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euphemiaamillais · 4 months

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blurb - mentor!coriolanus snow corrupts his tribute

cw: 18+//corruption kink//dub-con//blowjobs//fingering//piv sex//mentions of death (you are a tribute after all)

you’re his favourite tribute, he reminds you each time he makes a visit to your apartments. he’s been granted the illusive role once again, after dr. gaul had noticed his success—and to thank him for his immense contribution to changing the way the capitol viewed the games. so, in thanks, he was allowed to pick any tribute he wanted—of course he selected you. pretty, but oh-so-innocent. he mostly wanted you so he could force you onto your knees and have you lap every last drop of cum from his cock.

that’s why he was here this evening, a bouquet of roses in his arms, matching the one on his lapel, coming on the guise that he wanted to have a special dinner to commemorate your going into the games in two days’ time. you’d ensured your stylist had dressed you in the prettiest gown—a soft green dress that flowed over your figure in such a way that you had gasped when you saw yourself in the mirror. you wanted to look good for coriolanus after all—he had been so kind to you, and it was the least you could do to look pretty for him.

when he arrives at the door, he’s dressed handsomely in a starched white button up shirt and black dress pants, and he hands you the array of flowers. you gasp, bowing your head in thanks and rushing to put them in a vase. however, an avox sweeps past and takes them from your hand to rearrange them for you. a feeling of dread washes over you as you realise it’s unlikely that you’ll be alive to see the flowers wilt. however, you force a smile back on your face, giddy with excitement that your mentor has come to pay you a visit.

‘how’s my favourite tribute?’ coriolanus inquires, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it, his eyes glistening with a certain intention. you blush, the imprint of his lips burning into your hand. you still felt it after he’d pulled away from you.

‘oh, well, i’m certainly doing well now that you’re here, mr snow,’ you smile, making your way to the settee to rest your legs. you’d been pacing for hours in anticipation of his arrival.

‘what did i tell you about calling me that—really, it’s not like i’m president or something.’ he reprimands gently, and you nod in apology.

he can’t keep his eyes off of you; the way that dress hugs every curve on your body, how its neckline plunges to reveal your pert breasts. he fantasises about unzipping you, hands caressing your breasts, fingers bringing your nipples to harden, and then sliding his tongue over them as you squirm beneath him. of course, he’s getting ahead of himself—you notice his face is hot, which only makes you blush in return. whatever could he be thinking of?

‘i do have another present for you,’ he says, and your eyes light up with delight. presents are such a rarity back in the districts that the mere mention of a gift sends your heart pounding with excitement.

‘oh really!’ you gasp gleefully, and he nods, his icy blue eyes glistening at the thought of what he’s about to do. his poor, innocent little tribute. you’d never expect this, but he knows you’re so desperate to please him—you’ll do anything just to make your mentor happy.

‘but you have to close your eyes. can you do that for me?’ he says in his charming tone, the one he uses when he really wants something. you comply, squeezing your eyes shut with a giggle of excitement, body thrumming with anticipation.

coriolanus unbuckles his belt, and pulls down his pants which are already straining with the hard bulge of his cock. he’s aching for you; aching for relief.

‘what is it, coryo?’ he sighs as you use his pet name; one hand firmly gripping his cock.

‘hush, it’s a surprise. but i promise you’ll really like it…’ he uses his free hand to caress your cheek, and you blush at the touch. his large hands are a little cold, but you welcome his ministrations.

‘okay…’ you giggle again, and he feels his cock begin to leak with precum—your innocence eggs him on, he wants nothing more than to tarnish you completely, make you his.

‘open your mouth,’ he commands, and willingly, you oblige. perhaps he’s given you something sweet. your belly grumbles with hunger, the thought of a bonbon or perhaps a chocolate truffle making you salivate.

you feel him ease something in; it’s firm, but it feels familiar in a way. it tastes… salty almost. you hear him let out a breathy sigh. coriolanus feels the sweet relief of your mouth around him, tongue thick with saliva, coating him so well.

‘don’t bite, sweetheart,’ he winces at the slight feeling of your teeth—you can’t help it, you’re just so hungry. ‘you suck it.’

you take his advice, and use your tongue to lick at the thing he’s put into your mouth. your eyes are still firmly shut, and he hasn’t told you to open them yet, so you assume it’s part of your present. perhaps it’s to enrich the experience—something you’ve heard the garishly festooned capitol citizens say.

‘good girl,’ he groans, feeling your tongue swirl around the tip of his cock, and he begins to slide himself in and out at a gentle pace. you’re not ready for a full face-fucking, no. he can’t spoil you that bad.

you blush at his praise, feeling him move your gift further inside your mouth. you feel something hit the back of your throat, and you gag a little, eyes brimming with tears. you try to squeeze them away with your shut eyes, but your attempts are in vain.

your eyes sting, and you are forced to open them, much to his dismay. coriolanus shakes his head in disapproval as you open your eyes to see him standing above you, cock fucking your pretty little throat. you furrow your brow, a little shocked at his corruption of you; but nonetheless you continue to suck.

‘what did i say about opening your eyes, sweetheart?’ he inquires, one hand stroking the back of your head, twisting his fingers in your shiny tresses.

‘i’m sorry,’ you say, voice muffled as your lips stretch around his tip. you’ve never done this before, but figure it’s quite simple. after all, you’d been doing it with your eyes closed.

‘you’ve been such a good girl; i wanted to give you something special, in thanks.’ he pushed your head back down onto his cock, groaning with delight as you sucked him.

you look up at him with your teary eyes, laving your tongue around his throbbing cock, feeling the rigid veins as he ruts into you. coriolanus tossed his head back, lips drawn into a satisfied grin. you looked so perfect taking him all in. god, just imagine how your cunt would feel around him—stretching out your pretty little pussy with his big, hard cock.

he thinks about how you’ll probably be dead in a few days time—he supposes he ought to relish you while he can, as morbid as it seems.

his thrusts slow, and you feel something warm release at the back of your throat. he pulls out, hot cum dripping from the tip of his cock, and starving, not having eaten in hours, you lap up all the leaking spend.

‘oh fuck,’ he sighs, patting your head as you slide your tongue up and down over the tip. he tingles with overstimulation.

you swallow obediently; he tastes a little salty, but not unpleasant, and feel it slide down into your belly. coriolanus leans down to press a kiss to your plump, wet lips; a little bruised from the sucking. he hoped the gamemakers wouldn’t notice you’d been a little maimed before the games.

‘i’m full now,’ you muse, eyes glistening a little with delight. he laughs at your sudden cheek, and you smile, glad to have just pleased him. that’s all you wanted—his approval; him telling you how good you were as you sucked him off.

‘mhm, i don’t know about that sweetheart,’ his lips curl up into an impish grin. you cock a brow; confused.

‘are you going to do that again?’ you inquire, gnawing at your bottom lip. while you enjoyed it, you felt the nagging feeling between your thighs; want, want for something more. a different kind of hunger.

‘no,’ his voice trailed off, and he knelt down, placing his hands on your thighs. ‘but i’m going to fill you another way.’

his hands creep up your dress, pushing the flimsy fabric aside, revealing your lack of panties—after all, it was impossible with the dress. he groans, seeing your cunt on display, his hands parting your legs which are sticky with want.

‘what are you doing?’ your voice trembles a little, not out of fear, but out of curiosity. back home, you’d known very little about the ways of the world. sure, you’d kissed boys, but nothing ever went further than a bit of tongue. you only knew that your body was desperate for him, and that you assumed, he’d use some part of himself to relieve that aching pressure building up.

‘shhh, relax, sweetheart,’ he put a finger to your lips, and thus you obliged, watching as he dips fingers in the slickness of your cunt.

you cry out, his fingers stretching out your tight little hole. he purses his lips together smugly, feeling you tense around him again—you’re a virgin. he feels his own belly burn with desire at the knowledge that he will be the first to tarnish you, to fuck you full of cum and claim you as his. in fact, you really do belong to him. your life depends on how many sponsors he can rack up for you, and how well he prepares you for the arena. he has to admit, he loves the power surge he gets from this.

he pumps his fingers in and out, adding another when he feels you loosening around them; wanting to stretch you out enough for you to be able to take him.

‘oh!’ you mewl as he fucks you with his fingers; your own making a fist in the rich upholstered fabric of the settee.

‘good girl,’ he praises, and you smile, proud to be pleasing him so well. you see his cock harden again. it is pressing against his stomach, the tip red with need; he’s so desperate to fuck your tight little hole and pump you full of his cum.

‘lay back,’ he demands, and you oblige, wiggling back on the settee and propping yourself up with your shoulders.

he guides his cock with his hands, and slides it slowly inside of you. you feel your walls loosen around him; stretching with a little pain at first, but you’re so wet that soon all you can feel is a delicious fullness, and the tingling growing more.

‘fuck you’re tight,’ he grunts, beginning to thrust into you. he can’t help but be a little greedy, bucking into you with vigour and force—he doesn’t really care if it hurts you, you’re just so tight that he is filled with the desperate need to spoil you.

he is poised over you now, muscular arms propping himself up, and you reach your hands around to caress his back; wanting to feel some sense of closeness. you’ve hardly known him a week, and yet he’s shown your more kindness than anybody else in the capitol.

he begins to pound into you, overcome by his intense desire, and the feeling of you clenching around his big cock is enough to send him yearning for satisfaction. you moaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure as he filled you full; cock buried so deep you could feel his balls slapping against the bare skin between your cunt and bottom.

‘mhm, coryo,’ you mutter into his shoulder, fingers clawing at his back.

‘such a pretty baby, taking my cock like this,’ he grins, rutting you like you’re nothing better than a common white. ‘can’t believe you’re letting me make you mine, huh? what other tribute would do that? are you a little slut, hm?’

‘uh huh,’ you nod, too fucked out on his cock to muster up anything but a few moans. you’d never imagined he’d be taking you, spoiling you with his big cock. and yet, you’d let him. he’d known how much of a desperate little whore you were; blushing too much whenever he praised you as you showed him your stamina in training.

coriolanus grips your hips as he fastened his pace, driving himself in and out; your wet pussy making a delightful sound as he rutted you. he watches as your tits bounce in that flouncy green dress, threatening to spill out with every thrust. if he wouldn’t get in trouble for ruining your dress, he’d have cum all over your tits, painting you with his spend. but he delighted more in pumping you full instead; watching it drip out as you tried to clean yourself up and put on a show of decorum.

‘fuck,’ he moans as your walls tense around him, your heat burning as his thrusts turn slow. ‘i’m gonna fill you up, hm? would you like that?’

you nod drunkenly—absolutely blissful from his cock. you shudder a little, feeling a sudden tightness in your belly—your cunt contracts slightly, and you gush around him, your first and albeit weak orgasm.

he bucks his hips, grunting and groaning as he finishes inside of you, filling you up with his second load; sticky and hot with desire.

‘god, you’re such a little slut, taking all of my cum, letting me ruin you like that,’ he says exasperatedly, not sliding out yet so he can ensure his cum stays in you—after all, you need to be reminded that you’re his. ‘i wonder what the gamemakers would say if they knew you were letting your mentor pump you full of his cum? letting a fucking slut into the arena…’

your cheeks burn with embarrassment, feeling his cum inside of you; a deliciously full sensation. you’re not so hungry anymore. he slides out of you, and watches as his seed begins to slowly trickle out of you and down your thighs.

‘will you come again, coryo?’ you ask, bottom lip between your teeth, a sheepish look painted upon your pretty face. he laughs in disbelief.

‘what, that desperate to have me before you go into the arena?’ he is a little surprised by this, but is gloating all over at the fact that you’re just so drunk on his cock.

‘mhm, please coryo,’ your lip trembles, eyes stretching wide with plea. ‘grant a dying girl her wish.’

his look darkens, and you feel a pit in your stomach form. neither of you were saying it, but it was unlikely that you’d be making it out alive. perhaps if you were especially lucky… but chances were slim.

‘i’ll try my best. for my favourite tribute,’ he half-promises, feeling a tightness in his chest when he has to remember that you too, are human. not some little doll to play with. he’s not one for getting feelings involved. he learned that the hard way, with lucy gray.

‘thank you coryo,’ you muse, pressing a kiss to his lips. you feel a tender flutter in your heart.

he dresses, and then leaves with the half-hearted promise of being back soon, perhaps later tonight if he can manage to sneak past the guards. of course, he only cares about satisfaction. knowing he has you wrapped around his finger means he has better luck at getting you to win—you’ll do whatever he says.

that’s how he leaves you, his favourite tribute, blissful from his cock, and wanting more; desperate for him. you don’t know his real intentions, that you’re just his little plaything, the chance to bring further glory to his name.

coriolanus snow is a bad man.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo x reader #x reader #female x reader #tom blyth #hunger games #smut #president snow #tbosbas x reader #tbosbas #tbosbas fanfic #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games #drabble #blurb #fanfic #coryo smut #coryo snow

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aurora-starwars · 4 months

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Oh my gosh your requests are open! I’m so hyped. Can I maybe request like a Dad! Jake Sully x Daughter! Reader where reader is just so much like Tsu’tey, stubborn and always spites him but they still get along? I can picture Jake missing his na’vi brother and his daughter is just him all over again. I mostly think of Ghost by Justin Bieber to be Jake trying to relive the short time that him and Tsu’tey get along.

Grief Is The Price We Pay For Love

Pairing: Dad!Jake Sully x Daughter!reader (platonic)

Summary: Jake can’t stop seeing Tsu’tey in his oldest daughter

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentioned violence, like one or two curse words

Word Bank: Kuru - Neural Queue; Olo'eyktan - Leader of the clan; Ikran - banshee, large flying animal; Iknimaya - rite of passage for the Omatikaya; Omatikaya - na’vi clan on Pandora; Pa’li - direhorse, horse like animal; skxawng - moron, idiot;

A/n: It has been a while, and for that I am truely sorry, life just kept sweeping me away. But I enjoyed writing this! Thank you for requesting! Please enjoy!!!!!!! <333333333333

Masterlist

As soon as she was born, her yellow eyes seemed to pierce Jake Sully’s just as Tsu’tey’s used to.

Born alongside Neteyam, [Name] bore the distinct features of the Na’vi. Kuru starting at the top of her head, prominent lack of eyebrow, three fingers. All features he should associate with his mate, Neytiri, the mother of the twins. But as Jake watches her grow, he can’t help but see his fallen Na’vi brother.

Jake thought it would fade away, that it was something from his past haunting him and his daughter didn’t actually look like the reincarnate of Tsu’tey at all. Besides, if he were to see Tsu’tey in anyone, surely it would be his remarkably Na’vi son, who bore many of the same traits of his sister. But as they grew, Jake and Neytiri both could see just how similar [Name] and Tsu’tey actually were.

It started early, when they were teaching Neteyam, Kiri, and [Name] to walk, a fairly simple and necessary step for any child. This didn’t stop little [Name], who was a little less than a year old, from being stubborn. Neytiri and Jake started by holding their arms, lifting them up onto their feet so that they could stand. When they could stand, they would let go, moving away slightly in hopes they would follow. The ‘they’ was just Kiri and Neteyam. When they tried to help [Name], she only swatted her hand away and pouted, giving the most hateful glare one could receive.

Regretfully, Jake laughed at this, earning a smack to the shoulder from Neytiri. How could he not have though? [Name] looked just like Tsu’tey like that, acted like him too. Jake smiled fondly at his oldest daughter, who soon after tried to stand on her own, feeling left out from her siblings.

Another time Jake saw Tsu’tey in [Name] was when he was teaching [Name] and Neteyam how to hunt. They weren’t very old, five or six max, and they still had a lot of learning to do. This, however, did not stop [Name] from trying to teach Neteyam how to use a bow, despite hardly knowing how to use one herself. It was day three of teaching the kids and [Name] was on Neteyam’s back about his posture. She kept hitting his belly, telling him that he had to tighten his muscles, hitting his arm, telling him to raise his elbow. While she was right, Jake couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, how many times did Tsu’tey mock and criticize his form? Too many to count.

By the time Jake came to the present, Neteyam had half-heartedly thrown his bow down, huffing in frustration before running up to Jake and hugging his leg.

“[Name] is making fun of me!” Neteyam’s weak voice whined.

“It’s not my fault you suck!” [Name] laughed, her small hands on her hips.

Ever since then, [Name] seemed to beat out Neteyam in every subject. In skill, she beat all of the young warriors her age. She was quickly becoming one of the best warriors of her age, of the clan! Jake was more than proud. Proud of not only his daughter’s success, but just how Na’vi she has become. Na’vi, just like the most Na’vi person he knew.

Tsu’tey.

No matter where she went, [Name] would always remind Jake of Tsu’tey. Remind him of when they got along. And when they didn’t.

Like the day after her Iknimaya.

Jake knew he shouldn’t be worried, she wouldn’t be alone, and yet he did not want her to go out riding ikran with her friends. Her friends where nice kids, all warriors like her, that he has taught, but she just bonded with her ikran, the bond was new, and he did not trust [Name]’s ikran just yet. He remembers Bob, it took a few days, at least a week for them to completely trust each other. He did not want [Name]’s ikran to get spooked by something and leave her for dead.

[Name] did not take this news very well.

She was just leaving their family home, a wide smile on her face, when Jake stopped her. He knew she was so excited to attempt her Iknimaya and was even more proud to have successfully bonded with her own ikran. That is why he was not surprised to see her smile fall, her ears pin back, and shoulders slump.

“What? Why?” she wasn’t unreasonable, if her father had a good reason, she would respect his commands.

“Baby girl, I have said you cannot go, do not argue with me,” unfortunately Jake was not great at communicating.

[Name] gave him a piercing glare, shooting daggers that seemed to wound Jake immediately. But he could not show it, would not show it. He is the Olo'eyktan, he must act like it.

But does not stop the pained look that washes over his face once she had walked away.

Later that night, Neytiri scolded him lightly for preventing [Name] from enjoying time kids her age for once, instead of taking care of her siblings or training. While Jake was still apprehensive about the situation, feeling as if his fears were justified, he felt his rules might have been too strict this time.

It was good timing for this resolution because not even an hour later, [Name] arrived back to the family hut, having been gone all night riding her ikran with her friends.

Jake stood up immediately, making his way to the entrance of their home, waiting for [Name]’s eyes to meet his. When they did, [Name] seemed to have more composure than him, he almost felt threatened by her eyes. As if he was the one to do something wrong, not her.

“Where have you been? I thought you were with your siblings?” Jake was more than confused, was she not just sleeping in her room with her siblings?

“Dad, we both knew where I was, no need to do this,” she did not seem angry, but she did stand her ground like the grown warrior she was becoming.

“Do not worry, Father. I have been watching the others,” Neteyam remarks, walking out of the Sully kid’s shared room.

He lays a hand on his father’s shoulder, “If anyone can go out alone on ikran and be fine, it is my sister. If anything, she was protecting the others, and you know they fight well.”

Jake smiles at his son, patting the hand on his shoulder. Jake nods, looking down as if thinking before looking back up at his daughter. He smiles at her, extending a hand, an invitation.

Her piercing gaze drops, her smile reaching her face again as she breaks out into a warm laugh, taking her father’s hand. Jake pulls his daughter and son closer, bringing them into his chest, where they rest their heads.

Later that night, all Jake can think about is how [Name] seemed just like Tsu’tey in that moment.

Tsu’tey patted Jake on the back, a harsh sort of pat, one you would give if you secretly wanted to do harm to the other.

“Jakesully, you do not understand our ways, you will never be one of us,” as much as his words sounded serious, with the smile on his face and the light tone in his voice told Jake that this was more affectionate than hostile.

Jake aimed his bow again, taking in a deep breath, eyes locking onto the makeshift target. He sucked in his stomach, raised his elbow and let go.

“Ah, pretty good,” Tsu’tey nodded, looking at the bulleye. “For a dreamwalker,” he teased, playfully smacking Jake’s shoulder.

Jake noted Tsu’tey’s smile was light, out of character for the Na’vi who usually wore a piercing glare around him. The smile was unusual but welcomed and only helped Jake prove to himself that he was, in face, becoming one of the people.

But what really sealed the deal for Jake, was when he assigned Lo’ak, Neteyam, and [Name] as look out for Lo’ak’s first mission.

He only let Lo’ak join because he had become awfully annoying with his pestering. Always on about how if [Name] and Neteyam could go, why couldn’t he? Jake figured that Lo’ak would lose interest or get too scared to do anymore if he let him join. How wrong he was.

Lo’ak was a pain in the ass as always, and Neteyam and [Name] were doing their best to keep him inline. The whole way to the checkpoint was full of non-stop chatter and jokes about how he was going to destroy the RDA, how he was going to beat them all up all on his own. [Name] though her eyes might get stuck with the amount her eyes would roll.

“Lo’ak, shut your damn mouth or I will tell mum what you keep in that basket in our room,” [Name] practically barks.

Lo’ak goes quiet, and [Name] can see the purple of his cheeks, even from where she is on her ikran. Neteyam smiles at her, and she takes that as a thanks.

The problem came when they arrived at the checkpoint, bombs went off, the train went off track, and Lo’ak decided he wanted a piece of the action, diving his ikran in the direction of the pa’li riders.

[Name] just held her hand up at Neteyam, telling him to keep on look out, and she dove to join her youngest brother.

When she landed, she found Lo’ak holding a gun, letting out a battle cry.

“Lo’ak!” [Name] came running, eyes dark and her ears pinned, straight for Lo’ak.

“Put that thing down,” she ordered, shoving the gun into someone else’s arms. “Today is not the day to be a skxawng, let’s go,” [Name] grabbed him by the ear and dragged him back to his ikran.

Jake watched this from where he was stationed, feeling a glimmer of pride for his daughter in his chest and a sparkle of deep annoyance for his son. But he was left little time to think before Neteyam warned him of an incoming RDA aircraft.

When they made it back to base, the three young warriors lined up, all three practically unscathed but their sisters still came and checked on them.

Jake looked into his eldest daughter’s eyes, he saw a warrior, a warrior that cared for her loved ones, one that did not take BS. He saw Tsu’tey. His na’vi brother. He looked into her eyes, yellow eyes filled with focus and determination, and he brought his hand from his forehead downwards in a smooth motion.

“I see you, daughter.”

Master-list

A/n: Thank you so much for reading! My requests are open so please feel free to request! <3333333

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @adrunkskeletonsduck @luvlykrispy @tainted-artist4161 @gamorxa @valentineheartzz @nighttimemoonlover

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unreliablesnake · 3 months

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Tough choice (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: After a successful mission, you get a lot of job offers. But there's one that gets your attention.

Note: We lost a hero, it's hard to fill his shoes. / This will probably get another part where Simon confesses his feelings. And tells the reader about what he thought of them during the first meeting.

Warnings: character death mentioned

Ever since that mission last year, people have been extremely interested in getting you on their side. You were swimming in options, going from briefing to briefing to find that one job which managed to pique your interest. The CIA wanted you higher up the ladder, giving you more responsibilities, while some PMC’s sniffed out what happened and were now trying to sweep you off your feet. Shadow Company offered a fortune for your services, but even Phillip Graves’s charm wasn’t enough to convince you.

And now Laswell brought you an opportunity that made you think. Task force 141. “Ask Alex for reference,” was all she said before handing you the number of Captain John Price.

It took days to get a hold of your friend, but once you did, he spoke highly of the team he helped out every now and then. “I think they need you to fill some big shoes. A sergeant was KIA and now Ghost needs a partner on the field,” he explained.

“Ghost?”

“Mhm. Man’s a mystery, but he’s damn good at what he does. If I were you, I would go for it.”

So you called Price and organized a meeting with him. This was the first round of the interview process, the opportunity to learn more about your possible future boss, the team, and, of course, how they operate. The captain works with a sergeant called Gaz, while Ghost had worked with Soap, another sergeant who had been KIA. That latter you already knew from Alex.

Price told you to visit the base the next time they're all there, and you gladly accepted the invitation. The team’s mystery man, the one you would have to work with, grabbed your attention. His superior spoke highly of him, and the fact Alex also emphasized that he was excellent at what he did made you curious. He certainly lived up to his call sign by keeping his identity so hidden. You didn’t know his name, you didn’t know his age, you didn’t know what he looked like. All you knew is that he was a Brit, just like Price and Gaz.

It took your schedules to align almost four weeks, but eventually you made it to their location and were greeted by the captain as if you were already a member of their team. His warm smile brought one to your lips too, and you soon found yourselves deep in a conversation about Kate and Alex. He liked working with them, and despite Alex being labeled a deserter, the team often crossed paths with him. That was good. Meeting him every once in a while would be nice.

“Ghost is waiting for us in my office,” Price began to say, only to pause for a brief moment when he stopped in front of a door. “But I think I’ll give you two the chance to talk alone. I already told him about you, even mentioned that I want you to work with us, but he has to be the one to finalize our decision.”

Nodding, you waited for him to open the door, then stepped inside the dimly lit room. The window shades were pulled down and the only source of light came from the small lamp on the desk. Ghost was sitting in the swivel chair behind it, his eyes scanning a file that you assumed was yours.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Ghost interrupted you right away. “I want you on my team,” he stated sternly as if it was an order, then threw the file on the top of several other documents.

Despite your best efforts to keep things professional, a snort coming from you filled the room upon hearing his words. “So does everybody else,” you informed him, slowly folding your arms over your chest. “I already turned down several offers. Convince me; why should I pick this team?”

The lieutenant stood up and walked over to you, finally letting you realize just how much bigger he was. He was intimidating, yes, but that didn’t stop you from keeping eye contact with him. “You know Laswell. If you trust her, you can trust us,” he said.

“It’s not a matter of trust.”

“Then what do you want to hear?”

A sigh left your lips. It wasn’t about the money. If it was, you would be working for Shadow Company now. To be honest, you didn’t even know what you wanted from the job. But there was one question that bugged you since you first heard about this guy. “Are you a good person?” you asked him seriously.

Since you could only see a small part of his face, you almost missed that surprised glint in his eyes. “No,” came his answer.

For a few moments you just watched him, thinking about his response. He was honest, that you truly appreciated, but you could hear something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place yet. Regret? Pain? Doubt? Self-hate? Whatever it was, it made him sound and look human. Without realizing what you were doing, you took a step closer to him, making this giant man lean his hips against the desk to build back some distance.

“When can I start?”

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the way his large fingers tightly gripped the edge of the desk at your words, as if he was trying to ground himself. Was he thinking about the sergeant he had lost? If it was you, your mind would always return to the person who died under your command. What if this one dies too? You would be asking yourself this over and over again. So you didn’t want to rush him, you just stood there and waited for him to pull himself together.

And then, after several minutes of deafening silence, he finally spoke up. “Good decision. Price will tell you the details,” Ghost informed you before moving past you to rush out the door.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare #call of duty #mw3 #mw2

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khimili · 2 years

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fly me to the moon

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Summary: Bucky loves to flirt with you, and most of the time it just leaves you flustered and confused. Because you like him, a lot, and he’s infuriatingly handsome. He's quite a ladies' man and it shows. He knows exactly what to say and where to touch you to sweep you off your feet. But maybe there’s more to it. Word count: 7.5k Warnings: cocky!bucky, mutual pining, two idiots in love, teasing, flirting, banter, sexual tension, a bit of angst, smut (dirty thoughts, masturbation, dirty talk, dry sex, edging, oral sex, unprotected penetration, praise kink), fluff Author's note: I’m literally obsessed with cocky!Bucky and I’ve been dying to write something like this for ages. It’s long, it’s messy but I was inspired and I hope you’ll like it. Banal, ordinary, conventional, predictable, exceeded, seen and reviewed, flat, unoriginal cliché ahead, bear with me please!

“Listen Y/L/N,” Bucky said casually, looking at you with a boyish smile of his own. “If you want me to take you out for dinner, just ask.”

You shook your head and tried without success to find your voice. It seemed to be jammed in your throat somewhere, and even though you had already done it multiple times, your eyes insisted on taking another inventory of tall, broad and handsome man standing in front of. He didn’t seem to mind you looking. In fact, if that cocky smile of his was any indication, he liked it rather a lot. Heat crept up your cheeks and he laughed, the sound reverberating somewhere deep inside you, drying your mouth and wetting other portions of your anatomy.

“If you think I’m going to purposely spend one of my few nights off with you, you’ve got another think coming.”

“Now, now, is that any way to talk to the man you love?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Barnes,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully. “You’re not even as charming as you think you are.”

“Doll,” he sighed, suddenly grabbing his chest dramatically. “You’re breaking my heart.”

“You’ll get over it, I’m sure.”

You tried to play it cool, just waiting for him to quit fooling around. You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him your best tough-chick-with-an-attitude look. Unfortunately, he seemed less than impressed. God, why did he have to be so gorgeous? His clingy shirt showed off a broad, powerful chest tapering into a lean waist that you knew featured a six-pack in the ab area. He caught you staring and flashed you a satisfied smile. You were pretty sure smiles like that were against the law in some state. Suffering from a severe case of jelly-knees, you had to look away.

“Come on, there has to be something you like about me,” he said, leaning back into his chair, arms behind his head. “Be honest.”

“Barnes,” you warned. “Your little mind games don’t work on me.”

“Admirable deflection, doll,” he laughed. “You never struck me as the type who would be afraid of her own desires. But if you prefer to pine, gazing longingly from across the room when you think I’m not paying attention, shutting down any feelings that get in the way of–“

“Fine!” you interrupted him, nearly shooting. “Parts of you, maybe.”

“What?” he asked, his amusement instantly replaced by interest.

“There are parts of you I like,” you mumbled, as if it was something to be ashamed of.

And it was a blatant lie. Because there were so many things you liked about him.

“Care to be a little more specific, doll?”

“Your hands,” you admitted, watching him looking at his flesh hand. “Both of them.”

“My hands,” he said faintly, stretching his vibranium fingers, making you shiver from head to toe in the process.

“Yes,” you admitted. “You have– You have beautiful hands.”

“I’d like so much to know what sinful fantasy’s going through you head right now.”

“Don’t. Barnes, just– Please, don’t,” you begged, a hint of desperation in your voice.

“Jesus, doll,” he said, his flesh hand closing around your arm gently. “Do you expect me not to use this to full advantage?”

“Well, I– I was told you’ve been raised to be a gentleman.”

You said it in a very calm, steady voice, even though your heart was jackhammering. His hand felt wonderfully warm and solid on your arm, and his body seemed to radiate a comforting heat. Up close, you could smell his perfume, along with an exotic, musky scent you couldn’t put a name to. It was difficult to think properly when he was invading your personal space like this, and lately he was doing this a lot. You fought your arousal as hard as you could, but when he was standing so close to you with this very predatory look on his face, it was a battle you couldn’t win.

“Do you wish to know what I like about you, doll?”

“Barnes,” you whispered as a warning.

For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. And to be honest, you wanted him to kiss you, wanted to lose yourself in sensual pleasure. But he didn’t, and it was just as well. You were ashamed that he could reduce you to a whimpering puddle of lust from barely doing anything. That he could take control so quickly.

“Relax. I’m not going to ravish you on that worktop,” he laughed gently, handing you a clean mug from the dish rack. “Would you be a dear and put that back in its proper place for me?”

“Sure.”

Slowly, you turned around on shaky legs, taking a deep, steadying breath. You pushed up onto your toes and raise your arms to reach the top cupboard, sliding the cup in its place.

“This,” he said quietly, his fingers gliding over the exposed skin along the curve of your waist, making you shiver. “I like this a lot.”

“Fine! Take me out for dinner,” you suddenly exclaimed, shutting the cupboard door and pushing him away. “Now, back off.”

“See?” he asked, smug satisfaction spreading across his handsome face. “All you had to do was ask.”

Before you could fully process what he had said, he stepped in close and bent down. He brushed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“You’re the worst.”

Bucky Barnes was a fucking tease. That’s what you were thinking, trying to regain your composure in the ladies’ room. He had spent the whole evening playing with your nerves. Small touches here and there, charming smiles and fine words, making you gradually lose your mind. He was good at that. Almost too good. And that was what scared you the most with him. You had no intention to become another notch on a rather long belt of meaningless one-night stands. You knew too damn well how he were, but that didn’t prevent you from being attracted to him like a stupid moth to a flame. A very sexy flame. Tall and broad and handsome. And–

Fuck. You clearly needed to get your shit together. That dinner – which you insisted wasn’t a date, would soon be over and you would go on your separate ways. You would go to your bedroom and lock the door. You would probably touch yourself to get rid of your nasty thoughts, trying your best not to moan his name out loud. You’d think about his large hands, his tempting mouth, his hard cock pounding relentlessly into your pussy as he’d fuck you face-first into the mattress with your hands behind your back. That sole idea made sucked in a breath; hands wrapped tight around the sink. You nearly jumped out of your skin when the door opened behind you.

“What the fuck, Barnes,” you exclaimed. “You’re in the ladies’ room!”

“Oh, come on, as if you didn’t want me to follow you there,” he laughed with a cocky smile, walking toward you like a fucking predator. “Are you going to deny it?”

You found yourself unable to answer as you watched him coming closer to you. You wanted to run, and at the same time you wanted to throw yourself at him. In the blink of an eye, he was facing you.

“Barnes,” you nearly begged. “Don’t…”

“Kiss me,” he asked, his lips nearly touching yours. “Kiss me, and I swear to god, if you don’t feel anything I’ll leave you alone.”

“One kiss?” you asked, your voice full of hope.

“One kiss.”

You could do this. You were an adult, not a goddam horny teenager. All you had to do was kiss him and be done with it. What was the worst that could happen? You just had to pretend that you were not attracted to him. Because even though he was a lady’s man, you knew he would keep his word. Your eyes went from his to his lips, and back again. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to speak. One of his hands went to your cheek and you stopped breathing for a moment. You couldn’t think. And when he bent down and brushed his lips against yours, you rational thoughts flew out the window.

“Nothing,” you lied, almost breathless, but he made no move to let you go. “Barnes, you promised. You promised you’d leave me alone.”

“But you didn’t kiss me, doll,” he purred. “I did. Come on now, be a good girl and do as you’re told.”

Your thighs clenched to his words. This man would be the death of you. You pushed up onto your toes. Shoving one hand into his hair, you gripped the back of his head and pulled him down. Bucky watched your eyes until your mouth touched his. You saw his lashes lower, felt a small quiver run through him. You had intended a little, teasing peck to his lips, but that tremble made something snap inside you. You tipped your head and kissed him hard, nails scratching through his hair and down the back of his neck. To your delight, he growled, hands snapping up to wrap around your waist.

Suddenly, he dragged you forward, shifting his feet beneath you. He set one on the inside of your legs and pulled you onto his thigh. He traced your lips with the point of his tongue and you pressed closer to him, your hand slipping under his shirt to rest on his abdomen. He was solid, and warm, and goddammit, an incredible kisser. He dragged one hand up your back and wrapped the length of your hair around his fist. He tugged, tipping your head further before giving a quick, exploratory sweep of his tongue across yours, making you moan.

Before you could stop yourself, you wriggled. His leg was solid between yours, pressing exactly where your wanted. You whimpered again and sank your teeth into his lower lip, your nails still digging into his nape, holding for dear life. Bucky made a small sound that seemed half-caught in his throat and you pulled back, scraping his lips between your teeth, to look at him. His eyes were closed, his cheeks were flushed pink, and his pulse were fluttering above his collar. You hated to admit it, but he had proven his point. You were obviously attracted to him, but that didn’t mean you had to give in you urges.

“That was–“ you started with a hoarse voice. “That was not–“

His eyes shot open and in one swift motion, he made your turn around, pressing your back to his chest.

“Look at you, Y/L/N,” he whispered, grabbing your throat to make you look at your own reflection in the mirror. “Wearing this– This fucking dress… You like to torment me, don’t you?”

“Nothing–“ you whimpered, shifting your heels to give him better access. “Nothing to do with you.”

“Is that so?” he asked with a low growl, grazing his teeth along your neck, his flesh hand finally finding its way under your dress. “Jesus… That’s why you went commando tonight, right?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but your tongue appeared to be glued to the roof of your mouth. You had too many brain cells focused on the pulsing heat at the small of your back to unstick it. You were literally swimming in arousal at this point, and you suspected you would expire of frustration if your demon were to stop his mind game. As if on cue, Bucky’s tongue flicked out, tasting the shell of your ear. When a sound finally escaped your throat, it wasn’t the protest you had been planning; it was a low, urgent moan.

“Please,” you sighed, clenching your thighs together against the sudden surge of your desire.

“Good girl,” he cooed, tightening his grip around your waist, making you feel the entire length of him in your back.

You expected him to take advantage of the situation. In some ways, it would have been easier for you to hate him. Against all odds, he simply took your hand and guided it to the juncture of your thighs, leaving warm kisses on your neck while doing so. You fought against his urging for about half a second before giving in with a strangled moan. Your desire was just too much for you to fight it. It felt like you had to come, or you would break into tiny little pieces, never to be put together again. It was his fingers you craved, but you’d rather die on the spot than admit it out loud.

Slowly, you slipped your hand between your legs and stroked yourself, his fingers laced to yours in a possessive embrace. The touch was gentle, barely there as you drew lazy circles over your sensitive clit. Your cheeks burned in shame when you realized how wet you were. Closing your eyes, you put just a bit more pressure on your clit, sending an electric shock through your nerves. Your shallow panting turned into a moan against your better judgement. There was something far too intimate in the way the both of you were standing.

“You drive me crazy, doll” he growled in your ear, biting your lobe. “You have no idea what’s going through my head right now.”

“Tell me,” you begged, fastening the peace of your fingers without even realizing it. “Please.”

“My, my, Y/L/N, you’re something else you know that?” he asked with a chuckle. “D’you wish to know what I’d do to you if you were mine?”

“Yes,” you moaned, grasping the back of his neck with your free hand to stop you from tripping because of your wobbly legs.

“I’d spread your legs and put my fingers inside your sweet cunt, finding you soaked just for me,” he purred, grinding against you. “I’d hold your hips still and drag my tongue all along your slit. I’d eat you out and make you come so good, doll.”

“James,” you moaned, your hand tugging at his hair.

“Maybe I’d push your face down to worship and suck my cock, would you like that? Put that tempting mouth of yours to good use,” he resumed, and even though you didn’t answer, the loud moan that escaped your lips spoke volume. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you? I’d bend you over and fuck your tight little cunt, make you come all over my cock again and again ‘til you beg me to stop.”

“I– I’m coming,” you whimpered.

“That’s it, good girl, come for me,” he praised, smiling against your skin. “Let go, Y/N.”

It was your name on his lips that sent you over the edge and your vision flashed white with pleasure. The tail end of the orgasm rippled through you as you realized you were in the middle of a public restroom and your hand was still between your leg. Muscles quivering in the aftermath of the massive release, you lay your head on his shoulder and breathed like a runner at the end of a marathon. For a long, breathless moment, you bathed in the warmth of the afterglow. Bucky’s vibranium arm was tenderly wrapped around you and he was still peppering kisses along your neck.

“Well,” he said quietly against your skin. “That settles it.”

“Hm?” you asked, lazily, your mind still clouded by your mind-blowing orgasm.

“You were right,” he explained with a smug smile. “There’s absolutely no chemistry between us.”

“Cocky bastard,” you muttered under your breath, hiding your smile in his neck.

You were roaming inside the kitchen, suddenly craving for your favorite brand of cookies. You were pretty sure there was one box left but you couldn’t get your hands on it. By now, the rest of the team had learnt not to steal your food, but you had still covered your cookie box in, ‘Don’t eat my cookies you fuckers’, ‘Y/N’s property, back off’, ‘I don’t know who you are, but if you eat my food, I will find you’, ‘Ask Tony for a raise if you can’t afford your own food’ and ‘Don’t you dare’ sticky notes. Reaching for the top cupboard, you pushed up onto your toes just to see that if was empty.

Well, not exactly empty. There was a sticky note. ‘Sorry doll, midnight munchies. BB’. Motherfucker. Why did he have to be so infuriating? In a fit of rage, you slammed the cupboard door and left the kitchen. This bastard was clearly making your blood pressure shot up beyond the safe limit. You rushed through the corridors, hammering the floor with your feet, and went to the elevator. First floor. Fourth floor. Hurry up, goddammit! Fifteenth floor. Finally. You charged out of the elevator like a water buffalo, directly to Bucky’s room. You didn’t even bother knocking before entering.

“What did we fucking say bout eat–” You stopped dead in your tracks, greeted by the sight of Bucky wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs. “Jesus fuck! Why the hell are you naked?”

“Well, last time I checked, I was in my room.”

“You could have warned me!”

“You kinda burst in here like a cannonball,” he laughed, not even trying to hide his partial nudity. “What am I supposed to do? Put a sock on the door or something?”

“A sock on the– Who does that?” you asked, dumbfounded, before you remembered what you were coming for. “Nevermind! I don’t care. You fucking ate my cookies! Again!”

“Your coo– Oh, you mean these?” he asked with a devilish smile on lips, grabbing the empty cookie box on his desk. “Were they yours?”

“You know damn well they were mine!” you nearly shouted, crossing the distance between the two of you to pull the box out of his hands, hitting him with it to punctuate each of your words. “It’s. Got. My. Name. All. Over. It!”

“Ouch! Why are you so mad?” he asked, laughing, as he threw your makeshift weapon away and pulled you gently into him. “Is it so important?”

“Yes, it is,” you whined, not even trying to fight his embrace. “I wanted cookies…”

“I’ll buy another cookie box, I promise,” he said, gently kissing your nose, but you were still pouting. “Okay, two more. Ten. Fifty. An entire truckload of cookie box just for you!”

“Yeah, just so you can eat everything as soon as my back is turned,” you accused him, hiding your smile and letting your hands roam his broad chest. “And that’s completely beside the point, because I’m hungry now!”

“You drive a hard bargain, doll,” he purred before pushing you gently onto his bed, covering you with that big, strong body of his, pinning you in place. “Let me makes this up to you.”

“Get off me, you cookie monster,” you growled, struggling helplessly.

Forbidden arousal tugged at your center as you remembered that night you had shared a few weeks ago. It had been your own hand that brought you to climax, but it had been Bucky’s dirty talk that had made that climax inevitable. You swallowed on a dry throat, your emotions ping-ponging wildly, moving too fast for you to identify them all. You hated the sensation of being trapped underneath him with nowhere to run, hated the fact that he was playing with you like a puppet. And yet, it was hard to deny the desire to find out what would come next.

“Trust me,” he murmured, and you didn’t know whether it was his words or his tone, but the shiver that ripped through you was equal parts excitement and fear.

Bucky’s weight shifted above you. He was smiling down at you, his baby blue eyes glowing faintly. Your breath came in shallow pants and your mouth was dry with desire. He lowered his head slowly, giving you time to push him away if you wished. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You wanted to feel his lips on yours. A feeling of desperation rose through you and you kissed him deeply. You moaned into his mouth, and he responded with a soft grunt, his tongue exploring your mouth. Your hands, animated by their own will, slid against his torso.

His lips touched the skin of your neck, and it was like your body went up in flames. A decidedly unchaste moan escaped you, and you wrapped your arms around him, your hands buried in his gorgeous, silky hair. His lips were soft and warm, but there was nothing soft about his kiss, as if he was trying to eat you alive. If he had kissed you any harder, it would have left bruises. One of his hands went up your chest, his finger curling possessively around your breast, and his teeth suddenly closed around the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He hadn’t really touch you yet, and you were already a moaning mess. You were pretty sure you could have stayed like this forever, forgetting the outside world existed, but he used his knee to nudge your legs apart, then settled between them. Even though he was still wearing his underwear, desire clouded your mind and you felt yourself arching against him. He pressed himself hard against you, eliciting a deep moan out of your lips, and your hips bucked against your will. You dress had ridden up and he was almost directly pressed against you. You wanted more. You hooked your fingers into his boxer-briefs.

“No,” Bucky whispered in your ear with a husky voice. “I won’t make love to you, doll. You’d regret it afterward, and that I cannot allow.”

“Why are you being– Such a tease?” you asked, fumbling with your words as he bit on your skin again.

“I can still take care of you,” he purred, squeezing your breast while doing so. “I can make you feel good. So good. I just need you to use your words.”

“Yes,” you pleaded, writhing under his touch. “Please…”

“Good girl,” he praised, his lips ghosting your skin.

You desperately wanted to rip off his underwear to feel him inside you, but you kept your hands buried in his hair to resist the temptation. His hips began to move, his cock stroking you beneath the thin layer of cloth. It shouldn’t have felt so amazing, not to a mature woman who had already had sex before, but there you were, writhing under him. Bucky was in full control and the sensations were almost too good to be true. Feeling him thrust against you, his cock hitting your clit just right with each stroke, had you on the verge of orgasm in no time.

You arched up against him, wanting to take that next step into bliss, but he slowed his pace and lightened his strokes, tormenting you and making you ache for release. You tried to hurry him along, your legs wrapped around his waist, but he would have none of it. And when you released his hair, meaning to hurry yourself along since he was not cooperating, you soon found your hands pinned above your head. He was in charge, and he was letting you know. You were too busy moaning out loud to find the force to protest.

He kept you hanging there, right on the brink of orgasm, for what felt like forever and a bit more. The anticipation tightened every muscle in your body, and every once in a while, you had to remind yourself to breathe. But it also felt so good to be on that brink, knowing with total certainty that he would eventually push you over and that it would be worth the wait. You almost didn’t want it to end, though it didn’t stop you from straining your body up toward him. You realized he was probably edging himself at the same time, and it fueled your desire.

“Tell me what you need, doll.”

“I need to come,” you moaned, fighting his grip on your wrists. “Please make me come.”

Just when you were beginning to think you couldn’t bear it for another moment, Bucky gave one last hard, perfect stroke, and the pleasure exploded through your body. You screamed something incoherent as your back arched and your toes curled, you heart threatening to hammer its way out of your chest. He kept trusting against you until he had milked every last spasm of pleasure he could out of you and you lay there completely limp and panting for breath. It was a while before coherent thought returned. When it did, you realized Bucky hadn’t come, still hard against you.

“You didn’t come,” you stated awkwardly as you felt heat creeping up your cheeks.

“I wanted it to be about you,” he said quietly, caressing tenderly your cheek. “My beautiful, beautiful, Y/N.”

“Stop it,” you said playfully, pushing his hand away, straddling him in one swift motion. “Don’t go sweet talking me!”

“Are you finally falling for my charm?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are we about to finally admit our feelings to each other?”

“You wish,” you answered, trying to pretend your heart didn’t climb the millions at his words and hoping the warm flush that had crept up your face would go unnoticed.

“Put me out of my misery, Y/N,” he whined dramatically.

“Put you out of your misery, right?” you asked, silently wishing he was being serious. “Let me do something for you then.”

“Y/N,” he whimpered, closing his eyes as you pulled his boxer-briefs down. “You don’t have to– Fuck…”

He gripped the sheets as you pulled his cock upright and wrapped your fingers around it. Anything else he might have said disappeared from his mind. All he could focus on was the feel of your hand on him. He'd wanted this for years, dreamt about it night after night, imagined it every time he stepped into the shower or laid back in his bed with his fingers sliding down his length. You stroked him, your grip loose around him as you moved from head to base. Bucky gritted his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose.

You slid your fingers up to the head of his cock and slid his foreskin up and down before gently dragging it back. He bit back a grunt when you trailed your thumb down the underside, brushing the sensitive part of his shaft. He tipped his head forward, watching your hand move, and you looked up at him. You met his eyes and smiled as you rose up a bit, free hand wrapped around the back of his neck to pull his head to you. You kissed him, tongue sliding over his with the same rhythm as your fingers on his cock. Bucky shuddered and jerked in your grip.

“Like that,” he muttered, his head crashing back down on the pillow as you circled the pad of one finger over the head of his cock. “There, just– There, fuck, like that. That's so good, doll. Just how I like it.”

Humming to yourself, you followed his whispered directions. Long glides, shorter pumps, firmer at the base and lighter near the head. He could feel his heartbeat in the shaft under your fingers, could see it in each throb as you stroked him. He stared at you, mouth open and panting for breath, as you leaned forward. You looked up through your lashes, eyes locked on his, and wet your lips. Flattening your tongue, you dragged it up the length of his cock, one long lick from root to tip. He grabbed the edge of the sofa and swore in a deep rumble.

Your hair swayed around your shoulders as you worked your tongue over him, around the ridge, across the head. You took your time, peppering kisses along his shaft, sucking on the head, before opening up and taking as much of him in as you could. Bucky clutched the sheets again and swore, groaning when he felt the back of your throat. Lashes fluttering, you pulled up quickly and focused on the head. Bucky watched you in awe, forcing himself not to buck up into your mouth each time you licked a bead of precum off his skin. He felt a tightening in his abdomen, core muscles tensing, and he put a shaking hand on the back of your head.

“I’m close," he mumbled. “Don't want– If you don't like–“

You shook your head. You stroked him again, watching his eyes. Faster, both hands around his length, pumping him in your fists. You kept your eyes on his face, never looking away from him. He felt his skin tingling, heard his heart thrumming in his ears. Without taking your eyes off his, you ducked your head and closed your lips around him, latching around the head of his cock as he came. Bucky's eyes snapped wide open in surprise and he groaned deep in his throat, unable to stop the short, quick thrusts between your lips. You held the tip in your mouth until the last spasm ended, then sucked gently as you pulled off.

“Fuck,” he moaned deeply. “You’re a little witch, you know that?”

“Hmmm,” you purred as you swallowed his cum, giving him a knowing smile. “Are you finally falling for my charm?”

“Yes,” he laughed, still out of breath. “A thousand times yes!”

“Stop fooling around, Barnes.”

For a brief moment, he seemed… Hurt? But in a blink of an eye, it was gone. Maybe– Maybe he had meant it. This thought caused you great distress until common sense came back to you. Of course, he didn’t mean it. You waited a bit more, but Bucky gave no reaction. After a few moments, he finally got up of the bed with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly. Next thing you knew, he was his normal self again, relaxed and smiling. He put back on his boxer-briefs and gave you a flirtatious wink when he caught you staring.

“Like what you see, uh?” he teased you, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “My dearest Y/N, just admit it already.”

“Shut it, punk,” you answered in a playful and gentle tone, unable to hide your smile. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the cookies you owe me.”

Every Friday was movie night. The room was a bit chilly, but the plaid cover thrown across your legs provided you some comfortable warmth. The rest of the team were off outside the building doing whatever it was that they preoccupied their time with. Well, not exactly all the rest of the team.

Bucky was sitting beside you on the couch, his body a second source of warmth that soaked into your pores and relaxed your clenched muscles. Your lips curled up in a tender smile, driven by a will of their own. It felt good, kind of domestic. And for once, you deserved to feel good, if only for a little while. You let your eyes slide shut, still smiling faintly. Bucky’s fingers traced over your face, caressing from forehead to chin and back again. You sighed and turned your face into the caress, your body relaxing even more.

His hand cupped your cheek, and he pushed you away a bit so he could look into your eyes, his gentle smile warming you in ways the plaid cover couldn’t. It was so easy to fall under his spell, to let yourself relax and open up in his presence. Something deep inside you longed to let go completely and to entrust yourself entirely to his care. You were tired of being always so vigilant and guarded. The idea was as tempting as it was scary, because you knew you could easily end up with a broken heart.

You started to pull away from him, confused by your own change of mood, but he just held tighter until you could barely move. His sensuous lips curved into a smile, but he didn’t say anything. Holding the back of your head, he bent his own head toward you.

“James,” you whispered, battling to say calm despite your racing heart.

“I love it when you say my name,” he whispered with a husky voice, his lips maybe an inch from yours. “I could get used to it.”

As he closed that final distance between the two of you, his lips touching yours, you felt a fire burning in your chest. You made an incoherent sound, half protest, half pleasure, as he feathered kisses over your lips. You wanted to tell him to stop, but when you opened your mouth to say the word, nothing came out. Your tried once more to squirm out of his grip, but your body refused to move. And though it seemed completely out of place, a bolt of affection shot through you. He took advantage of what he must have considered an invitation and slid his tongue into your mouth.

One of your hands slid along his chest while the other tugged at his hair almost desperately. His free arm sneaked around your waist as he tasted the inside of your mouth with gentle, delicate licks. A moan rose from your throat, and even you could hear the longing in that sound. You wanted to be his. You wanted him to be yours. It suddenly became obvious to you. Kissing him felt like abandoning a part of yourself in the process, and you were more than willing to do so. All you could think of was how your heart ached for him.

When Bucky’s tongue stroked yours more firmly, you felt like your body might melt with the pleasure of it. He tasted so good you thought you could never get enough; a bouquet of flavors you would never get tired of sampling. His lips were soft and moist, his body a reassuring cocoon of warmth surrounding you. Although you couldn’t miss his massive erection with his legs tangled with yours, he wasn’t trying to take this to the next level; you would have been more than willing. When he broke the kiss and released you, your first reaction was a mewl of protest.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, doll,” he growled, his voice hoarse with desire.

“I want you…”

“Falling in love, at last?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Yes,” you admitted in a small voice, your heart dropping into the depths of your already nervous stomach.

“My, my, you’re– Wait. You– What?” he stuttered, staring at your face wide-eyed.

“I love you,” you said, caressing his skin tenderly with shaking fingers. “I should– I should have said it before, but I was just scared. But now… Now, I’m not scared anymore. I– Do you–?”

All of a sudden, he grabbed you, hauled you up against his body and kissed you. Your resistance to that kiss lasted perhaps a total of ten milliseconds. When you gave in to it, you gave in with all your heart, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging for all you were worth. It felt almost surreal to feel his body so close against yours.

When his tongue dipped into your mouth, you let out an uninhibited moan of pleasure. His hand cupped the side of your face, and the warmth of that touch melted some of the ice that had formed around your heart. You never wanted him to stop. While his lips were on yours, your mind went on vacation, wandering in the most amazing places. Instead of thinking all the time, you merely felt. His lips were soft and wet on yours, just like you liked them, and in that thought, your heart started beating staccato.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Bucky had more to say to you, so he broke the kiss long before you were ready. You made an incoherent sound of protest and tried to capture his lips again, but he put his hands on your shoulders to hold you off. He was breathing hard, and his eyes were dark with desire, but somehow, he found to willpower to stop. He lowered his head, resting his forehead against yours. There was no denying he was a treat to look at. Baby blue eyes framed by thick lashes, sun-kissed skin, muscles in all the right places. A dream came true.

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

“Show me…”

“You shouldn’t say things like that, doll,” he chuckled quietly. “I could take advantage.”

“Please,” you moaned. “I need you, James. I need–“

Once again, he interrupted you with a kiss and you abandoned yourself to his warm embrace, relishing his taste and smell. Fire burned through your veins and your heart hammered in your chest as you straddled him on the couch. With a moan, he shifted so you could feel his erection pressing firmly between your legs. Your hands moved with a will of their own, plucking open the buttons of his shirt and smoothing over the skin of his chest. Still kissing him as if your life depended on it, you found his nipples and tweaked them, making him moan and jerk beneath you.

He pushed your shirt and bra up until your breast were bared, not bothering to unbutton or unclasp anything. He just couldn’t wait to see you. Without any warning, he surged forward, seizing one of your nipples between his clever lips. It was your turn to moan, and your back arched without your conscious volition. His tongue rasped over the hardened bud, and he sucked just hard enough to be almost painful. Then he fastened his hands under your butt to lift you from the couch, eliciting a moan out of you.

He set you on your feet by the couch, then attacked your button-fly jeans. You took advantage of his moment of distraction to pull the shirt off over your head and lose the bra. You pushed his hands away before he has finished with the buttons, but his cry of protest died when you slid his shirt off his shoulders. You reached for his belt as he tackled the remaining buttons on your jeans. He got rid of his socks as you shoved his pants and boxer-briefs down his legs. You meant to go down on your knees and take him in your mouth, but he was too impatient to get to the main event.

He pushed you onto the couch, dragging your jeans and panties down, then cursing when everything got tangled around your ankles. He cursed some more and finally successfully freed your legs from the bundle of clothing, making you laugh in the process. You knew from personal experience that Bucky was usually a slow and gentle lover, loving the foreplay and the buildup as much or even more than the climax itself. Tonight, finally assured of your love, staring at your nude body for the first time, he was too desperate, too needy. But then again, so were you.

He fell on top of you, using his knee to shove your legs apart, and planted his lips on yours. The brush of his tongue was so incendiary that it felt like every nerve in your body spontaneously combusted. You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung, a greedy, whimpering sound rising from your throat. Taking a deep breathe to cool off, he pushed your hands out of the way, circling your wrists with his fingers and pinning them to the couch beside your head. He raised his head just enough to give him room to speak. You could easily see the mingled heat and determination in his eyes.

“You make me lose my mind,” he shuddered, planting a gentle kiss on your nose. “Keep your hands to yourself, let me take care of you.”

“I want to touch you too,” you begged, writhing under him.

“Behave, doll,” he warned, nipping at your lower lip, then soothing the sting with his tongue. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

You wanted to argue with him, but he plunged his tongue into your mouth, and the only sound you could make was a moan. As soon as you surrendered, he let go of your wrists, using one hand to draw maddening circles on the slope of your breast while his tongue tangled with yours. Instinct urged you to wrap your arms around him again, to hold him close to you and feel the warmth of his skin under your hands. You fought those instincts, kissing him back with every drop of your passion while you lay still beneath him. There was a raw hunger in his eyes and you shivered, not sure if it was because of anticipation or desire.

His head lowered and he trailed kisses down your throat. You had to curl your hands into fists to keep from running your fingers through his hair. As he worked his way down, those circles he had been drawing on your breast finally shrank until a single finger brushed your nipple, over and over. Your back arched again into that touch, but his hand move away far before you were ready. The good news was his mouth was moving steadily south. You didn’t completely understand the game he was playing until his mouth started circling your nipple.

He mimicked the pattern his fingers had made before, and his hand slid down past your navel. When you realized that his mouth was going to continue following the trail blazed by his fingers, you moaned loudly. You groaned when his fingers circled your clit, knowing that with just the tiniest hint more speed or pressure, you would have gone off like a rocket. But he knew how to read every nuance of your responses so he could keep you on that razor’s edge without pushing you over. Inside your chest, your heart was racing.

You took a certain savage satisfaction in the fact that once Bucky had made his way down to the juncture of your thighs, some of his inhuman control seemed to suddenly snap. Instead of teasing you mercilessly as he had with his fingers, his tongue took only a brief sample before he settled in to word in earnest. You were already on edge, and pleasure overrode every other thought and sensation until you almost forgot how to breathe. Your hips slightly raised as if seeking out his mouth in case he planned to leave, and he obediently sucked on your clit.

“Right there! Oh my god, James,” you cried, coming undone under his tongue with a loud and deep moan, finally gripping his hair as you thrust your hips against his mouth.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he moaned out loud, giving your pussy one last lick. “Tell me,” he panted, his lips curved into a smirk as he crawled back to you, kissing you on the mouth. “Tell me you’re mine,” he growled, letting you taste yourself of his tongue.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted against his lips. “I’m yours.”

You felt him nudge at your entrance. He moaned again in your kiss as he slowly sank into you, stretching at your walls. You were wet enough to let him bury himself in one thrust, and though it was a first for the both of you, it felt like coming home. You pulled his head down to yours, and he kissed you with all the pent-up tension of a man who has been separated from his true love for months. You drowned in the reality of him, in the natural fit of your bodies, in the dizzying rush of his desires, in the terrifying intensity of his love.

Emotions rioted within you, bumping into and tangling with each other so wildly that you couldn’t have named a single one of them. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of your face, but you barely felt it as your concentration narrowed and focused on the place where Bucky and you were joined. Every other sensation became inconsequential as you felt the tension building there, coiling tighter and tighter, until you thought you couldn’t stand on the edge of that cliff for another moment. When the coil finally released, you screamed. Dimly, you were aware of Bucky reaching his own release, his cry seeming but a shadow of yours.

He cuddled you in the aftermath, your head cradled against his chest, your legs intertwined, both of you panting desperately for air. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist in a solid, unbreakable grip. His chin rested on the top of your head. You inhaled deeply and caught the delicious sent of him. He felt so warm and strong against you that it sapped all your will. You could stay there forever and you knew he’d let you. He cupped gently your cheek in his hand, tilting your head up toward his. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead tenderly. “You’re too good for me. Almost too good to be true.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you chuckled playfully.

Thank you for reading! 💕 Like my work? Please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fluff #marvel smut

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jasonsmirrorball · 8 months

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BLOOD IN YOUR MOUTH JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ the first time jason kisses you he's bloody and bruised, and you can't find him more attractive for it

cw: injury, blood, mentioned harassment (not of the reader)

blank blogs DNI you will be blocked

The first time Jason kisses you, he’s bloody and standing underneath a streetlight outside the bar he’s just been kicked out of. You’re utterly enamoured.

It is a Saturday afternoon, and you’ve just submitted your last midterm when the text comes through. The outline of his name on your phone sends a thrill down your spine, and you can’t help the curl of excitement.

J-A-S-O-N.

You trace your eyes over the letters, the blank contact photo doing little to curb the butterflies. They’re no less stronger than when he’d asked you for your number, a warm afternoon after class when the both of you had found your way to the your usual table in the library. You recall the reason he’d used, recall the slant of his mouth as he’d talked, the clutch of his bag in his fingers, the way the light had bent through the window and caught the dust floating above the table. You recall suddenly warm palms, fingertips hot to the touch as you saved his number when the first message had come through.

>> come out tonight?

You frown.

While it’s true that since the beginning of the semester you’ve gotten to know Jason better and as a not entirely unpleasant consequence, been better about hiding away, you’re still tired from the back to back assignments you’ve had to turn in. You’d much rather turn in for the weekend.

And yet, when it comes to the handsome boy you’d met in your literature class last semester, you find it hard to say no. You want to hang out with him so badly sometimes it feels embarrassing. You wonder if it’s obvious how you both soak up his attention and shy away from it. Even months later, you find yourself bashful around him.

As if sensing your hesitation, another two messages come through almost immediately, in rapid succession.

>> it’ll be fun

>> dinner’s on me btw

You chew your lip, staring down at the message.

<< i'm kind of tired idk

<< where do you wanna go

The text bubble appears as you begin to pack your things, sweeping papers off your desk and into a neat pile, collecting cluttered pens and highlighters. The last week has turned your bedroom into something akin to a disaster site, clothes strewn everywhere and sheets rumpled. You bite back a groan at the thought of the cleaning you’ll have to do.

>> i know a place like ten minutes away from campus

>> drinks after?

<< presumptuous

<< i haven't even agreed

>> ok so agree !

>> it’ll be a good time

You huff out a laugh at his tone, typing out a response.

<< who else is going?

>> just you and me kid

>> be excited

>> i’ll drop you home if you wanna leave after dinner

In the bathroom now, tidying the mess of skin and hair products, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You tilt your head, and your reflection does too, as if to say, well? Will you?

You text him your response.

<< ok when should i meet you?

<< send me the address

Jason is lingering outside the restaurant when you walk up, and you take a moment to admire him as you approach, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched, relaxed. His hair looks wet, and orange light washes over him where he stands beneath an awning, a sky of darkening blue behind him. As if sensing your approach, he turns his head from where he’s been looking at something across the street and his eyes light up in recognition. Your name tumbles from his lips and he takes a step forward as you cross the distance.

“Hey,” he greets you, smiling down at you. “You made it.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” you murmur. His lips stretch into a wider grin and you catch a glimpse of his canines, wolf sharp, a shiver curling down your spine at the sight.

“Guess you did. I’m glad. Come on,” he says, jerking his chin and reaching for the door, letting you enter first. “I think you’ll like this place.”

His shirt brushes against your back, and you swallowed by the sheer size of him, tall and broad shouldered, but it feels reassuring to have him there, especially as the hostess makes eye contact with you and he smoothly coordinates everything. His hand bumps against your elbow as she leads you both to a table and he murmurs out an apology at the same time you do, habitually, shooting you a funny look when he hears you, like he’s amused.

You’re seated across from him at a table so small his knees bump against yours beneath the table and he laughs a little when you say sorry once again. It isn’t the first time you’ve hung out with him, or the first time you’ve gotten food together–a semester has come and gone since your meeting him, and now the fall semester has started up again, but he has a way of short-circuiting your system, earnest and straightforward and far prettier than he has any right to be. You aren’t used to boys like him–though a voice in your head suggests that there isn’t anyone else like him.

You offer him a small smile when he laughs.

“Can’t believe they stuck us here,” he says to you, dropping his voice as a waiter passes your table. You look over to where a fair few tables far larger than yours remain unoccupied, and grimace in sympathy. “At least the food is good.”

You look up from the menu, sparing him a glance. He’s all rounded edges and sweeter looking in the soft light. You look back down.

“You’ve been here before?” you ask, feeling silly for the question but he nods.

“My brother took me, when I first moved out here,” he says, scratching idly at his cheek. Teal eyes skim the plastic menu. “We come here whenever he comes to visit.”

“Older brother?” you guess and he hums.

“Dick,” he says, and his eyes widen when you stare at him. “His name, I mean. That’s his name…Richard, but he goes by..yeah.”

“Oh,” you laugh, as your pulse flutters under your skin. “Bet he gets a lot of flack for that.”

“You have no idea,” he snorts, launching into a story that has you covering your mouth to stifle your laughter.

Somehow, dinner flies by faster than you think it would, a blur of stories from both your childhood and his. Jason asks questions and you don’t feel as though you’ve been put on the spot, pleasantly warm as you answer through your own laughter. The bubbles from your drink linger and pop on your tongue, and there’s a flush in your face that you blame wholly on him and his teal eyes, attentive and animated as he describes his family.

The both of you are pushing out of the door after an argument about splitting the bill (“I said I would pay, get lost!” and “I didn’t even agree to that!”) that had left you pouting and Jason smug. The rush of air that greets you is cool against your heated cheeks, and you smile to yourself as the both of you step out into the street.

“So?” Jason asks and you turn to him. “Was I right? It was good, huh?”

And he looks so pleased with himself that even if you hadn’t enjoyed a bit of it, you wouldn’t have it in you to tell him.

“It was,” you agree and his smile grows broader.

You lapse in conversation for a moment, and a breeze ruffles his hair on its way through the lit street. It’s grown fairly busier as night falls, crowds of people out to enjoy their weekend, and you step closer to Jason as a particularly large group passes you, falling into step by his side to avoid bumping into them.

“So..home?” he asks, tentative.

“I think so.” You chew the bottom of your lip. “I got up early to get in the finishing touches on my midterm.”

His eyes go soft, almost immeasurably fond, as he gazes down at you. “Of course you did. Alright, c’mon, then. Let’s get you home.”

He takes your hand gently, fingers circling your wrist loosely and guiding you down the busy street. You find yourself appreciative of this, even as the butterflies erupt anew in your stomach at the touch, his body carving a path in the flow of foot traffic that you can fall into easily without worry of getting lost.

The both of you walk in silence, the sounds of the city filling in the gaps around you. You admire the outline of Jason’s profile in front of you, light from the cars and storefronts washing over the both of you and throwing him into sharp technicolour focus in front of you. You feel a little dizzy at the sight of it, and looking down to where your hands join only worsens it, rendering you soft and pliant in his hold, tracing his footsteps with your own.

And then, all of a sudden, you’re coming to a halt in front of a parking lot next to a bar, nearly colliding with his back. You blink, equal parts sleepy and stunned, peering over his shoulder where he’s stiffened up.

“What?” you ask. He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and turns around to pass you a set of keys. You frown, confused, following his finger when he points to an old, red car just a few feet away.

“That’s my car, I’m just gonna go check on something over there,” he says, tipping his head back to gesture to the bar. “Can you get it started for me? I won’t be long.”

“Is everything okay?” you ask, and now you’re the one holding his wrist as he turns, taking a half step after him. He looks back at you, and his mouth relaxes, offering you a reassuring nod.

“‘S fine, sweetheart,” he assures, pushing you gently in the direction of his car. “Be back in a sec.”

But curiosity roots you to the pavement where you stand, and you watch as he walks to the entrance of the bar, where murky yellow light spills out onto the walkway. Several bench tables have been pushed together on the outer side of the path, smaller tables with high stool chairs pressed against the exterior wall of the establishment. It’s fairly empty outside, all the patrons seeking shelter from the chilly weather inside and you step a little closer to see when Jason, shoulders set like a man on a mission, crosses the threshold and disappears into the building.

You creep a little closer, keys clutched in your fingers, until you can get a look through the windows. They’re a little stained, but you find Jason eventually, crowding close to a pool table where a boy around your age is leaning down, cue stick pointed against green felt. His back is to the window, but you watch the guy pause and straighten up, annoyance clear on his face even as he tries to cover it up with a smile you don’t think you like too much, self-assured and a little mean. There isn’t any friendliness in it.

Outside, the wind begins to pick up and you’re wondering whether you should just return to the car–every bad thing in the movies happens because people can’t mind their own business–when suddenly, so fast you almost miss it, his fist flies out and knocks right into Jason. You jump in surprise, a hand flying to your mouth to muffle the startled yell that slips out.

But Jason is seemingly unphased, and you catch a glimpse of blood in his mouth as he– smiles. It’s nothing like the smiles you’ve ever seen, wild and a little feral as he lunges forward, knuckles slamming against the boy’s cheek and sending him sprawling across the tabletop. He just gets that hit in before he’s being restrained and hauled back to the door, shoved across the threshold with no regard for gentleness. He stumbles, and that grin is still curving his mouth up when he looks up, wolfish, savage, and–it stutters when he meets your eyes.

You stare back, wide eyed at the sight of him. His keys hang limply in your hand, forgotten in favour of their owner whose nose has begun to bleed down his chin, drippin onto the collar of his shirt and staining it crimson.

“I–thought I told you to wait in the car,” he says weakly, at last.

“What was that?” you ask, dazed, ignoring him. You look between him and the windows of the bar, where you can still see the other boy, holding a tea towel to his split cheek.

His lips part, and he looks away as if to search for an answer he does not have. Like a magnet, your gaze flicks down. You swallow at the smear of red that settles above his cupid’s bow, dark, almost black as the shadows on his face stretch.

“Jason.” You stress his name. He grimaces.

“I didnt-” he breaks off, letting out a loud sigh. “I knew him, okay? Didn’t do that for no reason.”

You wait, sensing the oncoming explanation. By his side, you spot the reddening skin of his knuckles, looking at home amongst the pale, faded scars.

“He’s a dick,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It seems almost shy, the way his fingers press against his lips as he tells you the truth. “He’s in one of my classes and he was giving one of the other guys a hard time ‘cause..”

His face hardens and you fear he’s about to go back into the bar. You hedge a step forward to clutch his sleeve. He shakes his head. You don’t let go. “Anyway, he had it coming. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else. He was bothering some girl in there too, when I saw him…piece of shit.”

Affection blooms between your ribs so suddenly it leaves you breathless, and you stare up at him, stunned.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he blows out a breath, watching you carefully.

“I thought you’d hit him harder,” you blurt out, and his eyes widen. He lets out a tired laugh, wincing in between snickers.

“Don’t think you’re s’posed to agree with me, baby,” he murmurs, drawing closer. You’ve probably stretched his sleeve out with your grip, but you make no move to let go. Baby. It fits in his mouth, belongs to him, even. He’s claimed it now.

“Right,” you breathe out, blinking up at his face. The air goes still, the undercurrents of adrenaline re-igniting with the trip of your voice over the five letter word. There is no admonishment in your tone, and teal eyes turn onyx in half a breath, lashes fluttering as he looks at you. “Violence…is bad..”

His eyes crease, amused, but he’s barely moving, and his voice comes out a little strangled. “Word of advice, don’t ever go into politics.”

“You don’t believe me?” you joke quietly and he huffs out a laugh. Once more, your gaze snags on the glimpse of his canines, peeking from below his lips, pointed and shiny.

You can smell the blood on him when he takes a step closer, the toes of his sneakers scuffing against yours. You look at him clearly, awash with the yellow light of the street, bloody and bruising. He’s lucky that he isn’t due back on campus for another two weeks, but you have a feeling it wouldn’t matter either way–he’s no less attractive to you. It should concern you that you find blood a good look on him, or that the savagery in his smile only made your heart beat a little faster, but you can only stare through half lidded eyes at him.

Somewhere down the road, the roar of an engine filters through the air, but you pay it little attention when he draws closer, closer, closer.

You aren’t sure who moves first, only that Jason kisses you for the first time underneath that streetlight, and the taste of copper in your mouth only presses you closer into him, clutching his sleeve and hoping it leaves as much of a mark that he’s left on you.

i hope this made u guys feel as insane reading it as it made me writing it (and trying to post it, but for a different reason). something about a man covered in his own blood...

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jersey boy au #jason todd college!au #jasonsmirrorball

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starleska · 1 year

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The Nightmare Picnic - Wally Darling x Reader

You're a brand new resident in the wonderful Welcome Home Neighbourhood, and it's the perfect day for the picnic! But your dear friend Wally Darling doesn't seem to be enjoying the fun. What will happen when you decide to try and cheer him up?

content warnings for: eye imagery, scopophobia, hypnosis, impossible physics, Eldritch, and unreality. go in assuming that Wally is a weird little guy, and you’re both terrified of and kind of enjoy that fact! 😉 you can also find this fic on my AO3. i hope you enjoy!!

The day you learn how to love Wally Darling begins like any other.

It is a balmy day, the air soft and thick and dizzy with butterflies. The sun shines with relentless cheer, and nary a cloud can be seen in the sky. Such a day in the Neighbourhood cannot be spent languishing inside, and all your new neighbours think the same way. So, which lovely activity did they decide upon? Why, a picnic on the grass, of course!

The organisation of the event is efficient and cheerful. In no time, the lush meadow surrounding the outskirts of the Neighbourhood is replete with cosy blankets to lie on, fun games to play, and a plethora of delicious foods contributed by each neighbour. Luckily, you’d baked a whole tray of cupcakes the previous day, with the intent of handing them out when bumping into your neighbours going about their daily business. The cupcakes were a huge success; even the ever-curmudgeonly Frank, who always has something to complain about, graces you with a begrudging, “It’s good, I suppose,” when you hand him a vanilla cupcake topped with a green-icing butterfly.

'I needed this,’ you think as you look around at your new friends. You’ve only been a resident of the Neighbourhood for a few months, but in that time you’ve grown so close to its colourful cast of neighbours as if you’d known each other your whole lives. Right now, they’re dotted across the meadow, smiling and laughing without a care in the world: Howdy’s busy putting together an impossibly long string of daisy chains; Eddie and Sally peer into an origami fortune-teller and giggle at the results; Frank leans over a bush, studying a caterpillar, and Julie and Poppy clap and cheer whilst Barnaby entertains them with a juggling act.

It’s a gorgeous scene. Today, your heart is warm.

A small flash of yellow catches your eye. Of course, it’s an incomplete picture. You take in Wally, who sits cross-legged under the shade of a verdant apple tree. He’s holding an apple between both hands and staring at it intently, as if willing the fruit to communicate with him. It’s an odd expression - you aren’t used to seeing Wally in a state of concentration.

“Hey, Wally!” you call.

Wally looks up at you and smiles. He beckons you over.

“Hello,” says Wally, in his simple way. “I’m happy to see you.”

Oh, what a beautiful voice. Every time you hear Wally speak, it’s like the gentle lapping of his syllables sweep away your worries in a single wave.

As you get closer to Wally, you notice a few strands of his deep blue hair turning flyaway and giving in to the heat, curling away from the otherwise-immaculate pompadour and escaping the death-grip of his hairspray. He’s a little dishevelled elsewhere, too; Wally’s neckerchief is coming loose, and though he’s long since abandoned his cardigan, a stray button on his shirt remains stubbornly popped. You find yourself grinning. Wally takes such pride in his appearance that you never get to see him a little less than perfect.

“Same to you!” you say. “Aren’t you hungry? All the food’s down with the others.”

That unusually pensive look on Wally’s face deepens. He turns his eyes back to his apple. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” You rummage in your backpack and pull out a chocolate bar. “You’ve got to eat, bud. You not feeling so good?”

Wally takes the treat from you and examines it for a moment, as if the bar is a scientific curiosity. “That’s very nice of you…but this doesn’t work for me. You should keep it.”

When Wally hands the bar back, your fingers touch for the briefest moment, and a shiver works its way up your spine.

You don’t know when this… thing you have for Wally Darling began. Despite the countless nights you’ve spent desperately trying to focus on something, anything else, your thoughts inevitably return to the little yellow puppet-man and his catlike smile. There’s a strange magnetism to Wally which befits his profession as a television host; everything from the delicate way he handles his paintbrush, to his ridiculous affinity for apples, leaves you with a little more fondness than before. Wally has so much affection stored in one small body, and when you first met, you wondered how any person could love so much all at once.

But now, when you look at Wally, you understand.

“If you’re sure.” You pop the bar back into your bag and sit on the ground in front of Wally, mirroring his cross-legged pose. “The offer’s still there.”

“It’s tempting,” says Wally, now turning his apple over and over in his hands. “I’d like to know what would happen, if I tried. But Barnaby told me it isn’t worth the risk. I trust him to know.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, but the look on Wally’s face is so uncharacteristically brooding that you don’t feel it’s polite to pry. Wally’s always been the drifting sort: those large, dewy eyes of his are perpetually lidded, and always seem to be gazing at something no one else can see. But Wally’s inattentiveness is usually matched with an infectious, excited kind of energy, bursting with nonsense and love.

Today, he almost looks sad. The idea makes you feel sick.

It occurs to you that this may be a personal issue, and Wally doesn’t know you well enough to discuss it. So you ask, “Do you want me to look away?”

Wally’s fingers still. To your surprise, the apple actually drops from his hands and rolls into the grass. You’ve never seen Wally mistreat an apple before - there must be something seriously wrong.

“Actually,” says Wally, now looking at you properly, “I’d like to try something.”

He gestures for you to shuffle closer. When you do, Wally reaches forward and takes hold of your forearms. You make a surprised noise, but Wally squeezes you, and fixes you with a smile full of reassurance and warmth. A rush of heat leaps into your cheeks, and you’re suddenly reminded of an interaction you had with another neighbour not too long ago.

It was only a week after you arrived in the Neighbourhood, and you were finally moving the last of your belongings into your home. All of your new neighbours had graciously donated their time to help you in some fashion, and you were overcome with gratitude. On that final day you were more than capable of doing the rest of the moving yourself, but your closest neighbour - the excitable Julie Joyful - volunteered to help with the last handful of delicate items. At first, you were unsure - Julie is a lovely girl and incredibly fun to be around, but so spirited that you feared for the safety of your items. But a good twenty minutes of allowing her to help with the least fragile of your boxes allayed all your fears: Julie moves with the grace of a ballerina, and the two of you soon had all your boxes stacked in your living room.

Burnt orange sunlight poured through the window, streaming soon-to-be-dusk and casting the wooden floorboards with a vibrant glow. You take a moment from the heavy lifting to look out the window. Across the lawn, you can make out a couple of your neighbours engaging in some game. Upon closer inspection, you realise it’s Wally and Barnaby, the former laughing and tossing a series of colourful balls for Barnaby to catch.

You watched as Wally swung his arm and threw a few of the balls a surprising distance, letting the large, spotted dog race off to retrieve them. Wally put his hands on his hips, as if exhausted by the exertion. He turned - and locked eyes with you. Wally’s face broke out into a huge grin, and he gave you a hearty wave. Feeling horribly embarrassed, you waved back, trying to ignore the painful squeezing of your heart. You’ve only known Wally a week, and yet you’re utterly charmed by everything he does.

A tug on your arm brought you back to the present: it’s Julie. She bats her long eyelashes at you, a knowing smile on her face.

“You like hiiiiim, ” she teased, her voice all sing-song.

“What?!”

You grabbed Julie by the shoulders and yanked her away from the window, as if Wally could somehow hear you both through sight. “No! I don’t know where you got an idea like that-”

“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t need to pretend.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. You’d always been the careful type, ensuring your innermost thoughts and feelings stayed stuffed as far down as possible to keep you safe. But the Neighbourhood bred a kind of emotional honesty with which you were totally unfamiliar. Everyone is so exuberant, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves - some of them even literally, as plenty of your new neighbours wore outfits stitched with cute little hearts! Keeping a secret in the Neighbourhood felt wrong…even a secret crush on the silly little artist whose smile lit up your insides.

So, you give in. “How did you know?”

Julie giggles. She fishes in the pocket of her dress, and pulls out a daisy.

“I know a lot about flowers,” she explained, as she twirled the stem between her fingers. “What kinds grow in different meadows. How much sun and water and love they need to grow. They show it in their petals, and how they lean. People are a lot like that too.

“When you arrived, you looked…wilted. Like you’d been kept out of the sun for too long. I could see it, but didn’t want to ask why. I think everyone else could, too…and we all wanted to help a new friend who lost their colour.”

“You’ve all been so lovely to me,” you said, by way of thanks.

Julie nodded. “Sure we have! And it worked, for a little bit. But for a flower at the end of its days, even fresh soil, plenty of sun and lots of water can only do so much. Your petals seemed faded for good. And that’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy - whatever that looks like for you.”

You swallowed. “You see a lot, for a gardener.”

Julie smiled. “When you care for flowers, you learn to listen to their needs. Sometimes, you’ll have a flower who has everything in the world…but they’re still curling up, and shying away from the light.”

She pressed the daisy into your palm.

“Wally brings the colour back to your petals,” said Julie. “Do yourself a favour. Don’t hide from your sun.”

Another squeeze from Wally brings you out of your recollection. You suck in a deep breath, facing this new reality of Wally holding you, his fingers pleasantly warm and fuzzy.

“Close your eyes,” says Wally gently.

For anyone else, you would’ve paused - but for Wally, you comply immediately.

Slowly, you feel Wally’s hands slide down your arms to your hands. He threads his fingers through yours and holds them firm, so tight that you start to feel your blood thrumming from the pressure. Your hearing, sensitive now your sight is compromised, picks up the distant chatter of your neighbours, as well as the friendly sounds of nature at play. Your skin tingles, sweat-slicked from the heat and the nerves.

“I have a question,” says Wally, his voice wonderfully calm and soft.

“Yes?”

“Why do you eat?”

“Uh…” What kind of question was that? Wally is admittedly prone to posing questions that only a truly strange mind would think up, but this one is so baffling, you’re thrown entirely for a loop. “...So I don’t die, I guess?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Wally’s unique, halting laugh almost startles you into opening your eyes. “You’re so funny. Okay. Do you know why I eat?”

This time, it takes you a little longer to answer. A simple enough question, surely with the exact same answer? But Wally’s voice has taken on a teasing, knowing edge - a sound you recognise from when he’s setting up a punchline. The question must be a trick. So you rack your brains, trying to think of all the times you’d seen Wally eat: where he was, what he was eating.

With your eyes still closed, you reach a strange realisation.

“I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat.”

A soft chuckle from Wally. “That’s right. You haven’t.”

Wally’s grip on your hand tightens. Strangely, a weak, static noise buzzes to life, seemingly from inside your skull. You shift, trying to locate the source, but Wally holds you in place. As the noise grows, the sounds of your friends fizzle out and die. It’s as if you’ve been placed on an invisible train and are moving steadily down the track, away from all the familiar sounds of your Neighbourhood - but you can’t feel the rumbling of the track, or hear the whistle of the wind.

“But…maybe you should.”

With Wally’s words the temperature noticeably drops, and gooseflesh breaks out on your arms. You shudder, wanting to open your eyes but finding that you can’t: your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. You’re stuck in place, pinioned to the grass (which you can no longer feel) as that buzzing sound inches up by the decibel, a nasty, steady crawl which leaves your brain awash in a sea of noise.

“Open your eyes.”

You do so.

And you can’t make sense of what you see.

The sky is gone. The tree is gone. The meadow is gone. Every detail from the Neighbourhood’s comforting landscape has evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a grayscale emptiness which fuzzes in and out like television static. Even the awful buzzing sound abruptly falls away, leaving your ears with nothing but the distant sound of an unseen tide.

Wally still sits in front of you, his hands grasping yours, but it’s like he’s sitting on nothing at all: somehow supported by a cushion of emptiness. It’s like the texture of the world has fallen out of reality.

Seized by vertigo, you tighten your grip on Wally’s hands. “What’s happening?!”

“Don’t worry,” says Wally. “You’re safe.”

“There’s nothing here,” you whisper. “Where is everyone?”

“Back Home,” says Wally. “They can’t see us right now. They’re not ready.” His smile turns coy. “But I think you are. Watch this.”

Wally reaches over and rustles in your backpack. Your heart crawls into your mouth; although you can see Wally’s hands in front of you, you can somehow still feel his hands holding both of yours, keeping you locked in place. You try to look down and make sense of this impossibility, but your eyes are stuck, glued to Wally’s face. You can only watch, terrified, as he takes out your chocolate bar and locks in his gaze.

Without warning, Wally’s eyes flare open, heavy lids drawing back and revealing the full size of his large, black pupils. Wally’s stare travels steadily down the chocolate bar, a focused intensity searing from his eyes like a laser. Somehow as he stares, bite marks are chunked out of the chocolate, as if some great invisible person is taking enormous chomps out of both the bar and wrapper. In seconds, the chocolate is gone.

Panic grips your chest, and you start to hyperventilate. The world tilts, and you’re scared you might actually puke. Wally blinks, his eyelids half-blanketing those pupils once more, and he looks at you with concern. When his eyes connect, your chest convulses with panic: a type of terror you’ve never experienced before threatening to claw its way out of your body and devour you whole.

“What happened?!”

“Oh, don’t be scared,” says Wally, his voice floating and cloudlike. “This is just how I eat.”

“How - did you - do - that?” you gasp.

“I’m not sure. I’ve always eaten this way.” Wally inclines his head in sympathy. “I am sorry if I’ve made you afraid. I usually only eat when others are blinking. That way, I don’t interrupt them. I don’t want to be rude."

You suck in a huge gulp of breath. “Wally, this is…impossible,” you manage. “I want to leave - I want to go Home-”

“You can’t.”

Wally shakes his head mildly from side to side, but his eyes seem to stay still, locked into the centre of his face. No matter how much you strain to move, those incredible eyes remain right in front of you, always at the same distance, never looking away - and never blinking. In your peripheral vision, you see Wally’s hand reach up towards your face. He cups your cheek. The sensation of feeling three arms belonging to a two-armed person on your body sends a rush of nausea through your throat. Wally strokes your skin with his thumb.

“You understand me so well,” says Wally. “You see me, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.” Another wave of dizziness rises up, pushing behind your eyeballs. The sensation is the same as the pressure of allergies arising on a high pollen day - yet you can no longer smell the flowers of the meadow. You try again in vain to rip your gaze away from Wally’s, but you can’t - and you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Wally’s thumb stops, resting in the dip of your cheek. “I love my friends, but they only see one part of me. The part they want to see. But you…”

His thumb trails to the edge of your lip.

“...you see all of me.”

You’re split in two. Your brain, the logical part of your thinking, is screaming at you to do anything - to move, to scream, to run as fast as you can into the nightmare emptiness and beg for help. But the other part of you - your traitorous, emotional heart - douses the runaway fire of your fear with the intoxication of Wally’s touch. You find yourself leaning into his hand, savouring how perfectly his cheek cups your palm, and the slight fuzz of his thumb teasing your lip.

“I do,” you whisper. Suddenly, your body relaxes, and you slump forward. You feel very tired. The panic which gripped your body only moments ago is now quashed, flattened into a fine layer of dust by the weight of Wally’s impossibly black eyes. Now your nervous system is nothing but the aftermath: the feeling of fight-or-flight chemicals settling into your bloodstream, leaving you weak and sluggish.

Now, Wally’s eyes are not a source of terror. They’re a blanket you wish to curl up beneath, and never wake up.

“I think you’re special, you know,” says Wally. “The way I feel when I’m around you is…different, than with the others. You’re the absolute most.”

Wally’s words settle over your brain like a dream. You watch, your eyes heavy and drained, as Wally brings his hands up to his chest and forms the shape of his heart with his fingers. You’re no longer scared of the physical contradictions of Wally holding your hands whilst signing his affection. It seems in this reality, Wally can have as many hands as he wants.

This is why Wally’s next question confuses you so:

“Do you think if our friends saw me like this…they’d run away?”

Wally’s words are becoming harder to process. The world around him tunnels. Even though you’re sure that you’re fixed in place, sitting on some immovable, textureless cushion, Wally’s eyes grow larger, encroaching evermore on your limiting field of vision. The longer you look, the more of Wally’s scleras are swallowed by his expanding pupils. Those blown, void-black pools seem to come with their own gravity, and you’re slipping into their inconceivable pull, ready to be strewn and stretched and ripped apart by their physics.

“Oh, Wally,” you try to say, but your tongue slackens, and his name comes out as, ‘Waaalllllyyyy.’ “We love you so much. You can’t make us run away.”

Wally smiles, and you think it’s the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.

“How I wish that were true.”

Suddenly, Wally’s eyes shift just the slightest bit to the left. The effect is like unsealing a pressure chamber. For a moment you are released from his eyes, and your brain and body scramble as one, free-falling and bracing to break against the ground with a hypnic jerk. However, Wally realises his mistake and grabs you by the shoulder - another impossible arm - and forces you to look back into his eyes.

“Shh. Don’t strain yourself. The more you resist, the worse you’ll feel.”

You blink rapidly, trying to reorient yourself in space. Wally’s touch grounds you again, holding you steady in this non-existent space. You try to reply, but your mouth now hangs open, jaw useless. Saliva collects in a pool under your tongue, but Wally still keeps his thumb at the edge of your lip, now rubbing soothing circles against your flesh.

“We don’t have much time,” says Wally. “But…thank you for this. You can’t know how much I appreciate you.”

The warm flush of his approval works its way through your unresponsive body. Your muscles contract, dopamine and serotonin coating your insides and bringing your fingers - still interlocked with Wally’s - into a sudden contraction. You force your mouth into a speech-ready shape, fuelled by his words and his touch and the sheer paradox of his being, and you try so desperately to say, ‘Wally, I love you- ’

But then he looks away.

The spell is broken. Like flipping to another television channel, the world around you snaps back into place in one vivid bound. All the colour, sounds and scents of the Neighbourhood re-enter your senses in one huge burst, and the force of it almost knocks you over. Wally - who is still holding your hands, just like before - keeps you steady, crushing your hands together like he would rather die than let go.

“Hey, you two!”

Looking away from Wally feels like ripping off a plaster. Your eyes alight on Julie trotting up the meadow’s slight incline, clutching a hotdog in one hand and a cooler in the other.

“Eddie wanted me to tell you we’re packing up,” Julie chirps. “Looks like a thunderstorm is coming.” She looks down at your hands, still intertwined with Wally’s, and grins. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just some good old-fashioned fun,” says Wally, his voice impassive and gentle.

The ability for words has deserted you. You stare back at Wally, searching desperately for something supernatural in the darks of his eyes. Wally looks normal - as normal as a small, yellow puppet can - and his eyes are back to their half-lidded, sleepy-looking state. It takes a couple of nudges with his foot for Wally to bring you back to earth.

Wally lets go of your hands, and you can feel the blood pumping in the spaces between your fingers. You try standing up, but your legs are weak and wobbly, as if you’d just run a marathon while sitting in one spot. They would’ve collapsed beneath you, but Wally catches you before you slip. He hauls you up and loops his arm around yours.

“Just hungry,” Wally says with a smile. “Let’s get you Home."

Julie leads the way down the small embankment, with Wally supporting your timid, uneasy steps. You soon reach your neighbours, now busying themselves in tidying up the remnants of your picnic. Upon seeing you, they all crowd around, asking if you’re okay. Barnaby remarks that you look terribly pale, and Sally offers to bring you a drink. However, Wally shoos them off, admonishing them in a familial sort of way. He reassures them that you’ve just had a small fainting spell, and need to get some rest.

Now free of the others, Julie, Wally and yourself make the way home - and you’re thankful it’s only a short distance. When you finally reach your porch you want to fall over onto the steps, but Wally keeps you held upright: a firm, reassuring presence at your side.

“You need to tell us if you get this again, okay?” says Julie, looking at you with worry in her eyes.

“Okay,” you say, giving a weak nod.

“Thank you. Feel better soon, okay?”

Julie gives you and Wally a final glance over. Having determined you’ll be more than fine in Wally’s care, she bids her goodbyes and skips off to help the rest of your neighbours.

“Ha ha ha,” laughs Wally. “Julie is a good friend. I’m lucky to have her in my life.”

You look sideways at Wally. He catches your eye, and dips his head in a nod. “I feel the same way about you,” he says.

The question is implied in his voice - a little waver at the edge of his words.

“Wally…I don’t really understand what happened today,” you say. “But…I know it doesn’t change how much I like you."

The beam that dawns on Wally’s face is so wide, it almost cracks in two. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You can’t help but return the grin. “Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

Wally lets go of your arm, and turns to face you properly. He reaches up one hand, and then hesitates, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours as if pondering a question.

Finally, Wally leans in and gives you a small, gentle kiss on the cheek. You inhale sharply, your arms hanging limply by your side and your fingers curling into questioning shapes. His mouth is plush and downy, and the impression of his lips sends a toasty-sweet feeling rocketing through your body.

When Wally pulls back, his yellow skin is dusted pink about his cheeks.

“Always know,” he says softly, “that I love you very much.”

Then, he’s leaving. You watch in stunned silence as Wally’s back retreats into the distance, making his way to join the throng of your neighbours. A slight rumble in the distance makes you look up: a cluster of thunderclouds gather at the edge of the Neighbourhood, fat with the promise of rain.

You touch your lips gently, and smile. Then, you retreat inside the safety of your home…with the warm memory of Wally’s kiss playing in your mind, and static still buzzing in your fingers.

#wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home arg #julie joyful #frank frankly #eddie dear #poppy partridge #barnaby b. beagle #sally starlet #howdy pillar #starleskawrites #welcome home fic

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

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Love Language

➪the one where you’re all clay needs to keep himself calm before surgery (and after).

Warnings: sam does not exist here (sorry not sorry f that b), mentions of surgery, surgery topics, hospital themes, anxiety, clay's surgery is successful and his mother is still alive, heart transplants (you saw the movie, you know how it goes), heavy topics, 'what is the healing process of a heart transplant' was definitely googled more than once while writing this.

Word Count: 2.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

The sun peered into the room through the thin, white curtains - the same ones Clay has begged you to let him replace more than once now. It heated the room to the perfect temperature, not too cold while also not making you break out into a sweat.

Lying fast asleep beside you was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His face was pressed to the pillow, his arms lifted and hidden under said pillow as he often fell asleep on his stomach, the front of his body pressed to the mattress.

You reach over and gently trace your index finger over the various freckles that scattered his back before laying your palm flat against his skin, the faint beat of his heart bringing you a sense of comfort you never knew you needed.

The glow of the sun made his skin look golden, his face relaxed and his hair messy from moving in his sleep.

In other words, he was just perfect.

You lift your body, your elbow digging into the bed as you hold yourself up. Unable to stop your wandering lips, you lean over and press a kiss to his bicep, and another to his shoulder blade.

Though your touch was feather light, it still woke him up as though his body couldn’t help but react whenever you showed him any type of affection. His eyes opened in a squint due to the light that invaded the room, the corner of his lips turning upwards in a boyish grin. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you murmur back, trailing your hand further up his back before tangling it in his light hair.

He gives you a look that has your heart swelling before he lifts his head just to bury his face back in the pillow. You grin at his shyness, a personality trait you would’ve never imagined he had. With billions behind his name, a successful mother, a future set in stone, and a whole city that belonged to him; you expected him to be arrogant, spoiled, ruthless, even.

But no, he was none of those things.

He was kind, had the persona of an angel, something that prompted you to give him the nickname, your angel. He had a smile that could make any okay day an amazing one, the charm to sweep anyone off their feet, and a heart as big and sweet as anything in the entire world. Even though his heart was fragile and could betray him at any given moment, he still didn’t let that change his view on the world, the beautiful thing it was.

To put it simply; Clay Beresford was the embodiment of everything good in the world, a light so bright that he had no idea just how much he lit up the darkest corners of damn near everyone he’s ever met, a man so perfect you found yourself believing you were stuck in a dream every time you woke up next to him.

Massaging your fingers into his scalp, you fill with a sense of happiness at the content sigh that escapes him, silent in sound but evident in the way his shoulders raised and dropped slowly.

You move closer to him, brushing your nose against his arm. “Why are you hiding from me?” You ask quietly, your hand flattening out his messy hair.

He lifted his head just enough for him to be able to murmur, “I’m not hiding from you, baby,” the corners of his lips turned upwards as he continued, “Just from your awful excuse of a curtain.”

You gasp, taking your hand away from his head to give his shoulder a gentle push. “Hate them all you want,” you shrug, meeting his eyes when he turned his head to look at you. “I’m still not letting you buy me new ones.”

Clay laughed quietly, shifting so he was now on his back. His right hand came up to grab your left one, his eyes fixated on the large diamond that found home on your finger.

With your free hand, you reach over and gently press it against his shoulder, your fingers firmly poking against the few small knots you felt. “What are you thinking about?” You nearly whisper, afraid as though you would ruin the peaceful atmosphere if you were to talk at your usual pitch.

His blue eyes met yours once again. “You,” he simply answered and you felt a heat rush to your face. Keeping your hand locked in his, you lean down and press your lips to his mouth, an innocent kiss that grew heated when his left hand grabbed your hip and pulled your body on top of his.

Your upper body was covered by his white dress shirt he wore to the dinner party last night, the shirt being the first thing you grabbed once you woke up this morning, while your lower half was covered by a thin black lace.

Clay has told you many times now that he loves the way you look in his clothes and it brings out a possessive side he never knew he had. You were just so beautiful, and you looked past his family drama and his heart problem and chose him.

There weren’t words that are strong enough to describe his love for you or how much he adored you. You were one of the few things in his life that felt normal and right, and it was no surprise that he couldn’t hold back on asking you to be his forever just eight months into the relationship.

You started out as his mom’s assistant. Lilith was a sweetheart right at the start, showing you around her massive house with the patience of a new teacher, smiling at you and encouraging any questions you might have had.

You remembered exiting the kitchen and entering the front hall just as Clay returned home, his eyes tired and his form slouched. It was almost comical how quickly he straightened up and how wide his eyes opened. Lilith’s dismissal of his sudden appearance was one you’ll never forget. “Oh, that’s Clay, my son. Don’t worry, you won’t see much of him,”

How wrong she was.

From that day on, Clay did any and everything he could to see you, even for just a split second. He’d prolong quick conversations, give you a long answer instead of a short one to any question you had, and was always there to greet you when you arrived in the mornings.

You were kidding yourself when you made a promise that you wouldn’t fall for him. You fell for Clay hard and fast, and it seemed as though he fell for you just as bad. When you became official, you quit being Lilith’s assistant as you felt weird about it and didn’t want your source of income to be from his mom.

No matter how much money the Beresford name had, you still felt cheap whenever Clay or his mother offered to pay for something. You knew it wouldn’t faze them, and you appreciate their kindness, but you refused each and every time.

“You do realize that you’re entitled to my money once we’re married, right?” He’d ask you every time you refused to let him pay for you.

You always respond with, “Yeah, well, we’ll figure that out when we get there,”

His hands slide up your back when you break away from his mouth and begin placing kisses along his jaw. You move onto his neck and shoulders before moving further down and stopping right above where his heart was beating in his chest.

A small bit of sadness filled you as your mouth hovered over that place, your hands pressing into the sheets on either side of his body. Clay noticed this, but before he could ask you what was wrong, you leaned down and placed a kiss to the skin of his chest, just over where his heart is.

He held back a shiver as you placed another kiss and then another, your eyes closing when you felt his hands reach up to caress the sides of your face. Butterflies are set loose all over his body as you kiss him with a feather light touch, acting as if you’d break him if you were to be even the smallest bit rougher with him.

“Hey,” he quietly said, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that fell from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you rest it against his chest, the faint beating against your cheek making you smile slightly. “I just love you,” it was hardly audible, but he heard you as clear as day. “So much.”

“Baby,” he says quietly, brushing your hair away from your face as he tries to get you to meet his eye. “Now it’s your turn to tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You wipe away your tears and clear your throat. “It’s nothing,” you answer, looking up at him and caving at the look he gives you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you crawl over his body and move to lay on your side next to him. Your fingers trace over the skin you had just kissed while his rubbed soothing circles onto your shoulder. “I was just thinking about how much I will love your new heart, maybe even more than I love your current one.”

Clay grinned down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s no doubt in my mind that my new heart will love you just as much as the old one does now,” he says quietly before adding, “Thank you for never giving up on me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Clay spent a week in the hospital, his pager going off a few hours after you and him got out of bed after your heart to heart talk.

His surgery was a success, his body taking the new organ with no problems at all and rendering him a new man.

You were by his side throughout the whole process, your own heart beating rapidly during the five hours he was under. The sense of relief you felt when his doctor came to the waiting room to inform you and Lilith that it was a success was indescribable.

He woke up an hour or so after the surgery, and a couple more later you were finally allowed to briefly visit him. You instantly started crying, which caused him to cry as well, still a bit drowsy and high off the medication.

Despite the doctor’s request of not getting too close to him, you couldn’t help but press multiple kisses to his face, working carefully around the ventilator, before settling on holding his hand as gently as you could. He looked so tired and weak and worn out, making your heart break the smallest bit as you thought about the long road to recovery he had ahead of him.

Now, four weeks into his recovery process, he was doing well. He would have multiple pain sessions everyday where his chest would ache beyond anything he could ever describe. During those moments he would tightly hold your hand or wrap his arms around your middle while pressing his body to yours until the pain subsided and the quiet groans faded.

You grew closer than ever. You had taken an LOA from your job at the small café downtown to take care of him, looking after his every need with no hesitation. He was in bed for the most part, only getting up to walk the short distance to the bathroom attached to the bedroom or up and down the hallway outside the room to keep him somewhat active. Even then you were no more than a few feet away from him, a nervous look on your face and a crease in your brow

Secretly, the days you spent with him in bed was your favorite way to pass the time. Like right now, your chin resting gently on his shoulder while your index finger lightly ran up and down the scar on his chest. The bandage and stitches had long since been removed and all that was left was a long line from the start of his chest down to just above his lower abdomen.

Today was a good day as he hadn’t felt a single ounce of pain yet, his arm wrapped around you and his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bicep. His half lidded eyes stared at the ceiling, the only sounds filling the room being your breathing and the low hum of the air conditioning.

Breaking the silence, you keep your voice quiet as you ask, “How are you feeling today?”

Your head lifted slightly with every breath he took, his shoulder rising with every inhale. Just being able to feel him breathe made you fill with a sense of happiness, the stress of the whole thing fading away with every day that passed. “Good,” he answered, his lips turning upwards when he added, “Better than ever.”

You close your eyes at that, exhaling quietly. “Good,” your hand moves from his scar and rests on the skin above his heart, the faint but strong beat making you smile. “You’re still you.” You say quietly and lift yourself up, propping your upper half on your elbow.

Clay furrows his brows as he watches you lean down to press your lips over his heart. He was brought back to the morning of his surgery, just hours before he got the page that a transplant was available, where you did exactly what you were doing now, but on his old and weak heart.

“My angel….New heart, new life,” you continued, kissing his skin once more before meeting his eyes. “Still the same you.”

Clay lifted his hand to stroke your cheekbone with his thumb, the rest of his fingers curling under your jaw. “I’m still me,” he confirmed, matching your small grin with one of his own. “And my heart still loves you just the same.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen edit #clay beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #angst #fluff #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine

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writemekpop · 11 months

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Hot & Cold | Lee Taeyong

Summary: All you want is some loving from your ice cold mafia boyfriend Taeyong...

Genre: Mafia AU, angsty

Word Count: 1.3k

You sit across from your boyfriend Taeyong in a dimly lit bar in Itaewon.

You’ve just finished another successful mission for the Seoul mafia. Honestly, you don’t understand why Taeyong called you here – you’re not the type to go on ‘dates’.

“They… offered me a new mission,” you said. “In Japan. For a year.”

You search Taeyong’s gaunt, handsome face for a flicker of pain, but find only seriousness.

“That’s good,” Taeyong said coolly, sipping his beer. “You deserve it.”

You can’t hide a little grunt of frustration that leaves your lips.

Taeyong frowns. “You’re… unsatisfied. You want some show of emotion from me?” He looks away. “Well, you won’t find it.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you hiss. “I would never expect that. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.”

Taeyong glares at you. “The Y/n I know wouldn’t care about kisses or sweet nothings. She’s lethal – feared by everyone south of the border.”

You bite your lip. “Can I not be lethal and loving?” Your voice drops. “I can’t remember the last time you said, ‘I love you.’”

You slowly realise that this conversation, like every serious one with Taeyong, is completely one-sided. Maybe you should finally give up.

You stand up and put on your leather jacket. “If the mission goes well… I might be moved to Japan permanently,” you say, turning.

You tell yourself you’d be okay never seeing Taeyong again, but you know you’re lying. Secretly, you’re begging Taeyong to say something, to sweep you off your feet. What a stupid, schoolgirl fantasy.

All Taeyong says, coldly, is, “I wish you the best.”

You take a deep breath, wondering if this was the most low-key breakup in history.

---

Three years ago, you were young and hungry, with no family, eager to rise up the ranks of the mafia like Taeyong. However, he barely noticed you.

It all changed when you took a police officer’s bullet for him, saving his life. As you lay there, bleeding out from your leg, Taeyong sat with you for hours, holding your hand with an iron grip.

After that, he would enter your room every night to change your dressings. In the moonlight, he would gently dab your skin, showing impossible kindness. It drove you crazy to have him so close, but you waited for him to make the first move.

One night, you told Taeyong that your leg was healed, but he came to your room anyway. Instead of tending your leg, his hand grazed up your thigh… your waist… your cheek.

Why am I always the weak one? you remember asking. Taeyong almost smiled. Everybody has a weakness, he said, placing a kiss on the palm of your hand. You, my darling, are mine.

Taeyong came back the next night, and the next, and so on… until, in the shadows, you created a relationship.

A part of you always worried that Taeyong didn’t love you enough to be your boyfriend in the light of day. You realised that that was exactly right.

---

Just then, you feel a strong hand gripping yours.

You turn, and Taeyong is frowning, his eyes desperate. “Don’t – go,” he says thickly.

Your lips are tight. “Why?”

“Because – I don’t want you to,” he says.

“Why not?” He gulps. “I want… you. Won’t you stay?”

You stand there, crossing your arms. “Prove it to me.”

Taeyong balls his hands into fists on the table, his face strained. “You know I can’t do that.”

You shrug. “Then you know my answer."

You turn away again, and suddenly, Taeyong is gripping your hand again. He bends, and pulls the long, shaggy hair away from his neck to reveal the soft skin beneath.

A long brown scar snakes around his neck. You gasp, and unthinkingly reach out to touch it. To your shock, he does not stop you. He only grits his teeth.

You’ve heard about Taeyong’s last girlfriend, how she betrayed Taeyong to a rival gang and almost got him killed. He’d never talked to you about it.

“This… made me believe that love is weakness,” he says quietly. “I was wrong. Love is everything.”

He stands, so that your bodies are only a few inches apart.

Taeyong has never been this intimate with you, not in the daytime and certainly not in public.

---

You’ll never forget the first night you saw Taeyong naked.

All those night-time meetups in your apartment had left you sick with desire. You wanted Taeyong, you wanted to love him, to fuck him, but for some reason… it had never happened.

One night, Taeyong abruptly said, It’s not that I don’t want to.

You frowned, not understanding what he meant. Believe me. His eyelashes fluttered. I want to. The problem is that when you see me naked… you’ll no longer want to.

You shook your head, unable to imagine a world where you didn’t want to sleep with Taeyong. Never, you said.

But still, when Taeyong pulled off his black coat, waistcoat and shirt to reveal a body criss-crossed with so many wounds that it was more scar than skin, you felt a tiny jolt of fear. Each one of those scars came from fighting – and winning.

You were about to tell Taeyong that it didn’t matter, that nothing could stop you from being with him, but it was too late. As soon as he saw your reaction, he dressed again. The moment was lost.

You continued talking, laughing, crying together… but you never broached the subject of sex again.

---

You forget how to breathe.

“May I?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you say.

Torturously slowly, Taeyong places his hand on your waist and pulls you tight to him. You love his hard, wounded body. So many nights, you’ve imagined kissing every part of it, memorising each scar.

He leans closer.

You can see the fear in his eyes.

His breath is hot and trembling on your face.

Finally, your lips touch. On a rollercoaster of shock and delight, you forget how hard this must be for Taeyong. You grip the back of his shoulders, and pull him closer, kissing him so deeply it’s as if you’re trying to fuse your bodies into one.

This time, for the first time, Taeyong doesn’t stiffen, he doesn’t pull away. His hard, straight posture melts away, and he leans into you, bowing your bodies.

When you’re finally forced to break away, you’re breathless. Stars dance in your eyes. Taeyong looks possibly worse – his face is flushed and he looks like he might need to sit down.

“That was-“ he starts-

“Incredible,” you say.

“Unhealthy,” he says.

A smile creeps onto both of your faces.

“I suppose I could find a mission in Korea,” you say, taking a gulp of his beer. “Seeing as my boyfriend is so desperate to have me stay.”

He snatches the glass from you. “Don’t forget – I could beat you in a fight.”

Laughing, you skip over to his side of the table and hook your arm around his throat, pushing his head against your chest. “Are you sure?” you whisper.

Your heart is racing. Taeyong might get angry. You might have gone too far with the play flighting, drunk on today’s victory.

Taeyong turns slowly in your grip. You feel his hot breath against your chest. Your arms loosen.

To your surprise, Taeyong brings his lips to your neck and leaves a trail of kisses that is wet and smouldering and completely inappropriate for a bar. Delightful shivers run over your skin.

Taeyong looks up at you, a smile curving his lips. “I can’t believe I was so worried about my own body that I passed up the opportunity…” his eyes run up your body, shamelessly glued to every curve “to see this.”

You intertwine his fingers in yours. “Then let’s not waste another moment.”

Taeyong smiles and rises. “Couldn’t agree more.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

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cannedpickledpeaches · 1 month

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Insert Your Name (4)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to part one, two, three, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve!

Notes and TW: This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tag(s): @guava-has-a-pen

Jade’s Signature Spell has several restrictions. The greatest variable about it is its rate of success. Only ten minutes after meeting with the captured thug, the four of you sit out in Azul’s living room with furrowed brows. Except Floyd. Floyd happily indulges in Azul’s expensive grapes.

“I didn’t think Moore looked like someone with a strong will.” You reach out a hand at Floyd. He drops a perfectly round, nearly black grape in your palm. “Maybe he was faking the terror? Or maybe the person who gave him Jade’s information is much scarier than a bit of persuasion from Floyd.”

“Looked and felt like a minnow.” Floyd’s jagged teeth tear through the fruit like it’s made of tissue paper. “His screamin’ was real, lemme tell ya that. Even if he’s scared of someone else, he probably thought he was gonna kick the bucket right then and there. If ya asked me, he woulda spilled even without Jade cuz he thought he was fucked either way. Kinda weird that he didn’t.”

If there’s anything you’ve learned from knowing him for this long, it’s that his gut feeling is rarely wrong. Intuition is his forte. But if that’s the case, how come Shock the Heart didn’t work?

“My guess is,” Jade muses with a hand on his chin, “there is a spell previously cast on him that can block mine.”

Azul considers it. “Memory wiping, maybe. Perhaps he really doesn’t know—or at the very least, doesn’t remember. Another possibility is a defensive spell cast on his mind.”

“Even if that’s true, he isn’t a mage.” You pop the grape inside your mouth. A sweet, delectable juice spreads over your tongue. “If he was, he would’ve tried to break out of those ropes.”

That’s a simple trap Jade likes to set. Without a magic tool like the mirror back in Night Raven College, it is difficult to tell who’s a mage and who isn’t. However, by using restraints that are not made of anti-magic material and relaxing security briefly, mages often reveal their hand with escape attempts.

“Maybe it was his boss or somethin’ who casted it. Y’know, to keep secrets from gettin’ out. Pretty nifty spell, if ya think about it.”

“Someone within the Carpenter Mafia, huh.” You curl up on the couch, pressed into the corner formed by its arm and back. “Guess we’ll have to investigate all the mages they have. Talk about time consuming.”

“Please leave it to me.” Jade places a hand on his chest, a reassuring smile on his lips. Reliable. Like a sturdy tree, or a nook in the cliffside. Someone you can lean on. Someone who can pick up your slack and watch your back. Trust given to Jade can only be from a naïve fool, a desperate person, or a wary one who has leverage on him or something to gain. Regardless, despite the fact that he is difficult to trust, he is terribly competent to make up for it.

“Will you have time for it, with all the other things you have to do? Like managing the mafia and the main story?”

“Please do not worry. If it comes down to it, there are tasks that I can delegate to other qualified individuals.”

Azul heaves a heavy sigh.

After a lengthy discussion, Azul all but kicks you three out of his house. You let Jade drive you home because you aren’t keen on sitting in Floyd’s passenger seat again anytime soon. Sitting in the leather seats of Jade's car, you watch as streetlights sweep by the glowing dashboard to a constant beat. The twins’ differing tastes are obvious even in their choice of car models. While Floyd prefers flashy sports cars that attempt to break the sound barrier, Jade prefers sleek, black ones that don’t make too much noise.

While Jade drives, your eyes drift to the night sky and your mind to the story. The next event is their second meeting. (Y/N) runs into him in the shopping district. Judging from the description in the manuscript, it’s on a street you frequented with her. Buskers at intersections. An ice cream shop next to an oak tree. A fountain with picturesque statues. You have a picture on your phone of her laughing in front of the water.

Does she think about you? If a friend suddenly stopped contacting her after being cornered in an alleyway, she’d naturally try to check up on them. That’s the selfless and considerate personality she has as the main character, after all. So why hasn’t she even texted you once? Were you truly even friends?

Of course you were. A kind person like her couldn’t fake affection. Those smiles she shared with you were definitely real. So then, why?

“You should sleep early tonight.” Jade suddenly speaks up at a red light. He takes the momentary break to glance at you. There’s an expression you can’t place on his face. Worry? No, nothing that strong. He looks back at the road before you can decipher it. “You’ve been stressed lately. I can brew you a relaxing herbal tea if you have trouble sleeping. It will guarantee you a relaxing slumber.”

“That makes it sound like I’ll never wake up if I drink it.”

He chuckles. “You can find out if you drink it.”

“Pass. Make it for yourself.”

“Perhaps I will. I often have difficulties falling asleep at night.” Unlike you, his insomnia is evolutionary. Moray eels are nocturnal creatures, and having grown up in the deep sea, day and night cycles took time to get used to. In the endless night of a place where sunlight cannot reach, circadian rhythms follow a schedule, not daylight.

“Doesn’t the story say you’ll sleep in the same bed as (Y/N) tomorrow?”

There’s only one bed. A common trope. This event seems to be shoved into the story, full of plot holes and reasons that don’t make any sense. (Y/N) is meant to lightly twist her ankle because of her endearing clumsiness. Jade will bring her to a fancy hotel room and tend to her wound there instead of bringing her home like today. Your only guess is that the story wants to showcase his wealth and influence. He can get a fancy room in a fancy hotel whenever he wants without a reservation. He can afford whatever her heart desires.

“Indeed.” Jade gives a half-smile. “Although I doubt it will happen. I find that I cannot sleep in the presence of strangers.”

Morays are cowards, Floyd once said. Ambush predators. They like hiding and darting out at prey or going after injured animals. Strong enough to have the confidence of living in a hole with no escape route other than the entrance, but careful enough not to chase down prey in open waters. Jade is more careful than most. You don’t think you’ve truly seen him with his guard down before.

“(Y/N) is harmless.”

“I am aware. It is only a force of habit.” His fingers tap lightly on the steering wheel. “I will stay until she falls asleep and then do some work. There is much to do, with so little time.”

You wonder if the increased workload has taken a toll on Jade. As competent as he is, he was suddenly saddled with the responsibilities of an entire syndicate and expected to run it with the same proficiency as his parents. His hobbies that he adores so much were all put on hold. There must be a mountain of pressure on his shoulders, but he never complains. Never one to show weakness. It is easy to exploit.

“You can give me more work. Just pay me and I’ll do it.”

Jade’s eyes flick to you, then back to the road. “How considerate of you. What are you willing to do if I take you up on that?”

“You can leave the investigation of the Carpenter Mafia to me.”

“Thank you for offering, but I would like to take that matter into my own hands. It concerns information about me, after all.”

“Then what do you want me to do?”

He hums in that way he does when he pretends to think. “How about guarding me when I sleep?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say you can’t sleep with other people around?”

“I said ‘strangers.’” A teasing lilt weaves through his voice. “You are my dear friend of many years. Surely, we are closer than mere strangers? I daresay we are even closer than acquaintances.”

“You really like bringing that up.”

“It is because you seem prone to forget.” The car turns into a side street. Houses pass you slowly. Your neighbourhood is quiet at this time of night. “If you were guarding me, I would not even mind sleeping in (Y/N)’s vicinity.”

“Don’t even think about it. I won’t be there.”

Despite the lighthearted tone of your conversation, you understand the undertone of his request. He doesn’t expect you to accept this responsibility. Instead, he is conveying a message: he trusts you. Enough that he’s willing to be physically vulnerable around you. When he’s asleep, you could slit his throat, press a pillow over his face, crush his windpipe. But he trusts that you won’t. Instead of attacking him, he trusts that you will protect.

But is that what he truly thinks of you? Or is that what he wants you to think that he thinks? How convoluted. Talking to him is taxing on the brain.

“Actually, Jade.” You hesitate briefly. “Can you ask (Y/N) about me? Or just, like, drop my name in the conversation.”

Mild curiosity fills his gaze. “Why do you ask?”

“Just do it.”

“I have no obligation to. But if you tell me, I might consider it.”

“Forget it, then.” It wasn’t important anyway. You’ll ask her once the story is over.

He pulls up on your driveway. The entire house is dark, save for a light in the master bedroom and in the entrance. You thank him and prepare to leave the car.

“Give your mother my greetings.”

You nod and wave goodbye. The car stays in your driveway until you enter your front door before driving off. It’s something you’ve noticed only he does. For safety, he had explained. He’s making sure that you’ve entered your home safely. You can never tell if he has some ulterior motive.

The first few things you notice when you step inside are the pill bottles left out on the counter. You take your shoes off and silently pad over to the washroom, returning the bottles to the medicine cabinet. Just as you put the final one in place, a voice calls out from the top of the staircase.

“You’re home late. Are you tired?”

A kind, familiar voice. You approach the stairs and look up to see your mother standing there in her sleepwear. The stress accumulated throughout the day melts away, temporarily forgotten. No matter how difficult things are, no matter how tedious the days become, no matter how much is on your mind—at the end of the day, you have your mother to return home to. Around her, you are just her daughter, without the need to be anything more.

“Hi, Mom. You didn’t have to stay up.” You ascend the staircase to meet her on the second floor. She gives you a warm, comforting hug.

“Nonsense. I can’t sleep until I know you’re home safe.” She pats your hair and lets you go. “Did you come home by yourself?”

“Jade drove me. He says hi.”

“Oh, Jade. He’s a good kid. Thank him properly, alright?”

A good kid. You almost laugh out loud. For one, both you and him are in your late twenties. For another, you wouldn’t use “good” to describe his character. But you don’t, because you don’t want your mother to worry. You only tell her the best anecdotes about the people around you so that she can rest assured you’re in good hands. She doesn’t know about your real job, either. She doesn’t need to. You prefer to keep things this way. She would never approve of a profession where you could get hurt.

“I will.”

She follows you to your room, where you start getting ready for bed. “What were you doing downstairs before I called for you?”

“You left your medicine on the counter again. I was putting them away.”

“Oh dear, did I?” She sighs and places a hand on her cheek. Wrinkles crease the skin around her mouth and the corners of her eyes. It is because I have lived a happy life, she always assured you, since I was lucky enough to have you as my daughter. “I must be getting old. These days, I often do one thing while forgetting another.”

“It’s a good thing you have me, huh?”

She chuckles. “You’re right. It’s a good thing I have you.”

When you lie in bed, your mother sleeping soundly in the master bedroom, you think back to Mr. and Mrs. Leech. To Jade and Floyd, who anxiously wait for a cure to that curse they still haven’t found the culprit for. Jade changes out the flowers by their hospital beds as soon as the petals start to wilt. Floyd bribes the hospital so that he can spend nights by their side. If your mother was in that situation, you know you would raise Hell on Earth. You can only imagine what the twins are going through. If they ever catch the assassin, you don’t want to know what will happen to that soul. There is no judgment against the twins here. You would do the same.

You don’t know when you slept, but you wake up before dawn to the sound of your ringtone. Upon picking up, Jade delivers two pieces of information.

Firstly, he fell asleep. And secondly, when he mentioned your name to (Y/N) last night, she smiled blankly and asked: “Who?”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst fanfic #twst jade #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #multi chap fic #mafia au #slow burn #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech

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awoogayanderes · 1 year

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SLOW DANCING WITH THEM

➪ requests : “Slow dance with tecchou and anyone else you wants please ^^” - anonymous

➪ characters : Tecchou Suehiro, Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, Fyodor Dostoevsky

➪ other notes : i love this prompt so i added a bunch of characters, some characters may be ooc, apologies

Tecchou Suehiro :

- tecchou isn’t really a dancer per se, he just doesn’t have the time for it

- but when you asked him to dance with you at a wedding, he couldn’t refuse you

- despite what i said before, he’s not that bad of a dancer

- he stepped on your toes a bit but other than that, he went with the flow

- he can’t help but look at you in awe, a small blush spreading though his face

- “ow tecchou,” you wince as he stepped on you

- “i’m sorry honey,” he apologizes, pulling you closer to him

- “i didn’t think you’d say yes,” you say as you touch the three spots under his eye

- “i’ll always say yes to you,” he mumbles and you smile

- this is probably one of the only times where he’s completely focused on you and not small details around the world

Osamu Dazai :

- what doesn’t this bastard know what to do

- something deep in my soul tells me that he likes to salsa dance

- anyways, this was after the ada defeated the guild, during the boat party

- when a romantic song started playing, dazai grabbed your hand lifting you up

- he loves having these soft and quiet moments with you despite his chaotic personality

- “i didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” you tease as he twirls you around

- “i couldn’t help myself with how ravishing you look tonight,” he flirts

- “thank you ‘samu, for everything,” you say getting slightly sentimental

- he hums smiling as he gives you a soft kiss as the song ends

- he’s honored to have you in his arms, twirling you, even if these moments are rare, he’s always willing to show you he cares even if its through odd ways

Chuuya Nakahara :

- he has two left feet when he’s sober, but when he’s drunk he can dance for hours

- my god this man sweats when he dances

- the port mafia decided to throw a celebration after a successful difficult mission

- after a few (many) glasses of wine, he asks you to dance with him, more like forces you to dance with him

- you’re pulled closer to him as a slow song starts playing, “hmph” he hiccups

- “i can tell you’re having fun,” you take his hat and put it on your own head

- he clicks his tongue at the action before saying “i’m just loosening up, since you always tell me i’m being uptight or stiff”

- “well i’m not wrong am i?” his cheeks turn into a bright pink when you peck him on the lips

- as the song ends, he carefully dips you, giving you a proper drunken kiss

- even when he’s drunk, he just wants to sweep you off your feet, his mind only being clouded with you as your body radiates heat to him

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa :

- if you think this man can dance, you’re fooling yourself silly

- he has no rhythm, even if its slow dancing

- he was very hesitant accepting your idea of dancing, even in the privacy of your own home with all the curtains shut

- you’d think he’d want some type of music, wrong, he tells you he wouldn’t be able to concentrate which leads both of you to dance in silence

- “you can breathe you know,” you quietly say as you notice your boyfriend’s awkward stance

- “i don’t know what joy you find in this,” he says but now he’s more relaxed

- “i just like doing things with you,” you say smiling as you touch his hair lightly

- “the hell you put me through,” he says despite his hands tightening on you

- “thank you ryū,” you smile as you pull him closer to you, enough to hear his fast heart

- he wants to try new things for you, he tries to be a better boyfriend and even if it’s just dancing, if it makes you happy, he’s satisfied

Fyodor Dostoevsky :

- surprisingly this man knows a thing or two about dancing, he’s not completely clueless

- i feel like this would be one of the few things he does to show he still cares about you

- sometimes passing the time in a closed off place is hard for you, and fyodor knows that so why not humor both of you

- “milaya?” he offers his hand when tchaikovsky starts playing

- “fedya, i don’t think we can slow dance to this,” you say as the music starts getting more intense

- “anything is possible when you put your mind to it my dear,” he says, spinning you

- “you’re awfully romantic today fedya,” you say as he dips you to the after climax of the song

- “am i?” he says in a teasing tone questioning you but smiling

- once you pull him closer to you, his face can’t help but feel hot, not used to this feeling

- fyodor loves you, he does, he just sucks at expressing it, so he resorts to actions like dancing that feels intimate

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curtsbigspoon · 11 days

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thoughts on how buck and bucky would end up kissing and/or hooking up for the first time? what would lead up to it, who would make the first move etc <3

I feel like it would have to be either after a rough mission, or a successful one.

First one could be that the grief and loss has worn everyone down, John and Gale are trying to understand their place in it all, to cope with the fact it could be one of them next.

Gale is more reserved about his anxiety, doesn’t show it publicly, has to be a leader for everyone. John is more likely to get physically antsy, tries to find the positives in it all because he’s still got Gale.

It feeds off on everyone, able to find hope despite their fears.

Gale’s never been more relieved at John’s glass half full type of energy, feeling less burdened by the weight of pressure.

But John confronts him one night, he’s a little more drunk than he should be, but it’s the only way to find his strength.

He crowds Gale against a wall, his lips pulled tight, pressing his forehead to their shoulder, bottom lip jutted out and trembling.

Gale feels it then, what he’s been hiding, brings his hand to John’s shoulder and tries to rub him there reassuringly.

John voices his fears, lifts his head, Gale sees how wet they’ve grown.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Gale murmurs, and he tries to smile, ducking his head slightly. “We’re gonna be alright.”

John swallows, feels a lot of things in the moment, isn’t sure what any of them are.

Not until he brings his hand up, cupping it again Gale’s cheek, surging forward to press their lips together in something that’s too messy, teeth clacking against one another, almost bumping noses.

But Gale doesn’t run from it, just stands there shocked, feels his eyes widen before John pulls away from him.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, but there’s no menace to his tone, no real rejection to back up his words.

John catches it, and he steps back, nodding his head.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have… Too bad I’m about to do it again anyways.”

Right well I should probably say now it wasn’t supposed to turn into that but, I’d feel bad ridding y’all of the extra content so I’ll let it stay.

The other option is much more cheerier!

They’re probably together in the hall, music’s blasting, people are dancing, John and Gale are at each other’s sides as always.

John’s especially taken by the thrill of it all, can’t stop smiling, finding ways to chime in with singing, or patting his comrades on the back whenever they walk back.

Gale’s just smiling, sometimes he grins a little more with teeth, feels the world sweep away from him.

It might just be one night, but they’re making it his, they’re taking the victory and using it as means to inspire how successful the future could be.

After all their hard work they deserve it.

John probably saunters back, hooks his arm around Gale, leans real close.

“Come with me?”

“You need an escort now?”

“I might, you don’t want me wandering off on my own tonight, do you?”

Even though he tries to hold meaning to the theat, the smile spilling over his cheeks shows he’s just trying to get his way.

Gale gives into him anyways, follows him outside, lets him smoke his cigar and leans his head back against the wall to take in the stars.

The world feels at peace for a little while, no fights or fires above, just laughter and joy and beer.

John catches his gaze, follows it with a grin, nudges his arm into him.

“Don’t get too lost in the clouds, Gale. I need you down here with me.”

“I’m always down here with you.”

John laughs at that, thinks it’s the funniest, sighs and leans his head back to join Gale’s observations.

“I don’t plan on letting you go anywhere anytime soon, you can count on that.”

Gale laughs too, something easy and sweet.

John tilts his head towards the blond, leans close to murmur something, and Gale turns in time to catch their lips almost touching.

It stops them both, John’s lips parted and ready to usher words, Gale’s closed and ready to listen - but they split apart when they notice how close John is.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Gale whispers, thinks it’ll spark them both back to normalcy.

It doesn’t, if anything it halts John further in his tracks, and then his eyes dip.

Gale doesn’t have time to warn him not to be too hasty, to tell him he should move in case someone comes out and sees them so close.

John’s lips on his force him into silence, everything else falls away, and his cheeks warm under the attention before he gently prods John back.

“Someone could have seen,” he warns, and something about it makes John smile.

Gale’s slightly appalled at his lack of consideration or care regarding the matter until John continues.

“Next time I’ll be more careful.”

Fuck. I ended up yapping again. Okay so I could honestly see it going different ways but I wound up writing two very specific scenarios, sorry bout that one. If you want different like perspectives in the future lemme know.

And, uh, hope you enjoyed??

#masters of the air #mota #but gay #austin butler #callum turner #john egan #gale cleven #buckbucky #buck x bucky #john x gale #clegan #buck cleven #bucky egan #curtsbigspoonyaps

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pinkwright · 1 year

Text

need u on my skin like closure, baby | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — college!shuri x college!y/n

trope — exes 2 friends 2 lovers

inspo — anya mmiri by ckay ft. pinkpantheress

warnings — fingering (reader receiving), dom!shuri, humiliation kink, erm dumbification (listen..), possessive!shuri, protective!shuri, shuri is touchy, kissing, overstimulation, its long my bad, reader is easily embarrassed, tensionnn, shuris mean n condescending but so in love, reader is bratty for like two seconds, jealous!shuri, dacryphilia, dirty talk, degradation but like its like praise coded, praise, reader gets rlly subby (poor baby) but not crazily so like subspace, i think that's it but i honestly don't know.

a/n — i wrote this pretty quickly actually n was initially gonna post for valentines but bc i'm drowning in ideas rn it doesnt rlly matter so, i hope u enjoy it ! girl i won't lie writing this had me a bit breathy LMFAO so if there r any errors that's my bad but u know why. im a miniskirt kinda gal so this is what i imagine reader wearing to the party while this is what i imagine shuri in (4th)— u can obvi imagine what u want.

⟢˚ @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @saintwrld

ஜ

confusion, confusion, it's life, and illusion. you’re with me right now, next thing you're gone. but i need you on my skin closure, like closure, baby.

the music blasts through your ears, the steady vibrations stimulating you sufficiently, working well in keeping you from getting distracted from the current art piece you worked on. the world around you seemed muted as the tones of green, brown, and orange danced across your canvas, the oil paint was firm but still allowed room for error, encouraging it even – your favourite medium for that reason.

a slow succession of knocks sound under the thump of your music, the door to your studio opening and closing with two soft clicks, the person not making themselves known to you. though, a smile creeps on your lips – having recognised the knocking pattern, “by now you should know that creeping up on me after you’ve knocked is futile, right?” your hand reaching towards your stereo to lower the piercing volume.

you place your palette on the covered table to your side, the dirty paintbrush following suit as you stand to turn to face her, your arms lift into a stretch then fall to fix the unruly bun of the lace on your head as you finally set your gaze on her. she’s standing in the doorway, her hands buried in the pockets of her baggy black sweatpants, a matching oversized black hoodie sitting on her torso, the accents of dark purple shifting as she lifts her hands into surrender, and there’s mischief dancing in her eyes.

“i will never understand how you do that when i quite literally have the stealth of a panther.”

she’s smiling at you as she speaks, her voice is playful and light as you begin to pack up your belongings, “i don’t know, your majesty. maybe, just maybe, the deadly black panther has met her match.” you’re giggling as you say it, unaware of the inner turmoil you’ve thrown shuri in to.

the air quietens down as you raise your eyes to look at her, your sweep of the room to make sure it’s presentable for your arrival tomorrow complete, and you seem to realise what has transpired, what you insinuated. shuri’s gazing at you with a deep but unreadable expression, one that has you averting your eyes over an awkward chuckle as you walk towards her.

“that, she has.” her voice is deep, and serious, as it slithers up your body, wafting with your intake of breath to settle in the depths of your lungs. her words carry a depth you’re familiar with, or at least, were familiar with, one that spoke of her devotion to you, her love and respect for you, her desires and promises to make you, her queen.

you clear your throat before moving around her tall frame to step out of the small, now tense, space. your heart flutters as she quickly reaches out to open the door for you, her cologne permeating your psyche as it washes over you – jasmine and warm musk on top of cedar and bourbon vanilla, all wrapped within the sensual flamboyancy of roses.

you walk to the elevator and step into the space, the music is soothing as you sigh out and drop your head side to side in a stretch, you had been sat unmoving for a long period of time, “i always tell you to take stretching breaks to ease the strain on your body.” shuri’s voice is teasing but you can hear the firmness floating through the crevices of it. your eyes reach to look up at her, your lips parting on a snarky remark, but the ding of a stop on another floor has you pausing; then there are two things happening simultaneously.

firstly, a group of college boys is stepping into the small space and, secondly, shuri’s reaching both her hands to rest firmly on the skin of either of your shoulders, slightly pressing against you to shift your body away from the rowdy boys, guiding you to face slightly away from them, as she steps forward to press against you, giving the one that was nearest to you a curt but taunting smile, as if she’s daring them to touch you.

the action is so swift and so instinctive that it’s over before you even get to blink twice, but it wakes up your aching body, provoking it into calling out for her. you feel its call in the warmth pulsing through you, the sweep of your stomach, and the racing of your heart. her head dips to where her soft curls skim the skin of your collarbone, her nose barely brushing against the arch of your neck, and your head is tilting slightly for her, your body reacts before your mind can process, clearly yearning for her closeness.

“what were you saying, s’thandwa?”

she breathes the words into your skin, her hands squeezing your shoulders before they’re slipping down your arms and coming to rest on the heated skin of your waist, pulling you into her so her chest presses against the length of your back; and you’re embarrassed. you can feel the rapid glances of the others beside you, though their conversation never ceases, and you know that shuri’s doing this on purpose. she knows that no matter how much you deny it, your body vibrates with the idea of her possessing you like this, owning you where there’s nothing to shield the clench of your thighs from prying eyes; she knows you bask in the humiliation of it.

you shake your head to clear your thoughts, “it’s fine, it wasn’t important.” you almost flinch when you hear how breathy your voice sounds, the heat rising to your face but moving to settle in the pit of your stomach. shuri’s chuckle is taunting as she breathes you in, her head dropping slightly and you can feel her lips curling as she skims a phantom kiss on your sweet skin, and you swear when your head clears, you’re going to kill shuri udaku.

the doors ring open to the ground floor and shuri guides your body out, no longer pressed against you as she takes to wrapping her arm around your shoulder and your head finally clears. “you are such a fucking ass, actually,” her boisterous laugh is cutting you off as she turns to look down at you, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“looking out for you is being an ass, my love?” she teases. your eyes roll as you throw her arm off of you, her laugh only intensifying as she brings her hands to clap obnoxiously. the muscles of your heart seize as you regard her, you love her so much, why’d she have to confuse you like this?

“shut the fuck up, i’ll see you tonight.” you try to look annoyed, but a series of giggles are escaping you as you walk away, your apartment only a block away. you’re adjusting the bag on your shoulder when shuri’s voice rings out in agreement, her laugh quelling as she watches you go, a sigh taking its place as the longing grips her once again.

⤠

you roll your lips to spread your lipgloss and reach to put the tube in the black bag you decided to carry tonight, rocking your hips to the beat of baby boy reverbarating through the walls of your apartment as you deem yourself ready. you spin your back to the mirror, your eyes sliding to gaze over your shoulder as you give yourself a once over, the length of your skirt was daring, provocative, just how you liked it.

the knocking at your door has you grabbing your bag and ruffling out your hair, allowing the bangs to frame your face cheekily because you know shuri likes it when you look a little bit of a mess for her, not that you wanted to look good for her or anything along those lines. the door swings open, your previous smile dropping as you lay your eyes on her, sweeping your gaze down her lithe frame as your glossy lips part, she needed you bad; shuri’s doing the same, her tongue coming out to lick her lips as her dark eyes burn into the skin of your legs, she had always been a leg girl.

your eyes snap up at the clearing of her throat, and she’s smirking at you before leaning into your space, her arms wrapping slowly around your waist, pressing you against her firmly as she brings her lips to your ear, “bast, you’re killing me, baby.”

the words end with a grunt as she slips one of her hands down your hips to play with the hem of your skirt, “this fucking skirt, you’re a little slut for attention, hm.” her voice is soft and cooing like she’s praising you, and her fingers grazing the skin of your thigh paired with the tenderness of her tone coaxes you into accepting the praise.

you let out a low whimper, the heat of your core bringing you to clench your thighs slightly, shuri chuckles condescendingly before pulling away, lifting your hand to her lips to graze your knuckles before she’s pulling you away, guiding you to her car. the ride is a short but electrified one, god what kind of exes slash friends were you?

the party is in full blast by the time you two arrive, music blasting through the house and flowing into both the back and front yards, you could feel the vibrations settle in the marrow of your bones as you make your way inside, still being guided by shuri. she moves through the crowd just like a panther; gracefully, instinctively, moving with the aura of the apex predator she was, she greets people as she enters the kitchen, using the grip on your hand to seat you on an empty barstool before she starts to prepare some drinks for you.

you’re joined by some of your friends, and soon you’re laughing, enjoying the party and the sweet drink shuri had prepared for you, before you feel like dancing. you hold one of your friend’s hands as you go to dance, letting go of the overbearing stress you carried, letting the music caress the heat of your skin. you feel her eyes watching you, feel them heavily sliding down the length of your moving body and it exhilarates you. you open your eyes and just as you meet her gaze, a body presses itself against you, much like she had earlier, and her gaze is darkening.

the intensity of it shocks you but lulls the bratty side of you forward, calling you to make her move, make her claim you again. the thought excites you enough to bring your hand to guide the strangers to rest on the material covering your ribs, your lips twitching in amusement when you see her eyes drop to sneer at the touch.

that’s it, come to me. the vixen in you is cunning, luring her lover to her with tactics she knows shuri will concur to, tactics she knows will break the regal patience of the queen.

but shuri simply raises a manicured brow, her lips lifting into a smirk as she sweeps her eyes over your frame and she’s leaning forward against the marble countertops before tilting her head at you. you know that look, and so does your body, seeing as it instinctively clenches with a fire so deep it licks at the jagged edges of your ribs, sinking into the space between your legs.

she barely lifts her hand, her fingers moving to call you to her and you’re moving without thinking, like a prey to its predator, and you’re soothed by a false sense of security when she allows you to place your hand in hers so she can gently pull you towards her and whisper directly into your ear, “i don’t know who made you think you run shit, s’thandwa, but i know you need me to fix that for you, right?”

the shiver that wrecks through your body is instant and you’re nodding before you can comprehend, your breath hitching when you feel her pull you through the crowd, you were in for it. the lock of the bathroom door barely clicks before one of shuri’s hands grabs both of your wrists to press against the wood while the other pushes your hips against the surface.

there’s a pause, “i need to hear you to tell me you want this baby, that you want me.” her voice is strained like she’s holding back.

“please, please, shuri, i need it, need you, always.”

the whine barely escapes you before she’s letting out a tortured groan and pressing against you, her hand sliding down your hip, roughly pushing the hem of your skirt up, and pressing over the front of your damp underwear. your hips stutter as she presses against your clit, your lips parting as you moan out, hearing her groan into the curve of your neck, her lips pressing heated kisses along the length of it, “barely touched you and you’re this wet for me, baby? my pretty pussy’s crying for me, isn’t she?”

her voice is pulling you into the state only she can pull you into, where your mind is only occupied with her, and it’s hard to think, to breathe, to exist beyond her. her fingers trace slow circles over your underwear, your hips swirling to match the movements, and she’s laughing at you. lifting her lips to slide over your cheekbone and press against your temple as she increases the pace of her fingers.

“my desperate fucking girl. you want to come in these pretty lace panties?”

your hips buck wildly as you gasp, your head spinning as you whimper out her name, over and over again, a series of pleads falling from your lips. the way she’s talking to you with that lilt in her voice like you were just a girl to be scolded, a girl to be humiliated until you learned, learned what being hers meant. she’s speaking words to you, wanting you to gaze into those eyes while she touches what’s hers.

you feel the wave cresting, your stomach clenching as you practically squeal out her name, your hips gyrating frantically in time with her hand, your hands are clenching, your arms still held above your head, wanting to grab something to ground you, wanting to touch her to ground you. she coos at you, murmuring about her, “pretty sweet thing coming so good for her.”

your heart rate doesn’t get the chance to slow as you feel her hand slip into your now-soaked, underwear, your hips bucking violently as she grazes her slender fingers across your sensitive clit, and your eyes are widening as you lift your gaze to find hers already on you, “had enough, angel? i don’t think you have.” her voice is taunting, her eyes holding a fire that burns your insides.

your mouth drops open, your gaze unable to move from hers as she slides her fingers to your entrance circling around the opening as she groans deep in her throat, “bast, you were made for me, my love, made to take me?” her finger slips in slightly as she curls her tongue around ‘take’ and you’re chasing her fingers, she’s being so mean.

you tense as she finally slips her finger into the warmth of your walls, a satisfying moan slips from your mouth as she begins to gently thrust in and out of you, her fingers dragging against you, just the way she knows you love. she’s smirking against your cheek as you unabashedly moan out repeatedly, thumb coming to circle your clit as you shut your eyes. the tears are gathering on your lashes as you’re whimpering out.

“there’s my pretty baby’s tears.” her voice is dark, menacingly dragging out the words. “couldn’t have my pretty pussy crying by herself tonight, hm.” the words render you dumb before her fingers glide firmly against that rough patch inside you and you’re clenching so hard that it drags her fingers deeper into you, your legs trembling, your body solely held up by shuri’s hold on your wrists. and you still long enough for her to mutter out a ‘that’s it, angel.’ before you’re exploding again.

the tears are clinging to your lashes as you see flashes of colour behind your eyelids, your breath coming out in pants as you stutter your hips to the soothing slow of shuri’s lithe fingers, she’s using the hand holding your wrist to lower your arms to rest around her shoulders, her arms then coming to the back of your thighs to gently lift you on to the sink.

you feel her lift your chin, her lips approaching yours before she pauses, “you’re mine, right. my precious love, hm?” her voice is raspy. you nod eagerly, tightening your arms around her neck, whining for that kiss. she smirks as she leans in, placing her lips against your own softly but with a little desperation, the slide of your lips is a back-and-forth pull of your love, a love song duet, a devotion of walking into what will be.

the panther’s sly hands skim up your still quivering thighs fiddling with the band of your underwear, pausing, before she’s ripping them off. the gasp you release into her mouth is sharp but as you go to pull away, she doesn’t let you, her mouth slipping against yours felt like an addiction. both her hands slip along your inner thigh making their way to your dripping cunt.

her lips separate from yours when the tips of her fingers graze your folds and you thrash so wildly, she has to reach a hand to your hip to still you, a grunt slipping passed her mouth at the action, you were so sensitive, it made her feral. her eyes lift to your shut ones as she glides her fingers over your clit, your head frantically shaking, “you don’t want more, my love?”

her voice wisps through the clouds in your mind, “c-cant…please” you force out pathetically on a whimper, her fingers circling your clenching entrance, “i know, baby, i know.” she’s speaking gently to you, lovingly, “but you’re mine, yes? mine to love, mine to make come as i please? isn’t that right, honey?” and you’re nodding frantically.

“then i want you to get off on my thigh like the desperate girl you are, sweetheart.”

her voice is the only thing you can fathom, and it has you craving for more, inviting her into you and it almost makes shuri preen – you’re so open to her, settling into her embrace as if you trusted her more than yourself, it makes her soaking pussy clench tight around nothing, in a way only you could make her. her thigh presses between your legs and your muscles tremble around the strong muscle, her hand slips around your throat, squeezing gently as she guides your eyes to hers, and she gazes at you so deeply, it makes you squirm.

shuri’s watching you struggle against her thigh, her lips lifting into a condescending smirk that forces you to shut your eyes and let out a lengthy, needy whine before she uses her free hand to grip your waist and harshly slide you against her.

“dumb baby needs me to do everything for her?”

the moans you’re sobbing out sharply slice through the air, and you feel filthy, crying out for her while she drags you against her thigh like a desperate slut. you’re hiccupping on your tears as she continues to coo at you, walking you to your demise and you can feel it, your heartbeat pulsing through your desperate clenching walls.

her head is nodding along with yours, your eyes unable to separate from hers, and she’s groaning along to your cries, asking if you want it enough if you’re desperate enough for her. she leans in to press a tender peck to your lips that you can’t reciprocate, “that’s it, my angel, give me that come.”

then your body is convulsing so violently, shuri has to press the length of her body against you to prevent you from slipping off of the sink she has you sat on, her head sinking to your neck to shower you in praises and remind you how good you were for her, how much she loves you, how pretty you are when you cry for her. your tears are hot on your cheeks as you soak her thigh, and you’re heaving as your eyelashes cling to one another, the mascara smeared along your waterline - you looked ruined.

shuri regards you with a tenderness that sends you spiralling, she reaches her hand to brush along your wet cheeks before following the trail with her warm lips, exhaling her love into your skin, reminding you how much her heart belonged to you too. her lips meet yours in a soft press and she sighs as she pulls you against her body to ground herself.

she could feel her heart clench with the force of her love for you, she was never going to let you go again.

how could i forget you? when you build house for my mind? and you no go, go outside and you no go, go. i miss me and you. but all i have is memories of you. but that just wont do tonight.

ஜ

#pinkwrighting ⊹ ۪ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ.#shuri x black!reader #shuri udaku #letitia wright #black panther #shuri x reader #black panther wakanda forever #shuri angst #shuri smut #shuri fluff #shuri imagine #shuri x you

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xxsabitoxx · 7 months

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Pretty Witch | Kinktober day one teaser

Kitsune Giyu x AFAB Witch Reader

A/N & Warning: This is just a small teaser! The full fic will be posted Sunday!! As always, this teaser will contain smut but the full fic will get proper warnings cause I’m lazy rn :)

Does this count as monster fucking? LMAO

That was the thing you failed to remember about Kitsune… they were clever creatures who enjoyed mischief. The ancient guardian before you had over a millennium to perfect his craft, that much was clear. “Pretty witch, I am devoted to you and you alone. What more could you ask for?” In truth, nothing. He was presenting you with everything you could ever desire and yet your stupid morals were still holding you back. “Tomioka… I don’t want to rush you into anything… we just met…” the fact that you had quite literally just met was the only thing holding you. You would likely continue to sound like a broken record even after you gave in.

“We’re not rushing anything, pretty witch. I’ve spent years alone with nobody to hold, not a single soul has been successful in summoning me and yet you did it by mistake. It would be my honor to serve and satisfy your every need… so please… pretty witch… let me taste you.” he had you completely entranced now, noses nearly bumping as he had managed to move closer without you realizing. “Please, pretty—” you stopped him easily with one word “yes…” you breathed out, watching his lips part in surprise before a real smile curled his lips. “Wonderful.”

You made a noise of surprise as his lips roughly crashed into your own. His hand was still holding yours, fingers intertwining now as you used your free hand to cup his jaw. Tomioka’s free hand came up to hold the back of your head, as if afraid you would change your mind and pull away. He already couldn’t get enough of your taste, tongue sliding past your parted lips to sweep into your mouth and collect every drop of your sweetness. You must have had something with honey, a sickly sweet taste he hadn’t gotten the chance to experience in centuries. You whined as he groaned, lapping feverishly at your mouth and your docile tongue.

#dividers are from benkeibear!#kinktober 2023 #demon slayer smut #kny smut #giyu smut #giyu tomioka #tomioka giyu smut #demon slayer fanfic #hashira #demon slayer giyuu #tomioka giyu x reader #giyu x reader #giyu x you #giyu x y/n

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milkycottoncandy · 1 year

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Give Yourself To Me And More

Attuma of Talokan x Female!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ content, obsessive behavior, somewhat dark!Attuma, rough (consensual) sex, choking, tit slapping, breeding kink, dirty talk

Minors Do Not Interact!!!

Summary: Attuma liked to think he was a patient man. Being Talokan's commanding general has taught him how to stay composed in stressful situations, and for the most part he knows patience is a virtue. However, you test his limits everyday with your lingering touches, bright smile, and kind words that make it hard for him to hold back, to leave you untouched and still pure. But like all the strongest of men, eventually they must fall.

Word Count: 2,895

Skip to the three *** if all you want to read is the smut (I'm not judging at all lol).

Translations:

Ma', in querida- No, my darling

In yakunaj- my darling

Author's Note: Hello my Attuma sluts!! Decided to give you guys this and I hope y'all enjoy it. This is my first time writing smut so please, be nice! I will only accept constructive criticism and no hate will be tolerated. Besides that, please enjoy!

Do not steal, copy, plagiarize, or repost my works. Reblog's are fine.

🌊🦈🌊🦈🌊🦈🌊🦈🌊🦈🌊🦈🌊🦈🌊🦈🌊🦈

It felt like Chaac himself was testing him.

He was solely focused on making the surface world and all who inhabited it, who forced his people into the dark, cold, unforgiving depths of the ocean, pay for their crimes, all while being confronted by the dangers that were at every corner. Dangers like you.

To him, you were a radiant goddess, and this world was unworthy of your existence. You were always beautiful from the beginning, and it seemed like each time you both interacted with each other, his feelings became even stronger. What made it worse is you always focused your attention on him. You would bring him homemade lunches, offer to massage the aches in his body after he was done training, be the first to welcome him back after a successful mission, and so much more. It was a miracle he hadn't died from a heart attack with the way it always swelled when he was near you.

You were the light in his life, and it didn't help that you started to appear in his dreams and late-night fantasies, making him feel shameful the morning after. In his mind, he had taken you many times, taking pleasure from you like a lover. You were begging him, touching him, letting him touch you, making him feel less lonely when you weren't near him. You were the reason to keep Talokan safe. You were something worth fighting for. In his mind, you were his, and he was yours.

But reality would reel him back in, like a fish attached to a hook, and he would remember you were simply being the kind person you always were. You laughed and smiled with everyone, you were amazing with children, and you never hesitated to offer help when asked. It's like you were taunting him with your gentle affections, always holding his hand and pulling him to somewhere more private so you both could indulge yourselves in each other's lives. He loved when you would hug him, you felt so soft in his arms, and he would kill a thousand men if that meant never having to let you go. He adored you. If you told him to jump, he'd say how high.

You were enchanting.

You were mesmerizing.

You were a danger to his sanity and beyond distracting.

Attuma wondered how long this would go on. How long he would pine for you, yearn for your attention, for you to say his name like you loved him, pretend like the thought of someone else sweeping you off your feet wasn't possible. That was his worst fear, waiting too long and someone taking you from him. He would kill that person with no hesitation. Would there ever be an end to this madness? Was he doomed for eternity to feel this way about you? Would he be forced to act like you weren't the first thing on his mind when he woke up and the last thing when sleep would finally overtake him?

One night, he decided it was enough. You pushed him to the limit, and he was going to be honest with you about his feelings. On the way to your house, his mind was a sea of questions and doubts.

What if she doesn't feel the same way?

What if I ruin what we have?

What if she thinks I'm unworthy?

What will I do without her? Without my light?

By the time he got to your front door, he had thought of everything that could go wrong. For a moment, he wanted to turn back. He didn't want to lose you. He didn't want things to change in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable around him. Despite his uncertainty, he gently knocked on your door and waited.

You swiftly opened the door, and it was like all his thoughts drifted away into nothingness. You were wearing a blue silk nightgown that outlined your body perfectly, and Attuma had to control himself from staring at your cleavage. Your eyes brightened, and that smile that made him feel weak slowly adorned your face.

"Attuma!" you squealed in excitement and hugged him, digging your face into his neck. You smelled amazing, like vanilla with a hint of cinnamon.

He hugged you back and, for a moment, felt like maybe the world wasn't so bad since you were in it. He felt you pull back, and he looked to see you admiring him. You both stilled, and, in a way, were speaking to each other with your eyes. You both had been friends for so long that verbal communication wasn't always necessary.

"Please, come in" you slide your hands down his arms to his, gently pulling him into your house. He followed willingly, and once he was fully inside, you closed the door behind him.

Attuma loved your house. The beautiful decorations, the smell, the atmosphere. Everything.

Your light touch to his back shook him out of his thoughts, and you led him to the familiar couch you both have sat on more times than he could count. You relaxed into the cushions while facing him with a smile, which he returned.

"What brings you here, my warrior?" you asked, taking his hand and delicately tracing his palm while you waited for his answer. Namora and K'uk'ulkan were right. You were going to be the death of him.

Attuma felt like he had fallen into ice water. He remembered the reason why he was here, to tell you how he felt. At this rare moment, the fearless general was scared. A part of him wanted to lie, come up with an excuse that he wanted to simply talk with you, and that was all. But you didn't deserve that. No, you deserved everything and so much more. He quietly swallowed, and he braced himself for all the possible scenarios that could happen.

"Y/N, I have to tell you something," he stated, taking your hands in his and scooting closer toward you on the couch.

He never took his eyes off yours, and you felt your body tingling under his gaze. He could sense your nervousness and continued with his confession.

"I have strong feelings for you, Y/N. Feelings stronger than love. Feelings I can't hide from you anymore."

The room was silent. You looked at him with a mix of shock and surprise. His face was serious and unchanging. Attuma didn't like this, and the doubts started to rear their ugly heads back into his mind.

You idiot, you really thought she would feel the same? Now she's gonna hate you forever, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Attuma wanted to leave. Leave and never come back. He knew this was a bad idea. He shouldn't have let his selfishness get the better of him. And now he was going to lose you forever. He was going to lose you, and it would be no one's fault but his. Why would he ever thi-

"I feel the same," you whispered. He thought he was dreaming. He had to be. He was going to wake up in his empty bed and realize none of this was real.

Oh, but it was real. Here you were, looking at him with nothing but love and understanding. You smiled, not in a mocking way, but in a genuine way. You had felt strongly about Attuma since the day you laid your eyes on him. You dropped so many hints that, to you, went unnoticed. The soft touches, the persisting looks, the sincere compliments, and so much more. In your mind, he was yours, and you were his. Your body felt like it was on fire, excitement slowly bubbling inside you.

Attuma didn't know what to say. The girl of his dreams admitted that she felt the same about him. He was like a deer in headlights, still and unmoving.

Say something, you fool.

"…You do?" he breathed, his eyes slowly softened.

Chaac, you're hopeless.

"I do," you answered, your tone was nothing but sincere.

The sight was laughable, two love-stricken fools gazing into each other's eyes like lovesick puppies. But you and Attuma didn't care. He loved you, and you loved him, and that's all that mattered.

Attuma paused. He didn't think this would happen. He knew every battle strategy, where and when to strike the enemy, how to keep them in a position where they couldn't win, but being with you, it's like he forgot everything. But he did know one thing. He wanted you.

He wanted you bad.

"May I kiss you, Y/N?" he pleaded desperately. Of course, he was a gentleman, and if you said no, he would be perfectly fine with that. For you, he would wait as long as you believed he needed to.

"Yes," you replied, ecstatic and smiling so hard your mouth started to hurt.

***

He gently grabbed your face, and your lips collided with his, moving in perfect sync like waves against the shore. It started off innocent but gradually became more animalistic and primal, and soon you were straddling his waist while his large hands cupped your ass. You decided to tease him by grinding on his manhood, causing a low groan to emit from his throat that made your pussy shiver. He teased you back by pulling your hair, revealing your neck, and started to litter the area with kisses and love bites, going lower and lower. You uncontrollably moaned, unaware of his hands drifting up toward the straps of your nightgown. He suddenly yanked down both the straps and massaged your breasts, uttering a groan while massaging the soft skin in his hands.

"So beautiful for me," he praised, his large hand wrapping around your throat, making you whimper.

You moaned like a whore. A dirty, filthy whore. And Attuma wanted all of it. He wanted all of you.

"Attuma," you whispered, eyelids growing heavy as you struggled to stay conscious. It felt like he was squeezing the life out of you, and you felt your vision start to cloud until he roughly pulled you towards him.

"Ma', querida, you're not getting out of this that easily," he slapped your breast, making you scream. He then kissed your hot skin as an apology.

Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted by the giant brute and quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs, somewhat around his large waist. He swiftly made his way towards your bedroom, eyes never leaving yours. When he reached your room, he gently laid you on your bed, and you shivered, questioning what his next move would be. Silently, he slid your nightgown off your body, leaving you in your blue panties that were soaked with your arousal. For some reason, you felt self-conscious, and your hands were attempting to shield your body from his gaze.

"Don't you dare," he warned, and you listened without hesitation, your hands retreating back to your sides.

Attuma then made his way on top of you, touching and kissing every part of your body. He eventually made his way to your underwear, and he bit down on the material, slowly pulling them off and revealing your wetness. You gasped at the sight. You couldn't believe this was happening. Without warning, he raised your legs and rested them upon his shoulders, his mouth only inches away from your pussy.

Just as you were about to beg him, you shrieked as he licked your cunt. Your eyes widened, and you screamed as Attuma clamped his mouth around your clit and sucked relentlessly, rolling the bud with his tongue and making your legs shake. You were instantly wet, juices gushing out of you. Lewd noises filled the room as he devoured you, mixed with your vulgar profanities while you desperately grinded on his tongue.

You trembled under him, reduced to nothing but a panting mess as you could do nothing but take it. You held onto the bed sheets for dear life and sobbed as he gave you the best orgasm you've ever had.

Attuma drank every drop of your wetness, feeling your pussy shake against his lips. He could've stayed between your legs forever, but he had bigger plans to get to.

Begrudgingly, he released your clit from his mouth and laid your legs down. He slowly moved back to the edge of the bed and stood tall, admiring his work. He wiped his mouth and started to undress, and you caught a glimpse of his battle scars covering his body. He truly was magnificent.

Your eyes moved further down to his cock. It was hard and girthy, and you noticed precum oozing out of the tip. You swallowed. This was going to be a night to remember. He climbed back onto the bed and hovered over you, rubbing his dick against your pussy. Nothing could brace you for what was about to happen next.

You screamed as he slammed himself inside you, stretching you open and filling you up. You looked to see your belly bulging with the shape of his cock, it was completely obscene.

Attuma groaned; you were so deliciously tight around him, your soft walls pulling him in as he rutted up against you. He grabbed your hips with a bruising force and pulled you impossibly closer, your tits flushed against his chest. He fit inside you so perfectly, and you took him so well, it made him wonder why he had waited. He should have done this a long time ago.

He set a brutal pace as he repeatedly pounded into you, causing the bed to shake and your eyes to roll back. He couldn't take his eyes off the way your pussy engulfed his dick with each thrust. You looked so dumb and pretty, just like in his fantasies he imagined and touched himself to in the late hours of the night. Your moans were sweeter than any siren song, and Attuma wanted to hear you sing for him more.

"You're so wet," he grunted, pulling out and slamming back in.

"You're a little slut, aren't you? This is what you wanted all along, isn't that right?" You shook your head and cried, it was too much, and you screamed as his dick continued smacking against your womb.

"A-Attuma, please slow down. You're going to break me!" You wailed, trying to push him away.

"I. Don't. Care", he snarled, pounding hard into you after every word. You felt a hand on your throat, and your pussy squeezed him even more.

"Naughty little girl," he teased as he kissed and sucked on your neck. "Wanting my cock like the dirty slut you are. I'm gonna make sure you're pregnant with our babies. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"No! N-No, please!" You begged. That wasn't true. You marveled at the thought of having his children. You felt so horny, feeling his dick pounding into you. Attuma leaned forward and held you in a tight embrace, forcing you to look at him as you slowly surrendered to your desires.

"You're mine," he growled. "Only mine. Say it!"

"I'm yours!" you shouted. You didn't care if everyone in Talokan heard you. You only cared about who was on top of you, who was worshiping you, who was inside you. You were so painfully close to another orgasm, and Attuma knew it.

"Cum for me, in yakunaj," he pleaded, resting his forehead against yours. You could barely speak, barely form a coherent thought as that familiar ache started to build up in your core. You were getting closer, and you loved it, the feeling of coming undone in front of him.

Attuma bit into your shoulder and you threw your head back and came. Your pussy squirted around his cock, and you almost passed out from the pleasure. Your back arched as he came inside you, filling you up with his warm seed. You moaned his name as your body twitched against him, trying to regain some sense of normality. That was the best sex you've ever had in your life.

For a while, you both stayed like that, gasping for air while he remained deep in your warmness. Sadly, he pulled out, and you whimpered at the empty feeling. His cum felt dangerously good inside you, and you shivered, basking in the fact that he claimed you, ruining you for anyone else. You looked up to see your lover, who was also coming down from his high.

Attuma looked beautifully wrecked, his hair a mess and sweat glistening on his body. You didn't look too bad either, but you weren't complaining. You pulled him down for a kiss which he gladly reciprocated. You were both tired but happy.

"Attuma," you sighed exasperatedly, "that was amazing," you praised. He smiled and caressed your cheek with his hand. You giggled and kissed his palm, running your thumb over where your lips once were. He returned the action and held your hand to his heart. You felt your body heat up at the gesture. You sat up and started peppering his face with kisses, and he did the same to you.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you more, my warrior."

And at that moment, Attuma's world shined even brighter now that you were his.

End.

Thank you so much for reading!💙

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