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moonstruckme · 2 days

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I’m not quite sure if this is too explicit so if it is please feel free to decline, but I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader who has a past with sexual assault so is kind of iffy and stand offish about sexual inter course? Again, all good if you can’t because it is a touchy subject ! I hope you’re having a lovely day/night !! (p.s. I love your writing so much :3)

Thank you gorgeous, love you <3

cw: trauma response, mention of past sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Sometimes you can feel left out. Of the easy way the boys touch each other, the knowingness they have of the other’s bodies, the in-jokes about intimate aspects of their relationship that aren’t secret from you but you’re not a part of. And you know in your bones, in that thrumming, impossible-to-ignore beat inside your ribcage, that you’re not ready to be a part of them, but it still hurts to have something about your boys that’s separate from you. Some part of them you can’t access, and it’s only because you won’t allow them access to you in return.

And sometimes, like now, things go astonishingly well. Sometimes you can let them touch you while feeling nothing but the pleasant warmth of love and lust brewing like a potion in your core. Sometimes you can let yourself tug Sirius closer as he kisses you, can swallow the soft sounds he makes into your mouth without your mind taking you anywhere other than this bed, this boy.

Sometimes you can get so lost in them it feels like the fear can’t find you.

“Okay?” Sirius’ breathes, setting a tentative hand on the small of your back. He tastes like coca cola, and his lips are a manifestation of every soft and earnest part of him he never shows. “This okay, sweetness?”

You nod fervently, trying very hard not to think as you tunnel your fingers into the featherdown silkiness of the hair behind his ear.

“Yeah?” You’re growing quite sick of all his talking, persistent in your kisses even when Sirius breaks them. His mouth curves against yours, sensing this, and his hand settles more comfortably into the curve of your spine. “Alright, you’re in charge. Just let me know if anything’s too much.”

You make a muffled sound of acknowledgement. Truly, logically, you feel safe with Sirius, the same as you would with Remus or James. It was his idea that you be on top, after Remus figured out that you feel most comfortable when you don’t feel trapped, after James was the one to initiate the conversation on how they can make you feel good while respecting your (admittedly, nebulous and often fickle) boundaries. You haven’t worked up the courage to do anything beyond kissing, and none of them have pushed you. Really, you’ve been the one doing the pushing, wanting more and more from the kissing until it’s turned into this, you and Sirius hiding from dishwashing duty with you on top of him and sucking his face like a dementor.

You grind your hips down into his, and Sirius’ chuckle rumbles through the both of you as he grabs a greedy handful of your ass.

Your breath stills in your lungs.

You still completely, actually, every inch of you rigid, from your bum under Sirius’ hand to your eyes, stuck closed tight. The only part of you that seems to get that you’re still alive is your heart, thrashing wildly inside the bars of your ribcage like it wants to escape when you can’t.

“Shit.” Sirius’ hand flees upward, skimming up your back to safer territory below your shoulder blades. “Shit, sorry, baby. You okay?”

You want to tell him yes, in every physical, objective, important way you’re just fine. But your breath is frozen solid somewhere between your throat and your lungs, and it won’t let you speak.

“Sweetheart.” Sirius is starting to sound desperate, though he’s clearly trying to stay calm for your sake. He sets gentle hands at your waist, sitting you up while he eases out from under you. You expect you’ll move like a statue, but your arms move of their own mind once freed, wrapping tight around your middle. “You’re okay, baby, you’re safe. I’m so sorry, I was—I should have asked. I moved too fast, I didn’t mean to scare you. Can you talk to me, please?”

“Sorry,” you manage. Something comes loose inside you. The air comes back to your lungs, you pull your legs up onto the bed, and laughter unspools from inside you like wire long coiled tight.

Sirius doesn’t smile. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that. Are you okay?”

It’s now that James and Remus decide to come and see what you’re up to. At the sound of Sirius’ panic-tight voice, their footsteps hasten down the hallway. James taps on the doorframe and you turn to him so fast your neck clicks. His face is melded by a soft worry.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

You nod, but Sirius must signal something different from your other side, because James and Remus advance forward the way one might approach a feral kitten.

“Are you okay?” Sirius asks again, voice cracking now that the other two are here.

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” Remus says gently. “Maybe stop touching her for a bit.” You hadn’t even noticed Sirius’ hand gripping your leg, but its removal feels like you’ve lost a thousand pounds. You fight back a shiver. “She’s okay. Aren’t you, darling?”

To hear worry in even Remus’ voice is significant, and you try to make yours even to counter it. “Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” James promises, crouching in front of you and Sirius. You’ve nowhere to hide from his melty-soft gaze. “What happened?”

“I went too far.” Sirius’ voice sounds like it hurts, scraping its way out of him. Your heart throbs in response.

You shake your head, insistent and perhaps a touch too fast. “No, it wasn’t your fault. I was—I—I escalated things, and then it just—”

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs.

“I’m fine,” you say again.

“Please, sweetheart. Just try.”

You do, for his sake, pushing air in and out of your lungs like you’re trying to inflate a balloon. They won’t get as full as you want them too, but it’s not until you try that your body seems to catch up to what’s been happening. You start trembling all over.

“Shit.” Your voice thickens, tears threatening. “Sorry, this is so uncalled for.”

“It’s not,” James says. “Can I—can I hold your hand, or are you not ready for that yet?”

“Please,” you squeak out.

He grasps your hand, and you squeeze tightly, breathing until the tears don’t press at your eyes so insistently. You hate that the ugly thing of your past is touching something this good. That it’s hurting people who aren’t you, like it’s a virus you caught and now you’re spreading it.

“It’s really not your fault,” you tell Sirius, turning to him. “I thought I could handle it.”

“I shouldn’t have moved without checking,” he replies in a similar tone. “I’m so sorry, sweetness, I never want to scare you like that.”

You shake your head. “You don’t.”

A dense silence lapses, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid. James’ hand is warm in yours.

“Hug?” you ask Sirius.

He looks surprised. “Are you sure?”

You nod, extricating your hand from James’ to wrap your arms around his middle. Sirius is tentative at first, palms placed lightly on the high and low points of your back, but when you hold him tighter he reciprocates. You hear Remus whisper something to James. Sirius’ fingers press into your back, the tip of his nose cold where it squishes into your neck.

Sometimes, they make you feel completely safe.

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wildgeese98 · 3 months

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It's kind of unfortunate that the only bit of characterization for original! Elias that's widely talked about is him being a stoner. It's true that for a long time that's literally the only thing we got. One funny throwaway line. But we do learn a bit more in mag 193 (one of my favorite s5 episodes incidentally) and it makes him a much more interesting and tragic character.

Elias was an aimless rich kid trying and failing to live up to his father's high expectations for him. He was raised to believe that he deserved success and power simply because of the family he was born into. It's implied that this alienated him from his peers leaving him incredibly isolated. It probably also meant he didn't have a lot of control over his own life, following the path he was expected to rather than what he acctually wanted. Even before being marked by the Eye he probably felt like was constantly watched and judged, and found wanting.

The statement draw heavy parallels between original! Elias and Jon. In fact the line between them gets very blurred as Jon "plays" Elias in the statement and Elias's VA plays Jonah in the body of James Wright. Jon and Elias are both parallels and opposites. They were both marked and drawn to the Institute by that mark.

Elias had the conviction that he was destined to be important and he was right the most perverse, twisted way possible. He was only ever there to be used and used completely. To the point were he ceased to be, leaving only his body to puppeted by Jonah.

Jon had no such conviction, and yet he became literally the most import person in the world. But that was only after being moulded and completely reshaped by Jonah. He in a way lost almost as much autonomy and control of his body as Elias did. Though he at least got to keep his mind, for the most part.

This has gotten away from me a bit, but the point remains. Elias, like a lot of TMA characters, is a fascinating person who we only get to see brief snatches of. I think about him a lot. I especially think about how horrifying it must have been to realize, for the briefest moment, that his mind and body were being completely taken over, right before his consciousness was snuffed out.

#tma #elias bouchard #original elias bouchard #jonah magnus #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #i did acctually write a fic about Elias getting bodysnatched by Jonah but im so very self conscious about my writing #im not gonna link it but my ao3 name is similar to my username so u could probably dig it up of u really wanted to

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fullfriendnerdclutch · 15 days

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James minded his own business under the sun on the private beach within the resort perimeter when a fit older daddy whistled at him. Being the flirty young stud and noticing the bling on that fit daddy's body, he grinned back at the older guy before approaching him. That turned out to be the biggest mistake that cost James his life as the older guy eyes suddenly turned pitch black and his warm smile turned into a devious grin.

Already within grasp of the older guy, James found himself trapped in his place as the older guy grabbed both of his shoulder as he grinned

"It's about time to shed this old skin and start again,"

That's when pitch black smokes emanated from his ear, nose and between the gritted teeth of that older man and started its infiltration into James. The young stud unable to scream for help as time seemingly froze during the moment and before long, the smokes entered his body through all the opened orifices, including his navel and ass crack that slightly revealed due to his skimpy swimwear.

As the final wisps of the pitch black smoke settled into James' body, the devious smile seen before in the older guy now copied to perfection by James.

The older guy seemed confused and at lost, but upon making eye-contact with James pitch black eyes, the older guys pupil dilated and he started speaking monotonously

"Ready to be in service of you, Master,"

James just grinned widely as his eyes turned back to its original hazel color. He then dismissed the old guy to return to his room and James will swing by later to pay the older daddy a visit.

The sun is blazing and James already spent quite some times on the beach anyway, so he walked into the shower area to give his new vessel a thorough inspection.

The shower session was sensual to say the least, as the smoke seduced James body and pushed it to its limit by exiting and entering his body all shower long. The real soul of James can only scream and moan everytime he managed to wrestle control of his body even if only temporarily. Eventually, as he neared orgasm, the black smoke not only entered James body, but also managed to attach and penetrate itself to James actual soul, corrupting the young stud even further as the black smokes now take on the form of James, even in astral level. That is the final push that resulted on whatever humane about James released out with the geyser of sticky white mess the dick released all over the shower stall, inviting delightful chuckles from the new and sole owner of James Dalton physique.

As he left the shower, he grabbed the clothes James brought along. He already put on James shorts as he checked his body in the mirror.

The musculature, the glistening sweat, that irresistible charming face, he's a complete manipulator ready to wreck havoc for women and men alike. But he needs to really scream his sluttiness from the get go, so he closed his eyes and focused his power a bit. As smokes coming out from his body as if he's a fire fuming out smokes, his hair color seemingly bleached on its own and not even a minute later, he's now blonde and looking straight like a lusty sex deviants

Now, he's ready to live life to the fullest, making sure to destroy all humans he decided to be deserving of his corruptive love and subsequent control over them.

#male possession #male takeover #demon possession #mind corruption #personality change #male vessel #male puppet #male mind control

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theemporium · 10 months

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james and reader get in a fight and he GROVELS for her forgiveness like i’m talking on his knees teary eyed and begging with his voice cracking all over the place lol

thank you for requesting!🖤

It was a stupid fight that escalated far too quickly for either of you to back away and look at it from a level headed perspective.

You screamed. He screamed. You cried. He walked away. It hurt to even think about. It hurt even more when you were left unsure of your relationship at the end of it, it hurt when you realised you could have potentially lost your relationship over something so completely stupid and miniscule.

You felt numb after James had stormed out of the apartment, unsure what to even do with yourself as you stood there, tears streaming down your face and body exhausted by the screaming match you had just dealt with for the last half an hour.

You didn’t remember making your way to your shared bedroom, crawling under the covers and cocooning yourself under the duvet as you hugged your pillow close until at some point you fell asleep.

That was how James found you when he returned hours later, drained and ridden with guilt. He knew how he acted was shitty, he knew he snapped when he shouldn’t have. Maybe it was the stress of work or some pent up anger he hadn’t let out, but he sure as hell shouldn’t have let it out on you and he felt sick with himself for the way he treated you in the argument.

He hated how silent the apartment was when he walked through the front door, gently calling out your name only to receive no reply. He was struck with a moment of fear that you left, that maybe you packed your stuff and headed to a friend’s house to stay there for the night.

James couldn’t breathe until he burst through your bedroom door, finding you curled on the bed and clutching his pillow close to you as you slept. He didn’t even realise he started moving until he found himself kneeling beside the bed, sniffling and holding back his tears as he gently reached out for you.

“Baby,” he called out, softly shaking you until you slowly began to wake up.

You blinked the sleepiness away, taking a moment to take in your surroundings as memories of the day flashed through your mind. The screaming and the crying and the fighting, all before you hid away in your bed until you passed out. And then you took in the sight before you, James kneeling beside the bed, looking dishevelled and like he was holding back his own tears.

“Jamie?” you murmured, moving to sit up in the bed but James grabbed your hand.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered to you as he held your hand in both of his, placing a kiss against your knuckles as he choked out the rest of his apology. “I’m sorry for yelling at you and I’m sorry for making you cry, princess. That was shitty of me to do, I should have never made you feel that way.”

“It hurt, James,” you murmured, swallowing the emotions that felt thick and heavy in your throat.

“I’m so fucking sorry, princess,” his voice croaked, his wide eyes glossy with tears as he clung onto your hand. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t lose you. He didn’t know what his life would be without you. “Let me make up for it, let me show you how sorry I am.”

“Just don’t do that again,” you whispered, your voice so soft and small that it made his heart clench.

“Never, baby, never,” he promised you as he placed another kiss against your knuckles. “Gonna treat you like the queen you are.”

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bunnys-kisses · 1 month

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blow one's roof ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

john 'soap' mctavish

cw: drug use (weed), intoxication, baby trapping, breeding, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, lying, missionary, the consent is dubious, john is obsessed with you

a word from bunny: like the fic? suggest your own! really like the fic? leave a comment! reblogs are always appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

to blow one's roof is to get stoned. and to get stoned is frown upon in the british military. even for special ops. but while most of your fellow soldiers and commanders enjoyed their hard liquor, you had to get creative on how you got your fix.

enter john. john liked to play as the funny man to his more stoic counterparts. he wasn't a behemoth like his counter part, simon. but he was smart, the kind of smart that should be a concern. he was excellent at what he did, you once overheard a commander tell the scotsman that he could pull off anything he put his mind to.

and one days off, he only had two things on his mind. weed and your sweet pussy. so it was only natural that you worlds would collide. nobody would check his bag when he left or entered base, he was too high level to be caught up in something like that. so it wasn't hard to go to the nearby city and get what he needed for an afternoon with you.

you'd both leave base soon after, he'd take one of the trucks and drive out to the woods. he kept a hand on your thigh as he drove up to the beginning of the forests. you left the truck with two things, a blanket and enough weed for a fun afternoon.

you ventured so far that no one would find or smell you. you watched him roll a joint using paper from a bible he found lying around base. He shrugged and said "makes a good use for king james."

then you two got stoned in the woods, which led to you two getting frisky on the blanket you had laid out. you kissed one another laid out on it as he tugged at your uniform.

"fuck you're amazing." he said with a bit of drowsiness to his voice, "i wanna breed ya and keep ya." he chuckled before he looked into your eyes.

you got him out of the shirt he wore and he worked on his pants soon after. you were far enough out of anyone's reach to worry about having some decency. unless someone got really lost in the woods, no one would be able to find you.

"you can't breed me, silly." you chuckled, "you've been using condoms."

"yeah... yeah." he gave you a dopey smile, "been usin' protection. i forgot." but you were too stoned yourself to realize that he unconvincing tone was letting off his little secret.

he had been spending the last several months getting you stoned and fucking you in the woods with pierced condoms. the little holes did little to protect your vulnerable womb.

the rush of getting you pregnant and getting stoned left a thrill in john's body that he couldn't even begin to put into words. yeah, it was going to suck that you had to leave service to raise your little family, but don't you worry.

he had hearts in his eyes as he pulled away from you and rested on his knees. he gazed down at your naked body which only aroused him more. he laughed, "you look so good. fuck." he rubbed his red eyes before he took you by the hips as playfully rubbed his cock up against you wet slit.

"don't butter me up, soap."

"hey, don't be callin' me soap when it's just the two of us." he pointed at you, he nodded his head, "it's johnny when i'm fucking your brains out."

you blushed and covered your face with your hands. you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your head as he continued to tease you cunt. you moaned into your palms as he moved against you.

"yeah, that's my girl." he said with almost pride in his voice, "you have the most lovely moans I've ever heard."he blinked to keep focus, the excitement was too much for him.

he had hoped that you were too stoned to notice that he didn't put a condom on. but before he sank his length into you, your voice peeked through.

"johnny." you said so innocently, "the condom."

"ohhhh right, lovely." he gave you a big smile, "i guess i had a little too much."

you looked so innocent under him, you had your hands by your mouth as you said, "we don't have to do it if you don't want to."

"nah, nah." he waved a hand at you as he pulled himself towards his pants on the forest floor, "i always want to do it with ya. feels better when i'm stoned anyway." he pulled the condom quickly out of the pocket, he wanted to make sure you didn't see the holes in the foil.

you shifted your hips and laid there, waiting for him. he put the condom on while his side was turned to you. he wanted to make sure you saw as little of the condom as possible. he couldn't risk being found out, not when he believed his goal was so near.

he turned back to you and you were laid there before him. like a beauty aphrodite with the gently sounds of the forest around you. your eyes were closed, he worried that you were asleep. he touched your thigh and you giggled, 'that tickles.'

he got back between your legs and rubbed his cock up against you, "you look amazin'. the more i look at ya, the more i fall in love." john learned very quickly the the line between obsession and love was only a millimeter thick.

"i'm already sleeping with you." you giggled, "what else do you want?" you felt yourself grow wetter the more he teased you.

everything, he thought. everything he could take with his two hands. you have given him everything, but now you just had to be good and get pregnant. he knew you could do it, he believed in you. he'd spend years fucking you while you were high if it meant that he could see your beauty grow as you had his child.

he arched over you and looked into your eyes. you looked back at him, taking in the sight of how blue they were. they felt like they stared right into your core, but were slightly hazy due to the drugs.

"my beautiful girl." he said with a drawl to his voice, "take good care of ya." he held onto your thigh with one hand as he guided his cock into your wet sex.

you tensed up, but relaxed the further he got in. you held onto the blanket underneath you and felt your hole be stretched by his impressive size. while he wasn't the largest on base, at least according to rumors, it still felt like your innards were getting bruised every time he took you doggy style.

he exhaled deeply when he got all of himself inside of you. then the pace became a little more aggressive. he held onto your hips with both hands and thrusted into you like a madman. he watched your breasts and the chub on your stomach jolt with each heavy thrust.

you were certain that the pleasure plus the weed was frying all of your serotonin. alone in the forest you two fucked. it was brutal and fast, it felt like your uterus was in your throat from how hard his thrusts were.

he loved the sight of you, he marveled in it like a man coming to christ. his dog tags moved with each of his movements, they shined in the afternoon light. his head was full and empty at the same time. it felt heavy but there were no thoughts to be had, except for the echo in the very back of his mind that called out 'breed her'. it became what drove him to keep moving his hips against you.

he blinked a few times to get the dryness out of his eyes as he continued to thrust into you. the sound of your heavy breathing and the slick sound of your cunt filled the air. you were so docile under him, it was sight he wanted to admire forever.

"that's my girl, i'll take care of ya forever. rest of my days." he laughed, "get high with ya till we can't hold our own spliffs."

you giggled as you felt good all over. you were so stoned that you couldn't even register what he was saying. but soon your mouth hung open as you gasped for breath. you kicked out your legs in a manner that john found adorable as you climaxed.

the sight of you basking in pleasure made john quickly finish as well. he made sure all of his cock was inside of you as he came against your womb. if he was a praying man he'd be trying to make peace with the man upstairs to make sure you got pregnant.

he laid out beside you and buried his nose in your hair as you tried to catch your breath. he chose well, he thought to himself.

"we should get back soon." you murmured against his chest, your nose brushing against the hairs.

he rubbed the back of your head and said, "how about we get somethin' to eat first. then i'll park somewhere and i can get one more in ya."

"do you have enough condoms?" you asked.

he chuckled and nodded, "i do, don't worry, love. you're safe with me." his voice was a low purr and it made you moan in such a way that it made him hard. "you'll always be safe with me." <3

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 1 year

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Prompt || Reader and Bucky booking a hotel for a lazy romantic weekend, most of which they spend naked. Bucky decides that they feel too comfortable to want to get up and go out for food, so Reader decides to order out for them and get dressed enough to meet the delivery person at the door. While Reader is accepting the order, Bucky wraps up in a sheet and comes up behind them, smug as both Reader and the delivery person become flustered. — Requested by @weekendgothgirl

Pairing || Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Word Count || Around 1300

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut — 18+ Only, Minors DNI, mature content/language, implied nudity and sex.

Random prompt event || Masterlist

Paris—The City of Love. It had always been the obvious choice for a romantic honeymoon with your husband, Bucky. From the moment you arrived, you spent your days exploring the city’s wonders—taking walks along the Seine River, and visiting Notre Dame and the Arc de Triomphe. Bucky also indulged in your love for fashion by taking you on shopping trips in the high-end districts, splurging on all the most luxurious brands.

But it was the evenings that truly took your breath away. Bucky arranged private tours of the Louvre, allowing you to marvel at the beautiful artworks, such as the stunning Mona Lisa, in intimate privacy. And to end the night, you would have a romantic candlelit dinner with a breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower as you indulged in delicious French cuisine.

As you were coming to the end of your picturesque honeymoon, you retreated to your hotel suite and spent the last few days in each other’s arms—naked. Exploring not just the city but each other's bodies and souls as well. You reveled in each other’s loving presence and touch—kissing, cuddling, and making passionate love. And when you weren’t lost in the burning passion, you engaged in deep, meaningful conversations that lasted for hours on end, expressing your intense love and commitment to each other.

As the sun began to peek through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow, you stirred awake slowly in the embrace of your husband’s arms and the silky sheets. You snuggled further into his warmth, contenting a sigh as your mind filled with the previous night of sex—your body still lingered with pleasure. You inhaled his aroma, a mix of his cologne and natural musk. It filled you with comfort and safety, and you never wanted to leave the haven of the bed.

Bucky was already awake. Humming a soft melody as his fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You opened your eyes and met his gaze. His ones swam deep with love and adoration for his wife.

“Morning, ma chérie,” Bucky murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand before trailing them up your arm.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the term of endearment, so fitting for the current circumstances. “Morning, James,” you replied.

He pulled you even closer. Your naked bodies pressed tightly together. His nose brushed with yours as a smile tugged on his lips. “So, what do you want to do today, my love? A walk? Shopping? A romantic boat ride down the river? Or, is there perhaps something else you have in mind?” A twinkle of desire shone in the depths of his blues as he uttered that last part.

You nibbled on your bottom lip as your fingers tangled behind his neck. Your lips brushed delicately with his as you spoke in a low, sultry voice. “Hmm, I have a plan. It involves you and me naked in this bed. And, that thing you did last night.”

“Is that so,” he hummed with an intriguing eyebrow.

Your lips met in a fiery kiss, each ragged breath mingling with the other as it deepened. The passion was intense as you clung to one another, lost in the moment. But just as the kiss reached its peak, there was a knock on the door, followed by a muffled voice announcing room service.

You both pulled away with a frustrated groan. You had completely forgotten that you’d ordered breakfast late in the night for the following day. Although your appetite was mostly for Bucky at the moment, you could really use some food in your system.

“I’ll go get it,” Bucky offered as he began to rise from the bed.

But you stopped him with your palm pressed against his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. “No, you stay here. For once, I want to come back and find you naked in bed,” you teased, winking at him. The smirk on his face let you know he wouldn’t protest at that.

He gave you a light tap on the ass as you got up and reached for his white button-down shirt on the floor. You put it on, and it covered the most intimate parts of your body but left little to the imagination.

As you walked out into the living room and then the wide entrance, you opened the suite door, and a man with two metal push trays stood on the other end. His eyes widened at the sight of your barely-covered form, but he quickly regained his professionalism.

“Room service, madame,” he spoke in a French accent.

“Thank you, please come in,” you responded and gestured with your hand for him to enter.

As he wheeled the trolleys into the vast living room, he tried his best to avert his gaze from your tempting body while arranging the plates, cutlery, and food on the dining table.

You were impatient for him to leave as you longed to return to the real feast that was waiting in the other room.

But before you could make a move, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You could feel Bucky’s toned physique and hardening cock against you through the silky fabric of his robe. His breath, warm against your neck, sent shivers down your spine, which were followed by a trail of fiery kisses across your skin that elicited a moan from you.

You melted into his embrace as your body hummed with need and desire. Bucky’s hands roamed over your curves, exploring every inch of your figure. You arched into his touch as his erotic whispers, and skilled fingers ignited sparks of passion through your nerves, making you moan and whimper softly.

The room service attendant cleared his throat, pulling you back into reality with a gasp. You flushed hot, embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment.

Bucky, on the other hand, was amused by the situation. His actions were deliberate in letting the man know who you belonged to.

“I think we should let him do his job, ma chérie.” Bucky chuckled against your ear as he spoke.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from Bucky, adjusting your shirt to a more appropriate state. The man remained professional, but the embarrassment in his eyes was evident as he stared at the two of you.

“Thank you,” you said, trying to keep your composure. “We’ll take it from here.”

The man nodded before quickly turning on his heels and making his way out of the suite, closing the door behind him.

You turned to a chuckling and amused Bucky as a mix of embarrassment and desire coursed through you.

“Oh god, that was so fucking awkward. Sorry about that,” you said, biting your lip, trying to hide the embarrassment from your face, but Bucky saw right through it, his eyes dark with desire.

“Don’t be, doll. I love it when you lose yourself in my touch. I love it when you can’t keep quiet for me,” he uttered with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Your fault. You started it.”

He pulled you close, his lips brushing against yours. “And I plan on finishing it,” he murmured, before capturing your lips in a needy kiss, leading you back to the silky bed for a second round of the thing he had done to you the previous night. The food could wait till later, after all.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

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starchaserwrites · 2 months

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@jegulus-microfic / february 16: tear / word count: 724 cw: needles

Bets are James' speciality, so it comes as a big surprise when the Stars don't win the Stanley Cup Final. The thing is, now Remus and Sirius have to decide where on his body James will have to get his first piercing ever, and to say he's nervous is an understatement. That's how the three of them end up in the waiting room of a tattoo and piercing shop with an appointment for him to get his belly button pierced.

James is a generally daring and risk-taking person, not that he's terrified of needles but he does feel a little uneasy knowing that in a couple of minutes one will be piercing his skin. Despite having informed himself about the risks and having taken all the precautions beforehand (cleaning the area well, making sure he has the right anatomy for the jewel and wearing a cropped shirt to avoid friction afterwards), he still can't help the thin layer of cold sweat that is building up on his neck.

"Relax, Prongs, you're in good hands," Remus says, patting him on the back. Oh, and the other detail that makes him the least bit uncomfortable is that his ex is the one doing the piercing, isn't that funny? James knows Regulus will do a phenomenal job, he's been doing this for almost eight years so it should be effortless.

They were a couple when they were 16 and 17 respectively, and it's not that they had a bad break-up or completely lost touch, it was just the right person at the wrong time given their respective family circumstances. So if James is nervous about being at the younger man's mercy six years after they broke up, no one can blame him.

"James, you can come in," Pandora tells him from the reception desk.

The thing about Regulus is that every time James sees him, he looks more beautiful than the last. This time the new snake tattoo circling his entire left forearm in red ink is messing with his mind exquisitely, and when he finally turns around subtly smiling James is gone.

"Look who we have here, James Potter. To be honest, I never thought I'd see you here," he says in the soft, slow voice he reserves for him. "So, belly button piercing, Sirius told me about the challenge. Poor you."

All James can do is nod and chuckle slightly, shocked by the sparkle on his ex's tongue when he speaks. Everything that happens after Regulus asks him to select a piece of jewellery he likes and to lie down on the stretcher happens in slow motion. Regulus putting on a new pair of latex gloves, Regulus sanitising the area where he's going to pierce, Regulus marking where the piercing will be, Regulus tearing off the envelope that holds the sterile needle... James doesn't know much about the world of piercings, but he doesn't think Regulus should be straddling his legs during the process.

Of course he won't be making any complaints.

The light on Regulus's tongue appears again as he says something he can't quite process.

"... understood? Oh, no, James tell me you're not about to faint," he says with a hint of concern.

"No, I'm fine, I swear!" he hurries to say. "But can I hold on to your thigh while you do it?"

"Sure you can," he replies with a smirk.

That's how James doesn't even notice the moment the jewel is installed in his navel, concentrating on the way the tattooed man frowns in concentration.

"You're all set." is all the piercer says but there's no sign that he'll be getting off him any time soon.

The new piercing being forgotten and in a moment of courage, James intertwines both index fingers in the silver eyed man's trouser belt.

"Got something to do after work?" and the question is all it takes for Regulus to lean in and kiss him deeply but slowly. A tongue piercing shouldn't make him feel this good.

"I've got the whole afternoon available if it means continuing to see you in that crop top." he murmurs against his lips then bites down slightly on the bottom one.

In short, he lost a bet, won the scolding of his best friends for taking so long and got his right person back at the right time this time.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders #jegulus microfic #len writes

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berrieluv · 1 year

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academic rival!Remus Lupin x reader.

oh, the "who did this to you" trope, my beloved.

None of you knew how it started, and if someone ever dares to ask Remus would most likely groan at them, he didn't understood your dynamic.

He felt that nauseous feeling grow in him when you would get a slightly better note than him, even when it was the same note but your assignment got to be praised by the teachers.

You liked it. You needed the motivation and the competition to stay on top. Some people liked Quidditch, others joined the chess team, you and Remus created a rivalry to get through the school days.

Remus and you have never actually be friends. You liked James and Sirius, you thought they were funny, and in any situation you could imagine yourself dating Sirius, you shared a funny dynamic where you both would flirt. But the competition with Remus' took most of your time, it was almost as if he was your actual boyfriend.

Now that you think about it, you spent most of your time with Remus, or thinking about him, or thinking on defeating him. Your thoughts were 80% Remus Lupin and actually just a 20% school.

Now, in the last party before summer vacation, you both thought of taking a rest. No ditching your friends because you were busy studying, no "I can't drink, I have school tomorrow" anymore.

Just you, Remus and a ridiculous amount of butter beer. And of course, a lot of students as well, but Remus felt like it was only you and him right there.

You looked gorgeous. Remus thinks he never had any chance to look at you this way, to think of you as the most beautiful woman in the room. He knew you were pretty, he may hate you but he wasn't blind. He could see why Sirius had a thing for you. But now, in that exact moment, Remus couldn't take his eyes off you.

You were wearing jeans and a revealing blouse. Classy but somehow informal at the same time, Remus thought that maybe the shoes complete the outfit. That and your tide up hair, he wondered how much it took you to style it like that, he knew there was a lot of effort on the way you tried to make your hair look messy. It was a specific kind of messy you liked.

"Hey, Remus!"

He smiled at the girl who sat by his side, he didn't want to be rude, he was a gentleman, but his mind was killing him to turn around and watch you.

The girl in front of him was pretty, she was funny and she could keep up with any topic Remus would mention, she was well spoken and her body behaved in a way that was almost royalty-like, but he couldn't stop thinking about you, standing just a few steps for him, all that would take was to turn around.

"Remus, are you listening to me?"

No, he wasn't.

"No, sorry, love. What was it?"

She never got mad, not when Remus lost the track of the conversation or when he finally looked behind his back. To his misfortune, you weren't there anymore.

A few hours passed, the first girl was now long-forgotten and Remus was just sitting on the couch listening to Dorcas and Marlene talk about something and occasionally turning to ask him as well.

He felt his body on alert mode when he saw you again. It was around 1:00 a.m., if he was counting right, it was around three hours where he spent without seeing you.

Your face looked in panic. Your arms where hugging your body and your hair was in a different way than before, your lipstick also disappeared and he knew that sad smile way too well to ignore that something happened.

He excused himself from the girls and got up, making all the way to you, touching your arm only to feel you flinching at it, he frowned, because yes, you could say were enemies, but Remus has touch you many times, you could say you were used to it, and not once have you flinch.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes"

But your eyes were filled with tears now and you felt so embarrassed, of what happened and for crying in front of all this people. You hided your face on Remus chest, trying to stop people from seeing you cry, Remus started to move his body a bit so it looked like the two of you were slow dancing, even when the music was nothing like that.

Remus took you upstairs, it was James' home after all, he could do whatever he pleases there.

He sat you on Sirius' couch, in his room and looked at you better, with the lights fully on. There were wounds in your arms, the kind of wounds the nails cause when they're drowning in the skin.

Remus tried to touch your face and you pulled back with an 'ouch', there was no visible marks but he could tell your left cheek was sore comparing to the right one.

"Who did this to you?"

He didn't know why he was so mad – Well, he knew if it was any other girl he could try tot help too –. He didn't know why he wanted to kill, why the Moony part of him felt like waking up when they were so far from the full moon.

You couldn't speak, you didn't knew his name, you only saw a Gryffindor pin in his jacket before he took it off.

"He was blonde" You say with tears in your eyes, not exactly sure why you felt so comforted right there with Remus, you wanted that asshole to suffer. You wanted him to cry, you wanted him to know how it feels to have someone doing things to your body without you wanting them, without you being able to stop it. "He was a Gryffindor"

And it's not like there's only one blonde Gryffindor in Hogwarts, but he knew one that would do exactly something like this.

"Stay here, I don't want you downstairs"

"He didn't... he didn't got far!" You yell before he could exit the door "He just tried, he, he couldn't take off my clothes, completely, he just tried. Nothing happened. I'm overreacting" You said with tears in your eyes, you felt ashamed, you were dirty now.

"More than enough happened" Remus walked away from the door and kneeled in front of you, kissed your knee and looked at you "Now stay here. I don't want you downstairs, alright?"

How could he not know who it was? It was the same blonde Gryffindor who called you 'Remus' little bitch' once, the same man who said out loud in a boys' night at the common room how you were one of the main girls he fantasized about, how he wanted, no, needed, to have you in any way he could.

Remus felt sick at the memory. He remember how the words twisted his stomach back then and he remember doing nothing, one of his Housemates was expressing out loud how he would even come in terms on raping if necessary and he did nothing.

"Remus, I've been looking for you" Sirius says, hanging from his shoulder and walking at Remus' speed once he didn't stop; "Where're we going?"

The boy didn't answer, he couldn't, his tooth were clenching he felt like he could break them at any moment. And the second he saw those blonde hairs and that cocky face he didn't doubt for a moment on throwing the first punch.

Sirius would always tell the story, and he would always mention he swears he has never feel sober up as fast as he did that day.

The alcohol evaporated from his system.

"Mate, what the... what is wrong with you?"

"You know what you did" Remus answers, caressing his fist with his other hand and looking at Tom, ready to kill him at any moment.

"Oh" He chuckled "You mean what I did... to your little girlfriend?"

You were not his girlfriend, but Remus didn't think necessary to point it out now, in fact, he sort of liked the thought of that. He would come to terms with that later.

"She wanted it tho... She was throwing herself at me like a bitch in heat"

And Remus threw another punch. He didn't even think of this one, the only thing he knew is that his hand was already making contact his his face.

Tom fought back, he punched Remus and that's when Sirius thought of getting involve, when that bastard's friends started to go against Remus.

"She was drunk!" He yelled once he felt James pulling him away, Sirius distancing himself from the others once James arrived and yelled at them to stop. "You had no right touching her, she was drunk!"

Lily tried to calm Remus down while James made sure of kick everyone out from the party.

"Remus, relax, alright?" He tried to breath but he couldn't bare to even think of you, scared, begging for it to stop and not feeling strong enough to do something about it, the impotence. "Where is she?"

"Upstairs"

"What if you calm down and go look for her? How does that sound? Spend a bit of time with Y/N, she must be scared and exhausted. She needs you to be there"

He nods, that actually sounded good, just the two of you, lying in Sirius' bed, or you lying in the bed while he's on the floor, maybe just holding hands, he didn't know. He was so confused right now, too many emotions.

Remus walked upstairs and opened the door, you looked at him, worried and ran to inspect his body, he just chuckled.

"I heard the fight" You say, calmly.

"Sorry" He says and you frown "I thought Sirius' room was soundproof"

You shake your head "Why did... why did you get into a fight? You don't fight"

"I've come to realize, that I can only fight when it comes to you. Whether is against you or for you"

"You will fight me?"

"I fight you every single day it's crazy. I spend more time thinking about you than any girl I've like. My relationships don't work because I'm just looking forward the next time I see you in class to see if I did better than you. There's days where the only thing feeding my will to live is our silly competition"

"But will you fight me, tho?" You asked with a smile and curious eyes. "Like you did today"

"I could take you" He simply answer "Not in a fight"

You chuckle and look at him, his hair is messy, even more than it always is, his shirt is missing around three buttons and you can see his chest, his cheek is red and it's starting to turn purple and yet he still looks a weird way of divine.

And you felt brave enough to kiss him. Remus feel like standing on clouds, it was the first time he could confirm he believed in God.

"Does this mean we're not rivals anymore?"

"Don't be silly, Remus. One kiss doesn't erase years of competition. I could mop the dirt with you"

"What about two kisses?"

"I would have to think about it"

#remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fic #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin kinnie #the marauders imagine #the marauders fic #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fandom #the marauders fluff #remus lupin fluff

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queers-gambit · 7 months

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The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.

prompt: The Boss passes away, and at the reading of his Last Will and Testament, your lover, Bucky, is named successor - not his older (adopted) brother, John. tension breaks at the funeral.

pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4k+

note: author wants to remind everyone that there are 1,000 different ways to host a funeral; to celebrate a life.

warnings: Mafia AU, cursing, mention of deceased family member, depictions of violence, greed, spoiled brat behavior (not by reader or Buck, you'll see), entitlement, does author ever edit? where is this fic going? author lost sight of the plot but fuck it!

"The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.; read on May 16th, after being last revised on January 3rd, - being of assured sound body, mind, and soul - is to divide assets and bequeath inheritance," the lawyer with thinning hair announced to the room, his baritone voice sending vibrations to the glasses of water set before him.

You tightened your hand in Bucky's flesh one, sharing a small glance together as his mother commandeered all attention by sniffling loudly from the middle of the room. It was a lively sort of office; a high rise with floor-to-ceiling windows, painted a light, pale yellow that glowed in sunlight, a long mahogany conference table, plush, leather rolling chairs, and an array of flavored waters to choose from. Both sparkling and flat.

It felt wrong to be there, totally unreal.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was read from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses by a portly man in a tacky, summer khaki suit. Mr. Happy had been the Barnes' lawyer for years now, someone The Boss, James Sr., trusted without a doubt. He was the only man trusted to see this division to the end and without conflict, fearing it'd upset Mr. Barnes' soul should his family begin feuding over material items.

"First, to my beloved wife, Mary Beth, who I know will succeed me in death. I to her leave our beach house, the penthouse on Fifth, every car in mine and her name is to be transferred solely into her name, the building, apartment leases in Manhattan so she might continue being landlord and earn a monthly, sizable income. In addition," Happy glanced at Mary Beth, "I bequeath a lump sum of 25% of my savings."

Everyone seemed to think this was acceptable, nodding in agreement as Mary Beth sobbed loudly into a crumpled, saturated tissue. However, Happy paused as he scanned over the document nervously. His throat cleared, informing that John was to get his own share - yet there was no mention of the organization's leadership and the entire room filled with tension. Finally, Happy sighed through his reading of Bucky's inheritance as you took a sip of coffee; revealing he had been chosen as Mr. James Barnes, Sr.'s successor.

Coffee sprayed out of your nose to splatter on the table, making you gag and cough instantly; Bucky patting your back in support as he turned rigid with confusing tension. Mary Beth Barnes gasped dramatically, insisting that couldn't be right.

"What!?" John raged, shooting out of his leather chair so fast, it toppled over. "That's impossible! That should not be possible!"

"I assure you, Mr. Barnes, it's - "

"Bullshit!" John snapped, snatching a copy of The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr..

Happy sighed, "Your father did not leave you the business, John, he left it to Bucky, instead."

"How the fuck - !?" Nobody moved as John read for himself what the legal documents said. He grit his teeth and tossed the padded file to the lawyer, glaring at his family. "So," he seethed, "Father's decided to name Bucky over me."

"What does all this mean!?" Mary Beth asked tearfully.

He smirked, "You two couldn't get pregnant. You tried, tried, tried, but just couldn't, so, you adopted me. But just 3 months after I came home, you were giving birth to Bucky - and even better, you gave him Father's name! My whole life, you've all tried to erase me because the adoption was final and there was nowhere to dump me, but then Father started teaching me about the business. He knew I was the eldest - and succession respects birth order!"

"I didn't ask for this," Bucky snapped, his hand flat on your back as you had stopped choking finally but he didn't want to lift his hand from your inviting warmth.

"No? That why you're the one benefitting from everything?" John sneered.

"Benefitting? From our father dying? I understand you feel scorned, but Father made his decision," Bucky reminded. "And I'm sorry he made you feel as if you were guaranteed this job, but this is how it works. Someone's appointed."

"If you were decent, you'd refuse so I could step in and take my place. You know I'm the better fit!"

Happy shook his head, "That's not how this works, kid."

"Excuse me?" John seethed, turning to the lawyer.

"Bucky can't just refuse and you accept," Happy explained. "If the chosen inheritor refuses, then there's a trial to elect a new Boss. You'd have to plead your case to everyone."

John huffed and turned to Bucky, demanding, "Well?"

"I'm not refusing what Father wanted," Bucky decided, making you freeze. "And I'm not useless, John, I know how to do this job."

He scoffed, "Whatever."

"Hang on a second," you whispered, grabbing Bucky's wrist to lean into his side, barely muttering, "baby, are you sure?" He nodded at you, not quite picking up on the question you asked between the lines.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., had been officially read, and after naming Bucky successor, tore apart a fragile family that was barely knit together with frayed string. He knew his decision would cause disruption, yet Senior Barnes made a decision best based on the needs of the organization - not his sons.

Now that John had stormed off, Happy read the rest of the document to ensure there were as little questions as possible; everyone aware of the temper John harnessed - thinking this was his final trigger that made him snap. After hearing the division of assets, you all parted ways with Happy, who promised he'd be in contact with Bucky soon before telling Mary Beth the money would hit her account in a day.

25% of Senior Barnes' savings to Mary Beth. 25% to John. 50% left for Bucky to operate an ever-profiting business.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. had torn apart a mother and (adopted) son; two brothers; and while you didn't want to add to the stress Bucky must've felt, you couldn't hold back. When alone in the car, you lashed out at Bucky - demanding to know how he could make such an important decision without at least consulting you.

"We're together, Bucky, and this is a partnership! One person doesn't get to do everything, we make big-time, life-changing decisions together since it's not just your life you're shaking up!"

"This has nothing to do with you!" Bucky snapped back.

"It's everything to do with me!" You argued. "You're not the only one in this relationship, so you don't get to make unilateral decisions!"

"It's not your job, it's not your family - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" You snarled. "Few weeks ago, it was, 'oh, baby, I'm gonna marry you one day. I can't live without you,' and now it's not my family...? What? Not my business? Not my concern?"

"It's up to me to deal with."

"Why couldn't you of just asked for a minute to think?" You asked in a defeated tone. "You could've used a minute or two to talk to me about it before jumping the gun."

"What would you've said?"

"That we could try it out and then if you didn't like it, let it go to trial..."

He nodded, "Not half a bad idea."

"But you didn't think to include me!"

"It's not your life!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself, it's our life. Okay? Like it or not, this is our life we're talking about. Fucking clue me in next time, you irrational fuck."

Bucky took a long breath, "All right, fine, fair enough. I should've included you. I'll do better in the future."

You huffed, crossing your arms, "I doubt it."

Due to the nature of your stress, you didn't push Bucky farther that night. He seemed distracted, and even when you got back to your penthouse apartment, he was sullen and quiet. You spent two hours in bed, alone, tossing and turning, before finally getting up to look for your lover. He was found on the balcony, dried tear tracks left on his cheeks; mutely opening his arm to welcome you onto his lap. Bucky needed you now more than ever, his tears starting again as the funeral now loomed over you all.

Two days later, The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. was contested on May 18th by... John Walker? Who the fuck...?

"Hi, Happy," you greeted the lawyer at your hotel door, opening it to let him enter.

"Thanks, doll," he smiled. "Where's Mr. Barnes?"

"In here," you lead him to the sitting room, trying to ignore how everyone now called Bucky "Boss" or "Mr. Barnes". When you arrived, the three of you sat to listen to the lawyer speak about whatever he had called an emergency meeting about.

"Who the hell is John Walker?" You wondered softly. "Some rip-off John Wick?

"John, it's John," Happy snickered. "It's John - he's legally changed his adopted name to his birth name. From Barnes to Walker."

"When?"

"Yesterday. Today, he contested the will."

"Fuck's sake," you sighed.

"This inheritance is iron-clad," Happy assured, "but it's enough disruption to shake the men in the organization. Apparently, John's procured a plethora of followers - all ready to march behind him."

"He has fucking supporters?" Bucky mumbled in angry disbelief.

"Enough to make a small dent in our numbers..."

"Can I ask?" You interrupted. "What's John's issue? Why's he so angry?"

Happy glanced at Bucky and saw there was no answer on his lips, so, he told you, "Years ago, Mrs. Barnes struggled to carry children to-term. Eventually, they were told it wouldn't happen, so, they decided to adopt. It took about a year for them to adopt John, but Mary Beth was surprisingly pregnant - gave birth three months after they adopted John, who was about two at the time and understood he had to share the attention of his new parents. That's where the competition started..."

"So, John's mad...?"

"He's the eldest," Happy shrugged. "But Senior Barnes named his firstborn son..."

"What a slap in the face," you frowned, feeling sad for John. "To learn after his father died that... What? He didn't think John was really his son? Was really family?"

Happy nodded, "He was clear when he stated his firstborn son... They were in a feud when Senior Barnes made this revision."

"So, he was just angry - "

"More than that," Happy frowned. "Have you spoken Mr. Stark yet?"

"Tony? Not yet," Bucky answered.

"He's your father's investment banker, works with your father's accountant. John had an unhealthy habit of asking for more and more money to be bailed out. When your father tried to cut him off, he started stealing the money, leading their blow-out."

You blinked in shock.

Bucky just hummed and nodded, deep in thought. "Perhaps it's time to change the banker," he muttered.

"Tony's good," Happy assured, "but John knows how to manipulate people. Your father never wanted to see it, but when John burned through money, he got frustrated."

"Okay," you waved, "new motion. No more business talk until we lay Mr. Barnes to rest, okay? Just let us bury the man, then y'all can plot and plan and do whatever."

"Mr. Barnes - this, Mr. Barnes," he pointed at Bucky, " - has informed me you'll be present going forward...?"

"He did?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, of course, but I'm still asking for a pause," you eased, trying to play down how off-guard you felt. "Let's get through the funeral and we can figure out what to do moving forward."

Bucky agreed and showed Happy out; returning to you not a minute later with his hands on his hips. You cocked your head in question and he answered, "He got rid of the Barnes name..."

"He did."

"He's contesting the will."

"He is."

"He's got supporters in the organization."

"He does."

Bucky took a long breath, telling you, "I'm gonna need your help getting through this, doll."

"That's what I'm here for," you promised.

It was strange, seeing your lover assimilate into such an intense role. You were grateful he had an ON / OFF switch with you, being the kind, sweet, soft-hearted, tender man you fell in love with in private, but the cold, calculating maniac when acting in his newly appointed job. It was intriguing to watch; always content to play dutiful wife when he requested your presence.

You had gone to law school, and because of that, you knew how to take lightning fast notes, so, he liked you being present at his meetings. It was only three days since reading The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., and in the time, Bucky truly took control. He weeded out most of those who supported John over him, "removing" them from their position in the org., trying to set a precedence for the other men who meant to follow him. He wore suits everyday now, had two different phones, and assigned personal security to you and him.

However, come the 21st, everything came to something of a grinding halt at the funeral. It was a simple set-up: the morning started with a mass, then they'd congregate for a viewing, lastly, transport the body to the grave site. You wore black, like everyone else, and kept a hand on Bucky the entire time - knowing his anxiety made him skittish and prone to his fight or flight reaction. He was quiet, stoic, busying himself by keeping a hand on your form; be it your waist, hip, hand, around your shoulders. To save him from any awkward encounters, you accepted people's grievances with kindness.

The mass was pleasant enough. Short, simple, to the point; offering the death rite prayers Mr. Barnes had designated in his final documents. After that, Bucky kept busy by helping load the casket into the hearse to transport him to the funeral home while you intercepted any conversation. Once at the funeral home, you helped bring in all the floral arrangements as Bucky comforted his mother, no sign of trouble yet.

However, right in the middle of the some 600-person strong memorial, there came a small commotion. You flinched when you saw your security guards hit the floor, John emerging from the stunned crowd with a few men flanking his sides. "Well, ain't this real heart-warmin'," he smirked, eyeing the attending patrons. "Funny seein' you here, Tony, 'cause you always hated Old Man Barnes. You, too, Clint," he pointed out different attendants, "'cause I remember you sayin' you wished you hit The Boss with your car that one Christmas party. Mhm, and you, Natasha, so good to see you here after all the stress you and your little gang caused Father."

"John," Bucky grit, but your hands kept him anchored in place.

"Mhm," John eyed you both, "always restrained by your bitch, huh?"

"What're you doing here?" You deflected. "Why make a scene?"

"Ain't no other way to get y'alls attention," he spread his arms in gusto. "I see you haven't responded to my contention."

"Why would I?" Bucky shot back, taking a more relaxed stance as his arm slung around your shoulders. "It's just the woes of a spoiled brat not getting what he assumes are his dues. Didn't you steal enough from Father when he was alive? What's this? You wanna try again to fuck him up in death by stealing the position he left me?"

John's tongue licked over his teeth, "Strong words."

"You're one to talk. Look, for what it's worth, I am sorry you were short handed, but it's not something we can change. You made a mistake, I get that, but it was Father's money you fucked with, that you stole, and you proved untrustworthy. Why the fuck do you think he'd leave the business to you? Listen, I'd love for you to come into the org officially, but not if you're contesting Father's wishes."

"I'm owed more than I was given," John snapped. "Years I endured his wrath and ruin, years I posed as his perfect and diligent son. To find out now, after his death, that I am not even viewed as family...? I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask for my parents to die, I didn't ask for your mother to have fertility difficulties, I didn't ask to be adopted, and yet it all happened, but he still, until the end, kept me at arms length. I'm owed more than I was given since he stated in legal documents that I am not his son!"

"This is not the time or place," Bucky warned. "Don't fucking do this."

"No? When, then? Why do it later? When I can get through your security now? You know, you're a tough guy to get close to what with all the security you've hired recently," John smirked, opening his arms in bravado, "and yet, here I am."

"When we are not at our father's funeral, we will talk."

"No," John smirked, shaking his head, "we do this now. Here, and now, at your father's funeral."

You yelped when Bucky shoved you down, ducking swiftly himself to avoid John's swinging fist; launching his own attack, and the entire funeral home erupting in chaos. You gasped when hands grabbed your waist and hauled up - yelping in shock when you recognized Steve's tattoos as he shoved through the crowd.

"What the fuck!?" You demanded when set down on the side of the room.

"Boss' orders," he explained, keeping an eye out on the kerfuffle. "Shit - stay fuckin' here!" He barked, turning for the crowd and disappearing. You felt your panic brewing to a new height as you couldn't see Bucky... In fact, you couldn't see any of the regular men you were used to.

A gun fired, you ducked down.

People screamed, a stampede erupting to empty the funeral home as fast as possible as another shot sounded. You were about to follow the mass of people when Sam became visible, obviously struggling to get to you through the throngs of rushing people.

"C'mere, honey," Sam panted, grabbing hold of you and keeping you close.

"What's going on!?" You begged, a third shot echoing, making the last of the people scream in terror and run faster - pushing people out of their way.

"John's come to play," Sam grit, people bumping into him as he did his best to stand as a pillar to keep you safe. "C'mon," he heaved, leading you towards a side door, opening it to reveal Bucky's mother, Mary Beth, and a few other women - gently pushing you inside and shutting the locked door.

"Fucker," you grumbled, trying to open the locked handle. You sighed, hands on your hips, listening to the commotion outside the door and turning to glare at Mary Beth. "Did you know?"

"Know what?" She asked stiffly.

"That your husband resented John because he was adopted?"

She blinked and lowered her head in thought, releasing a deep, long sigh. "I didn't think it was this bad, I honestly thought things were getting better."

"James wrote John out of the will and now Bucky's the one paying for it," you snapped. "How did you not see this coming?"

"John's always been a good boy - "

"You mean a Mama's Boy. But surely you have to realize, a boy needs both his parents. Especially if he can feel the one parent fostering resentment."

The door rattled and you turned for it, the swinging wood revealing your boyfriend's deranged person. He surveyed the room, a heavy glare on his face, blood and bruising visible through his snarl, and when he locked onto your form, he surged forward, breathing, "Sweetheart."

His hands instantly slid over your cheeks, looking frantic as he took in your appearance - searching for any sign of injury. "I'm okay," you promised him, holding his wrists, "but you're not. Fuck's sake, Buck, you're bleeding."

He scoffed, "John wore rings."

"Pussy boy."

"C'mere," he stooped to scoop you in his arms, "gettin' you home."

"Bucky," you whined lightly.

He readjusted you so you were koala hugging his torso, huddling your head into his neck and insisting, "Don't look. Don't look, baby, don't fucking look."

But you did.

Tears filled your eyes when you identified two dead bodies on the bloody floor, and trailing behind you both, Bucky's footprints - in blood. You tightened your hold on him and whimpered.

The fire crackled and coughed ash into the air, a comfortable warmth emitting into the otherwise chilly room. Ice cubes sloshed in crystal, the smell of book leather and stale cologne perfumed the air, and four minds all raced with different thoughts.

Bucky, still bruised and sporting cuts on his face, clenched his jaw as he weighed options in his head. Across from him, on a matching leather loveseat, Sam sat beside Steve, handing the blonde a refilled glass of his desired alcohol. You were pressed to your lover's side, everyone replaying the events of this evening.

Sam and Steve filled you in on what went down, Bucky not making a single sound as his men spoke. The details made you feel lightheaded but you wanted to know, and now, more than before, you understood your new reality. Sam told you the names of the two men killed, names you didn't recognize, before wrapping the story up by explaining there were getaway cars waiting outside for John and his men. You spared a glance at Bucky, then asked the two men across from you, "So, what now?"

Silence.

"Now..." Bucky grit his teeth, speaking lowly and evenly, "I do the job I was given. No successful leader ever wanted their position of influence and power, being a reason I know John's the wrong fit for this job. If I step down, he'll slither in..." He nodded, "Time to be the boss, finally."

Your heart cemented and throat constricted, only able to listen to Sam and Steve agree with Buck, then instantly start planning their next move - not wanting to wait til morning.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was meant to be something clean, peaceful, and fair, and yet, it was anything but. A family without their patriarch, two confused sons sans a father, millions of dollars worth of inheritance left to be fought over, a wife off the deep end and a mother unavailable to the world; a feud brewing and sides being chose.

It wasn't supposed to come to this, James Barnes, Sr., wasn't a vindictive man. He didn't anticipate this kind of reaction, he just wanted to do something "right" without contest. He was incredibly wrong, though he'd never know it; leaving a mess in his wake that Bucky was responsible to clean.

You listened to the men devise the beginnings of a plan before whispering to Bucky you were going to sleep. After bidding Sam and Steve a goodnight, you left Senior Barnes' home study - you and Bucky moving in basically after The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.. It was a gorgeous home, lost in time; inviting guests into her many halls; to discover all her secrets.

You found the bedroom you and Bucky had claimed, trying not to overwhelm yourself with reality. Truth was, you loved Bucky more than life but you started dating years ago - when he was a different man. When his father's wishes were different. Where different circumstances seemed plausible to your future together. However, this wasn't what you signed up for; and never did you (or Bucky) anticipate for him to be named heir.

You went to bed that night frazzled, rattled, alone, cold, and with severe heart palpitations; wishing to God your man would back down, but knew it was foolish to waste hope on the inevitable.

So, you fell asleep wondering if life with this "new" Bucky was worth living... Did you truly want to be with a man with such a dangerous job? A job that caused a crowd-fight at a funeral before creating need for more funerals? A job that would steal his time, money, effort, attention... A job that would affect you both in ways you couldn't begin to fathom?

Was loving Bucky worth this kind of conflict?

Of course, he was!

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ttulipwritezz · 2 months

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King Of My Heart (Body And Soul)~ R. Lupin.

Chapter 2 - Expectations

Ootp! Remus Lupin x Sirius's sister!Reader

Synopsis: When James and Lily died, and your brother was sent to Azkaban, Remus was the only person you have left. Until he left too. What happens when he returns after the events of Sirius's escape, only to find out you have a son? A son that's his.

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: lots of italics, probably grammatical mistakes, might be ooc idk, child (?), fem reader, italics are flashbacks ( idk), love (ew), Sirius is back, [ look at series masterlist for all content warnings]

A/n: This is more of the backstory and how they came to be, along with lots of awkwardness from both ends, I promise there's more remus in the next chapter <3 oh and reunion with Sirius and thanks to @lixzey for making me wanna push the awkwardness~ :) If you enjoyed this please reblog and comment :)

Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist, Navigation

You and Remus were in love, you had been in love for 6 years.

Everyone knew you'd be endgame, and your brother hated it, to an extent.

Sirius loved that his little sister was happy, that she had joy in her life after the roughness of their family life. But he was scared, scared because he knew how much Remus would push people away, push himself away.

He didn’t want you hurt. But you were.

You found out in October, two weeks before Halloween.

You had been talking with Lily through letters back and forth, discussing your recent morning nausea and sickness.

She had asked when was the last time you and Remus had slept together, strange you considered that question, you replied a week ago at most.

Her letter came back with the words "you might be pregnant, dear...why don't you take this potion i sent along?"

And along with it there was a potion in a small vial with a piece of parchment guiding you through the process.

All you had to do was drink half of the potion and wait for the other half to shift hues.

And sure enough, the once rust coloured potion soon turned blue, signalling your current state.

You were carrying Remus's child, a child you hadn't talked about, a child you were sure you weren't ready for.

It was now hallows eve, the day you thought you had worked up the courage to tell Remus.

Children around town had just finished trick or treating and your husband was bringing back the basket with remaining candy.

He came into the bedroom with you and went straight to the shower, promising to return in a bit.

Your eyes heavy with sleep, you sit down on the edge of the bed, waiting for Remus to come out of the bathroom.

He sees them on your trousers before in your eyes, your tears. His brows furrowed in concern and pity as he looked at your face, eyes dull with sorrow and fear, so uncharacteristic of your usual glimmer and joy.

"What's the matter, dove?" He asks, voice slightly hoarse from the drowsiness in the back of his mind.

You don't answer, only look at him like you're out of words. You're thinking, thinking what a little Remus would look like, how they’d have the same nose, probably his same freckles dusting their face, and the same sandy locks of hair with deep roots.

You wonder if he'd want this, a kid, if this could be the one thing Remus would give up the world for.

"Come here, darling" he says and takes your body into his, nuzzling your face in the warmth of his polyester sweater. He understands, he always does.

That's how you sleep that night, unaware of the chaos that was soon to follow.

Remus rushed out of bed the moment the potter's deer patronus knocked on the window.

The white buck stopped at the foot of his bed and let out a call of help, soon disintegrating to mist after.

That night Remus lost three friends, you lost a brother to azkaban and you lost Remus.

He left the morning after. With your heart shattered to pieces, you let him go.

Your mind screamed at you to tell him. Tell him and maybe he'd stay. Tell him and maybe he'd reconsider. But your heart, ever the kind one, ever the selfless one, let him go. In hopes that one day you'd see him again.

Remus was half expecting you to slam the door in his face. To make a face of absolute disgust and just lock him out. But of course the other half of him was longing to hold you, see you after so long. So it came as a welcome surprise when you widened the door and let him inside.

"Uhm...come in, please, we were expecting you" You said, trying not to let your voice waver.

Remus felt so awkward. His hands were clammy, his posture was stiff and his jaw was clenched. He felt like he couldn't move, no more than if he had been hit with the petrificus curse.

You weren't in a much better predicament yourself. You could feel your eyes pricking with tears at the mere sight of him. The same man who left you. The man you let go. The man you still loved.

As he made his way inside the house you let your eyes roam across his figure. His hands were littered in large scars, far bigger than those you'd seen before. His face was shrunken, eyes hollower than you remembered. His smile lines were far more prominent now and his sandy brown hair had a few streaks of grey littered throughout.

"Where is the rest of the order? Where's sirius?" Why did you leave? Why are you back? How are you? You had so many questions but the rest were best kept to yourself.

"They're on the way, I was just...early" I wanted to see you.

Remus hated himself for leaving you. He wanted to tell you that. He regretted each night, even more so on full moons. After leaving the realisation of what he had done dawned on him, it was already too late.

Alas, by the time he had worked up the courage to talk, You were already making your way across the hall to embrace your brother who had just arrived.

When did he get there? How consumed in his thoughts was Remus?

You greeted Sirius with a hug and a look-over of his whole figure. His posture was shrunken, eyes even hollower than Remus's and instead of his signature smirk, only a ghost of a smile was left on his face.

A feeling of guilt consumed you. Your brother was back after azkaban. Innocent. And your mind was all consumed by Remus.

You ushered the rest of the order inside and told Regulus to pack up his things and clear out the living room. The confused and curious glances you got from everyone did little to ease your nerves.

Sirius pulled you aside. You prepared yourself for the conversation you knew was to follow.

“Who’s that?”

It was a valid question, Sirius was well aware that Remus had left that night. After their teary reunion, the werewolf had gotten an earful from the oldest Black. He was shocked and thought that you had found someone new, unlike Remus, Sirius was quick to notice the similarities between the small boy and you. He deduced that he was your son.

“Uhm- He’s my son.”

You were staring at your feet, and your hands were fidgety.

There was a long pause. The silence was so loud you could hear the clock ticking.

“I…I have a nephew?” His words came out uncertain. Cautious and slow.

With a hum you replied “His name is Regulus. Regulus Jace.” You left out the last name. Legally he was a lupin. And so were you. But it wasn’t that hard to conceal that at hogwarts.

At the mention of his little brother, Sirius seemed to grimace. But he put a smile on.

“You named him after Reggie?-” He asked. And continued as you opened your mouth to answer.

“Who’s..who’s the father?” He didn’t want to assume the worst. He was happy, truely he was. After that “bastard” (as he put it) left you it was only fair. No matter how much he ached to see the two of you together again.

“It is Remus.” You replied, vulnerability lacing your voice.

His face seemed to light up, eyes widening, both in shock and delight. Before he would alert the whole house, however, you let him know one more thing.

“He doesn’t know. Neither of them do. I haven’t told them.”

Your chest felt heavy, and your throat seemed to close up. It was hard for you to talk about. Despite being married you and Remus had never talked about kids, let alone with your friends. The feelings of contempt and guilt surrounded you.

Next thing you know, Sirius is pulling you in for a hug, securely wrapping his arms around you and trying to soothe your worries. His right hand wraps around your back as his left brushes against your hair in a calming manner.

It all comes crashing down. The weight of the lies, the guilt, the fear, the hatred. You cannot hold back the tears that rush down your face. A sob rakes though your body. You feel so much, everything, all at once, joy, relief, contempt, familiarity of an embrace.

But most of all...love. Love you haven’t felt in fourteen years.

Series Taglist (open): @twilightlover2007 @idli-dosa @lovesanimals0000 @deathbyramennoodle-s @deadgirlsrunning @lovelyypythoness General Taglist (open): @desikudisworld @iamgayforyourmom1510

Please Reblog if you liked this~

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vampireapple · 2 years

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Hide the Object

Humans are very sneaky when it comes to hiding objects, even using their own body to do so. Can you imagine how horrified aliens would be if humans hid objects inside their bodies?

. . .

The leader of the archaeological team looked around at his team. They were hiding from the pirates, but they would soon be discovered. “If the pirates find these stones a vital piece of this planet’s history will be lost.”

“Back up is coming, right?” The lone human asked.

The leader nodded. “Yes, but they will not arrive in time.”

“Don’t worry, I got this!” The human said. He grabbed the small pebble like things and put them in his mouth.

The crew did not have long to freak out as the pirates arrived and there was a fight.

After the rescue team arrived and the pirates were dealt with the human spat the stones into his hand. Everyone recoiled in disgust.

“How!” the leader demanded.

“I just kept them in my cheeks,” the human replied.

“How! You spoke normally and even fought!”

“Dude, I have kids. I have to be good at hiding things in my cheeks if I want to snack in piece.”

. . .

Specialty Retrieval was interesting with a human. They seemed to have no appreciation for danger. And they were crazy.

The pair had successfully found the chip they were assigned to retrieve and taken it without being located. However, they had a problem. It would soon be discovered that the chip was missing.

“They will do a strip search,” the alien partner said. “We will need to hide the chip and come back for it later.”

“I have a better idea,” the human said. She pulled out a little rubber baggie, put the chip in it and sealed it closed. She took a big drink of water, put the baggie in her mouth, and swallowed it.

“What have you done!” the partner demanded. Had the human lost her mind!

“Relax,” the human said. “The rubber will protect the chip from my stomach acid-”

The alien paled at those words.

“-and the chip is like the size of my thumb nail, so it’ll pass through my digestive track just fine. We’ll get it back by tomorrow.” She smiled brightly.

The alien wanted to bag his head on the wall.

(They survived the strip search, made it off the planet, and did get the chip back the next day)

. . .

The five teammates stared at the little statue. It was small, fitting in a human’s palm, but it was big enough that it wouldn’t be easy to hide. How were they going to get it out? They would surely be searched when it was discovered missing, and they wouldn’t be able to leave the planet for another planetary cycle and a half!

The two humans looked at each other. Both seemed apprehensive, which put the rest of the team on edge. If something scared a human, it had to be bad.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Human Steve asked Human James.

Human James nodded grimly. “Rock, Paper, Scissors?”

The aliens stared at the humans has they held out their fists, counted to three, and then made shapes. Human Steve looked at his hand and then swore.

“Sorry bud,” Human James said.

“Give me the statue, and then everyone turned around,” Human Steve said, looking very unhappy.

Confused, but trusting their teammate the three aliens did to. Human James also turned around. They waited in tense silence.

“Okay, we’re good,” Human Steve said.

The four turned around. The statue was gone.

“Where… is the statue?” the team leader asked.

Human Steve grimaced. “You don’t want to know.”

(After they were back at base Human Steve insisted on washing the statue very well and many times before he gave it back)

#earth is space australia #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #aliens

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taintandviolent · 2 months

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Devil's Favours - James March x Reader

summary & wordcount: 4.9K! originally chosen as the party favour for James' Devil's Night celebration, reader is quickly snatched away by James March, who would rather have his own fun with her than let the others kill her.

w a r n i n g s: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! dark fic, dub-con, slight non-con, conflicted reader, sexual confusion, mild gore & blood, graphic descriptions, violence, aggression, bodily fluids, mentions of other real serial killers, smut, rough sex,overstimulation, body worship (reader with greek goddess body type), murder, reader death.

a/n: sorry for this, I'm mentally unwell. not beta read, so if it's horrid and clunky, I'm sorry!!! also, I think this is the last taglist I'll be doing, RIP. It's just such a pain in the rear end, and half the time, it doesn't even work.

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

After a long day of travelling, sleep was the only thing on your mind. That said, you were in desperate need of a bath, something relaxing. This was, afterall, a vacation. You twisted the ceramic knob on the hot water, and stuck your hand under it. With a hiss, you withdrew your hand – usually, water took a minute to reach temperature. This one? Scalding hot within a few seconds. Dangerously so. You twisted the knob on the cold side, evening them out until they’d reached a less skin-melting combination, and shed your clothes. You’d only been in there for thirty minutes or so before someone began rapping their knuckles against your door. Persistently. Very persistently.

“Just a minute!” you called from the bathroom, hoping your voice travelled. You reached for one of the towels – meticulously embroidered with the hotel’s logo – and wrapped it hurriedly around your torso. “Hang on!”

Quickly rummaging around in your suitcase and swearing under your breath that you had packed more, you searched for something to wear. Feeling pressured and running out of time, you settled on a cream coloured silk slip. Hardly modest with your plenteous figure, but the knocking continued and that seemed more important than decency. You hurried to the door, yanking it open with an air of annoyance. The vexation melted away when you were met with a man who looked more like he belonged on a silver screen than he did standing in front of you.

“Good evening.” He said, dipping his head down in a courteous display.

“…Can I help you?”

His lips stayed together, but curved into a subtle smirk. Though it was an unintentional pick; he’d chosen well; your delectable form was as if it was carved by Gods themselves. The look in your eyes told him that you were so alive, so vivacious that any bloodshed that would happen would be akin to art. His eyes were immediately lost on you, exploring your body and face with a fervid fascination. Feeling exposed, you pulled at the silken straps, bringing the neckline of the nightgown higher up on your body. Your cleavage protested, the fabric puckering across the voluminosity of your breasts.

All this time, he’d been silent, and you arched an expectant brow, wondering just what it was that you were to help him with. This man was… peculiar. From his fancy dressage to the articulate, over-pronounced way he spoke, his idiosyncrasies both alarmed and fascinated you.

“Indeed,” he affirmed. He’d made his decision; you were the one for the night. And he’d have you, whether you came willingly or not.

“My name is James March — I’m the owner of this impressive hotel in which you now stand.” He paused, expectantly as if that was enough for you to throw your arms up and consent to whatever he was asking. When you didn’t, he added: “I need you to come with me. Urgently.”

You squinted, scanning his motivations. A warm, gentle smile stretched across his lips, framed by his pencil thin mustache. His hand rose, fingers uncurling in front of you. There was something unnervingly come-hither about his gaze. Would he have introduced himself with malicious intentions? Surely not — that could lead to identifying him later on. But he could’ve given you a fake name, perhaps…

Unable to resist his passé seduction and against (likely) better judgement, your hand floated up into his, resting delicately against his palm. His fingers closed around yours, lingering a moment before guiding you out of your room, allowing the heavy door to swing shut behind you. He began leading you briskly down the hallway.

“I forgot my key, wait I –”

“Worry not, my dear. We’ll have another made for you, should you need it.”

Should I need it? You thought. Why wouldn’t I need it? Of course I’ll need my key, I’m walking down the hallway in nothing but a nightgown.

You trodded barefoot down the halls, listening to the sounds as you passed them. The hotel, you noticed, creaked and breathed with a life of its own. Whether the rooms were occupied wasn’t known, but they sounded as if they were.

As soon as you two got to a door, only a few down from your own, he reached for the handle and instantly, as soon as he did; something felt wrong. Something felt… sinister and the feeling took over like a gelatinous sludge. You tried to yank your hand away but James sternly jerked you the opposite way — back towards him. With a throaty growl, he wrapped both arms around your torso, holding you fast in a steel grip so that try as you might, you couldn’t dislodge yourself from his grasp. His strength proved too much for your feeble, sleepy muscles.

After shouldering the door open, James carried you inside. In a moment of panicked clarity, you tried to peek around and identify anything you could. The stern way that his hand was plastered on your forehead, holding it against his shoulder, you could really only see the ornate ceiling above you.

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that burned at the corners of your eyes. This was it. You’d gone this far in life without being mugged, raped, or killed… today was the day it would change. Your track record would end. Abruptly. Terrifyingly. Your chest shuddered with an uneven, hysterical breath. At least he was handsome. No, shut up. That’s not the kind of thought you want to be thinking.

Suddenly, your body dropped forward and you were spun around harshly, his grip still tight on the fleshy meat of your arms. Then, as though he was a lover and not your soon-to-be-murderer, he eased your back against a wooden chair with one hand, delicately, suddenly concerned with hurting you, like you were some kind of easily-bruised fruit.

“Good girl, sit there.”

At his praising words, your core twinged, tightening. No, no. Stop it. Clenching your teeth, you quashed the thought before it went any further.

His right hand snatched something from a nearby table before holding it proudly, stretching it out for you to see; rope. Unconsciously, your head began shaking back and forth. As the realisation sunk in, your heart rate picked up, thudding against your ribcage.

“N-no, no… no please.”

With the rope still in hand, James got to one knee in a familiar pose. His lightless eyes floated up to yours, staring into them deeply. Now in front of you, his cock twitched within his trousers, a carnal instinct tugging like an incessant child. He brushed the pads of his fingers along the smooth curves of your knees, your calves, your ankles…

Damn. You – obviously – were a woman with needs, so his feather-light touch awoke something deep within your core again. This time though, it didn’t take you reversing the arousal. The shiny tip of his shoe knocked your feet apart, lining them up with the legs of the chair. She clenched harder.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tensely. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He paused to answer, straightening up. “Securing you, my dear. A struggle is inevitable.”

“What!? Inevitable for what?!”

He didn’t answer. Hastily working, his large but nimble hands wrapped the rope around the smallest part of your ankles, knotting the rope against the chair. Your wrists came next, and those were tied much tighter; the fibres of the rope ground against your soft skin, already causing a burning friction.

With a sudden, powerful pull at the bindings, testing their security, James was finished. He was confident in his knotting, you wouldn’t get away. Humming to himself, he dragged the chair through an archway, into another, much larger room. You were facing a table – it was ornately set with a large contraption in the middle. You recognised it as an absinthe fountain, the bright green liquid in the container seemed to glow. You didn’t want to be a part of whatever this was, even as attractive as that man was.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, I just… I want to go back to my room. Let me go.”

“Let you go?” James echoed in a mockingly high tone. He seemed offended that you’d even desire such a thing. It was a pleasure — a privilege — to be invited to his dinners. “No…. You’re staying with me. Right here.”

He pat your thigh before moving to the head of the table. For the first time since you’d been brought in, you took a moment to look around, to take in your surroundings instead of him. Immediately, you whimpered in disbelief — met with such a visual that you almost immediately thought you were hallucinating. You blinked away the tears and sniffed, pressing your lips tightly together.

It was truly bone-chilling to see all of the worst eyes on you. The eyes that had seen the most foul crimes and atrocities in human history were now looking at you; the bound beauty with her sweat-soaked strands of hair stuck to your forehead and fear in your eyes. John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer….

“She’s shakin’ like a god damn leaf!” Aileen Wuornos howled, before finishing off the rest of her beer. She slammed it on the table, the clatter made you jump. She doesn’t want me, you thought. I’m not her enemy. Still, you knew that you’d been sat at a table full of people — true monsters — who even if they didn’t want to kill you, they’d take great pleasure in watching you writhe in agony as the others stole your last breath from your lungs.

Though they were all equally terrifying, you were most horrified by Richard. He sat directly next to James, picking absently at his nails. His sunken, snake eyes followed every move you made; watching you with a hunger that made your skin crawl. Considering the circumstances, it was laughable to say that one made you feel unsafer than the others — but he did. Logically, how he preyed upon women must’ve played into your distaste for him. He held your gaze, peering into your thoughts with a vicious lack of consent, as he behaved with every woman he came in contact with. Finally, he spoke.

“I’ve waited long enough, Jimmy — can we kill her?” He said, sucking something out of his rotting teeth. He made a move as though he was going to get up.

You snapped your head to James, brows knit together in pleading. The visual surprised you. He, like the rest of the dinner party, had been staring at you, but instead of the feral, blood hungry gaze you expected, his eyes had gone glassy. He sucked his cheeks in, deep in thought. Beneath the dark fabric of his dress pants, heat blanketed his groin. You captivated him; the way your precious little eyes flitted back and forth in terror like a deer, the way your pulse thrummed in your neck, beating like a drum. He wanted you for his own — and only his own. Keeping his motives hidden, James stood up, smoothing out the fabric of his suit jacket.

“No,” he crooned. “No, we can’t. I’m afraid I’ve had a change of heart… this one… belongs to me.”

You jerked your head in confusion, while grumbles of disappointment bounced off the walls. Ramirez said something sickening and Gacy let out a horrible, guttural chuckle. You strained against the rope, somehow trying to put more distance between you and them. James sliced his hand through the air to silence them both.

“Miss Wuornos,” he abruptly purred. “Go find us a dashing young man keen to join our party!”

“Ohohoh…. Lil’ ol’ me? Find a man? I’m gonna’ be frolickin’ in the fuckin’ daisy fields with this one. Be back!”

“Pl-please.” You begged. Your lips parted, allowing desperate promises to fall from between them. You wouldn’t tell anyone, you’d never come back here, you wouldn’t remember anything, you promised, you would never speak a word of this to anyone… You looked to James, who regarded you affectionately, but patronisingly, his lower lip jutted out in a faux-pout. He’d heard all this before, and it was of no concern to him. He’d made up his mind. It was his god damned birthday and he was going to have you all to himself.

Your begging fell on seemingly deaf ears, nobody bothered to entertain you. Your teary, burning eyes flitted to Ramirez, who was smiling his ugly, decaying smile at you, leaning forward in his seat. “I dunno’, she promises, Jimmy… maybe we should let her go.”

You shivered, grinding your wrists against the rope. Anger blanketed you. “Fuck off, weirdo.”

“Who you callin’ weirdo, bitch?”

“YOU!” You barked, straining. “I can smell your rancid breath from here. Had to kill all those women just because none of them would ever come within ten fucking feet of you!”

“Now, now… manners. She’s a lively one, isn’t she?” His mouth bent in a proud smirk, James looked to Richard, who was still bristling from the comment. He really wanted to kill you. Delighted at the fact that James had seemingly given you immunity, you wiggled happily in your chair, fighting the urge to stick your tongue out. You didn’t want to test him, though, and so you remained silent, watching instead.

Silence was broken as the door opened. With a little thrashing, almost as desperate as your own had been, Aileen shoved a man — couldn’t have been more than 30 — inside. It didn’t take her long to find someone. In fact, it was like she opened the door, spotted him meandering by and dragged him back inside.

The guy noticed you first. Second, he noticed that you were tied to the chair so tightly that red marks on your wrists and ankles had begun to develop. Thirdly, he noticed the others, his eyes drifting slowly and visibly disturbed by who sat at the table.

“Woah… what the fuck is this?” He asked.

“A good fuckin’ time is what it is.” One of them said. You didn’t care which. Blisteringly hot tears streamed down your face, stinging your cheeks. What were the stages of grief? You felt like you were cycling through them in rapid succession.

“Fucking let me go!” You howled, thrashing your torso back and forth, which did little to relieve anything. With a distressed expression plastered upon his face, the guy looked from you to the other guests and back, before nervously putting his hands up, taking one step back towards the door. “Hey, is she okay?”

“N—!“ James was suddenly behind you, cupping his hand over your mouth, pressing the tips of his fingers hard into your cheek flesh. His lips moved quickly, whispering hotly into your ear. “Hush now, don’t spoil the surprise for him. Let him find out on his own.”

“She’s fine, the hors d’oeuvres didn’t agree with her.” Aileen barked, towing the guy towards the table. She shoved him down into the only unoccupied seat.

“Dinner… is served.” James said.

In unison, they all stood up. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor echoed in your head. Like syncronised swimmers, they all descended upon him, armed with whatever weapon they’d chosen. You hadn’t known the guy, but he had enough sympathy for you to make you cry at what was happening to him. He’d had a life, family… feelings. None of which mattered to him anymore, or perhaps that’s exactly what he was thinking about. Perhaps your entire life really did flash before your eyes before you died.

You let out a scream that burned on its way out. It ached and tore and ripped its way up your windpipe as the shrill, bloodcurdling sound filled the room. It was louder than his, and louder than the sounds that were currently coming from the gaping, gargling hole in his throat.

Gacy moved from his side, allowing you a brief glimpse. Torn flesh hung from his shoulders and blood had almost completely covered the front of his body. You closed your eyes and turned your head away, rolling your lips inward and biting down. It was fucked up, and you weren't going to absorb any more of it.

“Sweet dreams, my little pet.” James said, in front of you. You turned your head towards the sound, but were met with blackness.

A dull throbbing on the side of your head was what eventually pulled you awake, forcing your cinder-block weighted lids to peel apart. You looked around; an odd, minimally decorated room. Dark. Your head wobbled as you turned it left, then right, met with the same visual — your arms suspended high above your head, and rope again, at your wrists. You licked your lips and tasted metal. In your blurred vision, you noticed red flecked along your breasts. The ache on the side of your head was more than just an ache, it seemed.

Your consciousness ebbed, fading in and out. Sleep was comforting, the idea of it cradling you in its arms like a baby. You wanted so badly to sleep… just for a moment. Somewhere inside, you heard authoritative voices, advising against sleep. Concussions… sleep… sleep is bad… keep the individual conscious. And so you fought against the cool, towering shadow, turning your head away from nothing in particular. You couldn’t hear anything outside of your own laboured breathing, and the creak of the rope every time you decided to move. Nothing. Not even the muted voices of the monsters.

Time meant nothing, you lost track of how long you’d been hanging there when you’d finally heard the creak of a heavy door. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly before wrenching them open. You weren’t sure if the crushing weight you felt was the looming weight of death as it shrouded you, or merely the physical strain of your body being suspended for hours. You knew people could eventually die from suspension. Their lungs caved in or something. The tips of your toes barely touched the floor, your big toe grazing the cold, concrete floor every time your body swayed softly.

With your head hanging between your shoulders, your muscles quivered as you lifted it, just in time to see the door in front of you shut. James, standing in front of it, reached for a black leather apron that hung on a hook. Before slipping it over his head, he flashed you a charming smile, pleased to see that you hadn’t expired yet. Reaching behind him to tie it around his waist, he approached you. The light from the wall sconces reflected against the fabric dully.

“Ah, there you are.” He crooned.

You intended a scream, but could do nothing but whimper. You swallowed repeatedly, a feeble attempt to wet your dried out throat. James drug a single finger along your soft jawline, trailing it down your neck, and along your collarbone. You were drenched in sweat, streaks of it descending your face and neck.

The sudden ferocity in which he gripped your face made it sting, his thumb and forefinger digging into the bone of your jaw. He quirked a brow. You opened your mouth and although your throat was already raw, you finally screamed. You screamed again, angrily, and held his cold, black gaze. Your ragged shrieks filled the room over and over again as you tried, desperately, to wrench your hands free from the ropes.

Regrettable, James thought as his soulless eyes hungrily took in your form as it quivered and thrashed around. You were built like a Greek goddess, soft curves in all the right places, begging to be touched, worshipped.

“Aaaah,” He exhaled, frustratedly. “You’re almost too pretty to kill.”

“Then — DON’T! Fucking let me GO! AaaarhhhH!” You yanked at the ropes again, thrashing around until a deep pain in your shoulder began to burn. You cried out, letting your body go slack.

With a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength again, finding every drop of it within your tired body, and leaned forward to scream directly in his face. The result? He was wholly unphased by your screams. If anything, it seemed like he enjoyed them. Each one sounded a little more desperate than the last, and it only fuelled him further.

You decide to try a new, last-ditch tactic. Sore mouth contorting into a scowl, you gathered a mouthful of saliva and blood, hot and irony on your tongue and lunged forward, spitting it at him. The glob hit him square in the face, dripping slowly down towards his jaw.

“What, is it hard to focus?” You croaked. Your words were slurred, messy with the pain of the head wound. “Didn’t think you’d want to fuck me as bad as you do, huh?”

James’ dark eyes narrowed, the muscles underneath twitching faintly. He had in fact picked you, and therefore had to accept all of your fiery little quips as they came – but that one… that one had caught him off guard.

“You…” You narrowed your eyes, the fibres of the rope squeaking as you leaned towards him, your lips inches from his face. “…want to fuck me so bad, you can’t think. Look at you. You think your apron hides it?”

With brows raised, James glanced at his groin. Had he really been betrayed by his own body, so early on? Though he felt the warmth and stiffness increasing between his legs, there was no visual indication. James calmly brought his hand to his face, collecting the bloodied spit on his fingertips. With a reticent gaze, he brought them down between your legs, harshly knuckling the nightgown out of the way.

He smeared them roughly on your cunt. Your own fluids. The ones that you had just spit at him. Not only that, but he proceeded to tease your sensitive nerves with his fingers, pulling a confused gasp from your throat. Part of you had been bluffing, you weren’t entirely sure that he had wanted you —

James pulled back an inch to look at you again. Aside from your luscious body, your complexion was mottled with exhaustion, lips dry with fear, hair frazzled and bloody on one side. To him, it was a horrific sculpture of divinity. One that he had created in such little time with such little effort. The perfect, ample curves of your breasts were dotted with crimson, having dripped from the gash on your head. They jiggled delicately with each desolate shake you gave.

With his free hand, he took hold of your round, plush hips, his thumb working the softness like dough. He swung you towards him, pressing the pillowy tops of your thighs to his groin. Quickly, he identified a growing obsession with your body.

He loved it. All of it. In fact, he hadn’t seen a body as marvellously breathtaking as yours since his wife’s. Of course, it had been many years since he’d seen hers in any such manner, so the flames that licked at his desire were deprived, hungry ones. His mouth found yours, lips crushing against yours. His tongue, hot and strong, slipped in and beckoned yours to engage in an erotic dance.

He pulled your body closer, pressing it tightly against his. Though constricted by his trousers, you felt the bulging heat beneath his apron, and rubbed your thigh against it, teasing him. He groaned deeply in response, bucking his hips against you to force friction. After a few moments, James broke the kiss, panting heavily over your tender, swollen lips.

“Pl-please… don’t kill me… please…”

The back of his hand whipped across your mouth, hitting you so hard that the world sparkled when you opened your eyes again. Your face burned with the contact.

“Enough of that now! Say it again, and I’ll do just that!”

The harshness in his voice stunned you. Up until that point, he’d been using his syrupy, serenading voice — the one he had used to charm you into coming with him. Now, he bellowed, an unexpected violence. Silence hung heavy between you as he waited, baited you to beg for life once more. You didn’t speak again, but your sobs continued.

Finally, his hand dropped between your legs again. Your clit ached, burned with the way his fingers fondled it, but he didn’t stop. Your poor, exhausted body trembled beneath his touch, doing all it could to express arousal. Salty droplets streamed from your hairline into your eyes, stinging as they absorbed.

“Would you rather die?” he asked, suddenly.

“Wh-what? N-no… I d-don’t want to die…”

“That’s not what I meant, my little ember. I meant… would you rather die than be pleasured? I, of course, can arrange that.”

You hesitated a moment, but finally, shook your head.

At this thoughtful confession, James angled forward, plunging a single finger inside of you, past the knuckle. The digit wiggled inside of you briefly, before sliding back out slowly. He held it up for you both to see. “Oh,” he growled.

His finger was generously coated in clear slick. Your body had betrayed you.

Wordlessly, he untied the apron, tossing it carelessly to the side – it hit the floor with a heavy flop. Then, those same nimble fingers began unbuttoning and unzipping, until they gripped his rigidness, pumping it slowly for further stimulation. His chest heaved with wanton, desiring breaths as he stared at you, hanging there, with your warm, ample body for his taking. James lined his dick up with your leaking slit, and pulled you harshly onto his cock, showing no mercy for how exhausted your body was.

Your cunt swallowed his cock whole, hungrily and desperately. His head fell back between his shoulders, a throaty groan coming from his open mouth. He began thrusting, slow at first. The ease of thrusting fascinated him; your body hung limp on the ropes and all James had to do was tug you forward, tug you in the direction he wanted you to go.

“You know, I’ve never taken a woman like this before - suspended in the air,” he said, breathily. “Exquisite.”

You mewled in response, snot dripping from your nose.

Soon, the room was filled with wet, slick thrusting and the thudding sound of his torso as it met yours. You came repeatedly, coating his thick, pale cock in fluids you didn’t even know your body could make. At one point, during a particularly vicious thrusting, a warm, watery liquid splashed down over your thighs. You screamed like he was killing you, though he felt better than any man you’d ever been with, pleasuring you in ways that left you feeling breathless.

Still, your body persisted with its aches. So far, you’d been successful in appealing to his sexual nature, and decided to try again.

“….please…. Let me down… I’ll… d-do anything you wa—

Suddenly, he backed up, pulling the head from your cunt with a slick pop. You panted; fragile, pitiful breaths, barely enough energy to lift your gaze. With his rigid cock bouncing in front of him, James untied your hands, allowing your heavy, enervated body to fall into his arms. You couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder as he carried you to some sort of surface, laying you carefully down atop it. Some streak of mercy had captured him, and you mouthed words of gratitude. Your entire body buzzed with relief, your muscles aching in a funny, tingling way.

James wasted no time in fucking you again; the tip was nearly scarlet, hungry for release. His hand compressed on your soft stomach, pressing down into it to increase the pressure of his cock as it drove deeper and deeper inside of you.

“You know how this ends, my dear.” When he spoke, it sounded far away. But you did. You knew. There was never any end to this besides the one that you’d envisioned fearfully. He leaned to the side, retrieving a small, but very, very sharp blade from a nearby metal table. You watched numbly as James lifted the knife above your neck.

His hips pumped rhythmically, bringing you both closer to the fiery edge of ecstasy. Pulsing veins massaging your silklike insides, and another orgasm galloped towards you. Your body quivered, cold sweats taking over.

James whipped the knife across your perfectly warm neck, and instinctively, your hands went to the laceration. Bright crimson gushed out from the spaces between your fingers, and you felt a gushy warmth press against your digits. The inner workings of your throat, you realized. The gore of your own body, pressing back against you in its heat. James laid one hand over yours, seemingly just to feel the blood as it spurted. With a deep, guttural moan, his cock twitched inside you just before it released, coating your insides.

She gasped, a wet gurgle. The light left her eyes, gradually, but beautifully. The pulses of blood eventually ebbed to a dull trickle. As his thrusts slowed, he expelled a long sigh – killing both excited him and depressed him. On one hand; it brought exhilaration, delight and sheer unadulterated arousal. On the other however, you only truly got to do it once. Certainly, you could kill a ghost a million times over, but the effect wasn’t the same.

For a moment, James’ expression contorted into one of regret; when you returned in your new spectral form, you’d likely not want to spend time with him. Yet another woman who loathed his presence roaming the hallways, avoiding him. But perhaps, he still wouldn’t mind having you stuck with him for all eternity, if only to gaze upon your perfect form whenever you’d let him. With matching wounds, at that. A true romantic.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser / @stveharringtn / @fear-is-truth

#fuck it we ball #James Patrick March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #james march x reader #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #AHS Hotel #American Horror Story Hotel #myfics

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tastysemochka · 2 months

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Just found your art today and I’m OBSESSED, finding out that Bloodborne was a huge inspiration is both delightful and unsurprising haha! Sorry if you’ve been asked this before, but do you have any details/writing or anything about the recurring white ghost with the big whole in their abdomen that shows up in a lot of your work? I really want to know more about them 👀

awww thank you so so much!!! ah, as for the writings... I'm not very good with words but I'll try to explain! I used to have tons of notes but I accidentally deleted it one day and it was too painfull I've lost all desire to write since then x) I will use some words (as vessel, etc,) withought deeper explanation because I will get carried away, sorry! :D The ghost appears to be a deceased father of one of the main characters, but now he is more like an empty shell, a vessel he failed to become. There's nothing left of a person he used to be, his mind ascended, but his body failed to transform. His role is to guard the next vessel, i.e his son. Not out of parental love, rather on opposite, he only sees him as a future vessel. Still, the first time he appeard to James (his son) was when he was 9 y.o and throughout the years James formed a one-sided bond, sort of? His father died the day he was born soo yeah there's another layer for me here :3 Thank you for your interest, hope I explained it a little! (p.s the illustrations should make more sense now :D)

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upsidedownwithsteve · 10 months

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hi!! can i request grumpy!remus and sunshine!reader at a party and r wants to dance and remus is very grumpy about it but will always do whatever his girl wants him to

The Potter household was full to the brim, each room bursting with old classmates and colleagues of James and Lily, enough of them strangers to make Remus turn in on himself and shy into a corner.

He had a scowl on his face that was too deep for a twenty something year old, and despite Sirius’ best efforts, it wasn’t shifting.

“C’mon, it’s a party,” the darker hair boy intoned, clinking his bottle of beer against Remus’. “It’s supposed to be loud, it’s fun.”

But Remus crinkled his nose in reply, backing up against the wall when three girls stumbled past, shoes lost to the mess in the hallway, a bottle of wine clutched between them. The music was pounding, and Remus was sure James’ neighbours would be pounding on the door soon.

“I didn’t know James’ knew this many people,” Remus called out over the noise.

Sirius snorted. “I don’t think Lily did either.” He pointed to the frazzled looking redhead as she pushed through the crowd with a bin bag and a handful of empty glasses.

And just as Remus was about to call it a night - and argue with Sirius about leaving for at least twenty minutes - you appeared at his side, a little breathless and bright eyed.

Remus blinked, a slow smile taking over his gave at the sight of you, all ideas of going home alone to sulk leaving his mind. Sirius saw it happening, rolling his eyes at the sudden change in his friends demeanour.

“Hi, handsome,” you greeted fondly, reaching up to press a kiss to Remus cheek.

It landed a little off since he was so tall, the corner of your mouth brushing his and it made his cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. Sirius tutted, offended, bending down to you and poking at his own cheek. You pressed another kiss there, much hastier and with a loud smack that made both boys smile.

Another song started up, louder than before but with a beat you recognised and loved. Your eyes lit up and you didn’t hesitate to pass Sirius the cup of something pink that you’d been cradling. You took Remus’ hand, a touch that felt like a livewire, and tugged experimentally.

“Dance with me?” You asked sweetly, your voice almost too soft to be heard over the music and the chatter. “Please?”

Sirius was about to laugh and offer your his own hand, ready to tell you that Remus Lupin did not dance. Even James was suddenly confused, watching from across the room with a bottle opener held aloft. Remus only hesitated for a second before he shoved his bottle of beer at Sirius too and let you lead him into the middle of the makeshift dance floor.

The coffee table was pushed back, as was an old armchair, and there were too many people to really do much more than move your hips and wave your arms. But it pushed you closer to Remus without having to make an excuse for it, the crowd of bodies pressing you against the boy’s chest. So you went with it, laughing when the rest of the crowd sung along drunkenly, jumping up and down to the beat. You took Remus’ hand, scarred and so much bigger than your own and helped him move the same way you did.

And if Remus had hated dancing before, he certainly didn’t now.

#Remus lupin #Remus lupin x reader #Remus lupin x you #Remus lupin x y/n #Remus lupin fluff #Remus lupin fic #Remus lupin fanfic #Remus lupin fanfiction #Remus lupin drabble #Remus lupin oneshot #Remus lupin imagine #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #Remus baby blurb

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dance-is-life27 · 2 months

Text

Daylights Delight

James Kelly x Reader

Summary: The best part of a lazy day is that you get to wake up with James in your arms.

Warnings: Fluff, slight mention of a height difference, gender-neutral reader

A/n: This is really just 1k words of loving and cuddling with James Kelly. Also partially inspired by this prompt list. 💛✨️

The world around you slowly fades in from the darkness behind your eyes. It takes half a millisecond for you to feel the sun shining on your face and the warm solid weight against your chest and lower body. When you realize that sleep will not claim you back into her arms and the sun’s ever-persistent shine would blind you without remorse, you look down, onto the weight against your chest.

A sleeping James Kelly awaits your sights and every part of you hums with comfort as you look at him. He clings to you in his sleep like a koala, with his legs tangled around yours and his hands gripping at your sides as if he fears you'd run off in your sleep. His head rests right in the space between your chest, the sun highlighting his cheekbones and his hair beautifully. And while breathing is slowly becoming inaccessible to you, you wouldn't trade the sight in front of you for anything in the world.

It's not often you get to see James like this, this vulnerable to you. When you first met him he was guarded, exceedingly pessimistic about the life that surrounds him, and seemingly distant from it simultaneously, as if he was running away from himself half the time. Whatever else it is that he's running away from is still a mystery to you.

But now, even though he hasn't told you everything that plagues him, past and present, you still love him with everything in you. You still have welcomed him into your home, into your life, and into your heart.

Unable to help yourself, you untangle one of your arms from under the covers and begin to caress his hair. The soft silky hair welcomes your fingers with ease as you slowly card through his dark brown locks.

You take a risk as you inch closer to his scalp with each run-through, the repeated motion soothing your soul but also increasing the risk that James will wake up prematurely. Still, you persist, unable to pull away and leave your lover be.

You wish that you could encase yourself inside this moment forever, to take the soothing warmth of the sun and the comforting pressure of your love and entrap it into a bottle, to seal it away for eternity.

You don't know how long it's been when James finally wakes up, the scrunched-up eyebrows and the slight shake of his head snap you out of the trance you were in. You find your hand leaving his hair to caress his cheek gently, the motion getting him to look up at you with ease.

“Good morning.” You rasp, the long-lost sleep is still evident in your voice. James's bright blue eyes soften as they gaze into yours, the sight instantly filling you with joy.

“Mornin’ baby,” James speaks, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, but before you can do anything, James is crawling over you, his weight leaving your body for a moment before he’s hovering just over you, the both of your bodies in alignment regardless of the height difference between the two of you.

The kiss is slow and sweet, matching the lazy feel of the day so far. The both of you take your time exploring each other’s mouths as if it were your first time all over again. Your mind goes blissfully blank as the kiss deepens but it remains gentle. You cradle James’s face and enjoy the feel of him in your hands as time stops around you. Your sole center of focus lies in the man above you. The both of you lost to each other as the rest of the world fades away.

James is the one who pulls away first, and you let out a whine when he pulls away completely to crawl backward, back down your body to resume his earlier position but instead, his head rests over your stomach rather than your chest. “I’m right here, not going anywhere,” James mumbles against your skin, his mouth leaving kisses all over your stomach and his hands rubbing softly at your arms and sides, the actions comforting you more than necessary but you wouldn’t stop him nonetheless.

Eventually, James stops on his own, his head once again resting against you and this time your lungs are grateful for the break. It doesn’t take long for your hand to find James’s hair again nor for the motions to ease you both back into a comfortable near silence. The only noise comes from the sounds of cars passing outside as everyone else leaves to get a start on their day. The peacefulness surrounding you is enough to practically lure you back to sleep, well, at least until your stomach begins to growl, the sudden loud sound ruining the moment entirely.

James smiles wide against your stomach, the faintest hints of a chuckle leaving his lips before he looks up at you once more. “Sounds like someone’s hungry, huh?” James jokes, his grin wide and blinding in a way that distracts you for a moment before you can find a response falling from your lips.

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna get up. I’m really comfortable right now with you.”

“Oh, baby,” James mocks the pout on your lips before his smile once again turns teasing. Your protests die on your lips when James begins to kiss his way up towards your lips, each one leaving a lingering tingling sensation. From your stomach to your chest to your jawline, James invisibly marks his way up your body until he finally stops at your mouth. You find yourself unable to fight as you breathe into the kiss, mere seconds with James on your lips making you dizzy once more. James hums when he pulls away and the sound makes you smile, “How about we continue cuddling after breakfast? Hmm?”

Unknowingly the pout reappears on your face at his words, the clingliest and neediest parts of you wanting to stay in bed with James forever. “But-” You begin to protest once more but the kiss that James leaves on your lips stops you in your tracks easily.

“We’ve got the entire day to ourselves, I promise you, we’ll spend the majority of it right here.” James leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth and the way the sun shines off his skin makes him look heavenly. “After breakfast.”

A sigh leaves your lips, knowing that there isn’t much that you can deny James Kelly, “Fine, after breakfast.” You agree in a whisper as you pull him down to kiss you one more time before the both of you have to rise and your day together has to officially start.

#james kelly #james kelly x reader #james kelly x you #james kelly fluff #james kelly imagine #american heist james kelly #american heist #american heist 2014 #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x you #drew writes fics #my writing

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