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scuttling · 1 year ago

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Devil You Know

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries Pairings: Damon Salvatore/female reader (future) Word Count: 2,107 Tags: Just canon typical violence/blood so far, Episode related 2x14 Crying Wolf Summary: Damon's in love with Elena, would do anything to keep her safe—including forming an alliance with a mysterious newcomer who just might change everything. A/N: I consider this a teaser I guess, as plan to write the rest of season 2's storyline! I hope you like it :)

Keep reading below!

Damon goes to the historical society tea party because he needs to confront Elijah.

It’s absolutely the last thing he wants to do, after blowing off Jenna’s friend Andie, who will almost certainly be in attendance; the last thing he wants to do, knowing that Elena and Stefan are on some romantic getaway to her family’s cabin by the lake. But he needs to protect her, which means finding out more about Elijah and the deal he’s made with her, which means he gets dressed and goes to the party, puts on a smile, charms the pants off everyone like he always does.

It’s not easy, but someone’s gotta do it.

Damon is just walking away from Alaric, heading into the study on Elijah’s heels, when a pretty young woman grabs him by the elbow of his jacket. She fits in at the tea party, in a white sweater, long, tan skirt, and heels, but he can’t remember ever seeing her around town.

“Whatever you’re about to do, don’t,” she says in a low voice. A human wouldn’t have heard it, her lips barely move, but he can and she must know that.

“And who are you?” he asks, cocking a brow. He doesn’t take advice from people he does know, and definitely not from people he doesn’t; all the same, something about her intrigues him, though he can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Someone who’s not about to let you make the biggest mistake of your life — or afterlife, whatever you call it.” She lets go of the fabric of his jacket, then smooths it out where she’s wrinkled it. “Trying to kill an Original is suicide, so don’t.”

She says it with an air of finality, almost authoritative, then turns away from him like she’s going to leave.

He can’t let this girl leave, but he can’t let Elijah go either. He’s torn, feels two warring senses of urgency, looks briefly toward the study and then back to her retreating frame.

“Wait—who are you? How do you know–what you know?” She turns back, hair falling over her shoulder, and shakes her head like she’s frustrated that he’s even bothering to ask.

“I know, and that’s all that matters right now. Look, I have to go; I shouldn't have come as it is.”

Damon grabs her arm to stop her from turning again, to stop her from leaving, but she frees herself with one firm, no nonsense tug and walks out the door without ever looking back.

A mystery for another time. Elijah’s in the study, and Damon’s going to do what he came for in the first place.

He gets stabbed in the neck by Elijah because of course he does; he never claimed to be rational or sensible, to think things through or weigh the consequences like his brother. He acts on instinct, with more emotion than most people probably imagine him capable of, and then deals with the aftermath as it comes.

The aftermath of this situation is a very sore throat, and a growing headache, as he mulls over what little they know, over and over and over in his mind.

“Today was a bust,” he punctuates with a sip of bourbon. He says it to himself, to the room at large, but Ric answers anyway.

“Yeah, that Elijah’s one scary dude. I’d think twice before I trust that dagger and some ashes to do the job. You’re gonna need more info.” Damon frowns.

“But I’m out of sources.” Ric stands to pour another drink, grabs Damon’s glass and does the same. When he hands it back, Damon has a flash of memory from earlier in the day—the tea party, the mystery girl who knew more than she should—and he smiles a little to himself, pleased. “Actually, you know what. There might be one person who can help us out.”

“I’ll take anything we can get,” Ric says, drinking down the remainder of his bourbon in one sip. Damon stands and does the same, grabs his jacket from the back of his chair.

As they head for the front door he starts brainstorming, deciding where they are most likely to find her. Strangers always seem to gravitate toward the Grill, so they should probably start there, ask around, find out if anyone who’d been at the event remembered her.

Those plans are cut short by werewolves. Goddamn werewolves.

“You know what the great thing about buckshot is? It scatters through the body. Maximum damage,” the one he knows to be Jules says, the one he hates with every fiber of his being.

They’ve got him chained to a chair—an antique that’s going to be a bitch to restore after this—with some kind of inverted spike collar on him, and he is leaking blood from a hole in his neck for the second time today. It’s a new method of torture for him, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little terrified of the potential outcome.

This is how he knows he loves Elena, really, truly loves her, he thinks. For anyone else, he’d have given up a long, long time ago, out of both boredom and self-preservation. Damon would kill for almost anyone—he kills mainly for himself, anyway—but she’s the only one he’d die for now that Katherine has fucked them all for the last time.

“Where is the moonstone?” Jules yells, pulling him out of his thoughts with a cock of her gun. One of the wolves pulls on the collar, which hurts like hell, but Damon just shrugs, smarmy as shit. Jules rolls her eyes. “Vampires.”

“At least vampires have the decency not to enter someone’s home without permission,” someone calls from the foyer. Damon can see that it’s his mystery guest, still dressed for the party, as she strolls casually down the hallway and into the parlor, toward the werewolves. Jules takes a good look at the girl, brows tight, as if she’s trying to place her, but the other wolves growl—actually growl—at her, nostrils flaring. It’s clear they know who she is… and that they actually fear her. “If I were you, I’d go. Now. Before another one of you gets hurt.”

Whether she’s referring to Mason or someone else he doesn’t know about, it doesn’t make a difference; the male wolves run out of the house in a blur, and Jules must trust her pack enough to know to follow, because she speeds past the girl and out the front door with the rest of them.

Damon is impressed. Very impressed.

A minute later, when the house is quiet and the girl seems satisfied the wolves are gone, she steps toward Damon; her heels click across the wood floor, and in that delicate skirt, that pristine white sweater, she yanks at the chains that have him bound to the wooden chair. They nearly crumble in her hands, breaking apart and freeing him from captivity.

Now he’s kind of terrified again. Terrified, and a little turned on, and really fucking confused.

“Should have let them kill you,” she mutters as she unlocks the collar, her hands slick with his blood but no less precise. She pulls each wooden stake carefully away from his neck, and he sighs his relief when the device is completely off, discarded on the ground. “Do you always have such a knack for getting yourself into dangerous situations, or have I stumbled upon a no good, very bad day?”

“Hey. They broke into my house,” he reminds her, standing, and what’s left of the chains join the collar in a heap on the floor. The girl lets out a long sigh and puts up her bloody hands in a gesture of irritation.

“Because you’re fucking with, quite literally, the most powerful, ancient beings, things you know next to nothing about, even though I told you not to.”

“No offense, but I have no idea who you are, what you are… Those guys obviously did, and I’m getting now that you’re kind of a big deal, but it takes a lot more than a mysterious girl leaving a cryptic message at a town event to get me to change my mind.”

With another sigh, she sticks out one of her hands, and after a pause he gets what she’s after, reaches out to complete the handshake.

“Hi, I’m the new resident vampire slayer. Happy to make your acquaintance.” He tries not to show that his mind is a little blown at this, that the prim and proper, frankly beautiful girl in front of him is a killer of anything.

“Vampire slayer? Is ‘hunter’ not cool enough this year?” She drops his hand, then wipes the blood from hers against the fabric of his black henley; it’s not enough to clean them fully, but now they’re merely stained red and no longer dripping with the evidence of his prior torture.

“Hunters are usually guys with personal vendettas, who spend too much time shopping at the army surplus store,” she says with a completely unsubtle look at Ric, who remains dead on the Persian rug. Either she doesn’t care, or she’s spotted the Gilbert ring, knows what it means. “Slayers are different; we’re born with innate power, similar to what you develop when you transition—though I guess it’s all the same when you’re on the wrong end of a wooden stake.”

She takes a step back as he takes a step toward her—toward Ric, really. She watches as Damon lifts him up and drops him onto the sofa, so he can wake up with a little more dignity, at least. “So, vampire slayer. Are you from around here?” he asks as he turns back. He grabs their glasses from earlier, and a third, and fills them all with bourbon. He offers her the drink, which she accepts, sips.

“I get around,” she says lightly, carefully avoiding his question. She walks around the room, exploring, as he cleans up, rolls up the soiled rug so he can dump it later on. “This is my first time in Mystic Falls, though I know all about its… rich history.” She takes another drink, this one deeper, like she’s tired after such a long day. He knows he is, so he can understand the feeling. “I’m drawn to where I’m needed, and I wasn’t needed here until the moonstone came into play. Now you've got doppelgängers, werewolves… I’m just fortunate you dealt with the vampires in the tomb on your own, or we’d be in a hell of a lot more trouble.”

“Hey, I’ve changed since then; I was an idiot in love,” he explains, then he fully realizes that’s bullshit; he’s still an idiot, and still in love—or, more appropriately, in love again.

He throws her a playful smirk, but she’s not laughing when she comes closer and locks eyes with him. It’s the first time he’s looked at her and seen what must be her darker, more dangerous side.

“Love is not an acceptable excuse for your actions, and if you ever give me reason to, I’ll put you down without hesitation. It’s important that you know that.” Her eyes flick over his, as if ensuring that he’s gotten the message, that he understands her loud and clear. “Even when I help you—if I help you—my loyalties are to the slayers who fought before me, who fight alongside me. No one else. If any of you harm an innocent person with intent, I will kill you.”

Damon contemplates that for a moment, he really does; there’s no shortage of people who want him dead, so adding one more to the list isn’t really as impactful as she may believe. He can’t help thinking, though, that if she’s on their side—if she’s willing to fight with them instead of against them—they might actually have a chance against the werewolves, the Originals. They might actually have a shot at eliminating the threat instead of outrunning it, at protecting Elena once and for all.

It means giving up human blood, which isn’t his favorite thing to do, but he’s done it before, can do it again. Will do it for Elena, if that’s what it takes.

“You have my word, slayer,” he says, peering down seriously into her eyes. For once, he means it. “You help us keep Elena safe, and we’ll all be on our best behavior, or you get to wipe out every creature of the night that lives in Mystic Falls.”

She nods, after a moment, then drains her glass of bourbon with an exaggerated, satisfied smack of her lips.

“Alright then. First things first: who’s Elena?”

#the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvd #vampire diaries fanfic #tvd fanfic #the vampire diaries fanfic #damon salvatore #damon salvatore fanfic #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore x female reader

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it-happened-one-fic · 7 months ago

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Bias - Cyno

Author Notes: @milanka1604 So this is the high-fantasy adventure fic that goes with the book that has been lovingly recovered in sun-faded fabric. I helped myself out a bit with the writing by listening to “Legendary Lovers” by Katy Perry which most certainly affected how this story came together. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ 600 followers event request/ fluff/ high fantasy adventure in a book that has been lovingly re-covered in now sun-faded fabric/ isekai/ romance implied

Word count: 1652

I honestly didn’t know how long I’d been out before I’d woken up, staring straight up at a bright blue desert sky and wondering how I’d ended up here when, mere moments ago, I’d been right outside of my bookshop with Cyno.

What made it even worse was the fact that I also had someone else’s memories dancing around in my head.

Initially, after realizing that there was far more amiss than just my location due to the strange, foreign clothes I had woken up wearing and the odd memories, I’d tried to leave the oasis. But I’d been unable to leave the side of the cool, clear water, and had eventually given up. Opting to instead ponder my situation and try to figure out what, exactly, was going on.

And that was how Cyno had found me, as he’d appeared atop a dune and almost immediately looked my way, like he was somehow honed in on my presence.

I stared up at Cyno from where I sat in the golden sand around the oasis, relieved to see him and finding myself fascinated by the strange clothes he wore.

Dark robes that were wrapped around him, making him look like he was some hero out of some high fantasy story as he pulled down the mask that had concealed all of his face but his bright red eyes.

“So this is where you were… I’d wondered if you’d gotten dragged into this book as well.”

I felt myself smile at his words, nodding slightly as I watched him walk over and plop down next to me with an almost surprising degree of nonchalance. But then Cyno was more used to being in the desert than I was.

But his words told me almost everything I needed to know. He’d reached the same conclusion as I. That we were stuck inside of a book.

The book that he’d spoken of was, in fact, something he’d been investigating as the General Mahamatra and was also quite likely the sole reason we were in our current predicament.

From what Cyno had told me when he’d first received his mission, an Akademiya researcher had recently flooded the book market with some less-than-safe novels that quietly dragged the reader into the story.

Before we’d ended here, wherever here was, I’d been giving Cyno a suspicious looking book that had just recently turned up in my store.

After that, all I could remember was a brilliant flash of light and then waking up in the desert. Each of us in different locations.

At this point, it seemed clear that the book I’d been giving him was indeed one of the novels that was pulling people into it. This one, in particular, seemed to deal with some sort of high-fantasy story set in the desert, if the memories I’d been gifted with were anything to go by.

I could only assume the memories were, in actuality, the backstory of whatever character I’d been slotted into when I’d been pulled into this story. Unfortunately, though, my character hardly seemed to be a fun one.

Apparently, my role was that of someone who had mystical powers that allowed them, or rather, me, to cause oases to spring into existence.

Though such an ability ought to have been a hot commodity in a desert setting such as this one, my character’s memories told a very different story.

Afraid of the mystical oasis-giving powers, the locals of my character’s home village had kicked them out and abandoned them in the harsh desert.

After wandering for an extensive period, my character had then run into a group of power-hungry adventurers who wanted to use my character’s powers to create a corrupt government where all would serve them.

So my character had fled before reaching this place and hiding, and, so far as I could tell, that was around when I’d appeared.

I could only assume that, judging from his rather fantastical outfit and notable sword strapped to his back, Cyno was the hero of this story. No doubt a lost prince or some such character that was off on a great journey and had stumbled across both me and this oasis.

I gazed at him carefully, tilting my head in slight amusement as I realized that Cyno actually fit his role amusingly well. Not only did he look the part with his pale hair and red eyes, he could easily handle any action scenes this novel would throw at him.

That didn’t change the fact that neither of us seemed to know what to do in this situation, though, and I could tell just from looking at him that the young man next to me was tense.

But there was no telling what he’d encountered in this world already if this really was some sort of adventure story.

The heroes of such stories always seemed to lead a hard life, and I could only imagine what Cyno might have already dealt with.

I sat back, letting my hands press into the sand beneath me, “So... What’s your character’s backstory?”

At my words, he looked my way immediately. His eyebrows lifting slightly, almost like he could tell that I was trying to ease the tense atmosphere.

But then he twisted, facing me as he straightened slightly, “I am an adventurer who has been traveling the desert….”

He paused, and I waited patiently, watching as he seemingly came to a decision and slipped into his role, causing me to smile as I watched him play up the drama of his story, “Wandering, in search of some meaning to my existence.”

I snorted, shaking my head at exactly how run-of-the-mill and dramatic he made his character sound. But then, with my character’s backstory, I was hardly surprised.

From the sound of it, we were stuck in a particularly tropey adventure story.

I leaned forward, though, finding myself grinning as I knowingly encouraged Cyno’s rather ridiculous antics in favor of agonizing over our situation.

I’d done that enough already.

“And what have you found in your wanderings, oh great adventurer?” I matched his play-acting, but felt my smile spread as I noticed the gleam in his eyes.

His face remained a staunch mask of seriousness though, not unlike how he looked when he told one of his jokes as he gestured out to distant sand dunes, “Ruins taller than any modern city, though they have long been lost to the sands of time while people remain unchanged. They contain echoes of the time of heroes and monsters… Artifacts from the ages of gods.”

He trailed off slightly, his arm dropping as he held my gaze, “But only one oasis within all of these wonders. One oasis… And you.”

I shook my head, smiling all the while, though I was half-impressed with his play-acting, “That almost sounded like a real line from a campy adventure novel… I’m guessing you’ve been doing some late-night reading?”

He nodded, leaning back and tilting his head as he relaxed once more, “The books I bought from you, yeah.”

He paused, shifting and staring at me thoughtfully before he continued, “I’m guessing you are what my character has been searching for?”

I lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant half-shrug, “Well, my character, yes. Though that would make this a romantic, high-fantasy adventure story.”

Cyno nodded slightly, his expression not changing even as amusement rippled through his voice, “The best kind, then.”

I felt myself smile again, not bothering to comment on the fact that I was relieved by his presence or anything else that might break the now relaxed atmosphere, “I guess you really are getting to live out our favorite cover story of being an adventurer here.”

He nodded, “I even have you as a companion this time around.”

I blinked at him slightly, but didn’t respond. Instead silently watching as he stood, straightening fully so that he cast a shadow over me before he held out his hand to me in a silent offer.

I tilted my head though, looking from his tanned hand back up to his face, “How long do you think we’ll be stuck in this book?”

My voice came out surprisingly soft, giving away my slight nervousness with this entire situation, but Cyno only shook his head, “I don’t know. My best guess is that we’ll have to finish this story’s plot and go where this adventure takes us.”

Where this adventure took us…. At least I wouldn’t be alone. I could relax with the knowledge that Cyno would be by my side. A thought that had me wryly wondering if perhaps I was a better fit for the token character in need of assistance than I’d initially thought.

I nodded slightly at his words, quietly reaching up and slipping my hand into his. Letting him pull me to my feet easily.

He watched me silently, his red eyes holding my gaze as the wind blew the sand across the distant dune, and I wanted for him to say something.

At the very least, it was the perfect scene for the hero to say something.

But Cyno wasn’t the true hero of this story, and he turned, half disappointed me even though his hand was still gripping mine in a way that reassured me that no matter what, things would turn out okay, “Let’s go.”

He was allowed one step forward before the wind whipped the sand around us into a glittering shield that seemed to give way to a blinding light that soon consumed everything around us.

I opened my eyes hesitantly before blinking in surprise, registering the familiar surroundings before I spoke up, squeezing Cyno’s hand excitedly, “Cyno! We’re back!”

It took me a moment to register the slight smile that flickered across his face as he nodded at me, “So we are….”

He trailed off, though, his eyes narrowing at something behind me and causing me to turn as he let go of my hand and stepped around me.

But there, lying as innocently as could be on the floor behind me, was the book that had started our entire, short-lived adventure.

“And here is our perpetrator,” Cyno knelt as he spoke, picking up the strange book that had been recovered in sun-faded fabric before he straightened.

I stared at the book in his hands, quietly frowning before I glanced back at him, “Why do you think it let us out? Because we just completed an important scene or….?”

I trailed off as Cyno shook his head, “I don’t know, but I’ll take this book back to the Akademiya to be examined. Maybe then we’ll be able to catch its author.”

He looked back my way, and I managed a smile, “Just don’t open it on your way there. We don’t want you getting literally sucked back into the story.”

He snorted slightly, a soft sound, but nodded nonetheless, “Agreed. I’ll be back later, though. Our little adventure left me wanting more. Though I’m not sure you’ll have any stories with better characters than ours had.”

I blinked at him in surprise before snorting at his words, shaking my head in quiet amusement, “I might not be able to find a better hero, but a better secondary lead should be manageable.”

He tilted his head, his eyes glimmering slightly with unsaid words, before he bobbed his head slightly, “If you say so…. Either way, I’ll see you later.”

I nodded, finding myself waving in a fond farewell and watching him stroll down the busy street and away from me. Struck once more by exactly how well the role of a high-fantasy adventure hero actually suited him.

But then… that was possibly my own bias showing.

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randomwriteronline · 1 year ago

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Warriors wasn’t exactly well known for being incospicuous or particularly quiet in his movements.

He had a tendency of stomping his feet a lot - walking like he thought he was running, ending up too heavy on the soles of his boots, which were thankfully less likely to fall apart than his old ones were. It was one of many not necessarily healthy quirks he hoped to unlearn now that the war was dealt with and there was no longer a constant need to sprint from one place to the other.

But if he wanted, and if he put a lot of thought into it, he could will himself into a perfectly relaxed stride; and, if he put even more effort into it, he could even become quieter than a mouse in a barn.

Still, he knew better than to scare a hare by getting the jump on it from the back, so he opted to knock gently on the wooden table instead.

Ravio turned around without actually looking, used to the signal enough that he didn’t even flinch upon hearing it - though he did startle a bit when the face that greeted him turned out to be indeed fairly similar to his own, but not as perfectly identical as he’d naturally assumed it would have been.

“The well-off relative!” he squeaked with a small smile, seeming a bit nervous.

Warriors grinned back: “The very same,” he replied with a wave that was more of a flourish and half a curtsie.

His relaxed appearance eased the tension in the merchant’s shoulders as well as he chuckled a little bit, playing with one of his long sleeves more out of habit than to dispell his nervousness. The captain eyed the tic fondly, and the familiar motion gave him just enough courage to try his luck.

If it was too early for it... Well, he hoped he would at least still manage to make a good first impression.

“I couldn’t help but notice your hood earlier,” he said simply, leaning a little on one side as if that way his antsyness would just seep out of his foot: “It has a peculiar design, doesn’t it?”

“My...? Oh, yes!” Ravio remembered. His fingers grabbed the portion of cloth immediately, without thinking, but for some reason he stopped himself short of pulling it over his face, fingertips playing with the gold trimmed edges. “Made it myself, see?, as we all used to do in my family. We’re pretty good tinkerers, my aunt would say way back when, but even better tailors, eh...”

“Might I see it?”

“Pardon?”

“The design on it,” Warriors repeated: “Might I see it again? I didn’t get a good look at it back then, but it seemed beautifully embroidered.”

Maybe to comply, maybe to hide a slight rush of blush on otherwise almost squalidly pale cheeks, the other man blinked once or twice and then pulled the hood right back up, hiding away his entire head beneath the rabbit face as though it had never even existed in the first place.

Knowing full well he was being seen, the captain made a big show of holding his chin in his hand and tilting his head thoughtfully.

“My,” he started off with, “I was right, that is an awfully impressive work of art. Look at those golden details around the eyes - lovely colors for them, by the way, you’ve got quite a lot of taste - and those teeth even, not to mention the ears! If I’d only heard of rabbits and never seen any I’d mistake you for one.”

The weird compliment worked, as a little laugh accompanied delighted fingers drumming against the purple fabric.

Warriors smiled fondly; then suddenly he sighed, shaking his head: “Ah, but I’ll admit, it gives me the weirdest kind of feeling - like I’ve seen a hood made just like that before, like I know it well, you know? A sort of deja-vù...”

“Well that just ain’t possible,” the merchant replied quickly as his shoulders straightened in pride: “This one’s a Ravio original! Trademarked and all! Only one you’ll ever find around! Save for any mediocre imitations you might’ve had some sleazy retailers sell you for the real thing, that is, but I’d bet those pale in comparison to the genuine article as I’m sure you can see for yourself here right before you.”

“It’s certainly very distinctive,” the captain agreed, subtly stepping forward.

If Ravio noticed that, he made no comment on it - perhaps too busy patting himself on the back as he goaded: “Of course! Gives my brand a real distinct image, don’t it? Really makes it clear you’re dealing with the one and only! Sorta like, uh, that scarf of yours, if... If I may.”

Even despite those unmoving embroidered eyes covering any semblance of expression Warriors had the distinctive feeling that the man behind them was getting a little redder beneath the shade of his hood, as he could parse from a small nervous movement of his fingers as the hero smiled wider and absentmindedly passed his thumb over the blue fabric gently settled around his shoulders and neck.

“One of a kind too?” the Lorian asked, not without a certain cautious fear.

“You’d be correct,” the other replied.

The amount of fidgeting with purple fabric increased steadily as a cascade of rambling left the hidden mouth: “Ah, yes, yes, I imagined - I mean, with that red trim over there at the end and that emblem on it, clearly something made for royalty or the like, see?, and the quality - no way some imitator could make something like that without putting in way too much effort or doing just a plain bad job, right? But, uh, ah - well ain’t that awkward now, I think you’ve put a bug in my ear ‘cause now I’m thinking I’ve seen that before, like you’ve seen my hood, but, eh! Eh, but that can’t be now, can it! Eh, nope, no, cannot be like that - but it really does look like I’ve seen it, I swear! Maybe a little dirtier, some splotches on it, some grass and, and, well and stuff that maybe I shouldn’t be talking about in a kitchen, ah ah, you understand? But it’s, it really... It really does, uhm... It... Really... Looks... Like...”

By the time he hushed, Warriors was standing a mere few inches away from him, the not particularly large difference in height between them magnified slightly by the merchant’s slouch as he’d closed in on his own shoulders a little, looking up at the grin on the rosy face. It would have definitely seemed like an intimidating scene, and by all means it was; but the tilt of the hodded head was more expectant than scared, and the little nervous smile peeking from beneath the gold trim of the fabric didn’t come from any fear.

In one swift motion the hero pushed back the hood, cupped the other’s face in his hands as though it would have escaped him, and landed a chaste kiss on his cheek with as much passion as possible.

Surprise tore a laugh out of Ravio and had his arms wrap in a bout of euphoria around the captain’s shoulders, bending his neck under the pressure of a mouth smacking into him over and his back over a hug that ensnared his waist tight enough that he could have been lifted at any moment.

Then he recollected himself, and pushed the other’s face away with a nervous chuckle: “Hey, hey - this is a kitchen!”

“Oh please,” Warriors huffed playfully, rolling his eyes, “There’s eight more people in this house including your ‘landlord’ and you think I’ll lay you for the first time in the middle of the kitchen?”

Instead of answering, Ravio decided to slip right through his grasp and scuttle away between his divaricated legs, making him stumble (since he’d put his entire weight onto the merchant) and grab onto the counter just a moment before his face collided with it in a less than graceful manner.

“Maybe!”

“Come on, I’m better than that!”

An airy laugh came from behind him with a quick squeezing hug: “You are,” the merchant reassured him, though he was very much still smirking dastardly. “And besides it wouldn’t be your style - I mean for cryin’ out loud, you took your sweet time tellin’ me you were who I thought you were right now, didn’t you?”

“What!” the captain argued back, snapping around to face him with a wide smile: “I couldn’t well just kiss you on the mouth out of nowhere!”

“I can promise you I wouldn’t have complained.”

“Time’s a fickle thing, you know that - what if you hadn’t met me yet? You would’ve thought me a maniac!”

“But I hadn’t ever seen you before I ended up on that battlefield, Lily-of-the-Valley,” Ravio reminded him as he tried to grab his nose between his index and middle fingers, “So we sure couldn’t’ve met earlier than that, don’t you think?”

Warriors lifted his hands in defeat, gently swatting the merchant’s own away in the process: “You got me there.”

“Course I did,” the other gloated: “I’m the brains and brawn after all.”

The flick of a wrist had his hood right back on his head: “Harr harr,” he heard an amused fond grin say, “And even if it were true, pray tell what I’d be left with?”

Without missing a beat, Ravio tapped his nose: “Beauty, of course!”

He counted the little snort as a victory.

“Don’t push it,” he was still playfully reprimanded.

The merchant chuckled in response, shoulders jumping a little with his voice. His gaze grew unbearably soft for a long, interminable second; then, with a sharp sigh, he allowed his forehead to fall forward so that it would on the taller man’s chest, and with his eyes closed he savored the solid reality of that contact together with the faint press of a hug.

He took a deep breath, catching a scent much more pleasant than the one he’d grown to expect to cling to that scarf, that tunic, and exhaled: “I missed you.”

Warriors leaned enough to press a kiss to his dark hair: “I missed you too.”

The rabbit in his grasp hummed very, very softly.

All of this - that voice, the pressure on his sternum, the quiet between them - was distinctly, sweetly familiar.

He wished it didn’t bring back memories of laying on the ground, both soiled with sweat, dirt, blood and varied other disgusting elements after the horrid symphony of clanging steel had finally quieted down across the fields, breathing heavily, trying to stifle the adrenaline making his heart explode at least enough to properly feel the body breathing heavily as it laid almost draped across his chest; but it also brought back the silence of peaceful nights, of trying to fall asleep to one another’s heartbeats, and he focused on that, drowning the worse recollections in those hushed breaths in the dark.

His musings were interrupted as he felt the other wriggle in his loose grasp ever so slightly, and he undid the fastening of his arms around him to let him pull back in case he needed it.

Ravio waited a little before doing so, maybe to try and commit this moment to memory better than all the other ones he had alowed to simply slip by, as one can never know when the chance to encounter a lover from a different time once more might happen - a thought that hadn’t struck him until only after they had bid each other a barely adequate goodbye for what could have very likely been the last time they ever saw one another again.

“I’ve been, ah--” he stammered a moment as he pushed himself back up on his own feet, “I was tryin’ to, ah, find a way back to you, actually, y’know? I mean, I found one for here, so, there oughta be one for there, don’t you think? It’s - ah, ahah! It’s a weird situation, my whole...”

His hand made an incredibly vague motion in the air, pointing all at once to everything that might have been both in the room and outside of it.

The information made Warriors furrow his brows slightly and tilt his head not unlike a dog that hadn’t understood the command: “I thought you were pretty homesick, back then,” he muttered, a little confused.

“I was! Goddesses know I was!” the other was quick to reply: “And I was so glad to be back home even though I had... A lot of stuff to handle still like you know, my house being a mess and everything else, but I was happy! I swear! But, eh, I’m here now, right? And it’s ‘cause I... I got homesick for here too, if you can believe that? And so I came over because I missed this sun and this house and, and then I got homesick for your place too, or maybe, maybe just for you, I think, I didn’t really - sorry if it’s rude, but I don’t got really good memories of, you know, er... But, but the point is - I keep gettin’ longin’ for all these different places all at once and so I end up makin’ myself scramble all over all the time, it’s - it’s a mess, is what it is, but I can’t help it! I don’t know how! I can’t - I can’t choose, I guess? I want t’ be in Lorule, and also here, and also with you, and it just sends me runnin’ in circles over an’ over an’ over an’--”

"Hey,” a quiet voice reached him together with a hand on his shoulder, and his rambling came to a halt.

He sunk in the collar of his robe: “Sorry,” he peeped. “Got carried away.”

“I missed you so much.”

There was no follow-up.

Ravio realized his vacant stare had been fixed a little above the captain’s belt buckle for a while now, and raised his head. Link was looking at him without any real feeling, his expression set on a near total, mildly relaxed neutrality - which made the vague air of melancholy bubbling in his eyes a little harder to spot for someone who might’ve notbeen looking for it.

Without really thinking, the Lorian put a hand to one of the somewhat squallid sienna-colored cheeks. He felt it sink into his palm.

“You thought of comin’ to see me?”

Warriors just nodded.

He laughed gently: “Well, I oughta made your job real hard then, huh?”

The other shrugged with a small smile: “Didn’t do much about it, actually,” he replied, a little sheepish. “I got cold feet about asking. Since...”

“Hm,” now it was the merchant’s turn to nod, “I get it.”

He gently squished the captain’s face in his hands a little tighter, causing him to huff through his nose as he attempted a smirk. Emboldened by the power of being able to do whatever he wanted without repercussions, Ravio swayed the blond head left and right with his fingers as his soft grimace turned into a more mischievous grin.

He only stopped once he heard a muffled ‘watch it’ that made him giggle a little as he raised his arms away from the captain in a show of innocence.

Dusting his palms on his robe as if to better hide the tender playfulness of the gesture (though it was an action not at all motivated embarrassment, but merely yet another of his many nervous quirks) his voice suddenly turned casual, as if he were a humble innkeeper addressing a customer: “So how long will you be stayin’ over?”

Warriors shrugged again with a weary sigh: “I’ve told you, time is a fickle thing,” he answered, “Who knows where and when we’ll be told to leave.”

“But you do stay around a while, right?”

“That we do.”

“So maybe we could work together, no? To, ah - figure out, maybe, kinda, a way to make this... Not, the last time we meet?”

Green eyes gleamed at him hopefully.

“Because-” Ravio added quickly as he waved his hands about to try and mask his eager antsiness, “-If there was a way, y’know, to come see you anytime, or even just some specific times, but surely, for certain, without fault... Y’know. I’d hop right on it.”

The captain smiled.

“I would too.”

A bucktoothed grin shined right at him: “So we should get to work, eh?”

“I reckon we should.”

#tloz #linked universe #hyrule warriors #warriors lu #ravio #raviolink #random writing #did you know that hw link has a skin with yellow undertones?#my boy is out there lookin like a cheese sculpture #anyways remember my post about hyrule warriors flavored raviolink bc this is that #also wars still feels hh abt the sorceress of time due to You Know (her wanting to get in his pants and almost destroying the world abt it)#which is why he never went to her and asked if she could let him see him bf again #sorry for the abrupt ending i dont know how to continue it :P

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greatbigbellies · 11 months ago

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2023 PREGNANCY KINK ADVENT CALENDAR (DAY 9)

The Maternity Seamstress: 2nd Trimester.

Reily was pretty used to repeat customers. A lot of her business came from what was by some metrics, a small group of people who used her services regularly. There were of course passers by and one-offs, but usually if she saw someone once, she’d see them again at some point. This was why she was surprised that, having received the altered dress, Heilie never came back. She thanked Reily for her work, and paid her quite handsomely, but it had been nearly three months, and no one had even spoken her name. Given hailie’s situation, Reily kind of expected to see her again, with more formalwear in need of loosening. Hailie seemed like the highbrow mover and shaker type, so Reily assumed that future events would mean more work. But she had been wrong…

Until today, that is. She was in the back, balancing the books, expecting to close up shop within the hour, when the entrance bell rang, signaling a customer. Excited to have an excuse to not keep doing boring finance work, she sprang out of her chair, quickly stepping into the storefront. “Good evening! Welcome to Pins and Needles!” she smiled as she came out. As soon as she made eye contact with the woman entering her store, she remembered her from what felt like so long ago. “Hello, I’m not sure if you recall, but I commissioned you to alter a dress for me some time ago?” greeted the tall woman, a dress draped over her arms, hanging in front of her.

Reily nodded, her expression staying friendly but shifting slightly to be less “customer service-esque”, as she knew this wasn’t some stranger she needed to win business from. “Yeah! Hailie right? It’s good to see you! What brings you in?” she asked. Hailie just smiled and held the dress to the side, revealing her mid-term baby bump. “This. I’ve been invited to a sort of throwback party with a group that I’ve known for a while, so I thought it’d be fitting to wear the same dress I wore several years ago, only I was considerably less pregnant several years ago,” she smirked. Reily snuck a glance at Hailie’s bump. She was wearing a modest maternity blouse, but if she didn’t remember Hailie was carrying triplets, she’d assume she was markedly farther along.

Reily nodded, gesturing toward the counter, “Let me get a look at the dress. Were my alterations on the last one suitable?” she asked. Hailie nodded, laying out the new gown “It fit, though it was more on the snug side. This one will definitely need more breathing room,” she sighed. Reily tugged at the fabric on this piece, it had much less stretch then the last one. No elasticity meant she had much less margin for error, which meant she’d need to be on point with her adjustments. “I can work with this, but I’ll certainly need more measurements to size it right. It’ll also probably take me some time to track down fabric in this color but, it’s feasible. When do you need this by?” she asked. Hailie bit her lip as she thought, “About three weeks, which is unfortunately enough time that you’ll need to add another inch to the waistline just to be safe,” she replied, gesturing to her bump. Reily nodded, taking a few notes. “I still have most of your measurements from last time but… I will need some new ones for your torso,” she said, almost apologetically.

Hailie shrugged, “I’d be amazed if you didn’t. Do you have time tonight?” she asked. Reily nodded and invited her back, “Of course, right this way!” she led her into her work space. Hailie followed suit, a slight waddle to her gait. She definitely seemed to be moving slower, and the poor thing still had months to go. Reily grabbed her tape measure and turned to Hailie. “I… don’t mean to make this awkward but, your blouse is thick enough that it might throw off my measurements. Could I… have you lift it for just a minute?” she asked, a little embarrassed. She wasn’t sure why she felt weird about it, she had asked customers to remove clothing plenty of times before, sometimes it was necessary for getting the right measurements. Making the pregnant lady do it felt a little different though.

Hailie silently nodded, blushing a little, and rolled up her blouse. Without the extra mass of her top, Hailie’s belly almost seemed a little smaller, but it was still visibly pregnant. Her belly button was very shallow, and directly above it a small scar betrayed the former location of a navel piercing. Around her hips and lower tummy, small pink stretchmarks had taken root, and were slowly spreading up her skin. Reily tried to stifle her own blush as she wrapped the tape around Hailie’s warm belly. Her waist was 34 inches around at the biggest point, her hips, 34… Reily silently jotted the numbers down, stealing one last glance at Hailie’s tummy before the blouse slid down to cover it again.

“I’ll get to work on the alterations. Again, I expect it to be done in about a week,” Reily finally said, using her professionalism to cut the awkward silence. Hailie smiled and nodded, the rose blush fading from her cheeks. “Thank you for all of your hard work. I’m lucky to know someone who knows her way around a dress,” she complimented. Reily smiled as she led her customer out to the front of he store. “I’m lucky to have such lovely customers,” she hummed back.

The ladies said their goodbyes and Hailie waddled out the way she came. Reily wondered if she’d get to see her at full term. Taking a non-maternity dress and altering it to fit someone triplet heavy at full term would be a very intense challenge, but not impossible. She shook her head. Such an order wasn’t likely. She took another look at the dress she’d been given, and started brainstorming.

#2023 pregnancy kink advent calendar #long post #writing

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deepspacedukat · 2 years ago

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Praetor’s Pride - Part 3

Alright, screw it! Brain said take a detour, so I’m takin’ the damn detour. HERE WE GO!

Part 1 here. Part 2 here.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Praetor Hiren (ST:Nemesis) x Reader

[A/N: This chapter contains a discussion of sexual themes and innuendo that is smut adjacent, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Heavy flirting, sexual innuendo, discussion of sex vs love, teasing, almost neck kissing, mild Romulan hand play, discussion of philosophy as flirtation, very slight dom/sub dynamics, accidental insults, misunderstandings, plus a new friend; *any discussion of philosophy is most likely entirely false, I only remember a few things from short discussions in high school which was nearly a decade ago, I apologize to any philosophy majors/students, I know nothing but I needed to pretend I knew something to bump the plot along.*

~*~

“Aren’t you just the living embodiment of grace and beauty?” Letant called from his seat on my bed as I stepped out of the bathroom in one of my summer dresses. The material was light and airy, and it accentuated all the right places with swaths of lavender-colored fabric. The lower hem ended just above my knees - a length he assured me would be more than appropriate for the setting of a casual meal with the Praetor. That was still surreal to think about.

I gave a little twirl to showcase the garment, and when I stopped, Letant was on his feet smiling proudly at me. As I made my way to him, his hands shot out and grasped my waist, pulling me off balance just enough to force me to brace my hands on his shoulders. He guided me across the room, stepping as if we were dancing to music only he could hear. Giggles bubbled up from both of us as we moved.

The Senator gave me a little half twirl and caught me with my back pressed against the steady warmth of his sturdy chest. His arms slipped around my waist just as I realized we were standing in front of my full-length mirror.

“Absolutely stunning, e’lev. The Praetor will likely propose to you on the spot.” His velvety voice flowed low and smooth over my ear as he touched his cheek to my temple. Looking at our reflections twined so closely, it occurred to me that we looked almost like a couple ourselves. This wasn’t the first time I’d had such thoughts about how close we’d grown, but it was the first instance where I could fully visualize what we might look like. “You’ll be in residence on Romulus by the end of the week.”

“I highly doubt that,” I murmured laying my hands over his arms. Letant’s gaze raked over me in the mirror, shamelessly taking in every inch of me. “Which perfume should I wear?”

“Mmm, none. Your natural Human pheromones are seductive enough,” he murmured turning his head slightly and nuzzling into my hair. “You’re a walking temptation. Hiren’s a lucky old devil, I’ll certainly give him that.”

“I thought Romulans didn’t believe in luck,” I prodded as I turned in his grasp and looked up at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “And if they’re so seductive, then why haven’t you tried to take me for yourself, Senator?”

Letant’s jaw tensed. I almost regretted asking, because he seemed so reluctant to answer. Had I embarrassed him? Just as my name passed his lips, my door chime sounded, and he took a quick, startled step back. Forcing a smile, he gestured toward my living space.

I began to walk the way he indicated, but every step away from him with this gaping question hanging between us felt wrong. Stopping after just a few, I strode back to Letant with one final burst of confidence and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on his cheek.

“We’ll talk when I get back, I promise,” I whispered leaning back to look into his soulful blue eyes. Usually they were like mirthful ice, but at the moment, all I could see was a soft sort of longing. With the full knowledge of the gesture’s meaning, I tangled my fingers with his and gave my friend one last affectionate smile before walking back toward the door of my quarters.

As it slid open, a tall, uniformed Romulan gave me a polite nod.

“Ambassador. I am one of the Praetor’s personal guards. My orders are to escort you to your appointment with him,” he stated stepping aside so that I could exit the room.

“Thank you for your escort, sir. May I ask...are you military? It’s just that your uniform is...well, it’s different than the ones I’ve seen before.” The guard gave a small smile at my question.

“In a way, yes. I am part of the Imperial army, but a separate division called the Rei’karansu. We are specially trained to protect the Praetor and his inner circle of trusted associates,” he answered, and I nodded my head as I absorbed the information.

“What may I call you, sir? I don’t intend that to be a personal question. I simply wish to address you with the respect you deserve,” I explained, and he straightened slightly as he walked.

“I am Major Denak, Ambassador,” he stated with a proud little smile. Clearly he’d worked hard to reach this position.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Major,” I said as we reached the transporter room and stepped onto the pad. “Energize when ready, Chief.”

The transporter chief nodded her head and sent us whizzing down in a sparkle of blue light. When we materialized, the imposing facade of the Praetor’s personal residence made my lips part in surprise. We’d been at a State building the night before, which was impressive in itself, but I hadn’t expected the Praetor’s residence to be just as grandiose.

“I was just as wide-eyed when I first saw the Praetor’s Palace as a boy,” Denak murmured as he gestured for me to walk with him. “We shouldn’t keep the Praetor waiting. I believe he’s looking forward to your company.”

After passing through what felt like endless hallways and ornate rooms, Denak left me just past the double doorway leading onto a veranda. The structure overlooked an exquisite garden filled with topiaries, trees, and a large variety of flowers. To one side was a table with silverware laid out for two, and standing by one of the statuesque support posts was my date.

Hiren’s hands were clasped behind his back as he looked out into the vast array of foliage. Today he wore no robes, only a dark gray tunic with silver piping along the sleeves, neck, shoulders, and lower hem. A pair of matching dark gray pants highlighted his figure. He was still very much in shape despite his hair having gone entirely silver. How old was he exactly? Obviously, that had no bearing on our growing familiarity, but that didn’t stop me from being curious about him.

Hiren hadn’t seemed to notice my arrival. He must be lost in thought - not exactly surprising given his occupation. Quietly, I stepped up to his side and copied his posture, looking out over the gardens with him. He must have seen me out of the corner of his eye. From my peripheral vision, I saw his head turn toward me.

“I thought you looked ravishing last night, lhhei, but I realize that I had not seen true beauty until this moment. You look utterly radiant in the sunlight,” Hiren said, and I felt my cheeks start to burn. Damn the man, he didn’t have to be so charming. Turning and looking up at him, I smiled.

“Thank you, Hiren. At the risk of exacerbating that inflated ego of yours, you look quite dashing yourself,” I praised allowing my eyes to skim over him once more. He let out a light chuckle and did the same.

“Would you be so kind as to indulge a whim?” He asked, and I lifted an eyebrow curiously. “As our meal is not quite ready yet, would you take a turn in the garden with me? It would be an honor and a great personal pleasure to have such a lovely woman by my side.”

He offered me his arm like a gentleman would, and, attempting to be casual about it, I accepted. We walked silently for a few moments through the artfully arranged flower beds before I chanced a question.

“Are these your work, Hiren? Or that of a groundskeeper?”

“Mine, actually. My predecessor wasn’t exactly enamored with nature. He preferred the glory of battle to that of the simple pleasure of watching something you’ve nurtured beginning to bloom,” he replied in a somewhat weighted tone. Were we still talking about gardening? Pausing to step off the path, my companion led me over to a blue bush teeming with little yellow flowers. “Take this, for example. These flowers are of a variety only seen on Remus - their name is unpronounceable for non-Remans. Colloquially, we call them Sleeping Suns. Would you be so kind as to smell them?”

I leaned in toward one bloom in particular, but no scent offered itself.

“I’m afraid I don’t smell anything.” Despite my confusion, Hiren gave a secret sort of smile.

“Remove one of the petals and warm it with your fingers,” he instructed, and carefully I did as he asked. After a few moments, he nodded his head and I lifted it to my nose again. This time, a sweet, musky scent floated gently up to greet me. My eyes flicked up to Hiren’s which were shining with a proud sort of joy. “One must be willing to be patient to discover that which is truly worth experiencing.”

“I completely agree. These would make a lovely perfume, by the way,” I noted in an offhanded sort of way.

“It is often used as such, but very few people value the flowers themselves since it takes a bit of coaxing for them to release their...secrets,” Hiren noted with a warm smile. “Many never appreciate their hidden depths. They see only one dimension and never take the time to delve deeper despite the benefits of doing so.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who stops at surface level when seeking understanding,” I replied catching on to what he might mean beneath the analogy of the flower.

“I’m very glad to hear that, lhhei. You strike me as the same sort of person,” he said picking one of the flowers and tucking it gently behind my ear. We stepped back onto the path, and I grasped his arm once more. “Forgive me if I seem too forward, but...well, beauty like yours is enough to test any green-blooded Romulan’s honor.”

“Oh Mighty, Handsome Praetor, I think you might be conflating honor with...well, something less fit for public discussion,” I murmured playfully as a smirk stretched my lips. Curious about his potential reaction, I released his arm and wandered deeper into the garden, pausing by a pair of rather square bushes housing sky blue blooms to glance back at him over my shoulder.

He stood tall and imposing - utterly regal - not far from me with a small smirk on his lips. Romulans were usually quite mercurial, but so far Hiren’s moods seemed to change less rapidly. Perhaps his age lent him a little extra calm as a buffer between passions? At the moment, he seemed intrigued, if I was reading him correctly, which I was fairly certain of given my experiences with Letant and his behavior.

“You wound me, dear lady,” Hiren said as he moved closer, but I matched him pace for pace in the other direction as his voice floated up from behind me dripping with faux innocence. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Who, me? Why, what could I possibly accuse you of, Hiren? Surely a distinguished gentleman like yourself wouldn’t entertain any lascivious or obscene thoughts...” I replied as I stepped around a hedge and made my way to the shade of a large, sturdy tree. Without further knowledge of Romulan flora, I couldn’t identify what type it was, but the bark was a deep, almost purple-toned brown, and the leaves were torrid hues of orange. A fitting place to pause, considering that I was most likely playing with fire.

Skimming my fingertips over the oddly-textured, almost silky smooth bark, I strolled around its circumference, giving Hiren a glance over my shoulder before the wide trunk removed me from his line of sight. I was glad I’d chosen to wear semi-sensible flats instead of something with a taller heel.

Quick as a flash, Hiren was standing in front of me. I gave him an innocent little smile and made to step around him, but his arm shot out and caught me easily by the waist. With barely any coaxing required, he pressed my back gently up against the tree’s trunk. Keeping one arm around my waist and bracing the other against the bark beside my head, he leaned slowly in until barely an inch separated us. My cheeks burned as I braced my hands on his shoulders.

“Tell me something,” his voice was low and velvety. The vibrations of every syllable rumbled through his chest, making my breath hitch. At this close proximity, I had no doubt that he could tell what he was doing to me. “Does Human philosophy cover the subject of romance?”

“It does, but the views you’ll find depend on what aspect you’re referring to,” I murmured, but despite how unsteady I sounded, Hiren seemed almost unbothered by our proximity. He lifted an eyebrow as if to prompt me to continue, so that’s what I did. “Well, there’s some discussion about the separation of love as an emotional state and the act itself.”

“Oh?” The weight of his gaze and tone sent my pulse thrumming.

“Some believe that love is an emotional state too pure to be consummated, that it’s motivated by extreme respect for the person, and is to be accompanied by chivalrous acts.” I was actually impressed with how intelligible I sounded despite how flustered Hiren was making me. “Others bel–”

I broke off with a gasp as he leaned in farther, brushing his lips over the apple of my cheek. My eyelids snapped closed and my grip tightened on his shoulders.

“Go on. Others believe...?” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper as the tip of his nose brushed lightly up the side of my face to my temple. I swallowed reflexively and tried to find my voice again.

“Others believe in something called ‘Behaviorism.’ It paints love as a series of...of quantifiable actions and preferences, but that’s a little...clinical for my tastes,” I stammered, but Hiren just hummed and slipped one of his legs between mine as his lips skimmed lightly down my neck. A quiet whimper escaped me, only to be accompanied by a second, more predatory hum from the Romulan pressed up against me.

“Are those the only two views your people hold?” He asked as casually as if he was discussing the weather. “I thought your species might be more intellectually varied than that...”

“No, there are almost as many views as there are people. Our literature and cultural creativity have discussed the subject of romance for as long as we’ve existed, but there’s not one general consensus. It’s all a matter of personal belief,” I responded as his teeth grazed the crook of my neck. In some futile effort to keep myself together, I kept talking. “S-Some people prefer casual relationships with just sex and no feelings involved. Others think...that love is a spiritual response...a recognition of someone else whose soul completes or augments theirs to make them whole...that the act and the emotion go hand-in-hand.”

“And what do you believe, sahe’lagge?” Hiren inquired as he pulled back just far enough to look into my half-lidded eyes. He’d have to be blind not to see the desire coursing through me. I wondered if Letant had been correct about Human pheromones. Maybe he hadn’t been teasing me, after all. Maybe Romulans really could detect them.

“That’s a rather personal question, Hiren. You haven’t even told me what Romulans believe yet,” I said trying to sound much more confident than I felt.

“How impolite of me. I beg your forgiveness, lhhei. How would you prefer to receive my atonement?” The tip of his nose nuzzled mine with a tenderness I hadn’t expected after such a heated interaction. It took every ounce of my restraint not to kiss him senseless. Such an act would, most likely, startle him since Romulans didn’t use their mouths for intimacy.

“An answer to my question would suffice for now,” I murmured. “What do Romulans believe when it comes to romance?”

“I’d have thought that Letant would’ve explained at least some of what we believe to you given your status with him.” What the hell did he mean by that? “When we take mates, it’s for life. And if our mates die, we mourn, of course, but we honor their memories by loving with even more passion and vigor than in our previous marriage. We can be quite possessive with our partners, but we would protect them with our lives without hesitation if the situation called for it. Unlike other species, we would do anything for those we love.”

I blinked at that last statement. It seemed like an odd addition.

“We are much the same when it comes to protecting our partners.”

“Oh? Is that a view that all of you share or is that a personal conviction?” He asked.

“I’d say the vast majority of Humans would give their lives to protect their loved ones,” I replied without hesitation, and Hiren looked genuinely surprised.

“How odd. You must be one of the more selfless members of your species.” Well, that didn’t sit quite right with me. Carefully ducking beneath his arm and starting to walk again, I tried to work out what I was feeling. Had he been trying to compliment me with unfortunate wording, or was this just a knee-jerk insult to all of Humanity? Was he truly so surprised that I wasn’t a lower lifeform simply because I wasn’t Romulan?

“Actually, Praetor, I’m quite average for my species,” I called as I made my way toward a small pond surrounded by aquatic plant life. Footsteps followed not far behind me after a short pause, keeping me acutely aware of his proximity for an entirely different reason than before.

“There’s no need to be modest, lhhei. I can spot an extraordinary specimen a star system away.”

‘Specimen’? Is that what he saw me as? A lower being involved in some experimental seduction? My heart sank. Had Letant been wrong about him, after all? But that didn’t make sense after his flower analogy. Were his words simply...words?

“I’m not, actually. I’m speaking truthfully,” I said looking up at him as he moved to stand by my side in front of the placid water. “You seem to be laboring under several false assumptions about Humans.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, just as I undoubtedly harbor many misconceptions about Romulans.” Hiren tilted his head curiously, evaluating my statement silently before nodding his head.

“Perhaps you’re correct. We know very little about each other outside of military conflicts and outdated stereotypes,” he said with a slow smile. “I would be honored to teach you about my people if you would be so good as to teach me about yours?”

With a slightly easier smile, I agreed to such an exchange. Letant had learned quickly that I wasn’t just some pretty little alien, and I was aware that the older people became, the more set they were in their ways. Teaching Hiren the lesson that Humans were more than we appeared to be was going to be more difficult, but given how he was capable of behaving, I was willing to make the attempt.

One of his staff notified him that the midday meal was ready. As it was laid out, the two of us returned to the veranda. The rest of the meal passed casually, conversation flowing almost as easily between us as it did between myself and Letant. That realization alone startled me.

I knew what pleasantness was possible between us - I’d tasted it now. If this did turn out to be no more than some sick little experiment, I had no idea how I’d handle the fallout. I really did like him. I could see myself with him in...well, in more ways than one.

As we relaxed afterwards, lounging in our chairs after cleaning our plates, a voice sounded from beside us.

“Forgive the interruption, my Lord Praetor, but the Chairman has arrived for your afternoon appointment. He’s waiting in your study as you requested.” We both looked over to see Denak standing a few feet from the table with his hands clasped respectfully behind his back.

“Thank you, Major. I’ll meet him there now,” Hiren said as we both got to our feet. He moved to stand in front of me one last time and lifted my hand to his lips. “I have thoroughly enjoyed our time together, lhhei. I realize your delegation is only here for one more day before you return to your side of the Neutral Zone, but...would you permit me to entertain you once more before your departure?”

“What did you have in mind?” I tried to sound as though I was still considering the question rather than being on the verge of accepting regardless.

“Letant told me that you’re dining with him tomorrow night,” he stated, and I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. The arrogant bastard of a Senator had obviously made the assumption that he was infallibly correct about the outcome of this introduction. “Would you join me for a nightcap afterwards?”

I acted as though I was thinking it over, but barely a second in, Hiren tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes.

“You’re supposed to say ‘yes,’” he whispered with a little wink. How could I refuse? And why would I want to?

The back of my mind brought up his words from earlier in answer to that question, but I brushed them aside for the moment.

“Yes, rekkhai,” I breathed even though I knew it was probably a bad idea, and he gave me a warm smile with just a hint of relief in it. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a sliver of hunger, as well...

“Letant will undoubtedly want to escort you here himself. I look forward to spending more time with you.” He gave my fingers a final, gentle squeeze and looked over at Denak. “See that my lady returns safely to her quarters, Major.”

A little shiver ran up my spine when I noticed he called me his lady. His. I liked the sound of that...didn’t I? His utter surprise when he found out I was just as intelligent and thoughtful as a Romulan weighed heavily in the back of my mind. I mean, it made sense that he’d be surprised given the Romulan belief that they were superior to all other sentient lifeforms, but...it still grated on me. I didn’t know whether he thought he was genuinely complimenting me with the notion that I was more than he perceived Humanity to be or not, but I didn’t like the idea of him needing to insult all Humans just to say I wasn’t insult-worthy.

It occurred to me, reluctantly, that Letant might owe me that drink, after all. Hiren was attractive and witty, and I did feel safe around him like I did with Letant, but...I didn’t know if I could take him belittling my entire species just to attempt to pay me a compliment. Did he truly think so little of us?

“Yes, Lord Praetor,” Denak replied dutifully, drawing me out of my thoughts. As the younger Romulan gestured for me to go before him, I took a slow breath. At the moment, though, I needed to figure out what in the world Letant had started to say before I left earlier. I wanted to clear the air between us, because, now more than ever, I needed his advice.

~*~*~

Romulan words:

e’lev = darling

Rei'karansu = Praetorate’s personal guards

lhhei = madam

sahe’lagge = passionflower

rekkhai = sir

#deepspacedukat asks #Praetor Hiren x Reader #Hiren x Reader

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Insatiable. ( Jungkook x OC)

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five. Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Summary :

21 year old Hwang Sera is sick of being the only human in an entire clan of vampires. As an immortal human from one of the oldest bloodlines, she is a catch. The Vampire she marries would essentially be indestructible.

Which makes her an easy target for greedy vampires everywhere.

Determined to keep his precious daughter safe, her father hires an old friend , Jeon Jungkook as her full time bodyguard.

Jungkook is 35 years old ( well technically 576 years old ) , father to an adorable five year old kid and he has zero tolerance for Sera and her teenage shenanigans. But , he needs the money and he knows his son would be safe in the Hwang clan’s massive mansion.

And suddenly, after years of despising vampires, all Sera can think about is getting into the gorgeous vampire’s bed and maybe into his heart.

Chapter 1

“He’s so hot.” My sister sighed for the seventeenth time and I glared at her.

“He’s mine. Back the fuck off.” I bared my non existent fangs at her and she retaliated by showing off her own inch long fangs, eyes flashing ruby red in the confines of our huge sprawling bedroom.

The man in question, my sparkling new bodyguard wasn’t here now. He was downstairs at the party, being introduced to the others as the latest addition to our clan.

My mouth watered when I remembered his gorgeous, handsome face. And that body , God.

Sculpted by some higher being who wanted to show off, for sure.

I had never given much thought to losing my virginity. It certainly wasn’t by design that I hadn’t had sex yet but looking at Jeon Jungkook in a fitted black suit, midnight black hair falling into his lovely red eyes and those delicious muscles.....

I kind of believed in fate now.

This was why I’d always been repulsed by the vampires who courted me.

Because Jeon Jungkook had been out there, waiting for me.

And now fate had brought him here and he was going to be mine.

I stumbled over a stray bra, nearly face planting onto the floor .

God, i hated how messy Somi was but I was also eternally grateful that she had skipped out on the party tonight, volunteering to help me with the kids.

I ran a daycare in one of the larger cottages in the estate, keeping the little fanged devils in check while the parents went about their daily lives. On nights like this, when my father hosted guests from every clan in the country for one of his lavish parties, there was always a whole bunch of bite-happy toddlers in need of supervision.

Enter me.

I loved babies. I’d always loved them. They were adorable. And after three years of school , I was finally, officially qualified in caring for them.

Oh and by the way did i tell you that Jungkook had a son? Jeon Joowon was possibly the cutest five year old I’d ever seen and yes I was a little biased but that was okay. I was going to be the kids step mom , after all.

Listen, don’t look at me like that, I just really want to be with Jungkook okay?

I tripped over the same bra when turning back around and I swore.

Focus, Sera. You can day dream about hot vampire daddy later.

“ Why do you have to throw your shit all over the place like this? “ I whined, grabbing the offensive piece of fabric and tossing it at her. She caught is so fast I went a little cross eyed. My sister never missed an opportunity to show off her super-saiyan, vampire powers. That made her a crowd favorite with the toddlers and younglings .

“I still don’t think your choice of a career is smart. These fanged little beasts are impossible to control... ” She commented mildly, watching me stuff two whole cartons of baby wipes into the huge backpack I had propped against the bed. I’d forgotten to restock the day care with wet wipes and it was sheer luck that I had a pair of them lying around my room.

The very idea of entering a room full of babies and toddlers without baby wipes, made me shudder.

“Listen, they’re absolute angels when you listen to what they’re saying. Just because babies can’t talk doesn’t mean they don’t have preferences. All you really need to do is find out what each kid likes and help them feel comfortable -”

“Please stop.” She rolled her eyes and I glared at her.

“I’m a little thirsty. Can i have a sip..” She said softly and I frowned.

“You haven’t drunk from me the entire day. Are you okay?” I held my wrist out.

She shrugged , grabbing my wrist and casually sinking her fangs into the vein . Pain bloomed, familiar and somehow comforting , replaced almost at once by the gentle numbing of her venom. She drank a little and pulled back soon after, linking the puncture wounds for good measure. I watched the skin knit itself together , whole and unmarred in no time.

Perks of being immortal.

The knock on the door made me jump.

“Ms Hwang?” Jungkook’s soft, husky voice came floating through the door and I grinned, cheeks aching with how wide my smile was.

“You look like a maniac. Stop smiling.” My sister looked a little alarmed and I struggled to rearrange my features. Sticking my tongue out at her, I grabbed my sweatshirt, slipping it overhead quickly. I glanced at the mirror, grimacing a bit.

Being with toddlers meant no make up or hair left free.... and so I had a messy top bun, and just lip gloss to look presentable. While the entire party teemed with gorgeous vampires in low cut gowns and blood red lips.

Ugh.

I grabbed the backpack and waved to Somi.

“Come as soon as you can alright?” I begged her and she waved me off.

I rushed to the door, throwing it open and smiling wide.

“Hi oppa.” I said cheerfully.

“I’m not your oppa.” Jungkook said automatically, barely glancing at me and instead reaching for the backpack. He directed me to the stairwell on the side, the one that led straight down to the ground floor and out into the gardens. He went in first and I followed him, climbing down carefully.

I sighed, taking in the mouth watering width of his shoulders, encased in a perfectly fitted jacket. He looked so handsome I wanted to cry. And although he’d been here for a whole week month now, I hadn’t managed to get into his good graces.

“What do I call you, then?” I made to hold his hand when we reached the end of the staircase but he shook my arm off at once.

Did I tell you that he really can’t stand me for some reason?

“As I’ve mentioned a dozen times already, Mr. Jeon would suffice.” He said shortly. He held the door leading out into the gardens open and I walked through.

“That makes you seem so old.” I grimaced, shaking my head and he gave me an amused look.

“I am 576 years old.” He deadpanned. The daycare cottage was just a five minute walk from the mansion and the pathway through the garden was absolutely beautiful, well lit and covered in the brightest flowers.

I waved off his excuse about his age.

“you don’t look a day over twenty five to me.” I said with a shrug. He shook his head, clearly too tired to carry the conversation on. We walked in silence and I felt incredibly content, just with him near.

And he was going to be by my side for the rest of our lives, I thought softly. I would make sure of it. I’d never felt this way about anyone. Jungkook was a good man , evident in literally everything he did. He was kind, an amazing father and such a gentleman that he made me melt.

Jungkook had been turned at the age of 35. And so he sailed through eternity with the gorgeous good looks of a mature , well kept man. His hair was thick, just a slight bit of grey peppering the edges and his features were sharp and well defined.

“Is Joowon in the daycare already?” I asked with a smile and he nodded curtly.

“He has Mr. Pepper with him. He refused to leave him behind. please just make sure he still has him with him when he leaves. He can’t fall asleep without the bunny “ He said softly and I felt my heart bloom ten sizes.

“Of course, I will -”

“Jungkook !!!” The shrill voice broke the stillness of the night like a hammer through a mirror.

I turned around with a frown only to be greeted by the sight of a very pretty, very tall vampire in a blood red bodycon dress and a neckline that plunged all the way to her belly button. She had ruby red lips, and well made eyes. Eyes that now flashed red , dilating as they ran up and down his body.

I felt myself clenching my fists.

“I’m getting late....we need to go, I grabbed his arm trying to tug him along but he didn’t budge. i glanced at his face and felt my heart shatter at the small smile playing around his lips.

“Helena..... Surprise seeing you here....” He drawled, voice so much deeper than usual and I bit my lips. They knew each other?

The vampire had reached us now and she gave me a disdainful smile.

“Who’s this?” She asked with a laugh, “ Are you babysitting now, Jeon?”

I bristled. To my utter chagrin, Jungkook laughed to.

“She’s the kid I’m watching. The Immortal human of the Hwang clan.” He intoned dully.

The lady’s brows went up in surprise.

“:The rumors are true, ....The Hwang clan’s hidden jewel.....with skin like the rarest pearl and eyes that steal souls. Fiercely guarded ...a beauty like no other.... I thought they were exaggerating, but I see they were not. . You’re exquisite.” She commented , seemingly genuine in the compliment as her eyes roved over my features.

“ Um.. thanks?” I shrugged, not particularly flattered by the extravagant description.

The poets in my clan tended to be a bit overdramatic at times.

. She laughed.

“Are you unavailable for the night, then Jeon?” She turned her flashing eyes on him .

My jaw nearly dropped.

Did this bitch really just proposition-

“Afraid so.... Raincheck?” Jungkook smiled wide and he looked so beautiful that I had to bit my lips to stop from moaning.

Helena waved softly, eyes shifting back to me.

“Be safe, little human. When the sun goes down, the ghouls come out to play.” She grinned wide, letting her fangs grow long, past her lower lip, eyes red and bloody.

I stared right back. She laughed and waved before floating away into the night.

Jungkook chuckled.

“You’re not intimidated by us, then.” He said mildly as we began walking again.

“I spent the entirety of my childhood playing with vampires. Do you really think they didn’t spend every waking hour trying to scare me to death?”

He gave me soft smile, and then went back to staring straight ahead.

I relaxed when the familiar cottage came into view, the sound of laughing kids reaching me.

I held my hand out for the backpack and Jungkook gave it to me.

“I’ll just check out the backyard and see if al the gates are secure and then I’ll be right outside the door, alright? Call out if you need me...” He said sharply

“Will you come even if I call you oppa?” I bit my lips, grinning and he flicked my nose.

“Behave.” He said shortly. I sighed.

“I’m not a kid, you know.” I said softly and he gave me a look.

“You are to me. Now get inside.”

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

“There’s a monster behind the tree and I’m Hawkeye because I have the bow and arrow and Jieun is the princess.” Joowon said brightly, showing off the toy bow and arrow in his hand and I grinned, taking in his exquisite features. He looked strikingly like his father , except for the two adorable dimples that showed up everytime he smiled.

“That’s amazing... do you like fighting monsters?” I asked with a grin holding my arms out for him and he hugged me happily.

“Yes, I like fighting monsters and I like Mr. Pepper.” He waved the stuffed bunny in my face.

“Make sure you keep him safe, alright? “ I stroked the soft skin of the

“So what color does your daddy like?” I asked with a grin. I felt a sharp kick on my shin and I turned to my sister.

“Don’t use the fucking kid for your sinful aims, you dingbat!” She hissed and I glared at her.

“I did no such thing...I was just making conversation....” I hissed back.

“Dad likes black.” Joowon answered dutifully and I ruffled his hair. Jieun appeared then, having waited for her prince and gotten bored. She tugged on Joowon’s arm and I let him go, watching the two of them run off.

“Its only been a month, Sera.... I think you should tone down the infatuation. You know dad would never approve.” My sister said gently and I frowned.

“No he won’t, Dad loves me , he wants me to be happy.” I said shortly.

“Yes, but not with Jungkook. He’s a rogue vampire. He doesn’t have a clan. He has a kid ...”

“An angel of a kid...”

“he has a kid whose mother he had to kill because she was a bloodthirsty witch.”

i stared at my sister feeling anger build inside me.

“What does any of that have to do with how I feel about him?” I demanded , moving to stop one of the littles from tripping over a stray rubik’s cube.

“ You’re special. You’re being courted by some of the richest, most powerful vampires in the country and you want to go after the rogue , broke vampire who’s only here because he needs the money and the safety of our clan?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” I said firmly.

Somi sighed.

“I’m just saying. Don’t be so blatantly open about your feelings. You’ll be putting a target on Jungkook’s back.”

I exhaled sharply.

“If anyone tries to hurt him, they die.” I said softly.

Somi chuckled.

“I know.... but still, he’s not looking for trouble. Don’t bring it to his doorstep.”

I didn’t reply, moving quickly to the other side of the room.

the words left a bitter taste on my tongue.

Mostly because my sister was right.

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

i stared at the tall strapping vampire, trying to comprehend what I was hearing.

“What do you mean he isn’t here for the night?” I demanded.

“He’s a little tired. He told me had a little too much to drink and he wants to sleep it off. I’ll be here instead ... Just for tonight.” He tried to smile reassuringly and I was momentarily distracted by very deep dimples but I could feel myself fuming.

“and he didn’t think of saying that to me himself? He had to run off while i was closing up the cottage?” I glared.

The Vampire chuckled.

“He told me you might protest.”

“Of course i protest, I feel safer with him...” I said sharply.

The Vampire gave me a deep sigh.

“I’ve been doing this for three centuries, Miss Hwang. You’re definitely safe with me.” He bowed his head.

“What’s your name?” I demanded.

“Kim Namjoon.”

“Fine , Kim Namjoon ssi.... Let’s go. “

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

Giving Namjoon the slip was a lot easier than I thought. I waited for him to greet my great uncle, and slipped between two waiters carrying blood cocktails and weaved into the crowd easily.

Jungkook’s bedroom was next to mine and it took me less than a minute to race up the stairs and to his room.

i banged on the door , determined to see for myself just how drunk he’d gotten.

The door opened and i took a deep breath.

“How dare you leave me-”

I froze when I realized that he was shirtless, fresh out of the shower. Water dripped down his torso , like little starbursts of liquid light and my mouth went dry. I swallowed, staring at the tightly packed abs, the dip of his v line as it disappeared into a fluffy white towel.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He growled angrily.

My eyes flew to meet his and then my gaze caught something red on his bed and I peered over his shoulder.

Pain lanced through my heart so sharp that I felt like I’d taken a fucking brick to my chest.

The sight of Helena, naked except for a red bra, stretched out on his bed got burned into my brain and I choked.

“You-” I began but he grabbed my arm, so hard that I knew I would bruise. He yanked me away from the threshold of his room, dragging me to the middle of the hallway as he slammed the door to his room shut.

“Where the fuck is Namjoon?”

“You ditched me to get laid? “ I hissed in disbelief.

“I can’t fucking believe you’re doing this-”

“Is she your girlfriend-”

“Sera-” he shook me again but I refused to back down. I had to know.

“Are you in love with her?!!!” I demanded, my heart breaking .

Jungkook growled.

“It’s none of your damned business!!” He snapped angrily .

“It is !!” I said shrilly.

“Why on earth-”

“Because I’m in love with you!!” I shouted and he froze.

He let go of me like he’d been burned and stepped back, staring at me wide eyed,.

“What did you just say?” He demanded.

“I want you. I want you to court me-”

“Sera stop.” He said sharply

“I’m not joking...I like you and-”

“Shut up.” He growled, his voice shaking.

I swallowed.

“If you say something as asinine as that to me , ever again... I will make you regret it. ” He warned softly.

I felt my heart jerk in panic.

“Jungkook-”

“It’s Mr. Jeon to you!!!” He growled.

I bit my lips, staring at my feet.

“I’m going to pretend this never happened. You’re going to go to your room and wait for Namjoon. If anything like this ever happens again, I’m telling your father.”

I laughed bitterly.

“I’m not fucking twelve years old you son of a bitch. Stop talking to me like I’m your toy or something !” I snarled.

“If you were my toy I would fucking spank you till you cry and lock you in a damn room!” He hissed.

I flinched.

He took a deep shaky breath.

“This never happened.” He said sharply. “ I’m not one of your boytoys. I have no interest in fledgling humans who know nothing about life. That's not the kind of woman I’m looking for. You’re not the kind of woman I’m looking for because you aren’t even a woman yet.”

“ Jungkook !!!” Namjoon’s voice rang through the hallway and I stepped back.

“Have a good night with your whore, Mr. Jeon.” I snapped, before turning on my heel and leaving.

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

Author’s Note : Hot DILF! Vampire Jungkook is hot. This brings back fond memories of me panting after my husband as a nineteen year old brat . I was a devilish teenager smitten with a twenty seven year old man. Anyways I hope you guys enjoyed :D

#jungkook #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook vampire #jungkook vampire au #jungkook reaction #bts vampire au #bts smut #bts au

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mywritingonlyfans · 3 years ago

Text

Fluffly fic with Thomas (A bit smut at the end)

this short fic is about: you having a crush on Thomas and he matches.

warnings: it’s a bit smut. fingering + female oral. fem!reader x thomas raggi

Thomas kept his jaw set as he talked to his friends, in a way that you find quiet charming. He was the serious type, but in the best of ways. Anyone who didn't know him would think he was bored or indifferent to the conversation going on around him, something that in a short time you became aware that it was just him being himself.

You love how his body seemed tense and at the same time so out of place. His hair was cascading down his shoulders as his hands shook the beer bottle mysteriously. God certainly had his favourites, Thomas was a living proof of that.

“He fancies you too, you should have noticed that by now,” Victoria whispered, getting your attention back to her.

You were in the kitchen of his house with her.

Your back was against the wall, allowing you a perfect view of Thomas on the other room. He had decided to throw a party and as you were new to the group it was obvious that you’d be there with them.

“I don’t know,” you frowned, “I don’t think he does.”

Thomas could have anyone he wanted, anyone in the room, no matter what room he was in.

He indeed used to be touchy when it comes to you. You remember moments when he'd walk close to you, bumping his shoulder with yours, just for the hell of it or when he’d place his arm around your waist to introduce you to some of his friends, making you part of his chitchat. Over time, you realized this was his way of being friendly. Thomas was like that with everyone, you were no exception.

“Well, that’s not what Dami told me. He said he asked several times if you‘d come tonight and all of that,”

“Yeah?” Your voice was low, secretly afraid she might be poking fun at you. It wasn’t her type to do that, but when it comes to Thomas your head doesn’t work coherently.

Your attention wandered from her, back to Thomas across the room. Just for you to notice that his eyes were already on you this time, he smirked, and then waved at you.

Needless to say you became a self-consciousness clutter under his eyes.

You were about to answer him, even if it was with a small nod, but Victoria was quicker and while one of her shoulders nudged you; she signaled asking him to join you.

“That’s so cute, you’re literally weak at the knees,” Victoria took a sip of her beer, holding a sly smile on her face. “You two will be a lovely couple.” She concluded as nervousness took over your soul.

You pressed your hands on your skirt, in a failed attempt to get rid of the sweating.

Victoria was right, you were a bit shaken and you knew that your abrupt change in breathing next to your already hot cheeks could give you away. You had no idea why you were like that, things would be the same as before; he doesn't know how you feel about him.

You sighed heavily, giving Victoria a menacing look as you sat on the metal space of the sink. In your head, leaving Thomas's field of vision as he came to you would give you enough time to proceed what had just been said.

"Ayup girl!" He said happily, holding a toothy smile for you. "How're my favorite girls doin' tonight?" His arm went over to your shoulder and you hugged his waist sideways, in an almost involuntary act. You heard Victoria laugh, and then it hits you how strange it was that it became something normal in such a short time. Maybe it was meant to be, you wondered.

"Ok, excuse me kids," Victoria blinked at you. "I'll be retiring, but don't have so much fun without me."

"Is that even possible?" Thomas asked, playing along with Vic's drunk words.

She was no longer in the kitchen and his hands were still on you, besides now he had turned so he was facing you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, getting so close that you couldn't even focus on your breathing anymore.

He offered you his beer, which was half full and you drank it. Your mind wondered if he did this with other girls as well or if it was something exclusive that he only did with you, you wanted to be the only one.

"You seem a bit tense," His fingers enlaced a lock of your hair, putting it behind your ear.

His cheeks were slightly red from the heat, and so were his lips - probably from the pressure of the beer bottle against them -, his button-down shirt was more unbuttoned than usual, making it look like his necklaces was begging for your attention. It was clear that God was in a good mood and Thomas was his chosen one tonight. "Rumours has it -- that I make you nervous,"

There was no need to say it out loud. Dami had told Victoria, and it was logical that Victoria had also told Dami, then Dami told Thomas about you; in the same way Victoria told you about him. Thomas knew it was reciprocal.

“Rumours?” You mumbled. His face getting closer and closer to yours as his hands held the sides of your head; messing your hair a little. His face lit up in a naughty smile. “Is that what Dami said Victoria told him?”

“No matter who said it -- what matters is that I do it to you, right? Don’t I make you nervous?” He insisted as if he didn't know the answer.

At that moment the two of you were already a tangle. Your hand resting on his chest while your knees parted, giving more room to his weight.

You nodded. His eyes scanned your face for a moment and that was enough for your bodies to stick together, you could finally feel his lips on yours. He took his time caressing your nose with the tip of his one, running his fingers over your check. You were sure he could feel your body shiver under his touch as you melted in his tongue.

“Hey, Thomas,” you heard someone calling him.

The person was certainly drunk, which made you wonder whether Thomas was, too. He didn't taste like alcohol, but that could be the cigarette taste that has become prevalent for you.

Could you be his drunk mistake? Would you be a one time thing?

He broke the kiss, biting and pulling at your lower lip. You held a groan while he turned to the caller.

You thought he would forget you there, but his hands went down to your hips and stayed there until his little conversation was over - his attention was still on you, fully on you. He squeezed your sides while you rested your head on his shoulder, watching him speak; specifically watching him because if someone asked you what they were talking about you wouldn’t know the answer to that.

“Do ya wanna go somewhere quieter?” He asked as soon as you were 'alone'. His lips now all over your neck and shoulder.

You wanted to, but the voices in your head screamed to be answered. Whould you really just be a one time thing for Thomas?

“We don't have to go, I don't mind spending my time here with you, bunny.”

You tilted your head to the side, holding his jaw in your hands to look at his face. “Actually, that whouldn’t be a bad thing.”

After your words, it was a matter of seconds before Thomas guided you through the house to his room. His silly smile remained on as he did his best to ignore everyone in his path.

You had never been in his room before but it was just as you imagined, there were some vinyls scattered on the floor along with some of his garments pieces, his guitar was on the bed, almost falling to the groud. His room was just as messy as him.

“If I knew I’d welcome you here, I’d have fix it a bit,” he murmured, placing the guitar in the corner of the room. He tries to arrange the blankets in the best way he could, and then sat on the end of the bed, gestuting for you to join him as well.

“I don't care much about the bed,” You whispered, realizing that it was really happening. You were with Thomas, in his room. You had just exchanged saliva with him a few minutes ago.

“So,” he sighed. “Are you sure about that?”

“About what?” You smirked. It was obvious that you knew what he was talking about.

“About what?” He repeated, throwing his body weight on the bed quite dramatically. “I don’t know, cute girl at a party, calling me to a quieter place,”

“Wait,” you leaned over him, awkwardly getting on top of him. “I didn’t ask you that,”

“Like you need to ask me to know that the answer would be yes.” His hand stopped over the hem of your skirt, making it possible to feel his fingertips on your thigh.

You came closer to him, feeling your breath blend with his warm one. You would be lying if you said you had never fantasized about that moment before. Taking a deep breath, you tickled his cheek with your nose as he pulled all your body into his.

It wouldn't hurt to let that happen and only worry about the other things on your head the next day, right?

“Yeah, I’m sure about that,” You pressed your lips together.

His hands squeezed your waist, turning your body over so your back was now on the mattress.

“Arms up,” he said in between a sigh.

You raised your arms, letting him remove your shirt. He had a comforting look on his features that soothed you.

He stood on the bed before stepping out of it. You laughed through your tension.

“What you’re doing?” You asked, leaning on your elbows.

He knelt on the floor at the end of the bed. You felt your body tense even more, your head full of thoughts per minutes. You did not remember the last time you had shaved, let alone if there were any marks on there too.

“I’m gonna take care of ya, bunny, “ He breathed and you could have sworn to feel him in you already. “Just relax,” his mouth trailed wet kisses down your things. He pulled your skirt up to your waist; in movements that seemed so perfect that could only have been calculated. Maybe he was a bit nervous, not as nervous as you, but a cool type of nervous.

You nodded, looking at the ceiling, feeling as he pulled your knees towards him. You opened your thighs slowly and soon felt his lips on your clit through the cotton. He reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers in his. And God, he felt like heavens.

“Don’t just nod at me. I want to hear you, lil’ bunny,” He rubbed the already wet fabric with his index finger.

You weren't sure what he was referring to, but seeing his face resting on the inside of your thigh, with his messy hair and eyes stuck on you; you know you would be able to do anything he wanted you to do.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

He put the cotton piece aside, diving himself in your nectar and slipping his fingers inside you. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back at the feeling. He hummed in a smiled that sent you vibrations every once in a while, he clearly knew what he was doing. Soon, he shoved his tongue down your core, licking and sucking, gathering all your juice in his mouth.

“So sweet,” he moaned at your taste, starting to lap his tongue at your clit. Joints deep down your pussy, going faster on you, making your legs quiver around his head as you turned into a whining mess.

“Thommie,” you grunted, tugging hard at his soft curls. “Oh, please.” you gasped through your dry throat.

The combination of his tongue and fingers working on you made the butterflies in your stomach go wild and in between spasms and wriggling toes, you allowed yourself to surrender under his touch.

Your vision blurred and your breathing ability seemed to have left your soul, but he kept with the wet kisses until you calmed down.

Your body was weak; that good weakness where you wished to stay quiet in the same comfy bliss forever.

“Are you good?” His voice made you open your eyes again. His chin was glistening and shirt folded up to the elbows. Such a sight for sore eyes.

“I’m fine, I’m pretty fine,” he laughed, helping you adjust your skirt.

“You’re pretty,” he said at your previous words, lying down and putting you on top of him.

Both of your faces were close - just as it had been all night. You could get used to it. Looking in his eyes, you wanted to ask if he would still think you were beautiful in the morning, when all the enthusiasm that parties bring to people were over; but you decided to go against it when you remembered that you had promised yourself to enjoy the moment.

“Whatcha thinkin’?” His asked, clasping his arms around. You felt nicely snugged.

“You,” it wasn't completely a lie.

His smile got bigger, and it was possible to analyze his cute crooked teeth. His eyes glued to you, sweet and happy, that you wished you could decipher him through it.

“Good, -- I like it like that,” He added.

It would be a matter of days for you to learn that his look was one of fondness and that you would live under it for months, seasons and even years.

#maneskin #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi imagines #thomas raggi fanfic #damiano david x reader #fanfic #fiction #imagines #writing #maneskin x reader #i have a hard time proofreading this one but i hope you guys like it #i'll be writing kinky ones next time bc you guys notice im not that sweet

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shotorozu · 4 years ago

Note

HI AIDHAIHDHAJD I HOPE YOU’RE DOING WELL RN BUT I SAW THIS POST ON TIKTOK AND- BQKDHQIHAHA ITS SO FUNNY IF IT’S OKAY TO YOU CAN YOU PLEASE DO THAT ONE FOR KAMINARI, BAKUGO AND SHOTO 😭😭

IT’S JUST SO??? BAHAHAHAH THANK YOU THOUGHT ILY🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

(https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSJRWVY2g/)

giving them boxers with your face on them

(tiktok trend)

character(s) : kaminari denki, bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, crack (x reader)

note(s) : PLEASE I BURSTED INTO LAUGHTER WHEN I READ THE TITLE, AND IM NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO LAUGH THAT MUCH 💀💀

no proof read— wrote this at 12am so,, if there are any mistakes, i’ll fix them later!

»»————-　♡　————-«

kaminari denki

you saw a tiktok of someone giving their boyfriend a pair of boxers— but it had their face on it. so, you KNEW that you NEEDED to give this to denki.

beforehand, you asked his besties— sero and kirishima, to help you out on this tiktok. because,, if you asked someone else, it would’ve DEFINITELY been questioned (and obviously, they were willing to help)

but let’s be honest, when you told them what exactly you wanted to get done, they bursted into laughter 💀 and it took them 10 minutes to recover

it didn’t take long for you to receive the pair, and you also managed to conceal the pair of boxers with dark packaging. all that’s left is your boyfriend’s arrival

now— you’d think that denki would know about this new trend going around, but surprise! he doesn’t know 🗿

and even if he did know, i feel like he’d be caught off guard anyway— if you saw someone’s face on a piece of underwear, you would be surprised too

when you were setting up your phone (for the tiktok) that was when denki comes in, “hey Y/N! whatchu doing?”

“hi denki, look! i want you to open something i got you— and it’s custom made.” this sparks his interest no pun intended, and he hurries on to open it

and he is NOT DISAPPOINTED

he doesn’t even comment on the fact that your phone is out which he assumed was for tiktok and he bursts into uncontrollable laughter, practically snorting

“PLEEASEE WHY DO YOU HAVE YOUR FACE ON A PAIR OF BOXERS? I WASN’T EXPECTING THIS—” and he really meant that.

after you finished filming the tiktok, denki basically SPRINTED to the bathroom, so that he could wear the boxers 💀 he has to cherish your gifts as soon as he received them, right?

he’ll talk about them once in a while, “remember the time that you gave me those boxers? plEASE it’s still funny.”

the tiktok does incredibly well, and heck— it even came to the point where the tiktok’s sound went viral 💀 gathering 11k videos under that sound

bakugou katsuki

the idea never crossed your mind— and the tiktok didn’t show up on your fyp. but it did show up on kaminari’s fyp

you’d be scared because one, he’d scold you for spending too much money on ‘stupid pair of boxers’ which you worded in katsuki’s words

and two— this is bakugou katsuki 🧍 pranks and trends like these don’t really work on him, and you’re also scared of angering him?? you value NOT dying in the hands of an angry bakugou katsuki, okay?

but i don’t think that should be your concern anyway, the fact that you even managed to tame katsuki— was enough

back to the topic, kaminari basically dared you to give katsuki that because “he’d appreciate anything from his dearest s/o, riiigght?” and he’s not wrong

so, you receive the custom made boxers in the mail (with your face SLAPPED on it’s front) and you make sure to repackage the boxers

so that the wrapping would conceal the boxers’ print— and so that the surprise would be a tad bit more effective.

when you were discreetly setting your phone up for the tiktok, that was also when katsuki came from his daily workout routine

he’s just like 🤨 when he sees you all excited— and when he also sees the package

“what are you all excited about?” he’ll ask after pecking your lips,“idiot?? don’t tell me yo—”

“no, no! it’s for you, this time!” you reassure him, “i promise it’s not anything funny!” too bad katsuki believes you

he walks over, and immediately tears the wrapping— “what the,,” when he opens the package, he is NOT pleased 🧍

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?? YOU’RE GIVING ME BOXERS WITH YOUR FACE ON THEM??”

you just laughed out loud, rolling onto the floor in pure laughter— and katsuki can only stare at the boxers in shock, “you’re gonna wear them, right?”

“no, fuck no.” he’s so done with your shit

“aww pleaseee? those were expensive, AND they were custom made.” he’s so disappointed wjdnsjs

“i—” he sighs, “you’re lucky that i love you. i would’ve chucked this.. thing in the trashcan.”

it’s,,, the thought that counts for sure! he’ll probably wear them once in every blue moon though.

kaminari watches the tiktok, and ends up having the biggest field day— on the brighter side! your wallet isn’t that empty anymore.

if you’re curious about the tiktok’s results, it does well— it’s almost scary, considering how the tiktok blew up FAST

todoroki shouto

pleaseeee 💀🖐

now,, shouto would’ve thought that you wanted to gift those boxers to him GENUINELY. like,, sincerely

not like a gag gift, but more like a “oh hey shouto! i saw these boxers while shopping, and i thought these would look great on you.”

and you’d also think that shouto would’ve gotten a lot more used to the social thing— in a way, he has.

but,, boxers with YOUR face on them??? that wasn’t in the run through, tf

you were shopping online for clothes, when you suddenly got the greatest idea to surprise your boyfriend with a pair of boxers—

that had your face on them 💀

you don’t actually mean to tease him, but you’re just really curious on how he’d react to seeing the boxers (and if he’d actually wear them)

you place your phone in a not so obvious area— but it was also high enough to capture his reaction. when you get the boxers, they actually came in black packaging so,, less trouble!

“hey love,” he greets you with a quick kiss on the lips— and he quickly notices the black package that sat right next to you. “what’s that?”

“oh, speaking of which—” you hold out the box, “open it!”

and shouto is like,, hmm.. because you didn’t tell him what exactly the gift was, but either way— anything from you would be worth the suspense im sorry, but you’re just trying your best to hold yourself back

when he opens the package, he’s surprised to see what appears to be shorts, but when he unfolds the pair of ‘shorts’

😯 “is that..” he’s at a loss for worrd, completely BAFFLED at the sight of your face on a pair of boxers. out of all of the things he was expecting, it,, wasn’t this

YOU JUST CAN’T HELP BUT LAUGH AT THE FACT THAT HE’S LIKE 😯 ➡️🧍

shouto’s so confused, because why are you laughing? was this not genuine? is this not a social cue he doesn’t understand? why would he not like them??

but he’s surprised for sure, so he does laugh, “Y/N, i’d appreciate anything you’d give me. so, this was not any exception— but this was certainly the most interesting gift you have given me.”

setting all of jokes aside, he takes good care of the boxers— commenting on how he doesn’t want to tarnish the fabric, or the print of your astonishing face.

he wears them when he’s not going anywhere 🗿 so occasionally, you’d catch a glimpse of those boxers in the laundry—

he’s not very shy about it, since “you gifted me them so.. i’m using them.”

when you posted the tiktok, it does extremely well— and it mostly consisted of comments like “LMAO WE KNOW HOW MUCH YOU WANTED TO LAUGH” “he was genuinely surprised lmaooo”

»»————-　♡　————-«

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

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imaginesupply · 3 years ago

Text

Spencer Reid Imagine: Just peachy

Spencer Reid Imagine: Just Peachy

Summary : Reader (female pronouns, no Y/N, third person) is hosting dinner night at her apartment for the time. Spencer volunteers to help with the preparations. Derek is a good friend.

Warnings: Smut (handjob – male receiving, cum in pants), sub!Spencer, the Lord’s name in vain (only once), one mild curse word. (Because some of this shows Spencer’s thoughts, I had to refrain from using slang words for bodily parts and bodily fluids sometimes. Please don’t judge me.)

Word count: About 1.5k

Note: I wrote this really quickly when I was taking a break from working on my thesis (how Spencer went through the PhD pain thrice willingly, I will never understand) and my brain was fried. Consequently, this is the fic equivalent of the snack you make at 3am when you’re tipsy.

"Remember what we discussed?" Derek asked an exasperated Spencer for umpteenth time as he pulled over in front of their new co-worker's apartment building.

"Yes," Spencer groaned softly, adjusting his hair. "I have an eidetic memory, you know."

Next to him, Derek chuckled. "I know. No need to be so defensive," he teased, "just be yourself and there's no way she won't fall for you."

"Actually, it's not that -"

Derek cut him off before he could say anything more. "Bullshit. It really is that easy, pretty boy and" - he leaned over, grabbing Spencer's satchel from the backseat - "while everyone is due to arrive at seven, I can divert the rest of team if you just send me a text."

Spencer frowned, staring at his friend like he had grown two heads. "Why would I want you to stall -" He stopped in the middle of the sentence, his eyebrows rising high up his forehead and his cheeks turning pink when he finally realized. "Yeah, no, yes" - Spencer shook his head clearing his now corrupted mind - "what I mean to say is that I would definitely text you but - nevermind. Bye." Then he escaped from the car as if it were on fire, almost tripping on the laces of his converse.

Not even thirty minutes had gone by and Spencer already knew he was in trouble.

They walked through the farmers' market, Spencer carrying the fast filling linen bag. She guided him through the crowd, making them stop at the stalls that held anything of interest and buying various ingredients for dinner: vegetarian gratin and peach pie.

Eventually, they stopped at the fruit stand where she approached and asked the vendor if they could taste the peaches. Though they were out of season, they were looking quite ripe. The old man handed her a peach with a smile. "There you go."

She thanked the man and pulled back the sleeve of her lightweight jacket before taking a bite. That was the exact moment Spencer realised this had been a terrible idea. He should never have listened to Derek. He should not have offered to come earlier and help make dinner.

She took in the scent and hummed against the fruit, softly so, that only he would hear and erotically enough that he had to swallow down the saliva gathering in his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing. She bit down on the fruit, the tips of her lips curling up and then licked off a thin trail of juice along the inside of her wrist and forearm, eyes closed. Then, as if nothing, she turned to the old man. "They're delicious!"

She turned back to Spencer and he noticed she was sporting her usual slightly bemused grin. "Have a taste, darling." She turned the pale fruit in her hand and offered it to him, an expectant look in her eyes. And there, in the middle of the busy farmers’ market, Spencer felt like a teenager whose girlfriend had just slipped her hand down his pants for the first time. Which, of course, he had never experienced so he didn't actually know what that would feel like.

Knowing better than to disobey her, Spencer leaned forward into her hand and took a bite of the remaining fruit, leaving behind only the endocarp, while adjusting his satchel to hide the prominent bulge in his crotch. It was the way she looked and the way she looked at him, the way she made him feel like-

“Are you alright?” She asked.

Spencer swallowed the fruit, his throat tight. “Just peachy.”

If he thought that was torture, nothing had prepared him for the actually cooking part. The space between the cabinets and the kitchen isle was narrow, which meant their bodies always brushed whenever she passed behind him, and he was already a sweaty, blushing mess.

Just be yourself, he reminded himself of what Derek had told him. "Hey, umm," Spencer stammered, drawling off, "did you know that until refrigerators were invented in 1834, salt was widely used to preserve meat."

He heard her soft laugh behind him, immediately turning around at the sound before realising she was bent over the counter, trying to reach something on the highest shelf and he had just inadvertently placed himself right behind her backside.

For some reason he couldn't even begin to explain, his first instinct had been to touch. Luckily, though, he had managed to stop his hands mid air before he could effectively ruin everything, but now all he could see was the black fabric of her pants stretching over the roundness of her hips and the warm pressure against him and-

"Spencer!"

He started, finally looking away. "What?"

She chuckled again. "As much as I appreciate your ability to be a walking encyclopaedia, I'd really enjoy it if you could put your height to good use and pass me the pie dish."

"Of course." Spencer shook his head, clearing his mind. "Yeah, I can do that."

She stepped aside, allowing him to grab the item from the cabinet. "Thank you, darling," she said, grinning.

"No problem," Spencer quipped, wiping his clammy hands on his leg pants as he subtly made sure his predicament wasn't too noticeable.

"Great! You can go ahead and knead the dough before stretching it over the dish."

"Yes, ma'am." His brown eyes went wide when he realised that he'd just said it out loud. It wasn’t even his fault. There was just that natural authority about her that made him very compliant.

She laughed once more, softly, looking up at him almost endearingly. "You can call any m word you like, darling."

His start stopped in his chest. Was she flirting with him? He had noticed her body language did not indicate repulsion and she did touch him more than was strictly necessary, but he didn't think she'd actually flirt with him. Spencer considered that he might really have to send Derek the text, but he tried not to get his hopes up too much. He was already nervous enough as it was.

She came up behind him, taking a look at the dough he had absentmindedly tortured and shook her head in amusement. "No, darling, not like that," she cooed gently, coming up closer until her body was pressed up against his. Spencer gulped nervously, acutely aware of the way her breasts were being squashed against his side.

Then her hand wrapped around his over the dough. "You do it like this, Spencer," she whispered. Her fingers lodged themselves between his, applying light pressure, making them bend to her will. "You need to feel it. Are you feeling it?"

Spencer was certainly feeling it, but not in his hand. He would almost be amazed at how a simple touch on his hand could make him radiate warmth and make all the blood in his brain rush to his dick, if he weren’t becoming so lightheaded.

She kissed his arm over the fabric of his shirt. "Here, let me show you." He felt her free hand slide across his stomach and down to his belt. His body jerked at the touch.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice raspy and sounding like a whimper.

Her hand stilled over the now undone buckle. "You want me to stop?"

"No!"

It came out embarrassingly loud and he might have felt ashamed for it, hadn't she managed to remove his belt and open his pants in record time. She pressed her palm to the front of his boxers, cupping his bulge. The fabric was thin and damp, doing little to numb the sensation of her touch. Spencer knew there was already a stain from the pre-ejaculatory fluid he was leaking, but he couldn't get himself to look down. Two senses at once would be too overwhelming and he was already trembling.

At first, she just ran her the tip of her finger up and down his length, making sure to trace the small slit where the wet fabric clung to the damp head. He shivered against her and let out the cutest, most delicious whimper she had ever heard.

"Do you like how it feels?"

"Yes." He choked out the word. His eyes were shut tight, focusing on the sensation but then she surprised him, sliding her hand inside his boxers. And, oh God! Spencer panicked, if her hand alone already felt this good, how could he possibly survive being inside her - "Stop," he moaned urgently, his hand frantically rising to grab hold of hers but it was too late - it was too good.

"Oh, my darling boy," she sighed gently, pressing another kiss to arm as his dick pulsed in her fingers, making a mess of her hand and his boxers.

"I am so -" He didn't know what exactly he was apologising for and he didn't have the time to find out. The bell rang while he was still enjoying the aftermath of his first non-solo orgasm.

Panic set in. He had never gotten around to text Derek.

"Don't worry, darling," she said reassuringly before sliding her hand out of his boxers and bringing it to her mouth to lick it clean. "I'll go get the door and you go clean yourself. Don't want everyone to know how naughty you really are, do you darling?"

#spencer reid smut #sub spencer reid

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

Consolation || Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: you know it’s probably not great that you always turn to your best friend Bucky whenever you’re especially hurt by your husband. you know your husband should probably care that you spend so much time with him, but he doesn’t. which is good, in the end, because you two really are just friends… until you’re not.

word count: 4k

warnings: smut!, infidelity (see summary, reader is married), descriptions of failing/sexless marriage, angst, fluff, ~feelings~

You were good at hiding it— the real reason why you showed up at Bucky's apartment unexpectedly, that is.

It wasn’t entirely unexpected: you sent a text first, asking if he was down for a movie night, telling him you missed when you used to hang out more. He did, too, but he had always been afraid your husband would be an issue. Nice enough guy, but he didn’t seem to trust Bucky entirely… certainly didn’t seem to love that you two were so close.

And who could blame him? A beautiful, sweet, smart girl like you… he understood why your husband didn’t want you hanging out with other guys when avoidable. I’ve told him a thousand times, you’re just a friend— you’re just Bucky, you would tell him when you were recounting arguments, explaining why it had been a while since you two had had a chance to catch up. But Bucky never told you that your husband was right to worry, that he had dreamed since he met you of being more than ‘just a friend,’ that he himself was the reason you two didn’t spend more time together: because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from confessing his feelings.

Because of course he would never make a move on his best friend— on a married woman. It would be so overwhelmingly inappropriate, such a colossal waste of time; and it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle just being your friend. Sure, it killed him a little bit sometimes, but it was worth it a million times over to be near you at all. He would take what he could get… and if that meant platonic movie night because you’d had another argument with your husband, then so be it.

“I stopped by the store on my way; heard your ice cream reserve was depleted,” you explained as you brandished the Ben & Jerry’s before slipping past him to put them in his freezer.

He watched you walk there, silently hating how comfortable you were in his apartment. He loved it, but he hated it, too.

“What are we watching?” you asked, snapping him back to reality.

“Uh, I dunno…”

“You were supposed to pick while I was driving over, genius,” you grumbled sarcastically.

“I narrowed it down to The Ring or You’ve Got Mail,” he decided suddenly.

You chuckled lightly and the sound lifted his spirits. “Okay, so, two drastically different evenings."

“I mean, if you think about it, they’re both about meeting new people through technology,” he corrected.

“Do VHS tapes count as technology?” you raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“They do to me,” he shrugged.

With the ice cream supply exhausted and Bucky’s largest plastic bowl now containing only the unpopped kernels and little broken pieces of popcorn that didn’t make the cut, the third act of The Ring was beginning and you were spending more time covering your eyes than not.

“Let me know when the scary part is over,” you requested weakly from between the hands on your face.

“It’s a horror movie; the whole thing is one long scary part!” he laughed.

You peeked out through your fingers only to see another terrifying moment, yelping and hiding yourself in his chest.

He froze, not sure at all what to do with your face pressed against him; he held his breath in case the inflation of his chest would disturb you.

“I can’t look!” you whimpered, voice muffled by his shirt.

He lifted his hand in consideration of stroking your hair comfortingly, but ultimately decided against it and set it back down.

Thankfully, the movie was almost over and you wouldn’t stay cuddled up to him after it ended— meaning he’d finally be free from the glorious torture of your nearness.

But then the credits were rolling and you still didn’t budge, holding him tight. At first he thought you were just still scared, but then you took a slow, shaky breath… and he realized something was wrong with you, way beyond just a spooky movie.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, preparing to hear you explain what really happened with you and your husband that made you come here.

You just shook your head a little against his chest, making him sigh.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he continued, and you hesitated before pulling back and sitting up straight again. As painful as it had been, he missed your touch already.

“Yes,” you answered, “but I shouldn’t.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“But I need to.”

“Okay.”

“But I can’t.”

“...okay…”

You groaned and hid your face in your hands— not from fear this time, but exasperation. “I told myself that if it ever got to this point, I’d tell someone. But now I… I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed.

"He doesn't… we don't…” you started and stopped a few times. “God, Buck, I can't even say it…"

"You don't have to—" he began to tell you, but you said it anyway, tearing your hands away from your face and looking back at him sternly.

"He hasn't touched me in months. And today marks an entire year since the last time I had sex."

He tried not to choke when he heard that. He figured you were just going to say that he was texting a female coworker too much or flip-flopping about if he wanted kids or not. This was something else entirely. "Oh… um, wow."

“Yeah.”

He wasn’t sure where to start. In spite of all his obliviousness, he was pretty sure he should say something, he just didn’t know what. “And he… he knows that you… want that? I mean, you’ve like… tried to, you know… initiate things, right?” He cringed at his own voice, and stupid question.

You laughed a little, in a sad way. "I've begged him for it, fuck, it's so humiliating. It doesn't even work. He's always too tired, not in the mood, busy with something. And of course I want to respect him and not pressure him into anything but at the same time, I feel so fucking unlovable— so hideous."

"You're not hideous,” he said firmly, more sure of that than anything else he’d said so far.

“I try to believe that, really,” you mitigated, “I try not to take it personally— but fuck, it feels personal. Do you know how often people talk about sex? It’s like society has this idea that men just wanna bang twenty-four hours a day and the only thing stopping them is women being prudes. Do you know what it’s like to hear people talk like that when your husband rejects you every night? Do you know how it feels to hear your girlfriends complaining about how their boyfriends are pestering them for sex too often, and you’re just sitting there screaming inside your head ‘at least he wants you’? Bucky, you can’t even imagine…”

“I can’t,” he agreed.

"It's been so long…” you sighed shakily, collecting yourself before you started again. “It's been so long since somebody touched me. I wondered if I would forget what it felt like."

His hand shook a little as he reached out with his flesh hand and brushed it against your arm, staring into your watery eyes and finding less fear there than he expected, thankfully.

"Did you forget?" he asked softly.

"I must have," you mumbled, "it feels better than I remembered."

The heartbreak in your voice made anger bubble up in his chest, amazed at how your husband ever allowed this to happen; ever allowed you to become so touch-starved that even just a brush on your arm made you emotional. "I can't imagine being with you every day and not wanting to touch you whenever I could get the chance,” he admitted. “I can't imagine being your husband and not making love to you every day, every hour, whenever you wanted; whenever you'd let me. I can't imagine having you beg me for something and not giving it to you— I'd give you everything."

He had to fight a gasp as you suddenly grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss, a bit sudden at first but melting into something gentle and patient and soft.

“Then do it,” you whispered as you finally pulled back; he could barely think straight to even process what you were saying. “Give me everything.”

He nodded a little before he kissed you again, rough but deep and slow. His hands roamed your body like he'd wished to for so long; his tongue slid against yours and the taste of you drove him wild.

As hard as it was to break from your lips, he moved his kisses down your jaw to your neck, sucking at your pulse as you groaned and clutched at his shoulders through his shirt.

"Fuck," you whispered under your breath, and he must've heard you swear a million times but this time it sounded so different.

His cock was straining against his jeans already, just from this— it was like he was a fucking teenager again, but to be fair, you'd always had that effect on him: sweaty palms, stammering, sudden boners. It was like lifelong puberty with you around.

When his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, just barely brushing over the skin right above your sweats, you pulled back briefly to pull your shirt off over your head. He thought it might be awkward if he just stood there gawking at your chest, so he only allowed himself a moment of it before he got back to work holding you tight and kissing your collarbones.

He pulled you closer and you must've felt his cock pressed against you because you gasped a little. And you must've liked it, because your hand slipped down and rubbed him through the front of his jeans, making him choke on nothing.

“S’big,” you mumbled, and he grinned a little.

“Feel what you do to me?” he asked softly, and you nodded a little before grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand down your body and into the waistband of your pants. He shuddered when he felt how warm your skin was, the lacy fabric of your panties, the slick folds you guided his fingers through.

“Feel what you do to me?” you shot back, but your cockiness faded when he circled his middle finger over your swollen bud. He loved the way your body reacted so easily, subtle little gasps and shivers, your hips jolting forward for more stimulation. You both moaned when he pushed a finger into your channel, your walls already pulsing around him.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You whispered your approval and he twisted the finger inside you. Even just that made you let out a heavy breath, your hands reaching down to grip his wrist— they didn’t push him away, thankfully, just reminded him to be gentle with you as he added the second finger, pushing a bit deeper than before.

“More,” you whimpered your plea, “I want more.”

For a second he thought you meant more fingers, but then you opened your eyes and gave him a look… that look.

It made it abundantly clear that fingers weren’t going to be enough. After all, you had asked him to give you everything. So he gladly obliged when you started to tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. You lifted your hips to let him pull down your sweats, not giving him much time to drink in the sight of you before you started opening his fly for him.

Being undressed by you made his heart race; the way you rushed, like you couldn’t wait a moment longer to have him, was flattering yet relatable.

You sighed when you got his cock out, instantly wrapping your hand around his shaft and stroking. He shuddered at the softness of your hands, at your gentle but persistent exploration. Clearly it had been a while since you’d gotten the chance to interact with a dick, but it didn’t show in any lack of skill— if anything it just made you more eager, your grip firm but your touches gentle. He kissed you again, holding your face in one hand and leaning you back with the other until you were laid on the couch and he was hovering over you.

He guided your hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own as he guided the weeping head over your slick folds, smiling at your gasp when he bumped against your clit.

“Do you want this?” he asked, fully prepared for you to back out now before you did something you really couldn’t take back.

“Yes.” Your answer was more confident than he was expecting, but he still couldn’t really believe it. It was just too good to be true. So he had to check again.

“...are you sure?”

"Don't make me beg, Bucky," you whimpered, "I've done it enough, I can't do it again. Just make love to me— I need you inside me, please…"

Your head fell back as he pushed into you, your nails digging into his shoulders until he stopped from fear of hurting you (even though it took more willpower than he knew he had).

"Don't stop," you whined, "need to feel all of you, Bucky, please please don't stop—"

He definitely didn't have enough willpower to resist that. Slamming into you all at once, he hissed as you cried out, baring his teeth at the sight of you quivering and moaning beneath him.

"I— I need a second," you explained, voice tight with ill-concealed pain, "it's been a while.”

"I can wait," he nodded, "I won't move until you're ready."

He could tell you were struggling, because how could you not be when you felt so fucking tight around him? He guided you to breathe slowly with him, feeling your body relax slightly and noticing the way your face untwisted as you became more comfortable.

You nodded a little, but he needed to hear you say it. "Fuck me," you whispered.

And he did.

He still kept his pace measured and relaxed, savoring every inch of you— savoring your reactions to every inch of him.

But watching your face was going to push him towards the edge too fast, and he wanted to make this last if possible, so he leaned down to suck on your neck, thoroughly tasting your skin as you moaned and writhed beneath him. It felt incredible to surround your body with his, to cage you in and pin you down with his weight— it made him feel like he could protect you, keep you safe, even though he knew he couldn’t save you from heartache as much as he wanted to.

If you wanted someone to touch you, to give you affection, to make love to you and make you feel loved, then you’d come to the right place. That came to him naturally; the hard part was going to be letting you go, letting this be the one-time favor for a friend that he already knew it was.

“You feel so good,” he found himself whispering against your skin, just beside your ear, “so good for me.”

The praise must have had a strong effect on you, because your walls tightened around him suddenly.

“So perfect,” he continued, wanting to feel it again, “my perfect girl.” And you weren’t his girl, but maybe he could pretend you were; you certainly seemed to enjoy pretending, with the way your moans egged him on. “God, baby, your pussy feels so fucking good around my cock.”

“Bucky,” you whined, arching your back, and he grinned because it was obvious that you responded even better to dirty talk than praise.

“You like that, huh? You like makin’ me feel good?” he pressed, laughing a little when you nodded feverishly. “Fuck, such a good girl… takin’ me so good, so fuckin’ deep…”

You grabbed him by his hair to make him kiss you again, hungry lips smashing against his.

Inspired by your passion but afraid of what he’d do with all of this control, he wrapped his arms around you and hoisted you up until he was sitting while you straddled him, looking up at you with a grin. "Ride me, pretty girl, show me how bad you want it," he instructed lowly. The way you rocked your hips and threw your head back was everything he'd dreamed it would be, increased exponentially. Of course, he'd never told anyone that he dreamed about that, but he'd also never thought it could ever come true. He ran his hands over every part of you he could reach, just to make sure it was real; just to make sure he memorized the feel of you while he could.

He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around a hardened nipple, sucking gently and smirking a little when you moaned loudly. “You’re sensitive here,” he noted aloud, kissing his way to the other nipple but still teasing the first with his metal fingers.

Your moans came faster and louder, your fingers combing through his hair and pulling seemingly unintentionally. He noticed that you let your eyes fall shut, your head crane back, and although he was glad that it was a sign of pleasure, he wanted to see you; he wanted you to see him, know that it was him making you feel this way. so, he reached up and cupped your face in his hand, cradling your cheek, pulling you closer to look at him, staring into your eyes— and he knew it wasn't a subtle move, wasn't believable as a guy just helping out a friend, but he didn't care anymore. When he kissed you again, it almost felt like you meant it, too; like you wanted him first, and not just as a consolation prize.

But you pulled back a little too soon, a reminder to both of you that this couldn’t be anything more than what it was.

Your hips gyrated faster and more vigorously, his hands gripping you tight and guiding your movements while you sighed and bit your lip. You looked so indescribably good when you were immersed in pleasure like this, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly for balance, your chest swelling and deflating with quick breaths.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered below his breath as his hand softly trailed from your collarbone down to your thigh. The sounds you made were constantly changing, a little more high-pitched and needy now as you rode him faster. He was already picking up on the little signs that you were getting closer: your thighs flexing where they were straddled beside his own, how your body jolted and shivered in his grasp, your eyes wrenched shut and your skin breaking out into goosebumps.

Already he knew your body so well, but he knew there was so much more he would never get the chance to discover. For now, he’d just have to settle for a preview of all the perfect little ways you fell apart.

And, in the interest of speeding that process up a bit, he reached down to where your bodies were joined and circled a thumb over your clit.

“Fuck!” you yelped, your inner muscles bearing down on him out of nowhere until he was forced to groan from your tightness.

“You close?” he stammered out, way less confident than he meant it to be. He should’ve said something cool like ‘I know you’re close’ or ‘aw, baby, does that feel good?’ but no, he was too far gone and gave his own desperation away.

"Yes, baby, I'm so close," you sighed, "I'm gonna come— you're gonna make me come."

You said it with a hint of shock in your voice, like you could barely believe it. He couldn't believe it, either, because it was surely too good to be true.

"Come for me," he instructed firmly, pulling you closer until his nose brushed against yours, "say my name when I make you come."

It was unfair, but he needed to pretend you were his for just a moment. Only his.

"Bucky," you whimpered shakily. Your walls tightened around him so perfectly, over and over, until it took everything in him not to bust right then. "Bucky, I'm coming, fuck, I'm coming—"

"I know," he whispered, "I know, pretty girl, keep going."

Your nails dug into his skin, but he couldn’t even notice the pain when he was watching your face as you came— it was tight and twisted at first, before falling into a gasp and a moan that made his heart swell along with his cock that painted your walls the absolute second he knew you’d come. It was intense, not just from holding back for so long, but from knowing he was coming inside you.

He sighed and started to catch his breath as you slumped forward and buried your face in the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer, the warmth of your body nearly overwhelming now as he felt little aftershocks ripple through your channel around where he was still within you.

"Thank you," you whispered, so quiet he could barely hear it. But he did, and he nodded a little as he rested his face against yours, stroking your hair gently. You held each other in silence for a long time, so long that when your breathing slowed down significantly and he could feel your body relax entirely, he realized you had fallen asleep.

Carefully, he held you tighter so he could stand up and carry you to his bedroom, your body instinctively wrapping around him like a koala… like even in your sleep, you could act all adorable and break his heart just that much more.

He did his best to tread quietly and gently, laying you down onto the bed and only then pulling his softened cock out of you, finding his discarded boxers to put back on before joining you between the sheets.

He knew you would be gone in the morning but he indulged himself in holding you tonight, breathing your scent and pressing your back against his chest. He didn't want to fall asleep because he didn't want to miss a second of your body wrapped in his, but it was impossible not to with the soft pace of your breathing almost rocking him to sleep like a beautiful lullaby.

Where there was warmth and peace before, he awoke to cold and emptiness— both between his sheets and in himself.

It’s not like he really expected you to stay, and even if you had it wouldn’t mean that you would leave your husband for your best friend, that this would have ever been anything more than a glimpse of what could’ve been in another life or another universe.

He could still smell you, barely, and he buried his face in the sheets to take it all in before it faded away. When it was gone, he pulled back only to find a wet patch of his tears there instead.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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symwinter · 4 years ago

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HBIC Marinette – Chapter Two

Sorry it took so long for the next chapter. If I stop writing I have to go back and read what was there and it just reads so badly to me so I have to start over. To make up for it, I tried to make this chapter extra long, but I don’t know if it came across that way.

First - Last - Next

Hell hath no fury like Marinette scorned. On the outside she appeared calm, almost peaceful, but on the inside she was plotting. She doubted the class would take the fallout quietly so she needed to be prepared. The bell on the door jingled as she stepped inside. Her maman perked up hearing the bell. “Marinette! How was school today?” “Eventful,” she replied, “can I talk to you and papa about something? It’s important.” “Of course,” Sabine replied, “please flip the sigh to closed will you?” Marinette nodded and flipped the sign, locking the door for good measure. From there she was ushered upstairs.

“So what do you need to talk to us about? Did you find your sketchbook?” Sabine inquired, her hands folded gently on her lap. “You remember Lila right? The girl who falsified my expulsion?” “She’s the one with the lying disease right?” Tom replied. Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. Lila literally said she had a lying disease and was still believed. “Yes and yes. Lila was the one who took it and tore it apart,” Marinette pulled the broken sketchbook from her backpack. Sabine gasped. Tom rubbed her shoulder. “Most of my class did as well. Except for Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina, and Nathanael.” Sabine frowned. “Was it your commission book?” “No, thankfully. That one’s still here. This one was just doodles.” Marinette put the sketchbook down on the table. “But I refuse to leave this unpunished. I just thought I’d let you know.” Tom grimaced but object. “Normally I would be against this,” Tom said, “but if you think it’s necessary then you have my support.” Sabine nodded in agreement. “Is there anything we can do to help?” “Outside of Chloé, Adrien, Sabrina, and Nathanael I don’t know who helped tear it apart and who tried to take it away so it wouldn’t get damaged,” Marinette began, “so until then could you refuse to serve anyone from my class that isn’t those three? Or at least not give them a discount? Or let them see me?” Not that anyone but Nathanael would visit from that small group. “Of course Marinette,” Sabine said, “we’re your parents. It’s our job to be there for you.” Marinette didn’t comment about how they believed Lila when she was expelled and instead shot herself into her parents arms, pulling them into a hug. “I’m going to go salvage what I can from this.” She said, picking up the sketchbook. “Let me know if anyone stops by.”

It took longer than Adrien would like to admit to pick out which sketchbook to buy for Marinette. This was the third shop he went to. “Oh for the love of god Adrikins will you just pick a sketchbook already?” Chloé snapped from beside him. Adrien staggered slightly before looking at her. “It’s not just a replacement but an apology.” He replied. “It needs to be perfect.” “There’s only so long before you father comes a calling and then you can’t give her the sketchbook at all.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Sabrina appeared next to the two blondes holding a 12 by 9 inch sketchbook. Adrien took it from her hands and inspected it. The cover was rather bland, only being a dull dark brown, but the quality of the paper was rather nice. It looked like something his father would use. He didn’t know Sabrina as well as he did Chloé but she clearly had an eye for these things. He supposed being friends with Chloé helped in that regard. “I also considered the idea of getting flowers for Marinette,” Sabrina added, “maybe they’ll act as a nice icebreaker before giving her the sketchbook.” “Sabrina, when you get married I will happily pay for the wedding.” Adrien said. Sabrina smiled. “I’ll hold it to you.” “Great we have a sketchbook can we go already?” Chloé hissed, clearly annoyed. “Yes Chlo, we can go pay and head out.” Adrien paid for the expensive sketchbook before hopping into a flower shop nearby, much to the chagrin of Chloé. One bouquet later and they was off to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

“Welcome! How can I-” Sabine paused looking at the odd trio in front of her. Adrien, Chloé, and Sabrina, only two of which had ever been over. “We’re here to see Marinette.” Adrien replied, giving an awkward smile. If Sabine did know about the sketchbook, it’s possible she wouldn’t let them visit. Chloé and Sabrina’s less than perfect history with Marinette certainly wouldn’t help. “Of course, you remember how to get inside don’t you Adrien?” He nodded and slipped past the confused Sabine. Tom was equally as confused. “You’re here to see Marinette?” “Yep.” Adrien replied, popping the ‘p.’ “Feel free to grab something then, you’re practically skin and bones.” “Model diet,” Chloé retorted, as Adrien slipped the sketchbook under his arm. Marinette’s parents made the best baked goods. The trio moved efficiently through the house before sending Sabrina to knock on the trap door. A simple ‘who is it?’ rang from above. Sabrina pushed the trap door open. “Adrien and Chloé are also here.” Marinette ushered the three up. Adrien practically shoved the flowers in front of her. “Are these-” Marinette began. “Flowers? Yeah. Sabrina suggest I get some along with this,” he held the sketchbook out. Marinette placed the bouquet on her desk before delicately taking the sketchbook from him. She inspected it but found no price tag. “I heard the class damaged your sketchbook so I found it right to get you a new one.” “I can’t this accept, ugh I mean, I can’t accept this.” “Yes you can. You deserve nice things Marinette.” “Adrikins practically dragged me around Paris to find you that sketchbook. Take it.” Chloé said, inspecting her nails. “Ignore her,” Adrien replied, “it was my fault that you’re sketchbook got torn in the first place. I didn’t know how awful Lila could be.” “But you didn’t. I didn’t tell you that she threatened me-” Adrien, Sabrina, and Chloé’s heads whipped to look at her. “She threatened you?” Adrien’s voice was cold. It almost reminded her of M. Agreste’s during the brief time he heard it. “When exactly did she threaten you?” “When she first got back. In the bathroom. And she kind of did when I got briefly expelled.” “Well then it was definitely the wrong advice. I thought she was just lying for attention, not threatening you. That’s serious. I would’ve never made that deal if I knew how awful she was. I could’ve, I should’ve-” “Wait deal?” This time Sabrina spoke up. “The reason Lila works for Gabriel is because I made a deal to get her to lie Marinette back into class. I swore I told her to leave you alone to. It’s all my fau—why are you crying??!!”

And lo and behold, large tears dripped down Marinette’s cheeks, which she wiped away. “You did that for me?” “Of course, you’re my friend.” Adrien replied, pulling her into a hug. “And that’s what friend do right?” “Okay great, dirty laundry has been aired or whatever but can we get to the point people?” Chloé sniped. “What’s the point?” Marinette asked, stepping out of the hug, albeit reluctantly. “When you go maul the class to death, leave Sabrina, Adrikins, and I out of it. We’re not friends, but even I know not to ruin your stuff.” Marinette put the sketchbook down. “I will but I get to slap you with no consequences.” “You’ve got to be joking.” “You made my life hell and that’s getting off easy for the amount of crap you put me though.” “How about instead, I cover whatever expensive fancy fabrics you can’t buy for the next two months. I’d have to explain the smack to daddy after all” “Hm, make it four months.” Marinette replied. “Three.” “Deal.” Chloé turned on her heel. “Sabrina, let’s go.” The redhead followed but paused to wave goodbye. “I guess that’s my cue to leave as well.” Adrien replied. “And again, I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.” “You didn’t know. But you’ll stand up for me now right? When Lila opens her mouth to spew more lies?” “Of course Mari. I’ll be your alibi until the foreseeable future.” He pulled Marinette into a hug again, and impulsively kissed her cheek before leaving the building. It wasn’t until he was standing on the street, phone in hand to call the Gorilla did he realize what he had done.

“Oh god.”

#symwinter’s trash writing #hbic marinette #lila salt #adrien sugar #Chloe bourgeois redemption #still kinda #she doesn't get better but she doesn't get worse #maybe some adrienette #I haven't decided yet so I just dipped my toe in #It's lowkey based off one of my favourite scenes from Teen Wolf

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sambvcks · 4 years ago

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crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter four // three days on drunken sin

summary: bucky decides to rifle through those boxes and finds the will to make the first move.

warnings: food/eating, nothing too bad this time!

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: how are we feeling about this week’s episode?? we’re getting closer to the start of tfatws with this chapter!! hope i don’t break your heart too much with the boxes :)

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

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The boxes taunted him for three days.

Three stacks of two boxes each cluttered his entranceway, each with that familiar scrawl of Steve’s God-awful handwriting.

‘BUCKY’

All caps, in black Sharpie, underlined three times just for good measure. Steve was always good at getting his message across.

He didn’t want to know what was in them, he told himself. But Steve was gone, and this was all he had left. These, that stupid notebook he still hadn’t found the will to write in, and the shield that was kicking around Sam’s apartment somewhere.

He wanted to toss them in his building’s dumpster, to push these aside like he did with everything else in his life. Out of sight, out of mind. That week, he didn’t tell his therapist about the boxes, or Sam’s unexpected visit, or his neighbor that he was now avoiding like the plague. Thankfully, she chalked his silence up to Steve and tried to fill in the conversational lulls with suggestions of amends and lists and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

Like always, sleep never came.

He knew the single night in his bed was a fluke, but he kept trying at least. He’d untuck his flat sheet from under hit mattress, fluff his pillow, and tuck himself in. Within five minutes, he was back on the hardwood floor of his living room, the lamplights illuminating his window and casting a perfect shadow on those stupid boxes. Finally, on the third night, he huffed a sigh and sat up, his arm whirring at the sudden movement. He wasn’t accomplishing anything letting them sit and gather dust.

Bucky reached under the cushions of his couch, fishing for the knife he had stashed away and got to work slicing through the clear packing tape securing each one.

The first five boxes were files. Mission reports, everything Steve could get his hands on about The Winter Soldier. The translations were rough, the descriptions weren’t as vivid as he remembered them now, and it wasn’t even close to everything. Why Steve kept them when Bucky was working to erase every trace of this from the universe, he would never understand. Steve was sentimental, even with the bad stuff. Bucky glanced over the files scattered across his entranceway, which maybe amounted to a year of his missions. If Zemo had looked in some suburb in upstate New York, he would have found everything he needed.

The dumpster behind his building was starting to feel more and more enticing.

The last box felt different. Significantly lighter and smaller, the items rolling and clanking as he dragged it towards him. He braced himself for more files, more reminders of what he had done as though they didn’t exist in his mind every second of the day.

The first thing he recognized was his mother’s handwriting. ‘Recipes’, scrawled so perfectly on a yellowing label.

The tin box was tinted with age, dented after so many years. He laughed and could remember it tucked away on the top shelf of the cabinet by the fridge, just out of Rebecca’s reach, even when she’d stand on her tiptoes in search of it. His Ma rarely fished it out, other than to let his little sister read over the ingredients with sticky hands as she helped stir pots and peel potatoes. She had them memorized by the time she was a teenager, having transcribed her own mother’s recipes onto these little cards. He was sure Rebecca did, too.

Next was the worn fabric of his Ma’s favorite apron. Yellow embroidered flowers scattered the crimped edge, strings falling loose. He recognized some of the stains, from spaghetti night and cake batter that she let dry on the cloth for too long.

Finally, a worn silver chain was buried at the bottom of the box.

JAMES B BARNES 32557038 T42 A

Of course, Steve with all his connections and know-it-all attitude and ‘I can do this all day’ would find some way to find his dog tags, probably tucked away in some ancient Hydra file. His flesh fingers ran over the indentation of his name, pressed into metal like millions of other boys had, off to fight a war that had nothing to do with them. Everything to lose, nothing to gain.

When he was most alone, settled into muddy trenches with wet socks and a stiff military jacket, he would recite those numbers out into the night sky. He’d map constellations over his head, wondering if it would be his last night and all there would be left of him would be those stupid discs of metal clanking around his neck and the letter tucked away in his jacket breast pocket, addressed to his mother.

His mother was long gone, he knew that. But to a fully conscious James Buchanan Barnes – not the Winter Soldier - he had only seen her a few years ago when he shipped off.

After a moment, he pulled the chain of his dog tags over his head, settling them under his shirt. His ears rung with the sound of footsteps in the hallway. The sound of dragging feet and the jangle of your keychain signaled your return from class.

His family was gone, Steve included. The only people he has left are halfway across the world, or off on some death-defying mission wearing metal bird wings. Except you, who still leaves bags of cookies on his front door mat, despite the silent treatment from his end. His maybe too friendly neighbor who poured over lists of albums for him to find taped to his door in barely legible handwriting when you should have been studying.

His mother’s recipe box was calling his name.

The knock on your door startled you from your nap. Well, if you can call dozing off at your desk using a law book as a makeshift pillow a nap. You stalled in your desk chair, eyes bleary as you squinted at your front door, then at the top corner of your computer.

2:36 AM

You nuzzled back into your book, content to chalk it up to your sleep deprived brain making things up.

The second knock was much more insistent and was certainly coming from your door. You rushed out of your chair, sock-clad feet dragging the blanket draped across your shoulders as you shuffled over, the knocking never ceasing. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, peering out your peephole into the dark hallway.

Bucky, with slumped shoulders and a bowed head, trying with all of his might to make himself as small as possible still took up so much of the doorway with his broad shoulders.

You should be mad at him.

You should go to bed, ignore him like he’d been ignoring you for the past few weeks. Like you hadn’t shared late nights and he hadn’t sat in your kitchen, licking your spoons clean or tucked into your couch just to watch you study, a new record playing gently. Your forehead pressed to the door, vile building in your throat as seething words collected on your tongue.

“I know you’re there.” His voice was muffled through the wooden door, feeling so close but sounding so far away. “We should work on you dragging your feet, doll.”

If you had taken another peek, you would have seen him pressing his forehead to the other side.

“You ignored me, Bucky.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, even through the door. “Some family stuff came up. But it’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

It’s so stupid, letting yourself get so attached to the first guy to bat his eyelashes and read to you. It’s idiotic to want him to seep into your days and nights, to never leave like he had left you, after only knowing each other for a month.

It’s so foolish to open the door. But you do it anyways.

He swallows as he stands straight, and the widening of his eyes tells you that he wasn’t expecting you to give him a second chance.

“I, uh, here. Thought I’d finally return the favor.”” Bucky shoves forward a plate of cookies, misshapen and unevenly cooked. His eyes finally found yours. “My mom’s recipe.”

Family stuff, you remembered. The weight of the plate felt heavy in your hands, almost as heavy as his gaze on you as you lifted one of the lesser burnt cookies to your mouth and took a timid bite.

Bucky, you’ve come to learn, gives his love in silent acts of approval. He shines when you tell him his singing isn’t totally awful or that he makes a great sous chef, eyes crinkling when you approve of his music choice for the night or compliment the voices he picks when reading from his books. As he watched you, you felt that this cookie meant more to him then just flour and eggs.

He was reaching out, terrified of your rejection.

“You made these?”

“Alright, I’m not totally helpless.”

“They’re amazing, Bucky. Your mom should be proud.”

He returned your smile, knowing that she wouldn’t be. How could she, after all that his hands have done? Hands that should’ve been home, hoisting his sisters onto his shoulders. Hands that should have been helping set the table and at work so they had something to eat in the first place.

He looked so timid in your hallway, unsure of the next move. You rolled your eyes, moving to clear your doorway, despite his hesitation.

“Come on.” You spoke, like ushering in a stray cat with the promise of food and love.

He took the first step forward, shoulder to shoulder, head tilted down to catch your playful gaze with his serious one. Your mouth opened to make some sort of quip to ease the tension, but the words died in your throat as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a second.

His eyes closed as he drew in a single serene breath through his nose.

He was gone as quickly as he had come, moving further into your apartment and directly to your shelves of records, gloved fingers grazing over the sleeves in contemplation for his first choice of the night. As you finally collected yourself enough to close the door, you wondered how many people in the world had ever loved Bucky Barnes enough to give him a second chance.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #tfatws #tfatws imagine #sab writes #crawl home to her

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strange-lace · 4 years ago

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Son Adopts Father, More at 11

What up, I made a new AU, it’s called Inverted AU where everyone’s personalities are flip flopped while still having relatively the same story roles and originally was just for shenanigans but eventually got emotions, as all my AUs do. I’ll make a full post explaining it later, but here’s a little bit of how MK and Sun Wukong first met and the aftermath of that in this AU.

Enjoy!

Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, was certainly different from what MK expected, for both better and worse.

He wore robes that would fit a monk more than anything else, once bright, rich colored fabrics faded from the wear of time. Golden armor was layered over the clothing yet it didn’t take having an eye for fashion to see that they didn’t match well together. A familiar golden circlet curled around his head as if it’s always belonged there.

Strange fashion aside, the fact that Monkey King’s warm smile didn’t quite reach his tired eyes was enough to make MK decide right away.

Like Pigsy, Tang, Sandy, and Mei before him, the Monkey King… Sun Wukong was also one of MK’s.

After all, he had a habit to taking in the troubled, the broken, and the abandoned. He actively sought them out. Cared for them. Showed them how to care for themselves. Whether or not they chose to stay afterwards was no concern. As long as he knew they were going to be alright on their own without him there.

MK already knew that Sun Wukong was going to be one of the ones who stayed.

“Hello, little one. It’s a pleasure to finally get to meet you face to face.” MK only let out a slight huff as the monkey’s tail wrapped around his waist, picking him up off the ground and back to his feet without any visible effort. He thought with how much snacks he carried around in his backpack, he’d at least weigh something.

“What, you been following me? ...Now wait a hot second-” As soon as he said those words, the puzzle pieces began to click in his mind: the butterfly which he saw on Sandy’s boat and the strange bird which caused him to fall on Red Son, all with suspiciously similar colors and markings. “You have been following me!”

Wukong couldn’t help a slight chuckle at the realization on his face, restraining himself from full on belly laughing.

He was always holding himself back, nothing he wasn’t used to.

“Observant, aren’t you? Why I’d say you’re perfect, my boy.”

“What the hell are you on about, perfect for what?” He let out a squawk in surprise as he was suddenly lifted in the air by Wukong.

“Why to be my successor, of course!��

Silence. MK took in a deep breath, rubbing his temples before he finally found the words to speak.

“You know what? Fine! This is fine, considering how absolutely insane the rest of my day has been! I’ll be your successor, need to beat DBK’s ass anyway before he lays waste to the city. But on one condition.”

“And what might that be, young one?”

“You’re gonna be my dad now.” MK could see the mental equivalent of a record scratching in Wukong’s head at his demand. It was his turn to find amusement in being able to leave an immortal being far older than him floundering and confused for a good few minutes.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nah, you’re fine. I have this thing where I like to take care of people who can’t care for themselves, though Pigsy calls it ‘people collecting’ but that’s besides the point. And I can tell you’re a mess, so you’re mine now. Welcome to the family motherfucker!”

And it wasn’t long after that that MK managed to drag Wukong off the mountain he’d isolated himself on for 500 years. With his newfound mentor as well as father’s advice, MK was able to retrieve his staff back from the Demon Bull family and in the aftermath of the battle, he introduced the Monkey King to his family while he stormed the kitchen to make them a meal.

Pigsy couldn’t help the quiet chuckle at the Monkey King being left in a complete daze.

“You’ll get used to it Mr. Sun. MK certainly has that effect on people.”

He certainly wouldn’t ever forget the scrappy teenager that stomped into his shop one day, noticing he was struggling a bit in running the place by himself and essentially hired himself as an assistant cook and delivery boy. Before Pigsy knew it, MK had made himself a home above the shop and had started calling him ‘Pop’ without any hesitation.

Tang nodded in agreement, trying his best to enjoy the moment of peace from the constant onslaught of work while the city recovered from the battle.

One moment, he was struggling to juggle all his books while stopping for some dinner at this new noodle shop he was recommended by his co-workers. During one of the few moments he could slow down and speak with them, of course. The next moment, MK had wrestled the books from him, sat him down, and had a fresh bowl of noodles with a cup of warm tea ready for him somehow. Noticing his books mentioning Journey to the West, he had been roped into a conversation about the lore of Sun Wukong that lasted for hours before Tang finally noticed how much time had passed. Even though he left in a rush, Tang found himself coming back and being welcomed by MK and Pigsy with the exact same order every time.

“Yeah, he just decides he likes you and before you know it, you’re a part of his family and he’s willing to do almost anything for you,” Mei explained, still not quite used to being in the presence of someone like Sun Wukong but doing her best to be polite.

She remembered what had been a rare walk outside her home into the city became her getting lost without her phone. Her distress must have been evident because MK had literally stopped his cart right beside the road, offering her a ride to someplace with a phone.

“Note for the future, don’t accept rides from complete strangers in the city. This one time is an exception but just don’t be stupid, okay?” His words were harsh but it made Mei think of the older brothers she watched on TV, who wanted to protect their younger siblings without making it obvious they cared.

Eventually she ended up like they all do, at Pigsy’s shop with a fresh bowl of noodles in front of her. She could never get rid of MK after that.

None of them can truly. And in full honesty, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sun Wukong was truly starting to realize just who he had chose as his successor and was all the more convinced he made a good choice.

Hopefully his master is proud, wherever he is now.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #inverted au #sun wukong #mk #my writing #fanfiction

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buoyantsaturn · 4 years ago

Text

I’m all eyes (1/1)

summary: So, obviously, if Nico was wearing Jason’s sweatshirt, then they must be dating, right?

word count: 1,871

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Will didn’t think he was the jealous type. Jealousy required some amount of anger, right? But he wasn’t angry - maybe just disappointed. And really, he didn’t even have all of the facts, so he shouldn’t let himself get worked up over it anyway.

It’s just that, well. It sucked to always look over at the Big Three table to see Nico in that giant purple SPQR sweatshirt. Or, it didn’t suck - it was a good look, and purple was definitely Nico’s color, as much as Will would prefer to see him in camp orange. The part that sucked was that Jason was always sitting beside him, and that sweatshirt definitely looked like it was Jason’s size.

So, obviously, if Nico was wearing Jason’s sweatshirt, then they must be dating, right? And on the one hand, it was exciting, because that meant Nico was into guys, which meant that Will might have a chance with him (and bonus points because he, too, was tall, blond, and blue-eyed). On the other hand, Nico was taken, and Will wasn’t a homewrecker (or whatever the fifteen year old version of a homewrecker was).

Anyway, Will had a lot of mixed feelings about seeing Nico in that sweatshirt. And he kept having those mixed feelings when he started to see more and more of Nico around camp. He would come by the archery range while Will was practicing with his shotgun (on his own target that he’d made specifically for shooting practice). He had started going to campfires (where he would pull the sweatshirt over his knees and turn himself into an adorable purple blob). He’d even started coming by the infirmary every few days so that Will could make sure he was keeping his fading in check (so, to be fair, Will had asked him to stop by occasionally, but that was for purely medical reasons).

On one particularly hot day in September, Nico entered the infirmary sans sweatshirt, and Will’s heart jumped in his chest. Sure, he’d seen Nico without that sweatshirt on a few times before, but he’d reacted the same way then, too. He tried to act normal, checking Nico’s solidity and making sure that his arms and legs still cast shadows, but the second Piper stepped into the infirmary, Will’s mind went blank.

She was wearing a giant purple SPQR sweatshirt, the one that looked just like Jason’s that Nico always wore. And hadn’t Jason and Piper been dating before they set off on the Argo II?

“Is that Jason’s sweatshirt?” Will’s mouth asked before his brain could stop it.

Piper paused and glanced down, like she’d forgotten what she was wearing. “Oh, uh, yeah. Nyssa’s got the AC blasting in the bunker, so I snagged this from Jason’s cabin on the way here.”

“Oh.” Did that mean they were still dating? Or maybe they just had a really amicable breakup? Or...Nico, Jason, and Piper were all in some sort of polyamorous relationship? Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course, but the three of them together certainly made for an odd bunch. “Sorry, did you need help?”

She shook her head. “Nah, just came to see what was holding Nico up. He’s been helping us try to track down Leo.”

“Really?” Will asked, glancing at Nico in surprise. “That’s...nice of you.”

Nico shrugged. “I’m just gonna make sure he stays dead this time.”

Will grinned. “Ah. That’s more like it.”

“So, am I good to go?” Nico asked. “I’d like to track Leo down before Thanatos does.”

Will rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, go ahead. But as a bit of medical advice, murder might not be best for your mental health.”

Nico scrunched up his nose. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Sure, Death Boy,” Will said, brushing off his reply. It was probably a joke anyway. Right? “Get out of here already. I’ll see you later.”

As Nico started toward the door, Piper threw an arm around him, which Nico immediately tried to shove off, albeit unsuccessfully. Once he was sure they were gone, and once Kayla returned from her snack break, Will snuck out the back entrance.

He went to the cave under Half Blood Hill, announcing himself as he pushed the curtain aside and walked in. He found Rachel the way he usually did, one bare foot holding a paintbrush as she worked on her current project. “Hey,” she greeted, not lifting her eyes from the canvas.

“Hey,” Will replied moments before flopping down face-first onto a pile of overstuffed pillows. He was pretty sure it was the space that Rachel pretended was her bed whenever she stayed the night at camp so that Chiron wouldn’t realize that she snuck into the Apollo cabin every night to sleep on one of the spare bunks. He’d gotten close with Rachel since the end of the Titan war, seeing as he was usually the one to catch her when she collapsed after giving a prophecy. It had helped them bond. Now Rachel felt like something of a sister, except Will’s only experience with siblings were his godly siblings, who always just felt like close friends. So, anyway, Rachel was somewhere between Will’s newest vaguely-related sister and a close friend. Which meant that they had a good enough relationship that they could sit in silence without it being awkward, which was how the next few minutes passed.

Then, Will lifted his face off of a pillow and glanced to the side, spotting a familiar shade of purple. He picked it up - an oversized SPQR sweatshirt. “Whose is this?”

“Huh?” Rachel barely glanced away for a second before turning back to her easel. “Oh. That’s Nico’s. He must’ve left it here last night.”

Will’s head snapped up. “Nico was here? Wait, you hang out with Nico?”

Rachel shrugged. She leaned forward and pulled the brush out from between her toes, apparently deciding that Will had become too much of a distraction for the time being. “Yeah, we go way back. We both helped Percy and Annabeth with the Labyrinth, remember? And then after that he would check in on me sometimes to, like, make sure nobody came after me. It was kinda creepy at first, you know, because he just sort of appears out of nowhere sometimes? But as soon as I started feeding him, he opened his mouth and never really shut up, so the creepiness kinda faded.”

Will smoothed a hand across the fabric. It was soft, and big enough that it would fit him easily. And Rachel said it was Nico’s, not Jason’s - not that it could be, since he’d just seen Piper wearing Jason’s about ten minutes ago. And if Rachel and Nico were friends, then she would know-- “So Nico’s not dating Jason?”

Rachel blinked, clearly taken aback by the question, and then laughed. “No, definitely not.”

Will’s brain was moving too fast for him to process anything. “He-- I--” He scrambled to his feet and gathered the sweatshirt in his hands. “I gotta go!”

“Uh, bye?” Rachel called after him as Will took off out of the cave. Piper had said that she was with Nyssa at Bunker Nine, so Will took off toward the woods. He was grateful for his long legs that carried him across camp so quickly, leaping over fallen branches and thankfully not tripping up on any roots. He found himself outside Bunker Nine in no time, and it wasn’t long before his eyes landed on Nico. He sprinted up to the other boy, hunching over for half a second to catch his breath before he said, “Can I talk to you?”

Nico nodded, his eyes wide in obvious surprise at having Will suddenly appear in front of him. (Served him right for doing the same to everyone else for the last few years.) Will led him out of the bunker and away from listening ears, and then handed over the sweatshirt.

“Oh,” Nico said, sounding almost disappointed. “Um. Thanks.”

“Rachel told me it was yours, so I...brought it,” Will told him. “I always thought-- I mean, I assumed-- You and Jason are just so close, and I figured--”

“I don’t like Jason,” Nico said quickly, defensively, and his cheeks began to color. “Not… Not like that, I mean. He just got this for me because he was sick of me stealing his all the time.”

“No, right, of course,” Will replied as his heart sank. “I mean-- Oh gods, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume you liked guys-- I never should’ve--”

“I do,” Nico cut in, and Will’s mouth snapped shut. “I, um. I’m...gay.”

“Oh. Oh! Cool! I mean, I am too! Or, uh, I’m bi, but, uh. I like guys, too.”

If Will’s arms weren’t frozen at his side, he probably would’ve smacked himself for babbling like a total idiot. But maybe it was worth it to see the way Nico’s cheeks continued to grow red.

“Cool,” Nico said softly, dropping his gaze to his shoes before rapidly looking around at anything that wasn’t Will. “Would you, um. Would you maybe be interested in sitting with me at the campfire tonight?”

Will was pretty sure his soul had left his body, but he still managed to ask, “Like, as a date?”

Nico scuffed the toe of his shoe against the dirt. “If… If you want.”

“Yeah!” Will said quickly, and then, “That would be, um. Cool.”

“Cool,” Nico repeated. He started fidgeting with the sweatshirt in his hands before he suddenly held it out to Will. “You should take this. It’ll probably be cold tonight, so…”

Will barely managed to stop himself from saying, it’s okay, I have my own. Instead, he forced his hands out to take the sweatshirt back. “Cool.” Did he know any other word in the English language besides cool? “I’ll, um. See you tonight then.”

Nico smiled, and Will’s heart soared. “Yeah. See you tonight.”

When Will arrived at the campfire later, happily yet nervously showing off the SPQR laurels on his chest, he made his way straight to Nico, relieved to see that the other boy had shown up in just a t-shirt.

“Hey,” Will said, smiling brightly as he sat down in the open space beside Nico. “You know, it might get cold this far from the fire. Maybe you should borrow this.” Will held out his own neatly folded orange camp hoodie, one with a large 7 on the back and a red cross on one sleeve - a sweatshirt that was unmistakably Will’s.

Nico smiled down at the sweatshirt, and then up at Will like this was exactly what he’d been hoping for. “Okay,” he said as he took the sweatshirt and pulled it on over his head.

“It might be a little big on you,” Will warned, but Nico only smiled brighter when his head popped out of the neck hole.

“That’s okay,” Nico replied. Just the very tips of his fingers stuck out the ends of the sleeves, and Will got the sudden urge to hold Nico’s hand. Maybe he would try later, when Nico didn’t have all of his focus directed at Will. “That’s how I like it.”

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#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #mine #my writing

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