#the utter stupidity of this man. i mean not for falling her but like. he was sooooooooo confident. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chasing-dreamers · 3 months ago

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Just For You, Princess

(jjk) MDNI🔞

After finding out that you were feeling insecure, Sukuna makes sure to remind you that there’s no need for that.

Pairing: fem!reader x husband!Sukuna

Genre: Married human Sukuna AU, 18+, smut, comfort, established relationship

Warnings: MDNI, fingering(f receiving), unprotected sex(don’t do it!), soft!Sukuna, porn with some plot, very slight angst, aftercare, he says princess a lot

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Hey! So, this is my first time posting any written work since 2019 and the first smut I’ve ever written, so please go easy on me! I have several fics I’ve either started and scrapped or just haven’t finished but somehow wrote this in a whole day! I’m very excited about this and I hope everyone enjoys!❤️

Disclaimer: I don’t own any rights to Sukuna or the JJK franchise, this is solely from my intellect and it in no means tied to anything other than my imagination.

“Princess, can you please tell me what’s wrong?” The man standing in front of you in your kitchen asked for the thousandth time since the two of you got home. He currently had you caged against the counter because he knew the moment he moved, you’d avoid him and go to sleep without talking to him about it. He refused to let another second go by without knowing what was wrong. Once you could tell him, he’d fix everything he could in an instant. Seeing you this upset was absolutely destroying him. “I don’t know what happened or what to say unless you tell me and you know that.”

You hesitated. It was stupid but it still bothered you more than it should have. Having to listen to a group of girls at Yuji’s party talk about this man and what they would do to him, knowing he had a wife (not knowing it was you). Then hearing that they couldn’t care less who she was because they had seen her and there was no way she’d be able to keep him loyal for that long… it ruined the whole rest of your night, shattering every thought and expectation you had for your relationship. Sukuna was your world, but were you enough? Would he really get bored of you? What was it about you that made them think he wouldn’t stay with you?

“Do you think about sleeping with other girls, Kuna?” You finally said just above a whisper. You kept your head down, looking towards his stomach, afraid to see the look on his face.

“Wha-“ Sukuna’s grip on the counter tightened for a split second as he tried to grasp what you were asking. Was his wife, of all people, really standing here questioning if he thought that or not? “Why would I…You…Ring…What? Why would you ask me something like that, love?”

You looked up and saw the utter confusion in his eyes and slowly started to realize how stupid that question was. He searched your face trying to find any reason you could have. You took in a deep breath and held back tears as you answered. “Because there was an entire group of girls at Yuji’s party that were graphically detailing what they wanted from you. One of them even said that it would be easy to do because they had seen your wife and that she wasn’t worth staying loyal to and I was literally sitting right ther- “

Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you tightly and pulled you into his chest. You curled into him as you felt him bring his head down to nuzzle into your neck. “My sweet princess, there is no one else ever on my mind.” He pulled back slightly and grabbed your left hand and held it up in between the two of you. “Do you understand what this means?”

“Of course, it means I married you and…” You trailed off as you looked up and saw his knowing look.

“And that I married you, Princess.” He said sweetly. “It means that I have made a promise to devote myself to you and love you and not a single soul else.”

You nodded and gasped as he brought his mouth down to your ear, purring gently. “It also means that you are the only one I want to fuck as well. The only person I want to watch fall apart on my dick every night and make love to any chance that I can get.”

“K-Kuna.” You cried as he pushed you back up against the counter and hungrily latched his mouth to your neck. His hands ran down the sides of your body and then raked back up your thighs. He covered your body with his as he ran his tongue down your shoulder and back up. Your arms wrapped around his waist and your fingertips digging into the hard flesh on his back.

“It means that you are the one I’ve chosen to devour and consume for the rest of my life. The one I’ve chosen to relentlessly fuck in our bed every night. The one that I have to give these reminders to every time she thinks I would choose anyone else.” He grabbed the back of your thighs and picked you up as his mouth continued its attack on your soul. He carried you through your house and towards your bedroom. You clung to his desperately as he pressed you up against the wall in the hallway. You could feel his dick hardening against you as he ground his hips into yours.

“I have never wanted a single soul other than you since the day I met you, princess. If I need to keep reminding you like this, then I will happily do so.” He growled before smashing his lips into yours. Your mouths worked together, trying to express the emotions and promises swirling through the air around you. Sukuna’s tongue slipped into your mouth and you groaned at the feeling.

He hummed happily and pushed further into your mouth. You kissed his back with just as much force, wanting to show him how much you wanted, no, how much you needed this. Then he pulled you from the wall and turned into your room. He continued towards the bed, not skipping a beat in trying to devour you, nipping at your bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth. You huffed as he separated long enough to toss you onto the bed and strip your clothes off. He ripped your shirt over your head, then removed your bra, then quickly removed both your jeans and panties as well. You shivered as the feeling of cool air washed over your body, but Sukuna was quick to cover your body with his own again. He kissed you again as he ran his hands over your body. He brought them up to massage your breasts and you could feel him grin against you as you moaned into his mouth. One of his hands moved to hold your waist as the other continued down to settle in between your legs. “Gotta make sure my princess is prepped for me.”

He pushed one of his fingers past your folds and slowly began to push it into you. He watched in awe as your pussy swallowed his finger. You gasped as he began thrusting it in and out of you. He head shot back up and he grinned at your as he began thrusting it faster. Soon, he added a second finger and your moans got louder. “K-Kuna. Kuna. Kuna. Kuna.” You chanted hid name as a third finger went in and he curled them up just right. He hit that spot repeatedly and just stared at his hand disappearing into your cunt over and over again.

Then your orgasm hit your like a truck and you screamed his name. He smirked at you, licking his lips as he continued to coax the rest of it out of you. The squelching noises coming from your pussy made him even harder and he had to be inside of you right now before he lost his mind. Seeing your eyes blown out and your body trembling made his own body feel hot.

He pulled his hand out and made sure you were watching as he sucked your juices from his fingers. His eyes were also already blown out as you watched him crawl back off of the bed. He grabbed the bottom hem of his short and pulled it over his head. You ogled at his body as he began discarding his pants, your eyes raking over his tattooed chest before finally resting on his cock as it sprung out of his boxers. You tried to press your thighs together but Sukuna was too fast and was in between them in an instant. His cock rubbed against you, causing you to mewl and grab for him wherever your hands could reach. “Fuck, princess, you are so fucking wet for me.”

“J-just for you S-sukuna.” You stuttered as he began rutting against your clit. The stimulation was just enough to make the heat start spreading through your body but that alone wasn’t what you wanted. “P-please..”

“Yeah? You feel that, princess. That’s just for you.” Sukuna purred into your ear as he continued grinding down onto you.

“Then give it to me, Sukuna.” I used whatever sense in your mind you had left to spit your demand out. You needed him, all of him, so desperately and couldn’t wait any longer.

“As you wish, my princess.” He growled as he pushed his dick all the way in until you could feel his balls pressing against your ass cheeks. You shrieked at the stretch and the immaculate pleasure that came with it. He held himself up on his hands and watched at your face contorted with ecstasy. Your pussy welcomed him quickly and squeezed around him as began to slowly thrust in and out of you. The moans the two of you were swallowed as he leaned back down you pull you into a passionate kiss. He moved his lips against yours sensually as he used his hands to cup your face.

He began thrusting slowly, more caught up in how it felt to kiss you in this moment, trying to pour all of his emotions into it to show you how he truly felt. The love and longing and needing and knowing you were everything he could ever want and more. The bliss in being your husband, relishing every second of it. You hummed and moaned against his lips as his hips found a sweet spot in his pace to keep your toes curled without pushing you over the edge. Just enough to keep you right at the top without spilling over just yet.

Sukuna pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours, sighing deeply. “My sweet, sweet girl. Fuck, you feel so good every time.”

You moaned in response and he grinned down at you. Your hands ran up and down his back, following the contours of his muscles, locking them into your memory. “You feel so good, Kuna. I feel so full.” You panted as you began to feel the heat in your stomach intensify and your moans began to turn into whines and whimpers. “Faster…please.”

Sukuna moaned at the sound of your begging and he braced himself with his hands back on the mattress. His thrusts pick up into a very fast pace that had you mewling and begging with in coherent words. He marveled at how you looked underneath him falling apart. The best sight he could ever imagine.

Sweat begins to pour down his face as he continues a brutal pace. You feel so fucking good around him and he doesn’t want to stop. Your pussy sucks Jimin and the way he feels your walls drag along his dick as he pulls out with every thrust. It’s intoxicating and he can’t get enough. “Just. For. You.” He chants with every thrust. His jaw clenches and he can feel the release coming quickly as you rake your hands down his chest. You begin to get tighter around him with every thrust and he almost loses his breath.

He pushes through the fight of coming already to keep the sight of your shaking with pleasure underneath him. He licks his lips and growls more as he watches your boobs bounce up and down with every moment. There’s sweat all over his body now and he sees your skin begin to shine with a thin layer of your own on your body.

He dips his head down to swipe his tongue up in between your breasts. You push your body up into him and squeeze his shoulders as he trails his mouth up to your neck once more, nipping and sucking and whispering praises into your ear.

One of his hands runs over your breasts, twisting your nipple just to feel your whole body arch into him again, then down your stomach until you feel his thumb rubbing circles into your clit. You instantly feel yourself unravel around him.

“Gonna…gonna…gonna cu-“ Your whole body tenses and Sukuna grunts and goes faster as he feels your pussy clamp down onto his dick. He moved his hand back and continues picking up the pace until the whole bed is shaking and you’re screaming his name. He moans out your name as he pushes his dick as far into your pussy as he can and comes hard. His whole body twitches as you both come down from your highs.

He slowly pulls out of you and kisses you gently as you whine at the overstimulation. He pats your hair and copes to you as you come down from the last bit of your orgasm.

“Shhh princess, I’ll be right back.” You nod in response and listen as he runs into the bathroom, turns the shower on, and comes back into the room with a wet cloth. “Let’s clean you up and then go take a shower, princess.”

“Mmk, Kuna.” You hum, still feeling euphoric. He cleans you, then scoops you up and walks you to the shower. You sigh constantly as you feel the warm water cascading over your body. Sukuna places you down where you can stand, then grabs subs up a loofa to clean both of your bodies.

“Such a sweet princess, aren’t you?” He asks sweetly as you finally peel your eyes open to look up at him. He grins down at you and kisses you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sukuna.” You reply, wrapping your arms around him. “My Kuna.”

“Yes, princess,” he chuckles. “All yours.”

He finishes cleaning your bodies and then you take turns washing each other’s hair. He giggles when he has to lean down so you can reach his and kisses your pout away.

Once your shower is over, you both dry off, slip into cozy pajamas, change the bedding, and slip into bed together to go to sleep. Sukuna hums the tunes of the song you danced to at your wedding and cards his fingers through your hair as you quickly fall asleep. Then he wraps his arms around and drifts peacefully off with you.

This was so nerve wrecking to post, but I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you so much for reading!

#jjk #jjk x reader #Sukuna #Sukuna x reader #sukuna fic #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sukuna #jjk ryomen #ryomen sukuna #Sukuna smut #jjk smut #soft Sukuna

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rkiveinmarvel · 2 months ago

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vsego dva prizraka - james bucky barnes des. barnes never trusted you, not once. but upon a different life, he would. notes. angst/comfort, enemies-to-lovers, mention of violence, curse words, idiots-in-love, sharon carter is a meanie here, trauma, torturing and avengers! shenanigans

hello! it's my bucky fic! part ii of upon a different life is here! thank you for supporting it, means a lot! anyway, here's part ii, uh--sharon carter is higkey unlikeable here so, i'm sorry! enjoy loving bucky!

(part i) (part ii) | w.c: 7.8k (got carried away, mb)

As you trace the track of living the endless cycle of you and the White Wolf stumbling in this much different life, James Barnes slowly learns fragments and side of you that were covered during the time in HYDRA’s grasp, don’t get him wrong, part of him still navigating in living and breathing around you but somehow, he doesn’t mind learning more about you, he somehow find himself tangled in your webs: in which he rationalized that maybe the words of HYDRA never left his head or maybe, just maybe, he felt a sense of familiarity with you, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that in the corners of the Avengers compound, someone understands him.

You, on the other hand, slowly make amends to the people you caused trouble when you were still HYDRA’s living leverage: some of them thanked you for apologizing while some did not take any apologies from you. Despite the hardship of earning people’s forgiveness, a part of you was grateful that the bed was even warmer than before, people actually smiled at you, talked to you, and you built the idea that the world isn’t always red and bruised.

For another, you finally see the Sergeant that fell off the train in 1945, how his life is ultimately different to the one you previously known, how his attention is relatively closed-knitted with books rather than guns and knives, how his grumpy old gaze was just him being confused, and how his metal arm is for carrying Banner’s stuff rather than a weapon to be used. It is refreshing to see things in a different light, but there’s still a present guilt on how you stole these simple things from the Sergeant, a lingering disgust within you was still present. How you wish HYDRA didn’t use him; how you wished you didn’t use him–despite his given acknowledgement of forgiveness: a terrible little you burns the edge of your mind. Yet, as you meet his eyes while sparring, in missions, in the kitchen, and at night, it keeps you grounded that what you have now is a chance to prove yourself—that you’re more than just HYDRA’s stupid toy.

After a few months of the events of you and Bucky sharing a moment in Brooklyn, you two find each other’s presence more grounding, call it sharing a trauma or trauma-bonding but what is certain, the each of you became each other’s compass in wandering the softer edge of the world.

The mission was executed properly and Tony Stark, being the man he is, decided to throw a party at the compound: with close friends, workers, family, and the Avengers–as the people went through the party, you stayed at the bar and challenged drinks with Yelena and Sam.

Sam and Yelena are on their fifth drink as their visions start to betray them. It was a stupid challenge, really, but it was amusing to join. As you drank your fifth drink, you winced at the bitterness and warmth coursing through your throat. “You two okay…?” You asked, basically indicating that you are still in the right state of mind, body, and soul.

“Absolutely…” Yelena uttered but her words were shaky and unstable as Sam just nodded and tried to sit up straight. In another point of view, it seems like you poisoned the two, but in this challenge: pride was on the line. “You know, you two should take a rest…”

The Falcon immediately protested his dislike at the idea of taking a rest, but before he could argue, he fell off his chair, causing Yelena to fall as well. “Told you…” You uttered under your breath. As Rhodes and Wanda helped the two go back to their room, you were left alone in the bar as a familiar metal arm tapped the table.

“You finally decided to show up.” Bucky nods and sits on the stool. “I heard that Sam fell flat on his face, so I had to see it.” You shook your head and nodded. “Anything I can get you?” Bucky decided whiskey on the rocks, as he was just taking a sip every now and then.

You asked the White Wolf why he wasn't joining Steve and Thor sharing drinks at the other side of the room, his eyes looking over the God of Thunder and Steve as he just looks back at his drink. “Just not feeling like talking to other people, everyone’s here is so different from the 40s.” You nodded as you sip your drink as well.

“Well, I’m not from the 40s, so, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you replied as you watched the people having fun. “But I guess, I do get where you’re coming from. I mean, people are actually…talking, not ordering me around.” You chuckled unsure, yet Bucky knew what you meant.

As you sighed, you looked over at him. “How’s your trip with Peter? I heard the kid practically dragged you around Queens for his project.” A small sigh and smile left James’ lips. “Parker was talking a lot, he introduced me in the corners of Queens, it was nice. But I still choose—.” you continue his words.

“Brooklyn.” You both said in unison, as he nodded. After a while, you two just watch the party in the bar. In the scene of soft music and chattering noises, it was quiet on your side. As if there was another world being built there–a look of adoration of the people around the room is present in the eyes of two former people of HYDRA, call it a look of longing or even hoping; in the back of Bucky’s mind he remembered the days where he dance with girls in the 1940s while you wonder if being in a party means being happy in people’s company.

Bucky was about to say something when he saw people dancing on the dance floor. Despite the uplifting mood, some people swayed to the music, calmly, not out of rhythm but still a form of slow dancing. His eyes darted to you as he saw how intrigued and focused you are in the people dancing.

“First time seeing people dancing?” He asked, as you spared him a look and you nodded. “Would it be weird if I said yes?” Bucky shook his head a ‘no’. He knew what you went through as he took a sip and said: “It’s not weird. But, it’s surprising..”

“Why is it surprising?”

“Well, when you and Natasha went to the ball for an undercover mission, didn’t you two dance with people to blend in…?”

“Oh, the mission in Budapest.” You nodded. “I didn’t dance that night, not once in my life, I think…” He glanced at you, as you asked if he danced. The Sergeant had this nostalgic look in his eyes, as if he tried to remember the soft hands he held as he danced in the 40s. With a last sip of his drink, he had a smug look on his face. “1943. Her name was Connie.” You listened intently.

He shared the Stark Expo, the memories he has as he danced with Connie before the war. As he grabbed a beer at a nearby table, to his surprise, you’re actually listening to him: He also told how he gave Steve a date that time, a double date, as he mentioned. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe the ambiance, but Bucky couldn’t stop talking to you—especially, when you’re looking at him as if he’s the only person in the world. Listening to him as if the music isn’t filling your ears.

He should not let the soft smile appear, yet he loves this. He loved being listened to. Despite, his demeanor and adjusting behavior around you; getting used with you, he let it slip—he hoped it was the alcohol, god, he hoped it was—he smiled at you, not an awkward one nor a smug one, it is a smile reserved for the times he felt at ease: the smile he had when he stayed at Sam’s hometown, the smile he had when he saw the flying car in Stark Expo, the smile he had when he was saved by Steve, and a smile that made his ears warm when he was dancing with Connie in 1943.

You smiled back, the Sergeant looked so handsome. A pretty man. In the moment, you two are like teenagers down the block or somewhat two strangers finally see each other eye-to-eye. As James ignored the warmth in his cheeks—pretending it was from the alcohol—he breaks the smile. As you question: “Was it nice…?”

Moments like this, James realized that you two are not far from each other; he got to experience becoming a human, before mess happened. While you lived in the mess, not knowing what it means to be a human—he pity you sometimes, he often wonders if you’re just making this up, waiting for a moment so, you can fuck him up but moments like this, he somehow recalls you had this look of ingenuity, as if you have no clue: how to live.

And he knew, for he also had the same look in his eyes. So, he nods and looks at the people sharing a slow dance. “It felt nice..” As you sip your drink, the Sergeant wants to ask you something, yet a bitter voice in his head holds those words back. In that he settled with that answer, as he drank the beer while you watched the people dance. A simple breath left you: “I’ll figure it out how it feels..”

If things were different, the bitter voice in his head would have not bothered him—but for now, he settled with whatever he had with you, as he left it at that.

You walked in the compound and smelled the spices in the kitchen, with a book in your hand—you saw Vision and Wanda cooking. Since the Redhead A.I has heightened senses, he welcomed and invited you. You felt like a trash third wheel, but as Wanda gave you a smile and offered what they cooked, it was more than welcoming.

A look from the outside was watching the three of you, or perhaps, you. The blue eyes watched you, as if he was analyzing how different you look: you looked at ease, your shoulders aren’t tense; you looked so…calm. “Are you going to run or are we gonna be staring at them until it gets weird?” Sam eyed the Sergeant as he glared back.

“Shut up, I’m almost done with my lap.” He grunted, going back to the stupid running bet with Sam. As Sam catched up with the grumpy old-man, Sam snickered. “That cyborg brain of yours is functioning in a new gear.” The Falcon teased, to which Bucky ignored–but he couldn’t help but wonder why he felt different around you: it was wrong, at least, that’s what he tells himself—he firmly believes, it was nothing but a mere heat of the moment perhaps, a little assurance for the trauma that you two share.

It was a normal day, to say so at least, the rest were doing their own things—enjoying the uneventful day, when afternoon arrived, some found themselves seeking to shut-eye: but not the former secret service of HYDRA and White Wolf.

“How about George Owell’s books?” You asked the Sergeant who was reading a book as he sat on the library’s couch. He raised his head and looked up at you at the loft of the library. “Haven’t read it but Dr. Strange said it’s a good one.” you nodded as you continued to scan the books in the library of the compound.

After a few hours of Bucky reading, he realized you’re not back in the seat where you promised to sit after you find the right book for you—that was an hour ago. He placed the book, The Hobbit, on the table as he called out your name. Your lack of response was a little jitter in his head, it’s unusual, or maybe it is usual, but he couldn’t help but check on you. As he climbed on the loft, he found you, reading a book on the floor.

He was bewildered as he saw you, reading a book on the floor as he sighed and sat next to you. “You finished your book?” You asked as he just shook his head; he didn’t say anything, letting you read in silence. In that moment, maybe, he was reading it all wrong—not the book, but you: he longs to be near you, whether he admits it or not, he stole glances as you read the book.

He should still hate you, you stole everything from him. But, his heartbeat quickens when you two share a soft moment, his ears ring when he does something that makes you laugh, his hands shake when you don’t respond to his comms when you two are on a mission, he doesn’t get it. He should still hate you, but he can’t help it—maybe, he’ll get it, once you do too.

As you read thoroughly, you felt a head on your shoulder. Typically, you would push it away, but as you heard even breathing as a relaxed state, you let it be. You didn’t move an inch, as you let the Sergeant sleep on your shoulder. It’s not the first time you served as a pillow to your new home, it was mostly Wanda or Yelena; sometimes Thor, when he wants to annoy you—but this felt new and raw. Your heart pounds louder, god, you hoped that the White Wolf won’t hear it.

It was scary to feel this, the loud banging on your chest, the tensed shoulder you had, yet as you looked over your shoulder, you saw his closed eyes and relaxed eyebrows—your memory drifted to the time you hear his screams when HYDRA removes his memory, you tensed as you remember how he bear the pain as you just watch across the room, and you remembered how the his furrowed eyebrows in the cryo-sleeping machine. The guilt was seething pain in your neck, it tasted bitter, but for once, you ignored the bitter taste in your lips, you found a better position, as you lean back, Barnes fell further in your shoulder as head touched the side of your neck.

You smiled softly—the one you gave Barnes at the party, the one you gave Barnes as you apologized; the smile you gave Bucky at the diner, a few months ago. With a heavy feeling, you leaned in his head as you rested your cheek.

You are damn sure, this will result into stiff neck, back pain, or even cramps—but just this once, you’ll bear it, just this once you’ll let your back and muscle scream, and just this once you let James Buchanan Barnes sleep, with a relaxed eyebrows in the warm presence of the library.

It wasn’t long when you feel sleepy too, it was an afternoon hit afterall, but a part of you wishes to stay awake, you want this to last, yet, you found yourself closing your eyes, relaxing in the library. You knew you’ll figure it out one day, whether it’s right or wrong to long for this, you’ll figure it out how to pour your heart to the person who has a broken heart because of you—you’ll figure it out, you know it—you just hope, Bucky will figure it out too.

Everything was doing fine with you and Bucky; the entire team felt it too—the sudden change, the loosen tension, and the given knowing look. You and Bucky did too but the trip to the destination wasn't an easy one, most of the time, Bucky steps on things he was not sure he can step on, other times you bit off things more than you can chew. Stark and Steve saw what was going on, the three steps forward yet four times back.

But little things keep you on arms length with the Sergeant: it’s not easy to look past with what you’ve done to him after all; it’s not easy for James to just forget everything that was stolen from him—for another, a part of you was new to this, the unknown butterflies when the Sergeant would do something as he glance at you, the red ears but not from the cold but when you hear James laugh, and the fast-paced beat: it was new to you, you know this feeling, you’ve read it in books: one to many times already but feeling it was another level, one you cannot help yourself but deny.

A bitter taste fell out of your mouth as you listened to the comms as you sneak in inside a control system for a mission, you could hear it—in the comms how Stark, Barnes, Romanoff, and Carter were blending in naturally in the crowd: it was a common hideout, to be honest, a terrorist stealing vibranium and having the operation under a bar-party casino, what a common hideout, it wouldn’t bother you; in reality, it should not bother you—you were HYDRA’s weapon once, undercover and sneak in mission is nothing but a piece of cake.

That would be the case, if you don’t feel a conflicting emotion in your chest—god, you hear it, the little chuckles the fell out of Carter’s mouth as you heard Bucky’s line on the end, he sound so out of character, out of touch, way different as he interacts with you. Cursing under your breath, you entered the camera room.

Without warning to the team, you successfully put the camera in your control, protecting Wanda, Sam, and Rogers from the security’s grasp. In that, you heard Tony’s chuckle.

“There you go, Secret Service, everyone..” He compliments you as he continues his comms. “Told you, you’re fit for the role—I’m great at role assigning after all.” In some cases, you would thank him —but your mind brushes things as Romanoff’s response to the comms was blurry as you recall the planning earlier.

“It’s set in Europe.” Sharon Carter's voice informed the team, as you, Yelena, and Natasha were preparing the things for the mission. As the information was given by Stark and Carter, you waited for further instruction—thus, leading to assigning roles. It wouldn’t matter actually, you were a spy, this would be a piece of cake: but then again, you bit off on something you can’t chew.

“Carter and Barnes, you two will be the undercover Mr. and Mrs. Williams, when we get control of the camera systems, that’s when Rogers, Wilson, and Wanda can come in. That leads to Yelena for going in the vault as me and Ms. Romanoff along with Williams taking charge of what’s in the casino.” Stark looked at Natasha and Rogers for confirmation, they both nodded.

But you scanned the fake invitations made by Stark for him and Natasha; for Barnes and Carter: The Williams—a new feeling burns within you, but you carry on—for all you see, was Barnes already talking to Carter after the planning—moments like that: you find another reason why you should deny the wanted warmth spreading in your cheek when you talk to Sergeant.

“Hey, secret service, talk to me–” Stark’s pull you out of your trance, you immediately replied. “Yeah? I’m here..” Stark chuckled, as he informed to prepare for a change in plans.

“Copy that.” A sigh left your mouth and a familiar voice—a softer one than what you once heard in HYDRA’s—”Everything okay, сахарный тростник?”

Everything okay, sugarcane? In different circumstances, that would have the cheesiest smile out of you, how a stupid toy turned into sugarcane. But things are different, way different—everything was out of touch, instead a monotone left your lips. “Everything’s fine, soldier.”

“You were not responding for a minute, you sure?”

In his words, you knew Steve wasn’t joking when he shared that Barnes have girls lining up for him in the 40s, knowing damn well, if you existed that time—you would too but as you listen to him, you notice the subtle different tone he uses with Carter, way different when it comes to you, it stings but you already foreseen this: it’s never gonna work, you stole everything from him for fucks sake. It will never work out. Bucky will never figure it out.

Before you could respond, a security breach alarm was ringing the entire place, it was from Yelena’s position—the things happened too fast, you immediately went to Yelena for back-up, which you two gladly got out. Everything was a mess, as far as you can remember, you and Yelena took some enemies, it was an odd pairing as Stark teased in the comms but as you fight, a lingering and gnawing feeling broods in your chest, it wasn’t the fight nor the team’s safety.

It was you, you’re worried about you and the damn stupid butterflies in your stomach. Your mind drifts that even in this different life, you still can’t have what you want to have—unprofessional, sloppy, neglectful, and hideous: as you heard a gunshot and a seething pain in your abdomen, so much for HYDRA’s favored leverage.

As you felt the pain, the adrenaline coursing to your body made you fight more of the enemies, but the ringing in your ear never left, maybe it was the anxiety or maybe it was the comms, or maybe it was Yelena begging the team to go back to quinjet because you’ve been shot—it would be tolerable, the pain would be tolerable until in the comms you heard a pleading, longing, a lost voice.

“Has anyone seen Carter?” It was Bucky, god, he sound so worried, so distress, that made you wince even the bullet’s pain was nothing, this was much worse, you stumbled your walk as you throw the comms away, luckily Yelena was with you, after a moment, the Falcon and Iron Man carried you and Yelena back to the quinjet, as a limping Sharon Carter and getting assisted by Bucky met your view as Sam made you sit.

Wanda immediately used her ability to heal you but you pushed her hand away. “I’m okay, Wanda. I can take it—look over Sharon and Yelena, yeah?” You smiled at her but as she was about to protest, Steve nudged her shoulder as Steve sat next to you. “My bad, Captain..” You gave Rogers a smile, a masked one—god, you’re in so much pain.

“...You okay?” Stark snickered as Steve sent him a glare. “Rogers, I am fine. You should see the other guy—” but before you can continue, Natasha cut you off.

“You were distracted out there. You were not responding for a minute; you got shot. Want to tell us, what happened?” There she is, the Black Widow, you play with air in your mouth as you look at Steve and glance at Barnes talking to Sharon as Wanda heals her injury. Normally, Natasha would tease you about it but as she notices the subtle glance. She waited for your answer.

“Was not used in that set-up, I guess.” Natasha gave a look to you, call it pity, sadness, but as you stood up, watching as the fabric that Yelena tied in your abdomen was pooling red, you used Steve's shoulders to lift yourself up. “Sorry, was distracted, it won't happen again.”

Steve was about to guide you but you shrugged him off as you walked in the little bathroom in quinjet. Not-knowing an emotion filled eyes was longing behind your back—how a pair of cerulean colored eyes is watching behind you. The jet was quiet, not because of the tight tension, but a worried one. So, Yelena carried the mood: reminding everyone that the mission is a success, but it wasn’t for Bucky, you were bleeding; he wasn’t there—for him, the mission would rather fail than to see you wincing in every step you make.

You removed your clothes as you removed the cloth that Yelena used to stop the bleeding, you eyed the injury as you knew this was a bit worse than you expect it, with running water, you cleaned it—scrambling the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, applying gauze—-you can ask Banner or Maximoff to look on it, for now, this’ll do.

Few weeks back in the compound, it felt like the time didn’t move. You were pissing off at HYDRA wishing they inserted the serum at you too—so, the healing process would be much faster than you bed-rotting in your room—but you guess, that was better; with Yelena being the closest things you have in sister–she told you everything. Especially the blonde woman hanging out with the terminator.

She tells stories about them as she sometimes passes out in your room—you love Yelena, there’s no doubt, you thanked her every time she and Natasha would look at you as if you live with them. In the middle of the night, you got out of your bed as you fixed Yelena’s blanket next to you—-your light footsteps left your room, as you went to the kitchen.

You wanted to make tea, but the heating pain from your abdomen, your movements were slow—it would take—“Sam would’ve ran sixteen laps and your tea is not even close to done.” Of course, the Captain’s voice. He was in his night outfit as you chuckled and nodded. “A little hand, then?” you asked the old man.

That night, Steve Rogers made you tea as you watched and sat on the counter. “I can feel you staring at me…” Rogers uttered as you shook your head. “I never got to thank you…” You added as he placed a fresh tea on the counter as he also has one too.

As you sip, a smile left your face—you liked the tea he made. “Peggy taught me in the 40s.” You nodded as he told you how Peggy taught him—before you knew Steve, you thought he just got lucky being Captain America, but with him sitting and studying your look: he’s also a human being that falled in the wrong path of time. With that, you looked at him.

“Does it get easier?” You asked him, it was a broad question. But, somehow, all the speeches he made for the team had the same weight when said: “I lived on ice for 70 years, it’ll eventually get harder.” Not the answer you wanted, but somehow, you knew.

“....but you have us. Eventually, it’ll be okay, not easy, but okay.” He sip his tea as he pulls the picture of Peggy in the compass he carries.

“You must’ve really liked her…” You added–as he nodded, acting shyly—as he tells his story, but not the one written in the museum, somehow, the longing feeling in your chest was bigger, how he talks about Bucky, is so different from the Bucky you know, it was painful—but at this point, you mirrored Rogers, not missing how his eyes shimmered when he thought of Peggy. With a cup of tea on your hand, you figured it out: you absolutely, without a doubt:

You love James Buchanan Barnes.

Your heart clenches as you settle with the realization—“I’ve seen how you look at Bucky..” Cases like this, you would wanna talk to Natasha first, but, knowing Steve would not let it go, you continued—it’s your way to thank him for the tea, afterall.

“I do, I felt that, months ago—realized it, now. I saw how you talk about Peggy yet I think about how I talked about him.” You chuckled. “Guess his 40s charm never left, but, who would take me—why would I bother with this? I hurt him, stole everything from him and now we're a bunch of agents and icons, there’s no room for that—especially ... .especially with me.” Steve listened intently.

“Pepper and Tony would say otherwise.” You raise your head and meet his gaze. “Barton and his wife would not agree too. Parker and MJ would argue with you about it. Wanda and Vision would explain themselves to you—” You laughed, as you get his point.

“It’s not the same, Rogers—I hurt him. A million times, stole who he is, used what he is—how would he take me?” A bitter chuckle left your lips as cleared your throat, you stood up not wanting to talk more. “Thanks for the tea…” As you closed the door in your room, Steve sighed as he looked at the man standing in the dark corner of the room.

“You heard her…” Steve got the cups and placed them on the sink, as the man in the corner stepped out. “How would you take her..?” Steve quotes your question. The man lingered his blue eyes in the door of your room.

“All of her.”

It’s true, Barnes should still hate you—but, all at once, next to you, he feels like a child. Like, all the things he felt was damaged within him, felt undamaged—felt like you seen him in his bullshit: the 40s one, the Sergeant one, the Winter Soldier one, the White Wolf one, the James—the Bucky: you take them all, so, he would be a fool not to take all of you too.

Maybe, in the height of it all, 40s Bucky would never forgive you but—in his heart, a growing hope—thanking the stars, the pain, the stitches, the loss—for all of that: he thanked that he was still alive in hope for this love.

Steve nodded and looked at his friend— “Talk to her, Buck.” Bucky nodded, not saying anything but feeling everything—with a soft look at Steve, he realized that he got it—he understood it, that in your shoulder at the library: everything felt right: you hurted him, that is true, god, he hated you.

But in the dreaded past, meeting you, knowing you was the tattooed dream etched in his mind, that inside of the Sergeant, White Wolf, grumpy old man: was his inner child, wishing to spend the rest of his days until the time lets—god, he loves you.

The next day, alarms were all over the compound, you walked out of your room—seeing Tony and Steve in their suits; a missing cerulean eyes. “Where’s Bucky?” Sam immediately went to you, as he tried to push your back into your room.

“You’re still injured, let them handle–this–” You pushed his arm. “Don’t bullshit me, Sam—I am fine, where’s Barnes?” you repeated but as Sam was about to say something, Stark was at your room’s door. “Power Broker got him—” Without a word, you grabbed your stuff and changed your clothes to the uniform Stark made for you.

“Hey, hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Sam’s voice was louder as Tony did his best to stop you too. “Secret Service, listen to me, you’re still injured—you have to stay–”

“Stay?! I will not stay here, Stark, Bucky is—he’s not here—I’m not gonna stand here and hope you guys get him back! What if Zola found him! What if—” Stark cut you off. “We’ll bring him back—your Barnes.” In that you calm down, as you nodded and sat on your bed. As Stark left your room, Sam looked over at you.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“...I’m gonna follow them..” With that you clutched your bed sheets and begged to all the heavens of the universe to bring him back. Your love back.

James Barnes was sitting in a familiar chair, a chair that reminded him of his past, reminded him of all the blood—it’s happening again, he’s gonna lose all his memories again, he wanted to fight the doctors surrounding him but the drugs in his system were blurring everything.

His metal hand was strapped as well as his chest and feet—he felt helpless. “Ah, you’re awake.” A voice, Sharon—she visited Bucky’s room last night, for whatever reason, Bucky thought Sharon needed help but as he turned his back, all he felt was the cold floor and woke up with the doctors all over the place with him tied up on the chair.

“Sharon, what the hell is wrong with you?” His voice is bitter, in pain, god, it’s all coming back— “Wrong with me? I am this, солдат.” Soldier. It is different when you say it, that’s the first thing Bucky noticed. “And I am selling you to the market. You are a great deal, Winter Soldier.”

Of course, Bucky would be used again—the machine starts to produce a sound—a distinct familiar sound, is it always gonna end up like this? But in his throat, he can only plead—he felt like a kid, not the same kid that wishes for you, the kid that was begging to be freed, it felt so weird, familiar, painful, to be back here.

As the machine covers his left eye as he grunts in pain—he thinks of you. He wished he memorized you, he wished he knew how to make your tea, he wished he would remember your words, he wished he was back in the shore again as you ask for forgiveness as he eats the sugarcane, how he wished he was eating at the diner with the jukebox again; how he wished he took you to a dance.

Then, it was nothing.

“Солдат?” Sharon called out a name—Soldier?

Against the dark room, a soldier spoke: “Я готов ответить.” The Winter Soldier was ready to comply.

“Tell me, it’s not you on the comms, Secret Service.” As Stark and Rogers rush inside the building, which was supposed to be a duo-mission, they hear a crackling noise on their comms. “That would be so boring if it wasn’t, right, Stark?” You chuckled, before Rogers can even argue about it—Stark already did.

“You stubborn–You just had your stitches! We’ll handle this! Stay put in your location–you—” But you cut him off.

“Even if you have stitches, Stark! If Potts is there—you’ll do it too, so, let me help…” Stark and Steve sighed, they knew they couldn’t stop you. After Stark sorting you out, you get on the other side of the building while the other two lurk on the other side. It was a dark building, as you successfully sneak in: you immediately scan the area.

The dark room makes you think of HYDRA years ago: it was triggering, your skin feels cold—if you’re feeling like this, what more to Bucky. You need to find him fast, but the pulsing in your head, also doesn’t help, maybe it was the anxiety or maybe when Sam tried to stop you earlier.

“I told you, I won’t let you!” Sam groaned as he blocked your path, for a thousand times. “Sam, please, Cap and Stark need us! They need me, we have to help them!” You fought him, but you knew he was holding back because of your stitches.

“Work with me, Sam, please..” You pleaded but he got you in a headlock, as you calmed down. He loosened when you tapped his hand. “Please….It’s James. I don’t want him to go through that again, it’s the only way—only thing I can do, Sam—”

Sam cared about Bucky and you knew that, at this moment, Sam hates that he cares about you too. “Fine, but—” You smiled at him— “I won’t tell Steve.” In that Sam just nodded and let you go.

Never in your life, thought you would let your feet touch the casket for a man—a man whose heart and past are all broken because of you. You never thought you would see the day why people fought lively in the war because they have someone to go home to, you never thought you would see the day where all can be damned—just not you and Barnes.

The other side of the building is thoroughly occupied by fights: Stark and Rogers are really pushing through—while you see a laboratory, you immediately sneak inside. As Stark updated their situation of being occupied in a fight, you entered the lab. You finally saw Bucky, in the same chair, the first time you saw him. You were angry, pissed, and everything is being in the last line of your moral defense.

“Oh, Bucky..” you immediately went to the buttons and let the machine let James go, but he remained seated. “Barnes, we have to go—come on–” You checked his face if he was injured, or even concussed, but all you met was a familiar eye, an unwanted one, the one would burn in your guilt—In his dilated eyes, the Winter Soldier is back. It’s not Barnes, not Bucky—HYDRA’s favorite: the one that killed people without blinking. With such hope, you pulled him up but to no avail, Carter’s voice broke through.

“Soldier, attack.”

The Winter Soldier immediately slapped you away, causing you to hit the wall—if it wasn’t for Tony and Shuri’s invention in your suit—you would’ve died but you met the Winter Soldier’s eyes again, this time—you stood at the same spot of his victims before, you knew what they meant: for the first time, you were scared. As Stark had scanned the area from his location, he asked you to stand down and wait for them—but the comms he was giving was meeting the cold floor.

You look at the Winter Soldier. “You really wanna do this, Sharon?” Sharon snickered as she cockily revealed her plan selling the Winter Soldier to the underground. “You’re nothing like Peggy, not a bunch.” Sharon scrunched her nose.

“Because Peggy never stepped up—she could have all this and yet she stayed at the stupid camp. But me, after the government go up against me, I finally find the purpose—”

“What? Like a criminal dealer?” Despite you tensing up, to fight against the Winter Soldier up—you snarked up a reply to Sharon. “That’s lame, you know, if I were you, I would go bi—”

“Shut up! Like you know better, you better stop pretending to be one of them because…you are just like me.” You stared at her; back at the brooding Winter Soldier. “Or not. Soldier…kill.” In that The Winter Soldier immediately attacked you.

For a while, you were able to keep up with his fighting style, you were once a HYDRA after all but a lingering warm feeling scattered in your chest: you can keep up with him because you spar together, you catch up with his speed. Despite the Winter Soldier’s attacking skills, you didn’t fight back, you just put yourself in defense and you tried to whisper words that would trigger his memory. You hoped Steve would arrive and pull the Soldier out of trance, as the Soldier pinned you to the wall, you finally attacked back—you kicked him as he stepped away.

“Soldat, ты меня бесишь.” The soldier grunted, he knew what you meant—he was pissing you off. In that his attack became more aggressive; You tried to recall all the memories, even the one Steve told you but none of them reached the Soldier. He kept punching and kicking you, until his hand hit your stitches, you fell on the ground as you clutch yourself in pain—the soldier reached for the gun, with the last strength you kicked the gun away.

It fell on the floor as you grabbed it and aimed it at the Soldier. “Stay back, Soldier.” Yet, for the first time, your hand shakes holding a gun. Without abandon, the Soldier still charged, pushing you down to the floor—with an intention to kill,he grabbed a knife but instead of you pulling the trigger, you felt the knife getting deeper in your shoulder, the Winter Soldier twisted the knife, but he flinched when he heard you:

“Full circles…” You winced. “I am really sorry, Bucky…” Suddenly, the Soldier heard the shore, the sweet taste was familiar on his lips, your swiss knife on his hand—Bucky.

He pulled his hand away as he stared at you. “....Sugarcane..” In that a bitter chuckle left your mouth as you nod. “Barnes..” You felt yourself tear up as you reached his cheek and caressed it. “You’re back…finally, you’re back..” Bucky was tense, he knew what he did but the way you looked at him, melted his inside. He was about to say his apology but a loud explosion occurred. He used his body to shield you as he carried you to the side.

He saw the blood in your suit, as you slowly got dizzy. “Hey, hey, don’t you dare. Sweets, come on–”Bucky tapped your cheek as he saw in the explosion was Stark and Steve, Steve threw his shield to Bucky as Bucky catched it he warned: “Steve! We gotta go, she lost a lot of blood.” Even Tony felt Bucky’s panic.

“The quinjet is up north the mountain.” Steve said as he and Stark went to catch Sharon Carter. Bucky’s hand was dipping in your shoulder and waist as he carried you back to the quinjet, he kept checking if you were still breathing—he prayed, he was shaking in fear: he can’t lose you, especially not like this. His breathing was ragged as he reached the jet. He was hoping Wanda was there but all there were the buttons of the jet.

He placed you on a chair as he grabbed the medical kit in a cabinet, he immediately sat on the floor and remove the suit—your stitches thorn and a bleeding shoulder, he was mad at himself, how did he even let it happen, he should not have hurt you, he should—

“Calm down, James…” He felt your hands on his cheek again, grounding him in his panic. He immediately shook his head. “No, no, I did this, I was—”

“You didn’t have a choice…” you smiled. “Besides, I think we’re fair now.” You joked but the giggle didn’t leave Bucky’s lips—-is he going to lose you too? His hand reached for your head as he ran his hand in your hair. “I should’ve asked you to dance with me, that night….” He whispered slowly.

As you nodded, relaxing in his touch. “I guess you owe me…”

“I do, I definitely do, sweets.”

Bucky was reading George Owell’s 1984—despite being a great book: it seemed a tale of HYDRA, he read intently in the library. After a while, he looked over the loft, recalling the memory when he fell asleep next to you.

“Hey, sweets?” His voice called out, noticing the afternoon turned into night, knowing they drifted in the loft, next to each other. “Yes, Barnes?”

“We’ll read 1984 tomorrow?” He asked but neither of them moved, the proximity within them is warm, it’s home. With a chuckle, a reply left you: “If you’re up for it…”

After a while, he left the library with a longing look on his face as he carried the book, adoring the shared memory, longing for it, wishing he can experience it again—

— Suddenly, he met you carrying new bandages and band-aids. “Didn’t Banner tell you to stay on the bed?” He asked, immediately rushing to you.

“....Did he?” you asked, as you looked like a kid that stole a candy bar. “Well, Banner and Stark went out and my bandages are getting itchy so—I kinda, need to change them.”

“Couldn’t Natasha or Yelena help you?” You nodded. “I can’t find them and they’re really itchy, Barnes.” You walked away from him as he held your shoulder. “Let’s change it then, sweets.”

Barnes made you sit on the sink of the bathroom as he changed the bandages in your abdomen, as you winced lightly. “This okay, sweets?” You nodded as he purely focused on the bandage. Later, reached another batch of bandages, as you see the guilt look in his face: as he changed the one in your shoulder. “Barnes…” You knew he wasn’t listening, he’s probably blaming himself in his head again.

“Bucky?” you called out, this time, he looked at you. As you reached for his metal arm, he pulled away but then you pulled it as you felt the metal texture. “I’m sorry…I hurted you.” He sighed as you held the wrist of his metal arm. “Guess we’re even—” He shook his head, not liking your humor.

“There could’ve been worse! I could’ve killed you—I could’ve lost you and it’s gonna be my fault–” In his panic, his right hand lightly hit your shoulder—but as he was about to say sorry again, you grabbed both of his cheeks. “We’re alright, Bucky. We’re okay…” You muttered, as you rested your forehead into his.

“We’re okay.” You both muttered, as he calmed down, he continued to change your bandage on your shoulder, as his body heat was radiating into you. As he wrapped and cut the last bandage—you both stared at each other. His eyes were blue like you remembered, as his eyes linger in your eyes yet longer in your lips.

Suddenly, it’s just him and you—above anything else, he kissed you.

To which you smiled as you kiss him back, in the soft edge of the compound, it’s just him and you, his hand rested in your waist as you hold him in his shoulder—you kissed him as if you were memorizing him and he kissed you like he would want to keep your lips on a bottle so, he can get addicted and taste you anytime he wants.

He pushed further as you pulled away and you chuckled. “I thought the 40s were supposed to bring them on date first…” Bucky eyes glistened with joy— “My bad, sweets, you looked like you wanted to kiss me.”

As he kissed you lightly again, lingering a little longer—as he pulled away he tucked your hair in your ear. “I suppose I owe you a dance, sweets?” You smiled as you nodded, as you opened your arms for embrace as he indulged in your warmth. “Only if you change my bandages, until I get better?”

He nodded as he kissed your forehead: “You don’t have to ask me, sweets, I got you, always.”

“....You always call me that, after I said sorry to you…sweets, I’m not sweet, I’m a spy like Natasha and Yelen—”

“The sugarcane, sweets. The sugarcane, I still remember that was the only thing we ate that time—yet, even when I was mad at you, you still got me sugarcane, it was really…sweet of you.” He whispered as you laughed. “Steve wasn’t lying when you got your words.”

He lightly kissed your injured shoulder and muttered a sorry to it. As you two hugged again, you can’t help but hum the song from the diner—playing in the jukebox: I’ve never been in love before—but as you smiled and relaxed at the sink—it felt different, it felt more human—warmest than ever been.

Upon in a different side of life, you never knew it will turn out like this, watching stars with Barnes, holding hands, dancing in the rhythm, planning what’s for dinner with him;—despite the guilt brooding in each of your chest about what could’ve been in the past the future remains uncertain, as the old man said it will eventually be okay; maybe there was hate or maybe regret: but for a man who woke up 75 years later, he was finally certain as he decided that in each time he will fall in love..

— it's always going to be you.

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borathae · 11 months ago

Text

↳ Index [Snippet #44 - Face Fuck]

"When Jungkook sucks your strap."

Genre: married life!AU, some Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: my bois Yoonmin make an appearance, sub!Jungkook, Dom!Reader, masochist!Jungkook, kneeling, cock rubbing over briefs, she steps on his cock, girl bulge ngng, this is the nasties blowjob ever, strap sucking, squirting dildo, fake cum eating & play, deep throating, face fucking, so much gagging, tears, drool, Jungkook is so needy for her cock, hair pulling, tongue spanking, face slapping with cock, praise, degradation ("needy cockslut", "whore" etc.), good boy kink, he calls her ma'am, she calls him puppy, mental orgasms (f.receiving), creampieing, he bites her neck as he cums, he also scratches her from neediness, tears after sex, loving aftercare, snuggles and kisses, they’re in love and kinky :(

Wordcount: 7.8k

a/n: *sluttish barking and growling*

You and Jungkook are ready for bed. Freshly showered, moisturized, clean teeth and comfy pjs. You are done and ready. Cozy and snuggly. Warm and sleepy. You aren’t cuddling anymore as you always break apart before sleep to get more comfortable. You are still facing each other, having enough distance between your faces that you don’t breathe in each other’s air, but you still have enough closeness so that you can hold hands.

Well, it is more so that Jungkook is holding your hand, while you are getting closer and closer to sleepy town. He is tracing your knuckles, staring into the darkness. You have your blinds down, so he can’t see anything, but just the knowledge that you were there is comforting him. He could never sleep in separate beds, let alone separate rooms. You and he talked about it, as one married couple does at some point in their marriage, because you heard from others that it could be beneficial to the marriage. Not for you and Jungkook. You tried it for two nights, before both of you left your rooms to coincidentally meet in the hallway.

“I don’t like this. Wanna be with you”, you told him sleepily as you instinctively touched his tummy for the familiar feel of him.

“I hate it, wanna share a bed”, he answered you and then you and he went to bed in your shared bedroom and you cuddled, falling asleep seconds later.

That was years ago and, unless circumstances make you, you never slept in separate beds again.

You love being together. You love knowing that the other is close and that you have each other. You love being able to cuddle whenever, to hold hands and stub feet, you love that you can kiss and snuggle and that you can also chat whenever. The little sleep sounds each of you makes are also very relaxing to both of you. Even Jungkook’s snoring. Somehow it relaxes you because it lets you know that you have him with you. Yeah, you’re that crazy for the man. He is just as crazy however, because he loves your sleep mumbling. It’s utter nonsense and most of the time unintelligible, but he loves it because it means that he has you with him.

Tonight, Jungkook can’t quite find sleepiness. He feels tired and drowsy, but he can’t fall asleep yet. There is a thought keeping him awake and he needs to share it with you.

He whispers your name.

“Ye”, you breathe.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Mh-hm.”

“Please don’t laugh at me.”

“Kay.”

“I was thinking and maybe, I don’t know, maybe it could be hot if I sucked your strap? Maybe?”

A few seconds of silence where you clearly gather your strength.

“My strap?” you lull.

“Yeah. I give it head, suck it and if you want to, you can push my head down on it and fuck my face with it. Yeah, I’d like to kneel. I think that could be hot”,

“M’kay”, you mumble and exhale deeply. Jungkook knows for a fact that you are barely conscious at this point. He is so stupid for bringing it up now. He wanted to do it earlier, but was too nervous. Now he is risking that you won’t even truly take in what he is telling you.

“Could you be interested in that? I know you wouldn’t really feel it and it’s kinda a little weird of me to wanna suck dick, but yeah.”

“s’not weird.”

“Sorry, I’m nervous”, Jungkook confesses in a whisper, “I know it’s not weird. I guess, I’m just scared you’d hate it.”

“No, just…”, you lull and exhale, “so sleep-mhm.”

“Did you just fall asleep?”

You mumble something he can’t decipher.

“Baby?”

No new mumbles.

“You actually fell asleep. No baby, I wasn’t done”, he whines quietly, squeezing your hand, “please, I hope you heard it.”

He falls asleep not knowing whether his stupid fantasy was heard or not.

He doesn’t get clarity the next morning because you had to leave before he wakes. He also doesn’t get clarity during the day because other than your good morning texts, you don’t text a lot. You also text him later that day that you and Jimin will meet up for the gym, so Jungkook doesn’t have to pick you up from the restaurant.

Jungkook leaves the studio feeling defeated. Out of all the days, the universe decides to make today the day of barely any communication. He feels very jittery driving home and regrets ever telling you. What if the reason why you weren’t texting him a lot and are now going to the gym with Jimin is because you are weirded out by the idea? What if you are trash talking about him to Jimin? Not that you ever do, but what if?

Once home and Bam’s dinner is taken care of, Jungkook decides to text you again. He needs to know that you aren’t ignoring him or else he’ll go crazy.

- Jungkook: Are you eating at home or will you guys go somewhere?

He is in the home gym when you answer him

- Wifey ♡: Jimin invited me over for dinner.

Jungkook pouts.

- Jungkook: Okie dokie :)

He tries to make his message sound normal even though he is currently aching. He feels so nervous and left out. You probably told Jimin about the weird shit Jungkook asked of you and are now trying to stay away for as long as possible.

- Wifey ♡: did you cook already?

- Jungkook: No :)

- Wifey ♡: good. Come over as well ♡

- Jungkook: YES OKAY *-*

- Wifey ♡: hahahaha I knew you were being sulky

Jungkook smiles, kicking his feet.

- Jungkook: Why would you think that?

- Wifey ♡: cause you never use :) unless you’re trying to be sarcastic or fake happy

- Jungkook: That’s not true :) :)

- Wifey ♡: hahhahah you’re cute ♡ bring Bam too ♡

- Jungkook: Okie dokie ♡♡♡ when can I come over?

- Wifey ♡: whenever you’re done. We’re leaving the gym rn

- Jungkook: Got it ♡

Jungkook abandons his gym session for the sake of getting ready. He feels so good again. You aren’t avoiding him. He is so happy.

Yoongi and Jimin don’t live that far from your place. Just a few minutes by bike and around twenty minutes by foot. Jungkook decides to take Bam for a walk. It’ll take you and Jimin a good thirty minutes to get home.

Yoongi opens the door for Jungkook, wearing an apron and a bandana to keep his dark hair out of his face.

“Hey there”, he greets Jungkook.

“Hey. ___ told me that I can come over for dinner?”

“Yeah, sorry I look like a mess. I’m making aglio e oglio”, Yoongi says and looks at Bam, “hey Bamie, how are you?” he greets him in a squeaky voice.

The Doberman huffs out air in greeting, jumping on his tiptoes as his tail wags excitedly and his nose sniffles at Yoongi. The latter is petting him, cooing silly, little things. Jungkook takes off his shoes and light jacket in the meantime.

Holly is by his feet, wagging his tail at Jungkook. And so it happens that the two heavily-tattooed men are cooing and wooing in the entrance way as they greet each other’s adorable fur babies. Said fur babies soon scurry off to play with each other, filling the background with their playful noises. Bam and Holly get along great, despite their size differences and Holly’s anxious nature, and you often meet up with each other for doggy play dates. You are happy that they are friends. It feels as if your children were friends.

Yoongi and Jungkook walk to the kitchen, chatting.

“Can I help you with dinner?”Jungkook offers.

“No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I’m here now, you know.”

“Maybe set the table?”

“I’ll do that. How are you doing?”

“Yeah, I’m good. The Tigers won last night’s game.”

The Tigers were Yoongi’s favourite basketball team. He watches every game and even has a few fan memorabilia scattered around the house.

“Yo, that’s amazing dude. That’s like the third game they’re winning, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. I screamed so loud, you have no idea”, Yoongi says and chuckles, “I was so excited.”

“I can imagine. Your team’s winning, man”, Jungkook says and nudges his arm in a brotherly manner, “does that mean they’re one win away from qualifying?”

“Yeah. I hope they’ll win. I’d cry. It would make me so happy.”

“I wanna watch the game when it’s on. I gotta see it too.”

“Do you wanna come over? They’re playing this Saturday.”

“Yeah, I’m free on Saturday. I’d be so down to come over.”

“Nice. I’ll get new whisky for high rise.”

“Nice. That’s exciting.”

The two men continue chatting about the game while Yoongi cooks and Jungkook sets the table. It happens naturally that conversation shifts to their marriages and while Yoongi tells Jungkook about their dying houseplant, Jungkook has something burdening to share.

“Yeah sure, talk to me”, Yoongi allows him.

“Okay so, I’ve been going crazy today. I made a mistake last night.”

“What did you do?”

“I asked ___ if we could do something kinky in bed, but she was almost asleep and now I don’t know if she heard me.”

“What did you ask her?”

“Promise not to laugh.”

“Kook, it’s me. I don’t judge.”

“Yeah, I know. Okay so, I asked her if she’d be down to let me suck her strap.”

“Kinky.”

“I know, but also weird? I guess?”

“Why is it weird? It’s hot.”

“I guess. I don’t know, I can imagine that it’s not really pleasurable for her?”

“Jungkook”, Yoongi places his hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder, “let me tell you something from my long years of being pan and a whore in my youth.”

Jungkook chuckles.

“The right woman loves to get her strap sucked and I can tell you from experience it gets them off as if it was their real cock.”

“Really? I mean, does it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“And it feels nice? How does it feel? Did you like it?”

“I loved it. It feels harder than a real cock. It also doesn’t bend as easily and you really gotta relax your throat. It also won’t taste salty like real cock and the smell won’t be there either. And it got me off real fucking good.”

“It did?”

“Yeah, it did. I couldn’t stop doing it. Ask her again. I’m serious Kook, you’ll regret not trying it.”

“Okay, phew now I’m all hot”, he confesses and laughs.

Yoongi chuckles and turns his back to Jungkook for the sake of stirring the pasta.

“Do it with a squirting strap.”

Jungkook coughs as Yoongi’s blunt suggestion surprised him. He looks over his shoulder, meeting his best friend’s serious gaze.

“Do it”, he insists.

“O-okay, I will.”

“Make her cum on your face.”

“Yoongi, stop”, Jungkook whines.

Yoongi chuckles and looks into the pasta.

“Is he being annoying again?”

You and Jimin enter the kitchen. The latter is asking as he hurries to his husband for a back hug. They sway from side to side while Jimin has his chin resting on his shoulder.

“I’m never annoying. You’re annoying”, Yoongi defends himself to which Jimin chuckles and kisses his neck.

“You’re always annoying”, he whispers, earning himself a gentle nudge into his stomach with Yoongi’s elbow. He giggles, hugging his husband tighter while Yoongi pouts and lets it happen.

You greet your husband with less friendly bickering, hugging his arm with your cheek nuzzled against it.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“Good. I guess. Today wasn’t the best.”

You look at him with worried eyes, touching his waist.

“What happened?”

“Can we talk about it later? I wanna do it alone.”

“Yeah of course”, you say and hug him, “mhhm, I’m transferring my love and good vibes to you.”

Jungkook chuckles, hugging you back with his hand rubbing your back.

“I can feel it, thank you sweetie pie.”

You lift your head, resting your chin against his chest as you grin up at him. He leans down and kisses the bridge of your nose. He feels so good now that you’re here. You don’t hate him for his confession. Yet.

Dinner with your friends is wonderful. You talk, you laugh, you catch up with each other and later share some whiskey until it was time for you to go. You and Jungkook walk home hand in hand and giggling. You left your bike by Jimin’s and Yoongi’s because you couldn’t possibly drive tonight. You aren’t drunk rather than that you are both giddily tipsy. It’s a nice kind of drunk because you know that it won’t last long and also won’t leave you hungover tomorrow. It is just the perfect amount to make the already amazing evening feel incredible. You first chatted good things about Jimin and Yoongi, before switching the conversation to Bam. You can already see your house when you change topics again after some seconds of silence.

“Why was your day bad?” you ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“You told me your day wasn’t the best. What happened?”

Jungkook sighs and shrugs his shoulders, “it was my own fault, I guess.”

“Why? What did you do?”

Jungkook hesitates.

“It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, “okay so.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember last night?”

“When you asked me if you could suck my strap? Yeah, I do.”

Jungkook’s entire body tenses up in nervousness. So you heard him.

“O-okay.”

“What about it?”

“No-nothing, I just, nothing.”

“I’d be down. You know?”

“Would you really?” Jungkook gasps squeakily, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Yeah, I bet that could be sexy.”

“Wait. Are you fucking with me? You’d actually be down?”

You nod your head, “yeah.”

“Dude, I was shitting myself all day ‘cause I thought I’d fucked it”, he confesses in a laugh, rounding you so he could walk in front of you and grab your waist. You hold onto his lower arms, smiling up at him.

“Really? You were just straight up shitting yourself for an entire day?”

“Yeah. Straight up.”

He makes you laugh. You and he stop on the sidewalk because laughter was just too good to continue.

“You’re so fucking stupid”, you snicker and scrunch your nose, “I love you like crazy, you doofus.”

“I love you too. Like so much, oh my god baby”, he begins whining with buckling knees and a pouty face, “I wanna suck your strap so bad. Oh my god. Please.”

“Mmh, you’re so cute when you’re begging. How bad you want it?”

“So bad. Like so bad”, he pouts, sagging his shoulders, “wanna gag and choke around you.”

“Hot. I don’t know though, I’m not convinced you actually want it.”

Jungkook mewls, stomping his foot.

“I want it so bad please. Wanna be creamed too.”

Your eyes gleam dangerously, your fingers close around his waist.

“You wanna be creamed?” you rasp.

“Yeah, so bad”, Jungkook says and gives you his best puppy eyes, “please? Please, please?”

“Mhm shit, you got me”, you give in and take his hand, “we’re doing it tonight?”

“Yeah, holy fuck yes”, Jungkook croaks and jogs after you in little skips. He is so happy that he can’t stop giggling and snuggling into you. It makes walking a little difficult, but you don’t want to change anything. You love it when he’s clingy.

By the time you have reached the front door, Jungkook’s clinginess turns into neediness. He is kneading your softness, panting against your neck as he is nibbling at it.

“I fucked it. Holy fuck, I’m so horny”, he gets out and mewls, sucking on your neck in an attempt to find relief.

“We’re almost there. Hold out a little longer”, you promise him and in that moment, the door unlocks.

Jungkook needs to be a little patient once inside. Not only because you both needed to take off your outdoor clothes, you also needed to wipe Bam’s paws. You are squatting on the ground while Jungkook is standing. He walks up behind you and cages you in between his knees, placing both his hands on the top of your head. He sways you, whining his words.

“I’m needy.”

“Patience. I’m almost done”, you laugh, “Kook stop shaking me, Imma lose balance.”

“Then hurry up”, he whines and sways you more vigorously.

“Kook”, you cackle, “stop it, you doofus.”

“Hurry up”, Jungkook whines.

You finish Bam’s last paw, pushing Jungkook away gently so you could get up.

“You”, you slap his chest gently.

Jungkook is both begging with his puppy eyes and being cocky with them.

“I’m not gonna be faster when you’re acting impatient.”

“But you’re done now”, he says and closes in. He kneads your hips, lowering his eyes halfway to let them run over your face.

You dance your hands from his chest to the nape of his neck. You look at his lips, feeling your stomach flutter. They look so pretty and pouty. Knowing that soon they’ll stretch and move around your strap is turning you on so good.

Jungkook notices your hungry gaze and sees it as his cue to move in. You stop him with a finger pressed to his lips, making him both whine and chuckle.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen”, you talk in your sexy voice. The kind of voice that makes Jungkook feel so, so woozy in desire, “you’re gonna go to the bedroom and make yourself pretty. You’re gonna wait for me on your knees and I’m gonna put Bam in his crate. Understood?”

He nods his head.

“Understood?” you insist and grab a bundle of his hair to pull.

“Yes ma’am”, he whimpers and closes his eyes, parting his lips.

“That’s better”, you release his hair, “off you go. I want you kneeling once I’m done”, you order and step back.

Jungkook takes your hands and bows down to kiss your knuckles.

“Yes ma’am”, he says and breaks away to hurry to the bedroom.

You watch him until he reached the top of the stairs. You sigh. He is so perfect when he’s so obedient.

You look at Bam.

“Now let’s get you to bed, baby”, you say.

Jungkook feels restless. He keeps checking the time. His heart is racing. He can’t seem to regulate his breathing. He feels dizzy in anticipation. The time. Another minute passed. He shifts without leaving the position. He is in front of the foot end of the bed, facing the door. The rug under his knees makes it comfortable. The pressure around his cock gets more and more unbearable. The time. Another minute passed.

Jungkook balls his hands to fists. When are you coming? It feels like you’ve been gone for hours. He can’t take it for long anymore.

The door opens. He moans softly in pure relief. It’s time. The waiting will finally stop. His heart speeds up, his stomach tingles. He straightens up, fixing his posture this way. He needs to look perfect when you finally step inside.

You enter the room. Jungkook begins breathing quickly, feeling dazed.

You meet his eyes for just a second before looking him up and down. He’s in his Calvins and nothing else. A black leather collar adorns his neck, looking so pretty on him.

You walk past him to the sex toy dresser. Jungkook watches you in the tense silence, feeling more and more restless. You didn’t even address his state. Did you even notice that he was there?

You open the drawer which holds your straps and bend down to look for the right one. You fetch it, holding it up by the base while your other hand is letting the harness tangle.

Jungkook gulps, rubbing his thighs together.

You look over your shoulder. Jungkook straightens up instantly. No words. You turn away and leave for the bathroom. The door closes. Jungkook is left alone.

He makes fists again, pulling a face of desperation. He feels so unbearably needy now that he saw you. He can’t bear to be left alone again. He needs you with him so fucking bad. He checks the time. Not even a minute passed. Jungkook squeezes his thighs together. The pressure feels intense on his needy cock. If you don’t come back soon, he’ll actually manage to make himself hard.

The time. A minute passed.

Jungkook opens his hands. His fingers twitch. What if he rubs his cock over his briefs? He made sure to pick out gray coloured ones so you can see the wet stains he leaves. You’ll probably like it when you come back and he is already wet and hard in his briefs.

He slides his hand closer, leaving goosebumps on his thigh because the touch feels so good.

No.

He’s going so crazy in desperation that he almost lost control. You never ordered him to play with himself. He shouldn’t disobey.

The time. Another minute passed.

He closes his hands to fists and exhales shakily. Please let time pass quicker.

The time again. Ten, eleven, twelve seconds passed.

Fuck. It felt like a minute already.

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.

Jungkook opens his hands again and feels up his thigh. Maybe he could do it for a few seconds. Just a little. Not a lot. He’ll stop himself before it gets too obvious. His fingertips brush over his tip.

“A-ah”, he lets out quietly, arching his back. Again. Upwards this time around. His cock twitches and hardens. Jungkook feels blurry. This feels so good.

He opens his thighs for better access and cups his own cock. He whimpers, closing his eyes as he begins massaging and rubbing himself over his briefs. The material between his touch and his cock actually makes it feel so much better because it enables him to rub without friction.

It feels so good. He witnesses every change in his cock. How it goes from soft and flaccid to hard and swollen. To feel himself get hard turns him on so much more. Jungkook can barely take breaths, sliding his hand to his tip to massage it through his briefs. He touches the most sensitive spots, arching his back because it feels so fucking good.

He tilts his head back and moans the only thing running through his mind.

Your name.

Breathy and filled with so much submission, it leaves his lips.

He gets his briefs messy because hearing your name makes him leak.

Fuck, how long are you still going to be gone?

He opens his eyes to check the time and squeaks as he startles. You are right in front of him, standing over him with a dark expression on your face.

“You scared me”, he gets out and widens his eyes, “oh”, he lets out and moves his hand away quickly, straightening up. He gulps, looking up at you with sorry puppy eyes.

“Did I tell you to play with yourself?” you ask him.

“Sorry”, he whispers.

You touch him. Jungkook chases your touch even if it ends in you tugging on a bundle of his hair.

“Did I tell you?” you repeat the question.

“No”, he whimpers, furrowing his brows in desperation.

“No, I didn’t. So why did you do it?”

“I was needy.”

“Wrong”, you warn and twist his hair tighter.

“Wanted to make myself pretty for you”, he squeaks out, shivering in pleasure. The tug hurts, sending electricity through his veins.

Your features soften. You smirk. Your fingers release his hair and begin scratching his tender scalp.

“I can accept that”, you speak sweetly and look at his cock. Hard and throbbing it bulges his grey briefs. The light coloured fabric is tainted dark grey where his tip is. You run your foot over it.

Jungkook moans and rolls his hips into the sensation. His thighs twitch and tense. His abs convulse as they move his hips needily.

“So wet”, you rasp and put pressure on his tip.

“O-oh”, he tenses up, closing his fingers around your calf. The pressure borders on painful and it’s getting him so breathless.

“And sensitive. Hm?”

He nods his head, wiggling his hips in hopes of getting his tip stimulated.

“Good”, you say and remove your foot.

Jungkook mewls. He wanted it so much longer.

“Look at me.”

He obeys. The state of you finally begins seeping into his consciousness. He was so busy being startled and then disciplined to notice how fucking sexy you look. You took off your shirt, but kept your sports bra on. Your body looks so good after the gym. You always hold yourself with so much more confidence and Jungkook feels drowsy.

You also kept your sweats on. Grey. They are bulging in the front.

Jungkook gulps, gawking at it with big, needy eyes.

“You see it?”

He mewls and nods his head.

“I’m so hard for you, puppy”, you rasp and cup your bulge to shake it around a little.

Jungkook moans, moving closer as his lips part. He is throbbing in his briefs. You are so fucking good in how you talk to him. He expected you to come out in nothing but your strap, but of course you are making the sexiest fucking roleplay out of it. He’s got you hard in your sweats. His mouth waters because of it.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes please”, he croaks, gulping down the masses of drool gathering in his mouth.

“Take it out.”

Jungkook moves instantly. He tugs your sweats down until your strap can flop out. He lets go of the sweats so they bulge under your strap. He follows your cock with his eyes. You must have squeezed down on the pump because it’s leaking just a little from its hole.

Jungkook mewls, looking up at you with widened eyes. Your lips are curled into a knowing smirk, your eyes are half-lidded.

“Seems that I’m leaking for you, puppy.”

“Holy fuck”, he gets out and looks back at your cock. Because it’s fake cum, it is already white and creamy, but Jungkook couldn’t care less about the inaccuracy. You are leaking for him and that’s all that fucking matters.

“Please”, he begs and sticks his tongue out.

You grab your cock by its base, burying your hand in his hair. You tilt his head back. Jungkook helps you with it. He keeps staring at your cock even when you move closer and his eyes cross. To have him so cock-obsessed gets you off so good. He is so needy for your dick that he’s looking all silly for you. He’s so fucking perfect.

You spank his tongue with your cock. His tongue pulsates and shakes. A needy mewl leaves him.

“Mhm, look at you. You look so pretty”, you praise, rewarding him with a spank to his tongue. Just once because then you pull back to instead slap his face with your cock. Once on his right cheek, then his left.

Jungkook rolls his eyes back with the first slap, parting his lips as he moans needily.

“You’re so, so cock needy, aren’t you?” you taunt as you slap his pretty face repeatedly.

“Yeah”, he keens.

“Of course you are. So needy and dumb for my cock”, you taunt and end your face slaps with little spanks on his upper lip.

Jungkook moans, opening up further.

You knew that it would happen. You place your hand on the back of his head and push inside.

“Mhmngn”, Jungkook gets out, ripping his eyes open in surprise. One second his mouth is empty and now he’s getting gagged with cock. He is struggling for air because of how utterly excited you’ve got him. He mewls, shivering vividly as your cock fills his needy mouth more and more.

“There we go. Take it in”, you rasp and furrow your brows, “fuck, you’re so fucking hot around me.”

Jungkook knows you can’t feel him and yet you are talking as if you can. If he didn’t need his face fucked before, he definitely needs it now. He whimpers, crossing his eyes as his brain shuts off in neediness.

Your tip tickles his throat. He gags instantly, mewling in nervousness. You pull out. His drool drips everywhere. Neither of you care.

“Good?” you make sure, rubbing your tip against his pouty lips. His lip piercings grind against it as well, moving around so prettily.

Jungkook opens his mouth and begs by sticking his tongue out. He mewls, widening his eyes at you.

“Of course you’re good. You’re such a needy cockslut”, you taunt and drag your tip over his tongue. It hits his lips. You push.

He mewls and gurgles, struggling for just a second before his jaw shifts into the right position. You push deeper, twisting his hair at the back.

“That’s it. Take me”, you rasp, furrowing your brows.

Jungkook’s eyelids flutter. His eyes fill with tears. He looks up at you as if you were his goddess. As if he exists solely for you.

“You’re a cockslut”, you taunt.

Jungkook’s devotion grows, he whimpers around your cock.

“But that’s okay. You’re my cockslut”, you add and begin moving your hips.

Jungkook rolls his eyes back in the most sensual way you have ever seen. He doesn’t close them completely, letting you bask in his fucked out state while you fuck his pretty face.

You purposefully don’t go all the way yet, fucking nothing more than the first two inches inside. You need him to get used to the sensation before you completely mess him up.

“You’re so fucking pretty. Fuck.”

His lips stretch and move around your girth. It’s so fucking addicting to look at. His cheeks are flushed. He is panting through his nose, forcing his chest to heave up and down quickly. His almost closed eyes show the white of his eyes. They keep fluttering as he can’t seem to decide whether to open them more or close them completely.

“There we go. You’re taking me so well”, you praise, scratching his scalp in reward.

Jungkook whimpers and begins sucking.

“Yeah that’s it. Fuck”, you growl, messing him up even more.

You noticed that he is sucking. Holy fuck he is so far gone. He closes his hand around the base of your cock and begins bopping his head on your cock.

“Yes fuck. Suck my cock”, you moan deeply, sliding your hand from your cock to put it into the pocket of your sweats.

So now you’ve got one hand on the back of his head while the other is relaxing in your pocket as your sweet husband is trying to win first prize for best blowjob of the year.

He looks so obviously ruined. Body writhing and shaking, thighs trembling, cock twitching and face flushed. While you carry all the coolness in the world, looking down at him with dark eyes. The contrast is fucking biblical. You’ve got him ruined and working so, so hard while you carry his fucking existence in the palm of your hand.

“You’re doing such a good job”, you encourage him, giving him a throaty moan, “fuck, your mouth’s driving me crazy.”

Jungkook whimpers, spilling tears. He needs you deeper. He needs to choke and gag. He swears that he can taste you (yep he is correct, you are squeezing down on the pump you hide in your pocket, giving him glimpses of what awaits him at the end of it). You taste so good. So sweet. Jungkook needs it coating his throat. He tilts his head back and tries to take you deeper.

You are girthy, forcing him to gag instantly.

“Take it easy, puppy”, you order him while your fingers soothe through his hair.

Jungkook gags and chokes, forcing your cock deeper. He convulses, his stomach keeps tensing as he is pushing past his limits.

“Easy puppy, easy”, you warn and yet Jungkook doesn’t listen.

He is dumb for cock. He gags and gags and gags and yet he doesn’t stop. His tongue throbs and shakes under your cock, his throat aches because it’s difficult to gag so much. His drool is thick, leaking out of him and dripping down his chin.

“Fuck, you’re crazy. Fuck puppy, that’s fucking amazing”, you growl, feeling your stomach tighten. Honest speaking, this is getting you off so well. You are so into this that you swear that you begin to feel the blowjob. You are so fucking hot between the legs. It grows and grows the deeper he forces your cock to go.

Jungkook bottoms out. His nose is buried in your pubes, his body convulses uncontrollably as he gags around you.

“Fuuuck holy fuck”, you moan, scrunching your nose, “you’re so tight. You- ah fuck mhmm.”

Jungkook shakes. Too much. He’ll throw up. He moves off of you, showing his relief by gagging out a moan. Your cock flops out of him, dripping his spit and your cream.

Jungkook lets the drool just escape him. It drips down and hits his chest. He opens his eyes, looking up at you with tears running down his cheeks.

“You’re such a cockslut”, you rasp, “fuck, you almost made me cream your throat right now.”

Jungkook whimpers, writhing as he is trying to learn how to swallow again. He is drooling so much. If he doesn’t want to end up wetting his entire torso with it, he’ll have to relearn how to swallow. He should do it either way. He has to swallow your cum later as well.

“That’s it. Take a deep breath”, you soothe him, “don’t let me wait for too long though.”

Jungkook mewls something you think is your name. He can’t speak right now. Not only because he is too dumb in pleasure, but also because you’ve ruined his throat.

He needs more. He tasted heaven and he can’t get enough.

He takes you back inside, concentrating on your tip. He is sucking and mewling around you, sending electricity through your veins.

“Yes puppy, fuck, keep going”, you moan, playing with his hair. You leak into him again, basking in the needy mewl he lets out followed by eager sucking, “yeah that’s it. Do I taste yummy? Mhm?”

“Mhm-hm”, he whimpers, crying ecstatic tears.

“Of course I do. Sluts like you are way too obsessed with creamy cock”, you taunt and grit your teeth, “fuck, you’re such a pretty cockslut”, you growl and close your fingers around his hair. You can’t take it anymore. You need to fuck his face again.

You twist his hair and push. He gurgles, accepting his fate with fluttering eyelids and his hands gripping your hips. They manage to get a hold of the hem of your sweats and twist. You can feel how his hands are shaking.

“Relax. Let me do it”, you order him as you fuck your cock deeper and deeper into his mouth, “go on, relax your jaw. Be my good puppy.”

Jungkook mewls and lets it happen. He feels far away. Lightheaded. Weightless. Drugged. There are no thoughts in his brain except the needy begs for your cock. He is utterly and completely yours. His entire existence lies at the very tip of your cock and you are currently giving him more life by fucking it against his tender uvula.

You don’t go fast. You go slow. You drag your girth over his tongue. You stay at the back and let him gag and gurgle. You make him feel it. He should feel it. Every single inch, every fucking thrust, every second of it.

Jungkook sobs around you, pulling you closer by your sweats. Once again you are proving to him that you are the best he ever had, has and will have. Jungkook sucked a few cocks in his long life as a bisexual and being a whore in his youth. And yet nobody. Fucking nobody, ruined him as hard as you do. Men are impatient. They get their cock sucked for quick relief. You are dragging it out. You are getting your cock sucked for the sole purpose of breaking him apart. You are fucking his face because you want it fucked. You bulge his throat because you want it reshaped just for your girth. You make him drool and gag and cry because it gets you off to see him so blissed out.

Jungkook slips off your cock and sobs.

“Good?” you make sure.

“I’m yours”, he croaks and begins licking the thick veins on your underside. He rubs his face against your cock as he does it, grabbing your balls with his left hand in hopes of squeezing out more of your cream.

“Yeah you are. Mine. My cockslut.”

“I’m yours. Oh god, I’m yours”, he croaks and sobs. He drags his puffy lips up your cock, rubbing his nose along your veins so he gets all wet and sticky, needing more of it. He reaches your tip. It is covered in cream. Jungkook coughs out a mixture of a moan and a sob. You did what he needed you to do so bad. You are leaking just so he can rub his face in it and get all messy. He whimpers. He sobs. He fights for air. His tongue licks and trembles. His lips kiss and suck. His fingers squeeze and jerk you off. He is covered in your cream. White and sticky. He digs his tongue into your slit and tries to fuck more out of you.

“So needy”, you rasp and reward him with droplets of your cream.

He sobs your name, taking your cock back inside to suck out your white treasure. He needs every single droplet coating his mouth. He is yours and he needs to be marked as such.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy”, you moan, feeling your knees buckle.

You messed him up. Strings of thick cream are covering his face. They stick to his cheeks, his lashes, drag themselves over his nose and stick to his chin. All the rubbing and nuzzling he did messed up his face in the sexiest way imaginable. And now you’ve got his creamed, puffy lips moving around your cock as he is fucking his mouth.

You tense up, feeling your knees buckling.

“You’re gonna make me cum”, you growl through gritted teeth, meaning it honestly. You’re this close to creaming his throat.

You twist his hair, broadening your stance.

“I’m gonna fucking cream your throat, puppy”, you moan, eliciting the neediest mewls from him.

He grips you by your ass and pushes your hips into him. You bottom out. Your ecstatic moan overshadows the overwhelmed gags he lets out.

“Fuck. You fucking whore”, you spit and grab his head with both hands. The pump is between your fingers just as his hair is. You twist hard and use the leverage to both push him down onto your cock and keep him still for your angry thrusts.

Jungkook mewls. Jungkook gags. Jungkook gurgles and convulses as you rough fuck his face to an orgasm. He is crying. He is drooling. He can’t breathe. His throat aches. He can’t take much more all while he is pulling you closer.

“Get fucking ready. Imma cream your throat so fucking hard”, you growl and fuck his face faster.

Jungkook tugs down your sweats. He is fighting the blurriness. All that helps is tugging and pulling. Your sweats slip down to your knees and drop to your ankles. He gags out a sob, searching for more to grab. He leaves burning scratch marks on the back of your thighs and ass until his fingers finally grab your harness. He twists his finger deep into the straps until his fingers lose feeling from blood loss. And then, only then the face fuck is bearable. Holy fuck, he was so close to completely losing all humanity. He tries to meet your movements, but ends up convulsing in yet another helpless gag.

“Now baby. Fucking now”, you growl and moan.

Jungkook feels ecstatic. You only moan like this when you cum. Are you actually? He can’t finish his thought because of your creamy cum suddenly shooting down his throat.

He squeezes his eyes shut, mewling desperately as you fill him up with your cum. You keep his head down, moving your hips so your cock is throbbing deep in his throat.

Holy fuck, he can’t breathe. He is choking on cock and cum.

“That’s it. Fuuuuck take my cum”, you growl, twitching and shaking as an orgasm controls you. He’s actually got you climaxing. The fucking feeling is biblical. You throw your head back, moaning his name because nothing else wants to leave you.

And as you cream his throat and float on ecstasy, Jungkook is crying around your cock, tugging at your straps because he doesn’t have many more gags left.

Your knees buckle. He tugs you off. Your cum seeps out of him without control, he is wheezing for air.

“Holy fuck”, you croak and fall to your knees before him.

You cup his face, he twists your sports bra. His throat is so sore. His eyes are burning from crying so hard.

“Jungkook. Holy. Fuck”, you get out and pull him into a kiss. All you taste is your cum. It fills your mouth and runs down your tongue. You kiss him deeper, sharing the creamy mess with him as both of you moan and lick for more.

This fucked both of you up. You barely feel human. Your orgasm ruined you. Jungkook is barely a person at this point. He exists for you. You could do anything to him and he would take it with tears of worship.

“You good boy”, you praise breathlessly, tugging his cock out of his briefs. You kiss him. He is almost cleaned of your cum. Soon you’ll have his taste. You and he are moaning more than you kiss. It’s so overwhelming to be with each other.

You’re on his lap. You sink down. Jungkook breaks the kiss to scream your name. He shakes and writhes, trying to make sense of what is happening to him with restless shakes of his head.

“Eyes on me. Eyes right here. Here”, you order him and hold him still with a hand around his throat. His eyes meet yours. He is crying, your cream is still covering his face messily.

“There we go. Eyes on me. Good boy”, you praise, “you took my cock so well, so this is your reward”, you tell him and begin bouncing on his cock. Your own cock is rubbing against his stomach, smearing remnants of your cum all over his skin.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you and hides away in the crook of your neck.

“I’m cumming”, he sobs and buries his teeth in your skin.

“Ah geez”, you gasp, feeling burning pain from where he bites you and burning heat as he fills your hole with his cum. You pull him closer, tensing up in paradisiacal pleasure, “that’s it. Give me everything. Jungkook. Ah Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t know how bad he needed to cum inside until it happened. He didn’t even know how needy for his high he was until one bounce on his cock was enough to break him. He needed it so bad. This is what was missing to show him true heaven.

He thanks you for making life worthwhile with aggressive throbs of his cock and his nails leaving scratch marks down your sides. Shit, it’s crazy how you’ll carry scratch and bite marks from tonight even if you were the one in fucking control. But then. It’s an honour. Because every mark, every scratch, every tender spot means that you’ve fucked Jungkook hard enough that he lost control. Those marks? They’re medals of honor and proof that you can play his body like no one else can.

Jungkook whimpers your name, flinching and shivering as his orgasm stopped and he is left with the aftershock.

You still your hips because you know him well enough to know the meaning of his twitches. He genuinely can’t take more.

“Good job. You did so well”, you praise him, scratch his scalp gently, “good job baby, good job.”

“Oh god”, he croaks and then sobs into your neck.

“I know baby, I know. Let it all out. You’re my good boy. Such a good boy”, you praise him, holding him safely as he comes down in sobs. Yet another proof how hard you ruined him.

“I love you”, he cries.

“I love you too, baby. So much”, you whisper and kiss his neck gently, “my Kookie. Yeah, you’re my Kookie.”

“Oh god”, he croaks, shuddering.

You hug and sway, you give him little kisses while he gets lost in your scent. You hold each other and heal that way. You share warmth and the sticky state of your skins and it’s the sweetest reminder that no matter how hard you fuck, you’ll always be able to return to comfort afterwards.

You can really do anything because what follows will always be safety.

Jungkook lifts his head. You cradle his cheeks, giving him a loving smile as your thumbs wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“What are you doing to me?” he croaks.

Your smile grows.

“That good?”

“You literally fucking own me. Holy fuck”, he says and clears his throat, “I’m sore.”

You chuckle, “yeah, I’m not surprised. I fucked you hard.”

He grins goofily, leaning into your palm. He closes his eyes.

“I know. Thank you”, he whispers and caresses your inner wrist, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Kookie baby.”

He giggles and nuzzles his nose into your hand. Then he lifts his head again, gazing up at you.

“Did you like it?” he asks excitedly.

“I loved it. I came so hard.”

“Did you actually?”

“Yeah. It felt so real.”

“Wow”, he exhales shakily. His pupils widen because he is so fucking attracted to you.

“Did you like it baby?” you ask him.

“Yeah”, he whispers and whimpers, furrowing his brows, “it was so much better than in my fantasy.”

“That’s good to hear”, you scrunch your nose happily, “so I guess we’ll do it again one day?”

“Yes please. I’d like that so much.”

“Then it’s decided”, you snicker and kiss his messy nose, “now what do you say to a shower? ‘Cause you are so dirty everywhere”, you suggest as you litter his face with kisses.

“Yeah please”, he sighs, enjoying your love with closed eyes, “snuggles afterwards?”

“Mhm snuggles and head pats. Also warm tea for your throat, don’t let me forget”, you say, making him giggle.

“Okay.”

You and he will clean each other. You will hug and cuddle. Jungkook will kiss the marks he left while you will make him tea he can enjoy as you snuggle him in bed. Truly, life is great when you and he are together.

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footprintsinthesxnd · 8 months ago

Note

hey girly! Idk if your requests are open but we neeeeeed something for bucky from mota. maybe something like enemies to lovers with a war nurse? thxxxx

A Second Chance

Thank you so much for your request anon. I’m so sorry it took so long. I feel that I may not have the skill set to write John Egan as well as other writers but I’m hoping that I can do him justice. Also two posts this weekend because why not.

John Egan was insufferable. Y/n had decided that from the moment she’d first met him, with his cocky smile, his stupid moustache, his bright eyes and… no he was just insufferable. She’d never met a man so full of himself that he gave his best friend the same nickname, and yet Gale Cleven seemed like the sweetest man on earth.

“You’re staring again,” Rosie chuckled, looking up from his battered book ‘Of Mice and Men’ with a cheeky smile.

“Yes with utter disgust, I mean look at him,” Y/n pointed, watching as Rosie glanced over at the Major who was currently leaning against the bar, flirting with the poor barmaid who seemed besotted with him. “He’d flirt with anything that moved.”

“Including you apparently,” Rosie chuckled, “Just admit that you aren’t a tiny bit jealous. I just want to hear you admit it.”

Y/n glared daggers at the pilot who was using his book to shield his smiling face. She lurched forward trying to smack him but he shoved the book at her.

“No, no, not the moustache again,” he shielded his hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he glared at her. She may have accidentally pulled his moustache once when they were arguing about the same Major and Rosie’s moustache had taken the hit.

“You know that was an accident.”

“Yes, but it’s never grown the same since,” he protested, stroking his facial hair thoughtfully. “You’re always moaning about Major Egan's moustache, I thought mine was a goner.”

Y/n sighed dramatically, slouching in her chair. She wondered if she should tell Rosie the real reason why she held such a grudge towards John Egan. That, however, would involve her confessing that she was madly in love with John.

Rosie’s eyes remained trained on his book and Y/n fought the urge to interrupt him again. Instead, she remained silent, thinking back to that night in June when the air in London had been close and hot, sticking to the sweat on her skin, the pale evening light casting shadows over the hotel room, the white sheets soft and comfortable, his embrace loving, his words kind and… all completely false.

Y/n hadn’t believed in love at first sight but seeing John Egan in his uniform, smirking at her across the crowded pub, something inside her had changed. He’d been effortlessly charming and she was eating out of his palm before the night was through.

John Egan had promised to visit her, promised he’d write, but several months passed and no letters came Y/n gave up, putting John behind her. That was until she had to report to Thorpe Abbott RAF base and ran into a particular Major.

John, however, seemed oblivious to their previous encounter, barely sending her a smile as he strolled passed with several other pilots by his side. From that day forward Y/n held a grudge against John Egan.

“Here we go…” Rosie mumbled under his breath, but before Y/n could ask what he meant a low hum came from behind her.

“Evening Rosie, Y/n,” John nodded to both of them, Gale Cleven by his side doing the same.

“Majors,” Rosie greeted them, placing his book down on the table.

“Major Cleven,” Y/n greeted Gale, her eyes avoiding the other Major. Gale glanced quizzically between the pair, before looking to Rosie for answers, but he only shrugged.

“Have I done something to offend you, Darling?” John smirked at her, leaning across the table, his moustache twitching at the corners. He had the same cocky air about him that he always wore but the added nickname just added fuel to the fire that was already burning.

Y/n snorted, “Do not think your presence has such an effect on me, Major. I’m afraid not every woman falls at your feet.”

Gale let a low whistle slip from his lips, but John just grinned, “Alright, I see someone’s a little jealous, didn’t realise I had an admirer.”

Y/n stood swiftly from her chair, rounding the table and jabbing her finger into John’s chest, “I am not jealous and why would I be? Why would I lower my standards to such an arrogant, self-centered man.” She removed her finger from his chest, turning on her heels and exiting the pub as fast as her legs would allow her.

Gale looked between Rosie and John, “Will someone please explain what just happened?”

Rosie shrugged, picking up his book and fumbling through the pages until he found his spot. John chuckled, “I think I may have offended her in some way, though I know not how.”

“You really think you offended her, huh?” Gale replied sarcastically, avoiding his friend's light shove with an amused laugh.

John truly did wonder what he’d done so wrong to offend her. He’d only known her a few months when she turned up on base dressed in her dress blues declaring she was newly assigned to Thorpe Abbott infirmary. He greeted her with a smile and she glared at him in response. From that day forward it had been an all-out war between the two of them.

Y/n had just finished tidying up the examination room when there was a light tap at the door, she called out ‘enter’, her back still turned to whoever it was.

“This is quite a nice place you’ve got here, Darling,” John declared, leaning against the doorframe, smiling devilishly.

Y/n sighed, instantly on the defensive, “What do you want, Major,” she emphasised his rank disdainfully, rolling her eyes as she continued to pack up the crate of dressings.

John hummed behind her, moving around the room until he was in front of her once more, “So…” he paused, craning his neck to try and catch her eye. “How are you finding life on base?”

That’s it, John, a nice simple question. She can’t get too offended by that, right?

Y/n all but tutted, shaking her head, “Life would be just fine, except a certain Major keeps ruining my day.” She shoved passed him, carrying the crate out of the room and down the corridor, her heels clicking against the tiled floor followed by a larger heavier footfall.

“Hey Darling, wait up. I hadn’t finished talking to you,” John protested, moving swiftly in front of her and stopping her movements.

“What?” She snapped this time, her patience wearing thin and the long list of jobs she had still playing on her mind.

John sighed, rubbing his hand down his face, “I just want to know what I did. I’ve barely said two words to you since you got here and somehow I’ve offended you. Whatever I’ve done I’m sorry, okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so exasperated but he wasn’t sure what more he could say.

Y/n watched him, her face faltering ever so slightly before the stoic expression returned. “The fact that you don’t remember makes all of this worse. I didn’t realise our night was so awful you pushed it from your mind. So much for ‘I’ll keep in touch’,” she spat, pushing the crate into him and moving on passed without a backward glance. She’d said her piece, he could do with that what he will.

John sat on the wing of Mugwump, his legs swinging in mid-air as he took a long swig from his hit flask. His mind still reeling from the afternoon's events as the guilt ate away at him.

He’d fished the letter out from his belongings, tracing over the return address. He should have realised her name was familiar, but then again he should have written her back.

John was still trying to piece together how he hadn’t realised it was her, but with the amount they’d both consumed he was surprised Y/n even remembered him. That still didn’t help clear his conscience.

“Bucky, you up there,” Gale called, glancing around the plane until he noticed the pair of legs hanging from the wing. “What are you doing?”

“I messed up Gale,” John mumbled, taking another drink. He was always impressed by how much whiskey his hot flask could hold and he was starting to feel a nice warm sensation as it flowed around his body.

“What have you done?” Gale asked, hoisting himself up the ladder and onto the wing beside John. He offered Gale his hit flask but the other pilot shook his head, waiting for his friend’s explanation.

“Do you remember that night I had in London a few months ago? When I said I met this amazing woman and we had a wonderful night together, she wanted me to write to her and she wrote me a letter and I never replied,” John rambled, his tongue becoming looser as the alcohol flowed. “Well, that’s Y/n, the nurse on base. It’s the same woman, Gale.”

Gale nodded, processing his friend's confession, “Well at least now we know why she’s so angry at you all the time, you were a total ass.”

John rolled his eyes glaring at Gale, “Thanks Buck, that’s really helpful.” Groaning, John pushed himself up, balancing precariously on Mugwump’s wing. “I’ve gotta make it up to her, Buck. Women like grand gestures, don't they?”

Buck shuffled further away from the edge of the wing before standing, grasping his friend's hands, “I don’t think she wants a grand gesture, Bucky. I think she just wants you to apologise.”

Passing back and forth down the infirmary corridor, John found himself fighting the urge to make a run for it. He could easily head down the corridor and back out onto the hardstand before anyone noticed he was there in the first place.

Movement from within the infirmary caught his eye. He watched curiously as Y/n moved along the beds, sitting down beside a wounded airman, his head clad in bandages, covering the burns he’d sustained on the last mission. She was speaking quietly to him, too quietly for John to hear, but he saw the young man instantly relax in her presence. She was a good nurse and John had taken her kindness for granted. He had to make things right.

He wrapped his knuckles against the door, waiting for the mumbled reply, before pushing it open. Y/n was smoothing down some fresh bedding, tucking the sheets tightly into the bed.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he interrupted, watching as her movements still and her whole body stiffened. He hated that he had this effect on her.

“What can I do for you, Major?” Her voice was plain, emotionless and her eyes seemed hollow, as though she stared right through him.

John felt his palms sweating as he spoke, “I need to talk to you, to apologise for my behaviour.” Y/n seemed uninterested in what he had to say, continuing with the task at hand, but John wasn’t about to give up on her again.

“My behaviour has been unacceptable and I know that I can probably never make it up to you but I want to try. I was not in my best form the night that we met, I was drunk and uncaring and I’m sorry I never wrote back. I intended to but I just never did, and I have no excuse, I’m just sorry I never did. You’re a great girl and any man would be lucky to have you write to them, I only wish that I hadn’t messed things up.”

John had never outed his heart out before, he’d never even revealed this kind of vulnerability to Gale, so he was a little shocked. Had he said too much? Would she hate him even more now?

Y/n had stopped her movements, still bent over the bed, her hand clutching the sheet. John watched her shoulders sag, and a long, drawn-out sigh slipped from her lips.

“It’s okay, John,” she murmured, defeat evident in her appearance. “I knew the kind of man you were when we met, I was just excited that a man such as yourself wanted to give someone like me any kind of attention.

She stood up, a few tears trickling down her cheeks, “You know the worst thing was I really did think you’d write back. That’s what hurt the most. Then when I got my orders to move to Thorpe Abbott I thought maybe we had a chance, but you didn’t even recognise me and I knew I never stood a chance.”

The pair stood in silence, the clock on the wall ticking louder than ever as time passed. John spoke up first, unable to stand the tension any longer.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, for all of it. I understand now why you hate me so much, and I wouldn’t blame you. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Any way at all?”

Y/n’s forehead creased as she thought, her nose wrinkling as it had the same night they’d met when he’d asked her about her family. He could see it now, all the small details that he’d appreciated when he met her, if only he’d taken the time to study her when she came to base he’d have known.

Y/n shook her head, “What’s done is done. Let’s just move on and forget about it all.” She turned away, returning to the bed she’d been making, but John grabbed her arm.

“I don’t want to forget it, any of it. That night with you was one of the best nights of my life. I was free from judgment when I was with you. You never once called me Major or treated me like I was better than you, you treated me like a normal person,” John admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I’d really like another shot if you’d let me.”

“Alright,” Y/n replied, “But if you break my heart again, Major then I won’t be so forgiving.”

John chuckled, saluting her, “Anything you say, Ma’am.”

Y/n rolled her eyes turning back to her job, but John spun her back around to face him, “I have some leave coming up to go to London. What do you say to come with me?”

Y/n smiled softly, “I’d love to, but I don’t know whether I can get the leave.”

“All sorted, it’s already been approved.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Well that’s pretty cocky of you, Major. What were you planning on doing if I said no?”

John grinned, “I would have just asked Buck to come with me, although he’s not nearly as beautiful and I don’t think I’d want to share a bed with him, he snores you know.”

Y/n laughed, moving her arms so they rested behind his neck, fumbling with the soft hair at the base of his neck. “Alright Major, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

John grinned, cupping her cheek softly in his palm, he pressed his lips down to her, his moustache tickling her lips but that was the least of her concerns. His hands moved to her hips, resting firmly and pulling her closer. He smiled into the kiss, it felt so right, bringing back all the memories from London all those months ago. He wished he’d written her back now, he could have been kissing her all this time, but at least he could make up for lost time now and he intended to.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @blueberry-ovaries

#masters of the air #john egan #john egan x reader #masters of the air fic #hbo war #gale cleven #rosie rosenthal #John Egan x y/n

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brainddeadd · 7 months ago

Text

Scoups x fem!reader

angst, fluff

Sometimes, Seungcheol really hates Minghao.

“You guys are way more than friends. You’re like already three years into a relationship.” Minghao's been rambling on for at least fifteen minutes and honestly, Scoups is getting to the end of his patience. Soonyoung's starting to join in the conversation and Minguy looks five seconds away from adding his opinion.

"I mean honestly, you guys are so in love and it's really stupid that you haven't confessed yet-"

"XU MINGHAO!" Everyone in the dorms freezes and stares at Scoups in shock. "I know I'm in love with her!"

Minghao gulps and attempts to raise his hand to point at where you had turned into the room, but Scoups knocks it away.

"I am well fucking aware that I am in love with Y/n, ok?" Scoups face is red, his body shaking. "But she will never feel the same as me and I can never treat her the way she deserves."

"Uh Coups-"

"She deserves someone who can spend all of their time with her, take her on random dates and surprise her while she's at work. I can't give her any of that." Seungchol wipes away the tears that have begun to fall from his eyes. "And it fucking kills me that I'm not going to be the one to give her the love she deserves. That I'm going to have to watch the love of my life fall in love with someone else. Watch someone else give her half of the love she deserves because they will never be good enough."

Not even Satan himself could stop Scoups from his word vomit.

"No one will ever be good enough for her, but literally anyone else would be better than me." Seungcheol's voice breaks. "So, can you please stop rubbing it in my face that I am in love with her and can do nothing about it?"

Scoups walks away, wondering off to a different part of the studio and you're left standing there, in the doorway, staring at the space he's just left.

"Uh.. I think I fucked up." Minghao's talking but you can't hear him, too focused on making your body move, forcing yourself to follow the path Scoups took, despite not knowing what you're going to say to him.

Minguy gently grabs your arm and points to the roof and you nod in understanding. Scoups hides on the roof when he's feeling big emotions.

You find Scoups sitting on the floor of the roof, staring out at the sunset that's taking over the sky like a painting.

"Hey." Your voice is soft, but he still jumps like you've shouted. He turns to look at you just as you sit down next to him.

"Y/n-"

"Shut up and listen to me." You know you sound harsh, you can see it in the way his eyebrows jump up to his hairline. "I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen."

He nods, not used to seeing you like this.

"I heard you in there," his eyes shut in- what you're not sure. "And firstly, I love you too. But that's not the important bit here."

"How is that not-"

"I said shush."

His mouth snaps shut.

"That bullshit about you not being good enough for me? Crap. Utter crap. How dare you lie about the man I love like that?" You're pissed off with him for that. Fuck.

"You are incredible, Choi Seungcheol, and I don't know what I have to do to make you finally understand that." You take his face in your hands, feeling his cheeks heat up from the force of his blush. "I love you."

"I love you."

"You're more than enough for me."

"I can't-"

"I don’t care that we can't see each other all the time or that you'll be away for a long time travelling or that you're so busy sometimes I think you're dead." You're smiling at him now. "I do care that we're in love with each other and you haven't kissed me yet."

He doesn't waste a second. His hands are on your hips and in your hair and roaming your back and squeezing your thighs and holding your face and he really just can't keep them still. Your hands move from his face to his hair, your arms curling around his head as you hold him to you, and you sink your weight into his lap on the floor.

He pulls away entirely too quickly, but neither of you can catch your breath.

"I love you."

You sit like that for a while, you in his lap, your arms around his head, his arms around your torso, foreheads resting together, before he breaks the silence.

"I've gotta apologise to Hao, don't I?"

#scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #° braindead writes

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whorbidmore · 8 months ago

Text

okay, so, I've fallen victim to the leon kennedy brainrot steadily overtaking me, following me from Tumblr to Pinterest, to Instagram and even the absolutely fucking dreaded application of TikTok. I don't even use it that often??? and the algorithm is just like 'wow, yeah, this little fuckers gay as hell send in the 40 year old meow meow!!' and having watched Death Island fairly recently, I'm gonna have my opinions on what this dude would be like. Cus my brain loves to rationalize shit and think ab 'what if this mf was someone real?' so... fuck it.

Leon Soft Kennedy Headcanons

SFW

accidentally bigoted. - im sorry but let's be so fucking real here. he's a 40 something year old man who spent the majority of his life in either the military, a police training academy in the 90's, or otherwise working under the U.S Federal System with minimal/no time between missions to unpack absolutely everything he's got going on... the guys gonna have some problematic tendencies. Obviously that doesn't mean he means any of that or is incapable of change, etc. etc., but I know for damn certain this dude would laugh a little at Bill Burr's borderline to blatantly misogynistic material and has probably chuckled unironically at the attack helicopter jokes. But, he's not a complete dick, and would definitely become more critical of those kinds of jokes if it's pointed out to him.

honest to God, Dad Without Kids™ - it's not simply enough for me to leave it at 'but it's the vibes!!' so, I'm gonna break this shit down. Leon is absolutely Gen X incarnate. I can fucking guarantee you that on his off days he accidentally ends up dressing as an undercover cop; I'm talking cargo shorts, light blue button up, those fucking standard issue boots cus "they're perfectly good shoes" and those stupid ass sunglasses... you know the ones I'm talking about. Let's say you're living with him, right? And you're... you, and you wanna watch something on TV. This dude would strain himself getting up like a turtle fallen backwards on its shell, stand up, walk right in front of the TV screen and stand there with his hands on his hips. It doesn't matter that he had to piss, he needs to get a better look of what's happening! Does those really loud, obnoxious coughs and sneezes, absolutely blows his back out doing one at least five times a year.

Only watches British Reality TV - Considering he's canonically a film buff, I'll say that this is purely for whatever he gravitates towards on general streaming services. I honestly don't see him being the type to regularly tune in to standard American cable TV, or only does so under specific circumstances like American Ninja Warrior or maybe Forged in Fire if there's absolutely nothing else. It's not something that's exclusive to Americans, — I'm from New Zealand and I do this too, — but Leon absolutely falls into the category of watching British Reality and Game shows purely because of the accents. I'm talking Jeremy Kyle, The Big Fat Quiz of Everything, Taskmaster, The Great British Bake Off and so on and so forth. It doesn't matter that baking isn't his forté or a passion of his, if Josephine curdles her buttercream by over mixing, his hands are in his hair in utter disappointment. 100% tries to mimic their accents too. We all do it, don't lie.

Has... very dated music tastes - I don't know if you could guess, but the last paragraph included me calling myself out and name dropping some shows I watch anyway or grew up watching, and I'm just saying that this is gonna be no different. If anything? This'll be worse! Since I'm very passionate about the music I listen to and have the inability to keep my interests separated from the other, of course my love of particular bands will bleed over into my interpretation of Leon's character! Anyway, all that for me to say that Leon fucking LOVES 90's grunge musicians, specifically Pearl Jam and Soundgarden, as well as early nu metal bands like Korn (their dubstep phase did not happen.), TOOL, and Rage Against the Machine — and no, he unfortunately doesn't see the irony of him being a fed and listening to Rage, — but would also have a soft spot for psych rock, post-punk and shoegaze. My man's definitely laid awake at night, sobbing without expression as he struggles to accept that Ada never really wanted him like he wanted her while listening to fucking Slowdive. My hottest take here is that he doesn't really listen to Deftones. Like he'll occasionally blast My Own Summer, Change, Bored or Rosemary, but anything outside of those? He just didn't listen to 'em. My second hottest take is that he does NOT like Slipknot, which kind of pains me 'cus I do, but I fucking bet you this dude would actually adopt one piece of "Gen Z lingo" or whatever just call them cringe. Though admittedly he would've been jamming the fuck out to Psychosocial and The Devil in I when they came out. Went off the deep end in Vendetta, obviously, and drunk-cried himself to sleep on the couch listening to Linkin Park.

Very confusing spending habits - On one hand, we all understand that Leon came from money, — he was implied to have been born into a mob family from my understanding? And I doubt he'd ever really had to worry about being fully, irrevocably broke, — but I'm sure that growing up in the U.S Foster Care System made him at least a little more cautious of where his money comes from, where it's going, what he's spending it on, etc. So, on the one hand, he's apprehensive to spend recklessly, particularly on perishables. But also, if he can drop over $100,000USD on a motorcycle that got absolutely fucking cheese grated into the road, and spend a perceived, metric fuck ton of money on designer leather jackets and massive watches, it's gonna be hard for me to call him 'financially conscious'. On one hand, he gets apprehensive on spending more money than he needs to on food since he's "just gonna shit it out later", but if he sees a cool watch or a nice suit in a shop window? Money's suddenly not an issue! Not because he's materialistic, but because the one thing he really maintains a sense of control over in his life are his possessions and the way he dresses. The D.S.O can call him in for another months long mission whenever they please, and all he can realistically do is allow the government to tug on his leash and put him where he's needed. He may as well spend their money on things he wants!

Gets out... enough? But also, not really? - So, personally I've pegged Leon as more of an introverted person, — amateurly typed his MBTI as possibly ISFJ? — so he doesn't really feel the need to go out and meet new people or really hang out with anyone. If somebody invites him out? Sure, he'll go. Otherwise, it rarely occurs to him to meet up with friends or colleagues at a cafe or anywhere. I think he'd prefer to just go there alone, mostly for the sake of having somebody else cook for him as opposed to actively seeking out the atmosphere. It's pure convience in his mind. And remember when I said in the beginning about him accidentally being at least a little misogynistic? Yeah, that was me trying to say that he regularly tries to hit on younger waitresses. Not because he actually wants anything to do with them, but simply because it's an ego boost. He likes that he can make girls half his age blush or offer him their numbers, because it tells him that he's still desirable, and ultimately, that gives him the power to reject them politely and go about the rest of his day. If they don't reject him first, of course. Admittedly, Leon's audacity towards women peaked during Infinite Darkness.

Since I'm planning on posting more NSFW headcanons for this guy, — and more NSFW kinds of posts, — here is the obligatory Minors DNI attachment. For your own safety, I don't care if what I have to say is tame so far, you can hold it off I promise.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil #resident evil leon #leon kennedy headcanons #babyfangs.txt #fangsfic #idk man im literally talking out my ass on all this 💀

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 4 months ago

Text

With a kiss we will paint a flawless view (part 1)

Dracule Mihawk x reader. This is part one of two. NSFW!!

This fic is dedicated to @madbadpadawan.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series, and the sequel of Come close and whisper my true name.

*****

“Something is troubling you.” your lover murmurs as he turns to kiss your naked shoulder; you smile, forcing yourself to hide the stab of pain those words have evoked in your heart, an unpleasant interruption in such a pleasant afternoon.

“I’m fine, Mihawk.”

“That was not a question, and you are not.”

Silence returns between the two of you, barely stirred by the gentle murmuring of the waves. What remains of your picnic lays on the blanket in front of you; Mihawk sits by your side, his left hand resting on the sand behind him, his lovely yellow eyes only apparently focused on the sun setting on the horizon. He doesn’t insist to know more, he doesn’t point out that this morning he has seen you stare out of the window for almost an hour, silent and unmoving, lost in who knows what sad reflection, nor does he mention the vague, impalpable but persistent melancholy he has perceived around you for the last month at least. He remains silent, content to sip the content of his glass (his favourite red wine, that you have bought and brought especially for this occasion) as the breeze plays with his dark hair.

It’s not like he doesn’t care; nothing could be further from the truth. You’ve been together for years, and while Mihawk is not the most effusive of men, you know well how much you mean to him, how much he cares about your physical and mental well-being, and that he wants a future with you. Whatever problem or worry you may be dealing with, you know your partner will listen to you, respect it, and do his best to help you overcome it, just like you would do for him; on the other hand he respects your privacy and desire for independence, and the last thing he wants is to treat you as if you were a child who needed an adult to protect and decide for her.

I don’t demand to know what you’re going through, but if you want to tell me, I’m here; this is what he’s telling you, without the need to utter a single word, and you love him for it; this is not an issue he, or anyone for that matter, can help you with, and lingering on it means wasting the time you are spending with your lover, but no matter how stupid and pointless it is, you can’t stop thinking about it…

“I have entered menopause.” you confess in the end, actually feeling as if you were sharing a crime you had committed rather than a natural, albeit untimely, development all women go through sooner or later. Mihawk, who clearly wasn’t expecting something like that (and how could he?) turns to look at you.

“You’re too young for that, surely?”

“Not necessarily; my mother was only two years older than me when it happened to her, and my grandmother had it early as well. I haven’t had my period for at least two months and I did think the last one I had was unusually light and short, so…”

Silence falls again; a minute later Mihawk’s glass has been placed back on the tray and his arm has circled your waist, holding you close to his body.

“What did your doctor say?” he asks softly; his gaze is now turned in your direction but now you are the one avoiding him, despite the love and intimacy you share too ashamed and embarrassed to face his reaction.

“I haven’t told him. I’ll mention it on my next routine visit in two months, but there’s no need really, I’ve just been feeling a little tired, but thank all the Gods the women of my family don’t usually experience hot flashes…”

“(name).”

You rest your cheek against his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

“You know I could never consider you stupid; and being a man I am completely unqualified to judge what you’re feeling, even if I wanted to.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It is stupid, because I was almost sure it would happen soon and my period has been nothing but a nuisance for years, but…”

“But?”

“I hate it.” you admit as you finally turn to look at him “I hate myself, and I hate my body, as if it had betrayed me. It doesn’t make sense, because I already knew I couldn’t have children and I know I’m still young, but… I feel old and weak and… and useless. I feel empty.”

You you hate crying, especially when there is someone there to witness your tears, and as a matter of fact you’re not crying now, but you still hide your face against Mihawk’s chest as he embraces you, holding your body (your pathetic, inadequate, withered body) as if you were something precious and delicate he wanted to protect.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs; you’re close enough you can perceive his scent, slightly sour and deliciously masculine, but even that can’t make you feel better in the state you’re in “I hate seeing you in pain. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“Don’t; I’m just emotional, I should get a grip instead of wasting our time together whining.”

“The time we spend together is never wasted; and since your body is changing it’s perfectly normal if your mind reacts to it.”

He holds you close, peppering kisses on your hair and brow as he murmurs your name, and in the end, almost reflexively, you feel your body abandon itself in your lover’s embrace, tension leaving your muscles and bones even though grief lingers.

“Do you love me, Mihawk?” you ask in the end, lifting your gaze to meet his; all of a sudden you feel unworthy of his love, well aware that what you share could never change simply because you won’t be bleeding four days every twenty-eight anymore, but the most fragile part of you feels he would deserve better - a younger, healthier woman, capable of giving him the child you both wanted.

“I do.” Mihawk murmurs; he presses his forehead against yours, holding you as if he never wants to let you go “I always have, and always will, until my last breath. I promise.”

You remain locked in an embrace as you both observe the sun setting beyond the horizon; your lover holds you close as you listen to his quiet, steady heartbeat. Neither feels the need to talk, or to move; to worry, to feel sad, is completely impossible when the two of you are together.

A couple hours later Mihawk receives a call from the Marines HQ - an interruption during your time together your lover appreciates as much as an invasion of locusts. Alone in the kitchen as you wash the dishes and glasses you used for your picnic, you distantly hear your lover talk, and then argue, and finally almost shout, over the Den Den Mushi; you wait until he has ended the call, and then you join your lover in his bedroom, carrying two cups of his favourite tea.

“Bad news?” you ask as you offer him a cup that your lover, now sitting on the bed, accepts with a nod of thanks, his expression still sombre.

“I’m afraid so; the Marines need me, and the other Warlords, for a mission in the Shima Peninsula.”

“That’s pretty far away.”

“I’m aware; there is a war going on in the area, that the Marines unsurprisingly can’t put an end to it by themselves.” Mihawk explains; he seems pensive, even worried, which surprises you, since your lover, almost physically unable to feel fear, is usually dismissive of or even bored by the missions the Marines entrust to him “I read about it in the paper, it’s quite a complicated situation. I might have to remain there for weeks, even months.”

Ah; so that is what he was worried about. “Well.” you murmur, careful not to spill your tea as you go sit on his lap “I don’t need to tell you I will miss you…”

“And I you. (name)... I’ll probably be asked not to use a Den Den Mushi while I remain in the area, for security reasons; I might not even be able to write to you.”

“... oh.”

It’s worse than you expected. While you and your lover are both adult, independent people, each with important duties that occupy your time and who don’t even live together, you have always kept regularly in contact, both by letter and Den Den Mushi, and are used to meet each other regularly, either on your island, on Kuraigana or in some other place you decided to visit together. To remain apart, to be unable to call and write to your lover and to hear from him, for weeks and even months, sounds honestly unbearable; but refusing the call of the World Government will bring nothing but troubles for Mihawk, you reflect as you sip your tea, especially if this task in Shima is especially important.

“You need to go.” you murmur in the end, resting your back against his chest “I know you don’t like being ordered around by the World Government, but if you refuse there might be… repercussions.”

Mihawk sneers. “You think I’m afraid of them?”

“Of course you’re not, but it can’t be a bad thing to keep the Marines happy; at the very least, if you help them with this task they’ll leave you alone for a while afterwards… and you can come visit me for a few days.”

You bat your eyelashes at your lover, who looks at you, more amused than he lets on. “On second thought, I might decide to remain on Shima for a while after my mission is over.”

“Oh, you are horrible…”

Mihawk grins; you see him take a longer sip of his tea before placing the cup on his bedside table. “I’ll have to make sure no one else sees me shift.” he considers, which immediately turns you serious. Only six months have passed since you shared your gift with your lover, and while he has already learned to control it seamlessly, turning in a werewolf on command and avoiding doing it when he mustn’t, like all of you he can’t help shifting on full moon nights - an easy situation to manage when one lives on an otherwise deserted island, but that might represent a problem if he’ll be surrounded by Marine soldiers and officers, especially considering that while werewolves are mostly considered the stuff of legend, the World Government never formally abrogated an ancient law that ordered them to be killed on sight.

“I have put you in danger.” you murmur, immediately alarmed, which your lover resolutely denies shaking his head.

“You haven’t; I knew the risks when I asked you to turn me.” he points out “It’s only one night every twenty-eight; I’ll find a way to shift without anyone seeing me.”

“I hope so. Bring the draught I prepared for you, will you? You have learnt to control the shifting faster than any adult I know, but you never know when you might need it.”

“I promise.”

“Good. You need to go soon, don’t you?”

The barest trace of guilt visible in your lover’s eyes is answer enough. “I’m expected at the Marines HQ tomorrow at sundown at the latest; which means I’ll have to depart in the morning.” Mihawk points out softly “I’m sorry, (name); I know it wasn’t easy for you to carve out a few days for us.”

It wasn’t, and it’s so frustrating it makes you want to scream - not against Mihawk, of course, and not against the Marines either; you felt better, lighter, after sharing the matter of your menopause with your lover and being comforted and reassured of his love for you, and now fate conspires against you both, separating you from Mihawk when you need him the most, after a single day spent together.

Sometimes you wonder if your lover will ever decide to come live with you on your island; no matter how content and satisfied you both are with your current situation, this would allow you to spend as much time together as you want, or at least, considering your duties towards your people and his as a pirate and a member of the Seven Warlords, you wouldn’t have to plan any single meeting in advance and then sail for almost a whole day, since you’d be sleeping in the same bed and dining at the same table. It would make things much easier, and you know your lover misses you as much as you miss him when you’re apart. On the other hand, you can’t move with him, since you’ll one day be expected to become the ruler of your island after your mother, so it would be hypocritical of you to ask him to pack his things. You have talked about it several times, and you don’t want to rush Mihawk into something he doesn’t feel ready for; you know he loves you, and that wherever he goes, no matter how far away he’ll be, he’ll always return to you. That is enough; it has to be.

“I’ll miss you.” Mihawk murmurs, exactly as you considered the same sentiment in your heart. You smile, and

“Well, I hope so.” you murmur; a moment later your tea, by now gone cold in the still half-full cup, is placed on the bedside table next to his, and you’ve turned in your lover’s embrace, straddling his thighs with your arms now resting on his shoulders. Mihawk grins despite himself, his hands rising from your waist to gently, possessively cup your breast. Recently it feels oddly tender, and heavy, you reflect vaguely; since you are obviously no longer a growing girl, it’s probably a side effect of the menopause.

For once in the last three months, you’re able to quickly banish the unpleasant thought from your mind, as you look at Mihawk under your eyelashes, innocently resting your hand very high on his thigh as if to stabilise yourself “Maybe I should go, let you rest tonight so that you’ll be at full strength when you’ll have to sail tomorrow…”

“You’re fooling no one, (name).”

“I really don’t know what you mean. Let me go, I’ll sleep in one of the empty bedrooms…”

Your mouth meets his in a soft peck, seemingly chaste if not for the quick dart of your tongue against his bottom lip, before you start to stand from his lap; Mihawk growls, and his arms cage you against his chest as he turns on the bed, pushing you under him.

“Seriously, darling, I was worried for your health and this is how you repay me?”

“Oh, I’m gonna repay you alright…”

Your lover grins as he looks at you, still caged between his legs, and at the enticing view of your chest rising and falling in rhythm with your breathing; a moment later he has lifted your skirt, exposing your body from your waist up. He slips his hand under your underskirt, his fingers brushing over your flesh, and for a moment it feels different - softer, somehow, and more prominent, as if you had gained weight, even though not to the point one could notice just looking at you. Mihawk vaguely wonders if there’s a specific reason; you’ve always been a lover of good food but not someone who overeats, and it should be easy for you to keep in shape, given your active lifestyle and the time you spend regularly in your fortress’ small gymnasium. Perhaps the recent development, and the grief and shame it filled your heart with, led you to seek comfort in eating…

“Is something wrong?” you ask, unaware of your lover’s thoughts, and he hurries to shake his head; one doesn’t need to be an expert on women to know that telling one’s partner she has gotten fat would hardly please her, especially while her body is already a source of shame and grief for her, and he doesn’t want you to think he finds you less desirable now that you’ve gained a few pounds.

Because he doesn’t. At all.

“Nothing. I was just reflecting on how… appetising you look.”

You smile, unashamedly flattered. “I’m not a food you can eat, Mihawk.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to devour you.”

“Hmm, you surely talk a good game…”

Your kisses chase each other as you take care of your clothes; you make quick work of Mihawk’s shirt and pants, while he spends a few minutes unsuccessfully struggling with the lacing of your dress before giving up with a frustrated sigh. “It’s worse than a chastity belt!”

“I’m sorry, my seamstress insisted it was more elegant than a zipper…”

“Clearly your seamstress wants you to wear this dress for the rest of your life.” Mihawk mutters; then, with a grin, he helps you lie on the bed and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder “Then I suppose I’ll have to fuck you while you’re still wearing it.”

A moment later your panties and underskirt are lying on the floor, and you sigh as your lover’s hard cock penetrates you; after so many years you’re like a lock and the key made to open it and he knows what you can handle without feeling too much pain, but he’s still gentle, still patient and attentive, as he fills you and then slowly starts to move. He hated seeing you suffer, especially because yours was not the sort of grief one could process rationally either by yourself or thanks to the support of your loved ones; he could swear and insist your menopause makes no difference for him, that you’re still beautiful and strong and clever, a desirable partner and a talented bounty hunter, and it wouldn’t necessarily help. He knows you have to deal with the changes of your body on your own, and that you can, and that you will; you don’t need to be protected, or reminded that your value as a person and as a woman has nothing to do with your menstrual cycle, if you are in pain, no matter how unfounded or inconsequential, and he would give his blood to make it go away…

How can he survive weeks, even months, without you? Without even hearing from you, and the reassurance you’re alright and still thinking about him? He’s not afraid you could look at other men, and he knows you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but he’s already regretting the mission he accepted taking part in. He misses you already; and he knows he’s going to regret every single day you don’t spend together.

He holds you in his arms as he changes position once more, fucking you against the matress as he stands on the side of the bed, your legs locked around his hips. He can feel you claw at his back, possessive and even hungry for him, and he loves it, pain and pleasure mixed in such an arousing paroxysm of desire; every inch of him, flesh and bone and blood, his body and his mind and his soul, are vibrating with you, so close he can no longer perceive where he ends and you begin. He never thought it was possible to feel like this, or at least that he would one day experience such a perfect astonishment; but for once in his life, Dracule Mihawk is happy to admit he was wrong.

You share a smile, soft and intimate, as he pounds against you, his pushes deeper and more forceful as he feels your warmth enveloping him. Just like this, darling, you murmur, gazing adoringly at him, and oh, you’re so big and strong, and it feels good, so good, to know he’s taking care of your needs, fucking you nice and well, better than any other man ever could.

Mihawk hears you pant his name, the warmth of your body as enticing now as it was on your first time. “I love you.” you murmur; he smiles, and kisses you once more.

“Promise you’ll wait for me.” he tells you “Promise me, (name).”

“I promise I will wait for you till the end of time.”

Mihawk has never been in the Shima peninsula before. A nice place, he has been told, a once popular holiday destination famous for the production of precious fabrics and the vast quantities of gold hidden in the depths of its mines; nevertheless, he only needs to take a look at Shima to know he’s going to hate it.

It’s not because the country has been ravaged by war for almost a decade now; while the chaos and destruction wreaked by the invading army he and the other Warlords have been sent to oppose don’t leave him completely indifferent, he has seen plenty of scenes like that in his life, plenty of death and grief and devastation, and is now able to put some distance between him and the slaughtering taking place all around.

What frustrates him, and makes him regret ever saying yes when Garp called to request his help, is that he is doing nothing, spending most of his time twiddling his thumbs as days and weeks and months go by without the conflict moving a single step closer to resolution.

The situation is delicate, the Marines commander at the head of the whole operation -Mihawk hasn’t bothered to learn his name- tells them; the country whose army has invaded Shima is not affiliated to the World Government, but the authorities still hope for a peaceful resolution, which means they cannot simply send their armies, or the Warlords, to cut down the enemy troops. The two contingents are on standby, their encampments separated by a quarter of a mile of no man’s land; emissaries and ambassadors meet regularly, they argue and threaten and beg, and occasionally either Mihawk or one of his peers is sent to wreak havoc through enemy lines, or to face the paladins the opposing generals have sent to convince them to retreat. Neither party is able, or even fully willing, to best the other; they prefer to wait, hoping to wear the other party down or for some internal development that forces the enemy to withdraw.

If Mihawk thought he had known boredom in the years since he had last faced an opponent worthy of fighting him, it is nothing compared to those four months of inertia; he keeps busy training, and reading whatever paper and book he can put his hands on, but the encampment is barely large enough for a brief walk to stretch his legs, and he’s not the sort of man capable of making friends easily, not even if the alternative is dying of accidie.

Lying on his bed in the tent he shares with three of his fellow Warlords, he stares at the ceiling wondering what (name) is doing at that moment, whether she is sitting in the fortress’ audience chamber next to her mother or is preparing for a stakeout, her faithful derringer already aimed at the back of the head of the unsuspecting victim. He knows in his heart that wherever she is, his partner is thinking about him, hoping to see him return soon, but that is not enough; he has never missed her so terribly, her presence and her smile and the sound of her voice and, why deny it?, the warmth of her soft body as she lays naked in his embrace. He thinks back to that time Shanks told him he could still perceive the presence of his missing arm, years after he had lost it; what he feels now is at least partially similar, the lack of a part of him (not a limb, but a person who has become too important and precious for him to feel whole without her) becoming more painful, and frustrating, with each passing day. They have never been apart for so long since they became lovers, but that’s not all: there’s another reason, something Mihawk couldn’t explain but that is too intense to deny or dismiss it: the sensation that his lover needs him, but not because she’s in danger, or saddened and in need of comfort. Something is happening to her, something important that concerns him as well, and he should be there to share it with her…

The most maddening thing is that he has no way to know for sure. Even though he is busy for, on average, maybe two hours per week, he has been forbidden to leave the peninsula, even for a few days only, in the event that a sudden emergency arises and the Marines need their strongest allies to fight their battles for them, which means he is virtually prisoner on Shima, kept idle but not allowed to make use that wasted time. Many are unhappy with that situation, especially the other Warlords, who protest they haven’t accepted the alliance with the Marines to be kept in the backlines, but even their complaints fall on deaf ears.

If only he were allowed to at least communicate with the outside, but Den Den Mushi have been rendered unusable on the whole peninsula, in order to block transmissions between the invading army and its king; even the Marines commander receives his orders via carrier bird. Mihawk has sent a letter to (name) every time he had the opportunity, but he’s uncertain they will reach their destination, and even less hopeful he’ll be able to receive a response. At least, (name) will learn he’s still alive from the papers, which will ease her worries; still, there is nothing he wouldn’t give to hear her voice, or at least to read a letter in her elegant handwriting, for the first time in so long…

As his lover expected, the full moon nights are the trickiest, and the most dangerous, given how hard it is to find the necessary privacy to shift in an encampment inhabited by hundreds of people who must remain in the dark regarding his secret. Mihawk shifts for the first time nineteen days after his arrival on Shima; he has no way of knowing, but on that very day (name) has requested a visit from the fortress’ doctor after a sudden, violent bout of nausea as she woke up. He’s already feeling the pull of the rising moon as he slips out of the tent and then of the encampment, almost running towards the flat stretch of countryside that separates it from the closest town; a wood would have been better, the presence of trees and preys to hunt a more appropriate place for the wolf to run and feel at home, but at least he doesn’t run the risk of stumbling on some unsuspecting Marine recruit who had stepped out to relieve himself. He leaves his clothes behind a boulder and stands, stretching his muscles as he feels the moon’s soft light bathing his skin. The wolf has already raised its head inside him, ready to take over, and Mihawk lets him, the by now familiar sensation of fur covering his back and his bones changing shape enveloping him. A few minutes, and the large black wolf has taken his place; he chases after a few terrified mice, more to stretch his legs than because he’s hungry, and then he lays in an uncultivated field, looking at the moon above and thinking about his mate, who must have shifted as well but who is far away, too far from his howling to reach her.

The stalemate has been dragging for four months when one day Mihawk, and by coincidence the other Warlords as well, suddenly decides he has wasted enough time as it is. After a brief discussion, they march out of the encampment, deaf to the Marines asking and then ordering (as if!) them to stop, cross the unclaimed strip of desert separating them from the enemy, and swoop down on the invading army. To their credit, the invading troops are quick to react, their soldiers immediately falling in formation to oppose the small but deadly band of pirates. Mihawk has warned his fellow Warlords not to stand in his way, but beyond that he doesn’t care what they do, like he is completely indifferent to the opponents he finds on his path; he wields Yoru as he makes his way through the enemy lines, destroying anyone who is unfortunate enough to face him, nameless men and women who fall around him like sheaves of wheat cut by a scythe. A few swordsmen try to oppose him, and whether they’re driven by patriotism or thirst for glory, none of them is able to land a single blow on him; he’s no longer a wolf, but his ferocity, his ruthlessness and thirst for blood are characteristics any predator would approve of.

The unsanctioned assault is as quick as it is deadly; dawn has barely raised when the

Marines’ commander is called out of his tent, and finds himself face to face with the severed heads of the enemy’s generals thrown at his feet, their respective next in lines bound and gagged behind them, ready to concede defeat and beg for a peace accord, in order to avoid another bloodshed.

The commander is highly disgruntled, since the Warlords acted of their own accord, without seeking permission and defying every order they had been given, but those seven did in less than two hours what the Marines couldn’t in six months. He has no choice but to accept the enemy’s surrender, begin the peace negotiations, and write to the Fleet Admiral to inform him of the latest developments.

The Warlords depart, mostly confident the Marines can take it from here and there is no longer need of their services, once again without asking for permission. Mihawk has not been at home in four months, and his last bath dates back to then; part of him is unhappy he’s going to present himself to his lover in that state, but he knows that she would never forgive him if he lingered for such an inconsequential reason, even for just an hour more.

He wastes no time with good-byes; he retrieves his bag from the tent and reaches his ship at the harbour, where a favourable wind is blowing. Mihawk is soon leaving the Shima peninsula behind him, without looking back and hoping he will never have to set foot on that blasted place again.

“My lady?”

“...”

“Please wake up, my lady…”

“Hmm… no…”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lady, but you really need to wake up…”

“For the Gods’ sake! Am I not allowed even a moment of rest?” you exclaim as you finally open your eyes; it’s not like you to react so impatiently, even and especially if the person talking to you is one of the servants, but the nights you have slept soundly in the last four months have been far and between, and naps like the one you had been taking on the sofa in your study (a new piece of furniture, that you had moved there especially for occasions like this) have literally saved you from going insane, and being forced to wake up feels like torture “I just wanted to sleep a little…”

“Forgive us my lady, but…” the two men in livery in front of you share a glance, suddenly unsure they’ve done the right thing deciding to disturb your sleep “Lord Mihawk is back.”

For a moment you fear you’re still dreaming. “... what?” you ask as you struggle to move into a seated position, your movements made clumsier by the added weight on your belly “Are you sure?”

“We’ve been informed his ship has docked at the harbour; the portmaster offered to call the fortress to have a carriage sent for him, but he preferred to borrow a horse to save time. He should be here in a few minutes. What would you have us do?”

“I…”

You bite your lip as you stand, your hand immediately rising to hold your belly, a habit you have gotten into ever since you learnt of your pregnancy, as if fearing even the most careful movement could put your baby in danger, and the presence of your arm were enough to shield them. It’s illogical, you know it well; but given the upheaval your life has experienced in the last four months, you might be forgiven if at certain moments rationality escapes you…

Your pregnancy. Your baby. Three months have passed since the doctors confirmed what you had already started suspecting but didn’t dare believe, and you still struggle to convince yourself that it’s true. You’re pregnant, and you’re gonna have a baby… your lover’s baby, a son or a daughter, who you have conceived together during one of your many nights -and mornings, and afternoons…- together, and who grows in your belly, becoming heavier by the day. A normal, perfectly natural development, that millions of women all over the world experience every year, but that you never expected might concern you, not after what happened on that terrible night so many years ago, when you lost both your father and your child. You had been assured getting pregnant again would be impossible, and in fact it never happened, nor when you still slept around hoping to give an heir to your feud, nor in the following years, despite the -err- very passionate relationship you share with your lover.

And you thought you had entered menopause, and were sad because of it! How foolish you have been, especially considering this is not your first pregnancy, but how could you imagine it, so many years after you had ordered yourself to stop trying, to stop hoping, and to resign yourself to never becoming a mother?

You have been visited by the most capable and experienced doctors of the kingdom, and none of them has been able to explain it. It’s nothing short of a miracle, my lady, one of them has commented as he washed his hands after examining you, and you thought that maybe you didn’t need to know how, but only to be reassured that it was true, that it had happened, and it had happened to you.

And now this. Mihawk is back, which you did expect, just not yet; you have read about the end of the conflict on the Shima peninsula in yesterday’s paper, but while the pictures showing your lover safe and sound, and victorious, made you heave a sigh of relief, you expected him to be busy for a while longer before he could come back. But years after you became lovers Mihawk is still able to surprise you… just like you’re gonna undoubtedly surprise him, when your lover sees the state you are in.

The servants are still looking at you, patiently waiting for your orders. You sigh, rubbing your eyes as if that were enough to clear your mind. “Forgive me, that was discourteous of me.” you apologise “Please take care of lord Mihawk’s needs when he arrives; I’ll be waiting for him here.”

“Very well, my lady.”

They bow out; now alone, suddenly nervous as if you had not been as close as it’s humanly possible for two people to be for years, and even though you have every reason to think he’ll be happy to hear about the baby, you consider the possibility of changing your dress, or to move to the adjoining bathroom to check your hair and make up, before realising nothing of it is necessary - not from you, not with him. With nothing else to do apart from waiting, you sigh and sit back once more, both of your hands resting on your belly as you stare at the room’s door and wait to see it open.

Mihawk’s heart is pounding as he climbs the steps that lead to (name)’s apartment, alone, no longer needing to be accompanied as he walks through the fortress he by now knows as well as his residence on Kuraigana. As he reaches the floor he stops, feeling suddenly… Insecure? Shy? Anxious?

It is odd, first of all because those terms have been banned from his vocabulary ever since he was a teenager, and equally important, because this is (name), his (name); Mihawk would bet his life she’s going to welcome him with open arms -and legs, hopefully; after four months with only his right hand for company, he can’t wait to bury himself in his lover’s tight and warm pussy and show her how much he has missed her- happy and relieved to see him safe and sound. After all his lover knew he would be gone for a long time and have difficulties keeping in contact, and they have always supported each other’s endeavours as a pirate and a bounty hunter respectively; even in the event she didn’t receive his letters, she has no reason to complain because of his long absence and the fact he didn’t call.

So no, the welcome that awaits him is not the reason for his current anxiety; what is, then? The lady Veressa, who he met briefly as he arrived at the fortress, assured him (name) is alright, so he has no reason to worry in that regard; on the other hand, the older woman seemed… what? Not exactly worried, or scared, but somehow anxious, and she has urged him to go to her daughter immediately, as if there was something important he had to see, or to discuss about with (name).

What the hell is happening? Mihawk keeps asking himself as he stares at the door of his lover’s apartment, the pounding of his heart almost deafening; part of him wishes he could take a bath, and change his clothes, before presenting himself to (name) for the first time in four months, but Mihawk considers that thought only for a moment before dismissing it. Right now all he needs is to make sure she’s fine, and to kiss her; and then perhaps they can take a bath together.

He knocks. “(name), it’s Mihawk.” he announces as he opens the door without waiting for an answer; he steps into the room and his gaze immediately falls on the woman sitting on a sofa (a new piece of furniture, he vaguely reflects, strangely out of place in her study) without a book to read or her derringer to clean, simply waiting - for him.

She smiles at him, radiant and more beautiful than ever, and Mihawk thinks he would have endured any hardship, and stayed away for years rather than months, if it meant being welcomed back like that. “My love.” he murmurs, his heart overflowing.

“You’re back.” (name) whispers, the tone of a woman who dares not believe her eyes; she stands - or at least she tries, oddly awkward and cautious as she grabs the sofa’s armrest to heave herself up, an arm wrapped around her middle. Mihawk is immediately concerned; is her lover sick after all? Why does she move like that? And what is she wearing…? “You’re here; I wasn’t expecting you yet, I thought you’d have to stay longer on Shima…”

“I came as soon as I could; I wasted enough time in that blasted place already.” he explains quickly as he reaches her; his hands find hers, and a kiss is pressed to her knuckles “My darling, are you alright? You seem..”

“I’m fine, Mihawk; really. But…”

She bites her lip, looking expectantly at him as if waiting for a response to a question Mihawk has not perceived; reassured but still confused, he follows her gaze down her body, to the soft protrusion of her belly, and one does not need to be a midwife to comprehend the state his lover is in, but like her, Mihawk has ordered himself to stop thinking about the possibility ever since they have discovered (name) is infertile, and even just considering what is evident and clear and real in front of his eyes requires more courage than for a moment he can gather.

He’s staring silently, his mouth half-open, until with a soft smile (name) takes his hand and gently places it on her belly, his fingers instinctively spreading to feel, gauge, and this is different from any body he has ever known, not the softness of fat nor the luscious curves of her femininity, it feels hard - almost like a shield, a shell, protecting the fragile treasure inside.

“I thought you had put on weight.” he murmurs, more to himself than to her.

“Excuse me?”

“The last time we have been together; as I caressed you I… I thought you had gained a few pounds, and I thought it odd, because you have never been a big eater…”

“Well, I hadn’t; it’s another sort of pleasure I have indulged in, rather than food.” she confesses, a tiny smile blossoming on his lips; Mihawk looks at her, for once in his life stunned beyond words, but (name) knows and loves him enough to perceive what he wants, what he needs, and smiles as she rests her hand on his over her belly.

“I’m pregnant.” she declares “Mihawk, you’re going to be a father.”

Mihawk looks on, fascinated, as the drops of water dripping from the fingers of his raised hand fall on (name) heavy belly, slipping down sideways or pooling around her belly-button. He’s sitting behind her in the large oval bath-tub, her back resting against his chest, (name)’s body snugly cradled between his legs; they have already washed and cleaned each other (“I’m sorry, I am covered with sweat.” “Don’t say it; you know I like you hot and bothered.”) and now they’re enjoying the first precious moments of intimacy after four months. Mihawk rubs his lover’s back gently, and feels her relax in his embrace; knowing that she had to deal with all of it by herself because he had left her alone fills him with guilt, even though (name) assured him she could never resent him given the circumstances, but Mihawk is determined to make up for it. He’s never leaving her (them) alone again; and he’s going to protect them with his life if need be.

The tub is filled to the brim, (name)’s belly emerging like an island in the middle of the sea; the thought brings a smile to his face.

“How is it possible?” he murmurs; he doesn’t really need to know, since the several doctors his lover has consulted have agreed her pregnancy is going well and she has every reason to be optimist, but he can’t help wondering “You told me it was impossible; and we have been having plenty of sex for years now, you never got pregnant.”

“I have no idea.” (name) admits; she’s writing her and Mihawk’s names with the tip of her finger on her belly “None of the doctors can explain it; maybe… maybe it’s precisely because we have done it so much that it happened? If you plant a seed a million times, sooner or later it will take root, no matter how barren the soil is.”

It’s as good an explanation as any, and they both reflect on it as they hold each other. (name) shivers when Mihawk’s strong hands cup her breast, the touch gentle and cautious but confident as he fondles the soft flesh and stimulates her erect nipples. Her chest has gotten bigger, and Mihawk can feel himself growing hard under the water; he has considered the possibility that her state has affected (name)’s libido, but he’s pretty sure there are no particular contraindications to a pregnant woman having sex, and he wants her at least to know how absolutely ravishing and irresistible he finds her…

(name)’s moans of pleasure are music to his ears. She rests her head against his shoulder, arching her back as if to lift her chest and offer her body to his ministrations. “Are you happy?” she asks when their eyes meet.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Well, I know it saddened you when you found out I couldn’t get pregnant, but it was years ago, and at the time we weren’t in a relationship; it’s also possible to start having second thoughts when something you had until now only discussed suddenly becomes real.”

Mihawk grins, determined to reassure the woman who has now turned her head to look at him, looking even more unsure than she sounds. He kisses her temple as he starts caressing her belly, a soothing, protective circular movement.

“I’ve never felt so happy in my life; truly, I… I didn’t think I could feel so happy.” Mihawk confesses in a whisper “I was yours already, and felt blessed to be your man, but now… I love you so much, (name); and I’ll always be here with you, and our baby. I promise I will never leave you.”

They share a kiss, sweet and deep and passionate; (name) turns cautiously in Mihawk’s arms until her belly is lightly pressed against his, and now they’re all locked in an embrace: him, his lover, and his baby. He’s going to be a father; Mihawk still can’t quite believe it. His life is going to change forever -technically it already has, even though Mihawk still can’t see how; for a man used to having full control of his life, to taking care of his needs alone and to not having to worry about anything, and anyone, else, it’s quite a big change, but the swordsman is all but disgruntled. He is elated, and can’t wait to meet his baby, who will be born…?

“When are you due?” he murmurs as he holds his lover in his arms, and it’s like that first question has opened the gates to all those that follow “Do you know whether it’s a boy or a girl? Have you started preparing for childbirth? Should we think about names?”

(name) laughs gently as her damp fingers play with his hair. “It’s still three months before the baby is born, so we have all the time to prepare for the big day. I asked the doctors not to tell me their gender because I didn’t feel I needed to know; do you?”

Mihawk thinks about it for a moment; in his heart he’s mostly indifferent to the whole matter, as long as the baby is healthy and the delivery is as quick and painless for (name) as it can be; he knows there is absolutely nothing he can do about either matter, and the knowledge does scare him a little. If something were to happen to her, to them, and he was powerless to help… “I… don’t, no; let us find out on the day they are born, shall we?”

“Good idea; which means we should have at least one name ready in either case.”

(name) rests her cheek against her lover’s shoulder, looking up at him in a way that makes the usually restrained swordsman’s head spin. “Should we have a girl… do you want to name her after your sister?”

“... you would be alright with it?”

“Of course. It’d be a way to have her back with you, in a way, and to remember everything she has done for you.”

Mihawk considers the offer for a minute, less enthusiastic than many men -and brothers- would be in his place. The truth is, while he will never forget his sister and will forever love and miss her, he’s not sure he wants a constant reminder of her around him, day and night. So many years after Yoru’s death, he still feels pain every time he thinks about her, the guilt for not having been there to protect her when she needed it and after she had sacrificed her happiness to raise and protect him so intense and overwhelming he sometimes can’t bear to look at himself in a mirror. He knows (name) means well, and he loves her for that, but what if history repeats itself? What if he ends up failing his daughter, and her mother, like he had failed her namesake? What if one of his enemies threatens baby Yoru, and once again he’s not there to protect her?

He has never believed in fate, nor doubted his strength; but when his child is concerned, Mihawk is not willing to risk it.

“I’ll think about it.” Mihawk murmurs in the end as he forces himself to smile, not wanting to ruin the happy moment he and his lover are sharing; thank all the Gods (name) doesn’t seem to perceive his distress, or more likely she does but wisely decides not to comment. She offers her mouth to Mihawk once more, and he happily kisses her.

“If we have a boy then we could give him your father’s name.” he suggests a moment later. The water is getting colder, which means they’ll have to leave the tub soon, and at the moment no one, no enemy, not the Marines, not even a God descended to earth, could ever tear him away from his lover, but he’d gladly remain here forever… he, (name) and their child, both in his arms, his to protect and love.

(name) smiles; it seems easy for her, even though she surely loved her father and mourned his death as much as he did with Yoru’s, and Mihawk envies her. “His name was Sargol; not a name I would inflict on an innocent baby. Father always said the other children made fun of him because of it.”

Mihawk is ready to bet their child will easily dispatch any bully who tries making fun of them. “Then let’s both think about it.” he suggests; he sees his lover shiver, and starts rubbing her arms to warm her “It’s like you said, we still have time. This name will be our first gift to our baby, we will have to choose it wisely.”

They leave the tub soon after, quickly drying themselves before walking naked to the adjacent bedroom, hand in hand; they reach the bed, Mihawk insisting on helping (name) to lie on her back before curling protectively next to her. “Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“I’m fine.” she reassures him with a smile “Tell me about Shima. Given what has been written in the paper it seems that if you and the other Warlords hadn’t intervened the conflict would have lasted for another decade.”

“Probably; it was all very stupid, the Marines had us come and then kept us on the sidelines, doing nothing.” Mihawk confirms; the longer his collaboration with the World Government lasts, the more he regrets having accepted their offer “Next time they can deal with their crisis on their own, I’m not wasting any more time.”

“Well, I’m proud of you; you helped stop a bloody war.”

The swordsman grins; he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t feel flattered by his lover’s admiration. “I just wanted to come back to you; I didn’t know about your pregnancy, but I felt I had to be here as soon as I could.” he explains; his fingers brush against her cheek “Gods, you are so gorgeous.”

“I’m fat, Mihawk. I have started waddling like a duck, and I’m not even sure my lady parts are still where they’re supposed to be, because my belly covers them.”

Mihawk’s grin grows wider. “Allow me to check.” he offers innocently, and a moment later his hand has slipped down his lover’s side towards her buttocks and then between her thighs. (name) gasps. “Mihawk! I’m six months pregnant!” she points out, almost appalled, but she’s smiling as well, and her legs have opened slightly, allowing him entrance.

“I’m well aware, my darling. And this would not be our first time either.” he considers; (name) had been pregnant already the last time they slept together, on Kuraigana, and the previous one as well, when they spent a week on an exclusive resort island, far from duties and concerns of any kind, free to focus on each other and on the way their bodies could make each other sing “And to think you thought you had entered menopause…”

“Well, i-it was a much more reasonable explanation than a pregnancy, that’s -hmmm- that’s for sure.”

“I’m aware, but it’s ironic, is it not?” Mihawk insists, as his middle finger disappears inside his lover’s warm cavern “You felt as if your womanhood had withered, and instead it was flourishing. You felt empty, but you were fuller than ever…”

Finally, (name) grins back at him; she arches her back, shamelessly opening her legs, and reaching towards his already hard cock. “I missed you, you know? I missed your presence and your voice and your kisses… but I think what I missed the most was this.”

“Oh? So this is what you want me for, to warm your bed and nothing more?”

“If it’s any consolation, my bed has never been warmer than since you have started sleeping in it…”

Mihawk says he’s glad to hear it. He moves carefully as he pulls his hand back, making (name) whimper in protest, and kneels between her legs, looking at the woman waiting eagerly in front of him - waiting for him, and for the pleasure and satisfaction he can give her. How beautiful she is, so soft and warm and feminine, her already gorgeous body made fuller and more curvaceous by her pregnancy; he never found expecting women attractive, but this is different, she is different, she is his and he has put a baby inside her, and while he can’t wait to meet their child, Mihawk wouldn’t complain if his lover’s pregnancy lasted for a while longer…

“Tell me if it hurts, or if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not made of glass, Mihawk; and I want you so much.”

“I want you too, my beauty.” Mihawk murmurs, and a moment later he has lowered his face between her legs, licking and sucking as if his life depended on it; he feels (name)’s body spasm, her hands clawing at his shoulders as if the woman feared being swept away, and suddenly she’s screaming, loud enough for the whole fortress to hear, and Mihawk is kneeling on the bed, his arms tight around his lover’s thighs as he kisses her core, panting into it. They have both been waiting for this for four months, but Mihawk still feels he has much to make up for; because of this he waits to make her come twice before gasping for air, his well-trimmed beard wet with her fluid.

“You are… an animal.” (name) pants as they both catch their breath; she smiles as her lover lies by her side, as she uses her finger to tenderly clean his mouth “That was the filthiest thing… I fear I will never feel clean again in my life…”

“Meaning you didn’t enjoy it?”

“I absolutely loved it; now let me reward you, please?”

Mihawk smiles as he bends to kiss her. His hand is caressing her stomach, but his yellow eyes are fixed on hers, on her beautiful face; he can’t wait to meet their child, but (name) is much more than simply the mother of his baby, she is his partner, the woman he loves, his mate, and he wants her to never forget. “Would you prefer to stay on top?”

“I’ll squash you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not that heavy. You’ll tire yourself more, but perhaps you’ll be more comfortable without me pressing on you.”

The reasoning seems to convince her. A moment later they have switched positions, Mihawk lying on the bed as (name) sits on his lap, doing her best to weigh more on her calves than on him; he’s painfully, amazingly hard, the perfect beauty of the long, thick member as usual stealing her breath away. She doesn’t doubt her lover still finds her attractive, and more importantly that he’s happy he’s going to become a father, but she still feels clumsy, heavy and graceless as he takes him in her hands, stimulates him like she has learnt he likes, and slips it inside her. Mihawk’s hands are holding her hips, his pretty mouth moaning her name in an endless litany; the moment the tip of his cock presses against her core, (name) hears him sigh with a naked, almost visceral relief, as if his lover had been allowed a single breath of pure air after a lifetime spent underground. “Yes…” he hisses, grabbing more forcefully at her “Like this, darling… take me, take all of me, it’s all yours…”

She seems to take his word for it, because a moment later Mihawk is the one groaning as his lover’s warmth envelops him; (name) stretches over him, her forearms resting above his shoulders as she finds his mouth for a kiss. “Mate.” she purrs, and it takes Mihawk all of his ample self-restraint not to explode there and then; she lets his hands slid down (name)’s back until they are grabbing at her buttocks, and then she has started moving, fucking herself on his cock, and he has missed this so much, the perfect syntony between their bodies, enough that he has become addicted to it, enough that he knows he’ll never be able to live without it.

“I love you.” he moans, and (name) smiles as he kisses him once more.

“I know.” she answers primly, and Mihawk glares at her, incredulous, as the woman sits up, her lovely breasts bouncing with every push. For a moment, even frustrated as he is, Mihawk can’t help staring.

“(name)...!” he hisses, the threatening tone somewhat ruined by the fact that his eyes are pleading, begging for an even more powerful relief than the one he’s soon to find in (name)’s tight little pussy “Don’t play with me…!”

She giggles, and then decides to be merciful. “I love you too, Mihawk.” she murmurs gently as he bends once more to peck at his lips “And I always will. Now be good and let me fuck you.”

Mihawk obeys.

You’re having a bad day.

Which is surprising, considered that the last two months have been, if not exactly the easiest, the happiest of your life.

Your lover has slept by your side every night since his return; this is by far the longest period you have spent together, but unlike what happens with some couples, no matter how close, you rarely argue, and spend most of your time together in complete harmony. Yes, it’s almost like being on a honeymoon… if only you wouldn’t feel more and more alike to a pachyderm with every passing day, with your own body rebelling against you.

No matter how excited you are that you’re soon going to meet your baby, and reassured that according to the doctors everything is going well and by the constant presence of your lover and your mother, you must admit being pregnant is harder than you expected.

Your belly seems to grow bigger every day, which is of course a good sign; on the other hand, having been used to an active lifestyle since you were a little girl, it feels weird, and frustrating, having to spend most of the day simply resting, and feeling tired even after half a day spent lying on a sofa or at most sitting at your desk - behind which you no longer fit, incidentally. Your mother has reminded you more than once that the lack of energy and constant fatigue are a normal experience for women in your state, since your body is now working for two and your baby, no matter how small and inert, drains a good percentage of your energy, and you’d obviously spend the next year lying still on your bed if it meant making sure your child is safe and well looked after, but there are moments, and sometimes days, in which it’s hard to keep your frustration under control.

You’ve been strictly forbidden from using your gun, and from training in any way; you’ve tried explaining to your doctors that while using the fortress’ small gymnasium is obviously out of the question, a few hours spent with target practice would only do you good, and you’d be more careful than ever handling your weapons, well aware of the dangers for you and your baby. The answer has been unanimous: out of the question; until the birth of your child, you’re not even to even glance at your collection of rifles and guns, including your beloved derringer. You’re encouraged to take a walk in the gardens, preferably not alone and avoiding the warmest hours of the day, and to attend the various meetings and audiences you routinely share with your mothers, with your rump firmly placed on a comfortable chair, but any physical effort beyond that must be avoided at all cost, which is easier said than done.

You hate feeling idle, especially while everybody around you looks more active than ever. Your mother seems to have grown twenty years younger ever since she has known she is going to become a grandmother, and especially after Mihawk, who she has always been very fond of, has joined you at the fortress; everything you can no longer do, either because the doctors forbade it or you’re simply too tired, falls on her shoulders, and while she’s still in excellent health and more lively than many your age, being reassured you can remain in bed, resting in your lover’s arms or at most writing letters or reading while she takes care of everything, fills you with guilt. You’ve been raised surrounded by unconditional love and support, but now that you're an adult and she’s not as young as she used to be, you should be the one taking care of and supporting your mother, not the other way around!

Mihawk is also impeccable in his taking care of you. While you’ve told him more than once that you could never hold the months he wasted on Shima against him, since it was a very important mission and at the time neither of you knew you were pregnant, your lover is clearly determined to make up for the time you spent apart. He accompanies you at all your doctor’s appointments, is always ready to support you every time you have to exert yourself, and insists on keeping several blankets in your -now shared- room even though the nights on the island are quite warm at this time of year and, you’ve pointed out innocently one night, you’d receive more warmth if he kept you in his strong arms.

Not the type to fuss, not least because he knows how careful you have been since you’ve become aware of your pregnancy, he nevertheless remains by your side constantly, as if to protect you from any danger or threat you might stumble into. His hand is always resting on the small of your back as you walk, he makes sure you always have a chair, and a blanket, and a glass of water, wherever you go, and he has even started giving you foot massages - not very sexy, perhaps, but your poor lower extremities appreciate it very much. At night, he spends hours talking to your child, his cheek resting on your chest as he tells them how much he loves them already, how he can’t wait to meet them and hold them in his arms, and that whatever happens he’ll be always proud of them, and ready to defend them with his life. Then his gaze meets yours, and a softness you’re ready to bet no one else in the world has ever witnessed fills his yellow eyes. “How will I ever thank you enough for this splendid gift?” he murmurs before he moves to kiss you “I love you so much, my darling; you’ve made me happier than I remember ever being.”

He’s sweet, passionate, no matter how unattractive you feel in your state, and protective, he has always been, and you know he will keep all the promises he has made to you and your baby; because of this you do your best to be strong when you’re together, to keep your fears and griefs in the depth of your heart in order not to worry him.

You don’t tell him how hard the first stage of your pregnancy has been for you, when you felt so alone; you had your mother, yes, and so many other people ready to support and help you, but you missed your lover terribly, more acutely than you ever had since your relationship had started. It wasn’t like you felt the need to be protected; rather, you had the impression something around you was wrong, as if you had lost your way while walking on a path you had known your whole life. Why wasn’t he with you? That was his place, with you and the child he had put inside you and who grew with every passing day; you knew rationally it wasn’t his fault, that refusing the call of the Marines could bring trouble and he didn’t even know about your state when he had left. Resenting him for having abandoned you would be stupid, petty, and unfair, but in those first few weeks, as you were tormented by nightmares and you woke up screaming in the middle of the night, already convinced to find blood on your sheets as your baby died just like it had happened to his half-sibling years ago, it was hard not to feel yourself abandoned, alone with a child you felt unable to protect, while his father was away, free of worries. As Mihawk had warned you, contacting him via Den Den Mushi had proved impossible, and the letters you had tried sending him had been returned to you; you didn’t doubt he had also attempted to write, and thought about you constantly, but you spent so many nights crying, and feeling alone, small, fragile, certain that the miracle you had experienced would not take root, and your baby would die leaving you powerless, and empty, once more.

These fears have gradually subsided, since you have entered your second trimester (which meant, as the doctors explained, that you had left the period in which there was a higher risk of miscarriage) and especially since your lover has returned, but you still can’t leave them behind you completely. You still wake up in the middle of the night, protectively held in Mihawk’s embrace but unable to find comfort in it. You know that while older than average for a woman at her first pregnancy you’re healthy and strong and there is no reason to doubt both you and your child will be fine, but once again, your heart is instinctively scared while your mind is rationally optimist, and it’s easier to give in to fear than to hope.

The only moments you are completely at ease it’s on full moon nights; as you turn, the baby shifting with you in your womb, you feel an enormous weight disappear from your chest, leaving you free to breathe for the first time in twenty-eight days. While well aware of her state and excited she’ll soon meet her cub, wolf-you doesn’t know fear and anxiety; surrounded by her friends who play and howl, she lies on the grass, letting the moon’s soft light bathe her as she munches on a prey her mate or her mother have hunted for her, and listens to the tiny heartbeat matching hers, dreaming of when her pack will be complete.

Her pack…

There is one topic you haven’t had the courage to broach with Mihawk, namely where he is going to live once the baby is born. The current state of affairs (you on your island and him on Kuraigana, visiting each other regularly to spend a few days together) may have worked for the two of you until now, no matter how hard it still is to say good-bye, but the arrival of your child is destined to change everything. Given how attentive he is to your needs and excited for the birth of your baby, you are confident Mihawk will want the three of you to live together; there are pirates who leave their partners and children in some harbour town and visit once in a while -or depart never to return- but he is not that sort of man. The choice seems obvious: Mihawk knows you cannot leave your island, that you have duties here, he has developed a good relationship with your mother and has even spent two full moon nights with your pack. Despite his introverted nature and strong preference for his own company (and that of a few accurately selected people, like you or his friend Shanks) you know your lover would be happy living on your island permanently; he wouldn’t be forced to share your duties as the lady’s consort, and could continue his business as a pirate as he wants.

You haven’t discussed the matter in a while but you’re well aware you’ll need to do it soon, preferably before your baby is born; nevertheless, every time you have the chance to address the subject (as you and your lover take a night stroll in the gardens, or while you are in bed, his cheek resting on your chest as you play with his dark hair) your courage fails you.

Why does that happen, again and again? Even though your lover is a predominantly taciturn man, you’ve always been able to talk openly, both of troubles one of you was experiencing and about matters that could potentially create friction between the two of you - which fortunately never happened. Then why do you hesitate? You have never been as close as you are now, both physically given the two consecutive months he’s been sleeping in your bed, and emotionally, but something stops the words in your mouth every time you try to broach the subject. Do you feel guilty because you’re basically asking him to move in with you, having refused to do the same for him? Do you fear that he could refuse, too jealous of his privacy and independence despite the deep love for you and the new life you’re soon going to deliver?

The last thing you want is for your lover to sacrifice his happiness for you, but becoming the lady of your island is your destiny, what you’ve been prepared to do since you were born, and even though your mother is still in excellent health with many years in front of her sooner or later the moment will come for you to take her place, a moment that will also influence the lives of the people closest to you. You want your child to be your heir, which means they will have to be raised on the island, and Mihawk knows it, but…

You need to do it; and you will, you decide one day as you see your lover reaching you on the bed, his dark hair still damp after his bath, naked save for his sleeping pants. “Are you comfortable?” he asks in a murmur as he lies down next to you, smiling as he sees you snuggle against his side “Shall I fetch a blanket?”

“Since you’re here I have all the warmth I need.” you reassure him with an adoring smile; corny, perhaps, but that doesn’t make it less true. Tomorrow you’ll talk, you promise yourself as you share a few lazy kisses with your lover, the gentle caress of Mihawk’s hand on your by now huge stomach gently lulling you to sleep; you will make sure you’re not disturbed, discuss calmly about both the matter of his residence, and together you will find a solution. You always do. “Shall we sleep? I’m quite tired.”

“Of course. Good-night, my love.”

Mihawk lies on his side, his arm draped around you; he seems… pensive, somehow, as if he had something important on his mind, but not worried, which reassures you. Tomorrow, you think; tomorrow you’ll talk, but until then you’ll treasure the delicious sensation of his body next to yours.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Dracule Mihawk #Mihawk #Dracule Mihawk x reader #Mihawk x reader #Steven John Ward #Bellona's stuff

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teddypickrwritings · 5 months ago

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Hiiiii yaaa, im not sure if your request were open but if not, I apologies for my clumsiness, Im obsessed w your writing style... Could I ask for a one shot of Ithaqua x reader pls- or maybe.... Childhood friend!reader 😭😭 fluff fluff fluffff if you're in the mood ✨

Snowy Reunion - Night Watch x Childhood Friend Reader

A/N: Don’t apologize for being awkward, it’s okay!! And my requests are always open! I’m always in the mood for fluff stuff. 🩵

You were lonely for most of your childhood, making acquaintances but never an actual friend. Those weak friendships didn’t last for very long either—especially when Nathaniel Norwell, the magistrate’s son, started ostracizing you.

“They say that witches don’t have friends. You know what that means, (Y/N)? You’re a witch!” the boy jeered at you constantly. And because children don’t know any better, the others started shunning you as well. Your parents’ comforting words slowly lost their effectiveness as you began to believe the taunts over time.

You had sought refuge in the forest when the bullying was especially bad one day. Your parents were on a trip so you could not run into their arms. This turned out to be a mistake on your part—you ended up getting lost and nearly caught in a blizzard.

But, by some miracle, you were found. A kind woman with red hair had appeared out of nowhere and led you back to her cabin to stay for the night—and it was there you met your best friend.

He had scared you with his bright and curious face so similar to Nathaniel’s. But unlike your tormentor, Ithaqua was very kind to you. He was so happy to see another person besides his mother, and one that was his age. You answered his endless amount of questions about society but did not bring up Nathaniel. And you never brought up the mysterious woman and her son in the village. Even though you were young, you knew that some things should be kept secret.

The memory of that night, along with countless others, kept you warm as you trudged through the fast-falling snow. You couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling that came with those memories, though. Upon your return to Leng, you had learned that Nathaniel was now dead because of a certain red-haired woman. The villagers all said she turned out to be a horrifying witch that had cursed Nathaniel and led him to his death.

She was nothing but kind, you wanted to say, but couldn’t. You only felt a small pang of sympathy for Nathaniel but not much else. He was never your friend and had treated you harshly; there was no need to shed tears. Instead, you immediately went into the forest to find the “witch’s” son.

The feeling of deja vu was overwhelming as you trekked the path to the cabin. Tears became frozen on your eyelashes as you had an awful thought: what if he’s dead too?

A sudden and distant laugh made you stop in your tracks. You were instantly as alert as a fox. “Hello?” you called out, then felt stupid. Why did you draw more attention to yourself?! The lack of response did not make you feel better. You could only hear the sound of your fearful heartbeat.

It happened in an instant—something knocked you face-first into the snowy ground, muffling your screams. You thrashed around in an attempt to get whatever was on you off, but to no avail. The creature flipped you over onto your back and both of you gasped at the same time.

“You…! (Y/N)?!”

Your fear dissipated in an instant as you recognized the voice behind an unfamiliar mask. It was muffled and a bit deeper now, but you vividly remembered that playful lilt.

You uttered his name as he took off his mask.

The black eyes and faint pupils shocked you, but other than that…yes, this man was your friend! His nose and cheeks were tinged with red from the cold just like how it always used to be. His pale blonde hair was a bit longer and fell into his face now. And the smile that was growing on his chapped lips was the same one that always greeted you when you showed up at the cabin.

“It’s you! It’s really you!” he laughed, tears in his eyes. His long and boney arms enveloped you in a tight hug that you could barely reciprocate. “You disappeared…I nearly forgot you…but you’re here!”

Now you were crying as well, but with a smile. “I’m sorry…I didn’t want to leave,” you sniffled. You didn’t mind that the snow was getting into your jacket. “My parents believed living in the city would be better for me, but I missed you every single day!”

He held you tightly as he somehow managed to stand up in his stilts. “I missed you too,” he breathed, his voice shaking. “Let’s go.”

The cabin was very rundown now compared to the cozy image in your mind. But as Ithaqua—that is what he told you to call him now—lit the fire, it looked the same in that moment. He was still unnaturally tall without his stilts. What happened to him? you wondered.

Those thoughts were pushed away as Ithaqua sat down next to you with a chipped mug of tea. Your numb fingers accepted it gratefully. “I missed almost getting frostbite and having to warm up in front of a fire,” you half-joked.

“And we would have this blanket on us,” Ithaqua added, gesturing to the ratty and faded blanket across your laps. He was much too tall for it to be draped around both your bodies, so he opted to have an arm around your shoulders as an alternative.

You took a sip of the tea and sighed contentedly as its warmth coursed through your veins. “I purposely made us stay out longer just so that could happen,” you admitted with a coy smile.

Ithaqua giggled and held you closer. “I am glad you did that. I liked cuddling too.”

The snow fell faster and faster outside as you two continued to talk about each other’s lives—well, honestly, you were the one sharing the most. Ithaqua seemed like he didn’t want to talk about what he was up to, but you didn’t mind. You just liked seeing the look of adoration on his face as you talked.

“(Y/N), look,” Ithaqua said, pointing out the window. The snow was falling in a flurry now and had already started to build up on the windowsills. “You’ll have to stay here for the night…”

“That wouldn’t be so terrible,” you said as you finished the last drop of your tea. Another wish would be coming true—you had always wanted to spend a night in the cabin, but your parents would have certainly died of fright if you did not return. Play time was always short for that reason too. With the unpredictable snow, Ithaqua’s mother always fretted that you would be unable to return home on time.

Ithaqua’s smile widened. He instructed you to wait while he put out the fire and made the bed to the best of his ability. He killed the little bugs that were crawling around with quick stabs of his claws. And after cleaning those up, he picked you up like a cat and put you in the blankets.

“Hey, just because you’re taller than me now doesn’t mean you can carry me like that!” you said with a huff. He ignored your protest as he started gathering up his strange gear. “What are you doing?”

“I have to stand guard,” he stated. His voice had a bit of edge now. “No one will hurt you while you sleep.”

You shook your head, slightly confused and exasperated. “Ithaqua, you need to sleep too. Don’t think I didn’t notice the bags under your eyes,” you said. He blankly stared at you as if the thought had never occurred to him before. But he reluctantly put down his axe and joined you under the blankets. He got comfortable very quickly; within a minute, he was hugging you again.

“You’re warm now,” he said softly. “I forgot what it was like to have another person sleeping next to me.”

The bittersweet words didn’t affect the smile on your face. You could barely see his, except for the faint glint of his pupils. “Itha,” you said, testing out a new nickname, “what if we lived together?”

“Not in the village or the city, right?”

“Of course not. I meant here,” you said with a giggle. “I’ve always wanted to come back to you the first chance I got. I hated living by myself. And now that I’m here…I don’t want to leave you again.”

You could practically feel the joy radiating off of Ithaqua. “I would love nothing more,” he chuckled. His fingers ran through your hair. “We can do everything together again. Even if it’s too childish for us now. We can handle anything that comes our way…”

“You’ve become overprotective,” you teased. Whatever else you were going to say was interrupted by Ithaqua’s lips pressing against your forehead. You were struck with a childhood memory yet again—the last time you and Ithaqua had seen each other until today.

The boy and his big blue eyes were looking at you longingly as you turned to leave for the night. Neither of you had known that you would be leaving for a new home tomorrow. But maybe he sensed something was off. He ran to you and clumsily kissed your forehead. “Come back soon, (Y/N)!” he said desperately.

“(Y/N), you’re so precious to me. You don’t even know,” Ithaqua whispered, continuing to pepper your forehead in kisses. It didn’t matter that they were a bit sharp because of his chapped lips. Each one filled you with warmth until you were practically melting. “My best friend…”

It was a little embarrassing being doted on like this. Not even your parents were this overbearing with their affection.

Oh, well. It was Ithaqua, so you didn’t mind. His kisses eased your worries and eventually made you drift off to sleep. And before you were fully unconscious, you heard him whisper the words that affirmed your decision to stay with him:

“I love you.”

#identity v #identity v x reader #identity v x you #idv x reader #idv x you #idv night watch x reader #night watch x reader #identity v night watch #idv night watch #idv ithaqua #identity v ithaqua

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anundyingfidelity · 8 months ago

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400 followers ask

Adam Warlock and reader with the sunshine x grumpy dynamic, the reader is someone dangerous and very powerful that none of the other heroes want to get close to due to her reputation and her history, but Adam ignores it and in the end they fall in love 😩✊❤

long time i don't write for adam so yesss! hope you like this, i tried my best for a grumpy x sunshine dynamic for this one hahaha

event guidelines ✮ event masterlist ✮

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

I'M NOT IN LOVE — Adam Warlock x female reader

Word count: 689 (got carried awaaayyyy).

Genre: fluff.

Warnings: none I can really tell?

When Rocket and his team broke you out of your prison, he quickly understood why you were locked in the first place. A woman, captive of a crazy sorcerer who just held you as nothing more than a pet on a dirty planet, who was rageous and powerful, capable of destroying a star. That’s what the old man said to them.

Rocket was a fool and didn’t take his word though. Not until you tried to blow the ship going back to Knowhere, or when you tried to escape destroying miles of half built homes, or the countless times where you broke something with your super strength.

“Alright, stay here, witch,” Rocket ordered, taking you with Nebula’s help to a new place you’d call home for now. Behind his small figure, Adam followed closely in silence but intrigued by you, who seemed to completely ignore him.

“I’m not a witch!” you fumed, moving your arm away from the tight grip coming from the purple robot. “Don’t touch me, scum.”

“Nebula, stop,” the raccoon uttered as she stepped closer to you, ready to punch your face. She grunted and left the room, passing by the Sovereign.

Rocket continued. “We don’t wanna hurt you-”

“Then why take me here?! I never asked to be part of your stupid team!”

Being locked for so long had its effects on you, Rocket thought. That day he warned everyone to not be close to you since you were extremely dangerous, but Adam didn’t understand the captain. He had a second chance with the Guardians, it was fair to do the same thing with you. Under Rocket’s suspicious eyes, Adam got his approval to visit you and help you to the real world.

Contrary to the team, Adam was different. He saw pain and fear in your eyes that mixed with your powers made you a dangerous being, but a beautiful one nonetheless. He was the one who introduced you to the terran culture and their music. With it, Adam discovered the sounds of some songs would calm you down and he’d come to see a new sweet side of you.

“Play it again,” you whispered, as you shared an earphone with Adam on the roof of your place in the middle of a somehow cold night. “I wanna hear it again.”

Adam beamed, doing as you said. The psychedelic melody started anew. “You like this song too much,” he teased.

I'm not in love

So don't forget it

It's just a silly phase I'm going through

Your brows furrowed, clearly annoyed. “Is that a problem, goldie?”

He just chuckled. “Not at all. Stop furrowing, it’s a joke.”

And just because

I call you up

Don't get me wrong,

Don't think you've got it made

Still you narrowed your eyes at him, with that angry face of yours. Sometimes you took so literal anything that escaped his lips. It was cute. Under the light of the city he admired you completely. Yes, sometimes you were a little mean to him and the team. Still you tried because of him. Adam was a very special person for you. But you wouldn’t admit it easily.

I'm not in love, no no,

It's because…

I like to see you

“Okay,” you whispered finally, your features softening as the song played. It made you feel calm, at peace. Something you didn’t remember feeling before. Now after Adam came to your life, things were sort of different. You could feel it as much as Adam. He was bright, sunny, while you were totally the opposite of that.

But then again

That doesn't mean you mean that much to me

You locked eyes with his own, noticing he had been observing you long before. You sat so close together that you could feel the warmth of his body, contrasting the coldness of your own. He leaned closer with eyes closed, and as scared as you were, you let him kiss you softly on your lips. A quick peck on your lips before he pulled away.

“Sorry…”

You smiled, cheeks flushed. “Don’t.”

It was the first time he saw your smile.

#adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x female reader #adam warlock x you #adam warlock fanfiction #adam warlock imagines #adam warlock imagine #adam warlock fluff #gotg vol 3 fanfiction #400followerstag!

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nowimjustastranger · 2 months ago

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Belly of the Beast | Part 1

The phrase "the belly of the beast" is an idiom that means to be in a dangerous or very bad situation.

Pacifica boredly stared out the car window, watching the peasants decorate the streets for the Pines family return party. Pacifica didn’t get what the big deal with the Pines family was, all they did was discover a few new species that strictly inhabited Gravity Falls and all of a sudden they were overnight celebrities.

You could dress up a peasant in all the fancy clothes and finery you wanted, but it was still a peasant.

Pacifica sighed as the car turned onto a side road, the trees on either side of the dirt path looming in an entirely unpleasant fashion. Pacifica felt a shiver roll down her spine, purposefully turning her attention to the car’s interior. It wasn’t much better, her father yammering on about how many doors this partnership would open for him while mother nodded along with a forced smile.

Pacifica would rather be eaten by one of the Pines family’s domesticated beasts than make nice with the twins. Specifically, the younger ones. Father kept reminding her that they were the great niece and nephew of the elder Pines twins. They were all anyone around her talked about since her return to Gravity Falls, the whole town worshiped the Pines family and those who associated with them.

No wonder her father was so eager to solidify a deal with the eldest Pines, who was some bigshot scientist named Stanford. She didn’t know much else about him besides the fact that he was arrogant, egotistical, and antisocial. However, what she did know was that he had a more renowned twin brother named Stanley, who went by Stan.

Now he was the talk of high society, him and his Mystery Shack.

Pacifica turned her attention back to the window when the car slowed down, wrinkling her nose at the shabby house. The only thing it had going for it was that it was big, otherwise it looked painfully ordinary. She figured that men as wealthy as the Pines twins would live in a house that matched their status. Why be rich if you don’t flaunt it?

Pacifica masked her annoyance with a bored expression as the driver opened the door to the back seat to let her out, her gaze darting to what she assumed was the door to the adjoining house that the Pines lived in when it opened. She caught a glimpse of a smaller face poking their head out before she got distracted by the man who stepped out onto the porch, casually leaning on his black 8-ball cane.

He wasn’t at all what she expected, dressed in a tasteful burgundy suit with a patterned dress shirt, the top three buttons undone. His black dress shoes were polished to perfection, not a scuff to be seen. His accessories were a pair of black square glasses perched on his nose and obsidian rings, one adorning all ten fingers. Lastly, His silver hair was long enough to brush his shoulders, messy in a way that looked deliberate.

He looked like someone important, probably one of the elder twins.

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack, Northwest.” The man drawled with a disarming flash of pearly white teeth, his voice silky smooth. His relaxed posture and laid back attitude reminded Pacifica of those ridiculous TV shows that featured suave demons coaxing stupid people into making ill-advised deals, her insides tightening with the sudden wave of unease that washed over her.

“Ah, yes.” Her father said stiltedly, his eyes flicking to the open doorway behind the man as if he were expecting someone else. “I was anticipating your brother’s involvement in welcoming us, seeing as we’ll be partnering with him.”

The ‘and not you’ was heavily implied.

“Sixer’s busy right now.” Was all the man offered, his charming smile taking on an almost amused curve. Pacifica had to repress the sudden urge to anxiously shift her weight from foot to foot as they all just stood there, her father probably trying to figure out how to respond to the man’s complete and utter nonchalance in the face of his passive-aggressive comment.

Pacifica had never met anyone as unruffled by their presence as this man, most people practically tripped over themselves in order to suck up to her father.

“Grunkle Stan! You didn’t tell me that our guests were here!” A high-pitched and grating voice shrieked from inside the house, the rapid thud of footsteps preceding the colorful blur that burst out of the house, colliding with the back of the man’s legs and immediately latching onto his waist.

“Hey sweetie.” The man –who she now knew to be Stan– chuckled warmly, his practiced smile melting into something genuine. The girl that was currently embracing him pouted up at him, and his expression turned sheepish as he gently ran a hand over her unruly hair. “Did Dipper snitch?”

“Yes! You told me you’d yell when they pulled up, Grunkle Stan!” The girl huffed, leaning into his touch even though she was clearly unhappy with him. It was bizarre.

“Sorry pumpkin. I was gonna call for ya, swear.” Stan murmured, appearing genuinely contrite as he effortlessly scooped her up, holding her with one unfairly sculpted arm. The girl squealed in delight, throwing her comparatively scrawny arms around Stan’s neck and smushing their cheeks together in an entirely undignified manner. Even so, something in her chest clenched at the sight of such unrestrained affection.

“How about you take the kid here and cajole Sixer out of his office?” Stan mused, happily tilting his face into the contact, his words eliciting a mischievous giggle from the girl.

“Actually, Pacifica is an… intellectual. She would undoubtedly find Dipper a more appropriate playmate.” Her mother cut in, reaching for Pacifica to push her forward with a firm hand on her back. Fortunately, Pacifica’s years of practice meant that she was able to maintain a straight face. She had no idea why her parents suddenly wanted her spend time with ‘Dipper’ instead of a girl her own age–

Wait. Oh god no, anything but that. Pacifica spared a glance at her parents to confirm and… yep, it was exactly as she feared. They were trying to set her up with Stan and Stanford’s great nephew. Ew. Thankfully, it seemed like the Pines agreed with her.

Stan’s composure finally cracked as his eyes hardened, his smile more a baring of teeth. Pacifica was shocked to see that he had canines, she would’ve figured that he’d use his fortune to fix that, but then again they definitely made him look more intimidating. Meanwhile, the girl's reaction was more obvious, mostly because she wasn’t all smiles anymore. She looked oddly predatory as her piercing gaze fixated on Pacifica, searching for something.

After a moment, she relaxed and turned her attention back to Stan, leaning in to whisper something in his ear that had the subtle anger shifting into curiosity. He also glanced at Pacifica before planting a kiss on the girl’s temple, carefully putting her down. As soon as the girl’s feet touched the wooden porch, she was scampering down the steps and bouncing over to Pacifica to grab her wrist.

“Come on, I’ll take you to Dipper!” The girl announced in an overly chipper tone, but there was something distinctly unhinged in her doe eyes. Pacifica hesitated, the alarms in her head shrieking that something was off. Still, the girl was undeterred by Pacifica’s obvious reluctance, tugging her closer with surprising gentleness considering how careless she seemed.

“Let’s leave the boring stuff to the adults.” The girl murmured, low enough that her parents wouldn’t hear, as caught up in trying to needle Stan about his brother as they were. Pacifica found herself taking a step, and then another, the girl gleefully guiding her across the yard and up the porch steps. Pacifica looked up at Stan as they passed him, finding the man already peering down at them.

He offered her a subtle nod that somehow felt like encouragement, and then she was stepping over the threshold.

#gravity falls #infinity falls au #stan pines #mabel pines #pacifica northwest #writing

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obxthornton · 4 months ago

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Loss - John b X Sister

WC: 628

I bit my fingernails nervously tears already streaming down my face as Pope rubbed circles on my back. I hated the plan, to begin with. We 4 were all sitting down in a tent waiting for the deputy to come back and just tell us they found him. That's he's okay.

I loved my brother. I know he didn't kill the sheriff and he knows that too so I don't know why he has to run.

The deputy walked in and pushed his hood off his head and we stood up. "Did you find them?" Pope asked.

"No." He said looking at us with sad eyes.

"No? What do you mean no?" I cried starting to luge forward but JJ pulled me back.

"So they got away?" Kie asked. I knew that's not what he meant.

"We uh, lost them." He said, "I'm sorry." My teeth gritted so hard. "Isn't that your job? You can't even do your job right?" I yelled at them trying to tear them away from JJ's arms.

"You lost them?" Pope said looking in utter disgust. "What do you mean you lost them, like like they're gone? What are you talking about."

"They took an open boat into a tropical depression Pope." He said looking at the teens sadly.

"So they're dead?" Kie asked. My knees buckled at those words and JJ caught me and held me up. The whole world was dizzy.

"We don't know."

"You drove them straight threw the storm man! Are you kidding me? Come here!" JJ yelled pushing the deputy.

"I'm going to kill you! I'm going to kill you, you bastard!" He yelled as the other deputy tried to break him off of him. "JJ stop!" Kie yelled.

But it was all cloudy now.

"He didn't kill anyone and you know that!" Pope yelled.

"We're still looking for him alright?"

My body couldn't react for some reason to how JJ, Pope, and Kies were. They sobbed into each other's shirts and I Just stood there.

"Y/n do you need something?" Shoupe asked me. I opened up my mouth to talk but nothing came out. I shook my head instead.

"Y/n/n." JJ said standing infront of you, him crying himself. "I think I need to sit now," I mumbled falling back into a chair and looking up at the tarp ceiling.

"Y/n." Kie cried looking at me and grabbing my hands. "I don't know why we're all sad," I mumbled. "He's not dead." Kie looked at me sorrowfully and looked up at the boys.

Soon the parents of Kie and Pope came in and hugged their children. Telling them it was going to be okay. JJ and I just looked at each other awkwardly. Reality never set in completely.

"Y/n." Kiera's mom said sitting next to me. "Are you okay?" She's asked me. Stupid question for the time being if you asked me.

"Yeah," I said. She looked at me sadly, tears on her own face. "You don't have to be strong." She said. I nodded. "There's nothing to be sad over he's not dead!" I yelled standing up. "Just like dad He's not dead."

My friends and parents and friends looked at me like I was a loose cannon. "He's going to pull a Houdini right JJ?" I laughed dryly at the comment, referring to what JJ had said previously in the day.

"Y/n." Kie said sadly. "No! What's it with all the y/n? I'm fine!"

Kie pulled me into a hug and I sobbed in her neck. "I lost all my family kie." I sobbed grabbing her hard to bring her closer. "I know." She mumbled.

Eventually, pope and JJ joined in and all just cried.

Cried for the loss of a friend and a brother.

#jj maybank #obx #outer banks #john b routledge #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #pope heyward #kiara carrera

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chocojae · 2 years ago

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[02:47]

pairing ▸ boyfriend! jaehyun x gender neutral reader genre ▸ fluff | crack word count ▸ 788. warnings ▸ profanity

YOU ROLLED TO THE OTHER SIDE OF BED, EYES WIDE OPEN AND HEART BEATING ALOUD.

The constant rustling of the bushes seemed to echo in the tense room, and it only made you jump out of fear.

It would be an utter lie to say you are not scared to the bones. Because you are.

Funny how your stupid ass is admitting it now because just three hours ago you remembered fishing out your laptop from the bag and courageously watching a horror film to shoo your boredom away.

A loud thud against the wall made you flinch, and the sound of muffled footsteps following soon after only made you shoot open your eyes. Hey, wait! Did someone just stack up the ladder against your dorm’s wall and was climbing up?

Several scenarios ran through your head. Could it be a killer who’s going to murder you because killing was his hobby? Or could it be a haunted doll who has a butcher’s knife in her left hand and a creepy smile — whatever be it, it was clear you were in danger.

So, with every little ounce of courage left in your body, you pushed the blanket off yourself and took the heavy ass book from your side table, approaching the window carefully and angling the book to smack the stranger.

Soon your eyes caught a well built figure releasing a sigh. You couldn’t make out who it was due to how dark it was — and because of your tinted window, of course. But the second the window slid open, you hit the stranger with all your might.

“Oh shit—”

As you were about to close the window and lock it, the stranger’s voice caught your attention. Holy shit, it was your boyfriend. Your eyes widened and you abandoned the book in your hand to help your boyfriend crawl in.

He was groaning and hissing in pain. All of a sudden guilt rushed through you. Though you were trying to protect yourself (and ignoring the fact that a book isn’t even close to being suitable for self defense) you accidentally hit your boyfriend, your freaking boyfriend.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Jaehyun didn’t reply, looking at you with his squinted eyes. Maybe he was judging you? Maybe he was thinking of beating the shit out of you? You didn’t know. “I know that,” He pauses, gulping. “I ate your pizza without your permission but hey that’s mean.”

“I am serious.” You gently shove his hand off his face. “Did it hurt?”

“Not really, but yes—“

“Oh my god! I am so sorry. I thought you were someone who came to kill me so I smacked you—“

“You didn’t even let me finish, babe.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “No, it didn’t hurt when you smacked me with a book but yes,” He passes you a silly grin. “It did hurt when I fell from heaven.” You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at his dorkiness.

“But, things aside— why in the world are you here literally at 3 in the morning?” Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, opting to flop on your bed instead. You follow him soon after, facing him as he stared at you intimately.

“I missed you.” He finally says, dimples flashing. A comfortable silence takes over the room as you stare into his beautiful orbs. It almost turned into a staring contest before he once again spoke.

“I still don’t get it though, why are you awake when you are usually sleeping at this hour? Also, pretty disappointed you didn’t lock your window.” You fake a cough, cheeks turning pink from embarrassment.

“I— um, was watching a movie since I couldn’t sleep. I genuinely thought I would be worn out after watching the movie and will fall asleep but oh, well.” You sigh, earning a deep chuckle from the man beside you.

“I bet it was a thriller movie, right?”

“More like a horror.” Jaehyun nods at your answer. “Finally understood why you threw that book of yours in my handsome face.” You mumbled a quiet sorry before laughing along with him.

“Since both of us can’t sleep, how about we snuggle up?” You suggest, watching his eyes twinkle up in amusement as you embrace his torso, leaning in close enough to get stiff of his cologne. It didn’t take him long to hug you back.

“Goodnight. Hope you dream of me.” Though you couldn’t see him, you were sure a stupid grin would be adoring his face.

“Lord, I hate you.” You whispered sweetly, leaning in to press a kiss on his jaw.

“Love you too.”

feedback is much appreciated! | find my other works here!

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thekingofwinterblog · 1 year ago

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Varric Tethras - The Proud Dwarf

So it's not a big secret that the best companion Bioware ever created was Varric Tethras, the lovable rogue, crossbowman, author and handsome Viscount of Kirkwall.

There are ao many reasons to love Varric, but one I don't see much discussed, is the subtle, and contradictory relationship Varric has with his own race, the Dwarves of Thedas.

Varric makes it a point of always putting his seeming disdain for his own people out in the open, always making it clear how much he dislikes the traditional Dwarven culture, wqy of life and so on.

He describes Orzammar, one of the great wonders of the world as cramp tunnels filled with shit and body odor, he never fails to mention how much he hates the deep roads, and he often mocks dwarven pride at any opportunity with his usual wit and charm.

On the surface, Varric might seem like he has a lot in common with Sera and her racist views on all elvhen kind, but that really, really is not the case.

Because under that exterior of seeming disdain, is a man who both understands Dwarven Culture in all it's flaws, but also loves it and hates it in equal measures.

Varric has always made it clear how much he loved the Hanged man, and essentially made his room there his office, his real home away from the uber dwarfish merchant guild.

And do you know what he fills it with?

The dwarfiest architecture you can imagine. Varric has a dwarf table, a noble dwarf chair, dwarven artwork on the wall, and even a dwarven stone bed.

All expensive and traditional stuff which he would have had to had personally paid for to transport into this room out of his own pocket.

Varric for all his harsh words on the Dwarven people, WANTS to live in a home that looks utterly Dwarven.

The most obvious moment that puts Varric's love for his dwaf ancestry on full display is of course the act 2 quest from da2, where he and an insane(temporary lucid) Bartrand has a heart to heart where both puts their real feelings on the tragedy of their situation on display.

Varric chastises Bartrand for in his madness having thrown away every bit of his dwarven nobility and honor on a stupid trinket, and Bartrand ends up begging his brother not to let house Tethras fall with him, in this display of utter madness and dishonor.

The entire thing is a deeply tragic display where the two brothers show that deapite all their differences, they really did love each other deeply, as well as the fact they had a shared love of their ancestry as Orzammar Nobility.

Of course Varric almost never comes out and says it nearly this clearly anywhere else, as showcased in another side quest where you give him back the Tethras family signet ring that Bartrand had to pawn to finance the expedition.

He doesn't come out and say it, instead focusing on the bad aspects of Orzammar in this quest, but unless hawke is rivaling him when he gives him the quest, varric has a huge approval boost in response to getting his family ring back, showing the thing really did mean a lot to him, despite his disparaging it and Orzammar in said quest.

Later, in Inquisition, Varric never misses a chance to badmouth Orzammar and tradition, but he reacts with incredible sadness at the prospect of Orzammar one day possibly falling.

When Solas asks him about Dwarven literature, and whether there is a lot of Dwarven tricksters, varric gives a smartass remark summing it up as Dwarves tend to write how they want the world to be, while humans write how they think the world is, eith the latter being clearly superior.

It's a good scene, but it has a deeper meaning that ties into Varric's deeper views on Dwarven culture.

Varric knows how Dwarves write, because he has read Dwarven liturature, and understands it completely as both a dwarf, a reader, and a writer, and how it in turn differs from human literature.

For all his grumbling on dwarves in Orzammar being obsessed with their ancestors, he himself is the exact same way as shown in legacy when you find the original Tethras and gives him to the stone, able to shortly remember every bit of his own family lore on the spot and being moved to tears by the tragedy of it all.

Varric defends both surface dwarves and Orzammar dwarves against Solas accusation that they have given up against the darkspawn threat, though in his usual way, he makes it out like surface dwarves are clearly superior.

Varric genuinely loves and cares about so much of Dwarven culture and history, and he understands it deeply.

Which in turn also is the reason he genuinely hates so much about it.

Like all of the DA2 companions, Varric has something he is deeply, deeply obsessed with, something that drives him as a person, and motivates his actions through the entire story. The difference between him and everyone else, is that this obsession never reached a conclusion, because Varric doesn't get to actually face it, and confront it.

That obsession is, of course, the Dwarven Merchant Guild.

Varric HATES the Dwarven Merchant guild, and though he uses his regular humor to portray it, in this case it's actually the opposite of the way he will always be critical of the Dwarven people. Because Varric hates the guild far, far more than he ever pretends to hate Orzammar.

Varric always talks of how shitty the guild is, how it embodies the absolute worst parts of dwarven culture, and essentially how it ruined Bartrand from ever being able to function as anything other than a cutthroat businessman. He time, and time, and time again, refuses to interact with the guild, breaks the law hard to not have to participate, and all in all cold shoulders them and their cutthroat culture completely.

There is a very important, significant moment in act 3, that is incredibly easy to miss, but completely recontextualizes varric's entire motivation for wanting the deep roads expedition.

Varric talks about the real reason why Bartrand wanted to go through with the expedition, of how it represented the one chance he had to get AWAY from the guild forever, just by being rich enough he no longer had to deal with them anymore.

Varric portrays it as Bartrand's big wish and motivation, hut it's incredibly obvious if one pays attention that this was a wish the two brothers actually shared, a mutual desire in the world. Which in turn is one of the reasons why Varric is so incredibly angry at his brother when he goes off the deep end due to the idol and betrays them.

Him and Bartrand got into this venture to finally, once and for all get out of having to deal with the worst parts of surface Dwarf society, and here his brother seemingly willingly turned his back on all of that, showing the only thing he ever cared about was pure greed.

In other words, everything both he and Bartrand hated about the Merchant Guild.

Varric hates the Caste system. He hates the division between surface and "regular" dwarves, and he thinks Orzammar's nobility has a collective stick up it's ass. And yet despite all of that, he loves the Dwarves. He loves the idea of nobility and the ideals it is supposed to represent, he loves Dwarven architecture, their grand ability to make shit, and the incredible grit and romanticism about the Dwarves long, unending struggle against the darkspawn.

The only part of Dwarven society Varric has no love for, is the Merchant Guild. It is Orzammar's nobility without anything resembling virtues, nobles who lost their caste, and yet still enforces a brutal hierarchy of blood, and cares for no ideals, no honor, no cause, except for the clink of money.

Varric is such a deep character, and I really wish that in the future, we get to see this aspect of him fleshed out even more.

#dragon age inquisition #varric tethras #meta #dragon age 2 #dwarves #dwarf #orzammar #surface dwarves #castes #dwarven pride

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him-x-her · 7 months ago

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Vee is for Vampires - Chapter 2

Author: @sinnysuicide AO3: SinnySioux Vamp!Ville x F!reader Wordcount: 2k + Warnings: Will be smut. 18+ only. Read chapter 2 on AO3. Previous Chapter ❥ Next Chapter ❥ Fic Masterlist

Chapter 2: “Burn The Hat”

What a strange evening.

I stand in the shower for an eternity, feeling every muscle in my body release its tension. My lungs fill with shower steam. I lazily turn the power off, towel dry my hair and walk sleepily to my bedroom. Once my hair is dry and I’m in my silk pyjamas, I lay back and stare at the ceiling.

As soon as I close my eyes, his green eyes force their way into my vision. His milky white skin. His pink and plump bottom lip, begging to be bitten. I cannot shake the image of him. It feels as though he is next to me, breathing the same air, close enough to kiss… I toss and turn for hours.

“This is fucking ridiculous!” I say out loud, in the darkness, disappointed at myself for my new obsession with the handsome stranger. I imagine him on top of me, my body sinking into the Egyptian cotton as he bites and sucks at my collarbone, and eventually fall asleep.

…

“Vee? What is Vee short for? Like Vincent fucking Price? I can’t BELIEVE you let him walk you home. He knows where you LIVE now. COMPLETE horror show!” rants Larissa on speakerphone as I gradually begin to lose the will to live.

I sigh heavily at her judgement. I could care less what she thinks. I consider excuses to end the call before she squeals in excitement. “Oh my god! Cute guy from the bar is calling! I gotta go!” and with a click I am alone with my thoughts.

Was it unwise to let him walk me home? I mean, he did rescue me from almost certain sexual assault. That has to count for something.

It’s a lazy Sunday. I clean my apartment, practise a bit of self care, and generally feel utterly restless. I switch on the tv for a bit of background noise.

“Today’s top story: two London men violently murdered. Police appeal for witnesses.”

I spin around on my heel and catch their faces, sure enough, the faces of my two attackers. “Fuck…” I whisper. My heart starts to race. He walked me home; I nearly invited a killer in. At the same time… surely, they deserved it? I didn’t see Vee use a weapon? Maybe they were drunk and choked on their own vomit? Maybe he didn’t mean to kill them?

“Oh god!” it dawns on me; what if I was an accomplice?! This is bad. I need to speak to him; to corroborate our story. How the fuck am I going to find him again? I spend an hour pacing my apartment, thinking about how to find him and talk to him. I decide on driving back to the bar, and looking for him around there. Maybe he would be looking for me too. I try to ignore the voice in my head telling me I am insane and going to get hurt.

I put on a pair of black skinny jeans and a simple black crop top. I need to make a bit of an effort in case I decide to go inside any bars. I put on a matt dark red lipstick and pop it in my clutch purse. I grab my car keys and speed out of the apartment complex.

I sit in the bar car park, uncomfortably close to an array of flowers left on the ground for the two pieces of shit who tried to hurt me. I wonder if the public would be so generous if they knew the type of men they were. I tap my steering wheel nervously, biting the inside of my lip. I sit listening to my favourite band, AFI, allowing the screams of Davey Havok to settle me.

An hour passes, it’s now 9pm. I feel utterly stupid. What are the chances of finding him, really? This is an utter waste of time. I turn the key in the ignition, when suddenly I notice a shadow in my rearview mirror. I turn the engine, and the music, off and listen. I see a man in a flat cap and… are those converse allstars? I swear Vee wore those the other night. I quietly exit my car and stealthily watch him. He chuckles, wiping what looks like blood (?!) from his lip and trudges forward. His balance is off, as though he’s been drinking far too much. Suddenly, he stops and looks up.

“You?” he laughs “Looking for trouble?” He ambles forward as I bite my lip, searching my brain for something witty to say.

“Looks like I found it”, I say, matter of factly, my chin raised to feign confidence. He closes the distance between us with a stride and looks down at me; his eyes that same glittery green, sparkling with curiosity and interest. His gaze drifts down to my lips and my heart starts to quicken. A smile makes his way across his lips as he tilts his head back to take all of me in. His teeth flash white in the dimly lit space.

“What did we say about walking around in the dark, hmm?”, he muses, “Vampires!” his eyes widen and he giggles.

I breathe him in. He smells woody, with a distinct smell of whisky. I think about licking whisky from his skin before I remind myself of the task at hand. “Vee… you killed those guys” I whisper, solemnly.

“Who? Oh, the pigs who tried to touch you against your will? Are you not relieved?” It is hard to argue with this logic.

“I, er, well… yes, but… I’d rather not get arrested for being an accomplice to murder!” I stumble through my words, wondering dismally why the fuck I bothered.

He leans back against my car and laughs wholeheartedly. “Shh, Vee, this is not funny!” I say, exasperated, but also trying not to laugh. He is adorable when drunk. Is this the same man who killed two men the other night? He stumbles and I grab his arm to keep him upright.

“Dammit, Vee, get in the car. I’m taking you home.” I roll my eyes as I open my door and get in.

He giggles again “Will you protect me from vampires? Garlic doesn’t work, just so that you’re aware!” He manages to get in without injuring himself and I sit beside him. I have a killer in my car: now fucking what?

“Okay, um, where do you live?” I ask, unsure if this is a good idea.

“Bloodlust Tower” he answers, unwavering.

“What??” I hiss, a little scared now.

“Beaufort Tower” he replies, grabbing my phone, “Let me type the postcode into your route planner”. I hook my phone to the speaker and my last played song starts again. Type O Negative’s Black No.1 begins to play, and I quickly turn it down, self conscious.

“You like Type O? Not just a beautiful face then!” he exclaims, turning the volume up. I blush furiously and try to maintain my composure as I set off on the 90 minute journey.

“Oh, uh, yeah… I love alternative music but I’m going through a gothic phase at the moment. I guess the sadder the music, the more beautiful it is… to me, at least”. I instantly regret the overshare but Vee leans in, placing a hand on my knee.

“I feel the same. It’s nice that you get it” he sighs, leaning back into his seat, “Music is my safe space. Whenever things get heavy, my guitar is always there for me”. He looks wistful.

“Oh… you play guitar?” I ask, imagining how on Earth this man could be any more attractive to me right now.

“Oh, yeah, um… I used to play professionally, in a band, we toured all over the world but, uh, yeah… that’s over now” he says, solemnly.

“You’ll have to play me something” I say, breaking my driving concentration to look at him and give him an earnest and encouraging smile. I’m certain I see him blush; though it’s hard to tell as he is so pale.

“So… what is Vee short for? Because I’m sure it isn’t Vampire” I laugh.

“What makes you so certain?” He implores.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just the knowledge that no good mother would name their child fucking Vampire!” he laughs heartily and I join in; the conversation flows and our connection feels so natural.

“It’s, Veel-uh, spelt V-I-L-L-E. It’s, um, it’s Finnish”. So he ISN’T English, I knew it!

“Wow, I’d love to visit Finland. Have you ever seen the northern lights? I can’t imagine anything more beautiful” I sigh.

“I can” he whispers, I look over and we lock eyes for a moment. Oh god, is he flirting? I suddenly feel hot; I need to change the subject.

“So, um, should we talk about the dead guys?” I say, sheepishly.

“Why?” mutters Ville “They’re dead”. I don’t see how he doesn’t think this is a problem.

“Ville…” he takes a sharp intake of breath as his name rolls off my tongue. I pretend not to notice. “I’m scared of being arrested and thrown in prison for a crime I didn’t commit, and I… I guess I’m scared for you too.” I can feel his eyes on me.

“You have nothing to fear, neither of us will be going to prison. Just trust me, okay?” I sigh.

“Okay, okay, I won’t bring it up again.” He smiles.

“Good… because I want to talk about you.” he smirks.

We talk about our tastes in music and find quite a lot of overlap. Ville loves Type O Negative, obviously, and is a total fangirl for Black Sabbath. He tells me he met my favourite band, AFI, at some award show. I half smile because I don’t believe him.

“So you grew up here?” He asks.

“Yeah, not London, but in England. I wish I could say I’ve travelled lots but I really haven’t. I’d love to quit work, travel around Europe….”

“Why don’t you?” he interjects.

“Money” I say honestly “Can’t say I have a sugar daddy, unfortunately” I smirk.

“What about your family? Parents?” asks Ville.

I pause, my heart heavy, “I, er, they died when I was six”.

Stunned, he whispers “I’m so sorry”.

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Don’t be, I barely remember it” I smile dishonestly. “I think we’re here?” I pull into a large and long gravelled driveway; there are tall black ornate gates. Did I take a wrong turn? There is a keypad for entry.

Ville leans over. “Six six six”, he says.

“Seriously?!” I roll my eyes and type in the code, and drive right in. I pull up outside a grand stately home. It’s dark, and how I long to see it in the light. There is a small fountain out front. I imagine how beautiful this could be in the warm sun.

Ville gets out of the car and walks around the back “Oh, um, you’re really fucking welcome” I mutter, before he opens my door and offers me his hand. “Very gentlemanly” I giggle, taking his hand “Thanks.” I climb out of the car and shut the door. I look up at the tall building in wonderment.

“Are you coming?” Demands Ville, palm outstretched. I take his hand and follow him inside. The hallway is illuminated by a large glass chandelier. I spy a plush dark red velvet chaise longue, a matching soft rug, black candelabras. The mood is dark but romantic.

“Vee is definitely for vampires” I whisper; as Ville laughs out loud.

“Am I that transparent?” he asks.

“I don’t know, let’s ask your gothic decor, shall we?” I smirk, teasing him. I have no idea what the fuck I am doing following a dangerous man into his remote home, but I must admit that part of me would be just fine if he murdered me on the chaise longue by candlelight.

He starts to climb the large wooden staircase, carpeted with - you guessed it - a dark red velvet runner down the middle. Ville turns back and looks at me “Come.” He demands.

My heart sinks. “Ville, I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am but-“

“I owe you a song”, his face softens as he interjects, his lips part, his eyes plead.

“Okay” I say, warily. He takes my hand and leads me upstairs. There are beautiful oil paintings leading up the stair case. Night scenes, moons, woodland creatures on canvas. He is definitely a night owl, in love with all things dark, and I can’t help but find it endearing.

He reaches his large pale hands, adorned with pewter rings, in front of him and thrusts them into two tall wooden double doors. It’s so dark, I blink several times to acclimatise to the void in front of me. Ville reaches in his pocket and moves around the room, clicking his lighter. In a moment, the room is illuminated by beautiful black candlesticks. The walls are red, of course they are. Another chaise longue. A beautiful double mirrored vintage black wardrobe. In front of me is a huge four poster bed. The ornate wood is black, the sheets are what look like dark red silk. Everything about this room is elegant, but I can’t shake the air of loneliness that lingers within the walls.

“Take a seat, my darling” he purrs, and walks to the corner of the room. He removes his blazer jacket, throwing it to the ground. He’s wearing a black vest, his luscious milky skin glowing in contrast. I notice the swirling pattern of thorns down one arm; a beautiful intricate tattoo sleeve. I perch on the chaise longue, fearing that lying on his bed would send the wrong message. I’m not about to sleep with him at the drop of a hat, no matter how attractive he is. He grabs an acoustic guitar from one of several stands: he has quite the collection, and walks towards me.

He stops a couple metres from me and sits down cross legged. He tunes his guitar whilst my eyes wander. I realise he’s removed the hat and he has the most beautiful darkened curls of hair. I imagine running my hands through them as his face is buried in my… Christ, I need to get a grip. All of a sudden he begins to play;

“You can't escape the wrath of my heart

Beating to your funeral song

All faith is lust for hell regained

And love dust in the hands of shame

Let me bleed you this song of my heart deformed

Lead you along this path in the dark

Where I belong until I feel your warmth

Hold me like you held on to life

When all fears came alive and entombed me

Love me like you loved the sun

Scorching the blood in my vampire heart

I'll be the thorns in every rose

You've been sent by hope

I am the nightmare waking you up

From the dream of a dream of love

Let me weep you this poem as heaven's gates close

Paint you my soul scarred and alone

Waiting for your kiss to take me back home

Hold me like you held on to life

When all fears came alive and entombed me

Love me like you loved the sun

Scorching the blood in my vampire heart”

As he sings, I feel his pain. He closes his eyes and bares his soul. He has a deep voice when he speaks, but when he sings his range is amplified. The hairs on my neck stand on end and my skin tingles. I just want to hold him; to comfort him.

“Ville… that was…” I am breathless “that was beautiful.” He looks up and smiles wistfully at me. Spontaneously, I stand and walk over to him. I kneel in front of him and wrap my arms around him. His back is stiff and strong beneath my palms. The smell of whiskey still lingering. He does not move. My fingertips reach up to caress the curls at the back of his head and I bury my face in his neck. “Ville… who hurt you?” My voice breaking; his body softens and his large hands make their way around my back.

He nuzzles into my neck and sighs deeply. Whispering, he says “I have been lonely for so, so long. I have spent years holding on to the faintest hope that love would find me…” I tense my arms to hold him tighter and he begins to pull away.

His hands grasp my shoulders lightly. He pulls away from my neck to look into my eyes. His face is a mere inch from mine. His beautiful green eyes searching mine for something. “Who ARE you?” he implores.

I blush “What do you mean?”

His eyes drop to my lips. “Where have you been, baby?” I stop breathing. The world stands still. His lips crash into mine.

Our lips move together as he tilts his head. I feel him run his tongue lightly between my lips, begging for entry. I open my mouth to take a small breath and his tongue claims mine. Lapping, massaging, caressing my tongue with his. His hands on my back become heavier as he pulls me toward him; removing the small gap between our bodies. My knees find themselves either side of Ville’s waist as I straddle his lap. I run my fingers through his hair, pulling, teasing. Suddenly, Ville breaks the kiss “I can’t!” he pleads, looking torn.

“W-what?” I whisper, dejected.

“You deserve more than this, a sober man for starters. You are far too good for me-“ I silence him with my index finger on his lips.

“Shh” I soothe him “You are enough; don’t try to convince me - or anyone - that you are less.” I kiss his forehead lovingly and he lets out a contented sigh.

Again, he whispers “Where have you been, baby? I wanted you for so long”. He looks into my eyes with yearning. “I’ve been here, waiting for you. Only you, Ville.”

His bright eyes and smile light the darkness around us. “Let’s not do this on the floor” smirks Ville as he pulls me to stand and walks me to the foot of his enormous bed. My hand begins to shake in his as my anxiety makes itself known to him. Ville strokes his hand up and down my arm as comfort; “I’m not expecting anything at all. I just want you to feel comfortable”. We sit on the edge of the bed and he cups my face with his pale hands, and kisses me sweetly. I kick off my boots and shuffle up the bed. He follows suit and we lie, arms wrapped around each other, exploring our mouths with our tongues.

My fingers wrapping around his curls, he giggles. “You like the hair, huh?” He asks.

“Mmm” I reply “Burn the hat”; he smiles into our kiss.

I lean back to look at him. His eye lashes are longer than I realised up close. There are tiny wrinkles either side of his eyes from smiling and laughing. He has a slight stubble and soft, plump, pink lips; a bright white grin and beautiful emerald green irises. My fingers travel the thorn sleeve from his wrist to his elbow. He shivers and closes his eyes. “What?” I smile.

“You” he replies “Your touch, your skin…” he signs as his eyes wander “I am demonstrating excellent self restraint right now”. He grins wickedly.

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Please, baby” he sighs “I’m trying to be a gentleman”.

We spend hours talking about our hopes, our dreams, touching, giggling, kissing. He promises to take me to Finland; and to play me a song every morning on his guitar. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him, nuzzling into the back of my neck, and we fall asleep in each others arms.

…

I have never slept so well in my life. I roll over to find Ville on his back, still sleeping. It’s still so dark in his room but I can see a strip of white light around the black out curtains. It must be morning. I gently sneak out of bed to grab my purse and find my phone. I have a couple of hours before work, so I have a half hour or so to snuggle with Ville. I crawl into bed on all fours, trying to wake Ville with light kisses on his forehead, temples, cheeks.

“Wow, you sleep like the dead!” I mutter. I place my palm on his shoulder and shake him gently. “Wake up, I have work soon” I purr. I dial the sensuality up a notch and start to lick and nip at his neck. He jolts and his limbs stiffen. I trail the tip of my tongue from his neck, up and around his jawline, until I reach his bottom lip. I nip it slightly with my teeth and he grabs both of my wrists and swiftly twists himself on top of me.

His eyes are not green, but dark. He kisses me deeply, but I sense something is off. He’s silent, he’s rough… something is not right.

“Ville… stop!”. He grabs my jaw with his hand and forces it aside. He moves to my neck and bites down. I feel his sharp teeth and scream.

He jolts back, as if woken from a dream. His eyes are light green and wide; his mouth crimson with my blood “Oh god… FUCK… I am so sorry!” He loosens his grip and I scramble from the bed, grabbing my heels and my purse.

I am trembling and crying and running through the darkness. HOW is his home this dark?!? I reach the front door and hear him running down the staircase. “Please! I’m sorry! Let me explain!” My legs threaten to give way underneath me as I hesitate, part of me wanting to give him a chance. My neck hurts and I place pressure on it. I move my hand in front of me and gasp at the bloody mess on my fingertips. He reaches a hand towards me and I shove my hip into the door with full force. It swings open and the sunlight bears down on his arm; I watch his pallid skin sizzle and smoke in the bright light. He screams in pain and falls backward and I run to my car. I pull the door open, fling my belongings into the passenger seat and lock the doors. The adrenaline pumping through my body, I drive fast towards the large ornate gates. I type in 666 and speed away from this nightmare, a flurry of tears raining across my steering wheel and my lap. I hear myself sobbing but I persevere until I am home.

I rush into my flat, lock the door and fall to the floor; I cry and cry until I am empty. I step into the bathroom and observe the damage. Two puncture wounds on my neck. Just when I am sure I have no tears left, I begin to cry again. I cleanse the wound and flinch at the sting. I bandage myself up the best that I can, lie face down on my bed, and sob until I pass out.

AO3: SinnySioux; more to come 🦇

Graphics by saradika-graphics

#ville valo x reader #ville valo fanfic #ville valo #HIM fanfic #HIM x reader

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