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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

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Humanity’s Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Description: It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

Warnings: Look, I'm writing and it's not for a request. Angst. It's always angst. I just love Alastor's inhumanity, what can I say? This bitch is in denial. Also, bodies, blood, death, no gore but like, eh. Also Adam is in this one and he's his own warning. Loose Mistki quoting at one part. Also a loose Sappho quote “pale as grass” and self harm.

Word Count: 2,420

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A/N My classics major side came out a little bit in this one lol. Also I have a big classics major side fic in the wings so if you guys like this, just wait. Also Sir Pentious is from the 1800s so he for sure had a classical education. Also the title came from an article I was reading about the history of witchcraft for one of my classes.

The most complex and yet the most simple of the human emotions. Feared by some, wielded by others, out of reach for many, perennial for more still, and taken as easily as a breath of air by a solemn few. What a strange thing, love.

It was this last category that bewitched Alastor. Even when he had been alive, he had never understood the people like that, the ones who took heartbreak in stride, the ones who shared any love they had the minute they felt it with everyone and everything. The ones who weren't paralyzed by potential loss or violent embarrassment.

The people who feared love made sense. It had a vast capacity for harm, it was able to destroy without a second thought. Even when it was good, love could be devastating. Those who wielded it as their weapon of choice nearly fell into a subcategory of this group. They used other people's fear of the matter against them or they lured people in to get what they wanted and threw them to the curb without a second glance.

Everyone on earth, living or dead, had felt at least once that love was out of their reach, Alastor reasoned. Hopelessness is one of the most vital parts of the human condition, after all.

Perennial was the category in which most people fell. Love came and went. It lived and died, but always returned like the plants he had named this grouping for.

Then there were people like Y/n. Not a day went by where she wasn't explaining how much she adored something random or telling people she loved them, throwing the word around as if it had no weight, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to love, to share love. When Angel had made some snide remark about everything being her alleged 'favorite thing,' Y/n had quickly replied, saying:

"Aren't I lucky for that? Isn't that just wonderful?"

Alastor couldn't tell in which category he fell or what his opinion was about that answer of hers. One thing he did know was that Y/n was to be avoided at all costs.

She was the typical sinner. Never too bad of a person when alive, but never too good either. She wore her hedonism like a badge of honor, living her afterlife in much the same way Alastor assumed she had lived her living life: in a constant state of indulgence.

It wasn't the typical form of being that takes a person's mind when they think of the word. No, Y/n didn't indulge in a reckless, Dionysian way. Instead, she devoured everything. Books, good food, music, friends, you name it. Y/n had a million stories about each and a million examples of the best they all had to offer on hand. She relished in all that every word had to offer.

Alastor had overheard her talking to Charlie one night about that. He hadn't meant to, he had just been wandering the hotel, unable to sleep and in need of some air, when he'd heard a slight commotion in the lobby. Hidden by his shadows, he had entered the familiar space to find an exhausted Charlie standing tensely before a bulletin board.

"God is in the details." Y/n was saying as she adjusted the plans pinned on the structure so they were easier to read, more cohesive, "Anything can be a work of art, don't forget that. It's what makes everything so undeniably worth it."

She was so utterly out of his reach. Not that Alastor wanted Y/n in his reach, no. How ridiculous would that be: the Radio Demon, the most feared overlord in all of Hell, getting butterflies because he heard a girl tell someone else she loved them and imagined it was him. No, that would be utterly foolish which was why it wasn't the case, couldn't be the case. He must be getting sick, that was why his stomach had felt weird.

"What are you reading?" he heard Sir Pentious ask as the snake demon took a seat on the couch beside Y/n.

Alastor was at the bar, sharing a drink with Husk. His ear twitched in their direction.

"It's a book discussing the changes in interpretations of Sappho's poetry over time." Y/n replied, her tone soft and even.

It felt like a salve against Alastor's ears. Husk raised an eyebrow towards his master but made no remark.

"Really? I didn't know you were interested in that sort of thing."

"I was actually a professor in the human world... living world? Whatever. I didn't work on Sappho, I worked on ancient medicine, but I always found her intriguing and lovely. I mean, phainetai moi is creating a diagnosed love, using all the language of medicine. How could it not capture my attention?"

"You know, if you look at Homer, the same language Sappho uses is also used to describe love. She is actually working off a preexisting cannon of love as something painful and destroying."

"Really?"

"Yes, and curse tablets tend to draw off medical writings quite a bit as well, especially those involved in love magic."

"Huh, that’s a neat little intersection I have yet to explore: medicine, magic, and love. I never knew you knew so much about this. You died in the 1890s, right?"

"Sometime around then."

"I should have guessed then, my mistake. Tell me, what was it like growing up with all this wonder at your finger tips? It was hard for me to even find a university with a classics department, let alone a good one. You’re lucky to have had it all right there."

Now that was an interesting idea to Alastor. A diagnosable love, a painful and deadly thing. Love as a curse, love as being shot through by an enemy spear, love as a god. It made more sense to him than anything else about the matter had. Unavoidable, not something self imposed. A cursed love, a medical love, something that controlled a person rather than vice versa.

He lay awake at night, unable to speak, pale as grass, thinking unwillingly of the way her lips curved to form words, of the way one could see the gears of her mind turning behind her eyes. He lay awake, unable to do anything else. He stared at the ceiling.

"Ah! Angel! Thank you!" Y/n exclaimed as he handed her the sweater he'd spotted her eyeing a few days before when they'd been for a walk around town, "This was so kind of you!"

Alastor watched as Y/n pulled the lanky demon into a hug which he reluctantly returned, looking down at her with a platonic version of the sort of fondness that was so forbidden to him.

"Great work Angel!" Charlie clapped excitedly, "That's a step in the right direction."

No, it wasn't love. Alastor Hartifelt didn't love, he had lost that ability the day he had died and he'd barely had it before that. It didn't matter that his heart skipped a beat, there was no truth to his upset stomach when he had to speak to her except something bad he must have eaten. The sleeplessness wasn't new, sleep had never been his friend so to speak, the two had never really gotten along. The reason it got so stuck in his head, the way she threw her affection around, was the carelessness of it all, the foolishness. Only, what he had overheard her saying to Charlie that night, that anything can be a work of art, were the words of someone who acted purely on intention, who did nothing without considered thought.

Y/n couldn't be a wielder of love. Alastor never once saw her manipulate someone or even really ask anyone for anything at all. There was no way she was scared and the way she freely gave took her out of the other two categories as well. It didn't make sense. The intention, the earnestness, the true meaning behind her actions and words that always seemed to shine through no matter what she did, was what had him stuck. She barley even fit into her own category because of it. Most people that threw love around the way she did had the words and actions lose their meaning over time but, somehow, that seemed never to be the case for her.

He pictured a life on earth. He pictured walking with her beneath the stars, the way the light of the moon would play gently across her skin. He pictured her in the recording studio, the one he'd worked at while alive, waiting by the door for him to finish his work and taking him by the hand, dragging him off into the unknown. He pictured waking up beside her in the morning, all messy hair and smiles. He pictured, he dreamed, he dissolved. The doctors diagnosed him and he went to see other people because he didn't like the answer they gave him.

Y/n pulled Vaggie from her seat at the bar, spinning the demon into an ungraceful waltz to the music Alastor was playing on the piano for the group. He nearly fumbled, nearly missed a note. She missed so many steps and it didn't matter because she was laughing, and so was Vaggie. She didn't have to be perfect, but he did.

They each smiled ear to ear while Charlie clapped along to the beat. He imagined himself in Vaggie's place, he could practically feel his hands on the gentle curve of her hips. The world was half real.

It wasn't love because he didn't know her, he never spoke to her. It wasn't love because that was impossible, he couldn't love. It wasn't love because that was an ability he'd left in the world of the living. It wasn't love because she was too kind, too good, and he was nothing if not brutal and bloodstained to his core. It wasn't love because it couldn't be. It wasn't love because if it was...

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

He repeated the mantra to himself. Alone walking the halls, in meetings with the other overlords, making tea in the kitchen. He whispered the words to himself like a prayer.

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

Y/n was out of reach, untouchable, destined to join the ranks of Heaven while he remained rotting in Hell. It couldn't be anything else, no other future was possible which was why it wasn't love. She was made of all the things a human is and he was made of those a monster is. She was bright, she shined, and Alastor fed off the light of others, burning it out into darkness. He refused to do such a thing to her, he couldn't. Not when she was practically the sun. Not when he wasn't even a star but the black hole of the earth revolving around her.

He saw her holding Husk's hands over the bar top as he told her something, a look of deep concern etched into her features. He watched her pick Nifty up by the waist so the little demon could dust the tops of the bookshelves. He watched her, he waited, he would always be waiting because nothing could ever happen. Nothing would ever happen, he wouldn't allow it and goddamnit it wasn’t love.

It was also impossible, Alastor reminded himself. He had left that part of himself when he had died, it hadn't made the journey with him. The most favored fantasy of his own humanity, or what was left of it. The little spark of the person he had been that glowed softly from the center of his chest. Alastor had tried to douse it, tried to kill it, tried to rip it from himself but all he'd ever ended up with was bloody hands and torn flesh and the light pulsed on in its eternal hunger, its eternal hope, its eternal harm.

And then it was too late. Then, she really was gone, double dead or however anyone wanted to call it. Adam dropped her lifeless corpse to the ground and Alastor's world crashed in around him because no matter how many times he had said it wasn't, no matter how he had avoided her, no matter what he had done it had been love, or the beginnings of it at least. The closest thing to it he'd ever really felt. His hand tightened around the staff of his microphone. Alastor bared his teeth, he saw red.

"What have you done?"

Adam turned to him, grinning. Y/n deserved a viking funeral, to be surrounded by flowers and sent off in a burning boat. She deserved a Greek burial, reduced to ashes and buried with all the proper rites that made sure she would make it to the afterlife. She deserved, she was owed, he was angry.

"What." Adam laughed, "Was she your little bitch?"

Alastor didn't think he had any room left inside him for the fury, but found his rage redoubled at Adam's words.

"What did you just call her?"

"Your little bitch." Adam smirked, "She was a cute one, shame you all are gonna have to burn. Woulda kept her for myself."

Adam looked down, nudging Y/n's lifeless corpse with the toe of his shoe. Alastor attacked. There was no thought, no order, no grace, there was only the anger. Only now that it was too late, was he at last able to let loose, be less than perfect, exist in an unintentional manner. Or was it that this was the true meaning of intention -- reckless abandon? Y/n probably would have thought that. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what she would have thought, what any of them did think. It was too late. There was no more time and Alastor had come to terms with his own frailty a second past the buzzer. He would never forgive himself.

"You will pay for what you have done. You will die for what you have done."

Because it had been love, all along and Alastor, who had thought himself above it all, had been in that first group. He had been scared, not of what love could do but of what Y/n would, of what she had already done to him. Now it was too late and he would never get another chance.

"You will fucking die!"

----

Part Two --> → Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

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nerves-nebula · 1 year

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“What about this one?” Leo asked.

“I think they all look nice.” Donnie repeated.

“That’s why I’m here. I can be objective.”Mikey said, shoving Donnie lightly, “Leo, that dress is obnoxiously yellow. It could look so much better if you let me-”

“I’m not letting you turn any more of my clothes into art projects, Mikey!” Leo snapped. Mikey rolled their eyes exaggeratedly, and Leo turned to Raph, “What do you think?”

“They all look fine.” Raph supplied, tiredly.

“You guys are no help!” Leo groaned, pulling off her shiny, yellow dress. She began rummaging through the pile of clothes she’d laid out.

“Can we leave then.” Raph yawned. Leo glared, and he only leaned back in his seat. It had been a while since Leo had lashed out at anyone besides Donnie; he wasn’t worried.

Predictably, he huffed and returned to picking out another outfit.

Leo had accumulated a small collection of more feminine clothes by this point. Some through scavenging, others bought, and a few even made by Mikey. She’d taken to wearing them around the house but this was the first time she was going to wear something feminine outside.

And Raph was trying to be supportive, he really was. But Leo had woke them all up so damn early, and dragged them over to help him pick out a dress.

He squirmed into a new dress, bright pink, and discolored from fixes and alterations. Raph could clearly see it was something Mikey had made. It looked like something a ballerina might wear. If they had no other options, maybe.

Leo sniffed down a little at it, seeming to share the sentiment, now that it was on him.

“I- it’s a bit patchy, isn’t it?” Donnie criticized, squinting at the mess of a dress.

“Admittedly, not my best work.” Mikey shrugged, “Why’d you even put it on?”

“Well… I thought it kind of looks like the first dress I ever found back Ho- when we were living with dad.” Leo reasoned, more subdue, looking like she was remembering something.

Mikey bounced in their seat, taking the reminder of the sewer in stride. “Oh yeah! I remember that. It was so poofy. You wore that for ages until Splinter saw it.”

Donnie nodded, “I think you found it when we were all playing. I remember you were really sad when dad made you take it off.”

Raph didn’t remember that.

It was nothing new, it shouldn’t have bothered him so much.

But the thing is, he tried.

He tried so hard to remember, but it was just blank. Nothing came to mind. It made Raph feel a little insane. They were all talking about something he knew he must have been there for, so why couldn’t he-

“Yeah, I’m not wearing this outside.” Leo scoffed, beginning to wrestle the article off.

She handled the dress fondly, though, as he discarded it. It was such a strange thing to see from Leo.

And that’s just it. They were all doing so much better now, living in the hidden city.

Mikey was so much happier, more easygoing. Donnie was becoming more confident and happy for all Leo didn’t help that most days. But Leo was trying. He was making an effort to be more open, more calm. She was communicating.

Raph, on the other hand… he supposed he hadn’t had to do as many chores. His siblings were thriving, but he was the same as he’d always been, if lazier.

Donnie had been having more good days than bad, but Raph’s memory was as poked full of holes as it always was.

Mikey had become almost always present, but Raph found himself just as prone to loosing time.

Maybe it had nothing to do with how things used to be. Maybe he was just broken, and their old living situation played no part in that. His dumb brain didn’t work the way it was supposed to and there was no fixing-

Raph was snapped out of his thoughts, as Donnie pulled at his arm. “Are you… alright? You seemed distracted.” His brother asked, fretfully.

“You need the sunhat, or it won’t work!” Mikey pushed, as they tried to shove a floppy hat onto Leo’s head.

“Mikey, It’s fine!” He screeched, flailing.

“And it could be perfect!”

“I don’t need it, there’s no sun down here!” Leo lunged, trying to pull her mask off from where Mikey had tied it around the straw hat. They yanked it away, giggling as they switched to keeping the hat out of Leo grasp.

Leo laughed with a carefree smile, as she play fought with Mikey. It wasn’t something Raph thought he’d ever see.

With a small smile of his own creeping across his face, he nodded down to Donnie, who relaxed, relieved, hands still gently grasping his arm, as he too turned to their siblings.

Despite everything, Raph’s concerns fell away in the face of his brothers’ happiness.

He felt like he’d remember this.

SHUT UPPP THATS SO SWEET OH MY GODDDDD!!! FUCKIMG ADORABLEEEEEE ASASUGHFH

#nnstuff #ask #tmnt Raph #tmnt leo #tmnt mikey #tmnt donnie #fanfic #teenage mutant neglected turtles #asks are sweethearts #neglected fic

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brooklynislandgirl · 11 months

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By the account of most others, his shift has gone unreasonably late. But Stephen has become accustomed to working well beyond the confines of his scheduled hours. He is needed, or so he's been told any number of times. They're probably trying to stroke his ego. Works every time, damn them. First a Chiari decompression, then a consult on an ACDF in progress, then an uninsured walk-in subarachnoid hemorrhage, and no time in between for even a sigh at the sink as he was scrubbing up, never mind reviewing the latest on the cultures that caught his eye last week.

But then... there had been Beth. Dutifully scrubbing up beside him and telling him the latest on the research. Animated, engaged, informed. In a word? Driven. And he'd taken the moment in stride, but she might never know just how profoundly he had appreciated her in that moment.

The offering he makes at the conclusion of his overtime is paltry, he knows. But any offering from a mentor to a mentee ought be modest. Mundane. Besides, considering her heritage, there's really nothing he could acquire for her which she couldn't secure for herself a hundred times over.

It's not the gift, anyway. It's the occasion. Because he's noticed the few articles of jewelry she wears and her affinity for the sea.

"Beth. Before you go, I have something for you."

Their hands come into contact for a brief moment. He presses the soft cloth into her grasp, and smiles as he does.

"Happy birthday."

~*~

She has no idea how he can still be standing after thirty-two hours, forty minutes, and thirty five...thirty six seconds of highly intense work. Of successes counted in live saved, in lessons taught, in him being the focal point of her entire universe such that she doesn't realise until they're standing in his office just exactly what a feat they've accomplished. His typical shift flows from twelve to twenty eight hours, sometimes affording him a small rest when he can manage it, his long and lean frame curled onto the far-too-small couch just beside his desk. He doesn't slum in the empty ward room or resident's lounge like others. Yet despite all the drain on his personal reserves, he still manages to stand like a bastion before her. The Colossus of Rhodes with a shining beacon of hope in his outstretched hand, perhaps the greatest wonder of the modern medical world. She'd been collecting her own things and was about to get back to her place to crash for the same few hours he would, only to get up, shower, slam some coffee and start the day again right there in his shadow, when she got the page from his office. She had a cat and a cupcake waiting at home. It occurs to her that's two more things than he has. And she drops her bag and her coat in her locker before she heads back up. Mind going a mile a minute trying to review their caseload to see what she might have forgotten. What she might not have notated, what she might have gotten wrong. When she finally does join him, her stomach is tied in knots and maybe surprisingly, it has nothing to do with just how devastating he is even in the harsh overhead lights. It takes her a solid few seconds to connect the way he brushes her hands ~and swallow down the urge to make him sit, so she can massage new life into his exquisitely elegant and talented fingers~ and what he says. All of which transpire across her features before she looks down, and Stephen is treated to one of the rarest things in the world. Her eyes close fully so that her lashes graze her cheeks as they squeeze tight at the start of the smile. That she lets giddiness ~which can be blamed, naturally, on lack of sleep and nothing at all to do with the giver, the gift, or the feelings both evoke~ show every single tooth, the crooked ones, the inhumanly sharp ones, and all of the rest that so often only half emerge only to be hidden quickly away by her hand, and the exposure of her throat, the tendons that run tightly beneath her skin, and all of her arching toward him for that moment that she laughs. The surgical is amazing. Moreso the fact that somehow, Stephen noticed her affections for the kapu 'aumakua. And how it all filters into both her sense of humour ~innocent as it is~ and the culture she misses here on the mainland. "Oh, too perfect," she says, when she catches her breath. "Nevah gonna wear a different kine evah again. Mahalo, Doctah." She takes the cue toward formality from his own reservation though it only lasts a moment. She closes the space between them and for the beat of an uncaged heart maybe two, she presses her cheek to his chest, though closer to his arm than any other part of him. "Would...would you like one ride home?"

#submission #Mahalo!Matt <333333 #Kauka|Stephen Strange #Sphere Music|Stephen and Beth #The Flames that Burn|Dr Strange au #Fragments of the Past|Previous Birthdays

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sri-rachaa · 1 year

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Love learning more about your OCs, so for character design asks with Ah'den: Motion, Arms, Favorite

Hope you're doing well!

Howdy Kestrel!! (Is it alright that I call you that? Let me know if its not!! <33) THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!! <333

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

Ah'den is very stable, coordinated, and fluid in his motion, regardless of the fact that a human body isn't exactly his natural form. In fact, he actually finds the human physique much easier to maneuver than his natural-more plasma-like- body. He walks with a sense of power and confidence with fairly large strides, and rare will you ever see him seem uncomfortable in the physical sense. He typically wears whatever is easiest, whilst also flattering and appropriate for the occasion, so clothing isn't much on an issue when it comes to motion. Moreover, he's able fairly flexible and can occasionally manipulate the human body into impossible positions or ways. Overall, he has a very powerful and coordinated charisma just through looking his motions.

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

Ah'den does not have any weapons, actually! Because Seraph's in their natural form are not exactly...well...solid, wielding weapons is not a typical thing in their world- so even when walking the human plane in a human form they prefer to utilize their magic only in its natural state and not through any kind of physical adapter of sorts.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

Ah'den has two specific pieces of accessories that he wears regularly- and, ironically, they were both actually jokes/gag gifts. The first one was a simple ring, to which Cassius told Ah'den to wear at one formal event back in the 1960's because he needed Ah'den to seem "unavailable" so "(Kaz) could have a shot at actually bringing someone home tonight instead of Ah'den" (Yes, this was an actual competition they had going for a while). The second one was one of those string bracelets popular back in the early 2000's that Rennie made when she was bored. Both Kaz and Rennie constantly ask Ah'den why he still wears them, and still have yet to get any form of a straight answer. In Seraph culture, though, a familiar gifting their Seraph something is taken very seriously as it shows development of trust- which is why Ah'den cherishes both accessories to such a high regard.

(Except, don't tell Kaz and Rennie about that though. He prefers to keep it to himself.)

#raes ocverse

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planetkiimchi · 1 year

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pinterest worthy | l.mh / h.hj

summary — Hyunjin and Minho are two different types of beautiful, and their significant others are perfectly alright with that.

pairing: Hyunjin x nb!oc, Minho x fem!oc

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing anything kpop-related so far! it’s not really a fic, but i wanted to write something for my bias and bias wrecker <3

Hyunjin is Pinterest worthy.

He reminds Jae of faeries with their paper-thin wings, flitting around like butterflies do among flowers. He is a different kind of beautiful, with his long hair framing his face and the way he rolls his eyes when he’s dancing to God’s Menu.

Hyunjin walks like he’s a model posing for pictures, long legs captured perfectly as he strides across the airport. His side profile is prime for photographs, hair covering half his face, all half-smiles and hooded eyes.

When he’s gaming, Hyunjin leans forward, biting his lip in concentration, one leg crossed over the other and ears plugged.

Hyunjin is Pinterest worthy, Jae thinks. In Stray Kids, among the rowdy group of (surprisingly introverted) idols, Hyunjin and Felix are the most photogenic. Hyunjin has a face shape that attracts people’s attention, a smile to die for, and eyes that betray his emotions.

Hyunjin is like a faerie, unlike Felix’s angelic smile, because mischief lies in those eyes and on the tip of his tongue, as Jae has seen when Minho threatens to stuff toilet paper in his mouth. His art is beautiful, his beauty alluring, and attention-drawing.

Hyunjin and Jae look stunning in any and all candids captured of them, almost like they have a sixth sense for hidden cameras. Their perfect posture and newsworthy love is often commented upon, praise dropping from people’s lips.

Hyunjin’s pretty face fills Jae’s gallery at times, pictures they take of him while he’s eating, or pictures of him sleeping, sent to them by the members. Some are from news articles, the ones that they realised were better than anything they could have taken themself.

Hyunjin’s just photogenic that way. It doesn’t stop at Hyunjin—he has a feed that’s filled with nice photos of himself and Jae, all the pictures cohesive, aesthetic, and enviable.

Jae learns to live with it. They dress up to leave the house, almost regal in the way they hold themself. It begins to be a habit to linger a little too long by doorways in hopes of people catching a glimpse of their outfit, to watch the way they lift their foot to adjust their shoe, subtly letting their hair fall over their eyes.

And so, the Pinterest worthy that Jae once thought Hyunjin was, becomes the way their relationship is.

a different take

Minho’s aversion to photographs has always puzzled Leo. She thinks he’s the most handsome person she knows, and when he sits in a corner, face set in his resting bitch expression, she thinks about how lucky she is to be his significant other.

Minho cocks his head like a cat when he’s confused and rolls his eyes when he’s tired. He walks like he’s got places to be, strides long and assured, confident just like his dancing.

Minho leans on everything from the couch to the wall to his palm when he’s gaming, and takes his gaming very seriously. He hates to be interrupted, unless it’s for his cats, Leo, or dance.

He has a beauty that can’t be captured on camera, so Minho and Leo look like cryptids in most, if not all of their photos, sometimes even the ones that they are posing for.

It’s not that Minho isn’t beautiful. Minho literally fits the Korean beauty standard, almost to the letter, with a sharp nose and sleek jawline, smallish eyes and full lips. Even the arch of his eyebrows and his cheekbones look absolutely gorgeous in real life. It’s just that when Minho laughs, his eyes pull into a line, and every single moment of his laughter is blurry in photos.

Leo has tried multiple times to capture Minho’s beauty, going from camera to phone to photo booths, but all her experiments continue to prove that Minho isn’t photogenic, and his unglams fills her gallery at times, until she clears them all.

Minho’s just not photogenic that way.

His love for Leo is similar, in that they never go for Instagram-able experiences, preferring to get dirty than to take nice pictures, preferring to be active than to pose for a good shot. They have plenty of inside jokes from their hangouts, but their memory is the only thing they take away—and maybe two or three photos.

Minho isn’t the most outwardly affectionate either, though he kisses Leo back when she kisses him first, and rests his arm on her thigh, slapping her butt when it’s in reach.

It’s nothing glamorous, nothing that would get them into the tabloids, simply because it’s so uninteresting, and nobody would want to see photos of Minho gaming while Leo sips coffee from her mug and reads.

Minho’s not being Pinterest worthy, but Leo’s okay with that—after all, neither is she.

#kpop #stray kids #drabbles #lee know #hyunjin #kpop fics #🪁 — my works

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f1 · 2 years

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Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff warns there's a LONG way to go to battle for wins

Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff warns there's a LONG way to go 'in order to be in the fight' for wins with Ferrari and Red Bull... despite Lewis Hamilton and George Russell making a big improvement at Spanish GP Mercedes have had a difficult start to the season, unable to battle for race wins Ferrari and Red Bull have been in a league of their own as Mercedes struggle Mercedes boss Toto Wolff is not holding out hope for improvement in Monaco By Nathan Salt For Mailonline Published: 09:45 EDT, 26 May 2022 | Updated: 09:45 EDT, 26 May 2022 Toto Wolff has looked to pump the brakes on growing optimism at Mercedes by warning there is 'lots of wat to go' before Lewis Hamilton and George Russell can take the title fight to Red Bull and Ferrari. Mercedes, by their lofty standards, have had a miserable start to the 2022 season with neither driver so far in contention for the drivers' championship title. There was big strides taken at the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona but team principal Wolff knows the team cannot get ahead of itself after one ray of light. 'We've seen another big step, probably we've halved the advantage to the front-runners,' Wolff told Sky Sports F1. 'But still there's lots of way to go in order to be in the fight.' Lewis Hamilton insists he is not the leader of Mercedes partnership with George Russell In Spain, Russell finished third and Hamilton finished fifth, making it their most promising weekend of the season so far. The Silver Arrows, along with the rest of Formula One, heads to Monaco this weekend full in the knowledge that things could get worse before they get better. 'Monaco in the past wasn't our most happy place,' added Wolff. 'Maybe because the car was the size of an elephant! 'I will be curious to see where we are this weekend. My expectations are lower than any other circuit... it's going to be a learning point at least, to bring us back into the game.' Only once in the last four installments have Mercedes come out on top in Monaco and with qualifying position so key, the raw pace of Red Bull and Ferrari may prove too difficult to overcome. Ferrari boss Mattia Binotto is one man not buying into talk in the paddock of Mercedes' revival. In his own interview with Sky, Binotto added: 'On Saturday [in Spain] they were six, seven tenths on a qualy lap which is still a short circuit. On Sunday they finished 30 seconds to a Red Bull, and it would have been maybe 40 seconds to Charles [Leclerc, who retired]. 'That's six, seven tenths a lap and that's still significant, it's like Ferrari last year.' Advertisement Share or comment on this article: Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff warns there's a LONG way to go to battle for wins via Formula One | Mail Online https://www.dailymail.co.uk?ns_mchannel=rss&ns_campaign=1490&ito=1490

#F1 #Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff warns there's a LONG way to go to battle for wins #Formula 1

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twistedmusings · 3 years

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Wake Up From Your Dream

A/N: I don't even know what I can SAY to this one except...I think I was so angry at not writing that I wrote smut outta SPITE? Can I be so angry with myself that I write Malleus smut to just get something out there? I guess I can. Anyways this ask certainly let my imagination fly q wq

Warnings: Non-con making its way into dub-con, manipulation, impregnating sex and Malleus realizing that family is really important.

You needed to find your way back to Night Raven College.

It has been so long since you’ve been back there, laughing and walking around as if there was no trouble in the world. Nevermind that you weren’t anywhere close to home and nevermind that your family was seeking you out.

As long as there was a possibility of you finding your way home, you had pretended that everything was going to be alright.

You were still a stranger to this world, you had no ties to this world and there would be no reason for you to stay once Crowley found your way back home. It was wonderful making friends with such a variety of people and watching them all grow in their own way. The way you knew you would grow from this experience as well.

Watching Ace and Deuce really come into themselves and their Unique Magic, watching the dorm leaders step into their positions of power and truly start to make a name for themselves that would help them out in their own version of the ‘real’ world. Riddle had gotten a wonderful position befitting of his family name, Leona was actually graduating, Azul was said to open a Monstro Lounge in the Coral Sea while Kalim had started investing time in his father’s trade without having Jamil help him. Even Idia was starting to take strides in his own field!

And you were proudest of Malleus. One simple conversation outside of Ramshackle had turned into a friendship you thought you would never forget. It was so wonderful to see him interact more with students, shyly following after you as you pushed him to talk more to others despite his position. That was what college was for, right? To experience new things and find your future--

You just didn’t think that Malleus would take it that far.

Was it because he was spoiled? No, even though he was born in a monarchy he still did his best to remain kind to others, especially his subjects. You were sure he was going to make a kind king in the future, even if you never got to see with your own two eyes.

You pull the hood over your head as you enter a bath house, the fae receiving you with a curious look and a smile as you hand her 2000 madols.

“Will you be booking a room tonight as well?”

“Just a simple shower and bath, that is all.”

If you were to make a guess, you were in the borders of the Valley of Thorns, a more rural area compared to the now rather modernized capital. You had stolen enough money to get you by for a few trips and you knew that places like these were the best at getting you directions. It had been a bit of a grueling trip, testing your knowledge of the fae language as well as avoiding questions about who you were and why you so desperately needed to make your way back to such a prestigious college. In a sense, you kept it minimal.

You needed to get back home.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

The mantra you kept repeating to yourself was whispered under your breath as you removed your articles of clothing slowly, still looking around to see if anybody had followed you in. But this is what was raising all of the hairs on your body, wasn’t it? This constant vigilance that didn’t let you sleep at night. You needed to relax, no one else would come this far.

You feel the fatigue melt as several days of walking are washed right off your body, a smile slowly creeping up on your face as you wash the dirt and oil from your hair.

It would be fine.

You would make it to Night Raven College and sneak into the Hall of Mirrors before wishing yourself back home. Crowley had said that they had pinned down the world you lived in and only after you make your wish would the connection be broken. This most likely meant that the connection was still intact since you didn’t even get a chance to to look at the mirror before you were whisked away.

Everything was going to work itself out, that’s the most you could promise yourself.

The bath is heavenly, the temperate water cooling you down from the hot shower as you look around.

There were no other patrons.

“Good.”

You lean back and press your head against a soft pillow of towels, enjoying the silence as you feel your worries soften while thinking back to what you would do when you were back home. It had been so long since you’ve seen some of your friends, your family was probably worried sick and you still had your own plans you wanted to get through.

If you had time, you could maybe drop by to see how your first year friends were doing?

Or were they in their third year now?

Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?

Your eyes close as you let yourself relax entirely, almost succumbing to sleep.

Only for a hand to grab your throat, the other covering your eyes as you hear a familiar chuckle that tenses your body up and breaks your heart.

“I am afraid we will have to postpone this shower.”

Tears well up in the corner of your eyes as you hear the sound of footsteps into the area, most likely the royal guard.

“Lilia--”

“You’d do well to stay put lest they chase after you.”

The hands covering your eyes pull back as you see a teasing smile looking down pitifully at your fresh set of tears.

“It has taken far too long to find you, Your Majesty.”

-----

“HUMAN!”

“[Y/N]-san!”

Lilia smiles as he leads you by the hand, the royal guard following close behind as Sebek and Silver join him.

“He might have already woken up, Father.”

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? DO YOU KNOW WHAT MY YOUNG MASTER HAS GONE THROUGH?”

“Sebek.” Lilia looks at his charge, “Quiet. Malleus might still be sleeping.”

Silver takes one peek at you, trying to meet your gaze but pulling away when he sees that the veil Lilia had put on you is blocking anybody’s stares from seeing your face. In fact, the second in command had put you in one of the traditional outfits for fae royalty, complete with a light veil that flowed down from the silver circlet placed on your head.

“Excellent.”

Lilia turns his attention to you and laughs.

“He has been absolutely miserable since you left. It was quite a surprise to all of us when you managed to leave the palace walls. None of us thought that you had really done it, especially him, and it really was a hassle to search the palace up and down to see just where our little human had run off to.”

His voice drops to a whisper as he brings your hand up to his lips.

“I’ll make sure to punish you for that later.”

The older fae leads you along as you finally reach your destination, smiling as he knocks on large wooden doors while pushing you slightly to stand in front of everybody.

An answer he was going to get by the end of the night.

“Malleus.”

No answer. He tests the doors and nods when he sees they are unlocked, opening them as he leads you to step inside so that you both could see the figure drenched in moonlight, looking out the window as if awaiting for an answer.

Lilia waits for his other charge to say anything but shrugs as he looks at you with a smile and a bow.

“We are glad to have you back, Your Majesty.”

The door closes with a loud click as you turn your eyes to look up at the imposing figure, your nails digging into your fingertips enough to draw blood as you try to hold back from screaming and shouting at him to stop acting like such a child. Yet you do not wish to anger him, at least to save yourself from any sort of harsher punishment.

So instead you make your way over to the bed--

Only for the fae to turn around, grab your wrist and slam your back into the rough stone wall. Bright green eyes glare down at you as you wince in pain, still looking away from him but letting out a yelp when Malleus’s fingers grab your chin and force you to look at him in the eye.

“Why did you run?”

He really had no idea, did he?

“Because I don’t belong here--”

Malleus tightens his hold on your wrist.

“We’ve discussed this before, child of man, you belong here just like anybody else, you are my Queen--”

“Malleus wake UP!”

You push against his hold but the fae’s hold gets tighter, most likely leaving a mark. But that wouldn’t deter you, not anymore, you were going to tell him.

“I’m not from this world! Coming to Twisted Wonderland was just an accident! A stupid, stupid accident that no one bothered to fix! And just when we were close to making it right you---you--!”

Shit, you’re crying again.

“I have people waiting for me. Just like you had a family waiting for you. I came to the Valley of Thorns thinking that I was supporting you during your coronation but you just--made a decision entirely by yourself and announced me as yours! Why did you lie to me? To them?!”

Malleus’s hold softens as you finally let your tears flow freely, wishing to wipe them away only due to how weak they were making you look.

“...did you not say you loved me?”

“I did! I did but--Malleus after what you did I can’t--”

He lets go of your wrist only to cup your face as he leans down to press his lips on your cheek, his tongue licking up the warm tears as you grab hold of his wrists to try and push him away.

“Do you miss your family?”

You nod as he moves to kiss the corner of your eyes.

“More than anything…”

The dragon fae hums, letting his lips stay where they were a few seconds longer before chuckling as he pulls you close.

“I see--I really have been cruel to you, haven’t I?”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat at his words, hands clutching at his robes as you quickly nod. Maybe this was it, maybe it had taken you breaking down to let him see reason?

Please. Please!

“...A family.”

Malleus’s words are like dripped honey as a thought formed in his head, the thought taking shape and form as his hands clutched you tighter.

“Then we’ll just need to make a family of our own…”

-----

Hands clutch at his sheets as Malleus takes in the shape under him.

How beautiful could you be? How complex? To him it was as if not a day had passed since you first met. What had been mere curiosity had delved into deep affection and blossomed into a love that Malleus would only read about in fairytales. The sort of books that led him to believe in soulmates, in happily ever after’s and the possibility of spending the rest of your life with the one you loved.

And yes, you weren’t a fae, but the power of his magic was grand enough to keep you tied to him for the rest of eternity.

His lips can’t help but seek out yours as he thinks about how he is the one who will decide when you die.

This love hadn’t started out like this. What he felt for you had been a bit more relaxed, a lot softer and dreamier. You had confessed to him after his Overblot incident and he had gladly accepted your feelings. He was still keen on finding you a way home and promised himself to not let any moment be wasted in thinking how you soon would be far away from him.

Every day was spent happily with you, the rest of the school year flying by as you both enjoyed the time you still had together.

But Malleus was still a dragon at heart, a fae that yearned and longed to take and take.

So when thoughts about you leaving started to make their way to the forefront of his mind, not even your constant love and affection could keep him from his instincts.

You would leave him to go back to your world. Go back to the normal and the familiar. As you walked your path, you would eventually find someone that enchanted you the way he had, all ending with you walking down a beautiful aisle to your now beloved.

A person that wasn’t...him.

As the days of his third year started to run to a close, his hold on you had become a lot tighter, his kisses a lot more possessive and in the end he had invited you to watch his coronation as he entered his fourth and final year.

With his announcement of making you his Queen.

“Malleus! Please I can’t--I’m not ready--!”

He let Lilia make up some story about you not returning to Night Raven, fooling Crowley into believing that you had found your future in the Valley of Thorns with him. The announcement of you taking up the role of Queen had been surprising but Malleus had woven the story in such a way that there had been talks of having it printed for others to read.

It was a wonderful ending to your love story, you ending up in his arms. But something was missing…

Malleus was glad that you had given him the answer.

Both of your knees were on either side of his waist, your hands clutching at whatever they could as his cock buried itself deep into your cunt. The veil was long forgotten as his robes and your own are thrown carelessly around the room while you wail and scream at being broken into by such a thick length. The small sight of blood on his cock made Malleus smile as he pushed in further, the tightness that was pushing him back slowly opening up for him as he watched you do your best to fit him inside.

It would be fine, you would be fine.

With a growl he finally bottoms out, two hands holding your hips and forcing you down to take all of him as the tip of his cock pressed right under your womb--

He shivers as you tighten up again, leaning down to lick up the trail of tears on your cheek before eating up your tiny whimpers with a hungry kiss.

“Here...right here is where our family will start.”

A large hand takes yours as Malleus puts it right over the small bulge on your stomach, your eyes growing wide as you realize just how deep inside he is. He kisses you again, not daring to break away as he lets a trail of saliva dangle from his lips to yours, the clear liquid disappearing into your mouth as your body relaxed and your eyes grew hazy.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

It was a simple question, but your brain seemed muddled from his kiss. Dragons tended to excrete a certain liquid as they got ready to mate, the experience painful even within his own species but being eased with the help of saliva, sweat or cum.

And with the way he was pressed against you, his sweat matted on your skin as he let more of his spit drip down his tongue and onto yours...surely the answer would come the more you two worked to start your family.

Malleus hardly gave you any time to recover as he started to move, his eyes entranced with the way he disappeared into you with each thrust. Your mind was still muddled but your body was already eagerly accepting him, your legs wrapping around him slowly before locking him in place as he repeated the question.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

You open your mouth but the only word that comes out is a plea for him to go faster.

Which Malleus gladly listens to.

It didn’t take long for him to start pounding into you at a brutal pace, every thrust having the tip of his cock slamming against your womb as your toes curled from the pleasure of taking him so deep. His cock disappeared inside your tiny cunt, shaft now coated not just with blood but with your arousal as well. The bed creaked in protest while the sounds of the bed frame hitting the wall helped him keep time, Malleus leaning back down to kiss you again as your lips this time part eagerly and sucked on his tongue while your hands clutched his shoulders and horns.

Cries turned into happy moans, your sad and abandoned look now one of pure ecstasy as your pussy flutters and tightens around him, pushing him to go harder and harder so he could---!

“[Y/N]--!”

Your legs close tighter around him as you bury your face on the crook of his neck, your orgasm being ripped from you unexpectedly as Malleus halted his movements with a stiff body. He drops his head on your shoulder as your legs keep him in place.

“Malleus...ah--!”

He groans as he paints the inside of your walls white, the warmth of his cum filling your womb to the point that what you hadn’t taken merely dripped out onto the now stained sheets. Malleus lifts his head to look down at you, smiling as he sees your eyes staring up at him eagerly despite how much you had protested before.

“A family…”

You smile as Malleus nods, your hands going all the way to your stomach as you feel the warmth start to twist your brain even more.

“A family with you…how wonderful…”

Arms wrap around him as Malleus kisses a trail from your shoulder to your lips. He just needed to ask you one last time.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

With a hum, your answer is whispered into his ear as Malleus closes his eyes as he realizes that this is where his happily ever after would finally start.

“I love you Malleus, more than anything else.”

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst mc #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst smut #twst imagines #fem reader #twst x reader #adult section #requests #//and to those who have been sending me nice messages #//thank you q wq

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doubleleoenergy · 3 years

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My Oh My

A little bit older, a black leather jacket. A bad reputation, insatiable habits.

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, oral (female receiving), HEAVY breeding kink, dirty talk, knotting, mating, beta in heat, blood

Word Count: 2132

Author’s Notes: I am sorry that I am such a whore. This is disgustingly filthy.

“Y/N?” Bucky has one hand on the steering wheel of the Jeep Wrangler, the other gripping his cellphone against his ear. He was headed back towards the ‘Pack Dwelling’, as some would call it, representing the large house in the middle of the woods that his pack all lived in. Bucky had been out meeting with the Stark Pack, a pack of ten located about two hours away from their property.

It was mating season, and having been more ESTABLISHED than the Stark Pack when it came to that time of the year, their alpha Tony had asked to meet up and give advice to his group of betas. Tony himself had been through MANY mating seasons with his mate Pepper, but his pack of betas were fairly young and hadn’t experienced anything related to the first heat. Tony and Bucky explained the process to the males, bringing in the females after with Pepper in tow to help explain to them how their heat would affect them. After staying for a late lunch Bucky finally said his goodbyes, thirty minutes from home when y/n called.

“Buck…” She whined on the other end, the alpha sitting up straighter in his seat. He KNEW what was going on from the sound of her voice, a deep growl leaving his chest. This was it, this was HER first heat. His foot instinctively pressed harder on the gas, a wild look of excitement spreading across his face.

Y/N and Bucky had been together for about three months now, and the moment his cerulean hues locked on her he KNEW she was his. She had been a member of the Romanoff Pack originally, but had lost their alpha in battle. The new alpha that had taken over was cold-blooded, had a thirst for human hunting, something SHE and half of her pack did not agree with. One night, while everyone was asleep, they made their escape, becoming omegas for a few months before stumbling upon Bucky and his pack in town. The rest was HISTORY.

“I know, doll. I promise I’m hurrying.” He was going at least twenty ABOVE the speed limit at this point, not giving a fuck as he traveled on the backroads of town. No cops ever traveled this far back, and there hadn’t been another vehicle on the road for at least ten minutes. “Are you alone?” He questioned, his cock stirring in his dark denim jeans.

“Yes, Peggy also went into heat about the same time as I did today, Steve has been taking care of her in their room. But the new betas, the ones without MATES, they can smell me. They’ve been trying to get in the room but I threatened to rip off their heads if they did.” She KNEW Bucky was pissed, a darker growl wafting through the phone speaker, hearing the sound of the Jeep speeding up.

“They KNOW better.” He snapped, hearing her hold the phone away from her ear as she screamed at the betas who continued to claw at the door. “They should know you belong to ME, you have the mark to prove it, don’t know why they think they can touch their ALPHA’S property.”

Bucky’s words make the wetness between her legs worse, her panties already soaked in her denim shorts. “You can deal with them when you get here. But I really need you to hurry, Buck. I’m SO hot right now.” It felt like her body was on fire, her hips bucking against the pillow on the bed to create stimulation to her clit.

“I’ll be there in FIVE. Then I’ll show those dogs who you BELONG to.”

Bucky barely gets the Jeep in park out in front of their rustic estate, ripping his seatbelt off and slamming the door, the muscles in his arms bulging TAUT against his favorite black leather jacket. The door smacks against the wall as he enters, making the female betas watching a movie on the couch jump.

“Where are they?” He questioned through gritted teeth, pulling his leather jacket off and dropping it to the floor carelessly. One of the betas points in the direction of y/n and Bucky’s master bedroom, his footsteps getting louder as he strides against the hardwood floor.

“BOYS!” His voice is booming, the low growl settling in his chest. The three young betas clawing at the bedroom door stop, turning to look at Bucky with fear in their eyes. “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?”

One of the boys looks back at the others, visibly shaking. “W-We’re sorry, alpha. Y/N just smells so GOOD. We can’t help it, we don’t have anyone.” Bucky moves to stand directly in front of them, gesturing to the door which displayed THICK scratch marks now.

“You want her that bad, huh?” He snaps his teeth at them, making them flinch. “Get out of my FACE before I rip your throats out with my TEETH.” The boys scramble, knocking into each other as they sprint down the hall and into the kitchen.

Bucky turns his attention back to the door, jiggling the locked handle a few times before he hears it unlock, pushing it open. Of course the SCENT of her arousal wafted a mile down the road, the stench only getting stronger as he walked closer and closer to the bedroom. His eyes take in the site of his mate, his cock hard as a rock now in his jeans.

She had discarded her shorts and tank top by now, the heat overtaking her, NEEDING to be free. Her drenched panties still clung to her hips, her breasts completely exposed. She looked DAZED, like she was trying to see through a fog, her mouth open and panting for cool air.

Bucky kicks the door shut behind him, walking up to y/n and kissing her deeply, his hands running through her hair. She melts against his lips and his body, feeling him press his tightened jeans against her, a moan leaving her lips when she could FEEL how hard he was already for her. She’s panting again loudly when he breaks the kiss, his hands roaming over the beads of sweat along her back, caressing her body and placing kisses down her jawline. He gently walks them backwards until they fall onto the bed, all of Bucky’s weight pinning her down.

“Buck! I need you, I’m literally on FIRE.” She croaked out, her hands going up into his long locks and tugging. A deep growl emits from his throat again, his teeth scraping against the darkened mating mark on her skin, drawing a few droplets of blood. He’s licking and sniffing all over her neck and collarbones, snaking his body down hers as he scents her, marking him as HIS. This would keep the betas away for sure, her scent covered with HIM.

Bucky watches as y/n arches her back into him as his lips latch onto her breast, sucking for a moment before moving to the other. His lips trailed down her abdomen, stopping to place wet kisses just above her pantyline. “Gotta taste you first, you smell so DELICIOUS.” He teased, a sharp fingernail slicing easily through the thin fabric of her panties. He pulls the shredded bits away, admiring her folds as they glistened with her honey.

Bucky wastes no time, lapping against the juices on the outer folds before diving inward, his beard scratching PERFECTLY against her skin. Soft moans are falling from her lips, her fingers still toying in his hair, hips bucking into his face to take MORE. It isn’t long before she cums, sending sweet liquid to his tongue.

“H-holy shit.” Her eyes close in pleasure, Bucky slurping up all of the liquid she gave him before he pulls back with a smile. “Doll, you taste even SWEETER than usual.” He gets off of her to remove each article of clothing he still had on, kicking his shoes in with the pile, his cock slapping against his stomach as it became free from the fabric binding him in.

He steps forward towards the bed again, tugging on one of her ankles to pull her so her ass is RIGHT up against the edge of the bed, her legs instinctively flexing open at her sides. “Want to take you like this first, fuck you slow on my cock, see your face when I first press into that needy cunt of yours.”

Y/N whimpers on the bed, her flingers moving to tug at her pink nipples. “Please, Buck, NEED to feel you now. I promise I’ll be GOOD.” Bucky settles against her slit, the tip of his cock red and angry, a light sheen of pre-cum leaking out. He lines himself up, one of his hands gripping her hip as he pushes in. His eyes focus on her face, watching it contort with pleasure at being filled finally. His cock was long and girthy, y/n’s cunt swallowing him in until he couldn’t push in any further.

He barely moves backward before she cums again, tears falling to her cheeks from how incredible it felt. “Baby please move, need MORE of you.” Her nipples are hard from the way she pinched at them, one of her hands moving down so her fingers can press against her clit. Bucky’s hips move back so he’s halfway out of her before plunging back in again, bottoming out. He can HEAR how wet she is as he picks up his pace, a rumble stirring in his chest.

“Doll, you feel so good, so wet for me. Look at you, milking my cock for more.” He fucks her like that for a few minutes before pulling out, y/n whimpering at how EMPTY she felt. “Get on your hands and knees, ass up.” She does as she’s told, rolling over onto her knees and sticking her ass up high. Bucky SHOVES his cock back in, going deeper in this position than he had been before. His rough hands grab onto her hips, his nails digging into her skin as he fucks into her animalistically.

“So fucking good, look so BEAUTIFUL on your alpha’s cock.” Her walls tighten as she cums a third time, mumbling nonsense, a lazy smile spreading on her face. Bucky chuckles, one of his hands moving into her hair, tugging her flush up against him. He tilts her face so he can see her, her eyes fighting the urge to close. “Look at you, going fucking STUPID on your alpha’s cock. Can’t even stop yourself from coming, like the whore in heat that you are.”

She’s drooling a bit, letting him fuck her senseless. “Yes alpha. I’m a whore in heat, only for YOU.” He can feel his orgasm building, a guttural groan escaping his throat.

“Gonna cum in that sweet cunt, fuck you down onto my KNOT to fill you full.” The hand on her hip snakes around to rub over her stomach, his hips snapping against her harder. “You’ll look so good all SWOLLEN with my pups, gonna keep you full of my cum always, make you my breeding whore.” Y/N loses it again, submitting as she cums one last time, the hand Bucky had in her hair moving forward to grip her throat, touching along their mate mark.

“You like the thought of that, huh? You came just from THINKING about me using you as my breeding whore. Maybe when you’re heavy with my pups I’ll bring you out into the living room and make the beta boys WATCH as I fuck you, let them watch what a whore you are for me. Let them know who you belong to as I fuck you stupid.” She’s whimpering at how good all of it sounds, swallowing as best she could with his hand around her throat.

“Y-yes alpha, PLEASE, want you to do all of that. Want you to breed me, tie us together with your KNOT, want to be your breeding whore.” Her words are all it takes before his knot builds inside of her, tying them together as she wanted, ropes of cum spurting deep inside of her, breeding her full. Her stomach BULGES from all of the cum that’s pumped inside her, wincing at the sting of the knot as it locked her into place. Bucky releases his hand from her throat, her body heaving forward and collapsing on the bed, his own body resting atop hers.

He places gentle kisses to her shoulder, nuzzling against her. “Did so GOOD, doll. Can’t wait till we have a little family of our own.” She smiles, her breathing finally steadying and the fire on her body dissipating a bit.

“A little family of potential alphas to take their daddy’s place someday. I like the sound of THAT.”

#alpha!bucky #alpha!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #marvel fic #marvel smut #marvel #bucky barnes #doubleleoenergyworks

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whoacanada · 4 years

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Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight.

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

#bar au #jack zimmermann #NHL!Bitty #zimbits #Zimmermann #retired Jack #zimbits fic #look I wrote a thing #it's only been forever #my fic #my stuff #omgcp #check please

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heavenlydevine · 3 years

Note

From the prompt list please do 28. “No, I checked my receipt. I didn’t buy any of your bullshit.” with Bruce Wayne I think that would be so funny ffsshjngk

Bruce Wayne [DCEU/Affleck] x Female!Reader.

Warnings: Language. And sexual references. Slight domination if you squint.

As you wanted Affleck, I couldn't imagine him finding it amusing. His portrayal of Bruce Wayne took on a far more darker side than what Bale gave us. So I hope this is what you had in mind.

Don’t fuck up.

Those were the parting words your father had uttered to you after announcing that he had gotten you the opportunity of a lifetime, and loathe you were to admit it, working for Wayne Enterprises had its perks.

Though most would frown upon your job description, you had taken it with stride, as there were far worse jobs in the business than being an errand girl—true meaning, coffee girl.

You didn’t mind the up and down, back and forth—and though it had taken you no less than three weeks to learn just how everyone preferred their coffees, you often wondered whether it would be the only thing you’d be doing.

And then just three months into your new job, you had done the one thing your father had urged you not to do. You fucked up.

But could one consider it a fuck up if you managed to become the personal assistant of the one and only Bruce Wayne? You had never met the man before, yet you had heard enough to know that he was a respectable man with a take no nonsense persona, and yet nothing could have been further from the truth.

Bruce Wayne might have been a gentle, caring man to the public, but to you, no, to you he was much more than that. Your first encounter would be a memory you’d often cherish, the remnants of your coffee tarnishing to what appeared to be a rather expensive suit, and though you had expected him to give you a verbal lashing, fire you on the spot, he had simply looked at you and smiled.

“Guess this gives me a reason to shower.”

And you didn’t know whether to be flustered or mortified, his laughter ringing through your mind—and it was then that you realized that the man was insanely attractive, the steaks of gray hairs scattered about his dark brown hair an added bonus.

You cannot remember when your relationship with the eccentric billionaire had changed from employer and employee, to whatever the fuck this was. This wasn’t the first time you found yourself stripped bare in his office, spread across his desk as he pounded into you from behind.

No.

He had made sure that you understood the significance behind the relationship you two shared—you were his and his alone, to do with whatever he pleased.

And you couldn’t find the notion to actually care.

He was never rough with you, yet you knew the man kept himself at bay—as you’d catch a glimpse of the darkness lingering behind his eyes whenever you’d catch him staring at you from afar, the obvious glint of desire swimming within his orbs a haunting reminder that this was not what you had imagined your life becoming.

And now, as you stood in the quaint, yet spacious room with everyone’s attention focused on you and you alone, you knew you had crossed the line. Never before had you been late to a board meeting, and as this was held annually every year in consideration as to which direction the company was heading, you knew no explanation could ever trump the wrath that emitted from Bruce Wayne.

“This meeting is adjourned,” never once did he take his eyes off you, and for a fleeting moment as the room burst in an abundance of activities, men and women alike murmuring amongst each other, whilst others gave you a sympathetic glance and a pat on the shoulder, you knew you fucked up, “—I’ll expect everyone’s reports on my table my Monday morning.”

And then silence.

Heart pounding in your chest, eyes wide as you continued to hold your iced coffee in trembling hands, you couldn’t help but shudder in fear as the doors behind you closed with a loud thunk and the blinds zipped tighter, encasing the room with a darkened hue despite the sunlight streaming through the large windows that gave view to the bustling streets below. “I can explain..”

“I don’t want to fucking hear your excuses,” he had never spoken to you in such a way, and though it did unspeakable things to your neither regions, your thighs pressing against one another, “—it’s irrelevant to me. This meeting, as you know, consisted out of people who sponsor this company, as well as the Wayne Foundation. So imagine what they must think of me,” and then your heart seized to function.

Bruce Wayne was pissed.

Because the sight of him loosening his tie, jacket now discarded and hanging across the chair, was an image you had often entertained at night, whispers or sinful things echoing through your mind at the thought of him unleashing the seven hells upon you, “—when my beautiful little assistant barges into the room like a bat out of hell, looking like she just ran a fucking marathon, four hours late, when she should have been the first one to arrive. I had to organize my own papers. I had to do everything myself, so remind me why I pay you?”

And then the rage sparked within your chest, your mouth opening and closing, and with a single thought running through your mind, you threw caution to the wind and leveled him with a look that would make any respectable man tremble yin fear, “Well excuse me, your highness,” his eyebrows rose in surprise, a look of fury following soon after, and yet as it lingered at the forefront of your mind that you were crossing your boundaries, you were far to lost in your own anger to give a shit what he or anyone else thought of you.

“You were the one that made me run around like a headless chicken. You made me drive all the way to the docks to secure the shipment that came in, and then you had me drive all the way back to the manor to get your precious files—which I organized, and on top of it all, you had me miss the deadline for my article and had me stuck in traffic for almost two hours,” you pointed an accusing finger at him, never realizing that you had moved closer to him, “—so in hindsight, you are the one that should apologize to me, after all, you were the one that insisted I wait in a que of more than twelve people to get your precious decaf.”

“Are you done?”

And then you just had to say it. “No, I checked my receipts. I didn’t buy any of your bullshit,” and with the goal to turn around and leave, the gasp of surprise that slipped past your lips was swallowed by his lips smashing against yours, arms encasing you in a tight embrace, immobilizing you and rendering you a quivering mess.

“You are going to regret taking that tone with me,” he murmured, pupils blown wide, “—so I’ll show you what happens to insolent little brats who talk back to their superiors.”

And then he was pushing you backwards, lips still attached to yours with the intention to suck all the air from your lungs. “I’m going to ruin you and you are going to take it.”

And ruin you he did.

Squeezing your waist in confirmation, a silent desperation to feel you submit to his advances, all rational thought flew out your mind, “Just fuck me, Bruce.”

His control vanished the moment your words echoed through his ears. “Be careful what you wish for.”

I stopped here, as I wasn’t entirely sure whether I should delve further down citrus lane. Though should you want another part to this, a continuation to this, then feel free to request another prompt. I’m sorry it took so long. Hope you liked it.

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne Imagine #Batman #Affleck

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amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes · 3 years

Text

Toy Box

AN: This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Two Years of Darkness challenge. My prompt is Mob!AU you wonder about your bf/gf's late nights and the answer surprises you and my character is Bucky. I took a friendship route to the gf and not romantic and this went from Bucky to an add on. This is a little late but I changed the story and characters last minute; I apologize. Not beta’d so all mistakes are my own. My character is written with a WOC in mind but all read. Please don’t repost my work without my expressed permission 🗣🗣🗣

Warnings: ‼️NON-CON‼️, allusions to prostitution, voyeurism, unwanted groping, slight gun play, violence(the gun is discharged), threesome? four-way? IDK how to classify it. Proceed with caution and do not read if the subject matter offends you.

Pairing: Officially? Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,121

~~~~~

“Hey, what are you doing to make all this extra money?”

Sabrina, your roommate, gave you a weary look as you hesitated by the large double doors. The sounds of the busy street unnerved you but you wanted to do this. Besides, if Sabrina could do it, why couldn’t you? While she had been quite cryptic in telling you what her part-time job duties are, you trusted Sabrina. She'd been your roommate and best friend for years and you had all confidence in her.

"You really wanna know?" The uncertainty in her voice went ignored. You placed your hands on your hips and tsked. She avoided your pointed glare. Secrets were never kept between the two of you; you both knew everything about each other so to think she was holding something from you was offensive.

"Girl, yes. I wanna know how you go from not being able to pay your half of the rent to now covering my half. What's the deal?"

After nearly an hour of guilt tripping her, Sabrina finally caved and told you she was working for "some hotel in guest services and entertainment". When you pressed her for a better explanation, she just shrugged and asked if you wanted to meet her boss and get the job description from her. While you may not have skills to be an entertainer, surely they had a position at the front desk you could do. That night you happily edited your resume and dreamt of all the things you could do with the extra money; pay off a bill or two and save for that vacation you so desperately need.

"You ready?" A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality. Of all places, you didn't expect her to bring you to the Hotel Cortez. The Cortez was well known as one of two hives for the new crime syndicate that took over the town a few years back. You'd only half paid attention to the news articles as they listed the main culprits: James Barnes, and Carol "The Captain" Danvers. The two of them wreaked havoc on the town and had nearly the entire police force in their back pocket. You’d been lucky enough to not cross paths with them or their associates, hearing that once you get tangled with them, you’re stuck.

Humming a response to her, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. It wasn't like you're doing anything illegal, you’d be so far down the ladder that the worst that could happen to you was you get fired. At least you still had your full time job to fall back on. Placing your hand on the handle, you shift your portfolio and push open the large glass doors. Red and gold carpet covers the lobby floor and high crystal chandeliers illuminate the area in a dreamlike glow; a true juxtaposition to what you believed it would look like. Standing in the middle of the lobby, you gawk at the red velvet chairs that look like mini thrones rather than chairs. You feel out of place and severely under-dressed with your black maxi skirt and white shirt.

“They’re ready for you, Ruby. Go on up.” You startle and turn towards the feminine voice. Behind a desk you didn't even notice, a blonde woman in a fitted white dress smiles at you. Sabrina mumbles her thanks and hooks her arms in yours, dragging you to the opposite side of the desk. Frowning, you turn to Sabrina when you stop in front of an elevator.

“Who the hell is Ruby?”

“Me.” her eyes never leave the floor indicator, the numbers counting down. Clearing her throat, she shrugs. “They give us nicknames here, you don’t use your real name.”

“Why?” The elevator dings and slides open. Still hooked with you, Sabrina pulls you into the elevator and presses floor 21. You turn to her with your arms crossed. She avoids your glare and sighs.

“It's not too late to turn around.” You tilt your head in confusion at her. Before you can ask for clarification, the elevator dings and the door opens. Again you are taken aback at the decor of the room. You were expecting an office, not a large gray sofa and matching chair on a white rug nor the ceiling to floor windows that made the walls. The rest of the floor was hardwood and more gray chairs scattered about. Tall white vases of varying bouquets of flowers sat on matching gray tables and a small chandelier casts a soft glow. Sabrina let you go and walked further into the room. You stood awkwardly a few feet from the elevator, too nervous to move in fear of breaking something.

A call of your name beckons you to move. You hear voices and as you exit the foyer, you get a better view of the room. More gray furniture decorate the room and to the far left of the room, a large L shaped desk with matching cabinets. A woman is perched on the corner of the desk, her short black dress raised over her long legs as she giggles at a blonde woman behind the desk. In a chair to their right, a man sits with a glass and watches you as you stop next to Sabrina. The woman behind the desk stands and moves toward you. Swallowing hard, your resolve falters when you recognize her. Carol Danvers. You weren’t expecting to see any of the bosses and seeing her up close is daunting. Her presence is authoritative as she strides towards you, her tailored black suit as unwavering as her gaze.

“This her?” the woman on the desk glances at Sabrina before raking her eyes slowly down your body. Carol hums as she paces around you, the action making you uneasy.

"She's cute. What do you think, Barnes?"

Your anxiety spikes as you realize that both of the mob bosses are within arms reach of you and staring you down. Sabrina elbows you in the ribs and clears her throat as she introduces you. You plaster your best smile and hand your portfolio to Carol. She takes it from you and as you are about to speak, she tosses it to the woman still on the desk.

"How adorable is this? She brought a resume." Her teasing making you frown. You reach for your portfolio but she pulls back and sticks out her tongue with a wink.

"Maria," Carol playfully chides. "Don't give the new girl a hard time. Test her, James."

He hums from his seat and placed his glass on the table. You clear your throat and begin to list off your work experience, his hand reaches to his belt and unfastens it. You pause and turn to Sabrina again who shrugs. Carol resumes her place next to Maria and places a hand on her thigh. Your eyes bounce between the women before falling back to James who is in the process of opening his fly.

"You know what? Maybe this position isn't for me." You attempt to sound braver than you feel but your voice comes out small. "Thank you for the opportunity, we're leaving." Taking a step back, you turn fully to Sabrina who is looking at the floor and you grab her wrist.

Maria giggles as Carol's hand creeps under the hem of her dress. You attempt to pull Sabrina but she doesn't move. You look at her incredulously as James stands with a deep sigh. Your flight or fight instinct kicks in and you drop her wrist. Right as you are about to run, a strong grip on the back of your neck pulls you back and you collide with warm flesh. You scream and attempt to twist away from the strong hand holding you but the hand moves from your neck to your hair and pushes you down.

“Ruby, you didn’t tell her, did you?” James asks but Sabrina stays quiet. He steps into your peripheral and turns your head towards him, the strain on your neck painful. "She's my little toy. And sometimes I lend my toys for others to play. Get it?"

You reach back and grab his wrist in an attempt to release some of the pressure from your scalp but his hold is ironclad. His hand disappears into his pants and you cringe as he pulls his cock out and taps it against your bottom lip. You grind your teeth as he taps again on lip and sighs after a moment. His grip on your hair tightens and you gasp at the pain.

"Come on, I don't have all day." His bored tone is offensive and you glare up at him. You purse your lips together in defiance and Maria laughs.

"Love the fight in her, Ruby. But I want a show." Maria faux pouts as Carol's fingers work their way higher and Maria spreads her legs to allow her access. "Talk to your friend."

You glance up at Sabrina who is fidgeting and still avoiding eye contact. She sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. "Just do it and get it over with. You're being dramatic."

"Dramatic?!" You shriek and attempt to twist in his hold to face her but he spins you around and uses the momentum to force himself into your mouth. You gag around him and jerk your head back but you are unable to maneuver away from him. You grunt in frustration and as you're about to bring your canines down full force on him, cool metal presses against your temple.

"Bite me and I'll blow your fucking brains out." His warning freezes all movement from you. Your eyes water as he slides the metal from your temple to your line of sight and you look down the barrel of his gun. Saliva gathers at the corners of your mouth as you hold him there, not daring to move. He taps the gun twice on your forehead before he tsks. Quicker than you can register, he releases his hold on your hair and the pressure from the gun is moved. You jerk away from him as a loud pop reverberates the room. You scream and cower on the floor as Sabrina drops to the floor near you. She's crying and holding her arm, blood seeping through her fingers. Carol laughs as you scream again and reach for her but a click near your ear draws your attention back to the man in front of you.

"Consider that a warning. Hurry. Up." The gun returns to your head but the metal is now hot and burns your skin. You shake your head, taking one last glance at Sabrina who returns your gaze with watery eyes. Sitting up on your knees, you reach for him with trembling hands. He's warm to the touch and the feel of him twitching against your fingers almost has you reeling. His hand returns to your hair though he doesn't grip this time. Closing your eyes, you give him a few tentative strokes before you slowly ease him into your mouth.

"Good girl. Show us what you can do." Maria purrs and Carol hums. You brace a hand on his thigh and try to recall every porn movie you've ever seen. Hollowing your cheeks, you push him as far as you can and attempt not to gag as he brushes the back of your throat. A deep moan rumbles through his chest when you bring your other hand to his base and twist your wrist to mimic the movement of your mouth. A whimper behind you makes you speed up; you may have been upset with Sabrina but you didn't want her to bleed out. Maria moans loudly and for a moment you can simultaneously hear the sound of her being fingered with your slurping noises.

"Keep going." You aren't sure who gave the soft command but you respond by flattening your tongue in an effort to stifle your gag reflex so you can take him deeper. It must work because you hear him hiss and he bucks his hips involuntarily showing him deeper down your throat. Unprepared for the invasion, you try to pull back but the hand on your head locks you in place. Your nails dig into his leg as you try not to panic because you can't draw in a breath. He holds you for a few seconds before the hand on your head reimplants in your hair and pulls you backwards. You fall on your backside as you cough. You turn to check on Sabrina who has gone quiet. She's curled up in a ball and as you reach for her, you're once again pulled back. A soft hand caresses your cheek and it takes a second that it's Carol, not James, who has you this time.

"Maria, baby. Assume the position. Show the new girl how it's done." Maria hops off the desk and moves to the side of the chair James was sitting in. Carol hoists you up by the arm and stands you on the opposite side of the chair. "Go on honey." At Carol's order, Maria lifts her dress and bends over the arm of the chair with her hands clasped in front of her over the sitting cushion. She wiggles her hips and licks her lips, eyes never leaving yours. You are about to protest when strong hands push you to bend forward, the arm of the chair hitting you roughly in the stomach. You groan in pain and try to squirm away but your hands are held in front of you by Maria. She intertwines your fingers with hers and places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"Let's see what's under the hood, hm?" Carol mumbled before your skirt is lifted and bunched at your waist. You made to protest but another shove forward had you hitting your stomach again and the pain stunned you into compliance. Nimble fingers danced along your panty line and when they reached the crotch, the fabric was ripped away. Her strength and actions shocked you as she brushed along your inner thigh. Tears fill your eyes as she reaches your outer lips and spreads them with her thumb and index finger. You feel her circle around your entrance before ghosting down to your clit. You hear her chuckle and shame fills you and you know what she fills.

"Oh you'll like this one, James. She's soaked and just from sucking dick? She'll be a good earner." You try to hide your face as she slips a finger inside of you and then another before abruptly pulling out. From your place on your arm, you see Carol's shiny black shoes move away from you and you peek up to see her stand behind Maria. Carol places the fingers that were inside of you on Maria's lips and you watch as Maria suckles on them.

You lower your head in embarrassment when your feet are kicked apart and strong hands grip your waist. You protest by trying to stand again but once again you are pushed into the arm of the chair and the wind is knocked from you.

"Same time?" Carol asks, amusement lacing her tone. Maria holds you tighter as you feel James step closer to you, the head of his cock poised at your entrance. You try to wiggle away from him but he takes another step forward and pushes further into you. Tears stream freely down your face as Maria rolls her hips, Carol slowly fucking her with her fingers. Maria leans forward and places a gentle kiss on your lips. James pushes further into you and you gasp; Maria taking the opportunity to shove her tongue in your mouth. She swallows your pained grunt when James thrusts into you without warning. He gives you no time to adjust to his size before he sets a brutal pace. Every push of his hips sends your abdomen further into the arm of the chair and you don't know what to focus on: the pain, the woman in front of you, your friend bleeding on the floor or the man behind you. Maria releases one of your hands and snakes her free hand down the front of your blouse. You twist away from her roaming hand as she slips under your bra to squeeze your breast.

"Please, stop." You beg to no one in particular but hope they all would stop. Your request is met with a breathy laugh from Carol who's pumping her fingers faster into Maria in an attempt to match James speed. The legs of the chair protest under your combined weight and the force of the man thrusting behind you. His hand finds the small of your back and forces you to arch; the new position causes you to moan subconsciously.

"Oh, there's her sweet spot. Do it again." Maria begs, her tongue sweeping across your bottom lip. He obliges and your body unwillingly comes alive. He pushes you down further and you grab the chair cushion for purchase. Maria kisses you again and in your haze you return the kiss which earns a moan from Carol, her hand moving at an unnatural speed. James plunges into you at the same brutal pace and you can feel your arousal. You know he can feel it too because his breathing is becoming labored and his hold on your hip is bruising.

"Bad girl, Ruby. Keeping your friend away from us." James' voice is strained and you're surprised how he can speak and breathe at the same time. A whimper is his response; you can't look at your friend right now as a string of curses fall from your lips. Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly and you babble incoherently as his pace never falters. Maria kisses your nose and shushes you as writhe under him. A few more pointed thrusts has you falling into another orgasm and this time you gush over him. Maria whines as she throws her head back and you watch her, too blissed out to look away. James hips sputter and he abruptly pulls out of you which makes you wince. One hand is still on your hip and he groans low above you, warmth hitting the back of your thighs. The room is filled with heavy breathing before you feel your legs give out from under you. You slide to your knees and rest your head against the chair. The sound of liquid pouring has you tilting your head back as James pours himself a drink. His eyes connect with yours and he brings the glass to his lips and takes a large gulp.

"Welcome to the toy box, Carnelian."

Not tagging a lot of people just in case this isn’t your thing: @avintagekiss24 @sapphirescrolls @marvelmaree @titty-teetee @angrythingstarlight

#twoyearsofdark #bucky x reader #bucky x woc!reader #non-con

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cherryonigiri · 3 years

Text

bokuto koutarou - clair de lune

a/n: I was listening to clair de lune (debussy) while writing this entire drabble. it’s 3 AM so this is highly unedited.

[9:43 PM]

“Kou.” You poke your boyfriend’s shoulder. He’s graciously allowed you to borrow steal his couch for the night. You’d been camping out in his living room ever since you arrived. While he’d been able to convince you to take a study break and eat dinner with him, the long list of to-do’s in your notebook had quickly drawn you back towards your spot on the sectional.

But right now, one of your readings is giving you a complete headache, and you have half the mind to just give up and hope you don’t look like a fool in discussion tomorrow. As the words on your screen blur together, you decide it’s time for a brief, but well-earned, distraction.

“Kou?” You poke him again. When the wing-spiker had realized that you would be occupied for a good amount of the evening, he’d taken it stride, pressing an encouraging kiss on your forehead before settling on the ground next to you. Plugging his headphones in, he decided it would be a good time to catch up on the recon Coach had asked the team to do. While you’d typed away behind him, he’d caught up on watching matches from the teams they were lined up to play in season (how are Ushijima’s spikes still so damn scary?).

“Kouuuuu,” you whine, flopping onto the couch and burying your face in his shoulder. Honestly, he had thought the poking sensation on his shoulder was just you fidgeting on the couch.

“Yes?” he responds, chuckling when all you respond with is a groan into the crook of his neck. Bokuto’s calloused hands comb through your hair, before making their way to your neck. He presses down the the tense muscles, trying to ease the neck pain he knows you have (you’ve been hunched over staring at your laptop screen for far too long).

Suddenly you sit up. “Lap,” you demand, insistently patting the couch cushion beside you. Smiling, your boyfriend quickly rises and gets himself comfortable, and gently eases you head onto his thighs after softly caressing your cheek. Satisfied, you nuzzle into his warmth, propping your computer on the couch cushion so you can continue to read, albeit much more comfortably than before.

While you continue to work on your assignments, Bokuto distracts himself by scrolling through social media. He can’t help but smile at Hinata and Kageyama’s latest twitter feud (something about a supply closet during high school), and lets out a small laugh when he sees that Sakusa and Atsumu are once again roasting the shit out of each other on Instagram live. Out of habit, he start carding his fingers through you hair.

The feeling of Bokuto playing with your hair is soothing, and it’s not long before your eyelids start drooping. Valiantly you try to continue reading, but eventually give-in and close your eyes, basking in the softness of his touch.

[10:05 PM]

It’s the sound of your soft snores that makes Bokuto realize you’ve fallen asleep. Your laptop is still propped up on the couch cushion, and he immediately closes it so the harsh blue light won’t disturb your slumber. Placing your laptop on the coffee table, he does his best to organize and stack your materials next to the computer without jostling your head. Thankfully, it seems that the exhaustion from this week has pulled you into a deep slumber, and you remain steadfastly asleep despite his movement.

Knowing that your back probably can’t take a night on the couch, he gently wraps his arms underneath your legs, easily carrying you to his bedroom, taking care to make sure your unsuspecting limbs don’t bump into any furniture. It’s only when he sets you down on the soft sheets that you awaken, bleary eyes squinting at his face. “Kou?” you rasp, voice hoarse from sleep. “What time..?”

“It’s a little after ten,” he murmurs, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from his dresser. “Do you want to change into something more comfy?”

Too tired to even think about your unfinished assignments, you nod, stretching out your arms towards your boyfriend. He can’t help but laugh at how adorable your actions are, and obliges your request, gently helping you shuck off your outfit and change into his clothing. Tugging at your hand, he pulls you to the bathroom. He quickly squeezes some toothpaste onto the toothbrush he keeps for you and passes it to you. Slowly, you brush your teeth, while your head occasionally droops down from sleepiness.

Once you’re done cleaning up, Bokuto ushers you back to bed, tucking you under the covers. He chucks his shirt at the laundry bin in the corner (he’ll pick it up tomorrow morning) before joining you in bed. The mattress dips as he moves to hug you from behind, arms wrapped around your waist and warm chest pressed to your back.

“Night, Kou,” you mumble, already close to falling asleep once more.

Bokuto presses a tender kiss on the back of you neck. “Night, baby,” he whispers, before allowing the sound of your soft breathes to lull him to sleep as well.

Bonus: [8:45 AM]

The next morning, Bokuto wakes you up before he goes on his morning run. He know you were stressed about finishing your readings, and it wouldn’t be the first time you would be skimming through articles while sipping coffee in the kitchen. By the time he comes back, you’ve finished your school work and have moved on to cooking him a simple breakfast. The two of you enjoy each other’s company over some steamed rice, grilled fish and miso soup before you have to attend your online class.

It’s a little chillier than you expected, so you don one of Bokuto’s old hoodies in preparation to attend virtual class. Even with the sleeves rolled up, you your hands are still engulfed by the soft fabric. Eventually, you end up on the couch, legs wrapped in a throw blanket stolen from the bedroom. This time, you’re sitting cross-legged, laptop on the armrest, while Bokuto (out of sight of your camera) rests his head in your lap, savoring the gentle sensation of your fingers twisting and playing with his silver hair.

@megumidulce @come-on-shitty-boys hello i did something and now i present to you soft bokuto

not @ me projecting my existential dread for my 8:30 AM class tmrw/today (lol it’s 3 AM). everyday i wake up and choose less (not no) sleep

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu

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cas-kingdom · 3 years

Text

Tricky

A/N: Because Neal Caffrey would be the best big brother.

Title: Tricky

Summary: You’re sick and tired of Neal constantly doing things to land himself in prison.

Words: 2390

You knew your brother was tricky.

You’d be an idiot not to know it.

He was Neal Caffrey, after all, and your entire life he’d been stealing and thieving, robbing and running, never really having the time to stop.

You’d asked him once why he’d never just dropped you off on the door of someone’s house and go on about his own life, free of his baby sister, free of the weight on his shoulders, but he’d told you to stop being silly and had moved onto another subject entirely.

Peter had asked him as well, though. Not when you’d been nearby. It’d been on a night the man had come over to June’s for a drink with Neal, and they’d gone out to the balcony and left the door wide open. They’d thought you had been asleep, but you hadn’t, and you’d heard Peter ask your brother more or less the same question.

“Because she’s mine,” Neal had responded, just loud enough for you to hear. “My sister. My responsibility. My kid, you know? She had no one else. I had no one else. And my life was a... crap thing for her to be involved in... I know that. But I couldn’t let her go, Peter. I don’t know if that was selfishness on my side, but I couldn’t. And I’m glad I never did. If I’m at all sane, it’s because of her.”

You’d been able to sleep peacefully after that.

It hadn’t been that you’d feared the answer. More that you’d simply wondered if the thought had ever crossed his mind. Living the crime-high life surely wasn’t as easy with a child tailing him every step he took. Of course, Mozzie and Kate had helped, especially when he’d gone to prison, but since he’d been out and he’d somehow managed to persuade Peter he was capable of caring for his sixteen-year-old sister himself, it’d just been him and you. And Mozzie. But Mozzie was always there.

In the four years you had been apart from your brother, however, you’d learnt a lot. The ideals of the human, crime-free life. What it felt like to live in one place, despite the fact that one place wasn’t with Neal. What it felt like to not be in constant fear of the police and FBI chasing you around the world...

So, somehow, much to Peter’s satisfaction, you’d been the one person keeping your brother on the almost straight and slightly narrow since his release from prison. Or, rather, escape.

In a way, his job working for the FBI and newfound life meant he’d been given a second chance. To spend time with you that wasn’t limited or uncertain. And it was something the both of them had not taken for granted.

But, Neal Caffrey was tricky, and you knew it.

You hadn’t seen him take the key to his anklet, but then you never did. He’d once taken a slice of birthday cake right out from under your nose and had been so good a liar you’d blamed it on Mozzie for five minutes until the slice magically appeared again, a bite taken from it.

You’d still blamed Mozzie.

Now, you knew better.

And you’d thought that after four years in prison, Neal would more or less know better, too.

But the moment he’d found out Fowler might have been the cause of Kate’s death, he’d taken his anklet’s key from his pocket. It’d been a waiting game for him. You hadn’t even known he’d taken it.

The both of you had been at home. You were sat at the table, scrolling mindlessly through irrelevant articles on your laptop to pass the time. Neal had been out on the balcony, but he’d strolled in a moment ago, and the second you absently flicked your eyes up to look at him, you saw him pull the key from his pocket.

“What’s that?” you asked, knowing full well what it was. You sat up straight in the chair.

Neal paused, turning his head as though he’d forgotten you were there. “Uh-” He lifted his foot- “nothing, Y/N.”

You shook your head, standing to your feet. “That’s the key to your anklet,” you said. “When the hell did you get that?”

Neal was quiet. He put the key to the anklet and slipped it off. “Look,” he said, putting it on the table, “it doesn’t matter. Just- stay here.”

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but you did. Your face was a picture of something between fury and disbelief as you took long strides until you were standing between him and the door.

“What are you doing, Neal?” you asked, and Neal gave your a look, clearly sighing through his nose. “Does Peter know?”

“Of course he doesn’t-” He shut his eyes for a brief moment and took a step forward. “Could you just-”

“No!”

“Y/N.”

“I said no!” Your hands were balled at your sides and your brother straightened, lips pressed tightly together. It wasn’t often you clashed. You were the best of friends. Peter often called you, including Mozzie, the three musketeers.

But when you clashed, you clashed.

“You can’t do this, Neal,” you told him, a harsh edge to your tone.

Neal didn’t have much of a temper, but it was rising by the second. “Do what, Y/N?” he asked.

“Risk your life! Again!”

“I’m not risking my life-”

“Yes, you are! You’re risking it all and you don’t realise you’re risking me, too!”

Neal was a little taken back by that. His eyebrows furrowed and he had no time to respond before you suddenly leapt towards the table and grabbed up the anklet. You also snatched the conveniently placed pair of scissors next to them, and held them up for him to see.

His frown deepened and his mouth dropped open the slightest bit.

“I’ll cut it,” you threatened, without him even saying a word. He was beginning to worry, and not because you were threatening to alert the FBI to his almost escape. “I’ll cut and then Peter will come here and you won’t be able to leave.”

Neal put both hands slowly up, watching as you tensed and drew the scissors closer to the anklet. He involuntarily rose both eyebrows and shook his head.

“Hey, hey,” he said, his tone hopefully a lot more calming than he was feeling. “Put the scissors down.” He was gentle, but for some reason you only grew more agitated.

“Go to hell, Neal!” you spat out. Your eyes were getting glassier by the second.

Neal’s confusion was etched so clearly on his face. No, he hadn’t thought you’d appreciate him stealing from Peter and managing to effortlessly get his anklet off, but he had not expected you to stand there like one of the clay statues he was working on, completely different to how you normally were.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he tried, “what’s this about?”

You swallowed, lifting an arm to wipe at your eyes. “You.”

“What about me?”

“You want to leave me!”

“Leave you? Y/N, I-” He licked his lips and shook his head, eyes flicking around the room in utter loss for what to do. Fowler was still on his mind as they moved swiftly past the clock on the wall, but only barely.

Another thing you knew about your brother was that he was quick. And so when the door behind you opened, and you snapped your head around to see Mozzie, you stupidly didn’t account for suddenly being tackled onto the ground, the anklet and scissors knocked easily from your hands, head cushioned by his own hands so it didn’t hit against the wooden floor when you fell back.

The wind was knocked from you for a moment, and you took a moment to breathe normally, but when you did, and you opened your previously tightly shut eyes to see Neal’s, your face hardened again and you struggled.

“Get off!” you yelled, and Neal slipped his hands from under your head, grabbing your forearms.

He glanced up. “Not now, Moz,” he said, and you heard the door shut before you were forced still.

“Enough!” Neal rarely rose his voice at you. You were his pride and joy, and you were a good girl, and the two of you got on like a house on fire (“that’ll probably be literally, one day,” Peter had remarked once) so he’d never had need of it. But you were acting almost psychotic, and he’d never seen you in such a way.

Fortunately, you ceased your struggling at his voice, so stern and loud you had no other choice. You squeezed your eyes shut. You could feel his hands tight around your wrists, your own hands balled into fists.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but you need to stop this.” There was still that edge to his tone, but he spoke lower this time. “What happened to talking, huh? Like normal people? We do not pick up sharp objects and threaten each other! What the hell, Y/N?”

He wasn’t angry. He was confused. Which was why, when your face scrunched up, and tears began leaking from your eyes, he sighed and let your arms go. A rattled breath ripped from your throat and he shook his head, dropping to lie beside you and gently grasping you to pull against him.

“Please don’t go,” you all but choked out, your balled hands tucked under your chin.

His hand automatically came to the back of your head, legs bent at the knees. “If Fowler killed Kate-”

“But you don’t know that!” You raised your head, staring down at your brother with red eyes, and Neal pressed his lips together, his hand dropping beside him. “He-” You sniffed, swallowing back further tears- “He could be innocent, and you would be risking everything on something that doesn’t matter. You’d be risking us on something that doesn’t matter.”

It clicked like the last puzzle piece, and he mentally called himself a fool a hundred times over. Of course he’d known you had grown into somewhat of the personification of super glue in the years he’d been in prison. He’d returned, and suddenly the little girl he’d raised and taught to pick pockets and stand and look cute while he slipped into a top security building had grown up, and you’d thrown out any inkling at all that you would become like him. He wasn’t complaining. He’d never complain. If anything, he was thrilled you were further from the criminal life than him. But you hadn’t been that far before he’d gone away, and it’d been something for him to get used to. He doubted he’d be so lucky sticking to the right path if he didn’t have you nearby, but it seemed at times you took your so-called job a little seriously.

Not that it was a job.

You just wanted a normal life with him.

How could he fault that?

He’d stolen from an FBI agent, escaped his tracking anklet, and murder was on his mind. You knew him, and so you knew that. No wonder you’d said all you had. He was a terrible influence, and everything he’d done and was thinking of doing could garner him more time in prison than either of you would’ve able to handle. You knew that. And you’d somehow deducted that, minus the hypothetical murder, perhaps alerting Peter to the fact Neal had broken free would save your brother some time. Time with you. Time he shouldn’t have been taking for granted.

“Y/N...” He brought a hand up to cup the back of your head, shifting. An imploring love melted into the blues of his eyes as you simply stared into them. “I’m- I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.” He pulled on your head and you rested it on his chest, silent save for the occasional quiet sigh.

“I just don’t want you to have to leave me again,” you muttered.

Neal nodded, closing his eyes. “I know. I don’t want to. I-” He grit his teeth and shook his head. “Sometimes I forget you’re not thirteen anymore.”

The corners of your lips lifted a little and she rubbed at your eyes. “I didn’t mean to pick up the scissors like that.”

“Thought I’d have to drop you off at a psychward,” Neal commented, claiming victory when you breathed a short laugh. It was a quick victory, however, when his face sobered a moment later and he stared aimlessly at the ceiling. He could just about hear the clock ticking behind him. Time was running short.

“I gotta do this, Y/N,” he said slowly. Quietly. His fingers rubbed circles on the back of your head. He wondered briefly if you’d grab the anklet and scissors again, but you stayed exactly where you were.

“I have to- to know if Fowler killed her. It’s the only way.”

You blinked before sniffing and sitting up. You turned to face him, crossing your legs, and absently bit at your lip.

“Then I’m coming with you,” you said.

Neal sat up. He had half a mind to say no and tell you you were to stay home, but he knew it’d likely send you off in another frenzy. Sighing barely audibly, he leaned forward and wiped at a tear track on your pink cheek.

“Okay,” he said resignedly.

“And never do it again.” You posed it as more of an innocent question, and you glanced down at your fidgeting hands after you said it.

Neal gazed at you. “C’mere,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “I’ll try, but you know me. Can’t make a promise like that.”

You shut your eyes against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You knew he couldn’t promise a thing like that. But it made you feel better to know he’d at least try.

“Uh, you guys done being sentimental?”

You glanced up as the door opened again and Mozzie stuck his head in. Neal turned slightly.

“Yeah, Moz,” he said. He pressed a kiss to your head and the both of you stood up. He looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“You ready?”

You shrugged, sparing another glance at the anklet and scissors, and smiled back. “Not at all.”

#white collar #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #neal x reader #mozzie #mozzie x reader #mozzie x neal #neal x mozzie #peter burke #peter burke x reader #peter burke x neal caffrey #neal caffrey x peter burke #peter x neal #neal x peter #sister reader #sister!reader #teen!reader #teen reader #mine

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hualianff · 3 years

Text

More Than This VI 《V》

It’s no surprise XL gains his own taste of fame after walking the red carpet with one of the most sought-after actors in the country. He doesn’t mind it, going as far as to create a few social media accounts to interact with fans and scroll through their photos and edits of him. He has a few fan sites too, but only for fancy events where he chooses to be recognized in public.

XL and HC agreed before sharing their relationship with the public that they would maintain a strong sense of privacy when it came to their personal lives. They only share what they want to. The paparazzi who manage to take photos without permission are immediately disciplined so it doesn’t happen again.

(“I can’t believe you did it.”

“Hmm, Gege said he was okay with it.”

“I know! But I didn’t expect you to actually....” XL stares at a recent selfie of them HC had posted on his Twitter, taken the night HC won his award. “We look like we just had sex.”

“Nobody’s gonna know.”

XL raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his boyfriend. HC insists again.

“Nobody’s gonna know-”

“They’re gonna know,” XL says with a sigh, pointing to the hickey marks clearly visible on the photo. HC rolls over closer to XL in their bed, scrutinizing the image on XL’s phone.

“Oh, I didn’t see those when I posted the photo.”

“San Laaang!” XL cries, pushing at the taller man’s shoulder before burying his face into his pillow. HC makes XL breakfast in bed as an apology and promises to not drunk-post anything again.)

Eight months after officially dating–which is over two years since they met–HC asks XL to move in with him. XL doesn’t even need to think about his answer, a simple “Yes! Yes please!” escaping his lips. Both HC and XL’s faces light up with overjoyed smiles.

They seem to have had the same idea about where to live, purchasing a home they’ve been eyeing for months! The best aspects include a massive yard (front, side, and back) for XL to tend to, a hot tub, and a spacious living and dining room area to entertain guests. It’s not the grandest or most impressive residence by size or feature. In fact, the first months have them living in a half-finished, rusty house with the prettiest garden you’ve ever seen.

It gradually gets better. HC and XL knew they would have to do a lot of work to improve the shape of their home. Over the next year, they repair and remodel the house themselves, simultaneously adding value to the property and curating the style to fit their dream home. XL makes sure to post progress photos on his social media. His most recent selfie of HC and himself in hardware glasses got over 500k likes! He pinned HC’s comment that said, “Gege is my own very handyman!”

(HC, in a sleeveless tee, shorts that show off his ass, hair pulled back into a high bun: “Gege, you’re the boss now. Tell me what to do.”

XL, struggling not to gawk at HC’s side boobs: “O-okay, first, can you smash those cabinets-”

Cue them making out against the counter when it’s the only part of the kitchen that is fully done.)

***

Having a partner who considers the outdoors as a second home is a special experience. XL often takes HC on dates to national parks and plant nurseries. They go on weekend camping trips where XL teaches HC how to properly filter water, summit long stretches of terrain, and stay warm during cold nights with below-freezing temperatures.

(HC, trying to fit into XL’s sleeping bag: “Hi, gege-”

XL: “San Lang, you have your own sleeping bag that you can actually fit in.”

HC: ‘But I’m cold. Gege helps keep me warm.”

XL: “Fine. But let’s use yours because it’s bigger.”

HC, kissing XL’s forehead: “Thank you, my love.”)

On their hikes, XL points to different plants, explaining their origins and why he finds each one particularly beautiful. At first, HC picks up random flowers on the way home and then he asks XL about what flower fate gave him that day to gift his beloved. (“San Lang, that’s not allowed!”) HC eventually stores all the random facts in his mind, always eager to listen to XL talking about his passion. He also learns to keep his hands from digging up “poor, helpless plants from their home soil.”

However, this unfortunately doesn't prevent HC from accidentally squishing some plants in their yard that he thought were just weeds.

(HC, thinking he’s a good partner: “Get out, stupid weeds. CHOP CHOP!”

XL: “SAN LANG STOP, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

HC: “Gege always works so hard. I just wanted to help you in the yard today because you deserve it.” 🥺

XL: *sigh* “I appreciate the gesture, San Lang. But those particular grasses took months to grow, and you just killed them-“)

***

Countless media outlets try to stir up trouble like they typically do with celebrities. Especially when HC has roles that involve romance, articles claiming HC and XL are on the brink of breaking up receive lots of attention. However, what gains more attention are the videos the couple posts on Youtube or Instagram live of their reactions to their “scandals.”

(XL, reading a headline: “Actor bachelor Hua Cheng and co-star Yushi Huang seem to be cozying up after a late-night shoot.’”

HC: “I’m not a bachelor, the fuck?”

XL, smiling: “You could be. Me as well. We can be bachelors together.”

HC, chuckling: “All right. If gege is, then so am I.”

The comments: “That doesn’t make any sense!?”

HC, reading another headline: “HC’s lover found with a mysterious third party??”

XL, exclaiming: “Oh, that’s Shi Qingxuan! You know, the designer for all our red carpet outfits!” 🥰🥰

HC: *nodding along*

XL, cheekily: “-and my secret second-lover”

HC: *blanches* “What.”

XL: “Kidding!!!! San Lang is the only one for me, hehe.” *kisses HC’s cheek* “Okay, next one!”)

Everyone watching the videos is 50% confused and 50% entertained as HC and XL make light of any drama the media portrays them in. Viewers accept that of course, the rumors aren’t true; HC and XL are still very much in love.

They’re in love with each other and will continue falling for many years to come.

***

HC doesn’t like watching himself on screen. However, he does enjoy previewing his own movies for the first time with his boyfriend.

While XL watches the new movie, HC observes XL’s reactions. It helps that XL is a conversational movie watcher too. XL’s narrations consist of horny comments during the sexual scenes (“Ooh, that’s hot. Nice tongue.” “Thank you?”), side remarks about the plot and characters (“San Lang, your character is very rude.” “...”), and dramatic reactions to the huge reveal scenes where HC becomes a human punch bag. (“Oh my goooosh, San Lang!! It was him all along- AHH!!”)

As a perfectionist, something you have to be in HC’s field of work, HC is incredibly self-critical of his performance. Which is another reason why it’s nice to have XL watch alongside with, who never has a shortage of praises for his boyfriend.

(HC: “Fuck, why did they leave this shot in the final? I’m supposed to be mourning for my dead lover but instead, I look like I’m crying out of daddy issues. Why did no one tell me!? It looks so bad-” *pointing to himself on the screen* “-stop looking so constipated-!”

XL, squeezing HC’s nape and massaging his shoulders: “San Lang, no one thinks that except for you. You did everything perfectly. Please acknowledge your hard work and just enjoy the movie.”

HC: *sigh* “You’re right. Okay. Thanks, gege.”

A beat of silence. HC cuddles closer to XL.

HC: “Love you.”

XL: “Love you too.”)

***

XL now knows HC’s movies well enough to quote HC’s lines in his movies to make him laugh. HC happily indulges him, questioning after breaking character, “Gege, are you sure I’m the actor out of the two of us?”

One time, HC and XL are in their kitchen re-enacting a scene with HC as the investigator going to a bartender for more information on his suspect. HC has XL caged against the counter, asking in a teasing manner, “How can I repay you for your help tonight?”

XL lowers his eyelids, looking up through his lashes, flawlessly depicting his character. “Any restrictions on your offer?”

“No, darling. Name a price, a brand, a desire. Right now, anything is on the table,” HC says huskily. XL slyly bites his lip.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

XL brings a hand up to cup HC’s jaw, then smooths it down his neck, traveling down his bare chest. XL tilts his head to expose his neck, wanting to build up his boyfriend’s anticipation. But before he can say his next line, HC effortlessly throws XL over his shoulder like a bag of rice.

“San Lang, wait, this is not how it went in the movie!” XL shouts, a little dizzy from the sudden lift turning him upside down. HC takes long strides to their bedroom, plopping XL on their mattress and blanketing him with his larger frame.

HC only utters a husky “we’re improvising” before diving down to devour XL’s lips. XL’s arms hook around HC’s neck, holding him impossibly close.

***

After a filming shoot where HC’s character gets beaten up–HC performing his own stunts–he heads home beyond exhausted. He just wants to take a relaxing shower and cuddle his boyfriend in their warm bed.

HC arrives at their house a little past midnight. He opens the door and finds XL’s back facing him, quietly humming a song as he takes care of the vase in the living room. The sight makes HC smile.

However, as XL turns around, the vase slips from his hands and explodes into pieces on the ground.

“San Lang! What happened to you!?” XL cries out, the panic in his voice only comparable to the day he had confessed. HC stands in the doorway confused. Was something wrong with his appearance?

XL is on him in an instant, his pupils shaking as he frantically asks, “Does it hurt a lot? What happened!?”

HC blinks, expression blank as he still doesn't understand what has freaked XL out. But as the shorter man gently caresses HC’s face, it suddenly hits him.

The make up!

HC urgently starts rubbing the fake bruises off his face. “Gege, I’m okay! It’s just make up, none of this is real. See?” He holds his hands out for XL to see as the pigment stains HC’s palms. “I’m so sorry! San Lang is dumb, he didn’t mean to make you worry,” HC murmurs as he takes XL between his arms. He really loves this man too much.

XL’s teary eyes shine glimmer as HC embraces him. “Y-you’re sure you’re okay?”

HC nods, leaning into the slender hand that cups his cheek.

“Thank goodness,” XL breaths out as he buries his face into HC’s neck. His next words are slightly muffled. “It looks…so realistic.”

“Yeah, the make up artists are all quite talented, aren’t they?”

XL clings tighter to HC.

“Very much so. Let’s shower so we can properly wash it off.”

“All right,” HC says. “Wait, we?”

XL tugs HC toward the master bathroom.

“Hush, let’s go.”

***

They lay in bed together after four long months of separation. Both of them had been in different parts of the country; HC filmed a drama series while XL traveled for several high-profile projects. Their respective busy work schedules limited communication to brief video chats and text messages, which never seemed enough.

Now, with his head resting on HC’s chest, their legs overlapping comfortably, XL finally feels like he’s where he belongs.

“Why did you choose me?”

Tactical fingers massage XL’s scalp, lulling him into a serene state of bliss. XL nuzzles further into his boyfriend-sized pillow.

“It’s not like I can choose who I fall in love with, Gege,” HC states with a light chuckle. “But if you want an answer, it’s because you are everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner.”

XL looks up at his boyfriend, mouth forming a shape of an O.

“That simple? Even when we made a deal to have no strings attached?” XL asks. HC groans at the reminder of their initial agreement.

“Yes, which was a dumb decision on my part.”

“I agreed to it too. We were both dumb.”

They are silent for a moment. It’s not the first time they’ve talked about or referenced their insecurities when it came to confessing their feelings. XL’s luck when it came to dating someone who could love him for every part of him was practically nonexistent. HC’s constant grappling for his self-identity and worth rendered most of his relationships superficial. And temporary.

Always temporary.

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t like your plants though. They’re so pretty. And fascinating.” HC says, breaking the silence.

“They take up half our living room space.”

“So? You work with plants all day. They’re bound to be a part of your personal life as well.”

XL’s heart bursts with a sudden fondness. It’s a wonderful thing to be appreciated for the little things.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says happily. HC hums in response, sending vibrations to where XL’s cheek lays on his chest. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you were a famous actor for the first three months we…”

“Met up for sex?” HC finishes with an impish grin.

“Yes,” XL laughs.

“It was nice not to be recognized for once. With you, I could just be myself,” HC says with ease he never thought he would be able to do. He’s struggled with letting himself be vulnerable his whole life. It turns out, HC just had to find the right person. And thank god he did. XL is more than HC’s outlet from his career. He’s become HC’s closest friend who knows him the best; he is HC’s number one supporter in any endeavor he pursues; he makes HC feel important. XL sees and loves HC for who he is. No amount of fame or wealth could come close to comparison.

“Gege?”

“Hmm?”

“Does it ever bother you that my life is always everyone else’s business?” HC softly asks.

“Well, the fame can be a bit…uncomfortable,” XL admits. “But you’re an amazing actor. And a remarkable person. I can’t blame your fans for loving you so much, you know? I also got to ride in a limo-“

“Which you rode very well-”

XL flicks his boyfriend’s forehead.

“You’re so predictable.”

“You would’ve said the same thing given the chance. Don’t lie, gege.”

They go back and forth a little longer, never once creating unnecessary distance between each other as they roll around until they’re on their sides. Facing each other in their bed that’s been vacant for months, HC and XL are inseparable.

“As I was saying, fame is something that comes with your job–your passion. You can’t control it, nor does it solely characterize who you are. Besides, I get to be a part of your life! That’s all that really matters,” XL continues. He shifts forward so their bodies are closely pressed together. XL plants a kiss on HC’s chin, then whispers a confession that tilts HC’s entire world on its axis.

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone like you.”

HC’s world spins and spins until all that he sees is his beloved, gleaming brighter than all the galaxies without the power to disrupt their orbit. He wraps his arms around XL and kisses the top of his head.

“Me too, Gege.”

Bonus:

HC watches wearily as XL salivates at a showering scene where HC’s bare ass flashes in the frame. XL turns to HC with a serious look in his eyes.

“San Lang! Hiking has done your ass wonders.”

XL sneaks a grope to a meaty cheek. HC chokes.

***

“You can’t be late to your own premiere!” XL cries incredulously.

“Try me,” HC purrs into XL’s ear, delicately kissing the lobe.

XL gasps as teasing hands roam around his torso, one of them slipping down to cup his behind. He vaguely thinks about how SQX is expecting them in the next hour to help with their red carpet outfits. But when hungry lips attach to the sensitive column of his neck, XL is a goner.

“Gege doesn’t have to do any work. Just lay back and look pretty.”

(Brainchild with @no-one-says-hi!)

#tgcf #heavenly official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #cerdrabbles #fluff #Actor HC #Landscaper XL #fine.

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otterbagel · 3 years

Text

The Reunion (Part 1) Simon x Reader

Reader makes a rash decision, one that has long lasting consequences.

(Notes: There are two parts to this! Next part should be out next week. I'll probably start spacing out my posts after this so I don't get burnt out like last time. Also, didn't get to edit this one as much as I should've; the whole thing ended up pretty long and would take a long time everytime I tried to edit it. Can't believe it took me this long to finish one about Simon!!!)

"Hey, this is quite the unusual find, you gotta admit."

Your eyebrow raised without hesitation, your eyes looking down to check your shoes. "Not really," you remarked softly, eyes going back up to meet the object of the discussion: a PL600 android.

The salesman, who had uncomfortably started hounding you for the sale after you had curiously drifted towards the humanoid, was gesturing towards it flippantly with a toothy grin. "At this price?! Tell me, no, tell me where you found one this cheap— in this good a condition?"

Your mouth automatically frowned. The arms were covered by a dark undershirt that made most of the skin unseeable— any damage not on the face and hands wouldn't be factored into the buying purchase. You had a feeling this clothing choice was intentional.

"Just three hundred bucks!" The seller's round face turned into your line of sight. You quickly looked away out of discomfort.

Your eyes landed onto the android's clear blue ones. You hadn't looked very closely at any androids before, despite walking amongst them nearly every day. Did they all look this lifelike?

Maybe you were looking way too into it.

You swallowed, aggressively fumbling for your wallet with a grunt of annoyance. "Okay, fine. Three hundred."

With a pleased noise, the seller took off with your card, waving it in the air between two of his fingers.

You crossed your arms beside the android, who didn't seem to take any notice of what had just transpired.

…

Reality had begun to hit you like a truck on the way home.

By the time you opened the door to your tiny house, you realized just how big of a rash decision you had just made.

The android stood behind you quietly and without complaint as you released the door handle, letting the door softly bang against the wall. You stared dumbly into your own house, coat hanging limply from one of your dangling arms as you searched your brain for a solution.

You frowned, shaking your head rapidly. "I have no room for this."

"Excuse me—"

You jumped at the android's sudden intrusion into your own self reprimand, a small noise of fright escaping you before you could even begin to think of holding it back.

"—would you like me to get started?"

"Uh, yeah yeah yeah, uh… do whatever you want," you waved it off awkwardly, holding a hand to your chest as you attempted to catch your breath. You hurried inside, embarrassed of the whole situation.

You sat down on the couch as the android closed the door and walked past you and into the kitchen.

Without turning it on, you stared at the TV as your fingertips rubbed against your face in nervousness.

That had been such an impulse buy. You couldn't believe you had done that.

The faucet turned on for a moment. You think you had put a cup in there, but there wasn't much else to clean.

It seemed to be working properly. The guy who sold it was certainly odd and abrasive, but all in all it was a pretty good deal. Usually they were more than twice as much; newer models so expensive that the thought of you owning one was impossible. Even if it had some cosmetic damages, that was a small issue compared to its functionality.

Trying to ignore the strange new entity in the house, you flipped on the TV. It was the news.

There was some story about a recent fire that had decimated a small apartment building on the outskirts of Detroit. The police said it likely had something to do with Red Ice, although most evidence would probably be destroyed.

The android had finished whatever it was doing in the kitchen and had quietly begun watching the TV from the archway.

You looked at it as it parted its lips in preparation to speak. "Are you a fan of the news?"

"Sort of," you chuckled, looking back to the screen. "I work at a newstation— not this one, but I like checking it out from time to time."

The android nodded, continuing to watch the screen as it held its hands politely behind its back.

You looked it over, getting that feeling of nervousness again. "W-what's your name?" You blurted out quietly and without any grace.

It blinked at you, the LED spinning blue for a second. "My previous owners named me Simon. Would you like to change my name?"

You shook your head to yourself. "Do you like your name?"

It squinted at you in confusion before returning to its natural, composed look. "It's good," it responded.

Although you tried to maintain a jovial body language, you weren't doing a good job. "Great! Si… Simon is a great name," you chirped out awkwardly.

"Thank you," Simon replied, giving a small head bow.

You turned your head away from it as you felt your face grow warm with embarrassment.

What on Earth was happening to you?

…

You had been having a strange dream about work when you heard someone calling your name.

"...huh…?" you called out groggily.

Your name again. "...I think you're going to be late for work at this rate…"

Your eyes fluttered open. Simon was fiddling with his hands as he held them in front of his chest, eyes moving between you and the clock beside the bed.

It said 8:32.

The comforter was flung nearly off the bed as you jumped up in a panic. "Oh geez, yeah I'm gonna be late…" Random clothes filled your arms that you grabbed from your drawers as you prepared to go to work. "Thanks for waking me."

Simon quietly made his way over to you as you tried finding a pair of socks. "I didn't hear you walking around this morning," he said with a chuckle. "And where you stayed up later than usual last night… I figured…"

A laugh escaped you as you headed off towards the bathroom to get ready.

He had been living here… maybe three months? It had seemed like a much longer time than that. In that amount of time, things had definitely changed between you two.

Despite it being his intended purpose, it felt strange to have someone doing all your housework for you. It became an odd ritual pretty quickly: once you got home, you would work on chores together. Not that there were many— that was one of the perks of having a small house— but it just made you feel better about the whole thing.

The whole process was a bit cathartic for you; away from the hustle and bustle of the busy, stressful life at the newstation and into a warm, domestic one.

You hurried to the front door to slip on your shoes, Simon leaving his spot on the couch to see you off.

"I think I'll make it on time," you joked as you looked up at him. "Thanks again."

"No problem…" he responded quietly, struggling to retain eye contact with you.

As you rose to your feet, he gave you a brief hug. Your face immediately began to burn bright red.

"Have… have a good day at work…" he stuttered out before walking in quick strides to the kitchen.

You were still frozen in place by the time he exited your vision. "Y-you too…" you blurted out before fumbling out the door, realizing your linguistic blunder before you had even closed the door.

As you headed down the street, you let your hands touch your heated face.

…

You had nearly run home out of excitement.

It had been such a small thing, but the prospects of your future career had your mind going nuts.

After fumbling to get the key in the door and tossing it open, you slung your coat off your arms in a fluid motion. "Simon! Simon! You won't believe it!"

He was sitting on the couch— like he usually had been over the past year— engaged in some overly dramatic show you weren't particularly fond of. His eyes were wide at your sudden entrance. "Yes?"

You let the door make its way closed before you kicked it shut behind you, holding your arms out. "They said they liked my article!"

Simon stared for a moment before his LED flashed in excitement. "THE article?" He sat up on the edge of his seat, smiling at you as he was filled with a wave of positive energy.

"Yeah!" You nodded. "Not to get you too excited, but they're showing it to some of the higher ups, but it looks like I might get my own schedule slot soon!"

"Oh wow!" He exclaimed, rising to his feet and taking you into his arms to lift you up for a split second. "I knew it would happen! I'm so proud!"

You erupted into a fit of giggles as he held you, almost enjoying his praise as much as your own success. "Thanks Simon, I couldn't have done it without you."

He released you, letting his hands rest against your sides. "That's not true," he responded quietly, his face red as he looked to the side.

With a warm smile, you nodded to him. "Yes," you drawed out for effect. "You even came up with the idea. And, not to mention, the moral support."

He stepped back a little, crossing his arms as he attempted to hide his expression of happiness. "You're too kind."

The TV played in the silence, Simon fiddling with the edge of one of his sleeves as he pulled it down.

Your mind raced as you looked at his hand, debating on bringing it up right now when the mood was so light.

"They mentioned… uh... increasing my pay," you began, watching his expression for any hint of distress. "I thought that maybe… we could finally… you know… get that fixed…"

His hands trailed along his sleeve as he nodded to himself, seemingly lost in thought. "Yeah," he responded. "That would be nice… but it would be so expensive… are you sure?"

It had taken a few weeks to first see it, and even longer for you to see the full extent of the damage, but your initial thoughts had been correct. The long sleeves had been put on him for a reason, and it had seemed as though it had gradually become a personal choice as well.

His forearms and biceps had a lot of physical damage, certainly from his previous owners.

Luckily, it had been almost purely cosmetic. Aside from a few light dents and scratches to his actual body, it was just a matter of getting the covering fixed. As of now, the white sheen of his android body was always visible underneath his sleeves.

You wrung your hands together out of nervousness. "I just know how you said that you wanted it fixed," you took in a sharp inhale. "It won't be a problem to actually do, I've already been saving for a while…"

He smiled, rushing in to hug you again. You, a bit caught off guard this time, was frozen in place.

"I'd like to put the past behind me," he said as you finally came to and hugged him back, albeit still in a bit of a shock. "I think this is the first step."

As you embraced, you couldn't help but feel a pang of excitement and anxiety.

#dbh x reader #dbh simon #dbh simon x reader

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