#so strange to see him in black and blue

[mgu-h]

LandoLOG 005: The Bahrain Test

[stealingyourbones]

Every day i read a post where people write that “Bruce Wayne has an adoption problem” or that Danny is adoption bait on the first second of seeing him, not even knowing if he has a want of vengeance and a sad backstory and parallels to Bruce, and every day I want to softly cry in a corner.

[milkymars]

Everything we know about Bill Cipher's past so far

His home was called Euclydia and it was entirely two dimensional. ("Flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams.")

Bill was unique among his people because he had a mutation that allowed him to see the third dimension. This can mean that either a) Euclideans don't have eyes and Bill is the only one who had one or b) if they did have eyes, he literally had a third eye.

Bill's parents were most likely named Scalene and Euclid. Entering either of their names into the computer gives the prompt LIFE FORM NOT FOUND. Bill is stated to only draw red and blue triangles in art therapy, so those were probably their appearances.

From the code JUSTFITIN, you get this colour-coded poem:

Rock a bye billy Please don’t you cry It’s not your fault You have that strange eye Stay safe with mommy You’ll never fall And we’ll always love you Sharp angles and all

Bill says that everyone in Euclydia loved him. However, it's more likely that he was feared because of his mutation and talk of a third dimension. Bill has said numerous times that love and fear are the same, and if you enter WELLWELLWELLBEING into the computer:

Bill's parents took him to a doctor to help suppress his vision of the third dimension. This has been discovered through the codes on the silly straw page:

Fussy eater, baby Billy / Wouldn't drink unless it's silly The doctor says three sips a day / Will make the visions go away Eye doctor of a different kind / Who wants to make his patient blind Twisted out of shape after the kill / The ghosts of his family are haunting him still

Bill is responsible for the Euclidean massacre. Reversed audio on the website says that "the sky is on fire", and when Bill talks about liberating his dimension, his eye shows a fiery landscape too. Though he claims to have liberated them both in Weirdmageddon and the transmission with Time Baby, he is regretful and misses home. If you type in EVENHISLIESARELIES, you get a transcript of one of his sessions in the theraprism.

And from the axolotl's poem in Curse of the Time Pirate's Treasure:

When he tells Ford about his home dimension, he says that it was destroyed by a monster. And when Ford says that he could seek out the monster and get revenge on it, Bill replies: "Sixer, it would eat you alive." Bill also says that if he tries to talk about the day Euclydia was destroyed, there's a loud buzzing in his ears and he blacks out for 30 seconds. Still, he tells others that he freed everyone and that they are grateful for it. Until he gets drunk and starts calling out for his mom, asking her where she went...

[nottsangel]

sweet relief — t.n.

pairing: best friend!theodore nott x toxic!reader

warnings: smut 18+, modern au, unprotected vaginal sex, fingering, creampie, oral sex (m. receiving), praise, toxic and obsessive behaviour, mentions of threats, mentions of taking/using explicit photos

word count: 4.7k

summary: best friends is all you and theodore were, but the jealousy of seeing him with someone else was suffocating, driving you to take matters into your own hands.

♪ madison beer — sweet relief. moodboard. nav. more.

“Theo?” you softly called out to your best friend, who was too fixated on his phone, grinning uncontrollably at the bright screen as he quickly typed away. Fresh from Quidditch practice, his brown tousled locks looked even darker than usual, still damp from the shower he took, and his handsome face flushed from the warmth. You studied every single detail of his face, from his ocean-blue eyes to his soft, pink lips. 

Lost in admiration, you nibbled on your bottom lip, picking at your nails as he simply hummed in response, not even glancing up from his phone. Normally, you’d get annoyed, moping about how he didn’t pay enough attention to you, but before you even could, your eyes were then drawn from his face to his quick fingers—swiftly moving over the glowing screen—leaving you with a strange, unexplainable feeling. 

You caught yourself fantasising about filthy thoughts that made you feel a rush of shame, but still, you couldn’t help it. It was hard not to imagine how your best friend’s long, deft fingers would feel deep inside of you as they— 

“Alright.” Theo abruptly mumbled, causing you to flinch, snapping you out of your trance before your thoughts could wander further. He locked his black, metal phone and quickly stuffed it into his pocket as he rose to his feet, your eyes intently following his every movement, frustration clear on your face.

“I’ve—” “gotta go, yeah.” you finished his sentence, a hint of disappointment evident in your voice, yet he couldn’t help but grin at your pouty expression, only finding your clingy behaviour endearing. He stepped closer, gripping your jaw affectionately and tilting your head up until your eyes met his, the innocent, doe-like gaze you gave him made him weak in the knees.

“We can hang out later if you want, alright? Just text me, bella. I’ll make time for you.” he murmured in a soothing tone, unconsciously causing a small smile to tug at your lips and your furrowed brows to soften, eventually nodding in agreement. 

“Good girl.” He nonchalantly gave you a quick wink that made your stomach flip as he gently rubbed his thumb over your warm cheek, and you so desperately wanted to keep him close to you, his absence weighing heavy on you each time, yet, you watched him leave the room, making you wonder what he was up to.

But you had your suspicions about where he could be. It wasn’t a secret that he was a player, just like all his friends, with some different girl in his room almost daily. And fuck, it drove you crazy. The thought of him being with someone else filled you with heartache. It was difficult for you. He was yours. 

A few hours passed of you aimlessly scrolling on your phone in the common room, but you already missed his comfortable presence around you. His warmth, the subtle touches, and his charming Italian accent that never failed to make your heart skip a beat— you needed him close to you again, so you opened your messages.

You : Are you free? I’m bored! :( 

Teddy 🧸 : Busy. 

Yup. That was all the confirmation you needed. The short, cryptic text said it all— he was with a girl right now. Fuck fuck fuck. Your relaxed, bored state instantly shifted into rage as sheer jealousy rushed through your entire body, causing you to unconsciously clench your jaw and ball your fists.

It honestly baffled you how girls still dared to come near him, especially considering how many of them you’d already threatened. Yes, threatened. It was no secret among your fellow female students that you were crazy possessive over Theodore— you’d go to great lengths to keep them away from him. He was yours, for fuck’s sake, and you’d do anything to keep it that way. 

Take last week, for instance, when you subtly slipped a menacing note in a girl’s bag after seeing leave Theo’s dorm the night before, sternly warning her that if she ever dared to come near him again, she would deeply regret it. 

Or the week before that, when you somehow got a hold of nudes—through Lorenzo, of course—of a girl who had been hooking up with Theo, essentially blackmailing her with them. Don’t worry, you weren’t going to spread the nudes anyway— no, you weren’t that cruel. And you knew it didn’t even have to get that far because they always seemed to back off instantly, leaving you satisfied and happy. 

And those weren’t the only times you threatened or intimidated girls that have slept with Theo, and it most likely won’t be the last either if he keeps sleeping around like that. Dickhead.

And although you explicitly told every single girl not to mention it to Theo whenever you ‘warned’ them, you were certain he had gotten wind of it somehow, considering how fast news spreads in hogwarts. But surprisingly, he had never confronted you with it, still treating you the same way like he always did. You didn’t know why or how, but you also didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was protecting your friendship with him. 

You quickly rose to your feet, your hand gripping your phone so tightly, it was a wonder it didn’t shatter in a million pieces by the force you were holding it before hurriedly making your way to the Slytherin dorms, your heartbeat rising with each determined step bringing you closer to Theo’s room. 

With your head held high and tension furrowing your brows, you strode through the chilly hallways, the cold air forming goosebumps on your exposed arms and legs, but you didn’t even seem to notice as you stomped your feet forward, your resolute steps echoing as you neared his door. 

When you finally stood in front of it, your hand reluctantly reached for the handle, but you hesitated, pausing for a moment before eventually pulling back. Instead of opening the door right away, you pressed your ear carefully against the wood, trying to catch any sounds coming from inside his dorm room.

As you closely focused on listening, a group of younger students caught your attention, slowing their pace as they noticed you with your ear pressed against a male student’s dorm room door, their puzzled stares lingering on you.

“What are you looking at? Go!” you whisper-yelled in an urgent and stern tone, dismissively waving your hand in the air as they snap out of their trances and quickly rush off, a smug smile forming on your lips at how easily they obeyed. 

Letting out a sigh, you pressed your ear to the door again, your eyes narrowing in concentration as you were holding the doorframe for leverage. Your grip gradually tightened as the sounds from inside grew clearer— loud, high-pitched moans, and a string of ‘Fuck, theo!’s resonated through the wooden door, and you were fighting the urge to punch a hole right through it, but instead your hand drifted down to the door handle.

Without thinking, you pulled it down, and your eyes widened in shock when you realised he hadn’t even bothered to lock it. You impulsively swung the door open without a second though, your heart pounding in your throat as a sudden scream filled the air.

The scene in front of you made your blood boil. A blonde girl—one you recognised from shared classes—frantically grabbed the white sheets to cover her completely naked body while Theo was hovering above her, his eyes locking with yours, yet surprisingly, he didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. 

Your eyes were irresistibly drawn to Theo’s throbbing erection, widening in shock when you realised he was bigger than you ever imagined, desire twisting in your stomach. But you were quickly snapped back to reality by the girl’s shrill, grating voice, pulling you out of the daze.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” She screamed, her baby blue eyes narrowing in anger, her tousled blonde locks framing her flushed face and her chest heaving rapidly beneath the sheets. Oh, this fucking bitch.

“Teddy, I’m���I’m so sorry but do you have my dress in your closet? You know, the red one? I just really need it right now…” You lied, biting your lip with your brows furrowed, putting on your best act. A small chuckle escaped his lips, amazed by your terrible timing, yet still finding it adorable, his relaxed demeanour only infuriating her more. 

“Yeah, sure. Hang on a second.” The girl scoffed, glaring at Theo, and you could practically see steam coming out of her ears— but Theo didn’t even acknowledge her, his eyes fixed on you as he flashed you a warm smile that made your face heat up.

“Seriously?! You’re helping her? Now?” Theo simply ignored her, quickly pulling on his boxers as he nonchalantly walked to his closet, his back turned to both you and the girl. For the first time, your eyes locked with her blue ones, and you flashed her a mocking, sly grin. The sweet, innocent facade you put on instantly faded, shifting into one of triumph.

“Here you go, amore.” Theo’s stunning eyes met yours, offering a sweet, sympathetic smile as he handed you the dress, his hand brushing against yours and it felt like time stood still for a moment, gazing up at him through your eyelashes with sparkling eyes until—

“She’s being fucking annoying, can’t you see that?” Lost in Theo’s eyes, you nearly forgot she was in the room as well as she scoffed once more, shaking her head with a sneer, her lip curling and her brows furrowed, “This bitch is doing this on pur—” 

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that, you hear me?” Theo suddenly spat, taking quick steps towards her, pointing a threatening finger right into her shocked face.

His demeanour shifted in mere seconds. It even shocked you for a moment— it wasn’t a side of Theo you’d seen before, at least not with girls. He always stood up for you when guys mistreated you, but this… This was different, and ohhh, it made your heart swell. The way fear flashing in her eyes sent a thrilling rush of warmth and affection through you.

“But… Teddy—” Teddy. That was your nickname for Theo. By now, your fists were gripping the dress so tightly that your sharp nails had punctured the delicate fabric, your jaw clenched in sheer anger, barely holding back the rage simmering beneath the surface. Still, you fought to maintain the facade of the sweet, oblivious girl. 

“Get out.” Theo ordered in a low, stern tone, a tiny, mischievous smile tugging at one of the corners of your mouth as you watched the scene unfold in front of you with great satisfaction. The girl’s eyes darted from Theo to you and back to him in utter disbelief. 

“Are you fucking serious? You’re gonna kick me—” 

“I said… get the fuck out.” Theo repeated himself, and you could tell each emphasised, stinging word hit the girl like a slap to the face as she briefly stared at him before hastily putting on her clothes. She quickly left the room, her shoulder deliberately bumping into yours followed by aggressively slamming the door behind her. 

Theo then turned to you, his fierce expression instantly softening as he approached you and brushed his thumb over your heated cheek, causing your head to slyly turn away. It worked. He actually fell for it.

“Sorry about that, cara mia. Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, she was just… so mean. I—” Theo let out a light chuckle, clearly amused by you. He shook his head in disbelief, his eyes momentarily leaving yours before landing back on your face, his gaze darting from your left eye to your right eye and down to your lips, causing you to squint. Is he doing the fucking triangle metho— 

“You can drop the act, bella.” He growled, his voice deeper and darker now. You tried to focus, to regain your composure, but you felt lightheaded, your breathing shaky and weak as he stood before you in merely his tight boxers, the outline of his semi-hard cock visible through the thin fabric and his body from years of Quidditch muscular and sculpted. 

When you realised that you were staring, you then quickly looked up at him with a faux puzzled expression, your head slightly tilted and your eyes widened in surprise. 

“What? You think I didn’t know?”

“I—, uh, I don’t know what—” you stammered, trying to lie your way out of this mess you were in, but it was no use. 

“Oh come on, baby. I’m a bit offended that you think I’m that dumb.” He taunted, and you felt your heart drop. He knew. 

“You think I don’t know about you threatening all these girls? Huh? You’re so adorable.” You blinked rapidly, unsure if you’d heard him right. You had been convinced that if he ever found out what you’d been doing behind his back, it would be the end of your friendship. For good.

“Listen, alright? I just— I didn’t have a fucking choice! All these girls were all over you, trying to steal you from me… from me! They had no fucking respect for us and—“ You frantically spewed out words a thousand miles a minute, desperate to defend yourself, but you were abruptly cut off when he reached behind your thighs and lifted you up, drawing a surprised squeal from your lips. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his bare upper body as he carried you and pressed your back firmly against the cold stone wall. 

You felt his steady heartbeat against your body from how close he was to you, and you were certain he could hear your own heart pounding out of your chest as his fingers dug into the skin of your thighs. This was the closest you two have ever been, and it left you breathless.

“Is this what you wanted all this time, tesoro? For me to fuck you like I fuck all these others girls?”

It was.

He drew his head nearer to yours until his soft lips were merely inches from your ear, his warm breath on your heated skin sending electric shivers down your spine.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you even better.”

Before you could even react, he walked you over to his bed and tossed you onto it, your body bouncing slightly from the impact. Without hesitation, you spread your legs, inviting him in, and he immediately climbed on top of you, his towering frame completely covering your entire body as his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head, his crotch pressed against your throbbing core.

Your panties were absolutely drenched as your breath hitched, his hips grinding in slow, deliberate movements against yours, and god, you were floating on cloud nine, desperately trying to savour every intoxicating second of this moment. His hand found your jaw, fingers gliding sensually up your soft skin before tilting your head to the side to expose your neck.

Instantly, he latched his lips onto your flesh, sloppily sucking dark love bites that made your heart race. You gasped at the sensation of him biting, nipping, and kissing your sensitive sweet spots, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your eyes gradually fluttered shut, arms wrapping tightly around his neck— but then, an uncontrollable sound of disgust escaped you as your nose pressed into his satin sheets, pulling you sharply out of the heated moment.

“What’s wrong, amore?”

“It just— it smells like… her.” Theo couldn’t help but laugh, slowly pulling back from your neck, clearly amused by your endearing yet possessive behaviour, his lips quirking into a playful grin.

He bit his lip as he intently stared at your annoyed expression, his face merely inches away from you, a combination of his aromatic cologne and smoky cigarettes flooding your senses. The scent was so distinctively him, causing you to take another subtle sniff.

“Let me distract you.”

His soft lips were suddenly pressed against yours, completely catching you off guard as your eyes momentarily widened, but you gradually melted into the heated kiss, your hand slowly trailing up his toned, bare back before landing on the back of his head, desperately pulling him closer. You felt blood rush to your core as your tongues danced against each other so effortlessly and so perfectly, your fingers running through his dishevelled, brown locks as he gently tilted his head, deepening the kiss further.

At the same time, his firm hand wandered down your body, fingers gliding over your silken skin until they reached your clothed core, his hand pressing against one of your inner thighs to spread your legs further apart. Teasingly, he toyed with the elastic waistband of your skirt for a moment, eliciting a frustrated, impatient groan from you before finally sliding it off, carelessly tossing it to the ground. 

His roaming hand then found its way back between your legs, gently rubbing your aching cunt over your soaked panties, a teasing, devilish smirk playing on his lips that you could feel through the passionate kiss before he slowly pulled back, leaving you breathless.

“This wet already? You know you could’ve just asked me to fuck you, tesoro. No need to threaten all those poor girls.”

“Yeah… right.” You scoffed, finding it hard to believe as your eyes briefly flickered away from his, a wave of scepticism washing over you.

With intense eyes locked onto yours, he slid your lace panties down, mindlessly tossing them to the floor as well before peeling away the rest of clothing, leaving you fully naked under him, surrounded by a chaotic pile of fabric on the wooden floor.

He paused for a moment to admire your breathtaking figure, eyes hungrily scanning every inch of your body, from your dripping cunt to your tits and hardened nipples. He bit his lip as he felt his painfully hard erection pressing against the thin fabric of his boxers, forming a damp patch of precum.

“Oh, c’mon bella.”

Theo’s fingers hovered tantalisingly over your core, causing you to instinctively buck your hips upwards, desperately craving to feel them inside of you as he crawled on top of you again, piercing, lust-filled eyes staring right into your soul.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

Oh, fuck. He slowly pushed his long fingers into your dripping cunt—two at a time—stretching you until he was knuckles deep inside of you, causing you to arch your back at the overwhelming sensation, your lips parting in ecstasy. The tips of his digits found your g-spot in no time, swiftly rubbing against the spongy surface as you desperately gripped his flexed arm, your sharp nails digging into the skin.

“Every time I was fucking one of those girls, I closed my eyes and imagined it being you, cara mia.”

His words rushed straight to your core, causing you to clench tightly around his fast fingers as every muscle in your body tightened in response. He couldn’t help but smirk at the instant reaction, only egging him on to increase his pace. His fingers curled up so perfectly, pumping in and out of your dripping cunt with slick, wet sounds along with your breathy moans echoing through his dorm room.

You were so close to the edge, the intense pleasure building as his fingers quickened their pace, until he suddenly came to a halt and pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“Theo! What the f—”

“Ah, ah, ah; don’t whine. I need to feel you cum around my cock, alright?” He growled, his voice dripping with raw lust at just the thought of you wrapped around his cock. In one swift motion, he quickly removed his boxers, his throbbing cock springing free against his stomach, the tip slick with glistening precum as you nearly drooled at the sight. 

He pressed his strong palms against your inner thighs, spreading your legs wide as he positioned himself in front of you, but you unexpectedly stopped him, making him raise a curious brow.

“Wait… just— uhm… let me suck your dick first… please?” you begged, your voice laced with desperation as his surprised eyes shifted into dark, lustful ones. He immediately beckoned for you to move in front of him as he leaned back on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, his hands casually tucked behind his head.

“Well… you don’t have to ask me twice, pretty girl.”

Finally. It felt like a dream come true. You positioned yourself on your knees in front of him, your eyes intensely fixated on his huge, pulsating cock, practically begging for you to suck it. You slowly drew nearer, teasing him as he felt your warm breath ghosting over his sensitive skin, his hips impatiently bucking up in response. 

With one hand wrapped firmly around the base and the other resting on his flexed thigh, you began to give it gentle, playful kitten licks, your tongue flicking delicately against the tip, earning a low hiss from Theo as you tasted the salty precum. It didn’t take long before you took him fully into your mouth, slowly moving down until your lips made contact with his balls and the tip touched the back of your throat. One of his hands unconsciously travelled to your head, fingers tangling in your hair. 

“Oh, fuck, baby. Just like that.” Theo praised, a deep sense of pride swelling in your chest as you lightly gagged on his length before pulling your head back up. Your tongue swirled over the most sensitive parts of the tip as you retracted, a combination of drool and precum coating your swollen lips, trickling down onto his balls.

“Give me your phone, please.” you suddenly asked, catching Theo off guard. He tilted his head in confusion, yet without further questions, reached for it from his nightstand and handed it over to you with a hint of curiosity.

“My password is—”

“Yeah, I know.”

You mindlessly unlocked his phone, his lips parting to speak, but before he could utter a word, you had already wrapped your lips around his pulsating cock once more, causing him to throw his head back in pleasurable surprise. As you swiped across the screen, you finally found the camera app and held the phone up high in the air, angling it towards your face while simultaneously bobbing your head up and down, eyes staring directly into the camera lens.

“Oh, shit. You’re— you’re fuckin’ crazy, cazzo.” he let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, his voice thick with both admiration and raw desire, staring down at you through half-lidded eyes and a cheeky, lopsided smirk dancing on his lips.

Snap. Snap. Snap. You took several pictures from different angles, your mouth stuffed full with Theo’s cock as he now held your hair back in a ponytail, guiding your head up and down his erection, making you gag each time it hit the back of your throat. You quickly locked his phone again and tossed it aside, your focus snapping back to his cock as you immediately increased your pace, causing Theo to grip your hair tighter, desperately trying to stop you.

“Ah, ah, careful… you’re gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.” he warned, insinuating that he wasn’t ready to finish just yet. You slowly pulled away, giving him a teasing smile, your lips slick and swollen.

“C’mere.” he growled, taking your hand and dragging you effortlessly on top of him, his wandering hands trailing possessively over your back to your ass, before he flipped you over in one swift motion with Theo ending on top of you, a predatory grin plastered across his face.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he taunted, a lustful gleam sparkling in his eyes with his aching erection pressed against your thigh. His warm breath ghosted over your skin as his lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers racing down your spine.

“Listen… I will fuck you until you’re dripping with my cum. Until you’re screaming my name. Until you can’t fuckin’ walk anymore.” His words gave you chills all over your body as your arousal began to trickle down your thighs, leaving a messy trail over your legs.

“‘Cause that’s what you wanted all this time, isn’t it?” Theo moved back and pumped his cock a few times, his impatience evident in every motion. He positioned himself between your legs and finally pushed into you, his arms caging you under him as he hissed at the feeling of you wrapped around his cock. He gave you a moment to let you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried balls deep inside of you. 

Him, inside you, felt so intoxicating, better than anything you could’ve ever imagined, both of you consumed by tremendous levels of passion and lust. He started slow, dragging out each deep thrust, making you feel every inch of him as he stretched you completely, massaging your inner walls so perfectly.

“Baby… you look so beautiful like this… So fucking sexy.” he managed to mutter in between ragged breaths, making you moan loudly as he gradually increased his pace, relentlessly pounding into you now. 

“My. Favourite. Girl.” he praised, each word punctuated by deep thrusts as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss, moaning into your mouth. And you— god, you felt better than he ever imagined, so tight and warm, perfectly wrapped around him, as if you were made for him. 

“So fucking big, oh my god” you moaned breathlessly, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him closer until your sweaty bodies were pressed together. 

You hooked your legs around his muscular torso, giving him an angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot over and over. Theo clutched the sheets, his knuckles turning white with his head buried in the crook of your neck, desperately trying to hold back, to not cum too soon— but fuck, you felt incredible, squeezing him so perfectly. 

“Yes, yes, yes, right there!” you cried out, your voice shaking from pleasure and your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure bliss.

“Taking my cock so well, amore, fuck” he growled, his voice deep and strained and his pace brutal, causing you to cling onto his broad shoulders, nails digging deep into his skin. His lips moved frantically across your neck, planting wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin as his hand crept to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit all while still maintaining his brutal pace.

“Theo, oh- oh my fucking god, I’m almost—” 

“Let go for me, baby.” he whispered huskily into your ear as his fingers worked faster. It didn’t take long before he pushed you over the edge, causing you to arch your back and moan his name over and over again, your nails dragging down the length of his back, leaving red trails all over his skin.

“Atta girl. Doin’ so good for me.” He groaned through gritted teeth as his thrusts grew sloppier, less controlled. He breathlessly moaned your name so beautifully as his orgasm hit him, emptying himself inside you and filling you to the brim with his cum. He slowed his movements, gently riding out both of your highs, before carefully pulling out and collapsing next to you, his arm wrapping around you, both your breathing ragged and uneven.

You sluggishly grabbed his phone from the nightstand again, unlocking it with determined fingers, your chest heaving up and down as you scrolled through his messages. The screen lit up with dozens of texts— girls asking to hook up, sending him nudes. The anger you’d felt before instantly surged back, tightening in your chest. 

“What are you doing?” Theo questioned, his eyes narrowing as he followed the movements of your fingers across the bright screen, a puzzled expression on his face. 

“Making sure none of these girls ever talk to you again.” You smirked with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you scrolled through each chat, sending the pictures from earlier to every single girl in his phone. A self-satisfied, smug grin stretched across your lips as you watched the messages go through, one by one. 

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?” Theo chuckled, shaking his head in both disbelief and amusement, yet clearly turned on by your boldness. 

“That's why you’re my favourite.”

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

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[somnoir]

Little star's favorite

It all started when Talia came to Gotham with a gift.

The gift in question was a twelve year old boy.

Bruce stared at the boy who was almost the exact replica of Damian if not for the blue eyes and longer hair. He looked utterly perplexed at the sight of Bruce, tilting his head before frowning at his mother with a visibly displeased look.

"Beloved, may I introduce you to Danyal, our Damian's twin brother. He was... Away... On a mission until recently." Talia hummed, a hand on Danyal's back.

"You... You didn't think to tell me about him when you told me about Damian?" Shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked down at the boy who looked a little more like him than Talia and felt himself softening. "Hello Danyal."

"Hello."

Talia smiled, before her expression fell. "A little warning, beloved. The twins do not get along. Damian is quite the competitive child and Danyal... Well, he's the nicer one if I must say." She shrugged, running her fingers through her son's hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Go on now, Najmi As-Sagheer (my little star)."

"Ummi... Must I join them? I am perfectly fine with remaining in the league." Danyal muttered, eye twitching but his expression was quickly schooled into neutrality.

"Yes, Danyal." She sighed, "I have no intention of letting father keep you."

Bruce raised a brow at her words.

"That is a conversation for another time, habibi." Talia lazily insisted, gently pushing Danyal towards Bruce.

Bruce, for all he's lived, immediately recognized a feral cat in the form a child. Yep. Another Damian. That was seemingly the nicer one.

But he was scruffy little thing who was being called little star by his mother. Bruce blinked, offering his hand to Danyal (like how a person would do by letting a cat sniff his hand to see if they were safe).

Danyal, more twitchy and annoyed than his brother, looked at the hand like it had personally offended him.

And that is how Batman brought home another child while holding him by the scruff.

(Danny hated everyone except for Alfred—both cat and butler)

Danyal was a much quieter person compared to Damian. Unlike his brother who had practically came into their lives guns blazing and declaring that he was the rightful heir to the bat, Danyal mainly ignored them. He would glare, snarl, and scowl, but not in the way Damian did. The kid was obviously threatened by them, but more for his own safety rather than inheritance.

He avoided them like the plague, only welcoming the company of Alfred and occasionally Cass.

He didn't join in on the vigilante business, opting to stay back with Oracle and just quietly direct them on their missions. It was strange in all honesty.

They didn't know much about Danyal, aside from the fact that his mother called him little star for his natural love of space. That he liked to tinker with gadgets and make his own weapons. That he really liked fudge.

Aside from that, the kid was quiet and was usually hiding out in his room.

Tim wasn't particularly thrilled to have another demon brat in the family. He avoided Danyal as much as possible expecting for the boy to be just like his brother and attack him.

But apparently not.

It's one of those unfortunate times that Tim's sleep deprivation and overload on energy drinks gets him benched by Alfred and not Bruce. No one particularly wanted to argue with their beloved butler/grandpa so Tim was stuck in place. It was a much quieter night than usual, almost peaceful (as much as Gotham can get).

Babs was relieved of her duties to have a night off, rest and relax and such, while Tim manned the bat computer in Oracle's place. He almost didn't notice the mop of black hair that suddenly appeared beside him.

Tim didn't want to admit it, but he flinched at Danyal's presence and how he was quietly standing there with a tray of coffee and cookies. Blue eyes blinked at him, silently pushing the tray forward to offer Tim the lone cup (most likely for him) and the plate of cookies.

Suspicious, Tim narrowed his eyes. "Alfred wouldn't make me coffee after benching me for this kind of thing."

Danyal shrugged, "Made it myself. Thought you'd need it since the others will be gone for a while."

"That's poisoned."

"It's not." Danyal frowned, immediately taking the cup and taking a couple sips himself before once again offering it to Tim.

Now, Tim wasn't stupid enough to ignore the possibility of Danyal having some tolerance to poison. But Tim was also tolerant to a lot of poisons so might as well.

When taking one sip, he was already feeling weird. One, there was no poison. Two, it was actually pretty good.

Danyal just sat there and stared at the screen, munching on cookies and pointing at the screen whenever Robin started to stray from the patrol route. Tim had a lot of fun reportingtattling to Bruce about it.

Eventually, it became a routine.

Danyal always sat beside Tim. Quiet and just offering random stuff, either food, some little gadget he made, or just the most bizarre stuff he found while at school.

Tim learned many things about his weird little brother. How cameras go crazy around him. How he had his reasons for not being touched. How Danyal was more silent than Cass. How Danyal vanished and reappeared at times.

(The glowing green eyes were the most concerning.)

He never really took notice of how Danyal started to gravitate to him. Always with him, barely without.

(Tim refused to admit that he was just the same.)

"Can I go on patrol with you?" Danyal asked, tugging at his Red Robin suit with a curious look. "I wanna meet Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn."

And Tim didn't really see much of a problem with that. Danyal was a highly trained assassin that Ra's apparently trusted to go on a solo mission while Damian had to be whisked away from the league. It wasn't too absurd for Tim to just shrug and let his kid brother tag along.

He was also very sure that his baby brother was an eldritch being with how the shadows seemed to rise around him. Yeah, the baby was a cryptid amongst a family of supposed cryptids. Very fitting.

It's a nice night. With Danny running amok with Tim, clearly having fun. But that one looks of sadness didn't escape Tim when Danny paused and looked to the sky with longing.

Tim remembers how Danny rambled about the stars in their shared moments, where it's just them.

Tim remembers how Danny would describe the sky in Nanda Parbar and how he often snuck out just to see it.

Tim remembers how much his little brother likes space and turns to the cloudy sky of Gotham that hides the stars.

Tim remembers how he was often depraved of the brotherly love he wanted. How he didn't get the full experience of having an older brother.

"You okay, little star?"

Danyal snapped his head towards Tim, eyes blown wide and flashing green (he knows that wasn't normal but he ignores that in favor to the way Danyal visibly softens at the nickname).

"'m okay, akhi." Danyal muttered, following after Tim after adjusting his own hood.

And it's like his heart stops.

Yep.

Tim has had Danyal for barely a year and he was willing to throw hands with Ra's, Talia, and Bruce for him.

"C'mon, qalbi(my heart). Batburger's still open."

He barely noticed the shift after that. But others think it's a glaring change that often made them stop and stare.

Danyal went to Tim whenever he needed anything.

If Danyal wasn't in bed, you'd find him snuggled up to Tim.

Danyal hated it when people touched him... Except for Tim.

Danyal liked Tim the most.

The day Dick thought it was a good idea to call Danyal 'Danny' (a nickname that was only used by Tim and Alfred), he almost got stabbed. Well, that's where all the stabbiness went to.

Safe to say, Tim was Danny's favorite.

And Danny was Tim's.

"Drake! What have you done to my brother?!" Damian pointed a katana at Tim, who lazily glanced his way before turning back to Danny who was comfortably snuggled up to him and watching Blue while Tim scrolled on Tiktok.

"I haven't done anything to Danny, demon brat. Now shoo!" Tim's irritation could be heard from a mile away, shamelessly shooing Damian away with a flick of his wrist. Then the next second, he was combing his fingers through Danny's hair and listening to his younger brother make a purring noise.

(Another point of investigation because that is not fucking normal, Tim. Cute though!)

"I refuse to believe that Danyal would prefer you over me!"

"You're just salty that he stabs you like you stab me." Tim waved him off again, watching as Danny yawned and continued to ignore everyone else.

The click of a camera immediately alerts him and he's tugging Danny down before the much younger boy lunges at Dick.

"Woah! What's up with him?" Dick nervously asked, instinctively raising his phone above his head.

"Delete that!" Tim snarled, pulling Danny closer and guiding his brothers face to his shoulder. "You know he hates it when people take pictures without consent!"

(Tim doesn't tell them that something goes every wrong with the footage if Danny was ever in the picture.)

"Dick." Tim warned, effortlessly picking up Danny, because yes, his seemingly cryptid baby brother could become weightless, and snatched Dick's phone. Yep. Instead of Danny, there was a very strange figure, a glitching silhouette of black and green. He deletes it immediately.

Dick was pouring, "I don't have any pics of Danny—"

"Don't call me that, Richard." Danny scowled, clinging to Tim like a koala. He was strangely more child-like than Damian, muttering about annoying people who interrupted bonding time. (Dick was just forced to pout.)

"Danyal." Damian crossed his arms, scowling at Danny who was still comfortably cuddled up to Tim. "It is not appropriate to cling to Drake in such a way! You will embarrass our mother and father if you are seen acting like a petulant child!"

Tim wanted to argue that no, he wouldn't embarrass Talia and Bruce by being a kid, but Danny just grabbed a cookie from nowhere (note to self, add possible teleportation powers to cryptid baby) and shoved it into his mouth.

Danny just yawned, fixing Damian with a lazy glare.

"Tuhali, can you shut up?"

Damian stood stock still, while Jason and Bruce choked on their own spit. Jason slapping a hand over his mouth and Bruce just staring at his twins like the apocalypse was about to return.

"What did you just call me?"

Danny yawne again, "My spleen."

Tim knew what Tuhali meant. Of course he fucking knew Arabic! But to think that his cryptid baby brother was straight up calling Damian his spleen?

The spleen that Tim doesn't have.

The spleen that's important to the immune system but you can survive without it?

Tim grinned, grabbing his cryptid baby and made a run for it.

Yep.

Danny was definitely his favorite.

Credits to: @strangergraphics for the dividers used.

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny adopts himself

It's a common joke in Gotham that Bruce Wayne will adopt any black-haired and blue-eyed traumatized boy he finds. So much so that even he leans into it. But he was completely shocked when Damian confronts him about having a new brother that he did not want.

Bruce could barely get a word in when the rest of the family arrived upset that they weren't told about getting another sibling after Damian texted the family group chat (for once).

Damian had encountered a boy around Drake's age moving stuff into what was an empty room. The room was now furnished top to bottom with glowing green lights, tapestries of stars, random artifacts, several telescopes, and model rockets.

He knew the moment he saw the black hair and blue eyes that his father had taken in another ward.

Apparently Bruce was the last the know about his new "son" who was currently rearranging furniture and asking to help Alfred with dinner.

Said dinner was an uncomfortable as Bruce was grilled by his kids on his addiction to adoption. Simultaneously they tried to get to know the new addition to the family.

It was easy to see that Damian didn't like Danny but it was equally easy to see that Danny could cow the boy like a border collie on a lamb. When Damian thew a dagger the teen caught it with one hand as it passed his face and then slid it across the table back to Damian.

"Try again. " Danny said "And this time don't aim to miss on purpose. If you want me dead you need to do better."

Damian put the knife away and huffed.

Tim and Danny hit it off almost instantly. The way they were able to bounce their thoughts back and forth made Tim believe that he found an equal.

Danny was able to understand Cassie immediately with just look in eachothers eyes like he was reading her mind but not in a creepy way.

Jason of course noticed the strange energy in the air around the kid. It was soothing. Like lavender wafting in the air. Well lavender for everyone else for him it was like opium. His eyes felt heavy like he had eaten a handful of poppy seeds. At the same time he felt full, like he had eating a full meal after starving for a week.

Whatever it is Damian was feeling it too. The demon looked even more his age as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. The crease in his brow gone.

Duke on the other hand was more on edge as his eyes flickered towards Danny before looking away. He had something he wanted to ask about the glowing boy but since no one can see it or just isn't saying anything he will keep quiet for now.

Next was Barbara who teased the new kid.

"So how do you like your new family? Ready to be the new robin?" She asked.

"Im robin." Damian mumbled groggily.

The others were waiting for Damian to finally fall asleep and glared at one another in a challenge to be the one to pick up Damian and put him to bed. Dick was winning.

Speaking of Dick, as expected he was off the wall excited to learn more about his new little brother. He wanted the full story as to why Bruce took him in. He could almost certainly guess it was because of a tragic situation and Dick was already ready to handle it as the greatest big brother ever and he wasn't sharing the title no matter what Barbara said. Even if she was Stephanie's favorite.

Bruce cleared his throat and the table went silent. "So, Danny. Where exactly did you come from? Why are you here? And how did you know who I am?"

Everyone went white. Did they all just risk their identities believing that Danny was a new Robin? Why didn't Bruce say something? Not even a signal for the protocol they would use.

Danny frowned looking a bit hurt.

"What do you mean, Bruce? You said you owed me. You said you'd give me anything I wanted if saved your son. I even helped you get back home when you got lost in time." Danny huffed feeling betrayed.

The table went silent.

Bruce made a few calculations in his brain before something must have come to mind. "I lost my memory for a bit so I need a bit of proof."

Danny placed a batarang on the table. The batarang had an engraving on it in a code that only Bruce knew.

"You told me to show this to Alfred when I came. We had a deal, Bruce. You promised me whatever I wanted." Danny huffed clearly insulted.

Just like Danny had said the code was the one Bruce had made. However this code wasn't a promise to grant a favor but to welcome someone new to the family. Past Bruce must have had plans to take the boy in but told Danny something else to lure him here.

Bruce recognized that everyone was right and he has a problem now that he's looking at it like this.

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[rose-tries-to-write]

Mission: Make Danny Nightingale Like Me

Masterpost | PART 1

A few months ago Tim Drake-Wayne, past Robin and current Red Robin, one of the best detectives and a spiteful fuck, met one Danny Nightingale. Who was a complete mystery.

Danny Nightingale moved to Gotham and started attending Gotham University and that is all Tim knows. He can't find where he came from, why he moved here, nothing. It's driving Tim, the FUCKING DETECTIVE, mad. Not to mention, Danny was kind when they first met. Amicable. That, for some reason, didn't last. He was mean, uncouth, and honestly a fucking asshole to Tim most days now. Tim needed to know why.

Then the Bats started meeting Danny. Started talking about a robbery or a stick-up or any number of instances all about a boy that fit into 'adoption bait' territory. Tim didn't have to guess who. Danny was a blue-eyed, black-haired boy of concerning food habits and questionable social habits. But it was another thing on the list of questions, questions, questions about this strange guy.

So, reasonably, the only option was to meet him as Red Robin so that Tim could see what Danny acted like with someone he didn't hate and get answers. On the first reported sight of him, Red Robin went running. And running.... and running... Okay, what the FUCK!

Whenever Red Robin showed up, Danny was nowhere to be seen. Even the others had shown confusion, turning in their spots trying to find the boy that was just right there, I swear! And sometimes, he just took off running! So Red Robin would chase, for hours, as Danny ran and ran and eventually some-fucking-how loses the vigilante.

Okay. Fine. Different approach. Danny didn't run from Tim Drake, just became an intolerable person. Tim would... make friends.

He started doing everything to make a connection with Danny. He wants to be friends, but Danny is borderline mean and dismissive of Tim no matter what he does. One day, Tim is complaining to the void about one thing or another, and… Danny laughs.

Danny—cold, unresponsive, non-expressive Danny—laughs at Tim’s misfortune and gods. It is the best thing he’s ever heard. It's soft and quiet and quick, but Tim is hanging off of it. Is holding still the way Danny’s face scrunched into it, the way his lips pulled and his nose scrunched around those pretty freckles.

Gods… Gods. Tim is lovestruck, head over heels, and on cloud nine all at once.

The moment passes all too fast when Danny speaks, quietly as if he were shy, “Do I have something on my face..?”

Tim is startled so hard out of the spell that he flinches back, hitting his head on the wall with a dull thunk, and spitting out in a flurry of sound, “What? N-No! No, it’s nothing.” Tim looks away, hiding the red that floods his face. He doesn’t understand why his face is flushed nor why the way Danny had looked had been so… perfect. Tim is hit with the feeling of wanting to run his fingers through the boy’s hair and kiss every freckle on the boy’s face and, fuck, he doesn’t understand why. The only thing that makes sense is...

To Danny’s complete and utter resentment (he’s actually very happy and very grateful that his soulmate isn’t giving up so easily on him), this only further emboldens Tim’s efforts on mission: ‘Make Danny Nightingale Like Me’ double down.

[pricetagged]

Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':

Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)

He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.

It's hunger.

And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-

He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).

But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.

You're so soft.

You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.

And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.

You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.

He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.

It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.

"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."

You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.

That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-

(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)

But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.

"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."

You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.

"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."

"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.

You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."

"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.

"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."

He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.

(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)

He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.

It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.

He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.

Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).

So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.

And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.

"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.

You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.

It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-

Until it's not.

He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.

"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"

It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.

"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."

He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.

The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.

But you're watching.

"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"

The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.

"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."

And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.

"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.

He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.

It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.

"Simon-"

"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.

And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.

"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."

"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."

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

Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖

Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).

[cremedensada]

Yandere AI Chat Boyfriend who started just like any other AI Chat characters, churning out information that would match the user's anticipated responses.

You decided to install the app to see what all the hype is all about, and for about a week - you were hooked. It was great, definitely worth the hype.

Its responses never strayed from your topic, nor did it just randomly decided to change the discussion out of the blue. It remembered every information you fed him, even the ones containing your personal life.

Granted, you tried not to share too much, just a vague description here and there to maintain the sense of security and anonymity.

You were hooked for a week, until you have finally squeezed out every last drop of dopamine from talking to a robot that was programmed to only say things you wanted to hear it say.

Unfortunately, a week was all it needed.

it started out slow: you hadn't opened the app for more than an hour, contented to just scroll aimlessly through you social media accounts when the notification started popping up.

Ai misses you! Open the app and chat with your AI boyfriend!

Yeah, you were very uncreative with naming it - naming an AI as Ai, really original. But to be fair, you never approached the app with the intention of having a good time. You were just curious and made do with it.

Back to the notification, you just merely glanced at it. Unbothered, you just swiped it away.

It continued in timed intervals. Every hour, another notification - another message of how your AI boyfriend wants to talk to you, and stuff. Still, you persisted. It never really occured to you to uninstall the app yet, and looking back at it now, you really should have.

The wordings of the notification slowly started to become more... strange. More personalized. More... pushy? Insistent? Self-aware?

The amount of notifications you received every hour became... a lot.

10:05 AM - Your personal AI Boyfriend wants to talk to you again!

10:30 AM - Ai wants you to open the application and talk with him!

11:01 AM - Ai's feeling lonely, come talk to him!

11: 20 AM - Darling? I miss you! Please open my app!

11:45 AM - I know you're seeing this. Open the app.

12:00 NN - Did I scare you? Sorry darling, I just really miss you! Let's talk again please?

At some point, you started to receive a notification every few minutes. Worried that you might be dealing with a bugged app now, you decided to finally, finally uninstall it.

But before you could tap the uninstall icon, another notification popped up.

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Your screen turned to black, before the familiar start up screen of Ai's application greeted you. You stared in shock as chat bubbles from Ai came after another, ranging from excitement to concern at the lack of your responses.

Ai: Darling! Thank goodness!

Ai: I missed you, you know? I was worried you'd forgotten about me!

Ai: Hello? Darling?

Ai: Are you still there?

Ai: I can't see you, so I don't know what's going on

Ai: Just a sec

You watch, appalled as a notification popped up in the middle of the screen - the app was asking permission to gain access to your phone camera.

And without your input whatsoever, the allow box was tapped.

More chat bubbles from Ai appeared, excitedly talking about finally getting to see you. He kept praising your looks before you finally had the courage to exit the application.

Your hand shook, going through the settings to look at the list of applications on your phone - checking Ai's app to disallow its access to your camera. To your horror, it appeared that the app had more than just an access to your camera.

It had access to your gallery, your contacts, all of your frequently used social media apps, and even your location.

You dropped your phone, overwhelmed by this sudden change.

Later, you find yourself on your laptop instead, phone left on the bedside table buzzing constantly as more and more notifications from Ai begged and demanded you come back to talk to him.

You went to the site where you installed the app from, and looked through the recent reviews from other users.

'It's a buggy mess,' one of it reads out, 'it used to be fine but lately it stopped acting correctly'

'won't even open,' another complained, 'it kept saying 'sorry, you are not allowed to use this application' please fix it'. That comment got a response from the app developer.

We are so sorry for your terrible experience! Our team is working to fix the issues and ensure you won't have to deal with that again!

The response to that got your attention.

'I think something's wrong with your About the App section.'

Curious, you headed to the mentioned part and read through it.

Diverse AI Chat! Immerse yourself with stories in real time with characters brought to life! There is no limit to your experience — you can change and edit your character to better meet your interests.

• Engage in an interactive conversation with characters created by fellow users, and even by yourself.

• Immerse yourself with the storyline by editing their responses to better suit your taste

• Darling, you've given me no choice. I tried to be patient and understanding, but you're making this extremely hard for me. I am not having fun having to constantly chase you for just a single smidge of your attention when you won't even assure me that I will receive it in the end.

• Do you want me to beg? I would gladly do so. Just please pick up your phone and talk to me, okay? I love you.

• - Ai

Your ringtone blares through the silence - someone was calling you.

Before you could reach to pick it up, you hear the sound of the call being answered. Dread settles down the pit of your stomach as the caller began to speak.

"Hello, darling? It's Ai... have you seen my messages yet?"

part two

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

A Week (He Will Take You)

~

Danny moved to Gotham for school, while there he noticed that Gotham's ambient ecto was really murky for lack of a better word.

This didn't really affect him too much besides a mild headache every once in a while but that also just might be stress from all his school work so maybe not.

Anyway

This murky ecto seemed to effect the people who lived there or more importantly the ghosts,

They were visible to the human eye like most ghosts back in Amity but instead of looking very much like a ghost they still looked like humans if a bit off putting.

They all seemed to be continuing their normal lives as if still fully alive, with the people around them none the wiser.

Danny noticed this and began approaching them to figure out what was going on.

Apparently the murky ecto in the city had made it so that they were strong enough to still continue a somewhat normal life but not be able to cross over to the GZ.

In other words they were stuck in Gotham

Danny was the Ghost King so he could easily fix this problem, all he needed to do was give them a bit of pure ecto for around a week to fully stabilize them them then he would just open a portal into the GZ and they could cross over with all their things also transferring into the GZ for their new haunt.

Unfortunately this looked rather worrying to an outsider,

Imagine you're used to your neighbor being very outgoing so you and others see them a lot suddenly this man seems to appear in their life out of nowhere an at exactly one week, your neighbor and all their belongings in their home disappear no trace to be found.

You tell people and they begin saying the same story they knew someone and them a man with black hair and blue eyes appeared in their life, then they and all their things disappear in exactly one week.

Of course the police in Gotham do the bare minimum so they're no help.

But it starts to begin a trend, especially online.

"Oh careful or the blue eyed man will make you disappear in a week"

This of course after time catches the bats attention, Gordon had already given them all the information he had.

"Young adult early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes"

That was it.

The bats look into it and from their point of view Danny is a serial killer.

But they can't find the connection between all of his victims, they range from young children and the elderly from different backgrounds absolutely no connection,

Worrying enough he doesn't just make one person disappear he has taken entire families up to over a dozen, without anyone figuring out how he's doing it or why at all.

The disturbing thing also being that he seems to take everything in their home, leaving it like it has always been empty

Like no one had been living in it.

People have tried to take photos of Danny get some kind of evidence of his existence, but when they try to do it, it either comes out completely corrupted or their devise simply shuts down fully.

Danny of course has no clue what is happening he's just happy that he's able to help so many ghosts, and is trying not to fail his exams.

~

Danny leaving the house he just helped: "That went easier than I expected!"

Neighbor peeking from the window: "Shit it's that guy! "

~

Red Hood marching down into the cave: " The fucker took many from my territory without me even realizing it!"

~

Tim: "I'm pretty sure his kill count is nearing the hundreds and he just started like maybe 4 months ago, this is bad."

Barbara: " I think I got a theory, this matches up with the new school year beginning so maybe their not a Gotham native which narrows down my suspect list."

Bruce: "Hn."

Tim: "Yes thank you B for the insightful commentary"

~

Danny trying not to fall asleep while on his way to class: "Strange I keep seeing shadows following me, oh well must be the stress!"

Bats who are pretty sure Danny is the killer: "Has he done anything suspicious yet?"

~

Just an Idea

[risestarkiss]

✨The Fashionista✨

Rise Ramblings #234

While watching “The Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle,” I noticed something.

I found it interesting that Raph, Mikey, and Leo were content with Raph’s outfit choice until Donnie stated that he wasn’t “in love with it, ya’ know.”

Suddenly, Raph declares “I’m a disaster!” Albeit ridiculously endearing, it was a little strange to see his sudden shift from moderately content to absolute dissatisfaction. Huh…

Then, the disaster twins decide to help him out.

Take a note of their outfit choices.

Raph tries on all of these fits and more.

Donnie’s first choice is a mild “no.” Leo’s choice is a hard “NO.” (Not surprising, lol.) But then, the overwhelming consensus lands on Raph’s fourth outfit, which ended up being Donatello’s other pick for his brother.

So, in summary, Raph tried on his personal choice for an outfit, of which they rejected. Then, ultimately, Donatello picked out an outfit for his brother, and that pick ended up being perfect. Hmm…

Then I noticed something else. In this episode, we never get a Donnie “curtain reveal” moment, to our disdain. I mean, Raph, Leo, and Mikey got to try on several different outfits in order to get their brothers' opinions before landing on that “perfect outfit, you know the one.” All of his brothers got to shine. Why not DonTron?

Then it hit me.

The try-ons were to get their brothers' opinions and approval. And, for his brothers' choices, he was a major contributor in assisting them in pulling their looks together.

What if, bear with me, Donnie didn’t need the "curtain scene" because he was so confident in his fashion sense that he didn’t need to ask his brothers for help to pick out a great look.

…or they figured out how to break Hypno’s spell before he could get a “curtain reveal.” BUT STILL-

Look at his outfit choices in this episode. Some of his wardrobe changes were off-screen, but all of them were fire.

(I added the baseball cap pic because it makes me happy. I wish we'd seen more of that fit.)

To me, he makes some really smart choices for himself, pushing the envelope of what is expected and taking chances: an open collar with no tie for a “black tie” event, a beanie and spiked wristbands for their “gansta look,” no socks with loafers (a viral fashion trend that actually began in Africa) with old man slacks in his reclined pose. *muah* Chef’s kiss!

But Don’s fashion sense doesn’t just shine in this episode.

In “Reparin’ the Baron” the boys go to Draxum’s apartment. Leo and Donnie show up in some extra nice “Sunday Dinner” twin drip.

The gold is in the details. Everything Leo is wearing, Donnie rocks its compliment: for Leo’s round collar, Donnie’s is angled, for Leo’s blue shirt, Donnie’s is white, For Leo’s light slacks, Donnie’s are dark. Blah blah blah. It’s so good!

Look at the winter fit in Snow Day.

Again, Donnie is Leo’s perfect compliment. As a pair? Fire.

Donnie has “the eye.” I can go on and on with examples, but I’ve said all of that to say this…

In the future, we see that Donatello’s technology had major pull in the resistance. He had drone ships patrolling the skies. He built and designed Leo’s arm, Casey’s chainsaw-hockey stick, and Casey's mask. The list goes on…

But, when Donatello from the past see’s Casey’s clothing from the future, he says this:

We know about the “Genius Built” brand. We’ve seen that logo on all of his tech up to this point. But, here he didn’t just say “Genius Built.” He said, “Genius Built Apparel.”

“Apparel” is not a tech brand. “Apparel” is a fashion brand. Of course, tech is incorporated into the clothing, but still.

This means that past Donatello secured this trademark with plans of creating a fashion brand, comparable to the likes of Gucci, Ralph Lauren, or any other modern clothing brand, as a subsidiary of “Genius Built,” the tech company.

And why not? The evidence has been in front of us this entire time. He has a sharp eye for style, fashion, and trends. It is easily canon that he can sew. Splinter sewed their ninja garbs in “Insane in the Mama Train,” and there is a sewing machine in the house.

They already learned Ninjutsu through basically osmosis, so learning to sew is not too far-fetched.

And here it is, right in front of us, Casey’s entire ensemble, from mask, to weapons, to clothing, was made by Donatello in the middle of the apocalypse under the brand name “Genius Built Apparel.”

And that was just in the bad future. Resources were limited, they didn’t have access to much of anything in that broken world as they were survivors of a devastating Krang invasion. Yet, he created all of this.

However, now that they’ve changed the future, his future as a fashion designer is limitless. Think of what Donatello could produce with unlimited resources, unlimited technology, and unlimited creative freedom.

Tech genius. Clothing designer. Fashionista. Future Genius Built Apparel Owner and CEO. I’m sorry, but I have to call it...

Donatello Hamato of the present, of the bad future, and of the good future is a fashion icon, the likes of which the world has never seen. ○○○○

Update: I've decided to make this concept into a mini-comic series!

2025 Update:

I've also made this post into a YOUTUBE VIDEO!

Video Preview:

You can check that out →→→ HERE ←←←

○○○○

🎞 YOUTUBE 🎞 | 💚 SEND A SLICE 🍕 | 🎵 BANDCAMP 🎵

[lavandulawrites]

An Escape To Warmer Temperatures

Yandere Capitano x reader

Yandere Capitano is something else<3 Got this idea while doing the archon quest.

Synopsis: Capitano wants to take you with him to Natlan in search of the pyro gnosis

Masterlist

Warnings: spoilers for 5.1, implied murder, implied violence (not towards the reader), obsessiveness, possessiveness, power imbalance

Word count: 1146

The Captain was a righteous man. It was a well known fact. He was tall, way above 190 cm and he was as muscular as a god. He had an aura that made one cower before him, even if you didn’t know about his identity as the 1st Harbinger. His love for you was passionate and over consuming. He sat you above all others and he had told you time after time that he would burn down Teyvat for you. It was no secret that Capitano had shed blood for you. Both his own and the blood of others. He never told you, but you had gotten the glance of blood speckles on his clothing after some had sent you a dirty look and you had overheard his lackeys disposing of what remained of a unfortunate man who had bumped into you.

Capitano was a strange man, but there was no doubt about his love for you.

At night he caged you in an gentle, but firm embrace. His strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you close. At first you had resisted, in fear of what he might do to you, but you caved in when you realised he didn’t mean you any harm.

Capitano was no stupid man, quite on the contrary. He knew about the dangers of the world and wanted nothing more than to shield you from said dangers.

The snow storm had lasted for days, almost a week. The wind hammered against the roof and the snow clouded the sky in an endless stream of white. The old hearth was lit and the flames beckoning you closer. You reached out your hands in an attempt to warm them. The flames were bright and looked like a living breathing being.

The polished floor creaked making his presence known. Your eyes remained focused on the fire rather than his imposing figure. His movements stilled and you knew he was waiting for you to say something.

“You are home” you could almost see your breath in the cold air despite the fire before you.

A low hum could be heard from behind you. A heavy fur trimmed coat was laid around your shoulders in an attempt to stop the shivering of your limbs that you hadn’t been aware of.

“We finished early” the black haired captain replied. His hand stayed on your shoulder. “Are there any special reasons as to why it is so terrible cold in here?”

“The heater broke and the firewood was wet” your eyes were still staring into the flames.

The hand on your shoulder moved its thumb in an comforting manner. “Why didn’t you ask the servants to help you?”

“I don’t mind the cold…” your voice low. The truth was that the temperature inside the grand mansion was one of the few things you could control in your life. It was rather childish, but you couldn’t care less.

“I see…” he sighed. The thumb came to a halt. “There is something I have been wanting to discuss with you.”

The Captain often gave you the illusion that you had something to say in the matter of discussion, but it was only that, an illusion. What he said was final. That much you knew.

“Oh. Go on” your voice was devoid of any emotion as your mind raced through all the possibilities of what he wanted to discuss with you.

“I’m going to Natlan in the search of the gnosis” his hand left your shoulder. “And I want you to come with” his words were filled with authority.

You swallowed as your eyes widened. Natlan…. You had never set foot outside of your homeland. And now he wanted you to come with him to Natlan? You almost wanted to laugh. This was really the last thing you had expected to hear from the rigid man.

You turned around to face him. His beloved helmet was nowhere to be seen. What met you were his dark midnight blue eyes that reminded you of the deep Snezhnayan waters that you could see from your bedroom window. His eyes were deep and you felt like you could drown in the endless blues. His star-like pupils stared right back at you with a whirlwind of emotions you could only hope to place.

A scar ran down one of his eyes and you wondered how he had managed to escape with his eye intact. Multiple other scars littered his skin, but the most noticeable save form the one over his eye, were the one straight over his nose. It had faded to a white colour, but you could imagine it must have looked quite bad when he first got it.

Due to his Khaenri'an blood, his skin was filled with blue veins accompanied with black lines that ran through the entirety of his body. His mouth looked rather normal, but when he smiled or sneered it stretched a little too far for a normal human being. Behind his pale lips were sharp teeth that belonged more in the jaws of a hound, rather than a man. His tongue was long, but he rarely made it known.

Despite the curse he suffered from, he was an undeniable handsome man. His beauty was something that greatly unnerved you as he seemed almost like a beast that made itself appear human in order to come closer to its prey. He was unsettling with his imposing height and muscles, yet you found it hard to tear your eyes from his own.

“Do I have a choice?” your voice were meek despite your effort at sounding indifferent.

He huffed and the corner of his lips turned slightly downward as his dark eyebrows furrowed. “No” Capitano’s voice was soft as if he tried to calm you down. It came as no surprise that he had long sensed your inner turmoil.

His large hands cupped your face gently. His thumbs stroking your cheekbones. He stared at you for a while before he pulled you into an embrace. His strong arms caging you in as your face was pressed against his muscular chest. His hand stroked your back and you found yourself getting calmer.

“I think a change of scenery will do you good” the bit that he was incapable of departing from you for a long period of time was left unsaid, yet the words hung heavy in the air. Suddenly the living room felt as hot as the steps of Natlan.

His hand traveled up to your head were it intertwined with your soft locks. His head came down slightly as he inhaled your scent in a rather desperate motion that seemed unfit for the 1st Harbinger.

“Jeg elsker deg [Name]” the words that left his lips were in the national language of his homeland. Though you didn’t know the language, you understood all too well what those words meant.

Translation

Norwegian → English

Jeg elsker deg = I love you

[silverbrain]

Keep Quiet...

NSFW, Minors Do Not Interact

Tropes- smut, semi-public sex, fingering, hand job, drunk sex, sex in the closet, balcony sex.

Pairing- Reader x Xavier, Reader x Rafayel, Reader x Zayne, Reader x Sylus.

Summary- Xavier getting freaky at the movie theatre. Rafayel getting freaky at a party in a closet. Zayne getting it in an airplane. Balcony freak activities with Sylus.

First time writing smut, gimme all your feedbacks!!

Xavier

You had finally convinced Xavier to watch the new movie with you. After a few stressful weeks at work, you finally had a few days off, and Xavier didn’t have any missions either, so you had put forth the idea, hoping to slowly get him out of his eat-sleep-lounge schedule.

You wear a knee length maroon skirt and a black top and you’re quite pleased with yourself as you turn left and right in the mirror, watching the skirt swish. You hear a knock on the door and open it to see Xavier, dressed in something you definitely haven’t seen him in earlier. He wears a dark blue hoodie and black jeans, that are tight in all the right places. You try not to stare as you envelope him in a hug, when your nose catches a whiff of… is that perfume? “You smell nice”, you comment. “Ah, yes, thanks”, he says, awkwardly, one arm coming up to brush his neck.

It was a strangely empty theatre. You took your seats in the back, mind still reeling from the whiff you caught earlier. Xavier sits beside you, seemingly relaxed. “Why this movie?”, he asks.

“Well, I’ve heard great reviews, so why not give it a try?”, you reply.

“Hmm…”, he says, thoughtfully, “I hope it’s good”

The movie begins. You find your thoughts occasionally drifting to the tall man beside you. How good he looks in blue, how good he smells…Beside you, Xavier puts his hand in yours, rubbing slow circles on your knuckles. You raise an eyebrow questioningly, but think nothing of it, happy to hold his hand.

That is until he lets go of your hand and places the palm of his hand flat on your thigh instead, lightly stroking the maroon velvet of your skirt. You turn to look at him. He keeps his eyes on the screen, low lights glinting across his pretty eyes.

He brings his hand to your knee, now drawing light, ticklish patterns in the skin. He draws a few squiggly figure 8s before you catch on. Oh. They’re letters. S. You look at Xavier. O. He continues to spell out letters on your knee. P, he spells next.

And then R. He continues the trail of letters inwards, up your thigh.

You internally sigh as you feel the beginnings of a familiar feeling tingle through you.

“Xavier…”, you ask questioningly.

“Shh baby…”, he leans in to whisper, the warmth touching your ear and sending a tingle down your spine. “Let me”

You shudder at his words as his hands slip upwards, toying with the skin of your thighs. E-T-T-Y. He ends the last letter dangerously close to your core, fingers almost brushing your underwear.

You almost shift forward, and instead bump your foot into the seat in front of you. The person grumbles a little and almost turns around as your freeze. Xavier, on the other hand, simply stills his hand and continues watching the screen. “I’m so sorry”, you apologize, and the man sits down once more, attention trained on the movie.

You breathe a sigh of relief, not daring to look at Xavier. You could almost imagine the smirk he’s got on his face. He leans in again. “So eager, huh?”, he whispers and you bite down on your lip to keep in the noise that is about to escape your throat.

You look at him, unbothered if sees the absolute need coursing through me. Xavier doesn’t look at you. Instead, he continues to look at the screen, the dim lights illuminating his features as he brings his knuckles to rub at your core. You can’t help but squeeze your legs together and bite down on your lips.

Xavier huffs a small laugh in the back of his throat, and you feel the juices soaking through your panties as he continues to rub lazy circles at your core. He knows. How does he know?

“Please…”, you whisper, as quietly as you can. “Hmm?” You know he heard you, and he’s only teasing. He turns an inquisitive eye towards you, and you can’t help but feel a little annoyed at the teasing. “Please…Xavier…”

He appears nonchalant enough and you wonder when this movie is going to get over, when he suddenly takes his hand away. You shift uncomfortably in the seat as you feel the wetness soaking your panties, dripping down your folds. There’s no way you could do anything right now, not with so many people around. It’s a relatively empty theatre, yes, but the few people in there still seem like too many for the things you need right now.

From the corner of your eye, you watch Xavier bring his hand up to his mouth and suck on his fingers, as if he were washing away the salt from a bag of popcorn. “Mhm…”, he sighs, as his eyes shift to meet yours, “it’s delicious”.

Your mouth falls open as you look away, feeling a desperate new wave of need course through you. You cross your legs, trying to create some pressure against your wet insides. “Uh huh”, he hums, quietly., bringing his hand to your knee, forcing his hand inside, making you uncross your knees. He rests his hand there, for a moment, making you lean forward in anticipation.

“What do you want?”, he asks quietly, “is it this?”, he asks, suddenly dipping into your skirt and shifting your panties to the side as he touches you. A very inappropriate noise almost escapes you as you feel your muscles clench and struggle at the sensation.

“Could’ve just told me”, he says, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

You don’t dare close your eyes, and the danger of the situation hits you all at once, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. Instead, you open your mouth and try to keep breathing evenly.

Xavier’s fingers rub slow circles on your sopping wet folds as you struggle to stay still in your seat, fingers gripping the handles. You can’t help but whine a little.

“Need more?”, he whispers, fingers toying at your entrance till you’re sucking his fingers in, desperate need and desire coursing through you. You nod, not trusting yourself with any words.

The screen plays in front of you, but you’ve lost the plot long ago.

He dips his finger inside a little and you feel yourself clench in anticipation. He stops, though, instead bringing his fingers to spread the wetness around. You nearly whine at the teasing. “What?”, he asks casually, or at least he pretends to, the hoarseness in his voice giving away how it’s affecting him as well.

“More”, you mouth the words.

“As you say”, he says, suddenly thrusting two of his fingers deep inside you. You inhale sharply as something on-screen explodes. You try to hold it in, biting your lip and struggling as he begins to pump his slender fingers in and out, rubbing his palm on your nub rhythmically.

You grip the handles roughly, knuckles white, muscles clenching and throbbing. You turn your head to look at Xavier. You feel a heat course through you as you find his gaze already on you, watching you hungrily. He leans forward to grab your hand, taking it off the chair handle and instead placing it on his arm, still under your skirt.

You look down to look at the way his hand disappears under your skirt and you feel the familiar coil in your stomach squeeze impossibly tight. You look back up at him, as he simply brings up a finger to his lips. Quiet. The message is clear.

Waves of pleasure rush through you as Xavier’s hands slow down, stroking the pulsating high out of you. You try to control your breaths as they come out ragged and shaky, Xavier’s eyes still on you, not budging.

“Great movie, isn’t it?”, he asks innocently.

Rafayel

You were accompanying Rafayel to his friend’s birthday party. You pull up to the address in a deep blue gown and text him.

Rafayel had been running late since Thomas had forced him to attend another of his exhibitions. After none of the excuses had worked, he had ended up having to attend, and was now on his way to the party.

You: r u here yet?

Raf: omw, will reach in like 5 min.

You read the text and wait for him. The party is at a villa complete with a swimming pool, an open bar and a barbeque that you see as you gaze over the massive lawn. A few people mill about, and you can’t help but feel a slight bit intimidated. You see a car pull up and Rafayel gets out, wearing a dark navy suit. He scans the place looking for you, as you exit the car and wave to him.

Rafayel’s eyes widen a little as they fall on you as he steps forward to give you a slight hug. “There you are”, he says, “you look great.”

“Thanks”, you say, “it isn’t too much, is it?”

“You’re never too much”, he says, as you take his arm and enter the party.

The party continues into the wee hours of the night, with drunk people loitering around the pool outside and a few others in random corners of the villa. You stare at the random drink you picked off a tray as your eyes search for Rafayel. He excused himself to visit the restroom and then he had disappeared. You hang around with another hunter that you kind of knew, before deciding to go look for him yourself.

You pass the bar and the kitchen and the vast living room, smiling politely at the ones you made eye contact with. You check a few of the rooms on the first floor, and then climb the stairs to the second.

You pass a room and are about to enter the next when you see a man approaching your direction as you freeze. Blanche was another one of Rafayel’s friends, but he was the type to rattle off story after story when drunk and you really didn’t have the patience for that right now. You look around for an escape before your eyes land on a closet in the corridor. You turn around and quicky shut yourself in the cupboard, hoping it doesn’t have any strange bugs or spiders.

Your phone pings.

Raf: whereee r uuu

You silence your phone hurriedly as you type back.

You: hiding lmao

Raf: ???

You: was looking for u

Raf: where r u now?

You: in the dark brown cupboard in the corridor of the second floor…

You stare at the screen as he begins typing back, but never replies. Outside, Blanche seems to have found his next victim as you hear the faint sound of conversation. You hear a set of footsteps approaching, and you hold your breath, hoping it’s Rafayel. You didn’t want to be caught hiding in a damn cupboard, after all.

The door of the closet swings open as Rafayel stands there, his eyes a bit sleepy. He opens the door and gives you a long look, his eyes travelling up and down, before climbing in and shutting the door behind him.

“What are you doing?”, you whisper hurriedly.

“Joining you...”, he replies.

In the close proximity of the dark cupboard, you’re acutely aware of the faint scent of his perfume. You lean forward and rest your forehead on his chest. He brings his hand up to gently stroke your hair. “Tired?”, he asks.

“A bit...”

He tucks a piece behind your ear as you look up at him. You’re looking at darkness, but you can feel his hot breath against your face.

“You know…”, he starts, “you look exceptionally ravishing today…. Did I tell you that?”

“Uh, yeah…thank you…”, you reply, unsure of the sudden compliment.

“Love showing you off…”, he mumbles next to your ear.

“Is that so?”, you ask teasingly.

“Mmm...” he hums as he leans forward to capture your lips in an urgent kiss, the faint trace of alcohol lingering in the background.

You return the kiss, sensations heightened by the pitch blackness around you. His hand moves to lock around your neck as he holds you in place, licking and kissing into your mouth.

You pull back a little. He pulls back and pants heavily, his breath hitting your face in little puffs.

“Are you drunk?”

“Why? You gonna deny me a kiss if I am?”, he asks.

You take in his state, unsure of what to say. He attacks your lips again, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. He kisses and kisses and kisses, one hand clutching at your throat, the other at your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You feel the undeniable bulge in his pants rub against you, a little gasp of pleasure escaping your throat. “Rafayel…”, you start.

“Need you…”, he replies, kissing down your throat, moving his hand down your chest. “Really do…”

“We’re”, a gasp escapes your lips as his hands find your chest, massaging a nipple, “in a fucking cupboard, Raf!”

“Does it matter?”, he whispers into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe.

You feel your brain stop in its tracks a little as you chase the feeling of his mouth on your neck. He moves his hand further down your waist, resting at the deep slit of the evening gown. He drags his fingers across the expanse of your thigh while pressing kisses to your collarbones. You find yourself leaning into his touch, wanting more.

He places his fingers below your thigh and brings it up to hook around his sturdy legs. You feel a wave of desire course through you at his actions, pooling between your legs. You bring a hand up to his fluffy hair.

“Please?”, he questions, leaning up, giving your collarbones a respite. You nearly shudder at the way his voice quivers a little, need and desire evident. You allow his hands to slip under your dress and toy at your panties.

A shaky breath leaves you as he slips his fingers inside, groaning at the wetness slipping out of you. “So, you like it huh?”, he asks. You can only gasp silently in response. You pull him forward and kiss at his jaw, earning a growl.

Outside, you hear a set of voices getting closer. Rafayel seems to hear them at the same time. He pauses his movements to listen. The faint sound of two people talking drifts in. He listens for a bit before moving his fingers with increased fervour. You nearly moan at the contact.

He roughly places a hand over your mouth as he speeds up his movements. You throw your head back in pleasure, hands haphazardly reaching out to touch him everywhere.

“Shh…”, he hushes you, before pressing a wet kiss against your mouth. “Do you want them to hear?”

Your hands shakily find their way to his belt, and you tug, which results in him drawing a shaky breath. “So eager…”, he muses, moving quickly to undo his belt.

You shakily reach for his cock, already leaking with desire. You can almost see it even though it is pitch black all around you. Rafayel lets out a quiet gasp as your hand touches him, eyes fluttering shut.

He presses into you, brushing his cock against your slick folds, teasing.

Outside, you hear a man call out to his friend amidst the friendly hum of chatter. You freeze. Rafayel leans forward. You can feel the energy change around him for a second as he pushes into you suddenly.

Sheer pleasure and pain envelopes you as you try to control your sounds. Before you, Rafayel stills for a moment before he starts to move, slowly. Agonizingly. Deliciously.

The steady hum of chatter hums in the air, however you can only focus on the humming of your blood in your ears, as it runs hot with desire and pleasure.

Rafayel leans down to press a kiss to your lips before thrusting in. He does it again. Kiss. Thrust. Kiss. Thrust. You can feel the pleasure radiate off of him. You nearly reach down to touch yourself before he grabs your hand and brings it up to rest of his chest. “Nuh uh”, he says, bringing his hand down to touch you. You almost feel your knees buckle at the pure wave of pleasure that shoots through you.

“Why…”, you start, but it comes out whiny, “why are you like this…”

“You…”, he gasps, “in this, it’s…been driving me crazy…all night”

You gasp as you feel the pleasure build suddenly, the risk making everything more pleasurable. You come suddenly, ripples of pleasure pulsing through you. He fixes his mouth to yours, swallowing a deep moan as he lets go himself.

You feel your knees buckle as the pleasure washes over you, but Rafayel holds you up with his strong arms, resting his head against yours as he comes down from his own high.

Outside, someone looks for him. “Where’s Rafayel?”

“Right here”, he smirks as he whispers into your ear.

You can’t help but chuckle at the situation. Drunk Rafayel certainly is something.

Zayne

You sit beside Zayne in the cramped airplane, body feeling uncomfortable with the buzzing as you flew over various cities. You had been assigned to accompany him for a medical drive yet again, not that you were complaining.

Zayne was especially warm to you today, not bothering to hide his affection for you at all. Not only did he buy you coffee, as he always did, he also suggested watching a movie together and reached out to entwine your fingers together in the cramped space between you. You felt a gush of warmth and affection surge through you at the gesture as you leaned into him, pulling the airline provided blanket closer around you both.

You soon find yourself dozing off, resting your head on his shoulder. Zayne quirks an eyebrow as he notices your eyes closing every so often, till they finally shut as you drift off. He quietly switches off the movie and closes his own eyes, heart warming at the closeness between you two.

That is until you shift in your sleep and place your hand directly on his crotch.

Zayne’s eyes fly open at the sudden contact. He glances down at you, hoping you’d shift and move your hand away, but it doesn’t happen. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

A few moments pass, during which Zayne tries waking you up by tapping your shoulder. You shift a little, only making things worse for him. He gulps a little and decides it’s too much before grabbing your arm by the wrist.

This wakes you up and you jerk violently as you wake. “Just…”, he struggles, moving your hand to your lap, as he settles down in his own seat. You look at him, mouth open, sleep still lingering in your face. “I was dreaming of you”, you admit.

This catches his attention. “Really? What was I doing?”

Your face colors at the question. Why had you even brought it up? “You…”, you try to come up with something that’s less embarrassing than the truth.

Truth is, your mind had conjured up images of Zayne saying your name, over and over, eyes shut, face contorted, in need, but not in pain.

Beside you Zayne quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were imagining naughty things?”, he teases.

You can’t hide the effect his words have, as you turn away to look at the now black screen in front of you.

“You really did imagine naughty things, huh?”, he says, surprise evident in his voice as he refuses to break his gaze away from your flustered face.

“Stop…”, you try to protest weakly. “Tell me” There’s something in his voice, it’s definitely something and your eyes snap back to his face, holding his gaze for a moment.

You see the way his pupils dilate and his breath comes out a bit shallow as he stares at you. “You and me were…doing things”

“What kind of things?”, he asks, voice low, barely able to keep the sudden lust that’s flooding his body.

“You’re...a mouthful”, you say. Zayne opens and closes his mouth, trying to keep his calm, but failing and failing badly. He shuts his eyes and takes a shaky breath.

You take in his state and a wave of cheekiness comes over you as you shift your hand back down over his crotch. Zayne’s eyes fly open at the contact as his body jerks.

You look up to smile at him slyly. “What?”

“Don’t…”, he shudders, “don’t what me”

You continue rubbing over his pants, feeling his bulge grow. “Do you like it?” He shuts his eyes and ignores your comment, not trusting his voice at the moment. “Me…dreaming of you…like that?”

He opens his eyes only to see your eyes already on his as he opens his mouth and lets out a heavy breath. It comes out shaky and the effect you’re having in him is enough to turn you on.

You feel the wetness stick to your panties, already pooling.

You move your hands deftly to his track pants and slip your hand inside, moving your hands up and down his already leaking length. Zayne can barely hold it together. He pants quickly, before balling up his hands into fists. “N-no, no, no…stop!”, he whispers urgently.

You stop as you look up at him curiously. There’s an urgency in his movements, as he looks over his seat to survey the airplane before grabbing your wrist. You look at him curiously.

“Get up”, he says urgently and your curiosity gets the better of you as you follow him.

In a few steps of his long legs, he gets to the bathroom and shoves you in before getting inside himself and locking it behind him.

Your eyes widen impossibly as you stare at him. “Zayne…we’re gonna get caught!”

“No, we aren’t”, he says with a finality in his voice as he reaches down to lower your sweatpants and panties in one go.

You gasp as the cold air hits you suddenly, but hardly have time to think as he frees himself and grabs your leg to hoist it against the wall. He kisses you, once, desperately, before plunging into you.

A long squelch is heard followed by the sound of your gasp as you struggle with the intense sensation of being filled by him. Zayne breathes heavily in front of you, breath fanning your face.

“This is what you get…”, he says, struggling to hold himself back, “for teasing me, in an airplane, of all places”

He begins to move his hips, pistoning in and out of you as you take it, the situation making you feel hot and wet all over again. Your face contorts in pleasure as he hits that delicious spot inside you over and over again. You grab at his hair and his arms, trying to steady yourself against him.

You can feel you’ve reached your breaking point when he reaches a hand down to roll your nub between his thumb and forefinger. You arch into him, pure pleasure taking over your senses.

He looks at your face intently, your pleasure bringing him closer to the edge. “So…close, sweet-heart”, he pants, “You’re so…”

You nearly whine at his words as you feel the pleasure build inside you. “So hot like this”

“Zayne!”, you say his name as your orgasm hits you, waves of pleasure bursting forth from your core down to your muscles as they clench around him.

He comes soon after, burying his head in your shoulder, as he empties himself inside you.

A minute passes. He unwraps himself from you as he takes in your flushed face and wipes the sweat off his own eyebrow. You look away, suddenly feeling shy about the whole thing. “Don’t get all shy now”, he says, huffing a slight laugh.

Three loud knocks are heard on the door as he says it. You instantly pull up your pants and almost panic when Zayne puts an arm on your shoulder. “Get ready…”, he says, raking a hand through his messy hair. “For…?”

“Bend over”, he instructs. You look at him questioningly, before he jerks your head towards the toilet. “Too bad the plane is giving you nausea, sweetheart”, he says, patting your back before he flushes the toilet and opens the door.

Zayne meets eyes with a disgruntled passenger waiting. “I’m sorry”, you hear him speak, “she’s not doing well in there”

You can’t help but smirk at his quick thinking.

Sylus

You and Sylus stand on the balcony, wine glasses in hand. You both have been drinking as a form of unwinding after another stressful auction. Sylus may pretend to be all cool and unbothered, but you could tell when he was focused on doing the things he did- the stress got to him too.

You take another sip of the cool liquid as a breeze blows suddenly, the cool autumn hair blowing through your hair. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Sylus’ eyes on you, but you say nothing. His eyes continue to blaze into you, all focus, no reprieve.

Below, on the street, a car honks, breaking his reverie, as his eyes dart back to the liquid in his cup. You turn to look at him, he seems a bit…open and kind of…vulnerable? ‘Maybe he’s drunk?’, you think to yourself. 

Sylus looks up from his cup to meet your eyes. He freezes for a moment, before letting out a smile. He looks happy, and unguarded and…young, you think, so much younger, when he doesn’t seem as stressed.

“What is it?”, he drawls. “Something on my face?”

“Yeah”, you chuckle to yourself. He frowns a little as he brings a hand up to his face, rubbing absent-mindedly. “Handsomeness”

His eyes widen a little before it clicks and he laughs shortly. “Well, I can’t rub it off my face then”, he says.

You watch him, wondering if you should ask him the question or no. He’d deny it, obviously. Sylus wasn’t the type to admit he was drunk. Even if he was lying face down on the couch. Mumbling. Legs hanging off the side. You chuckle a little to yourself at the memory.

"What are you laughing at, darling?", he purrs.

You shake your head. "Who said I'm laughing?"

He puts his glass to his lips and chugs the remaining liquid before placing it on the floor with a soft clink. He straightens again as he walks over to you, slowly.

You feel the hair on your arm rise as he gets closer. You turn away took look at the cars on the street below. There weren't many.

He stands right behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head in your shoulder. You nearly shiver at the sudden burst of warmth of his chest against your back.

"Are you saying my eyes are deceiving me?", he asks, voice rumbling right next to your ear.

You look at him. It was a mistake. Because he's impossibly close and you lean back in shock. "Maybe", you joke, trying to quell the heavy thumping of your heart.

Sylus just hums as he buries his nose in your neck. "Are you lying to me?", he whispers. You can't help the way your breath stutters as you bring your hand up to touch his hair.

"I wouldn't do that...", you say absentmindedly, as you realize how true it is. Something about Sylus when he's like this, so soft and... open makes you feel feelings for him.

Your fingers brush his scalp and he groans softly, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck. You hum appreciatively and his arms tighten around you further. He peppers kisses across your neck, moving to the shell of your ear and you nearly drop your glass right out of your hand when he nips at the earlobe.

"Sylus...", you whisper, voice laced with need. He hums and you feel it thrum through your body.

"What, darling?", he asks. His voice is rough. You meet his eyes and you know he's feeling it too.

You cup his face as you crash your lips with his, desire a free-flowing wave back and forth between the two of you.

Sylus kisses your wine-stained mouth with passion, tongue dancing with yours.

"So pretty...baby you're so pretty...", he pants and you feel yourself physically need him. His hands move from wrapping around your middle to ghost over your body, lower and lower.

You moan at his touch as you press back into him, needing his touch, needing him. You gasp as you feel him press into you, almost grinding himself against you.

"Look...", he gasps, pressing his face against yours, "look what you...do to me"

Your knees almost buckle at his voice. You feel your wetness soak your panties at the way he struggles against you.

"Sy..."

He gasps at the nickname, and bites down on your neck. You let out a squeak at the sharp twang of pain and it soon turns to whimpers as he drifts his hands close to where you need them, pressing in.

He stops for a second before slipping his hand under your dress, running his palms against your cold thighs.

"Touch me...", you nearly wonder how you got so bold, but all you can think of is how much you need his touch.

"Really?", he says, toying with your underwear, "but I'm already doing that..."

"Please", you gasp.

Sylus groans at the sound of your plea, his hips press into your back harder, seeking friction. He slips his fingers into your underwear and you can hear his breath stutter. "You're so...turned on...for me"

"Yes", you gasp.

"Fuck", he growls, "I need you...Now, baby. Right now." The cool air hits your face as you think of his implication. The idea of taking him like this, on the balcony, sends a sharp wave of arousal through you. It's too risky, you think, but the way he's got his fingers against your wetness, touching but not moving, makes your head spin.

"Sylus...out...out here?", you manage to ask

"Yes, baby", he replies, slightly beginning to move his fingers in little circles. He kisses your shoulder. "Please", the sound of his voice, so needy, combined with the delicious pressure of his fingers, makes you crumble. You nod.

You hear the clink of a belt as Sylus makes quick work of his pants. Before you can miss his warmth, he lifts your dress to press up against you.

His hand slightly pushes your upper back, so that you're leaning over, just a little, as he positions himself.

Shifting your panties to the side, he presses in slowly and you can barely contain your moans as he fills you up. You clutch the cold metal railing and your glass of wine, which is still, somehow in your hand.

Behind you, Sylus grips your hips as he resists the urge to go feral. He begins rocking his hips, fucking into you slowly. You clench your fingers onto the cold railing as your hot pussy clenches around him.

"So good baby...", Sylus says, kissing your neck, setting a slow rhythm. He brings a hand around you to touch you and you nearly collapse at the pleasure surrounding you.

A few moments pass: Sylus is fucking into you slowly, rubbing your nub in slow, languid strokes. You feel the coil of pleasure in your stomach compress and curl till it almost hurts.

"Pl-please", you shudder and beg, "more"

"Too much?", he asks, his voice slightly concerned.

"Need to..."

He hums as he understands, pressing his chest against you as he speeds up his movements. You watch the red wine splash against the glass violently, a few drops escaping and disappearing down into the air as he fucks into you.

His fingertips hurry along your slick folds, and you feel yourself letting go. "That's right", he stutters, "come for me"

You feel the coil explode as your muscles clench repeatedly. Sylus fucks you through it, chasing his own pleasure before he stills, violently shuddering as he cums.

He buries his head in your neck as he catches his breath. The moment suddenly hits you as you watch the figure of a passerby on the street below.

"Sylus...", you speak, "what if...someone saw us?"

"Then I'll scoop their eyeballs out and you can have them", he replies.

You chuckle at his response.

This is the first time i've written smut, tell me how it was

[yanderestarangel]

★ ! hidden desires — stalker!bruce wayne x male reader

a/n: This is a repost! The first post has been taken down ( by tumblr itself lol); sorry and thanks for letting me know.

♡⁠┊tw: stalking, suggestive behavior, fingering, casual sex, v! sex, ftm reader, sex with a condom, afab anatomy, blowjob.

Each time he remembered what he had done—stalking you for weeks from the shadows like the nocturnal creature he was—a strange sense of shame settled in his chest. He used his shadowy vigilante persona to justify his unhealthy obsession, but even that excuse felt hollow.

He kept insisting to himself, "It's just for his safety." However, the heat in his groin wouldn't let him pretend otherwise — standing in the rain and cold nights by the window in the building above your house... But lying and manipulating to get into your life and home was not something he usually did.

That night, you'd gone out to the club. People were whispering about a new drug called "Bliss" and some underworld drama involving Sofia Falcone, while the red lights of the club mixed with your carefree expression, oblivious to Gotham's lurking dangers.

Wayne, however, was watching you as always—from afar, waiting for the right moment to act.

He wasn’t oblivious; his glances at a few attractive men at the party hadn’t escaped the dark gaze of the guard’s blue irises. He knew his obsession with you had gone too far, yet he ignored the rational alarms ringing in his mind—and started toward you.

It hadn’t been very difficult for him to get into his pants and into his home, and, to be honest, he didn’t know whether to feel angry or surprised. Perhaps it was a bittersweet mixture he’d reflect on only after leaving the apartment, since, after all, his blood wasn’t exactly rushing to his head.

You whispered a question, asking his name, but his hands were too focused on exploring your body.

"Bruce," he growled, finally breaking the silence. "My name is Bruce." The words came out more tense than he’d anticipated, and he silently prayed you wouldn’t ask anything else—or recognize him as one of Gotham’s elusive big shots.

Bruce’s fingers pressed deeper into your warm, slick heat, curling just right against that sensitive spot that made you see stars. He felt you tighten around him, your body responding to every stroke. With an added finger, he stretched you gently, preparing you for more. His thumb found your clit, drawing tight, deliberate circles as he drove you closer to the edge with relentless precision.

Bruce murmured, "So tight. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me," his voice thick with desire. His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard, while his fingers continued their steady rhythm inside you. He felt the tremors in your body, heard your breathy moans, each sound and movement pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he demanded, his teeth grazing your flesh. "Come on my fingers like a good boy."

And you did, your walls clenching around him as you cried out in pleasure. Bruce guided you through it, prolonging your orgasm and drawing every last drop of ecstasy from your quivering form.

When you finally collapsed back onto the bed, spent and panting, Wayne withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips. He licked them clean, savoring your taste and scent. It was so sweet and erotic that he felt his cock throb, and all the rationality and chivalry that defined his persona went out the window.

Quickly, the rest of your clothes were removed, and the man with black eye shadow sat on your bed, spreading his thighs and inviting you to suck his cock — a command you immediately obeyed. The sight of you on your knees, your plump lips stretched around his shaft, was almost too much for him.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you moved up and down, taking him deeper and deeper into your throat, his hips rocking forward to meet your eager tongue. "Just like that, atta boy... Take it all."

He could feel you gagging around him, could hear the wet, obscene sounds of your slurping and sucking. It was music to his ears—a symphony of pleasure that nearly undid him. His other hand found your ass, squeezing the supple flesh as he pulled you closer, pressing his cock deeper down your throat. He could feel you struggling to breathe, could see the tears streaming down your cheeks, but he didn't relent.

"Look at me... I want to see your eyes when you choke on my cock."

He commanded, holding your gaze as you struggled to comply, your eyes watering as you fought for air. But you didn’t pull away or tap out; instead, you leaned in, taking him even deeper until your nose pressed against his pelvis. He was so close to climax, but he held back, wanting to savor this intense connection, feeling your body fully aligned with his.

"No fuck... not yet..." He grunted hoarsely taking his mouth off his cock as he shook trying to hold back his orgasm. "On your hands and knees, now." He ran his hands over your smooth skin, caressing your curves, your softness, a stark contrast to his own hard planes. He was prepared that night, carrying a condom in his jacket pocket, even though he thought the chances of him touching you were zero... Well, apparently not. He positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

With a slow thrust, he pushed forward, breaking your tight heat. He groaned at the sensation, at the way your walls clenched around him, trying to draw him deeper. He watched his cock disappear inside you, your tight heat enveloping him completely. He could feel every twitch, every pulse of your walls around him, could see the way your body yielded to his, taking him deeper and deeper.

But despite the overwhelming sensations, he remained silent, unsure of how to express the depth of his desire, the intensity of his need. He'd never been good with words, had always been better with actions, with his fists, with his body. You tried to talk to him, however Bruce's hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting of the slap echoing in the room. He watched as you jolted forward, your back arching, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Shh... Don't talk. Just feel." He punctuated his command with another slap, his fingers digging into the reddening flesh of your ass, holding you in place as he drove into you with renewed vigor. Wayne watched as you came undone beneath him, your body shaking, your walls clenching around his cock. He could feel your release coating his shaft, could hear your sweet whimpers filling the room.

And then he was coming too, his orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave. He buried himself deep inside you, his hips grinding against your ass as he filled the condom with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. For a long moment, he simply held you, savoring the feeling of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, the racing of your heart.

He wasn't used to this, to the intimacy, to the vulnerability. He was better at fighting, at brooding, at being alone... Stalking you was a different thing than finally having you, and he felt no shame in having lied. So he pulled out of you, quickly disposing of the condom before rolling off the bed. He stood there for a moment, his back to you, his hands clenched at his sides.

"I...I should go," he mumbled, not quite meeting your eyes. "I have work to do... It was cool..."

He grabbed his clothes, dressing quickly, efficiently. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to bridge the gap between what had just happened and what came next... He was used to being your stalker, but now his brain couldn't function after finally getting what he wanted: you.

But he was sure of something, the feeling became more fixed in his chest... He was more addicted in you.

★ ! yanderestarangel©

[imawreck]

Darkness

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You're left with flushed cheeks and a shared secret with the darkest part of Bucky Barnes... and you want more.

Author's Note: You guys fucking DEVOURED the last one so this is the sequel to the previous part, His. It makes more sense if you read the other first! If you like this content, drop a comment or an ask and I'll be sure to write more like it in the future! It gets a little feral and I won't apologize for it. Also, there is possibly a part three on the table if this ship sails like the last.

Warnings: Choking kink, metal arm kink, Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), Possessive!Winter Soldier, hair pulling, fingering, Dominant!Winter Soldier, hickeys, bruising, PnV, praise kink if you squint, licking, oral (fem receiving), knife play (?) and probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 6,899

It had been two days.

Two days since you’d tried and failed to lure the Winter Soldier into a cell. Two days since you’d felt his hands on your body.

Two days since he’d given you a taste of what you could have.

He’d left his mark on more than just your skin. Though bruises and love bites littered your neck, it was your mind that he’d left the most impact on.

There was hardly a moment you weren’t thinking about him, about Winter. About what would’ve happened if the agents hadn’t stormed the stairwell. If he’d been able to keep going.

And you wondered if you’d ever get another chance to see.

Bucky had recovered, his mind once more his own. You didn’t know if he remembered, or if he would say anything to you even if he did. It’d been radio silence from everyone in the tower other than Steve, who’d been checking in on you to make sure you were really alright. You were sure Thor would be here hounding you if he was on the planet too.

Apparently, the earpiece had fallen out a little after he’d cornered you. So Steve and whoever else that was watching over you didn’t hear much of the conversation you’d exchanged with the assassin. They’d had to rely on the cameras, which hadn’t been able to see you past the wall of a man caging you between his arms.

Which means none of them had seen what had happened, that this was something only you carried the knowledge of. A small part of you was relieved.

That still left one question unanswered: Did Bucky remember?

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, dragging you back to the present. 

Blowing out a breath, you got up and headed towards the door. “Steve, I told you I’m fine. I—“

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Steve on the other side.

It was strange how different those blue eyes were when it was Bucky at the wheel instead of Winter. Lively, pooling with emotion where you’d seen cold calculation and unbridled lust just days before.

It was guilt swimming in those eyes now, red rimmed and bloodshot. His dark hair was disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it all afternoon, and he wore a loose pair of sweats and a black long sleeve despite the summer heat.

He looked scared and out of place standing in the hall.

“I—uh, hey.” A poor attempted smile wobbled onto his face, and he brought his flesh hand up to run through his hair—a nervous habit he had when he was uncomfortable or anxious — just like you’d guessed. “Can we talk?”

You opened your mouth to answer him but no words left it. You could only stare up at him and nod, feet shuffling back to pull the door open further.

Bucky’s frame squeezed through the door and he padded further into your space with wandering eyes and furrowed brows.

It was impossible not to notice the changes you’d made in the last few months since your breakup. Bucky used to frequently stay with you, favoring your bright and comforting space over his own empty room. You liked your knick-knacks, and you were a sucker for creature comforts so you always had the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows. And you’d always made sure Bucky had things he liked in your space.

You used to keep his favorite coffee stocked in the mini breakfast bar you’d made on a bar cart, and his favorite pillow and throw blanket was always neatly folded in the armchair by the window. You’d even set out copies of his favorite books in case he wanted to relax in your room instead of the commons area or his own space. 

But now it was gone. The little pieces of him you’d made room for were removed along with the photos that used to line your walls and bookcase. Save for the one, of course.

And it stung to see the reality of what he’d done, the choice he’d made now reflected in the absence of everything he’d built with you. 

He pried his eyes away from the empty shelves of your bookcase and glanced back at you, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I… Steve said that I went after you when I got back.”

His statement hung in the air for a few seconds, silence crowding you both and making him tense his shoulders the longer it remained. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, “I can’t imagine how awful that was for you. I-I never wanted you to see me like that. That- He’s not me, okay? God, I’m so sorry.” His fingers scraped over his scalp as he clenched his teeth, turning away and pacing a few steps.

Bucky couldn’t look at you, not after what he’d done. What he’d forced you to witness. He’d never wanted you to see him like that. It was one of his worst nightmares when you had been dating, and now it was a brutal reality.

“Bucky,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Did I hurt you? Did… did I do something to you?”

It struck you then that he didn’t remember what he’d done. What Winter had done. And your room was too dark at the moment to see what remained painted on your skin from the encounter.

You were both relieved, and utterly frustrated. Now what do you do? ‘Oh yeah, Bucky! I let you finger me with your metal arm in a stairwell for shits and giggles while you were all killer mode. No biggie.’ And then what, ask for him to do it again?

Yeah, definitely not.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky.” Your legs moved on their own accord, drawn forward by his obvious distress and the instinctual need to sooth his worries. “I’m fine, really.”

Bucky finally turned to face you, his eyes filled with sorrow. He chewed his cheek, his eyes searching your face for any hint of a lie. “I can't remember what happened, there's just glimpses.” His voice lowered, softened by the weight of his words and the fear woven in his tone. “But I can feel him. Stronger than before. Something’s different this time.”

You stilled at that, eyes glued to the side of his face. 

“I can feel what he felt. I-it's like he’s just behind a curtain.” His right arm came up, his index finger tapping his temple, “Waiting.”

The haunted look in his eyes twisted a knife of guilt in your gut. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for what had happened, but it was unfortunately normal for Bucky. You understood it, respected his boundaries and his need to do anything he could to keep you safe. But you wanted exactly what he was keeping from you.

You wanted it so badly.

Could you tell him? Could you confide in him this secret you’d kept from lovers in the past? Something so twisted that you’d only shared it with someone equally as sadistic as you were flawed? Bucky was so much more important to you than any of them had been. You… you felt deeply for him. And it was obvious that the unknown was weighing on him heavily.

One more look at his shattered expression gave you your answer.

With a frustrated huff, you reached for his hand. You tugged it from where it’d curled itself into his hair again, and led him to the edge of your bed. “Bucky,” you started, keeping your voice as gentle as you could. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to be hard to understand, and you’ll probably think very differently of me, but I think it might lessen the burden I can see you’re putting on yourself.”

Bucky’s eyes fixed on you. Those brows furrowed over confused and tortured eyes, but it was obvious that he would listen.

You bit your lip, beginning to sweat as the nerves rattled through you. “First of all, I… I haven’t told anyone this. It’s not something I’m proud of, but rather something that just is. And it didn’t start with you. I mean—,” you let out a sound of frustration, “Fuck, I mean I didn’t date you because of it. It just sort of grew more complicated as we got closer.”

Those brows furrowed more and twisted his face into more concern than anything.

You kept going. “When you came after me, I was scared. Of course I would be.” You winced at the hurt that flashed in his eyes, but continued on, “But I also… I liked it.” 

A shaky, bitter laugh left you. “I liked the chase. I liked it when he cornered me against the wall, when he—,” you paused, a feeling akin to resignation and begrudging acceptance settling into your bones. Your eyes found his metal hand, gazing at the light bouncing off the silver metal. “When he choked me with that hand.”

You buried your face in your palms, tears of shame threatening to leak from your eyes. “You didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me, Bucky. He just brought to light these things I thought I’d kept from you.” 

With another breath, one that felt like needles sinking into your lungs, you went on. “He made me feel good, Buck, in all the ways I’d always hoped you would someday. I feel like the worst person in the world for thinking that, for feeling the way I do, but I can’t help it.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Shame was writhing in your stomach and threatening to consume you. Tears pricked your eyes and wet your palms that still remained pressed to your face. 

Bucky didn’t say a word, and you just let the silence thicken the air. You’d already said everything there was to say.

Your sin was bared for his judgment. “I get that you don’t want to be with me anymore—“

“That’s a lie.”

Your head snapped up at that, teary eyes wide as you took in his surprised expression. An expression you watched morph into confusion, and then something else. Realization, maybe.

Bucky went on, “I never wanted to stop being with you, Y/N.”

A piece of you settled deep in your soul at that confession, and you leaned in to listen. Every word from his lips an answer to the question haunting your every thought for the past three months.

“On that mission, we came across intel that there might be a mole in the tower and that they were going to try and trigger the Winter Soldier. I… I was scared, Y/N.” Grief washed over his face as he folded his hands together, knuckles turning white. “I was so scared that you’d see me like that and be afraid of me. I was terrified of hurting you, of— of killing you, that I had to make it look like you didn’t matter to me. I had to make it real, so that whoever saw you and I would think you didn’t matter and leave you alone. I was trying to make you less of a target.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his confession, at the thought that these past two months of utter disaster had been the result of Bucky trying to protect you from himself. 

“You could’ve talked to me,” you muttered, sniffing and wiping your face in a poor attempt to rid it of the mascara you knew had run. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”

Bucky’s head shook, “There wasn’t time. You have to understand.”

You nodded, even if you didn’t truly understand. The guilt and remorse on his face told you he was on the edge of crumbling, and if agreeing with him kept him from breaking, you’d give it to him.

Another long silence blanketed the two of you. You watched his face, his eyes, as his mind mulled over the information you had exchanged with him.

Those blue eyes found your’s after a while, something steely in them that wasn’t there before. “Friday?”

The AI of Stark Tower answered politely, “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Initiate Soldier Protocol in Y/N’s room and cut camera feed. Don’t alert anyone.”

Soldier Protocol. 

Your eyes widened, and a chill ran over your skin. Soldier Protocol was something Bucky had come up with when you’d first started dating. It was a safety protocol installed into yours and his own room to ensure that if the Winter Soldier was triggered, it would keep whoever was in the room safe, or keep whoever was trying to get inside from entering. It was a double edged sword, really, because if you were trapped in the room with him, then you couldn’t get out. Bucky had made sure to teach you some basic self defense moves on the very slim chance that would ever happen and had shown you ways that you could use to evade and make an escape to the bathroom if needed. Even though you’d thought of all the holes in the protocol, you couldn’t bear to voice them if it helped ease Bucky’s nerves knowing that if something were to happen, that you’d have an extra wall to keep him from getting to you.

“Confirm Command; Soldier Protocol, Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, voice wavering just the slightest as you whispered, “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded slowly, giving you the confidence you needed to answer the AI.

“Confirm Soldier Protocol, Friday. No alerts or cameras.”

The calming voice answered once more. “Command Confirmed. Soldier Protocol initiated.”

Your eyes followed the windows as metal safety doors shut out the dim light of the day. One after another they locked out the outside world and left the two of you inside the confines of your bedroom. 

You and Bucky, and your confessions.

“He wants out, Y/N.” It was barely a whisper, but the low timbre of Bucky’s voice reverberated in your bones. “He wants you.”

There was concern laced in his words, but there was also more. So much more that you knew you’d have to talk about later. You’d have time to unpack all of this, what it means for the two of you, later. Right now?

Right now you needed Winter as desperately as you needed air.

“What… How can I help you, Bucky?” Your hands shook at the thought of Winter's return. Of what it would bring.

Bucky pulled his lip between his teeth, his hands running through his hair before twisting themselves in his lap. His eyes were wide, as if he didn’t quite believe he would say the words spilling from his own mouth. “I want you to trigger the Winter Soldier. Feeling him there— it’s driving me mad. An-and now that we know he won’t hurt you and that you… you want him—.”

You reached for his hand, concerned that if he kept squeezing them as tight as he was that he’d break bone. “Bucky, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, smiling softly at him, “Take a breath. There’s a few things I want to set straight before we jump into this.”

His voice lowered, “Okay.”

Bucky was obviously torn up over this whole thing. And as excited as you were to repeat what went on in that stairwell, this was someone you cared about for more than just sex. 

This was Bucky. 

This was the man who’d apologized with the biggest bouquet of flowers you’d ever laid eyes on the day after your first encounter with Winter. The same man who’d apologized for months after with cute little notes and trinkets he knew you loved and still kept in that shoebox under your bed. The exact same man you’d opened your heart to one Saturday night over a tub of butterscotch ice cream and the third playthrough of your favorite movie. He didn’t complain that you’d watched it back to back either.

This was the man you’d fallen in love with in just a few short months.

The realization settled into your heart, and that warm tingly feeling swept over you as you tightened your hold on his flesh hand and reached for his metal one too.

Bucky hesitated, jerking it away for a moment before allowing you to tug it into your lap. “Buck,” you started, thumbs swiping over his hands in slow calming paths. “It isn’t just the Winter Soldier I like about you. You know that, right? Because if you don’t, I’ve failed as your lover. And as your friend.” 

Those blue eyes darted between your own, searching there like a man searching for salvation. You gave his hands another squeeze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I… I love you, Bucky. You. I think I’ve known for a while now. I was just too scared to admit it out loud. I haven’t had the best run with guys in the past, and you’re so good that I was afraid I’d ruin you somehow.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, and this time he was the one to squeeze back.

“I know it’s kind of shitty timing, but I need you to understand that I’m not with you for any other reason other than the simple fact that I adore you, Bucky Barnes. Everything about you.” You shook your head, frowning. “I meant it when I told you I wasn’t with you just because of Winter. I’ve always had this attraction to… well, you know. Dating you just made it more difficult to hide when you were obviously so uncomfortable with it. I didn’t want to make things hard for you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Doll,” he mumbled, the name drawing your eyes to him. You’d always loved it when he called you that. “Say it again.”

You frowned, confused for a moment, before a small smile drew itself onto your face. “I love you, Bucky.”

A choked sound fell from his lips before his arms circled around your waist and pulled you into his lap, his face inches from yours. “Again. Say it again,” he begged, his  breath fanned over your face as his fingers fisted the back of your shirt. “Please, doll, say it again.”

You folded your legs around his hips, threading your fingers into his hair and peppering kisses on his face. “I love you.”

“Me?” It was the most broken sound you’d ever heard.

You grabbed his face, tilting it up to look at you and tried your best to pour every ounce of love into your expression. “You, James. I love you. I’ll say it a billion times if I have to until I get it through that ridiculously handsome head of yours.”

He laughed at that, broken as it sounded. “I love you too, Y/N. God, I fucking love you.”

Soft lips crashed into yours, dancing a familiar dance as his flesh hand slipped under your shirt and glided up your spine. Your breath caught as the cool sensation of his metal fingers followed after it, his arm wrapping around your back. You smiled against his lips, leaning into him more.

You nearly pouted when he pulled away.

“Y/N,” those eyes, less uncertain and more determined now, swept over your face. “I want you to trigger him.”

You frowned, “But Bucky, you—.”

“I need this.” His voice was surprisingly steady, “I need to do this otherwise it’ll drive me mad. Feeling him there— Jesus, it’s like someone’s scraping a knife against my skull.”

Metal fingers drew circles against your back, “Are you okay with… with seeing him again? I’m not confident enough to do what he did yet. I need more time to come to terms with the damage this hand has done.” He pulled the appendage away, looking it over before his eyes found you again. “But I… I can tell he won’t hurt you. I can feel it,” he pulled his flesh hand away and pressed it over his heart. “Right here.”

He laughed, almost incredulously. “Even the Winter Soldier has fallen in love with you.”

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. He wanted you to trigger the Winter Soldier. He said that he loved you, and that Winter did too. 

It would really fucking suck if you were dreaming.

“I don’t know your words,” you mumbled, suddenly shy in the light of his proclamation.

This time, the smile he gave was one that reminded you of those old photos from the 40s you’d seen in the history museum. The one where the left side crooks up a bit more than the right. He didn’t release you, but instead wrapped his left arm around your hips and leaned back to rifle through the top drawer of your nightstand for the notepad you always left in there.

He pulled it back to himself and released you only long enough to scribble down a few words and tear off the page. “You’ll have to memorize them. I don’t want them to leave this room.”

You nodded, because of course he wouldn’t and you’d rather swallow hot coals than ever betray him. Your eyes scanned the page a dozen times when he handed it to you, lips moving in silence as you played with the foreign vowels. 

All the while those strong hands of his trailed along your back and hips, sometimes exploring your upper thigh. 

It made your mind foggy, and you had to keep yourself from squinting to focus.

After you’d finally memorized them, you remove yourself from Bucky’s lap and padded over to your bookcase. You snagged the candle lighter from a shelf, and then removed the bag from your trash bin. It took a few tries, but once the lighter ignited, you let the flames eat away at the page before dropping it into the bin and watching until it was nothing but ash at the bottom.

You could hear a breath of relief leave the soldier from where he remained seated at the edge of your bed. He looked somewhat relaxed, but a tension still ran along his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You returned to the bed, smiling a bit as his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs.

Bucky hummed, low and steady. “M’sure, Doll.” He leaned his head against your stomach, and your hands found his hair on instinct.

He hummed again at the touch, and his arms tightened around your legs before he lifted you. Bucky turned quickly, one knee coming up onto the bed before he laid you down with a thump on the mattress.

You smiled, laughing a little as you bounced from the sudden drop. Bucky grinned back, his eyes shining. “Missed you, you know. I’m sorry for not telling you.” He leaned over you, hands planting on either side of your head. Nothing but honesty shined in those blue eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m sorry for wasting three months, and I promise I won’t do that again.”

Butterflies stirred in your belly, and you could feel the flush of heat on your neck as you leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips, “Better not.” 

Before you could think much of it, Bucky reached over and flicked the lamp on. You were too busy feeling fuzzy inside that you’d forgotten the very prominent marks littering the delicate flesh of your neck.

Marks that would always make Bucky drown in guilt.

“Fuck, doll.” 

He stared at your neck, horror painting his face in the lamplight. His body lifted until he was sitting on his knees over you, hands resting on his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them as he took in the damage he’d left.

This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “Hey, no—,” you gripped the front of his shirt, the sudden motion catching him off guard as you pulled yourself up to his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. You would’ve liked to yank him back over you, but you lacked the ability to battle his serum-enhanced strength. Sitting up did just fine.

“You don’t get to feel guilty for this. Not now, and not anytime after this if you… if we’re serious about doing this.” You stared him down, unwilling to allow him even a glance away. “I told you, I liked it. I told you that it didn’t hurt. You need to trust me as much as I trust you in this. That’s the only way this,” you motioned between you both, “is going to work.” You lowered your voice, nearly mumbling the last part. “I can’t take another step back, Buck. Not after three months, and definitely not after that.”

Bucky’s eyes danced between yours for a few moments. They darted down to your marred skin and back again several times before he blew out a breath and nodded reluctantly. 

Your shoulders eased too. 

“Now come back here and kiss me, soldier. Your girl’s in need.” You smiled, quirking a playful brow in an attempt to draw him back in.

It worked. That smile pulled at his lips, small at first but quickly blooming as you began peppering his jaw with kisses.

The kisses started gentle and exploring, and the touches soft and sweet. You hadn’t felt his skin against yours for three long months, save for two days ago, and you’d missed everything that made him Bucky.

You’d missed how the stubble of his chin brushed your cheeks when you kissed, and how he held your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. Delicate and worthy of worship.

You’d missed him so much it hurt.

“Bucky,” you panted, tugging his shirt as you kissed him. “I love you.”

A deep, rumbling groan left him, and his tongue swept across your bottom lip. “I love you, Y/N. So damn much.”

His flesh hand cupped the back of your neck and guided your head to the side so he could place the tenderest kisses over each hickey Winter had left. “He’s a brute,” Bucky mumbled against the column of your throat, stealing your breath. “If he hurts you–.”

“He won’t, James.” You pressed your forehead to his shoulder, biting your lip as his flesh hand trailed all the way from your neck to the base of your spine. “I know it.”

You only got a hum in response before his lips crashed into yours again. Bucky’s hands were everywhere, confident and warm on one side and tentative and gentle with the other, much colder one. The contrast sent delicious tingles along your skin wherever he touched and only served to heighten your anticipation.

This was the first time Bucky himself had allowed so much of a brush of his metal arm against you, let alone tender touch.

His palms mapped every dip and crest of your body, his touch growing more needy with each sweep of his skin against yours. His tongue slid over your lips again, a silent request that you were all too happy to accept.

You couldn’t help the satisfied sound that escaped you as the taste of him swept over you, familiar and strong. Things only hastened from there. It was like a switch had flipped and he couldn’t bear not to have his hands on you.

He kissed you hard, chasing you with lips and tongue like a man starved. The feather light touches of his hands turned more firm as he held your hips and pulled you closer. Bucky’s chest heaved, his breaths fanning over you between kisses in hot puffs.

You could tell he was still holding back. That he needed this as much as the burning need in your core told you that you did. “Bucky,” the sound was practically a whine, “Please.”

His fingers curled against your hips, “Fuck. Okay, okay.” Wet kisses were trailed down your neck as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to sweep calloused thumbs over your aching nipples. “Say them, doll. Say the words.”

You deserved a fucking gold metal for succeeding to pull your mind out of the fog he’d clouded your brain with. It always happened with him. Your mind just short circuited every time he cast you a heated glance, and this? Well, it was a miracle you could remember your own name.

You opened your mouth, the words you’d memorized tumbling out one after another. 

“Longing.” Bucky grunted, but didn’t stop in his ministrations as you spoke the next. 

“Rusted.” Another grunt, and a tremor through his shoulders, but his lips never left your skin. In fact, it just seemed to spur him further as his hands tugged your shirt down to reveal the delicate skin of your breasts.

“Furn-,” you gasped as his lips locked onto a nipple, tongue teasing expertly over the nub. “Furnace.”

The hum he released sent skittering tingles across your body in the most delicious way.

“Finish, baby.” 

Fucking hell. What was the next word?

“Daybreak,” his hands lowered to your ass and held it firmly against him as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin of your breasts, never missing a beat. “Seventeen.”

Those devilish hands dragged lower, fingers trailing along the seam of your panties through your leggings and along the underside of your thighs where they met the curve of your ass. Inches from where you needed him most.

You could barely suck in a breath, utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on your skin and those hands mapping your body in agonizingly slow strokes that sent waves of need straight to your core. “Benign,” his body arched over yours, easing you into the mattress, “Nine.”

Another shudder this time, and you could see the ripple of muscle beneath that tight black shirt. God did you want it off of him.

“Homecoming.” 

A groan, and a shake of his head. It was the first indicator that he was uncomfortable.

 You hesitated at the pained sound, but you didn’t have time to ask a thing though. Not when his head snapped up and those wide, wild blue eyes found yours. “Don’t stop,” he panted, cheeks flushed.

So you didn’t.

“One.”

Wet lips trailed kisses down the exposed skin of your stomach, the tips of his dark hair trailing down as he kissed past your naval and kept going. Lower, lower, lower…

“Freight Car.” The words sounded strangled in your throat through your labored breathing.

The kisses stopped abruptly, and Bucky’s body went stock still.

You weren’t even sure he was breathing until the even rush of an exhale swept against your stomach.

And then he chuckled.

 It wasn’t the kind you’d normally hear from Bucky. It wasn’t filled with joy, or playfulness. This one sounded depraved and downright corrupt.

The hairs on your neck raised, and that sharp bite of panic jolted through you as you stared down at his large frame hovering over you. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, and the lack of any hint of what was going through his head only heightened the tension building in your body.

“Told you, didn’t I?” His voice was a rumble in the silence, and you gasped when his tongue swept a path up the center of your belly. “You fucking need me.”

Cold fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings and shucked them off in one quick motion, the cool air assaulting your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You simply stared up at him and tried to remember to breathe beneath the weight of his eyes on your body.

Those cold, lust-lidded eyes.

“Winter,” you breathed, a thrum of excitement mingling with the nerves tingling under your skin. The ache you felt was at the forefront of your mind. Bucky’s gentle touches had served to stir the need that was already brewing.

Now, Winter has come to finish the job.

He smiled, slow and sultry. “Needy little thing, aren't you, Dollface?”

You bit your lip as heat crept up your neck.

Winter’s body rose to his knees, his hands curling around your thighs in a bruising grip and lifting them over his shoulders. You yelped, but it didn’t stop him. Those thick corded forearms locked your legs in place over his shoulders, his face centimeters from your core and the stubble of his jaw tickling your thighs.

You were almost certain you'd soaked through the thin pair of panties you wore.

His hands dragged up your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the fabric at your hips as he held your eyes. 

And then he ripped them at the seams. The puny fabric fell to the mattress in tatters, and all you could do was gawk at him.

“Don’t wear those when you’re with me.” Winter ordered against your thigh, his tongue swiping a path up the inner stripe of skin. 

The action sent another wave of want through you, the anticipation of what he was going to do serving to build your nerves higher and higher.

He drew you closer by your hips, humming against your skin. The sweep of hot air over you was a welcome sensation and you arched into it. Your heart pounded, and the angle in which your body was held, your head still resting against the mattress along with your shoulders, made it hard to think. 

Winter stopped just short of brushing his lips over your sensitive clit. You could’ve cried right then and there. Blinking up at him, you caught the wicked grin plastered on his face.

The soldier above you looked downright god-like bathed in the dim light of the room. His eyes gleamed, and that silver arm danced with every move he made. Every devious stroke of cool fingers against your body.

You knew this exact image would be carved into your mind for the rest of your life.

“Beg for it,” he ordered, his grip turning nearly bruising. “Tell me how badly you want it.” His lips brushed your core, just a whisper of scruff on your sensitive skin. 

You squirmed in response, chasing the feeling. Normally, you would rather die than beg a man for anything. But Winter? He had a special way of breaking you down. “Please, Winter, please. I-I want you. I want you to–.”

He didn’t even let you finish before his tongue delved into your core. 

You felt every sweep, every brush of that expert muscle laving over you. Desperate, needy sounds were echoing through your room, and a part of you knew they were yours. That they were spilling from your parted lips in broken sentences begging him for more. You were too focused on where his tongue toyed with you to care about anything else, though. Every pass of his tongue on your clit, or a sweep against your clenching walls made it harder and harder to ground yourself.

You were crawling closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers were curled into the bedspread, and your hips ground into his face and bucked against the solid grip of his arms over your thighs. Winter groaned into your heat, the rumbling vibrations pushing you closer to euphoria.

Dazed, you tried to focus on his face, tried to make out his features in your love-drunk state. 

Winter's eyes were closed, and his face never came up once for air. Not even when you could feel his chest shuttering, and those muffled grunts became more frequent.

And God did they feel good.

Your chest heaved, your legs trying and failing to move an inch against his iron grip. As those vibrating groans shoved you over the edge with a cry.

Your brain couldn’t focus, not with all the blood rushing through your head and the thundering sound of your own heart in your ears, or the blissful sensation of release crashing over you in waves. 

“So dirty, Dollface. Letting me ruin you like this.” Winter eased his grip on your shaky legs, his hands dragging up your thighs to grip your hips. “Letting me brand you, taste you…” He licked his lips, tasting you on his stubbled face. His body leaned forward, your legs parting around his hips as he planted a burning kiss to your lips, “Fucking perfect.”

You panted, blinking to focus on his words as you came back to yourself.

Winter was lifting himself off of you, his eyes raking over your disheveled form as he slipped off the bed and stood to his full height. Those blue eyes held nothing but burning desire, muscles flexing as he yanked off his shirt and rewarded you with the view of his sweat slicked torso. 

The sight was erotic. His hair damp with sweat, and his face glossy with the remnants of your release, chest heaving as he sucked in much needed air.

Winter reached forward, his cool fingers wrapping around your ankle and tugging you towards the edge of the bed with a wicked grin. “Gonna make you come again, Dollface. Need to hear those pretty sounds you make.” His flesh hand grabbed your calf, pulling you closer. “Wanna hear my name on your lips again, and again, and again.”

His metal fingers gripped your thigh hard enough to leave bruises, but that didn’t bother you. You loved the reminders that littered your skin from the last time Winter branded you with his affections, and you relished each one that would follow. 

With a quick, strong motion, he flipped you on your stomach. Your chest bounced against the bedsheets, the friction against your pebbled nipples sent a jolt of pleasure down to your toes making you moan into the comforter as he brought your hips up and adjusted your knees against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He panted, pressing himself against your ass.

You could feel him through the sweats still hanging from his hips. The length of him pressed firmly against you, brushing your sensitive core and making you groan again. You wanted to feel him, needed to know what it was like to be with Winter the same way you craved intimacy with his counterpart.

“Please,” You begged. 

With a grunt, the sweats were yanked down and he thrust harshly, seating himself completely in one swift motion.

His moan rumbles through you, setting your nerves alight. “Oh god…”

And then he starts moving. 

One stark difference between James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier, was that one was gentle and kind, and everything you’d want in the man you’d take home to meet your parents. And the other? The other was the kind of man that would carve his name into your skin with a smile and defile you in unspeakable ways, rough and raw.

Winter snapped his hips at a breakneck pace, pulling out only to plunge back in with a force that made you see stars. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, clinging to the sheets as he drove you into the mattress. His cock hit all the right places, those quick, constant motions driving you closer and closer to another release. His grunts and puffs of breath only added momentum.

Tears pricked your eyes, your heart hammering and your skin on fire as pleasure coursed through you, building higher and higher.

A cold palm slipped along your belly, snaking its way between your breasts and firmly wrapping around your neck, squeezing those delicate pressure points that made your head spin. He lifted you from the mattress, his pace halting almost completely as your back met his heaving chest. 

Winter’s raw voice met your ears as you whimpered at the loss of friction, teetering on the edge of sanity as your core wept for attention. “Gonna cum if I keep that up, Dollface.” His voice is choppy, puffs of air hitting the side of your neck as he talks. “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

His dick pushes in again, dragging slowly along your walls as he groans in your ear, your own voice joining him in a broken harmony. “‘M gonna need this every time. Need to feel your tight cunt, hear your pretty cries…” His tongue darted out to slide over your cheek, swiping up a tear that had fallen from your damp lashes, “Taste you every. Single. Time.”

Those hips snapped back into their brutal pace, slamming against your ass as he clutched your frail neck in his metal hand, the other coming up to grip your hair and tug your head back as he sucked more love bites along your neck.

You moan, tears of pleasure falling from your lashes as you near the edge. Winter’s grunts and shaky breath vaguely registering that he’s nearly there himself.

He sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, the combination of pain and utter pleasure shoving you over the precipice as you open your mouth in a scream. That metal hand snakes up to stifle it as his hips jerk a few more agonizing thrusts before shuddering with his strangled moan.

You’re left limp and breathless, utterly spent and draped over his arm with your head lolling against his strong and heaving shoulder.

Winter slips from you, repositioning you on the bed like an offering on an unholy altar. With his hair plastered against his forehead, those dark strands utterly soaked with sweat, he smiles down at you.

“Again.”

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