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plumsdoll · 1 month ago

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Enchanted

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky finally found his missing piece and it was you. He knew from the first moment he saw you.

Word counts: 2.8k

Warning: FLUFF. Cursing. Congressman Barnes era. Mentioned and described about anxiety. Bucky mourned Steve. Reader have long hair. Reader didn't have any specific age but look like in 20s or 30s. The story took place before Thunderbolts*. No beta read.

Notes: Hi~! this is my first Bucky Barnes fanfiction ever!! I've been hiding for sometime until I had a courage to write my own Bucky Barnes fanfiction! and English is not my first language so if you find any mistake I hope you don't mind. I hope everyone enjoy my work and if you do, it would be more than thankful to know your thoughts! Please enjoy!

P.S. Anxiety is very serious. I—myself—am dealing with it and I want more people to be aware of it and be aware of people who is dealing with it. And 333 rule is really helpful for anyone who's encountering anxiety. Thank you so much!

Nightmares were gone.

He was finally free. No more fighting. No more carrying guilt like a shadow that followed him everywhere. No more reminiscing of distressing bygone days. Eventually, Bucky could choose to live the life he always wanted. But…why did he still feel empty inside? A missing piece lingered in his heart, one he couldn't quite name.

This missing piece was considerable. It kept Bucky in an uneasy episode. It was difficult enough to be a man out of time in the modern world. He was drained to keep up with current political predicament as a congressman. And not to mention cutting-edge technology which was really helpful but confusing. It was different. Everything was different without Steve. Maybe the void, the missing space was Steve, the space that was impossible to fill.

Every day was the same. He woke up at 6 a.m., or earlier if he couldn't sleep, and went for a walk to clear his mind before going to work. He still didn't fully understand the modern protocols of Congress. It was significantly changed after the war—as it should. Sometimes he called Sam to keep in touch. It helped—talking with Sam—but still, it couldn't fill the emptiness inside him.

It had been bothering him a whole lot lately. He never felt like that before. He couldn't work, couldn't keep focused. His mind wandered around like a puppy that lost its owner. What was happening to him? He was always able to suppress the feeling but not this time. He felt like it was near, but what is it?

Bucky shook his head before keeping focused on his bowtie—the damn bowtie. One of the disadvantages of being a congressman were social events. He couldn't avoid it under any circumstances now that he merely had the position for six months.

It was ironic. He used to love social events, he was the one who dragged Steve to the fair but look at him now, whining about how he hated it. Maybe he had to admit that he was too old for this.

Bucky exhaled before checking himself in the mirror for one last time, stared at his figure and thought about how far he had come. Evidence of viability was written all over his face. He couldn't deny it but it was what made him who he is today. Maybe he was finally ready—like he always told himself—but he never was. It scared him every time he thought about it. The thought of how he was never going to fit in. Even though everything was better, however, the hungry eyes were fixed on him. It was a mind game in the sealed room. He had to prove himself that he was worthy. Of what— he didn't know. It was just that he felt like he had to prove himself that he was no longer the person who was once the most feared individual on the planet. Bucky told himself one last time—He's not him. He's James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky was being dragged from one conversation to another. He met countless people that he didn't even have time to remember. Throughout the entire encounter, he avoided any eye contact that followed him everywhere like he was a sculpture in the museum for people to extract the gist. He was forcing laughter and faking smiles. People seemed to be amazed that he was genuinely a normal person and learned of what he thought, he could hear them thinking; He's not what we have read in the museum!

The fifth champagne didn't help in this situation. He was looking around to find an excuse for a moment before someone asked him about his time as the Winter Soldier. The question caught him off guard and left him momentarily speechless. He wasn't prepared for the question and the fact that it had done something to him. The storm of feelings crawled back expeditiously and ultimately it caught on his throat. Bucky started to feel overwhelmed amongst people who shot questions perpetually at him. Everything around him seemed blurry and he couldn't keep focused. His heart was beating faster, he was grasping for some air but the air suddenly was heavy to breathe in. His grip faltered and the champagne flute in his hand dropped to the floor. The champagne splashed on the marble, some droplets caught on the margin of dresses and tailored pants, then someone made a joke;

“Oh, it seems like congressman Barnes is already sloshed.” And they laughed. Bucky shot a look at the person who said it but she didn't seem to notice.

“Excuse me, I need a moment.” Bucky declared before broke his way out of the group of people who circled around him. He found a place where there were not many people around. He grabbed the marble pillar to help him stand straight. His legs went limp, it felt like if he loses his grip he would outright fall to the ground. Bucky was trying to breathe slowly before turning his face to focus on his vicinity.

“Ok. 333 rule, come on.” Bucky said before looking around the room.

“Three things I can see…the red cocktail dress…ummm congressman Gary? Man, where the hell have you been all night. That's definitely a pre-tied bowtie. God, I hate pre-tied…and…” Bucky shifted his eyes from congressman Gary to the person who he was talking to. It was you.

“The white satin dress on the most beautiful woman I've…ever seen.” Everything around him stopped all at once. His eyes fixed on you and only you. He captured every possible detail that he could see. Your perfectly curled hair rested on your exposed shoulders. Your sweet eyes. Lovely nose. Irresistible lips. He was wonderstruck by your beauty across the room. Everything went black and white but you shone golden radiant through the room and gave them light. You were an oasis in the desert. The rainbow after the storm. The first snow of winter. The missing piece in his heart. Bucky knew at that moment that he couldn't lose you. You were the one who he was missing dearly even though you never met.

Bucky saw you excused yourself from congressman Gary. His consciousness was back and then he was starting to follow his heart. His legs, instantly, had the strength to walk again. He followed you to the bar and sat at the adequate distance. He ordered something strong to encourage himself. There was only you and him at the bar. It was quite awkward even though he thought you didn't even notice him. You didn't say anything and he was too anxious to speak. There was no conversation going on between you for a short while, somehow Bucky didn't feel uneasy in this situation. He felt relaxed and easier to breathe now that he had your company.

“It’s intense, isn't it? This endless abyss” You broke the silence. He wasn't fully looking at your direction because he wasn't sure if you were talking to him or not.

“I'm talking to you, congressman Barnes.” You giggled when he startled before facing you. He swore your voice was so sweet like a bird chirping in the crisp morning.

“Oh, umm, yes. Yes, it is.” He cleared his voice after and changed his focus to the glass in front of him. He didn't know what to say. He cursed to himself; You can't lose her, James Buchanan Barnes. Fucking do something! Say something!

“You—”

You looked at each other for a second or two before his eyes went wide and you laughed simultaneously. He looked at you, threw your head back and laughed at him. He felt embarrassed but in a good way. How long has it been since he courted someone? He felt petrified at the idea of it. His body went numb and he didn't want to move too fast. It was a strange feeling when he thought that you were at most in your 20s or 30s but now he's an old man who was 110 years old merely last month. It wasn't like in the 1940s anymore and it suddenly scared him.

“You, first.” Your voice broke through his thoughts.

“Oh, no. There's nothing—”

“Oh, come on. If you want to court me. Here's your chance. Is that what you called it in your days? Court?” You laughed again and then his face turned red. He tried to hide it by sipping the whiskey in his hand but it was still obviously in the exposed light at the bar.

“It’s not and I wasn't trying to court you.” He tried to hide his smile but he hated to admit that those times when he was out on the mission was easier than trying to not swoon at your presence. His hand was meddling with the rocks glass, fingers playing with the beads around it. Your eyes followed his fingers, it sent heat through your body.

“Who are you, by the way. I never saw you anywhere.” Bucky shot a question to keep the conversation going but it was also his genuine question too. He never saw you at any other social events that he went to. Nothing could escape his eagle-eye and surely not even a pretty little thing like you. You would be the first in the room that caught his attention.

“Maybe I was there but you never saw me.”

“That's impossible.”

“Oh, of course. I forgot that you were a spy.” You lifted your hand up and did the O shape around your eye. Bucky chuckled and licked his lips. He knew at that moment that you were going to be the death of him. Gosh, it must have been too long since he's falling head over heels for someone. It's a strange feeling that he willingly submitted to.

“No. I mean—I don't think if I ever saw you, I'm going to let you out of my sight that easily.” Suddenly, the world stopped again. You exchanged eye contact across the adequate space. It felt too far, he needed to get closer to hold you. The piano caught his ears and the idea came into his mind. He needed to make a move and it had to be a move that he was familiar with.

“Dance with me.” He extended his hand to you. You laughed because you thought it was a joke but then you looked at him and there was nothing playful written on his face. You looked at the group of people standing, no one was dancing along the music. You looked at him again.

Fuck it.

The moment you took his hand was something new entirely. The feeling was overwhelming but in a good way. There was something that you didn't know how to describe. It was like lightning—a magnet that pulled you closer. He led you in the center of the room. Everyone was looking. You could see their bewildered eyes staring. Your heart was beating fast. It was a ludicrous idea and you liked it but now you weren't entirely sure.

“Hey, look at me.” Bucky grabbed your waist and pulled you closer. You looked up at him and met his piercing blue eyes. His vibranium arm guided your hands to rest on his shoulders. The coldness of the material sent shivers through you. He rested the arm on your waist and started to move.

“Don't be scared. Just follow me.” Bucky started to sway and lead you to smooth movement. You were restricted at first but then started to relax and follow his steps. You never shifted your eyes from his. You were embarrassed at the idea but didn't regret it at all.

“Are they still looking?” You asked with a trembling voice. Suddenly, you wanted to disappear into the ground.

“Yes. They're always looking.” You swallowed nervously.

“You know what? I haven't danced since 1943…Feels like.” Bucky said with that playful glint in his smile and you burst out laughing and buried your face in his chest. At this close you could hear his heart pounding fast like he just went on a marathon. His cologne kicked your nose, it was earthy and fresh. It helped you feel relaxed.

“This is a bad idea.” You said while shutting your eyes and breathing in his scent.

“I know.”

“But I like it.”

“Me too.” Bucky said and kissed the top of your head. You were surprised at his move but you didn't complain. You wanted to keep this moment forever. You wanted to keep him forever.

You didn't know how long the time passed. The next move that brought you back to reality was when Bucky touched your wrists. You opened your eyes and realized that everyone was now dancing. You were amazed at your surroundings. You looked at Bucky and he was already looking. A spark of delight drew all over your face.

“They're looking at you.” You said with the awed in your voice.

“No. They're looking at you.” Bucky said and looked into your eyes. His eyes always looked like it was telling you something, something that wasn't a word or a number but a feeling. He wanted to preserve this moment forever.

“It's almost time. Can I bring you somewhere?” You nodded and then he guided you to the garden outside the estate where there's nobody there. The moon was full. The sky was clear. Everything was quiet. It looked like a dream. You looked at him while he was already looking. He didn't seem to shift his eyes off you. Just like he said.

“Are you going to kill me here?” You told a joke and smiled. If you are going to die tonight, it might be worth it.

“Maybe.” Bucky smiled. It felt like he was bewitched by you—heart and soul. Merely a minute, you could catch his heart and play with it. He was more than willing to give you everything. If you want him to kill, he would kill for you. If you want him to die, he would die for you. If you want a star he would find a way and give it to you. Because all of this wasn't hard at all compared to all this time he was waiting for you.

“What do you want to show me?” You asked.

“You have to lie down first.” Bucky guided you on the fresh green grass. It was poking on your sensitive skin but after a minute, you got used to it.

“I have these strange feelings.” Bucky said while lying on his side and looked at your face.

“What feelings?”

“I think you bewitched me.”

“What?” You laughed out loud like no one would hear. In fact, there was no one there to hear you anyway.

“I never felt this way before. It had been so long since I fell in love. It was a feeling that seemed unfamiliar to me until I saw you tonight.” There was no evidence of playfulness on his face. Everything was genuine. Under the moonlight he was still undoubtedly attractive. It scared you for a moment; the thought of losing him.

“You may think this is crazy but I would kill for you. I would die for you, if you say so.” You caressed his face with your hand and looked straight into his eyes.

“Live for me. Never let me go.” Tears welled up in his eyes and dropped on the grass, filling the earth with his blissful tears. You were getting closer and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. He pulled you in for a more passionate and longing kiss. You were yearning for each other like it had been so long since you met but it was odd when you realized this is the first time.

You startled when the sound of an explosion echoe in the sky. Bursts of color lit up in the night. You looked straight and saw fireworks cracked and popped above. The flickering lights filled the inky sky and danced around the full moon. It was magical.

“You like it?” Bucky asked but there was no answer. You just pulled him in for another kiss. Surely, you won't let him go. He bewitched your heart and soul. It might have taken him more than decades to finally find you but ultimately he did. And he was grateful that it happened at the right time—when he was ready for you. Ready to live for you and love you wholeheartedly. Maybe the myth was true, the one that said you were meant to find your other half and fortunately, now the missing piece had been filled.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 3 months ago

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Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

You’ve never been raw-dogged and filled before, Simon wants to change that

Warnings: SMUT, mentions of drinking and eating food from the ground, power imbalance, unprotected sex, creampie (obvi), clothed man/unclothed woman, a little ass smacking, cockwarming, bit of an ownership kink and possessive!Ghost, lots of swearing WC: 2k Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Stakeouts were boring on the best of days, but add in the fact that your partner for the foreseeable future was a brick wall who absolutely refused to make any sort of conversation, you were dying. If you had been stationed with Gaz or Soap, hell even Price, you could have had some entertainment as you sat on the metal folding chair and watched an empty apartment.

But Ghost was nothing if not exceedingly capable of subverting your expectations.

“You ever try buzzballz?” You shifted on your seat, trying to get your numb ass to wake up.

Simon didn’t even look at you.

“Thought not. You’re more of a bourbon guy or beer, but that’s kinda lame.” He grunted under his breath, you took that as affirmation. “Anyways, after that last mission, Soap somehow got his grubby hands on a few of the big ones which are the equivalent of like 12 shots and I’m telling you, they were fucking florescent blue. My tongue was stained the next day.”

He reached for the pack of chewing tobacco in his vest pocket, an unfortunate solution to not being able to go for a smoke any time he needed to. You unconsciously watched his gloved fingers poke through the pocket before catching yourself and turning back to the grimy window you had been previously staring out of.

“But I don’t even know what was in those drinks because suddenly, it’s midnight and this fucker is telling me about how creampies are the best feeling in the world. And I know we’re teammates and we’ve literally seen each other naked in those communal showers on base but somehow that was just a step too far y’a know.” You don’t notice the way your companion stiffened.

“And it was totally gross! Like I have seen that man scarf a sausage that had been on the ground for god knows how long so I can’t imagine that getting creampied would be that pleasant if he’s so obsessed with it. I just can’t even imagine the cleanup either! It would be-“

“’S nice.”

Your head snapped to look over at Ghost so quickly that your neck popped. “What.”

He cleared his throat, brown eyes still staring straight ahead though you suspected he wasn’t looking for the target. “Said ’s nice, cummin’ in someone I mean.” Your face must’ve been shocked as all hell because he finally looked at you, his already dark eyes now voids behind the skull mask. “Feels good. Really fuckin good.”

Heat exploded across your cheeks, his voice was deeper than it normally was, with a rasp that went directly to your center.

“I’ve never…”

He huffed under his breath something akin to a laugh, it was almost mocking. “Figured.”

You forced yourself to look back out the window, even as the thrumming between your legs got worse with every tension-filled second that passed. Ghost was as sexy as he was mysterious; towering over everyone in your squad, there was no question the man was big and you, in some demented part of your brain, wondered if it was proportional. You had never even seen his face but it was often his voice, his hands, that fueled your late night fantasies alone in your bunk.

And you suspected that he knew, especially right now.

“Gets so hot, and tight, feels like your markin ‘er from the inside. Ya keep yourself in as deep as possible as she’s fightin cause it’s too much, but ya keep going.” You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, but instead it slipped quietly from your lips— a whimper sliced through the dingy apartment, and Simon kept talking.

“Ya go till it hurts, fucking it back in and then yer ready to go again… and again… till she can’t even scream anymore. and you’ve stained the sheets beneath you” You gripped the material of your pants so tightly, they would rip if you suddenly jerked. He must’ve known what he was doing to you, but nothing about the way he was slumped down in his own chair, eyes forward, fingers lazily tracing the seam of his kevlar vest said ‘I want to fuck you into the ground too’.

“I could show ya, not much else to do right now.” Your breath caught as he laid a large hand onto your plump thigh, well that definitely screamed it.

“Lt-“

“I’ll keep watch, you just need to bounce. You’ll be good and do that fer me won’t you soldier, so I can show you how good it feels.” Like a trance had come over you, you rose from the seat, your fingers flying to the buckle of your belt as Simon’s hand curved around to the fat of your ass.

“You sure it’ll feel good?” His mask remained blank but the way his grip on you tightened and his thick thighs spread told you everything you needed to know.

“Why are you questioning me when I gave you an order, soldier?” His own belt popped open with a clink and the zipper of his fly slid down, letting you catch a glimpse of what you had been craving so badly.

“Sorry sir.” The words were spit out just like they had been trained to, earning a slightly less displeased huff from your superior. You kicked off your already unlaced boots having undone them the moment you got into the apartment and soon your pants and panties joined the ever-growing pile of your clothes.

“And the top.” He growled, squeezing the mass of his cock. “Doing this fer you, remember.” You nodded and yanked off the t-shirt you were all-too-glad to get rid of, leaving you standing before him just in your ratty sports bra that did very little to contain your tits.

Simon’s breath shuddered before he gestured to the thick material. “Yessir.” You threw it to the side, finally leaving yourself bare to his molten gaze. Your arms itched to cover the expanse of your curves but your mind refused to disobey, even as the man before you froze save for the heaving of his massive chest.

He studied every inch of you, from the seam where your thighs met to the plushness of your plump stomach, from your strong arms to the way your tits sat just waiting for his touch. You watched with the keen eye of a sniper as his bare forearm tensed and released, the tendons working as he squeezed himself over the material of his pants.

“Can we start sir?” You dared to ask, half-expecting an immediate rejection, but he just chuffed and pulled himself from the open fly.

“Damn impatient thing.” To say he was big was an insult— he was monstrous. Thick and uncut with a dense thatch of hair that you knew would scrape against your clit perfectly when he was buried to the hilt inside of you. A bead of hazy liquid builds on the very tip of his substantial length and you wondered briefly how white-hot it would feel when it was inside of you.

“Gettin’ cold here soldier.” His thighs spread apart even wider, enticing you to come closer. You wanted to ask if it would even fit but you doubted it would make a difference.

The muscles of his shoulders just barely gave way as you gripped onto them, your nails digging in deep as you swung a leg over his bulky hips, settling onto his lap. His cock rested between you, nestled against the softness of your cunt, getting wetter with your combined arousal. His eyes sparkled while he watched you slowly get comfortable with the feel of him.

“C’mon angel, don’t have all day. Price ’s coming to relieve us at 0300 and I’ll need at least two rounds outta you.” You were jolted forwards by his leg shoving you up, making you hover over his head.

Shoving a shaking hand between your bodies, you took ahold of him and lined him up with your dripping entrance. A worried breath escaped you and then, you sank down, swallowing him whole.

“Fuuuuuuck.”He hissed through his teeth while all words vanished from your mind. It burned and ripped through you but nothing had ever felt as good as this, like his cock was perfectly tailored to fill you up just the way you needed it. Simon’s hands flew to your wide hips, gripping them with just force that you knew there would be ugly-looking bruises you’d have to explain away later.

His hips canted up, unable to stop himself from forcing himself even deeper, chasing the tightness of your cunt. “Si.” You sighed, head falling to the crook of his neck, earning you another punch upwards.

“Takin’ it so fuckin well, knew you fuckin would. Made fer my fuckin cock weren’t ya. Shoulda done this the first time ya looked at me with those fuckin eyes.” His accent grew deeper with every thrust, his words getting more and more unintelligible as your joint pleasures mounted.

You slammed your hips down with as much force as you could muster, desperately trying to meet his brutal pace, earning a muffled groan of approval. A gloved palm met your bare ass with a harsh slap, forcing a loud moan from you.

“That’s it angel. Just needed to be properly fucked didn’t ya? All quiet now, my perfect little soldier.” Your teeth sank into his neck as the knot in your stomach wound tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. “So close ain’t ya, need that little bit more.”

“Please Si, please.” He immediately shoved your legs further apart to fit his hand between you, the pads of his index and middle fingers finding your throbbing clit as his cock hammered against your g-spot.

With only two jerky circles, you shattered above him. You back bowed as your forced yourself down to the hilt, you pussy rippling around him while Simon struggled to fuck you through your high.

“Gonna make me cum angel. Gonna show you how good it fuckin feels to be filled.” His thrusts grew sloppy but his words continued to spill out of his mouth almost involuntarily at this point. “Mark you as fuckin mine.” He snarled.

Your body shook with the power of him, it took all your strength just to take it, let him use and fill you. His cock started to twitch inside of you threateningly. You wanted him to do it, to prove to you how good it felt to be owned from the inside.

“Cum inside, wanna feel all of you.” Your lips brushed against where his ear was beneath the mask, your breath sending goosebumps all over his body. “Make me yours.”

His muscles seized below your palms, rippling and moving so beautifully that you never wanted it to end. He buried himself all the way inside you as he let out a beautiful, raspy moan. Heat exploded deep inside of you, spreading through your veins like a hot bath on a cold winter's day. The feeling of his so deep within you as his cock began to soften was unlike anything you had experienced before and suddenly you knew why the Scot was so obsessed with it.

Simon finally went limp below you, though made no move to remove you from his lap nor your cunt from around his cock. You settled against his chest, now overly aware of your nakedness and the fact that he was still fully clothed, including that stupid skull mask, though you weren’t wholly opposed to it. His arms encircled you, jerking you a bit as he did something behind your back before he hugged you close.

“Look at me angel.” Your hazy gaze turned upwards, meeting the intoxicating brown of his irises. A now bare hand cupped the fat of your cheek, his thumb coming to rest on the curve beneath your eye. “We’re doing this again, over and over until even Soap-“ He spat his name like it was an insult, “-knows exactly who ya belong to. You’re gonna always be dripping with me. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” You murmured, exhaustion closing in on you.

“Good girl. Now get some shut eye, ain’t done with you yet.”

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stevesgother · 7 months ago

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Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death

AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!

Much love ~ emma

“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.

“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”

You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.

“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”

He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.

He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”

“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.

Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.

“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.

“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”

She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.

You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.

“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.

“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.

Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.

“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”

You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”

As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”

When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.

He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”

Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”

For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.

“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.

If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,

“See you Monday,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.

She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.

“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”

“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.

“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”

She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,

“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.

“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”

“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.

You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”

Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”

“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.

Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.

When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.

Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.

A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.

You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.

Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”

“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.

When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in. A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.

You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.

“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”

She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.

“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”

She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.

“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.

“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”

“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the

orchard.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.

When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”

“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”

“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”

“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.

He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.

He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?

It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.

You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.

You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”

“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”

“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.

“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.

He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.

“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.

You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.

Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.

You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.

“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”

“Do you have one?”

“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”

Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”

“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.

“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.

“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”

“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.

A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.

“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.

“Thanks baby, I see that,”

She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.

“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.

“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”

“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”

You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”

He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.

“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.

“Whichever is the most juicy!”

“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.

Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.

A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.

“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”

“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”

Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.

“Can I, mommy?”

“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”

She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.

“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.

She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.

“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”

“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.

She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.

“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”

You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.

“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.

He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”

You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”

“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”

The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.

He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.

“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”

You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”

“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”

One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.

You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”

“You do that a lot,”

“I feel it a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.

Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.

You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.

There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.

Until tonight.

Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.

It was for someone new.

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

tag list - @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @cali-888 @jamdoughnutmagician @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

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daegall · 2 months ago

Text

☆ when the candles burn out.

➷ Jeno Lee has everything he's wished for, except for you.

pairing: best friend!jeno x (implied fem!) reader

genre: bff2l!AU (WE R SOOO BACK), birthday!AU, university!AU, fluff, slight angst

warnings: none, but feel free to lmk if you find any

word count: 2.6k words

a/n: happies birthday to the (officially titled!) birthday boyyy!!! wishing him the very very best and hope that he knows we're so proud of him and love him sooo much!!!! I've missed writing sm so this was soo fun to make!! sorry if i've been super inactive, i've still got a lot to do before graduation ♡ i hope you all enjoy!!!

If he was asked, Jeno would say his life is very fulfilling, and that he's completely satisfied with it. How could he say any differently? He's doing really well in University, he's got amazing friends and a steady side job to support himself. He shouldn't be complaining.

But he's lying to himself. He knows he feels empty inside. And he knows what could fill that void.

It's you.

Jeno always felt he was missing something—he figured he would fix it later in life. He never knew it would hurt this much, he never knew it would be this hard to fix it. Frankly, he wishes it was something else that would be the glue to fix everything in his life.

It's not that Jeno hated you, no, he loved you. So dearly—he's never ever felt anything so intense in his life. Every time he looked at you, it was like he was reading his favorite book, unable to peel his eyes off the pages. Every time he heard your voice, it was like listening to the soft chirping of birds in the morning—the breeze in the afternoon—the comforting sounds of the bustling city in the evening. And when you touched him, a hug, or even something as simple as a high-five, it's as if you're a fireplace in winter, keeping him warm, inside and out.

God, he wanted you. Bad. Jeno never know one could yearn so deeply. He was never one good with words, but you make him want to write thousands of poems and sing melodies dedicated just to you.

The echoing questions that all his friends constantly ask him haunt him.

'Why don't you tell her?'

'She doesn't know yet?'

'What's the worst that could happen?'

'Why are you so scared?'

That's what Donghyuck always asks him. Jeno can't begin to tell him, he doesn't know where to start, Donghyuck wouldn't understand the turmoil he feels.

Jeno's scared that he's not what you expect. That you have a completely different vision of him than who he actually is. Jeno thinks you need someone who is able to love you loudly, who isn't afraid to give you everything that you not only need, but want, too. Jeno is sure that he's not your ideal man.

Today's his birthday. 25th. He knows because Jaemin greets him the very first this morning, calling him 'halfway-50 year old'. Jeno only rolls his eyes at his usual strange antics, pushing him out of the way of the fridge to grab his yogurt from the fridge.

When Jeno checks his phone, he realizes that Jaemin isn't the first one to say happy birthday. He finds out with a mouthful of yogurt, and a heart full of love, that it was you. On April 23, military time 00:12, you left a long paragraph wishing him a happy birthday, thanking him for everything and for being a great friend, and wishes of love and luck.

"Friends don't send birthday messages that long."

Jeno barely catches on that Jaemin is shamelessly peeking at his phone, throwing him a pointed look. "Maybe she does."

Jaemin's eyebrows raise—a deadpanned look. "She sent me a sentence on my birthday. At 5pm."

"That's cause you gifted her a giftcard for her birthday."

"That's what friends do!" Jaemin retorts. "You gifted her animal crossing—that shit's expensive!"

Jeno has to admit, he's right. About one thing. Friends don't send an essay's worth of a birthday message.

Okay, yeah, saving up for animal crossing for you took some time, but Jeno would do anything for you. And he means everything.

Like meeting up at your place for a birthday celebration with others. He would much rather spend it with only you, but that doesn't seem to be an option, considering how you love to make a huge deal about his birthday every year.

Now here he stands, at your door, knowing full well that you've planned some 'surprise' party. Despite that, he'll still pretend to be shocked—just to make you happy.

Jeno only needs to wait about 3 seconds right after he knocks, before the door swings open, the music inside finally distinguishable and—oh, it's... you. Just you.

Nobody else is seen behind you in your apartment, the familiar living area he recognizes so easily dimmed with a low, warm light, the walls filled with handing streamers of red and green—his favorite colors.

Jeno's heart has never swelled this much with love, his head has never been so clear and unbelievably messy at the same time, his practiced surprised smile completely fading in an expression of shock, his jaw hanging lightly.

"Hello, birthday boy," You grin. God, Jeno might kiss you.

The way you can't seem to stay still in excitement, the anticipation on your face and the way you wear his sweater, something he's definitely left accidentally somewhere inside there—he adores it all.

He never thought his feelings could get even more eager and heartfelt, and yet here he is, feeling it tenfold right in his heart.

"Come in," You smile, grabbing and tugging at his sleeve gently.

You want to laugh at his surprised expression, your excited smile falling shy. "Surprise! I bet you thought it was like all the surprise parties I hosted, huh?"

Jeno should have seen it coming. The fact that you saw through him almost immediately. A soft huff of a laugh leaves his lips as he nods, growing more comfortable as he ventures deeper into the surprise. His eyes trail over the streamers reflecting the warm light from your lamp, his gratitude growing almost unbearable.

Finally, his eyes land on the cake. Unlike the usual ordered or store-bought cake you make Mark Lee get every year for the party, it's sloppy, and it's clear that you made it yourself. The icing barely covers the full surface of the cake, leaving blank, splotchy spots along the cake.

"I tried my best," You comment, noticing his gaze on your cake. You really did, practicing some nights and watching multiple videos to find the best recipe to use.

Jeno grins even more his gaze shifting to you. If you weren't mistaken... he looks at you differently. Well, he looks at you as he always does, with a twinkle in his eyes and with utmost attentiveness, but tonight... it's different.

You think—and this is a big assumption—that he's looking at you with love. You could only dream that he would admit it.

"I love it," He reassures, slowly approaching you. "thank you, Y/N, I love everything about this."

Your cheeks feel sore from all the smiling, but you can't seem to stop smiling, pulling him into a hug, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders. "I'm glad. You deserve the best, Jeno."

Jeno holds you tight, his nose burying into the depths of your hair, eyes shutting to savor the moment as long as possible. His hands are warm, you can feel it through his sweater that you wear, one hand on your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades.

It's as if his hands have burnt through the fabric, because you feel every single movement his hands make. The way his thumbs rub gently up and down—the way his palms tensing up as he holds you closer—this feels better than it should.

When you pull away, the warmth finds it's way to your heart, beating faster suddenly and soaring, as if it was searching for his own to entangle in.

When you lead him to the couch to finally blow out the candles (with he candles now about a third of it's original height), Jeno has never felt happier, leaning in close to the cake.

He laughs when you suddenly panic, halting him to search for your camera.

"Why do you even need to film this?" He chuckles softly, it's a rich sound you find yourself enjoying more than you should.

You roll your eyes, finding the camera on your messy study desk, hidden behind a stack of books you never seem to finish reading. "To remember this! I want to look back on this when I'm eighty and reminisce like a stubborn old lady."

When Jeno blows out his candles after an awkward minute of you singing him 'happy birthday' by yourself, he finds himself wishing that you'd be a stubborn old lady with him. He wishes with his whole heart that he'd be there, reminiscing with you, that'd your grandchildren would be gagging at your love story, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Jeno gives you the first slice of the cake, despite your protests, handing it to you with a stern look. His heart melts when you take it from his hands, a small playful scowl on your lips. "I wanted you to taste it first..."

"Fine," He sighs, picking up the two forks you prepared. "we'll eat it together, yeah?"

Jeno dismisses your objections, already stabbing the forks into the cake and scooping it up. He laughs heartily when your words die in your throat, offering the fork to you.

You stare at the piece of cake on your fork with intent. "If it tastes like shit, I'm sorry,"

Even if it did, he'd pretend it was the most delectable delicacy he'd ever eaten. He would believe so, with his whole being. Even if it was bad, your stunning smile would be sweet enough for it to substitute the taste.

You're surprised when Jeno brings his own fork up to your lips, blinking in shock. When you look up at him, he gives you an encouraging look. "I'll feed you, you'll feed me."

You don't think he's aware of how intimate this is. Not when he's looking at you with such innocence and care. But with the dim, warm lighting from the distant lamp, and the music that still plays softly in the background, this feels too romantic—too real.

You go along with it anyway, knowing that you'd do anything and everything for him.

As your lips come in contact with the cake, and your teeth clash just slightly with the metal of the fork, you realize the strawberry jam you used for each layer—it's sour.

Instantly, you gaze up at Jeno, to gauge his reaction and his opinion of your cake, only to see that his mouth is closed, lips stretched into a soft, loving smile as his face his dodged from your fork.

"Jeno, you—how could you!"

In a moment, both forks are on the ground as you lunge forward to grab at his shirt. On your lips is an embarrassed smile, your eyes shut as you shake him back and forth. "You ass! I made this for you..."

"Sorry, sorry!" Jeno laughs, his hands enveloping yours, holding on top of them as you continue to shake him. "You just looked so cute—all anticipated and excited,"

"Yeah! For you to taste it!"

"Fine, fine! I'll taste it! Just stop shaking me!"

When you scowl and release his collar, his hands don't leave yours, instead, he takes your hands in his, his fingers slotting almost perfectly between yours with ease. You don't shy away from this, it's normal for him to do this. It's a typical tactic he uses so you don't start fooling around once more—but this time... it feels different. His touch seems gentler, his thumbs rubbing softly up and down the sides of your palm. You have to admit, it has your heart in a twist.

"How are you going to try it if you keep holding my hands?" You smart him, sticking your tongue out at him.

Jeno's eyes search yours, his gaze deep. It's almost as if he's trying to look into your soul—trying to find the place you keep the thought of him. He should look into your heart, then.

His right hand suddenly leaves yours, and just as you think he's about to grab the fork once more, his hand inches towards your face. You don't dodge it, despite your shock, your lips parting in surprise, and Jeno knows that he's interrupted one of your sassy, smart retorts that he loves so much.

It's like instinct when his palm envelops your cheek, that you lean into his touch, your head tilting into his hold. As his thumbs rub at your cheek, his eyes search your entire face, searching for any signs of discomfort or rejection. He searches, and keeps searching, only to find nothing. You want this. As much as he does.

"...so are you going to try the cake?"

"Give me a minute, you dork,"

You laugh, and he laughs when you laugh. Your laughter entangle in the air and echo, like a resonating song on repeat—the kind that no matter how many times you play over and over, you never get sick of it.

Suddenly, Jeno's nose is brushing against yours. His thumb gently caressing at your bottom lip. He searches your eyes once more, and at this proximity, he can finally tell what you feel. In your eyes, it's him. In his eyes, it's you. In your heart, is his. In his soul, is yours.

The tender exchange of affectionate looks screams only one thing.

I love you.

When Jeno's lips press to yours, you're not surprised. Instead, you welcome it warmly, reciprocating and leaning into it.

His hands travel, one to your neck, the other your waist to tug you closer. Your own find comfort in the hairs of the bottom of his neck, tousling the strands there. You feel his lips curl into a smile, as his neck cranes to find an angle to grow closer to you, if it were possible.

Jeno slowly and gently lowers you to your back, his hand protecting the back of your head as he settles you down on your carpet, hovering over your body. As your arms wrap around his neck, his tongue finds yours, tangling tenderly and lovingly, declaring his care and affection, all his feelings for you.

You smile against his lips as Jeno's laugh vibrates against your own, content and devoted, finding the whole situation unbelievable. Luck truly is in his favor, and he thinks he's one step closer to his birthday wish coming true.

When Jeno pulls away, his breath is warm against your lips, the tip of his nose grazing against yours.

"...tastes sweet," He finally elates, smiling. His eyes find yours, pupils dilated with love.

You laugh out, eyes squeezed shut, and head throwing back against his hand that still holds you protectively. You snort when he gives you a confused, almost lost puppy-like look. "The cake jam was sour, Jeno,"

"Oh," he hums. "must've just been you I was tasting, then..."

You push playfully at his shoulder. "Oh my god, you sappy idiot!"

"No, no," He retorts with a grin. "you taste sweet. I didn't get a single taste of sour,"

"Taste the cake, then!"

"Don't wanna, just want you,"

Despite his words, you make him taste the cake, laughing as his nose scrunches up. "It's—oh god—it's sweet! I swear!" He insists.

Finally, Jeno feels complete. He no longer feels an empty void inside of him, he no longer feels lonely or hurt when he looks at you—though he does feel his heart hurt, swelling with the amount of love he has for you. He can finally say wholeheartedly that he's satisfied with his life, that he feels fulfilled.

He's doing really well in University, he's got amazing friends, the best girlfriend he could ask for, and a steady side job to support himself and his girl, you.

Jeno is dead set on making his birthday wish come true.

587 notes · View notes

yua0ra · 6 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝

WARNINGS: mattheo riddle x high!fem!reader, porn with plot, dark smut, blood play, p in v, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, blood kink!matty, submissive reader, biting, marking, breeding, NSFW, proofread, english is not my first language. smut 🂡

SUMMARY: Mattheo craves something, a feeling of satisfaction, fulfilment and control. Luckily for him, you are open and eager to try new things, and for once, Mattheo feels like he has found his person.

WC: +4.4K AN: This took so fucking long. I don’t think ya’ll are ready, lol. I’m being so serious: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, for the love of salazar. (also, anybody got the reference form the title?)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

Touch-starved, love-starved, and attention-starved, Mattheo Riddle is no stranger to the art of indulgence. He thrives on the fleeting comfort offered by the endless parade of admirers eager to bask in his presence. Their adoration, their touch, their devotion—it’s enough to quiet the gnawing ache inside him, at least for a while. But it never truly satisfies. Beneath the smirks, the cocky demeanor, and the effortless charm, there’s an emptiness he can’t seem to fill.

He craves more. Something deeper, rawer, more exhilarating than the hollow affection he’s grown accustomed to. Something that sparks a fire in his chest and sends a thrill coursing through his veins. The superficial games, the fleeting highs, and the shallow connections no longer cut it. Mattheo Riddle wants something real, something that will consume him whole.

And yet, even as he yearns for this elusive fulfillment, he’s not sure he’s ready to face what it might demand of him. After all, it’s one thing to take; it’s another to give. And Mattheo has never been one to bare his soul. Not when the world has taught him to hide behind walls, even when he’s desperate for someone to break them down.

He has tried everything—fucking in public, fucking with a blindfold on, fucking with a leash, chasing thrill after thrill, and losing himself in the chaos of reckless nights. He’s tried drowning the ache with the loud laughter of parties, the rush of danger, and the fleeting touch of hands that mean nothing. For a moment, it works. For a moment, the void in his chest quiets, and he feels like he’s alive, like he’s in control. But the moment always fades.

No matter how many hearts he wins or how many rules he breaks, it all slips through his fingers, leaving him colder and more restless than before. The poor, desperate, girls—pretty faces, eager smiles—don’t even come close to touching the parts of him he keeps hidden. It’s not their fault. They give him everything they can. But it’s not enough.

It’s never enough.

What Mattheo craves isn’t something he can find in fleeting encounters or shallow connections. It’s something more profound, more consuming, more terrifying. He wants someone who sees past the charm, the arrogance, the calculated indifference. Someone who will unravel him piece by piece and make him feel alive in a way that no one ever has.

But that kind of connection doesn’t come easy. And for someone like Mattheo Riddle—guarded, scarred, and stubborn—it might never come at all. Still, he can’t help but hope. Somewhere deep down, beneath the layers of cynicism and self-doubt, he’s holding onto the faint belief that someone, someday, might finally be able to quiet the storm inside him.

Good thing that you’ve noticed, though. Mattheo’s restless energy, the way his eyes linger just a second too long, searching for something even he can’t quite name—it’s not something he hides well. He tells himself he’s a master of masks, of slipping into the version of himself people expect, but the cracks are showing. And you’ve seen them.

You’ve seen the way he leans into conversations as if he’s desperate for someone to say the right thing. You’ve caught the fleeting vulnerability in his gaze when he thinks no one’s paying attention. For all his bravado, for all the careless smirks and sharp retorts, Mattheo is an open book to those who care enough to read between the lines.

And maybe that’s why he’s drawn to you, even if he won’t admit it. You don’t fawn over him like everyone else. You don’t fall into his orbit just because he’s Mattheo Riddle. Instead, you see him. The real him. The cracks, the flaws, the restless hunger for something more. And while it terrifies him, it also pulls him closer.

Because maybe, just maybe, you’re the one who can give him what he’s been searching for. Or maybe you’ll be the one to finally destroy him. Either way, Mattheo can’t seem to stay away.

Which leads to this specific moment—you, sitting pretty on his bed, high out of your mind in the early hours of the morning, the faint glow of moonlight casting shadows across the room. Your head tilts back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as if caught in the haze of a dream. You’re intoxicating, utterly untouchable yet so close that it drives him mad.

Mattheo stands a few feet away, leaning against the edge of his desk, watching you with a mix of fascination and frustration. You’re beautiful like this—unguarded, raw, and entirely out of reach. It’s unfair how effortlessly you’ve wrapped yourself around his thoughts, how your presence alone has him on edge.

“You’re not even trying, and you’re driving me insane,” he mutters, his voice low and rough as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. He can’t tell if he’s more frustrated with you or himself. Probably himself. After all, he’s the one who let it get to this point.

You blink up at him, a lazy smile curling on your lips, the kind that makes his chest tighten. “What’s wrong, Riddle? Can’t handle a little company?”

He scoffs, but the tension in his body betrays him. “Company isn’t the problem,” he bites back, though his voice softens as his eyes linger on you. It’s not company he wants. It’s you. All of you. Every reckless thought, every untamed emotion, every unspoken secret. But he doesn’t know how to say that without sounding like a fool.

Instead, he stays where he is, hands gripping the edge of the desk, trying to keep himself grounded. You’re like a storm, and Mattheo isn’t sure if he wants to weather it or let it tear him apart completely.

You laugh softly, the sound like a spark in the quiet room, and shift on his bed, drawing your knees to your chest. The oversized sweater you’re wearing—his sweater—slips off one shoulder, exposing bare skin that makes his throat tighten. You’re a mess, and yet you look so perfectly out of place in his world that it makes him dizzy.

“Relax,” you say, your voice dreamy and far away. “You’re so tense all the time, Mattheo. Always thinking, always brooding.” Your gaze meets his, half-lidded but piercing in a way that leaves him raw. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

He swallows hard, jaw clenching as he forces himself to look away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, but the words lack conviction.

“Don’t I?” you counter, leaning forward slightly before standing up, moving across the room with an unsteady grace. You stop just behind him, and before he can turn or protest, your hands are on his shoulders. Delicate, careful, but firm—your touch makes him go still, the tension in his body seizing under the unexpected intimacy.

Your fingers work with a precision that sends a shiver down his spine, pressing into the knots in his shoulders as if you’ve done this a hundred times before. It’s maddening how easily you disarm him, how your touch both soothes and ignites something in him he’s tried to keep buried.

“You’re so tense, darling” you murmur softly, your voice low and sweet, like a lullaby in the quiet room. “Do you ever let yourself relax, Mattheo? Or do you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders every single day?”

His breath catches, his grip on the desk tightening as he tries to fight the urge to lean into your touch. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice a mix of irritation and something he can’t quite name.

“What does it look like?” you reply, your tone playful but laced with genuine concern. “You’re all wound up, and it’s exhausting just watching you. Let me help, for once.”

Mattheo doesn’t respond right away. He doesn’t know how to. No one’s ever touched him like this before—not with the intention of easing his burden, of grounding him in a way that feels almost… safe. It terrifies him how much he wants to give in, to let you pull him out of his own mind, if only for a moment.

“You shouldn’t…” he starts, but the words trail off as your fingers dig into just the right spot, coaxing a low groan from his lips before he can stop it.

“Shouldn’t what?” you tease, leaning closer so he can feel the warmth of your breath against his neck. “Take care of you? Show you that not everything has to be a fight?”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he lets his eyes fall shut, his body betraying him as it relaxes under your touch. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to his words.

You smile softly, your hands continuing their gentle rhythm. “Maybe I do,” you whisper, your voice dipping lower. “Maybe I know exactly what I’m getting into.”

Your words linger in the air, soft but potent, cutting through the haze in his mind like a blade. Mattheo doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, but you can feel the tension rolling off him, not in resistance but in something darker—something that borders on surrender.

“Is that what you think?” he finally murmurs, his voice low and rough, almost dangerous. His head tilts slightly, enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, his dark eyes glinting under the dim light. “That you know me? That you can handle whatever it is you’re inviting in?”

You don’t flinch. If anything, you press your fingers a little harder into his shoulders, grounding him, as if you’re not the least bit intimidated by the warning laced in his words. “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t,” you reply, your tone steady, unwavering.

Mattheo’s lips curl into something between a smirk and a snarl, his hands gripping the desk in front of him so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. His voice trembles slightly, as if he’s teetering on the brink of losing control.

Carefully, you lean closer, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you whisper, “Then show me.”

It’s like a switch flips. In an instant, Mattheo is on his feet, spinning around to face you. His hands find your wrists, pulling them away from his shoulders, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he holds you there, his grip firm but not cruel, his dark eyes locked on yours with an intensity that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

“You think this is a game, don’t you?” he asks, his voice soft but venomous, his face inches from yours. “You think you can come in here, touch me like that, look at me like that, and I won’t lose my mind?”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away. “Lose your mind, Mattheo,” you whisper, your voice steady even as your pulse quickens under his touch.

That’s all it takes for Mattheo to snap. His hands release your wrists only to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with surprising tenderness, a sharp contrast to the possessive gleam in his eyes, he just stares at you, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. And then he breaks. His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s all-consuming, overwhelming, like he’s trying to pour every dark, unspoken emotion into it. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the raw, obsessive need in every movement, every touch.

Mattheo isn’t gentle. He isn’t careful. But beneath the intensity, there’s something achingly vulnerable—a desperate, unspoken plea for you to stay, to see him, to claim him the way he’s beginning to realize he wants to claim you. You’re not sure what you’ve unleashed, but as you kiss him back, as his hands grip you tighter like you might disappear, you know there’s no turning back.

Mattheo’s hand flies over your plump ass, gripping the soft flesh with great force, making you moan into his mouth, the vibrations echoing against each other throats.

He swallows your sweet sounds greedily, his tongue delving deeper tasting inch of your warm mouth.

He pulls you even closer, showing you how good you’re making him feel, his hardening length poking you right against your lower stomach.

You can’t help it, you’re so greedy, so selfish, so fucking horny. All you want is him, him and him. Your body moves in autopilot, rubbing your body against his, creating a hypnotising friction between you two. His hand kneads and squeezes your ass even tighter, as he moves your bodies into the bed.

Breaking the kiss, Mattheo’s hungry mouth trails down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing over their racing pulse. He sucks hard, determined to paint your neck in purple, red and pink hues. Not bothering to leave any room for other lovers.

You can only let deep and low exhales, trying your hardest to maintain whatever is left of your composure. “Mhmm…. You like that baby? Huh?” You nod eagerly below him, still rocking your body forwards, grinding like a mad-woman.

“Words sweetheart, I want to hear you, yeah?” He looks at you intensely, his eyes narrowing slightly, “use that greedy mouth and let me hear you, pretty girl….” He commands, his hands roaming your body in a possessed manner. He just can’t help himself, he knows this was bound to happen, from the moment you two started talking to each other, he knew.

Squirming under his desperate touch you can’t help but smile, “y-yes, ugh,” you whimper when he pulls your jumper off your head. “You make me feel so good….” Your high making you feel things ten times stronger.

He torments you, fingers slowly tracing over one of your perky nipples as he carefully plays with the metal piercing. “Such a sweet girl, who would’ve guess this?” He laughs, his mouth moving from your throat to on nipple, his tongue swirling around the hard bud before sucking it into his mouth.

He rolls it between his teeth, applying just about enough pressure to make you gasp and arch into him. His other hand comes up to roughly palm your other breaths, pacing at the matching piercing.

He alternates, lavishing each nipples with attention. His mouth is hot and greedy, his saliva deliciously coating each one. He bites and sucks, matching your chest markings with your neck ones.

Mattheo’s left hand slides down with ease, expertly reaching your soaked panties, smiling when he feels your wetness. “Shit, baby, would you look at that?” He mutters in between your breasts, “so fucking ready,… dripping wet for me already, just how I like it.”

He cups your cunt, applying pressure on it, making your mouth open and closing with silent prayers. “Fuck, Matty, yeah, just like that…” Feeling satisfied, he finally leaves your sensitive and now colorful breasts alone, focusing on his most prized possession.

Your throbbing pussy.

With a quick movement he gets rid of the lacy underwear, grabbing you thighs and spreading your legs, positioning himself between them. He gets close, inhaling your arousal deeply. The smell making his head spin with pleasure, and he can’t help but try a little.

“Oh God…” You whisper, grabbing his head from the back, one hand teasing your breasts. You push his head further into you, so needy for this touch.

Mattheo grumbles againsts your soaked core, your flavour intoxicating, “take it, sweetheart, show me how you like to be eaten out.” He spreads your folds even wider, spitting into your core, flicking his tongue and diving his warm mouth back at it again, sloppily making out with your cunt.

He looks at you, his gaze never leaving yours. He loves to see your reactions, your body taking his treat so well, loves how expressive you are.

The endless slurping and the lewd noises, make you shake, tremble under his touch. He slides two fingers in, as his thumb rubs circles around your clit. This action makes your thighs pull him closer, suffocating him, but he doesn’t care. Mattheo wants to drown in your pussy, want his face covered in you, your sweet juice dripping down his chin. He’s just so obsessed, so fucking down bad.

His digits curling and pumping you full, in such a good way, such an explicit way, you roll your head back, your tongue darting out as you pant for air. You lungs are so overwhelmed, so full of desire, making you pathetically whimper as you begin to notice getting close. “M-mph fuck! Mattheo, God…”

He abruptly stops, making you whine loudly. “Not yet, my love… I want you cumming with my dick buried in this pretty little thing okay?” He undresses, tossing his clothes everywhere.

“No, please Matty…” you grind your hips in the air, your pussy clenching at nothing desperately wanting to feel his fingers in you again. “No… baby, please! I’m so, so, so close.…”

“Shh… my love,” he quiets you down, his drenched fingers now in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. “You need to learn how to be patient, because patient girls, get rewards….” Still sucking on his fingers he positions himself in front of your wet entrance, the head of his dick, so pink, so plump, so mouthwatering.

With his other hand, Mattheo grabs his dick, and slaps it a few times against your swollen lips. “Mhm.” Your arousal more than enough to be able to slide it in easily, but he doesn’t like easy. He wants more. Taking his fingers away from your mouth, he commands you “spit, princess, come on.”

You do as your told, spitting into his hand. Mattheo smiles “atta girl…” following your steps, he spits as well, to then rub the mixture of saliva on his angry cock. It makes it shiny, highlighting the veins and the sensible skin.

“Alright pretty… I’m going to fill you up, hm? ” Finally, Mattheo pushes his thick shaft into you, stretching you in unimaginable ways. He’s fucking huge, ripping your insides apart, as he tries to fit all of him inside your apparently tiny cunt. He can see his dick poking outside of your tummy, the sight making his eyes roll to the back of his head, as his lashes flutter in pleasure.

Mattheo hums lowly, his tone dropping an octave “oh s-shit, so tight f’me. Fuck, angel!” He grabs your legs, putting them in his shoulders, enhancing the heavenly sensation. You on the other hand, feel like you’re going to pass out. You can’t think, focusing all of your attention into the way he feels. Your red tired eyes, barely open, fill with tears as your hands lay lazily next to your head.

Mattheo rocks his body, picking up the pace. He needs to feel you closer, keep his hands busy with something. Him fucking you isn’t enough.

This is the point where normally Mattheo would come down from the initial, horny, high and give up on the search for something more raw, more exhilarating. Until an idea comes through, and his cock twitches inside of you.

He reaches for his wand, maintaining his fast rhythm, pumping in and out with extreme force, hitting spots that have never been hit, reaching beyond the g-spot, making you see stars, reach that almost unreachable nirvana.

He summons a silver, small, extremely pointed blade, and his hand reaches your chin. “Pretty girl? Look at me…” he flashes a shit-eating grin, one that makes you almost come instantly. “Fuck princess, can…can I mark you? Hm?” you barely process his question. “Can I make you mine? Are you going to let me ruin that beautiful skin of yours?” He persuades, but to be honest, you don’t need much, imagining his name carved into your skin, and fuck, it turns you on so much, the way his blood would mix with yours, ugh, you can’t wait, nodding in agreement.

He doesn’t waste any time, and slows down his fucking, turning his fast, rough thrusts into deep, almost loving ones. He makes himself comfortable, spreading your legs so wide, your pussy stretching even more. You’re going to be so sore, you can already feel it.

Mattheo tightens the grip on the blade, as he nears it towards your left inner thigh. “Relax for me, gorgeous… it’s going to hurt a bit, yes? But after, you’re going to feel better… so much fucking better.”

Relaxing your body, savouring the new pounding rhythm, you feel it. He presses the flat of the blade against your plush skin, the cold steel sending you shivers down your spine. He drags it with sensibility, leaving a deep, red line in its wake. The pain is sharp but fleeting, nothing compared to the dark pleasure radiating from his touch.

Mattheo’s leans down, his fingers tracing the lines, playing with the red, dense liquid, coating his fingers in your blood. His tongue flicks up, cleaning his digits, leaving them completely clean.

His eyes shutting for a moment at the coppery taste of you blood in his tongue. “Yes, yes, God, yes! You taste even better than I imagined,” his eyes open, gleaming with a crazed, obsessive light. A wicked, twisted smile spreads across his face. His teeth stained with red.

Mattheo's hand moves to your other thigh, the knife tracing a matching line to the first. He connects the cuts, forming an obscene, possessive mark - a dark, blood-red phrase 'property of M.R' etched into your flesh. The pain only serves to heighten the twisted, depraved pleasure coursing through you.

He groans, the vibrations rumbling through your core, his hips never falter in their relentless, punishing rhythm, driving into you with a force that borders on violence.

"That's my girl," he growls, his voice rough and ragged with lust. "My pretty little blood witch, so fucking perfect. I'll ruin you for anyone else, leave you wrecked and forever marked. You’re mine, you know that?”

Mattheo's hand slides up your body, wrapping around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make your heart race and your lungs burn. His eyes lock onto yours, burning with a fevered, wild glaze as he keeps pumping inside of you.

The bed creaks ominously beneath you, the blood dripping onto your most intimate areas, stoking the inferno raging inside you. Suddenly, he stills, his body pressed flush against yours, his breath coming in ragged, desperate pants.

He reaches up, his blood-stained fingers brushing your cheek with a sudden, shocking gentleness. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, rough and tinged with a desperate, aching need.

“Fuck, baby. I want... I need to feel it,” he rasps, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

Mattheo takes the pointed silver, the blade glinting as he presses the cold steel against your palm, guiding your hand to his chest. His skin is hot, flushed, and slick with sweat beneath your touch.

"Mark me, my love…," he urges, his voice a desperate, aching plea. “I want to wear your name.”

Your don’t have time to react as your hand moves automatically and he leans in closer, feeling his pulse race beneath your palm, a frantic, erratic rhythm that mirrors the wild, untamed beating of your own.

Mattheo's eyes flutter shut, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as he feels the cold blade press into his heated skin. He doesn't flinch or pull away, instead arching into the sharp, sudden pain of the steel biting into his flesh. A low, guttural moan tumbles from his throat as he feels the first letter of your name being carved into his chest.

His hand fists in your hair, gripping tight, holding you in place as he guides your hand, urging you to carve deeper, harder. The pain is intense, searing, but it pales in comparison to feeling of fulfilment. Each letter you etch into his skin sends a bolt of electric, white-hot lust straight to his core, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside you.

Mattheo's hips begin to move again, thrusting in time with the brutal, possessive strokes of the sharp blade. The dual sensations of your initials being carved into his flesh and his sensitive member driving into your dripping cunt push him closer and closer to the edge. His grip on your hair tightens, his fingers twisting almost painfully in the strands as you both chases the release.

“I'm so fucking close, beautiful. I'm going to fill you up, mark you from the inside out. You'll be dripping with my cum, fucking drenched in it."

His thrusts become erratic, losing rhythm as he teeters on the brink of climax. The knife digs deeper, carving harder, the final letter of your name leaving a vivid, bloody scar on his chest. Mattheo throws his head back with a roar of ecstasy as he comes undone, his hot, thick seed erupting inside you, painting your walls white with his release.

At the same time, your pussy clenches, milking his cock tightly. The final wave of pleasure hitting you, as you drown in it. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck! Oh! ugh!” You scream, crying and whining, gasping for air.

He collapses against you, his body shaking and shuddering, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He inhales and exhales harshly, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as he clings to you, desperately, possessedly, like a man drowning and you're his only lifeline.

Mattheo's fingers tangle in your hair, fisting the strands almost painfully as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, dragging the scent of your skin into his lungs like a drowning man seeking air. When he speaks, his voice is a low, hoarse rasp, roughened by his exertions and the intensity of his emotions.

"Fuck, baby…," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "That was... fuck, that was incredible. You're... you're fucking incredible."

He lifts his head slightly, his dark, hooded eyes searching yours. In their depths, you see a whirlwind of emotions swirling together - the wild, reckless lust that consumed him, the dark, twisted possession that demands your complete surrender, and something else, something softer and more vulnerable that he rarely allows anyone to see.

Mattheo's thumb traces your lower lip, smearing the mixture of his blood and yours across your lips, as if applying lipstick, sealing it with his own. A shudder ripples through him as he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"Don't... don't go," he whispers, a desperate, aching plea underlying the words. "Stay with me, my love. Let me hold you, let me feel you in my arms. I... I need you, fucking now and forever."

807 notes · View notes

everythingisamazing · 14 days ago

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Continuing with my Jayce-and-Viktor-loved-each-other’s-minds-before-anything-else propaganda, let’s talk about Viktor’s (not-so) glorious evolution:

The aspect that tends to get highlighted most is how Viktor’s goal of helping and healing people escalated into wanting to perfect them — driven, in part, by his own insecurities. And while that’s certainly a key element, I think there’s another angle that’s often overlooked: the idea of unification of minds, and how that relates to Jayce.

The defining feature of Jayvik is how they understand each other in a way, no other person can - an intellectual connection, that happens almost instantly and is loaded with emotion for both of them, since they are a) scientists and b) it's something that they might have doubted they ever could have because not only are they uniquely intelligent, but their openness to magic is unique in Piltover.

Jayce’s doodle of two brains creating sparks between them in his notebook is such a simple yet endearing way of visualizing this bond.

So I don’t think it’s a coincidence that after their “break-up,” Viktor begins literally connecting his mind to others. This is going to sound funny, and I’m half-joking, half-serious when I say it — but it’s a little like how some people start sleeping with strangers after a bad breakup to fill a void.

What Viktor craves isn’t just perfection — it’s connection. “We can be of one mind” becomes his new ideal. And I wonder if that desire comes from the seven years he and Jayce were of one mind — and how much pain it caused when that harmony was lost.

Singed, in-universe-king of clocking people, even "prophesizes" Viktors fate directly to him in this scene:

We can also deduce how important Jayces mind is to Viktor, by how he comments on it multiple times in S2: “Your mind has become rigid, Jayce.” “Your mind has suffered.” And then, in the final episode, we see Viktor literally reaching into Jayce’s head — an especially striking detail, considering that his physical form is now able to touch the minds of others.

(you can see it more clearly if you watch the scene, but Viktors fingertips are inside Jayces forehead)

Oh, and another visual detail: If you look at husk Jayce, the whole top of his skull is missing and empty, as if someone scooped out his brain. Instead, mage Viktor made some flowers grow in there :´)

I’ve already explained in another post why it made sense that they didn’t kiss in their final moments — and I think this only adds to that argument. The forehead touch just fits. Maybe that doodle in Jayce’s notebook was foreshadowing all along: the last thing they do is bring their minds as close together as physically possible.

#jayvik #jayce x viktor #viktor arcane #arcane #jayce arcane #jayvik meta #arcane meta #arcane analysis #arcane spoilers #jayce talis

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mirroringshards · 9 months ago

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bpd is actually so crazy i cannot tell you how genuinely intense everything feels.

i get so, so upset during episodes over the smallest of things. it isnt just "oh im sad" either its fucking cutting myself, wanting to die, hyperventilating and begging and pleading and making a plan to kill myself because what im feeling genuinely seems like the end of the world. theres a void inside of me that can only be filled by a love so intense that it drives me to insanity. i will overeat, spend unnecessarily, hurt myself, cling and depend on people who give me the slightest bit of attention, send suggestive things of myself to others, and put myself in dangerous situations just to feel something. that void can only ever be truly filled by an fp. without one, i feel so, so empty. i truly feel like im nothing without them. their whole existence, getting to see and talk to them everyday, getting to be with them, is the whole reason that i continue to survive. the moment theyre gone, even for five minutes, its back to nothingness. i cannot feel without them, i physically cannot bring myself to. but having a fp is so, so painful. their mood determines mine. how they treat me will determine how i feel. everyone else compared to them feels miniscule and unimportant. i could be seriously harmed by another person or admired by another person and it wouldnt matter, because the only person whos opinion of me matters is my fp. i would cut off all of my friends just to be with them and them only. i would do anything to stay with them. and when they leave, you have to understand that my whole purpose has been torn away from me. my whole reason for continuing to live gets fucking ripped away from me. and when they ignore me? i put myself in dangerous situations, i hurt myself, just so theyll come and find me and save me, take care of me, feel bad for me. i try to make them feel the same pain they make me feel by ignoring them, purposely triggering them, trying to get back at them. i hate them, because what could be more important to you than me? i put you above all else, why cant you do the same? nobody else, nothing else, should be more important or as important than me, because thats how i feel about you. and fuck, it hurts so bad knowing my partners will never feel as intensely for me as i will for them, unless im their fp. it hurts knowing that theyll truly never feel the same level of obsession and want for me that i feel for them. that theyll never be able to fully return those feelings. but its so hard being mutual fps with someone. it drives you insane. it can lead to horrid situations.

bpd is so, so hard. i hate this disorder.

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etherealrin · 3 months ago

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HELLO!! I LOVE YOUR WORK!! ESPECIALLY THE LATEST!! Drinks or Coffee. Can you please make a part 3 of it?? Like we get to see Rin's reaction to the reader being close to Sae, and like he will be furious or regret or something like that.

I just really want to see reader gets Revenge on Rin.

If not, that's ok!! But can you please just tell me Rin's reaction if the media reveal they are dating.

Thank you in advance!!

.☘︎ ݁˖ forget me, not

fem!reader, angsty, part 3 of this but can be read seperately (highly suggest reading 1 and 2 first though!) // tw: none

itoshi rin likes silence. or, so he thought.

it turns out he doesn't like silence from you. suddenly, he feels empty. it's strange, he's never noticed how you filled a void inside of him until you were gone, and he's left with an odd feeling of cold, even in the summer.

he also thinks it's unlike you to just cut all contact. surely, you must still be watching him silently from afar? but you're absent from all of his social media accounts, no likes or story views to be found.

he wonders if you'd take him back if he begged you. he wonders why, although he's in an otherwise happy relationship, he cannot expel the bittersweet thought of your name.

for now, he'll try to forget. he'll assume that you're receiving all the love and care that you deserve, that he was unable to give to you. he'll focus on his new life, and forget it. forget you.

but it all falls apart too soon, this new calm that rin had found.

rin's playing re al today, and that means seeing sae again. that much was expected, and he had thought he'd be able to deal with it. the last face he expects to see in the crowd of fans is yours, beaming brighter than a star on a lonely night.

he wonders who the smile is for; certainly you weren't here for him, you're standing on the wrong side. re al's side.

it's whatever, rin thinks. he's supposed to forget it, right? your cheering for the enemy or not, it doesn't, shouldn't matter to rin. you two were done, broken up—until he catches the number of the jersey you're wearing, and his vision involuntarily blurs, the hot sting of tears threatening to escape. it looks like his uniform, the #10 itoshi, except it's not for his team. and that could only mean one thing.

as if that weren't hell enough, sae chooses that moment to walk out onto the field, and rin swears you light up the second he appears. sae doesn't even look at rin, his eyes are calmly scanning the stadium as well, coming to a stop on you. and itoshi sae, ever so stoic, cracks a smile resemblant to a school-boy's when you wave at him. he waves back.

rin stands, frozen in horror as his teammates surround him, ready for the match to start. he's right next to twenty or more players, but he feels so utterly alone. he's never wanted to be his brother more than right now, and what's worse is that he can't honestly say he'd be a better choice than sae.

because he wasn't. he'd left you high and dry when you had loved him, so it was only deserving for you to be with the better itoshi brother.

so again, itoshi rin will try to forget. try and fail to erase those memories of when you'd thought you loved him, and he had tried to love you back.

a/n: hi anon! thank u for liking my work so much! this is a bit short since i wasn't planning on making this story any longer LOL but i thought i'd give it some definitive closure. if u want any more details on what happened leave a comment or ask + OTHER ANONS I SWEAR I'M WRITING

ılılılılılılı now playing: stop waiting by cigarettes after sex, alright by keshi, i know you by faye webster

masterlist.

#凛 ; rin x reader #basically he spirals and regrets #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #itoshi rin #rin x reader #blue lock rin #rin x you #rin bllk #rin x y/n #rin itoshi x reader #bllk

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romaevelizz · 4 months ago

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His Conscious

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Asgardian!femreader

sum: She’d had been with him for decades for a short time physically, then only in his subconscious. Through good and bad she had been with him until she wasn’t, once reunited not everything is so great.

warning: reader is 100% overpowered(idc), cursing, unrealistic stuff bc it’s a fan fic and Marvel, suggestive, takes place mostly during Civil War, Reader IS BLACK CODED! uncanon events for Civil war, lots of dialogue bc I like talking! Not proofread!

The last time he had felt her touch was November of 1943, where he was kept hostage in the Hydra facility. Back then he thought it was a hallucination, that all the torment and experimenting had really caused him to lose himself. The warmth of her hands touching his face whispering his name frantically her worried eyes looking over him, it had felt so real, and if you were to tell him at the time it was. that she was there to break him out before Steve had arrived he wouldn’t have believed it not one bit.

Then when he had fallen from that train, when everything went black he heard her voice. ‘James open your eyes..’

‘my love, I need you to open your eyes..’ the angelic soft echo of her voice stirring him awake. The pain sharp all through out his body and his heart bead rang through his ears as he was dragged away by Hydra soldiers.

That was only the beginning. Her voice and images of her would appear in his subconscious. But she looked different. Her hair wasn't short and pressed in a 40s fashion, but long, very long, and curly, and her clothing ethereal. He would slowly find out more, like that she was actually with him, taking home in his subconscious that even through being controlled, she was there.

It took time for him to come to terms that she was not quite human, but a goddess. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was capable of magics, he only knew what she was capable of through what she had told him. But the fact she could be in his conscious with him was fascinating enough.

He became greatful that she was there, not only did she spend time on his head but as time went on she was able to create life live visions that only he could see. She was like a ghost that hovered and did as she pleased, she wasn't able to come in contact with others around them.

As the Winter Soldier, he still knew who she was in a way, yes he didn't feel the same towards her, under control he found her irritating like an annoying fly that buzzed in his ears. Yet she knew what her presents meant to him, she kept him somewhat sane. Seventy years, Seventy years they had been together. Seventy years of her standing by his side through it all, comforting and understanding to him. Then one day everything went black. After he fell into the water everything went black for her.

She has lost connection with him, her eyes oppening for the first time in decades. Her body under dirt and snow in the German mountains, her joints popping and she slowly got up from her laying position. She hadn't been in her physical body for god knows how long, she didn't become weaker but her body hadn't moved in years. As much as she wanted to rush to follow and him and he with him again she had to take care of herself first.

Bucky felt like he was slowly losing his grip on reality as the days turned into weeks without any sign of her. The hollow ache in his chest deepened with each passing moment, his mind racing with chaotic thoughts. She had vanished from his life, leaving only shadows of despair in her wake. The worst haunted him: was she be safe? Did she suffer? Night after relentless night, he tossed and turned in an empty bed that felt colder than ever, the silence amplifying his fears.

Months slipped by without her reassuring voice, and the once-comforting embrace of sleep became a tormenting void filled with nightmares shed pull him from. Bucky’s mental health deteriorated, unraveling more than he ever thought possible. The weight of his worries pressed heavily on his shoulders, and he could feel the tension gnawing at him in an overwhelming sense of dread.

Every moment without her was a reminder of his loneliness. He was on the run, burdened not just by his past but by the ghost of the love he cherished and feared he might never see again. His once-stable world was now a torrent of chaos—his strength drained, his spiritfalling —coming to tearms that he'd never see her again.

After being run out of his place and held in custody, he was put back under control. A short rampage later he had woken up in a warehouse, his metal arm being held in a machine. Steve along with another man was questioning him till herd her voice, and it was clear that he wasn't the only one to hear it. Steve and Sam turning their bodies quickly twords the voice.

Bucky watched as her body emerged from the shadows, her long curly hair falling over her dark features slightly as she peeked around the corner. Bucky picked his head up stunned not believing his eyes,Fully coming out with a quick motion the two men on defence in front of bucky where pinned against the wall with knifes to the throats.

The smile on her face as she rushed towards him, her hands cradling his face carefully. She watched his expression, his mouth wanting to speak but his body fought against it. His right hand came up to her waist grabbing her “Oh my god..” his voice broke.

She grinned “Hi my love, thought I would find you else where free perhaps yet here you are caged underneath this thing.” she spoke.

Bucky shook his head lightly it soon falling into her stomach, her arms wrapping around him as he pulled her closer her his free arm. After a moment his other became lose without a second thought he wrapped both arms around her. She could feel his silent cries against her, her head dipping down placing gentle kisses to his head. This was the first time he had felt her warmth in over 50 years and he had actually felt her in general.

“What has you in distress baby?” she hummed, “I was only gone for a moment..”

He shoot his head “I thought I'd never see you again,” he muttered.

“Sorry it took me so long, had to recover my body…”

“Hate to break this up but can you tell your girlfriend to PUT US DOWN!”

Y/ns head snapped over to the man “oops!” with that they fell to the ground.

Bucky stood up catching her gaze “Theyre good they're friends…” he muttered.

She nodded her head her hand not leaving his forearm. “Is she-”

“No she's not with hydra,” Bucky interrupted quickly. Steve only nodded his head his eyes catching hers.

“Who are you? Because you're definitely not— well normal.” Steve spoke rubbing his neck.

She shifted her body now standing directly in front of bucky her body leaning back into him. “(name), I'm not exactly from here. I'm Asgardian-” she spoke vaguely.

“So you're a God? Do you know Thor?” Stever asked, he watched her face scrunch at the mention of Thor.

“I am Goddess of Versatility, and unfortunately I do…”

“Versatility?” Sam asked.

“Capable of almost anything I put my mind to, I can adjust and adapt to many different powers.” she shrugged explaining simply.

“Versatility is kinda boring..” same muttered.

“Sounds boring its not, I was able to hibernate my body for over 50 years in the German mountains, and live in his subconscious.” she smiled.

The two men looked at her dumbfounded. “Im a god, not only that but a kings favorite.”

“You must be the sister Thor mentions.” Steve said.

“Only sister he has so yeah, I'm the oldest” she shrugged

“Really you don't-.” Sam started.

“Diffrent mothers, don't care to explain more.” she interrupted her tone becoming sharp.

The two men nodded “So whats the plan from here?”

Bucky raised a brow “What you're obviously on the run I mean we're hiding in a warehouse… and I'm quite capable of helping.” she spoke Turing towards him.

Through a bit of useless protest from James there, she was fighting with them, doing pushback and sticking close to Bucky's side. This was the first time he'd seen her use her power, it was kinda humoring her fucking with them may it have been kind of games or using their power against them. A pretty smile on her features as she defended against the others. Her little conversation with Peter the teen nodding to her his voice almost excited even tho she had him any the collar, her nodding at him and telling him goodnight before blowing in his face. Peters's body falling limp as he giggled putting him down carefully.

“He seemed a bit too excited to be here.” she laughed walking over the Sam and James wrapped in a web lying on the floor.

T’challa wasn't light on his punches when it came to Bucky. One solid hit had pushed him back before he could get up the panther was already charging twords him, with a quick motion he was slammed in the the truck next to him.

“Go!” She yelled.

His eyes narrowest shaking his head “Ill find you! I aways so now go.” She reassured. He groaned irritated, upset that she wouldn't be with him, again.

Hours later He had found out that everyone was arrested. Meaning that she must have been aswell, Steve watched Bucky his eyes curious and sympathetic to his friend. “She’ll be fine well get her out after, I promise.”

He shook his head “Shes never been imprisoned and from what you told me She wont be able to use her powers to an extent and if she dose shell be hurt.” he spoke sodtly, she was probably losing her shit if there was one thing James knew about her is that she can easily be triggered and aggression is how she showed frustration and panic in some situations. Restricting her power and hurting her when did brought back unpleasant memories ones you don't ever wanna relive.

She was Practically bouncing off the walls wrapped up like Wanda, she didn't quite understand how they were restricting her powers, and when she got a spark she was heavily electrocuted. Sam and Clint were in the cells next to her telling her she had to stop, all she was doing was hurting herself. Her mind racing as her face fell into her lap as she sat on her knees. She needed to get out, she needed to find James, they were going to to kill him. She needed to get out, she needed to help him.

A groggy cry came from her as she mistakenlytries getting out of these binds again, “They're made like that for a reason, you're not supposed to keep going.” a male voice rang through her ears.

She knew that voice “The humans didn't take it kindly to Loki destroying New York, helped them be able to block power like ours.”

She sat up slowly, a heavy frown on her face as she mad eye contact with her Brother, the silent tension between them thick. “You know Sister after all this time I didn't expect you here..” she could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Why are you here?” she asked her voice tired.

“Take you home, so you're not rotting in this cell.” he spoke.

She shook her head “I can't go back..” she whispered.

“Of Course you can, Father would be pleased to see you..”

“What of mother-”

“She gone.” he answerd quickly, his brows frowned.

She stayed silent “You must come with me, I beg of you.” he spoke.

“I left for a reason Brother…” she spoke softly, “you got 30 seconds Thor!” Toneys voice spoke up.

“I wont take you home, but I can use it as an excuse to leave with you. I heard about you're little flame, that's why you wont go back right?” he spoke quickly

Dumbfounded she nodded “yeah.. But the gate-”

“Thes dumb mortals wont think twice when I fly off with you in these.” he spoke showing so Asgardian cuffs.

“Do you want to go or not.”

She nodded.

She might have left with Thor but found a safe enough place to land, taking her cuffs of and wishing her well “Rember you're always welcome back home, even if it mean you bring him. Consider it sister.” he spoke smiling to her.

“Thank you Brother tell Loki I say hello,” she spoke, “I missed you I hope to see you a bit more.”

He chuckled, “ I have a feeling well be seeing each other again sometime soon my dear sister, just don't get in to much trouble can only do so much here.”

It didn't take her long to track them down, but she was far behind. Her body teleporting a bit away from the compound entrance she saw T’chlla him standing next to a body. She could feel her hear drop as she rushed towards them, getting closer she had let out a sigh of relief.

“He down there,” T’challa spoke his gaze meeting hers. “Couldnt guarantee you that's he's alive, he said something about turning them on each other. Go down with caution.” he finished.

Without a moment's hesitation, she sprinted toward the door, her heart racing as she maneuvered through the maze of the unfamiliar surroundings. The air was thick with chaos, the sharp sounds of shattering glass and frantic shouts echoing around her, propelling her forward. As she rounded the corner, a wild scene unfolded before her eyes: Steve was grappling with Tony, their bodies a tangle of energy and aggression, while the sight of Bucky sprawled on the ground sent a shock through her. Her gaze darted between the two skirmishing men and the still figure of her friend, the urgency of the moment electrifying her senses.

“James!” she shouted, “Bucky, baby, hey open your eyes,” she spoke panicked, his metal arm was shot off leaving a nub of wires.

She shook him a bit before her hands fell ti his face, her hands glowing a soft white as she focused on him. The sound of the two men next to her fighting became dull as she healed him, she watched closely as his eyes shifted under his lids “Common baby come back to me..” she whispered.

She felt a hand on her shoulder “Stop he's there he's just unconscious, back off!” she shouted glancing over her shoulder to Steve who did exactly as she said. Her brows frowned seeing him as he was.

“Im sorry… Ill help you next,” she apologize.

“What about him?” she asked glancing towards Tony.

“If you can then please.” he groaned his back falling against the concrete wall.

She hummed shifting her gaze back to Bucky, his eyes open just looking over her. “Well hi handsome,”

“Hi doll, when did you-”

“Dont worry about it baby, lets just focus on getting out if here once I get them up and going..”

She took the time she needed to heal Steve enough so he could get up, with Tony was a bit more difficult due to everything that had just happened. He wanted nothing from her but she kept insisting, his communications were down and its be a bit till someone could even get it to him. Eventually, he let her, making a few comments about her being Thor's sister. “Well marital afairs happen everywhere. Not every marriage even by law and arrangement can be happy, plus my fathers just an asshole.” she chuckled.

“Take it mommy issues.” Tony sassed.

“And you have Daddy issues, we all have problems Stark, but our parental issues are much more different.” she scoffed, her tone and choice of words telling him that here was more a physically issue than emotional.

“T’challa said there will be someone here for you soon.” She spoke he hands falling into her lap.

Tony shook his head “Id like you a lot more if I knew you weren’t aware of what he did.”

She sighed glancing over to Steve and Bucky, his eyes trained on her. “He couldn't control what he did, but one thing I do know is that every person haunts him, he'll always remember, their screams and begging for their life. That right there is worse than death.” she muttered fidgeting with her fingers.

“But nobody here is clean of blood, you've killed someone's parents, someone's child. You Avengers aren't as clean of blood as you make yourselves out to be.” She spoke standing up, walking over to Bucky and Steve.

she watched as he was about to say something, “But that's wasn't you're fault right? You couldn't control it.” she finished, her eyes moving from him to Bucky.

“Get home safe Mr. Stark, and I wish your recovery to be quick.” she said leaving the the two men.

Days had drifted by in a haze since everything had changed. T’Challa had generously offered them both refuge in his kingdom, providing a safe haven as they navigated the complex process of liberating Bucky from the haunting grip of the Winter Soldier. For now, Bucky was equipped with a straightforward replacement arm—nothing overly elaborate, but functional enough for everyday use. T’Challa appreciated having them close; keeping Bucky and her in Wakanda allowed him to ensure they were not only safe, but secure as Bucky was still considered an unfriendly to the world.

Bucky found solace in this arrangement, welcoming the chance to remain in Wakanda, especially since it meant being alongside her. The two had settled into an expansive shared suite, a space that resembled a charming studio apartment. Sunlight streamed through large, intricately carved windows, illuminating the warm, rich tones of the wooden furniture and the traditional African textiles that adorned the walls. The atmosphere was cozy, offering a perfect blend of comfort and privacy, allowing them to retreat from the world outside while they explored their evolving relationship and faced the battles lingering in Bucky’s mind.

As James underwent various tests in the lab alongside Shuri and the team of scientists, she found herself wandering through the magnificent halls of Wakanda, accompanied by T’Challa. He proudly showed her the intricate details of his home, from the stunning vibranium architecture to the lush greenery that surrounded the palace. T’Challa reassured her of their warm welcome in his kingdom, though he acknowledged that not everyone shared the same level of trust towards her and Bucky—something that would likely change with time as they proved their loyalty. He knew she was of royalty herself much different from him, but she would become useful giving bits of insight and knowledge to the new king. “Sure you're not a queen yourself?” he'd joke.

“Many in my Relm would say it is my birth right, but I am only a woman that's what the men of my father's court would use as an excuse.” she hummed, her world was much different from their gender roles were very much still a thing, and she had run away.

Reflecting on their journey, it became clear that her presence had expedited Bucky's recovery; she was the catalyst behind him receiving a state-of-the-art replacement arm sooner than anyone had anticipated. In the quiet moments, she often found solace on the balcony of their shared room, watching the vibrant sunset over the horizon. It illuminated the sky in shades of orange and pink, and she relished the calm that accompanied her newfound sense of reassurance. Unlike before, when anxiety would push her to constantly linger at Bucky's side, she now felt a profound sense of certainty: he was not going anywhere, and neither was she. This realization brought her a comforting peace, wrapped in the warmth of their shared commitment.

The sound of the heavy door opening and closing caused her to look over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his. Pushing up out of her seat her bare feet touching the cold floor as she rushed over to him, a smile on her face. A common routine in their night, not always many words were exchanged but that was okay. Her hands held his face picking it up to look at her. Bucky was on the edge of the bed as she stood between his legs his hand on the back of her upper thighs, he'd always liked how she favored gowns short or long, the Asgardian fabrics much more luxurious than any here. He took every chance he got to feel her, to let his hands linger on her body feeling, memorizing every curve of her body as she simply stood in front of him and talked. Every chance to kiss her and her dark complexion, his lips kissing over her stretch marksand whatever most would consider an imperfection, but to him everything about her was perfect.

After years of never being able to feel her, how could he not? He worshiped her and the ground she walked on, he yearned to feel her warmth for decades to actually get to heel her skin to skin and not just the cold emptiness of his conscious. Yet there would be times he was so afraid to touch her, scared that she would just vanish like she did as time when he would reach out to her. The feeling of her hands not cold or light when she would touch him, her body coming from behind him her head resting on his shoulder blade as she would comfort him after being woken form a nightmare. Her whispering softly urging him back to lay with her and fall back asleep. Assuring him that he won't hurt her, that he could hold her as the sleep or that she could even hold him. His heart heavy as she would speak gently to him as he laid on her chest, her hands warm as her fingers grazed lightly over his face bushing his hair back.

“Please don't ever leave..” he muttered softly his head shifting to look at her.

“I'm not going anywhere, my love. Now you must sleep, and with how strong your embrace is let's hope I don't have to pee.” she smiled, her eyes holding his. “I no desire to be anywhere without you,�� she spoke watching him sit up a bit.

“Wherever you go, I go,” she whispered before her lips met his.

She might have had a few thousand years on him, and thousands more to live, but she would die with him no matter what. She wasn't just bored to adjust and adapt but born to create and destroy, she was much more than a stupid powerful, and unpredictable god and even he knew that but she wasn't invincible either she could do many things nobody could but there was plenty that she couldn't. When she would heal and even bring someone back from the dead she gives up parts of her life span, even with that she would have thousands of years without him.

His fingers messed with her messy curls as she laid on his chest, his eyes catching small strands of silver in her dark hair. “Graying before me?” he muttered teasingly.

She sat up quicky at his comment “what?”

“You have a really small batch, like four gray hairs.” he spoke touching her hair line above her eyebrow.

She stood up from the bed, her body bare as she rushed to a tall mirror on the wall, Bucky watched amusingly as she looked through her hair in a panic like state. He watched as she smiled a bit her body turning to face him “Didnttink id ever see a women happy to see that she had gray hair he chuckled.

She rushed back over to the bed, “Do you know what this means.” she spoke her excited tone in a whisper as she crawled over to him.

Her body sitting atop of him she leaned down here face close to his “ My healing and bring you back has caught up with me!”

He raised a brow “I'm aging quicker. Its a good thing believe it or not.”

He didn't quite understand how losing parts of her life span was exciting but at the same time he did. He knew that he had no desire to live for thousands of years after him, she wanted nothing more than to age like a human but she was not born a human. He knew in the end they would find each other again, may it be in another lifetime, or even after death. What they both understood was that they would die along with the other. Their life had begun to have no meaning with out each other, two damaged souls who found each other, and never left each other.

The gods will forever determine her end and the way she shall reast, but one thing was sure if she was taken sooner or had to live without him, to gods would keep him safe for her. Keep him so that she would be able to rest easy with him in the end of it all.

For maybe he'll someday only be within her subconscious and dreams.

a/n: i know a descent amount of people enjoy reading my stuff but i’m curious on what i could do to improve my writing i feel like i can’t really write with a lot of dialogue. Or my stories are kind everywhere… anywho lmk! i love to hear feedback 💗

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x black!reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #james barnes #blk reader

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sanemistar · 7 months ago

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irreplaceable — kento nanami

contents ★ nanami x fem!reader, heavy angst, hurt no comfort, major character death, 0.6k+ wc. requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

it had been well over a year since kento's death, and your life had turned upside down entirely. your days had become tasteless, your life had become dull and gloomy. you lost everything the moment he left, you lost your heart which was taken by him on the day of his funeral, you lost your cheerful, bright self and became nothing but an empty, hollow shell that was so lifeless as if it was dead. you went from someone who loved life to someone who barely lived, waiting for the day you die just so you could be reunited with kento once more. but most importantly, the biggest loss of all that you had ever experienced was the loss of the love of your life, the one and only man you’d ever loved.

to you, kento was a lover that comes only once in a lifetime, he was simply irreplaceable.

your tears began falling down like heavy rain as you sobbed uncontrollably, sorrow washed over your heart yet again. you leaned against the wall as you let your body fall down and collapse on the ground.

then you remembered the words of your friends who told you that time would heal, and that you’d eventually move on and find someone new. but neither time healed you nor did you find someone new.

you tried going on dates with multiple men, desperately trying to find someone who was as good as kento, you kept searching desperately but to no avail. how could you ever find someone like that? your heart only recognized kento, and it refused to give in to someone that was not him.

“i miss you ken..” you mourned his loss all over again as your heart clenched painfully.

“i honestly can’t tell what's more tragic: the fact that i keep looking for you wherever i go, or that you're never there anymore.” you spoke in between your heavy sobs.

"i'm desperately looking for you in everyone i meet, but none of them is you.” you proceeded. no matter how many men you met, and how hard you tried. this would remain the truth, no one else could ever come close to kento. none of them could ever be nearly as amazing and loving as him, he was basically the perfect man. but unfortunately, you lost him. and you had to try your hardest to survive without him, how awfully cruel life was.

you lifted yourself back up and headed to the nightstand next to the bed that you used to share with kento where a picture of you and him was neatly placed. you grabbed the picture and carefully held it in your hands, the moment you did you immediately chuckled. memories of that day vividly resurfaced in your mind as if they were only yesterday, it was a slightly blurry selfie that kento took when the two of you went on your first amusement park date together for your first anniversary celebration upon your insistence because his arm was longer than yours so it made more sense that he’d be the one taking it, but because he didn’t know how to take pictures it came out a bit shaky. regardless, you insisted that you keep it to remember that precious moment forever.

no matter how much time would pass, your grief would still remain. the part of you that was broken could never be fixed, but you would try your best to live on still. because you were so sure that was what he would’ve wanted. the many memories of you with kento that he left you with would make it a little less difficult, and would maybe be able to serve as the only condolence that would fill in the lonely void.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @sylusdoll @stunies @17020 @itoshivy

#nanami kento #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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foxybrownsugababe · 3 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Franklin Saint x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - A new couple moves into the neighborhood, drawing the curiosity of a longtime resident. What starts as a simple introduction carries undercurrents of tension, unspoken intentions, and a hint of something more beneath the surface. 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - slight age gap, tension, few curse words,

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - Those recent pictures of Damson just did something to me, I had to do something about it. Maybe I can fill the void this fine man has on this app with my slightly filtered nonsense that some people tend to like.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3,606

★𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟒

The moving truck pulled up just past noon, its heavy tires crunching against the pavement as it slowed in front of the empty house next door. The sun hung high in the Atlanta sky, drenching the neighborhood in heat, and making the air thick and slow. A young woman sat on the porch swing, one leg tucked under the other, a half-read book resting open on her lap as she slowly rocked. In truth, her eyes had barely skimmed a full sentence since the first black Benz pulled in behind the truck, its windows dark, the body sleek and polished.

She wasn’t much for neighborhood gossip, but new faces on this side of town were a bit rare—especially ones that rolled up in expensive cars.

New neighbors weren’t unheard of, but folks around here tended to stay put. The house next door had been empty for months, so whoever was moving in had money—enough to buy a place outright or at least make a deal before it ever hit the market. And if the car wasn’t proof enough, the man stepping out of the driver’s seat sealed it.

She looked to her left and watched as the driver’s side door opened, and out stepped a man. Tall. Brown-skinned. Neatly lined-up hair. Sharp, even from a distance. He was dressed in a simple white tee and dark jeans, a thin gold chain peeking from his collar. He had the kind of presence that made people look twice—not loud or flashy, but controlled like he knew exactly where he stood in the world. He moved with an ease that didn’t quite match the setting—like a man used to watching his surroundings without looking like he was watching.

Kimora flipped the page in her book without reading a single word.

Then, the passenger door opened. Another figure stepped out. A woman this time.

She was tall, statuesque, dressed in a fitted cream blazer and matching slacks, the kind of outfit too crisp for a move-in day. She had sleek dark hair, sharp features, and a presence that felt… expensive. The way she slid on her sunglasses before surveying the neighborhood said she was used to places nicer than this.

A couple. The observant young woman thought.

As if to confirm it, the woman reached for the man’s hand, slipping hers against his palm like it was second nature. He let her, but something about the movement felt… practiced. A habit more than a desire.

From inside the house, the screen door creaked open. “Well look at that. The mysterious new neighbors. Are finally here.” The familiar voice of her older brother chimed in before he hummed.

“Yup.” The young woman on the porch swing hummed, not taking her eyes off the couple as the man began carrying boxes into the home while the woman trailed behind him in all her chic glory.

“That was fast,” Mason said, leaning against the door, glancing around his neighborhood that stepped into the afternoon. He was fresh off work, still in his uniform, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, and it’s barely been three months since the Nantucket’s moved away. I don’t even think the house hit the market yet.” The girl said, glancing over at the man in the door before her eyes minced back to glancing between her book and the new couple. “But they were able to do renovations and all.” She hummed.

Mason looked down at the back of the girl's head, an amused smile on his face. “Kimora, you are so nosy. How do you even know that?” He asked.

Kimora snapped her head over to him, her stare hard. “I am not nosy!” She said. “Lexie and I were just checking the papers and none there was t a listing for it anywhere.” She explained with a small shrug. “And the websites aren’t always accurate.” She said before turning back to focus on her “book”.

Mason blinked at the back of her head. “So you and Lexie are both nosy as hell.” He reiterated. Kimora only smacked her lips, throwing a glare his way before looking back over at her new neighbors. It was something for a moment then, the pair subtly watching as only the man moved between the truck and the home with box after box.

“So are we just gonna watch?” Mason questioned, his voice trailing off in confusion. Kimora cut her eyes to him, becoming irritated with the man’s presence. “Are you gonna go help or something? Some you move boxes for a living and all. Because can’t you see I’m trying to read here?” She questioned, gesturing to her book. Mason just scoffed. “No, you are not, you’re being nosy and watching the people move in.” He said.

“Yeah, reading,” Kimora stated, glancing between the pages of her book and the move-in truck.

“Mmhm. Mama’s gon’ send you over there anyway. You know she don’t like folks moving in without a proper welcome.”

Kimora sighed, snapping her book shut. As irritating as he was, he wasn’t wrong, about her being nosy and the welcoming she knew she was going to do. Their mother, a firm believer in good Southern hospitality, had already been in the kitchen before they pulled up. And it took her no time to pull together a welcome basket like they lived in some Hallmark movie.

“Fine.” She said, standing. “But if he’s a weird creep, I’m blaming y’all.”

Mason laughed, stepping aside as she disappeared into the house.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

About 45 minutes later, Kimora found herself standing in front of the new neighbor’s door, balancing a basket that held some slices of lemon poundcake, peach preserves, a few different scent candles, a few chocolates, a nice bottle of wine, and some fresh jars of lemonade. She had walked to the place by cutting through their yard while hoping she didn’t look suspicious and no one had seen her. Even though she was trying to be neighborly, she wasn’t about to walk down her pathway and up his just to leave a basket.

The house was nice—a little far from modest but no mega mansion. It was like the rest of the neighborhoods but with a few clear upgrades. The porch had already been redone, the windows spotless. Even the grass had been trimmed like he’d had someone tending to it before he even moved in. Something he probably missed after those long days on campus.

She raised a hand to knock, but before she could, the door opened.

The man from earlier filled the doorway, his frame casting a shadow against the light spilling from inside. Up close, he was even sharper than she expected—neatly shaped-up hair, deep brown eyes, and moisturized skin that left his even tone a rich color in the waning sun.

Kimora straightened at the unexpected appearance, though it looked like he was heading back out to the truck to grab more boxes. “Uh, hi. I’m Kimora.” He said. “Cunningham. I live right next door.” She smiled as she gestured over to the home to her left. She then lifted the basket in her right hand slightly. “My mama sent this over as a welcome to the neighborhood. Wanted you all to have this.” She explained, trying not to get distracted and stutter under the man's intense gaze and his patchouli scent.

Franklin’s gaze flickered to the basket before settling back on her, and then—smooth as ever—he smiled.

“How nice.” He said, voice slow and deep, with the kind of warmth that made it easy to forget he was a stranger. He stepped back, opening the door a little wider. “Uh, come on in.” He said, gesturing to her inside.

Kimora hesitated with a quick blink. Her Mama always said not to go stepping into a man’s house alone, she knew better. But it wasn’t like she was some kid anymore. And the man didn’t give an off-putting vibe in any way.

So, she stepped inside. The air was noticeably cooler than the thick Georgia heat outside. The house smelled new—not like fresh paint or sawdust, but like it had been scrubbed down from top to bottom before anyone stepped foot inside and then prayed some freshener to make it feel more homey. Everything about the place was pristine, from the dark hardwood floors and the white walls to the dark leather furniture and the floor-length curtains framing the wide windows.

If she didn’t want to seem rude, she probably would’ve whistled at the sight.

Franklin shut the door behind her, the quiet click pulling her attention back to him.

“You said your name was Kimora, right?” His voice was smooth, even, but there was something about the way he said it. And the look he gave her—the slight squint of his eyes like he was turning it over in his head, measuring it.

She nodded, shifting the basket in her arms. “Yeah, I live right next door.” She relayed for some reason as she gave him a polite smile. She tried her best to hide the slight self-consciousness she felt now that she was in his home, standing in nothing but a pair of denim shorts, her red converse, and a Spelman sweatshirt. She knew she should’ve listened to her mother and changed.

“Franklin.” He said, mating her polite grin as he held out his hand. She went to shake his with her free hand before he suddenly remembered the weight she was carrying as his eye caught the basket in her hands. “Oh, let me take that.” He said with a small laugh, taking the basket from her hands, the tips of his fingers brushing her’s in their traction. Once he held the offerings, he nodded his head into another room. “Follow me.” He said before he turned on his heel and led them to the kitchen.

Kimora followed after him, her hands moving to clasp themselves behind her back. A dining area was next to the foyer, and she watched as she placed the basket on the wooden table before he turned back to face her. “Sorry about that.” He lightly laughed, which he assumed was to brush off the potentially awkward situation, before holding out his hand again. “As I was saying, Franklin Saint.”

“Kimora Cunningham.” She repeated as she placed her hand in his, his long fingers encompassing hers. Kimora felt the warmth of his palm against hers, his grip firm but not overpowering. The contact lingered just a second longer than necessary, but she wasn’t sure if she imagined it or if he simply wasn’t in a rush to let go.

“Nice to meet you, Kimora,” Franklin said, his voice slow and smooth, like molasses in the summer heat.

She nodded, retracting her hand and slipping it into the pocket of her shorts, feeling suddenly aware of herself—her posture, her presence in his home, the fact that she had no real reason to stay past the drop-off.

Franklin, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. He glanced down at the basket, running a finger along the rim before flicking his eyes back to her. “Your mama put all this together?”

“Yeah,” Kimora said, clearing her throat lightly. “She’s real big on welcoming folks to the neighborhood and honestly, just being nice. Says it’s only right to start off on a good note.”

Franklin smiled, tilting his head slightly. “Sounds like a good woman.”

“She is.” Kimora shifted her weight, glancing at the basket before looking back at him. “She’ll probably be by herself at some point. She likes to make sure new people feel at home. Might even offer you to have dinner with us, she likes getting to the pick before anyone else can.” The girl shrugged. “So, fair warning.” She said with a small grin.

“Well, I’ll be ready for her,” Franklin said with a small chuckle, his arms folding across his chest as he leaned against the edge of the table. His chain caught the light, just barely visible against his collarbone.

Kimora nodded, rocking on her heels. Silence settled between them—not uncomfortable, but thick enough that she could feel it. Franklin seemed to be studying her, and despite herself, she held his gaze for only a few seconds.

She then looked away, glancing around the peers of his home that she could see. “This is a beautiful home you have here.” She said before her eyes made their way back to his. “You did the upgrades yourself or had an expert opinion?” She questioned with a small tilting of her head. Franklin blinked before tilting his head at her in question. “How do you know it was renovated?” He asked.

“I’ve lived next door my entire life. I’ve seen eight families in my twenty-two years of living and last month was my first time seeing contractors on that porch out there.“ She explained, moving to cross her arms.

Franklin hummed, nodding at the information she was giving him as he looked at her. “Well, if you count that expert opinion being the future Mrs. then yes to both of those questions.” He said.

Kimora nodded at that, remembering the beautiful woman she had t seen since they pulled in. “You said you’ve been living here your entire life?” He asked before a silence could occur.

“All my life.” She answered. “Born and raised.”

He hummed like that piece of information meant something to him. “Good neighborhood?”

She shrugged. “I’d say so. It’s changing a little, though. I see a lot more white folks than I used to. Market’s shifting, you know?”

Franklin nodded like he understood more than he let on. “Yeah. I’ve been noticing that in a lot of places.”

Kimora tilted her head. “You from around here?” She asked.

Franklin paused for just a second before answering, “Nah. I'm from LA.” He responded. Kimora’s eyes widened a bit at that, though that seemed to explain a lot—the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence, the kind of awareness that wasn’t from just anywhere.

“Wow, long way from home. What made you pick Atlanta?” She asked. And Franklin gave her a small, knowing smirk. “Business.” That was all he said.

Kimora’s eyebrow twitched in question but she didn’t push.

“Anyway.” He said, pushing off the table. “I appreciate this, really. You didn’t have to come all the way over here.”

Kimora smirked. “Technically, I just cut through the yard.” She admitted. “I’d rather I tell you than you find out from security cameras or something, especially since I know you got your grass cut yesterday and everything.” She explained with an awkward grin.

Franklin chuckled, shaking his head. “Even still. It’s real neighborly of you.”

Kimora hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, well… we look out for our own around here.” She stated.

Franklin’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, something unreadable behind them. Then, he smiled again, slower this time. “Good to know.”He nodded as his eyes held her. Deep brown and like the warm earth after rain, and they made her feel like he was seeing more than she was saying.

“Well, isn’t this sweet?” A voice chimed in from behind them. Kimora turned to see the woman from earlier—Franklin’s fiancée.

She was coming through the doorway, arms crossed, and a small, unreadable smile on her face. Up close, she was even more striking, with high cheekbones, sharp white nails, and a kind of effortless confidence that made it clear she was used to being the most put-together woman in the room. “Lucia.” She said as she held out her hand, and that’s when Kimora just took notice of the slight accent the woman had, something of a Spanish region.

“Kimora.” She said, placing her hand in Lucia’s ever-polished one that was decked out in dainty jewelry. Well besides the rock she had in her ring finger. She was suddenly feeling a little too aware of how she was dressed—nothing fancy compared to the woman before her. Her hair wasn’t even as stylish, her curls framing her like a lion's mane.

Lucia strode forward, heels clicking against the floor as she eyed the basket. “This is really thoughtful. You said your mother made this?” She questioned, and Kimora tried her best to hide it, but she knew she just caught the woman. Lucia wasn’t in the room when she said any of that, granted Kimora wasn’t sure where she was in the home and there’s no telling what she could’ve heard, but still. Why was she pretending she didn’t hear anything else but the detail of the basket?

Kimora simply let it roll off her shoulders, nodding her head. “Yeah, she makes things like this all the time.” She stated. “She believes in being neighborly.” She repeated.

Lucia hummed, that small smile still lingering as she positioned herself next to her fiancé. “How very Southern of her.” Her voice was smooth, tinged with something that sounded like curiosity. Or maybe amusement.

Something about the way she said it made Kimora straighten her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if Lucia was genuinely appreciative or if there was something else under that polished exterior. Either way, she wasn’t about to let some Manhattan-type woman make her feel small in her own neighborhood.

Kimora nodded again. Well,” She said, forcing herself to relax, “If y’all need anything, we’re just next door.”

Franklin, who had been quiet, finally spoke again. “We appreciate that.”

Something about the way he said it made Kimora glance at him. His voice was warm but measured like he was careful with every word. His eyes were on her, studying—not in a way that felt wrong, but in a way that made her wonder what exactly he was thinking.

Lucia, on the other hand, smoothly stepped closer to Franklin, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m sure with your help, we’ll settle in just fine.” She smiled.

Kimora simply forced a polite smile. “Well, welcome to the neighborhood.” He said before beginning to turn around. Before she could make it far, Franklin spoke up.

“Oh, let me walk you to the door.” He said, and he rounded her fire in no time, stepping in front of her to get the door. Kimora followed him, stepping onto the porch and letting the warm air wrap around her again, a stark contrast to the coolness inside.

“Tell your mama I said thank you,” Franklin said, leaning against the doorway.

“I will.” She replied. And with that, she turned and walked away, feeling Franklin’s eyes on her until the door clicked shut behind her.

Lucia watched the door for a long moment after Kimora left, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small hum, she watched as Franklin turned around to face her. “Well.” She said, smoothing the front of her blouse, “She was nice.”

Franklin exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

Lucia hummed, stepping further into the room, her heels soft against the hardwood. “She asks a lot of questions.” She said with an arched brow, crossing her arms.

Franklin didn’t respond right away. Instead, he let his head tip back slightly, staring up at the ceiling before rolling his shoulders. He already knew where this was going.

“That’s not good for us, Saint.”

His jaw ticked slightly at the way she said his name. “Lucia.” He started, keeping his tone level, “She was just being neighborly. It’s the South. That’s what they do.” He stated, trying to keep calm with the woman.

Lucia stepped forward, her heels clicking against the hardwood. “We’re here to keep a low profile.” She hissed at him with narrowed eyes.

“No,” Franklin corrected, his voice even but firm, “We’re here to blend in. To look like a well-put-together couple. We have to talk to people, make connections, or else we look even more suspicious.” He stressed, tired of repeating the same thing over and over again to her since their decision to move here. Since everything.

But Lucia didn’t look convinced. Her lips were pressed together and her eyes sharp as she looked at him. “That girl next door is too curious. She barely knows you and was practically interrogating you in your own home. That’s not just ‘being neighborly,’ Franklin. That’s someone paying attention.”

Franklin’s smirk was slow, almost amused as he shook his head. “You’re being paranoid.” He said, walking closer to her and looking down at the woman. “You have got to stop thinking about what happened in Jersey.” He said softly, placing his large hands on either side of her arms as he gazed down at the woman.

Lucia’s jaw clenched. “Paranoia keeps people like us alive.”

He exhaled through his nose before lowering his voice. “Calm down. We just got here. They don’t know shit.”

Lucia tilted her head slightly, studying him. “People like that? They notice the details. If she’s watched this house long enough to know about the renovations, what else has she seen? What else will she see?” Lucia held his gaze for a moment before glancing toward the door again. “She’s observant.”

“I caught that,” Franklin murmured, his thoughts drifting back to Kimora, the way her eyes had scanned the house, the way she had held his gaze just long enough to make him notice.

Lucia studied him, then exhaled, adjusting the ring on her finger. “So? What’s the plan?”

Franklin’s eyes lingered on her for a beat before he let go of her, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off a thought with his jaw flexing slightly.

“Let me handle it.”

@notapradagurl7 @onlyrealjoy @frank1nsaint @kindofaintrovert @glassmermaids @ohshesamonet @stevelacyballs @sweaterblog @orchidwonder @b-m-scott @imsohappyilovekbop @thisaintnai @theghostbusterbitch @capricornrizingheaux @wonderlustwrites @jazziejax @blkandchic @jazzieinthefuture @r0dryz @lotuswritesworld @daelynnnn @kinkymami @shes4real @miabratt @vile-harlot @honeipot @niahxo @vampwns @hxneyclouds @borednblk @angel-bx @milk-marie777 @aldallure @susanhill @dariequeen @333symone @aphroditesdaughter222 @dolldial @earth2niyah @fairy-cores-world

#damson idris #franklin saint #damson idris x black reader #damson idris x black!reader #damson idris x black!oc #damson idris fanfic #franklin saint x reader #franklin saint x black!reader #franklin saint x black reader #franklin saint x black!oc #x black oc #x black y/n #x black fem reader #x black reader #x black fem oc #writtenbyfoxy

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minnowheart · 6 months ago

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You die and you meet God.

She looks at you with her Aspen eyes. Her thousand-edged cutting eyes.

She says HELLO. HELLO AGAIN.

She says THAT WAS QUITE A RIDE THIS TIME, HUH?

She says YOUR EYES ARE SO BEAUTIFUL. THEY ARE ALWAYS SO BEAUTIFUL.

She says WELL? DID YOU DO IT? DID YOU FIGURE IT OUT?

You don’t reply. You are trying to figure out why you are falling and falling and staying still. You are trying to remember how long you have been falling here. You are trying to remember where here even is.

You say who are you?

You say what happened, where am I?

You say my eyes are beautiful? But your eyes… they are so lovely too.

You say figure what out?

She looks again at you with her chimera mountain Aspen eyes.

She sighs.

She turns ThunderBird. Wings a trillion volts of lightning.

You are turned without from within, cells shattering with the pulse of storms.

You choke soundless.

ThunderBird says electric YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW YOU GOT HERE?

ThunderBird says galvanic YOUR DEATH WAS BLESSED, AS THEY ALL ARE.

ThunderBird says voltaic NOW YOU ARE HERE. AT THE END OF YOUR LIFE.

You spin and spin apart. There is only this static in your mouth. You think this is what terror truly tastes like. This thought is soothing to you somehow. You are completely still in this empty void. You are surrounded, thrashing in this cramped filled-to-the-brim space.

You scream but I was so young.

You scream how could I have known to enjoy it more?

You scream but I lived a full life.

You scream oh… I lived.

ThunderBird cradles you in their voltage feathers.

Your breathing leaves you. You wonder if you were breathing this whole time, in this space.

You wonder if you miss it. You cannot remember.

ThunderBird shifts Coyote, yellowed grin all flashing teeth and writhing tongue.

Coyote says laughing IT'S ALL JUST CHAOS ANYWAY.

Coyote says cackling IT'S ALL JUST LIGHT AND DARK AND THE IN BETWEEN.

Coyote says shrieking IT'S WHAT HAPPENS TO EVERYONE. WE LIVE. WE DIE. POOF. NO MORE.

You say yes, well, of course, but how am I -

HERE TALKING TO ME? WELL, ISN'T THAT SOMETHING THEN.

Coyote winks into stars, surrounding, spiraling into a thousand heads of The Divine.

You screech and groan and roar and crawl and writhe and slither and claw and gnash and lash a thousand tails.

Shamash says with the voice of the sun YOU'RE ALMOST DUE. ANY MORE QUESTIONS?

You struggle to remember anything besides this endless aching everywhere.

You gasp my life! What was the point of my life?

You say almost due? Due where?

You say when does this stop?

Bastet says with silken sleek drawl IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO ASK? IS IT ALL ABOUT YOU?

You don't remember your name.

Rudra says with obsidian teeth WHAT WAS THE POINT. WELL, I SUPPOSE YOU'LL HAVE TO FIGURE THAT OUT.

You scream a silent scream I don't understand anything!

Prometheus says with flaming song REGARDLESS, THIS IS YOUR STOP.

The Stars that are not quite Stars incandescently chorus SEE YOU SOON.

You blink one last time. Your vision Kaleidoscopes, bends into a thousand ways.

You become Mountain, Fertile Plain, Forest of Evergreen, Desert, The Sea.

You speak to yourself now. There is only yourself.

There has only ever been you in all this soft darkness, all this blinding light.

Here in the Beginning. Here at the end.

The wheat chants GO

The water cries GO

The ice and snow wail, melting. GO

The birds call THE POINT OF IT ALL IS TO CARE

The wilderness whispers CARE ABOUT ANYTHING OTHER THAN YOURSELF.

The Wolves howl I WILL ASK YOU NEXT TIME

The playful Dolphin and innocent Dodo and gentle Elephant and loyal Passenger Pigeon and Ivory-billed Woodpecker and the graceful, forgiving Thylacine moans IF YOU WERE ABLE TO DO IT. IF YOU WERE ABLE TO FIGURE IT OUT.

You understand. There are uncountable tears. This is all you are. Water salted from the source. You close your eyes.

You awake, in a body small and gasping for breath, screaming a wordless sound.

#you die and you meet god #mine #poets on tumblr #poem #poetry #minnowheart art #Based on a text post with the same theme that i cannot find rn but if I do ill add it here

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illmoraineakoi · 2 years ago

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The All Vessels Sewing Challenge

A while ago, I got the intrusive idea that it'd be fun to make plushes for all of the Unique Vessels in HK. Ever since, I've been dabbling at it, not really expecting to be able to actually DO it. The full-sized Hollow I wanted to do turned out to be too expensive to do currently, and I expected this would be the same.

What started as babbling turned into a full-fledged urge. A need. An obsession. It's be a very long time since I worked on a large sewing project, and this idea filled that empty void in my soul. I'd forgotten how fun it was to have something big and challenging to work on.

So, you know what? Fuck it. Let's do this shit!

The Goal

The objective of this project is to make plushes for every single Vessel on the above list.

37 Vessels.

37 Plushes.

Each Vessel Plush consists of at least 24 pieces of fabric, without horns. That's 888 pieces for all 37.

Horns add +4 pieces, depending on the horn design, per Vessel.

This project will easily require over a thousand fabric pieces. It will be the largest project I've ever worked on.

And I can't be more excited about it.

If you want to follow my progress on this project, all future posts about it will be under the tag #IllmoraineVesselPlushesChallenge

The above image will be updated whenever a Vessel is completed, marking it off as finished.

I can't wait to do this. It's going to be so fun.

#IllmoraineVesselPlushesChallenge #hollow knight #illmoraine sews #vessel plush wip

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honeyedmiller · 2 years ago

Text

Firsts | Javier Peña

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

warnings: smut (f & m oral receiving, unprotected piv, fingering, slight size kink?), cursing, teasing, tension, some tooth-rotting tender fluff, no use of y/n. 18+. minors dni.

word count: 4.9k

synopsis: Agent Peña is determined to give you something you've been craving for a long time.

not revised. sorry for any mistakes :')

Javier Peña never let anyone sleep in his bed.

Sure, he's had multiple women in it, but not once had any of them ever stayed longer than a little aftercare from the Agent himself. He used those women to get information; fucked them so good they just couldn't stop sputtering where they've seen this guy or how they know this other man. And, deep down, he used them to fill an empty void in his heart of loneliness—something he was no stranger to, but wanted to avoid altogether.

No woman had ever slept in his bed, until you.

See, if anyone told you months ago that you would've even spared Agent Peña a proper non-work related conversation this time around, you both would call bullshit.

It all started out in the field, a few months ago. Steve kept nagging Peña about his little crush on you, and it drove him crazy that you were the only woman in the office that wouldn't give him the time of day. Of course you talked to him about work related things, puzzling together the missing pieces to finally fucking catch Escobar.

Tensions were at an all-time high in the office, and the last thing on your mind was tossing the insatiable Agent a flirty smile. You were an intense, strong-willed go-getter who was an absolute badass in the field. Even the Colombian military and police liked to work with you, which was good, because it meant they'd cooperate more with the DEA. Flirting, especially with a coworker nonetheless, was completely off limits and your one set-in-stone rule you had for yourself.

You were no stranger to the rumors roaming about that Agent Peña was a good fuck. You were also no stranger to the giggles and nudges your female colleagues gave you when they caught him staring at you. You just chose to ignore them.

It wasn't until one late night in the office that had everyone exhausted and quite literally ready to get back to the States that you gave Peña the time of day.

Steve had told the man something rather interesting that day, which he knew you'd kill him for, but he thought it was worth Javier knowing. When you went over to Steve and Connie's place to have 'girl's night' with his wife, he overheard you say that no man has ever been able to make you orgasm.

Steve immediately thought of Javier when that information sprouted, and of course, being the wingman he was for Peña, he told him. Peña wanted nothing more than to be the man that could give that to you. Luckily for him, he was sort of an expert in that area, which is why all those women he fucked ended up talking.

You never paid any mind to how suave Peña could be, mainly because you genuinely weren’t interested. Your disinterest in the Agent bothered him at first, as you shot down all of his advances and flirting tactics. It just determined him further. It’s not like he kept harassing you or anything, but he tried his best to do little things for you here and there like get you a coffee when you needed it the most or a file that would help you in the spur of the moment.

On this particular night, it was just you and Peña left in the office. The two of you were paired up for a specific assignment because Murphy was unavailable, and the assignment needed to be done quickly.

You were efficient with your work, but having the Agent stare at you like a meal on legs wasn’t helping. You couldn’t deny that he was a good looking man. A man you swore you’d pay no mind to, and up until now, it was working.

“Can I help you Peña?” You ask without looking up from your paperwork. You were jotting something down when he cleared his throat, straightening in his seat.

“I think I should be asking you that, Agent.” He shot back incredulously, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. He gave you a smug look, and his words halted your writing mid-sentence.

“Excuse me?” You look up at him, quirking an irritated brow. Though, you found yourself faltering to his heavy gaze; hooded puppy dog eyes making your panties dampen a bit. You squeezed your legs together, ignoring the nagging feelings of want and desire.

“Heard that no man’s ever been able to please you.” He tilts his head and eyes you, from your intense gaze down to the way the first couple of buttons of your work top were unbuttoned.

You scoff in disbelief. You know Connie would never say a word, so it had to’ve been Steve fucking Murphy.

Bastard.

“I don’t see how my dilemma in my personal life has anything to do with our work, Peña.”

“I was just simply observing.”

“Well you don’t work for the BAU. Stop trying to profile me.” You snap, rolling your eyes.

He holds his hands up in defense. “You know, cariño, I could help relieve you of your tension. Noticed you’ve been real… irritable, these days.”

You shoot him a nasty glare.

“Fuck you, Peña.”

“If that's what you'd like, baby. And I’d prefer it if you called me Javi.”

“I’m not one of your whores. We don’t need to be on a first name basis.” Your tone was cold as you looked back down to your papers, annoyed at the fact that you were getting turned on by his advances. What you really should've been doing is reporting him to Messina, but it wasn't worth all of the stupid paperwork.

You were cold toward him because you needed to distance yourself. It was your own fucking rule. No flirting with coworkers, even if they're ridiculously hot and tall and tan and broad and—

"Say all you want about not wanting me, but I saw the way your legs clenched and your breathing became more rapid. Why deny yourself a good time, hm?" He tilts his head.

This motherfucker was watching you like clockwork.

You slapped the manila folder that the file was in closed, tucking it into the top drawer of your desk before gathering your things.

"Good night, Peña." You hastily exited the building, fumbling with your car keys to unlock it before getting into your car. You let out a loud sigh, head hitting the back of the headrest as you rubbed your hands over your face in exasperation.

You put the keys in the ignition and left Peña at the office alone with a stupid smirk on his face.

And, that night, you had an even stupider wet dream about the smug-faced Agent.

As the week went on, the tension between you and Javier became nearly unbearable. It was stolen glances and soft touches and close proximities that had you stiffening, keeping your guard up to avoid succumbing to the ache in your core. It was the very thing that clawed at you from the inside, begging to be fulfilled.

You had no doubt Javier could be that man, but you were stubborn. You didn't want to give him that satisfaction. Not yet, at least. The insanely hot wet dream you had about him definitely didn't help your case, though. It made you want him to fuck you right there on his desk.

Luckily, you knew you had self control. What you didn't know is that Javier could feel you literally buzzing with anticipation, likely waiting for him to make the first move because you were too proud to do so.

You were in the kitchenette, pouring yourself a fresh cup of coffee when Javier walked in behind you. You didn’t really pay any mind until you felt the heat of his body behind you, and you turned around. Your back was pressed up against the counter as he towered over you, his dark brown gaze ever so enticing.

He reached up into the cabinet behind your head to retrieve a coffee mug himself, never breaking eye contact with you. Your eyes flickered to his lips for a brief second. To anyone else, it would’ve been the world’s most subtle glance. But to Javier, he took it as a message.

Game on.

He lightly brushed his hand against your waist to scoot past you, pouring the remainder of the fresh coffee into the mug he was holding. His touch sent a jolt of tingles down your spine, and you swallowed harshly as you tried to remember how to walk again to get away from him.

“You look beautiful today, cariño.” He simply said, halting you in your tracks. You slowly turn to him, wide-eyed and stunned. Your throat went dry as your lips formed into a tight smile.

“Thank you.” You meekly said before heading back to your desk. In this moment, you wish a black hole could form underneath the ground you walked on and swallow you whole. The affect that Javier had on you was embarrassing, especially because you were very anti-Javier Peña, aka Mr. Sex-On-Legs.

You thinking about him like this, and the undeniable tension between you both was everything you were against. Flirting with coworkers was dangerous and having sexual relations with them was lethal, especially Agents of yours and Javier’s rank. It could easily affect your work environment and being a woman in the field was already hard enough. You didn’t need shit from your counterparts or higher-ups. You wanted to be taken seriously, and giving in to your desires was going to get you anything but.

On the other hand, the need to have your desires fulfilled clawed at you aimlessly. You wanted to experience an orgasm. One that would have your toes curling and eyes rolling back. A fucking earth-shattering one—one that would ruin any other man for you.

Javier would easily oblige and give that to you, but it was up to you to let him do so.

Oh, fuck rules and fuck morals and fuck workplace gossip.

You wanted, no, needed Javier to show you what it was like. So, you decided to play along. You knew you’d both be stuck in the office late again tonight, so you wanted to have a little fun with it.

The first move was rather bold, but you weren’t going to back down now. Later on in the day, you got up from your desk to hand him a file. In doing so, your nimble fingers softly wrapped around one of his thick biceps as you dropped the file down on his desk. You leaned down, your voice barely a whisper.

“Thanks, Javi.” Was all you said before uncurling your fingers from his arm, sashaying away from him. He stared at the back of your figure quite literally stunned, and you saying his name like that had his dick twitching in his pants.

What the hell had gotten into you? He didn’t know where the sudden flirtatious behavior came from, but he was definitely going to find out.

Steve was catching on to what was going on between you, and it was amusing him to no end. It was nice to have a distraction from all the bullshit the DEA has been dealing with regarding Escobar.

By the time everyone was starting to head home, tension was so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife. Steve even threw in a ‘just bone already!’ to the both of you, and Javier couldn’t even stifle the small smile that had curled onto his plush lips.

It was around nine in the evening, and as promised, it was just you and Peña left. He was sitting at his desk when your hands suddenly slid over his shoulders from behind, sliding down to his chest. You reached over him to grab a file you needed without asking him, just so you’d have an excuse to do that.

By that time, he’d had enough of the teasing. Before you could retract your hands completely, he gripped both of your wrists and stood up, spinning your bodies around so you were pushed against his desk.

"Enough of this cat and mouse game. Do you want me or not?" Javier whispered, trapping your body with his against the cold metal of his desk. It almost looked like he was pained, like this whole past week had been hell for him.

And honestly, unbeknownst to you, it had. He laid awake every single night wishing you'd just give in to him. He wanted to treat you right. Worship your body as it should've been worshipped all along. He didn't want to fuck some random woman for intel anymore if it meant he got to be with you.

You were too stunned to speak, and quite honestly, the arousal pooling in your panties was way too noticeable to ignore at this point. You nodded your head, breath ragged and cheeks flushed.

"Gracias a Dios." He murmured. He cupped your face with both hands, finally sealing the space between you both as he brought his lips to yours. As cliché as it sounded, your whole body reacted to his touch as you felt sparks when his lips moved with yours. You dropped the file in your hand onto his desk behind you before wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer.

He gripped your thighs and easily hoisted you up onto his desk, moving between your legs to be as close as he possibly could. You moaned softly when your clit caught onto the seam of your jeans, and you could feel Javier's growing bulge against your jean-clad core.

If it wasn't going to be your first time with him, he would've happily taken you right here on his desk. But, he wasn't a total asshole.

"Come back to my place with me," He sighed against your lips. "I can take better care of you there."

You nodded vigorously in agreement, and you both hastily gathered your things before heading out to Javier's Jeep.

He opened the door for you and you softly thanked him, trying to catch your breath and steady your heart rate from everything that just happened. You hadn't even gotten to the best part of this all and you were already falling apart at the seams. It'd been awhile since you've had any special kind of attention like that in general, so it really wasn't helping your case.

Javier clambered into the driver's seat, starting up his car to head back to his apartment. A naughty idea crossed your mind, and you'd be completely humiliated if Javier rejected your advances.

Fuck it.

You reached your left hand over, rubbing his now completely erect cock through the fabric of his jeans. He twitched slightly, giving you a look with burning desire. His eyes snapped back to the road thinking you were going to stop there, but boy was he wrong.

You began to undo his belt as best as you could given your position, and you swiftly unbuttoned and zipped down his jeans.

"Wh-what are you doing?" His voice was hoarse, eyes going wide.

"Relieving you." Was all you said before tugging his jeans down the right amount so you could take his cock out of his boxers.

He was thick and heavy, the head already bedaubed with pre cum. Your mouth watered at the sight, seeing that he had girth and a good length.

He inhaled sharply when your thumb ran over the swollen flesh of his weeping head. You wasted no time, giving his shaft a few pumps before taking him into your mouth. He hissed in pleasure, the feeling of your mouth so wet and warm around him. The sounds you elicited while pleasuring him were nothing short of erotic, and it was driving him crazy.

"Fuuuck. Yeah, just like that baby." Javier coaxed you on, wrapping his fingers in your hair. His other hand was gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning a ghost-white color. You kept going, easily licking up his silky flesh before deciding to try and take him all into your mouth.

You eased down slowly until your nose was eventually met with the dark, coarse curls at the base of his cock. Javier accidentally hit a bump in the road at the same time your mouth was completely full of him, so it made you gag around his length.

He nearly came right then and there.

"Fuck, okay, okay," He panted, gently gripping your hair to bring your mouth up and off of his cock. "I don't want to cum yet."

You pouted at him, wanting to taste him as you made him cum. Another time, you suppose. You helped him get his boxers back up over his still painfully erect member, pants following suit.

It was only a couple of more minutes before Javier parked outside of his apartment building, nearly dragging you upstairs and into his place. Once the door was closed, he pushed you up against it, capturing your mouth onto his once again. He moved you away from the door and to the couch, where he sat down so you could straddle him. It was a bit hard with the tight jeans you were wearing, but not unmanageable.

His tongue slipped over yours furiously, teeth clashing together as you both simply seemed like you just couldn't get enough of one another.

His mouth moved from yours down to your neck, leaving hot, sloppy kisses in its wake. He got to one spot on your neck just below your ear that had you shuddering with pleasure, and he chuckled softly at that.

He nipped at that particular spot and licked over it, repeating the action a few times until you found yourself grinding your hips into him. The ache in your core was unbearable, and all you wanted was to just be touched.

"Javi, please." You weren't above begging at this point, because fuck did you want his fingers in you and his tongue on you.

"Please what, princesa?" He rasped, grabbing your ass harshly as he purposefully rutted your hips against his.

"I- fuck- need you to touch me. Please." You whine, biting your lip as you look down at him with a pout. He groaned quietly when you gave him that look of feening innocence.

His lips attached themselves to yours again before he grabbed the back of your thighs, parting from your lips to take you to his bedroom. You kissed his neck while he was walking, giving it one long lick up to his ear before he placed you down on his bed.

He hovered over you, placing one knee in between your legs. He grabbed the hem of your shirt before slowly lifting it up and over your head, eyeing the soft flesh of your breasts that spilled out of your bra from this position. His mouth found itself on aforementioned flesh, lightly nipping and sucking down the valley before moving down to your torso. He eventually got to the hem of your jeans, to which he took his time in taking off.

He carefully undid your belt, then the button and zipper. He shimmied the material off of your legs, staring at your nearly naked body in pure hunger and want. He noticed the dark patch of wetness on your panties, and he teasingly chuckled.

"All this for me, baby? Haven't even touched you yet." He cooed, moving between your thighs. He gave your sopping clothed core a kiss, then proceeded to lick over the wet fabric. You moaned, gripping onto his shoulders.

"Need you, Javi." Your words were nearly incoherent as they squeezed out of your throat. You didn't know how else to make the man just devour you already.

"I know, baby. Need you too." Was all he said before gripping your panties and sliding them down your legs. His gaze met your glistening core, and he hummed at the sight.

He got on his knees at the edge of the bed before wrapping his arms around your thighs, tugging you down so your legs dangled off the edge. He moved both of your legs so your calves rested on his shoulders which flexed underneath the leather jacket he was wearing.

He dragged his lips slowly up the inside of your thighs, kissing your core once, before dragging his lips back down. He repeated that twice before he finally decided to stop being a tease and devour you shamelessly. He lapped up your existing arousal before softly sucking on your clit, moving his tongue down your folds and into you a few times before just focusing on your clit. He took his middle and ring finger and slipped them both into you, the thick stretch of his fingers nearly sending you over the edge.

You couldn't fucking believe it. All these years, no man has ever been remotely close to even making you cum, and then Javier Peña comes along. He nearly had you unraveling with just his tongue and fingers with such ease that it honest to god seemed way too fucking good to be true.

"Baby you taste so goddamn good. Fuck." Javier mewled, pulling his fingers out of you. He reattached his lips to your clit as he gripped your thighs tighter. You were rolling your hips into his face at this point, but he was making movement nearly impossible with the weight of his arms.

He then solely focused on your entrance, swirling his tongue teasingly around you before slipping his tongue inside of you over and over again. You choked on a gasp at the sensation, feeling a nearly foreign tightening sensation in the pit of your core.

"Javi." You whined, the sensation getting stronger and stronger until your body trembled, a lick of flames coursing through you as you cried out. You convulsed around Javier's tongue as you came, tears pricking the corner of your eyes at the heavenly sensation. He lapped up your sweet arousal, moaning against you before pulling away.

Your chest was heaving up and down uncontrollably ears ringing and mind hazy.

Javier looked down at your disheveled state, truly quite honored to be the first man to ever make you orgasm. He leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to your lips, tasting your own arousal as his tongue slipped into your mouth. You gripped both sides of his face as your lungs began to burn, desperate for some air. You separated from him reluctantly, looking up into his eyes.

The sight before him was truly pornographic. Your hair was disheveled, eyes glossed over and parted, swollen lips glazed with your own cum as you breathed rapidly. As his eyes traveled south, one of your bra straps hung off of your shoulders and your manicured hand rested on your abdomen. Your legs were spread just for him, and he wished he could take a photo of you like this. Not to be a creep, but because you belonged in a museum.

Part of him was secretly happily selfish that he was the only one who could see you like this in this moment, though. To look so fucked out and needy because of him. The thought alone nearly made him cum in his pants.

"How do you feel, corazón?" He asked, standing up to finally take the constraints off of his erection. He groaned softly at the release as his cock hit his stomach, still red and weeping and glistening with pre cum.

"Amazing." Was all you could muster up before hooking your legs around him, causing him to topple over you. He laughed at your sudden movements, both hands resting on either side of your head. Your hands found purchase on either side of his face, thumbs softly caressing his cheeks.

No one had ever been so affectionate with him. A warm feeling invaded his stomach, eyes feverishly scanning yours.

"You have a beautiful smile and laugh, Javi. Why don't you do it more?" You ask, brushing a curl off of his forehead. He leaned down and nudged his nose with yours, softly kissing your lips.

"I'll do it more for you, corazón." He whispers, and you pull him down for another kiss. This one was soft and slow, a much different pace than the previous ones. This one was full of tenderness and care, something you both desperately wanted but never seemed to get.

In the midst of the slow kiss, Javier moved one hand down to grab his cock so he could slide it between your folds. You gasped against his lips and he peered down at you with a gentle gaze, searching your eyes for permission. You grabbed the sides of his legs gently, silently letting him know it was okay.

He pushed into you slowly, and you closed your eyes at the sensation. He stretched you in a way that was so heady, having you feel so full when he got to the hilt. You closed your eyes in pure bliss, and Javier leaned down once more to kiss your forehead softly. Your eyes fluttered open again and met his soft gaze.

"Keep your eyes open and on me, cariño. Wanna see you." He says as he juts his hips forward, causing you to suck in a breath through your teeth.

He started to pump in and out of you languidly at first, but then it became rapid hip snaps against yours. The sound of pounding flesh and ragged breathing was all that was heard in the room. Javier made sure to kiss you everywhere he could possibly reach in this position, even moving down to softly suckle on your erect nipples after tossing your bra somewhere in the room amidst all of this.

Pleasure washed over your body and you felt that familiar heat licking your core once again. He paused for a second to bring your calves back up to his shoulders, this new angle hitting even deeper inside of you. It was hitting a spot you didn't even know was possible. You cried out his name as you tried to keep your eyes open, but it was nearly impossible with the way he was thrusting so deliciously into you.

"Javi, fuck, I'm gonna cum again." You cry, clawing at the bedsheets.

"Yeah? Go ahead, princesa, I'm right here. I've got you." He says, keeping his pace steady. He felt his own orgasm slowly building, and he knew it was a matter of time before he found his own release. Before your hazy mind could even process it, your body was shuttering again as you clamped tightly around his cock. Your orgasm washed over you once more, a little stronger than the last time.

You were so spent and fucked out, but Javier kept going. He was so close to his release, and he wanted to make you cum for him one more time.

"One more time, baby. C'mon, I know you got it in you." His teeth are gritted, jaw clenched and face so determined.

"Fuck, Javi, I-I can't." You cry, your breathlessness catching up to you. Your lungs were constricting and it was hard to breathe, but it burned so fucking good.

"Yes you can baby. I know it." He says, snapping his hips against yours at a relentless pace as he moved a hand down to rub swiftly over your already abused and overstimulated clit.

"Fuck!" You cried, clamping down on him once more but this time, a gush came out of you. That was enough to send Javier over the edge.

"Where do you want me?" His voice was so severely strangled that you barely understood him, and understood the fact that you only had a couple of seconds to answer him.

"Inside, please. Need you." You clawed at his back now, feeling his warmth spill into you at your words. His hips stuttered as they slowed to a halt, and both of you spent several minutes trying to catch your breaths.

He pulled out of you slowly, both of you groaning at the loss of contact. He plopped down beside you, sweat adorning both of your bodies as your chests heaved up and down.

"Fuck, Javi. That was..." You started once you controlled the raggedness of your breath.

"I'm glad." He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You both sat in silence as you propped yourself up on your elbow, tracing mindless patterns on his bare chest with your fingertips.

"I should probably head out soon." Your voice is meek once again.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd want to stay." Javier says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You hesitated for a moment, before nodding slightly. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And so you and the Agent you swore you despised just days prior to this cuddled up in his bed, not worried about the repercussions that would follow in the morning.

Not the fact that your car was still there at the office and Javier's wasn't, not the fact that you'd be wearing a button-down shirt of his that was way too big on you to work the next day, and definitely not the fact that you two were much friendlier and touchier now more than ever.

It most definitely didn't have anything to do with the fact that you both provided something to each other you haven't had in a long time—

firsts.

hehehe hope u enjoyed @cool-iguana ily :')

#pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #javier pena one shot #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #javi pena #javier pena x reader

962 notes · View notes

blackdollette · 1 year ago

Text

"tearing around in my fucking nightgown." | s. reid

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but i have it. - lana del rey

⊹₊�� synopsis: you were hardly at fault. spencer had taken a late shift, and you needed to settle your nerves somehow...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords

female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.2k

contents: spencer takes the late shift at work, masturbation, cunnilingus (flashback), no proofread

you had been tossing and turning in your disheveled bedsheets for minutes that seemed like hours.

your hair laid in a scruffy mess on your head, your silk nightgown clinging to your flesh in an awkward fashion. it was a few minutes past midnight, and because of spencer’s absence, you were beginning to lose your mind. you were somehow sweaty in the bedroom that was always just a touch too chilly, a sticky film coating your skin.

you rolled over once again with a groan, wishing that spencer hadn’t taken the night shift. you couldn’t see anything in the blackness of the bedroom, with the exception of the sparse streaks of moonlight that seeped in from the window and the monotonous flicker of the time that flickered on the small digital clock beside you, seeming to be mocking the same sensation that played in your mind.

you’d gotten so used to the feeling of spencer’s big arms cradling you to keep you warm during the night. you longed to feel his body pressing up against yours as he shifted and mumbled in response to whatever he was dreaming about.

you tossed in the sheets, stretching out your arm to grab your phone off the bedside table. honestly, you were surprised that you were able to keep yourself together for so long. you thought you were going to crack hours ago. you scrolled down your call list, landing on the name titled with a heart symbol. you clicked the call button and waited for the recipient to pick up.

the phone rang once, twice, and many more times until you went to voicemail. frustration began to coil in your gut as you tried to call back, each time resulting in the same outcome. you couldn’t begin to explain this pathetic feeling of hopelessness and desperation that had overtaken you.

you mindlessly scrolled through your old messages with him, missing him more than anything. you sat up in the bed holding your knees to your chest as you reread your texts with him. a smile tugged at your lips each time he said something corny in response to something provocative that you said.

you stumbled upon an image that he had sent you from his office. he had positioned the camera from a higher angle, capturing his leaned-back position and a sneaky hand that pulled the waistband of his trousers down just enough to give you a sneak peek of his boxer briefs. he had a cheeky little grin on his face, his fluffy hair falling in perfect tufts over his forehead. the picture seemed to be crafted by the gods, from the lighting to the slight surge of lust it filled you with. it was perfection.

you felt a familiar heat pooling in your core as the image filled your head. your breath hitched as hunger began to fill the empty void in your mind. a switch flipped inside of you quickly and your hand had already found its way to your lacy panties.

you were almost surprised at how needy you had gotten so quickly. you were practically clawing at the skimpy material of your nightgown.

your mind was flickering with images of him and you on your most intimate nights. him having you lying on your back as he pumped two fingers in and out of you, his soft words as smooth and sweet as honey…

“y-yeah, right there, spence…” you whimpered out as his slightly calloused fingertips brushed against your cervix. “oh yeah..? well… how does this feel..?” he began to curl his fingers ever so slightly, making your breath hitch as he rubbed slow circles onto your puffy clit. you rolled your hips against his hand, eager to feel him in every part of you. the simple act brought a smile onto his face, letting him know that he was doing something right.

he pressed his fingers against your bladder, making your whole body jerk. startled, he chuckled. “how does that feel?” you tried to formulate audible speech, but he began to pick up the pace, taking pleasure in the way you drooled and stammered. your pussy mimicked the lewd noises of your lips, the sticky sounds of your cunt almost too good to be true. “yeah… listen to that, baby…”

your fluids of arousal dripped along his fingers, trailing down his veiny hands. the folds of your pussy fluttered around him, greedily swallowing his digits. you pressed your legs together as that unmistakable band began to tighten in your stomach, but he pushed your legs open, letting his hand rest on your inner thigh. “c’mon, baby. i’m not done with you yet…”

you were falling apart, the rapid beating of your heart syncing with the way your cunt pulsated. a stupid little grin was plastered on spencer’s face the entire time. he loved the way he could make you go dumb for him, the way you turned into silly putty with a few pumps of his fingers. the inside of your sticky walls felt like velvety silk around his fingers.

he couldn’t take his eyes off of your puffy lips and tear-glazed eyes. to him, there was no greater pleasure than making you feel on top of the world.

you bit your lip hard, the iron tang of blood filling your mouth as he connected his lips to your cunt just as your orgasm was on the way. he flicked his tongue on your swollen pearl, mumbling mindless praises into your core.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he found the perfect rhythm between his tongue and fingers. he grabbed a handful of his hair, grinding your hips against his face. he groaned deeply into your body. “t-that’s it, honey… use me…” you shuddered each time he swirled his wet tongue across your folds.

the weaker you became, the faster he went. the room filled with the hungry sounds of the base of his hand slapping against the entrance of your hole as he fingered you at lightning speed. his chest heaved up and down, your overstimulated moans becoming louder. “o-oh my gosh, spence… i-i… i can’t take anymore..!”

his mouth was already filling with the delicious taste of your cum, but he wanted to maximize your orgasm to its fullest. he dug into you, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he buried his face into your body, not even taking a second to breathe. his tongue hungrily ran up and down your slit, making the band in your stomach snap. “s-spencer, i’m cumming..!”

you snapped back to reality from the feeling of your body convulsing around your fingers. you panted rapidly, looking down and seeing the wet, sticky mess that you created all over the bedsheets. beads of sweat rolled down your forehead as you looked around the room as if you had just woken up from a nap.

your eyes landed on the clock, reading the time. 12:48am. you sighed deeply. you hadn’t meant to get lost in the overwhelming feeling, but you just couldn’t resist it. it had almost felt as if spencer was actually there. but something good had come out of it.

you found your eyelids getting heavy with exhaustion as you slipped back under the covers, pulling the blanket over your warm body and setting your head onto your pillow. you looked at spencer’s side of the bed, taking in his absence. lifting up your head, you switched your pillow with his, setting your head back down and inhaling the heart-warming scent of him, finally being blessed with the gift of sound slumber.

author's note: i'm sick :((

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