#i want to draw angst of this so badly but i shouldn’t when i don’t even know if evil arin is real yet liahgsdhjk

[cable-salamdr]

Okay but if Arin *does* go to the evil side I need it to be for multiple (in universe) years. At the very least one season. I need him to grow older while he’s in that dark place and every time the ninja, including his old best friend, see him again he looks a little bit different. Grown a little bit taller. After that he can go back to goodness idc but I just need for a substantial passage of time between when we first get to know the kid Arin that bakes pies for dogs in ep1 and when a much older Arin with years of fighting and trauma on his back gets to maybe return to those he once called family.

[screams-in-writing]

:)

Hey, wanna see if I can make some tears happen?

Because here’s some depressing angst from a much later chapter of the fic.

FYI, it’s 1st pov Mr. Puzzles, with some Smg4, 3 and Mario cameos. No context but for the fact that Mr. Puzzles screwed up badly by making some poor decisions. Also, typed this up on the phone, but since it was flowing really well kept going; so possible typos.

-

There was something of a numbness that had fallen over me the moment my neck suddenly, and quite miraculously, no longer ached terribly as it had before. 

The enormity of what had just happened…

What had just been done, and just where it was I was now…

I could not make sense of it, even if I knew all of the pieces that had led up to this point, and it was only my fault that it had happened due to foolishly believing I could het away with one more passenger to my mind, without malicious intent for once. 

I understood why I was here, even if it hurt me more than I thought possible to know that it was because of a misunderstanding I doubted I would ever have a change to explain, or make up for. 

I’d been at rest, so I’d been within my mind when I had been forcibly (painfully) dragged back to my home world. 

As much as I didn’t want things to end between us like this, there didn’t appear to be much hope that I could get back to your world without assistance, when I still wasn’t at my best.

There were a number of things that could have been done in that moment. 

I could have done a dramatic emergence from my metal head, all dramatic flair with a showman’s smile to hide all the pain and regret and grief that had not yet had time to settle in.

I could have just come out and faced whatever consequences for my actions in my world and your adjacent one, as I figured you’d been the one to ask Smg4 to bring me back home.

A home where I would only ever be alone due to my actions that had sent me careening through the air into your world. 

I could have run; been a coward and faced nothing but loneliness and a loss to do much more than just exist, now that I wouldn’t be actively dying in another world because a man with a tv for a head shouldn’t have been able to survive there.

I chose…to do nothing. 

Attempting to do anything, whether for good or my own purpose, led me to here, so I just wouldn’t come out from my mind. If I didn’t do anything, then I wouldn’t hurt anyone, and I could be left to my misery if what could have been if I had just stopped and thought about anyone apart from myself. 

There wasn’t even a plan to have my screen turn on to face anyone who’d be there upon my rather dizzying return to this world. 

Not even that plumber’s grating voice, which normally would have had me on the defensive, did anything to draw me out of hiding.

Nothing, until there was an incessant tapping on my metal head, and with memory of the last time (dratted trash compactor and its nightmares) I reluctantly, and wearily, turned on my screen. 

Smg4 was there, standing a healthy distance away from me, while wearing a nervous expression as if expecting me to do something. 

“Ugh, great, you just had to try and talk to the tv freak.” Smg3 was a little closer, glaring at me and were it possible, bristling as if he were holding back a tirade of words and possible desire to get into a fisticuffs situation. “I could have already gone back to my cafe but no, you had to bring him back right now. My poor little Eggdog is all alone at the cafe!”

“Don’t you have any customers?” Smg4 appeared grateful for a distraction.

“Yes.” Smg3 turned his ire on the other man. “My cafe had lots of people when I had to leave there, and come here, with you.”

“Mario doesn’t think he saw anyone.” 

Ordinarily, I would have grimaced, but upon seeing that my screen was on, Mario, who, up until said screen turned on, brightened upon. “TV man! Hello! Play Mario some telletubies!”

I don’t say anything to that.

I say nothing at all.

I merely waited for one of them that wasn’t Mario to address me, already resigned, if pained, over the idea that he was likely never going to see you again. And then, Smg4 unwittingly drove that point home with a remarkably reasonable question. 

“Why did you do that?” 

I shut my screen off before any of them could see the broken expression that was about to take the place of the more weary one. When I spoke, it was soft, nearly inaudible, all bravado and spark gone. “None of you would believe me, so I won’t waste your time.”

Smg4 was quiet.

“Are you kinnfing me?” Smg3 scoffed. “Oh that’s rich. You love to hear the sound of your own voice, so why not boast about all the lousy tricks you used on someone that trusted you there.”

I…said nothing, nor did I do anything.

For all intents and purposes, I likely resembled a simple old television that was turned off.

There was some murmuring, but that wasn’t enough for me to bother to turn my screen or to even listen in as I allowed myself to drift within my mind. 

It was a cold comfort. 

Artificial.

There was no one here but myself, and the countless tvs that surrounded me, floating and doing nothing. 

Much like I, myself, was no longer doing anything. 

I didn’t even look or question way that someone had picked up my metal head and carried me along for quite some time. 

It was relaxing, in a way. 

I didn’t have to do anything, because if I did, I would only make things worse.

Everything was already such a mess.

Were I to attempt to explain myself, after what I put Smg4 and his friends through, the explanation would only be hollow words to those them; they didn’t have the whole picture, so how could they judge me without that?

…but they could.

Smg4 and the otheres already had enough to judge me for, no matter the progress I’d made in the world adjacent to this one. 

It didn’t matter that this was all a horrible cluster of connected misunderstandings, but I wasn’t a fool. 

I knew that trying to talk about what really happened in the other world with you at present wouldn’t go over well. With what I was perceived to have done, and how quickly Smg4 and 3 had been to devise a plan to wrench me from your world back to my own…it was too soon to try and mend what had clearly been broken by my own arrogance by believing that things would be just fine, and that there’d be no consequences other than a light scolding.

Perhaps I was a fool after all, to believe that I could experience one of those happy ever after endings I’d watched of so many shows. 

The long walk ended when I felt my metal head being placed in some quiet place.

As before, I didn’t bother to turn on my screen. 

I didn’t want to see where I was.

It was cold.

I could sense it distantly.

There were footsteps that receded from me, as Smg4 could be heard calling out to someone else farther away. 

He’d said nothing to be.

I thought I may have heard the sound of a door close.

That was it, then?

Nothing else was said or done to me, apart from placing me somewhere like an unwanted piece of hardware?

I wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or disappointment, but if even Smg4 had no need for any further conversation with me, then I would remain exactly where I was. 

Within my mind, I curled my body up as tightly as I could. My wrapped wrapper firmly around my legs as I tucked my long limbs up to my chest. I pressed them to my chest snugly.

A static, glitching noise slid out of me.

With a fumbling hand, I forcefully muted myself  before burying my screen into my knees. With the extra silence I tormented myself with the fact that even my mind couldn’t block out the pathetic tears I could no longer even shed.

I would stay here, in my mind, where I couldn’t bother anyone trapped in any of the channels either. 

It had been made abundantly clear, over and over, throughout everything from first finding Smg4 to being punted into your world, and all the way to now, being back here that…that…

Curling my frame up into as small as a ball as best I could with my lanky limbed body, I kept kept my face pressed to my knees despite my whole body being wracked with tremors from unalloyed the emotions battering into me at once. 

Unshed tears were witnessed by no one. 

Anguished, despairing screams of grief, anger and self-loathing were locked behind a muted voice, unheard by none but myself. 

Because even muted, I could internally hear everything in this place that I’d created within my own mind. The tv screens all around me went dim, and the vibrancy of everything in my mind dulled. 

My shoulders slumped, even as I kept my arms wrapped around my legs beneath the knees. Screen staring at nothing, I felt a squeeze within my chest I’d not felt before, as I came to a concussion I’d been avoiding for some time now. 

No one needed me.

No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, and no matter how much I attempted to understand…to try to see more than just myself and my need to meet perfection by any and all means.

I had nothing to show for it.

I was alone again.

The area around me grew dimmer than before, greying here and there in place of the vibrant colors of before. 

I just…stopped. 

Tv head and screen sagging against my knees, I made myself as small as possible while something seemed to crack and shatter into pieces within me as I finally just…stopped moving. 

Hanging suspended in my mind, my face eventually shut off while still muted, as I drifted.

It was safer for everyone that way, wasn’t it?

It was safer you and your roommates; for your whole town.

It was better for Smg4 and his crew, to not be reminded of the bad times that I’d orchestrated and been a part of toward the end of it.

It was better for both worlds if I just stayed away, and didn’t bother anyone anymore. That way, no one would have to put up with me any longer.

The channels that people were trapped within when I came here within my mind?

Gone.

I released them back to their homes, since this world would accept them and because, much like Smg4 and the others, they didn’t want nor need me. 

And you…

You…

There was a traitorous twinge in my chest, of unfamiliar grief yet bitter understanding of your actions due to my foolish assumptions and decisions I’d made so carelessly.

After all was said and done, my own arrogance and confidence led me to the same conclusion as before, despite the struggles to have it be otherwise. 

No one…

…wanted me.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Family portrait

Warnings: very heavy angst, major character death, explicit descriptions of injuries, mental breakdowns

This has to be one of the most terrible - if not the most terrible - thing I've ever written, so heed the warnings.

Special thanks to @yuzanrath for inspiring this terrible ficlet and feeding into my masochistic enjoyment of angst <3

Enjoy <3!

It’s sobering - when Wei Wuxian feels it, the haze of wrath, resentful energy and pain clears away, like fog lifted off the surface of a warming lake. 

A-Yuan’s little hand, grasping tightly at Wei Wuxian’s tattered lapels, lets go. 

The tension in the fiber disappears, all at once, and the little hand falls limply at the side of the boy’s little body.

The world goes quiet. 

Resentment stops howling as it floats around Wei Wuxian’s kneeling form, unmoving, a sheer curtain of smoke. Corpses no longer moan, their hunger for flesh paused as they stare, empty-eyed, motionless, at the scene of a man holding the small, emaciated body of a child whose life is bleeding out of him in winding, red rivulets. The gaping wound in his stomach weeps still, no matter how hard Wei Wuxian tries - has tried - to stop it, the boy’s robes and his own, stained, his long, deft fingertips bloody, lukewarm. 

The horde of cultivators has quieted down too. They stand, like statues, swords drawn, eyes wide with fury and bloodlust, spectators to a tragedy that they’ve created. It feels almost as if they’re both basking in it and disbelieving of it, a whirlwind of contradictions. 

Tears slide over Wei Wuxian’s cheeks, clear, glistening, cutting a straight, clean path through the blood stains and dirt on his face. The droplets fall over the little boy’s face, his complexion pale, eyes halfway open. If sunlight were to hit just right - if sunlight existed in the Burial Mounds like it does on the outside - it would make his irises shine as if he were still…

Wei Wuxian brings a gentle hand over the boy’s face, ignores the way his fingertips leave bloody marks their way, and leans down to leave a trembling, tearful kiss over A-Yuan’s forehead.

He whispers something into it, something that only he knows, and then, with features contorted in pain, slides a hand over his eyes, eyelids covering the lifelessness behind them. 

Carefully, he lifts the boy to his chest, cradles him as much as he is able, his own injuries limiting, and begins humming a song. 

There is a gasp in the crowd, a gasp that ends in a wounded sound - but it goes unheard. 

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes. He feels the body in his arms slowly losing more and more heat, muscles and joints soon to become rigid. He misses the warmth of the little breath against his chest, the hold of little fingers on the ends of his hair, the seams of his clothes…

“Xian-gege, I wanna be just like you when I grow up!” He declares, a steely expression on his face as he lifts a discarded Chenqing over his head with determination - and both of his tiny arms. 

They’re both hanging out in Wei Wuxian’s cave, one working on inventions, the other drawing on paper as if to imitate him. A-Yuan usually sleeps in his granny’s shack, but his nightmares have become worse, resentful energy having taken a twisted liking to him - and Wei Wuxian is the only one that can help him through it. 

Wei Wuxian can’t help a laugh, taking the flute from the boy’s hand before he drops it.

“You shouldn’t be like me, A-Yuan.”

“But I want to!”

Wei Wuxian tries to suppress the flurry of emotions ready to spill from his eyes. He puts his brush and talisman paper away, and opens his arms for the little boy to crawl there.

His eyes light up, and he jumps into his favorite spot, nuzzling into Wei Wuxian’s robes like a kitten. 

Wei Wuxian ignores the way his badly healed fractures ache with protest at the sudden impact, and instead holds A-Yuan close, carding a hand through his hair. 

“A-Yuan, you shouldn’t be like me. You should just be like you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” And he kisses the top of the boy’s head. “But you have a whole lifetime to figure it out.”

“Will you help me too?”

“As long as I’m able, little radish…” 

He had imagined he would die before A-Yuan did - just like all parents do. They all imagine their children will outlive them, as it is natural for them to. They’ll grow up while their parents grow old… 

But Wei Wuxian isn’t like everybody else. A-Yuan isn’t either.

That’s what the rest of the world has decided, that’s why the order of things has been reversed. That’s why Wei Wuxian is holding the dead body of a child, that’s why he’s had to helplessly watch life drain out of his innocent eyes. 

What good is he, if he couldn’t even protect a child? 

The Yiling Patriarch? Who’s that? Who could be so afraid of somebody so useless? What’s the point - the point of everything - if none of it could save the one untainted thing living in these cursed, wretched lands?

“Such is the fate the wretched Wens deserve!” a voice in the crowd declares, disgust and satisfaction dripping into every syllable,  “Their young must be slaughtered like cattle-”

The voice dies into a gargle, a spike of resentful energy having torn through its inhabiting body, materialized from deep within the ground. The body flails, in the air, before resentful energy rushes to rip at it until nothing is left - everybody watching in fascinated terror as it happens.

Silence befalls the cultivators again. The static smoke of resentful energy has begun moving again, slowly, circling the crowd, then increasingly faster, tearing through the groups with unbridled rage. 

But it is silent. 

Only the screams of its victims echo through the Burial Mounds now. 

Wei Wuxian doesn’t hear them. 

He’s rocking the body of his child, singing to it, apologizing to it as if it would ever respond, as if it would ever matter. 

“Wei Ying…” 

A step, unstable, unsure. 

“Wei Ying…!”

Another step, even heavier than the last.

When he’s about to take the third step, red, tearful eyes fixate him from under long, dark strands of hair. He doubts they’re seeing him. 

“Wei Ying, I…”

Resentful energy howls, deafeningly, in his ears, as it circles him. 

Go away! Go die! What have you done?! Look what you’ve done! Monsters! Monsters! You will die! You deserve to die! 

“Wei Ying!”

He doesn’t know whether he’s screaming in pain, resentful energy tearing at his already marred skin, or to snap Wei Wuxian out of his trance, but it escapes him before he thinks about it, loud and desperate - and resentment leaves him, whispering threats and protests. 

Wei Wuxian stares, afraid, confused, shocked, at the man in front of him. 

“Lan… Zhan…”

Lan Wangji feels relief hearing his name out of the others’ mouth, but it’s short lived. His eyes fall onto the little body in Wei Wuxian’s arms, and anguish crosses his features as his vision blurs with tears. 

“Wei Ying…”

It’s only a short distance away, but Lan Wangji can’t stand up anymore, his body weak and hurting, so he crawls towards the two, ignoring the protests of his back against the effort. 

He sees, from up close, how hard Wei Wuxian is shaking, his veins swollen dark with resentful energy, crying soundlessly as he holds A-Yuan. 

Lan Wangji looks at the boy, a peaceful expression on his face, as if he was sleeping. The boy he gifted toys to, the boy that, lost in the markets, called him father. The boy that bore sins that were not his own and that paid dues he had not even be alive for. 

“They killed him, Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian whispers, tightening his hold on the cold body. “He was on his own...crying… I didn’t know…” 

“It’s not your fault, Wei Ying…” and he reaches to touch A-Yuan’s cold cheek, wet with Wei Wuxian’s tears. “It’s not your fault…” 

“I watched him die, Lan Zhan… That’s all I could do…”

Lan Wangji tentatively reaches to wrap an arm around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, worries it might scare him away - but Wei Wuxian leans into the touch, into him, his eyes never leaving A-Yuan. He's shaking even more now, resentment crawling up his body, but never touching A-Yuan's corpse.

“I want to kill them all, Lan Zhan…”

Lan Wangji holds him, tightly, lips against his temple, “Kill them, Wei Ying." The weight of Bichen on his hip feels unbearable, and he discards of it, resentful energy wrapping around it curiously, as if taken aback by the lack of resistance. "All of them.”

Wei Wuxian wishes he still had it in him to question this - Lan Wangji, of all people… he would never agree to this, he would never encourage it…

Has he rescinded Bichen? Or is the sword spirit... does it accept this? Does it want to be used for such a purpose...?

But none of this matters anymore. Neither Wei Wuxian, nor Lan Wangji are the same people now. No parents are the same after their child dies. Empty, meaningless.

Resentful energy dances into the air as if rejoicing. 

Wei Wuxian’s eyes glow red, and he lifts one of his hands in the air, holding the stygian tiger amulet like bait. 

Wisps of resentment gather to it quickly, knocking into each other, weaving around it, around themselves. Expectant.

“Feast.”

The Burial Mounds rattle, a formidable earthquake splitting the earth open, ancient corpses rising to the order. 

In the cacophony of anguished screams and moaning corpses, storming resentment and blood rivers, a family stays, united, broken, untouched by it all as they hold one another. 

Hold one another and sing. 

–

Nobody comes out alive out of the Burial Mounds. 

The siege is never spoken of again.

The boundary has never been crossed since.

[angstyaches]

apologies if this is a mischaracterization of him, but "9: a whiny, "Ugh, my tummy hurts..." followed by a huge belch" feels very Charlie-core to me 👀

Ah, the boys 🖤

Word Count: 3,000ish

CW: Shayne's disordered eating and food hang-ups, hunger pains, dizzy/weakness, slight angst but mostly fluff.

___

“Oh, and Charlie!” Ingrid’s voice called out from behind them, all the way back in the kitchen. “Char?”

“Keep walking.” Charlie’s hand closed around Shayne’s arm, tugging him through the doorway and onto the front porch. “Pretend we don’t hear her.”

Shayne frowned. “What?”

“She’s about to tell us five hundred things she needs us to get in the shop. Keep walking.”

As much as he relished catching glimpses of Charlie’s more despicable side, Shayne found it physically difficult not to turn around and wait for whatever Ingrid was going to say. Even when it wasn’t specifically his name she was calling.

In the end, he didn’t have to. As Charlie was unlocking the car, the front door of the house opened again, and Ingrid padded out onto the porch in her fluffy pink slippers.

“Charlie!” she called out, with no idea that her son was purposefully ignoring her.

Charlie’s gaze caught Shayne’s over the bonnet of the car. “Yes, Mum?”

“I need you to pick up some cornflakes, an air freshener for the bathroom – the lavender one, alright? Not the lilac – and some of those…” Ingrid made a gesture through the air, beginning with her fingertips joined and then drawing them apart. “Those long toothpicks.”

Shayne shrugged slowly as Ingrid glanced at him.

“Skewers,” Charlie sighed.

“Skewers.” Ingrid threw Shayne a smile. “Can you boys remember all of that?”

“Yes,” Shayne said.

She blew them a kiss as they climbed into the car. Charlie huffed while he turned on the engine, but Shayne could tell that his boyfriend was clenching his teeth.

He watched in amused disbelief as Charlie reserved Trevor’s car out of the driveway and straightened it up in the direction of the supermarket.

“What?” Charlie asked, double-glancing at Shayne.

“Why are you mad? We’re going to the shop anyway.”

“Yeah, but if she needs that stuff so badly, why couldn’t she go herself?”

“Because… we’re going anyway?”

“That’s not the point,” Charlie said. “Anyway, sorry. Bad mood gone. Hey.”

“Hey,” Shayne said, stomach fluttering. They’d been reunited for about an hour and a half now, but so far, they'd been with Trevor and Ingrid. He wondered if Charlie was also thinking about pulling the car over so they could have a proper hug and maybe a kiss. Wondered if he should suggest it. But no. If Charlie wasn’t suggesting it, he definitely shouldn’t be suggesting it.

The drive to the supermarket was painfully short anyway, considering that the destination was, well, the supermarket. Shayne had been so preoccupied with the thought of being alone in the car with Charlie that he hadn’t given much thought to it, but as soon as its glowing lights and obnoxiously large signage came into view, it felt as though he had absorbed the bad mood that Charlie had so proudly cast off.

“Why do we even need snacks?” Shayne pushed his hands into his pockets as the glare of the supermarket got closer.

He glanced over at Charlie as they walked, probably looking far more anxious than anyone walking into a supermarket had the right to. He could have stayed in the car and waited for Charlie to come back, but he’d missed him, and didn’t want to be separated from him already. He was itching to hold hands, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk getting any extra attention from everyone else.

“What do you mean? Snacks are life!”

Shayne blinked, unsure of what other answer he’d been expecting.

“And I’ve barely eaten today!” Charlie threw Shayne a pointed look. “And I bet you haven’t either. You don’t even have to tell me.”

Shayne returned Charlie’s loaded look with a blank one. Spending most of the day without eating, unsurprisingly, affected Charlie a lot more than it did him, but pointing that out was never a good idea.

“But your parents are… making dinner,” Shayne pointed out instead, using the lowest voice he could manage. Ingrid had gone into great detail about the fajitas they were making, double- and triple-checking that Shayne would be okay with the spice level they'd picked out. At this very second, in fact, she and Trevor would be getting ready to serve them up, with the intention of some of them going in Shayne’s mouth, and the thought made him want to dissolve out of existence.

“Aw, lovely. This has nothing to do with dinner. Snacks perform a completely different task,” Charlie said. “Snacks fill a completely different void. You ever heard of the expression ‘dessert stomach’?”

“No?” Shayne said, resisting the urge to add that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear of it. He was relieved, however, as Charlie reached over to him and linked their fingers together.

“It’s a phrase people use for when they’re already full but really want dessert. Like they have a whole extra stomach where they can fit dessert,” Charlie grinned. Clearly, this was a concept that delighted him as much as it made Shayne want to crawl into a hole and disappear. “Well, I have a theory that after the regular stomach and the dessert stomach, there’s also a snack void.”

“A snack void,” Shayne repeated numbly.

“Yep.”

“Which means…”

“Which means that no matter how much dinner or how much dessert you eat –” Charlie planted a hand on his belly, one eye twinkling under the glow of the inside lights while the other was shaded by his own face. “There’s still infinite space for snacks. A snack void.”

Shayne raised an eyebrow and glanced to the side, on the lookout for anyone nearby who might be perceiving them. At least he could be thankful that Charlie was rubbing his own stomach, and hadn’t decided to demonstrate using Shayne’s.

“Why… Why do I go out with you in public again?”

“Because you love me,” Charlie hummed, scooping his free arm around Shayne’s waist for a moment as they passed through the automatic doors and into the shop. The palm of his hand briefly grazed Shayne’s stomach as he let go, and Shayne felt an unexpectedly pleasant flicker in his chest.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, tightening his grip on Charlie’s hand. “I suppose you want a basket?”

Charlie scoffed. “Don’t say that with so much disgust! Yes, I want a basket. In fact, let’s get a trolley. I’m feeling lazy.”

___

“Oh, my god, the roast chicken smells so good,” Charlie whispered as they rounded the top of the aisle, bringing the trolley within sight – and scent – of the hot food counter. “I can’t wait for dinner.”

“Mmm,” Shayne said half-heartedly. He didn’t like lingering on the thought of eating the Waters’ food, but he didn’t like glossing over his gratitude to them, either. He felt the need to hold Charlie’s hand again, but Charlie was preoccupied with pushing the trolley.

“God damn it, I’m about to spend way too much money,” Charlie grumbled. They had just turned down the snack aisle, and he was already tossing two tubes of Pringles into the trolley. “This is why they say you shouldn’t shop when you’re hungry.”

“Mmm.”

Charlie looked up at a can that was still on the shelf, and tapped on the round face of the Pringles mascot with one finger. “Mr. Pringle knows what he’s about. Ooh – I wonder if he knows about the snack void. Wonder if he knows it’s been keeping him in business all these years.”

Not for you. Shayne felt a shiver down the back of his neck when he looked too closely at any of the brands on the shelf, so he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, glancing up just frequently enough to avoid looking too awkward. Not for you, not for –

“Lovely?”

Shayne’s head whipped towards Charlie.

“Are you okay?”

Shayne nodded.

Charlie was holding two brightly-coloured packets in his hands. “So, they have sour cola bottles and sour strawberries. Which do you prefer? This feels like something I should already know, I’m sorry…”

Shayne felt an almost painful tingling in his cheeks as he tried to consider Charlie’s question. He swallowed, dreading that he was about to start spouting saliva like he did when he was on a demon’s trail…

A shiver of cold went down the back of his neck, and he swore he heard a sharp, familiar intake of breath –

“Should we just get both?” Charlie shrugged, already gesturing as though to throw both packets into the trolley. “Let’s get both.”

Shayne turned his face away from Charlie and swallowed again. There was a woman at the other side of the aisle, reading the back of a box of cookies. Further down, a couple with a toddler were pointing at chocolate bars and placing a few of them in their basket.

With a flash of panic, Shayne wondered if there was any way these people could tell that his mouth had just started watering at a sealed packet of sweets.

They’re not even looking at you, he screamed inside his head, but it felt like screaming into a void.

“Hey.” Charlie touched the side of Shayne’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“Was I too pushy about the jellies? I’m so ready for dinner at this point, so I think I’m getting a bit impatient.”

Shayne shook his head. “You weren’t pushy, Charlie. I promise.”

“Really?” Charlie’s elbows were resting on the handle of the trolley, and he was looking up at Shayne for a change. “Well, you’ve got that look in your eyes. What are you thinking about?”

Shayne swallowed. “It… probably wouldn’t make sense to you.”

Charlie smiled as he straightened himself just slightly, and started to slowly move the trolley forward with his elbows. “It might still help to say it out loud.”

“I just… I can’t believe so many people are in here, picking out food, in public.” Shayne put a hand against the side of the trolley, partially to help steer it away from the shelves, but partially because touching it while Charlie leaned into it felt a little like holding Charlie’s hand. “Like, they know everyone can see them. They know everyone knows they’re thinking about eating that food, and they just… They don’t care? That doesn’t make them so embarrassed they could just melt into the fucking floor?”

Charlie looked up with a signature expression that used to mean we need to send you to therapy, but which now meant thank fuck you’re in therapy.

“It’s… just stressing me out a little bit.”

“A little bit? You’ve been popping your jaw non-stop since we came in.”

“No, I haven’t.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

“No, I fucking haven’t.”

“You don’t even notice you’re doing it anymore?”

Shayne shrugged.

At the end of the aisle, Charlie planted his feet in place. Shayne felt the trolley resisting his pull, and turned around to see his boyfriend’s blonde hair sticking out over his forearms, face buried next to the handlebar.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

Charlie heaved his head up a couple of inches. “I… don’t really feel good all of a sudden.”

Shayne’s heart twisted harshly. He kept the trolley steady with one hand, in case Charlie slumped forward and ended up on his face on the floor, but with the other hand, he cupped the exposed back of Charlie’s neck. He didn’t feel particularly hot, or clammy.

“What…” Stay calm, stay fucking calm. “What feels bad?”

“Everything,” Charlie groaned rather unhelpfully, and Shayne had to fight not to roll his eyes.

“Do you want to just leave everything and get out of here?” Shayne was fully prepared to abandon the trolley in the middle of the aisle if Charlie needed them to.

“Are you crazy?” came a weak protest as Charlie lifted his head. His eyes were delicately shut, as though scrunching his face up at all might upset some unseen balancing act he was performing. “Have I taught you nothing? Snacks are life.”

“Yeah, snacks are life, snack void, etc.,” Shayne agreed, sighing as he slid his hands onto the handlebar. If Charlie was well enough to complain about having no snacks, he was probably well enough to make it to the till and to the car.

___

As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, Charlie lowered his head to the top of the steering wheel. He let out a pinched, drawn-out whine.

Shayne shifted helplessly in his own seat.

Was he coming down with a migraine? Shayne’s own head was spinning slightly from coming out of the harsh overhead lights, so it was possible, if not inevitable.

“Shit,” he whispered. He reached for the back of Charlie’s head again. Considering massaging the back of his neck. Settled for running his fingers below the hairline. “Love, do you have your medicine with you? Are they – are they in your backpack?”

He was ready to get out of the car to retrieve the meds from the back seat; he could even go back into the supermarket and buy something from the freezer to put on the back of Charlie’s neck to relieve the pain –

But before he’d even gotten his seatbelt off, Charlie groaned and shook his head.

“It’s not my head, lovely. Just… I think I just need to eat.”

Shayne blinked, his brain still bogged down by the migraine-relief plan even as Charlie sat back in the driver’s seat, pressing a hand to his belly. Shit. He had mentioned not eating much that day, and Shayne had stupidly brushed it off as unimportant.

“Ugh, my tummy hurts, I –”

A long, strained belch interrupted Charlie mid-whine. His eyes widened as though he were as surprised as anybody, and although he lifted a hand to cover his mouth, he did so after the fact, as though he could grab the sound out of the air and push it back in.

“Oops,” he mumbled behind his palm.

For some reason, Shayne felt the need to look towards the dashboard instead of continuing to look at Charlie’s face. He reached across the seats and felt for the pouch of soft, puckered fabric where Charlie’s hoodie sat against his stomach. Almost immediately, he felt Charlie’s hand on top of his, pressing it into place.

Shayne cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“Mmm.” Shayne couldn’t tell if Charlie was responding yes, or just groaning out of pain. Or relief. Or something else.

“Hungry…?”

“Hungry,” Charlie agreed, dragging Shayne’s hand lightly back and forth. “It feels a little better after that burp, though.”

“I… would imagine so.” Shayne frowned as Charlie reached for his seatbelt. “Are you going to be okay to drive?”

“It’s just a few minutes.”

Shayne didn’t like it, but without knowing how to drive himself, he didn’t have any other solutions to offer. “Okay.”

They were about to pull out of the supermarket car park when Charlie’s phone, nestled in the mounted stand below the dashboard, lit up, displaying the word ‘The Mother’ and a photo of Ingrid in a paper Christmas hat.

“What did she forget?” Charlie mumbled.

Shayne glanced at Charlie’s face and started raising a hand towards the mounted phone.

“No, no, no, don’t answer it.” Charlie took one hand from the wheel to gently nudge Shayne’s back. “We’re on our way home. We’re not going back in.”

Every second that passed without one of them tapping the green icon felt like sandpaper on Shayne’s skin, but he folded his arms and looked out the passenger side window. It was both a relief and a worry when the phone’s buzzing fell into silence.

“Charlie.”

“Yeah, lovely?”

“Are you mad at your mum?”

“No, I just – I mean, yeah, maybe. A little bit.” Charlie sighed. “She… Earlier, the way she was talking to you about dinner –”

Shayne’s heart sank. This was his fault.

“I’ve tried telling her that she needs to be a bit more… tactful about these things, but it’s like she either doesn’t listen to me, or it all just goes out of her head the second you’re in front of her, and it just – it’s frustrating, you know? It doesn’t seem to be that hard for Dad…”

Shayne’s throat tightened. Trevor didn’t unintentionally trigger him because Trevor steered clear of so many topics that it felt like they’d barely spoken to each other the past few visits. Ingrid was bound to stumble into tricky territory, given how much effort she made to make Shayne feel included.

“Love, that’s… that’s my shit to deal with.” Shayne swallowed. His stomach, like every single one of his emotions, was tangled up with gratitude and self-hatred. “I don’t expect other people to make it their shit to deal with.”

Charlie opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He looked pale and miserable and utterly lost, and Shayne hated that he had contributed to that in any way, just by existing, just by being in his life, just by insisting that he love him and want to keep him close –

“I’m sorry I’m…” Stop. Shayne shook his head at himself, fighting against the voice that told him he was a burden. Dug through the sick feeling in his stomach until he found that flicker of warmth. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

“You’re welcome.” In the scarlet glow of a traffic light, Charlie turned his head and half-smiled. “I’ll ease up on Mum, if that’s what you want. I think I’m especially cranky right now because I’m hungry.”

“That’s fine,” Shayne breathed. He had done much, much worse than ignore a phone call while his mood was being infected with hunger. “I have a question.”

“Mmm?”

“Does everybody have a snack void,” Shayne asked, “or do you have to be, like, some kind of super-elite person to have one?”

“Oh,” Charlie whispered, turning his eyes back to the road as the light turned green. “Interesting…”

[m1d-45]

Okay uh. More angst for ya today!

Kaeya doesn't leave his house for a few days, and someone (probably Jean) goes to check on him, only to find him passed out with several empty wine bottles around him. Jean sighs, and asks Diluc to take his brother to the winery so he wouldn't be alone.

This backfires. Badly. When Kaeya wakes up and realizes where he is, he cries. He feels like he's being punished even more because of the memories associated with the winery. He cries, and hides... until Diluc and Creator come in.

Diluc swallows his pride, and Creator feels heartbroken. Both move to hold Kaeya, holding him close as the cavalry captain cries and apologizes over and over.

...I might draw this. -sibling anon

oh…. you’re so right…..

spoilers for kaeya + diluc lore

diluc taking kaeya to the manor for his own safety, kaeya waking up still drunk and in a bit of a daze, confused as to what’s going on even as diluc drops him in his bed.

“i don’t want you to die,” he says when kaeya asks why he’s here. “i… i do still care for you.”

and kaeya lies there as he leaves, looking around the room and taking in as much as he can. it’s so accurate, down to the shoes in the closet and the book on the nightstand….. he can almost…. he can almost believe it’s real.

maybe he’s sick, days of overwork, exhaustion, and he’s probably not eating as well as he should. a diet of wine and the occasional meal noelle brings him combined with his naturally low temperature… maybe adelinde checks in on him, noticing hes fallen asleep with his eyepatch in again and reaching for it it, her hand brushing against his forehead. she thinks over his behavior, how much at risk it put him for illness…

she tells diluc immediately, of course, who sends a letter to you just as fast. he knows how much you care for his brother, and if he’s being honest… he kind of hopes you’ll come back and knock some sense into him. seeing kaeya like this—feverish and ill, wasting away, probably more alcohol than water in his system, knowing that you’ve forgiven him and that this punishment is self-inflicted…

diluc doesn’t like it. he hates it, in fact, and almost wishes for the time when he’d stroll into angel’s share with a winning smile and ask for a round.

kaeya, as careless as he seems, isn’t stupid. when he wakes up, feels a headache beating at his head, the fog over his mind, he knows he’s ill. he slides his legs off the bed, sitting up with a wince, and blinks as he realizes where he is.

his room at the manor.

waves of nostalgia and guilt wash over him, tears springing to his eyes. he reaches up to wipe them away—somebody’s removed his gloves, his spiked bracelets—and finds that his eyepatch is gone, tears fall freely from both of his eyes and he simultaneously feels more exposed and more at ease.

a memory surfaces from the fog, of diluc pulling the chair from his table and holding him up as he removed it. he’d let him lean on him, removing his scarf and cape and helping him fumble off his boots.

“i’m sorry,” he’d tried to mumble, but diluc stopped the words a mile away with a shake of his head.

“we can talk about this later. for now, just… just rest, kaeya.”

more tears rose to his eyes. how foolish his feverish mind was, assuming diluc would want a brother that had betrayed him so. how traitorous, to try and twist the world into one that ended up with somebody as sinful as him being loved.

when the door opens, he rushes to try and compose himself—don’t cry, stop crying, they’ll think you’re manipulating them again—and covers his eye with his hand, looking up.

he expects adelinde. elzer, maybe, or another of the staff. diluc, if he’s particularly lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. but you…

the light from the hallway behind you makes you look like an angel, he thinks.

the concern with which you call his name cements the idea.

but you shouldn’t care for him. and he shouldn’t want you to. no, no, he needs to get his mind together. he needs to stop warping your image to fit his selfishness, he- he-

“it’s okay.” he almost hopes that he’s hallucinating from illness so he doesn’t have to face the idea that even after all this, you could care for someone like him.

when your hand lands in his hair, moving his fingers from where they’d been digging into his scalp, the fragile ties over his composure snap.

the facade of the cavalry captain falls apart and shatters on his bedroom floor, the equally as broken man behind it crumbling. watery apologies and pleads slip out between his sobs, and he leans into you when you move to sit beside him. his emotions are inflamed by wine and fever, his thoughts a twist of regret and damnation.

the bed dips again, a familiar hand warmed by pyro landing on his shoulder.

“you’re alright,” his brother says.

“it’ll be okay,” his god soothes.

between the two people he loves, kaeya cries. blessed as he is, the two of them are there to pick up the pieces.

[zoropookie]

Maybe not so funny but fun fact, I also get distracted from a lot of things very often but mostly drawing and writing annoys me because I really want to do them. I had like 4 Scaramouche x reader fic ideas (two were smau surprisingly) but when I think of writing I suddenly remember I didn't check if my favourite artist uploaded anything or if you sent anything etc and now I'm wondering what I was going to do while staring at the Wikipedia page for a type of fungi. Also another problem for me is that I literally can't write dialogue, can't do fun conversations and can't for shit write angst either it feels like extra dramatic bad acting badly dubbed cheap series on the tv.

I did at some point think of writing an enemies to lovers ScaraYn smau as well but yeah like I said, can't use fancy words or write for shit despite being an English department student at my country so be proud of yourself pookie you're smt like an inspiration figure to me rn you're updating quite regularly so don't pressure yourself <3

-🌻anon

🥹 you shouldn’t doubt yourself like that. i think that the main reason i even know how to do stuff like this is because i based my entire personality off my favorite movies and comedians lmaooo. you just have to find a healthy medium and really get into the writing of your story, which is a really hard step for many people.

personally, i like to make up conversations in my head before i even jot them down because then it gives me a sense of what i’m going to talk about— real mental illness when you think abt it but it benefits you. you don’t need to use fancy words to story tell, it’s primarily what you’re writing about that intrigues people and leaves them curious. only a few people know about my bts phase where i wrote the worst fanfic known to man but people still liked it because i made one of them die 😭 just keep doing it! the best part about it is that people are very accepting 99% of the time so just pull smth out of your ass! be vicarious!

i really appreciate you being here, and i hope you find a lot of comfort in this. if you ever write something, you should show me!

[beautifulbows924]

The Dating Problem

Steven Grant x Gender Neutral!Teacher Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I wasn’t going to write more for this until the second episode came out, but I just couldn’t help it. Remember requests are now open for Steven Grant! As always, I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave any feedback:) And should I make a third part to this with some smut maybe? Let me know what you think!

Word Count: 1.5K+

Warnings: Fluff, No spoilers, General awkwardness, the tiniest bit of angst if you squint (at least in regards to how Steven thinks of himself), Sexual innuendos, Implied future sexual situations.

This is part 2 of this fic, Awkward Beginnings, but could technically be read as a standalone oneshot!

“Steven, Steven!”, you exclaimed quietly, trying to get his attention without drawing anyone else’s. You knew he’d be more nervous with the eyes of others watching you.

You finally caught his gaze and gestured to the bookshop across the street, raising an eyebrow in question.

He nodded, walking to you and tripping over his own feet in the process. You stifled a giggle, as he steadied himself like a tightrope walker would on a highline. Steven was nothing if not clumsy, but it was endearing. He had many quirks as you had come to know over the last few weeks. You talked almost everyday. Except for a few, where he didn’t text you at all.

He didn’t seem to have an explanation for that, but you let it go.

You worried about him quite a bit. He would show up to dates looking like he hadn’t slept in weeks. And even now, underneath the dim light of the street lamps, you could see the rings around his eyes.

“Are you okay?”, you asked, seeing his disheveled appearance, “do we need to reschedule?”.

“No!”, he yelled, startling you. You took a step back to give him space in case he needed it. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh, “What I meant to say was that I’m fine, really. I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night”.

He moved tentatively towards you, reaching a hand out to clasp yours, squeezing it reassuringly. He didn’t want to scare you again. “I’m sorry for startling you”, he said softly, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“It’s alright, Steven”, you said, responding with your own squeeze of his hand, “Are you ready?”.

He nodded again, smiling at you.

You return to this bookshop almost every weekend. And you always enjoy your time with him, so much so, you wish the night would never end.

You talk about your students and what they’re learning, and he tells you about his time at the museum, including any new exhibits that are set to open soon. Sometimes, he even tells you about the strange dreams he has and how they scare him. You tell him that they’re only dreams and you wish you could sleep next to him to make him feel better when he wakes up scared.

That’s the one thing though- he never talks about his apartment, except for his pet goldfish Gus. You figure he doesn’t want to invite you there for whatever reason, so you don’t push him on the matter. You’ve invited him to spend the night with you, but he’s turned that down everytime too.

He’s pursuing the history section, when you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He yelps in surprise until he realizes it’s just you. You laugh a bit before asking him what he’s looking for. There’s your laugh again, he still can’t get enough of it.

Steven so badly wants to invite you home with him, but he can’t push away the thoughts that he shouldn’t. What if you think he’s weird? His bedtime rituals are pretty unusual.

“What about this one?”, you ask, holding up a book on Egyptian gods. He scans your appearance. You look so nice today, he notices.

He ignores your question but takes the book from you and sets it on the ground. You look at him curiously, but you have barely any time to prepare before his lips are on yours.

He’s more experienced than you thought he would be, but you can still tell he’s asking for your permission to take it any further. You deepen the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck pulling him even closer. He runs his hands over your arms and back until they rest softly on your waist.

He pulls away slowly, accessing the expression on your face. You give him a wide smile, “That was unexpected, what was that for?”.

He blushes, looking down and away from you, eyes closing tightly. Not able to meet your gaze anymore.

You reach for his face, lifting it up to look at you, “Hey, it’s just me”, you say softly.

And he thinks his heart melts right there.

His eyes soften, “I know, I’m just not used to this”, he gestures between the two of you, “I’ve never made it this far before and I don’t know where to go from here”.

You take his hands in yours, “That’s okay”, you say, “We’ll just see where things end up. No pressure, Steven”. You kiss his lips quickly, causing him to blush again.

He bends down to pick up the book, so he can steady his breathing, but you’re still talking and his breath hitches in his throat. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise”, you say.

He stands back up and contemplates his next words, while you continue your search for the books he told you about.

“Would you-”, his voice wavers, “I mean—would you like to come to my apartment tonight?”, he asks, a hopeful expression on his face.

“Of course I would”, you smile again, “Are you ready to go?”.

After checking out, he takes his hand in yours and leads you to his apartment. It’s surprising to you that it’s not too far from the bookshop you both frequent.

“I’m sorry if things are a bit of a mess”, he says, before he starts opening the door.

“I’m not worried about it, I’m sure it’s fine”, you dismiss him.

He grimaces as he steps through the door, light illuminating the place.

You look around and smile when you find Gus in his tank, exactly how you pictured him. You let go of his hand to go interact with the fish and—

Steven can’t remember what he was so worried about.

He can feel himself falling in love with you. Your kindness, your intelligence, how sweet you are to him. You’d never judge him and he can feel it so deeply it almost hurts.

You smile at him, looking up from where you were talking to Gus, noticing that unreadable expression on his face again.

“What are you thinking about?”, you ask him, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Just you”, he says, quicker and more honest than he or you expected him to. And now it’s your turn to be embarrassed as you cover your face with your hands.

You shake your head, laughing lightly before walking back over to him. “I’m glad you invited me”.

“I’m glad you wanted to come”, he responds, thinking of how to phrase what he wants to ask you.

“So”, he says with a long pause, “Would you want to spend the night?”.

“I thought you’d never ask”.

“Is that a yes?”, he asks, nervous again.

“Yes”, you laugh, “but I’m stealing some of your clothes. It’s way too hot to be wearing all of this”.

He nods, thinking about how you’d look in his clothes. Would they be too big on you? Just right? However they fit, he knew he couldn’t wait to see you in them.

“But first why don’t you give me the tour”.

He smiles, he hasn’t had the chance to show off his apartment since he first got the place.

The last stop on your tour is his bedroom area and as soon as he gets close he remembers what it was he didn’t want you to see.

You access his apartment with an open mind and no judgement, it’s a lot like him actually. A bit messy, but sweet.

When you get to the foot of his bed, your eyes flicker over to the restraints tied to it. Your eyebrows raised in surprise, “Is there a full moon tonight?”, you ask, humour lacing your tone, “or should I be prepared to not be able to walk in the morning?”.

You can see Steven out of the corner of your eye trying to form a response, but his mouth just opens and closes a bit like Gus, “It’s not- It’s- for me”.

“Well that makes sense, I always suspected you were a sub”, you tease.

“No—that’s not what I meant. I mean that it’s for me when I sleep”, another eyebrow raise, “This is coming out all wrong. I mean that I sleep walk sometimes so I use them to keep me in bed”, he rushes out, biting his lip to stop himself from over-explaining anymore.

You walk over to him, smiling at him reassuringly again, “Okay”.

“Just okay?”, he asks.

“I mean what did you think I was going to do—run out the door and never come back?”.

He scratches the back of his neck, “Well… yeah, pretty much”.

You shake your head, “You’re going to have to do a lot more than just ankle restraints to make me run away from you”.

“I really do like you Steven”.

“I really like you too”, he says, his hand moving to cup your face, caressing it softly with his thumb.

“Also, I have a few ideas on how we can use those restraints tonight if you’re up for it?”, you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

And this time, he laughs.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged or un-tagged down below <3

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[saynotoshityouhate]

For Science Ch. 5

Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4

Words: 1781

Tags: angst, love, neediness, bathtub sex, he’s too big but (spoiler) we make it work.

It had been three days. Three long, agonizing days since Bruce slammed the front door and ran away. Yesterday he sent a text, asking if he could come home. Seeing his name light up your screen made your heart jump, so happy to know he was safe and coming back to you. You responded with an enthusiastic yes.

He’d never left like this before - you’d never had a fight or had a moment where his emotions took over so badly. Of course you’d welcome him back, you’d never worried he would hurt you. Not anymore - not since he’d found this new happy medium between his two personas. Bruce clearly wasn’t as confident.

It was hard having him gone for those first few days of your new job at the university, and you’d wished he’d been there to laugh at some of the silly mistakes you had made. His bellowing chuckles were some of your favorite noises in the world.

Pulling up the driveway after classes were through, you saw Bruce’s car parked back in its normal place. Your stomach flipped, unsure what to expect, although you were mostly excited to see him.

You quietly opened the back door, walking into the kitchen. Taking off your heels, you heard soft, muffled classical music and smelled lavender and citrus. You smiled, heading straight to the master bath. The door was cracked open slightly, and you could see the warm glow of candles dancing across the shiny tile walls.

You knocked quietly on the door and pushed it open gently, just enough to stick your head inside. “Bruce?”

Bruce’s head was resting against the cool tile behind him, his eyes closed and his breathing regular. He must have just fallen asleep, his large frame filling most of the oversized jacuzzi tub. “Bruce?” You whispered again, awakening him from his dream. His warm eyes met yours, taking a moment to focus and register that you were really there. “Y/N, I -“ Bruce rested his hands on the side of the tub, beginning to push himself up to greet you. “No, no - stay there, you look so peaceful.” You nervously played with the hem of your untucked blouse.

“May I?” You lifted your hands to the top buttons of your blouse, pausing for Bruce’s approval. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he nodded, adjusting his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose. You proceeded in unbuttoning your crisp white shirt, setting it off to the side. Your back was turned to the submerged Bruce, but you knew the slight shimmy of your hips as you stepped out of your skirt and panties would excite him.

You backed yourself over to the edge of the tub, presenting your back to Bruce. He loved unclasping your bra for you. He took pride in being able to do it with just a flick of his finger, and seeing the tension leave your back and shoulders filled him with warmth. You moved the straps down your shoulders and dropped it to the floor, reveling in the ease of domestic life with Bruce - even in this uncomfortable silence.

Lowering yourself into the bubbles across from him, you sighed. The last few days had been hard on you, you were worried about Bruce, had started your new job, and had been brainstorming on ways to reverse your boyfriend’s physical predicament. You stretched your legs out in front of you, resting them against Bruce’s thighs. He took one foot in his large hand, rubbing the arch with gentle pressure. Your eyes fluttered closed at the wonderful release.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry for how I reacted.” Bruce’s eyes were cast downwards in shame. “I was so upset with myself, I didn’t want to risk anything happening…” You interrupted him. “No, I overreacted. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just happy you’re back.” You poked him with your other foot, asking him to do the same magic there as well.

“Where did you go?” You asked timidly, not sure you really wanted to know the answer. “I just went to the tower - Tony left my room as-is…just in case.” You made a noise of acknowledgement, your fingers idly playing with the bubbles that adorned your chest.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” Bruce extended a hand, inviting you to come closer. You accepted, allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I was scared, Bruce.” He held your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

You kissed him fiercely, as if you wanted him to stop talking before he gave any excuses or reasons to leave again. You couldn’t help the whimpers leaving your chest, three days was a long time for you two to be apart.

Bruce’s cock throbbed against you, eliciting a groan from the large man. “I missed you so much,” he mumbled, nipping and sucking at your neck and collar bone. Moving to straddle his waist, Bruce’s hands found your hips, helping hold you steady.

“I wanna try - I think I can do it - I wanna try.” You ground your hips against his hardening length, your breaths already ragged and uneven. You knew it would hurt, but you wanted to do this for him. You were certainly wet enough. “No, I don’t wanna hurt you, don’t-“

You had your mind made up. Your much smaller hand took Bruce’s from his waist, bringing it to your core. “Stretch me out, please. I need you.” He could never resist you. Slowly inserting one large digit, knuckle by knuckle, his eyes were trained on you, closely monitoring for any inkling of pain or discomfort. You were feeling nothing of the sort. Your head was thrown back, the stretch sending delicious shockwaves through your limbs.

“One more, please” you breathed. “Y/N, I-“ You shot him a look, like daggers from your irises. “One. More. Please.” Bruce sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He adjusted his fingers, slowly adding a second, drawing a moan from deep inside you. “I think - I think I’m ready. Please - give it to me? Let me make you feel good. Please?”

“Baby, I’m not sure about this. Let’s just start here, you’re taking me so well, maybe next time, we gotta take it slow.” You whined, loudly, and bucked your hips down onto his two, thick fingers. The water of the tub splashed over the edge. “Don’t wan’ take it slow, Bruce. Wan’ you - your cock. Puhleeeaase, Bruce.”

“The minute anything starts to hurt, you have to tell me, okay? Promise?” You nodded your head vigorously before pulling him closer and kissing him in gratitude. Bruce slowly removed his digits, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing but the bath water.

Bruce’s eyes were dark with lust, but still maintained the warmth of his concern for you. He held your gaze as he aligned himself with your opening. Every millimeter seemed to take an hour, your breath hitching in your throat as you stretched further to accommodate him. Bruce held your hips tightly, trying to maintain control and composure as you took him so well. It had been years since he felt the velvety warmth of a woman around him.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to move slowly and methodically. You focused on your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth - pushing out whines and whimpers along the way. You attempted to hide your face in the crook of his neck, but Bruce pushed you back, wanting to keep an eye on you. “You’re doing so well, my girl, look at you.”

Looking down, you expected to see that he had completely bottomed out inside you, but there was plenty more left to go. His hand held the base, not allowing you to go any further, if that was even possible. You smiled up at him, so proud of yourself, feeling so full.

Bruce’s heart swelled - and he could finally relax knowing you were okay…better than okay really. You began to rock your hips, exploring your body’s limits, feeling the push and pull of Bruce against your walls. It was worth the effort.

You established a comfortable rhythm, riding him slowly, but forcefully. The waves of now lukewarm water splashed around you, adding to the symphony of delicious noises you both were making - the feelings sending you both into nonverbal bliss. Bruce began to tense, and you weren’t far behind. The only one with a free hand, you reached down to access your clit, quickly sending shockwaves of pleasure ripping through you. You clenched down on Bruce’s girth as you climaxed, sending him over the edge with you. His guttural growl sent vibrations through your skin as he filled you up for the very first time. You collapsed into him, every muscle giving out from the pain and exertion.

Bruce held your weakened body in his arms, both of you exhausted beyond belief. The tub had turned cold and you began to shiver. Concerned, he held you tightly with one arm while he used the other to push himself out of the bath. You clung tightly to his neck as he walked you to the bedroom. Placing your down gently, he dried you off with a towel and handed you your robe to snuggle up into before returning to clean up the bathroom. Once you were dressed, you crawled back to the pillows aligned neatly on your bed and waited for Bruce to return.

Wrapped up in your fluffy robe, you nuzzled into Bruce’s chest. “Can I ask you a question?” Your fingers idly traced his chest, droplets of water still gripping the coarse hairs on his sternum. Bruce grunted in the affirmative, his eyelids were heavy the minute his head hit the pillow. “If you could, you know, switch back. Would you?”

Bruce hummed. “I mean, I’ve thought about it. Done some basic calculations, consulted with colleagues…but that was all before.”

“Before what?” You whispered, tipping your head to look up at him, his eyes still closed gently.

“Before you. Before our life together. Before I saw the way your eyes light up when I enter a room. You read about that sort of thing in books, right? But I never knew it was real. And me? Of all people? In this state?” You sat up, captivated by his words, tears welling up and blurring your vision. His eyes met yours, one hand tracing your spine, while the other held yours.

“So no. I’m not interested in changing back. I am Bruce Banner, I am the Hulk, and I love you.”

[clairecrive]

can u make a nikolai x reader based on the song mr perfectly fine by taylor swift?

Mr Perfectly fine

A/n: Ahh, thank to you friend, I've been jamming to this song every day lmao Hope I've done it justice x Also, I've left out some parts of the lyrics to make it better fit the story.

(if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist here)

for my other masterlists, you can find them on my navigation page

Word count: more than 7K (ikik it took a life of his own, what can I say)

Warnings: bit of fluff, angst (like a lot), character's death, spoiler if you haven't read Siege and Storm

Tagging: @jupiterandbutterflies (Thank you so much for your comment! I saw it and it made my day✨)

(I don't remember where I took this from so if you know pls lmk)

Most people knew of Nikolai Lanstov. He was a prince, the second born and the most charming. Most people knew him thanks to the countless rumours that went around at court: supposedly he was not of royal blood. "Sobachka" was what they called him.

No matter how though, everyone knew of the last Lanstov prince. But very little knew him.

Meeting him wasn't difficult. Since he had been of age, Nikolai had always been out of the Grand Palace and among people. He’d also volunteered to enlist in the first army, refusing any kind of special treatment and fought beside his brothers in arms in the infantry. That was part of the reason why everyone outside the court loved him so much.

Being Grisha meant that fighting in the Second Army was mandatory. Not that you minded. There was nothing you wanted more for your people than to finally be free. Also, that Shadow Fold needed to go and as the Darkling has always said, all efforts are necessary.

That’s how you met Nikolai the first time. Generally, the First and the Second Army were stationed in different parts of the campsite. Numerous quarrels between oprichniki and Grisha had rendered the separation necessary. However, you never liked crowds much and living in the Little Palace meant that you were always surrounded by people. So, every chance you had to draw away and be by yourself for a while, you took it. Also, being a Healer meant that you’d spent more time in your assigned tent taking care of soldiers than among them.

Word had gone around that everyone in need could come to you. Usually, you had been instructed by the Darkling that your powers were reserved for Grisha. However, what good was it to have the ability to cure people and only take care of a selected few that very rarely got seriously injured? Meanwhile, soldiers of the First Army often suffered from severe injuries, fatal gunshots or knife wounds. You could help them and possibly save their lives so why shouldn’t you?

That was why Nikolai found you one night. Sure at that point it was just another nameless soldier to you. He had never been in your tent before so you had never seen his face before. The boy whose arm he had draped on his shoulders though, was a usual visitor of yours.

“Oh, Petyr, what happened this time?” gesturing to his blond friend to lay him down on the table, you started gathering everything you needed. Not that you needed much but you had found out that Petyr was absolutely incapable of bearing having his bones or injuries in general repaired without having some kind of pain reliever before.

After a few tries, you came up with a herbal composition that dulled the pain but didn’t make him unconscious. Using kvas would mean that Petyr would be knocked out for a couple of hours. That would put him in trouble with his superiors.

“He’s a fool, that’s what happened.” The explanation came from his friend after he put him down gently. Despite his words, you could hear in his tone worry and guilt?

“If saving your life makes me a fool then go ahead and call me one,” Petyr huffed in pain.

“Who knew you were so brave, uh?” After quickly shredding the herbs you needed, you poured hot water on it and brought the cup to Petyr’s lips while helping him keep his head up.

“He’s the bravest of us all,”

“If I knew it took a bullet wound to make you hand out compliments so easily, I would have done it sooner.” Scoffed Petyr after sending you a thankful look.

“See? What did I tell you? A fool,” his friend said dramatically and you smiled amused at their playful banter.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” You said out loud to warn both Petyr and his friend. Letting them know what was about to happen was best, your experience taught you. Both for the person on the table that could brace themselves for what was about to happen and for the person with him that was filled with worry and cautiousness. Oprichniki didn’t trust Grisha that much.

After assessing the damage, you let out a relieved sigh as the bullet had gotten through and it had not hit any major artery. It had already got infected though, so you knew it would be a painful one to treat.

“So, did you receive any letters lately, Pety?” You ask, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows while your hands cover the wound. You had your eyes closed to better focus but you were sure that he had rolled his eyes.

“Only from my mum.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write her back,” you said, opening your eye just in time to send him a glare.

“Ugh, not this again, y/n, please. Have mercy on me, I’m bleeding all over the table.” Petyr moaned making his friend snicker.

“You’re not bleeding all over the table and if you didn’t notice, I’m already taking care of you, am I not? That doesn’t excuse you for being an idiot, though.”

“Are you two in cahoots or something? It’s not fair. Wounded man over here.”

“Oh shut up.” Both you and his blond friend said at the same time. Petyr moaned once again and you sent a little amused smile to the blondie.

“Should I leave you with a cool battle scar? Maybe acting like a war hero will give you the balls to write to her.” You harmlessly threatened him but your hands were already reconnecting the tissue of his skin without letting it scar.

“I’ve told you, y/n. She deserves better than what I can give her. I am, who knows if I even make it home? I’d be only stringing her along.” Now Petyr was dead serious. It was true, you had talked about this often since he was a regular you got to know him better and he had soon told you about his sweet Katia.

While his friend chanted “fool” like a mantra in the background, you took his bloodied hand in yours, his wound fully healed.

“Petyr, how do you think she’s gonna react when she learns that there hasn’t been any delay to her letters but you’re just ignoring her? Besides, you should let her make this decision too. Who knows, she’ll surprise you.” Squeezing his hand you turned to let your words settle and to put away your utensils. You knew you had given him so much food for thought so you didn’t address the subject anymore. His friend helped him off the table and that’s when you noticed that he was injured too. He had a pretty nasty cut on his lower lip and there was already a bruise forming on his temple.

“Petyr, you can sit on my chair while I take care of your friend. You should be fine but for at least a while don’t stress your body.”

Mentally making a list of the things you need to tend to this kind of wound and where you kept them, you started collecting before heading back to them.

Petyr had sat down but his friend was still standing.

“You don’t have to lie down if you don’t want to, but unless you don’t want me to go take a ladder or something, it would be best if you sat on the table.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you mixed the healing paste. Sometimes, men didn’t like to put themselves in a vulnerable position with someone they didn’t know and had learned to fear. He wasn’t that badly hurt and it would only take a couple of seconds to fix but not every oprichniki was comfortable with being healed by Grisha power. So the paste would do your job for you. It would take longer, sure and it would also sting a lot more but at least he’d be healed at last.

After looking at you for a little while, the blond man did as you instructed, giving you a dazzling smile in return when you settled between his legs to fix his cut.

“The name is Nikolai or handsome if you prefer.” It was not the first time a wounded soldier tried to flirt with you. IT didn’t bother you, you found them amusing more than anything and you knew it was the allure of someone taking care of them speaking more than any real interest.

“Let’s hope you won’t be around here much for me to learn your name.”

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself unforgettable then.” He winked at you before hopping off the table.

You didn’t address his words, only gave them the paste you had prepared. It would prevent any wound from being infected and would be able to cure small cuts and bruises if applied for a couple of days. With that, you sent them both on their way. Petyr waving you goodbye while Nikolai sent you another wink.

And so this was how it all started.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Despite your fellow Grisha, military life could be a bit alienating. Which sounded like a paradox, sure, but everyone had their own way of processing trauma and emotions and of course there were plenty of those during the war. If the best way to come to terms with everything that happened was to distance yourself from others and try to find the solution in solitude, it could get to the point where you’d feel alone in a room full of people.

To get a little respite, you’d usually go on a long walk or resort to stargaze. Sometimes, depending on where you were posted, it wasn’t safe to leave the campsite. So, that’s how Nikolai found you one night. Even he had to take a breather once in a while. Being a different version of yourself based on who you’re interlocutor was must be exhausting. Of course, you didn’t know this. You knew nothing about Nikolai at that point if not that he was Petyr’s friend and a socialite, according to other soldiers.

He seemed to be at the centre of gossip no matter what group of people you found yourself with and there also seemed to be a consensus about him. Everyone liked him. Even if it was rare for some Grisha to appreciate oprichniki, you knew they somewhat respected him because if they didn’t praise him out loud, they didn’t speak ill of him either.

“Not a fan of crowds, are you?” he announced his presence before sitting down beside you.

“I love them, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it gets too much.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“You do? Everyone seems to think you’re a socialite.”

“It’s what I want them to think but alas, I enjoy being more complex and multifaceted than that.” He lightly bumped your shoulder with his, eyes aflame with mischief.

“I bet.” you simply smirked. Despite how everyone seemed to think they knew him, you got the peculiar vibe from him, like there was a lot more to him than what he let everyone see.

“No one seems to know much about you.”

“Maybe you’ve talked to the wrong people.”

“Well, then I guess it’s better if I got straight to the source, don’t you think?”

“That will surely be a better start. Not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for though.”

“We’ll see.”

That night had been the first of many. It had become a sort of an unspoken arrangement between the two of you. While it didn’t last long, you sensed that you got to know him better than everyone. There was something about late nights meetings under the stars that prompted deep and meaningful conversations. It wasn’t hard to form a solid bond with him after a few nights.

The conversations weren’t always personal in the conventional sense. You’d often stray and talk about the most bizarre things. Like why something had the name it had or how cool it’d be if it was possible to pass through surfaces, which led to imagine all the uncomfortable situations one could find themselves in if they were to simply go into a room through its wall.

Nikolai was witty, overly confident and ambitious and he knew a lot of things. You always wondered how he had learned them since he was so young and been in the army for a couple of years already. But Nikolai was never too forward on certain topics, his family and childhood being some of those. You understood, those were sore subjects for you too. So you never insisted. It was much more interesting to listen to him rumble about impossible future projects of his, like a flying ship.

"When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." He’d say whenever you’d point it out to him. Somehow, despite the absolute absurdity of them, the sheer confidence that he seemed to constantly exude, made you consider the possibility of his success.

You got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

But, alas, as all things do, these encounters of yours also got to an end. You knew it would happen, you were both soldiers so your lives were both heavily characterised by uncertainty after all. However, you were not prepared for it to end so abruptly though. And without an apparent reason. Because Nikolai’s unit hadn’t been posted elsewhere and he hadn’t been fatally wounded. You would have heard of it were that the case. But it wasn’t.

You thought that he had come to cherish your nightly encounters too. Some of those had been full of his promises. How he’d love for you to be around when he’d eventually find the time to work on his ideas. How you had been a nice surprise, a most interesting person among so many dull idiots you were surrounded by every day. How he’d come to value your opinions and presence in his life and that he was going to find a way to make sure that that would never change. Promises that turned to be empty.

You had never allowed yourself to fully believe him. It wasn’t the first time that a boy had made the same kind of promises but Nikolai looked sincere. Honest enough to be believable. But, of course, you had been wrong.

You didn’t realise just how much you had come to rely on him until he was gone. You tried to keep your mind off him and luckily the perfect distraction came your way. The Darkling had scheduled an attack on the enemy’s army and had posted you to be on the field to take care of everyone promptly. You had never been more grateful to the man, even after he had given her a home and a purpose.

Ever since your first encounter with Nikolai, you had thought it had been a blessing. However, you had soon changed your mind and now considered a curse more than anything. Why? Because as soon as you got to the field you couldn’t help but scour the troops for a familiar mop of blond hair. Many looked like him and being this far you couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them but you certainly despised the leap your heart made every time though. That was a distraction you couldn’t afford. Besides, it wasn’t smart to let your heart get involved in times of war.

The battle began, Inferni and Squallers were working together to impair the enemy’s visual so they couldn’t shoot or use their cannons while the First Army marched after them to swap in as soon as the air cleared to catch the enemy by surprise. While your role wasn’t active per se, you were a Corporalki after all, and even if you had been specifically trained as Healer, you had also got one of your friends to teach you the basics of an Heartrender’s work. You weren’t a powerful one but you could hold your ground in a fight. Especially since they weren’t expecting you. And you were still far from any real threat.

The battle dragged on and soon there were wounded soldiers that needed your attention. You hated this kind of work, it was messy and dirty and had to be quick because spending too much time on one soldier could mean dooming another to death. You were accustomed to it by now and soon found a rhythm focusing on ensuring everyone’s survival and not bothering with the aesthetic side of healing. That could be taken care of later if they wanted to.

As soon as your eyes fell onto a crouched figure you sprinted towards them. It was dirty and you didn’t recognize them but you got the feeling it was a life or death situation. Oh, how you wanted to be wrong.

The person crouching turned out to be Nikolai and he wasn’t alone. He was kneeling beside someone, Petyr.

“Where are you hurt?” you hurriedly asked as you tried to assess the damage. His uniform was dirty and full of blood but you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Trying to answer you, Petyr opened his mouth only to let out the most gruesome gurgling sound as his respiratory tract was flooded by blood.

“He got shot in the gut.” Nikolai offered.

“Is the bullet still inside?” Opening his uniform jacket you tore a piece from his shirt to use it to put pressure on the wound.

“It’s too late,” Nikolai uttered.

“No.” You strongly refused as you removed the cloth and focused on the wound. His heart was straightening and he had already lost a lot of blood. If the bullet was still inside that it was going to be a problem, if it wasn’t then you still had a fighting chance.

“I removed it earlier.” So that was why he had lost so much blood. Nodding your head to show that you had heard him, you set out to stop the internal bleeding. Slowing his heartbeat so that it was pumping less blood and thus eased your endeavour. You were still in the middle of the field and while you were keeping up with the warfare but in the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of screaming and of gunshots getting closer. A bullet hit you in the shoulder propelling you forward over Petyr’s body. Grisha’s kefta were bulletproof so you weren’t worried for your incolumity but for the harsh movement you had made.

Leaning back, you heard Nikolai calling for you but your eyes were trained on Petyr. You tried to listen for his heartbeat but could only hear two instead of three. Nikolai, who had never left your side, immediately understood what had happened by the fall of your shoulders and the tensing of your hands.

He kept calling for you but the only thing you could focus on was that you had let your friend down. Now there will be one more family crying for a loss, another girl mourning a lost loved one. And it was all your fault. It was because of you that Petyr wouldn’t live to see another day, to write another letter or to fight another battle. It was on you.

The details of what happened next were a bit blurred. Someway you must have found your way back to the campsite. Whether you did on your own after tending to everyone else, you didn’t know. Your memories picked up after you woke up in your tent. Someone was calling your name, saying that the Darkling wanted to see you.

Mechanically you raised and made your way to the Darkling’s tent but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts were plagued by Petyr’s face, by that godforsaken sound he made when he tried to speak. The realisation that he was gone hit you like a wall of brick that would have made you stumble if you weren't’ sat in front of the Darkling’s desk. Whether he was speaking and stopped after seeing the forlorn look in your eyes or he hadn’t been speaking at all, you didn’t realize. You did hear him say that you were going to be posted somewhere. Under different circumstances you have said something, anything to not let him send you away. Your mind immediately went to Nikolai. You’d be leaving him behind along with the campsite.

However, you now realised that you had already lost him. Losing Petyr had been the last thing that had completely severed your bond. There was no turning back now and part of you was grateful.

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breaking mine?

I've been Miss "Misery" since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You couldn’t know, of course, but Nikolai had left not long after you did. Albeit for a different reason. He had finally earned the Major rank and as such, he took a step back from military life deciding that his skill would be better suited for a life on the sea. Assuring Ravka the supply she needed but in ways that weren’t exactly suitable for a prince but worked just fine for a privateer. And thus Sturmhond came to life.

As for you, you kept doing your job at your new post but were relieved when a letter came from the Darkling instructing that you were needed at the Little Palace. Part of you had relegated Nikolai to that part of your mind where the unmentionable was, however, a traitor thought whispered that maybe there was a chance that you could see him at the royal grounds. Sure, the possibilities were close to zero but it was still possible, right?

No.

You already were ashamed of the fact that you’re still suffering because of him. And yes, you missed him but you weren’t going to indulge the pathetic hope of seeing him again.

He doesn’t want to see you. If he did, he would have already found you. Or write you a letter if he couldn’t, but he didn’t.

You were right. You knew you were, nonetheless, the thought only brought you a bittersweet feeling.

You found the Little Palace just how you’d left it and yet it seemed changed in a way. The insane amount of work you found there waiting for you helped you drown the feeling that it was you that had changed.

Months passed this way, sometimes the Darkling would post you with him or outside the Little Palace. All in all, you’ve kept busy. When news of the little prince leaving the Palace reached you, you let it wash over you. It wasn’t like it mattered much, whether he was a few feet away or in another nation, Nikolai wasn’t part of your life either way.

When the whole expansion of the Fold happened, you were stationed at the Little Palace. Chaos and terror ensued as soon as the news reached the capital making most of the Grisha flee. Most of them went looking for the Darkling while others simply ran away and hid. You were amongst the first group.

Soon, your life was radically changed. The shift in the Darkling was palpable and it didn’t have anything to do with the scars on his face. You had tried your best to heal them and Genya to tailor them away but somehow, they could not be removed. It was an unsettling thing to realize that they didn’t take away his beauty. One could even say that they enhanced his attractiveness.

He was certainly more powerful. None of you knew what had happened in the Fold that day, just that the Sun Summoner had fled and that there were no survivors apart from him. However, as your journey in pursuit of Alina dragged on, you were soon witnesses of his newfound power.

The nichevo’ya, he called them.

He had always been immensely powerful. One of a kind. But this- this was different. And as dread settled among your group as you watched them in action, realisation sat heavily on your shoulders.

He soon found a trail and traced Alina in Novyi Zem and set out to reach the island by hiring Sturmhond’s crew. He was a famous pirate after all and despite his unreliability, the Darkling was sure that as long as he got his money, he wouldn't be a problem.

In the round trip, you didn’t see much of the captain anyway. Some members of his crew were amiable enough, particularly the Yul-Baatar twins. You had even asked Tamar to spar with you from time to time. Your lessons with Botnik were a distant memory and you knew that mastering combat training skills could increase your chance at survival.

When Alina and Mal were held captive though, that’s when Sturmhond made an appearance. He looked younger than you’d thought and there was something oddly familiar in the way he held himself. Still, you didn't talk with him much. Your job was to take care of Alina and so you spent most of your time in her room.

It wasn’t until the Darkling asked Mal to track Rusalye and consequently spent more time with Alina that you had a chance to talk with him. It was during one of your night shifts when he approached you, the Darkling had wanted some of his to always be patrolling the ship.

“What could possibly make a little thing like you be amidst this wretched company?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.”

“The thrill of adventure?”

“There’s plenty of it everywhere you go if you’re Grisha, even if you just go on a stroll.”

“Is that why you follow him?”

“I owe everything to him.”

“I’m sure you realize your role in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not some naive girl who has a crush on her general.”

“Ah, so who, pray tell, do you have a crush on then, beautiful lady?”

“You’re certainly noisy for a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected you, “there’s not much to do around here is it?”

“Not if you have everyone taking care of it, no.”

“Amuse me.”

“It isn’t wise to let the heart get involved in times of war.” That was all you were willing to share. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, the twinkle in his eyes was oddly familiar but he was a stranger. A dangerous one.

“Those sound like words spoken from experience.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d say it’s no fun to only think about war. Life is so much more.”

“Believe me, if I could, it’d be the last thing on my mind. But, alas, l don’t have the privilege to do so.”

You had already lost too much time speaking with him. If someone were to see you or tell the Darkling you’d be in trouble. And you had made it your goal to never put yourself on the path of the Darkling’s anger. So you excused yourself and went back to your rounds.

If only you had stayed and talked to him more maybe you would have understood what was about to happen. Maybe you would have had an enkindling of Sturmhond’s plans. Instead, you were taken by surprise, just like everyone in your group, when Rusalye was spot and a shot was fired. You had found yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to fight against people you had grown to like.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” Tamar warned you as you stood face to face on the sinking ship dock. Her trusted axes in her hands while your hands were raised ready to attack.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Then you don’t have to. Come with us.” Her proposition made you gasp.

“That would be treason,” you whispered hoping that the Darkling wasn’t around to hear you. A shiver ran through you as you thought of the punishment he’d give you for even thinking about leaving his side.

“Then you leave me no choice.” She said lowering her arms. Was that guilt you heard in her voice?

Before you could voice your question though, she shouted for her brother and not even a second later, you felt your body grow still. Your eyebrows faltered as you felt your heartbeat slow down.

They were Grisha.

They must have seen you realise because you heard Tamar apologize before everything went black.

Mr. "Never told me why"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

You didn’t stay out for long though. As soon as Sturmhond’s crew had left the Darkling’s ship and had safely made it onto the Volkvolny, the privateer had asked for you to be awakened.

There wasn’t enough light for you to realize you were on another ship, what alerted you of your new situation were your hands. They had bound them behind your back. Immediately you started to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the restraints. To no avail though. Huffing out in frustration, you settled for looking around you and see if there was something you could use. That’s when you noticed him.

“Release me- this instant, or else-”

“Or what? You’re a Healer. Not exactly a violent job, is it?” Sturmhond interrupted you, a smirk on his face since he had the upper hand.

“I don’t need my powers to kick you in the ass, do I?” He laughed but didn’t look remotely threatened. Rather amused, actually.

“Please, you have to let me go. He’ll kill me if-” Panic started to build as you realized that there was no way you could successfully escape.

“He won’t touch you.” A solemn glow took over his eyes. “He won’t ever hurt you again, you have my word.” He promised, looking subtly at your left shoulder. You winced as you realized that he must have seen your scars. The ones left by the Darkling’s niche’voya.

“How can I know if you’re trustworthy? You don’t exactly have a good score, you know?”

“You’re going to find out soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Of course, he didn’t bother offering further explanations. He’d left it at that. You weren’t a captive per se but he left your hands bound, only freeing them when you needed to eat or relieve yourself.

Fruitless were your efforts in making you tell more. He often ate with you and would check in at least twice a day but that was it.

It wasn’t until after you had landed after that forsaken vehicle of his had gotten you through the Fold that you understood. His coming out as Nikolai Lanstov, prince and second in line for the Ravkan throne, had shaken you all to your core. However, you doubted that it had sent a pang to the others’ hearts as it did with yours.

Nikolai Lantsov. The man you had been dreaming about, the one that had left you behind without any sort of explanations, the one you missed so dearly, had been by your side all this time.

You weren’t sure how you felt. It made sense now why his eyes looked familiar and his posture. You then connected that the vehicle you had used in the Fold had been one of the many projects he used to geek about with you. It tasted a lot like betrayal. Not because he had lied to you about his name but because he had tried to get close to you again and had managed to somehow break that growing bond again.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

Even if his secret had been outed thus causing some shift in the dynamics between Nikolai and the two new members of his crew - you suspected Mal was closer to punching him every second that passed- not much had changed for you.

On the outside, you pretty much looked like a prisoner. Albeit a very clean one. You rode with them, hands still bound, scowl ever-present on your face.

Nikolai had not come to see you ever since that night after the Fold. And now it had been almost a week since you had started your journey back to the capital. Whether this was all part of his plan to make you look the part of the captive even more or he was just gutless, you didn't know. It was working either way though.

You liked to think that his reason was simply that he didn't care. He had far too much on his plate right now as it was. Going back to court after years of absence while also making claims to the throne and trying to sway the Sun Summoner your way. It was no easy feat. But hadn't he always liked to say that impossible often meant improbable? A lot of things had changed since that night but even so, you'd still pose your bet on him that he'd be able to achieve anything he set his mind to.

It wasn't exactly that thinking this way brought you actual comfort. Of course, not. But it was better than foolishly hoping for him to still care about you the way you did for him. After all, he had sent plenty of signals that pointed in the other direction.

But then why did he kidnap you? Why take you with him? You weren't that close to the Darkling to be of any use to Nikolai in that way. And, as a matter of fact, no one had come to interrogate you regarding his plans or whereabouts. Then why?

You still couldn't figure it out.

Some days your anger shifted more to frustration and you were ounces away from asking for him yourself. Almost as if he had heard you though, he gave you the final push.

It was the usual day, Nikolai and Alina were riding in the carriage, stopping in every village we passed to meet with the locals. However, this time, before climbing back into the carriage, they kissed.

You were too far to figure out who started it and the details. The gist of it was enough though.

You most certainly were a fool. Still thinking about a guy who didn't give two shits about you, who had kidnapped you putting you in a dangerous situation and you were still wondering whether he felt something for you or not? Pathetic.

You had to do something about your situation and quickly too. Officially, you were a traitor. You had fled and joined the Darkling, that wouldn't make you look good in front of the king. He was a lousy bastard anyway and will probably sentence you to death to set an example. You hadn't survived so much shit to end up at the end of a rope.

So, even though you had initially thought against it since you were so close to home, you decided to escape. You were already headed towards certain death so what was the worst that could happen?

Your hands were left unbound when you were in your tent. One less problem to solve. Closing your eyes, you focused on listening for any nearby heartbeats. You heard two, those of the guards posted outside your tent. Maybe you could find an excuse to call them inside, put them to sleep and then slip away.

That was not exactly what your powers were for but you were desperate. You had to at least try.

And so you did. You called them in and immediately set out to slow their heartbeats. You had almost succeeded in putting them under when someone else slipped in. The last person you wanted to see.

"Am I that bad of a host?"

You didn't meet his ruse though, you knew it would make you lose focus.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you to release my soldiers." As soon as he said it though, they fell unconscious at last. Your chest was heaving by now, using so much power in such a different way was costing you. But you couldn't back down now. It was one on one and you were Grisha and a woman scorned. He stood no chance.

"Move out of my way, your highness."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You can or I can make you. Your choice." The venom in your voice was unmistakable and it took him by surprise. He gave you a curious look tilting his head to the side like he was seeing you for the first time over again.

"I didn't realize ruthlessness was one of your personality traits."

"You know nothing about me," you seethed. The tip of your fingers flexed, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and you were already weary.

"It may have been a while y/n, but I like to think I know a good deal about you."

"And I would like to completely erase this last year but you don't hear me yap about how shitty it has been, do you?"

"You never did like opening up much."

"I'm well past the point of sentimentalism, Nikolai. It is coming far too late anyway. And whatever my feelings for you may be, I won't let you put my life on the line." Your posture straightened, stance ready for battle.

His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. His hands closed in fists and he almost looked hurt. But why would he?

"Is that what you think all of this is?" Nikolai always acted aloof. He was always composed and dignified. You had thought it was for his insane amount of self-confidence but now you understood it was for how he was raised. But you recognised the pout on his lips. It was the expression he’d always have whenever he tried to get something from getting to him. To prevent himself from showing emotions.

"You're holding me captive while you go around Ravka parading your latest conquest, flashing your return everywhere. I don't know why you're doing this but I don't care. I've stopped waiting around for you and I certainly won't let your father put me to death."

"You think I'd let him?"

"So you want to do this?" you threw your hands up in exasperation, "Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest."

"I think that the Nikolai I knew would have left out of the blue without so much as a letter. I think that the Nikolai I knew was ready to go to any length to achieve what he believed in. However, I thought that the Nikolai I knew cared about me and what we had but look at me now. So maybe, I know nothing at all."

"You certainly do seem to know a lot of things. But you’re not wrong."

"If this is the way you care about me," I gesture to my tent, "then I'm not sure I want this Nikolai to care for me."

“This,” he said, emulating your gesture, “is to keep you safe. This is my way to ensure that if the Darkling got news of your whereabouts, he’d be sure not to think you willingly left his side and betrayed him.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” You raised your voice in outrage. The nerve of this man.

“Spare me your indignation. I know you hate being at his beck and call, to do his dirty work and be constantly surrounded by warfare.”

“Do not presume to speak for me.” You snapped. You knew it was best to keep a cool head but his cockiness was getting on your nerves.

“Didn’t you? Hate it, I mean.”

“We’re at war, Nikolai. Being away or close to the Darkling won’t change that. At least with him, I was safe.”

“You can’t be that delusional to think that he was protecting you.” He scoffed at your words as if they were the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“And you can’t be that delusional to think that bringing me back won’t result in your father killing me.” You fired back shifting on your feet. He winced as if you had physically hurt him.

“You have so little faith in me?” His voice was just above a whisper and you knew that your words had struck a chord.

“How can I have any, Nikolai?” your voice softened a bit. “One day you’re telling me how much you value my opinion, you promise me a future where I’d be the first to see your project come to life and then you left. You just left, Nikolai.” And when I was starting to make my peace with it that’s when you come back? Also, let’s not forget about my abduction and your flirting with Alina.”

“So yes, I don’t trust you.” You concluded, crossing your arms on your chest with finality. He just stared at you for the longest time. If someone would come in now, they’d think you were in the middle of a staring contest. Then he sighed and started talking.

“I had to go away. I had already pushed my parents’ limits when I said I wanted to be part of the infantry. So, one day I got a letter written by my father personally and I knew that my time was up. I had been Nikolai for too long, now I had to start being a Lantsov prince.” His eyes were on the ground now, shame making her way in his words.

“So that’s what I did,” he went as he started pacing,”I went to Kerch to study, just like my father wanted. I did what he asked, he couldn’t reproach me anything now. I could never stay too still though, a life of adventure was calling me and I could not ignore it. It was only then that I realized that I could do so much more than sitting in a class, to realistically help Ravka.”

“I couldn’t take you with me. You had such a larger role to play in the army and besides, there wasn’t much I could offer you. So yes, I left. I left thinking that I would find my way back to you eventually.” He had stopped by now, regret was swirling in his shining orbs as he looked at you.

“You could have told me.” You contestated, taken back by all the information he gave you. “I would have waited for you.” A whispered promise for something that would never be now.

“I was afraid, y/n. That’s not my best moment, I know and no number of apologies could ever make it right. But I was afraid of your answer. I knew I’d be asking for a lot and let’s be honest-” the desperation in his tone was evident now, he had unconsciously started to lean towards you but you knew what he was about to say.

“You weren’t sure if the future you were offering me would just end up with me being your mistress, am I right?” Your tone hardened but despite the insulting implication of what you said, you weren’t made at him.

“I’m a prince, y/n. We do not marry for love and this country cannot afford to disregard the advantages that a political union could bring.”

His honesty was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He was right. As soon as you had learned he was a prince, you realized just what kind of future you could have with him. But then he left and that problem did not exist anymore. Neither of you spoke, both of you were seizing the other. You had laid it all out, defences were down putting you both in a vulnerable position.

And someday maybe you'll miss me

“You should have talked to me, Nikolai. We could have figured it out together. If it came to being your mistress to stay with you, then that was my decision to make.” You said softly after a while. It pained for you to say this, you would have never thought that getting closure would hurt this much.

Tears streamed on both of your faces, in front of you had been laid what your future could have looked like. It was everything you had wanted, you could still do your job and have the man of your dreams. You were surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind sharing him with his supposed wife. You had been at court for enough time to know how most marriages went. If he assured you it was only a diplomatic affair but that his heart was yours, that would have been enough. Who knows, maybe she’ll get a lover too.

But now… now you didn’t know if you could ignore everything that happened. You did not trust him nor could you ignore how hurt you were by his lack of communication and thus of trust in you.

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

[holylulusworld]

The B*tch

Title: The b*tch

Summary: It’s a game for you and Bucky. Sometimes you even burn a whole town down if you must.

Square Filled ‘Second Chances’ for: @buckybingo​​

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Dot, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: angst, language, love-hate relationship (toxic relationship), public blowjob (light), light fingering, mentions of anal sex (nothing happens, no description), mentions of infidelity/break-up, implied/mentions of threesome/foursome, smut, unprotected sex, public sex, forced voyeurism, possessive Bucky, hair pulling, roughness, implied character’s death, therapy, roleplay

Words: 5,3k

2021 BUCKY BINGO masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

A/N: Please head the warnings. The reader and Bucky have a toxic relationship in this. Both are awful people.

“Steve, tell your boss to keep his bitch in line,” you growl, tapping your glass to order another drink. The bartender smirks, watching Steve Rogers, the right-hand man of the most feared man in Brooklyn cower in front of you. “This is my club, and I don’t like hussies at my club, nor whores.”

“Doll, don’t make a fuss,” Steve tries. “I know you and Buck got a war of roses going on, but he didn’t think much of bringing that girl here.”

“I said, I don’t want his whores at my club,” you whip your head to meet Steve’s eyes, narrowing your eyes. “And I don’t mean girls making money with riding dick. I like prostitutes, Stevie. They are always polite and know how to dress. Suzie over there works here every night.”

“Y/N, stop right now. You know every club pays Bucky good money. Every club except for you,” Steve warns.

“I don’t give two shits on Barnes. I make the rules here,” Steve doesn’t like you slide your hand over your thigh, patting the hidden knife. He knows you love to wear a knife strapped against your thigh beneath your crimson silky robe. 

He follows the motion, eyes glued to the slit in your dress, revealing your thigh and the tattoo on it. The one you will remove soon enough.

“Still got the tattoo, doll? I knew you can’t get rid of me completely,” a smug grin on his lips, and a dopily smiling Dot on his arm Bucky waltz toward you as if he owns the club.

“Oh, the trash made it out of the house,” you batt your eyelashes, chuckling lightly. “Didn’t think she can walk on her own.” turning around to face the bartender you give her a sweet smile. “What do you think, Wanda, doll. Does that woman look like she should be at my club?”

“I don’t know, boss,” Wanda smirks. While refilling your drink, she looks at Dot, shrugging as she doesn’t want to get in trouble with Bucky. “I’m not into cheap chicks.”

“Give me two cherries,” you coo, ignoring Bucky fumes right next to you. “Maybe give Steve water to make sure he doesn’t dehydrate. He looks so pale tonight. We don’t want him to get sick.”

“On its way, boss,” snickering Wanda pours Steve water, relieved she doesn’t have to talk about Bucky’s latest arm candy.

“Steve, tell my ex to shut her nasty mouth before I stuff it,” Bucky barks orders at Steve before he sits next to you on his favorite barstool, the one he used to occupy when you still were a thing.

“You wish,” you sip at your martini, looking anywhere but at Bucky. “Why do you come back here? There are other clubs in Brooklyn, with owners liking you, Barnes.”

“I like the atmosphere and the drinks are good,” he smirks, placing his favorite knife onto the bar top. A silent warning for you to watch your tongue. “What can you recommend?”

“To leave,” you quip, sipping at your drink.

“You know, it’s a crime to put cherries into a martini,” Bucky mutters, watching you place one of the cherries on your tongue, moaning at the taste.

“I give a shit on your opinion, Barnes. If you would excuse me now, there are tables, a dancefloor, and restrooms you can use,” you jerk your head toward Dot stand next to Steve, still grinning at you. “Take your bitch and leave me to my drink and the music.”

“Ya know,” Bucky leans closer to breathe in your neck, “you should fuck more often to get the stick out of your ass, my love.” his fingertips ghost over your back, draw circles in your skin.

“Ya know,” you get your knife out to press the tip into Bucky’s crotch before Steve can even flinch, “men like you should watch their tongue and balls. One day someone will break into your house and cut them off. Now go.”

“Little bitch.”

“I used to be your doll,” you say, a little too bitter. “Sadly, you couldn’t keep it in your pants,” you chuckle. 

“Bitch,”

“Cheating bastard,” you dip your head to glance at Dot. “You should hurry to disappoint the next woman. Maybe you will keep your promises this time – huh? Or maybe she’ll get empty promises too.”

“One day someone will cut your sharp tongue off,” you press the tip harder into his crotch, smirking when a hint of pain flashes across Bucky’s features. “Maybe I’ll be the one to do so.”

“Aw, you can’t take the pleasure away from all men in Brooklyn who want a blowjob from me. You know,” leaning closer you brush your lips over Bucky’s ear, “men love it when I use my tongue.”

Bucky shudders, remembering the way you went down on him. Teeth, lips, and tongue. “You weren’t that good.”

“What a pity,” you smirk, hiding the knife in your garter. “I just wanted to remind you how good I can blow you off.”

“You sure?” Steve chokes on his water when you slide off the barstool to pat his cock, right in front of his boss.

“What the fuck, doll?”

“Oh, you believed I wanted to suck your dick?” you chuckle. “No, I wanted to go down on your tall blonde piece of meat and show him a good time.”

“Go ahead and show Steve a good time,” Bucky challenges, watching you slowly unbuckle Steve’s belt.

You don’t care the club is crowded or that Bucky is right next to you and Steve. 

“Y/N, doll,” Steve mumbles when you slide your hand over his chest down to his abs. “Stop, you don’t want to do this.”

“Stevie,” you coo, giving his lips a peck, “you should know I do what I want, and right now,” you tug harshly at his pants, shove them down his legs, “I wanna suck your dick and show you a good time.”

Steve swallows thickly, but what can man do when a woman like you shoves her hand down his boxers to run it up and down his swelling length. 

“Oh, you are packing, sweet Steve,” you moan, hand leaving his boxers too soon to shove the fabric down his thighs.

No one at the club dares to watch you. You’re at the VIP section, the one reserved for and your friends. This part of the club only belongs to you, and you can do whatever you want without anyone spying on you.

“Doll,” Steve’s breathing quickens when you ever so slowly sink to your knees to cup his balls. “You shouldn’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I can do, Stevie,” you smirk, hand fisting his cock harshly. “That’s a nice cock, a big one and I’ll worship it. Don’t you want my lips around your dick?”

“Y-yeah-“ Steve chokes out. “But B-Bucky is right next to us, doll. Can we go somewhere private?”

“No, baby,” chuckling you roughly grip Steve’s cock. “I want to prove a point, Steve, and want to choke on your cock right here and now.”

You lick over the wide head, smiling to yourself when you hear Bucky bark your name. He dangerously growls it, wants you to stop but you relax your jaw and go for the goal.

“If you dare to suck his dick, I’ll end your life,” he growls. “Y/N, I’m warning you, doll. Don’t you-“

It’s too late, you suckle at the tip of Steve’s cock, ignoring Bucky throws a tantrum.

“What, James? You told me I’m boring and you want to move on with a hotter chick. Obviously, Stevie has a different opinion and is hard as a rock for me. Now lemme get him off, he’s so hard it would be a waste to not suck his dick.”

“Stop being a brat,” fisting your hair Bucky drags you off Steve, leaves his friend panting and unsatisfied behind.

“Let go of me Barnes,” you try to swat Bucky’s hands away, but he pushes you onto the couch at the VIP section, growling low in his throat. “I wanna suck Stevie’s dick, James. Let me suck his fucking cock!”

“Be good now,” panting heavily Bucky pins your hands above your head, to hold you down. “You will not suck Steve’s cock, not before you did so with mine.”

“I won’t suck your pitiful dick,” you spit into Bucky’s face, grinning viciously when he growls low in his throat. “Now get off me! This is still my club.”

Bucky’s eyes drift toward your legs, especially the tattoo on your thigh, the one with his name on it. 

“This is still all mine, doll. Forget about Steve’s cock, mine is all you’ll get. No one in this town will ever touch you.”

“You fucker!” you try to kick Bucky but he takes the opportunity to settle between your thighs, smirks as you can feel his erection press against your thigh. “Get off me! You made sure no guy I hit on fucked me?”

“It’s the law,” Bucky breathes against your lips, “Y/N, Y/L/N is Bucky Barnes property. I laid claim on you years ago, my beloved wife.”

“The fuck! I’m not some fucking property, you dickhead,” you cry, fighting Bucky with all your strength. “I will kill you the moment you get off me. I will start with cutting your balls off and end it with carving your heart out of your chest!”

“Damn, you really want to suck Steve’s dick,” Bucky grins. He pecks your nose, snickering when you try to bite him. “Did ya hear, Stevie? Y/N wants to suck your cock so badly.”

“Barnes, get off me,” you mutter, tilting your hips to rub your core against Bucky’s erection. “Or get me off.”

“Interesting,” he smirks, eyes drifting toward your chest. “But I don’t fuck bitches,” you huff at Bucky’s words, wiggle harder in his hold.

Your stiff nipples strain against the thin fabric of your silky dress, force Bucky to remember how it felt when you pressed your sweaty body against his chest, nipples scraping his skin. 

“Then get off me, Barnes, and leave my club. Take your sweet puppy with you,” you growl. “I’m gonna find another dick to suck tonight.”

“You had to fuck with her again, didn’t you, Buck?” Steve sighs, tugging his cock back into his pants. “Damn, why didn’t you let her finish me? She’s so good at sucking dick.”

“That was a one-time thing, and we were all drunk,” Bucky growls. “And it was one of her fantasies. Y/N is not for you to touch.”

“Didn’t look like it when you encouraged her to give me a blowjob,” cursing under his breath, Steve stomps toward the car. “I had a raging hard dick.”

“Do you think I give a shit! She’s still my wife, Steve,” Bucky sneers. “If not for our friendship, you would lie six feet under right now.”

“Bastard!” tossing the divorce papers onto Bucky's desk, you scowl at him. “James, you told me you’ll sign the papers weeks ago. Now you sent them to me, unsigned and a picture of your dick glued to it.”

“I’m not going to sign that crap, kitten. And I know you loved the picture. I bet you got off looking at my dick,” leaning back in his chair Bucky roams your body with his eyes. “You look ready to get eaten in that black pencil skirt, baby doll. Why don’t you come over here and let me shove my hand down your panties?”

“Everything is a joke to you,” you roll your eyes, not in the mood for one of Bucky’s games. “You wanted out of this marriage, you got out. You can’t suddenly change your mind.”

“I can and did,” he shrugs, eying you shamelessly when you cross your legs. “What happened last night will never happen again, doll. If you ever try to let another man touch you, he’ll die. Everyone in town knows you are mine.”

“You can’t-“ you growl, hands balling into fists. “What do you want for letting me go? I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m tired of your games. Do you want my club? You can have it! Just sign the papers and I’m out of town for good.”

“You would give ‘Artemis’, the club you built out of nothing, up to be free of me?” you shrug. Nothing you can’t accomplish. When you are free of Bucky you will start anew.

“New town. New club,” Bucky huffs at your words. “It’s nothing special. People want to dance, drink, and fuck everywhere. The only difference is, there will be no James Buchanan Barnes fucking me over.”

“I did not fuck you over but fucked you thoroughly,” you scream in frustration, grasp the first thing on Bucky’s desk to throw it at him. “I even let you fuck Stevie.”

“That was a birthday gift, and you had your turn too,” getting up you want to attack Bucky, but you don’t get far. 

“Come here doll and get some,” he already grasps for your arm, moves faster than you can blink to push you onto the couch at his office.

“Get off me,” you fight with Bucky. Slap his face, tug harshly at his hair, fist his clothes before you end up on top of him. 

He has you on his lap, your legs on each side of his thighs moments later to shove your panties aside, fingers pushing inside your dripping core. “Fuck, you’re dripping for me, doll.”

“I’m just needy thanks to you, Barnes,” you growl, hands pawing at his jacket, tugging harshly. “Give me something, anything…”

“My dick?” he cocks a brow, groaning when you nod eagerly. “Just a minute baby doll,” husking the words Bucky rips your panties apart. “Lemme call Steve to join us.” He grins, revealing he tricked you again.

“Fucking asshole,” you slap his cheek harshly, growling his name. “There I believe you can act like an adult.”

“Just let me call him and he can watch me fuck you like a man,” Bucky grips your waistline, fingers digging in your flesh to hold you on top of him. “I want him to see how good I can make you feel.”

“I wanted to get off, not give your best buddy something to jerk off,” you growl, pushing against Bucky’s shoulders. “Jesus, we are a mess, Barnes.”

“I know, but I love you,” you sigh, forehead pressing against Bucky’s. “Can we not try again? I know that I fucked up, but give me another chance, doll.”

Your hands cup his face, and you breathe against him. Your forehead still touches Bucky’s heated one, and you just take a moment to feel him against you.

“I want Dot gone, not just out of your life but out of town. I don’t care if you send her to hell or Timbuktu. Just get rid of that grinning bitch,” you mutter. “If you get rid of her, we can talk again.”

“Uh-erm,” Bucky tilts his hips to press his erection into your core. “Can we still fuck? I didn’t touch Dot, I swear. Yes, I had a few flings here and there, but I know you were riding Steve’s dick over the last months.”

“What can I say – he has a nice dick,” you smirk, hands kneading the knots out of Bucky’s shoulders. “Maybe we can invite him once in a while?”

“What will I get in return?” Bucky husks, searching your eyes. “Doll?”

“You can do that thing with your thing,” a deep guttural growl leaves Bucky’s chest before you find yourself underneath the mobster, pinned to the couch.

“Give me five and I’ll get her out of town. And then, I want to do the thing with my thing in your ass.”

“Not today,” you grumble. “Get me off first and show me you’ll not stray again. If you can prove you are worth my time, you can conquer my ass.”

“I wanna-“ Bucky whines. “You better let me fuck that tight ass, doll. If not, I’ll not let you cum for months…”

“Promises…promises…”

“Bye, bye, Dottie,” you coo, waving at Steve. The tall blonde drags said woman out of her apartment, not caring Dot screams, fighting Steve with tooth and nails. “Have a nice trip!”

“Bitch!” Dot growls, screaming on the top of her lungs. “You can have that bastard back. He barely made me cum.”

“Did you fuck her?” growling the words you glare at Bucky. “James Buchanan Barnes! Did you fuck that woman?”

“Maybe a little?” Bucky shrugs, rubbing his hands over your arms, grinning sheepishly. “I was barely inside, ya know.”

“What the fuck! There is no ‘I was barely inside’, James. You were inside and fucked her or you weren’t,” you punch his chest harshly. “There is no halfway!”

“Fine, I fucked her ass,” your husband grumbles. “What can I say? We were on a break, and I was lonely.”

“Don’t you fucking dare to tell me you were lonely, Barnes,” pushing against his shoulders you ignore Steve tries to drag you off his friend. “Good thing I rode Steve’s dick excessively. Damn, he was so good!”

“If you don’t stop talking about Steve’s dick I’ll let him fuck you right here, in front of all my men! Maybe I’ll let them have a turn too – huh? All of them!” Bucky threatens, not liking the grin on your lips.

“Oh, please! As if I didn’t already fuck all of your men! Sam was the first I blew off in your car! He tasted like a goddamn popsicle!”

“Lying bitch!” Bucky is in your face, breathes heavily when you exclaim Thor had you on your husband’s desk, followed by his raven-haired brother. “You didn’t fuck my men!”

“I did and if I want to, I’ll do it again. Right here. Right now. All of them in all my holes,” you jab your finger into Bucky’s chest, snickering when he wraps his metal hand around your throat.

“You better think before you speak to me again,” he growls. “Get in my car and shut your mouth.”

“Aw, don’t you want one of your men to shut my mouth with his dick?” you retort, laughing when Bucky roughly shoves you toward his car to bend you over the hood.

“You want to act like a whore, I’ll show you what you’ll get,” Steve tries to stop his friend when Bucky rips your dress down your body, followed by your panties.

“Oh, do you want to fuck me, or will you ask a real man to do so?” laughing manically you spread your legs. “I’m ready for all of them, James.”

“Fucking bitch,” he unzips his pants, impatiently getting his dick out. “I’m gonna fuck you right here for all my men to see.”

“Promises again-“ you giggle, not missing Steve tries to stop his friend. “Will ya fuck me now or shall I ask one of your men?”

“Shut up,” his cock slaps against your ass, and his men turn around, not wanting to peak on you getting fucked. “If anyone takes his eyes off my wife, he’ll fuck her after me!”

“Did you just offer my pussy to all of your men? Naughty, James,” you grin, imagining getting filled by all of Bucky’s men. “Damn, yes.”

“I might add, anyone putting their hands on my wife will die, slow and painful!” you whine, disappointed you’ll only get Bucky’s dick. “Now shut the fuck up and just take my dick like a good girl.”

“Aw, you still think I’m a good girl, Bucky. That’s so sweet of you,” giggling you tap your fingers onto the hood. “Will I get your dick now or do you have performance issues in front of your men?”

“Fucking bitch,” his metal hand roughly fists your hair, presses your face into the cool surface of his car, gives you a stark contrast to his hot cock that nudges at your slit. “I hope you are wet because I don’t care if it hurts for you.”

“Bastard,” filled to the brim seconds later you struggle to breathe. Bucky is not gentle by all means, he roughly grips your shoulders, holds you down like you are nothing but a hole to fill. “Fuck me like a man, if you can.”

“Buck, can we not leave,” Steve grumbles, eyes glued to your body pressed to the car. He would never tell anyone so, but Steve loves to fuck a girl on a car. 

“Watch and maybe, you’ll get a turn too. Sloppy seconds and all,” Sam tries to not look, knowing Bucky is too engrossed in starting to fuck into you. Brock on the other hand rubs his hand over his dick, listening to all the noises you make for your husband.

“Buck, this goes too far,” you moan loudly, feeling Bucky speed up. He doesn’t care if you get off or enjoy the ride; he simply wants to lay claim on your body again. “Bucky!”

“You’ll watch me fuck my wife, Sam,” Bucky moves his hands to your hips, holds your body in a tight grip. “I dare you to look away.”

“Bucky likes to have an audience while we fuck,” you quip, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to meet Steve’s darkened eyes. “Look at you Steve, so hard while your best buddy fucks his wife.

“Can you stop flirting with Steve?” Bucky starts to drag you onto his length, groans with every harsh thrust. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to not let you cum.”

“Don’t challenge me, Barnes!” while you bicker with your husband, his men silently sneak toward their cars, leave you to your coupling. “You better make me cum!”

“Little bitch wants to dictate my life,” he ruts into you, hands pawing at your flesh. “My doll wanted to fuck Stevie, and I let her. But then I want to fuck Natasha and she freaks out.”

“As you didn’t ask me to do so! You fucked her in our bed, and she wore one of my dresses,” you growl, pushing back onto Bucky’s length. “All those bitches, you fucked them on our bed. I would’ve never fucked Steve on our bed!”

“Hypocrite!”

“Cheater!”

“Fucking cum.”

“I’m trying but you lost your mojo,” you pant, smirking at Steve. He’s the last man standing – or rather the only guy watching you and Bucky fuck. 

“Steve, make a mental note. We will put my wife in the dungeon and play with her all night long,” whimpering you look at Steve, imagining all the cruel things both men will do to you. 

“Please.”

“Cum and I’ll hurt you so good…”

“I forgot we got a freaking sex dungeon,” you roll on your back, stretching your sore body. “So, who’s going to get me food?”

“Steve?”

“I don’t feel my legs, Buck,” Steve groans. “How about you go, and I’ll just lie here, ignoring my sore dick.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you tut. “I only tried to show you a good time. How should I know you can’t take it?”

“Stevie, if you want to keep up with my wife, you must train your dick,” Bucky snickers, looking around the room to find his pants. “Sam, why are you still on the floor?”

“I need a break,” Sam pants, glancing at Bucky who ushers toward the door to unlock it. “I never thought I will ever not want sex.”

“Aw, my sexy soft bear can’t get up from the floor, Bucky,” you sigh deeply, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“Did you hear me?” the female asks, disturbing your moment of silence. “Mrs. Barnes, did you hear me?”

Your eyes snap open and you feel the heat creep into your cheeks. Your therapist looks at you, expectantly, waiting for you to answer her question. “What did you imagine?”

“I-I,” you sigh, realizing you daydreamed once again. “To pay him back and, have some fun,” you sniff now. 

“How did you do it? Who are you when you pay him back?” she asks. “Describe the person you are in your dreams.”

“When I imagine paying my husband back, I’m sexy and wild. Not meek and boring. If only I was a little more like that woman, he would’ve never found someone better, sexier, and more interesting.”

“Mrs. Barnes, you are not boring nor unsexy. Men cheat on their women for other reasons,” she tuts. “We talked about your low self-esteem.”

“Doesn’t change the fact she’s a ten and I’m a two, maybe even a one,” you sniffle. “I guess he will file for divorce soon enough to marry that woman. I can’t do anything and feel so helpless. What can I do? Bucky doesn’t love me anymore, maybe he never did.”

There is a knock on your therapists’ door, causing her to frown. “Just a minute, Mrs. Barnes. I wonder who dares to disturb our session.”

“It’s okay,” you give her a soft smile. “I can open it for you, and you can make some more notes.”

“We need to talk,” when you open the door, Bucky stands in front of you, panting heavily, an envelope with papers in his hands. You assume he wants to deliver the divorce papers today, so you nod silently.

“Okay, come in,” defeated you open the door a bit wider to let Bucky inside. “Let’s get this over with.”

You walk toward the couch, holding back the tears while Bucky strips his coat off, tossing it onto the couch, ignoring your therapist completely.

“You need to stop talking to your therapist about me,” he begins. “Y/N, what will happen when she tells anyone about the stuff you told her.”

“I only told her about my doubts, that I feel like a grey mouse,” you sniffle. “There is nothing wrong with it. I try to feel better and get over the fact that I never was pretty or sexy to you.”

Tears run down your face, and you choke out a sob, hating yourself for it. “What the fuck, doll. I gave you time and space, but you’ll not talk about shit with a stranger. I want you to talk to me!”

“About what, Bucky? There is nothing left to say. You want that sexy woman, and I’m going to fade in grey again,” you shrug. “It is what it is.”

“Fade to what?” running one hand down his face Bucky sighs. “Y/N, doll. I was drunk and Natasha asked me if she can stay in the guest room. When I walked into our bedroom she was there, wearing little to nothing.”

“How could you resist a woman like her while having someone like me at home. I’m not-“ your voice cracks when you look down your body. 

“I-I’m sorry that I almost had sex with her. I was stupid. We had this fight, and I was weak that night, baby doll,” he crouches down next to you, gently touches your foot. “Look at me, doll. Natasha can’t compare to you.”

“’s okay, Bucky,” you shrug. “Men like you shouldn’t go for girls like me. You belong to Natasha or anyone else but me.”

“Fucking shit, Y/N! Yell at me. Scream. Throw things. Do anything but blame yourself for my infidelity. I was drunk and made out with Natasha. This was not your fault, it was mine, doll,” he runs his hand up and down your leg, tries to make you talk to him.

“I will sign the papers, no problem.” 

“Papers? What papers? I got you the photos you wanted of the puppy,” Bucky opens the envelope to place the pictures of one of the puppies you liked onto your lap. “I-you see.”

“Puppies? I don’t understand, Bucky,” sniff, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“Y/N, can we not talk about what happened?”

“Mr. Barnes, I’m glad you made it to one of our sessions,” your therapist clears her throat, watches you make space on the couch for your husband. “Why don’t we talk about your problems? Maybe I can help you?”

“OHMYGOD, Bucky,” you giggle, slapping his bare chest while he tries to slip inside of you. “Hey, shouldn’t we do one of those pair therapy exercises?”

“I’m on it, beautiful,” your husband slams into you, ignores you are still sore from your last encounter. Well, you barely made it out of your therapist’s office without fucking the life out of each other. “Aw, you were such a cute shy girl, and I, the big bad mobster just came to the session to help you cope.”

“You’re an asshole,” you pant, cunt already soaked again. “But fuck me, baby. My therapist will be so fucking proud of me for taking the next step.”

“Next step, huh? You went straight to fucking me, Steve, and Sam. That’s not the next step, it’s the ultimate.”

“Yeah, and it was great,” your nails bite into Bucky’s back, leave angry red lines but you don’t care. “I’m gonna lay claim on you again Barnes.”

He growls, hips crashing into yours. “This cunt is mine. No more Sam or Steve,” you hum to yourself, lean back, and decide to just enjoy the ride. “What? Don’t just lie there, doll.”

“I’m tired but want an orgasm. Come on, Buck, work that body,” you grin, watching Bucky move on top of you. “That’s what you wanted. Right? A girl like Dot, who just lies there and takes it.”

“Damnit, doll. Move your body,” he groans when you decide to buck your hips. “More, Y/N. I wanna feel you move your body…”

“So, a second chance?” your therapist asks when you shyly sit on the couch next to Bucky. Oh, how you love to pretend you are not the devil in disguise.

Your red lips curve into a smirk and you wonder if that smart woman will ever find out the truth about you and Bucky.

“Yes, we will go for more sex and fewer puppies,” Bucky grunts, patting your thigh, squeezing it roughly with his metal hand. “Truth is doc; my girl needs a cock more than anything. Sometimes I’ll bring Steve in, to help me fuck her.”

“What?” your therapist stutters, looking at you with wide eyes. “Mr. Barnes!”

“Oh, she loves it, doc. Last time it was an orgy. I watched Steve, Sam and Thor take turns. She was covered in cum and screamed only my name,” Bucky grins like the devil, already patting his hidden gun.

“I-I,” unsure what to say or how to react to such a confession your therapist slowly gets up from your chair. “I think I’ll need fresh air.”

“Sit, doc,” his voice dangerously low now Bucky dips his head to look her straight in the eyes. “Did you think I don’t know you were selling all those nice information my wife gave you to my enemies?”

“Buck,” you sigh. “Don’t kill another therapist. I liked that one—”

“Great, now I must find a new therapist thanks to you,” watching Bucky parade around your bedroom, a smirk plastered all over his face you roll your eyes. “Seriously, Barnes. You killed three of my therapists in not eight years.”

“The first dared to say we should file for divorce. I know he only wanted to get a taste of your pussy,” your husband mutters.

“Yeah, but what about therapist number two? He didn’t do anything wrong, still, the cops knocked on my door not days after his disappearance.”

“Hey, it wasn’t me!” Bucky snickers. “Maybe Steve didn’t like your therapist blamed him for our failed marriage.” The bastard shrugs. “Or I had to show him no one touches my wife.”

“He didn’t touch shit, Barnes,” you growl, watching Bucky open the door to the bathroom to reveal his next gift to you. “What?”

“May I present to you—” he smirks when a black cat waltzes into the room, “that’s Hades, its soul is as black as yours.”

“Don’t say shit about black cats,” patting the mattress you watch Hades jump onto the bed, purring. “I love black cats.”

“I know, doll,” laughing Bucky sits on the bed to watch you pat the cat.

“This is your last second chance, Barnes. Next time I’ll just kill you...”

Tags in reblog.

[theringers]

counting crimes - pierre gasly

illicit affairs, part three

summary: “wandering eyes and comfortable lies, you seem to sleep just fine” counting crimes / nessa barrett

a/n: i’m thinking there’s only gonna be two more parts but that may change, we’ll see. enjoy this and let me know what u think! feedback is always appreciated xoxo

also this gif today killed me

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, semi public sex shocker!, lil angst, cocky pierre

Your eyes widen as you try to comprehend what to do. Someone was at the door and Pierre was still inside of you, in shock. “Hey, y/n? Are you in there?” Max’s voice could be heard through the door. He tried to push the door in but the deadbolt stopped him.

You glared at Pierre, cleared your throat and placed a finger on his lips. “Yes, give me a few seconds.” You panicked and pulled your dress up, trying not to make too much noise.

Where the fuck was Pierre supposed to go? You should have just kept quiet. Your eyes focused on the window and you pointed towards it, quietly shoving him out.

He squeezed himself through the window and stepped down onto the grass. After quietly shutting the window, you looked in the mirror and readjusted your dress. Your hair needed some readjusting as well, so you quickly brushed through it.

You unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door to see your husband. “Hey,” he smiled at you, genuinely happy to see you.

“Hi, Max.” Your voice was shaking but you smiled to try to play it off. You usually had a good amount of time to psych yourself up before you went back to Max but you could still feel how Pierre had fucked you.

You were awful. He placed his hands on your hips and kissed your cheek. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re kind of hot.” He placed the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Yeah, it was really hot in there but I feel better now.” Hopefully he would buy that story.

“Well, if you’re feeling better now, I have an idea.” His hands rested on your hips again and pulled you into his body. “We have a few minutes to kill. What do you say we have a little bit of fun in here? It is our anniversary after all.” His lips found your neck and placed soft, gentle kisses on the skin. “You look so beautiful tonight, baby.” You were feeling sexually frustrated after being interrupted but he was right. It was your anniversary, so what the hell.

You leaned your neck to the side, inviting him in. “I love this dress, but it needs to come off.” He looked you in the eyes and smiled, reaching around for the zipper. He bent his knees and slowly pulled your dress to your ankles. His hands rested around your calves and move upwards while his lips trailed kisses on the soft skin of your thighs.

His finger pushed aside your panties and he slid a finger between your folds. “Jesus baby, you’re so wet.” He smiled and looked up at you. You moaned and rolled your eyes into the back of your head to avoid making eye contact with him. His tongue found its way between your legs, licking lightly before fucking your pussy with his tongue. You let out a moan while your body jerked toward his face uncontrollably. You needed him to finish you off so badly.

His fingernails ran lightly over the skin on your abdomen down to your thighs. “Oh, Max” you moaned.

Your hand quickly covered your mouth, remembering that even though he wasn’t out there possibly listening there were other people who shouldn’t hear you right now either.

He pulled his suit pants down and took himself in his hand, smiling at you. “I love you,” he said before entering you. He pressed against your body and thrusted up into you while looking in your eyes.

“I love you too, baby.” You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a moan.

Sometimes you forgot what it was like to have sex without the looming threat of someone finding out. Instead of worrying about someone catching you cheating, you were able to focus on the sensation and the intimacy but even now, something was missing.

Max left the bathroom before you, allowing you more time to clean up and look normal. You didn’t want to draw any more attention. “Hey guys, sorry I wasn’t feeling to well.” You said, grabbing your napkin off the table and taking your old seat. Max looked flushed for obvious reasons and couldn’t hide his smile.

You turned to your left and smiled at Pierre and Anna. “Did I miss anything?” Pierre’s gaze was glued to the stage ahead and he refused to look at you. His jaw was clenched and you could feel the steam coming out of his ears. You made eye contact with Anna and cocked your head in confusion. Why was he acting this way? Maybe Anna thinks it’s something she did wrong.

“Nothing important, for us at least,” she said, fixing single pieces of her hair.

Max’s hand gripped your inner thigh and he looked over to you and smiled. You returned the smile but immediately looked in Pierre’s direction to see him still refusing to look at you, his fist balled at his side.

Hotels in random cities at 2 am are lonely. The sound of Max’s snores kept you awake longer than expected. Your mind was wandering to places you wish it wouldn’t and you couldn’t get silence long enough to dream. The air conditioner in the room was set to the coolest temperature - hotel air always hitting different. Your mouth was dry, making you uncomfortable and adding to another thing making you unable to sleep.

You pulled the covers aside in frustration and grabbed a pair of shorts to put on under Max’s oversized Red Bull Racing shirt. You looked around for the room key and slid it off the table as soon as you spotted it.

As you stood in the elevator, you looked down and noticed your bare feet. It was 2 am so you were hoping there was no one important in the lobby. You just wanted a sip of cold water to help put you to sleep.

The night before races always made you nervous. You never knew what was going to happen so you had a constant pit in your stomach over your husband’s safety. That stress only increased when you began sleeping with another driver. Someone else’s safety to worry about.

You smiled at the older couple that greeted you when the elevator door opened. You crossed your arms and tip toed to the mini bar, grabbing the largest bottle of water they carried. After giving the gentleman your room number, you ran towards the closing elevator doors only to be met with familiar blue eyes. His hair was messy and his skin was glowing from sweat.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, stepping to one side. Even though he clearly just worked out you could still smell the strong scent of his cologne. “How have you been, y/n?”

“I’ve been okay. Your summer break looked fun,” you took a quick sip of your water and smiled at him.

“As did yours.” The silence was uncomfortable. You two were always laughing and talking nonstop. It was what you loved about him.

You focused on the pounding of your heart and your eyes wandered, trying to pass the uncomfortable time.

You suddenly lost your balance as the elevator shook, the lights flickered off, and the cables stopped. Turning your head towards Pierre, you began to get worried.

“Did this just break?” He asked, pressing the floor buttons and hoping the lights would come back on.

“Just our luck.” You laughed at yourselves. Why did the universe hate you? You plopped down onto the ground and twiddled your thumbs, realizing that you left your phone in the hotel room. “Do you have your phone?” You asked Pierre.

He lifted his wrist to show his apple watch. “I just went on a run. I never bring it with me on a run.” Of course he didn’t.

You groaned and banged your head on the wall behind you.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” He laughed, pleased with himself. He slid down to join you on the floor, the summer heat starting to creep into the elevator.

After not speaking for the entire summer break, this unconventional meeting was quite uncomfortable. You watched on Instagram as him and his wife vacationed in Bali, looking happy as ever. Granted, he did the same with you but he would never admit it. He had too much pride.

“Why didn’t you ever reach out?” You asked him, bluntly.

He looked at you making you feel dumb. “Why do you think I didn’t? I spent four weeks straight with Anna. Would you want me calling you up while you were on holiday with Max?”

“I don’t know,” you stumbled over your words. “I just would have liked to talk to you.”

“I told you before, I can’t keep doing this.” He said, exhausted at the back and forth you two had done.

“Yet, you do. You tease me and torture me and then say you need to be devoted to her. It’s not fair to me.” You let out a deep breath, exhausted over feeling this way.

“You want to talk about fair? You had sex with Max right after me. Less than five minutes after I was inside of you, he was too.”

You looked at him confused.

“I thought you were just going to talk to him for a few moments and then send him off.” Oh no. “I was waiting for you to open the window and let me back in.” He ran his hands over his face.

“Pierre, I’m so-”

“Don’t, y/n.”

He heard you and Max. You felt remorse for doing it, putting Pierre through that. But at the same time, you didn’t. Pierre is sleeping with his friend’s wife. He has no place to be jealous or mad. He comes second.

“How much did you hear?”

“I left when I heard him talk about how wet you were. He thought it was because of him but he had no idea that it was all for me.” Pierre scooted closer to you and put his hand on your thigh.  “He has no idea how wet you get for me.” He moved in closer to your ear. “How good I make you feel.”

Your head spun at his words. When he made you cum, you forgot about everything in the entire world except for him.

“I’m really sorry, Pierre. That was shitty of me.” You rested your hand on his chest. “Let me make it up to you.” Your hand moved to his thigh and grazed over his thin mesh gym shorts.

You pulled his shorts off and took him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head. He pulled your loose hair into his hand as a makeshift ponytail. He let soft groans escape his lips, being mindful of the setting. He would look down to see you taking him fully and have to look away or else he would finish quicker than he would like. Each time his eyes trailed down, his hips thrusted uncontrollably and a grunt would leave his lips.

“That’s it baby,” he said, in a low tone but almost whining. “God, your mouth feels so good. It was made to take my cock.” He continued to fill your mouth and throat, making you gag and tighten around him.

He pulled your head up by your hair and looked at you. “Come sit on my face.” He looked at your outfit, examining how he could take it off in the easiest way possible. He slipped off your comfortable sweat shorts, leaving you in just your Red Bull tee.

He laid down on the ground and hoisted your legs up and around his chest, getting the perfect view of your ass.

You stroked his cock and started to grind your hips against his chest. He took you in his hands immediately, not up for teasing, and pulled you onto his face. You rocked your hips over his face at a slow, light pace while still focusing on taking him in your mouth.

His tongue flicked your clit while his thumbs massaged your ass, pressing down hard and most definitely leaving bruises.

You moaned at the feeling of your legs beginning to tingle. He loved to 69 with you because every time you got an ounce of pleasure, your moans vibrated around his cock. You would tighten your throat and gag, sending him down a spiral. You both knew how to make each other feel incredible.

His facial hair tickled your inner thighs and left light scratches on the skin. As you ground your hips into his mouth, the sensation got rougher but the pleasure just increased.

He used his ab muscles to thrust into your throat, looking for his release. You tightened your grip around the base of his cock and suctioned even harder with your mouth as he let go.

Your legs went fully numb as the tension began to build in your stomach. You reached your peak, hearing Pierre’s tongue lap at your juices.

You rolled off of his body, looking for your shorts. The guilt was already beginning to set in and you couldn’t escape it now. You were stuck.

Pierre wiped his mouth with his hand and you noticed his whole face was wet. He was still smiling.

“I just hope Anna and Max aren’t standing there waiting for us when these doors decide to open.”

“Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake?” You laughed, brushing your fingers through your now knotty hair.

Pierre pulled his shorts back on and looked at you. “Now be honest with me, who eats your pussy better? Me or him?”

“You can’t ask me that.”

“I can and I did.”

“Well, I’m not going to give you an answer.”

He laughed at you, not the reaction you were expecting. “Don’t worry, I already have the answer. I heard the sounds you make when he’s between your legs. It’s nothing compared to the sounds you just made for me.” He winked at you, knowing exactly where you stand with him.

next part

[softboyluvr]

just friends

cedric diggory x female!reader

warnings: angst (ish???), intentional lower caps, that’s all tbh

very few could say they knew someone for forever, someone that knew their weaknesses and helped turn them into strengths. though they, they were the lucky ones. or unlucky ones, depending on who you asked. cedric and her had been inseparable the moment their parents introduced them when they were children.

from then on she always had someone to pick her up when she fell off the swings, a shoulder to cry on and someone who listened unconditionally when it seemed like the voices drowned her. she was lucky to have him.

she brought out the best in him. everyone expected him to be everything all the time, but with her he could be vulnerable. he felt like he could breathe when she was near. he had to see her fall in love with some of the guys in the castle, and then be there for her when it all fell through. he was just never that lucky to have her. at least not completely, she had the best of his moments. when in fourth year his friends teased him for never having had his first kiss she was the one to pull him in by his jersey after winning the first game of the quidditch season, the light drizzle sticking to their hair and making the whole thing seem like a dream to him. she had his first dance at their first ever ball. and most of all she had his heart hanging off a thread on her pinky finger, yet he was never lucky enough to have her completely.

he was resigned actually, no longer eager for the next time she came running to his arms after she realized the last guy wasn’t what she wanted, much less deserved. an eagerness that he knew was wrong and completely selfish but he couldn’t seem to deny. he liked being the guy that lit her those vanilla candles she loved so much and held her through the night.

he didn’t know what deity he had to thank for putting them together in every single class for the past six years. but there he was, letting her draw some sort of happy face kaleidoscope on his hand as he just looked at her with some stupid grin he could never wipe off when they were together. looking at how the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration and then down to the crystal hanging around her neck. remembering how one saturday she just dragged him to the lake to look for crystals. one of the last days of the summer, the morning sun keeping them warm but not sticky with sweat. the wildflowers around them made the air sweet and the soft swishing of the water in the river filled up their comfortable silence making everything perfect. if he were asked what he thought heaven was like he would think that’s the closest it could ever get. or maybe it was all perfect because he was with her.

he wasn’t surprised when she had to bring him back from his daze and put him to work on the potion slughorn had just spent the last 10 minutes explaining. he was eager to finish brewing the concoction, amortentia was one of their biggest projects of the year. but that was not what motivated him to finish it, neither was it finding out what he was going to smell. he knew exactly what his heart desired, and was not surprised when he smelled vanilla, soft rain and wildflowers. his eagerness was to discover what she was going to describe the potion to smell like. he hoped her heart’s deepest desires pointed towards him like a compass pointing north. he was about to ask when hermione granger, somehow managing to take classes above her level, turned around and asked herself.

he pretended to write some notes on his notebook when he was really waiting for anything that would hint at her fancying him the way he wished she would.

“we must’ve fucked it up because it smells like nothing” and she snorted like it was the funniest thing ever. their conversation carried but he was no longer interested on any sort of gossip the griffindoor carried. he knew the potion had worked, so either she was sick and her nose was all messed up or just didn’t fancy anyone at all. she could’ve also been lying, was it for his sake? did she just not want to share any more fragments of her love life with him and she decided to lie about this to keep some secrecy? was it someone he knew? was it one of their friends? had he introduced her to them?

class ended and the day flew by, whenever she asked about his change in demeanor he brushed her off with a smile and assured her it was all fine, “just tired ‘s all”

he wanted to go down to his room and read, alone, as soon as the school day was over. but he had promised to go with her to this tree they always hung out in when the day was nice. she was talking about things she had noticed throughout the day and when he zoned back into the conversation their tree was closer than he realized and she was talking about potions class.

“i swear i was keeping an eye out for you. i was worried you were sick because someone had slipped some amortentia on your water or something. i mean im surprised no one did” and she sat down leaning on the trunk of the tree. “anyways you never did tell me what it was your heart’s deepest desires were. or who is it that that is for that matter” she was taking some colored pencils out and it seemed like the whole thing was humorous to her. but the question had struck him, she was lying back in class.

she had taken his silence as a cue to keep her chatter going. not paying any mind to how he still hadn’t sat down. “i heard someone say how when slughorn showed the class below us the potion just as a heads up for next year cho chang said she swore she smelled you. i didnt know you guys were that close” and she wiggled her eyebrows at him while taking out some sketch book from her bag. she was really trying to joke with him right now. “she’s really pretty-“

but he cut her off. “why would you lie?”

“i swear! hermione told me all about it after i ran onto her in the bathroom before potions class started. i mean you have been tutoring her for a while now so i don’t know how you didn’t see it coming”

he was silent for a second and she grew uncomfortable of his gaze just lingering. standing up as he started again.

“we didn’t fuck up the bloody potion. but you told granger we did, why did you lie?”

she looked at him for a couple seconds and then laughed. “come on ced, slughorn said the thing was perfect. don’t worry about the grade”

“this is not about a mark and you know it” his tone was so serious it was bordering into stern. it was like his patience was growing thin but she didn’t know what to say, so she just shrugged and looked away.

“didn’t feel like talking about it then”

“we can talk about it now”

“it looks like there’s rain clouds coming”

“what are you trying to avoid?”

she just went to pick up her book, stuffing her things back into her bag. she started the walk back to the castle making him scoff and follow her lead.

“why don’t you want to talk to me?” to her he still sounded defensive. but he was trying his best to mask his vulnerability.

“i do want to talk to you ced. just not about it right now”

“was it someone i know? was it fred? i heard he’s with angelina so that’s a dead end you know”

“cedric just drop it”

“so it was him then”

she groaned and turned to look at him, breaking her stride. her face was burning with what he saw as anger.

“why does it matter so badly to you cedric?”

the thunder quickly ate up the good weather they still had and the air turned chilly. how fitting.

“it just does and i want to know”

“it really doesn’t matter to me and it shouldn’t to you either” she was upset about it, maybe her feelings for fred were far deeper than he could guess. he was aware of their friendship, but he never knew how close they had grown to be. maybe him being a tutor pushed her to finding someone new, some new more interesting friend. “i really don’t get why you’re blowing this to be such a big deal when cho-“

“it is a big deal to me” he chuckled and he saw the drizzle before he could feel it. “it’s a big deal to me when all i could smell on the thing was wildflowers and fresh rain” he let a breath out, his voice lowering back to its usual tone. no longer exasperated but tired. “fresh rain and vanilla”

she just stood there. quiet. looking at him. a couple steps and he had broken the distance between them. placing his hands on her shoulders and running them down to her hands.

“so please, just please tell me what it was for you”

“lilacs” she looked up at him and met his gaze. the flowers his mother had planted around the swing sets were lilacs, the flowers she tucked on his suit pocket on their first dance were lilacs. but he still couldn’t let his heart jump to conclusions. she took in the silence and looked forward, staring at his chest rather than looking at him in the eyes. the blow was coming. “warm sheets and fresh rain”

she smiled at the irony of the drizzle that covered her hair at the moment and dared to peek at him from under her lashes. he was puzzled by the last one. she kept looking down at his hands holding hers.

“that was my first kiss too you know, you never really asked and i guess i never told you. but i knew you were tired of everyone teasing you for it so i guessed you wouldn’t mind as long as you got it over with” she was rambling and he smiled. the rain coating her lashes reminded him of the first time, he let go of her hand and took her chin between his pointer and thumb. tilting her head up to look at him, moving his hand to run through her hair and finally cupping her face. running his thumb over her cheek. it was like he was getting a do over, and he wanted to take his time this time around. she looked into his eyes and then glanced down to his lips. he didn’t waste more time before his other hand flew to the free side of her face and his lips were on hers. her hands on his shoulders pulling him impossibly closer to her.

he cursed his lungs for preventing him from staying there, causing him to pull away slightly. she opened her eyes to see him looking at her already. he took in how the water droplets stuck to her hair and the smile that danced on her face.

her eyebrows shot up a little “took you long enough” her teasing smile made him let out a loud laugh.

he hummed and nodded. feigning seriousness “maybe” he looked at her with a teasing smile of his own. “but not nearly as long as it took you, now did it”

her eyebrows shot up and she let out a surprised laugh. he admired her for a second more before he leaned down to kiss her again. missing how she quickly ducked and escaped his grasp. starting to sprint through the grass towards the castle. he chased behind her as they both laughed at the water splashing around their feet and starting to soak them up slowly. she looked back at him and playfully screamed, booking it through the courtyard and slipping past the few people that were still out enjoying the soft rain.

their friends quickly spotted the pair, not surprised by their behavior but intrigued as to what had caused the giant to chase after her through the rain. watching as he was catching up to her when she had almost reached the group, which was seated waiting for them next to one of the arches surrounding the courtyard. staying safe from the rain under the roof. they all playfully looked at her catching her breath, not amused at all by their games when he reached her. hair sticking to his forehead and robes drenched just like hers. she yelped as he picked her up and spun her around, their friends getting ready to listen to whatever story was behind their chase.

the story telling itself when he set her down softly and pulled her in for a quick kiss. their bubble of happiness not popping but encasing all of their friends as well. no questions were needed, the happiness just flowed and bubbled.

he swung his arm over her shoulders. pulling her into his chest as she started the conversation back up. everything had fallen into place for him, and now he could light up candles and tuck her into bed not because she had another unlucky shot at love. but because he was finally lucky enough.

[seungmoroll]

I Want to Go Home | Hwang Hyunjin

Word count: 1.3k

Genre & warnings: badboy Hyunjin x reader, angst, fluff, mentions of fighting & smoking 

Requested: no

A/n: it’s missing Hyunjin hours :( 

           What was supposed to be a fun night for everyone turned into an uneasy night for you. Chan was throwing a beach party and so of course everyone showed up, and that included you and your boyfriend Hyunjin. Originally, Hyunjin had just wanted to stay in and watch romcoms with you, but for once, you had wanted to go out and so you begged him to come out with you; and of course, Hyunjin being Hyunjin, he couldn’t say no to you. That’s why the two of you were cuddling with each other next to the bonfire surrounded by your friends.

           The pair of you could’ve been dancing with some of the others, but Hyunjin, for once, didn’t want to dance, so he had pulled you towards the bonfire and hasn’t let go of you since. You were currently listening to Jisung animatedly tell everyone a story, when a group of guys approached you guys, and from your side, you could feel Hyunjin’s body get tense.

           “Well, look what we have here. We heard that the Bang Chan was throwing a party, so of course we had to come out and see it for ourselves,” the intruder, who you supposed was the “leader” of the group, said. From the corner of your eye, you see Chan stand up from his spot, “Gyubin, it’s good to see you dude.” You could tell that there was no sincerity in his words. With the arrival of this new group, the environment had suddenly turned cold. “Why don’t we go hang out over there?” Chan had attempted to usher them away from you guys, but they had made zero movement. “Nah, I think we’re good here Chan.” Gyubin’s eyes then shift from Chan towards you and Hyunjin, and you can’t help but look away from his eyes, and you feel Hyunjin’s grip on you slightly tighten.

           “Wait. Is that who I think it is? What am I saying, of course it is. Hyunjin, it’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” Gyubin attempts to move forward, closer towards the two of you, but Chan puts out a hand to stop him, causing for Changbin and Minho to get up from their seats as well. “Don’t.”

           Arms out in surrender, looking down at the hand on his chest, with his three lackeys looking like they’re ready to fight, Gyubin says, “Hey man, I mean no harm. Just want to catch up with my good friend Hyunjin.” You weren’t dumb, you could tell from his tone alone that him and Hyunjin were not friends at all.

           Turning towards Hyunjin, you ask him in a hushed tone, “Hyunjin, who are they?”

           Quickly, he says to you, “No bodies. Just people from the past.” From that answer alone, you knew not to ask anymore questions.

           You knew of Hyunjin’s past. Everyone had warned you of him because of it. Hyunjin was the stereotypical bad boy. He skipped school, he got into fights & even smoked. You even saw a glimpse of this version of him when you first moved out here, but he wasn’t the same Hyunjin from the past anymore. He himself said that you were the reason why he changed.

           “What was that Hyunjin? Did I just hear you call us a bunch of nobodies? Last time I checked; we were more than just nobodies. If I remember correctly, we were the guys that beat you up so badly that you had to go to the hospital.”

           “That’s because it was 4 against 1 and you guys brought 2x4’s. He would’ve totally beaten you guys up if you didn’t have such a huge advantage,” Jisung said, butting in.

           “Jisung, shutup.” Hyunjin says to him. Finally looking at Gyubin and others, Hyunjin says to them, “Look, I don’t want to start anything right now dude. Why don’t you just go away so that we can all enjoy our night.”

           “You know what? I just think you’re afraid to get you butt whooped again, especially in front Y/n.” Gyubin looks you straight in the eyes when he says your name.

           In a flash, Hyunjin gets up from his position next to you and is clutching Gyubin’s shirt by the collar, “Don’t you dare say their name. Something so precious shouldn’t escape a nasty mouth like yours. Heck you shouldn’t even be allowed to be this close to them. I don’t want them to get filthy because of you.” By now everyone has crowded around them and you have gotten up from your seated position. “Hyunjin,” Chan attempts to get Hyunjin to stop, but to no avail, he doesn’t listen.

           “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” Hyunjin starts to draw his fist back, getting ready to land one on Gyubin’s face. Not wanting the situation to get any more out of hand, you call out to Hyunjin while holding on to the back of his shirt,

           “Hyunjin, I want to go home.”

           He silently turns around towards you and the hardened look on his face softens, and he drops his fist. Without another thought, he retreats and wraps an arm around your waist, “Then let’s go home.”

           “Wait? That’s it? You’re not gonna fight?” Gyubin asks, obviously annoyed.

           Without turning around, Hyunjin says to him, “No, I got better things to do right now.”

           Scoffing, Gyubin says, “I see that you’ve gone soft.”

           “And what of it?”

           Leading you to the car, he opens the door, letting you get into the car, and when he gently shuts the door for you, Chan grabs him by the shoulder, and says to him, “I’m proud of you.” Motioning towards you with his head, he adds, “You got a keeper right there.”

           “I know, hyung.”

           The drive back to your house is filled with silence, neither of you knowing what to say to the other. Thousands of ways to apologize to you filling up Hyunjin’s head and just too many thoughts in yours.

           “Y’know, it was a pretty reckless thing you did tonight.”

           Softly Hyunjin responds, “I know,” sighing, while rubbing the exhaustion off of his face, “I didn’t want you to see me like that. It’s just that. It’s just that he knows how to push my buttons and I just can’t let him treat me like that and hearing your name come out of his mouth angered me so much. The way he looked at you made me want to pummel him into the ground.”

           Wanting him to know how you truly felt about the situation, you confess to him, “It was scary to see you like that.” After hearing your words, guilt ran throughout Hyunjin’s body. The last thing he ever wanted was for you to be scared because of him. Finding a safe place to pull over on the side of the road, Hyunjin puts the car in park. Turning towards you, reaching out for your hands, he gets you to look him in the eyes, making you realize that tears were forming in his eyes “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I scared you. I promise you that I will never see me get like that ever again.”

           Letting go of one of his hands, you gently clutch his has, gently rubbing your thumb against his cheek, “It’s okay Hyunjin. I’m okay. I’m just worried about you.” Moving your hand from his cheek to his lips, he plants a soft kiss on your palm, “I’m okay as long as you’re okay.”

           Unable to stop yourself from chuckling, you say to him, “Gyubin was right, you have gone soft.”

           “Only for you babe.”

           Rolling your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just take me home now, I can hear the couch and Crazy, Rich, Asians calling out for us all the way from here.”

           “Oh, so now you want to watch romcoms and cuddle with me,” Hyunjin says cheekily.

           Pushing his face away, you respond, “Just drive, you big softie.” Smiles are etched on both of your faces, as Hyunjin begins to drive the two of you back home.

A/n: I know I have requests to do, but I couldn’t get the thought of this out of my head so I had to get it out. I hope you guys liked it! let me know what you guys thought of it, feedback is always welcomed :)

masterlist

[domthedevil]

Can I request a angsty smut piece with Mammon and an MC that is friendly to everyone but actually loves him back but thinks he doesn’t have a high opinion of them because of all the insults? Like they believe them and it makes them sad so they think that their feelings are unrequited? Any gender pronouns are fine if you have time please -🐻

I’m sorry it’s so long! My angst isn’t very good (a little rushed) but I hope you enjoy! I had fun writing this~! 👻

Warnings: sad times, but then spicy times

Fateful Misunderstanding gn!mc

“N-not that I want to spend more time with MC.”

“Th-there’s no way THE great Mammon would fall for a mere human.”

“Hey! My one and only true love is Goldie here!”

It hurt hearing him say it over and over again. Insisting that you weren’t close, that he didn’t need you, that he didn’t want you. It hurt. Yet all you wanted was to hold his hand, hug a little longer, kiss his cheek, tell him how much you really...love him.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. He’s a demon, and not just any demon. THE Avatar of Greed. And knowing how popular he is with just about everyone made you feel as if he were out of your league. Why would he ever be interested in some human...?

But when he noticed the way you frowned around him, when you smiled your usual smile to everyone else, he started to regret his behavior. He wanted your smile more than anyone. How can he earn it back?

“MC, come watch a movie with me tonight.”

“Are you sure? I mean...you want to watch it with me?”

“O-of course!” Mammon was surprised and almost flinched at your hurt expression. What had he done? “MC...please come...I miss spending time with ya.”

He did? Mammon missed you? Your heart ached, hoping desperately that meant something. But not letting your heart take the lead just yet.

Later that night you were laughing and playing games with each other as the movie, long forgotten by you both, played. It was so easy to forget his words when he treated you like this. When you were alone and relaxed, everything was perfect. So why didn’t he feel the same way?

“MC. Im glad you’re smiling again.” His voice was soft and warm. But you couldn’t let hope draw you in any further. Lest you get hurt even more.

“Thanks. I’m sorry it’s hard to be around me. But I’m happy we’re spending time together.”

“Hard to be around? What are ya sayin?”

“Well...I know you don’t...like me very much.”

“WHAT!?”

You jumped slightly as you leaned away from him. You were both on the couch he kept just clean enough for the two of you. A look of shock and horror ran across his face. A face that said “Are you insane?”.

“MC! You’re the one I want to spend the most time with. I don’t not like you! I mean...” Mammon panicked as he spoke. Mortified that you’d think he...didn’t love you. “MC...I love you.” His red face still held a look of shock. Did he really just say it.

A few tears fell from your eyes as his words hit you again. But this time it wasn’t the gut punch they’d always been. The grip around your heart loosened for the first time in a long while.

“You always say...how much you don’t like me. How much you don’t want to be alone with me. I just thought...you really hated me.”

“Don’t cry! Ah, MC!” Mammon threw his arms around you. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry...”

You held him back, as tightly as you’d always wanted to. Pulling away only slightly, just enough to press his forehead to yours, Mammon wiped your tears way with the pads of his thumbs. Though your eyes still watered, you were soon smiling with joy.

“I love you too Mammon.”

Mammon’s heart almost stopped in his chest. He had already forgotten he said it. But hearing you say it now made him forget any embarrassment or regret he had. Without being able to stop it, Mammon’s lips were on yours. Soft at first but hungrier as you kissed him back.

Placing your hands on his face, Mammon almost purred against your lips. More. More of your touch. More of you. Parting your lips with his, Mammon’s smooth tongue played with yours. Fighting yours in an endless battle. It was like you were both pouring as much as you could into each other. Only when you both needed air did you pause a moment. Panting and gasping for air, you couldn’t believe the look of desire you saw on his face. You wondered if you looked the same. Because all you wanted was him.

“Mammon...”

“C’mon.” Mammon picked you up and tossed you on his bed not too far from the couch you shared.

Gently he eased you down, hovering over you to see your face. A frustrated growl left him as he kissed you again.

“Do ya know how long Ive wanted to do this?” He punctuated his rhetorical question with a rougher kiss. “How long I wanted to tell ya?”

Bracing your hands against his chest, Mammon pressed himself against you. You wish you could ask him the same things. So badly did you want to hold him, kiss him, be kissed.

You felt his hips rut against your leg slightly. You could feel how hard his dick was. Your own hips moved, returning the motion against your own. A groan slipped from Mammon who buried his face against your neck. You moaned his name as your hands ran down his back. Kisses planted themselves against your neck, making a chill run through you. Mammon silently communicated with you. Both of you moving apart for a moment to remove your clothing.

He undressed you slowly, taking in every inch of your perfect body. Curves, scars, freckles, anything and everything on your body, he made sure to memorize. On the contrary, you were too excited to get him naked. He laughed as you made quick work of every button and zipper. But he stayed in his underwear, there was a lot ahead of you and he didn’t want to ruin the surprise just yet.

Parting your legs he lapped at the sensitive tip of your sex. Sucking and licking experimentally. The volume of your moaning told him just what you liked. His thumbs dug into the underside of your thighs as you pressed the against his head, reacting to a pleasure reaching your core.

“Mammon...That feels good. So good.” Your hushed voice made his cock twitch. Hearing you say his name with such need was too arousing.

His fingers, slick with lube, pressed into you one by one. The feel of his tongue on the tip of your heat kept you relaxed while he stretched you. Feeling not only how many fingers inside you, but how deep they anchored inside had you gasping. Scissoring you open, his fingers pressed against your soft insides.

“Fuck, MC. I want to give ya more, but-! I don’t know if I can wait any longer...”

“I want it Mammon. Just like I’ve always wanted you.”

“I love you so much MC...”

With his usual cocky smile, he rested on his knees to remove his dark underwear. Stroking his throbbing cock, Mammon watched your reaction. He was long and thick, you could feel your mouth water slightly. Was he going to fit? Blushing deeper than you’d ever seen, Mammon rubbed the tip of his dick against your entrance.

“Don’t look at me with such hungry eyes...it makes me wanna take ya even more.”

“I am hungry Mammon. I...I’m ready.”

The large tip slipped inside you with some resistance. Mammon wished he’d taken more time to prep you. But you loved how you felt stretched out by his thick cock. Easing in slowly, Mammon braced himself on his hands on either side of you. His panting was heavy. A visible sweat on his forehead. You were so tight, your walls hugged him perfectly. He was almost too scared to move. Already wanting to come. Your own moan echoed slightly as he moved in and out of you thoughtfully. Mammon was almost hypnotized by the expression of pleasure you were making. He’d dreamed about this. He’d always wanted to make this happen somehow.

His hips picked up pace as your moans egged him on. Hearing you enjoy his cock, his love, and his rhythm made him want more. Your own hands gripped at his white locks as you kissed at his neck. Nibbling every other spot. When he reached a deep spot that made you clench around him, your teeth sank in slightly harder. Earning a deep growl from him.

“It’s so good...” it left you like a chant. “It’s so good, Mammon. I love you.”

“MC...Come for me. Let me hear you say my name.”

“Yes. Mmmnnn! Mammon...Mammon!”

Gripping your hips, he slammed his cock inside you, aiming for the familiar tight spot he felt before. Closing his eyes, he concentrated hard on not finishing just yet. He needed to feel you come around him. It wasn’t long after that the stars in your vision began to blur. Lips crashing against his, tongue tangling in a heated kiss. You were on the edge, feeling your core tighten unbearably so.

“Mammon...coming...hmmm.”

“Good MC, me too.”

As your kiss continued, you both fell over the edge quickly. Feeling him fill you up to the brim. You could feel how much pent up cum he was shooting inside you. It took a moment before you felt him empty himself completely.

“S-sorry, I didn’t know it’d be so much.”

After cleaning up, sharing softer kisses and cuddling up under his blankets, you felt so elated once more. Now you knew how he really felt. You knew how you really felt. And that was that Mammon was one of your deepest loves. And he was thinking the same thing.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

shelter me from winter’s bite

Everyone’s doing a hypothermia fic so I figured I may as well contribute. It’s one of my favorite tropes.

title taken from Brian Czyzyk’s poem “Hoarfrost” (he’s my favorite young queer poet and you should check him out).

tw: hypothermia, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending

---

“Do you always have to be so damnably loud?” Geralt growls, glaring at Jaskier from across the small room. 

“My apologies for existing,” the bard snaps back. He’d only been rearranging his pack, looking for something reasonably clean to sleep in while his clothes were laundered by the innkeeper’s lovely wife. “I’ll try to do so more quietly from now on, good sir.”

Geralt huffs out a breath in passive-aggressive annoyance and Jaskier bristles. 

“Oh well, then. C’mon witcher, I know you want to say it!”

“Say what?” Geralt asks. His voice is low and threatening. He’s ready to play the game and by god he’s going to win this time.  

“It’s practically your motto at this point,” the bard hisses through his teeth, angry and bitter and tired. Geralt sees victory. Sees some peace and quiet on the horizon. “Say it!”

Geralt does as he’s told, like any good witcher would: “Fuck off, bard.”

“There it is!” Jaskier laughs joylessly, throwing up his hands. He pulls on his doublet and boots and heads for the door. “If you want me gone so badly, Geralt, then I will go. I’ll get out of your lovely white hair and leave you to mope in peace.”

“Fucking finally,” the witcher snarls, turning away. He doesn’t see the genuine hurt in Jaskier’s blue eyes as the bard quietly closes the door rather than slamming it. He doesn’t hear the quiet sob that rips its way out of Jaskier’s throat as he stands very still, shocked and suddenly exhausted all the way to his bones. He doesn’t smell the salt of his bard’s tears as he slips silently down the hallway and out into the late autumn night. He doesn’t notice the snow starting to pile up on the windowsill ahead of season.

He’s too busy being a self-flagellating moron to notice any of that.

---

Geralt is woken in the middle of the night by a commotion downstairs. He can hear several loud, panicked heartbeats and one very quiet, very slow heartbeat beneath all of those; it’s achingly familiar but the half-asleep witcher can’t quite call its source to mind. Geralt listens as the innkeeper barks out a series of sharp orders: “Meredith, you get to the kitchen and make some strong black tea! Florence, fetch a pail of warm water and two or three towels from the laundry. Josiah you lazy lout, get into the attic and fetch some blankets! The poor lad has gone blue all over!”

The witcher peers into the hallway and catches the skinny stable hand, Josiah, racing for the attic staircase. “What’s going on?”

“A farmer from the next town over was on his way over to help a friend’s sow give calf and he found-” the lad pauses to suck in a great gulp of air and launches off again “-and he found that friend of yours lying in a snowbank, muttering nonsense and shivering like a leaf. The poor fool didn’t have a cloak on him or anything, just a doublet and walking boots! He’s near-dead!”

Geralt curses and makes for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reaches the main floor. There are voices coming from the kitchen and he follows them as if in a dream, his feet moving without aid of his conscious mind. “Jaskier? Is it the bard, Jaskier?”

“Are you the great brute what kicked him out?” the innkeeper’s wife asks, crossing her arms over her ample chest and narrowing her eyes. Geralt falters. 

“No, he- he left on his own, in a huff.”

“Wonder who could have started the huff,” the woman rolls her eyes. This isn’t about his status as a witcher, Geralt knows; this eye roll was made by a woman who knows a lovers’ quarrel when she sees one. Except that this stupid little spat might have cost Jaskier his life.

“Where is he? May I see him, goodwife?”

The woman points to a table in the corner, which has been cleared of cooking implements and cushioned with a heavy bearskin. Jaskier lies atop the brown fur, his skin frighteningly pale, his lips and fingers tinted a slight blue. Geralt rushes to his side and takes one of the bard’s stiff hands in his own. He brushes a stray lock of brown hair from Jaskier’s forehead and nearly recoils in shock from the temperature of his skin. Even colder than his hands, which are already dangerously frigid. If Jaskier cannot play his lute-

Geralt doesn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. Instead he works on rubbing small, careful circles onto the back of the bard’s hands with his thumbs, warming the skin in tiny increments: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

The bard remains unmoving, heartbeat fluttering weakly, lungs barely drawing breath; Geralt fights back an overwhelming sense of panic, trying to recall whatever training he’d received at Kaer Morhen concerning freezing humans. 

“Do you mind if I take him upstairs and tend to him myself?” the witcher asks.

“Can you take care of him?” the innkeeper’s wife replies. 

Geralt bows his head, shame licking like flames up and down his bent spine, and nods. “Yes, Ma’am. I have dry clothes for him in our room and I was trained extensively for emergency situations such as this, all witchers are.”

“Alright,” she narrows her eyes. “But he’d best be alive come morning.”

“I’ll happily turn myself over to the village elders to be dealt with accordingly should the bard come to any harm,” he vows. Her eyes widen minutely and he can read the surprise in her body language, but she remains relatively calm. 

“Any further harm, rather. Alright, then. I’ll have my husband and the girls bring those supplies up to your room for him. We’ll be glad to go back to sleep.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Geralt bows formally. She blushes despite her irritation with him and waves him away. 

“Take your bard and go, witcher, before I change my mind and spend all night caring for him myself out of motherly pity. Go.”

Geralt hefts Jaskier into his arms, heavy bearskin blanket and all, and hurries up the stairs to his room. He will not let Jaskier come to any further harm. Not by his hand. Not by his word. Never again. 

---

Back in their room, Geralt quickly undresses the shivering human, peeling away what few damp layers there are with growing disappointment. Jaskier hadn’t been prepared for a walk in the snow at all! Although, to be fair, it hadn’t seemed that cold earlier in the evening and the snow had been sudden and heavy. 

He wipes Jaskier down with a warm cloth and slips one of his own clean shirts over the bard’s head. He tries not to let his gaze linger on the way Jaskier’s shoulders don’t quite fill out the dark material. Or on the way his dark, wiry chest hair peeks out through the open laces at his throat. The witcher quickly shuffles him into clean smallclothes and wraps him in a thick wool blanket. 

They sit curled before the fire and Geralt holds Jaskier against his chest. He hums with his voice like gravel, grating out one note after the other in some attempt to soothe the bard’s aching body. Jaskier shivers and shakes violently in the witcher’s strong embrace, his eyes clenched shut with the cramps that wrack his frame as his muscles return to their normal temperature. Geralt feels like he’s holding a porcelain doll and keeps his grip deliberately loose, tight enough to comfort but not restrain.

“G-Geralt,” he groans. “Hold me, please.”

The witcher squeezes his arms more confidently around the bard’s middle, burying his face in Jaskier’s soft hair and breathing deeply. The warmth that usually emanates from his busy human body is gone and his chamomile-honey scent is buried beneath a layer of damp cold; it feels wrong. Terribly wrong. Geralt murmurs against his temple, begging the younger man’s forgiveness: “I’m so sorry, Jaskier. Gods, I’m so sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me? I’m a fool, you know. I’m a fool witcher who never says anything important until it’s too late. I’m so incredibly sorry, my love.”

“This is a very good dream,” the bard sighs, smiling despite the pain. His eyes open, bleary and addled. “Like I was having in the woods, but better.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and Jaskier seems to understand the unspoken question, even in his current sorry state.

“The real Geralt would never be so gentle with me, dear heart. You must be a dream, sent to me on my deathbed to ease my passage into the afterlife. There’s no other explanation for your sudden displays of tenderness.”

“It’s... It’s really me,” Geralt affirms. He runs his hand up and down the length of Jaskier’s spine, “I’m here, Jaskier. Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid?”

“I forgive you for being stupid ever other day, dear witcher. It is of no consequence to me.”

“It almost was,” Geralt frowns. “I nearly- I almost-” 

Jaskier’s arm raises weakly and his too-chilly hand presses to Geralt’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have stormed off like an idiot. I shouldn’t have kept picking the fight. We both fucked up, alright? What matters is our second chance. We got to have one, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“Am I wearing your shirt?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Yours were all being laundered and this one was clean and it had been in my pack near the fire so it was already warm and-”

“Did you take care of me all night?”

“Hmm.” Geralt sighs after his hum and glances away for a moment. “What did you mean about... about the dream in the woods?”

“Oh. Well, when I was very cold and things were hazy and slow, I dreamed that you were there with me. Everything got very fuzzy and warm for a little bit, and when it was warm you were holding me like this and giving me little kisses. It was... nice. Even though I knew I was dying because you were being so soft, so considerate; saying things to me you’d never say out loud in real life.”

“I love you, Jaskier. I will try my best not to lose my temper needlessly,” the witcher swears. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Can we still cuddle like this?” Jaskier asks, leaning his weigth against Geralt’s firm chest. “It’s so nice to be held.”

“Of course. Anything you want. I’m not going to waste my second chance by treating you poorly. Not for another second, my beloved bard.”

“B-beloved?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, well then I’m definitely still dreaming.”

Geralt lifts Jaskier into his arms and carries him over to the bed, which is piled high with their extra blankets. He tucks Jaskier into the nest against the wall and lays along the outside of the mattress. He presses his lips to the bard’s, reveling in Jaskier’s returning warmth, and smiles. “I’ll prove it’s not a dream. Every day.”

“Sounds nice,” Jaskier yawns, snuggling into the witcher’s arms and settling down to sleep. 

“It will be.”

[jae-daddy]

Duff (9)

im jaebum au series 

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven  masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, smurt, cheating plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time does on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: a short one, because I really truly hated where I had left the story last time. it was not it, but I like this. it’s better than the alternative I guess. also, I am writing all of it before publishing it so <3 hope yall like it <3 

You don’t know what came first; the guilt, embarrassment or hurt. 

But you knew yourself well, and you knew guilt didn’t touch your heart until later that night when you were lying in bed. As you stared up at the ceiling, thinking about that him, for the first time guilt laid its icy fingertips on you. 

The first thing you felt was hurt. Hurt that clawed at your heart, and made your soul whimper. Hurt that cut through you entirely as you remained in his arms, watching his face. 

“Yes,” he had said, his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Yes,” you replied, breathing him in as you leaned closer to him. 

You saw his lips draw into a straight line as he pulled away and said, “No.”

“Oh,” was all you said moving away from him. 

A simple sound, not even a word to express the pain that seared through you at his words. 

No.

He didn’t want you. 

Im Jaebum didn’t want you. 

You were in his arms, your skirt drawn up to your hips as you sat on his lap. In a single breath, he changed the moment completely, and you were no longer burning in passion, but in agony. Agony of not being desired by this man, not being wanted by him, when you yearned for him. When you were begging for his lips to touch any part of you, he had turned away. 

And then came the embarrassment blazing through the darkness of lust, and it hurt. It stabbed you everywhere till you were shivering in sudden coldness. You were so embarrassed, so ashamed. You had- you had done... all of that, and all he said was ‘no.’ 

It wasn’t the rejection that the embarrassment stemmed from. It was because you had tried, because you thought it would happen, because you thought he wanted you. Because you had offered yourself to him, and all he said to express his repugnance was a simple ‘no.’ 

You climbed off him and walked out the office. Your face was on fire from the shame as you straightened your skirt. You chuckled to yourself thinking a walk of shame was better then trying to hook up with your boss only to be rejected. 

You finished work that day, and the next, like nothing was amiss. As if that moment didn’t happen. As if every time you saw him, you weren’t reminded that he didn’t want you. 

Im Jaebum didn’t want you. 

It shouldn’t hurt that bad, especially since you almost swore you hated him with your heart. But it did, it hurt truly terribly badly, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You couldn’t even feel sorry for yourself long enough too. Because as soon as the hurt and shame went away, and you looked up at your dark ceiling, you remembered her face. 

You remembered the way she had held your hand whenever you were scared. How she would give you that look every time she took your hand giving her courage. Her love, her kindness, her friendship, her. 

How for the first time since you’ve known her... for the first time, it seemed as if Heather truly liked someone and you... 

You didn’t feel sorry for yourself, or your heart that ached. You weren’t sure if the ache was because of the rejection or from the thought of loosing your best friend. But you didn’t feel sorry because what happened was your fault.

“Thanks for the files, y/n,” Jaebum looked up from his desk. For the first time, he was seated in the big boss seat without any reason. You smiled and nodded, before turning to leave, like nothing was amiss. As if that afternoon had never happened, as if you had never crossed that line.

You were almost out the door when he said, “Have a good weekend.”

Your fingers turned white on the handle, but you nevertheless you turned around and gave him a bright smile, “You too, Mr Im.” 

// 

Heather pouted as she sat next to you, before pulling you into a big bear hug. 

“It’s so nice to have my best friend back,” she sang, happily, hugging you tighter. 

You gave her small smile as you leaned into her, petting her arm, “It’s nice to be back.”

“Gosh, I’m so glad you’re done with that internship,” she huffed over the loud music of the club. 

You only nodded as you took a sip of your drink, “I still have three weeks left, Heather.” 

“Three weeks pass by like nothing,” she shook her head. She turned to you with a bright smile, “Remember Bali? Maybe now that you’re going to be more free, maybe we can...” 

She gave you a huge grin, quizzically raising her brows up and down to the music. Before she began bopping her head like a dork to the beat, “What do you say, y/n?” 

I’m sorry. 

“Whatever you want,” you smiled at her, and she exclaimed in joy. 

// 

“Mr Park Jinyoung is now officially the CEO of Spring Industries, and has sent forward a report and plan for their proposal,” You looked up to see Jaebum opening his mouth, but you cut him off knowing his question. “The file is already on your desks, and I have included a summary report from myself and Mr Paul.” 

You had a month and a bit to think about what had happened. In the beginning, you had blamed yourself. It was foolish of you to put yourself out there for him, but the more you thought about the angrier you got. 

It wasn’t all in your head. Im Jaebum did flirt with you. 

He gave you all the signals, all the green lights, and the arrows leading you to him. He basically had made a pathway for you to follow into his arms, and after all that he said no? 

No. 

No, it wasn’t your fault for putting yourself out there for him. You had done it because you thought... you felt that he too... but who knows, Im Jaebum was friendly with everyone. 

But he did tell others his wish was to kiss them?

Did he ever follow anyone to the rooftop of a club and call himself a fool for letting them go?

Did he talk to everyone about his mother?

Did he smile like that at everyone? Look at them like that? Touch them with the faintest touch of his fingertips?

But you should’ve known better. 

These rich guys never go for girls like you. 

You don’t have any money, any wealth, nothing to offer them to make their status go up. You weren’t even pretty enough to be a trophy wife. You were just a girl they could play with behind closed doors. 

But for Jaebum, you weren’t even worth that.

“Spring Industries is having a party on Thursday to announce Park Jinyoung as their new appointed CEO. They have requested your presence to show the companies are friendly--,” you once again looked up from your iPad, to find Jaebum staring at you intently. You ignored his gaze, and the rage that fumed inside you, “It’s most likely a political publicity stunt, but I would recommend you do go to the party, as it will be beneficial for you both-”

“What am I going to do about you?” 

“Excuse me?” You gasped, taken aback. 

Jaebum chuckled, humourlessly. His lips twisted into a smirk, and you realised you hadn’t seen him smile or laugh in a really long time. You tried to shove the pain shooting towards your heart away, but a pang still rang through you as you saw his sad smile. 

“How am I going to do this all without you?” He clarified himself. You stammered unable to think of something to say. Jaebum let out a sigh, “Come to the party with me.” 

“I’m afraid that’s-”

Jaebum interrupted you, making you frown. 

“Your last assignment as my secretary, Miss y/n,” Jaebum tilted his head to the side, smiling slightly as he said, “Come with me.” 

No. 

“What about Heather?” 

“I can’t go to formal gatherings with her without others assuming it's a political play,” Jaebum answered, before shrugging, “It’s too early for that step anyway.” 

Too early? They have been dating for months now, and Heather was head over heels for him, and he is saying it’s too early. 

“I-”

“Please, y/n,” Jaebum’s dark eyes bore into yours, and you held your breath. “One last time.” 

"Alright,” you sighed, defeated. 

“Thanks.” 

Thanks, love, the ghost of his past self whispered.

You swallowed the bitterness, before looking down at your iPad once again. 

“Mr Henry and Mark are...” you continued on as if nothing was wrong. 

Because nothing was wrong. 

Everything was right. 

You were about to end this dreadful internship, and come out debt free. 

Heather was in love with her boyfriend. 

Her boyfriend didn’t fuck her best friend. 

And your best friend was still your best friend. 

Everything was just right, but everything felt so wrong. 

// 

You were leaning against the rich white leather sofa and Heather’s shoulders. Your eyes were closed, as you tried not to break down in front of your best friend. 

You knew Jaebum wasn’t going to be here tonight. It was Friday night and he had a company dinner with the upper shareholders today. So, tonight you decided to sleep over at Heather’s house. 

Just like every moment you spent with her now, you wanted to burst out into tears and tell her everything. Tell her how you fell for him and his teasing words. How you didn’t mean to but you started to like him, how your heart ached every time you saw him. How terrible you felt every time you saw Heather smile at you like that, knowing that you were so close to ruining everything. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, babe?” Heather asked, her soft hands wiping the tears that fell onto your cheeks. 

You shook your head and moved away from her shoulder. You leaned into the corner of your sofa, and tried to hold in the tears. But you couldn’t. 

Your chin began to shake as more tears fell from your eyes. 

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Heather moved towards you quickly. “What’s wrong, babe? You can tell me anything.” 

You shook your head, you couldn’t tell her this. You couldn’t tell her this. You couldn’t lose her. 

“I’m sorry, Heather,” you whispered into her tank top as she pulled your shaking body into her. 

“Shhh,” she hushed, brushing your hair, trying to calm your sobbing body, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s only to be okay. I’m here for you, I’m always going to be here for you. Okay?” 

You bit your lip as you cried harder. You managed a meek okay through your tears. 

After you had calmed down a bit, you leaned back and looked at your best friend. Her eyes were glistening with concern, and a few stray tears running down her face too from seeing you cry. 

You couldn't hide it from her, she was your other half. You had to tell her, but all you could manage was, “I love him, Heather.” 

I love Im Jaebum.