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loversandantiheroes · 4 years ago

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Hotel Hobbies - Part 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!Reader Author’s Note: This was not going to be a multi-chapter thing, but then people liked it and Whiskey wouldn’t shut the hell up so here we are, folks. I no longer know where this is going so strap the fuck in I guess. This is so long and I am so sorry. Edited for a cleanup 10/5/2020 Summary: A co-worker gives the Reader a little nudge, which backfires just a bit when Whiskey runs unexpectedly late. Warnings: Public sex, exhibitionism, angry sex, mild choking/breath play, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, spitting, spanking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (do as I say not as I fictionalize), creampies, come eating, vague allusions to Whiskey’s job and all the dangers contained therein, Whiskey is a service top and I do not take criticism, very brief mention of Whiskey’s past, exactly one (1) use of Spanish that I hope I didn’t fuck up too badly. Rating: Explicit / NSFW / 18+ / How much clearer can I make this? Word Count: 12k+ (oh GOD do not look at me I have no idea what happened) Previous: Prelude / Part 1 / Interlude Taglist: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @oloreaa @the-feckless-wonder @sarcasmisakindofmagic

The conference drags on into its fourth day in a parade of excessively bored people in suits and pencil skirts toting stale danishes and overpriced coffee; the only comforts provided to distract you from the mobius circle-jerk of tedious corporate bullshit. Most of the assembly hall does little more than nod blandly as yet another guest speaker goes through their presentation, the topic of which you forget at least six times throughout the course of it. Half of the attendees aren't even bothering to take notes anymore. The company could've filled the room with potted plants in cheap suits and gotten a better result. At least the plants would provide a little oxygen to the atmosphere.

It certainly doesn't help your case that half of your brain is circling endlessly around Whiskey. You scribble down a set of shorthand bullet points in your notes and try to blink away the image of his arms straining against taut ropes. You sip your coffee and remember the heat of his tongue chasing the taste of his namesake in your mouth. When you cross your legs and feel the deep, pleasant twinge between them, for a split second all you can think about is the way he felt sinking down into you with his teeth against your neck.

The time absolutely crawls by. There's moments when you half expect to look up at the old analog clock on the wall and see the hands start running backward. Of course this would be the day the presentations run long, wouldn't it? Restless and fidgety, you eventually give up on your notes completely and just resign your attention to the clock and whatever obscenity your brain wants to conjure up from the night before.

Claudia, one of your only work friends that actually opted to attend this fiasco, gives you increasingly amused looks throughout the morning, glancing up at you over her phone (on which, you can't help but notice, she has been playing Bejeweled for the past hour with the brightness turned down). After you check the clock for the fifth time in twenty minutes, unable to really keep yourself from sighing angrily through your nose, she shakes her head at you, laughing quietly.

"So what's his name?" she whispers, leaning over conspiratorially.

You give her a glare, but she only raises her eyebrows expectantly. Goddamn it, why does the entire universe find it so funny when you're irritated?

"Whiskey," you mutter back, glowering.

She has to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop a snorting giggle from being loud enough to cause a disruption. "Oh my god," she sputters. "Are you fucking a biker?"

And okay, maybe that is a little funny. You shake your head, mutter back, "Cowboy."

Claudia grins so wide her shoulders pull up with it. "Save a horse," she whispers, trying to dodge out of the way when you elbow her to cut off the rest of the joke. Three people behind you simultaneously shush the two of you, and you toss a dirty look over your shoulder, settling back into your seat.

A few seconds go by before Claudia's leaning back over to quietly add, "The dick must be good to get you this distracted."

"Shut up," you shoot back, but you're already smiling.

When the presentation ends, the entire auditorium raising up on creaking knees to shuffle out to break for lunch, Claudia's hand clamps down on your arm.

"I'm buying lunch and you're going to tell me everything."

So you do. Parked in her conservative little hybrid over styrofoam boxes of take out, you tell her. Damn near everything, too. She listens with rapt attention, this not being the first time she's poked you for details of your love life, such as it is, but judging by the look on her face it's possibly taken the top spot as the most memorable.

"So you're gonna see him again," she says finally as you tell her about Whiskey's invitation before slipping out the door this morning.

You settle back, trying to make yourself look suitably apathetic before answering in the hopes of not being completely transparent. "I dunno. Maybe."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh please. You're gonna see him again. You've been spaced out with dickbrain all day, there's no way you're turning down that invitation."

You wave the end of your plastic fork threateningly. "I will stab you, I swear."

"Not with this many witnesses," she says with a wave at the horde of pedestrians outside on the sidewalk, blatantly ignoring the shanking motions you make in warning.

When she doesn't drop that annoying, knowing look, you start jabbing at your food, rolling a piece of cucumber around the styrofoam. "I mean...ok yeah I thought about it."

"All morning," Claudia provides.

"Fuck you," you counter lightly, and resist the urge to fling the chunk of cucumber at her. "I just...I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea."

"Oh my god, why not?" she cries, head thrown back in exasperation.

"Well it's not exactly fucking sensible, is it?"

"Honey if you were worried about being sensible you wouldn't have fucked a cowboy you picked up at a hotel bar," she says with a shake of her head.

"Did you miss the part where he tried to convince me he was James fucking Bond? I mean c'mon Claudia. That's gotta be...I dunno, some kinda red flag."

She scoffs, flapping a dismissive hand. "Oh please, when the bullshit's that obvious I don't even think it counts. It’s not like you bought it anyway. Besides, honesty is the backbone of a solid relationship, if you're just poking fun it's more like a bonus. As long as he's not married and not a serial killer, who gives a shit? You’re overthinking the shit outta this, hon.”

That’s...well that’s not wrong. It’s honestly irritating how not wrong that is.

When you don’t give a response save for the idle sounds of plastic scratching on your takeout box, Claudia groans. “God are you really gonna make me talk you into getting yourself laid? Okay, if you wanna be rational about it, fine, here's some rational thought for you." She pops out her thumb, ticking off digits as she lists. "He's hot. He likes to eat pussy. He's a fuckin' sub, which - holy shit, girl. Holy actual fucking shit. Plus he's packing and he actually knows what to do with it. Oh, and he bought you fuckin' breakfast!" She wiggles her fingers as she thrusts her hands out towards you. "Seven outta ten, babe! My god, if you don't fuck him I'll do it for you just so I don't have to eat another shitty continental breakfast."

You laugh, but there's a hot flush creeping up your face, and you have to stare out the window for a minute until it starts to wind back. It's almost successful, until you think of Whiskey again. This time, though, all you think of is him outlined in the door, looking back at you with his face too shaded to see. And then your cheeks flare hot again, not with that lingering sense of want, but with a flighty kind of panic.

And just like that you pin it down, your stomach twisting on itself as you finally put words to that moment of apprehension. Whiskey doesn't scare you. His lines don't scare you. The way he fucks you doesn't even scare you. But that moment that he lingered does. It scares you because you think maybe what was going through his head is the same thing that's been going through yours, a fine little thread looped around every remembered pleasure: the worry that you're about to develop a taste for something that you'll never have the chance to get again.

Maybe it's better to leave it. To chalk it up as a fluke and not risk finding out that he'd feel just as good the second time as he did the first. Cut it off now before that lingering taste turns into a full-blown craving.

Claudia sighs, closing her takeaway box. "Look, hon. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. It just sounds to me like you're overthinking this. You don't need to be fucking sensible all the goddamn time. So what if you're thinking with your pussy right now? You had fun. He was fun. You have the option to have more fun. You are entitled to have some fun. So, hey: fuck sensibility and have some fucking fun."

You nod. It's reflex at first, but slowly becomes more deliberate. More sure. "Okay. Yeah. You're probably right."

"I am always right, thank-you-very-much," she corrects, and then promptly shrieks as you launch a slice of cucumber into her hair.

⁂

The trick of it all, you remind yourself that evening as you cross the hotel lobby for the elevator, is not to think about it. Because if you think about it, really think about it, you will find a way to talk yourself out it. Sensibility is as much of a hindrance as a help at times. But you've decided now: the absolute last thing you want to be tonight is sensible. You've been bored out of your mind all week, and as much as you're loathe to admit it, Whiskey has been the only bright spot in the whole affair. At least he's given you something to look forward to, even if it is just the prospect of getting railed until you forget your own name.

You take the time to change when you make it to your room. Grab yourself a short, but blisteringly hot shower, and conveniently forget your panties when you redress. Eventually you make your way down to the bar with your heart almost strangling you with the way it's seemingly lodged itself in your throat. Whiskey's nowhere to be seen, which isn't a complete surprise. He always seemed to turn up a little late in the evening before. Not wanting to deviate too far from your own habits, if only to make yourself a little easier to spot, you take your familiar place at the far end where you've been set up for so many nights in a row. You order your drink, make friends with the closest basket of pretzels, and you wait.

And wait...and wait.

Your eyes are half on the clock and half on the door, flicking back to that last at every sign of movement. Despite the fact that you're practically nursing your drink, the bartender refills your glass twice over the course of the night. When he offers a third, you shake your head. Your face feels like it's burning. The bartender nods and wanders away, either oblivious to the growing anger on your face or determined not to end up the recipient of it.

It's nearly midnight when you finally push yourself off the bar stool, throwing down enough bills to cover your tab and storming off. He stood you up. You cannot fucking believe it. What's worse is you feel like you should believe it. Should've expected it. As if a man that strutted around like a preening rooster and fed you a bullshit James Bond story would have a streak of honesty.

You punch the elevator button hard enough to make your hand tingle, pushing your way through the doors as they open and hitting the button for your floor. The walls of the elevator are mirrored, and you duck your head, not wanting to know what your face looks like just now, twisted up in anger and more than a little shame. The doors hang for a moment before sliding closed. At the last possible second a hand darts in, stopping them. Broad. Tanned. Tattooed. The man of the hour leans through the doors as they retreat, and gives you a grin.

"Room for one more?"

Your stomach does a back flip, blood rushing in so many directions you're not sure if you've got enough left to power a response. If this little scenario had played out even half an hour earlier, you might've laughed. Might've fallen back into that easy bitchy banter the two of you seemed so good at. Might've even kissed him. But not now. Now you've built up too much steam, and every little ounce of anger – earned or not – that you'd had percolating for this man since you first laid eyes on him bursts out of your mouth in two words, laced with as much venom as you can muster.

"Fuck you."

You can practically hear the record scratch in his head. The smile falls, eyebrows ratchet up so high you can't see them for the brim of his hat. It's satisfying in an awful sort of way. Like scratching an itch hard enough to draw blood. Too late to take it back now, though. You lash out at the elevator panel, punching the button marked CLOSE DOORS, and Whiskey side-steps neatly inside.

"All right," he says slowly. "That is not exactly the reaction I was hoping for."

"Yeah, well tough shit, cowboy," you all but spit, raking a hand through your hair. You keep your eyes down. Forward. Anywhere but on him. It's hard, too many reflections. Even the distorted shape of his silhouette in the door makes your blood boil.

"I know I'm late," he starts, hands raised, and the low and placating tone of his voice hits you like lighter fluid on a match.

"You don't fucking say?"

His hands drop. "Can I at least explain myself?"

Laughing too loud and too sharp, you shrug, shoulders pulling up hard. "Yeah, sure, why not? Let me guess, rough day at Spy HQ? Assassination appointment run over? Or were you just hiding behind the fucking dieffenbachia to see how long I'd stick around before I came to my fucking senses?"

The shrill sound of your own voice almost makes you wince. You're overreacting. It's not like you're unaware of it. But you're pissed off, and worse now, you've committed to being pissed off. Backing down now is damn near impossible, never mind actually apologizing.

Whiskey takes a step forward, his eyes gone all puppy dog again; wide and imploring under twisted brows. "Look, I don't blame you for thinkin' the worst. I know I left you waitin', and I apologize for that -"

You roll your eyes, mouth twisting into a smile that shows too much teeth to be kind. "Christ, y'know what, don't flatter yourself. I like that bar. The pretzels are nice and they don't water down the liquor. I didn't show up for you."

"Oh horseshit," he snaps. He doesn't raise his voice, but there is a whip crack of impatience in it. "If you didn't want to see me tonight you wouldn't have turned up at all. You and I both know that."

Fuming, you jam your hand into your purse, fishing out his flask and tossing it at him hard enough that it hits him square in the chest. He catches it on the rebound.

"Here. You forgot this."

Whiskey turns it over in his hands, thumping the metal against his palm. "Right. I see," he says slowly, slipping the flask into his pocket. Under that thick drawl, there's a twinge of something that might be disappointment. "Just came to do the decent thing and return a man's property."

"Yes." Part of you sinks, screaming in frustration. But it's like you're a spectator now, just watching yourself sabotage the only thing that'd brought you a shred of joy all week just because your pride and temper won't allow any other option.

One hand falls to his hip, the other rubs idly across his mouth. He's scowling now, quite spectacularly at that, and for a second you think you've finally dealt enough of a blow to his pride to piss him off. Then he steps in close, jaw set. The way his eyes travel up and down you sends a flush through your body, and you're not sure if you want to slap him hard enough to knock the mustache off his face or kiss him until his lips bleed. His gaze lingers at your hip, your curves quite plainly displayed under the tight skirt. He reaches out. The back of his fingernails barely brush the fabric.

"Do you always make returns without any panties on?"

You try to swallow, but find your mouth has gone suddenly bone dry, your throat sticking with a sharp and painful click. "Fuck off," you try to tell him, but it comes out a croak.

"You know what I think?" Whiskey continues, and the tone would nearly be conversational if it weren't for the way he's looking at you, eyes perfectly black and hungry under the shade of his hat. "I don't think you're just mad because I'm late. I think you're mad because I can get a rise outta you. Part of you kinda likes it. Enough to wanna come back for a little more of it. And you don't know what to do about that. Bet you can't even decide if you wanna throttle me or ride me 'til you can't come anymore. Bit of both, maybe, huh?"

Oh fuck you very much, Mister Perceptive. "Christ, you and your fucking ego-"

"Oh to hell with my fucking ego, and yours too." He leans in close enough that you can smell aftershave and a fainter, acrid smell that, if you weren't so fucking preoccupied, you might recognize as spent gunpowder. "If you want me to go, just fuckin' say it. But don't bullshit a bullshitter. If you wanted rid of me that bad you would've tossed me out on my ass last night before I'd even finished coming."

Your jaw works, and you push yourself a little harder against the handrail just to keep from slapping him. How dare he-

How dare he what, exactly? Be right? Again?

You clench your jaw, gripping the handrail on the wall tight enough that the corners dig into your fingers. Glare at him like you're trying to light him on fire. He doesn't flinch.

"What you did last night...that made for a hell of a first impression," he says slowly, and the low rasp of his voice almost curls your toes. "One I don't expect I'm liable to forget this side of fuckin' doomsday. Shit, I don't even know your fucking name and I ain't been able to shake the thought of you all damn day. Now you can believe that or not, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But the only thing I'm asking from you right now is to be fucking straight with me. If you want me to go, you fucking tell me, and I'm gone. But if you want me to stay, honeybee I swear I will make up for every second you had to wait."

"Fuck you, Whiskey," you breathe. It's all you've got left, all you can even think to say, but it's too soft. It's too hard not to believe him when he's looking at you like that. Even if he's still got your teeth on edge, ready to bite, the fire in your belly is sinking lower every second. And there's no way to mistake the low rasp of your voice for anger.

He leans in, hovering barely an inch away from you, and tips your chin up with his knuckle. "That ain't an answer, honeybee."

His lip curls into a smirk and for a second all you can think about is running your tongue out to follow the curve of it.

"You can punish me if you like," he offers in a low, darkly sweet voice. The fingers on your chin trace a path along your jaw, up to your ear, and down the side of your neck as he talks; a three-point constellation drawn in goosebumps. "Lord knows I deserve it. Tie me up again. Ride my tongue until you've had your fill and never lay a finger on me. I don't mind a bit. I'll probably come in my fucking jeans like a goddamn high school virgin while you do it, too."

Oh god. It's too hot. It's too hot and he's too close and it feels like there's no air left. Those words took the last of it and left you with nothing. And then your lungs finally unlock, hitching in air so pitifully loud that for a second his eyes drop first to your mouth and then lower to watch the buttons strain on your blouse.

His tongue brushes up against the back of his bottom lip, a strange gesture, but one you can't drag your eyes away from. And the bastard just keeps talking.

"Then again, maybe the way you've been acting up you'd be more inclined for a little punishment yourself. I could take you upstairs. Turn you over my knee and put my hand to that pretty little ass until it blushes like a ripe summer peach. I'd bet you'd drip just as much and twice as sweet, too. I'd kill for a taste of you right now. Fuck, if you really want I could just hike that skirt up and fuck you right here and now. I am a flexible man and I am willing to take you any way you'd see fit to let me. But only if you let me. I ain't here to play bullshit games, and I will not take anything you don't want to give. So I need you to tell me, honeybee. Do you want this? Yes or no?"

Everything inside you burns and twists. Fuck, you want that. All of that. And all you have to do to get it is unstick your stubborn, too-sharp tongue and admit that you want it. That even without the excuse of three shots of tequila on top of a few too many cocktails, you still want it.

You're burning up. There's sweat on your palms. It squeaks as you twist your hands over the railing. He hasn't just turned the tables on you, he's flipped the whole fucking room and cornered you with it. And God help you, it's infuriating how much you like it.

"Hate you. So much."

"Hm." His hand falls away, and you miss the touch instantly. "So you keep sayin'. Decision time, honeybee. You pick or I'm picking for you and we're both gonna be disappointed in that result."

There is a long long beat where that threat hangs between you. Any hope that he might just push forward and take you anyway – push you into the wall and fuck you ragged right here and now without another word – bleeds away as you stare him down, your wordless challenge going unanswered. His gaze is iron; hard and unyielding, and you know if you wait even one more second, this...whatever the hell this is, will be over. Permanently.

Swallowing the last of your pride like so much cheap liquor, you seize the front of his shirt, dragging him forward even as he starts to back away.

"Yes. Fucking goddamn it. Yes, I want this."

"Yeah?" He leans in, nose brushing your cheek. Somehow it's that little gesture that sets off a bomb's worth of butterflies in your stomach.

"Yes."

The heat of his hand is almost shocking as it glides up your thigh and underneath your skirt, his thumb stroking up and finding only bare skin. Whiskey grins. "Knew it."

You choke back a sigh. "Smug bastard."

"Yes ma'am." His thumb brushes up and down your slit idly, slow and considering. He glances around, quirks an eyebrow, and offers: "Here?"

Following his glance, you spot the hunk of plastic mounted in the top corner of the elevator. "Camera. Fuck."

"Sure enough," he drawls, still grinning. "You want to give the boys 'n' girls in the security booth a show, or d'you want to go someplace a little more sensible?"

Sensible. God, If he'd chosen any other word, you might've agreed. Private. Safe. Anything but fucking sensible.

"Fuck sensibility. Fuck security, too. Just shut up and fuck me."

He laughs through your kiss, the touch of his lips too gentle by miles. The last thing you want right now is gentle. You don't fucking deserve gentleness after all that. And so you rake your teeth across his bottom lip, roll your tongue against his. When you nip at his tongue, Whiskey breaks off, cupping your sex with a warm, calloused hand.

"You're gonna eat me alive, honeybee," he growls. He parts you with a thick finger, drawing the pad of it from your entrance to your clit and back again. "Mm, I have been thinkin' about this all day," he murmurs before his finger sinks into you.

Sighing, you curl your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off to run your fingers through his hair and muss up that razor-clean side part. His hand works unhurried between your legs. You rock against it, listening to the obscene smacking sound as he works you open.

"All that fuss and you're wet for me already, darlin'," Whiskey says wonderingly.

All you can do is groan, chasing the sensation of the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. "Shut up and kiss me."

You tug at his hair, try to urge him forward, but he doesn't budge. He sinks down to his knees instead, right hand never leaving the wet heat of your cunt.

"I'll kiss you, baby," he says, pushing up your skirt and lifting your right leg over his shoulder. "Don't you worry."

And he kisses you: a warm, wet slide of lips and tongue where he's got you spread. Gasping, you grab the back of his head. He looks up at you, only the crinkles at the corner of his eyes proof of his smile, and his eyes slip closed like a man savoring his favorite meal.

"Jesus." The word comes out in a squeak as his mouth works on you, your throat tightening in an effort to keep quiet. A second finger joins the first and you whimper, tightening reflexively against the stretch. Christ those fingers are thick. Shuddering, you work your fingers in his hair and pull him closer, your eyes wandering up to the reflection in the far wall. The view is mesmerizing: your back arched, skirt hiked up to your waist, with Whiskey's head buried in between your legs like a man trying to slake an ungodly thirst. The view on the left is even better. From there you can watch his mouth work against you, catching a glimpse of his tongue, wet and shining as it slips between your folds. He sways forward on his knees like a charmed snake, a growing bulge straining against the dark blue denim of his jeans.

There's a gentle ding, and for a moment you're so scrambled you think maybe your phone's going off. And then the elevator doors slide open. An older looking gent with a battered briefcase stands frozen on the other side, eyes wide as dinner plates as he takes in the same view you've been admiring in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

For a single spaced-out second the only thing you can think is, Going down?, which makes you erupt into a fit of breathless, senseless giggles.

The newcomer's mouth hangs, flapping uselessly over words he can't quite formulate. He might be trying to apologize for the intrusion or insist you repent and turn to Jesus. You don't know and you don't care.

Whiskey looks up at him over the line of your thigh, lips glistening. "Get the next one," he snarls, and punches the CLOSE DOORS button.

He plants a rough, sucking kiss at the top of your cleft as the doors close again, utterly unperturbed. "Penthouse, darlin', if you please."

Oh he would be in the fucking penthouse, wouldn't he? Panting, you fumble a hand out trying to find the button just as Whiskey slides in a third finger and you cry out, almost swiping every button in the center row by accident.

The elevator hums to life and begins to move. The red light on the security camera flashes benignly and you stare at it for a long beat while Whiskey gets right back to work, moaning hungrily between your legs. Someone's watching this. The thought excites you more than it should, adding fuel to the already roaring fire Whiskey is so eagerly stoking with his tongue. You roll your hips, swearing roundly. It's not enough. It's fucking glorious, but it's not enough. You know what you need.

"Fuck me," you gasp. "Goddamn it, Whiskey, gimme your cock."

He glances up at you through thick lashes, eyebrows raised. "Is that what you want, honeybee?" he asks.

You bear down on his fingers hard as if to answer and he clenches right back, thumb and pinky giving him leverage against your pubic bone as he grips you tight, fingers stroking along your walls. It's only by virtue of the handrail and the support of his shoulder that you don't sink straight to the floor. Christ that backfired.

You nod fervently, head spinning.

A roll of his shoulder unseats your leg, and he stands. His left hand wraps around your throat, thumb against your jawline, and that's so fucking perfect you can't stop yourself from whimpering. In a flare of desperation you grasp his wrist, urging him to grip your neck just a little tighter. Chuckling, he brushes his lips against yours – soft and strangely tender – while he fucks you steadily with his fingers.

"Shoulda known you'd like that. Well? Cat got your tongue? Come on, darlin', lemme hear it."

"Yes."

"Louder. Tell me you want me to fuck you."

"Oh god-d-d-damn it!"

He chuckles darkly, fingers coaxing inside you. "You can do it, honeybee. I know you want it. I just need hear you say it."

You bare your teeth. "I want you to fuck me."

"Good girl." He grins down at you, wide and wolfish. "Now: ask me nicely."

Oh he would, wouldn't he?

"B-bastard," you snarl, then begin to laugh.

"Oh come on now," he croons, eyes darting between your lips and your own heavy-lidded stare. "I'm sure you can get along without your pride for an hour or two. It ain't so bad. And I promise I'll make it worth your while. C'mon."

You groan, grit your teeth, and hiss out: "Please."

He crooks his fingers and you gasp like you've been burned. "'Please' what?"

"Please fuck me. Please fuck me."

He slots your trembling thigh between his legs, pressing the clothed, solid length of his cock against you. "With this? Hm?"

"Fuck, yes." You writhe, feel it twitch, and he rolls against you in response.

"Come for me first, honeybee. Then I'll fill you up good and proper. Cross my heart."

His fingers press into you harder, spreading gently as he draws them back. Your legs begin to shake so badly that he has to pin you to the wall to hold you up. The rail digs into your back. You'll bruise tomorrow, but you're not sure you've ever cared less in your life.

"You gonna come, for me?" he asks, rutting a little more enthusiastically against you when he feels you begin to tense and flutter around his fingers.

Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you nod, feeling the drag of his lips on your cheek.

"Uh-uh. Talk to me, darlin', I wanna hear it. I want you to tell me every single time you're gonna come, you understand me? Count them out. Let's see just how many you got in you tonight."

"Oh you ass!" You moan and laugh all in the same breath.

"You like it," he says simply.

He kisses you, warm and deep, and you bite his lip for the audacity. "Don't stop. Fuck, I'm close."

He turns your head, slides his hand around to cup the back of your neck. "Open your eyes, honeybee. Watch yourself."

You try. Everything's a blur; inside and out. Fuzzy and disconnected and hot. Blinking to clear the fog, you can see your reflection caught between the wall and Whiskey's body. Your eyes are dazed, unfocused. His cheek is against yours, a look of utterly indecent hunger on his face, lips red and swollen where you've bitten him. He's pressed up against you too tightly to get a good view, but you can see his arm pinned between your bodies, and the flex of muscles working underneath his jacket.

There is, you note with a fuzzy sort of disconnect, a small, ragged hole in the arm of his jacket.

But before you can put any more thought to this discovery he presses his thumb down against your clit – no friction, only a firm, rolling pressure – and that's all you need. If it wasn't for the his body against yours, you'd buckle. As it is, trapped between him and the wall, all you can do is quake and cry out, arms tightening around his shoulders as you come.

He hums indulgently, kissing your cheek. "Count it out."

Panting, you pull hard on his hair until he groans. "One."

"Good girl," he murmurs. Slowly his hand withdraws, giving one last slow swirl over your folds before he sucks you greedily off his fingers.

There's the muffled sound of a zipper and you could almost laugh – finally! But then the elevator slows and stops, doors sliding open with a soft ding. Whiskey glances sidelong at the open door, corner of his mouth pulling up in a half-cocked grin. The disappointed whine you give as you hear him zip himself right back up is wholly involuntary.

"Well wouldn't you know it," he says, pulling away from you and stooping for his hat. It's all you can do not to whack him on the back of the head – or on the ass – as he turns away, wiggling your skirt back down over your hips instead.

He gives a ridiculous wink towards the security camera with his hat held to his chest. Your stomach gives a neat little flip as you look up at that blinking red light – god, you'd forgotten it was even there.

"Sorry to blue-ball ya and run, fellas." He gets an arm around your waist, tugging you into the hall at an easy, languid pace, as if nothing had happened. As if your legs weren't still quivering, with the evidence of your orgasm running in sticky trails down the inside of your thighs.

"Betcha money, marbles, or chalk they'll be jerkin' off over that for weeks," he says jovially, pulling you to his hip when he feels you start to wobble. "C'mon. Let me get you in a bed before I say to hell with it all and fuck you out here on the goddamn floor."

Your knees tremble again; at least one part of you has full support of that particular idea. As the door opens you pull him back to your mouth, kissing him hard even as he steers you by the hips through the suite. You barely see any of it. Recessed halogen lights. The sparkle of painstakingly cleaned glass and marble. Little else. A grunt escapes you as you fetch up hard against the wall and Whiskey crashes into you. The sudden pressure against his groin leaves him winded, rocking forward against you with a shuddering groan.

"Tell me how you want it," he says, words mangled against your mouth. The salt-musk taste of you still clings to his tongue, sharp against some faint remnant of sweet mint.

One hand slips down, squeezing your breast through the material of your blouse. The room spins giddily like a tilt-a-whirl, still riding the coattails of your last orgasm. "Hard," you breathe. The skirt you chose is too fucking tight, and you have to reach down to drag it back up your thigh just to hook a leg around him. "Don't you dare be gentle."

He chuckles as you press into him. "How hard is hard? I can be a little rough if you let me off the leash."

Frustrated, you slip your hands under his sports coat, nails biting into his shoulders through his dress shirt. "Fuck, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah," he says, and his voice has reached that breathy, sonorous pitch that sends a hot-cold shiver rocketing down your spine. "Yeah you do. A little honesty would be appreciated tonight."

One good shove and his jacket slips to the floor. "That's funny coming from Double-O-Cowpoke."

"Not my fault you don't believe me." It's pitched like a joke, light and breezy, but there's something in his eyes. Sharp and peculiar and gone almost before you can be sure it was really there, but makes your stomach clench with a sudden surety that the next words out of his mouth are completely genuine. "I ain't lied to you yet, honeybee."

And that almost brings you to a halt. Your hands splay out on his shoulders, pushing back to look at him more clearly. If that's true. If that's true...oh god, why would he have told you?

The question is halfway to your lips before he surges his way forward again, his mouth crashing into yours and kissing you hard and urgent and bruising. A faint sound of protest rises in your throat and you push back a little, not wanting him to stop but wanting him to wait because...because....

And the rest of that thought flutters away. He doesn't stop kissing you. He just doesn't stop. And he's moaning as his tongue licks into your mouth and his teeth scrape over your lips like it's the most decadent thing in the world. You grasp at his face, wrists caging in his neck, feeling his pulse race along next to your at such a frantic speed it's almost alarming. Your last little shred of rational thought all but begs you to push him back a little harder, to make him look at you and ask him what's wrong...and then it just flutters away because God this is what you want. This. This, this, this.

"You want it hard?" he rasps into your mouth, rutting up against you hard enough to drive you back into the wall.

Breathless, you nod. Work your fingers through the mess you've made of his hair. "Ruined you last night, didn't I?" You tighten your grip, use your knuckles for leverage and pull.

Whiskey groans, slipping his hands under the bunched hem of your skirt to grip your ass and grind you down against him. "Goddamn right you did, honeybee."

"So ruin me back." The thick denim that covers his fly is rough, but you rub against it all the same, shuddering at the coarseness against your tender skin. "Fair is fair. Right?"

His eyes slip closed and he buries his face against your neck for a moment, breathing unsteady. "Jesus, girl, you're gonna soak straight through my jeans," he mutters. "All right, honeybee. All right. I only got one rule. If I do anything you don't want, you tell me. 'Cause I ain't stopping unless you do. Not tonight. Got it?"

"Whiskey-"

He gets a grip on your chin, levels your eyes on his. "You tell me 'no' or you tell me 'stop.' Got it?"

"Yes." Patience exhausted, you wrench his belt open. "Now come on."

Buttons patter to the floor as he tears open your blouse. And that's good. That's fair. And what's even better is the rough way he puts his hands on you, yanking your bra down to knead and squeeze your bare breasts. When you finally free his cock there's only a brief moment to savor the warm, solid length in your grip before his fingers clamp down on your nipples. The sensation is so sharp and bright and sudden that you yelp, arching up on your tip-toes.

"Hands off, honeybee," he warns.

Whimpering, you flatten your hands against the wall.

"Too much?" he asks softly, that funny little furrow deepening between his eyebrows.

A groaning laugh slips out of you, and you arch your back, pushing your breasts against his hands. "Not enough."

"Fuck, ain't you just the sweetest, dirtiest thing." He twists and you cry out, hips bucking forward. His cock drags against your hip and you chase it, trying to pin it between you.

"Oh, c'mon. You promised," you whine.

"Oh I'm gonna keep my promise, baby, don't you fret. I want you just as fucked-out as you had me. Wanna see you so goddamn cock dumb your eyes roll back. Bet you've been thinking about this all day, too, haven't you?"

The wall warms under your hands as you fight not to push back more. And maybe that's what does it. A little mental-short circuit. Because God knows you haven't been able to think of a single fucking thing other than this. But the denial is on your lips so fast it must be involuntary, a reflexive need to find his buttons and push: "You wish."

Whiskey raises an eyebrow, lip curling. For a second he's amused, seeing the game you want to play. And then it's like a switch flips. Suddenly this isn't the man who'd begged for the privilege of fucking you last night. This isn't even the man who'd put his grateful mouth to your cunt in the elevator. This is the man he'd pretended to be right up until you got his hands tied. The cowboy get up wasn't the costume – this is. This smile. This infuriating swagger.

"Oh, really?" he says, and for the first time you realize just how much that drawl had begun to soften around you, because now that dial's ramped right back up to 11. "You turn up tonight without any goddamn panties on, ride my fingers like a coin-op pony, beggin' to get fucked all the while, and then you try and tell me you ain't been thinkin' about me? I felt how hard you came. How fucking wet you were." His hand darts between your legs as quick a snake-strike, fingers carding through your folds. "Are. Ain't no face left to save, darlin'."

He's in your space, radiating heat, his fingers stroking against your swollen sex, stoking your own fire all over again. But the fire those words kindle burns a little quicker and a little hotter. Without a second thought you strike out, palm tingling as it finds its target against his cheek.

For a moment Whiskey doesn't even seem to breathe. He just stands there leaning heavy against you with his eyes closed and his nostrils flaring. Redness blooms against his cheek. When his eyes open again, the way they bore into you, glittering and eager takes your own breath away.

He hums, that low, pleased sound. But now it slips lower and lower into a breathy rumble that lances straight through you. "Do it again."

Swallowing hard, you slap him again. Harder this time. For a moment the only reaction he gives is the way his cock bobs sharply, slapping against your thigh.

Then he growls, seizing the back of your neck and crushing you to him. You crane up, half expecting a kiss, but his thumb snags the corner of your mouth. He drags it open until your jaw hangs, tilting your head back. A choked sound that's a little too plaintive to be a protest slips from your open mouth a second before Whiskey spits into it.

"Swallow."

You do, sucking hard on his thumb for good measure.

"You nasty little thing," Whiskey says, his voice slow and dark as molasses. His eyes glaze over a little as he works the ball of his thumb against your tongue, watching the way your lips purse around it. "Maybe you are the one that needs the punishin'."

He leans against you, breathing hard as he considers this thought. You frown a little, catching his thumb with your teeth, hoping he'll get the hint and give you something better to put in your mouth. But then his grip loosens, one hand disappearing behind you. Hints, it appears, are completely off the table tonight.

"In," he growls, throwing open the bedroom door. "Now."

Whiskey leads you inside, hitting the lights with his elbow. The room is furnished in that same drab but sparkling minimal style, an impressively large bed swallowing up the majority of the space. One wall is nothing but windows behind drawn shades, a sliding door leading out to a small, isolated balcony.

He steers you directly to the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling you across his lap to straddle his knee. You let out an indignant little yelp at the treatment, but then he shifts his leg under you and the indignance crumbles. It presses against your mound just right, urging you open, and you grind down with a gasp, trying to find a little relief.

Whiskey tuts. "Oh now look at that. Try to tell me you ain't been thinkin' about takin' my dick and then rub on me like a goddamn cat in heat."

There's the sound of a zipper – not his this time, but your own – and then a little tickle at your hip as he undoes the skirt and wrestles it down your legs. He pushes your blouse up, bunching the material up around your shoulder blades. For a second you think he means to pull it off, but then he twists the fabric around his hand. The garment draws up tight, leaving your arms, still in the sleeves, pinned to your sides.

You moan a little when you feel his hand slide across your ass. He bends over you, and you feel the wet heat of his mouth against your ass cheek. A sweet, languid swirl of his tongue before he bites down. You jerk hard enough that your clit drags against the rough weave of his jeans and you cry out, the sound muted by the bedspread.

The pressure of his knee aches beautifully against your cunt, your breathing so shallow and quick it makes you lightheaded. You know what's coming, and you know what you asked for. The last thing you wanted was to be sensible. And this – well this might be the least sensible thing you've ever done.

You buck your hips up sharply. Searching for his hand. "Do it."

The first strikes are quick and brisk. They tingle, warming your skin, but don't hurt. Not yet. This is just a tease of the real thing. A warm up. The tips of his fingers trace the first reddening outline of his hand against your skin, a match for the not-yet faded print against his cheek. Crooning, he kneads your buttocks, spreading them apart, making the slick folds of your pussy slide against each other.

"Sweet Jesus will you look at that. Open that up, baby. Lemme see just how fuckin' wet that gorgeous little pussy is."

You gasp, grinding down again, and then first real slap lands across your ass, unexpected and jarring. The sting is enough to make your eyes water, but the impact drives you forward, almost encouraging your hips to grind into him. A second strike lands on the other cheek, then back to the first, alternating each time. You rock with it, caught between the hot stinging slap of skin on skin and the building heat between your legs.

"This what you wanted?" Crack.

"Fuck!"

"Is it?" he demands. His hand descends again. Crack.

"Yes!" You kick out, struggling not because you want to, but because you have to. And it only makes it worse. Or better, or – God, you don't even know now. It's more. It's just more. His knee digs in harder and your poor neglected cunt throbs with a misplaced ache and you swear you have never needed to feel yourself filled up more than you do right now.

"You gonna behave?" Crack. "You gonna stop lyin' to me now?" CRACK.

"Yes!" The word leaves you in a shuddering sob, thighs clamping down around Whiskey's leg. One more, God help you, one more and you'll tip over, you'll come all over his knee, you're so close.

And then he stops, rubbing and kneading the hot flushed skin, and you whine in desperate frustration as your orgasm begins to retreat.

"Goddamn. Prettier than a Georgia peach," Whiskey says thickly. His hand strays, slips down between your cheeks and presses against the splayed lips of your pussy. You writhe under the sudden attention, feeling the tips of his fingers slide around your clit. "And damned if you don't drip twice as sweet."

"Please." Warmth trickles from the corner of your eyes, blooming against the bedspread.

The swirl of his hand is lazy, almost soothing but for the way it keeps you so frighteningly close to the edge. "Truth first, honeybee. C'mon. You know what I wanna hear."

"Ye-yes," you mutter. "Goddamn it yes. I've been thinking about fucking you all day. All goddamned day...God, Jesus, fuck, and then you didn't show. Thought you'd ditched me. Made me want - want it and then ditch me."

You bury your face in the quilt. It's a fucking cop out and you know it. You don't just want it. You want him. Fuck, what is happening?

Again you feel his mouth against your ass cheek, open and wet, but this time his tongue is almost cool by comparison. "There now. I didn't ditch you, baby. Wouldn't fuckin' dream of it." His voice is low now, placating, nearly apologetic. And then his fingers are slipping inside you again, stroking and curling. "I'm right here here, baby. Right here. Just a little late, is all."

You whine, trying to wriggle back to drive him in deeper. Those thick fingers are like fucking magic but you need more than they can provide. Desperate now, you clutch your fingers back towards him, find his shirttail and tug at it. "Jack. Please."

It doesn't even register to you that you've called him by his name – God, you didn't even think you remembered his name – until the fingers inside you still. If it wasn't for the hammering of your heart in your ears you might've heard his breath catch.

Slowly he twists his fingers inside you, pressing down until you shudder. "What is it, honeybee?" he mutters. The hoarseness in his voice is familiar. You wish you could see his face. "Tell me what you want."

"Please fuck me. Please. I waited all fucking night."

He rolls you off his lap, leaving you dangling half off the bed and folds over you, cock nestled against the heat of your reddened ass. There's a sticky slide to it; you're not the only one that's wet.

"Hand to God, baby, I'll make it worth every minute. On my fuckin' life." The pained edge in his voice sets the room spinning, and for one mad moment you find yourself trying to grab onto the bedspread to keep from rolling away. Whiskey leaves a kiss against the back of your neck before he draws back, the hand fisted in your shirt tugging you along just a bit.

There's a long, wavering moment when his touch leaves you entirely and you almost protest before you hear him frantically shedding his clothes behind you. Then his hands return, his left winding back into your shirt, his right warm and strong against your back. The blunt, weeping head of his cock nudges between the swollen lips of your pussy. He stays there for an infuriatingly long moment, enough that you cry out your frustration into the bedclothes.

And then he finally makes good on his promise.

You go up on your toes, legs straining as he breaches you. After all the hours you spent thinking about it, all the hours you waited, it's bliss. But the pure, unadulterated stretch of it laces that bliss with a white-hot line of fire that only serves to make it all the more urgent. Maybe it's the angle, bent in half with your ass up and your legs closed. Maybe it's just how overwrought you are already. Maybe...fuck, you don't know, maybe somehow he's even harder than the night before. All you do know is that he feels so big you can't hardly stand it. It's so much, bridging the gap between pleasure and pain until it's just an overwhelming sense of pressure and fullness that has you clenching and fluttering around him. As if your body can't make up its mind if it wants to expel the intrusion or welcome it deeper.

He has no right to feel this good. None. But goddamn it you're so glad he does.

"Fuck," he mutters shakily, fingers biting into your hip. "This what you wanted, honeybee? Huh? This what you been waiting for?"

You can't find the air to give him an answer. Whiskey's still moving forward, you're not even sure how. Christ how much more of him is there? He leans forward, pushing you into the mattress, pushing down into you until you start to shake, until he hits that buried junction inside you that sends a flare of heat rocketing clear down to your toes and your stalled orgasm rears up again so sudden and so close that it's startling.

Every muscle in your body tenses, straining. The whine that breaks out of your gaping mouth is pitiful. "Shit, oh shit, Jesus fuck, Jesus fuck-fuck-fuck-"

He feels it. He must. There's no way he can't. "Oh fuck, that's it honeybee," he croons, working his free hand under you to circle your clit as he sinks that last broad inch into you. "Come on. Come all fuckin' over me."

For a second everything shorts out, all senses lost in a white-out. The only tenuous connection you have to your body lies in the grounding pressure of his cock inside you and the faint but rapid fluttering of his pulse in it. And then you're slamming back to yourself with a ragged cry, blood roaring in your ears and coming so hard that you nearly buck off of him entirely. Your arms flex, bend, bunched cloth digging deeply into your skin until you feel rather than hear the seams rip. And then the tightness is gone, Whiskey's hand unwinding immediately from your shirt to stroke up and down your back.

There's a lump in your throat when you finally find enough air to speak: "T-t-two."

Whiskey groans. "Beautiful. Fuck, you shake so pretty when you come for me. I could watch you do that all night. Might just, at that." He drags the torn wreck of your blouse off you, popping the clasp on your bra and bending to place an open, humid kiss in the valley along your spine.

He rocks forward and back, one hand clamped into soft flesh at your hip, humming tunelessly. "Been wantin' to bury myself back in this sweet pussy from the minute I woke up. Ain't been able to think of nothin' else. Just this," he says, drawing back slowly before burying himself to the hilt and rolling his hips against you.

You clamp your teeth down on your lip, fighting the haze. It's hard to swallow. Hard to breathe. But he's rolling into you slow, far too fucking slow. And that isn't what you need. You try to push yourself up on your elbows, but he thrusts forward, a little more force in it this time, and your arms give out.

"Ha-harder," you pant, voice thick and muffled by the quilt. You turn your head, claw the hair out of your face. "F-fuck me harder, god-d-d-damn it. Make me fuckin' feel it tomorrow. Big-dicked b-bastard, oh my God, don't you stop."

He breathes out a laugh, folding over your back. The pressure against your tender ass stings like hell, and you hitch in a hissing gasp as Whiskey's mouth finds your cheek. He kisses you, or does his best to. The angle is strange and your face is half-smashed against the bed, but his mouth slants over the side of yours, tongue dragging against your lips until you open for him, letting him lick against the sharp points of your teeth.

"Careful what you wish for, honeybee," he whispers, grinding forward in a maddening circle. "Words like that will get you in a whole mess of trouble."

The air leaves you in a whooping rush as he stands, dragging you up against his chest, your back bowing to try and keep the searing length of him pressed where you need it. And then – ah god – his hand is around your throat and his teeth are sinking into your shoulder, and you're suddenly glad he can't see the way your eyes flutter and roll back.

Not that he even needs to see it, because just then Whiskey groans into your skin as a rush of wetness courses down his cock.

"Fuck, is it that good, baby? Hm?" His voice quavers as his body impacts yours like a sledgehammer. "My dick finding all the sweet spots in that pretty little pussy for you?"

You grapple at him, find where he clings to you and grip his hands, inadvertently encouraging him to press his hand just a little harder against your throat. And there goes the room again, looping and floating as he starts to move, really move, driving forward harder and harder. You stumble, going up on your toes, some choked and desperate noise caught in your throat somewhere under his hand. Sparks pop behind your eyes, faint and wavering like fireworks reflected on choppy waters. And then the pressure eases, air rushing into your lungs once again. The fire in your belly flares up at it like a backdraft.

"M-more," you grate out. "Oh f-fucking God please more. D-don't...d-d-don't-"

"Don't you worry, baby. Ain't gonna stop," he mutters harshly against your ear. "I'll give you all you want. Ain't stopping 'til you tell me to stop."

You shake your head, or at least try to, the movement restricted by his hand. "N-no. Never. Fuck, never-never stop. Right there f-fuck-"

Whiskey growls out something low and broken and unintelligible as you clamp down on him, your body chasing that bright, blazing heat whether you want it to or not.

"Oh fuck, are you comin' again for me already, angel? Shit, you are, aren't you? Got yourself all riled up today and now you just can't stop. C'mon then, baby. Come on my dick. You feel like fuckin' heaven when you come. Pussy's so good it oughtta be fuckin' blasphemy. C'mon, honeybee, do it for me, come like you fuckin' mean it-"

Before you can breathe a word it hits you and it hits you hard, muscles seizing up so tight it's like they're trying to wring the pleasure out of you. You ride through maybe three or four near-blinding shocks of it and then your knees, traitorous things, finally give out underneath you. The only thing that keeps you up is Whiskey's arms wrapped tight around you, clutching you to him, suspending you on his dick as it grinds up brutally against your g-spot.

"Got you, honeybee," he grunts, rhythm never faltering. "I got you. Keep comin' for me, baby, keep comin'."

And god help you, you are. You're still quivering, still coming, and then his hand falls away from your neck to cup against your sex, palm flat against the rigid little knot of your clit. He doesn't even rub, it's just a heat and a pressure and it's like your whole body stutters upward, launching towards a second, higher peak. Whiskey lets out a broken groan against your neck as you bear down on him so hard it nearly hurts and you wail at the unexpected, overwhelming force of it.

Everything spins off and away in the aftermath, senses blown out like a bad circuit. Sounds are swallowed up in a high, persistent ringing. You haven't got the strength to force your eyes back open. There's a shift and a feeling of soft cloth beneath you and when the haze starts to lift you find you're on your knees on the bed, shoulders down and ass up with Whiskey draped over your back. He murmurs things against your cheek, your ear, your neck. You can't hear a word of it over the ringing in your ears.

You turn your head, knocking your forehead against his by accident. "Thr- I- f-four?" Your voice jumps in your throat, but you can't quite make it steadier. "I...I don't-"

"Honeybee," he drawls, his cock giving a hard, desperate twitch inside you. He grins at you indulgently, gathering your hair up in one broad hand and pulling. "Good girl."

A shudder goes through you as you realize he's still fucking you. Deep, swift strokes that send tingles sparking through you. He drags his cock out of you and drives it back in, pulling it over your blazingly sensitive nerve endings like a bow over violin strings. Like it's a privilege to do it. Like it'd be a fucking crime to stop.

He drags two more orgasms out of you like this. Shuddering, slow-building things that overtake you like flood waters, rising up with an aching, consuming crawl unmindful of the pounding pace Whiskey holds to like a clockwork battering ram. It's only when you gasp out a broken cry of "S-sih-s-six!" that Whiskey's hips finally begin to falter, stuttering and slowing at the feeling of your overworked pussy milking his cock again. His grip on you tightens as he tries to steady himself, tries to hold on, groaning his own restrained pleasure through gritted teeth.

"Tight - fuck! Goddamn it girl you get so fucking tight when you come. So fuckin' wet. Sweet Jesus. I don't know how m-much more of that I can fuckin' take."

"God, fuck, do it, just do it," you whine, reaching back for him with hands that can't stop shaking. "C'mon Jack."

He laughs at that, but it's a little frayed and frantic at the edges. He brushes the hair out of your face, working his fingers into it and giving it a tug. "I – ungh! Oh s-shit – I got... your p-permission this time, honeybee?"

You hum, nodding, and hitch in a breath as he grinds in particularly deep. "Please."

His rhythm falters again, hips canting suddenly at a hard angle. "W-where? Fuck, fuck, where do you want me, baby? Hurry."

"In-inside. Inside me. 'S what you wanted last night? Right?"

Whiskey makes a broken sound, lurching against you. "Y-yeah. Oh shit, yes. Jesus fucking Christ, honeybee."

Growling, he flips you over and slides in deep, pushing your knees up almost to your shoulders and staring raptly down at your face even as his own contorts. The length of him inside you stiffens even more, pushing in so deep his hipbones grind painfully against your own.

And then he breaks with a cry, his whole body locking up with the force of his climax. His head drops between your breasts and his back arches high, fists punching deep divots into the mattress on either side of you. He rocks through it, jerking at every pulse and spasm, and you can't help but shiver at the warmth that pools inside you as he comes.

"Fuck, fuck. Nngh, ho-holy shit." He almost says more, but another tremor wracks his body and it chokes off into a broken mess of Spanish - "¿Que chingas me estás haciendo a mi mujer?"

Winded and boneless, you scratch your nails weakly across his scalp, working your fingers down his neck to his shoulders. "Better be a compliment."

"You have no idea," he pants open-mouthed against your skin. Instead of elaborating he just eases himself out of you and crawls his way down, trailing his mouth over your skin until he's settled between your legs, staring at whatever disaster he's made of you and groaning softly in appreciation.

Take a picture, you almost say, it'll last longer. But before you can work up the air and energy to put breath to the quip he's drawing his tongue against you, cleaning up the mess he's made with a desperate, greedy reverence that sets your knees trembling on either side of his head.

Whimpering, you clamp your lower lip in your teeth, shuddering up against the warm heat of Whiskey's mouth. "Careful," you warn. "Oh, G-God, careful."

The only answer you get is a low moan and the feeling of his fingers sinking diligently back into your cunt, coaxing out the trickling remnants of his orgasm.

A high, lazy heat begins to build again, over-sensitivity easing back into something warm and sweet and giddily aching. Your hands cradle the back of Whiskey's head, carding through his sweat-soaked hair as he licks his own come out of you. It's not a thing you've ever really given much thought before – bodily fluids were always more an incidental part of sex for you than anything else – and you're not sure if he's enjoying the act itself or just the strange submissive edge of it. Curiosity gets the better of you and you glance down at him, expecting to see him staring intently up at you over the rise of your mons, gloating over the state he's put you in. Fuck, he's made you come so many times you're sure he'll never let you forget it.

Only he isn't. His eyes are closed, face lax with a blissful intoxication as he tastes himself inside you, holding your thighs up and apart to let him work his tongue and fingers in deeper. The sight of him so clearly lost in the moment, not goading or gloating, just rapturously gone is maybe the single most erotic thing you've seen in your whole life. And that sweet, lazy heat suddenly licks up to a blaze.

The sudden clench you give is impossible to miss from Whiskey's vantage point, and he groans against you. "One more, honeybee," he almost pleads, breaking away from you with a sucking pop just long enough to gasp air. "You can gimme one more, can't you? I know you can. C'mon baby. Lucky seven."

He lowers his head once more with a decadent hum and you throw yours back as he sets to more deliberate work, hooking his arms around your thighs to keep you right where he wants you.

"God, you greedy b-bastard," you rasp out. The stimulation to your worn nerves leaves you quaking, wriggling underneath him. You're not sure you can stand another one, but a deep, hungry part of you is desperate to find out.

He growls at that, more in agreement than in offense, and when your hands scrabble at his he parries them without even glancing up, seizing your wrists and yanking you down even tighter against his mouth.

You nearly kick him in the ribs when you come. It's not your fault. Honestly it's his for working you up to this point. To this high, nervous overload that's barely left you any control over your body. It doesn't seem to faze him, though. Your heel glances off his side as your shaking legs lock around his back and he just keeps going, like he hasn't even noticed, like he isn't even here. Like the world has spun down smaller and smaller and the only thing left is his mouth and your cunt and leaving that would mean the end of everything.

But it's too much. Goddamn it, it's too much.

You sob, wrench your hands out of his grip and push at his head. "S-s-seven. Sev-seven. F-f-fuck, Jack. No more, n-no more, please, stop, I can't, I can't– "

He's pulling away before you even finish, pressing one last biting kiss against your thigh before crawling shakily over you to put his mouth to yours with a surprising gentleness. The taste on his lips is heady, musky and sharp. His arms tremble at the strain of keeping himself from slumping over on top of you, gasping raggedly between each kiss like they’re just as necessary as air.

For the longest time you can’t even move, you’re far too wrung out and exhausted to even try. All you can do is lie underneath him and do your best to remember how to breathe between slow, lazy kisses. Eventually you work up enough breath to speak. "'M sorry," you whisper hoarsely.

Whiskey shakes his head, trying to focus his eyes. "What for?"

"'Two minutes and a cigarette.'" You bring up a hand, patting his cheek with an awkward bonk. "I stand corrected"

A look of comical confusion takes over his face, brows knitting together, until he finally remembers the jab you'd made after you'd tied him up the night before. "Shit," is all he says before he dissolves into giddy laughter. His arms finally give out on him and he rolls to keep from toppling onto you.

You roll with him, tucking your head into his shoulder and giggling. It aches. The muscles in your abdomen so overworked that even laughing hurts, but somehow that just makes it funnier.

You’ve nearly composed yourselves when Whiskey tries to prop himself up on an elbow that immediately slides out from under him and almost smacks you in the head, and that just sets you both off all over again. Giving up entirely, you just lay there, shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing like a couple of punch-drunk loons.

"You hungry, honeybee?” Whiskey asks breathlessly when he’s got himself back under some semblance of control. “I could eat a goddamn horse."

Now that he mentions it you realize just how long ago lunch was, and your appetite, which had so far taken a backseat to both your temper and libido, roars back to life. "God yeah, actually. 'M fuckin' starving."

So for the second time today, you get room service on Whiskey's dime. Or his employer’s dime, he insists. You're not sure if that's better or worse. It's a little ridiculous. Even more so when you think to look for a clock and realize just how late it is, but you're absolutely famished and the second he's on the phone asking in a pleasantly fuck-drunk voice for a couple hamburgers and french fries you're stomach's growling so insistently you're almost certain the staff on the other end of the line heard it.

He's chuckling as he hangs up the phone, draping over you to nuzzle into your neck. For the first time you notice just how much his mustache tickles, and you squirm under him, giggling all over again.

"Love me a woman with an appetite," he mumbles, nipping playfully at you.

"God, what the fuck are we doing?" you stutter out through your giggles. It's not meant to be a real question. You’re practically a space cadet right now, and you can’t remember the last time you were this giddy after sex. But Whiskey shifts a little, pulling back to look down at you, and you can't quite parse the look on his face. "Never had a one-night-stand like this before.”

"Hm." He drops his head a bit, tapping an idle finger against your collarbone. "Think the repeat offense kinda cancels out the one-night-stand idea, honeybee."

"You didn't strike me as the repeating kind."

"Mm. Didn't strike you as the kind who could hold his dick up for longer'n a minute, either. So I'll try not to take offense at your continued misjudgment of my character." His eyes wander away from yours, pulling up his well-worn crooked smile with some degree of effort. "But if you're looking for a polite way to tell this old man you've had your fill, there ain't no need to beat around the bush about it."

You might've appreciated the easy out once. After tonight, though, you're almost offended at it. You're not in the habit of begging for things you only have a mind to dispose of. A little of that flighty panic starts to take hold, and you tamp it down. Fun. This is just for fun. Even if you do want a little more. Fuck, don’t start overthinking it now.

"Is that what you want?" you ask, and it's only the curiosity in your voice that keeps it from sharpening into an accusation.

Whiskey shakes his head, a bit of incredulity in his eyes. "What I want...shit, what I want is to get me somethin' nice an' artery-clogging to eat and then get some fuckin' sleep. Preferably next to the woman who has fucked me ragged two nights running, if she happens to be amenable to that kind of thing. That's as far as my wants go right this second."

The deflection is so clumsy it’s almost funny. “Chickenshit,” you mutter.

Whiskey blinks down at you, shocked for a moment before you give him a teasing smile. “Fuckin’ comedian,” Whiskey says, snorting laughter. “Ain’t no softening that tongue of yours, is there?”

“You never know.” You shift a little, heart hammering as you consider your next words. "How much longer are you going to be here?"

The crooked smile slips, becoming softer. "Well. That sorta depends on you, honeybee. My work's all wrapped up. But if you're gonna be around a bit longer and are lookin' for a bit of company I might be convinced to stay a bit longer."

You feel the smile creep up on your face before you can stop it. "I wouldn’t mind a little continued reprieve from corporate hell. Under one condition," you insist, waving a finger at him.

Schooling his face into a parody of gravitas, he nods expectantly. Proceed.

"I need to know something first. Some things. Plural."

He cocks an eyebrow. "How many is plural?"

You consider for a second, squinting. "Three."

"All right," he says, resting his chin against your shoulder. "Fire away."

You pop out your thumb. "Are you a serial killer?"

He stares at you for a long, silent beat before his eyes slip closed and he shakes his head, his chest hitching with stifled laughter. "No, honeybee, I am not now nor have I ever been a serial killer."

You nod, grinning. "Okay, one down.” You pop out your pointer finger. “Are you married?"

The levity bleeds out of his face with a swiftness that makes you regret the question instantly, sure he's about to drop a bombshell directly on your head that's going to leave you hating him and yourself. But he shakes his head, holds up his ringless left hand as if in proof, as though nobody having an affair would've ever thought to slip a ring off beforehand. But then, very quietly, he adds: "Was. But not for a long time."

You nod dumbly, mutter, "Okay.”

For a second you wonder if you should apologize – you’ve clearly tripped on something raw by accident – but then he's poking you in the ribs and drawing in a sharp breath. "And number three?"

A little grateful, you pop out your middle finger ask your last question: "What do you do? What do you really do?"

The corner of his mouth gives a twitch. "Shit, is that all? Well. Officially, I'm a businessman. I own a sizable amount of shares in the Statesman distillery company. Which, incidentally, is where that fine stock of bourbon whiskey came from," he adds.

You lean back, eyeing him carefully. You don't think he's lying. And yet....

Your fingers find the catch of a scar against his ribs. "You're scarred to shit for a liquor tycoon, cowboy."

The twitch turns into a grin. "I have been known to get a little rough-and-tumble once in a while."

"I don't know if I believe that story any more than I did the James Bond bullshit."

Whiskey huffs a laugh. His jeans are in a puddle at the end of the bed and he drags them up, pulling out a thick leather wallet out of the back pocket. From one of the compartments he pulls a business card embossed in gold and black and hands it to you.

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels, Statesman Distillery, Kentucky.

You blink at it, giggling a little. "Jesus Christ that is actually your name?"

"More or less. Been Anglicized for flavor, among other things."

"What was it before?"

There's an odd sharpness in his eyes when he looks at you, a shrewdness you'd never have expected from the costume cowboy you'd met down in the bar. For a moment you're sure that not only is he not going to answer, but that you've overstepped a line you weren't even aware existed.

"That's four questions," he says, "not three."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," you add with a tilt of your head.

The corner of his mouth curls slightly, and the sharpness fades. "Well now, how can I resist that a bargain like that?" He pauses a moment, as if reconsidering, then adds: "It was Joaquin."

"Joaquin?"

"Mm." He nods. There's only a moment of quiet before he tilts his hips to the side, jostling you. "C'mon, darlin. A deal's a deal."

You roll your eyes, staring up at the ceiling. And you tell him your name. He repeats it back, and you don't need to see his face to know he's smiling.

"Pleasure to meet you," he says. "Literally."

"Jackass."

#agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #citrus variations #spicy spicy content babes #I really didn't mean for this to end up this long but here we are I guess #ao3 version and fic masterlist will be updated shortishly

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wiltingofthewhitelily · 3 years ago

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{Hetalia Platonic Ships Week 2021} Day 7: Free Day - Iceland & Latvia

A/N: Submission #7 for @hetaliaplatonicshipsweek!

Aaaaand the last day! I was originally planning to do Canada and Cuba (a platonic pairing I just adore) for this day until I realized I didn't actually have any solid story ideas for them :')

Sooo I chose Iceland and Latvia instead, because I imagine the two to be pretty good friends. This is just a high school au (bc as many of y'all know I'm a sucker for them) that I came up with one day while sitting in class lol. You can choose to see this as taking place in the same universe as the fic I wrote for family week (the Anko Family submission for Day 5, Embarrassment) if you wish, bc everything lines up pretty much to a T. Also, my demiboy Iceland hc is back, so he/they pronouns again.

Also, here's the reference for human names again (though most of these characters are only briefly mentioned):

Emil - Iceland

Raivis - Latvia

Leon - Hong Kong

Michelle - Seychelles

Mei - Taiwan

Lili - Liechtenstein

Ok, I hope you guys enjoy!

»»————-　➴　————-««

Being a librarian's aide at a high school wasn't nearly as bad as it appeared on the surface—well, at least for Emil it wasn't. It was always nice and quiet (for obvious reasons, since it was a library), and it allowed him to get out of a couple of boring classes which he didn't even need to take since he'd already received all the credits for them. Plus, the librarian herself was always very nice and even gave him free coffee and donuts from the teacher's lounge on most days. So, needless to say, Emil actually liked being her aide very much.

It wasn't even that much work, honestly. Not that much work at all. Usually just stacking returned books back on the bookshelf and taking out papers from the printer and giving them to students and teachers. Emil didn't have to interact with too many other kids as there were only a couple of other aides—a senior girl who was the librarian's secretary, and a boy named Raivis who Emil was pretty sure was a sophomore. Raivis basically did the same tasks as Emil, placing books on the bookshelf and whatnot.

Raivis was a curly-haired brunet who was very short for his age, barely even coming up to Emil's shoulder; he had a round boyish face that added to his middle-schooler look. Though he seemed to be a pretty quiet kid, just like Emil, since the two worked together they evidently had to communicate with each other sometimes—and honestly, Emil really enjoyed talking with him. He seemed to have a lot of the same interests as Emil—video games, indie music, hell, he even liked science fiction novels too—and a similar personality to them. Emil wouldn't exactly consider themselves close enough to Raivis to consider him a friend, probably just a very good acquaintance; however, they definitely saw the potential for friendship. It was there.

Sometimes Emil wondered if Raivis even had any other friends, as they'd never seen the boy really talk to anybody else. They wondered where he sat at lunch and tried to recall countless times if they'd ever seen him at lunch with anybody else (at their school, all juniors and sophomores had the same lunch period, so Emil knew that they had lunch with Raivis).

Anyway, on one Thursday morning Emil and Raivis were in the library, organizing books in the—what do you know—science fiction section. They had set their uneaten donuts and coffee on a nearby table and were just talking and laughing among each other, as well as sharing some of the good books they'd found that they happened to have read in the past. Emil made a mental note of all the reading suggestions Raivis had given him. I'm gonna have to check out those books when Mrs. Newman lets me pick some out again, Emil thought to himself (Mrs. Newman referring to the librarian). Another perk to being a librarian's aide was that they got to pick out more books than the other students, about three to five every other week.

Everything was going okay until these two boys who Emil had never seen in the library before casually walked up to the table that had the two's donuts and coffee and sat in the chairs.

However, Emil just kept their attention on Raivis, who was laughing as he told them about this one dystopian book, holding it up so Emil could see. "Yeah! And the best part is when—" Raivis stopped talking abruptly when he noticed the two boys there; his eyes grew wide and he got a...scared look on his face? Hurriedly, he shoved the book back in its spot on the shelf, averting his eyes from the boys and holding Emil's arm loosely, trying to guide him away from the section they were at. "Um...how about let's go sort out the encyclopedias," Raivis suggested quickly.

Emil cocked his eyebrows, now very confused. "But what about our food?"

However, Raivis didn't respond and instead continued to try to push Emil away from the boys.

"Hey, short stack!"

Raivis visibly cringed at the voice of one of the boys. This prompted him, as well as Emil to lift their heads up. One of the kids was cackling annoyingly, while the other one had carelessly taken a bite out of one of Raivis' donuts.

Seeing this latter action immediately caused Emil to furrow their eyebrows. "Hey, what the heck?" they said sternly. "That's Raivis' food."

The kid who'd eaten Raivis' donut snickered. "Yeah, no shit, Dad."

"Emil, just leave them alone..." Raivis said quietly, still holding onto their arm.

Emil ignored him and, though his heart was pounding nearly out of his chest with nerves, he continued to try to set the two boys straight. "I'm going to tell Mrs. Newman if you two don't stop," he threatened.

The other boy, who'd started to drink Raivis' coffee, set his cup down and made mocking jazz hands. "Ooo—Mrs. Newman. I'm so scared," he said sarcastically.

Emil shot the two one last glare and went up to the front of the library to do what he'd just said he would do—tell Mrs. Newman. As he began to walk, he heard the sounds of pounding footsteps, splashing, and then a high-pitched wail that could only belong to one person. Emil whipped his head around and gasped. The kid with the coffee had dumped the entire beverage onto Raivis' head; it was dripping from his hair, and onto the floor.

Now simmering with anger, Emil stomped up to the two kids—he was about to yell something until he heard one of the boys snort loudly and then run up to place the now-empty cup of coffee into Emil's hand. The ash-blond didn't have time to be too confused; he was much more concerned for Raivis at that moment. He prepared to yell at the two boys to get the hell out (he honestly didn't care at that point that they were in a library) before he heard a voice behind him: "Hey! What are you two doing?"

The teens all looked toward the voice and saw Mrs. Newman standing there, hands on her hips, her expression very angry looking—though not at Emil and Raivis, rather at the boy that'd spilled coffee on Raivis' head, as well as his friend.

The two boys, though they'd just mocked Mrs. Newman a mere few minutes prior, stood there, scared, until they glanced at each other briefly and then dashed out of the large library doors. Emil smirked internally as they saw this. Now they're afraid, huh? they thought to themselves.

Mrs. Newman stared at the boys like a hawk as they ran out into the halls, but once they were out of eyesight she turned to Raivis, her face instantly growing from full of anger to full of concern. She walked up slowly to the boy, gently placing her hand on a part of his arm that'd been untouched by the coffee. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

Raivis shrugged his shoulders slowly, his face looking so solemn, so pitiful. "It's fine..."

The tall blonde woman turned to Emil then. "Honey, will you take him to the office to get a fresh change of clothes?" she asked. "He will probably need to use one of the showers in the gym too...can you walk with him, please?"

Emil nodded instantly. "Yeah. Sure thing."

Mrs. Newman smiled back. "Thank you."

Soon, the two teens were walking off to do just that. Raivis was very quiet all the way to the office—which Emil could understand one hundred percent. Poor kid must've felt so embarrassed. He decided he wouldn't make the situation any worse for him and kept his mouth shut, too. They swiftly went to the office to get some spare clothes and then got the clear to go down to the gym bathroom so Raivis could wash up.

The two got to the gym and were standing in front of the door to the bathroom; Raivis glanced up at Emil, his face a little pink. "Um," he began, holding his hand out a little, "could you give me the clothes?"

"Oh, yeah," Emil replied, handing Raivis the sweatpants and t-shirt.

Raivis nodded his thanks and headed on in. After he shut the door, Emil just decided to sit against the wall and wait for him while he showered and changed.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Raivis finally came back out. Emil looked up, put his phone back in his pocket, and then stood up. "How was it?" he asked the sophomore.

Raivis sighed deeply; his eyes were very close to watering, even though he looked and smelled as fresh as a daisy. "Um...okay I guess," he answered, voice quavering a little. "There was a lot of coffee on me."

Emil nodded, but tsk-tsked. He began to walk out of the gym, and Raivis followed close behind. "Who even were those kids?" Emil asked.

Raivis shrugged, looking down at his toes. "Eh, just some kids from my grade. They're jerks."

Emil bit his lip. "Seems like it. I can't believe they put that coffee cup in my hands like they were trying to frame me or something," he said. He laughed, a bit bitterly.

Despite himself, Raivis managed to chuckle a little. "Yeah. Don't they know Mrs. Newman has cameras in there? She could've checked them if she really wanted to."

Emil snorted. "I know, right?"

It was silent for a moment afterward, with Raivis gulping loudly every now and then. Emil turned their head, noticing this. He cocked an eyebrow, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Raivis (who Emil could tell now was definitely on the verge of crying) sniffled and rubbed at his face. "Yeah," he answered, voice hushed. "It's just...thank you, Emil. No one has ever stood up for me like that."

The boy's voice was so sincere that Emil had to grin. "It's no problem—really."

"You're a great friend," Raivis added.

Emil's heart was warmed at that—they didn't know if it was just the way he said it, or the knowledge that he actually thought of them as a friend. He answered warmly nonetheless. "Thank you. You are too."

Raivis glanced at him and gave the most genuine smile Emil thought he'd ever seen on the younger teen.

"Hey, where do you normally sit at lunch?" Emil asked Raivis, just out of curiosity.

Raivis' smile fell a bit. "Oh...well, I normally just sit outside," he said quietly.

"Alone?" The word seemed to echo in the empty hallway, though it might've just been Emil's imagination.

Raivis nodded a bit solemnly. Emil grew the same solemn expression for a moment before asking, "Hey, would you like to sit with me and my friends at lunch?"

Raivis looked up then, eyebrows shooting up. "Really?"

Emil nodded, cracking a small smile. "Yeah. I sit with my best friend, Leon, and then my other friends, Michelle, Mei, and Lili. Leon's really cool; Michelle and Mei might seem a bit...much at first, but they're really nice and cool too."

Raivis' expression slowly began to brighten the more he heard Emil talk, until he paused. "...Are you sure that's okay? I wouldn't wanna ruin your guys' lunch..."

"Trust me, you won't," Emil assured instantly.

The sophomore paused for a minute, as if thinking. "...Okay. I'll sit with you guys."

Emil grinned. "Good. I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

The two continued to walk back to the office to get passes for their next class in comfortable silence, the content feeling one feels after finding a new friend overwhelming both of them.

#hetalia #hetaliaplatonicshipsweek #hetalia event #hetalia fanfiction #fanfiction #aph iceland #hws iceland #aph latvia #hws latvia

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years ago

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how to save a life bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

Good old whump 😌 this is so fucking long (wc: 2113)

also i know some people are weird about dogs so just know reader has a very large typically seen as aggressive kind of dog (but hes not, just a little slobbery and awkward lol)

Song: say something by danny worsnop and matty mullins

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

"I can't take your shit anymore. If you won't do anything about it then I will! I quit!"

I yelled, untying my apron and tossing it at my manager. One of the cooks had been harassing me for the last couple weeks and he refused to say or do anything. But I had reached my breaking point.

"Come on y/n, we need you! You can't leave me short staffed like that."

He whined and I shook my head, making my way to the back door.

"No, fuck you Rodney, you can find someone else to deal with it."

I said annoyed, clocking out, grabbing my stuff and storming out the back. I gave him the finger as the door slammed behind me, sighing angrily at myself for not finding a new job sooner.

"Fuck!"

I yelled, kicking the brick wall before leaning into it, shoving my head in my hands. Then I heard a harsh cough. My attention snapped towards the man limping through the alley way, seemingly clutching at his side.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I asked, reaching into my bag and gripping my pepper spray tightly.

"Sir?"

I asked again, moving closer to him in the darkness. When he looked up at me I realized who it was. I had seen pictures of him before. What was his name? James? Yeah captain Americas bear friend. From the museum.

"Help."

He managed before falling face first into the dirt. I gasped as I watched his body go limp. In that moment I wasn't quite sure what to do. I couldn't call someone cause I didn't know who to call, and God it was gonna take everything in me to get him back to my apartment. But I couldn't just leave him here. Shit. I sighed before kneeling down and rolling him over. His face was bruised and bloodied, the same as the knuckles on his hand. He must have really gotten into it with someone. I bit my lip before sitting him up with a groan.

"Okay james, work with me here."

I sighed out, going around him and picking him up. He made a soft noise and I looked at him, his eyelids bobbing open for a second.

"Two blocks, that's all it is."

I told myself more than anything, slinging his arm over my shoulder and walking with him dragging his feet. The whole walk was labored breathing and groaning. He was heavier than he looked but then again he was pretty much solid muscle. And though he wasn't much help I could tell he was trying. That endurance was paying off a little bit. But as soon as we were to my apartment he was out, practically falling through the door after I opened it. I only just caught him, laying him on the floor gently and dragging him to the couch. As I tried to put him on it I could hear my dog whining and tapping his toes in his crate.

"Give me a minute Wolf."

I said half annoyed as I got James flat on his back. When I was content with him laying there I let my massive akita-rottweiler mix out of his crate. He immediately went to James and started sniffing him excitedly until I snapped my fingers at him.

"Hey, leave the nice man alone. Let's go potty."

I said, him barking and running towards the door. I quickly got his leash on and took him down to the streets of new York. We walked a good block before finally heading back to my apartment. After I took Wolfs leash off he was right back in James' face.

"Hey, what did I say? Go lay down."

I instructed, him making a sad sound before pouting his way to his large bed in front of the window. I sighed, looking over James with my hands on my hips. Then I noticed a darkened spot just under his jacket and immediately began to worry.

"Shit. Is that blood?"

I said, stepping closer. I watched his face as I knelt down, pushing the coffee table further away from the couch.

"James I don't know if you can hear me but I'm gonna undo your jacket."

I said in a clear voice, watching to see if he moved but he didn't, prompting me to go on anyway. When the front of it was undone I gasped. He was indeed bleeding. It took me a minute to get it fully off, his shirt following right after. To my surprise his whole torso was covered in scrapes and bruises, along with what seemed to be a gunshot wound. Luckily it was only a graze. That I could treat.

"What the hell were you doing?"

I asked out loud even though I knew he couldn't hear me. I shook my head before going to get the first aid kit from under my bed, wolf following me around my apartment. I guess lucky for him I went to medical school, I mean I flunked out my last semester, but still. That's only three months I'd have to finish before I'm a licensed nurse. I had this. Right?

"God I hope I don't have to sew this man shut."

°°°°°°°°°

The next few hours I just sat at my breakfast bar staring at him in the living room, sipping coffee and trying not to wake Wolf who was now fast asleep at my feet. I was waiting patiently for him to wake up, to make noise, to move even an inch. but it never happened. He was however still breathing, the portable heart monitor I had attached to his finger beeping softly.

When the sun started peering through my curtains though I figured it was best to check on him again. After all, I would need to change his bandages soon so whatever it was that hit him didn't get infected. Wolf for one was very excited again for me to be working on the stranger, running to him and getting in his face again.

"Wolf!"

I scolded, James jolting upright as I pulled the collar back on his large black neck.

"Sorry."

I said through a nervous laugh. He looked around for a moment before looking down and wincing in pain as he touched his abdomen.

"Go lay down."

I said harshly, wolf not quite budging at first. But going when I nudged him with my knee.

"Um, I hope you don't mind that. I did as best I could but it's been a while. I was gonna come change them."

He stared at me, looking to wolf in his bed when he sighed.

"Thank you."

He said softly and I nodded.

"Do you mind laying back down? It's a little easier."

I said and he did, slowly, watching my every move as I knelt beside him. I dug into my kit to get new dressing, peeling the old off and shaking my head. It was still bleeding but there wasn't much I could do about it.

"Do you remember much about last night James?"

I asked and he shook his head no, the dog tags around his neck shifting. I focused intently on what I was doing, hearing wolf sigh again. I rolled my eyes, sending him a playful look.

"You aren't afraid of dogs are you James?"

I asked and he shook his head again.

"Okay wolf, come here."

He stood quickly, panting as he came over and stood beside me, looking like he had a wide smile on his face as he sat down. James looked up at him and smiled back, bringing his right hand to scratch at wolf's head. It was a good distraction as I fixed his wounds for a second time. As I put the stuff away I was forced to remember he was still shirtless.

"Oh uh, I washed your shirt too, it was pretty soaked through."

He nodded, making a pained face as he moved to sit up, letting me help as he did. Wolf took that as an invitation to get on the couch, his large dog body taking up a good portion of it as he laid across James' lap. I looked to the ceiling as he laughed, petting him some more.

"I'm so sorry. If you want him off all you have to do is tell him to get down."

I said standing up, going to the kitchen to wash my hands.

"I don't mind it, he reminds me of an old friend."

He lamented as I came back, wiping my hands on a towel.

"They must've been one hell of a friend."

He nodded slowly.

"Hey uh, you can call me Bucky. if you want."

I reached for his hand and shook it.

"Y/n."

"Thanks for this y/n."

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm not gonna lie James, uh Bucky, I was a little shook up last night. I had just quit my job when you came stumbling down the alley I almost wasn't sure what to do with you. And I know as a citizen I probably should have called an ambulance but as an ally..."

I paused. he looked a little more into what i had to say now.

"I've, well, I've been around the block with a string of heroes before and none of them could ever actually get help from paramedics. So I did what I could."

He nodded.

"I really appreciate it y/n, I must've been desperate after all, to go to a complete stranger."

He laughed.

"I'm just glad you found me and not someone else. Or who knows what could have happened."

"those were my thoughts exactly."

there was a long pause, me standing awkwardly and both of us staring at the floor. then Wolf barked, taking both of our attention as i jumped at the sudden sound.

"guess he agrees."

i said and he laughed again.

"ya know i really appreciate this. is there a way i could repay you? some how?"

he asked and i shook my head.

"no, i couldn't let you do that. really."

i said quickly, holding my hand out, watching as he struggled to stand.

"i want to."

he insisted, stumbling forward and i caught him. he panted out a pained noise.

"knowing you're safe is enough. come over here, lets get you something to eat."

i said, walking him slowly to the bar i was just sat at and feeling his back muscles strain against my palm as i held him upright.

"careful, you keep taking care of me i might never leave."

he said through a wince as i placed him in the chair.

"promise?"

i laughed and he sent me a soft look before smiling. i could feel the blush run across my face as i moved to the fridge, making a face like i was an idiot for saying that.

"uh i went to school to be a nurse after taking care of my last boyfriend. he was terminally ill but didnt want to stay at a care facility. i guess ive kind of been missing it since he passed last year."

"im sorry."

he said quietly as i pulled things out of the fridge for breakfast.

"its alright. ive been getting by. plus i have wolfie over there to keep me busy."

i said with a smile, the large dog wagging his tail as he sat at the edge of the kitchen.

"im sure he appreciated all you did for him."

bucky said and i nodded once, moving to the stove.

"uh, how do you like your eggs?"

he turned in the chair to look at me.

"what's your specialty?"

i laughed.

"anything but poached."

he smiled widely at me.

"over easy please."

"great. that i can do."

there was another long silence as i began frying the eggs. then he cleared his throat.

"would it be a little Stockholm syndrome-y to ask you out after saving my life?"

i let out a short, loud, laugh before looking at him.

"oh you're serious?"

i asked and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"unless youre not looking but the least i could do is take you to dinner."

i nodded slowly, plating the food and setting the plates on the counter.

"im not but i wouldnt say no to dinner. and who knows, maybe id be open to seeing you after. maybe with a shirt and not bleeding on my couch."

he picked up the fork and raised it in cheers to me.

"ill take it. and its the least i could do. as a thank you."

"its a date then."

#wattpad #x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #one shots #imagines #captain america #White Wolf #marvel #331

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achubbydumpling · 3 years ago

Text

[unfinished] Pile It On

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1561

Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Not underage, Fat camp, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Fat!Bucky

So, I had a great conversation with @wotvagyok about my fat camp AU Bucky and what might've led to Bucky breaking a bed like I mentioned in this ficlet. Thanks for the inspiration!

(I'm sorry, I can't think anymore right now. I'll fill in the spaces tomorrow, but if I don't publish this right now I'll probably not finish this challenge at all.)

“Team Cap sets up their attack, Wanda touches, high ark to Wilson, Rogers is probably their best chance at winning… but, no, Wilson sets for Barnes, is that the right decision? Let’s see if he can even get off the ground to—Barnes kills it! Stark can’t block that and with that his team is out! 21-19! A neck-and-neck race all the way. Congratulations, Team Cap!” Thor excitedly commentates jumping up from the beach.

The entire team piled onto Bucky to hug him and scream in his ear. Steve gave him a very bro-hug, grinning wide and shouting at Bucky.

“That jump was insane!” Steve yelled at him again.

“You’ve said that.” Bucky’s cheeks ached from how much he was smiling.

“I know!” Steve said in the same tone of voice, then squeezed Bucky tightly one last time and quietly added, “See you after lunch” with pointedly raised eyebrows, like Bucky wouldn’t immediately get what he was hinting at.

Read on AO3

They’d worked out a pretty good system over the past few summers. Plus, Bucky knew that quiet tone of voice all too well and Steve basically saying out loud that he’d sneak away to Bucky’s cabin in his lunch break? For a second everything outside of those words and Steve’s body pressed against him faded away.

However, the chatter of all the other campers came crashing back into Bucky’s consciousness when Steve turned away and started directing the other campers to the dining hall like he didn’t just—

Breathe, Barnes, he chastised himself and made his (very sore) legs to the dining hall. Scarf down the bland food, charm (beg) his way into seconds, head to the cabin and eat whatever Steve stashed there during his morning “contraband” sweep.

[...]

“Yeah, to make sure no one would find everything. Why didn’t you check the top bunk?”

“It says on the bed post the top bunk is only rated for 300 pounds?”

“Oh. Well, you don’t weigh that much more.”

“Yeah, just like 100 pounds.” Another cramp from his overstuffed belly forced a groan out of him. “Feels like double that right now.” Steve quirked his eyebrow and flicked his eyes at the ladder to the top bunk. Steve’s blue eyes darkened with the fantasy he was clearly playing out in his head right now. The air punched out of Bucky’s lungs.

“What if I break it?” he whispered. He couldn’t force himself to speak up. This— Sure, a flimsy chair had broken under the weight he’d piled on, but a bed? He’d have to tell someone. A sickeningly hot twist of pleasure raced down his spine. He’d have to admit out loud—

“Go on,” Steve interrupted his thought process, pushing Bucky to say that out loud.

“I’d— Fuck, I’d have to tell a counsellor. They’d probably take me to see Fury.” Steve swallowed drily.

“Why would they take you to the director?” Steve’s hands were clenched in fists on Bucky’s gut, belly rub forgotten for the moment.

“Get me weighed.” Steve nodded encouragingly, whispering “Why?”

“If I broke it now— Must’ve gained weight.” Bucky whined low in his throat and grabbed uselessly at the expanse of his belly before him.

“You’ve been here three weeks, you really should’ve lost some weight by now.” Steve pushed himself up from where he was sitting next to Bucky and straddled him. He pushed both his hands into the fat overhang spilling over his waistband and heaved Bucky’s belly up. Muscles and tendons working in his forearms.

“But I can barely lift this thing up.” Steve teased, then let go, letting all the fat slap back onto Bucky’s legs. That jostled his overstuffed gut so badly, Bucky wanted to curl into himself, but he was effectively immobilized by the weight of his gluttony.

The heat of his humiliation sparked his arousal like tinder. He was achingly hard. Trapped against his own fat. Twitching. Trying to rut into that friction. Steve shoved his hand between his fat pad and the fat hanging over it to blindly grab for his dick. When he found that bit of hardness, he squeezed. Tight.

“Not yet. You eat what I give you.” Bucky screwed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“Can’t,” he whined, shook his head again. Steve’s unyielding grip kept Bucky from coming all over himself at just imagining himself crawling up there and eating even more.

“Yes.” The command pierced through Bucky’s middle, making him squirm.

[...]

Dry heat raced through his core, having him press his hand over his dick. He was riding that edge so violently he felt like he should be coming all over his own fingers, but his briefs were still only stained by that spot of precum.

“Oh, fuck, get down here. You just— Bucky!” Steve was scrambling at his back, helping him back down the ladder. Once he was firmly back on the floor, Steve plunged his hand into Bucky’s briefs. Mouth on his neck. Other hand on Bucky’s sweat-slicked sides.

Steve jerked him fast and inelegantly, but Bucky didn’t care in that moment. Too consumed by the realisation that he’d gained enough weight to break the top bunk without even putting his full weight on it. Steve gasping, “you cracked the slats,” finally got him over the edge. Coming over Steve’s hands in his brief.

Bucky’s knees finally buckled under him, and Steve manoeuvred him to lie back down on the bottom bunk, which he was also rapidly outgrowing with the amount of calories he was consuming daily. Bucky was still caught up in the afterglow to help Steve much with getting off. He just felt bone-deep tired.

Steve was standing in front of the bed, one arm propped against the frame and resting his forehead against it. Bucky felt impossibly fatter when he let his head fall forward to look at Steve. He could feel his double-chin bunching up around his neck. His body taking up half his field of view.

Bucky couldn’t even see Steve’s hand on his dick, just the repetitive movement of his arm. The way the muscles moved, his right pec flexed and relaxed again and again. His whole body slightly jerking every time he fucked his hips up into his own fist. The bitten-off moans on his lips. All that over Bucky. The milky soft mountain of fat sitting on his upper body. The solid mass of food rounding out his stomach.

Steve’s forehead slipped off his arm and he just let his head hang for a moment. Then snapped up and locked eyes with Bucky. His pupils blown wide, lips bitten raw and coming over his own hand and torso.

Something fluttered and clenched when Steve climbed slowly onto the bed, wiped them both down with Bucky’s discarded shirt and tucked himself into Bucky’s side.

Bucky’s head reeled with a sudden realisation.

“What are we going to do about the bed?” Instead of answering Steve curled further into himself and hummed noncommittally.

“Hey, I’m serious. I don’t want to get kicked out.”

“Slat’s barely cracked, ‘ll tell Fury after end-of-summer check-in. They’re not gonna kick you out.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t think they’ll let me back in next year.” Bucky rubbed at the back of his head. “Maybe you could—I don’t know—come up to my place or something.”

Steve opened his eyes again but didn’t look at Bucky. Instead, he started playing with a loose thread on the comforter.

“One more summer. Then I’ll—” Bucky sighed, his hand found its way into Steve’s hair.

“I know. I know. Degree, then job. Wherever that takes you. Just thought it’d be— We’d have more than like an hour and a handful of moments to enjoy… this.” Bucky gestured very specifically to his middle and did not think about what else he’d like Steve to want. “What if they won’t let me come back next summer? Don’t really think I qualify for the asthma camp across the lake.”

“Fury’s determined to help everyone lose weight and Stark’s stubborn as hell.”

“They’ve failed three years in a row. This time pretty hard. Y’know after breaking camp property because I gainedweight while being here.” Steve stayed quiet for a long moment. They’d had this conversation a few too many times for them not to know all the arguments by now.

“You don’t think the sneaking around’s kinda fun?” Bucky just wanted to sighed. He felt the urge to shake Steve and make him see that Bucky was in this for a whole lot more than sneaking around to fuck like high schoolers.

“Speaking of your time’s up.” Bucky felt Steve moving up, about to lie down on Bucky’s chest and say those familiar words, “just five more minutes, Buck” but when Bucky kept his eyes firmly trained straights ahead the words died in his throat. Steve sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, then pushed himself up with a deep breath.

“Do you want anything special for tomorrow?” Bucky shrugged. His eyes suddenly felt to heavy to keep them open.

“Surprise me.” A barren olive branch.

Steve disappeared into the bathroom and Bucky finally let the sigh, that had been trapped against his chest, out. He stayed on the bed with his eyes closed until Steve padded out of the bathroom, across the cabin and pushed the squeaky door handle down.

“One more summer.”

#stucky #weight gain #Fat!Bucky #Get Beached

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

Text

American Dream

Genre: angst with a happy ending/fluff

Pairing: romantic Dukexiety

World: just-out-of-high-school AU

Content: homophobia, threatened abuse from parents (no actual violence), extreme cold, getting kicked out, minor religious talk, getting outed, AIDS and death mention, fluffy Dukexiety because my heart needs it.

Word count: 2.3k

Comments: She doesn’t have Tumblr, but I need to give a shout out to my kiddo for proof reading and beta-ing most of my fics. She pushes me to write more, and even if she won’t see this, I just need to say it.

This fic is inspired by the song American Dream by MKTO.

Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up…

The night coolness spread through Virgil like a sickness. It was unforgiving, toxic, seeped with the memories of the evening that curled through his stomach in dark tendrils. Below his bare feet, the sidewalk burned in the way that only ice does, small pebbles digging into his soles. He would do anything for socks. God, why hadn’t he grabbed socks?

Probably for the same reason he hadn’t grabbed shoes.

Please pick up, please pick up, c’mon, pick up already!

His eyes hurt. They already burned with unshed tears that he’d still been too scared to release, and the cool air didn’t help. Crying on the street was a vulnerability he wasn’t ready to face. His lungs burned. He’d been sprinting non-stop for who knows how long. His own panicked gulps for air and the all-too-loud hum of a blinking streetlight were the only sound on the silent street. Virgil had been watching the moths swarm at the fixture for who knows how long, finding odd solace in the fact that at least there was still some life in the darkness. They were still alive, untouched, same as they were yesterday and probably the same as they would be tomorrow, unfazed by the complete turmoil his life had become. And that was somewhat comforting.

“Virgie, you okay? It’s almost midnight!”

Thank fucking god. He opened his mouth to speak, to explain to Remus what had happened. Obviously, Remus would care. That wasn’t a doubt in his mind; that was the only reason he wasn’t anxious as all fuck right now… about the call, that is. He was anxious about approximately everything else. But as soon as the first noise made its way past his lips, the first utterance of a plea for help, everything that he’d been holding back burst forth like a broken dam. He clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the loud sobbing that he suddenly couldn’t contain.

“Shit. Virgil, what happened? I’m coming over. Are you at home?”

That’s the issue. “No,” he gasped, mildly surprised he hadn’t crushed the phone with the way his grip tightened, “I got kicked out.”

“What the fuck?!”

Virgil flinched. “Can… can you come p-pick me up? I’m at the corner of Jackson and Pullard. Please, please, come get me…”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’m on my way. Stay there, okay?”

Virgil hung up reluctantly after agreeing, not wanting his boyfriend to drive while on the phone, even if Remus gladly would have done it. In fact, he’d used to do it all the time; text, eat, do his makeup, all while cruising down the freeway. He’d only put a stop to it when he saw how much it affected Virgil.

He counted down the minutes on his phone, always having been nitpicky with times, knowing that it shouldn’t take Remus more than ten minutes to get there. If he remembered correctly where he was at the moment, that is. Remus had gotten kicked out of his parents’ house in his senior year of high school after a bad fight. They’d never really been great parents, always showing favoritism towards his brother (amongst other things), and he was more than willing to leave. Virgil had tried to beg his parents to let Remus stay with them, but they’d downright refused, calling him a bad influence and a string of other insults that Virgil didn’t even like to think about. God forbid what would happen if they found out the two were dating.

…Well, they did now. And God hadn’t exactly forbidden what they’d done.

But Remus hadn’t had a solid place to live since it had happened almost a year ago. He couch surfed for a while, bouncing between some old friends who had now gone off to college, or just lived in his car. He’d made it work, and had claimed to Virgil that he actually didn’t mind it that much. If he was telling the truth, Virgil wasn’t sure. He’d saved up some money and bought an inflatable mattress that filled up his back seat area, and Virgil was able to give him his family’s old camping stove by convincing them they lost it. It’s not like they’d gone camping since he was a kid, anyways. Last he’d checked, Janus was home for break and Remus was staying with him for the two weeks he was in town, but those two weeks were probably pretty close to done. Unfortunately, Virgil and Janus had never gotten along, so Remus didn’t bring him up. It was a mutual understanding.

As soon as Remus’ car pulled up to the curb, ten minutes on the dot, Virgil basically flung himself into the passenger seat. The car was warm, so so warm, he almost cried again, this time in relief. Remus pulled back onto the road as soon as he was buckled on.

“Vee, what happened?” It wasn’t hard to guess, there were only so many reasons his parents would have to kick him out. He’d narrowed it down to his parent’s finally having it with Virgil’s tattoo artist dream, or… well…

“Someone at my mom’s work found my Instagram. She went up to my mom, basically started gushing about ‘how handsome I was with my boyfriend’. Specifically the picture of us at Pride from a couple years ago.”

“Ah.” Remus knew the picture well. He’d printed it out and it was pinned to the inside of his sun visor.

“Yeah. Mom called my dad, they were both waiting when I got home. Had screenshots and everything. They grilled me about ‘dishonoring God’ and ‘throwing away my life’. Said I was gonna get AIDS. Die before twenty five. Ya know. The whole lecture.”

Remus didn’t. Surprisingly, him being gay was not a concern of his parent’s. His brother was gay too, and they didn’t give a rat’s ass about that. He nodded along anyways.

“They went on for so long. It was insane. Then they dropped the whole ‘you’re not our son’ thing-” Virgil’s voice cracked, but he swallowed around the lump in his throat and continued, “I figured this is where it was leading to, them kicking me out? I thought they’d give me time to pack, though. Except my dad started getting physical-”

“HE WHAT?!” Remus was tempted to turn the fucking car around and drive to Virgil’s house, just to give his parents a piece of his mind. He was fuming; fuck, he hadn’t been this mad in a while.

“Relax, Rem. I got out before he could actually land a hit. That’s why I don’t have anything with me. I had to run.”

“Doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know.” Virgil pulled his feet up onto the seat cross legged, trying to rub some feeling back into them. Luckily, they weren’t bleeding, just cold as hell. That was one less thing to worry about. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Of course, Vi,” Remus’ voice had taken on a softer edge that he rarely allowed anyone to see, and he reached over to take one of Virgil’s hands into his own, “Speaking of which, why were you on Jackson? That’s, what, three miles away from your house?”

“When I say I ran, I mean literally. I was scared they would follow me.” Virgil shrugged, as if the statement wasn’t the most heartbreaking thing Remus had ever heard. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, I just ran. That’s why it took me so long to realize I should call you.”

Remus sighed, letting his thumb run against Virgil’s knuckles. “You don’t have to act all brave, Vi.”

“I don’t think I ever saw you cry when you got kicked out.”

“That’s because I didn’t love my parents. I honestly didn’t. I know your parents mean a lot to you. And I’m sorry it went down like it did.”

It was the truth, but he honestly didn’t want to think about it right now. What kind of loving family kicks out their child? Virgil took a shaky breath in and mumbled, “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Okay. Let’s talk about something else. What’s our plan?”

Virgil was quiet for a long moment, as if deep in thought. He watched the scenery fade from his suburban area of town to the darker, rural parts of the town’s edge, not knowing or caring where they were driving. The escape from street lights was nice. “Why do we need a plan?”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up at the sudden playful tone in Virgil’s words. “Oh?”

“I mean, is anything really holding us here?”

“My, my,” Remus crooned, pulling into an empty lot and parking in the furthest spot from the street, “I thought I was the impulsive one.”

“I’m serious, Rem!” Virgil laughed, swatting lightly at Remus’ hand. The happy sound was like music to his ears. “I’m dead serious! What’s keeping us here?”

“Patton? Logan?”

“Both across the country. And you know they’re considering staying there when they graduate.” Janus’ name was an understood thing. They both knew his school was barely an hour from the other two. Even if Virgil couldn’t stand the guy, he knew that Remus and Janus went far back. Judging by Remus’ slowly brightening expression, he could assume that Janus would probably be down to stay there as well.

“Work?”

“I work at Walmart. They won’t miss me. Try again.”

Remus scrunched his eyebrows almost thoughtfully, even though this was maybe the easiest decision he’d ever had to make. Plus, they both knew Remus didn’t really ‘think’ in general. “It almost sounds like you want to take a roadtrip, my little emo.”

Virgil scrunched his nose at the nickname, but let a wider smile spread across his tear stained cheeks. “I kind of do.”

Remus shut the car off, turning to his boyfriend with a shit eating grin. “I like this new side of you.”

“Well…” Virgil’s voice turned sheepish under the almost cheshire cat level expression, “Should we?”

“Let’s make up our minds tomorrow.” Remus stated, gesturing to the mattress behind him, “Sleep for tonight. You must be exhausted, coming up with ideas like this.”

Virgil grumbled under his breath, something about ‘not being a baby’, but clambered into the backseat after Remus, double checking the locks on the doors as he went. The air mattress was comfier than he thought it would be, and it was only made better when Remus pulled him in like a teddy bear, tugging a blanket over them. They both sighed in contentment, then promptly burst out laughing at the synchronicity.

“Oh my god, what have we become?” Remus gasped, pulling Virgil in closer nonetheless. Virgil snorted in response, looking up to meet Remus’ eyes through a haze of sudden exhaustion and amusement. The laughter died down slowly as they both gave in to their fatigue, finishing the day with a slow kiss that left them both breathless. Virgil fell asleep with plans forming and circulating through his mind, the rest of the evening almost forgotten.

--------------------------------------------

His parents were at work, and Virgil knew their kitchen window didn’t lock properly, which was what led to him stuffing everything he could into a black duffel bag while Remus kept watch from his car. He wasn’t too concerned about the parents coming home, but it gave him ample time to look over the map he’d bought from the gas station that morning and plan a route. He didn’t want to admit that his leg was shaking from pure excitement. This idea had been somewhere in the back of his mind for a long time, but he knew Virgil valued his relationship with his family and liked being near them, so he never brought it up. Granted, the situation wasn’t great, but he considered this ‘making the best of it’. A twisted paradise.

He barely flinched as his trunk was thrown open and Virgil threw his bag inside before hopping back into his seat.

“Okay, so how about we drive up to Maine, apparently the sea food is legendary! Then we cut back through Ohio. There’s literally nothing in Ohio, but we can cross it off the list at least! And then-”

Virgil laughed, cutting him off, “I thought we weren’t planning!”

“Well, we need at least a rough idea,” Remus said with a pout, “What we do there and how long we stay, that’s up to impulse. I was thinking we should try to get through all the states, wouldn’t that be cool?”

Virgil could only nod, leaning forward to kiss Remus again. “Sounds amazing,” he murmured, so close they were almost touching. They’d talked to Logan and Patton earlier that morning, and they were equally as excited for the two of them. Remus had called Janus while Virgil was packing, quickly explaining the situation (and also why Remus had disappeared in the middle of the night), and Janus supported it. Made sense, since he was almost as impulsive as Remus. Plus, he was going back to school in a couple days, so it didn’t make much of a difference. That said, they still didn’t have a time limit. Their friends were just starting second semester, meaning they could schedule themselves to arrive in California for summer break, or they could spend longer on the road. But schedules are for chumps.

As they rolled out of the quaint neighborhood Virgil had grown up in, Remus reached down and took his hand again. “Say goodbye to white picket fences.” And god, the joyful expression on Virgil’s face was enough to make him melt.

By the time they hit the freeway, they were both nearly shaking with anticipation. Virgil stuck his hands out the sunroof, the wind whipping through his hair, and let out a whoop that was almost contagious. This was the start of something amazing, they both felt it.

Cali, here we come.

#lywrites #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanderssides #dukexiety

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cloudshapedpatch · 4 years ago

Text

take my money (take my heart, too)

the awkward julie & luke sugar daddy/baby au no one asked for

rated teen and up for swearing and semi-mature themes such as the concept of a sugar daddy/baby arrangement

no smut! insane tooth-rotting fluff tho

slow burn juke

and disaster lesbians flarrie side plot and (eventual) willex

also a coffee shop au because i said so

read on ao3 (chapter 1 and tag list below the cut)

* * * *

Julie is nervous. No, nervous is an understatement. Her knees bounce uncontrollably under the table, shaky fingers twirling the straw in her iced coffee. And the knot in her stomach seems to grow ever tighter.

She pulls out her phone to check the time for the third time this minute. How is it still 10:57 am? Just as she is about to put her phone back in her pocket, it buzzes with an incoming text from her best friend/roommate, Flynn.

Flynn: calm down

Julie smiles despite herself, turning around to look at her friend a few tables away. Thank goodness for her friend, willing to throw away a morning to make sure she is safe and comfortable on her blind date. She shoots Flynn a small smile. Flynn, to their credit, is taking their job very seriously, wearing an absurdly large sunhat and sunglasses, sipping on a mug of hot tea with a decoy book under her nose.

Julie turns to anxiously watch the baristas, moving around the small space with ease, mixing drinks hot and cold alike. Twirling around each other without even looking. And she lets her mind wander.

How had she gotten here? Waiting for a man whom she had never spoken to, let alone seen? And she isn’t counting their text messaging. Not really. Not even if they had been talking for weeks. Not even if they regularly stayed up well into the night just to keep talking to the other. Not even if he had her blushing furiously, toes curling from giddiness and hiding under her sheets, smiling at the flirtatious speech bubbles on her phone for longer than she’d like to admit.

Because that doesn’t count. She has never heard his voice. She has never seen what he looked like. Anyone could be a charmer, and she is undoubtedly nervous about who she might find walking through the door and towards her.

How had she gotten here? It is a simple question, and one she has the answer to. Doesn’t mean she likes it. She had made an offhand comment to Flynn at work one day. Julie is sick of working 12 hour days in the cafe (not this one. she would be dumb to meet a stranger in her workplace) and barely scraping by. She had joked she needed someone to fund her shopping sprees.

Flynn had suggested a sugar daddy.

Julie wants to bang her head on the table. Past Julie is an idiot. And now Present Julie is going to pay the price.

Why had she let Flynn convince her to download that dumb app?

(Because she has a virtually useless college degree, bills to pay, and school loans creeping up on her and she is cutting back every month. Living in L.A. isn’t cheap.

And, if she really lets herself think about it, Julie is lonely.)

She checks her phone again, pleased to find it is finally 11 am. He should be here any minute. Luke should be here any minute.

Is it a red flag that he had only been willing to share his first name? Should it have concerned her that he didn’t have a profile picture on his online dating account? Is she dumb for letting him change the subject every time she asked about his job? Solid ‘maybe’s to all of those, but! After they had started talking, they had instantly clicked. He loves music almost as much as she did, maybe even more. They bonded over that, and many other things.

This is fine.

She straightens her posture, glancing down at her dress to make sure all is in order. It’s baby blue with golden sunflowers all over, and she had slipped a cropped denim jacket on top, the one with patches of all her favorite bands. She fusses with the loose curls hanging by her face, her hair pulled into a half bun at the top of her head, leaving a clear view of her sunflower earrings. It’s the perfect outfit to be noticed in, she had told him she’d be wearing blue and sunflowers, certainly he wouldn’t miss her.

Whenever he decided to show up.

Wait. he would show up, wouldn’t he?

Of course he would.

...Right?

Before she can get too far down that rabbit hole, the chime above the door is jingling, and Julie has to fight hard not to turn and see who it is. The anticipation crawls up her spine and settles in her neck, jaw tingling.

A man comes in, approaching the counter with confidence in his step. One barista takes one look at him and gapes like a fish, turning to a coworker to nonchalantly point at him. Both girls look at each other and quietly squeal, letting one of the male cashiers help him.

Must be attractive, she thinks, and she isn’t disappointed by what she can see from the back. His sleeves are short, showing off his muscular arms and he’s tall. She’s always liked tall men.

Supposedly handsome stranger orders his drink and waits at the counter for it. One of the girls hands it to him with a gleeful smile. He accepts, then says something to her before the girl’s smile falters and points right at Julie.

Wait, she’s pointing at Julie?

Definitely handsome stranger follows her finger and lands on Julie, eyes scanning up and down her body (at least, what he can see from above the table), his face instantly lighting up in the most gorgeous smile she’s ever seen.

And then he’s turning back to say thank you and then making his way towards her and oh no what what what--

Because this isn’t her date. It can’t be, right? But Luke Patterson is stepping up to her booth, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Hey, you’re Julie, right?” His voice, sweet and thick as honey, and Julie would know that voice anywhere.

“Luke Patterson? You… you didn’t say--” She cuts herself off before she can say something foolish.

Because there is no way in hell she’d unknowingly put up her sugar baby services to Luke fucking Patterson. Not rockstar Luke Patterson. Not lead guitarist and singer and songwriter for her favorite band, Sunset Curve. Not literally in the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame Luke Patterson.

“Yeah, about that… I am really sorry about not telling you. It’s just not something I like mentioning to everyone I meet, you know?”

She’s having a hard time processing what he’s saying. He’s so close. Why is he leaning on the table like that? Why is he so close?

“Yeah! Yeah, totally. That’s understandable.” She laughs nervously, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid speaking any further.

“This… this is okay, right? You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” This clears her mind a bit. She takes in the way his hands fiddle with the rings on his fingers, his shoulders raised, and while his smile is easygoing, his eyes say otherwise. Why would she be mad?

She expresses this to him, and he just looks at his hands.

“Well, because I wasn’t completely truthful with you. And I totally understand if you want to walk away.”

“No!” She says before she can filter herself. His eyebrows raise in amusement. “I mean, it’s fine! I was just… surprised, that’s all.”

And surprised is correct. Luke Patterson is the same Luke she’s been talking to for the last three weeks, the very same one who’s been making her laugh and who’d almost made her miss work last week because they had texted about everything and nothing until the sun came up.

He seems to like her answer. His smile never leaves his face.

“You seemed to recognize me. You a fan of Sunset Curve’s?”

And maybe it’s the way his cocky smile burns her cheeks, or just the fact that he’s talking to her. Panic sets in and she lies.

“Never heard of Sunset Swerve.”

“You knew my name.”

“You know it’s a household name, right?”

“Your jacket says otherwise.”

And shit. She had forgotten about the Sunset Curve patch right over her heart. In fact, it was the first patch she had put on the jacket. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Fine. You caught me. I’m a Curver. Happy?”

And though she’s teasing, he couldn’t seem to be happier. Seriously, she’s worried his dopey grin is gonna break his face. Then an ugly, ugly thought rears its head in her mind.

“Wait. You let me gush about Sunset Curve so many times and you didn’t say anything?” Her sentence ends in a laugh.

“Oh, Julie, I wanted to so bad. You have no idea!”

Julie finds herself not really registering the second half of his sentence. She had missed it, the first time he said her name due to being starstruck, and her face warms a bit when she recalls just how good her name had sounded when he said it. Like a splash of cool water on a hot day. Like sap dripping fresh from a tree, glinting in the sunlight.

“Then why didn’t you?”

He sobers a bit at this, though his eyes still hold the same fire as before. “Well, I didn’t really want to go around announcing that. Can you imagine how many matches I’d get if I put that little tidbit in my bio?”

Julie laughs at this, the absurdity of it hitting her. Of course. He’d want someone who’d like him for him, not for his status, or name, or fame or money.

Oh. Shit. She was literally here for his money.

“For sure! Must’ve been hard.”

“Oh, not really. I matched with you on day one and deleted the app once we exchanged phone numbers.”

“Really?” Julie felt a little guilty for still having the app on her phone now, even after she was pretty sure Luke was a good match. There was still the possibility that mystery man was a total creep. If she’d have known who he was, on the other hand…

“Totally! I’ll be honest, my bandmates put me up to this, but once we started talking I just knew I had to meet you.”

Julie’s mind still feels a bit foggy, like she was dreaming. A fantastic dream, might she add.

“I’ve been really excited to meet you too. My best friend also convinced me to get the app. She’s actually over there.” Julie smiled, nudging her head over towards her friend, where they were certainly trying their best to eavesdrop.

“Brought a plus one, I see?” Luke chuckled, giving Flynn a wave. Flynn hid her already shielded eyes from view with her book.

“Hey, you gotta remember I was meeting someone whom I had never seen before, and the fact that I didn’t know your last name was not helping.”

Luke’s smile turned bashful again. “Ah. She’s backup.”

“Yep! But I think they’re good to go.” Julie whipped out her phone and sent Flynn a quick message, relieving her of her duties.

“You sure? I might kidnap you.”

“I’d let you kidnap me.”

Oh god. She so did not say that.

He seemed to think it was funny. At least she was amusing. At her own expense, maybe, but amusing nonetheless.

Amusing to Luke Patterson.

If she doesn’t stop saying his last name, she’ll go insane. This is just the dorky guy she’s been talking to. The one she’ll hopefully get to talk to tomorrow.

Despite the rocky start, Julie would say it was a successful date. Coffee turned into lunch at a nearby bistro, and he walked Julie to her car a few blocks away. She didn’t get to her apartment until after 4 o’clock, and Flynn was waiting with two glasses of wine in their shared living room. Julie is eager to spill all the details, and Flynn is the perfect listener, oohing and ahhing at all the right moments.

As Julie crawls into bed after her eventful day, her phone dings on her nightstand.

PayPal: Luke Patterson sent you $500.00 “I had a great time today :) hope to see you again soon!”

Well. If she had calmed down any, this just undid all of her efforts. A wave of guilt floods over her. The concept of a sugar daddy sort of seemed too outlandish to really fathom. But now she feels awful taking his money.

She’s really doing this, isn’t she?

Julie: you really didn’t have to

Luke: but i wanted to

Luke: it’s ok tho right?

Julie: i guess it’s fine, it’s just a lot of money

Luke: i realise how conceited this is going to sound but its no sweat off my back. just think of it as a gift

Gifts. She could live with that.

* * * *

taglist! @ladyblanche :)

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uwuwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Homesick recordings

This is the first part of my 1.5K celebration. I present to you the sequel to “Moments in the life of Y/N L/N”, the angstiest piece of trash I’ve ever written. Thank you 1.5 K guys it means a lot, thank you for being here and reading my crap writing and thank you for supporting my blog. Love ya 💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

When Y/N learns that her little girl is gonna leave for high school she suggests she tries recording herself when she’s feeling homesick. Sky believes that she won’t need it but as time passes she realizes that she might need her mom more than expected.

Monday, April 4th 20XX

“Okay so how do I do this exactly? *camera falls from its spot* Ah crap crap Jesus! Is it still working? Yep yep it is there’s my ugly face hehe. God why is my hair like that? Anyways um…. Hi, I guess? Do you say hi to a recording? This is weird to say the least. Today was the first day of school as you might have guessed and it was ….awkward. I got lost in that huge building twice and I ignored some kids by accident because they called me by my last name! I’m used to people referring to you when they say our last name ugh this is gonna take some time getting used to. The teacher is ....unique. He came into our classroom in a yellow sleeping bag and proceeded to worm around the room like a caterpillar. I don’t think he is the really giddy giddy fun teacher; he wrecked us during training. Gave us a freaking heart attack with a so called prank he pulled. *exasperated sigh* Who says that you’ll be expelled if you score last?? I don’t get it!! His name is Aizawa-sensei and I already believe he doesn’t like me. He stared at me for a solid five minutes with a frown on his face during training. If I’m being honest he was watching me the whole day which is kinda weird. I don’t know how to take that. Is he interested in my quirk or is he asking himself why they put me in his class? I can hear his voice saying ‘why do they keep sending me imbeciles?’. Well mister you can’t get rid of me now I got in and I’m staying! HA! *bang on the wall* YO SKY KID KEEP IT DOWN MAN! SORRY TOYOMI-SAN…..That was one of my roommates….She is a social worker I think. Oh I almost forgot, the apartment I found is nice. It deserves its price I mean. But you already know that since I called you once I got back from school…. See why this is stupid??? I’ll keep telling you things you already know because I have Alzheimer and I don’t remember what you know. *sigh* Oh well I guess you’ll have to endure this torture, you are my mother after all and I’m your precious only daughter so what can you do really? I finished my costume design. It turned out pretty cool, I like it. The jacket you suggested makes it ten times better. I look like a pilot. Well technically I am a pilot. I pilot clouds and now that you’re not here to scold me when I’m flying around I’ll take full advantage of it. You can’t stop me mother! Anyways, it’s getting late and I have school tomorrow so I’ll end this here. I don’t know when I’ll record next…. Most likely when I’m feeling home sick again. Haha it's the first day away from home and I’m already missing you and those two idiots. *soft snort* Goodnight mom, love you.” *recording ends*.

Wednesday, April 27th 20XX

“Hello again, it’s me, your neighborhood cripple. *wince* You could say I’m a sight for sore eyes because I’m sore all over. You’ve seen the attack on the news. Of course you have, everyone’s shaming UA high for lack of security. Why you haven’t called me yet is a mystery, I guess you’re at work? And before you start throwing a tantrum about me not calling first and blah blah, I wanted to record this first, let you see the actual injuries before I minimize them when I call you. *stares off* Something weird happened during the attack. Apart from the fact that well we were attacked and our homeroom teacher was almost beaten into a pulp, the villains were ….. interesting. When they first appeared I was teleported by this minecraft portal looking ass to another part of the USJ and to be honest I kicked some serious ass. That *wince* that was not the weird thing. While I was fighting I saw Aizawa-sensei facing some type of giant ostrich? Although that that thing wasn’t an ostrich…. I don’t know what it was but mom it was terrifying. *visible shiver* It just grabbed him and mopped the floor with him and I just couldn’t sit there and do nothing. So I went to help or at least that was my goal. That person who teleported me at the beginning tried to do it again and I may have snapped a little bit. I got so angry when he moved me to the other side of the arena that for a moment I totally forgot about what was happening. While I was fighting him his quirk kinda connected with mine. It was strange. Every time I shot a cloud at him the mist that surrounded him kinda engulfed it. It wasn’t only happening to me. I could manipulate his mist. Not every time just like he couldn’t sabotage my clouds every time, but it still happened. I don’t know why it happened or how it happened and I have no idea what I’m gonna do about it. Maybe it was part of his quirk but it didn’t happen to anyone else…..*wince* God I have a headache. *chuckle* You do realize you are never going to see these videos right? Seeing me like this would send you into a comma and then you would come back to haunt me and my classmates. Anyways, I’ll call you and then I’m going to sleep. Love ya mom.” *recording ends*

Tuesday, June 3rd 20XX

“*walking back and forth in her room* You know how I said that Bakugou is a really fun person to tease? Well that was before he exposed me to the whole class.*laugh* In reality I’m not really mad, it was a nice comeback and if I’m being honest it was hilarious but it was still a shocker. We were going back and forth with that tik tok challenge where you expose your friend’s flaws. So I was standing there pointing out his superiority complex when he dropped the bomb…… ‘It’s the daddy issues for me’......THIS KID. THE AUDACITY. I thought my daddy issues were kept on the down low!!! I’ve done nothing to trigger this comment!! Sure I may or may not have told Mina that you raised me alone and about that counselor incident but that doesn’t mean I have daddy issues. *grumble* You need to have a dad to have daddy issues. Ughh God I hate him sometimes so very much. Thankfully the summer camp is tomorrow. I’ll get to wipe the floor with him in volleyball. I’m gonna draw those anger issues out…. I need some air. *three hours later* I’m back… yay. It’s weird to think about it you know. What you must have gone through when he passed. I know you don’t really like talking about him or anything before I came along but I would love to know what he was like. I’m not gonna ask you in real life of course, I would never do that to you. I know it hurts. I just wanted to say it out loud…*barely audible sniffle* … Well this got sentimental real quick. I think I should go to bed. I love you mom, goodnight.” *recording ends*

Friday, March 14th 20XX

“Of all the things that could’ve happened, this one was the last one on my list. Actually it wasn’t even on the freaking list, dammit! *sniffle* You know things like this don’t happen to everyone. I must be a really lucky person. Tell me one other person who gets to meet their dead parent in a high surveillance prison?? And above that I got an explanation why he was like this. Amazing right? God this is so stupid! I hate it. I hate this situation, I hate that I can’t tell you about it, I hate keeping you in the dark because at the end of the day I’m not the one who was in love with him. He may be my dad but I don’t have a connection with him! I never met him! He wasn’t there when I started walking or talking, he wasn’t the one who dropped me off on the first day of school, he didn’t teach me how to ride a bike, he-he * sob* I shouldn’t-shouldn’t be upset over this. Aizawa-sensei and Present Mic should be the ones sobbing on their floor. Not me. He doesn’t - I don’t- ugh - I don’t mean anything to him in the end. He died 15 years ago. That’s it. He was in love with you, he knew you, I was nowhere to be found. If he could reach out to us more than just a few words he wouldn’t know who the hell I was. *sobs* I have a picture of you two you know….It’s the one I had found when I was five. When you told me that that was my dad I felt like I could form a connection with the person in that photo. So I kept it, you never went through your old photo albums anyway and you never looked for the missing photo. And I kept it with me. I tore a small pocket in my backpack and put the photo there. I thought that having both of you with me at all times would bring me luck. I liked the fact that I looked like him. Now I realize how painful that must have been for you, seeing him in me everyday….and Aizawa-sensei, god, having me in his class must have been torture. He didn’t know that I was his friend’s daughter of course but I looked enough like him to bring back memories. God this sucks…. *deep breathes* I-I have practice so I gotta go. Love you.” *recording ends*

Thursday, March 20th 20XX

“Hi, it’s me again. I know that I’m recording almost a week after the previous one but… mom I have been assigned a mission and it’s major. It’ll be an attack at a hospital where we believe that experiments are being conducted. We got that information from um what do I call him? *shakes head* from a prisoner in Tartarus, the high surveillance prison I was at last week? Yeah that one. The mission will be really dangerous, that’s what we’ve been told and I can understand that. I mean we are attacking a major operation of AFO, of course it’ll be dangerous. Since we are students we are to stay away from the hospital and monitor the surrounding area but…. I asked Present Mic to go with them in the hospital. I can help keep things in place and I can move people in and out quicker than any of them, plus this is personal. I think Present Mic understands that. He said he’ll talk to Aizawa-sensei about it but regardless….. I’ll find who did that to him, I promise you that. I want to know if...if this was all some grand plan because what they did to him they did to dozens other people and as much as I hate them for taking my father away, I also hate them for what they’ve done to all those other families…… I’m recording this because I don’t know if I come back in one piece or if I come back at all. This is very dangerous and we don’t really know what to expect. What we are getting ourselves into. I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for giving me everything that I needed in life. Thank you for being the best mom anyone could ever have. You raised me by pushing your own sadness and grief to the side and doing the best job you could. So thank you for being my mom and I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. I love you mom, so very much. Bye, bye mommy.” *recording ends.*

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

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez-mangetsu @bemorefiction

#shirakumo #shirakumo oboro #shirakumo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #shirakumo oboro x reader #angst

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bigboomboi · 5 years ago

Text

Finder’s Keepers- Bakugo x Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Thievery, a not so steamy make out, and implied steamy times.

Humming softly Y/N pulled her clothes out of the dryer, shoving them unceremoniously into her basket. She was the last one to do her laundry for the night, and it was nearing eleven, she was tired as all hell and the warmth of the clothes weren’t helping.

With a soft grunt she heaved up her basket and started off to her room. She had half the mind to drop the clothes and go to sleep, but she knew if she did that, they’d sit there for the rest of her life. Procrastination.

So, she put herself through the twenty minutes of folding and putting up her clothes. And at the bottom, with the sleeve tangled with a bra, was a large black hoodie. She didn’t remember washing a hoodie, where’d this one come from?

Y/N flipped it so it wasn’t inside out and snickered at what it said; ‘I would like to apologize to anyone I have NOT offended. Please wait patiently, I will offend you shortly.’

“Who the hell?” Y/N giggled to herself.

Knowing that it wasn’t hers she stood up and held it up to her body. Definitely a tall person, muscular person. Oh well, she’d ask about it in the morning. She went to drape it over her chair, but paused, a soft need calling out to her.

Hoodies were amazing. Probably her favorite thing to wear.

She could just try it on for a second, right? Y/N decided that was a good deal and slipping it on. An instant mistake was made. It was so soft and big. It was still warm from the dryer and suddenly the idea of taking it off was drifting away. She could wear it while she finished putting up her clothes, yeah? Yeah?

No.

She finished putting her clothes away, as slow as humanly possible and still found herself hesitating to take off the misplaced clothing. So, she decided to sit down and read a bit before she went to bed. She’d take it off before she went to bed. Yeah. Perfect.

Again. No.

It had been three freaking days of hoarding the hoodie. She was emotionally attached now and she didn’t know what to do. Of course, Y/N had only worn it in her room, and she loved it, it was almost like her own hoodie now. But that was the problem, it wasn’t!

She groaned and fell onto her bed, falling face first into the item in question. “Oh, fuck you, for being so soft and warm and soft…”

“Nope, that’s it. I will return you tonight.” She declared to herself before hesitating at the touch of the soft fabric. “Tomorrow, for sure. For now.”

Y/N slipped on the pullover and hugged herself. Deciding on her plan for the rest of the night, she marched downstairs to grab a few snacks to accompany her and the movie she was going to watch. She heard gaming sounds come from the lounge room and came to see Kaminari, Sero and Bakugo on the couches playing Mario Kart.

“Hey, Y/N!” Kaminari greeted, making Sero look back at her briefly.

“Hi, Denki.” She waved as Sero did a double take at her.

Y/N slipped into the kitchen, not hearing Sero point out something and on her way out, pouch full of snacks, she was shouted at. “Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She yelped, dropping the bag of cheez its she was trying to open and froze like a deer in the headlights of a very angry Bakugo. “Grabbing snacks…?”

“Why the fuck are you wearing my hoodie!” He snapped.

Of. Fucking. Course. The most comfortable sweater she’d ever worn in her life was property of the most irritable being on the planet. Her face flushed at the fact she’d spent more time in his jacket than not.

“Give it!” He stomped towards her and panicking, Y/N darted out of his reach.

He narrowed his eyes at her and lunged at her, only for her to dodge and run away. This continued for the next five minutes, running around the couches and coffee table. That is until he tricked her and caught her by the collar.

“Give me my hoodie!” He growled.

“No! Finder’s keepers!” She squealed, trying to squirm away.

“Not finder’s shit! It’s my jacket!” He shook her violently.

Y/N hugged herself, spinning around in his grasp. “I found it in the dryer! With my clothes!”

“I don’t care! Take it off!” He grunted as she crumpled, turning herself into dead weight.

“I can’t!” She yelped.

“Fine, then I’ll take it off you!” He held her up and started tugging at the end of the sweater.

“Wait! No, stop! I can’t!” She thrashed around more.

He groaned, as she slipped out of his grip. “What the fuck do you mean you can’t?”

Denki yelped as she rounded the couch and yanked him up to use as a shield. “I mean… I can’t take it off…”

“I gathered that, you damn thief. Why can’t you take it off!” He snapped.

“I’m not wearing a top underneath…” She admitted sheepishly.

He stared at her for a second. “I don’t give a damn about seeing your bra. I just want my hoodie.”

“That’s the thing… I’m not wearing one…” She squeaked.

At the admittance of this, everyone in the room turned red, although Y/N couldn’t tell if Bakugo was red with anger or embarrassment. But either way she stayed behind Kaminari just in case. They all stayed silent for a solid hot minute before Y/N decided her next move… still not ready to give up the hoodie.

“Plus, it’s really comfy. I think I’ll just keep it.” With that, she thrusted Kaminari into Bakugo before bolting up the stairs taking them two at a time.

She barely made it to her room to slam the door on the angry teen chasing her. “I’m gonna get that hoodie back, even if I have to pull your dead body from it!”

“I’ll hold that to you!” She giggled, not that she wasn’t in immediate danger she found this to be funny.

For another three days, Bakugo watched Y/N prance around in his hoodie, not hiding the fact that she had it anymore. He tried everything to get it back. Chasing her through the dorms, trying to corner her, he even tried to actually rip it off of her, but she only threw herself to the ground and rolled around until he lost his grip.

He glared stabbing his lunch to a further death, aggravated by the thievery of his hoodie.

"Hey, maybe it's her way of telling her she likes you." Kaminari piped, trying to make light of the situation.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Bakugo glared at the blonde.

"Jackets, hoodies, sweaters. They are like the universal language for love!" Kirishima declared, cheekily.

"Yeah, yeah! Girls tend to ask their crushes for their jackets and stuff. Mostly to see if you're kind enough to care about them being warm at first. Butttt then-." Mina explained.

"They see how long they can keep it for! See if you'll ask for it back at the end of the day or if you'll just let them keep it. That determines if you like them, maybe." Denki winked.

"Ah, being wrapped up in the your favourite person's scent all warm and safe. That's like freaking heaven." Mina gushed, snuggling her own stolen Kirishima hoodie.

"Most guys will ask for something of their lady's as well. A key charm, a scarf, a ring." Kirishima hummed, pulling the chain he was wearing from under his shirt to show off Mina's ring.

"Yeah, Shinsho has my beanie while I have his jacket." Kaminari nodded, affirmingly.

"That's stupid, she didn't ask for it. She took it." Bakugo grunted, aggravated. "And it was washed, I'm pretty sure it doesn't smell like me, she's just being a thieving brat.”

They all looked over at Y/N, sitting snuggled up in the hoodie. She was reading, the collar of the hoodie pulled up over her nose. She looked up at something Uraraka said and then hugged herself, pulling cloth tighter around herself, giggling about something.

He narrowed his eyes, glaring harder at her. He was annoyed at the fact that she sorta, kinda, maybe looked a bit cuteish in his pullover. It swallowing her whole, falling halfway down her thighs, the sleeves slipping well past her fingertips. It was aggravating that he almost wanted to give up getting it back

"I don’t know she looks like she’s enjoying it more than just a game of ‘let’s annoy Bakugo’, I think you might have a crush.” Kaminari tried.

Bakugo scowled. “I don’t give a damn. I just want my shit back.

Now if only he could tell that to the soft warmth on his face.

There she was, sitting curled up on the couch, scribbling in her notebook. Another week passed, of her wearing his sweater nearly everywhere, still avoiding his attacks, granted they’ve relaxed a bit, but if anyone asked, Bakugo denied it. The sight of her in his sweater was growing on him. He’d also deny that if anyone asked.

"You gonna give my hoodie back yet, shithead?" Bakugo snarled, sitting down on the couch next to her.

"Nope." Y/N cheesed, before sticking her tongue out at him.

She went back to her homework, curled up on the corner of the couch. He pretended not to watch her while she worked. She didn’t seem to notice, she was relaxed, alone with him and had no escape if he moved and pinned her fast enough.

So, he pounced. He grabbed her ankle and yanked her out straight and quickly pinned her below him. She squealed and went to swat at him, but he caught her wrists and pressed them into the couch cushions. He smirked down at her pout and shifted her wrists into one of his hands.

His other went down her body to slide up the bottom of his hoodie, his smirk growing when he found her stomach bare under it. He watched her face bloom in colour, feeling his hand on her skin.

Bakugo leaned down to her ear, chuckling. “No shirt again? It’s like you want me to see what’s underneath.”

“I- I, um, I.” Y/N stammered, lost on how to handle the situation.

She gasped softly, when his teeth attacked the soft skin just under her ear. He suckled the skin, surely turning a darker shade, his grip tightened on her wrists as she squirmed against him. He pressed her hips down, trying to stop them from bucking against him.

“Maybe, one day, but for now.” He kissed her bruise softly, trailing his lips up to hers slowly, before dodging them and standing, taking something with him as he stood up off her.

“My scrunchie!” She squeaked, jumping up to snatch it from him.

He held it up high away from her. “Ah, finder’s keepers.”

“You didn’t find it! You just took it!” She jumped trying to grab it.

“You have my hoodie, I have your stupid scrunchie.” Bakugo grabbed the neck of his sweater and pulled her close. Y/N flushed further, finding the once intimidating tactic very arousing. “You can have it back when you give me my jacket back.”

She bit her lip, contemplating her next words carefully.

“You can have it back.” She flashed him her own smirk when his face fell slightly, believing he read the situation wrong. “But only if you help me take it off.”

“You fucking brat.” He tugged her closer and leaned down, their breaths mingling in the few inches between their lips.

“You want it back or not?” She challenged.

He growled and slammed his lips into hers, relishing the soft moan she fed him. He hissed as she bit his lip and pulled away, glaring into her eyes. Suddenly she was scooped onto his shoulder and was being kidnapped up the stairs.

Needless to say, Y/N got to keep the hoodie. Something had to cover her hickies.

#bnha bakugou #bakugo x reader #bnha fanfiction #katsuki bakugo

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looking-for-another-world · 5 years ago

Text

Not Alone

summary: Bucky spends Christmas alone at the compound. Or nah?

pairing: Bucky x reader

warnings: 18+, tiny bit of angst, mentions of family toxicity, cursing, explicit smut, dirty talk, like one allusion to reader being plus-sized, soft!bucky, really sappy - you have been warned

words: 6321

a/n: This is my entry for @honeyhan-123‘s HOLIDAY SPIRIT WRITING CHALLENGE. I had the prompt “Finding the perfect Christmas tree / decorating it” and looking back, I might have slightly diverted from that oops. This was so much fun to do though. This is literally my first finished piece of writing in years, so be nice to me, ok? Right, tmi. Anyways, this has gotten way out of hand in terms of how many words I wanted to write. I might make 3 separate files of it when I’m in the mood to figure out links, but for now here’s the entire fic in one. Enjoy! Also, I hope your 2020 is going to be amazing ❤💫🥂🎆

Prologue

As soon as Bucky stepped into the kitchen of the Avengers compound, his super soldier senses made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something’s wrong.

It was Dec 23, one day before Christmas Eve, and everyone except him had gone away for the holidays. Clint was visiting Laura and the kids, accompanied by Natasha (apparently, the boys had been nagging their mom for a solid 2 months whether Aunt Tasha would be staying with them), Wanda and Vision were traveling around Europe, Tony had taken Pepper to some little island in the Caribbean Sea, and Steve and Sam had booked a cozy, remote cabin in the woods to go skiing, hiking, getting drunk (well, Sam at least) and most importantly, getting away from being the Avengers for a few days.

Initially, Steve had Friday book the trip for three persons, but Bucky had refused. This was the first Christmas since many years that he was starting to remember who he was, really was, and although Steve was pretty much everything he considered home, he had preferred to spend Christmas where he actually came from.

In the end, Steve had reluctantly agreed, not wanting to push his best friend, but insisting that they at least spoke to one another on the phone every day. And so, Bucky had spent his day wandering the streets of Brooklyn for hours, fulfilling his best friend duty on his way home and telling Steve how much everything had changed and yet, strangely, still felt familiar. He could hear Steve smile through the phone; he felt the same. That’s when Sam had burst through the door of the hut, screeching “All I want for Christmas is you” next to Steve’s ear and ruining the moment. Steve had said his goodbye, leaving to stop Wilson from inhaling another bottle of Eggnog, and Bucky had wished him good luck with the bird brain. He returned to the compound, more mentally than physically exhausted, and headed straight to the kitchen, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t eaten something in hours. And there it was: A small puddle of water on top of the counter, as if someone had taken something out of the fridge and put it there for a moment. Only that there was no one to do that. He was supposed to be alone.

It couldn’t have been him: his soldier and assassin training had left him with an urge to leave everything neat and tidied; no traces. Silently, he made his way back into the hallway, calling the elevator and going two levels down, to the first level that was officially “Avengers territory”. Going back up, he searched every floor without coming across anything suspicious. And then, as the doors of the elevator opened to the 18th floor with a slight swoosh, he sensed it: There’s someone else on this level. He tensed up. His super soldier hearing going into overdrive, he snuck along the dimly-lit corridor until he heard them: sounds coming from the last room to the left, the entertainment room, stacked up with books, movies, consoles, a pool table, anything you could think of to pass your free time. He tried to hear more intently. The person on the other side of the door barely produced sounds; all he could make out was their shallow breathing. Someone with a normal hearing wouldn’t even have caught up on it.

Bucky conjured up a blueprint of the room: even if he could get through the door unnoticed, there was no place to hide. The whole design of the room practically screamed: “Look who’s coming!” His only advantage was the element of surprise. Trying to calm down his nerves, he took a few deep breaths and braced himself. Not wanting to have his arms in a position he could easily be taken hold of in, he stepped back, raised his right leg and kicked the door down, storming inside, met by a piercing scream and a loud splash as the bucket of ice cream you had been holding met the ground.

“(Y/N)?!”

“What the hell?!”

“Why are you here?”

“I fucking live here in case you haven’t noticed! Why are you kicking the goddamn door down like I’m some HYDRA agent trying to slit your throat?”

“Because-”, Bucky stops, guilt washing over him. Guilt and anger with himself. Even HYDRA wouldn’t be so dumb as to blow their cover like that, and they’d do a bit more than get the kitchen counter dirty if they wanted to make their presence known. “Because I thought you were one.” His voice is low now, almost a whisper, his eyes unable to meet yours, fingers fumbling with the hem of the coat he didn’t have time to take off. And seeing him like this, you understood: He thought someone had intruded.

You let out the breath you were holding. “I’m sorry, Buck. I wasn’t thinking. I should have let you know about my change of plans and that I’d be spending Christmas at the compound.”

His ears perked up at that. “You are? I thought you were going to visit your family.” You smiled sadly and now that his mind and body weren’t overtaken by adrenaline anymore, he took in your state for the first time. You looked pale, your eyes red-rimmed, like you had been crying. You were wrapped in the navy-blue blanket twice your size that Wanda had given you for your birthday. It went all the way down to your ankles where the legs of your sweatpants were peeping through, showing just a small stripe of skin before the fabric of a pair of green fuzzy socks covered your skin again. The ice cream you had dropped started melting on the ground, slowly dampening part of the expensive rug the pool table stood on, which you didn’t seem to notice. “What happened?”

You let out a mixture between a snort and an unconvincing laugh. “I talked to my mom on the way to the airport. She started complaining about how much I’ve been letting them down this year, bringing up things I didn’t even think were an issue anymore, and how she hoped I would pull myself together this time, for the sake of Christmas and our family. So, I figured I’d probably have a more fun time being alone in my room and sleeping for like 2 weeks than I’d have being with them.” The last part was meant to sound casually, but Bucky didn’t miss the twitch of your lips and how your eyes started to gloss over again. He wanted to say something to comfort you, but his mind didn’t know where to start and so he just kept staring at you wordlessly, which you took as a sign of annoyance.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you with that shitty Christmas music or candy or anything of that kind. I’m not gonna ruin your alone time. Just pretend I’m not here.”

He frowned at that, then, and as his tongue still seemed to be tied, he did the only thing he felt was appropriate: He put your arms around you and hugged you, hard, all-consuming. “I’m not worried you’re going to ruin my alone time. I like having you around. I’m sorry your family are like that, when they’re the ones letting you down.”

You’d liked to reply to that, thank him for his sweet words, but you were sure you’d start crying again the second you stopped biting down on your lip. So you reciprocated the hug as best as you could; after all you were lacking Bucky’s strength. Bucky squeezed you shortly and let go, and when your eyes locked again, you couldn’t help but mirror his warm smile. Jesus, this guy certainly made you feel things. No surprise you were crushing on him so hard.

“We’d better clean this up”, Bucky said gesturing to the now empty ice bucket head and your eyes widened as you noticed the mess you’d made. “Shit!”. Tony had spent an insane amount of money on that carpet, even for his proportions. He’d shoot you to the moon for that.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Bucky jogged back to the elevator, returning a minute later with a wet cloth and a roll of kitchen towels which he handed to you. Getting to work, you suddenly became aware of how much closer than usually you two were. You could smell Bucky’s aftershave – something resembling cedarwood – watch the muscles in his arms flex as he tried to rid the fabric of its B&J make-over, study the stubble on his perfectly sculpted jaw, his hazelnut locks, his plump lips. Oh god, his lips. Just thinking about having those lips kiss every inch of your body got you worked up. Get a grip, for fuck’s sake!

“So you’re really planning on skipping Christmas? It’s your favorite holiday”, Bucky interrupted your thoughts, shooting you a glance to see you shrug your shoulders. “I don’t want to see my parents right now, and I can’t imagine celebrating Christmas on my own. So yeah, guess I’ll be taking a break from it this year.”

“You’re not on your own, though. You’re with me. We can celebrate.”

You felt a pleasantly warm sensation in your stomach which you tried to ignore, quirking an eyebrow at him instead. “You hate Christmas.”

“I don’t hate all of it, I hate what it’s become. I hate that most people care more about what useless shit is in their stockings or under the tree than about who they’re spending their time with. I hate how every shop starts putting up Christmas stuff before it’s even October. They don’t even call it “Christmas” anymore. I mean seriously, xmas? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

Despite yourself, a small giggle escaped you at how upset he could get about it all and realizing he had started ranting without wanting to, Bucky had to stifle a laugh as well. "Point I’m trying to make is ” he concluded “I wouldn’t mind spending Christmas with the right company.”

Oh, and that’s supposed to be me? Right company?“, you shot back. "Sure thing, doll. You’re like an expert on Christmas, I can’t go wrong with you. Also, I like having you around. ” He furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ve already said that, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, you have. But that’s okay, I like hearing it”, you laughed, your hand briefly touching his arm. You were becoming kind of needy, it appeared. Bucky didn’t seem to mind though, or at least he didn’t let it show.

Looking down, you noticed with an internal sigh of relief that the ice cream puddle had given way to the water and the kitchen towels. All that was left was a wet patch that would hopefully disappear overnight.

“Guess that’s as good as it gets”, you joked. “Thanks for helping me.”

“It’s the least I could do, after scaring the shit out of you.” He took the dirty towels from you. “Guess we’re Christmas buddies then” he grinned. It was surprising how excited he seemed to be all of a sudden, but you didn’t let yourself linger on that thought. “Well, as the official Christmas ambassador, I have to let you know that this place sucks. There’s not even decorations.”

That was true. The past weeks had been incredibly hectic, even more than in previous years, and since almost everyone would be gone over the holiday season anyway and Bucky had emphasized several times that having the tower turn into Santa’s village would most likely lift his dinner, rather than his spirits, Tony hadn’t bothered to put up decorations.

Bucky gave you an amused look. “I see you’re getting into it. Alright, what do we need?”

“You mean, like everything?”

“Yeah, like the ideal setting. Can’t be that difficult.”

You gave him a sceptical look. “Oh no, not at all. We just need the decorations, music, candy, ugly Christmas sweaters, stuff to bake cookies, a firepla-”

“Okay, okay, I take it back.” Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “This is too much. What’s the most important thing?”

“The tree”, you replied without thinking. “The tree is the most important, to me at least. When my dad used to tell me he’d be bringing the Christmas tree home tonight, I’d spend all day glued to the window of my room, waiting for his car to steer into the driveway. It’s the one thing we ever did as a family, all three of us, decorating the tree. Everything else would be pretty much Mum and me, since Dad would be out working. The tree is … it just wouldn’t feel like Christmas without it.”

Inadvertedly, your brain had walked down memory lane to pictures of baubles in gold and red and purple and every color of the rainbow, mingled with the scent of fir and your dad’s bass voice singing “Have yourself a merry little Christmas” to you while you were sitting on your lap, and suddenly another wave of sadness hit you and you had to fight back the tears that were starting to well up again. You swallowed thickly before looking back at Bucky and were met with an understanding look. He had noticed your struggle but chose not to bring it up again and you were grateful for that. Grateful for him.

There were a few beats of silence before the super soldier offered you a tentative smile and said: “So Christmas tree is your final answer?” Another giggle.

"That’s my final answer.”

Part 1

You woke up to a sky the color of granite. Gloomy light and heavy clouds. Your heart jumped a little in your chest at the prospect of another downfall of snow. What’s Christmas without snow, right? Too comfortable to get up right away, you snuggled back into your pillow and let your mind wander.

It was embarrassing, really, but thinking about spending the whole day with Bucky filled you with a mix of anticipation and nervousness you usually felt before first dates. Prior to your job interview last February, you had spent hours and hours hooked up on research about the people you might soon be working with – the fucking Avengers! -, but Bucky’s story, or at least what was known of it to the public, had fascinated and moved you the most. It was hard for you to wrap your head around how someone could endure the most appalling things you could possibly imagine, and that for decades. Someone like the ex-Winter Soldier could barely be human anymore, filled to the brink with hatred and disgust for the world and the people in it, that you were sure of. And then, when you got the job and got to know him – he was the exact opposite. Sure, he was careful and hard to read, especially at the beginning, but he was kind. He was funny. He was emphatic. He was a nerd. He was sweet. And when you moved in to the tower and the two of you spent more time together, your feelings towards him grew stronger, and you found yourself imagining waking up next to him, his lips on yours the first thing you taste in the morning. Cupping his cheek and watching his eyes crinkle when he flashes you his million-dollar smile. Stroking his hair while he reads his favorite passages out to you or rambles about how all the things he’s just discovering now are not quite as good as what they had back in the days, but some of them are not bad. Being pressed down by his weight as you get to explore all of his gorgeous body and find out what sounds he makes when he’s buried in you, filling you up, making you feel so good as you’re begging him not to stop because he’s hitting just the right spot and you never want to let go of him, so good, please Bucky, please don’t stop, oh God, I’m so close baby, fuck…

The loud buzzing of your phone jerked you out of your trance and made you sit up straight in your bed, your heartbeat thumping in your ears, cheeks heated, fingers you didn’t even remember putting there coated in your arousal. Breathing heavily, you stretched your neck to see who the caller was: Mum. Oh, hell no. In a sudden burst of resurging anger, you declined the call, threw your phone away from you and let yourself fall back against the headboard with an audible huff.

Finishing the job wasn’t going to happen after yesterday’s events started rolling in, so you forced yourself out of bed and into the shower, washing away the heat of your little daydream with water as cold as you could bear. Putting moisturizer on, you focused your thoughts on today. If Bucky still wanted to help setting up everything for Christmas, they should get started as soon as possible. An actual Christmas tree was a bit too much to ask obviously, but maybe they could find a fake one and some funny tree ornaments to go along with it? Sweaters shouldn’t be that much of a problem either, they practically threw them in your face around this time of the year. And the Christmas music could easily be taken care of by Spotify.

You started listing the essential ingredients for three or four kinds of Christmas cookies in your head when you left your room to get breakfast. Closing the fridge door, you tried to decide where and in which order to go to get everything you needed on time (or should you split up?) when you noticed the yellow, blue, pink and green dots on the cold metal surface, dancing around in a carefully studied rhythm like colorful fireflies. Frowning, you turned around.

The huge panorama windows were decorated with beautifully woven ice flowers up to almost half of their height and framed by several strings of Christmas lights, cheerfully blinking against the grey sky outside and bathing the living room area in a colorful hue. Now that you stepped closer, the living room looked different as well. The couches and armchairs were covered under thick and fluffy-looking plaids and pillows with different Christmas-themed motives; a very kind looking Santa Claus on one, a couple of reindeer holding cups of Eggnog and singing “Jingle Bells” on another and the slogan “Tis the season” in as much glitter as could be fitted on so small a space emblazoned on a third. There were decorations, too: a nutcracker next to the tv, an angel’s choir holding candles on one of the couch tables, a snowman, a sledge, a rocking horse, a squirrel in a scarf… You couldn’t even decide where to look first. Too preoccupied to take everything in, you didn’t notice Bucky’s presence until he cleared his throat. “Do you like it?” You turned around to meet him, dumbfounded and still trying to understand what was going on, even more so when you saw the sweater he was wearing: fir green and depicting a penguin wearing a Christmas hat. You let out an incredulous laugh. “Did- did you do all this?”

Bucky lowered his gaze briefly and gave you a sheepish smile. “Pretty much, yeah. I’d hoped you’d sleep in. Gave me enough time to set everything up.” Your mouth opened and closed, unable to find words. “I-“ “Wait!” he interrupted. “There’s more.” He outstretched a slightly shaking hand and seeing that you didn’t respond, hastily withdrew it. Finally though, your body and mind seemed to have rebooted, and you grabbed his hand with both of yours. It felt hot against yours, hot and slightly raw. Bucky shot a surprised look from your intertwined hands to your face and you could’ve sworn that his cheeks blushed slightly. Is this even real?

Squeezing your hands slightly, he walked past you and into the living room, pulling you with him. Around the corner, out of your line of sight, there was a slightly smaller lounging area with the best stereo sound system Tony could get his hands on and without tv, designed for the numerous occasions you fancied actually spending time with each other and being able to face each other when chatting or playing games instead of just staring at a huge screen in unison. Now though, the bean bags had been moved to the side and in the center of the room stood – a tree. Not just any tree, but a fir tree about 10 or 11 feet high, almost filling up the room with its size and emanating that unmistakable scent that always took you back to fond Christmas memories. Next to it, on the ground and on several of the bean bags Bucky had piled up a seemingly endless number of boxes containing Christmas baubles of all sorts, ranging from the traditional ones to typical Christmas motives, Disney characters, and even the most absurd things such as very small-sized fruits and vegetables.

You couldn’t remember when your heart had last felt so light and full. If Bucky’s hand hadn’t anchored you, you might have just floated up through the ceiling and into the sky. And why not? Who knew what else might be possible after all this had felt so much like a dream already? Giving yourself no time to think about overstepping boundaries and the like, you threw yourself into Bucky’s arms, feeling rather than noticing his strong arms instantly enveloping your frame. “Thank you.” Your voice was muffled because you had buried your face in the crook of his neck and because you were close to crying again. Sensing your state, Bucky started tracing soothing patterns on your lower back and mimicking his movements, your hands started stroking his broad shoulders. “My pleasure, doll.”

He held you like that for several moments, lightly swaying to and fro, taking deep breaths with you. And after a while, when you’d quieted down a bit, you noticed that not only your heart threatened to jump out of your chest; Bucky’s heart beat a lot faster as well, hammering against his ribcage so much that you could almost feel it against yours. You drew back a little so you could see his face and were met with a look you’d never seen on him before, a look that went straight to your groin. His hands tightened on your back, like he was afraid to let you go, and your nose lightly brushed his. And just as you were about to close your eyes… his phone rang.

The noise startled you so much that you jumped in his arms and Bucky let out an audible sigh. “That’ll be Steve. Be right back.” With that, he let go of you to grab his cell from the kitchen and you felt like someone had just emptied a bucket of ice water over you and snapped you back to reality. More than that, you did feel cold. Had your body grown used to the heat radiating off him so quickly? Also, and that was the most important: What the fuck did just happen?

Bucky returned about 10 minutes later and found you in almost the same spot where he’d left you, now sitting awkwardly on one of the empty bean bags, desperately trying to regain composure. His heart still fluttered from being so close to you, and as he wanted this day to be anything but awkward, he’d spent a good 7 of those 10 minutes away thinking about how to proceed. In a manner he hoped would come across as relaxed, he sauntered over to the closest bean bag and picked up one the boxes filled with baubles. “Soooo”, why was his voice so squeaky? “let’s get started, shall we?”

He couldn’t see your heart slightly sink in your chest because the magical moment had officially passed of course; he just had eyes for the warm smile you offered him in return. “Sure.” You got up to take hold of one the boxes as well when he remembered something. “Hang on.” You raised your head and could make out something slightly mischievous in his orbs. “I won’t be the only one wearing an ugly Christmas sweater.”

—

4 hours later, any sign of awkwardness or discomfort between the two of you had officially gone to the wind. As instructed, you’d put on the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find (an awful mix of pink and gold in the shape of a Christmas elf with actual bells that jingled whenever you moved), Bucky had put on some music and you’d gone about your business. At some point (probably after your fourth cup of cocoa with rum and Bucky’s third pint of Asgardian mead he’d snatched from Thor’s quarters), you decided to forego any sense of aesthetics and just put up as many ornaments as would fit on the tree. As a result, it now looked as if the slightest gust of wind would make it collapse on the spot, but you two were oddly proud of your work. Taking cocoa and mead with you, you decided to have a small break and moved over to the living room area.

There were a few beats of comfortable silence, Sinatra softly buzzing in the background. Then, out of the blue, Bucky asked you to tell him your favorite joke. You were too tipsy to question how he’d come up with that, so you pondered his request for a moment and then answered. “I hate Russian dolls. They’re so full of themselves.”

Bucky sat up on his spot of the couch and gave you an odd stare that made you wonder whether he’d understood you at all, and then burst out of laughter, almost spilling his drink in the process and making you laugh in return. You’d never really heard his laugh, just the occasional snort when he deemed something worthy of a reaction, but this was a sound made from the gods themselves and you could listen to it all day, every day, for the rest of your life.

Slowly, his fit came down to a low, melodious chuckle. “Honestly doll, sometimes I want to kiss you all over.” “Don’t hold back.”

The words had come out of your mouth before you could stop them. They didn’t remotely sound as teasing or nonchalant as you had meant them to. They sounded sincere, almost desperate. Because they were. And suddenly, as you watched Bucky’s expression falter, you felt remarkably sober again. Oh god.

Part 2

Carefully, Bucky stood up, moved over and sat down next to you. “Are you serious about this, (Y/N)?”

Heat crept up your skin, all the way from the swells of your breasts to your ears. You’d honestly never felt that put on the spot. Unable to answer, your gaze fixed the carpet, hoping that if you stared long enough, maybe it would do you a favor and swallow you whole. Bucky was now less than inch from you, close enough for you to smell his shampoo, his breath fanning the side of your face, making things only worse for you. Your heart sank deeper and deeper until you could feel it in your stomach, heavy like a rock. This day had been going so well. Why did you have to ruin it with your stupid inebriated brain? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

And then you felt his flesh hand cup your face, softly turning your head to meet his eyes. Those beautiful, cerulean eyes. “Because I’d really, really like to kiss you.” Frowning, you shook your head, your synapses refusing to process that bit of information. You swallowed several times before you found your voice again. “Please don’t mess with me, Bucky”, you heard yourself whisper, at which Bucky violently shook his head. “I promise.” And then his lips were on yours and you kissed him back.

It started out innocently enough, slow, tentative kisses, allowing the other to back out in case they changed their mind. Only that he didn’t back out like you thought he would. And you didn’t back out like he thought you would. Realizing how effortlessly your mouths pressed against each other, how right his lips felt on yours, you gradually grew bolder. You turned slightly to mirror his position and your hands went up to his face, feeling the stubble on his chin and jaw before carding through the silky strands of his locks at the back of his neck. One hand in his hair, you let the other explore more of his body as you felt up his biceps, his back, his chest abs. A content hum escaped his throat which only spurred you on. One hand in his hair and one bunching up the fabric covering his chest, you pressed yourself closer to him. His grip on your face tightened as he opened his mouth and his tongue caressed your bottom lip. Greedily, you welcomed him in your mouth and let out a deep sigh as your tongues met for the first time and the two of you fought for dominance over the other.

Bucky’s hands wandered down your body to the hem of your shirt and his lips soon followed suit. You let out a whimper when he sucked at the sensitive skin of your pulse point, determined to mark you. You’d never really liked hickeys, but this was different. You wanted everyone to see, see what had happened between the two of you. While your hands tangled in his hair, his slowly made their way under the fabric of your sweater, exploring the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your belly, cool on your right side, burning on your left.

It was so much more than you’d ever dreamed of, almost too much to bear, and yet his touches only made you more impatient, more needy, more desperate to have him. “Bucky…” It was barely more than a sigh, but Bucky’s head shot up at the sound and his eyes met yours. “What’s it, sweetheart? Talk to me” You took a moment to take him in, tracing his glistening bottom lip with your thumb. “I need you.” Bucky pressed his forehead against yours. “I need you too, doll. So much. That’s why I’m so scared of messing up with you.” You took his face in your hands again and pressed a kiss to his forehead, his eyes closing at the sensation. “There’s no way in hell you can mess up with me, James. Don’t hold back. Take me.” Bucky let out a shuddering breath. “Please.”

It was like a switch had been flicked. Bucky leapt forward and buried you under his weight, making you sink into the soft cushions. Kissing you even more passionately than before, he positioned himself between your legs. The bulge in his pants now clearly noticeable, he started grinding down on you and the friction made you pool with lust. You let out an audible groan that made Bucky’s cock twitch. Steadying himself with his metal hand, he clumsily lifted your shirt up your body with his right hand so the fabric bunched up over your breasts. Eager to assist, you arched your back to unclasp your bra and pulled it up as well. Bucky’s hand immediately reached out to palm the newly exposed skin while his tongue darted out to massage your already swollen buds. He went from left to right and right to left, making you stick your chest out as much as you could, before suddenly taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking greedily on it. You cried out in pleasure and his dark eyes went to scan your face, lip drawn in between your teeth, eyes pressed shut, your breathing getting heavier by the minute. Too mesmerized by the sight of you, he didn’t notice your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair move from his back to the front of his pants until you massaged his erection through the fabric, running your palm up and down his impressive bulge. He let go of your breast to take a deep breath and used his right hand to feverishly rub your clothed pussy, causing you to yelp in surprise. Your hand gripped his wrist, urging him to slow down. “Don’t want to finish off like that. Need you inside me.”

Bucky’s answer was an appreciative growl. He stood up, freeing himself first from the sweater that was becoming increasingly hot and then from his jeans and boxers. His size was impressive, the tip swollen and glistening with pre cum and you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together in anticipation.

“Uh-uh. Let me take care of that sweetheart.” His voice was now a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. Agonizingly slow, he unbuttoned your pants and pulled them off you, groaning when he got a glimpse of your drenched panties. Sitting back on his haunches, he pushed your knees apart and ran his palms up the inside of your thighs, then softly ghosted over the purple cotton, before hooking his thumbs under the waistband. “Show me your pretty pussy, (Y/N).” In one swift motion, the piece of clothing was gone, and Bucky let out a low hiss at the sight of your wet folds. “Fuck, doll. You’re ven more beautiful than I imagined.” You were at a complete loss for words, but Bucky didn’t give you time to respond anyway. He took a hold of his erection and coated in in your juices, your overstimulated body jumping at the sensation, before locking eyes with you and carefully sliding his tip inside you. You both let out a needy whimper when he filled you up, going deeper and deeper, your pussy obediently swallowing him, until he bottomed out.

Bucky was still on his haunches, giving you time to adjust to him, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You okay?” You nodded. “You can move.” Bucky started thrusting in and out of you, accelerating his pace when it became obvious that you were in as much pleasure as he. Soon, he was mercilessly fucking you into the couch, snapping his hips forward and pulling out until just the tip remained inside you, and then repeating his actions, over and over and over again. When he used his metal hand to draw circles on your clit, you were a whimpering mess beneath him, uttering incoherent curses and multiple variations of his name. You felt the familiar sensation build up in your gut and squeezed his hand to hold off, but he wasn’t having it, only increasing his efforts. With a muffled scream, you came all over his dick, your whole body shaking from the intensity of it. The sight of you coming undone combined with your cunt convulsing around his dick pushed Bucky over the edge as well and his thrusts became sloppier as he painted your walls with his seed and then collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and bathed in sweat.

—

Your second time together was slow and gentle, taking all the time you now knew you had, making sure to leave no inch of your lover’s body unattended to. The third time was rough again, Bucky fucking you against the shower tiles, cold water pouring down on you because you’d accidentally changed the setting when Bucky had lifted you and neither of you had noticed. The times that followed took place in various places of the Tower; the pool table where Bucky had found you the day before, the kitchen island, Sam’s bed (which seemed to give him a particular kind of satisfaction), in several of Tony’s cars, at one of the panorama windows, your front against the shining outline of the city (and the fake ice crystals) while Bucky took you from behind, all the while whispering sinful things to you that drove you insane, how often he’d sat in his room fucking his fist to your image, your plump lips that were just made for his cock, your curves that made your entire body jiggle when he drove into you, that beautiful ass of yours, imagining your sweet voice begging him to make you feel good. After all, it appeared he’d thought about you as often as you had about him.

—

You woke up to a rose-tainted sky and soft kisses peppered across the back of your neck, your shoulders and along your spine. You giggled into your pillow. Bucky’s strands brushing your bare skin gave you a tickling sensation. “You’re up early.” Bucky hummed into the crook of your neck, making your skin vibrate. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about before heading out for my run.” You turned around to face him, his hair tousled, eyes still glossed over from sleep. Nobody should be allowed to look that gorgeous. “What is it?”

“Steve and Wilson will be back from their trip in a few hours and they will pester me about my crush on you and whether I’ve finally done something about it.” He rolled his eyes and your smile grew wider. “What are you going to tell them?” Bucky reached for your hand and gently squeezed it. “I’d like to tell them that I asked you out on a date and that you agreed, but that wouldn’t be entirely true, would it?” You quirked an eyebrow. “So you’re asking me for permission to lie to your best friend?” Bucky laughed at that, that kind of laugh that made his eyes crinkle. “Y/N, would you like to go out on a date with me?”

You tilted your head to the side. “Depends. Does that mean we’re gonna have to sleep in separate beds again?” Bucky raised your hand to his mouth and softly kissed your knuckles, then he stretched his head and planted a kiss on your forehead. “No way. What do you say?”

“Yes.”

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elizabeatrice · 5 years ago

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Walking Blind + Thoughts on The Little Mermaid Being Episode 12

Let’s Talk About JSHK Anime #2

Warning: Manga spoilers up until Tanabata Arc (basically that + the entirety of season 1 + the skipped arcs)

I’m gonna talk about how the anime keeps proving my predictions wrong with skipped arcs, and later right, with consequences. Due note that this isn’t me hating the anime (because I love it). Just my funny experience attempting to Sherlock my way through the anime, plus my thoughts on The Little Mermaid being the finale.

No deduction works when it comes to predicting this series.

It all started when episode 5, The Confession Tree, came out. I was looking forward to it ‘cause I’m hananene trash af. Legit thought the entire episode was gonna be about Kodama.

But then the episode preview pics came out and I was like, “Sakura wtf are you doing here you don’t show up again until three chapters later?”

My first prediction was ep 5 would be entirely Kodama, and then ep 6 would be Young Exorcist. Seeing that these arcs serve to build up Nene and Kou wanting to know more about Hanako, I thought it’d be nice that we set aside two episodes just for that.

But then Kodama finished somewhere around the fifteenth minute mark, and we started Young Exorcist Part 1. Which was, you know, fine. But then instead of continuing, they jumped right to the end of the arc when Nene met Sakura for the first time, and then kept going to No. 5′s rumor and revealed Tsukasa early. Next episode’s title preview confirmed it, too. Ep 6 was gonna be 4PM Bookstacks.

Okay. I still had hope. Maybe they just rearranged the order.

On the other hand, the lack of ‘Part 1′ in the title was alarming. And it came true. They packed four chapters into one episode. A lot of things got cut. There wasn’t enough room for the op, and they had to run the credits while the episode was still ongoing. Though, tbh, other than Tsuchi’s line about him being able to change the books (with dire consequences), I didn’t have much problem with the cut scenes.

Then this thing showed up.

Before ep 5 I didn’t think we’d get Donuts until around episode 9-ish. But nope the No. 7s would meet each other in ep 7 (lmao see what I did there?). Again, I was fine with it, but I was a bit upset about Young Exorcist.

Someone said it may be moved to the finale, and I didn’t like that idea. Mostly because Yashiro, our main audience POV, isn’t in the arc. And it just sounds weird having a finale without your main audience POV.

They could put her there, sure, but that would mean adjusting Nene and Teru’s every future interaction. Even without shipping goggles or Nene’s romance-colored glasses, do you think Nene would still act the same towards Teru if she saw him hurt Hanako like that? ‘Cause that was brutal. Like she wouldn’t run and protect him like she did when they met Kou.

They put Kou and Teru’s resolution from Young Exorcist into their convo in episode 7. This kinda makes Teru a bit useless, though. I mean, he still doesn’t do much in the manga but the tension between him and Kou was supposed to set up this badass fight. Since it didn’t happen, and Young Exorcist isn’t gonna be the finale either, then he’s pretty much useless.

Anyway, the thing about Teru being onto The Broadcasting Club?

Not from the manga.

I’m not sure if Manga!Teru is really onto them. As far as I remember, it wasn’t hinted anywhere in the manga. Do correct me if I’m wrong. So what was the point of that change?

I didn’t get pissed until halfway through episode 7 and suddenly Mitsuba was there, but no fishes.

“What is he doing here, where’s that puffer fish, where’s his murder? Hello?”

I was very neutral about Mitsuba from the very beginning but when he showed up where The Little Mermaid (and my fish murder!!!) was supposed to be I kinda began to grow undeserved resentment toward him (I’m cool now though!). Totally, totally undeserved, because it wasn’t his character’s fault.

I was happy because Mitsuba stans got to see him animated (he was cute, and his VA was so good). But putting him in episode 7??? I mean they just left Hanako and Nene’s tension unresolved like that. That makes the episode really choppy in my opinion. They could’ve had the coolest final shot of the season of Tsukasa murdering that fish to scare and excite the anime-onlys. They missed that chance.

We got to episode 8. Pretty solid. Still would’ve preferred if its first bits weren’t in Donuts, but solid.

Preview title basically confirmed they’re skipping The Little Mermaid too. That was when I lost hope in Young Exorcist. But I tried to compromise. If they weren’t animating The Little Mermaid, then they have to put Hanako and Nene’s conversation and pinky promise in The Little Mermaid at the end of ep 9.

Episode 9 turned out to be my favorite. It was all thanks to Natsuhiko. He really cheered me up over our loss of two arcs. And my prediction was right for once. Hanako apologized for ruining the donuts. That’s definitely not the point of their tension (Tsu-ka-sa and trust), but it was still nice and I’d take what I could get. The hug. The hug was very nice.

I was mostly content, excited to see my boi Akane the next week. But then I thought, wait, we only have three episodes left. And we’re definitely reaching Hell of Mirrors, ‘cause No. 3′s silhouette is in the OP. Then the horrifying thought hit me.

They were gonna skip Searching.

But! The freaking post-credit showed up followed by this:

“They skipped Searching AND Clock Keeper??? Why on earth would you highlight Akane, with Teru of all people, in the OP then?! Paralleling Mitsuba and Kou no less!”

Due notice, yet again, the lack of ‘Part 1′ in the title preview. Before the episode actually aired, this was my train of thought: “Okay so they skipped The Clock Keeper and Searching, and decided to outdo episode 6 by packing 6 chapters (yeah, I counted “Reach Out Your Hand”) into one episode. Ahahaha ... what?”

Thankfully, they proved me wrong. Kay. Good. Thanks a bunch for fooling me with that title preview.

But then it freaking hit me. You got one episode left. The finale. Sure, Clock Keeper as a finale will be perfect. It’s a good hook for season 2. However. You can’t do Clock Keeper without doing Searching. It’d basically be almost the same as doing Donuts without doing The Little Mermaid. The finale wouldn’t feel resolved this way, because, again, there’s tension between Hanako and Nene (and Kou too) that isn’t resolved yet.

Not that Searching addressed the cause of the tension, but at least it brought the trio back to their status quo (well, with a bit of kounene and hananene development haha). Also, without Searching, it’ll only end like this:

Clock Keeper itself is 5 chapters. They can cut and modify. Sure. But y’all saw ep 6.

So that’s why I was sure we’re definitely not getting No. 1 this season. To me, that leaves three options for the finale.

A. Delivery + Tanabata Arc

Best pick in my opinion

It’s the direct continuation to Hell of Mirrors

The main trio are all there, especially our audience POV

More glimpses of Amane is always a plus point

The ‘getting hit by a bull, waking up in the past, and seeing your boyfriend before he died’ is just so random I think it’d be a pleasant surprise for the anime-onlys

Just wholesome in general, leaves the audience feeling good

The-ma-tic!!! You begin the series with Nene’s wish and end it with Amane’s isn’t that just asdfghjkl wish wish wish, everything’s about wishes in JSHK

B. Young Exorcist

Classic boss battle finale

Just Teru’s badassery *chef’s kiss*

Hanako getting emotional (something we haven’t really seen before)

Getting deeper into Hanako’s motive (episode 8 would’ve been more impactful had we had Young Exorcist before it, what with his view of disappearing/exorcism for ghosts being salvation)

Kou’s character development

^ counter argument: he already got the character development he went through in Young Exorcist in episode 6 and 7, plus, he and Teru already resolved their disagreements - though, not as impactful as in the manga

Also wholesome, HanaKou is great I love their friendship so much *sobs*

C. The Little Mermaid

@emee-ems pointed out here: “it started with the mermaid so they’ll end it with the mermaid” and I agree

Yashiro being persuaded to leave Hanako, while their friendship was what began the whole series? That’s some good conflict right there

Seeing Hanako worried about Yashiro leaving him? Good shit

Also wholesome (extra shipping content never hurts, either)

Hanako willingly opening up to Yashiro for the first time!!! That’s a big milestone for them

Yashiro accepting that he’s just not ready instead of not trusting her like she’d thought is *chef’s kiss*

That pinky promise! Starting the series making a bond due to unfortunate circumstances and ending the series making/staying loyal to a bond out of choice??? Good shit

Aaaaannnnddddd the verdict was:

Mmmmmkay.

I did previously think we’re gonna end the season with The Little Mermaid. But here’s the thing. It only works if everything is in chronological order.

Why? Because the tension that led to this arc in the first place is resolved already in episode 9.

The whole point of TLM is that conversation at the end, really, where:

Hanako apologizes for ruining the donuts (he already did in episode 9)

Hanako thanks Yashiro for telling him that she liked him

Hanako admits that he had a little brother and that he killed him (Tsukasa already confirmed both of this for Nene, both in episode 7 and episode 9)

So having Hanako repeating all this seems kinda redundant. Nene already knows. Sure, it’ll be nice to hear it from him directly ... but it’s too late now, isn’t it? It’s been four episodes. She’s met Tsukasa three times now. However, point number 2 is still available.

Furthermore, since Hanako already apologized in episode 9, I’m not sure if the fishes can use what happened in episode 7 to persuade Nene to leave him. I mean, she forgave him already. Tension resolved. They hugged and all. And it’s been so long since then.

Animating the fish murder scene is also kinda useless. It was supposed to give the audience a glimpse of how dangerous Tsukasa is. But we already know that. We saw him rip someone’s heart out and force-feed it to someone else.

The first half of The Little Mermaid Part 1 and The Broadcasting Club at the end of Part 2 are already animated in episode 7. That leaves them even more room for extra scenes. I hope they take good advantage of that.

Basically, they have to make a lot of adjustments and I’m curious to see what they’re gonna do.

I am happy that we’re gonna see The Little Mermaid. The way Hanako wipes Nene’s face with his sleeve, and then cradles her head? I need it, they make my heart melt. Can’t wait.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #let's talk about jshk anime #bea rambles

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taurusjaehyun · 6 years ago

Text

baby, good night // j.jh

♦ Pairing: jaehyun x fem reader

♦ Other Members/ Characters: some nct/wayv members (mentioned)

♦ Genre: slight smut, fluff, non idol au, bf!Jaehyun, corporate lawyer!Jaehyun, domestic au

♦ Warnings: fluffff, nipple play, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, penetration but no actual sex, cock warming, no protection, cute sleepy Jaehyun uwu

♦ Word count: 3,193

♦ Story: Your boyfriend Jaehyun barely has time to relax due to work, but being in your arms and inside you are sure ways to give him comfort and strength.

Note: I told you guys I haven’t been writing bc of my depression and anxiety but I’ve been picking myself up and starting to write again. I have so many things to write and requests to do so hopefully, I get back in the zone again so I can write normally again. So anwyays,,,,, this isn’t proofread as always RIP me but I do hope yall enjoy it uwu <3 Also this is a thank you for the 700+ followers that I have now (I cant believe yall follow me lmaaaooo) Talk to me :)

“Honey, I’m home!” You hear your boyfriend shout from the living room, followed by the sound of the front door of your shared apartment being shut close.

Jaehyun enters your shared bedroom and pauses at the doorway, giving you a cheeky smile as soon as he sees you like he always did, albeit Jaehyun looking a bit exhausted than usual. For the past few weeks, he had been going home at this time of night. It was already 9:30pm and normally, he wasn’t home this late but he was under a strict schedule as the company he was working for as a corporate lawyer was going to have a major merging with an American firm and an acquisition of a company in China so he had to stay over at the company for revising the by-laws and the contracts for each of the company’s employees. Even with a team of lawyers, it was still hard work. You made sure to keep in contact and remind him of his meals, of course.

“Hey baby,” he smiles tiredly, making a bee line to your side of the bed and planting a kiss on your mouth that you eagerly return.

“D’you eat dinner?” You mumble against his lips before pulling away to get back to the book you were reading.

Jaehyun hums as he makes his way to his side of the bed now, “yeah, Jungwoo, Haechan and I grabbed dinner before we went home,” you nod at his words as you watch him put his briefcase on the ottoman by your bed, then pulls on his tie to loosen it before he removes his watch, setting it on the nightstand. “What about you baby?”

You give him a smile that he reciprocates tiredly, “I already did babe. I cooked your favorite. We can eat the left overs for breakfast tomorrow.” He pumps his fist excitedly at your words, missing your cooking and eating with you. “Wash up then we’ll talk, you big baby.” You laugh as he makes his way to the bathroom excitedly, whistling to himself.

You come back to reading your book but you don’t miss the way Jaehyun’s shower was quiet. The two of you had bought a speaker that you specifically put in the master en suite as you both enjoyed playing music when you showered or soaked in the tub, especially together. Jaehyun even turned on some music when he takes his dump. So him being quiet usually mean he was upset, tired or both.

After a while, Jaehyun comes back out from the bathroom in his usual sleep sweatpants, a towel wrapped around his head and nothing else. Wrapping your hair was a thing that you mainly did as you had long hair but now that his has been growing as well, he had adapted to it to make his hair dry faster, especially since he had trouble with his thick hair.

He goes to his usual side of the bed, at the left and joins you under the sheets and presses himself against you, laying his head on your chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. You smile at this, patting his cheek lovingly and looking the way he smiles and relaxes into your touch.

“You ok, babe?” You ask, folding the page on your book and putting it away on the nightstand, careful not to move too much. “Wanna talk about it?”

Jaehyun groans and pouts, feeling the tiredness in his system. “Yeah,” he sighs, burying his face in the valley of your breasts. He speaks again, sounding tired but you couldn’t understand as his words were muffled.

You chuckle, lifting his head and cupping his face. You could see the dark circles under his eyes and the tiredness in his face. “What was that?”

“I said, Chief Lee is an asshole.” He sighs tiredly, pouting at you. You wish you could help him with whatever he was facing but you could only wish the merger and acquisition would be smooth sailing.

You lean forward and peck his lips. “How about you let it out while I dry your hair?” You knew how he tends to sleep with his hair still wet because he was too tired these days to dry himself that he’d caught the sniffles because of it so the least you could do was help him in any way you could.

“Ok.” He smiles, sitting upright, facing away from you while you get on your knees behind him, and unwrapping the wet towel from his head. You could do it sitting down but he was too tall for you to reach up.

You dry his hair as he tells you about ‘Chief Lee, the asshole’ that always seemed to overwork his team for some reason. Jaehyun was thankful he and his team were given the opportunities and the money was definitely a good plus, but they’ve barely had time to rest for the past few months.

“Taeyong and Mark are real solid for doing twice as much, especially Mark since he just finished dealing with the government issues with the Dream team. And we kinda miss Sicheng too but I’m sure he’s busy with the China branch. He was put in the same team with Lucas, Kun and Ten. I heard the three new recruits in their team are amazing, too.” He sighs. “Good thing Jungwoo was added to the team before Sicheng transferred. It would’ve been hell without an extra hand.” Jaehyun sighs and you plant a kiss on his nape, running your hands through his now dried hair.

You wrap your arms around him and plant a kiss on the top of his head, “Look on the brighter side, babe. After the successful merger, you can go back to relaxing. I know how much you love your job, babe. It’s hard but this is what you were made to do. I’m so proud of you.”

Jaehyun holds your arms, sliding it down until he finds your fingers. He intertwines his fingers with yours and brings the back of your hand to his lips, kissing both hands. “Thank you, y/n. Thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know what I’ll do if I didn’t have you.” He sighs tiredly, eyes closed.

“Of course, Jaehyun. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” You kiss his cheek and he looks up at you and pulls you in for a kiss.

God, he was so lucky to have you. He was so completely and irrevocably in love with you that he didn’t know himself how he could tell you that with words.

You pull away when you feel his body limp a little and you’re sure he would fall asleep any minute now. “You can go to sleep if you want, love. I’ll hold you.” You peck his lips then his cheeks and he only nods, trying his best to receive your kisses. “You’re so cute.”

He smiles at you, dimples at full display and you feel your heart skip a beat. How lucky were you to be at the receiving end of his genuine smiles.

Jaehyun stacks the pillows and lies against it, reclined a little and moves to get himself comfortable while you quickly turn off the lights then slide yourself next to him, covering the both of you with the comforter. You lean in and he lifts his head so you could slip your arm behind his head and you pull his head closer to you with your free hand. His hands grips your thighs as he buries his face in your chest, taking in your scent that always manages to calms him down.

You watch him relax into your touch, moaning a little when you start to run your hands through his thick tresses, your nails gently massaging his scalp and you feel him shiver at the action. You lean down and kiss his cheek, pulling him closer to you. It was like you were holding a big baby but you loved every minute of it.

You start humming as you close your eyes, feeling the contentment and warmth from having Jaehyun in your arms like this. You only hoped that this would give him energy how you feel inspired and refreshed after just being in his arms when it was you who was down and exhausted.

Suddenly, you feel Jaehyun planting kisses on your chest, as his thumb started to draw circles on the skin of your thigh. You feel him move his face and nudges your right nipple with the tip of his nose as he presses down lightly. He kept doing it until your nipple got hard. The hand on your thigh makes its way under your shirt, his fingers caressing the undersides of your breasts before it completely covers your left breast.

He starts to suck on your nipple through your shirt. The material of the t-shirt you were wearing was thin and airy so needless to say, the material against your nipple was soaked with his spit. You didn’t mind, though. The way he was sucking on you was so slow and in a relaxed pace but you couldn’t help but get aroused with every suck of his mouth and the flick of his tongue on your pebbled nipple.

You gasp when he lightly bites on your right nipple through as he squeezes your left breast harder than before. “Do you want me to take off my shirt?” You ask, your voice already a bit breathy. You could feel your pussy getting wet with every suction of his lips on your clothed nipple. You hold onto his arm, trying to steady yourself while you knew you weren’t physically gonna fall.

Jaehyun makes a sound of approval and you pull away and take off his t-shirt that you wear to sleep and immediately come back to your previous position. With no time to waste, Jaehyun takes your right nipple in his mouth, sucking on the pebbled bud while his free hand is on your left breast, his fingers mimicking the way his tongue flicked against your nipple.

“You make me feel so good, Jae.” You moan, leaning down to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Do you wanna fuck me?”

“‘M too tired.” He mumbles against your breast, your nipple still in his mouth. “Can I just put my cock in you? Warm me up.”

You lick your lips and you nod. “Of course, baby. Are you hard?” You usually cock warmed him but he’s been too tired to even get hard and slip his cock inside you ever since he got busy.

He pulls away from your nipple with a pop, “a little. Are you wet?” He asks, letting go of your left breast and glides his hand down your body. You spread your legs as his hand travels lower, sliding inside your underwear. “You’re so wet,” he chuckles lightly before latching on your left nipple this time.

You hiss when his warm fingers touches your clit. “It’s because of you, baby.” He spends his time sucking on your left nipple before he unlatches and plants kisses up your neck and jaw before tilting your head down and finally slotting his lips against yours while he continued to gently wipe at your clit, gently dragging the tip of his finger against it.

Your hands travels to the big bulge in his sweatpants as you moan in his mouth. You feel his cock twitch once your palm wraps around the length through the material. He moans this time when you rub the tip of his cock with your nails, the soft texture of his sweatpants making it more pleasurable for him.

“Touch my cock, baby. Please.” Jaehyun pleads breathlessly against your lips. He starts to plant kisses on your jaw and neck before returning to sucking your nipples, alternating between the left and right. His thumb rubs at your clit this time, making you gasp with the pressure he applied as he rubbed, while the rest of his fingers finds your slit, playing with the wet juices your pussy produced for him.

You moan at his ministrations, even when you bite your lip to try to control the need to moan louder than you already were. You run your hands down his taut abdomen, feeling the hard muscle under your touch and it turns you on how he’s so hard yet so soft everywhere. You loved his body. And especially his happy trail that you were currently tracing with your palm, feeling the hairs tickle your bare palm.

Jaehyun lets out a long moan when you slip your hands down the front of his sweatpants, your fingers grazing his pubic hair and eventually reaching the base of his cock. It was harder than how you felt it earlier before.

You wrap your hand around his cock and he starts to suck on your nipples harder but keeping the same slow pace, making you moan. “Baby, you’re so hard already.” You whisper against his ear as you pull your hand away and start to quickly push down the front of his sweatpants so you could fully touch him.

He lifts his hips for you, mouth still attached to your nipples and his free hand still working on your pussy as you push down his sweatpants. His cock slaps up his navel as soon as the material is slipped down to below his ass. “Come on, touch me. Do it.”

“You’ll get what you want,” you say to him as youu spit on your hand before slipping it back under the covers and grasping his hard cock in your hand, making him moan. Pre-cum was already gathering on the tip of his cock so you took your time on teasing the sensitive head so he could get wetter.

You felt Jaehyun pull his hand from your pussy and out of your underwear and you whine at him. But as soon as you feel his slick covered hand on your hips and tugging at the band of your underwear, you sigh in relief. He violently pulls it off, making you laugh. “Calm down, babe,” you say as you lift your hips up so he could pull it down. You fold your knees so he could fully pull your underwear off.

Jaehyun throws your panties behind him, uncaring of wherever it landed. “Just want you,” He says before he continues to suckle on your nipple, lifting your left leg and hooking it around his waist. His hand comes back between your legs and in no second, two of his fingers slip inside you easily. “Feels so nice and tight, babe.”

Your body reacts by pulling his head closer to your chest as you moan, your grip around his cock involuntarily tightening at his actions. He moans against your tits and you feel the vibration, making you moan as well. God it felt so good. “Baby, get inside me please.” You whine lowly, loving the feeling of how his fingers stretches your pussy as you tug on his thick cock simultaneously, rubbing his head to spread his pre-cum on the rest of his shaft.

Jaehyun pulls away from you and takes out his fingers from inside you instantly and starts to pull down his sweatpants so he could be buck naked as you were. “Come here,” he says as soon as his sweatpants were discarded. You follow his order, pressing your body close to him, leveling your crotch with his as you hook your leg over his thigh this time. His left arm was under you while your right arms was under his neck again, used as a pillow. He uses your slick on his fingers and smears it on his hard cock, easily tugging it up a few times.

“You sure you can sleep like this? I can ride you.” You speak against his jaw as you start to peck kisses on his jaw as you reach down to rub your clit, making you twitch a little. “I know you’re tired. I can make you feel good.”

“No baby, you already feel so good for me. I just wanna sleep like this. Do you want me to make you cum?” He asks, tiredness lacing in his voice even through his breathlessness. His voice was low normally but you loved how it got so deeper when he was sleepy or when he just woke up.

You shake your head, “tomorrow. Wake up me with your cock instead.” You two were definitely generous each other with your orgasms so you let him do whatever he sees fit with you as long as he made you feel as good. But it was no doubt he’d give you everything and more. You capture his lips in a heated kiss as you press your pussy closer to him, grinding on the head of his cock that he held in his fist.

“As you wish. Scoot up a little, sweetheart.” He smiles, speaking against your lips before pecking it again. He helps you by pushing you up, easily lifting you by the hips. “I’m going in,” he says against your skin and you nod, biting you bottom lip in anticipation.

You close your eyes, feeling the thick head of his cock breach your wet slit and you tense as he slowly slips inside you. Your wetness made the slide easy but then again, his girth still made you wince from the feel of being stretched open. You bite your lip harder and grasp his arm to ground yourself and to ease the discomfort of his intrusion.

“You’re so hot and tight, baby.” He moans as he slides in deeper until he was bottoming inside you. You swear you felt his dick twitch inside you as soon as the whole of his length was sheathed inside you. “You good, y/n?” He gives the tops of your chest gentle kisses before capturing your swollen nipple in his mouth again.

You take deep breaths and let yourself relax, “I am, baby. Don’t worry about me.” You chuckle as you push his head closer to your chest, running your hands through his hair again, feeling his hands shift from your hips to your thighs, just rubbing at your skin, something he liked to do to you.

You finally relax around his length and at the same time you physically feel his body go a bit limp and heavier. You could tell Jaehyun was falling into sleep as he would pause at sucking your nipple and would wake up a bit and suck on it again like a baby would and you found it endearing.

“Good night. Love you.” He speaks when he awakens from his half sleeping state before suckling onto your nipples again, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you close but feeling it limp again after a few seconds.

“Baby, good night.” You whisper against his cheek, kissing it. You eventually start to drift off to sleep too, feeling relaxed and good with the way he was steadily sucking on you and his thick cock filling you. “I love you more.”

#oof its been a while yall #jaehyun smut #jaehyun #jaehyun nct #jung jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #nct smut #nct fluff #jaehyun x reader #nct #nct fanfic #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun scenario #wayv #nct 127 #nct u

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bonnieisaway · 5 years ago

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i got so brave, drink in hand

sneeze i’m sorry this is so late i- i just couldn’t work on this chapter. i promise the next one will be better..

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | wattpad link

Aiura knew that red strings were common in people.

Sure, a little pointless since, as far as she knew, she was the only one who could see them, but common. The problem was out of the eternity of PK Academy she'd only seen three.

And she saw the third on the day (L/n) transferred to her class.

°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.

Saiki and (L/n) both sigh as they set their bags next to their desks and sit down. Saiki turns to see (L/n) yawning before turning to Saiki. Bags lined the underneath of her (e/c) eyes.

"Oh...hey Saiki.." She smiles drowsily. Saiki feels his face heat up at the cute action but is eliciting to ignore it. Nope. Not happening at all. He's not sure what you're talking about.

"How late did you get home last night?" He asks.

"Around 10.." (L/n) shrugs. "I stopped at a store on my way home and then I was up doing homework for while... But it's alright! I had some...caffeine earlier.."

"I'm sorry." Saiki apologizes. He wasn't even sure why he was apologizing. For keeping her out late? For making her take care of him?

"Nah, don't apologize. It's alright." She gives a heartwarming smile and Saiki- for once- thanks god that Teruhashi has joined the two to interrupt the conversation.

"(Y/n), are you okay?" Teruhashi asks worriedly. "You seem tired."

"Yeah." (L/n) nods. "I just..got to sleep a bit late.."

"How late?" Teruhashi asks.

"Ehehehe.... 4am...?" (L/n) laughs awkwardly. Teruhashi looks unamused.

"(Y/n)..!" She begins to reprimand.

"Kokomi!" (L/n) mocks her tone. "I had a lot of homework."

Teruhashi sighs and shakes her head. "You need better time management. How much of that did you spend playing on your phone?"

"..Ehheheh.." (L/n) begins to awkwardly laugh again. The poor girl obviously needed sleep. School started at 7am, she probably barely got 2 or 3 hours of sleep.

Before anyone else can reprimand the poor, sleep deprived girl, the teacher walks in the room, settling the students as they return to their seats.

"Good morning, class." The teacher begins.

"Good morning.." The class responds. Saiki only gives partial attention as she begins her lesson. He turns and sees (L/n) with her head in her hand and eyes half lidded as she drifts off. Saiki sighs as he nudges the girl under the desks with his foot. She snaps awake confused.

"Stay awake, idiot." Saiki reprimands, but there's a small grin on his face. (L/n) squints her eyes at him.

"Fine. Because you asked so nicely, Strawberry." She mutters under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

"...with that, you and your partner will choose a book from PK's library to report on.." The teacher continues to speak, as she writes on the chalkboard. "..due within two weeks from now. I have assigned your partners." Saiki feels the dread in his very soul. Ever since (L/n) showed up it felt like there were a lot of fanfiction cliches showing up and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

The teacher begins listing partner pairs. "Kuboyasu and Kaido. Teruhashi and Yumerhara." She goes down the list of convenient pairs. "Mera and Hairo. Saiki and (L/n)." Ah, there's the cliche money maker. The teacher continues listing the names of background characters. Like Takahashi and Saiko. We don't care about Saiko in this fanfiction.

Anyway, (L/n) sleepily turns to Saiki as the teacher finishes her list and lets the partner pairs discuss. "So...what book are we doing?"

Saiki shrugs. "What kind of books do you read?" He asks. He's only doing this because its a normal conversation. With a normal girl. Who he is not growing fond of what so ever. Stop jumping to conclusions, reader.

(L/n) shrugs. "Any, really.." She hums for a second. "What was that one book..."

"Hm?" Saiki hums curiously.

"I don't remember the title.." (L/n) leans her head in her hand. "But I remember a quote. It was something like.. "'I see two lovers looking over the cauldron of hell. Are they contemplating a double suicide? This means their love will end in hell." I couldn't stop laughing.'"

Saiki thinks for a moment. He'd probably heard the line before due to telepathy.

"It's Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto." Saiki responds after a minute.

"Yeah, that one!" (L/n) snaps her fingers. "Have you read it before?" She asks.

"No. I just.. I've heard of it, before." Saiki lies. No, he has not read it, he just used his powers to find the book for the poor girl.

"It's probably in the library, wanna do that book?" (L/n) asks. Saiki nods. "Cool..cool.."

𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕡

The homeroom bell rang and Saiki had no chance to go anywhere else before (L/n) starts dragging him by the sleeve to the library. "Come on! Better to start this now." (L/n) weakly beckons as they walk into the library. "Now where the hell is that book."

Saiki shrugs as (L/n) walks off to look for it. He could use clairvoyance and- yep, already found the book. Saiki walks over and grabs two copies of the book- one for him and one for (L/n).

"Alright, let's go." Saiki sighs. (L/n) snaps around with a 'are you fucking kidding me' face.

"I- oh what the hell. Let's go, Strawberry." (L/n) yawns, because clearly sleeping through the entirety of mathematics class was not enough for the poor girl. Saiki can't help but feel a small grin come across his face as the shorter girl takes a copy from his hand and begins walking to the librarian.

After the very rushed library trip begins a trek home with Nendo, Kaido, and Kuboyasu trailing along. Three annoyances and one tolerable girl.

"Hey, we should go get some ramen!" Nendo offers, as he does every day.

"Nah..I'm exhausted.. plus, I don't have money on me." (L/n) smiles.

"You want to get ramen every day, Nendo. Plus, I have homework and cram school." Kaido rolls his eyes.

"I've got to go...meet with someone." Kuboyasu excuses, which is code for "something that's entirely delinquent related that the author does not want to write."

"Damn.. okay. What about you, partner?" Nendo asks. Crap, he didn't have an excuse.

"I-"

"Actually, Saiki was gonna head over to my place so we could work on that book project." (L/n) excuses him, setting a hand on his shoulder as she looks up at Nendo. Saiki looks at her with adoration for a second- thank whatever God sent this girl to be the saint she is.

"That's not due for like, two weeks." Kuboyasu points out.

"We're not going to college for another year and Shun's still got his applications filled out." (L/n) comments.

"H-Hey! You know that's cause of my mom!" Kaido argues, face bright red. Saiki found the usual bickering to be quiet boring.. he figured he should entertain himself.

Hm.. maybe..

"Yeah, I know, I know." (L/n) grins. "Still funny."

Saiki looks at Kuboyasu. With boredom he's decided to see everyone's likability for (L/n). ..Huh. Solid 54. Not bad. He turns to Nendo next.

"Haha! Tell me, what college are you going to, runt?" Nendo asks. ..Hm. 58. Not too far off. He turns to Kaido.

"Shut up!" Kaido tries to elbow Nendo yet it does absolutely nothing. As per usual. ..94. Jesus. Saiki knew the two were close by some miracle but jeez. Only person left in the group was him, and he was confident in his emotions...

"Hey, this is where Saiki and I gotta split. See you guys!" (L/n) waves as they turn a corner.

"See you around."

"See you, partner!!! See you, friend!!!"

"Bye Saiki, (Y/n)!"

Saiki turns to the girl who stares off into space as they now walk quietly. Her (e/c) eyes were half lidded with exhaustion and she was beginning to fall asleep while walking she was so tired.

"Hey, Strawberry..." (L/n) starts, dragging out his nickname.

"What is it, (L/n)?" Saiki sighs.

"I'm tired... wanna carry me..?" She grins half-assedly. Saiki rolls his eyes.

"No."

"Come oooon."

"Absolutely not." Saiki refuses. (L/n) pouts cutely and crosses her arms for a second, deep in thought. 'Well, I could just..' Oh no. (L/n) falls out of Saiki's line of vision for a second but he isn't necessarily surprised when the girl just jumps on his back without warning. He sigh heavily as he stops walking.

"Hah, can't avoid it now, Strawberry!" (L/n) grins over his shoulder.

"I could just drop you." He sighs.

"Please don't."

Saiki rolls his eyes into oblivion and continues walking with the sleepy girl on his back. She's quiet but her thoughts roll on. 'Hm..his hair is soft. And he smells like vanilla."

Saiki's face warms up. For some odd, unrelated reason. No sir, not related to that at all. Not sure what you're talking about. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a..number..?

Ah, that's right, he was using the likability to see how everyone felt about (L/n). The tracker floated in the corner of his vision, a solid "70" written on the board of it. Weird. The last person around (L/n) was only Saiki.

It must've just glitched out. Don't get happy here. His powers have just been.. wonky lately. That's it. As he continues to walk, dismissing the totally glitchy meter, the girl on his back slowly begins to drift off.

𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕡

When you woke from your sleep, not even realizing how comfortably you dozed off on the poor boy, he was standing in front of your apartment building. "Will you get off now?" He asks impatiently. You giggle and slide off his back, landing hard on your feet.

"Thank you for the Uber." You grin. He gives you a less then amused look and you can't help but laugh at the unamused face t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶a̶d̶o̶r̶e̶.̶ "Sorry, sorry. But really. Thanks for tolerating that."

Saiki thinks to himself for a second. "It's...alright. There's more annoying people I know." He sighs. You look at him for a second- did he just compliment you? Did Saiki Kusuo, the ever done-with-your-shit tsundere, just give you a backwards ass compliment?

No.

Don't lie to us, Saiki.

You smile at him after a second. "Well- I have to tend to..something. I don't know. I probably have work to do, so.. bye!" You smile, waving as you walk into the building. He waves slightly before walking away. You climb the stairs up to the second floor, and unlock your door, popping in and kicking off your shoes. You drop your bag at the door.

"OH my god FINALLY." You scream to yourself. Yes, you lived alone, parents...parents and siblings long gone. You shook the thought of them from your head as you wandered through your apartment to your kitchen as you hummed some American song from the 2000s to yourself. Opening the kitchen cabinets revealed..

..well, not much. Shit. You sigh to yourself. You hadn't gone shopping in forever, which, was a given since you'd found yourself so busy. Life seemed to become hectic since you met Saiki but that was alright. You thought he was cool. You pause as you close your cabinets.

The thought of his eyes crossed your mind. They weren't special, if anything bland, but there's nights where the purple color is all you can see in your head. You weren't necessarily sure why. His eyes were just.. pretty. You should tell him some time. You shake the thought from your head as you walk to your bedroom, choosing to change out of your school uniform.

After having chosen a comfortable outfit that fit your style, you grabbed your keys, wallet, phone and put on your shoes. It's shopping time, baby. There was a convenience store you usually went to about 20 minutes away from your apartment. So you went down the stairs, nearly falling on your face quiet a few times, and exited your apartment building and began the trek to the store.

As you walk, your thoughts begin to wander. You'd never think before that at 16 you'd be living alone in your own apartment. Thinking back to the events that lead you here...

Well, you didn't like to think of it much. The thought that truly, you were the last person in your family alive. In some fucked up way, it could remind you of that one game...What Remains of Edith Finch? You push the thought from your head, chosing to hum whatever song comes to mind first.

You didn't really like dwelling on the depressing things of it all. Of course, sometimes, it couldn't be helped, but if you had the choice..

You enter the store as you clear your thoughts, arriving at your destination finally, and hopefully avoiding the author's shitty monolouging. You walk through, grabbing the necessities, and by necessities I mean junk foods that would definitely disappoint Hairo if he saw this. But he is not here, so you are free to grab an extra package of coffee jelly and an extra box of pocky.

You check out with only a slight judgmental look from the cashier and begin your trek home. We're just speeding through this chapter! As you walk along you feel something soft brush against your leg. You look down and what do you see? A cute little cat!

The white cat has violet eyes that cant help but remind you of Saiki and a collar with the label 'Sai.' You bend down, setting down your two bags, and pick up the cat. "Why, hello there!" you smile.

Sai stared back deadpanned. "Well, you remind me of someone I know an awful lot." You snort, setting the cat back on the ground and petting its head before picking up your bags and continuing to walk. After about 5 minutes, you notice the cat is still following you. You stop to turn to it for a second as it stares back up at you.

"You're awfully persistent, huh?" You smile. "I'm sorry, kitty, my landlord doesn't allow cats." You continue walking.

..And so does this damn cat. He's persistent and every time you tried to lose him in a doorway he'd dart in seconds before the door shut and nearly scared the shit out of you every time. Which is why he is now sitting patiently on your living room couch.

°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.

Okay, look, first of all, Saiki has a PERFECTLY good explanation. And second of all, this is not his fault. At all. He wasted his precious time to turn into a cat because Amp was bothering him once he got home. Shenanigans happened, and Amp got mad at him and he lied that he was going home, and that he didn't live at his house, so that Amp would stop bothering him. Amp would not believe him so to sell the story he just followed (L/n) home because she wouldn't kick a cat to the curb. Thankfully, she didn't but now Saiki is here.

The problem is that (L/n) won't take her eyes off him so he can't just teleport and she's not opening the door any time soon. Which is an issue because Saiki would like to get home and play his game. But no. He gets stuck in this situation. Fuck you, Author.

(rude.)

(L/n) turns and picks up Saiki, or should I say Sai, and he can't help but sigh and curse Amp for leading him into this situation. He can't move much because he can't control his strength well like this and generally it'll just end badly. So he can't.. really do much as (L/n) sets what she assumes to be a normal cat in her lap and pets him gently. All he can think right now is 'please kill me.'

"Hm.. you've gotta belong to someone. I haven't seen you around before, kitty, are you lost?" She asks, as if the fucking cat would respond. Saiki is very bitter right now. And does not want to be pet. He squirms out of her grip and winds up across the couch. "Yikes, okay, I got it."

She sighs. "God, I can't go finding some cat owner.. I've got homework and shit.." (L/n) runs a hand through her hair as she turns around. Fuck it, that's all he needs.

°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.

You turn back around. "We- What the fuck?!" The cat was gone. You snapped your head around, he didn't even seem to be in the apartment before. What- what the actual fuck?? Were you hallucinating??

..Yeah.. We'll call it hallucinating. You sigh as you flop at your kitchen table. You had homework.. and commissions.. and you were supposed to reread Kitchen. You glance at the book tossed to the side on your table. You'd read it once but that was years ago, when you were practicing Japanese. You were, simply put, stressed and tired as hell. It'd be another late night for you and just..

You'd think that through later, you told yourself, as you pull some bullshit math worksheet from your bag, pencil tapping as your eyes scan the problems. You were stressed but life was good. It was odd...

This stretch of happiness couldn't last long.

__________________

tl;dr, go read kitchen.

#sorry #i know it's. really bad #saiki k x reader #saiki k #saiki kusuo no psi nan #i havent posted in a while #saiki kusuo #my writing

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frekydeki · 5 years ago

Text

Cupid Can’t Fall in Love

Part 1

Summary: (AU) Eternal and true love is a business transaction for you. Soulmates are simply two file folders tied together with a golden bow. But when eight folders come across your desk, your job gets a little bit stickier with each passing day. Being a Cupid isn’t so easy as it sounds...

Pairing: (Jihyun x Reader)

| Part 1 | Part 2: Upcoming

It’d be beautiful. The golden grass, the falling sun, the gentle and warm wind, the serene silence… It would all be so beautiful if he wasn’t staring into your eyes so tearfully. You trace your eyes over his blue hair and follow the line of his jaw, then his neck, over his collar bone and to his heart. Your e/c eyes widen to the size of the moon; a glowing arrow burns frantically in his chest. You harshly draw in a breath and smack your hand over your own arrow, hammering in your heart.

You can’t process the tear trailing down your cheek as you turn your eyes away and up to the scattered clouds in the sky. Why? How did this happen? It’s got to be a mistake…

It’d all be so beautiful… If only you could fall in love.

How… Did it come to this?

Working for Aphrodite isn’t the most exciting employment option. When you were first born, you took a little bit more to your father’s side, preferring to kick ass here and there. But after a run-in with a seething Achille’s, – you told Zeus to just kill the guy but he insisted you talk it out – you got your butt kicked so bad that even Ares himself worried over you. Your mom said your warrior days were over that day. Nobody defies the word of Aphrodite, after all, and that’s why you’re holed up in this stupid office. Battle armor feels much more natural than the pencil skirt and blouse you’re wearing, but this is what you have now; platform heels, scrunchies, paper cuts, and the sound of typing like chinese water torture to your ears. Lucky you, though! You’ve put in your two millennia to get a personal office, away from all the typing and scratching on parchment; its maybe one of your greatest achievements in the past two thousand years since Aphrodite and Ares put you on the bench.

This tiny little office is your hell a little bit away from hell, you like to say. You still have mental break downs and panic attack under your desk, and you’ve forgotten what wood your desk is made out of; but at least you get some damn silence. Except for the obnoxious banging on your door that’s happening right now. Is it eight already? The dread of a thousand punished souls in the underworld escapes from your lips in a groan; you barely even filed the cases you finished yesterday. Nevertheless, you roll in your rock hard chair – Hera was kind enough to make you a small cushion, even if it looks like a grandma’s afgan turned cushion, you and your butt love it – to swing your door open at a dangerous speed.

The young blonde before you smiles and points towards the soft close door.

“Isn’t it great Ares installed those personally for you?” Her raspy voice sputters to you quickly. Her scrawny finger then points to the coffee mug in your hand, “Hey, is that coffee.”

“Yeah, what el-“ Your hand becomes lighter as she snatches it from you and takes a long swig.

“I haven’t slept in like three days,” She babbles to you as she puts the coffee back into your hand and turns to the cart littered with folders, “Finals are next week and I haven’t studied all semester.” You’ve grown used to the incessant mumbling that Angelia lets loose every morning while handing in your cases… She’s like this every week, even without finals. “Becoming a god sure isn’t easy work!” She loudly laughs before continuing on about offerings and the rules of appearing to humans.

“You know, Angelia, if you didn’t spend all of your time programming social media sites for humans, you’d be able to get your work done.”

“How else is a messenger god supposed to stay relevant? Dad already does all the messaging between gods, so there’s no work for a dumb college god like me.”

“You’re in college… That’s your job right now.” Your lidded eyes meet hers as she blows a loose strand of curly hair from her face and drops two folders onto your lap.

“Yeah but I’ll disappear if I loose followers.”

“No. You won’t. You’re a god born of two gods, not a god born of need. There’s a clear difference. We survive whether or not humans worship us individually. Plus there’s other jobs for gods to do other than meddling and fucking around.”

“Yeah but I wanna be a messenger god!” She whines as she drops four more folders onto your lap. “Only eight new assignments today. Lucky you.”

“L… Lucky me?” You screech at her. “I already have two hundred and eighty- eight active cases!” She surrenders her hands and pursues her lips at you.

“I don’t decide who gets what cases.”

“Yeah but you could also maybe throw in a word to Aphrodite and be like, ‘Yeah, boss, don’t you think MC already has enough assignments right now?’ You know, maybe stick your neck out for a friend once in a while?” Angelia continues to stack cases on your lap, unphased by the explosive temper you let loose every morning, and you keep on crying up to her, “Are you listening to me Angelia? I’m drowning in stress right now! If I were a nymph I would’ve shriveled up and died three hundred years ago.” With your pouting expression and whiney voice, you can be compared to a kid whose mom put her favorite cereal back on the shelf.

“But you’re not a nymph. Yay! You won’t shrivel up and die.”

“But if I were a nymph I would have. Doesn’t that concern you? I could die!”

“Gods don’t die.”

“Yes we do!” You snap up to her grinning face, “And the leading cause is stress!” The over caffeinated girl isn’t moved by your whining, so you switch to a bargaining strategy quickly.

“Okay, hear me out,” You begin with a lowered voice, “Maybe if you just slip these onto someone else’s desk, and then pretend that you didn’t notice when Aphrodite asks you “What the hell?” By then that Cupid would have already started the assignment so there’d be no point in bothering me to do it.” Angelia drops the last heavy file folder on your lap and shakes her head. You blink as the weight of your coffee is lifted from your hand again.

“No can do, my friend.” She begins as she sips loudly from your coffee mug, before her face scrunches, “Too much creamer.” Angelia puts the mug back in your hand, all the while you watch her with eyes the size of the moon; is she serious right now? Of course you know there’s too much creamer in there; you just had a late morning so for all you care she can take her scrutiny and shove it. “Anyways, Aphrodite and Eros both said - very strictly, I might add - that these files are meant for your hands only. Anyways, I’m only part time, here. That all is way above my pay grade.”

“Angelia,” You suck in a heavy breath through your nose to try and curb your frustrations with the shrugging girl before you say, “You suck.” At that, she laughs heartily. She giggles her good-bye to you over the sound of her clicking heels as she moves to give the next guy his shackles for the day. “Hey!” She turns over her shoulder to acknowledge your head poking out of your office, “You tell Aphrodite that if I get any more cases this week I’m going to go ahead and fall in love, ya hear?”

“Yeah, right. Someone like you, fall in love?” She snorts, “Not even Eros would take that assignment.” You lift your lip, eyebrows pinching together, and shout back to her:

“Go bother someone else… I’m gonna be here all night because of you.” She waves and smiles pleasantly, which you return half-heartedly. The door shuts gently, and you groan back over to your desk.

Eight files don’t sound like much to the human ear, but these files hold every single aspect of the subject’s life, so it looks like the holy bible. It’s not that you mind the read all that much – it’s like a nice little short story – but it’s the paperwork and scheming that you hate with every fiber of your explosive being. You look to the mirror hanging on your wall after glancing through one of the files – these were all a little bit bigger than the normal case – and decide to put your work order in for their vial’s early; it’s going to take a while to gather their life essence. You grab a drachma and turn it about in your hand as you scribble the eight names onto separate blue ribbons.

“Ánoixe.” You cough, watching the solid mirrors surface begin rippling like water after a stone is thrown into it. “Eudorus.” The rippling increases before orange begins to reflect in the mirror; it slowly stops to reveal the freckled and smiling face of your good buddy. “How are you this fine morning?”

“Don’t play coy with me, MC. I know you’re only here to give me more work.” Your lips snap shut before you laugh lightly.

“I’m sorry. I usually wouldn’t bother you about it until tomorrow but… I just got eight new assignments and they’re really big files. I thought I’d give you a head start on getting their essence for me.”

“Eight!” He cries at you, his freckled cheeks becoming red and eyes watering. “You’re already drowning in work already!” He purses his lips and puffs his cheeks as he mumbles under his breath, “Mom really has to stop giving you so much work. You’ll keel over soon because of lack of sleep.”

“Can you do this for me? I’ll buy you dinner tonight?” He smiles at you.

“I’d do it even if you didn’t offer food, but since you did you can’t take it back now. Give me the ribbons and I’ll give ‘em to you at dinner.” You push your hand through the mirror, flinching as the humid air of his workplace gathers to your hand.

“How do you even breathe in there Eudorus? It’s so humid.”

“You get used to it after a little.” He stops as he eyes you, his lips parted and brows slack in what you can only dreadfully identify as one thing; concern. “Are you getting enough sleep, MC?”

“With all these cases on my desk, I can’t afford sleep.”

“We might be gods and all, but we need our sleep just like the humans.” You grin as you roll your eyes playfully.

“You’re starting to sound like Apollo.”

“If he sees you like this MC he’s going to tear you a new one about taking care of yourself, and you know he’s going to crack down on your eating habits! You’re worse than Hades sometimes…”

“I know, I know… I’ll just avoid him at all costs.” Your half-brother grins at you before he waves the ribbons held lightly in his smooth hands.

“I better get to work on theses. And you better to, if you want to cut down on those piles on your desk.”

“You’re right. Have a good one, Eudorus.”

“Yeah, you too.” You watch as your red-headed brother disappears, and the mirror hardens again. Staring at your reflection, you realize you really do look like you’re on your deathbed. Your skin is a shade or two lighter from its usual hue, hair messily tossed into a bun, your bags much more prominent, and lips pulled down in a frown much more than usual. You look away quickly, recalling Angelia’s words from earlier…

“Yeah, right! Someone like you, fall in love?” You stare critically at the stack of finished reports you need to put in their rightful files; you will never have one of these for yourself… It’s strictly off limits for you as a Cupid. If you fall in love, you lose your job. Sometimes it makes you mad, other times sad, and some rare times, you’re glad.

Filing cases is the easy part of your job; all the hard work’s done, now all that’s left is topping off the paired folders with golden ribbons and filing them into your large bookshelf for review and approval by Eros. Eros, that sleaze. It’s been at least a millennium since you went through the trouble of pairing him with Psyche and he still has the nerve to waltz into your office and flirt with you shamelessly. Plus, he gets to keep his job despite being head over heels for his wife; who cares if he’s a primordial? He should be held to the same standards as everyone else!

That’s not what matters at the moment though, you guess. Getting these cases off of your desk is the priority! You managed to close thirty cases last night, so you just need to focus on getting them all patched up nicely. You glance to the new files on your desk; once this is done you can stick your nose into the new assignments.

“Is this a joke, mom?” Saying you sounded as loud as Zeus when he and Hades butted heads would almost do a disservice to your anger. You are livid, fuming, downright insane with rage. Her beautiful violet eyes snap up to your own as she gracefully pushes her blonde hair from her face and folds her hands in front of her.

“Is what a joke, MC?” Most of the time, her voice would’ve calmed you down to the point of rational thought, but not today. You’re ready to body slam her into Tartarus. You wave the files frantically in front of you and drop them onto her desk, eyes on fire and steam running out of your ears. You’re an Ares level threat right now.

“What the hell are these assignments?” You screech. Opening the top folder you drop the picture of the blonde on her neat, tidy desk. “Yoosung Kim, 21, college student. He’s fucked up right now, mom. He recently lost his cousin, who, might I add, is also one of these files. How the fuck am I supposed to make a dead woman fall in love? And how the hell am I supposed to make someone like Yoosung fall in love while he is like this?” She opens her mouth to respond but you slap another picture in front of her. “Jumin Han, 26, an executive who doesn’t know the half of relationships and trusting another person. I can’t work with this yet! And don’t you even get me started on Saeran and Saeyong, have you even looked through these files? And Jihyun? What the fuck is going on with this guy?” You feel a large hand plop down on your shoulder. A growl nearly comes from you as you look up to your father, his yellow eyes telling you to try and calm down. “Well when the hell did you get here?”

“I was here the whole time MC. You just marched in, ready for the kill.”

“Well if she wouldn’t hand me such bullshit cases on top of all my other cases I wouldn’t feel like murdering everyone on this damn mountain!” Ares chuckles as he shakes his head in amusement.

“You sure are my daughter, but you’re almost worse than me. What have I always told you, little soldier?” Your mouth draws into a thin line, before you mumble your response so lowly that no one could understand you. “No matter how hard it gets, it is your duty, and so you shall finish it.”

“It could also be Eros’ duty. Or Agata! She only has like, ten assignments right now.”

“Yes, my dear. But Agata is also very new to working as a Cupid.”

“She’s been in the department for two hundred years!”

“These cases require experience and power greater than that of a two hundred-year-old nymph.” You draw your lips into a thin line and eye your mother critically. What the hell does she expect you to do with this? You’re originally a war goddess. You were meant to fight, not shoot people with metaphorical arrows and make sure they fall head over heels with each other!

“This is the life you have now, MC.” Ares begins, for like, the millionth time this month. You grind your teeth and step away from him. You know that you have to content yourself with working in a quiet office, watching others fall in love, constantly typing on a computer, wearing these stupid pencil skirts and bows…

“But I hate wearing these damn heels!” Is all you can screech, childishly. Aphrodite giggles as she stands and walks to you.

“But they make you look so beautiful.” You send a harsh glare up to her; of course, she doesn’t even flinch cause your glares are as harmless to her as a feather is to a rock. “I trust you to handle these assignments better than anyone working here… Even myself. I wouldn’t have given them to you otherwise.”

“How do you suggest I start these, then?”

“Drink their essence and see what they need.”

“I’m not a damned therapist.”

“Hear, hear!” Ares uselessly calls as he resumes his seat on the couch. He shrinks a little when Aphrodite sends him a harsh, menacing glare; if there’s one thing all the gods have learned, it’s that Aphrodite – and possibly Persephone – are the scariest when they get mad.

“Yes, but you will know where to go. I can assure you.” You puff out your cheeks and cross your arms.

“Fine, but you owe me three weeks of vacation since I can’t go next week anymore!” You hiss as you take the files she’d gathered in her hands before you even simmered down – it’s like she knew she’d win you over – and stomp to the door. “I had tickets to the premier of the new marvel movie! Do you know how expensive those are?” You cry, ready to slam the door shut, but giving your mom one more, half-hearted stare.

“You’re a goddess, sweetheart. You have an endless supply of money.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to waste it!” And you move to slam the door shut, but it slows just at the end. You swear your eyeballs set on fire as you realize that your father installed yet another soft close door because of you.

What’s your plan? Dive in head-first and get blind-sided at every corner like Zeus? No way, just thinking about that has you ready to start another war. You need a plan, a good plan, and as much information as you can get. Meaning you’re going to have to work with their guardians. Pompous, inconsiderate, above the law shit heads is what guardians are. In your millenniums, you’ve avoided most, if not all, contact with them. You don’t work well with big heads; they always mess things up because they’re always right, narrow-sighted, and rash. Add to that the state that these wards are in, you can’t imagine these guardians will be the best help… But you’ve got to take whatever you can get.

And that’s why you’re sitting at a large table of seven guardians, enjoying a measly meal of chicken tenders and fries; ambrosia is too damn expensive these days. But you suppose that as the times have changed, your offerings and followers have fallen to a measly, absolute zero. No worshippers? No ambrosia. It’s a good way to stir up some envy here on Olympus.

“So, what do you need, Cupid?”

“I need to know about your wards.” You sigh as you plant a folder in front of each guardian. You point to the empty chair and raise your brow, “Where’s Mina’s guardian?”

“Uh, she’s out on sick leave.”

“I thought you guys were invincible?”

“Well, after all the times she’s worked, I’m sure she needs a break for a little.” Aeneas snaps at you. You roll your eyes; guardians were specifically designed to do everything but need a break. You’d have to check in with Zeus later to see what the hell is going on with her.

“Okay, whatever.” Continuing, you decide to get straight to the point, “Tell me everything you know about your wards. Why are they in the state they’re in?”

“Some wards are harder to guide than others.” Jac gently speaks. You look to the soft-featured man, nodding your head. You know that… You’ve always treasured Jac as a guardian, he’s one of the few to look at you on equal grounds.

“I know. I’m sorry if it felt like I jabbed at you. Could you all maybe explain to me what you’ve learned does or doesn’t work with these wards?”

“Of course… We’ll do as much as we can to help…”

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years ago

Text

Every Road Leads to an End, Pt. 1

Y’all had to know this was coming at some point lol. My first Kingsman fic, this one in particular set Post-Golden Circle. I’ve got a lot more planned, for this time period plus during each movie and in between, but for now, I think this is a good start.

A forewarning that I’m taking canon and making it what I want, because while I love the movies dearly, there’s also a good number of things I’d have maybe done differently, or at least messed about with and considered changing. For one, the little pup Eggsy gets Harry in Golden Circle? He’s around again, because I wanted to know what happened to the puppy. I named him PJ, for Pickle, JR (after dear Mr. Pickle.)

So, here that is!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“You texted me, and I quote, ‘Major emergency, come quickly.’ This-”

“Is an emergency,” Harry finished.

Eggsy stared down at PJ, who was wagging his tiny tail happily. “This is dog-sitting. I thought there was a mission, and I’m only supposed to be called back in the event of that or-.”

“There is, this!”

“Okay, and where are you off to then? If there isn’t a mission, aside from watching your dog,” Eggsy asked as he picked up PJ.

“I...have a date.”

“You have...where did you meet...I have so many questions,” Eggsy said.

“And they will have to wait; I am already late. Thank you for arriving so promptly, instructions are on the fridge regarding PJ’s dinner and bedtime, and I’ve left you money for your dinner,” Harry was like a bullet on track to its target, walking fast enough Eggsy could hardly keep up as he followed him to his bedroom.

“Oi! Now I get to ask at least one question before you go.”

“Fine, one. Then I need to finish dressing; I cannot find the right color pocket square I need-”

“I’ll help you find it if you answer,” Eggsy interrupted. “Where’d you meet her?”

“Him.”

“Okay, him. Where was it? I mean, you’re something of a homebody, when you aren’t working-”

“I am not,” Harry scoffed, and turned to rifle through the pile of folded pocket squares tossed on his bed. “I do things.”

“You texted me a week ago, and I quote-”

“That is quite enough of my quotes, I think.”

“You keep interrupting like that; I’ll just find more of them. Anyway, as I was saying, you said ‘lots of excitement tonight, saw a fox in the garden.’ I mean...Harry.”

“Are you going to help me find it, or not? I need the same shade of salmon as my tie, and I’ve found every other shade under the bloody sun, and I even sort these by shade, I’ll have you know, and,” Harry sighed and tossed a handful of squares back onto the bed.

“You’re nervous!”

“I have been in situations far worse than a first date; I am not made nervous by this,” Harry shook his head, and shuffled through another bunch of squares.

“You are absolutely a nervous wreck, oh my God. This is adorable! Look at your dad, PJ. I have never seen you like this.”

Harry sighed again, clearly exasperated, and turned to Eggsy.

“Put the face away, I’ll help. Now, don’t get mad, but could you just wear a different color tie, that matches one of the squares we know are here and ready to be worn?”

The kiss on the cheek wasn’t expected, but it was sweet. “Eggsy! Genius! I’ll change it straightaway, then-ooh, I’m going to be even later! I don’t have an excuse for that, we had a reservation and everything...”

“Tell him I was late showing up. I don’t mind taking the blame,” Eggsy bit back a giggle as Harry whirled past him to another drawer. “Would I know him, if I saw him?”

Harry stopped dead.

“Harry?”

He turned again, a new silk light green tie in his hand. “I can’t...I will tell you. All of it, later. I promise you that. This is also, technically, a mission. That turned into more, and if anyone else with Kingsman or Statesman found out it had, the trouble we would be in.”

“So he works for Statesman?”

“No.”

“He works for us?”

“Eggsy, please,” Harry sighed desperately as he switched ties. “Like I said, I will tell you everything, later. Once things are more...solid.”

“As in your relationship with him, or the mission?” Eggsy asked as he set down PJ, and swatted Harry’s hand away from the tie. “You’ve got it all crooked, hang on. And is the mission to...you know?”

“Eggsy!”

“Just checking! Even if it isn’t, I mean, I can spend the night here with PJ. I’m already the ‘Prince That’s Never Seen’ to the Swedish media. Won’t be any issue if I’m not home for a day or two, and I let Tilde know it might be a few days, depending on what was going on. So, you know. If things happen...let them happen. Have some fun. Safe fun, I mean, actually, do you have-”

Harry was bright red as he snatched up the matching pocket square and his coat from his bed, and strode out of the bedroom with Eggsy and PJ on his heels.

“Oh, look at him blush! PJ, your dad is gonna have a wonderful night, isn’t he?”

PJ barked in response, wiggling as Eggsy picked him up again.

“Yes, he is, and then he’s going to tell us all about it when he gets back,” Eggsy continued, even as Harry spluttered half-protests, sighing and shaking his head as he walked out the front door.

Without any shoes on.

“Give him a minute,” Eggsy told PJ, who stared up curiously at him. “He’ll realize in one, two, three, and-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Harry spat as he stomped back inside, struggling on with his shoes before heading back out, one oxford still untied.

“That’s a lad,” Eggsy smiled. “C’mon PJ. I think you deserve your dinner, and I will order mine, and then I think a movie is in order. We’ll find something with a dog in it, just for you.”

It wasn’t long before they were settled on the couch; PJ fed and a pizza box open on the coffee table, and the closest thing Eggsy could find for ‘something with dogs’ (an episode of Planet Earth) on the TV for PJ.

Then his phone buzzed with a text alert.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Advice?

Eggsy frowned at the text from Harry. Text were strictly for non-Kingsman, and non-confidential and/or coded Kingsman business. This, however, wasn’t code for anything that he knew of.

Is one of the things the guy you’re seeing? And if so, what is the other thing?

He could hear Harry’s frustration in the reply.

No! Not exactly. He invited me over, but he knows we’d both be in trouble if anyone knew about this; no one is even supposed to know he’s alive!!

That many exclamation points signaled a show of proper emotion from Harry, whatever this was, it was deeply serious to him. But it was hard to advise when he only had not even a quarter of the story. He sent back his biggest question.

Who?????!!!!!!

For about five minutes, there was nothing, and he almost set his phone back down on the coffee table. Then:

Merlin.

“Fucking hell,” Eggsy murmured. “And how in the hell? There’s no way...somebody has to be fucking with him, which means who knows what he’s gotten himself into now.”

He sighed, and bemoaned that he had left his luggage at his hotel, rather than bringing it with. There wouldn’t be enough time to get it, change into a suit, and try and configure Harry’s location so he could get there.

Unless.

He hadn’t ever actually spent a night in Harry’s guest room, but Harry had always assured him it was supplied for him, should he and Tilde ever need a place to stay. Searching it proved just that: three suits with varying colors of ties and other accouterments for him, and three matching dresses and pants suits for Tilde, plus three tiny matching jackets that would have fit JB.

“PJ, you hold down the fort, yeah? You’re a big boy now, I think I can trust you,” Eggsy said as he finished putting in his cuff links and pulled on his jacket, watching as PJ settled down on the couch with a sigh, his grey wiry fir blending into the dark material. “I’m gonna go make sure your dad makes it home, and when we get back, we’ll have that leftover pizza. I’ll make sure he lets you have a little, promise.”

From there, he was on his own. His watch and glasses let him track Harry somewhat, but wherever he was, he was on the move. With whoever this impostor Merlin was, surely, and that was who he really wanted to track. But even if this Merlin was using any Kingsman or Statesman tech, he wasn’t registering on any of Eggsy’s gear.

He got as close as an Italian restaurant, dropped off by a non-Kingsman cab, if only so as not to arouse Harry or the faux-Merlin’s suspicions if they were near enough to see it. There, outside of it, the dot representing Harry had stopped. Or so it seemed to have, finally, though at no point had the dot gone into the restaurant, leaving him wondering where on earth the actual dinner had been, and why on earth Harry was stumbling around in the dark with the faux-Merlin.

There were a few dark alleyways just near the restaurant. A small chance to be sure, too easy if anything. But as he wandered down the first, the blip of Harry’s dot on the map superimposed over his glasses got louder and louder and-

“Jesus,” Eggsy ducked behind a bin, then peeked back out over it.

Up against a nearby wall in the alley were Harry, and what for all the world looked like Merlin, kissing hard and utterly unaware of anything else going on around them, apparently, since he hadn’t exactly been quiet as he’d ducked away.

“If I’m wrong,” Eggsy whispered to himself, then shook his head. Even if this was somehow real, Merlin had somehow survived the land mine and was safe and back, it was better to check, to interrupt and know for sure.

“Let him go,” he stood and pulled his pistol, pointing it at the possibly faux Merlin.

“I think he’d rather I didn’t,” and god it sounded like Merlin. “Harry, did you not tell him?”

“I was going to, later,” Harry hissed, and whipped around. “Put that down! What on earth are you doing?”

“Not many men could survive a land mine. Fewer still could survive it, and be repaired well enough to go into hiding afterwards. So if you really are Merlin, and if you are...know that I am sorry for all this, but I’ve got to have answers. As of right now, I have no proof you aren’t some...double, hell bent on doing God knows what with Harry-”

“Hell bent on doing something with him, that’s for sure,” Merlin murmured and giggled, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “If you’re still up for it, after we explain things and send Eggsy on home.”

Harry sighed and pushed himself away from Merlin. “Look. I-I should have just told you everything straight away. I know you, and you’re a good agent. And a good agent would have done just as you’re doing now. It’s just...I mean, this was a date!”

“Still is,” Merlin called from the wall. “This isn’t quite how I saw it going, no, and I certainly didn’t think Eggsy would be involved, but this doesn’t ruin the night or anything.”

“Oh my God,” Harry muttered, and pushed his glasses up as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Eggsy lowered his gun. “Well?”

“Tell you what,” Merlin said, striding forward. “You both come back to mine, for now. We can explain things, then Eggsy, you can go back home feeling that all is well-”

“To Harry’s, actually. I was dog sitting,” Eggsy interrupted before stowing his gun away.

“Right, back to Pickles, JR, then, knowing that all is well and Harry is safe,” Merlin continued. “And Harry, if you’d like, well...”

“I could just about die right now. And I’ve never said that about anything,” Harry sighed.

“Dramatic, outside of work, isn’t he?” Merlin snickered as he led them out of the alley and down the sidewalk. “Part of why I asked him out, you know. Nice to get to see the man under the agent again. Don’t get me wrong, I love the agent, but I liked the man first.”

“Makes sense,” Eggsy replied, giggling as Harry blushed ever more red, trailing just behind them. “So, did you two ever...before this, I mean?”

“That’s a lot of old history to be getting into,” Merlin smiled. “Maybe a bit too much for tonight, but later on, perhaps-”

“Oh my God,” Harry muttered again.

“Think I should take the overuse of that phrase as a good sign for later?” Merlin asked with a positively wicked grin.

“MERLIN!”

Eggsy and Merlin fell against each other in a fit of laughter as Harry sighed deeply yet again.

He calmed once they were in Merlin’s house though, his coat off and tossed onto the couch as if he lived there, and Eggsy half-wondered as they settled onto it.

“So. I’ll make a long story short, so you can get back to PJ, and we can get back to...other things,” Merlin said. “I did survive the mine, but barely. And I very nearly didn’t survive the jungle, because my tracker didn’t click on again to let Ginger Ale know I was still kicking until you all had already left.”

“How the hell did you survive?”

Merlin shrugged. “I shouldn’t have, Eggsy. Chalk that one up to dumb luck, perhaps. That, and Ginger Ale, or should I say now, Agent Whiskey’s fantastic medical research and work with prosthetics.”

Eggsy gestured to Merlin’s legs. “I have to admit, I was curious.”

“Amazingly built prosthetics, all thanks to Agent Whiskey. She assembled a team to get me out, get me to Kentucky, and get me healed and well again. And she would have told you and Harry both right away, but-”

“It wasn’t assured he would survive,” Harry interrupted. “And so I asked them not to say anything to you at that time. I didn’t want you to lose him twice. I figured it, rather selfishly, I admit, that it would be enough for me to lose him twice.”

“But you didn’t,” Merlin said softly, grabbing Harry’s hand. “I’m right here, not going anywhere.”

Harry only nodded, but Eggsy could see his fingers tighten around Merlin’s.

“With you still not knowing I was alive, and my continued survival not assured at that point, I was put into a sort of hiding. Kept in Kentucky, under Statesman medical care and guard. I remain under their guard now, to some degree, and not Kingsman guard because, well-” Merlin shrugged. “Kingsman is still rebuilding. We have Agent Tequila here, and Harry, and yourself as a reserve agent, but that isn’t much. And there’s concern that some of the guards I tried to take out with me are still out there, and might be looking for me.”

“Didn’t they find them all? Or all the pieces of them, I guess,” Eggsy asked.

“Enough...pieces to make up all the bodies except for two. We might have presumed they were just truly blown to smithereens, until certain messages started to arrive at various locations, specifically the rubble of the Kingsman HQ and your old home, Eggsy. Agent Whiskey was the one who suggested surveillance on those locations and a few others after I was recovered from the field, and thank goodness she did. We might never have seen them until it was too late, otherwise.”

“Too late?”

“Attacks,” Harry said. “On Statesman HQ, specifically trying to get to the medical ward. One got damned close too. No identifiable information on them, except that everything done to erase their identity was similar to what Poppy had done to her cronies. Erased fingerprints, filed down teeth, all that. But since we know Poppy is dead, that tells us nothing. And the henchman that we thought died when the land mine went off weren’t identifiable either, not even the pieces of the dead ones. So figuring out who the live ones are, if they are alive, and where they are...”

“Damn near impossible, until another attack, which hasn’t happened because you’ve been kept under guard here. And that’s why no one was supposed to know you’re alive,” Eggsy finished.

“And why this,” Harry sighed, picking up Merlin’s hand and kissing it, “is so very risky. If anything happened as a result of me, I swear-”

“I know, and I’m willing to take the risk,” Merlin interrupted. “Anyone would for someone they love. Eggsy would for Tilde, essentially does being married while being an agent, right Eggsy?”

Eggsy nodded. “Harry. You shouldn’t deny yourself this, happiness, just because of the risk. There’s always going to be something, you know? Life just isn’t that easy, that safe...especially for us. Tilde and I, we know the risk, and we both accept it to be together. If you and Merlin feel the same...why not go for it?”

The look Harry was giving Merlin gave Eggsy his out. “And, that said, I think maybe my portion of the evening is complete, and the portion with you two is uh...yeah. I’m gonna head out, go back and let PJ have the bit of pizza I promised him, and then turn in for the night, and you two aren’t even paying attention to a word I’m saying right now.”

They certainly didn’t seem to be, again concerned only with each other and kissing and the fussing about with Harry’s tie, which was plenty for Eggsy to see.

“I mean good for ‘em, you know?” he told PJ as they snuggled on the couch, his suit hung back up in the guest room of Harry’s house, the pizza warmed up for a late night/early morning snack. “But...bit like watching your parents snog, you know? Like, they’re adults, consenting and all that and isn’t like that...urge disappears as you age, I just. It was time for me to not see anymore. You get it, right, PJ?”

PJ whimpered, and snuggled in closer. He was laid out on Eggsy’s chest, and very nearly had his cold nose poking Eggsy’s chin as he moved closer and closer.

“Aw. You just miss your dad, don’t you? Well, never fear, he’ll be home in the morning. Er, later morning, considering the time. Dads have to have their fun too, and in the meantime you’ve got me!”

Eggsy flicked off the TV and closed his eyes, listening to PJ’s soft breathing as he finally fell asleep.

And then his watch buzzed on his wrist.

He carefully moved his arm, to not disturb PJ, and looked at the alert.

ALL KINGSMAN AND STATESMAN AGENTS, REPORT TO NEAREST HQ LOCATION IMMEDIATELY. AGENT COMPROMISATION HAS OCCURRED.

#text post #LeeH writes #kingsman fic #harry hart x merlin #not sure what else to tag rn #so lemme know if y'all want others added!#I'll figure out the tagging as I write the next part of this and the other fics I have in mind lol #eggsy is here too of course #like there's gonna be multiple plot threads of Harry and Merlin and stuff with Eggsy going on plus major Spy Problems #so I'll add tags in as we add in more threads lol

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