the time that you’d known the Prime and his team, you’d seen him injured or sick plenty, though the former was much more common. He never prioritized his own health and tried to push himself to do things, even when he was unwell, so he took forever to recover... Hopefully it wasn’t something severe. “How bad is it? Is he awake? Have you told the team yet?”

“Hey, hey, slow down. It’s nothing crazy, (y/n), so don’t worry,” Ratchet’s words, said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, soothed you, if only a little. If it were serious or ‘crazy’ as he put it, he would’ve told you directly instead of lying, so you believed him. “This morning, I was the first to wake and go into the kitchen to make myself an energy booster when I saw him stumble in... As in, he was literally stumbling over himself and I could see steam rolling off of him from overheat. He insisted he was fine, but something was off, so I dragged him to the medbay for testing. He’s low on energon and coolant, he was overheating, and there was a minor glitch in his vents from some battle damage that I had to fix. He’s recovering fine, but my main concern is that his chassis seems to be overheating to kill an infection. I think it’s just your run-of-the-mill space bug based on the labs I did, so I gave him some antibiotics.”

“You didn’t answer some of my questions-” You started, now concerned with whether you could actually go and see Optimus or not.

It wasn’t uncommon for the red and blue bot to ignore his own needs, but for him to have ignored symptoms that could’ve turned into something much worse had Ratchet not caught them... You wondered if there was something bothering Optimus that was making him neglect himself, more than he usually would.

“So demanding, you youngin’s,” Ratchet huffed and rolled his optics at you. “It’s not that bad, he’s awake, and no, I haven’t told the others yet. Our nightly patrol is soon and I have to break the news to them somehow, which is why I called you here. You can’t go with us anyway and they need me since we’re down one bot, so I want you to stay with Prime. He responds the best to you...” You blinked and then blushed at that, (s/c) cheeks burning bright. It was true that you and Optimus were close, but for Ratchet to acknowledge it like that... Well, you were flattered. You’d loved Optimus for as long as you could remember, and even though Ratchet surely meant that in a platonic way, it was nice to know that the effort you put into your relationship with the bot meant something. “His condition isn’t from a decline in his physical health- I had to pry like hell to find out what it was, but Prime finally broke and told me that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten an energon cube or ran a self-evaluation to make sure he was functioning properly, which is why he’s energy-depleted and why the damage to his vents went unchecked. He’s so stressed from the leadership that this team needs that he isn’t taking care of himself anymore, and now, it’s led to him falling sick again. I think there’s something else going on in that processor of his, too, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else... I just know it’s more mental than anything.”

You stopped, frowning. What else could Optimus be hiding from everyone? Was he doing something dangerous? Had something happened? Was he breaking down from stress?

“O-Oh.. Okay,” You mumbled and leaned into the servo of Ratchet’s that was on your shoulder, sighing when he ran his thumb over a sore spot on the groove between said shoulder and your collar. The two of you had developed a close bond over the past couple years since they’d been on earth, with you, Sari’s tutor and caretaker, also acting as a second medic for the team with Ratchet’s training. While he’d trained you in how to care for the Autobots, you’d given him the basics of human anatomy and medical care, so with that time spent together, you were close- whether the old grump admitted it or not. “What about his medicine? How often does he take it? Is there anything else I need to do?”

“One pill every six human hours, they’re the white gel capsules that are rationed out on the table by Prime’s med-berth. I just gave him a dose, so don’t get him another one until three in the morning. He also needs to drink plenty of energon, coolant, and lubricant to get better, so make him do it, even if he gets pissy with you- shove it down his throat if you have to... But those are all things that I already told him, and he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. I don’t need you in there to take care of him so much as I need you to stay in there to make sure he doesn’t get up and do anything stupid. You know how he gets when he’s sick.”

“Unfortunately, I do...” You let out a long sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. It was going to be hard dealing with Optimus- hell, you could already imagine how he would be trying to sneak out of the med bay to go on patrol or trying to make you bring paperwork for him to do. You wouldn’t allow either, but considering how much larger he was than you, you’d have to convince him to relax instead of just being able to hold his aft down like Ratchet or Bulkhead could. “I’ll make sure he stays put. I’m assuming you’re taking over leadership until he recovers, Ratchet?”

“As the team medic, I’m second in command, so yeah... I have to. I’d let Prowl do it, but Primus knows he doesn’t want to, and I wouldn’t let Bumblebee or Bulkhead within a ten mile radius of any form of responsibility like this. I’m really the only option.”

“Right...” You imagined what a patrol without Optimus, led by a stressed and grouchy Ratchet would be like, and then cringed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

With that, Ratchet withdrew his servo from your shoulder and waved at you before turning around and walking down the hallway. You figured that Optimus shouldn’t be left alone for too long, so you quickly entered the med bay and shut the door behind you.

It was dark, with a small night light plugged into the walls that illuminated the room just a bit. You could see Optimus, who looked uncharacteristically pathetic, weakly laying on a med berth with a small side table on the ground next to him. On the table were some energon sticks, a cup of coolant, and the white pills that Ratchet had mentioned. 

“(y/n), is that you?” Optimus asked, trying to sit up, but immediately groaning in what you assumed was pain and flopping back down. His eyes squeezed shut, a strained grimace taking over his face-plates. You pulled one of the stools by a wall-counter to the side of the room where Optimus’s berth was and put it right by his side table so you could sit by him. You were close to his face, so you leaned down to look at it as his optics slowly opened back.

He was sick, and it would take at least a few days if not a week to recover; you could tell just by looking at him. His ocean-hued optics were abnormally dark and foggy, his powder blue faceplates were stained dark with heat, and though he wasn’t steaming like Ratchet had described this morning, there was definitely still heat radiating from his frame.

“Yes, Optimus, it’s me... I’m here to watch over you,” You leaned in to kiss the top of his helm, able to feel just how hot the metal felt against you. When you pulled back, you frowned at the absurd amount of heat- almost hot enough to make your lips sting, while Optimus’s normal temperature was a bit cooler than that of an average human’s by a degree or two. “Ratchet called me down here and told me what’s going on a bit ago. The team’s on patrol right now.”

“Slag, I can’t believe Ratchet told you,” Optimus groaned again, this time in annoyance instead of pain. “I told him not to earlier when he was fixing my vents... He’s probably going to tell the rest of the team, too. I have to get up and go supervise the patrol-” He forced himself to sit up this time, forced back a wince, forced his optics to open fully, but the second you pressed a rushed hand to his chest plates and attempted to push him back, he froze.

“Oh, no you don’t!” You argued, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as a pout formed on your face. 

“Oh, yes I do!” The Autobot argued back without hesitation, but didn’t actually move to push your hand away or leave even though he was fully capable of doing so, only resting one of his servos on the one of yours that was on his chest- stumbling and overheating or not, he was much larger and much stronger than you. Then again, he probably knew that Ratchet would beat him to a pulp the second he recovered if he dared lay a single digit on you to escape the med bay. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I don’t want it nor do I need it, and I certainly don’t want it from my team. It’s bad enough that you know. I know they’ll start asking questions when I don’t go on patrol with them, and if they hear that I got sick from overexerting myself and not getting enough rest and energon, they’ll never let me hear the end of it-”

“Well, maybe that’s what you need, so lay your stubborn ass down! I did not come here with my hair all fucked up and in this stupid robe in the middle of the night when I could’ve been sleeping just to have you run away from me when I’m trying to take care of you! You getting up right now just drives home how bad you are about prioritizing yourself,” Optimus’s plump and normally soft lips, now chapped from dehydration, pulled together into a tight frown- it was the face he made when he knew he was in the wrong. “You’re getting out of your bed when you’re supposed to be resting so you can go lie to your team and tell them you’re fine when you’re not, and for what? Your pride?”

“No, I just don’t want them to worry for me. I’m already stressed out enough and the last thing I need is for that to contribute to their struggles. They’re all dealing with so many of their own problems, and I’m sick of being a burden to everyone around me...”

Optimus huffed, but gave up and laid back down, much to your relief. He still held your hand, though, and you let him- even if he was sick, you didn’t want him to let go.

“You’re not a burden, and just like how they’re dealing with their problems, you’re dealing with yours. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and respected, and not to insult your acting skills, but... They won’t believe you if you walk out there overheating and struggling to stay standing to tell them that you’re perfectly fine. Ratchet told me how you were stumbling around this morning.”

“I hate that you’re right,” He mumbled, and you wondered why he always had to be so childish when he was sick. 

Then again, as much as you hated Optimus’s stubborn personality, it was a major component of who you’d gone and fallen in love with all that time ago. It was crazy, you thought; just the extent that you loved Optimus Prime to, and how terribly unaware he was of it. You thought it best to keep the fact hidden, as you didn’t know what his feelings were, and he had so much on his plate already... It hurt to think that he didn’t know how loved he was- not just by you, but by everyone around him, who he was always bending over backwards for, completely unaware that they’d do the exact same for him.

“And I hate that you treat yourself like this. Plus, as much as Ratchet threatens us all with consequences for our actions, he’s not going to tell them what’s going on in depth; just that you have a fever and that you’re resting, you know he respects patient confidentiality. He’ll probably even downplay it because he knows that’s what’ll make you happy.”

“No, you’re just trying to reassure me, but...” Optimus paused and let go of your hand, fully settling back into the berth. You took your hand back and looked off to the side, already missing his touch. “I know you want to, and that Ratchet probably told you to spend the night here and take care of me, but I’m alright now. I’ll stay and rest, I promise. You can go to your room to sleep, I know you’re usually not up this late, and I’d hate to keep you up with my problems.”

You didn’t really want to leave him, but you were tired, and you believed his words. His tone was genuine enough.

“Are you sure?” You asked and received a nod in return. So, you stood up and collected yourself. “Okay, if you’re sure... I’ll leave and go get some rest, then come back at three to give you your antibiotics and make sure you’ve got something on your stomach.”

Silence. 

The second you turned around to leave, though, Optimus was grabbing the back of your robe and holding the cloth between his digits, tone low as he spoke again.

“Actually, (y/n), wait... Don’t leave me. I need you.”

You turned back around and looked at him, confused. Hadn’t he just told you seconds before that he was fine and that you should leave to go get some rest so that he could fall into recharge as well? What was with the sudden change of heart? Was there something going on with his physical condition, or was it something else?

“Huh? But Optimus, you said you needed to rest...” You muttered, which earned you a shake of his head in return.

“I will,” Optimus promised. “Please, just stay and don’t question it. I lied to you, I don’t know why, but I can’t be alone right now. Don’t leave me.”

The plead from him was unexpectedly vulnerable, honest, open. You appreciated it, but at the same time, you were concerned about what exactly was going on with him- you felt like there was more to the story than stress and leadership and lack of self-care. While all of that was definitely in character for Optimus Prime, there was something else that he wasn’t telling you about, too. With how close you were to him, it wasn’t abnormal for you to have deeper discussions, but for him to admit that he wanted- no, needed you there with him and couldn’t be alone was something you’d never thought you’d hear in your lifetime.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you tell me to go, then. Thank you for being honest with me.”

With that, you sat back down on the stool and looked at him. A little bit of that light had returned to his optics, but he still seemed like he was in rough shape.

“Thank you.”

Silence again.

Instead of adjusting to get comfortable and slip into recharge, Optimus just sat there with his back against the board of the berth, optics trained on you. It had taken a while to get used to when you’d first met him, but nowadays, you were used to the Prime’s intensity, especially when it came to eye/optic-contact. Still, though, the way he was staring at you now... You couldn’t quite interpret it. Then again, could you usually? Optimus was hard to read sometimes.

“You’re not resting,” You teased, but received a serious response in return.

“I’m thinking, and then I’ll rest.”

“You’re sick, the last thing you need to be doing is overthinking like you always do,” You reached out to him, rested your palm on the side of his face and tenderly ran a thumb over the apex of his cheek. Surprisingly, he leaned into your touch with a smile.

“What if it pertains to you? It’s either I tell you and get my closure, which is daunting, or I sit here overthinking it like I always do.”

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach and flinched. It had been obvious that something was on his processor, but it had to do with you? What was it? Did it have to do with your feelings? Tense, you talked again.

“...Have I done something? I’d rather you tell me.”

“You’ve made me fall in love with you.”

The words were whispered but still felt so loud, filling the room with their impact in a way that made your cheeks hot and your heart beat hard against your chest.

“Your illness must be making you delusional,” You laughed nervously, but Optimus only gave you a sloppy grin and laughed. You moved your hand to the top of his helm to check his temperature, but it hadn’t changed- as much as you wanted to believe it, you were sure he was being serious and not having feverous hallucinations like you’d initially suspected. Still, you thought it proper to ask. “Do you feel hot? Are you overheating again?”

“No, (y/n), I’m just in love with you,” Optimus peered at you, smile falling a bit. “I mean, yes, I am sick, and I’m still overheating, but I’ve been in love with you for- Ah, I’m actually not sure how long it’s been... I just know it’s been too long.”

There was a pause, in which the two of you seemed to be processing what important things were said; in the span of just a minute or two, Optimus had boldly laid his feelings out for you on the table, unabashed and proud, the tension that came with two years worth of pining that you’d been doing solved so... Quickly. You were surprised you hadn’t felt your jaw hit the floor.

Had he really loved you the whole time? Or was this a recent development? Why was he only telling you now? Had his stress over his feelings for you also contributed to his sickness?

“I’m not sure I can talk about this in good conscience when you’re so vulnerable,” You smiled back at him, (e/c) eyes meeting his ocean-hued optics as you removed your hand from his head. Shyly, he reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It feels selfish, but... I love you, too, and that’s why I want you to rest and get better, maybe not stress out so much.”

You kissed the back of his servo as he pulled it away, earning what you hoped was a blush and not more symptoms of overheating.

“I’d kiss you if I weren’t afraid of getting you sick,” Optimus sighed. You were sure that you probably couldn’t catch whatever he had going on since he was a Cybertronian and you were human, but you didn’t want to test that theory, so you left it alone.

“It’s okay,” You reached out to hold one of his servos in both of your hands, squeezing reassuringly. “I can feel the sentiment. Just focus on getting better, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

“Sometimes I fear we don’t- Have all the time, I mean, and I suppose that’s why I finally broke down and did this- I like to believe I’m impervious to everything around me, but I’ve already died once, and every time I get sick, I always think about what will happen if I go offline without telling everyone around me just how much they mean. I didn’t want to be scared anymore, not when it came to you.”

“I...” You stood and got on top of the berth so you could sit next to Optimus, curling into his side. “Me, too.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” The Prime asked and wrapped an arm around you. Gentle. Strong. Warm.

“Would you like me to be?” You asked in return with a tilt of your head.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Optimus looked at you, clearly somewhat doubtful, but you only shook your head with a smile. “I promise, I won’t leave you. Just get some rest, okay?”

“...Okay.”

So, you stayed, and when Ratchet walked in the next morning to see you curled up by Optimus’s side on the berth with your (lip/chap)stick smeared on his servos, both of you sleeping peacefully for once, he couldn’t help but think that Optimus getting sick once in a while wasn’t so bad after all.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.”