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#one goes to my front that I hug the other on my face and the other at my back or I also hug
monzabee · 12 hours
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partition - lh44 (+18)
masterlist ||
Summary: The one where you and Lewis are stuck in traffic in Paris, and decide to make the most of the situation.
Pairing: lewis hamilton x reader 
Word Count: 4.0k
Warnings: smut!! sex in a car, unprotected sex (because when have i written something with condoms lol), pwp, cringey ass nickname (blame beyoncé), manhandling, took me a long time to write it so it doesn’t make sense most part, minors dni!!
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this was a passion project for me and you have no idea how happy i am with the way it turned out. There’s only one slight issue and it is that i wanted lewis to call the reader something other than peaches, but it is in the song, therefore please if you don’t like it blame the mother, aka beyoncé. Also, i was very unsure of whether i wanted to drag it out, or leave it as it is, so any feedback is appreciated. i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 
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It took you forty five minutes to get ready – Lewis knows this because he’s been keeping time on his phone since the moment you’ve went into the bedroom side of your hotel room to get ready for the party he’s taking you to. You’ve always like to joke that he takes longer getting ready whenever the two of you have to go somewhere, but now that he is staring the timer on his phone, maybe he should use it as an evidence that you’re, in fact, wrong the next time you tease him about it. Not that he actually would do that, he is a gentleman, after all.
He’s just about to call out to you to hurry up when you beat him to it, “Baby, I need help, please!”
The nickname manages to bring the smallest of smiles to his face as he, without shouting anything back in response, gets up from his place on the couch and makes his way towards the bedroom. And that’s when his eyes land on you, in front of the full-sized mirror struggling  to zip up your dress. In just a few more steps he’s right behind you, his fingers itching to dance against the smooth skin of your back. “I thought you were going to wear the suit you brought, Peaches,” his voice comes off muffled as he presses a few kisses to the expose skin on your shoulder.
“I forgot to bring the shirt that goes with it,” your voice comes off shaky as you feel his lips drag on your skin, and you can hear his soft chuckle. Craning your neck to give him a small smile, you join in his laughter, “Zip me?” With a yielding kiss, Lewis wordlessly grabs the small zipper between his fingers, and when the moves the zipper, it makes you shriek out another laugh, “Up, Lewis, zip me up please!”
“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, pulling the zipper upward with a swift motion. The dress seamlessly hugs your figure, and he makes a show of checking you out from the mirror in front of you before meeting your eyes. “There you go, all zipped up,” Lewis announces triumphantly, ignoring your disapproving headshake, giving you a gentle pat on the back. You turn around, facing him with a grateful smile, and he can't resist leaning in for a sweet kiss. The connection between your lips is brief but warm.
“You like my dress?” You ask him and his enthusiastic nod makes your smile widen in satisfaction, “You don’t think it’s too short?”
Instead of answering your question with words, instead Lewis tsks, letting his dissatisfaction with your question known. He gently takes one of your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours and prompts you to spin around to give him a better look of your dress. He wraps his arms around your middle, his hand still firmly intertwined with yours, and presses a kiss on your shoulder right where the strap of your dress meets your skin. “Wear any dress you want, Peaches, Miles and I can handle anyone who gives you trouble for it.”
Chucking at his protective, yet playful, response, you pat his arm around your middle with your free hand, “Speaking of the devil, we should probably get going if we don’t want him to kill us both for being late.” Lewis makes a sound of contest, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pulls you closer to himself. “Lu,” you let out a faux-exasperated sigh, “there is being late, and fashionably late, and I’m afraid we are way past the latter.
“Oh, darling,” you hear his breathy voice whisper against your skin as he places a couple of open mouthed kisses onto your exposed skin, “maybe we should stay back, hm? I can show you just how much I like your dress.” With one of his hands splayed on your stomach and his lips greeting your skin ever so often, you gasp when his lips find that one sweet spot he knows that makes your knees week. “Imagine how much fun we can have on our own, here, in our room.”
Throwing your head back to rest on his chest, a breathy chuckle falls from your lips, but you give him a stern look. “As much as I would love to stay back with you, we promised all of our friends we’ll be there.” As you rise up to your toes to give him a soft peck on the lips, you manage to break free from his arms, leaving him with a perpetual pout on his face. “When we get back, Mister Hamilton, you can do whatever you want to me.”
With your offer, the look on his face changes from a pout to a smirk. “Is that a promise, Peaches?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, darling,” you emphasise the word with an exaggerated version of his accent. “It’s a fact,” you return his look with a small smirk on your own as you add, “sir.”
Needless to say, the walk down to the lobby to get into your car is full of tension between the two of you. It’s not like Lewis can’t hold himself back, because he can. He has proven under many circumstances that he can withhold sex from you if he decides to do that. The most recent incident was when he caught you lurking around the Red Bull garage during the last race you’ve attended, which ended with you quite literally having to beg him to fuck you after a week of Lewis not even touching you. The walk down to the lobby is filled with stolen touches and knowing glances, with him trying to get you to kiss him every minute, not caring whether the people around you can hear him or not.
You give him a sideway look when the receptionist tells you that your limo for the night is waiting for you. “A limo?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him for response.
He simply shrugs a shoulder, leaning down to mumble his response into your ear, “Miles was in charge of the car,” with his fingers giving your waist a firm squeeze, he manages to earn a silent shriek from you, “I’m sure we could do with the extra space, darling.”
“Behave, Lu.” You chastise him, but the corner of your mouth upturns nonetheless and you let Lewis guide you towards the car waiting for you.
Because he is the perfect gentleman he opens your door and helps you into the limo, pressing a lingering kiss on your hand before joining you. The inside of the limo is darker than you expected, but the city lights of Paris do a good enough job of illuminating the car. The condensation on the limo’s windows has your attention and Lewis watches and you trailing your finger along the glass, tracing the line a raindrop left behind. He contemplates, for a second, whether being jealous over a raindrop for commanding your attention could be considered weird or not, but he decides that he doesn’t really care.
He places a hand on your thigh, his touch is both reassuring and possessive, but when you turn your head towards him to look at him, the way he smiles at you and his thumb caresses your knee is incredibly sweet. He is a duality in himself, Lewis is. And you enjoy the way city lights illuminate his face, his smile soft as he leans over the middle of the seat to give you a sweet peck on your lips.
“What was that for?” you ask him, giggling as you place your hand over his on your thigh. He doesn’t answer, only shrugs his shoulders and grins as he pulls away from you, instantly making you seek him out again. You’re about to comment on his suddenly playful mood, when you realise the car is slowly coming to a stop, and you let out a breath of frustration when the driver informs you that you’ve hit traffic. And traffic in Paris on a Friday night? It’s safe to say that both of you know that you are not going anywhere fast.
The overall wait is not that bad, you think. Even though the traffic is crawling at a snail’s pace, you’re more than happy to be in the car where you can be with Lewis without the overwhelming sound of EDM music and sweaty bodies pushing you around in a crowded club. The same, however, cannot be said about your boyfriend.
As time passes and you’re, still, stuck in traffic, you can see Lewis getting more and more frustrated with the situation. You try not to comment on how annoyed he looks and let him have his silent moment of irritation. You gently squeeze his hand, offering a reassuring smile. “It's alright, Lewis. We'll get there eventually.”
He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. It's just... I hate being late.” He lets out another frustrated sigh as he gently pats the empty seat between the two of you. “Can you just come closer, please?”
“Why?” you ask, eyes narrowed down in suspicion as he somehow manages to pull you closer to himself, not that you would try to get out of the situation otherwise – with the amount of times you’ve found yourself suddenly sitting in Lewis’ lap, it’s almost as if you can’t get away from him when he’s next to you. “We can’t do anything,” you whisper in warning when you catch him giving you literal bedroom eyes.
Smirking at the anxious tone of your voice, he lets his hand wander down to your hip as he quickly manoeuvres you into his lap, despite all your warnings, and calls out to the driver loud enough for him to hear his voice, “Hey mate, can you pull up the partition, please?” You hear the sound of the partition going up as Lewis fiddles with the couple of the buttons on the door handle, and soon after you hear the faint sound of music playing in the car. He meets your eyes when you give him a funny look, silently asking him what he’s up to, but he responds with a faint smile as he rests his hand on your lower back.
Rolling your eyes at the antics of the driver sitting, literally, under you, you turn your attention back to the scenery outside the window. Going back to tracing the raindrops falling onto the glass window, you choose to focus on the outside view as best as you can, given the current position you’re in. Although you’ve warned him against it, Lewis’ hand on the lower of your back drawing circles into your skin gives you other ideas you would otherwise choose to ignore in a public setting.
“What are you up to, Lewis?” you ask, lips twitching in a need to smile as you do your best to supress it.  
He grins, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark as he gives you an innocent shrug of his shoulder. “Just making the most of the situation, darling.”
Letting out a resigning sigh, you try to focus back on the rain outside, but with Lewis’ hand getting bolder on your lower back and the fact that you find yourself shuffling in your seat with every subtle movement of the car makes it almost impossible to focus on anything but him. Deciding to find out just how much you can get away with, you  tilt your head back slightly, your lips hovering near his ear. “Are you trying to start a scandal, Mr. Hamilton?”
He chuckles, the vibrations from his laughter sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “I told you we'd make the most of it, didn't I?” Hid hand continues its teasing dance, eventually dipping lower and even under your dress, and you have to fight the urge to let out a moan at the feeling of his skin on yours. “We can make it into a challenge,” he offers, his voice low as he suggestively whispers on your skin, “see just how scandalous we can be in the back of a limo.”
“What if someone sees?” You mumble, biting the corner of your lip to stop yourself from smiling.
His lips graze the curve of your neck, sending another shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked being watched, Peaches.” You can feel his lips curling into a smirk and a gasp leaves your lips as his hand grabs your thigh, making you shuffle closer to him as a result. “Is that a yes?” Your eyes glance over at the closed up partition, but you nod your head nevertheless, though that doesn’t necessarily satisfy the man beside you. “Words, darling.”
“Yes, please.” The words escape your mouth and your hands slide down his body to work on the zipper of his dress pants. He gives you an amused look as you pull his zipper down, and kneel on the floor between his legs as elegantly as you can given the current situation you’re in. You hear him say your name in warning, giving you a way out, even though he was teasing you about your voyeuristic tendencies – and you might’ve considered taking it, if it weren’t for the fact that having him in your mouth is the only thing you can focus on at the moment. So, instead of pulling yourself up on Lewis’ lap and let him have his way with you, you carefully take his cock out, making sure to keep your eyes fixed on his during the whole process.
Giving him a few gentle strokes, you lean forward to lick the first few drops of precum that drips out of the head of his cock. The hiss he lets out when you take the head of his cock between your lips and suck on it gently makes you smirk, and so you swirl your tongue around the tip to get another reaction out of him. With the way his left hand grabs the door, you know Lewis is trying so hard not to just grab you by your hair and guide you the way he wants to. Humming at the taste of him, you widen your lips to fit more of him in your mouth and wrap both hands around his cock to pump the rest of his cock that you can’t fit into your mouth. As you slowly start bobbing your head up and down on his cock, the sounds leaving his mouth make you want to quicken up your pace, though you refrain from doing so. Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling so turned on by a mere sound of your boyfriend’s pleasure, but you can’t help yourself as you inadvertently rub your thigs together.
You continue the movements of your mouth, taking more of him every time you bob your head down, and Lewis gives in at some point, threading his hands through your hair and guiding you down until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. “Fuck, Peaches,” his low groan sends tingles down your spine, “just like that.” He looks so beautiful, you think, with his head thrown back and eyes closed.
Your hands work together with your mouth, picking up speed when you realise you have him at your mercy like this – it even makes you wetter, and you feel the wetness between your legs. Your eyes water as a sudden move from Lewis thrusting his hips causes your gag reflex to remind you both that it is there, causing you to pull back with a huff and send a glare his way. But he apologises by caressing the apple of your cheek and easing you back onto his cock.
Your power move, however, doesn’t last long, as Lewis lets out a groan, pulling your head off of him and leaning forward to lift you onto his lap. It’s not necessarily intentional when you grind yourself against his cock, causing both of you to moan simultaneously. Your head is thrown back when you feel his lips gliding on your feverish skin, and you even let out a breathy laugh when your head lulls to the side and you see the handprints he’s left in the mirror. “Lewis,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low, suddenly very aware of the driver sitting in the front of the car, “if you don’t fuck me now, I think I might explode.”
“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, his hands on your hips lifting you up to position you over his cock. But you have other plans in mind. He lets out a breathy chuckle as you drag your lips over the skin of his neck, tracing his tattoos as you leave feverish kisses along the way. “What are you doing?” He asks, hands busying themselves to get you out of your underwear.
Nipping at his skin, which earns you Lewis squeezing your hip in warning in return, but you give him a pout as you pull back. “You didn’t let me finish you off, you impatient brute.”
“Brute?” He echoes, not able to stop himself from laughing at your choice of words, “Are you going to be a brat, hm?” He is more than happy to play along when you get into these moods, though he also knows how you can get when you don’t get something you want. So when you fix him with a glare of your own, he lets out a deep sigh as he wraps your hair around one of his hands and pull your head back to bare your neck to him. “And to think I thought you were going to be a good girl, I guess that’s my fault.”
The whine that leaves you would’ve been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that he has you in the in the palm of his hand. “It’s not fair,” another whine leaves you, and you attempt rolling your hips against his erection resting against you in between your legs, but before you can find a rhythm, he halts your movements by tugging on your hair again. Curling your fingers around his shirt, you huff a breath of annoyance, whining out his name. “I’ll be good,” you promise, and let out a relieved sigh when he lets go of your hair to give you more freedom to move; you thank him with a few kisses.
“I know you will.” Lewis mumbles, hands finding your underwear again, but he quickly becomes frustrated when he realises the position you’re in will make it hard for him to get you out of them. So, taking an executive decision, he decides to rip them off your body. He gives you a look when you whine at the loss of your favourite pair, and he tries to salve the situation with a promise of buying you another pair. When you feel him between your legs, without any barriers this time, he is not surprised to see your immediate reaction. Though Lewis enjoys when you take control, he is impatient as he raises your hips, despite all your protest, and positions you over his cock.
You only have a few moments to adjust when he eventually lowers you onto his cock, and the initial stretch has you gasping out his name. He gives you a few minutes to adjust before slowly starting to move your hips, each move making you take him deeper until he’s buried to the hilt in you. One of your hands is pressed to the window for support out of reflex, trying to keep still as he uses the grip he has on your hips to move you in the rhythm he wants. It matches the mood pretty well, you think, everything is rushed and the sounds of the traffic and the music playing surrounding you becomes muffled as the pleasure takes over your body. You have to physically stop yourself from screaming every time he slams you down on his cock, faster and harder each time, relentless as he watches your face contort with pleasure.
Trying your best to match his thrusts, you grind your clit on every down stroke, making him somehow go even deeper, and making you moan even louder. There is an arrogant smirk on his face that you would love to wipe off, but with the way he’s making you feel, you decide to get him away with it. Dragging your hands down his shirt, you suddenly feel offended by the fact that he is covering his chest, and decide to get him out of it. This plan would’ve worked better if it weren’t for the fact that you end up ripping the buttons rather than being gentler with it. Not that Lewis complains about it, since this is most definitely not the first time something like this has happened. Your hands work on their own as you glide them through the smooth skin, slightly damp due to the warm temperature of the car, but every contact with his skin seems to make you roll your hips faster and harder.
He has to close one of his hands over your mouth since the moans that leave you get considerably higher in volume with every waking second. His lips curl up in a smile as you silently beg him with your eyes, your movements becoming sloppier with every down stroke. “I’m going to remove my hand and help you come, but you’re going to be a good girl and keep quiet, okay?” His voice carries a warning tone, and you frantically nod, assuring him that you’ll follow his instructions.
Keeping true to his word Lewis takes away his hand, making you take a deep breath as he grabs your hips. His hold on your hips is bruising, and you’re certain you’ll have marks to remember tonight for a while – especially with the way he uses his hold to move you on his cock in a rhythm he wants to. It doesn’t take you a long time to feel the overwhelming pleasure starting to build up in your lower stomach. “Please,” you whine, nails biting into his skin as your other hand is splayed over the window for support, “I’m so close.”
“Come on,” Lewis encourages you, hands working you over his cock even faster to get you where you need to be, “give it to me, I got you.” And with him looking at you like that, using your body however he wants to? It doesn’t take long for you to feel yourself coming around him, head thrown back and lips parted in a silent scream. With a last thrust, you feel him also spill himself into you, the act being greatly intimate despite the current predicament you’re both in at that moment.
A sound of surprise leaves the back of your throat when he begins to move under you, positioning you to stand on all fours as he positions himself behind you. “Wha– What are you doing?” You ask, craning your neck to look at him with hazy eyes.
“Oh, Peaches,” he coos, one of his hands caressing your skin down your thighs and up towards your hip again, “did you think we were done? We still have a long way back to the hotel.”
“But, the club?” You find yourself asking, cheeks burning when he uses his finger to push the wetness dripping out of you back in.
“We were never going to make it to that club anyway,” Lewis drags his lips up your spine until he reaches your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck before whispering, “what do you think? Should we make the most out of the way back?”
Your eyes slide towards the handprints left on the window, the Paris lights shining through the streaks both of your handprints have left behind. Maybe under different circumstances you would’ve insisted you go to the club to meet with your friends. But at that moment? You instinctively push your hips back onto his, and feel his smile on your skin as he runs his hands through your body, ready for another round simply because you two can’t keep away from each other.
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artoatsblog · 1 day
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Pyro is seen as a completely different person and it all depends on who sees them.
One day they take the mask off and the scout sees a hot chick, The soldier sees a fellow American man (Although one that's more peace loving than he would like), the medic sees a human with no skin and visible organs, etc.
But one day the engineer and pyro just sit down and start talking and pyro feels comfortable enough to take off their mask in front of him, and pyro asks a single question.
"What do I look like?"
Engineer finds it odd at first but then answers, "Well, dark bronze skin, red hair, dyed right?" He laughs a little, "Big brown eyes make you look a little cartoony there, and ya got this..." He pauses for a minute trying to find the right word "burn, on your face." He goes quiet after that.
Pyro looks wide-eyed at him "W-what does it affect, on my face, I mean."
"Your... Lip, and your right eye is more closed than the other." He manages to get out but he feels regretful due to the hurt pyro must feel right now.
Pyro feels the opposite instead, but he is still crying, "You're the only person who can see me, really see me." She says before embracing him in a hug.
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blazestar3450 · 2 days
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My first try at fanfiction that I actually finished.
Have some VR-LA and MR-SN... fluff? angst? I don't know what it is.
It was done pretty quickly so constructive criticism is accepted as I want to get better at writing
Newfound Memories
As VR-LA walks through the ship, his newly found memories start springing back to him. Talking to K-LB about the mechanics of the ship, playing a game of Dragon chess with C-RA, learning about what it’s like being devoted to a deity from AS-TR and enjoying some calm silence with E-DN. Yet one memory seems to be nagging at him the most.
So he goes up to the deck. He walks over to the railing and looks out on the Astral Sea. The reflective surface showing just his own face. Until something else comes up next to it, a familiar face. One he’s only seen a handful of times before regaining his memories. The calm yellow eyes of one of his best friends, MR-SN, stare back at him.
“So, still trying to get used to the sea huh?” he says to VR-LA. VR-LA sort of stands there stunned for a second, unsure of what to say, his face still showing that inquisitive look he always sports. “Yes. It is strange yet… comforting. Just a new feeling to try and understand”.
“Good”, MR-SN replies. “I’m glad it’s not too uncomfortable. It took a couple other members some time to get used to the sea.” VR-La stands there, still trying to process what he’s seeing. “You know I’m glad we found you. You’ve been a fantastic scribe VR-LA. I imagine Vigil would be proud”.
VR-LA seems shocked to hear the name of an Ad Astra crew member. “Vigil?” he questions. “Oh yes!” MR-SN exclaims. “I haven’t told you about that yet have I? Well, you remember the Ad Astra right? The ship we found in Thuldanin. Well, it’s my theory that each of us are descendants from that crew. While I can’t confirm it, I still feel we all have a part to play in finding where they all came from.” MR-SN explains.
VR-LA sort of sits with that for a moment. “Hm… It’s certainly possible. They did seem to all scatter after they crashed the ship” he says. “Exactly!” MR-SN exclaims. “Plus it would explain at least the subject of my dreams”. VR-LA remembers when MR-SN first confided in him about the fact that he could dream. It was something he had never heard of before. Mechanites couldn’t dream, right? Yet he trusted MR-SN. He hadn’t lied to him yet.
“Do you think we’ll actually do it? Break through the Blue Veil?” VR-LA asks. “Of course we will. We haven’t failed at any task put in front of us yet. This crew is set for anything. All of you are fantastic at what you do and I have no doubt that you’ll all make it to where we need to be.”
“MR-SN…? I um… I don’t know what to say except thank you. I really appreciate your confidence in me.” VR-LA says. MR-SN smiles. “Of course. You’ve shown time and time again that you’re skills are needed on this ship and that you’re a perfect fit for this crew”.
At this moment VR-LA reaches out to try and hug MR-SN. But before he makes contact a voice breaks through. “VR-LA!! We’re here!!”. As the memory fades away and MR-SN disappears much the same way his Starry Apparition faded a couple months prior, VR-LA looks to the helm to see Kyana looking back at him. “Get the others!” she calls out to him.
VR-LA, trying to hold back tears, nods and goes to find Dani and Vhas. “Thank you Mystra. It was nice to see him again” he says as he descends back into the lower decks of the ship.
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layalu · 3 months
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Oooh, I can't not ask about liddle_guy, if you want to share anything about it!
Ok i cheated a bit because that's the name of my whole picrew folder fskjlsf, it's one project though so i think it counts! Here's some shots of how this thing looks behind the scenes :]
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the actual image file is uhh. a bit of a mess jlfdsjfg, because there is A Lot Of Stuff. For this i tried showing how i break up stuff! For the headwear i'm usually blending in some ears and horns for placement reference, then dividing it into a main & back & front part so that it hopefully fits with most clothes and horns without too much weird clipping
look i actually named my folders!! xD Might put numbers in front to make the order match the picrew order so it's easier to find the right parts idk
that's what the overview page for the parts & layers looks like! i have. probably more layers than necessary lol, but to me half the fun is figuring out how to best divide & combine things to make them fit together
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alienzil · 5 months
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Okay so I saw this post and you know the types of fics where adult Danny moves to Gotham and winds up emotionally adopting one or more of bat kids or accidentally coparenting with Bruce (with or without a relationship between them)? I had the thought, what if Danny parented the bat kids but he started doing it out of spite?
Like, Danny moves to Gotham and runs into Batman and Robin one night while out for a late night flight and drops down to the rooftop to say hi.
Bruce sees this 5'6" twink that looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over and is so obviously new in town and thinks Gotham is going to eat him alive, he needs to leave before he gets killed.
Batman: Looming menacingly and in his deepest scariest Batman voice, "Leave. Metas aren't allowed in Gotham."
Danny: Offend! Excuse?! Who does this guy think he is?! 😡 Danny was trying to be polite here! "First of all, I'm not a meta. Second of all, rude much?!"
Batman: Does scariest bat glare. "Leave." Swoops off into the night.
Robin (Damian): "My father is correct. You should leave the city for your own safety."
Danny sees this tiny vigilante child with fierce expression and a sword and is just like awww, so cute! 😍 Then he noticed Robin had a small cut on his arm and his inner gremlin activates. If the rude flying furry can't take care of his own kid properly, Danny will do it better!
He bandages up Damian's arm, gives him a cookie and teaches him a neat sword trick before sending him on his way with a hug telling him he needs his sleep.
Danny goes out of his way to run into the bat kids and be the absolute best dad.
He takes Nightwing flying and throws him in the air so Nightwing can do all the fanciest acrobatic tricks.
He tracks down Red Hood and starts a book club with him (Danny may or may not have used his connection with Ghost Writer to get ahold of some rare books).
He eats waffles with Spoiler and trys out weird topping combinations that make them both make faces and laugh.
He makes new gadgets for Red Robin but carefully breaks them just a little bit and takes them to the teen so they can fix them together (it's enrichment!). He always insists RR keep them as a reward.
He follows Signal around during the day invisibly, making faces and doing tricks only Signal can see (he made him laugh in front of the police at a crime scene twice!).
All of the kids get his attention and love and Danny smugly thinks how Batman must be absolutely seething about his kids bonding with Danny and Batman missing out on all of it.
Danny started it out of spite but he does wind up genuinely loving the bat kids.
Batman definetly hates it when the kids are bonding with Danny and is extremely jealous (sulky Batman brooding in his cave about it).
Bruce's repeated attempts to intimidate Danny into leaving Gotham don't work and him telling his kids to stay away from Danny had zero effect (the terrible children don't listen to him at all).
So Bruce starts spending more time with the kids to compete against Danny. The bat kids love it and (little gremlins that they are) use the two of them against each other constantly.
Bruce:"Sorry Tim, I can't make it to your photography exhibit this weekend, there's a meeting with the Justice League."
Tim:"Oh that's fine... I'll just ask Danny to come." 😏
Bruce: Narrows his eyes and grits his teeth, "Actually, the Justice League needs to have contingencies in place to manage without my input. This would be a good time to test their capabilities. I'll skip the meeting and come to your exhibit."
With both of them competing to spend more time with the kids it leads to the two of them spending time with each other to be around the kids more.
After Damian catches a terrible flu bug, Danny spends an entire weekend at the manor babying him. This is when Bruce finds out Danny has known their secret identities for months and tries to get mad about it but Alfred puts his foot down, raises a judgmental eyebrow in Bruce's direction that puts a stop to that nonsense and sets up Danny with his own room in the family wing.
Eventually, Danny gets to the point where he spends most of his nights at the manor and he and Bruce consult each other on all major household decisions.
The whole family is at the manor one morning including Danny. Bruce has a meeting at WE and he and Danny are absently discussing their plans for the day at the breakfast table.
Bruce: " The meeting should take most of the morning and then I have paperwork this afternoon and a scheduled walk through on one of the new engineering projects. I probably won't be done by the time school let's out. Can you pick up Damian today?"
Danny: "That shouldn't be a problem. Would you mind swinging by the bookstore on the way home and getting my preorder? Jay and I just finished rereading the first book and we were wanting to start the second tonight before you all go on patrol. I'd rather not try to make it to the bookstore in school rush hour traffic"
Bruce: "Sure."
Stephanie watches Danny reach out and absently straighten Bruce's tie as they both get up to leave. Bruce grabs Danny's coffee thermos and hands it to him while they walk out the door.
Stephanie: "Sooo, bets on how long until they realize they're basically married?"
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ln444 · 5 months
Text
★ how does f1 drivers react when you call them pretty. . .
norris, piastri, leclerc, sainz, hamilton, russell, verstappen
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cw: fluff, slight suggestive (verstappen), f!reader.
now playing: pretty boy by the neighborhood
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✹ lando norris
lando would be the type to act annoyed but absolutely loves it. he just won't admit it but you know it.
"hey, pretty boy", you whisper against his lips, leaving a sweet peck on it just to be met with a pouty and flustered lando. "i told you to stop calling me that!" he whines, but deep down he hopes that you'll never stop. you look at him with a playful smile, softly caressing his hair. "okay, i'll stop if it makes you uncomfortable", you wait impatiently for his reaction and as you excepted, lando start to panic. "i mean... you can but you know... just not in front of other people", he laughs nervously, hoping that his excuse is good and his cheeks start heating up. you can't help but laugh softly, pulling him close by the neck and lando pouts again, "stop making fun of me!", your smile softens and you plant another kiss on his lips, "sorry, you're just too cute, my pretty boy". lando's cheeks are now completely red and he tries to hide it by pulling you in a long and warm kiss, feeling the butterflies going crazy in his stomach.
✹ oscar piastri
oh my god, please don't do this to him. as soon as he hears the word, his brain starts malfunctioning.
"you did so good!", oscar pulls you for a warm hug, holding you as tight as he can. he loves seeing you after races and hearing how proud you are of him no matter what he do. you pull out, staring at him like his eyes holds stars and oscar can't help but feel overwhelmed by all the adoration he sees in your eyes. you put your hand on his cheek, stroking it softly. "i'm so proud of you, my pretty boy" and even though you mean it, a hint of teasing can be heard and oscar groans, pulling you in a new hug to hide his face in your neck "if you call me that again, i think i'm gonna die" he mumbles against your skin. you laughs, one of your hands slides in his messy curls, your fingers playing with it. you will never get over how cute your boyfriend is when you call him pretty.
✹ charles leclerc
he absolutely loves it and won't deny it, even if he gets a bit shy when you call him pretty. he can't control it, his heart gets warm and the butterflies in his stomach goes crazy.
you were getting ready for a cute date and charles was wearing a new shirt, with flowers on it. as soon as he's ready, you lock your arms around his neck and you look at him with a big smile on your face. after planting a sweet peck on his lips, one of your hands cup his cheek. "you're so pretty, baby", your voice is full of adoration and honesty and charles' smiles gets wider. "thank you, chérie", he says softly and he immediately pulls you for a gentle kiss, hoping that you didn't notice the way his cheeks has redden, but you didn't miss it.
✹ carlos sainz
he loves it, like really loves it. he finds it funny tbh. and he won't hesitate to give the word back to you.
"woah, what a pretty boy", you look at him showing you his brand new haircut. he laughs, posing in front of you a little more before joining you on the sofa, pulling you on his lap and placing a kiss on your nose. "got pretty for my pretty girl, we are such a pretty couple", you both giggles before sharing a kiss, laughing and smiling against each other's lips. but, even if he doesn't want to admit it, carlos can feel his heart beating a bit faster and a sweet feeling in his stomach when he hears you call him pretty.
✹ lewis hamilton
he would get so shy, make it seems like he doesn't like it and it annoys him but he can't hide it for long, he always ends up with a big smile on his face and a heart beating faster than it should.
"ahhh, stop it y/n", he whines as you continue to leave kisses all over his face, sitting on his lap. "but, you're so pretty!", you say, cupping his cheeks to look at him in the eyes. he groans, acting annoyed by pulling you out of his lap and you try your best to fight the smile creeping on your lips. you both know that he's just flustered and wants to hide his red cheeks. "come on, baby, let me finish my kisses", he doesn't fight you when you climb back on his lap but he crosses his arms, trying to hold onto his character and you laugh softly, going back to leaving small pecks all over his face. it doesn't take long before he finally smiles, his hands finding your waist to pull you close and kiss you back. he just can't resist you.
✹ george russell
he always tries to ignore the way it makes him feel and act unbothered but he can't fight the way his body warm and a smile instinctively forms on his lips. he just loves getting praised by you.
"baby, can you pass me the knife, please?" you ask, preparing the vegetables and george, who has been helping and watching you cook for an hour now, hand you the knife as fast as he can. you turn to face him, placing your free hand on his neck to pull him close, "thank you, pretty boy", you says softly and he places a kiss on your lips, smiling softly "you're welcome" he says, trying to sound as neutral as he can and you pout, acting disappointed, "what? you don't like when i call you that?", you know that he do. you just want to hear it. he looks at you, a playful smile forms on his lips. "i know what you're doing", he chuckles and pulls you for another kiss. you end up both laughing, george's heart feeling full.
✹ max verstappen
he gets all nervous and doesn't know how to act anymore. like, if you want to make a mess of this man, just call him pretty.
max have been acting flirty all day, enjoying teasing you and seeing you all flustered in front of other people. you tried your best to keep your cool all day, playfully punching him from time to time or just laughing it off. but when you two end up alone at the end of the day, you're finally able to get your revenge. you start making out, getting more and more touchy and needy. "take off your shirt, pretty boy", you whisper in his ear, and max almost startle. a playful smile forms on your lips and you don't even have to look at him to know that his cheeks are now red. after a good minute of no reaction from him, you finally meet his eyes, giving him a confused look. "is everything okay?", you try to hide your teasing tone but max doesn't miss it, a playful grin finally forming on his lips and he chuckles; "naughty girl".
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luveline · 29 days
Note
Hi honey! I hope you’re taking care of yourself ❤️ I love love LOVE how you write! Can I please request bombshell reader x Spencer telling the team she’s pregnant 💕
thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k
“Spencer?” 
Your quiet tone has his attention faster than any shouting would’ve; he expects high energy from you, and your murmur scares him half to death. He backtracks from the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth, toothpaste dripping down his fingers as he yanks it out and asks, “What?” 
“Is this okay?” 
You chew your lip and turn to the side, illuminating your problem with a hand framed under your tummy. Your skin peeks out from the bottom of your shirt. 
The wonder of you is that you’ve always been beautiful, always, in Spencer’s eyes at least if not the entire world’s, because of how you present yourself, and of course because of your big heart. Your smile, the way you talk, all of it is beautiful and, most of the time, measured. Your clothes are carefully picked, and now you’re changing and your clothes need to change with it —your bump has appeared faster than Spencer realised it would, and you haven’t had time to upgrade your wardrobe. The cases are endless and you’d been more interested in doctor’s appointments and house viewings than clothes shopping.  
“What’s wrong?” he asks, perhaps a bit useless, white frothy paste sliding down his chin. 
You smile momentarily, nervous on your feet as you adjust your shirt. “I think I look very pregnant.” 
Spencer goes back into the bathroom to finish brushing.  “You look mildly pregnant,” he agrees loudly over the rush faucet. He spits, wipes his face, and rinses his toothbrush. 
“Compared to my usual non-pregnant look, I mean,” you say. 
“It’s just that shirt’s a little tight,” he promises. “We’ll find something.” 
You probably aren’t going to find something, you both realise. You stand in front of him in one of your soft bralettes, the ‘S’ of your pendant on your rising chest, shirtless and likely to stay that way. “Oh,” he says, tapping your bump gently with his knuckle. “Maybe it got bigger overnight.” 
“I think so,” you agree, taking his hand where it hovers to press to the top of the slope of the bump. You’re holding his hand more than you’re protecting the bump, a perplexed frown on your lips as you kneed his fingers in yours. 
“We don’t have time to go to the store, but we could be late,” he says. 
“What if we have a case?” 
“That’s a better reason to go shopping.” 
You pout for a kiss, leaning up to press your lips to his wry smile. “No. Do you still have that maroon sweater? The one that didn’t fit you right, with the v-neck?” 
Spencer helps you into said sweater though you don’t need his assistance, smoothing down the wrinkles carefully. It hides the too-short hem of your white shirt underneath, and paired with the collar, Spencer couldn’t be more in love with you. “You’re dressed like me five years ago,” he says. 
“Like it?” you flirt, your cheeks apples with your smug smile, your hands under your chin.
“You really are glowing.” 
“Don’t tempt me into kissing you stupid,” you say, still flirting, voice dipping into that warm, sweet place that probably caused the bump between you in the first place. 
“You’re lucky I don’t kiss you stupid,” he jokes, putting an arm around you for a quick hug. “Too bad we need to work to save to buy a stupid house instead.” 
“Have a stupid baby,” you mumble happily, your face pressed to his chest. He kisses your cheek. 
You’re both in incredible moods when you finally make it to work, tethered together from the parking lot to the elevator to the BAU office. There’s been a lot more hand holding since you found out you were pregnant, though you’re trying to keep it private just a little bit longer. Hotch gets antsy about pregnant people in the field (though he’d never force you to stay home), and the others can tend to be overbearing. 
You are excited to tell them. Spencer’s your family, the team is as good as, and they’ll all be so, so happy for you. At first you’d been waiting for the twelve week milestone for practicality’s sake, but now you’re just waiting for the right time. 
“Clothes get lost in the move?” Morgan asks. 
You aren’t telling them about the pregnancy, but you’re honest about other things. They know you’ve moved in with Spencer, and that you’re looking for a house. Morgan would’ve been offended if you hadn’t told him. He’d offered up a bunch of his properties to you both for viewing and promised a very good family and friends price point, but they hadn’t been perfect enough. It’s just a starter house, he’d argued, mostly unoffended at your pickiness. 
He doesn’t realise that you and Spencer wanna raise a baby, and you want as perfect a home as possible for at least the toddler years before you start looking to move up the ladder. A family home. 
“Very funny,” you praise, letting Spencer pull back your chair for you as you sit down. You feel the new extra roundness of your bump and wonder why nobody else has noticed it either. Spencer certainly can’t stop looking at it. You catch him all the time, and at night, alone and in bed, you let him run his hand up and down the hill of it, clearly amazed. 
“It looks good on you, mama,” Morgan says. 
You laugh. “Doesn’t everything?” you ask with an exaggerated smirk. 
“Yes,” Spencer says. 
You dip your head back in your chair. “This is why I love you.” 
“Devotion,” Spencer guesses, wiping at a smudge of makeup under your eye tenderly. 
You put your hand on your stomach. It’s weird how things change and don’t at the same time. You feel like you love him so much more now you’re a family with him, but you loved him endlessly before. Moments like this were plentiful and warm as sunshine, the undulating care in his touch a practised exercise at this point. You let your eyes close. He strokes your cheek. 
“Hotch wants everyone in the conference room,” JJ says, announcing herself and her towering cup of coffee as she breezes past the bullpen. 
You follow her upstairs to the conference room. Rossi, Hotch and Penelope are already waiting, everyone accompanied by their own creature comfort (coffee, coffee, and tea, respectfully). You and Spencer take seats opposite Hotch and Rossi, hands held together as always, his left in your right, his thumb kind against your knuckles. 
“The jet is still pre-loading from last time, so we can’t leave until late tonight, but we will be leaving,” Hotch begins, nodding at Penelope. “Until then, we’ll work the case from here.”
She nods back and clicks onto some severely disgusting photographs. 
You work through the facts together. Emily arrives late with apologies soon forgiven, your team a well-oiled machine. Of course, without being there, there’s only so much you can do, but it’s never not useful to have these discussions and to spitball with one another. 
Spencer gets stuck in his head. You fight the urge to kiss his cheek as he’d kissed yours this morning and decide on a more work appropriate show of affection, popping down to the kitchenette to make him a cup of coffee. 
You aren’t drinking coffee or anything caffeinated for the baby. You aren’t thirsty, but Spencer will worry if you don’t make yourself a drink too. You fill a glass with water from the sink and make your way back up the steps to the conference room. 
“It looks like there’s a racial motivation,” Spencer’s saying to Morgan. 
“Sure, but with only two victims so far, it could be coincidence,” Emily says. 
“Or not,” JJ says with a frown. 
“I think our killer would show it more, if it were,” you suggest, “there’s usually some aspect of overkill with hate crimes we aren’t seeing here.” 
You put the cup of coffee down in front of Spencer and sit in your chair. The sleeves on his sweater are too long. You push them up for the tenth time. 
“That’s Spencer’s?” Emily asks, having noticed your struggle.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve been sort of scatterbrained, I forgot to put a load in the dryer.” 
“Is your go bag ready?” Hotch asks. 
No. “Yeah, it’s fine. You don’t like my new look?” 
“I’ve never known you to wear clothes that don’t fit,” Morgan says.
“What are you trying to say, Derek?” you ask, propping your face in your chin. 
“You’re getting sloppy in your old age.” 
You turn to Spencer, beaming, and he shakes his head at you immediately. 
“And what’s with the water?”
Your smiling turns deer-in-the-headlights. “What?” 
“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Morgan prompts. 
That piques the interest of Emily and Hotch simultaneously, but you know you’re caught when realisation colours JJ’s gaze. She stares straight at your glass, then your face. You can practically see her profiling your behaviour these last few weeks, the sudden trips to the bathroom, the worse than usual reluctance to be away from Spencer, and the sudden propensity for safer practice in the field. 
You smile. You’re caught. You see Hotch’s expression and know he knows it, too. 
You give Spencer a little nudge with your thigh, as though telling him, You say it. You know he wants to. 
“You can’t have more than three hundred milligrams of caffeine when you’re pregnant,” Spencer says, his pride unmissable in the slight lift of his chin, “it disrupts midterm foetal growth. Our baby might come out too small, which isn’t what we want, obviously, so she can’t drink coffee. Not for another six months, at least.” 
“Wha– wha– what?” Penelope asks, the physical manifestation of a kettle about to boil over, excitement bubbling and raring to explode as she grips the table. “You’re pregnant?” 
“With Spencer?” Emily asks, though she’s laughing before she’s finished. 
You frame his cheek with one hand and lean in to kiss it gently. “Who else?” you ask. 
The best part is watching everybody hug Spencer. You’re happy they love you and you accept their congratulations and their love with pleasure, but seeing a room full of people thrilled for him finally getting the life he’s wanted, and knowing you’re at least part of the reason, is pretty sweet. You put your hand on your baby bump and take a mental picture of him under Morgan’s arm, his cheeks pink, his smile achingly wide. 
Still, he cuts through his moment to reach for you. “Maybe someone else will be able to convince you to slow down,” he says, hand moving to your stomach protectively. 
You pretend to think it over. “Maybe in a month or two.” 
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daddy-suguru · 1 year
Note
bodyguard sukuna goes lingerie shopping with you
✑ tags: f!rich!ceo!reader, bodyguard!sukuna, teasing, begging, light struggle for control, fem-dom, semi public
Scanning Sukuna, scowling while holding two bundles of your bags. Over the past two weeks, he had become too comfortable giving you attitude. Glancing over at the lingerie shop, and musing,
"You could carry another bag, can't you?" He glances over, scanning the scantly dressed mannequins. In see-through lace and flowy skirts. All of which he is aching to rip off of you.
Snapping, "I'm paid to guard, not carry all your shit. But fuck it, what's one more bag?" Grinning, and heading into the large store with Sukuna in tow. Sukuna keeps his stride timed with yours.
Staying behind, scanning the area, and ogling your ass. While the lingering memory of your panties barely holding your pussy makes his cock throb. And unlike before, he can't bring his mind out of the gutter.
Not with the suggestive clothing you're looking through surrounding him. Nor could he stuff his hands into his pants to hide his growing boner. Straining against his pants, smearing pre-cum.
Taking your time shifting through various lingerie. Glancing down at Sukuna's bulge, just aching to be touched. The smugness had slipped from his face. Which is void of expression.
You would have to take it up another notch. With your items in hand, you head towards the back, suggesting to Sukuna, "Let's go to the dressing room. Since you adore being honest, you can tell me how I look in them." The woman standing at the boost holds her hand up, pointing at Sukuna.
She flatly states, "He can't go back there." Shifting your clothes into one hand, pulling out two hundred, and holding it out to her. While explaining,
"He's my bodyguard, supposed to follow me everywhere. I hope you understand." Her lips tug into a smile, and her eyes brighten at the sight of cash. Which she slips into her pocket, as she scans Sukuna behind her.
Her gaze gets stuck on Sukuna's hard cock. "Delicious isn't he? I have ten items." She grabs the number, handing it to you. For you to take before walking into the biggest changing room with Sukuna in tow. Who quickly sets the bags down and sits on the bench at the far side of the room.
Giving himself the best view of you changing in front of the mirror. Sukuna's legs spread perfectly for you to slip in between. The outline of his cock through his dark slacks.
His white partly buttoned-up shirt shows his inked-up chest. While his rolled-up sleeves show tattooed forearms. As it hugs his thick upper arms. Sukuna looked too damn good in a formal bodyguard suit.
His gaze slips down your body, while he urges you, "Give me a show, pretty mama." The imprint of his bulge is mouthwatering. Not bothering to look away, you push your skirt down. Stepping out of it, and turning around, pulling your shirt off carefully.
Setting them both on the bench, which wraps around and ends close to the mirror. Unclasping your bra, slipping it off before turning around. Sukuna is palming himself through his pants.
Pressing your heel against his clothed cock. He grabs your ankle but doesn't push you away. While you grab his soft hair, yanking his head back. Your heels have you closer to his height. Which is giving you a wonderful height advantage over Sukuna while he sat down.
Telling him, "You've been forgetting who's in charge here. Now I don't mind the occasional attitude or how you've been shamelessly undressing me." Sliding the tip of your long nail down his neck. Watching his breath hitch with a smirk, you declare,
"If you want to bust a nut inside my pussy, you're going to beg for it. Otherwise, you can just watch me try these on. Then we can go out to have lunch while your balls turn blue." You can see the conflict in his eyes. As his pride and lust fight each other till the latter wins.
His voice is husky as he lowly groans, “Ride my cock while you're in the red one, need to feel your fat, wet pussy gripping my cock. Come on mama, help me out.”
{part two}
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bbyleiah · 6 months
Text
daze.
| reader is new in town and goes around with her bestfriend. She meets Onyankopon who is entranced by her at first sight and is set on making her his. |
cw : strangers to lovers. dom! Ony, fem! sub shy awkward reader, reader is black, doggy style, anal play (ony eats her ass), oral sex (f receiving), spit, fluids, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (mamas, princess, lil ‘ma, etc.), praise, biting, pussy slapping, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, cock drunk reader, slight pussy drunk ony, overstimulation, crying, pwp.
word count : hella long bc there’s lots of plot 🥹
sn : wrote this for fun, hopefully y’all will enjoy it 💞
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You had been away for college for a long while but now that you graduated with your masters degree and had a break, you came to visit your best friend. You were hesitant about being in a new environment again but you were excited to see your bestfriend because it had been so long since the two of you spent time together.
The two of you were polar opposites, her being loud and charismatic, feisty and unafraid to show off her rambunctious personality. You on the other hand were shy, mostly quiet and meek, only getting out of your shell when you were comfortable with people. You guys suited each other perfectly though, the true definition of opposites attracting.
You squinted your eyes, your car now in a slow stroll along the street as you searched for your friend’s address. You perked up once you found it, pulling into her driveway and parking. Excitement built up inside you as you hopped out the car and approached her front door. You knocked a little too eagerly but you couldn’t help yourself. Nao was excited as well, rushing to open the door and hug you.
You both squealed as you hugged dramatically and spun a bit. “Bitch I missed your ass so much! Oh my god I have so much tea for you!” Nao exclaimed excitedly. You giggled, “I missed you so much too. You always have something going on. I can’t wait to hear all about it though.” You smiled at her. “ugh, my baby is back with me.” Nao sighed dramatically before she kissed your cheeks. You loved the affection, Nao always giving motherly vibes.
Nao helped you get your bags from your car and she didn’t waste any time to start ranting to you as you two began to unpack your things in her guest room. “—He really tried to play in my face like I’m one of his lil hoes. Can’t stand these niggas out here. He keep tryna blow up my phone but I’m ignoring his ass.” Nao expressed while shaking her head. You just took in the info, laughing a little. “Which one was this? Eren?” You asked, trying to keep up.
“Nah, Eren my baby boy. I’m talking about Connie hoe ass. Connie mad now because him and Eren homeboys. I don’t give a fuck though.” Nao said honestly with a cackle. “Oh my god, that’s so messy. I support though. As you should!” You encouraged with a laugh. “What about you though sis? Any dude try to pull up on you at college?” Nao asked.
“Nope. Well I guess some tried but they were all weirdos, I wasn’t interested. Plus you know I need someone who will take care of me.” You said honestly with a hum. “Girl, you need to put yourself out there more. You’re a bad bitch, I’m sure guys will drool over you. You’re just too picky.” She said while shaking her head in disapproval. “I could put you on.” She suggested as she perked up.
“No, no. I refuse to be put on with one of those guys you hang around. You know that’s not my vibe.” You refused immediately. “Ugh, come on! Just give it a chance!. We could literally pull up at Connie’s crib, everyone be over there.” She persuaded with a pout as she pulled on your arm. “Eh, the guys you hang with wouldn’t even be interested in me.” You sighed.
“You don’t know that!. Just come with me, please? Pretty please? Cherry on top? Love and adore you forever?” She begged as she laid her head on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, laughing “alright, I’ll come. But! I’m not getting put on with no one.” You clarified. “Yay! So exciting!” She cheered in victory. “Isn’t it gonna be awkward for you to be at Connie’s house though?” You asked once you realized.
“Eh, he don’t mind. He too obsessed with me to leave me alone.” She confidently said with a shrug, you laughed. “Y’all are a mess. That’s exactly why I will not partake in that kind of relationship.” You stated. “You will when you find some good dick.” She blurted causing you to gasp and hit her with a pillow, she burst out laughing at your reaction. It was nice spending time with Nao again, the two of you spent the rest of the night catching up and enjoying each other’s company.
*************************************************
You were dreading this gathering now, you hated meeting people. You had Nao by your side though so you figured it wouldn’t be so bad. Nao looked sexy as fuck, dressed in a red corset top, a black jean skirt, and some ‘university red’ dunks with her crinkle curl black lace front, gold jewelry to compliment the outfit.
You differed in style, dressed in a lacy white tank top with a white cardigan, you wore a pink skirt with white leg warmers and pink converse, your hair was in a half up half down look and you had on hoop earrings with a little charm bracelet. “You look so adorbs!” Nao gushed over you. You blushed, “thanks, you look so good. They’re gonna drool over you forreal.” You complimented with a giggle.
“That’s the goal.” She sassily said as she flipped her hair. The two of you walked up to what was apparently Connie’s house and Nao didn’t even bother to knock, just walking on in like she owned the place. Luckily for you it wasn’t overly crowded, just a couple people hanging around. It appeared this house was a true hang out spot. “Yoo, losers. The baddest bitch has arrived.” Nao greeted theatrically.
Everyone greeted her too, she was clearly comfy with everyone here, you just followed behind her like a clueless puppy only uttering ‘hi’s’ and ‘nice to meet you’s’ whenever Nao introduced you to people. Unbeknownst to you, someone had taken a particular interest in you. “Yo, who’s lil mama?” Ony asked Jean as they stood together sharing a blunt. “Uh don’t know but she came with Nao. They’re homegirls” Jean shrugged.
“Mm.” Ony hummed in response to the information, still observing you with his low slightly red eyes. “What? You tryna hit that?” Jean asked with a laugh. “Nah, just curious.” Ony dismissed. It was rare to see a cute thing like you around so it intrigued Ony, he didn’t typically go for girls like you but he wouldn’t mind taking his chances. You caught his stare when you began to mindlessly look around, it caught you off guard seeing the male staring at you so intensely.
It also confused you a bit, you didn’t understand why he was looking at you. You unconsciously pouted a bit and tilted your head as you tried to think of what the reason could be. Ony felt his heart swoon a little at the adorable sight, you were just too cute. “Lying ass. You definitely wanna tap that.” Jean laughed as he peeped the scene. “Shut your ass up.” Ony snapped.
“Is there something on my face?” You asked Nao. She looked at you confused, “No, why do you think that?” She asked as she thoroughly inspected your face. “Because some guy was staring at me so I wanted to make sure. That would’ve been embarrassing.” You said in slight relief. “Which guy?!” She perked up, eager to find out. You subtly pointed to him, standing against the wall with some other guy.
He was dressed in black cargo pants and a white tee, a black durag on his head with some white forces on his feet. He had little diamond stud earrings in his ears and a silver chain around his neck. He had a tattoo on one of his hands and one on his collarbone. “Oo! That’s Ony! Girl that is crazy! Ony doesn’t get interested in many girls. You should go speak!” Nao excitedly encouraged.
You sheepishly shook your head, “Noo, you know I hate approaching people.” You said as you played with your sweater paws. “I know but you need to put yourself out there!. You want me to call him over?” She offered. Your eyes went wide, frantically shaking your head, not liking that idea at all. Nao sighed, “Well I’m not gonna put you in an uncomfortable position but I really think you should feel him out.” She hummed. You chewed on your lip, debating it as you glanced at him.
He was definitely attractive but he seemed way out of your league. You wouldn’t even know how to handle a guy like him. This time he was the one who caught you staring, blowing smoke from his mouth after taking a hit from a blunt. You immediately looked away, flustered that he caught you looking at him. Ony smirked at your shy reaction, “she’s too damn cute.” He mumbled to himself. “Bro just go over and talk to her at this point instead of drooling, damn.” Jean said, annoyed.
Ony rolled his eyes, elbowing Jean in the side before he actually did take the initiative and walked up to you. You didn’t even notice him approaching, turned towards Nao and focused on what she was currently chatting about. Ony cleared his throat once he stood behind you, instantly gaining your attention as you whipped around to see who it was. “What’s up little ‘ma.” Ony greeted once he had your attention. You stared at up him like a deer in headlights, “Uhm..hi~” you replied shyly.
Nao’s eyes flickered between the two of you knowingly with a mischievous grin on her face. She didn’t waste any time slipping away so that you and ony could talk privately. “You new around here?” Ony asked you, starting small talk as he took a sip from his red solo cup. “Yeah, I just got here the other day” You said as you began to nervously play with your hair, you knew you were probably being awkward but you sucked at conversation. Ony didn’t mind your shy awkward demeanor though, finding it adorable.
“Oh my bad, I’m onyankopon by the way but you can call me ony.” He introduced himself with a smile, allowing you to see the silver grill on the bottom row of his teeth. He was definitely not the type of guy to go for a girl like you. “Nice to meet you~” You said your usual textbook reply, smiling back at him politely. Ony fixated on your pretty smile, your little dimples appearing on your cheeks along with your glossy lips. In that moment he felt like he’d do whatever to keep that smile on your face.
“You close with Nao?” He questioned. You nodded, “Mhm, she’s my bestfriend, we’ve been close for a long time and I love her a lot.” You expressed happily as you grinned. “That’s cute.” Ony smiled, enjoying seeing you happily ramble. Ony’s stare was so intense and intimidating as he ate up every detail of your figure with his eyes, it made your heart pound furiously in your chest. That ba-boom ba-boom ba-boom nonstop in your system.
“My homie Jean convinced me to approach you since I kept staring at you, hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” Ony chuckled as he rubbed at his chin. “Oh!, I wasn’t uncomfortable, just mostly confused..I didn’t understand why you were staring at me.” You admitted honestly with a soft laugh as you shyly fiddled with your charm bracelet.
Ony’s eyes tracked the movement, fully attentive to your every action. “Because you’re beautiful. Cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t keep my eyes off you mama.” Ony’s low sultry voice spoke honestly as he stared into your now wide eyes. “I-I uhm..” You stuttered out, speechless and beyond flustered now. You even let out a faint whine in embarrassment as you shifted from foot to foot.
You weren’t used to such shameless and honest flattery so you didn’t know how to process it and respond. Ony was torn because a part of him loved watching you squirm and crumble because of his words, and the other part of him wanted to ease your turmoil and comfort you. “You can relax mama, it’s alright. I just wanted to clear up your confusion.” His comforting side won, his voice soft and soothing.
“Sorry, I’m not used to accepting compliments, especially from a guy like you..thank you though.” You managed out after awhile, breathing out to calm yourself. “A guy like me? What’s that mean mama?” Ony prodded with a teasing grin. You swore you’d fold and burst at the seams if he called you ‘mama’ one more time. The way it rolled off his tongue just sounded so nice.
“I-I mean..uh..” You stammered out as you smiled shyly. “You know, you’re attractive and intimidating..and you go for girls like Nao” You explained, completely embarrassed. Ony was highly amused as he listened to you try to elaborate, a grin on his face. “Cute. You think I’m attractive sweet girl?” Ony asked, continuing to tease. “Also I don’t go for girls like Nao. I want you.” Ony said honestly.
You felt your heart skip a beat hearing that, getting a little giddy as you bit down on your bottom lip to hold back your huge smile. Ony eyed the action of you biting your lip, his mind drifting to a not so innocent place. “Let me take you out on a date.” He suddenly said. You looked at him in slight shock, his straightforwardness catching you off guard.
You contemplated your answer because you were unsure. You did think Ony was very attractive and you liked talking to him but you were afraid of this not going well. You decided to take Nao’s advice though and take your chances. “okay, I’d love to~” You smiled. Ony felt like he won the lottery. The two of you then exchanged numbers before Ony got pulled away by his friends.
“I’ll text you later mamas.” Ony told you before y’all parted ways. You were giddy to tell Nao all the details about your interaction with Ony. He stayed true to his word too, texting you sooner than you expected. You texted him on your way back home with Nao. “This is soo exciting! Do you know where he’s taking you yet?” Nao questioned excitedly as she drove.
“A restaurant, I think it’s fancy.” You informed her. “Oo can I dress you up? Pretty please, I wanna make you all sexy. Make him lose his shit.” Nao laughed. “Of course that’s what you wanna do.” You laughed too while shaking your head. “You can dress me up though, I want the sexy bad bitch vibes.” You agreed, thinking it’d be nice to switch it up for this occasion.
“Yessuh!, You’re gonna get dicked down real good.” Nao cackled evilly. You gasped, “You’re nasty! Horny ass.” You laughed in disbelief. “Girl you know damn well you’re not miss innocent, with your kinky ass.” Nao called you out as the two of you laughed together. “Hush, I still have class~” You huffed with a grin.
Throughout the night you and Ony texted nonstop, him constantly flattering you and giving you butterflies with his sweet words. Despite you being really shy in person you were more bold through text, saying things you’d never say directly to his face but it was fun to play around. Little did you know though, Ony was gonna make you stand on your words.
onyanbear 😫🧸: why you keep playing with me ma? you think I won’t put you in your place?
you : bc it’s funnn, you’re not gonna do anything. You’re scaryyy, all talk, no action
onyanbear 😫🧸 : ight, keep talking that big girl shit. We’ll see.
You were giggling and kicking your feet reading his responses, you knew you were probably digging yourself a hole but it was too fun to tease and provoke him. You honestly didn’t think he’d actually act on his words. You’d learn soon enough though that he was not playing.
*************************************************
You were honestly a nervous wreck as you prepared for your date with Ony. You hadn’t been on a date in awhile and you’d say you had a crush on Ony at this point so it was exciting and nerve-racking all at the same time. Nao provided you with a little silk black dress that shaped your curves in all the right ways and showed off your figure. You paired the dress with black heels that wrapped up your ankles.
You curled your hair, doing a natural makeup beat and putting on red lipstick. This was definitely different from your usual cutesy style but you looked good. You put on jewelry, just some stud earrings and a bracelet, along with an anklet. “You look good as fuck! I’m so proud.” Nao exclaimed before she began taking pictures of you like a proud mom.
“Thank you” You laughed and posed for some of the pictures. “When’s he pulling up?” Nao asked. “Uhm in about 10 minutes or so I think.” You hummed as you checked your phone, seeing his text saying that he was on his way. “You excited? You like him so far?” Nao prodded teasingly and eagerly. You giggled, “I am excited but I also feel like throwing up from nerves. I do like him so far..he’s nice.” You admitted with a shy smitten grin.
“Oo, this is so adorable. I’m happy you’re giving him a chance.” Nao smiled. Soon Ony pulled up, calling you to let you know he was outside. “Okay I’ll be out soon!~” You told him. You quickly got up, spraying on your favorite perfume and grabbing your purse before you walked out to see Ony standing outside his car waiting for you. His attention was on you the second you stepped out, eyes eating up your figure.
“You look so sexy ‘ma. breathtaking.” Ony hummed, not being able to take his eyes off you as his hands found their way to your waist. Your face flushed, growing shy as your stomach swarmed with flutters at his words and the feel of his hands on your body. “Thank you” You said with a smile. “You look good too, really good.” You returned the flattery as you eyed him as well.
He was dressed in a black and grey hockey jersey and some black jeans, ‘panda’ dunks on his feet. He had on the same chain and he had rings adorning his fingers this time. He smelled so good too, his intoxicating scent so yummy in your nostrils. “thanks mama.” Ony grinned before he pecked your cheek. He was being extra touchy this time around but you didn’t mind it at all, you were soaking it up actually.
“Let’s go.” Ony said as he opened the car door for you, allowing you to slide into the passenger seat. He closed the door after you and then rounded around the car and sat in the driver’s seat. He adjusted the air and the radio before he began to drive. You just watched him the whole time, completely infatuated with him and his whole aura. Your inner thoughts screaming about how he was ‘fine as fuck’. You wouldn’t say it out loud though, too shy to do so.
“You staring real hard lil mama, see something you want?” Ony asked in that smooth low voice of his that made you melt, his eyes still focused on the road but his attention completely on you. ‘slow down’ by bobby valentino played lowly on the radio, creating a mood in the car and further adding to the building tension. You didn’t know how to respond, mouth parting but no words coming out, flustered by his question.
You did see something you wanted, you wanted him, really badly too. You weren’t gonna admit that though. “N-No..just like staring at you..” You partially confessed sheepishly as you played with the hem of your dress. Ony chuckled, the sound filling your ears and consuming you, so pleasing to your senses. “That’s cute baby. You’re so shy now, what happened to big girl in my messages? Talking all big about how I can’t handle you, you gon’ make me nut in my pants, how I ain’t gon’ do shit, I’m not daddy material, Hm? Where’s that energy at ‘ma?” Ony called you out, making your eyes blow wide.
You didn’t think he’d make you eat your words, it was embarrassing hearing your own words repeated back to you. “I-I..I was playing!” You defended, not wanting to bury yourself further. “Ah, so you’re the one that’s scary then? All talk, no action? Ain’t that what you said?. After you said I wouldn’t bend you over my lap and spank your little ass.” Ony continued, loving seeing you fall apart from being called out.
You were pouting now, “I’m not scary, I did say that and I was right. You still ain’t do shit.” You huffed, now standing on your words because you weren’t gonna let him doubt you and call you ‘scary’. “Mm.” was all Ony said in response as he grinned, he was glad you were still being a brat, just so he could turn you right back out. The two of you arrived at the restaurant and once Ony parked he was quick to snatch you up by your neck.
You let out a choked gasp, staring at him wide eyed as he pulled your face towards his, his large hard squeezing around your throat making you whine. “I love that attitude shit ‘ma. It makes my day. You keep fucking with me because you want me to fuck that attitude out of you, don’t you?” Ony uttered against your lips, your breaths mingling together, the proximity and his words putting you in a daze.
“You want daddy to fuck you stupid? Turn you into my good girl?” Ony hummed, you let out another whine. You wanted to kiss him so bad, your lips parted, tongue practically about to fall out from how desperately you wanted it. Right when you tried to lean in, Ony pulled away and let you go. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for our reservation.” He said as he got out of the car.
You were bewildered, stuck processing what just happened as Ony opened the passenger side door for you. Ony was completely amused at the lost look on your face, it was priceless. He contained his nonchalant appearance though. “Come back to me mama, let’s go.” Ony hummed, trying to snap you out of your trance.
It worked, you immediately got out of the car and began to follow him into the restaurant, a slight embarrassed flush on your face as you realized how desperate you must’ve looked moments ago. Ony led the two of you to your table once you entered the restaurant. Being the gentleman he was he pulled your seat out for you, “thank you” you said softly with a smile as you sat down.
He hummed in response and pushed your seat in. The two of you got settled and ordered. “You gonna act like a good girl now?” Ony asked you after the waiter left, slightly joking as he looked at you. You pouted, “No” you huffed softly. You were gonna stand your ground, plus you were still disappointed that he didn’t actually kiss you. Ony chuckled at your response.
“You’re lucky you’re cute as fuck.” He expressed with a grin. You were flattered, folding again at his sweet words as you smiled and grew shy again. “I tried to look sexy today though” You muttered as you adjusted your dress a bit. “You do look sexy, very sexy. You also look cute though, cutest thing ever. You have a nice mix of both.” He told you honestly, only flattering you more as you grinned giddily.
“Not cute enough for you to kiss me though..” you mumbled, you intended to say that in your head and not out loud but it slipped. Ony couldn’t help but to laugh, he was satisfied with getting you all sulky. “don’t laugh~ it’s embarrassing.” You whined as you covered your face with your hands. “My bad baby, you don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s adorable you want me to kiss you so bad.” He comforted with a soft laugh as he pulled your hands away from your face, kissing your hands as he did.
You felt those now familiar butterflies swarm in your system at his soft plump lips against your hands. You could only imagine feeling his lips elsewhere..the thought giving you shivers. “You happy now?” He asked as he now held your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You loved it so much, his hand in yours, it was so comforting and intimate. You wished he’d kiss your lips but you were happy with what was given to you. “I am, very happy” You giggled.
“that’s good mamas.” He smiled before he kissed your hand again, kissing down to your wrist. “You smell good as fuck..got me wanting to eat you ‘ma..” he sighed as he looked into your eyes. You stared back, silent now but your heart pounding loudly in your ears. That ravenous look in his eyes had you stuck, your breathing slowing as anticipation began to build inside you.
Ony constantly kept you on edge but you loved it, and sometimes you felt the urge to go over that edge. “Why don’t you then?” You uttered out, not backing down from his stare. Ony smiled at your words, “You’d like that wouldn’t you mamas? My head between your legs? That sweet pussy suffocating me?” He teased. If you weren’t wet already, you definitely were now. His words effecting you and making your pussy ache to be touched.
“I would like that, soo much, please” You hadn’t intended to beg but it seemed Ony made you desperate with ease. He chuckled, “We’re gonna eat first babe and have our date, you can be a good girl and wait.” He stated before he kissed your cheek. You pouted but agreed, wanting to be good and also wanting to finish your date since you’d been excited for this date.
Soon the food arrived and the two of you began to eat, the food was heavenly. You two talked and got to know each other even more. “—So you’re beautiful and smart as hell, I hit the jackpot.” Ony grinned. You had just finished telling him about your college accomplishments, “oh hush, you probably have had plenty of smart beautiful women.” You giggled.
“Nah, none like you at least. You’re a gem mamas.” He said genuinely. His sweet words always made you swoon, falling for him more and more by the second. “You’re so sweet to me.” You said softly as you smiled. “You deserve it and I’m tryna make you mine so I have to be sweet to you.” He smiled as he finished off the dessert you ordered. You gasped, “You ate the last bite!” You whined in disappointment stomping your feet in your heels.
Ony couldn’t help but to laugh, cackling as you pouted and sulked like a baby. “You’re not sweet anymore.” You huffed as you crossed your arms. “God, you’re so cute it makes me sick.” He said with a grin while shaking his head as his laughter died down. “Here ‘ma, you can taste the last bite too.” He said before he grabbed you by your jaw and kissed you deeply.
It caught you off guard, you took a minute to process what was happening before you began to kiss him back. Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into the feeling of his lips against yours, his tongue pushing through the seam of your lips to fill your mouth, allowing you to taste the residual of the dessert. He dominated the kiss easily, his tongue tangling messily with yours and pushing against the insides of your cheeks. He began to suck on your tongue, making you moan into the kiss.
“shit..” he groaned lowly as he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips still. Your head was fuzzy from the kiss, your breathing heavier as your now low lust filled eyes stared into Ony’s pretty brown eyes. He licked his lips, breaking the saliva string between your lips. Your eyes fixated on the movement, completely entranced by the man.
Ony was just as enamored by you, your red lipstick now slightly smudged on your plush lips. That needy look in your eyes that seemed eager to be satiated. You were just so beautiful and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Mm, you taste better than the dessert mama” he said, it was kinda a cheesy line but he meant it. “Should’ve kiss you sooner..” he mumbled before he pecked your lips again repeatedly.
You loved every second of it, kissing him back as much as you could, smiling into the kisses. You felt completely head over heels at this point. “Let’s head out mama” he hummed as he pulled away. He paid for the meal and held your hand as you two exited the restaurant, getting back into his car. You were in a relaxed state on the night drive, ony’s hand resting on your thigh and your head leaned against the window, shamelessly watching him as he drove.
“You wanna go back to my place baby?” Ony asked as he gave your thigh a small squeeze. “Yes please” you said, a little too eagerly causing ony to chuckle. You couldn’t help it though, you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, be completely consumed by him. It wasn’t long before you guys arrived at his house.
You observed the place with curiosity, “You live alone?” You questioned as the two of you got out of the car. “Mhm, roommates aren’t my style. Too much of a hassle. I like having my own shit.” He said as he unlocked his front door. You nodded in understanding, “Makes sense.” You hummed before letting out a squeak in surprise when Ony suddenly picked you up.
You didn’t get a chance to get a word out before Ony started eating your face, kissing you with desperation as he gripped your ass. Truth be told Ony couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, being tempted the whole time as you provoked him and he snapped after he kissed you, wanting to devour you whole after that. You moaned into the kiss, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you pulled him closer.
Ony began to carry you upstairs to his bedroom as the two of you continued kissing. He sucked on your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth and making you whine out. He loved all the cute noises you made, wanting to pull more of them out of you. He left opened mouthed kisses down your neck prior to running his tongue up your neck all the way to your ear, pulling your earlobe into his mouth. He wanted to taste every inch of you.
You shivered at the feeling of his mouth on your sensitive ear, your nails beginning to dig into his neck as you whined pathetically. He threw you onto the bed once you guys made it to his bedroom, making you gasp. “Mhm, I ain’t forget about all that big girl shit you talked. You gon’ learn not to play in my face.” He reminded you as he pulled his shirt off, allowing you to see his bare upper body, his chest covered in tattoos.
You gawked at him, your eyes eating up every detail of his body. Ony pulled you by your legs, treating you like a rag doll as he parted your thighs causing your little dress to rise up. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful ‘ma” Ony sighed in delight as he began to kiss from your calf up to your inner thighs, goosebumps following the trail of his kisses. You flushed at his compliment, you loved the nonstop flattery.
You wanted him so badly, watching him as he took his time getting to the place that ached so desperately to be touched. Ony paused once he reached your wet cunt, his breath ghosting against your clothed cunt in an agonizingly teasing way. You quickly grew impatient as you began to whine and squirm, “stop teasing me” you huffed as you whined. He chuckled, “So fuckin’ needy” he tsked as he slapped your thigh to get you to stop squirming.
You whimpered and pouted but ceased your movement, “you’re taking too long. still no action…” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “You ain’t getting shit from me unless you start actin’ right mama” he stated as he stared up at you. You stared back at him, huffing once you realized you weren’t gonna win in this situation. “fine, I’ll act right..” you obliged. “good girl.” He praised and placed a kiss on your clothed clit.
You swooned at the praise, soaking it up more than you thought you would. Ony didn’t waste anymore time, pulling your panties off and tossing them aside before he delve into your sweet pussy, dragging his tongue through your slick folds. You moaned out in satisfaction at finally getting what you had been craving since you saw ony standing outside his car waiting for you.
He suckled on your throbbing bud, his fingers spreading your lips apart as he focused on the sensitive ball of nerves. You gripped the bedsheets as you whined and moaned out shamelessly in pleasure. You were a dripping mess, ony making sure to lick up all of your fluids, the lewd slurping and sucking sounds filling the room as he did.
“such a pretty fuckin’ pussy” he awed as he pulled away and stared at your messy cunt, glistening with your slick. Ony spit on your pussy, adding to the filthy mess before he pushed his tongue into your entrance. “oh fuck” you moaned as you threw your head back, falling apart at the feeling of ony’s tongue fucking into you. Ony hummed as he devoured you with ease, enjoying every second of it and loving the sight of you becoming an incoherent mess.
His eyes fixated on you and your every reaction. Your dress bunched up around your waist, your hair sprawled out on his bedsheets, mouth parted in bliss and your eyes fluttered shut, cheeks flushed and nipples hard. You looked so beautiful, Ony felt like he was looking at a work of art. Ony licked up the fluids that ran down to your ass, you gasped and instinctively tried to close your legs when you felt his tongue prod at that hole that hadn’t been touched before.
“nah, none of that shit. stop playin’ with me.” He said as he pulled your legs back apart, gripping them in place so you couldn’t move them. You whined, shaking your head and squirming when you felt Ony’s thumb pressing on your ass hole. “n-not there..” you whimpered, not used to being touched there. “relax mama, let me take care of you. You can handle it.” He soothed as he placed kisses on tummy.
Ony used the mixture of his saliva and your juices as lubricant to ease his thumb into your tight hole, “onyy~” you cried out at the feeling as you clawed at the bedsheets. “You’re doing so good mamas” he praised before he started to eat you out again while his thumb continued to stimulate your sensitive hole. Tears brimmed your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, your senses on overdrive at the combined feeling of ony’s tongue on your achy pussy and his thumb stretching your backside.
Ony stretched the tight ring until he was satisfied and then he pushed his tongue into your puckered hole, making you squeal as your back arched. He groaned as he fucked his tongue into you, starting this pattern of licking from your ass all the way back up to your throbbing clit, messily eating you out as drool pooled from his mouth onto your cunt down to your ass crack. You were a moaning mess underneath him, never experiencing such immense pleasure before.
The lower half of ony’s face was soaked in your juices, wetting his pretty beard that adorned his face. He loved every second of being buried between your legs, drowning in your essence. “sweet fuckin’ pussy, so good mamas. fuck.” He groaned as he ate you out like you were the best meal he’d ever had. You were a mess, makeup runny from your tears, eyes rolled back, legs trembling as your orgasm approached you like a truck.
“m’ gonna—ah fuck gonna cum mmph!” you cried out in bliss as that knot in your stomach bubbled to burst. “cum for me princess” he rasped, pulling your clit between his teeth and tugging at it. You screamed as you came, gushing all over ony and soiling his bedsheets in your fluids. Ony licked up all of your mess, moaning as he swallowed up your sweet juices like it was his favorite treat.
You sniffled and whined in sensitivity as he continued to lap at your cunt, feebly pushing at his head only for him to slap your hands away. “s’ too much” you whimpered with a pout, head still fuzzy from your orgasm. “Nah, I’m not done with you yet. Shut that shit up.” He said and he slapped your twitching pussy causing you to let out a sob. “You a big girl, right?” He taunted as he grabbed your hips, flipping you over and pulling your hips up into the air, pushing your back into a painful arch.
“Mm, my pretty girl” He cooed, rubbing his hand soothingly over your ass as he admired you in this position. You relished in the adoration, loving it and its contrast to his mean attitude. Ony took off his jeans, releasing his hard cock that was painfully hard and pearling precum at the tip. He sighed in delight as he stroked his cock and placed kisses down your spine, using his free hand to pull your dress off the rest of the way, you assisting him and throwing the dress aside.
Ony ran his cock through your puffy wet folds, his tip nudging your clit as he teased you making you whine. “Such a whiny slut.” He remarked in a mocking tone. “I wan’ it, please.” You begged shamelessly with a sob, you were so desperate and craved him so badly, you couldn’t care less about how pathetic you were acting at the moment. He grinned at your begging, “I thought it was too much?” He teased.
He pushed into you, throwing his head back as the two of you moaned in unison at the feeling. “shitt” he groaned out as he got lost in the feel of your tight walls swallowing up his cock. “feels so fuckin’ good mama” he grunted as he began to pound into you, not wasting a second as his gripped your hips tight enough to bruise. You became a babbling mess as he fucked you mercilessly, pulling your hips back hard against his each time he thrusted into you.
“love this pussy, so fuckin pretty and wet and warm..shit princess.” Ony rambled as he got fixated on how good you felt around him, your cunt gushing around him with every thrust. “s’ soo g-good daddy~” you babbled incoherently into the mattress, mouth parted, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth and your head in the clouds as ony used you like his own personal fleshlight. “Mhm, you like it ‘ma? Love daddy’s dick rearranging your guts?” He said as he wrapped a hand around your throat, leaning over you as his cock drilled deeper into you.
All you could do is nod in response, unable to form words as your body was consumed in pleasure, ony’s dick hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. “you’re so fuckin’ cute. so fuckin’ pretty. wanna ruin you sweet girl.” He couldn’t get over how pretty you were, especially in this state. Your hair a mess, sticking to your sweaty body, back arched and ass up, pretty brown skin glowing under the moonlight shinning through ony’s window, inner thighs covered in your slick, lips swollen and red, cheeks squished in ony’s grip on your face, eyeliner and mascara runny underneath your eyes and down your cheeks, hands trembling as you struggled to hold yourself up.
Ony couldn’t get enough of the sight, wanting it engrained in his mind forever. He pulled your face towards his, kissing you passionately and messily as he continued to pound into you, the filthy mixture of your slick and his precum coating his pubic hairs and his happy trail. You moaned into the kiss, kissing back with just as much passion as you sucked on ony’s tongue making him groan. You loved it everytime he kissed you, the intimacy of it making your heart stutter.
Ony let his spit pool into your mouth as he broke the kiss, his opened mouth hovering over yours as you stuck your tongue out like a greedy pet, swallowing up every string of his thick saliva. “fuck..nasty fuckin’ girl. Gon’ make me nut mama” He groaned as he pounded into you incessantly. By now you were fucked dumb, not a single thought behind your dilated rolled back eyes.
All you knew at the moment was ony ony ony, his scent, the feel of his muscular framed body pressed against yours, the taste of him lingering on your tongue, the grip of his large rough hands manhandling your body as he pleased, the way his cock filled up your plush wet walls and satiated every ache, itch, and burning desire inside you. He overtook your entire being, bringing you to pure ecstasy.
Your climax hit you before you could even prepare for it, letting out a high pitched moan and sobbing into the mattress as you creamed all over ony’s cock. “that’s it mama, oh fuck- good fuckin’ girl. making a mess on my dick” he talked you through it as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. Your body trembling as you fell apart completely, no longer able to hold yourself up as you whined in overstimulation.
Ony felt his head go fuzzy at the way your pussy pulsed and clenched around his dick, the lewd squelch echoing with every thrust as ony chased his own orgasm. “c-cum’n me please wan’ it” you manage to babble out, your words slurred and muffled into the bed. It took ony a moment to process your words, his brain muddled as he became pussy drunk, obsessed with your filthy warm walls sucking up every inch of his dick.
“You want it baby? Ah shit- want daddy to fill up your greedy cunt?. I’ll give you whatever you want pretty girl.” He moaned as his pace got desperate and sloppy as he felt that sensation build up inside him. “fuckk fuck!” He moaned out, throwing his head back as he finally came, his cum spurting out in loads and coating your walls, filling you up to the brim. You whined at the warm feeling as your cunt milked him dry.
Ony breathed heavily as his thrust slowed to a stop, “you okay sweet girl?” he asked softly as he placed a kiss on your bare shoulder. You only hummed and nodded in response, half passed out at this point. You were completely fucked out, body relaxed and exhausted from the overwhelming pleasure. Satisfied with your response, ony slowly pulled out, the mixture of your fluids pouring out messily and bubbling as he did. Ony loved the mess, the sight of his cum dripping down your thighs and his dick covered in the filth.
You snuggled deeper into the bed as ony got up and began to clean you up gently, not wanting to add more stress to your already spent body. He cleaned up himself as well before he tucked you in and climbed into bed with you. He admired your peaceful state, looking so beautiful and claimed by him. “I like you..onya~” you mumbled out in your half conscious state.
It caught Ony completely off guard but it made him smile, his heart swelling at your adorable confession. “I like you too sweetheart” he replied softly before he placed a kiss on your cheek. You smiled drowsily, happy to have met ony and taken a chance on him.
[thank you to everyone who read this, I appreciate it sm 🥹]
3K notes · View notes
norrizzandpia · 3 months
Note
Hiiii, could you do something with lando wanting to be protective of reader like her being afraid of something happening and him hugging her tightly to make sure she is safe w him 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶
I need this man so bad and this just fueled that
Safe With Me, Love (LN4)
Summary: When a man at a club makes Y/n uncomfortable, touching her, grabbing her, Lando’s the first to stop it.
Warnings: attempted sexual assault, lando almost getting into a fight, verbal abuse, language, lando gets super angry, but major fluff at the end and all is well
Note: i am in no way trying to glorify sexual assault with this at all. What happens to a multitude of women around the world and incredibly disgusting, my heart goes out to all the victims of any kind of sexual assault.
There’s a loud boom from the speakers as Lando and Y/n sidle up next to each other in the dimly lit booth Max had secured for the night. Shot glasses and other drinks are scattered across the surface of the table, the majority of the liquid having been consumed by their friends who had tagged along. Max F and Pietra dance together on the floor while Oscar and Max V are left to grimace at the touchy exchanges between the couple left in their seats.
A dangerous hand high up on Y/n’s thigh has Max V gagging into Oscar’s shoulder, “When do you guys stop?”
Lando’s hazy eyes give him a quick glance before retreating back to his beautiful Y/n, “I don’t stop. She tries to make me, but let’s be honest, I never will.”
Oscar rolls his eyes and Max V throws back the rest of his drink. The two men get up and flee the area in a panic when Lando starts kissing her neck softly, knowing the boy is quite affectionate when he drinks. Y/n is a bit farther than her boyfriend on the drunk spectrum, making her more prone to accepting his PDA-filled advances. She snickers into his ear when his tongue lightly traces her skin and her hands dance in his hair when he whispers how much he loves her.
Y/n and Lando could not be more clingy when they’ve consumed alcohol. Everybody knows this. From the fans and media to their families, the couple has had multiple drunken exchanges where they were more than comfortable sharing how much their physical connection was just as strong as their emotional one.
“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Lando says as he pulls back, eyes roaming her face as his breathing turns shallow as if he’s completely taken aback by her beauty.
Y/n blushes, “Lan, if I had got a penny for every time you told me I was pretty, we would be billionaires just off that money, not even with your racing income. Pennies.”
Lando smiles at her as his head lulls to the side. Her back rests against the cushions of the booth while his is turned to the rest of the crowd, his entire front facing her with his hands on her hips, “Good. You should be told how pretty you are every second of every day.”
Her hand lays across his bicep as they look helplessly at each other, drunken smiles and breaths hitting the other’s face from the close proximity. In the midst of the deafening music, their moment is quiet and it reaffirms Lando in his idea that every day he would fall in love with his girl all over again.
His eyes are overwhelming and his look of love makes Y/n want to giggle and squeal, she needs a moment to herself. Lando’s face falls slightly when she mentions needing to go to the bathroom, “Let me go with you.”
Y/n stands from the booth and shakes her head at him with a light grin, “No, baby. I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in five minutes tops.”
He’s persistent, his hand clutching hers still, “No, Y/n. Stay.”
Puppy dog eyes and a pouted lip threaten Y/n’s plan to calm down from Lando’s eyes, but she perseveres.
“You wanna know the truth?” She pops her hip out and stares down at him, his body warming at her sassy position.
He nods, “Always.”
She leans down to his ear and whispers, out of slight embarrassment and the fact that she doesn’t want him to genuinely see the effect he has on her, “You’re making me all flustered and I need to regain my composure.”
When she pulls back, Lando’s mouth has fallen open slightly in a smile with his teeth sticking out a little bit from his top lip, “Oh, well… Then, go right ahead.”
She nods at him before he loosens his grip and she disappears into the crowd. His eyes try to stay on her frame, wanting to make sure she gets to the bathroom, but clubs are always packed and the moment her hand leaves his, his sight of her is lost.
He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.
Throwing away the used paper towel, Y/n exits the bathroom and is immediately slammed into a hard chest. She reels back, discreetly checking the stranger’s shirt for any makeup stains. When she finds none, she lets her natural kind demeanor shine through.
“Oh, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t see where I was going.” She gives, the man staring down at her in a way that puts her off.
He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her, but when she tries to move past him, his arm comes to hold her bicep.
“What’s your name?” He asks. Alarms sound off in her brain at his tightening grip, panic settling into her skin and suffocating her. He’s not much taller than her, maybe 5’6, if that. Though, with her short stature, he still intimidates her with the way he slightly towers over her. Lando would tower over him, she tries to tell herself.
Where’s Lando? Get to Lando.
His fingers on her arm don’t allow for that, however.
A smirk finds its way onto his grimy face as he repeats, “I asked you what your name was, sweetheart.”
Her eyes avert to the floor, “Uh, Y/n.”
Immediately, she knows she’s made a grave mistake. She’s not stupid, just completely lost at the way fear has enveloped her body. She knows she should never give out her name to strangers that grab her without her consent, she just is completely gone to the racing thoughts in her head.
“What a pretty name,” He speaks, grip relentless, “What’s a beautiful girl like yourself doing here alone?”
“I’m not alone. I’m here with my boyfriend and his friends.” She smiles, hoping that the mention of her boyfriend will scare him off.
Happy endings aren’t always guaranteed, though.
The man moves closer, his breath down her face, “Aw, how cute. Who’s your boyfriend?”
In a leap of faith at the power of Lando’s name, Y/n murmurs, “Lando Norris.”
The man keels over with laughter, his grip staying put on her arm however, “Oh, love, how sweet. Are you one of those fan girls that think they have a chance? Lando Norris would never go for someone like you. No offense.”
Offense taken, bitch, she thinks.
Trying to defuse the situation, Y/n lightly pulls at her arm, “None taken. If you can let me go, that’s be great.”
Suddenly, his hand has maneuvered her against the wall, his face right next to her neck as he breaths her in. Turmoil floods Y/n when his other hand comes to trace up and down her thigh, trying to hike it up to his waist but failing when she clamps her legs together.
He whispers in her ear, “Don’t be a bitch. Everyone at this club would take one look at you and know you’re an easy slut. Let me get a taste of what everyone already has.”
Her eyes drown in tears as she tries to seek out help as they rest right outside the bathrooms. However, as ironic as it is, the usual busy bathrooms are ghost towns in the moment a man tries to sexually assault her.
He finally gets her thigh to wind around his waist when his strength overpowers her body and Y/n is taken back to the moments when Lando would manhandle her in bed. What she used to think was the biggest turn on has now turned into something horrifying and painful.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!” There’s shouting from the end of the hallway and the man invading her space moves off her in an instant. Her face whips around to meet Lando’s fiery one, his body stalking toward the man as Max V, Max F, and Oscar follow in tow. All four men are looking enraged, faces burning red at the scene they had just witness whilst Pietra turns around and bolts toward the front of the club. In her loud mind, Y/n knows it’s because Pietra is going to get security.
Lando reaches the man, grabbing the collar of his shirt and shoving him against the opposite wall. He screams in his face, “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH MY GIRLFRIEND LIKE THAT. WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” He spits in the man’s face, “YOU’RE FUCKING DISGUSTING.”
Three burly men return with a distraught Pietra, pulling Lando off the strange man and immediately removing the man from the premises.
With the absence of him, Lando is quick to pull Y/n into his arms, feeling her melt into him. Nobody says anything as he holds her tightly, turning her away from the group so his back faces them and she can cry into his chest lightly with some kind of privacy. His hands clamp down around her body while she grips his shirt. There’s whispers of reassurance and love as he tries to soothe her nerves.
“Get me out of here,” She chokes out, letting her hands drift under his shirt to feel the warmth of his bare skin.
Lando nods as he kisses her temple, “Of course, my love.”
He leads her through the overstimulating crowd and out of the club where the man has been handcuffed and shoved into the backseat of a cop car. An officer approaches her as she’s curled into Lando’s body, asking her for a statement, but, with Lando’s credibility and fame, he speaks softly with the man and asks if he can get her statement another time.
“I think she just needs to go home right now.” He says as Y/n stays hidden in his chest.
Her cowering and shaking strikes a cord in the older man’s heart, “Yes, of course. That’s completely fine. Can I get your number so I can call later tomorrow? Does that work?”
Lando nods, “Yes, that’s perfect,” He lists off his number, the officer taking it down in his notebook. When the last number is drawn, he wishes the couple a calm night and retreats back to his partner.
Y/n tries to hang on to Lando as he tries to pawn her off into the passenger seat of his car. When her hands won’t unclasp from his waist, he leans down and meets her eyes.
His hand lightly rubs her knee, almost hesitant in not wanting to scare her anymore. He looks up at her before softly speaking, “I’m not going to leave you. I promise you that. After that, I will never let you out of my sight ever again. We’re just getting in the car to go home, baby. That’s it. I’ll be right next to you the rest of the night.”
She nods, looking down at her hands in the silence while Lando closes the door and jogs to the other side of the car, getting in.
The car ride back is quiet as Lando lets his hand roam over her thigh. Even though it’s a call back to what the man had done to her in that secluded corner of the club, she doesn’t feel fear or uncomfortable. All she feels is love and security as his fingers lightly trace over the moles and bumps of her leg. Lando’s hands, all of Lando, will never not be a safety net for her, she knows that.
Nothing could make her afraid of him.
He’s delicate with her as they walk to his apartment, an arm tightly around her waist as they wait in the elevator. When they reach his door, he sets her in front of him, between him and the door, as he unlocks it. When it opens, she walks in first and goes straight to the softness of his bed. She falls onto it, letting out a small groan at the comfort, before he catches up with her, his body looming over hers and smiling.
Her mascara must be running down her cheeks and her eyeliner must be smudged across the entirety of her face yet Lando’s face shows what it always does: the love he has for her beauty. Even in her worst moment, he thinks she is the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes on.
“Can I get you out of your clothes? Unzip your dress and take it off along with your heels?” He’s clear and precise with his questions, not wanting to throw her a curveball or something that gets misunderstood.
She nods with a small smile, but Lando stays still, “I need words, pretty girl.”
She blushes in the midst of it all, “Yes, Lan, you can.”
“Perfect” He states before letting his hand gently coax her to sitting position, gliding down her back as her zipper trails with it. When his hands shimmy her dress down her legs, he throws it across the floor, moving to her feet next. He kisses her ankles softly as his fingers work slowly to unbuckle the shoes. When he gets them off, his girlfriend left in a bra and underwear, he moves to the dresser a few feet away. She sits there, exposed, and, while she feels as though she should be on complete alert or scared, she feels at peace. She watches as Lando rummages through his drawer, seeking out his pajamas for her, and she feels nothing but protected and completely loved, accepted by the man before her.
When he returns, her favorite hoodie and sweatpants of his in hand, he helps her into them. When she’s cozy and dressed, he changes into his pajamas in front of her, almost as if he’s trying to put himself at the same level as her. She had undressed in front of him, he undressed in front of her. He didn’t want her to feel as though there was some sort of power dynamic going on, no matter how far that was from the truth of what she was genuinely feeling.
When they’re both comfortable, he leads her into the bathroom and sits her on the counter, his body between her legs before he wipes her makeup off and does her skincare for her. If she wasn’t so emotionally exhausted from the night, she would’ve showered him in praise and a bit of teasing for knowing her routine perfectly, with each step being very clearly memorized. But, this wasn’t an ordinary moment, so she kept quiet as he took care of her. They brushed their teeth together, Lando’s hand keeping its place on her hip in a simple reminder that he was there no matter what.
And when they reached his bed once more, falling under the sheets and heaps of pillows and blankets, Lando brought her into him once more. Her head snuggled into the crook of his neck and his hands trailing up and down her back, he whispered soft words in her ear.
“I love you.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
“You are my entire life.”
“I will always be there to protect you.”
His words seep into her skin just like anxiety had hours before during one of the worst moments of her life. Though, this time, instead of worrying what would happen happen next or who would come to save her, all she could think of was the soothing hands on her back and the calming words of the man she would never stop loving.
Lando was it for her, if she hadn’t known that before, she knew it now. As he continued to hold her, never once letting her go throughout the entire night, she found solace within him.
And when morning came, the dreaded phone call from the officer who sought out her statement, Lando sat next to her with his hand in hers and his unwavering support shining through.
There genuinely wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.
He’d bury a body for her, kill for her.
Preferably, if she allowed him, kill the man who had touched her without consent.
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strawberrysturniolo · 3 months
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jealous // fwb!chris
summary: your friends with benefits, chris, sees you with another guy at a party and takes you somewhere to remind you who you belong to warnings: smutty af so if you don't like that, get lost! semi public sex, fem!receiving
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Chris Sturniolo and I made a pact a few months ago. 
He helps me get over my ex, and I keep him busy. 
This pact was all about us getting something — sex. 
When we first met, I was in a long term relationship with a guy who didn’t have his head on straight. Chris was proudly single, but in desperate need of sex. 
After a night of crying and confusion, I tried something I never thought I would bother with. 
I texted Chris and asked him to come over, both of us knowing damn well what the other wanted. 
We had sex all night, sometimes waking the other up with our mouths all over each other, sometimes with his dick lining perfectly with my pussy when we cuddled that it would be a sin for us not to finish the job. The next morning we vowed that we would keep hooking up, only if we promised that it was just sex, and there were absolutely no feelings involved. 
I wasn’t too thrilled to hear about some influencer party that Chris was going to. I didn’t care that he had a life around girls, and I didn’t care if he was into them. What I cared about was him putting his dick somewhere without letting me know, and me suffering the consequences of him transferring something to me. 
I was even less thrilled when my best friend, Nick, invited me as his plus one. Don’t get me wrong, anywhere Nick goes, I’m usually there too, but the whole LA party scene is not my thing at all. I can last about an hour before I'm tapping out and wanting to be home. 
He begged and begged and I caved, leaving me to stand in front of my closet to search for an outfit. 
My phone chimed on my bed.
Chris: Why am I only just now hearing that you’re coming tonight?
Me: 🤷🏻‍♀️ Black lingerie or white?
Chris: Come over. 
Me: Can’t. Uber is getting here soon. 
Chris: Cancel it.
Me: See you at the partyyyy
After Ubering and searching for the way into the building, I pulled out my phone to text Nick in hopes of finding him. Before I realized, a familiar hand slid across my back, finding my waist and turning me around. 
Chris’ smirk was the most prominent feature on his face. “Hey pretty.”
I had to stop my stomach from flipping at the compliment, the nickname he has attached to me lately. It’s hard not to fall for him when he says shit like that. 
I try to act unbothered for the sake of keeping my sanity. “Where’s Nick?”
Chris’ head dips in a certain direction, pointing to Nick through a crowd of people. “I’m here though.”
I nod once. “I see that.”
“You wearin’ this for me?”
His eyes linger down my chest, focusing on the mesh material that leaves little to the imagination. A black mini skirt hugs my hips, inviting Chris’ hands to my waist. I suck in a breath before pushing his hands away. 
“Not here,” I warn him in a whisper. 
“Then let’s find somewhere,” he suggests immediately, his urges showing. 
It takes everything in me to push his hands away and search further for my friend. 
As the minutes pass, I find myself sticking close to Nick, nodding along to any conversation that he is involved in. He makes socializing look so easy, taking control of everyone in the room in the best way. Meanwhile, I look lost next to him. 
In hopes of liquid courage and something to hold onto instead of picking at my fingers, I head back to the bar, ordering a vodka red bull - something to keep me feeling comfortable, but hopefully keeping me awake and not yawning in everyone’s faces. The last thing I want is for Nick to feel bad about inviting me, and for everyone else to think I’m a bitch. 
Seconds later, I’m trapped in a conversation with someone I really couldn’t care less about. Some model talking about his work, clearly trying to impress me. The sad thing is, I know he’s trying hard to make me swoon, but this is what happens at every one of these parties. He’s not flirting with me because of anything I have to offer. He’s simply trying to make himself look good. 
I try to pay attention to his words, but out of the corner of my eye I’m able to spot someone’s glare from a mile away. 
Chris stands fifty feet from me, his jaw clenched and his eyes glaring at the man in front of me. 
Suddenly, I’m interested in this model. 
My hand trails up his arm, earning a satisfied smirk from him before he steps closer, his thighs brushing mine. I don’t even have to be looking at Chris to know his reaction to that action — he’s charging over to us. 
Before I have time to suggest us leaving this spot to get away from Chris, he’s already squeezing between us. 
His nose is inches from mine, and when they brush, I find myself thinking about last night, his nose rubbing my clit while he ate my pussy. 
“Who’s your friend, baby?”
My eyes could burn holes in his. I don’t know if I’m more mad that he’s doing this right now, or embarrassed that I was so zoned out that I don’t even remember this guys name. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t bother telling me. 
When Chris doesn’t get a response from me, he turns over his shoulder. “You can go now.”
With one look, the nameless guy I was talking to vanishes. I smack Chris’ chest. “You’re so fucking annoying.”
“Me?” He responds with a surprised tone. “You’re the one rubbing all up on guys in front of me. You expect me to just sit back and do nothing?”
“Yes!” I shout, walking away. His hand on my wrist pulls me back to him. “I’m not yours to claim, and you coming up and stopping me from talking to any guy you see is fucking pathetic. You and I fuck. That’s it.”
I watch as Chris’ mouth curves to a grin. What now?
“You’re right, we fuck,” he agrees, but his fingertips tracing my thigh in front of everyone send shivers down my body for more than one reason. “And right now I’m thinking about pulling this little skirt around your hips and bending you over a sink.”
Shit. 
I can feel my legs getting tighter, and I struggle to stand up straight. 
He dips his head to my ear, whispering to me. “If I pulled your panties aside, how wet would you be for me?”
I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. 
“Would you be ready for my cock, or do you need me to stretch your tight cunt out with my fingers?”
My breathing starts to falter before I can bother controlling it. 
Chris stands up straight looking at me and noticing every change in expression. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and starts walking me to the bathroom. “I know baby, let’s take care of you.”
I’m unable to form words. He continues to say quick hello’s to everyone he sees while I stand at his hip like a poor puppy. I give in to him so fast every time. It’s embarrassing, but can you blame me?
We make it to the bathroom, and after he locks the door, he turns around and leans on it, his arms crossed as he stares at me. 
“You know I don’t like it when you talk to other guys in front of me,” he warns. 
“I’m allowed to talk to other guys. We aren’t together.”
“Not when you’re dressed like that.”
“So now you have an issue with how I dress and who I talk to? Anything else I should know of?”
“I have an issue with you dressing in a mesh shirt and a mini skirt when you aren’t mine to claim, yes.”
“Well that’s stupid.”
“Is it?”
This is a losing battle. As much as I try, it’s obvious how bad I want him. 
I need him. 
He notices the switch flip in me. He knows exactly when I give in without me having to say a word. 
His arms uncross and within seconds they’re wrapped around me, lifting me to sit on the bathroom sink, yanking my underwear down to my knees. He ducks his head underneath the fabric, yanking me by my thighs a few inches so he can have easier access to my dripping pussy. 
He groans at the sight of me struggling without him touching me. “Such a pretty pussy.” His fingers grip the sides of my thighs, digging so hard I’m sure it’ll leave marks. He places a wet kiss over my dripping cunt. I shudder at his touch, and quickly grip his curls as he starts licking harshly over my throbbing clit. 
“Fuck, Chris.” The words come out in a pathetic whimper, but they only encourage him to do more. 
His hands spread my legs further before the tip of his tongue fucks me. My moans are uncontainable, and I can feel his smirk growing as I struggle to contain myself. 
I can feel Chris trying not to put his hands everywhere on me. The last time we fucked in a public setting, he emphasized that he did not want to put his hands anywhere near my pussy in case there was anything gross lingering on his hands. The animalistic strokes of his tongue on me are a confirmation of his ideas. The harsh movements of his tongue on my clit have me shuddering, gripping his hair as tight as my fingers will let me. 
“Tastes so good, baby,” he mumbles against my thigh, staring up at me before licking up my inner thigh, back to my clit. His head starts to move more with every swipe of his tongue until he’s making out with my pussy. 
Chris never fails to prove that eating me out is his favorite part of this whole friends with benefits situation. While he loves burying his dick in me, there’s nothing he loves more than tasting me and watching me falter as he pleases me with his mouth. 
My back arches and my thighs close around his face, brushing across the light stubble growing on his cheeks. “Chris, I’m gonna cum.”
He yanks my underwear down until it’s completely off, stuffing the pair of lace panties in his pocket and wrapping my legs around his waist. As he unbuttons his pants and rubs over himself through his boxers, he mutters, “Can you cum around my cock for me, baby? Be a good girl and wait for me to tell you, hmm?”
“Uh huh,” I nod. Any sound leaving my mouth sounds like a cry for help. 
The outline of his throbbing dick is prominent as he strokes himself over his underwear. “Stop wasting your time with the other guys and you can have me whenever.” 
I don’t have a chance to argue back with him. His dick is in his fist, red and throbbing. His tip is leaking like he’s been holding back from fucking me since I walked in this place. He strokes himself a few times, finding pleasure in it by the way his head falls back. Before I get the chance to offer anything to him, he spreads my legs back open with his knee and rubs his tip over my clit. 
A weak moan leaves my lips and I’m unable to stop myself from begging for more. 
“Please, Chris,” I whine, watching as his lips part as he watches himself tease my entrance. 
“You have me baby.”
I almost feel my heart expand, but I’m cut off by the abrupt motion of his dick pushing into me, stretching me out until he’s buried deep and I’m completely wrapped around him.
He stares down at us in awe. “This pussy was made for me.”
I nod, at a loss for words. 
He thrusts harshly. “Whose pussy is this?”
I wince. “Yours.”
“Tell me,” he demands with his teeth gritted. 
“FUCK – Yours, Chris. It’s yours.”
“Good girl,” he says proudly before slamming his hips back into mine. Every thrust is sharper than the last. His pace is steady, but it all changes when I wrap my legs around his waist with no intention of letting go.
He lifts me off the counter, holding underneath my thighs. His head rests on my right shoulder and I can feel him looking at us in the mirror. He pushes my skirt up further, revealing my entire ass. He slaps it harshly, making me groan.
“You love it, don’t act like you don’t,” he teases. 
I nod.
“Tell me,” he says as he slaps my ass again, harder this time. 
“Shit, I love it, Chris,” I admit, the words flying out of my mouth. “I love it so much.”
His hands hold underneath my ass, his hips driving up into me. Every thrust has a slapping sound following, and after a few minutes of a steady pace, I can feel him speeding up. 
“Fuck, baby,” he groans into my neck. “I can’t hold off anymore. You gonna cum with me?”
I nod, whimpering against him.
“Words, princess.”
“Yes, Chris. I’m almost there.”
As he presses closer to me and fucks me in his arms, I can feel myself going limp. My clit is throbbing and has been all night, and being this close to a release is enough to make me feel like I’m falling. 
“Chris.” My hands grip his hair tightly, like I’m going to lose him at any second. 
“I got you, baby,” he assures me. “Cum around me. I’m right here with you.”
I feel myself convulse around his cock, earning a string of pornographic moans from him before his pace slows down, his hips burying themselves against me as he pumps his cum inside my pussy.
“Ohhhh god,” he moans. The sound has become my new favorite thing.
He carefully sets me on the ground, letting my feet find the floor before he lets go and kisses me softly, the first kiss we have shared all night. He adjusts my skirt, smirking at the evidence of him on my legs, dripping out of me. 
“Do not wipe any of that up,” he tells me, a seriousness in his tone that I’m not used to. “I want you to walk around this party with my cum dripping out of you, and if you even try to let anyone else flirt with you, that’ll be your reminder of who you belong to. Got it?”
I nod, trying to find my balance before leaving the bathroom with him. At this point, most of our friends know what we are, and if they didn’t, they were sure as hell gonna find out now. 
I spent the rest of the night with Chris at my side, rubbing my legs subtly or making snide comments about how I was full of him still. I knew what I wanted, but some of him was better than none.
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sergeantbarnessdoll · 24 days
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Hey
Can you write a one shot where Bucky and reader have a daughter. One day when reader and their little daughter are at home and Bucky is at the compound or on a mission, reader accidentally hurts herself. She says something like this to the daughter :"Don't tell daddy." But later when Bucky comes home she says something to Bucky and he immediately gets worried. And then maybe some cuddle time with the Barnes Family.
Thank you in advance 💗
Mommy Hurt » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier
Pairings: Husband/Dad/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Daisy
Summary: Bucky gets worried when he finds out from his daughter that Y/N got hurt while he was on a mission.
Warnings: Fluff, language, small injury, brief mention of blood, hugs and kisses, cuddling, uses of nicknames/pet names
A/N: Thank you for requesting @lives-in-midgard 🩵 I had fun writing this🥰
Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.
Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier
GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found this one on Pinterest.
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“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” Yours and Bucky’s 3 year old daughter Daisy comes running in the kitchen with a piece of paper in her hands. “Look what I draw!” She says, holding the picture up for you to see.
“It’s beautiful, sweetie. Tell me about.” You say, looking down at her.
“This is daddy. This is mommy. This is Pine Pine. This is me.” She says, point to each stick figure in the picture.
You were trying your best to do the dishes and pay attention to what Daisy was saying which probably wasn’t the best idea, because the next thing you know, you felt a sharp pain in your hand. You gasped and dropped the knife you had in your other hand in the sink, clutching your hand in your other one.
“Mommy?” Daisy tapping on your leg. “What happened?” She asks, looking up at you.
“I-I’m fine, baby.” You tried your best to not cry in front of your daughter. “Mommy cut herself.” You tell her.
You slowly opened your hand to see a small cut on the palm of your hand with a little bit of blood coming out of it. You grabbed a kitchen towel that was next to the sink and put it on your hand, applying pressure.
“Mommy have a boo boo?” Daisy asks.
“Just a little one.” You say.
You crouched down to her height and gave her a hug.
“Don’t tell daddy.” You tell her.
“No tell daddy.” She says.
“Good girl.” You smiled and kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you go watch cartoons in the living room and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You tell her.
“Ok, mommy!” Daisy says, running off to the living room.
You went to the bathroom and got the first aid kit out from underneath the sink. You cleaned out the cut with alcohol and wrapped some gauze around it and taped it with medical tape. You put the first aid kit away and went to the living room to see that Daisy put on Barbie. You took a seat next to her and watched it with her.
A couple days later, Bucky came home from a week long mission. Bucky frowns in confusion when he didn’t see you and Daisy greet him immediately like the two of you normally do.
“Where are my girls?” Bucky’s voice echos through the house.
Bucky heard Daisy’s little footsteps running towards him.
“Daddy!” Daisy says excitedly.
“There’s my baby girl!” Bucky says happily as he picked up Daisy.
Bucky gave her a bunch of hugs and kisses, making her giggle.
“Mommy hurt.” She tells him.
“What?” Bucky felt his heart drop, thinking that something bad happened to you while he was on the mission. “Where is mommy?” He asks her.
“Kitchen.” Daisy says, pointing towards the kitchen.
Bucky walks in the kitchen with Daisy in his arms to see you putting groceries away.
“Bucky, you’re home!” You smile widely and hugged him.
“Are you ok?” Bucky asks with worry in his voice.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked.
“Daisy told me you got hurt.” He says.
“I told her not to tell you.” You say, looking at your daughter.
“Sowwy, mommy.” Daisy says, feeling bad.
“It’s ok, sweetie.” You say, moving a piece of hair from her face.
Daisy tapped on Bucky’s shoulder, telling him that she wants down. When Bucky put her down, she ran to her play room.
“Show me.” He says.
“Babe, it’s nothing.” You say.
“Doll…” He says.
You sighed and took the gauze off of your left hand and showed him the cut on the palm of your hand that was starting to scab up. Bucky gently took your hand in his and inspected it.
“How did you cut yourself?” Bucky asks.
“I was doing the dishes while looking at a picture Daisy drew and I cut myself with a knife.” You explained.
Bucky felt relieved, knowing that you’re fine. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it softly, making you smile. Then he kissed you passionately.
“How about I properly patch up your hand.” Bucky says.
Bucky led you upstairs to yours and his bedroom. You took a seat on the bed while Bucky got the first aid kit from the bathroom. He came out of the bathroom and sat down next to you. He cleaned it with alcohol and wrapped it with gauze, also making sure it wasn’t too tight and tapped it with medical tape. He brought your hand up to his lips again and kissed it softly.
“Better?” Bucky asks.
“All better.” You say, leaning forward to kiss him.
“I’m taking you to the Compound tomorrow so Bruce can take a look at it.” He says.
“Fine.” You say with a playful pout.
Bucky kisses your lips once more, but the kiss was interrupted when Daisy came running in the bedroom.
“Hey!” Daisy shouts, getting yours and Bucky’s attention. “Up!” She says, doing grabby hands at her daddy.
You and Bucky smiled at her cuteness. Bucky picked her up and placed her in between the two of you.
“I draw something!” Daisy shows you and Bucky a picture. “This is daddy. This is mommy. This is Pine Pine. This is me. Me and Pine Pine are superheros like daddy in this one.” She tells you guys.
“It’s beautiful, princess.” Bucky says, kissing the top of her head.
You guys heard Alpine meow loudly as she jumped up on the bed. You guys gave Alpine some lovings before laying down with Daisy in between you and Bucky and Alpine on the pillow next to Bucky’s head.
“I wuv you, daddy. I wuv you, mommy.” Daisy says, kissing yours and Bucky’s cheeks.
“We love you too, baby.” You and Bucky say, kissing her cheeks.
Bucky turned on Barbie for Daisy while you guys cuddled for the rest of the night. Bucky couldn’t ask for anything better than this.
🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵
-Bucky’s Doll
820 notes · View notes
casuallyimagining · 5 months
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Set Me Free || myg
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min yoongi x female reader
Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), alcohol, soulmate breakup, smooching
Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always. and extra thanks to ella for helping me write Yoongi's letters and to my friend tanya for giving me a super helpful base for the ending.
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It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.
It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block is the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.
The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days. 
But who’s counting?
There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified. 
What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?
He takes a deep breath and knocks.
It takes a second. He can hear shuffling around on the other side of the door, so he knows his knock was heard. But the longer it takes, the sweatier his hands get, and the more he considers turning and running away. The door opens before he can make a move.
You stand in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the living room lamp behind you. And shit, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. In many ways, you haven’t changed since the last time he saw you, but at the same time, you look so different. He can see in your eyes the moment the realization hits, and your expression changes drastically. You looked tired–and Yoongi can sense that it goes deeper than just physical exhaustion–and you were slouching, but now, you’re standing ramrod straight, and there’s a hard look in your eyes. One he knows all too well.
“Hey.” He raises a hand, offers a wave that, in hindsight, is rather pathetic. You stare at him, unblinking, and slowly, he lowers his hand. “I uh… I heard about your parents,” he says softly, scuffing his shoe against the wood of the porch. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”
“Brave of you to show up.” You sound almost bored, but Yoongi knows–he senses, in that kind of primal, gut feeling he gets when it comes to you–that it’s an act. “You know I could turn you into a bug and squash you if I wanted to.”
“I know.”
There’s a tense moment where you stare at each other, the scowl you wear pulling your lips downward and creasing your brow. But then you heave an exhausted sigh.
“Why are you here, Yoongi?”
“I…” 
I want to apologize. 
I’m so sorry.
I miss you.
It all catches in his throat. He coughs in a meager attempt to entice something–anything–to come out of his mouth. “I wanted you to have this.”
He holds out his hands, and in an instant, he’s holding a box. It’s full but not heavy, and he thrusts it out in front of him in your direction.
“A 10-year-old shoebox?” You do nothing to mask your surprise. 
“Letters,” he corrects. “You don’t have to read them but… I wanted you to have them.” He pushes the box into your arms, leaving you no choice but to take it. Then, he steps away and nods his head. “Thank you for not turning me into a bug. I am sorry about your parents. I… guess I’ll go.”
Without another word, he trots down the porch steps. And then, in a blink, he’s gone. Disappeared into the night.
You sigh and shut the door, the box he’d given you cradled in the crook of your arm. You don’t have the energy for this right now. Honestly, you aren’t sure that you’ll ever have the energy for it, but certainly not the day before your parents’ funeral.
Whoever had decided that witches and their familiars die together clearly never thought of the ones left behind.
You collapse onto the couch, placing the box beside you. This would be easier if you weren’t alone. It would be easier with Yoongi, your brain supplies less than helpfully. You curse yourself. You curse him. After all these years, you thought you were over it, over the abandonment, over the betrayal. But all it takes is for him to show his stupid face, and you can feel it all bubbling up anew. Angrily, you push the box off the couch. It explodes when it hits the floor, what seems like thousands of pieces of paper tumble out and scatter from the force.
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The forest was almost silent as you stalked the trail. Not even the birds were happy that day. Twigs snapped under your feet. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you along the path that you’d hiked countless times before. You needed to get away, to escape, to calm down. But you couldn’t, because what you were running away from was hot on your heels.
“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”
Quite frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say in that moment.
“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing,” he continued. “I just… I don’t know. I need to do this.”
You stopped, sliding a little on the damp new growth below your feet. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not being oppressed, Yoongi. No one’s stopping you from going out and exploring the world.”
“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”
His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were six years old and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.
Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…
Now he wanted you gone. 
“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”
“Wh-”
There’s a saying your mother told you once, back when you were a child. You and Yoongi had found a turtle in the woods, stuck in the mud. His little turtle leg had been hurt, and you’d rushed it to your mother immediately. Familiars were excellent with animals, and she was no exception, healing the turtle in days when it should have taken weeks. You and Yoongi had both cried when you had to release it back into the wild–you’d both so wanted it to be your friend. ‘If you love something, set it free,’ your mother had said, ‘Sometimes it’s the kindest option.’
Kinder for whom?
The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering. 
Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the gem cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.
“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”
“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger. 
He didn’t follow you as you walked away, and honestly, it was for the best. It was faint, but you could still feel his emotions, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartache in person.
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There is paper everywhere. Hundreds of pieces, folded neatly in thirds. You have no idea how Yoongi had fit them all into the shoebox. He must’ve enchanted it. Groaning, you start to pick them up. 
Letters, he’d said. You flip through some as you gather them up. Now that they’re on the floor, they aren’t in any particular order, but it quickly becomes clear that these letters span years. There are some from 12 years ago, written shortly after he’d left. Some are more recent. You stare at one, from December of the year he left. Glancing through it, you expect it to unearth your anger, your rage. But it doesn’t. Just like seeing him again, all Yoongi’s letter brings is sadness. Grief.
You’d spent the past 12 years grieving. Sure, he hadn’t died, but when he left, you’d lost the closest relationship you would ever have. In 17 years, you’d grown so accustomed to having him there, that when he was gone, there was a Yoongi-sized hole left in your life that you had to learn to fill. And you did your best, sewing yourself back together and moving on. But it wasn’t the same.
Glancing through his letter, it seems you weren’t the only one struggling. You aren’t sure if that’s a comfort or not.
It’s been almost a year since the night market–one year since everything started crumbling around us. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt right in the moment, didn’t it? I really thought you would understand.
I’ve tried to figure out where things went wrong. But shit, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did you react like that when I told you I just wanted to be free?
At the end of the day, I guess we didn’t understand each other as much as I thought we did. As much as this bond brings us together, I guess it doesn’t reveal everything. But… that night I just wanted to kiss you, and so I did. Maybe it was selfish. Sometimes I wish the bond didn’t exist, that we could just be free to choose things for ourselves. That we weren't forced into what the universe wants from us… Maybe that’s selfish, too.
Why couldn’t you understand? I just wish I could turn back time and make you understand. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me, and maybe then I’d stop hating myself too.
Because watching you destroy the gem nearly killed me, but it wasn’t half as bad as watching you walk away. Should I have run after you? 
Would you still be there if I had?
You sigh and lean back against your couch. That damn night market. You hadn’t been back to it since the year he’d kissed you. It’s silly, but a part of you blames it for everything that happened. Because Yoongi’s letter is right. It had marked the beginning of everything going wrong. It wouldn’t change anything, but there’s a part of you that won’t listen to logic, that refuses to believe that maybe, if he hadn’t kissed you–if you hadn’t kissed him back–he wouldn’t have left. 
The night market was beautiful. It always was, but that year was particularly beautiful. The park had been decorated in all of its sparkling, winter glory. Candles twinkled in the trees, suspended by sheer force of will. Through some magic you weren’t familiar with, they’d enchanted the sky, and an aurora shimmered far above, slowly swirling in greens and blues and purples. Snow fell gently, and you weren’t sure if it was natural, or if it was also magic. 
You browsed the various tents and tables, going from one to the other to see the different things people were selling. Some had crafts, others baked goods, and some were even selling things like potion ingredients and spellbooks. There were a few tables dedicated to familiars–books on shifting and specialty items and insets and jewelry for bond gems.
Yoongi followed you closely, clutching a hot chocolate. You knew he wasn’t cold, the temperature was nowhere near low enough for either of you to be uncomfortable, but the way his fingers tapped against the paper cup, you knew something was up. You could sense his anxiety, could feel it in the pit of your own stomach.
“Want to go sit?” you asked softly, gesturing over to the picnic tables they’d set up under one of the sparkling trees. 
His eyes widened. “No, that’s okay. You’re looking.”
“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”
“I-” He deflated a little and didn’t argue further, allowing you to lead him over to one of the tables. 
You sat side by side on the bench, backs against the table, and watched the snow fall around you. The night was peaceful, quiet for the most part except for the occasional laughter that bubbled up. Most of the older crowd had left, leaving only the teens and young adults to explore the market. You watched the other festival goers in silence, Yoongi’s arm pressed against your own.
“You okay?” you asked softly, bumping your shoulder into his own.
Yoongi being quiet was nothing new. He was an observer, a listener, he took in information like a sponge. Which wasn’t to say that he was never loud and boisterous, that he didn’t talk incessantly to the people he cared about. But he was absolutely the calmest presence you’d ever been around, even compared to the adults in your life.
But you could sense what he was feeling, could feel his nerves and unease and conflict. And you knew that he’d rather explode than burden anyone with his feelings. So you prodded. Ever so gently. Because he was your best friend, and when he was suffering, you were too. 
He stayed quiet, and when you turned to look at him, he was much closer than you were expecting. A moment passed. You shared a look. You’d always thought that Yoongi’s eyes were pretty, but in the twinkling light of the candles above, they were deep pools of warm, dark cedar and flecks of honey. Slowly, subtly, he leaned in–or maybe you did, you weren’t sure– as though some mysterious force was drawing you together. An emotion flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite take the time to consider what it may have been because he was kissing you. Lips chapped from the bitter wind moulded against your own for the shortest of moments. It was tentative and delicate and brief, but as he pulled away, your mind reeled. 
That day had affected you in ways you never would have expected. Before, you’d never considered Yoongi as anything more than your best friend, the platonic other half of yourself. And then the kiss, and suddenly, it was like you’d been awakened. For as long as you could remember, your thoughts had been filled with Yoongi. Of the things he liked, the things he didn’t, of spending time with him, of the academy (with him). Suddenly, you were suspecting that maybe there was more to that, more than just the bond of a witch and their familiar.
You sigh. The letters are all finally back in the box, though nowhere near as nicely as they’d been before you’d kicked it and it had exploded. You should get up. You should go to bed. You have to be up fairly early for the funeral. But you stay seated, the box of letters in your lap.
Seeing him again was hard. You’re willing to admit that. You’d spent 12 years convincing yourself that you were fine, harboring anger and resentment and frustration, all for it to melt away the second you saw him. The bond makes it tough to stay mad at him, but it doesn’t let you forget the betrayal.
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You stand out of the way, looking out over the funeral attendees in the park. Your parents didn’t have a lot of friends, but there are enough people here that you’d officially call it a crowd. They’re all mingling–you’d bought beer and wine, and if you didn’t know any better, it could maybe be a party and not a wake. You tighten your fist around the bond gem in your hand. For as long as you could remember, your dad had worn it around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The gem is like your mother–bright pink, fiery orange, deep yellow–and when you were a child, you’d loved to look at it, mesmerized by the swirling, glittering colors. 
The gems have always been a gift from a familiar to their witch, given to symbolize the soulmate-like bonds between them. Most witches–especially those who were romantically involved with their familiars–wear them as jewelry. They don’t really do anything, though some people claim it made their magic stronger (you aren’t really sure about that, seeing as most gems appear in childhood).
As a child, you hadn’t been particularly close with your parents. Especially as a teen, you would have much rather hung out with Yoongi than them. But they were kind, and supportive, and for the most part, they left you to do your own thing. They’d been almost as devastated as you when you’d crushed your bond gem.
Days after your fight with Yoongi, the doorbell rang. Your mother had opened the door. You were upstairs. You’d stayed home from school that day–sick, but not in the way the administrators would have accepted. For a few brief moments, you’d ignored whatever visitor was downstairs. But then-
“She’s not here.” Your mother’s voice drifted up to you. She sounded disappointed.
“Please.” It was Yoongi, you’d recognize his baritone from miles away.
Quietly, you’d slipped out of your room and crept down the hall, sitting at the top of the stairs. You could hear your mother sigh, could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Your father appeared from the kitchen and joined your mother at the door.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned against the doorknob, pulling it a little more shut in the process so it blocked you completely from the door’s sight.
A long moment of silence passed before your mother called, “Yoongi?” You couldn’t hear his response–he must have already gone down the porch steps. Your mother continued, “It can be scary, and you’re both still young. Give it time.”
The door shut quietly, and both of your parents looked to where you were sitting. You could see it in both of their eyes. Sadness, but something else. Something that looked a little close to pity.
A laugh draws your attention, and you smile sadly as you watch your mother’s coworkers laugh at some memory. But then you notice, just behind them, a shadow close to the ground and suddenly, you’re distracted all over again. Because there, half-hidden by a bush, sits a black cat. Cedar and honey eyes watch you intently, its dark fur swirling and shining like a thousand galaxies. Your hand tightens around your parents’ bond gem, the chain pressing sharply into the flesh of your hand.
He doesn’t move, just sits there patiently. Watching. He’s there as people approach you, offering condolences and hugs that you don’t particularly want; he’s there when people start trickling out. And he’s there when you’re the last one left, all alone under the large oak tree in the center of the park. 
It’s quiet as you stand there, staring down at the bond gem in your hands. This is the part you’ve been dreading. Because you don’t want to keep the damn thing–you could if you wanted to, but there’s also tradition to think about. But it’s also weird to give up the one thing that is so emblematic of your parents. You wonder if they’d felt like this when your grandparents had died. 
At least they’d had each other during it.
You can sense him approach, even though his steps are completely silent. And though he comes closer, he keeps his distance. On one hand, you appreciate it. On the other…
“If you’re going to be here, the least you could do is be here,” you say quietly, looking down at the gem in your hand. It sparkles a little in the light.
Thankfully, he doesn’t ask you to explain. He takes a few slow steps forward until he’s standing beside you. It’s weird, having him this close again. You’d been too overwhelmed last night to actually observe, but now, you’re exhausted, yet alert. 
His hair is longer–as a teen, he’d kept it short, but the ends curl and sit just above his shoulders now. He’s filled out and put on some muscle, and though he’s still a little on the lankier side, his shoulders have broadened. He wears cologne now, the scent light, like lavender, citrus, and sage. So much has changed, and yet it’s the same eyes that watch you with a soft curiosity.
You look up to the tree, watch its branches wave in the wind. You used to think that the centenarian boughs touched the sky, and even still, it towers above everything else in the park. The leaves sparkle, their iridescence catching the light to make the tree look like something out of a fairy tale. You sigh and tighten your fist around your parents’ bond gem one more time before opening your hand.
At first, nothing happens, but then the gem glistens and rises out of your grasp. It joins the other leaves close to the top of the tree, becoming just another sparkle in the prism. 
For a while, not even the birds make a noise. You just stand there, looking up at the tree that has stood sentinel over most of your life. The wind rustles the leaves, and they shimmer as they move. You have no idea how many leaves are up there, how many bond gems have been placed over time. Thousands–maybe hundreds of thousands–of witches and their familiars, most forgotten to the annals of time.
It’s strange, knowing that you would never be memorialized by the tree.
“Let me buy you a coffee,” Yoongi whispers from beside you, husky baritone cutting through the silence.
Yoongi isn’t sure why you say yes, but soon enough, you’re walking into the Green Bean just behind him. He’s uncomfortable, people have been watching you since the park, and their stares are starting to burn holes in his back. He says nothing about it until you’re in line at the cafe.
“What are they staring at?” he whispers, leaning close so that only you can hear in the semi-busy cafe. He chooses to ignore how you tense up ever so slightly.
“You’ve been gone for 12 years, what did you expect?”
Right. He supposes he should have expected their animosity. But it’s not just him they’re watching. He doesn’t miss the way people stare at you, watch you warily as you simply exist. His mind races. Was that his fault? Did his absence cause so many unintended consequences?
You order a coffee and choose a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from everyone but still near the window. He sits in the chair across from you, the hard metal shockingly comfortable despite its harsh lines. An awkward silence settles over you both, but Yoongi’s not sure what to say, so he lets it linger. He watches you stare out the window. Which is a little weird, right? But he can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away. It’s like after 12 years of being away, he just wants to look at you.
The barista calls out your orders and Yoongi stands to grab both of them from the counter. He places one oversized ceramic mug down in front of you, and the other, he wraps his hands around. It’s warm, almost hot, and he dares not take a drink yet. You stare down at the foam on top of your drink, one finger hooked around the handle of the cup.
“What happened to them?” he asks softly. When you look up, surprised, he clarifies. “Your parents, I mean. I… didn’t hear how they…”
You sigh, tap your mug. He can sense the deep sadness you struggle with and is just about to tell you to forget he asked when you speak. “I always kind of thought it would be dad who’d go first.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “He was always so frail when we were kids. But mom got sick last year and…” You shrug. “One of the neighbors found them.”
“I’m so sorry.” You wave him off. “No. Honestly. They were nice.”
“Thanks.”
He nods, and silence settles again. But then something you said pops into his mind, striking him as strange. “You aren’t living here anymore?” Mentally, he slaps himself. Why did it come out like he’s surprised? He supposes that he’s always just kind of pictured you still… here, in town.
“I’m over in Ashland,” you say, generally gesturing west, toward the city. “I work at the library at the university.”
“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”
You shrug. “Mostly good. It’s a job. The library’s usually pretty quiet, so…”
“That’s really cool.”
Ashland is big, much bigger than here in square feet and at least 10 times the people. It’s a real city, with skyscrapers and functioning public transportation and one of the country’s top medical universities. He’s proud of you, he realizes. You’d always planned to leave for the city, too constrained by life in such a small town. For the longest time, he’d planned on going with you. And then, of course, he’d ruined it. It stings a little to know that you’d gone without him like that, that your life had continued as planned, that maybe he hadn’t meant that much in the grand scheme of things.
But then your eyes meet, and he’s confronted by the anxiety and sadness you’re feeling, and he knows he’s just being stupid. Again.
“So, uh…” He feels a wave of nerves wash over him–they aren’t his own. You tap your half-empty mug. “What have you been up to?”
If he’s honest, Yoongi wasn’t expecting you to ask about him. He’s shocked enough that you’d even agreed to be here, let alone that you were interested in his life. “I was traveling,” he starts cautiously, gauging your reaction. You blink slowly, watching his every move. If you can sense his apprehension, you don’t react. “But now I’m up north in Ulmae. I’ve got a pretty good thing going at this restaurant on the North Shore.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, uh…” He chuckles, a little nervous. “They’ve got me bartending on the weekends and let me do music during the week.”
Your eyes widen a little, and you lean forward. “They let you play?”
“It’s only like an hour a night-”
“No, shut up. That’s amazing!” You grin, big and genuine, but Yoongi can sense a tinge of sadness in it. 
He’s disappointed when you both finish your coffees and you stand up to put your cup in the little tub by the counter. It’s starting to get late, the sun is starting to set and the streetlights have turned on. It was nice, catching up with you, short though it may have been. It’s not lost on him how strange it is, having to catch up with someone that was once practically a part of him. 
Together, you stand outside in the chilly early evening air, looking down the street toward the park. Over the roofs of the shops and houses, Yoongi can just barely see the centinel tree with its sparkling leaves. People walk past–people he recognizes but couldn’t possibly name–some are more subtle about it, but others practically break their necks to stare at the two of you. Suddenly, Yoongi feels exposed outside the cafe, like there are eyes everywhere. He hates this, hates feeling like he’s doing something wrong just for wanting to talk to you more.
You sigh, scuff your shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk, shove your hands deep into the pockets of your dark jeans. “I… probably shouldn’t even ask,” you start warily. “But do you want to come back for a drink?”
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The house is the same, yet somehow also different, like one of those spot the difference puzzles come to life. The layout of the living room is the same, but the couch is a different style and color. There’s a blanket folded the same way under the coffee table, but it’s clearly a different pattern than he remembers. Most of the photos are the same, but there are 12 years’ worth of more of them. 
Apparently, the stash of alcohol your father kept in the built in cabinet beside the television hasn’t changed.
You pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table with a gentle ‘clink.” The shoebox he’d given you sits on the floor. The lid is off, the letters contained within are a mess. Have you read them, or did they spill out? There’s no way for him to really know. 
Silently, you hand him a glass and sit on the other side of the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug in your lap. You sip at the double in your glass stoically, and for a moment, you stare at him. He has to resist the urge to squirm under your gaze. There’s something different about how you’re sitting, something in your aura that he didn’t notice in the cafe. Maybe you’d been saving it for private, but he can sense that you’re reining your emotions in. 
But then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you turn over your hand. Two pieces of paper sit in your palm. “I’m going to need you to explain these.” The two letters float over to him and open themselves in front of him.
The first is dated only a few years after he’d left.
I’ve been struck by a thought. I had tacos earlier, and I just know you would have loved them. Which made me realize that there’s still part of me that thinks about you at every turn. Your friendship was such an integral part of my life, and not having it anymore feels like there’s a piece missing. Last week it was a song on the radio. Before that, a stray cat I saw that I know for certain you would have loved. Everything reminds me of you, everything leads back to you. You’re everywhere and nowhere, and…
I would like to see you again. Someday. 
How have you been doing? Where has your life taken you? I can only hope it’s treated you kindly. It’s what you deserve.
The other is from the day he turned 25.
A quarter of a century, and for some reason I feel incredibly old. With it comes some realizations, things I didn’t understand before. Maybe I was too young, too blinded by my own need to feel free… but it never was about being free from you. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it must have been for you…
I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on you, like I didn’t want you. I never wanted to make you feel rejected, because it wasn’t you I was trying to be free from.
I was so scared of having my whole life laid out in front of me. I never took the time to think what my life could be with the bond–I only ever thought about what the bond meant for my life. All of the expectations, what comes with being a familiar, our roles in society and the universe…
I realize now that I could have–should have–communicated it all better. If only so that I wouldn’t have lost you. So that it wouldn’t have led to me making you feel like I was rejecting you. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered; at the end of the day I was still walking away from you. But at least maybe I could have made it more clear that it was never you that I wanted to be free from.
I’m sorry. I feel like it’s useless to say, but I am so sorry for not realizing any of this before.
Wherever you are, I hope you’ll understand. Take care until I see you again.
I hope I see you again.
Yoongi sighs. The letters–all of them, not just these two–tended to be rambling diatribes, a snapshot of his thoughts as he worked through his feelings about his own life and everything and you. He’d been an idiot when he left–he was 17 and full of himself and terrified of the world but too proud to admit it–and it had taken him far too long to realize a lot of important things.
For a moment, it’s quiet as he thinks of what to say. How should he even begin? But apparently, he’s quiet for too long, because you wave your hand and the letters fold themselves back up and float back down to the shoebox. When you speak, you sound exhausted. “Why are you here, Yoongi?”
“I-”
“Because if the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I’d have the balls to come back. On one hand, I’m impressed. On the other…” You trail off and shrug.
He’s quiet, not sure how to respond. He’s got lots of thoughts, lots of feelings–of course he does–but right now, you’re a wall, and he’s not sure how to read the situation. He’s not sure what you need to hear right now. So he says nothing.
You laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and you look down at the glass in your hand, stare into the dregs of the amber whisky you’ve nearly finished. “I’m running on like two hours’ sleep,” you admit. “But fuck, Yoongi, I… I was so convinced that I’d never see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” Then, softer. “I’m still not sure.”
“Why?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think and god, he just wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.
It takes a second for you to process his absolute trash heap of an asinine question. But when you do, your face contorts into somewhere between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” You practically spit the question at him. “You… you… Do you know what it’s like to have the most important person in your life tell you that he wants rid of you?”
“I never said-”
“You wanted to be free. From all of it. From me.” You pick at the corner of the pillow in your lap. “And then you just come back out of the blue like nothing happened and drop this damn shoebox at my feet-” from where it sits on the floor, the shoebox explodes, letters flying everywhere, “-and you just… What did you expect, Yoongi? What do you want?”
“I don’t know!” He sounds a little desperate when he says it, and he hates that, hates how pathetic it makes him sound. So he shrugs, takes a deep breath, leans back a little. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just… I missed you. And then mom told me about your parents, and…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and out of his eyes. “And then I was on a train.”
You stare at him for a moment, a little gobsmacked. You have no idea how to respond. What do you say to that? Where do you even start? There are a hundred things you could say. You’ve played this scenario out a thousand times in your head over the years–what would you do if he came back?–but somehow, it never played out like this. In your mind, he’d never told you that he missed you.
You’d never considered that he would miss you.
But you should say something, right? It’s weird that you’re sitting there, just staring at him in complete silence. Has your jaw been clenched the whole time? Does he think you’re angry with him? Quickly, you school your face into something a little more neutral and say the first thing that comes to mind.
“How long are you here for?”
Truthfully, you probably should have asked sooner. You’ve been wondering since he showed up on your doorstep last night, but it never seemed like a great time to ask.
He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”
You nod, probably longer than it makes sense to, but it takes you a bit to process. Tomorrow. He’s back in your life for two days, and then he’s gone again. That’s not even enough time to catch up, let alone actually talk with him. And that’s… you aren’t sure how to feel. 
Yoongi watches you quietly and takes a sip of his drink. He’s barely touched it. “Maybe…” he says after a moment, leaning forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go?”
Part of you wants to tell him no, to ask him to stay, to tell you more about his gig working at the bar. Anything to keep him here and talking to you. But there’s a more logical part of you that’s overwhelmed, that needs some time to think. He’s offering to go, which means that he’s either uncomfortable or his train leaves early in the morning. Or both. He stands, thanks you for the drink, and you follow him to the door. He hesitates just outside, opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it almost as quickly.
You say nothing. And for the second time in as many days, you watch him leave without another word.
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The playground was almost empty. Mama said it was supposed to rain, but she’d also said that you would go anyway, for a little bit. You were trying to learn how to swing on your own, and plus Yoongi and his mom were going to be there, and he’d said he’d bring his trucks to play in the sand. 
But he wasn’t there yet, so you were on the swing. Mama pushed you, her hand firm on your back, and you closed your eyes. You were flying, wind in your face as you launched forward into the air. And then, just as suddenly, you were falling, swinging backward.
“Remember what I said,” mama said softly. “Kick your legs.”
You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that. Your legs were little, and when you kicked out, you felt more like you were going to slide out of the swing seat than anything. You heard her laugh a little, but her hand was on your back once again, propelling you forward. 
A few minutes passed in a blur of forwards and backwards. You still didn’t quite understand the whole swinging on your own thing, but mama’s rhythmic pushes kept you going. But then, a small voice at the edge of the playground yelled your name, and you heard excited footsteps in the wood chips. Mama helped you slow to a stop, and you jumped off the swing.
A little boy, his dark hair cut short by his own mom, ran toward you. He was carrying an armful of small cars and larger trucks. He skidded to a stop in front of you, a wide, gummy grin engulfing his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“I brought all my trucks!” he announced, looking down at the toys in his arms. “You can be the green one. Here.” He tried to hand it to you, and another fell in the process.
You picked it up and took the green truck from him. It was bright green–the same shade as the lime popsicles Yoongi’s mom usually bought–and it had big wheels. You followed him to the sandbox and you both plopped down. It didn’t take long to have a whole city constructed. Granted, it was all made from rocks and wood chips and other small things you found around the sandbox. But it was a city and it was beautiful.
Yoongi drove his truck over a bump, making engine noises as he pushed it toward you. As he drove the truck down another sand hill, bumping and bouncing it over sticks and rocks, something fell out of the sleeve of his jacket. It was perfectly round, and it rolled to a stop in front of you. You picked it up and inspected it. It was some kind of rock, hard and shiny, but it was also colorful, and you were pretty sure rocks couldn’t be blue. 
One look at the rock and he frowned, calling for his mom. She came over immediately and crouched down to see what he was so concerned about. Your mama followed her, and she was the one that saw the rock in your hand first.
“Oh,” she said, her hand gently smoothing down your hair. “You two have found your gem.”
“Wha’s that mean?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his mom. 
She smiled and sat in the sand beside him, pulling him into her lap. She held out her arm, twisted her bracelet around so that he could see it. “You know how I have this from your dad? It’s like that.”
“But-”
“Your friendship is special,” she continued, pinching his cheek. Yoongi laughed. “It means you’ve gotta look out for each other now.”
For a moment, he was quiet. But then he nodded, just once. “Okay!” He held out his hand to you, tiny palm face up. “Can I have it?”
“It’s not yours anymore,” his mom said softly, brushing his short hair back. “It’s a gift.”
You looked to your mama and she nodded. “Take care of it,” she told you. “You only get one.”
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Middle school was the worst. Everything was difficult. Social situations, interactions with your parents, school. At the time, it all seemed like it was unfairly hard. Making it worse, of course, was getting sick. As a kid, you were never sick that often. Yoongi was a different story. For whatever reason, familiars were just more susceptible to illness, and when he got sick, he got sick. 
It was the middle of the semester, and Yoongi hadn’t been to school in days. Your teachers hadn’t even asked, they’d just started giving you packets–homework and printouts of their lessons and extra materials–so he wouldn’t fall behind. So you stopped by his house after school. His mom let you in, offering you some of the snacks she was making for Yoongi before you headed up the stairs to his room. 
You knocked gently before entering. The knock was a politeness–you were close enough with him and familiar enough with his room at this point in your life that you could just barge in without warning and you knew he wouldn’t mind. He looked like hell, stuck in his bed buried in blankets. It was clear he’d had a fever at some point, because his hair looked damp and sweaty. 
But he sat up when you walked in, coughing deeply before speaking. “You’re going to get sick, too,” he protested weakly. 
You waved him off. “Everyone’s sick.” You pulled over his desk chair to the side of his bed and started to go through your bag. “Ms. Miller gave me your math homework, but if you understand it, you’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He giggled at that, gummy smile soon hidden by his hand as he coughed. “Here’s the novel for Brown’s class. She said she’d talk to you about making up the paper when you’re back.”
It took a surprisingly long time to go through eight classes’ worth of homework and assignments, but you’d put sticky notes at the front of each packet explaining things, too, so the fact that he was half-asleep for most of your explanation didn’t really matter. 
“Will you stay?” he asked when you were done. “Help me with some of this?”
“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?” you teased.
“I mean, you don’t have to. If you want to go home, that’s fine, too. I just-” He coughed, burying his face in his blankets. 
“You staying for dinner, hon?” Yoongi’s mom called from the bottom of the stairs.
“Yes please!” you responded, shuffling through the stack of packets you’d brought for Yoongi. “Wanna take a stab at math?”
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Halfway through the fall of your senior year, Yoongi started to get… weird. Cagey. Like he was trying to hide something and figure out particle physics at the same time. You’d tried asking him about it a few times, only for him to wave you off with a quiet “just thinking about some things.” After that, he’d be back to normal for a few days. But every time, like clockwork, he would fall back into it.
Finally, on the third day of the new year, he pulled you aside. Tucked back into the dormant foliage of the park, away from prying eyes, he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was nervous, you could feel it deep inside you, but to be honest, you didn’t really need your bond to tell you what was plain to see. 
“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His brows furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he motioned for you to sit. “I need to tell you something.”
“Okay?” You sat on the edge of a big rock, confused.
“I…” he started again, sitting beside you. You could feel a spike of nerves, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think… fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”
“You can just say it,” you told him. “It’s just me.”
He nodded and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s the problem,’ but after a moment, he continued. “I need to be free of all of this.”
“What?”
“Haven’t you ever thought that maybe the universe doesn’t know what it’s talking about? That maybe you’d be happier if you chose things for yourself?” He frowned. “There’s rules for gifts. We’re only good at certain types of magic because of how we were born. We have to celebrate holidays certain ways, we have to do specific things on our birthdays-”
“-and we get told who we’re to bond to.”
He recoiled at your words. “That’s not-”
“But it’s true, right?” Your gaze fell from him to your hands. “It’s just one more thing you don’t get to control.”
Yoongi sighed. “I just… want to be able to choose for myself.”
Suddenly, you were sick to your stomach. This was the last thing you’d expected. You didn’t particularly like all of the traditions, either, but you were 17. What the hell were you going to do about it? But this felt like he was saying he didn’t want you. You hadn’t yet talked about the kiss at the night market a few weeks prior, but you’d never guessed that he’d do such a sudden about-face. 
“Right,” you said softly.
“Just… think about it?” he asked, dark eyes pleading. 
You didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like how it made you feel. But you nodded anyway. Maybe he would change his mind.
Days gave way to weeks and months, and before you knew it, spring had come. Yoongi hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he’d gotten more insistent. 
“I want to find myself,” he’d told you once. “I need to make sure this is how I want to live my life.”
“I just need to get away,” he’d said one day while you were doing homework together. “Start fresh somewhere new.”
And then, on the way home from school one day, he’d said, “I need to be free of it all.” 
And you’d snapped. Three months of hearing him talk about it, three months of him basically saying that your entire way of life was wrong and that he was chafing to get away. You couldn’t help it.
“Fuck off,” you’d told him, taking the trail behind the houses at a faster pace. Despite being so attuned with nature thanks to his familiar genes, he’d had trouble keeping up with you.
“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”
He’d pushed. And eventually, you’d given in. Because despite everything, you’d loved him, and if he was unhappy, you wanted to fix that. And now…
Now you’re sitting alone at the train station at ass o’clock in the morning. The train station has just barely opened, and already you’re inside, clutching a cup of coffee. There are a few other people here, milling around, waiting for their early trains to god knows where. You can feel them watching you, can feel them trying to make it subtle that they’re staring. At this point, you’re used to it. Word travels fast in small towns, especially when that word is as earth-shattering as a broken bond gem and a falling out between a witch and their familiar. 
You try to ignore them, focus on your coffee and the posters across the waiting area from you. 
Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.
Bags larger than this poster must be checked into the train’s luggage car.
Please remain seated until your train is announced and National Rail personnel give authorization to enter the platform.
You scroll through the news on your phone. Read the posters again. Stare out the window at the coffee shop across the street. And wait. A train arrives, and the couple that had been staring at you leaves. You sigh and stand to throw out your now empty cup.
Just as you do, the door to the train station opens. You turn to look, and there stands Yoongi. He’s wearing a black shirt, a bag slung across his body. His hair is pushed back off his face and he’s wearing his glasses. He’s clutching an absolutely massive travel mug and his phone in one hand, the other rolls a small suitcase behind him. He looks sleepy, but the second his dark eyes land on you, he jolts a little, as if electrocuted into being awake and alert.
“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.
“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, still a little gruff from sleep. You get the sense that maybe he hasn’t said much of anything to anyone this morning.
You sigh and gesture for him to follow you to a bench. The next train–his, you presume–isn’t due for another 20 minutes. You have time, but not much.
“I didn’t like how we left things,” you admit. “I… I wasn't sure if you were serious.”
“Serious?” His head falls to the side slightly, confused. But then, it seems, he understands, and he nods. “I did miss you–I do. I spent the entire ride here thinking about how seeing you again was going to go.”
“Were you right?”
He chuckles. “Not exactly.”
You hum and nod, and for the briefest of moments, silence settles over you. The stationmaster types away at his computer, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the entire station. But then you force yourself to say something that’s been on your mind since he showed up on your doorstep two days ago.
“It’s been good seeing you again,” you say, and even though you mean it, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… think in a way, after so long, I made you the villain in my head. It’s good to see that you’re… not that.”
“I am sorry,” he whispers. “That was the worst thing I have ever done, and I just…”
“I get it.”
“What?”
“I think I kind of always did, but… it just hurt too much to think that you were including me in everything that you wanted to get away from, and I just-”
“You were the last thing I wanted to get away from.” Maybe it’s the waver in his voice, maybe it’s the way he ducks his head to make sure he makes eye contact, but you believe him. He sits his mug down on the bench beside him and gathers your hands in his. “I was so fucking dumb. I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat, but god I was too stupid and selfish to take ten minutes to think.”
“I thought maybe I’d done something,” you admit quietly. “I thought that maybe after the night market-”
“No! Oh my god, no,” he exclaims, his hands tightening around your own. “You’re my best friend! I lo-”
“Train 49–the Northern Limited–will be arriving on the platform in five minutes,” the stationmaster announces, not even bothering to use the building’s intercom. “I’ll take you over to the platform when you’re ready.”
Yoongi groans.
“Here.” You pull your hands away from him and immediately miss the warmth of him. But you reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and shoving it into his hands in one motion. “Put your number in.”
For a moment, he stares at you, dumbfounded. But then the stationmaster opens the door to his office, and the noise jolts Yoongi into action. He types quickly and hands you your phone. You don’t even look at it, just lock it and shove it into your pocket. He hands you his phone and you enter your own contact information before giving it back.
You stand at the same time, and for one brief, quiet moment, you worry that maybe he’s just going to leave it at that. But then he rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the stationmaster.
“I’ll text you,” he promises.
You nod, almost mechanically. You weren’t expecting it to hurt this much to see him leave again. As he turns to gather his things, something comes over you.
“I- Can we-” You sigh, take a deep breath. “Can I have a hug?”
He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a squeak, and it takes almost no time for the pink to start blossoming on his cheeks. He sputters for a second, and you can feel his shock. But then he opens his arms, and you find yourself taking a small step forward.
It’s shockingly easy to fall back into him, to step into his arms. He’s warm, and solid, but still also somehow soft. His cologne lingers on his clothes, all lavender-y and citrus-y and sage-y. Your arms fit around his waist, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is normal, that nothing ever happened and that he isn’t leaving. But you hear the train horn in the distance and you pull away. You kiss his cheek as you part, and his eyes go wide in shock.
“Text me,” you tell him firmly, reaching down to grab his coffee mug and hand it to him.
“I will. I promise.”
And with one last, fleeting look, he steps onto the elevator with the stationmaster to go over to the platform. 
You stand outside the station long after the train departs, feeling very much like you did when he’d left the first time. You should be feeling optimistic–for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s hope. For you, for your friendship, for… whatever comes next. But it’s hard to feel any sort of positive when he’s on a train back to a city seven hours away, and you have to go home in the exact opposite direction in a few short days.
As you’re walking back to your car in the lot down the street, your phone dings. When you unlock it, you get the sudden feeling that you’re flying, like a horde of butterflies have erupted within you. It’s nerves and it’s excitement and maybe, it’s also a little bit of hope.
Yoongi 💙: thanks again for not turning me into a bug
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“I’ve been thinking,” Yoongi says one late night, his deep, sleep-deprived voice distorted ever so slightly by the distance and the speakers of your phone. You can barely see him–there’s a dim light that just slightly illuminates his face, but the rest of the room is dark.
“Dangerous,” you joke.
“Rude.” He nuzzles down further into his pillow. “I’d like to come visit,” he admits softly.
For a moment, your mind goes blank. There’s a fluttering in your stomach, hundreds of butterflies trying to escape at once. He’d kept his word after the train station, texting and calling you frequently over the past couple weeks. You’d text throughout the week–little messages about bad days and delicious lunches and cute dogs–and then on the weekends, one of you would inevitably end up calling each other. You’d spend hours on the phone, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the silence between you. 
The video calls were a recent development. Since they began, you’d watched him cook dinner, he’d played piano while you worked on a spreadsheet for work, and one early morning, he’d called you on his way home after bartending so he wouldn’t fall asleep on the train.
“What do you mean?” You laugh a little. Maybe it was a little obvious what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it.
He groans a little, stretches one arm up before covering his eyes with it. He peeks out at you through the cook in his elbow, one singular, dark eye sparkling, even in the poor quality of the video. “I miss you,” he mumbles, and you almost don’t catch it, it’s so muffled by his arm and your phone’s speaker.
You hum. The butterflies in your stomach make themselves known again. “I guess you could come.”
“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”
“Hey now. It’s against the rules to take something like that back.”
He laughs. “What rules?”
“You know. The rules.” You gesture vaguely before pulling your blanket up a little further on your body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules?” He grunts. “Being away for so long has rotted your brain, I’m afraid.”
“So rude.” His arm is still obscuring his face slightly, but you can see his big, gummy smile as he laughs. “No, but seriously. Are you busy next weekend?”
You frown. You’d been trying to forget about next weekend. “Normally I’d go home for the new year,” you say softly.
“Why don’t,” he begins, stifling a yawn. You’re a little surprised he’s made it this long without seeming tired. It’s almost 3am. “Why don’t I come hang out? We can do new year’s stuff together.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course.”
“What about work?”
He shifts, the arm that was over his face now supporting his head under his pillow. “I make the schedule. They’ll deal with it.”
“Yoongi.”
He continues on, ignoring you. “I can work the day shift and get a train right after work on Friday, but I wouldn’t get there until late, is that okay?”
You sigh. It would be nice to not spend the holiday alone. And it would be nice to see him again. Sure, you’ve been talking to him in one way or another, but it’s different than having him in person. You finally agree, and he shoots you a smug, sleepy smile.
The week passes at a glacial pace. Work is slow because of the break in classes for the upcoming holiday, and spending time in an empty library is infinitely less entertaining than you’d expect it to be. Most of your coworkers have taken off, so you’re mostly alone with your thoughts. You fill the time with paperwork, completing literature loan requests for the University’s faculty and doing intake for the newly released journals the library has subscriptions for. 
In the small handful of weeks since you’d seen him last, you’d replayed things in your mind. But mostly, you’ve been stuck on how nice it is to have him in your life again. You aren’t fooling yourself. You haven’t forgotten. But there’s a part of you–a large part, if you’re honest with yourself–that hopes that this is a step forward, that you can be close again. Maybe not how you were, but something that resembles a friendship.
After an eternity, it’s Friday. You sit outside of the train station in your car, parked in one of the pick up spots just outside of the main door. The trickle of people into and out of the station has slowed significantly now that it’s dark out–you’ve never seen it this dead. It’s late, the station is getting ready to close, but there’s one last train that has yet to come in. There’s another car parked a few spaces to your left, and you wonder briefly about who they’re waiting to pick up, but it’s fleeting. 
The door to the station opens automatically, and out steps Yoongi. He rolls a suitcase beside him, a messenger bag slung across his body, his other hand shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. He looks around, confused, his gaze going back and forth between your car and the one to your left. You turn on the dome light and wave and he nods.
He gives you a quick greeting as he opens the back door, shoving his bags in the back seat. When he finally climbs into the passenger seat, he sighs deeply, resting his head against the headrest for a moment before turning to you.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey. How was the train?”
He groans. “Long.”
You hum. He’d worked a short, early shift so he could catch the last train from Ulmae to Ashland. He looks and sounds exhausted. But he’s here. He’s not a face on a screen, he’s in your car. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s strange. You’d been without him for nearly 13 years. It’s only been a few short weeks since you’d seen him last, but you’re giddy, practically bursting with excitement at the fact that, for the next two and a half days, he’s here. With you.
You drive in relative silence, willing the lights to be green more for Yoongi’s sake than your own. The radio plays a soft hip-hop song, and you vaguely recognize it as one of the bands he’d been obsessed with in high school, but you don’t turn it up. You’re fairly certain that he’s fallen asleep, his head lolled slightly to the side so that he’s facing the window.
It’s a damn miracle that there’s an open spot in front of your building, but you gladly take it. There are people in your building who don’t know how to parallel park—who refuse to do it—but you’d taught yourself just for instances like this. For a moment, you think you’re going to have to wake Yoongi up, but just as you cut the engine, he unbuckles his seat belt and stretches.
Your apartment isn’t large, but it’s bigger than most for what you pay for it. You’re on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building, and your bedroom has a lovely view of the building beside you. But if you lean a little to one side and press your face up against the glass, you can see out into the city beyond, and the university campus in the far distance.
He sits his bags down in your living room and plops down on the couch. You’ve already set out some blankets and a couple pillows for him. The clock on your microwave says 11:05.
“You’re probably exhausted,” you say. “I’ll let you get settled.”
Immediately, he picks his head up from the back cushion of the couch. “’m not tired.” Ever defiant. But you can tell he’s lying. You can see it in his eyes how groggy he is. Normally, he’s up much later than this–you know, because sometimes, he calls you–but between working an early shift and the six-hour train ride, you don’t blame him for being a little sleepy.
“I put some towels out in the bathroom,” you tell him, gesturing down the hall. “It’s the door on the left. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks.”
And with that, you leave him there in your living room. You can hear him unzipping his bag as you retreat into your room.
An hour later, you find that you can’t sleep. Not that you’ve even tried. You aren’t even sure why you’re so wired. But you’re sitting in your bed, legs covered by a sheet, in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You’ve had friends stay over before. But this… you feel like you did as a kid, having your first sleepover. Except back then you were wired on soda and sugary snacks and it was a treat to stay up late. Now, you’re just…
You hear the bathroom door open and shut, and after a moment, Yoongi stands in the doorway to your room.
“You have the softest towels in the world,” he says, hair hanging in damp strands in front of his eyes. He pats and scrunches it dry with one of the fluffy grey towels you’d set out for him. 
“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”
“I’ll just have to stuff one in my bag, then.”
“I charge a 5% fee for any towels that leave the premises.”
At that, he laughs, a groggy, squeaky sound that shakes his shoulders and crinkles his eyes and leaves a wide, gummy smile in its wake.
“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“I haven’t really thought about it.” He shoots you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, and you relent. “Well,” you pat the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, “There’s this thing every year in the park to watch the meteors,” you say as Yoongi eases himself onto the mattress. “But it doesn’t start until late.” He hums. “Was there something you wanted to do?” 
“No, just-” He stifles a yawn. “Curious.” He leans back against the headboard, settling in.
Just like that, you fall easily into conversation. It’s comfortable, calm. Just two old friends chatting. He likes your apartment, thinks the tile in your bathroom is really nice. He asks about your job, nods along as you tell him about working in the library and your coworkers. 
And slowly, his reactions become slower, delayed, until he finally doesn’t respond at all. You look over, and his chin is tucked against his chest, his breathing gentle. Asleep.
For a moment, you consider going out to the couch. It would be weird, right, to stay here with him? But as you’re about to kick the blanket off, you pause. 
We’re adults. Adults can share a bed. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re mature enough to let this just be two people sleeping in the same space. 
At least, you think you are. 
But as you settle in yourself, snuggling down into your blankets and turning off the light, you’re suddenly faced with the quiet peacefulness of his face. He’d always been handsome, and now that you’re both older, you can appreciate just how beautiful he really is. He sighs and slides down a little, his hand brushing against your arm as he gets more comfortable. 
Oh no. 
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You sit on the floor of your living room, a box of pizza on the coffee table that you’ve shoved out of the way. Yoongi’s beside you, your backs against the couch as you watch some anime he’d been trying to convince you to watch back in high school. You’re three episodes in, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t really care for the basketball-themed show. Part of you is still afraid that if you say something wrong, he’ll be gone again. 
His arm rests casually behind you on the cushions, far enough away that it’s more a comfortable way to sit than any sort of advance, but that doesn’t stop the smallest of butterflies from making itself known in your stomach. This Yoongi is so different from the Yoongi you knew—the one who, as a kid, got excited by construction equipment and the concept of ice cream, and as a teen spent his free time hiding from his parents, playing the piano and hanging out with you (though neither were mutually exclusive). He’s quiet, comfortable in the silence, comfortable with letting things linger. 
You’re a little jealous of it, to be honest. 
Yoongi leans forward slightly, and a piece of pizza meets him halfway, floating gently into his grasp. “Do you remember,” he begins, settling back in against the couch, “when we were 16 and we went camping?” You hum an affirmative. “We spent most of the week playing old board games with my parents.”
You smile at the memory. If anyone had asked back then, you would have told them it was lame that you’d had to spend the whole time with Yoongi’s parents. But now? That was one of the more fun summers you’d ever had. “What made you think of that?”
He shrugs, mouth full of pizza. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Things were so much simpler then…” 
You nod and hum softly, but ultimately, you say nothing. Much simpler indeed. 
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“You know,” Yoongi begins, zipping his coat up to his chin, “when you said ‘park’, I was kind of expecting it to be in the city.”
“I think technically it is.” You lock your car and meet him at the front of it.
“We drove for an hour!”
You shrug. “Big city.”
He laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. He can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but there was a sign on the way in with the university logo on it, so he supposes that whether it’s part of the city or not, it doesn’t really matter. There’s a well-lit trail that runs from the shale parking lot up a hill slightly to a clearing that overlooks the city and the rest of the park. It’s busy–people mill about around the parking lot, and he can see a steady stream of visitors on the trail up to the clearing. 
He adjusts his coat–it’s cold, and both his shoulder and his senses ache with the impending snow–and when he’s ready, the two of you start walking toward the trail. It’s astonishingly busy, and as you weave your way through the crowd, leading him up the hill, he grabs your hand. 
So we don’t get separated, he tells himself. For a moment, he expects you to pull away. Not maliciously, he’s not expecting you to scoff and throw his hand away. But what he isn’t expecting is for you to tighten your grip on him and tug him this way and that as you get closer to the clearing. His hand is warm where your skin touches his, like he’s holding a candle a little too close to the flame.
The clearing is massive, mostly flat but not entirely, with gentle rolling slopes that provide some extra elevation here and there. On one of the little hills, a few food trucks are set up, though how they got there, Yoongi isn’t really sure. Someone must have magicked them through the path or up the hill or something. There are picnic tables scattered around, mostly near the food trucks, but throughout the clearing, as well. Towards the edge of the clearing, there’s a cliff with an overlook that has a spectacular view of the city vista below. People are everywhere. Of course, there are a lot of college-aged kids hanging out in big and small groups. But there’s also a shocking amount of people that are Yoongi’s age and older–professors, he assumes, and university staff here to enjoy the evening. Almost all of them are holding drinks, and just about every one of them seems to be paired with someone.
It’s subtle sometimes, seeing bonded witches and familiars. Of course, the ones who are romantically involved tend to be more obvious, but the ones that are just friends are just as easy to spot once you know what to look for. It’s the people who stand so close together they’re almost touching, the ones who lean in a little extra close to whisper something. And the clearing is full of pairs standing in each other’s personal spaces.
You tug on his hand to direct him off to the left and he blindly follows, squeezing your fingers ever so gently as a response. 
There’s a pair of people at one of the tables by the food trucks. They spot you almost immediately, and one of them stands to greet you. He’s a little taller than you are, made even more obvious when he gives you an awkward, one-armed hug over the picnic table’s bench. The other one–a woman–remains seated, eyeing Yoongi.
For a hot minute, it’s weird, as he stands there in silence while you chat with the man and woman. It’s not even the side-eye that the woman’s shooting him. The man is handsome–Yoongi’s not blind–and you are friendly with him. But there’s a moment, the briefest of moments, where you gesture somewhere off to your left. And when your body moves, Yoongi’s arm moves, too, and a little part of him, a silly, childish, hopeful part, soars.
You’re still holding his hand.
Eventually, you introduce him to the two. Alice works the reference desk in your library while she’s doing a doctorate program in linguistics. Her partner is gone in the winter, fighting fires in the far south. Despite her harsh side-eye, she greets Yoongi with a smile and a polite handshake. Jihwan, on the other hand, is the head baseball coach at the university. How the two of you met, Yoongi can only guess, but you make no mention of Jihwan’s partner, and Yoongi doesn’t see a gem anywhere. He almost–almost–starts to feel bad for the guy, but then he opens his mouth.
You ask a simple question, gesturing with your head to the food trucks. “What do they have good?”
“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”
Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”
It’s not even what he says. It’s how he says it. Like you and Alice are toddlers, like you can’t be trusted not to drown yourselves in carbs. But you roll your eyes and Alice scoffs playfully, and Yoongi realizes that this is not the first time Jihwan has done something like this. And suddenly, Yoongi hates this guy. 
“Apparently, he’s got a new flavor this year,” Alice says, continuing like Jihwan never interrupted. “But the taco guy is also back-”
“Is the popcorn guy back?” you ask. laughing. “Because I kind of want a front-row seat to that.” Yoongi must look confused, because you explain. “Pierogi guy’s daughter was engaged to taco guy’s daughter. But last year, pierogi guy and taco guy just started yelling at each other-”
“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.
“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.
You push him.  “It was a little like having our own little telenovela here.”
Cautiously, Yoongi asks, “Why were they fighting?”
“No one knows.” You shrug. “But it launched a campus-wide food war. Everyone was choosing sides. It was like the year the Moondance tried to change its logo.”
Jihwan and Alice look at you, a little confused. But Yoongi knows exactly what you’re talking about. Somewhere around when you were preteens, the owners of the Moondance diner decided that its logo was outdated and wanted to update it. The whole town had been in an uproar, whole neighborhoods entering into a Cold War-esque stand-off over their preferences. People who had been friends for 50 years were suddenly in an unsolvable, unending argument. All over a color palette swap and a slightly newer font. Yoongi hadn’t cared much one way or the other–all businesses change their logos at some point, right?–and he always suspected that you didn’t either, but you’d both gotten swept up in the chaos of it all. It was stupid, ridiculous fun, and he’s pretty sure that his parents still have the buttons you’d made somewhere in their house.
You finally let go of Yoongi’s hand when you’re standing in line at the taco truck, and he’s painfully aware of how empty it feels now. You don’t go far, though, standing close enough that your elbow brushes against his every once in a while. You’re scrolling through your phone, reading some news article to pass the time. It’s gotten darker since you’ve been there, and looking up, he can just barely make out a couple pinpricks of stars in the sky. The clearing is fairly bright, with little flickering balls of light criss-crossing the space like bistro lighting, and the lights from the city below don’t help to make the night sky visible. 
You pay for his tacos–”I get an employee discount,” you say, brandishing your university id like it’s a black card–and Yoongi doesn’t think that you were in line that long, but when you return to the table, Alice and Jihwan are gone. 
“Where’d-” He’s not even asked the question, but you’re already shrugging.
“Alice’s probably off calling her fiance,” you say it like you’re back in high school, all singsong-y and mockingly, “and who knows where Jihwan got to. Probably trying to take someone home tonight.”
“He seems…”
You sigh. “Yeah.”
“How’d you meet him?”
A pang of… something hits him. Your expression falls, ever so slightly, and he regrets asking. But after a brief moment, you clear your throat. “He and I are the only two on campus without gems.”
Oh. 
Well.
That makes sense.
“So they…”
You pick a piece of red cabbage off your taco and eat it. “Yeah, they know.”
Which explains Alice’s side-eye earlier. The weird emotion he’d gotten from you is gone now, and you seem to have just brushed right past the awkward feelings. 
He hums, not really sure what to say. What’s there to say? So instead of saying anything dumb, he does the safe thing. He changes the subject.
“No wonder they didn’t kick the taco guy out of the festival this year.” He takes another bite of his taco. “This is the best al pastor I’ve ever had.”
“His chimichangas are amazing, but he only makes them on special days.”
“More special than…?” He gestures vaguely. Around you, the lights have started to dim. Yoongi isn’t really sure when that started, but things are definitely less bright.
You laugh, and something inside of him warms.
He hasn’t even finished his tacos yet, but the vibe in the clearing starts to dramatically change. The crowd gathers tighter, a palpable buzz in the air. Alice has returned and stands alone near the head of the table. She’s looking up at the sky, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees why. There’s an aurora in the sky, gentle waves of effervescent greens and blues swirling through the heavens, just like the night market all those years ago. It has to be magic of some sort–the city isn’t far enough north for it to be natural–but he can’t tell who’s doing it.
A hand on his shoulder pulls his focus back to the ground. You’re there behind him, bathed in the dim glow of the floating lights around you. By now, it’s almost dark, but even in the low light and deep shadows, you’re beautiful. 
“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s get a good spot closer to the lookout.”
He follows you through the crowd, weaving around the bodies to get closer to the edge of the clearing. It’s tight, and you grab his hand so you don’t get separated. Normally, Yoongi isn’t a huge fan of crowds like this. You’re a small island in a sea of people, and he barely has room to turn in a circle without bumping into someone. You stand close–close enough that he can feel your warmth through the chill of the night.
The city spans the valley below, a forest of metal and windows and concrete. A bright spot in the middle of an otherwise dark night. But then, individually at first and then more, the buildings’ lights begin to flicker out.
“They’ve been doing this festival since before the city got public electricity,” you explain, answering his question before he could even ask. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
With the lights of the city mostly out, the stars above are much brighter. He can almost see them twinkling and winking as they burn, millions of billions of lightyears away. The night sky is beautiful, and his eyes drift around to locate the constellations he’d learned as a child. Almost immediately, he finds Perseus, right beside his wife Andromeda. You’d loved the myth of Perseus slaying Medusa when you were kids, and even though he hadn’t looked for the constellation in over a decade, finding it is still ingrained in him. 
He nudges you slightly, pointing up to the constellation. But just as he does, a pinprick of light streaks across the sky. You squeeze his hand as more streaks start to appear and the gathered crowd buzzes with ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. The meteors are all sizes. Big and bright. Small and thin. They aren’t constant, only a few show up every minute, but it’s beautiful to watch. 
There’s a strange sensation growing in his chest, something warm and fluttering and all-encompassing. You lean a little closer and the feeling grows. You must sense something–he’s never really been sure what his emotions feel like for you–because you look up at him. For a moment, you look confused.
Yoongi isn’t really sure how it happens, but what he does know is that suddenly, your face is centimeters from his own. He thinks that maybe someone bumped you and you took a step closer, but maybe that’s just his brain trying to fill in the gaps. He also knows that he’s the one that closes the space between you, leans in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s quick, a little impulsive, and truthfully, it feels a little forbidden. 
He pulls away, not far enough to make it seem like he’s made a mistake, but enough that it gives you an out, if you want it. His brain starts making all these calculations–what he should do if you back away, what he should do if you slap him, what if you don’t react.
But then you whisper, “Why’d you stop?” and your hand slides up his chest to grip the lapel of his coat. You tug with a surprising amount of force, and when your lips connect, he feels himself soaring. 
His entire world narrows to the points where your bodies connect. The firm touch of your knuckles against his shirt, the way your leg presses against his, but mostly the heat from your lips as he deepens the kiss. You fit against him perfectly, as if you were made for each other. He’d only kissed you that one time, but somehow, he’d missed it, missed you. 
When you finally pull away, you stay close, pressed against his chest–though whether that’s fully your choice or because of the crowd tightening around you is anyone’s guess. He can feel your heart pounding, and when you shoot him a small smirk, he’s pretty sure that you can feel the pace of his own pulse. Your grip loosens on the collar of his coat and you smooth it down coolly before your arm wraps around his back. Without a word, you cozy in, pressed close as your gaze returns to the sky and to the stars.
For a moment, he stands there, unmoving, mind empty. But then it’s like he snaps out of a trance, and he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His focus shifts to the shooting stars above, catching one just as it streaks across the sky. As he stands there, staring at the heavens and feeling your steady breathing, his mind begins to wander.
12 years, 7 months, and 3 days. He’d spent most of that time wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t left. If, after he’d kissed you at the night market, he’d been satisfied with whatever life had come after that. He’d been so scared back then, of losing control, of his life not being his own. But now, none of that matters.
Now, he’d give up almost anything to stay here, in this moment, in your arms. 
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okay so like... what do we think? how are we feeling? I was originally planning on having this be much longer, but I was so stressed out from grad school, I just wanted to get it out now. I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! and let me know if you want to see a part 2 (and if so, what you might want to see in it!!)
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wosoamazing · 20 days
Text
Interrupted
Summary: You accidentally walk in on Leah and Lia, and it's safe to say your traumatised.
Warnings: Suggestive (Mentions of what R saw when they walked in)
A/N: Thank you for all your requests, I have started writing them, and continue to work on other fics (for both requests and non-requests). Also this is only short but I hope you like it.
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You walked down the hallway, heading for Leah’s room, more specifically her bathroom. Your period was meant to start today so you wanted to put a tampon in, however you had none in your bathroom as you took them all with you when you moved to Spain and completely forgot to pack any, so you were planning on using one of hers. To say opening that door was the biggest regret of your life is an understatement, your eyes were only opened for half a second if that, yet the image of the scene in front of you managed to ingrain itself into your brain. The view of your sister’s head in Lia’s lap at 8 am was disturbing to say the least. You quickly ran, well more like speed walked due to the fact you had a moon boot on, to your room, grabbing your bag and heading out the door, calling Viv immediately.
“Viv, Beth, please pick me up, I’m walking in the direction of your house from ours, I will explain later, I just can’t see Leah right now or maybe never,” you said in a voice laced with shock and horror.
“What happened?” Viv asked as the look of complete horror was still plastered on your face. Beth smirked, as she looked at her phone, clearly just receiving a message from Leah.
“Why don’t you tell Viv here, Y/N/N” she said, as she continued to smirk.
“I-I-I walked in on them, her-her-her head was, no please don’t remind me,” you shuddered, “also can we go to the store? I need tampons, that’s why I um, yeah” you said quickly.
“Sure, then we’ll go back to ours and have breakfast before we head to training,” you nodded your head, Barça had allowed to go back to London for a week, more specifically Arsenal as your recovery was going well, the only condition was that you continued your rehab at Arsenal, which you were doing. Surprisingly being at Arsenal didn’t make you sad that you had left, but instead was making you miss Barca, you enjoyed being at Arsenal but it was no longer your home and so it felt slightly different.
____
“Where’s your sister and Lia?” Katie asked smirking, “Don’t tease her like that,” Steph said walking in. 
“Wait how do you all know,” “Leah messaged the group chat, saying she thinks she just traumatised you and you left, asking if any of us knew where you were. Beth then replied and said maybe next time lock the door."
_
“Good Morning Bug,” Leah said as she walked into the locker room going in for a hug, you quickly swerved and ducked under her arm. 
“Nope, not good morning” you said as you looked at the ground, briefly glancing up to see Lia’s face bright red.
“It is partly your fault, you know, you’re the one who opened the door.”
“It’s my fault? I’m not the ones who were being disturbingly quiet, with an unlocked door,” everyone's heads tilted to the side as they looked at the two women who couldn’t find any words to speak.
____
“Alexia, please promise me that you will forever lock the door when you’re doing something I shouldn’t walk in on,” you cried out as you walked through the door of the house, not realising that the rest of the team was also there.
“So it is true then,” Alexia smirked, and all the others laughed.
“Actually that goes for all of you." You stop and point at all of them around the room. "Lock. The. Doors." You look at them, not quite sure they all let the message sink in "Doors = Locked. Do you understand?” They all nodded in amusement.
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kinanabinks · 6 months
Note
Hey Kinny ! I’ve had an idea and I thought you’d be the best to share with
What if Bucky was in a relationship for a few months now but there’s always been this tension with a younger trainee on the team . Linger looks and sometimes touches but never going further than that . Until one time they’re paired together on a mission . On a room with a single bed . The mission was rough and left them with an awful lot of unreleased tension . So as they’re both laying in bed , Bucky can’t help but notice her choice of sleepwear . A tank top and short shorts . He’s ashamed to admit he’s hard . I don’t know how you’d want this to progress bur basically sexual stuff with no penetration. Making out, blowing each other off , fingering , naked grinding and maybe even just the tip ….. I don’t know feel free to ignore this but I just found it really hot
idk what's wrong with me but i fkn love a good cheating fic. if anyone wants me to write them something just include cheating and the likelihood of me writing it increases by 80%
deadly nightshade
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18+
the brightest berries are oft the most poisonous. why do the ones we can't have look like they'll taste so much sweeter?
content warning: bucky x f!reader, mature themes, bucky x f!oc, cheating, glorification of adultery, sexual tension, intimate touching, one bed trope, forbidden romance, fingering, 34 + 35, face fucking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, penetrative sex, cream pie.
a/n: i think this is my favorite smut i've written so far !
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You aren't sure when it started. When he first started looking at you like that, as though he was wondering what you'd feel like. Taste like. You can't remember the first time he squeezed your hip with his cold, metal hand while walking past you, or the first hug that lasted too long.
It's become your norm, to be on edge around him. The excitement is blended with nervousness and a dash of guilt, especially whenever she's close by. There's a palpable tension between you, one you hope nobody else can notice, and one that you rarely stop thinking about.
"Come on, you can go harder than that," Steve says teasingly, barely even flinching as you lunge forward to punch him again.
"Can you at least pretend it hurts?" You complain, frustrated. "Or can I train with another agent - you know, someone that isn't a super soldier?"
"Where's the fun in that?" Bucky asks with a smirk as he stands to the side of the boxing ring, wrapping his flesh hand in bandages. "I thought you liked a challenge."
You scoff as he climbs into the ring, raising a brow. "Great! Now I'm getting tag teamed by two super soldiers?" You ask in disbelief, slightly excited at the prospect of being manhandled by them.
"C'mon, rookie, this should be easy," Bucky says, slowly walking further into the ring. "Or at least, it will be for Steve and I."
With narrow eyes, you take a step back, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips as he shoots you a wink. "Alright," You say, putting up your fists. "You're old men, and I've beaten guys twice your size before. Let's do this."
"Them's fighting words, rookie," Bucky says with a cautionary tone. "You sure?"
"Deadly," You say gravely, ignoring the voice in your head telling you this is a bad idea.
They're nice to you, at first. Allowing you to get a couple of hits in, and Bucky even goes so far as to pretend it hurts. He does his best to limit the use of his metal arm, which you appreciate, though there's always been something about it that intrigues you. Something that, admittedly, turns you on.
And, as though he can read your mind, he suddenly wraps it around your neck, holding your body against his with your back to his front.
"Got her, Stevie," He says teasingly, slightly pressing his arm against your throat, making your legs squeeze together as your core begs for friction.
"That's not fair. I was just about to win," You utter, not even trying to pull out of his grip as you cling onto his arm, gasping when you feel his boner digging into your ass. Fuck. If only Steve wasn't here.
"Alright, I'm done," Steve says with a triumphant smile, holding his hands up as he turns around to leave the ring. "I've proved my point - I am not an old man!"
"Stop squirming so much, rookie," Bucky mumbles lowly into your ear, keeping you pinned against his body.
You can't help but let out a whimper, your panties positively soaked through as your hips uncontrollably move, rubbing your ass against his crotch. He uses his free hand to push down on your hips, forcing you to grind harder against him.
"Get some rest, Y/N," Steve calls out as he picks up his bag. "You've got an early morning tomorrow."
Just as Bucky leans down again to whisper in your ear, the door to the training room opens and in walks one of the other trainees. Bucky slowly releases you, making it seem as though him having you in a headlock with your ass directly on his dick was just a casual part of your training routine.
"Evening Captain, Sergeant," Landon says with a nod. "Uh, Sergeant Barnes, your... Miss Green's here to see you."
There should be a guilt that fills you at the mention of Bucky's girlfriend - or a fear, a nervousness at least. You should feel dirty for practically rubbing yourself on his boner, but you don't. You just look at him, give him a quick smile, and leave the boxing ring, like nothing untoward ever happened.
And he does the same.
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Shelly's birthday party is a lowkey affair. She doesn't like being made a fuss of, and like you, she likes to keep her work life and private life separate, so only a few agents were invited.
The bar is nice. A lot nicer than the places you spend your birthdays. It's strictly no-phones, which works well for New York's elite. You're slightly worried about the tab you'll have to pay at the end of the night, especially when you spot a few C-List celebrities walking through, but that's not an issue you need to put any thought to right now.
Right now, you just need to concern yourself with the Irish man who has his arm around your waist.
"Your body is insane," He utters, looking you up and down. "You a, uh, fitness influencer, or something?"
With a laugh, you nod. "Mhm. That's me," You say, not bothering to correct him as explaining you work for SHIELD isn't always the biggest turn-on for men.
While he whispers in your ear, your eyes flicker up to the entrance where a few familiar faces walk in. Taken aback as you weren't expecting to see any actual Avengers attending this party tonight, and judging by the look on Shelly's face, she wasn't either.
"I invited them as a joke," You hear her hiss to her husband, who finds the whole thing hilarious.
Steve, Sam, and Bucky walk over to her with a smile as they hand her gift bags. You watch on in amusement while the man by your side - is his name Leo? - starts kissing your neck. Shelly politely accepts the gifts while her husband holds back his laughs, introducing himself to the three.
Leo whispers something in your ear about getting out of here when you lock eyes with Bucky, making your body tense up.
"Babe?" Leo mumbles.
"One sec, I'll be back," You reply half-heartedly as you make your way over to where Bucky's standing at the bar.
"Hey, rookie," He greets you with a smug look on his face, before glancing behind you at Leo. "Who's the guy?"
"He's Irish," You tell him, resting your arm on the bar. "And cute."
"Yeah? You gonna take him home?" He asks, sneakily looking you up and down with his eyes lingering on your hips. "Let him fuck you?"
You scoff in slight surprise at his question, unable to hold back the smile on your face. "I'm planning on it," You admit as your stomach flips.
"He's a lucky man," He says, leaning in. "I look forward to hearing all about it."
"Oh, yeah? You want all the gory details?" You ask with a soft laugh.
He moves closer to you, lowering his voice. "I want a step-by-step rundown," He teases, using the same terminology Steve uses after a mission before a smirk pulls at his lips. "I wanna know if he makes you cum."
Your breath hitches in your throat but you do your best to act cool. "I- he talks a big game," You say. "Might be overcompensating for his lack of skill."
Bucky tuts at your words, shaking your head. "That's no good, rookie, you don't wanna be left hanging," He says, resting his elbow on the bar and bringing his hand to your face, where he strokes your cheek. "You're gonna have to play with yourself once it's over. Make yourself cum."
Fuck. You can feel your panties soak and you know he can smell it. He swallows thickly, lowering his hand to your neck where his thumb rubs over your throat.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," You utter, unable to pull your eyes away from his.
Bucky smiles, shooting you a wink. "I wish you luck, rookie."
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"What do you mean, an NDA?" Jenn asks you with narrow eyes. "The fuck do you need one of those for?"
"I just wanna know if we have someone here who can sort it out for us," You claim innocently, unable to keep the impatience out of your tone. "Or if I'll have to hire my own lawyer."
She raises a brow and says, "You'll have to speak to HR, or one of the big guys."
"What? No way!" You exclaim, feeling nauseous at the idea of talking to one of the Avengers about it.
"Why not? You're all buddy-buddy with them," She says, sounding a little bitter.
"Not on that level," You clarify. "We work together sometimes, that's all."
"Well, the next time you're put on a mission with Black Widow, flying off to Cancun to stake out a billionaire on some fancy resort, you can ask her," Jenn says before dropping her boxing gloves and storming away.
"That was one time!" You yell as she leaves the gym, before huffing and rolling your eyes. "Fuckin' A."
You continue training alone for another half hour before someone else walks in. It's none other than Sam, who greets you with a smile. You're not particularly close with Sam, but you get along. Understandably, he hardly ever has any time for agents unless he's on a mission with them, but he's nice enough.
Deciding you have no other choice, knowing how useless the HR team is here, you let out a sigh and pull out an earphone. "Hey, Sam?" You call out, causing him to put down the weights in his hand and turn to you.
"What's up?" He asks.
You walk over to him with a sheepish look on your face. "Can I just be totally candid and ask for some advice?" You request.
"Of course," He says immediately. "Whatever it is, fire away."
"Uh, it's not really to do with work, per say," You admit, rubbing the back of your neck. "It's slightly... personal."
He gives you a knowing smile and walks closer to you. "I get it. Just pretend I'm a stranger, and whatever you tell me stays between us," He promises.
"Thank you," You whisper, before clearing your throat. "Okay. So, it's not that bad, but I would like to get someone to sign an NDA."
He looks taken aback. "Oh. Okay."
"I was just wondering if it's worth it getting the help through work, or if I should just hire my own lawyer," You wonder aloud. "I know here they're busy with more important things, but you know what they say about trainee wages. I can't really afford a good lawyer."
"Mhm," He hums, nodding while processing your words. "Can I ask why you need an NDA?"
You wince, having known the question would eventually come. "Yeah, uh, I slept with someone," You blurt out. "And... I would prefer them to keep it to themselves."
"Right," Sam says slowly. "Why do you doubt they would keep it to themselves without an NDA? And is it really a big deal if they do tell someone?"
"It's just... something happened, during, that I'd much rather not see being spread on social media, or anything," You say, cringing inwardly.
"Uh-huh. How bad was it?" Sam can't help but ask.
"Bad," You answer. "I... I said someone else's name."
He raises a brow. "Is that really so bad?"
"Yes, because the person who's name I said... it's, uh... it's someone... sensitive," You say, unable to look him in the eyes. "And... if the guy goes around telling people, someone who knows them might find out... it's just gonna be messy, and awkward."
Sam nods slowly, thinking for a few moments before speaking. "Alright. Well, this guy you slept with- he's a nobody, right?"
"Pretty much," You agree.
"And is there really any proof that you did sleep with him?" Sam pushes.
"Not really..." You trail off.
"And so, if this guy was to make claims, who the fuck's gonna believe him?" He asks you with a raised brow.
You take in his words, nodding. "You're right. Ha, you're right!" Smiling widely, you pat his arm. "Thank you, Sam!"
"No problem, Y/N," He says, chuckling to himself as you walk out.
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"Alright, that's all for this week. Jenn, Landon, and Y/N, can you stay behind?" Maria asks as the others begin to filter out of the meeting room.
The three of you stand before her, waiting to hear what she has to say.
"Jenn and Landon, I can see you've each only got one competency left to achieve before you can qualify for Agent status. There's a recon mission next week being headed by Agent Carter; if you're successful in your assigned tasks during said mission, you'll qualify," She tells them, causing them to whisper excitedly to each other while she turns to you. "Y/N, you still have a few competencies left to complete, but you're almost there. I'm putting you on Operation Musket."
Jenn and Landon suddenly become silent as their eyes widen. They each turn to you, shock on their features.
Your heart is racing. Not just at the notion of being alone on an assignment with Bucky, but also because of the assignment itself. Operation Musket is the biggest mission there's been all year, and it was largely understood by everyone that Bucky Barnes would be completing it alone. Any agent tagging along would be a liability, in Fury's words.
"Wha- with all due respect, ma'am, are you serious?" You ask Maria with furrowed brows.
"Deadly," She replies bluntly, no hint of humor in her tone.
Jenn steps forward. "But Director Fury said-"
"Director Fury is not in charge of my trainees," Maria cuts her off curtly. "When it comes to you completing your competencies, I know best. I also know Operation Musket inside and out, and I believe Y/N will be an asset to Sergeant Barnes. It gives her the opportunity to gain some more experience in Russia, which as you all know, is vital in qualifying for Agent status. Now, does anyone have a problem with my decision?"
The three of you stand silently, not daring to say a word.
"Good," Maria says with a tight smile. "Then this discussion is over. Off you go, trainees."
You all begin to leave, but Maria calls out just as you open the door.
"Y/N, report to the briefing room first thing on Saturday, " She directs you. "Oh, and pack a small bag. It's an overnight mission."
Fuck.
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Usually, you say no to drinks with your superiors, but this time you were quick to agree to Steve's invitation. He was shocked as he's used to being rejected whenever he suggests you join them in the bar, but you need to get drunk tonight- the type of drunk you can't afford yourself.
It's not public knowledge that there's a bar in Avengers HQ. It's underground and shares a wall with one of the labs; Tony's very own speakeasy. You came for the free alcohol, but as soon as you see Bucky with Emma on his lap, you immediately regret it.
"Can I get a bottle of vodka and a shot glass?" You request Natasha who's standing behind the bar.
She raises a brow, slightly offended that you interrupted her conversation with Bruce but equally as impressed that you had the balls to do so. "Coming right up, trainee," She says, emphasizing the last word to remind you of your position and the fact that you should probably use a little more respect when speaking to her.
Snapping out of your daze, you widen your eyes. "Thank you, ma'am," You say quickly, wincing when you hear Bruce snickering under his breath.
She slides over the bottle and the glass before continuing her conversation with Bruce, and when you realize she's trying to flirt with him, you quickly move over to the couches.
"All I asked for was a burrito," Steve says to Sam and Tony. "Was I being rude?"
You silently sit next to Steve, trying not to garner any attention but also not wanting to drink alone. The three of them chat over beers while you take a few shots.
"Alright there, Y/N?" Steve asks you suddenly, making you look up at him with shock.
"Uh, yeah," You reply with a nod.
"Oh, hey," Tony says, clicking his fingers in your direction. "You're the, uh, superstar trainee, aren't ya? The prodigy?"
"Prodigy?" You reply with a frown, wondering who on Earth would have described you as that to Tony Stark.
"Maria Hill seems to like you," Steve reveals to your surprise. "She thinks you're the next... well, Maria Hill."
"She does not!" You say with a gasp, your heart fluttering at the prospect. Maria's a tough boss, and even tougher to impress, so the fact that she praises you to the Avengers themselves is insane.
"Says you're gonna go far as an agent," Tony adds with a slow nod, bringing his beer up to his lips while looking around with a frown. "Hey, why don't we invite more trainees to these things? Get some fresh blood in here."
"Maria would kill you," You tell him with a laugh. "We're not supposed to get drunk during our probation, seeing as we have training every morning."
Steve raises a brow, glancing down to the half-empty vodka bottle in your lap. "Uh..."
"Oh, this?" You ask casually. "This won't get me drunk. I have a high tolerance."
"If you say so," Steve utters, not so convinced.
In truth, you only feel a slight buzz so far. You make a mental note to take the bottle home and carry on drinking there, as you don't want someone to snitch to Maria - losing her respect, which you only just learned you actually have, would be detrimental to your career.
"It's part of my training process," You tell him. "I'm preparing for the mission this weekend."
"This weekend? You're on Musket?" Sam asks on disbelief.
"Told you Maria likes her," Tony mumbles.
"Yes, indeed," You reply to Sam with a nod. "I'll be joining Sergeant Barnes in Russia."
"Won't that be fun?" Bucky's voice suddenly chimes in from above you. You look up to see him joining the circle, along with Emma. They sit on the couch to your right while you try to relax your pounding heart.
It's not very often at all that you're around his girlfriend. Emma and Bucky have been together for the better part of two years now, and she's a familiar face around HQ. It isn't very common for Avengers to bring their partners to work, but Emma works at Stark Industries so she's somewhat involved in Avenger business.
"I thought you were doing Musket alone, Buck," Sam says with a frown.
Bucky shrugs, resting his arm around Emma's shoulders. "Fury decided I needed some help," He says simply, before his eyes land on you. "Rookie's always good to have on an assignment, so I can't complain."
"I can vouch for that," Steve agrees, nudging your arm. "I'm surprised you're still a trainee."
"You flatter me," You mumble, leaning your head back against the couch.
While the rest of them continue to talk, you drown out their voices with your thoughts. Are you being crazy? Does Bucky purposely flirt with you, or are you reading it all wrong? Is he attracted to you and unable to hide it, or is that how he is with everyone? You've caught him shooting a flirty comment Natasha's way before, but usually in an effort to grind her gears - he's never been inappropriate with another trainee or agent to your knowledge, so why you? Could it be that he genuinely feels something towards you?
And if he does have sexual attraction towards you, what the fuck is going to happen this weekend?
Missions are rarely overnight and there's a running joke among the agents that they end with sex. You're aware of the highly incestuous dating pool at work, but you've made a promise to never partake. The other trainees are like your siblings at this point, and you wouldn't want to jeopardize a mission by being distracted with feelings.
But Bucky's different. He's not just an agent you can brush off. Admittedly, there's a power difference in play, and something about his senior position is allowing you to break your own rules.
Snap out of it. You're not genuinely attracted to him - nothing will ever actually happen between you. You're just close friends who openly talk about sex and enjoy flirting with each other- there's nothing wrong with that.
"Wake up, rookie," His voice suddenly sounds out from next to you.
Your eyes flutter open and you suck in a sharp breath before turning to the left to see he's taken Steve's place. Everyone else is gone, only he remains. If you looked around, you'd see they've all congregated at the bar, but you don't, because you don't care.
"I'm up," You mumble, meeting his eyes. "You good?"
"Me? Yeah, I'm good," He replies with a smug look on his face.
A few moments of blissful silence pass by. You can hear light chatter and laughter from the bar, and the low lighting allows you to relax, which isn't something you can usually do around Bucky.
"Oh, I should warn you," He begins, stealing your attention as he lowers his voice. "A lotta poisonous plants where we're heading on Saturday. Luskey's HQ is surrounded by woods, and almost every plant is something you won't wanna touch."
"I'll keep that in mind," You mumble absentmindedly.
"Nobody warned me last time and I ended up having fuckin' hallucinations. Saw gnomes walking around," He tells you with a chuckle. "Probably one of the nicer ones to touch. Some of them can kill you."
"Sounds kinda nice. I'd love to hallucinate gnomes," You say with a soft laugh.
He nudges your shoulder and the area burns. You want him to touch you everywhere. Stop.
"Yeah, plenty of nasty things where we're going," He says, looking down at you. "But we'll have fun amongst all the deadly nightshade."
"I'm looking forward to it," You say honestly.
"I bet you are, rookie," He says with a smirk before lowering his voice. "Never got the chance to ask you. How was your night with Mr. Irish?"
Your heart skips a beat at the reminder of that night.
"Just like that, don't stop," You moaned, digging your nails into your back. "Please, make me cum, Bucky, please."
"Uh, yeah," You say flatly while trying to ignore the memory. "It was good."
"Did he do it?" He asks you with a raised brow. "Did he make you cum?"
You swallow thickly, unsure of what to say. No, Bucky, he didn't make me cum, because before he got the chance to I was moaning your name.
"I'll take that as a no," He says with a chuckle. "That's a shame. I had high hopes for you."
"Don't worry about me," You assure him with a small smile. "I can take care of myself."
"Yeah? You took care of yourself?" Bucky utters lowly, stealing a quick glance at your body. "Had to finish yourself off, hmm?"
You squeeze your legs together, hating yourself for getting wet so easily. You know he can fucking smell it.
His eyes light up as he moves closer to you. "What did you think about while touching yourself?" He asks you, making your stomach flip.
With a light gulp, you sink a little lower on the couch. "I..." You trail off, wondering whether it would be too far to tell him the truth.
"Tell me, rookie," He whispers, his eyes dark and piercing. "You think about getting fucked? 'Bout someone splitting you open, railing you 'til you beg him to stop?"
Is he drunk? You take one look at the cup in his hand and instantly recognise the color. It's Asgardian ale.
"Bucky," You mumble, biting your lip. "You shouldn't be talking to me like that."
"Just a question, rook," He replies casually, raising a brow. "I'm curious. Did you think about me fucking you?"
Your breath is stolen and your eyes widen. Before you can even begin to process his question, you hear some of the others approaching. Sitting up, you turn to see Steve and Emma walking over with smiles on their faces.
"Here are the dynamic duo," Steve says with a grin as he and Emma sit on the couch opposite you. "You guys ready for the weekend?"
"You must be a pretty impressive trainee if Fury thinks Jamie's gonna need you there," Emma says with a quirked brow. "Can't say I'm convinced- Jamie's been on plenty of intense missions alone and he's been just fine."
"No, I need rookie there," Bucky claims firmly, patting your shoulder. "She's a genius with codes. We'll get it done in half the time."
"So, I should expect you back home by Saturday night?" Emma asks him expectantly.
He takes a sip of the ale before shrugging. "We'll do our best to make it quick," Bucky says, looking at you before adding, "No promises, though."
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It's a tough mission, and you're glad. If there was any less stress or if the stakes weren't as high as they are, you know your mind would drift. Drift to the night at the bar, Bucky's voice in your ear saying things he shouldn't have been saying. Asking questions you didn't want to answer.
But it's a tough mission.
"Stand down, rookie," His voice comes through your earpiece. "Meet at the safe house."
You should be relieved it's over - you should be over the moon that you positively contributed to the biggest assignment of the year and that you'll likely graduate to Agent status as soon as you get back to HQ - but you don't feel relief, or joy. You're nervous.
You take the long way back. Unsure as to what will unfold when you get to the safehouse, you take your time, a small part of you hoping that he'll be asleep by the time you get back. A bigger part of you, though, hopes he's not.
He's already lying on the bed when you get in, but his eyes are open. They flicker over to you and he watches as you undress. You peel off your tactical suit, grateful when your skin can finally breathe.
"I've gotta talk to Maria about these things," You mutter mostly to yourself as you step out of the suit. "They're not breathable at all."
Bucky slowly sits up, not even bothering to hide his gaze on your half-naked body. He's in nothing but his boxers, but you're too tired to care. You step into the bathroom, deciding it's probably a step too far to get your tits out in front of him, and change into your tank top and shorts. Packing light is a must during missions, which means summer pyjamas, even in Russia.
You wonder if anyone back at HQ has realized the conundrum - the fact that the safehouse only has one bed. That was fine back when it was only Bucky on this mission, but as you were assigned to it last minute, nobody bothered looking for something more appropriate for two people. You don't blame them. It takes a long time to lock down a secure location, so you'll put up with the lack of privacy.
"Good job today," He says once you return from the bathroom. "We worked well together. It felt slick. You're damn good for a rookie."
"Not too bad yourself," You say, kneeling onto the bed before raising a brow. "Don't you take that off when you sleep?"
He glances down at his vibranium arm with a slightly confused look before looking back up at you. "No," Is his simple answer.
You mumble a nothing response under your breath as you slowly get under the covers, your heart beating a little faster the closer you get to him.
"I can take the floor, if you'd rather," He suggests, though his tone makes it seem as though he has no intention to sleep anywhere but with you tonight. It sounds like his final warning - your last chance to pull out, because you both know that tonight won't be wholesome when you're sharing a bed.
"Shut up, weirdo," You mutter, turning away from him.
"Yes, ma'am," Bucky replies. You hear him moving around, feel the bed dip a little as he gets comfortable under the duvet.
You can hear his breathing. You can smell him - he must've had a shower with the weird soap from HQ. The kind that comes in a small ball and turns into foam when you add water.
A few moments pass, he turns his body around. You aren't sure which way he turned until you feel his front pressing against your back.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Why aren't you breathing?"
Taken by surprise, you can only let out an odd squeak.
"Are you touching yourself?"
You stick your elbow out behind you but he doesn't even react as it digs into his stomach. "Shut up," You whisper.
"A little lower and that would've been nice," He mumbles.
"You want me to elbow your dick?" You ask incredulously.
"Well, if you're taking requests-"
"Go to sleep, Sergeant Barnes."
"Fuck. Don't call me that, rookie," He groans, moving closer to you. "Aren't you cold?"
"You're like a human radiator," You say, closing your eyes as though you could fall asleep when you can feel his boner against your lower back.
He places his hand on your hip, under your top. Slowly, he moves it further up, until he's cupping your bare boob. You don't know why you haven't said anything yet, but when he brushes over your nipple with his thumb, you can't keep quiet.
"You shouldn't," You mutter weakly. It makes you feel only slightly better - you feel a slight less guilt. I'm sorry, Emma. I tried to stop him. I did all I could.
"Shut up," He grumbles, pulling on it as it hardens.
"Bucky," You let out in a breath, rubbing your ass against his hard cock.
"You can't say you didn't know this was gonna happen," He says lowly as he grinds against you. "As if I could ever fuck this opportunity up."
"You're... we really fucking shouldn't-"
"Hey," He whispers, pulling your shoulder and flipping you over so you're lying on your back, looking up at him. "Don't worry. What happens in Russia..."
As he leans closer, using his knee to spread your legs apart and settling between them, you press your hands to his chest. "So, this doesn't count?" You ask him, a hint of nervousness to your tone.
"No, rookie, baby," He promises as his nose brushes against yours, his stubble scratching your skin. While speaking, he begins gently humping against you. "It's not like we're fucking, is it? Huh? I'm just... jus' touchin' you, feelin' you. Making you feel better after today. Making myself feel better. Today was tough, we need this. We're, uh - what's that shit they told us in the HR presentation? - we're looking out for each other's wellbeing while on the field. It's just part of the mission."
He's talking utter bullshit, but you don't care. It feels too good, his hard cock rubbing against your pussy feels too good for you to try and stop it. Loud moans leave your mouth; you're not bothering to pretend this isn't as sexual as it is.
"There you go," Bucky says with a smirk as he peels your top upwards, revealing your chest. "That's it. Don't worry about a thing, rookie, just, fuck, keep moaning for me, fuck."
You do as he says, moving your hands up to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. When he leans down and wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking hard on it, you cry out his name, bucking your hips upwards. With a hiss, you move your right hand up to his hair and pull on it, making him groan.
He slips a hand under the waistband of your shorts, starts rubbing your clit. His hand is soaked in seconds.
"Other hand," You whimper, gripping his vibranium bicep. "Please."
"Fuckin' little freak, aren't ya?" He mumbles under his breath, happily doing as you say. His cold metal fingers feel like ice against your clit, making your legs shudder. "Tell me what you're into," Bucky says lowly, keeping his eyes on your face as he watches it contort in pleasure. "Tell me, rookie. What fucked up shit do you want me to do to you? Huh?" He knows this might be his one and only chance to get you like this, so he wants to make the most of it.
"Bucky," Is all you can let out, too far gone to conjure a coherent thought.
"Call me Sergeant Barnes," He orders, to which you let out a breathy laugh.
"Shut the fuck up," You say hitting his chest.
He slaps your tit in retaliation, making you whine, while sinking his hard, metal fingers into your cunt. It feels unlike anything you've ever had inside you, and your eyelids flutter uncontrollably.
"Don't take them out," You request quickly, clenching around his digits. "Oh, fuck. Bucky, please."
He slowly begins to retract them, making you cry out.
"No!" You exclaim, before letting out a frustrated huff. "Please... Sergeant Barnes."
"Atta girl," He mumbles before giving them back to you. "How am I supposed to do this without taking them out, huh?"
"Just... just move them," You suggest while pulling down your shorts, wanting to see what it looks like to have his metal limb inside you.
Suddenly, he curls his fingers, making you shudder. "Like that, rookie?"
"Fuck, yes," You respond with delight.
He shakes his hand, curling and scissoring his fingers inside you. "You like the feeling of them filling you up, huh? You dirty little slut, you think about this all the time, don't you?" He asks you smugly.
"Just keep- keep doing that, Sergeant, fuck," You utter. "I'm getting close."
"Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" Bucky's voice seems different in this moment; more personal. Like you're seeing a side to him only a select few get the chance to. As you cum around his fingers, he lets out a groan, and it's the prettiest thing you've ever heard.
"Can I tell you something?" You ask once your breathing is normal again.
"What?" He mumbles while pulling down his pants.
"I- when I was fucking that Irish guy," You begin, making his eyes narrow.
"Fuck you thinking about him right now?" Bucky's offended, appalled that you're able to focus on something other than him after he just made you cum while barely moving his fingers - let alone another man.
"I said your name," You admit, the words flowing out against your control. "While he was inside me, I..."
Bucky laughs, his eyes lighting up. "You being serious?"
"Deadly," You whisper before pulling off your tank top.
He brings his hands up to your tits, pawing at them while rubbing his thumbs over your hard nipples. You grind your hips up, desperate to feel him inside you. His cock is big, thick against your thigh. You can't help but stare down at it. Reaching for it, you wrap a hand around it, marvelling at how hard it is.
"You ever say my name?" You wonder, though you already know the answer.
"I don't think either of us would be here right now if I did," He teases, biting his lip when you begin to rub his cock, up and down.
"You fuck other girls often?"
His eyes flicker up to yours. "No," He answers. "Feel special?"
A smile pulls at your lips while he laughs at you. Pre-cum dribbles out of his cock. He takes it back from you and brings it to your pussy, rubbing it up and down your folds, pressing the tip to your clit. It feels surreal.
"We shouldn't," You say with furrowed brows. "Not sex. Not actual sex."
"What difference does it make at this point?" Bucky asks you with a scoff.
"It's different," You argue, not sure what you mean yourself.
"Well, I'm fucking something tonight," He states firmly. "Would you rather that be your face?"
He sees it - the way your eyes light up. The way your chest rises a little faster. He hears the hitch in your breath and he feels your clit throb against his cock.
Smirking, Bucky nods. "Fuckin' slut. Hang off the bed, I'll fuck your face, if that's what you want."
It doesn't take much to convince you. Within moments, your head's hanging off the side of the bed and Bucky's standing behind you. He slips his cock between your lips, holding your head in place, and doesn't give you much warning before he starts fucking in and out of your throat. Immediately, you gag, but he doesn't let up.
"That's it, fuckin' take it," He mutters through gritted teeth. "Knew you'd take my cock like a good girl. Knew you'd be such a good fucktoy for me."
Your legs squeeze together, you're wetter than ever. Your inner thighs are coated.
"Touch yourself," Bucky instructs you. "I know you wanna. Show me how you do it when you fantasize about me railing you."
He only lets you rub your clit for a few seconds before he moves your hand away. Leaning down, he replaces your fingers with his tongue, lapping at your cunt. Your toes curl as your hips move upwards, humping against his face. His nose brushes through your folds as he sucks on your clit, continuing to fuck your face.
It doesn't take you long to cum again, and he holds your shaking legs down as you do.
"Cum so fuckin' easy for me," Bucky mumbles as he stands up, pulling his cock out of your throat with a string of saliva following.
He grabs your arm and pulls you up to your knees on the bed before taking your chin in his hand and pulling your face closer to his. He gives you a deep kiss, holding your body against his, kneading your ass with his hands.
"Rookie," He utters against your lips before slapping your pussy. "Let me fuck you, baby."
You let out a groan, throwing your head back. He takes the opportunity to kiss on your neck. "Sergeant Barnes," You whisper. "It wouldn't be appropriate for you to have sex with a trainee."
"I'm teaching you," He says against your neck. "That's what I'm here for."
"I don't need to learn how to have sex," You point out.
Bucky moves back to look at you. "You need to learn how to take your Sergeant's cock when he needs you," He says bluntly. "You need to learn how to be a good stress toy for me. A nice little fleshlight for me to take on missions, use you when I need to cum."
You shouldn't be, but you're horrifically turned on by his words. His arrogance and perversion only makes you crave him more.
"Just the tip?" He asks with a whisper.
With a roll of your eyes, you wrap your hand around his throat. "Just the tip," You agree.
He lays you down on your side, facing him, and picks up your leg to rest it on his hip. Bringing his cock to your entrance, Bucky meets your eyes with his, taking in a deep breath. "I'm- I'll try my best to-"
"Just the fuckin' tip," You cut him off curtly. "Not an inch more."
"If you say so," He says with a smirk before slowly pushing his cock into you, stopping once the tip is in.
Frustrated with the lack of stimulation, you let out a huff. "A little more," You request.
He does his best to hold back a smug laugh. Giving you another couple of inches, Bucky lets out a low groan. "Fuck. Baby, c'mon," He whispers, almost whining.
"More," You say, unable to help yourself. Fuck morals. You've already gone too far. "Just- just put it all in, Buck."
He immediately gives you all of him as sook as the request leaves your mouth, stretching you open. You look down, shivering when you see him inside you, wondering if you're dreaming.
Bucky pushes you onto your back and moves on top of you, pinning your arms down. "I've thought about this a lot," He admits with a mumble, still not moving his hips. "About fucking your brains out. Railing you 'til you can't think straight."
You're pretty sure you entered can't think straight territory the second you got into bed with him. "I haven't been thinking straight since I met you," You tell him, making him chuckle.
"You're so fuckin' cute, rookie," He says, before ever so slightly pulling out and thrusting back into you again.
You suck in a gasp as your back arches up. "Are we doing this?" You ask him with a whisper.
"Isn't it too late to be asking that?" He retorts with a raised brow. "Or do you really think you'd be able to tell me to stop right now?"
You think about it. Could you? Would you be able to stop and go to sleep, like nothing happened? Like he wasn't just balls-deep in you? Do you have any self-control at all?
"Just... just the tip," You repeat, realizing how pathetic you sound.
"What's the fucking difference?" He asks with a dry laugh.
"Then it's not actual sex," You argue. "Then we haven't done anything wrong."
Bucky raises a brow. "You really think that?"
You stare up into his eyes. "Yes."
Slowly, he pulls out again, and you take a moment to savor the feeling of having him fully inside you, knowing you may never get it again.
"You're killing me, rookie," He groans as he looks down at his cock, covered in your slick. "How the fuck am I supposed to do this?"
You wrap your hand around his shaft and start stroking it, up and down.
"Can you even feel anything?" Bucky asks you between heavy breaths. "Slut like you, probably used to getting railed."
"Fuck you," You whisper.
"Let me fuck you," He requests, leaning down until you can feel his breath on your neck. "Let me fuck you 'til you can't breathe. Let me make that pussy sore, let me make you fuckin' limp back to the jet in the morning."
"Bucky," You whine lowly, knowing there's no going back. "...Fuck me."
A smirk pulls at his lips and he's relieved - a small part of him thought you might actually stop this. With your go-ahead, Bucky wastes no time. He starts moving his hips, fucking in and out of you, groaning under his breath.
"Shit," He mutters before grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. With a spank to your ass, he settles on top of you, resting his head on your neck as he thrusts into you.
"Just like that," You cry out, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets.
"Your pussy takes me so well," Bucky groans into your ear. "Better than I imagined it."
Turning your head to the side, you laugh. "You imagined it?"
"Every fucking night," He answers you straight away.
"When you're fucking her?" You ask, nervous by the silence that follows.
His thrusts slow, but they don't stop. For a second, you're afraid you've offended him. That you've crossed some invisible line by mentioning her.
"When I'm fucking her, when I close my eyes, I imagine it's you," He says lowly, bluntly. "I fuck her throat and wonder if yours would feel like that. I eat her out and wonder how you'd taste. She rides my cock and I- I want it to be your ass bouncing on me." He flips you back over onto your back, pulls out his dick and taps it on your stomach a couple of times before slipping it back into you. "And now, I finally know what it's like."
"And?" You push, holding your breath as he fills you up.
He leans down, bringing his lips to yours and mutters, "Better."
There's passion in it. An intense passion you've never felt during sex before. You've been in love with sexual partners, you've been infatuated with them, but you've never felt this. Maybe it's because it's inherently wrong - what you're doing goes against every value you claim to uphold. Bucky's your senior; he shouldn't be taking advantage of the power he has over you. Not only that, but he's unavailable.
It makes you feel special. He's risking it all for you - his respect among the team, his relationship with the woman he supposedly loves. If it became public knowledge that Bucky Barnes was a cheater, he'd lose all the love from the people of America that he just about managed to earn.
But he doesn't care. This intimacy with you is worth more than all that - at least during this moment.
He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back. His eyes remain burning into yours, and you know he has no plans of pulling out. You have no plans of asking him to.
"Feel so good around me," He groans lowly, stroking your hips. "Such a good girl for me. Taking it so well, making me so proud."
His words light up a spot in you that you didn't know existed. He can tell.
With a small smile, he places a soft kiss to your cheek. "That's it, baby. My good girl, fuck. Keep taking it just like that, I'm so fuckin' proud of you."
"Bucky," You gasp, feeling it build up.
"Shh, it's okay, I've got you," He coos, quickening his thrusts. "Make daddy proud."
It's all too much - the gentleness, how wrong this is - in seconds, you're cumming and there are tears pouring from your eyes.
"Atta girl, just like that," Bucky groans, cupping your face in his hands. "Ready to take my cum, baby?"
"Please," You sob, gripping tightly onto his shoulders.
"It's yours, my baby," He moans as he lets go, cumming deep inside you. "Oh, fuck. Take it all, baby, fuck."
He keeps fucking you until he can't anymore, both of you oversensitive after your highs. Bucky falls next to you and you stare up at the ceiling, breathing heavily.
A few incoherent mumbles escape his mouth as he comes down. Before you can say a word, he turns off the lamp, flooding the room in darkness. A kiss is placed to your shoulder just as exhaustion takes you over.
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rene-darling · 14 days
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Innocent scaramouce first time with dom fem reader?
Innocent little kabukimono
...yandere reader...red flag reader!...toxic relationships please do not imitate irl...I think.. I took way too much creative liberty with this..but-...im tired of seeing innocent readers x corrupted men. We need so corrupted yandere-ish readers!...
...kabukimono x yandereish reader...
Innocent little kabukimono who knows nothing of real life, and is just oh so naive. And you, this corrupted person who goes around doing whatever they please, leading on a man and then ditching him for good, a cruel harbinger who revels in the suffering of the innocent, and oh my is he innocent.
Kabukimono who doesn't know right from wrong, he doesn't even have life's most basic skills. The perfect man for you to corrupt.
Kabukimono who doesn't know that kisses are only meant to be shared by lovers and to be done in private, so you might be in the middle of talking to another harbinger when he approaches you and casually leaves a kiss on your lips.
The other harbinger and your underlings are left in a state of shock. He kissed you And he still has his head?? Kabukimono notices their weird stares and questions them "Hm? Do you not know? This is something friends do with each other!" he informs them proudly. He's your dearest friend.
Dear little kabukimono who gets scared when you come home drenched in blood, but you just smile at him and open your arms. He knows he can't deny you, you told him that denying your friend's hug is very rude!
So he hugs your bloody form, shivering a bit. You're so cold, like a corpse. It's okay. You reassure him, that you were just getting rid of some bad guys. Some real baddies who harm the innocent. This reassures him, wow, you're so cool! You help people by getting rid of bad guys right? Wow!
Innocent kabukimono who admires you so much. You're the coolest person out there, and he trusts you.
Pure little kabukimono who tries making you some yummy food, only to fail since for some reason it always turns out to sour, too hot, or just burnt. It was like someone was messing with him and doing it on purpose.
And when he tells you that he's messed up yet again and sees how your face falls, he can't deal with it. He's so dumb, so stupid, he can't help it! He can't do anything without you. So he starts crying, soft little hiccups turn into full-on sobs as globs of tears fall from his eyes.
Who hugs you and apologizes over and over, he's sorry he's such a dummy! He'll learn! He'll be more useful to you, he doesn't know where the dish went wrong! Please don't abandon him, he's sorry for being useless!
And it brings him so much comfort when you hug him back, holding his tiny waist as you almost feel bad for purposefully messing up his dish, not that you'll actually apologize and tell him.
When you're sitting on the couch and you pull him onto your lap, it startles him. He shifts around a bit uncomfortably, but it's fine, he'll manage. You tell him that this is what friends do! And since you both are such close friends he doesn't complain when you pull him into your lap, even in front of other people
Eventually, he gets used to it, when you assure him that, this is what friends do- and you're his dearest friend aren't you?
He's used to it. He's trained for it. He could simply be doing some work around the house but the second you pat your lap he drops whatever he's doing, crawling onto your lap like a cat.
He doesn't know any better, so while you're in important meetings with the harbingers he'll simply crawl onto your lap like it's his own personal bed. The other harbingers always stutter in their next words- they just never seem to get used to your little boytoy
Some of the harbingers find it rather amusing, questioning why you've kept him around this long. They've never seen you with one of your boy toys after the first 3 weeks. You simply shrug, perhaps it's his innocence, his naivety to the world..and people, around him. Whatever it is, he proves to be entertaining. Which is why you just can't get rid of him yet.
Cute little kabukimono who ignores any red flags. You following him around whenever you have some free time, or sending one of your henchmen after him whenever you aren't available. What do you mean that's weird? No- you just care for your friend, he's your dearest friend after all! You just wanna make sure nothing bad happens!
Innocent kabukimono who you've quickly learned has no idea of what intimacy is. He doesn't know the first thing about- love making.
Kabukimono who sits on your lap like another day, resting his head back onto your shoulder, you can hear his quiet breaths and whispers as he mumbles and rambles about his day thinking you were listening. You on the other hand were occupied by your own deranged thoughts, ...it's been long enough..hasn't it? You're sure he can handle you- fondling him further..right? You mean he should. You've done so much for him, and he can barely even cook a proper meal for you.
Biting down harshly on his neck while he was leaning it back on your shoulder eliciting gasps and whines from him. He tries grabbing your head, trying to push you away. It hurts! But you're too strong. So he sits there helpless tugging at your hair softly as he lets out little moans as you suck on his neck. He feels heat pool in between his legs... it's so weird..he doesn't like it.
Later that day he stares at himself in the mirror. Examining the big red purple-ish mark you left. Afterward, he questions you about it. Huffing as he asks the reason behind this strange good feeling mark you've left.
You reassure him, it's simply because he's your dearest friend. And you just want people to know that he's yours, he belongs to you. And no one else.
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