#the warmth of winter finale | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was the first site to host the blog for President Barack Obama in 2011.

#the warmth of winter finale

bonefall · 4 months

Note

some ideas: nico’s rise (like sunrise), nico’s dawn, nico’s spark (like the fire)

I want it to be more about chronology. Like, the passage of time, the "natural" change of things. There's a sense in this book that the change is welcome, but a bit... dreaded. Because in the end, it's like she had no agency over the way her Clan's tune changed.

As inevitably as the sun rises, as the ice thaws in spring, things got better. She was able to finally see the changes she could make, but was still frustrated by all the things still out of her reach.

She's the same as she always was, but it's like the world turned around her. She's entered into a new season in her life, and only now will she decide what that means, going foward. She could not choose when the winter melted into spring, but maybe now, she will be able to select which flowers she will allow to grow.

So... maybe Nightcloud's Dawn, but something doesn't capture it quite perfectly yet.

#The melancholy of spring's faint green #No warmth you had melted the winter. In the end it simply came.#In a universe of a lot of climactic battles and final confrontations #This SE is about that sort of uncomfortable feeling of a transitional period in your life #And not one you even had control over #Sometimes when things get better it can taste so... metallic. Bitter. It makes you wonder #If it was going to get better all along #Why didn't it happen any fucking *sooner*?#And yes things are better. But why not the things you WANT to change.

37 notes · View notes

captainsimagines · 2 years

Text

the warmth of the future || three

Summary: It’s been two years since you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, and the holidays are just around the corner. With even more love, more friends, and more family in attendance, you and Bucky fully intend to enjoy these days with as little drama as possible. But that’s not always the case with a relationship like yours, is it?

Pairing: DBF James “Bucky” Barnes x (Fem) Reader

Based on the Song: ‘Willow’ by Taylor Swift

Warnings: strong language; angst; money talk; mention of dead parents; age difference; accidental voyeurism; unprotected sex

Word Count: 7,130+

Author’s Note: The finale! We’ve come to yet another end for these characters! Love them with all my heart, and I’m so happy (as always) to share them with you. xxMoni

The firefighters had the fire controlled within thirty minutes of the faulty switch striking a flame. Or rather, they controlled the remaining flames. Apparently the fire started around one in the morning when the fundraiser was still going strong and most of the townspeople were either at the bar or asleep. Someone finally called 911 around twenty minutes later, but by then the fire had consumed every item in the store. And since plant life burns with villainous purpose, the walls didn’t stand much of a chance.

All that remained now was the black outline of the structure, chipped and broken wood sticking in all directions. The couches were charred, as was the register and back office. Clint and Steve carried the burnt safe out into the street so they could load it into Pietro’s truck. Your dad already volunteered to store it in the garage.

It was heartbreaking to see so many flowers burned. Some lifeless, some gone. Bucky had run back home to bring you a heavier jacket and some shoes as he knew you would want to help your friends salvage what they could. Once he saw that you were bundled up and no longer at risk for frostbite, he got to work.

Hours of cleaning, sweeping, calling contractors and customers.

Customers.

Pietro had released a garbled, angry yell when Wanda mentioned the Christmas Eve and Christmas orders. He rubbed at his temples, then his chest, muttering something along the lines of, We needed that money.

Wanda and Pietro are somewhat paralyzed—Clint at least tried to sprinkle in some jokes here and there—and it’s killing you.

The holidays were always festive. Nothing bad was supposed to happen during the holidays. Because when they do, they’re never the same.

“All the money we raised last night for the roof—I’ll put it toward the store.” You were now all seated at the barstools and booths in Kate’s bar as she made that drastic declaration. She passed Sam a plate of fried eggs and bacon that she had cooked upstairs twenty minutes before, ignoring the way everyone immediately rejected her idea.

“Kate, you spent all that time organizing that event. You earned the money,” you say, stealing a piece of bacon yourself. The shock from the morning finally wore off long enough for you to put some food into your stomach. Bucky adjusts you on his lap as he adds, “You have a business too, Kate. You need to keep it up and running.”

Kate rolls her eyes. “That bucket is holding up just fine.” She points at the bucket near the tiny stage, nearly filled with water.

Wanda sighs, rubbing the tension from her shoulder as her other hand nestles a mug of coffee to her chest. “They’re right, Kate. Besides, I’ve been too lenient on our annual inspections. We were supposed to have a check-up two months ago. I kept pushing it back.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Pietro orders. “I use the same calendar as you do.”

At that moment, everyone shares a collective sigh. This was bad. Very bad. That shop was Wanda and Pietro’s only source of income. Clint’s, too. It was their parent’s memory.

“What are we going to do?” Wanda whimpers, resting her forehead against Sam’s shoulder. Everyone else shares a look, a look that conveys no answers and no ideas.

After talking logistics and finishing breakfast, everyone begins filing out to get back to work. Sam, Steve, Bucky, and your dad decided they would stay behind, driving anything that wasn’t too badly burned back to the house. Kate offered to bring everyone water and lunch. Clint, Wanda, and Pietro hopped into Pietro’s truck immediately, their list full and priorities straight. Most of their day would be spent out of town, away from the wreckage. You figure that’s convenient—they probably don’t want to stare at what they lost.

Bucky meets you at the bar entrance, kissing your cheek briefly before following Steve.

“Bucky?” He turns, hands in his pockets. “I didn’t get you a present yet.”

His mouth twitches, and something beautiful gleams in his eyes. “You got the money for it, though. Don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna make sure their flower orders get out one way or another, aren’t you?”

The fact that he knows you so well has you believing in the concept of soulmates. “Yeah.”

He smiles, at you and at nothing. “You’ve already given me your heart. I would be honored if you used it for this.”

Then he turns, chuckling softly to himself. Rubbing at his chest—rubbing at something in his coat pocket.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but when I agreed to a holiday vacay in a town that resembled the set of Gilmore Girls, I didn’t expect to get the ‘Oh, no! Our beloved inn burned down and now I’m unemployed’ storyline.”

Peter’s admission, no matter how inappropriate, evokes a short burst of laughter from your chest. Peter Parker had that ability—make the best out of the worst.

The two of you were driving to the next town over, aiming to cross out the biggest item on the list: find a flower shop that would fulfill the orders. It made a good impression on the customers and could make them donate loads of cash to rebuilding the shop. It was worth it to try.

“I only meant to introduce you to my family and attend the Christmas party. Trust me, this wasn’t planned.”

“You think throwing the party is still a good idea? What if they don’t want to celebrate during a time like this?”

You pull into the parking lot, parking in front of a gothic-style flower shop whose display sign read, Flowers For The Living. “Probably no party. And I think Wanda and Pietro realize they’re getting help whether they like it or not, so they’ll be okay.”

Peter hums, and gets out of the car with you. The shop is smaller, with vintage furniture and flowers ranging from all colors, especially the darker shades. It was a nice contrast to the stereotype that all flower shops had to be these lively, colorful places. There are no holiday decorations, either.

“Hello?” you call out, running your finger along the leaves of black roses.

A tall woman enters from the back office, dusting her pants of lint. She chews the final bites of her food as she answers, “Yes, yes! I’m here, I’m here.”

Peter blinks, his mouth forming a tiny ‘O’ as he takes her in. Quite obviously, you might add.

“Uh, I’m MJ. Who are you?”

When you realize Peter’s mouth isn’t actually going to be forming words anytime soon, you let out the whole spiel. How the only flower shop in your town burned down, how orders needed to start shipping today, how the owners are family and this was the least you could do for them. The woman, MJ, listens. And all the while a small smile creeps onto her face, noticing that your explanation is turning into rambling.

“So, yeah. We’d be honored to buy some flowers from you.”

MJ tilts her head up, biting her bottom lip. “You’re going to buy my flowers and market them as your own?”

Fuck. Okay, backtrack.

But it’s Peter who snaps out of whatever trance he was in, coming up with, “Actually, with your permission, we were hoping that we could attach small notes to every order. Custom-made. Your stamp, your name, and a message from us thanking you for saving the day. It would show that Wanda and Pietro still cared enough to get the orders in and sent out, and you’d get free publicity.”

That right there. That’s why he’s the best assistant.

MJ smirks, fingering the massive bouquet beside the register. She makes a show of thinking about her answer, ignoring the fumbling of your thumbs and Peter’s giant grin.

“When I first set up this shop,” she starts, walking around the register. You don’t miss the way Peter studies her further. You're tempted to hit him upside the head. “I knew jackshit about business. All I knew was that I wanted to have an alternative flower shop where people could buy one-of-a-kind bouquets. Do you have any idea what my first act as a new business owner was?”

Both you and Peter shake your head.

“I bought more inventory before even making a sale.”

Ooof.

“It was Wanda Maximoff who ventured to this part of town, looking for advice on how to darken certain flowers. Where to order them, how to arrange them. I had been open for a week and was already in debt. I gave her all my tips, and she came in the next day with her hair in a scarf, a broom, and a whole itinerary.”

“She did?”

MJ nods, smiling to herself as she remembers the memory. “Wouldn’t take no as an answer. Said her father hammered the rules of business into her head by age twelve and that she would do the same for me. I don’t speak to my parents and I have no siblings, so…”

MJ pauses, then pulls out her notebook, turning to a blank page. “This is the first I’m hearing about the fire.” Sorrow flashes across her features. “So I’ll help her get back on two feet if it’s the last thing I do. Give me the order information. I’ve got a big job ahead of me.”

Wanda had never mentioned MJ, but she did talk about this town and the businesses in it. She often brought home food from family-run restaurants, antiques for her apartment—she just never mentioned making another friend.

Peter snaps his fingers multiple times, cheering as he says, “You got sticky tabs and highlighters?”

MJ lights up. “In the back! Hold on, hold on!”

As she skips back to the office to retrieve more supplies, you turn to Peter. “Match made in Heaven.”

Peter scoffs, shoving your shoulder with his. A blush creeps from the base of his neck to his cheeks. “Everybody likes office supplies. If you don’t, there’s something wrong with you.”

“Ah.”

You set the teasing aside for the next two hours, working with MJ on getting the orders fulfilled and loading them up in delivery trucks. By the end, you’ve made a new friend. And you bet Peter Parker will be tagging along on your family vacations every holiday season from now on.

“This is just shit luck, man.”

Everyone mumbles their agreement to Sam’s comment. They’re currently cleaning glass shards, rolling the shredded curtains, and piling picture frames.

“How long do you think it’ll take to rebuild?” Sam continues, broom in one hand and dustpan in the other.

Bucky sends him a half-hearted glare, wiping his face free of soot. “Considering it just burned down this morning, I’m gonna say a ton of time.”

“Five months, tops.”

Bucky’s eyes widen at your dad’s declaration. “You’re optimistic.”

Your dad shrugs, sweeping his designated corner. He carefully creates a pile of glass. “Those kids have some otherworldly determination. You remember how they picked up the mantle after their parents died?”

“We helped…” Steve grimaces.

“Nah, they ran that shop like their parents were watching. They did most of it.”

“Think they can do it again?” Sam pushes, curious. He bends down to sweep your dad’s glass pile.

“I know they can do it again. But the emotional toll might just hit harder than last.”

Steve clears his throat, raising his hand like a kid in the classroom. “Hey…Is the party tonight…”

“Cancelled? Most likely,” your dad answers.

Bucky sighs, “Always looked forward to your little shindigs.”

Then Steve says something that makes Bucky think he’s truly gone mad. “Hey…Why don’t we still have it?”

Your dad half-cackles, half-snorts. “Oh, for obvious reasons, Steven! God, you’re even more dense than Bumblebee claimed.” And even as he says it, it’s with love etched into each word.

Steve grumbles, “No, idiot! I mean—Why don’t we bring the decorations here? Make this into something…To tell those kids that we’re going to help them. And that we should celebrate the fact that we know they’ll be okay.”

To throw a party on the gravesite of their parent’s business…Steve was both dense and confident, Bucky concludes. “Think they’ll go for it?”

“Won’t know unless we try, right?”

Maybe it was a good idea. On a day as gloomy as this one, perhaps a little cheer is what was needed. And who knows? Having it in the center of town could bring a crowd desperate to donate.

“Gonna go drive all we’ve got in the truck back to the house,” your dad announces. “Meet me there in a few hours for the decorations, alright?” Everyone agrees, seemingly excited for the prospect of such a wild idea.

Bucky throws aside some random wood the same moment he catches sight of the one person he really doesn’t want to converse with. “Woah…What are you doing here?”

Quill strolls past the crumbling doorway, hands in his pockets and wearing an expression of shame. “I apologize for last night. I honestly didn’t know, and I thought there was something still between us. Like…some holiday fairytale.”

Bucky cringes, but gives him the benefit of the doubt. His jealousy is still burning in his stomach, but he squashes it long enough to give Quill a proper verbal response. “Okay?”

“I came to offer my assistance. And my men.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m already drawing up plans.” And with that, Bucky realizes his jealousy was misplaced. Because even though the thought of another man touching you without his permission gets him heated, he realizes that this was not the situation he thought it was. Quill is not Rumlow. Quill did not force you to do anything, nor has he attempted to contact you afterward. He owes you another apology, sure, but Bucky’s thankful Quill had the gall to apologize at all. “Clint’s an old friend. I don’t hang out much with people anymore. But seeing all of you makes me want to have a social life again.”

And Bucky has to admit, his heart breaks a little. Breaks even more when he understands exactly what Quill means.

Bucky grabs the nearest broom leaning against the wall, holding it out to Quill. “Here…You can help us with that bit over there.”

Quill takes it, gives Bucky a quick and respectful nod, and gets to work. Even with extra hands, the shop wasn’t going to magically rebuild itself in a few weeks. Wanda and Pietro needed income by the end of January or else they risked dipping into their savings. Which, that’s the point of savings, but they didn’t have much. At least, that’s what Pietro mumbled this morning.

So Bucky puts down his broom and tears off his gloves, heading for the crumbling door and to the street.

“Buck, where you going?” Sam calls out.

“You said it yourself: Those kids are gonna need all the help they can get! And I have a favor to cash in!”

It’s clean. Well, less messy than this morning. Half the town came out to offer some assistance, bringing food and water to everyone working overtime. Clint, Pietro, and Wanda were off being responsible—insurance, their tax guy, going through the documents stored in the safe. Luckily those weren’t too harmed.

You figure helping with the clean up would be too emotional for them. You saw how Pietro was—his face hadn’t fallen that way since he witnessed what Brock Rumlow was planning to do to you two Christmases ago.

“Everything go good at the flower shop?” Your dad’s voice rocks you from your thoughts. You’re currently sitting on the charred front steps, knees tucked high enough that your chin rests on them.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure my assistant pulled a date, too.”

He laughs, releasing a low grunt as he sits beside you. “Oh, everyone’s falling in love nowadays.”

You allow the silence to fester between you for a while longer. It seems like your dad expects it because he pretends to study the storefronts directly within eyesight, waiting for you to drop the bomb. The bomb he should have dropped months ago when he made up his mind. “When were you going to tell me that you’re going to propose to Monica?”

He dips his head, sighing heavily. A spot of shame tainting his features. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter? You didn’t tell me.”

It’s only been you and your dad since you could remember. Sure, Sam and Bruce were there, raising you like you were their own. Because you were, by some definition. One of their best friends had a child at fifteen, who was then abandoned and left to raise that child alone. They stepped up, as did Steve whenever he visited, and you couldn’t be more thankful.

But even with such a crowd, it was only you two. Sharing inside jokes, downloading the same video games on your phone so you could play together, taking bike rides and trying new foods in the town over. Him not telling you this major milestone hurts.

“Bumblebee…I didn’t mention it for a reason.”

Turning to him, it’s impossible to shield the pain in your eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t approve? Because I do, a million times yes.”

“I wasn’t doubting that. It just—just wasn’t the right time to bring it up.”

The way he says the right time—he’s hiding something and you know it.

“Then when? The day you proposed?”

Your dad chuckles. “I’m going to propose sometime in the new year. Obviously not at this moment considering I don’t want to steal the spotlight.” He motions to the scene before him, his dark joke landing strong enough that a laugh bursts from your chest. You shake your head, a gesture of half-assed chastising.

“I wanted to tell you in person.”

It makes some sense. But you can’t help the feeling that he’s hiding something big. So you play it off. “Marriage. Wow.”

“Not a fan?” your dad asks, his smile growing.

Marriage. The next milestone that so many people your age conquer. People from high school have been getting married and having children since you were in your early twenties. Sometimes you feel like you’re a little late. But it was never a priority or something with a ticking clock. If it happened, it happened.

“I’ve never really thought of it. Well, I have…but it’s never been a priority.”

“Tell me, Bumblebee—Would you marry James?”

Goddamnit, you would. You would, you would, you would. No other man you’ve dated has ever elicited those feelings. To ponder a life with them. A lifelong commitment. “Would you like me marrying your friend?”

“This isn’t about me. It hasn’t been about me in a long time. So answer the question: Would you marry him?”

“The scary thing is that I think I would.”

“Saying all that, and there’s still a part of you that wants to seek my approval of such a union?” The way he says union makes his statement sound sarcastic.

“Don’t make it into a joke. I care about what you think, Dad.”

His mouth twitches into a small grin, slight wrinkles stretching across his left cheek. “Your only job in this life is to love someone without conditions. Whether it be yourself, a friend, blood, or a partner.”

“Your approval is a condition?”

“My approval is a bonus. But even then, I see how he looks at you. It’s how I used to look at your mother. How I now look at Monica.”

You snort, “My mother isn’t the best example.”

Looking up at the sky, your dad considers his next words carefully. “No but, the love was real. Just because it wasn’t the right person doesn’t mean that my feelings were invalid. We love a lot of people in our lifetime. When you find that you’re capable of it, it’s really easy to recognize it in others.”

“Like Kate and Pietro?” You click your tongue, raising one eyebrow at your dad.

Your dad laughs, rubbing at his chin. “I have seen that boy’s eyes since high school. You won’t believe the amount of talks I’ve had with him.”

“You knew?”

“He didn’t know until earlier this year. Sam made a comment and Pietro had some, out of body realization.”

Did all the adults know? You guess that Wanda didn’t, or maybe she considered it to be mundane or anything but romantic. Boys were attracted to girls all the time—didn’t mean their feelings came from a place of respect and admiration.

“I really do miss a lot by living in New York, huh?”

He throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close to his side. Lightly shaking you as he declares, “You’re not allowed to feel guilty about working at your dream job.”

“It’s not that. I just miss you guys all the time.”

“Then visit more often.”

Scoffing, you rest your head on his shoulder. “Being a working girl is tedious.”

“Even I would go crazy with just James and Steven for company.”

You giggle. New York wasn’t all it was jacked up to be, but it was a pleasant place to live. Were you in love with New York before meeting Bucky? Did it hold the same influence over you? Sometimes places aren’t really called home until you have a reason to name it so. It’s the people who make a place, and Bucky is your home.

“They tell you we’re going to bring the decorations over here?”

You blink at him. Bring the decorations over? Over here? In this area of ash and debris? “In what capacity?”

Your dad brings a finger to his lips, miming for you to be quiet. He stands, holding out his hand to help you up. “Stall the three flower nerds. I’ll call you when it’s all ready.”

He starts jogging down the street, completely ignoring your question. You yell out after him, “Is Bucky going to help you?”

“Stall the flower nerds!”

You look around the street, perplexed. Huh?

To be honest, it didn’t take much to stall the flower nerds. It took a while to locate them around town, anyway. They hadn’t passed by the house or noticed that everyone was driving decorations back and forth. The mini Christmas trees, the lights, the Hanukkah decorations, the food. Many nearby businesses donated tables and chairs, some even offering to keep their doors open tonight so that guests may use the restroom.

It was now a party of not just your friends, neighbors, and family—but of the entire town. A town that came together on Christmas Eve.

“I really don’t feel like seeing the area right now,” Pietro moaned, sitting in the passenger seat as Clint drove his truck.

“I know, but Bucky asked me if we could pick him up there.”

“He’s got one arm, but two legs,” Clint mutters, earning a smack on the shoulder from the backseat.

“Just drive,” you softly order, anticipation simmering in your chest. The town felt empty as you drove through it, as if they all went to sleep. Wanda even commented on it.

When the final turn came about, and your heart was burning a nauseating hole in your mouth, you just prayed these three didn’t outright scream with fury. That the spot in which all their hard work had been was being desecrated—

“What in the—” Clint curses, leaning forward in the driver’s seat to get a better look. Parking across the street, he’s out of the car immediately. Pietro and Wanda follow, hesitant at first.

“Surprise?” you try, cringing at how stupid you sound.

“Is this why you were acting so weird?” Clint asks, eyes wide in what you hope is wonder.

And wonder would be correct. In the last few hours, your friends have managed to turn an area that was burnt to a crisp in the early hours of this morning into something revolutionary. You figure they got the fire department’s permission to add some of these decorations…because oh my god.

Displayed like a grand patio, its deck carried about a dozen tables, each filled with food, flowers, drinks, and mini Christmas trees. Your dad seems to have brought out the Menorah as well, lighting all the candles even if the last candle was still missing. Chairs were spread about, some of the older townspeople seated and comfortable. Music played from two tiny speakers, crackling at a mediocre frequency, but still strong enough to make out the song. It’s then that you recognize the two boys setting them up and tinkering with them—taller than you remember, and looking more like Sarah each day.

Lights are strung in the same zig-zag formation as the ones on the street, flickering red and green and gold. All those damn paper snowflakes rest on the tables, probably mocking Clint since they aren’t currently hanging from a ceiling. Yet it’s the person on the ladder, tightening one of the green bulbs that surprises you. Quill, who looks across the crowd and over at you, smiling shyly as he raises one hand in polite greeting.

“It wasn’t my idea,” you clarify, walking over to the entrance that the guys have simply torn down. The door’s archway is gone—the shop officially starts from scratch. “The orders were sent out, by the way.”

Wanda snaps her head toward you. Then she sees MJ in the crowd, and her shoulders drop.

Steve breaks through the crowd, his flannel shirt still a little dirty from a hard day’s work. Sam and Bucky tilt their heads at him, obviously surprised by his forwardness. The surprise hits you too as Steve strolls forward to none other than Wanda herself.

“I, uh—” Steve blushes, running a hand down the back of his neck. “I thought that a little Christmas cheer might help. I know you’re Jewish and all, but Hanukkah has passed and it seemed…nice.”

You and Clint stare at the two, silent but communicating with your eyes.

He’s flirting.

I can fuckin’ see that. Why is he flirtin’?

He’s blushing.

I can fuckin’ see that! Why is he blushin’?

“You are red.” Wanda’s observation only makes Steve turn even more scarlet.

“I’m a very pale person.”

Pietro—who has decided he doesn’t care if Wanda and Steve flirt—walks toward Kate, who’s dressed as a waiter rather than a guest. Black tie attire, and her combat boots to pull it all together.

“You have a hand in this?” Pietro playfully interrogates, scanning her up and down. It’s the first time Kate’s never worn a dress for a party, and by the look on Pietro’s face, he’s loving it all the same.

She shrugs, like this was all casual. “Who do you think donated all the alcohol?”

Pietro smirks, then runs a slow hand through his white hair. “I’m still going to help fix your roof.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.” Kate goes to step toward him, for a hug no doubt, but he holds out a hand to stop her. Kate looks wounded in that second, before Pietro crouches, onto one knee, to tie her shoe.

Kate blinks, and the world makes sense.

“Merry Christmas!” Clint exclaims, practically sprinting into the crowd. He jumps into the arms of your dad, who somehow anticipated his weight, and screams it over and over again.

The stress of not knowing how they would react disintegrates to dust, releasing its tension from your ribs and shoulders. This isn’t a solution, nor is it the first step, but it is progress. Self-defined progress for the long road ahead.

“Now…I promised my mother, myself, and God that I would never do this again!” Clint proclaims, gassing himself up as he stands between Sam and Steve, ready to flip. He steadies his hands on the chair in front of him, kicks his legs up, and allows the two veterans to hold them high. Then Kate guides the pump to his mouth, and Clint proceeds to accomplish the most insanely coordinated keg stand in the history of keg stands.

He lasts a total of twenty seconds. When Kate announces that she’s next, you decide it’s time to mingle with other people. Peter speaks with MJ at the drinks table, while Quill chats up that girl from yesterday. Carol, was it? She was twisting the ends of her hair, obviously enjoying Quill's flirting. The hair twirling was encouragement.

Heading over to grab a water bottle, a rare face drops into your peripheral. Tall and handsome, perhaps one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. He grabs the attention of dozens, his elegant face vibrant as his mouth spreads into a smile. He greets everyone who flocked to him with the same grace, with the same delight. A man who hasn’t been seen in this town for a long time.

“Is that the one and only T’Challa?” Monica’s voice booms over the music. You turn to her to see she’s already dragging your dad through the crowd. It clicks through you—the picture in Kate’s bar, the one where Bucky looks like a twenty-year old twink.

Your dad beams, accepting T’Challa's handshake. “This is even rarer than my daughter and James visiting.”

T’Challa laughs, scanning the room as if in search of the man mentioned. Instead, he finds you as you timidly walk over, giving him a good-natured wave in exchange.

“I heard what happened. Plus, my mother still lives here and it was about time I jumped on a plane instead,” T’Challa admits, giving you a slight nod in greeting.

“Have you been in town since this morning?” your dad asks.

“Actually, Barnes called me.”

“He what?” T’Challa nearly laughs again from your shocked expression.

“Did you know that I asked him to be my patient when I came up with the prototype for his arm?”

“Well, no. But it makes sense.”

He finally finds Bucky in the crowd, watching as he jokes around with Steve and Pietro. His eyes never leave him as he confesses, “I gave him his arm without cost. He was my guinea pig, my selfish science experiment when I was in my late twenties. He let me work on him, tear him apart and put him back together, as a favor to me. I owe him for believing in me and my brain.”

“You…owe him?”

He nods. Then, as casual as ever, says, “I’m here to throw my millions of dollars into rebuilding the flower shop.”

Everyone near pauses, the surprise emitting around the room. Even Clint, recovering from his kegs-capades, saddles up beside you. Elbow stabbing your side, being annoying as ever.

“I…don’t think it’ll take a million dollars.”

Clint scoffs, “Shit! I’ll take the million! Don’t listen to her!”

T’Challa chuckles, “Good to see you again, Clint.”

“I’m a pleasure, I know. What’s this about a million?”

“Clint—” Your elbow stabs him this time.

“Monica.” T’Challa turns to her, bowing a little. Clint laughs to himself, like he expected the dismissal. “I’m so glad to see you again. Is your mother doing well?”

“Attached to your mother’s hip as usual,” Monica responds, rolling her eyes at the mental image it causes.

“I’ll see about staying longer this time. My sister can handle everything back in California.” Then, more shyly, he asks, “And how is your friend?”

“Oh, the nurse I work with? Your mother’s nurse?” T’Challa clears his throat awkwardly as Monica continues. “Nakia’s fine. She’s actually around here somewhere—”

T’Challa starts, speechless and stuttering. Both you and Clint look on, the concept of holiday romanticism growing more real by the second. But neither of you say a word, happy to be spectators to yet another love story in the making.

Bystanders. Readers. Onlookers.

When you turn to find Bucky, he’s gone.

“Are the festivities too much for you?”

Entering the store next door, a rustic cafe, you spot Bucky leaning against the diner and counting his breaths. He blinks one eye open at your question, smiling a little as you cautiously make your way to him. It was your way of non-verbally asking if he wanted you here at all, or truly needed some time to himself.

“The day was a lot.” He loosens a breath that’s both a groan and sigh, then rolls his neck to crack it. “To be honest, I’m surprised my back is still holding out.”

You chuckle lightly. "T'Challa?"

"Ah. So he did come."

Pausing halfway toward him, the red light from outside shining upon the left side of your face, the original question still stands.

“Just let me hold you.” Well, you can certainly give him that.

His words hang in the air as you allow it, melting in his embrace. He’s tired, but he walks you to the wall, providing that extra leverage. Something about the hug turns vibrant, innocence deteriorating quickly as Bucky’s hands begin to wander. As your hands trace up his chest, his neck, his cheeks. Those beautiful, high cheeks that retain the most gorgeous pink. That pink he turns when his blood decides to also travel elsewhere. That pink he turns when he decides his time would be better spent worshiping you.

His emotions get the better of him. Multiplying. He whimpers as he digs his face into the crook of your neck, fisting your velvet dress. Noises that mean he’s desperate. Noises that mean he needs you.

Not wants.

Needs.

“I—” you choke, a rush of air leaving your lungs as your back meets the wall. He hoists you up, holding your thighs the second you wrap them around his waist. Your high heels knock against each other. Bundling the dress to your waist, Bucky dips his flesh fingers into your heated center.

The heat from this moment and the chill from outside amplifies the pleasure building in your abdomen. The knowledge that anyone could interrupt does so as well. You internally thank Bucky for choosing to fuck you against the wall—that way you won’t be defiling someone’s table.

Bucky draws tight circles against your clit, breathing heavily into your neck. Pushing his body against yours, holding you to him. He leaves your neck, only to rest his forehead against yours, your lips barely touching. Intimate.

“Are you sure?” you drag out, the pressure in your chest increasing.

Bucky nods, mumbling a yes as soft as you’ve ever heard it. He sets you down so he can unzip his pants while you remove your underwear and your heels. Until you’re back in his arms, legs around him, guiding him into you.

You both release a collective sigh of relief, clutching onto each other in a frenzied display of emotion. Your hands in his hair, his lips on your neck, his cock buried deep inside you. It’s not fast and it’s not quick. Instead, it’s slow and deep, stirring your heartstrings and dragging out short whimpers from your chest.

Half of you wants to get this over with as quickly as possible in fear that someone will walk in. The other half wants to experience this forever, bask in the glow of Bucky’s warm embrace. Why he felt the need to be with you right now, you don’t know. But whatever it was, you’re thankful for it.

To feel wanted—that’s a blessing.

“I’m—close,” you push out, gritted teeth making it hard to do so. This angle isn’t the best, but Bucky’s fingers circling your clit adds the necessary pressure. “Bucky.”

“You can come, Doll,” he groans, hiking his hips a little more forceful now. Moaning, you discover that all you can do is listen to him.

You’re on the verge of toppling over that sweet edge, to witnessing those wonderful black dots across your vision, when the door opens and Peter Quill walks through. Stunted, probably here to use the bathroom, staring wide-eyed. Bucky doesn’t seem to notice.

With your eyes locked on Quill’s and him completely paralyzed a few feet away, you come around Bucky’s cock. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth dropped open, silky legs pulling Bucky’s body tighter against you. You fist a handful of Bucky’s hair at the back of his head, grinding your hips down to help him reach his end.

Quill blinks, his eyes scanning from the top of your head to your curling toes. Nothing in his stare gives off jealousy or anger. Instead, his mouth twitches upward and his neck reddens. He gives you a small salute, walking back to the party like he didn’t witness a thing.

Bucky thrusts a few more times, the generosity of his fingers not enough to throw you into a second orgasm, but still pleasurable nonetheless. You hold him, playing with his hair, and smiling to yourself about what just happened.

The party is still in full swing when you and Bucky decide to take a walk around the block. The snow had stopped falling around mid-day, so the streets weren’t difficult to navigate. The sounds of the party carried on as you two walked, flowing like magic through the street.

“Will this be our tradition then? Visiting every holiday season?” you ask, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth.

Bucky squeezes you. “Families create traditions, don’t they?”

“Am I your family?”

Bucky’s insides turn into heavenly mush. He doesn’t know the exact moment that he considered you more important than himself, but he knows that he considers you to be more important than anything else. Family meant a connection. Not blood—your family can be anybody you choose. He would describe your relationship as an ethereal connection, one molded by sensations he didn’t even know existed.

“Am I yours?”

“We’ve been over this.”

“No, I mean…Will you have me?”

You stop walking, and Bucky accidentally tugs at your arm. It doesn’t hurt, but it does shake you from the shock.

This sounds a lot like a—

You meet his eyes, silver already gleaming in his. Your heart threatens to leap from your chest, too joyful from the mere sight of him. His tall build, his longer hair, his beautiful pink lips.

It’s the very simple fact that you would allow Bucky Barnes to take your hand, guide you through war, and seal your fate. If there was anyone in the world you wanted to be stranded in the middle of the ocean with, fighting the currents with, it would be him. Any person you wanted to climb down balconies with, co-own a bar with, share New York with, it would be him. Any person you wanted to climb trees with, celebrate every holiday with, catch the train for, it would be him. It would always be him.

You know it the moment he bends down to one knee. The moment he pulls a velvet box from his jacket pocket. The moment it’s lifted, revealing a gorgeous emerald ring. The moment his breath hitches and he looks up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. Blue eyes that are soft and tender.

Then he whispers your full name softly, the sound like marvelous honey, and asks, “Will you marry me?”

This was the grand secret he and everyone else was hiding from you, wasn’t it? The reason your dad wasn’t going to steal Bucky’s thunder by proposing to Monica tonight. Because Bucky Barnes asked for permission, made sure your most annoying friends knew, and waited until he was back in your hometown, his hometown, to buy a ring and propose.

And the stranger yesterday was correct: you know everything the moment a man is on their knees for you. Whatever plans you had before this, they’re all wrecked for the better. Whatever paths that were carved out, new ones have just been made for you. All worries, all questions, have been squashed and answered. The warmth of the future has never felt more inviting.

Bucky Barnes is the man you want to leave the Christmas lights up until January with. The man you want to share a bed with, share breakfast with, share a life with. This man is yours, and you are his.

“Yes.” You mean for it to come out louder, but it’s barely above a whisper. Like your voice is shocked silent. “Yes.”

Bucky expels a quick breath. “Yes?”

With a quick nod, you smile wide. “Yes!"

Bucky bursts up, capturing your lips with his. Overdramatic and true. “Yes,” he repeats against your mouth. “Yes, yes, yes!”

A laugh erupts from your chest, but Bucky just keeps trying to kiss you silent. Or not silent, but attempting to swallow the sound, as if it fuels his soul.

“I love you,” he promises.

Here, in the glistening winter night with flowers barely sprouting from the sidewalk and the town voices in the background, you’ve never felt so happy.

“You make me so happy, Bucky Barnes.”

His smile damn near breaks your heart. Resting his forehead on yours, he vows, “Tell me if that ever changes, Doll. I only ever want to make your heart beat for mine. I only ever want my heart to ache for you. Love of my life, introduce me as yours.”

You giggle, “Poetic, Barnes.”

He smiles again, happy to see his words landing. “Only around you.”

And isn’t that what love is? Spouting random poetic verses because you just can’t help it? Finally meeting the person who prompts you to do so. They don’t have to be pure Shakespeare—the emotion behind the poems is enough.

So you vow to make your life with Bucky Barnes a poem, where each new verse is more beautiful than the last, original and sincere. Endless, and true.

“Let me see, let me see, let me see!” Kate shouts, jumping up and down, practically shaking the windows of the living room. Everyone’s crowded in your dad’s house for Christmas morning, even Sarah and the boys, Monica, and Peggy. No one tells Kate to calm down, nor do they ask what she’s so excited about.

They saw the ring. They grabbed your hand. They’ve all been screaming just as loud as her.

You didn’t show anyone last night. After Bucky proposed, you had simply gone home and made love again. So the proposal was just yours and his, a secret to keep for a few hours. You basked in the glow, in the knowledge no other human being had. Sure, everyone knew he was going to do it, but they didn’t know if he was going to go through with it.

And when you walked down the stairs, realizing that Steve had not come into your room last night and no one had pulled Bucky out, you know that they all expected.

So you show Kate the ring again, holding your hand out as she tugs you across the living room, modeling you to everyone. Everyone gives their congratulations; everyone looks so damn happy.

Presents are exchanged—you still managed to buy that book for Bucky—plans are discussed, and food is eaten. You look around the room, at your full house, and cannot contain your glee. Turning slightly, you let the tear slip, hoping nobody noticed.

But Bucky does. With a gentle swipe across your cheek, he reinforces your love for him. Shows his love for you. Fortifies it. Simple, and yet not at all.

TAGLIST: [on masterlist]

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #dbf!bucky #dbf!buckybarnes #avengers au #marvel fanfiction #warmth of winter sequel #the warmth of the future #captainsimagines #by Moni #holiday fanfic #part three #finale

112 notes · View notes

startears0153 · 4 months

Text

☾ Seeing you cry in your sleep

How they react to finding you crying silently in your sleep.

☾ Characters: Argenti, Blade, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio

☾ Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, GN Reader, StellaronHunter!Reader in Blade's, Ratio (affectionately) calling you fool in his part

Might write a 2nd part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha (and maybe Sampo) in the future :)

Argenti

Upon entering your shared cottage, Argenti finds you sleeping on the chair by the window. They must’ve fallen asleep while admiring the scenery of the falling snow outside, Argenti thought with a fond smile.

For a moment, Argenti found himself unable to move, for his emerald colored eyes were transfixed upon the serene beauty of the scene before him. The falling snow, the white winter wonderland serving as the perfect backdrop to accentuate the beauty of your resting figure.

Still, he realized it probably wouldn’t do well if you were to fall sick from the cold. So, he quietly made his way through the room and draped a blanket over your figure.

That was when he noticed the presence of tears on the corners of your eyes.

For a while, Argenti thought his eyes were deceiving him. It wasn’t until he saw a lone tear fall from your eye that he was finally hit by the fact that you were, indeed, crying in your sleep.

His heart ached upon the sight and he instinctively reached to cup your cheek; his thumb gently caressing the corner of your eye, wiping away the stream of tears that began to fall like tender snow.

After some deliberation on how to proceed, Argenti would kneel before your sleeping figure before carefully stirring you awake with a gentle squeeze to your hand and softly calling out your name.

“Good morning my dear,” He would greet you with a tender smile, though you could easily sense the twinge of sadness and melancholia lingering in his voice. “I apologize if this may sound unpleasant to you but … you were crying in your sleep. Is … Is everything alright?”

He would fret over you, but he would try to keep it to a minimum lest he were to accidentally do more harm than good. He was obviously worried about what ailed you, but again, what mattered most to him was your comfort.

Regardless of whether you choose to speak of the reason for your tears, Argenti would remain by your side, kneeling before you as he held your hand in his.

If he could, he would do anything in his power to vanquish the reason behind your tears. He never wants you to shed tears, neither in sleep or wake, ever again.

Blade

It was almost time for the opening act of Elio’s Script. Blade comes to searches for you in the meeting spot, and finds you asleep above one of the many wooden crates of the abandoned factory.

How carefree, Blade thought with a scoff. Even so, Blade’s heart blossoms with warmth, that very same warmth that is born from his affection and adoration for you and all your silly antics.

If he could, he would let you rest for longer and perhaps even join you in your restful slumber, resting your head on his shoulder. But alas, the Script takes priority and it was almost time to begin.

So he reaches to shake your shoulder … but then froze upon the sight of tears falling from your eyes.

Blade has never been one for tears. In a different life, perhaps, he would have been. But tears have no meaning for Blade. Crying does not provide one with salvation, no matter how much one cries, what was lost could never return.

And yet, the sight of your tears shook him to his core.

Blade didn’t know what to do. What could he do anyway? Reach for your face and wipe away your tears with his thumb? Lean towards you and kiss the corners of your eyes, all in hopes for your tears to stop cascading from your eyes? How ridiculous. As though that would solve any of your problems.

So, he does what he is supposed to. Grab your shoulder and gently shake you awake.

“Wake up. It’s almost time to begin.” He says brusquely, already turning around for his back to face you. “Wipe your tears. Don’t let the enemy see even a single hint of weakness.”

You would be shocked upon realizing you were crying in your sleep and hurriedly wiped away the remains of your tears. Not soon after, you join him by the ledge of the building, watching over the city with puffy eyes. Blade would steal a glance at you and then he would say,

“Do not be hasty. I am with you.”

You didn’t need to try hard to know that he wasn’t just talking about the battle ahead.

Dan Heng

The hour was late when Den Heng jolted awake from his sleep. He dreamt of a vague memory of his past incarnation and saw a nightmare where his friends were swept away by the waves; of you disappearing in the dark sea of clouds.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Dan Heng takes a moment to recompose himself before shifting to rest on his side, thus meeting the familiar sight of your back. They’re here, Dan Heng thought to himself, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. It’s all just a dream.

Not wanting to wake you, Dan Heng simply stares at your back. The steadiness of your breathing, a reminder that you are alive. Gingerly, Dan Heng reaches to subtly trace soothing lines on your back. Truth be told, it was probably more soothing for him than you.

Then suddenly, there was a slight change in the pattern of your breathing. More feeble and erratic. Concerned that he might have woken you up, Dan Heng pushed himself up to check on your condition …

… Only to find you crying in your sleep.

Upon the sight of your tears, falling so steadily onto the fabric of your already damp pillow, Dan Heng’s breath hitches. He shakes your shoulders, calling your name again and again until your eyes open and meet his pairs of jaded blue.

“You’re crying.” He said bluntly, his brows furrowed as a tell-tale sign of his bleeding concern for you. “What? No, I’m fine. Yes, I woke up because of a nightmare but I’m more concerned for you.”

The two of you would both end up sitting on the bed, both fretting over each other’s condition. You asked Dan Heng about his nightmare and he would reply that it was the usual. He asked you about your tears, and you replied you didn’t even know you were crying until Dan Heng pointed it out.

In the end, the both of you would end up embracing each other tightly, providing both comfort and strength to one another. You both wind up laying on the bed in each other’s arms.

Dan Heng would stay awake for a while after you’ve fallen asleep, gazing at your resting figure in hopes that he would never have to see you cry in your sleep once more.

Dr. Ratio

After a long day full of shameful displays of stupidity from the people around him, Dr. Veritas Ratio was done for the day and is free to visit his beloved. I cannot wait to see them, Ratio thought as he made large strides towards your office. It has been far too long since I’ve had an intellectually stimulating conversation!

He thinks of all the topics he could talk with you, ranging from the most mundane things such as how each other’s days went and the more complex like the discourse regarding a recent hot theory.

Imagine his disappointment when he enters your office and finds you dead asleep on your desk.

Frowning, Ratio rationalizes that you were probably just as exhausted as he was and that there were plenty of chances for conversation when the two of you have rested up. Still. He was disappointed.

He walked towards your desk and took a moment to observe your resting figure. You were sleeping above your paper reports. Now that’s a lark. But then, he noticed something else.

Your papers were soaked, all from the tears that were still cascading from your eyes.

Upon the sight of your tears, Ratio’s heart seemingly ceased to beat. There was shock, confusion, concern and all these strong emotions that meld with one another. In a rare moment of panic, Ratio shook you awake, forcing you away from your stained papers.

“You fool, just what do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts, worry bleeding through his tone. “Don’t ‘What the hell, Veritas’ me! You’re the one crying on your reports and making them unreadable!”

You would be confused until you realize that you were crying in your sleep. You touched the lingering wetness on your cheeks and laughed feebly. It was probably the pent up stress, you offered weakly, annoying Ratio once more.

You expect a lecture, but unexpectedly, Ratio places hand behind your head, brings you to rest against his broad shoulder.

“You are a fool for ruining those reports. If you must cry … cry on my shoulder instead.”

It was a silly attempt at cheering you up, but you appreciated it all the same.

Hehe this was a super fun prompt to write! Might write a second part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha when I feel the inspiration hitting me 👀

Also still semi-working on banners ... sigh, lets hope I find a good theme soon enough.

Thank you for reading 💖

#honkai: star rail #hsr x reader #argenti x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #dr. ratio x reader #ratio x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #hsr imagines #hsr headcanons #StarTearsWrites

3K notes · View notes

rs-hawk · 4 months

Text

Kinkmas: Day Four

Winter Wolf

Your Werewolf Boyfriend was insistent that you needed to stay inside when he shifted, especially in the winter. Something about the way your warm skin would smell in the air would drive him crazy, apparently. So whenever he shifts, you stay inside and do your best to respect him and his wishes. That being said, you can’t help but peek out sometimes, hoping to see your gorgeous white wolf of a boyfriend.

If you’re lucky, he’ll be patrolling your “den”, hoping to catch a whiff of you. A few times you’ve seen him mid-shift, a monstrously tall creature that you think would be just as likely to rip out your throat as he is to fuck you into the dirt. The thought makes you shudder.

One night, you decide to crack open the window. The heater is broken and won’t stop blowing, making it unbearably hot. The cold winter air feels so good when you stick your face up to the window. You don’t stick it out. Not quite. Just up to it. This way you’re not technically breaking your boyfriend’s rule, right?

Suddenly, you hear loud footsteps and low snarling. Every hair on the back of your neck stands on end as your breath catches. Slowly, you step away from the window, doing your best to slide it back down quietly, but it’s too late. He caught your scent.

In a matter of moments, the simple wooden door to the front of the cabin is ripped open, the now useless knob clattering against the tiled floors. Your Werewolf Boyfriend- tall, muscular, menacing- stands in the doorway, half transformed. He has to duck to get inside the doorway. His long claws scraping the floor. Your heart is in your throat as you stare at him in awe and a twinge of fear.

He sniffs the air, though only for a moment before his eyes land on you. Like a hunter who has found his prey. You don’t even have time to scramble back before he’s on you, pinning you under his massive body. The warmth of him is comforting now that the cold winter wind is blowing in through the demolished door and still ajar window. His fat tongue licks up your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Mine,” he growls as his claws dig into your waist. “My mate. Mine.”

You can only let out a tiny, “Yours” in response as he easily tears off your clothes.

His fat tongue trails down your body until he starts tongue fucking you, making you writhe and whine under him. His claws hold you in place, threatening to puncture your skin if you move too much. You whimper and whine, squirm and scream his name, but he doesn’t let up until you’ve orgasmed more times than you can count.

Only when you’re seeing stars and feel like a limp doll, does he let up. You draw a hard breath, trying to regain yourself, but that’s only for that breath. He nips your neck just as he slides into you, his massive girth stretching you out more than you thought he could.

“Baby, hang on. Wait,” you gasp, gripping his furry shoulders. “It’s… fuck you’re so big.”

He chuckles but doesn’t stop as he finally bottoms out inside of you, panting like a dog with his knot threatening your entrance. Maybe you’ll have to “accidentally” open the window next month if it leads to this.

3K notes · View notes

tasteleeknow · 3 months

Text

minors dni. cockwarming. consensual somno.

He runs warm.

His hands warm yours on days when you're at risk of losing feeling in your fingers, assisted occasionally by the soft press of his lips to your skin or a thawing breath from his lungs.

His thighs are soft and warm when he drapes one over you and tugs you against his chest on chilly nights.

His neck provides a safe haven for your stinging nose as you wait for the lights to let you cross the road on a dark winter evening.

He runs warm.

Then there are parts of him that are hot.

When you ask him very nicely—adding a few soft kisses between sweet pleas—he'll slip his hot cock inside you on the coldest nights. He'll heat you from the inside out like your favourite hot drink.

A warm, firm press of his palm to your stomach, warm lips on your neck, hot cock pulsing in your gut. Heat and warmth and—

"Still cold?" he mumbles into your neck, lips still wet from messy kisses.

An involuntary shiver races down your spine. You know he knows... just like he always does. It's not temperature induced.

"That feel nice?" he coos. "Hm? Nice and full?" He punctuates his soft spoken caress with a roll of his hips. "All warm, sweetheart?"

You fall asleep that way, hot and full with his solid chest pressed against you. Sometimes you wake up to his hips rolling into you again, a final flood of heat spilling from his twitching cock.

2K notes · View notes

imsilay · 8 months

Text

LETHAL

NSFW! mdni, cw: possessive behavior, somnophilia, drugging, stalker!König, obsessive König (idk lmk if i forget anything)

word count: 1.5k

summary: he was picky and he picked you.

next chapter here

art cr: Tava_tavatic on twt

You were doing the dishes as he was watching you from the apartment building next door which had a wonderful view of your bedroom and kitchen. He had seen enough to know many things about you and your life. You left your house at 10 AM every day and returned at 8 PM. You were a homebody, never wanting to leave your home aside from work and you only had your cat for company. You lived alone in a nice house and didn't often have friends over. He couldn't see any guys when your friends came by, meaning you were single, perfect.

He could even hear the music you were playing while doing the dishes. Your delicious-looking lips moved in time with the song, mumbling the lyrics. He couldn't tear his eyes off your lips. Focusing on them and imagining how they would taste. Perhaps blackberry? He had seen the lip balm you bought a few days before when you complained about how dry your lips were in the winter. Would you let him taste it and find out? Would you even look at him after discovering what he did?

His thoughts were cut off when you finished cleaning the dishes and embraced your cat, it was bed time. His gaze was glued on your back as you left the kitchen and disappeared into your living room, and then reappeared in your bedroom. He knew every part of your house. His heart raced when you put the cat down on your bed and then began removing your shirt revealing the curves of your body and the black bra he was stupidly fond of. He moved closer to the window without realizing it. Crossing his arms to stop the aching feeling to touch your smooth skin, his fingers dug into his arms when you finally tossed the shirt somewhere in your room, probably onto the chair, and then threw yourself onto your mattress.

Yawning and getting comfortable with your cat, it purred and get its place next to you. He wishes it was him… Curling next to you falling asleep with the warmth of your body. But it was impossible, cause he was just your sweet neighbor that you only had small chats, cause he was fucking massive and probably would take the majority of the space of your bed. You eventually fell asleep, he checked his watch. Just in time.

Well maybe it wasn’t that impossible…

He continued his observation for a few more minutes but he was unable to contain himself anymore. He had to be with you. He had to feel you, your body, your hair, the curve of your waist and hips. He wanted to touch your lips, but he was afraid that if he kissed you he would just get lost into them and fuck you there.

He shook his head and pulled himself out of his thoughts before they got dirtier. He grabbed the keys of his and your house and made his way to your apartment. After entering your home and closing the door behind himself, he took his sweet time to breathe in the smell. It was full of you, it made his head spin and heart race. This was his first time coming into your house when you’re there. You were so introverted and had barely any friends. You were living happily in your small world, that was until he came.

The man was over two meters and had on a strange looking mask. He immediately drew your attention because he just looked like some game characters you played. At first he was distant, cold. His icy-blue eyes were intimidating but somehow inviting. You were the first to start the conversation with him, asking about his work. You two became closer with time but it was never too friendly. He was just some neighbor you knew. But he wanted more. Much more.

So after many months of observation and gaining a lot of information about you, he managed to copy your keys. He would come into your house and feed your cat with treats making his presence known and loved. Unfortunately just with your cat. But now his dreams were coming true. He had given you some homemade cookies. And poor you accepted them without any suspicion and now you were on your bed, in a deep sleep, as he walked into your room. Your cat immediately noticed him.

But he was too mesmerized by your sleeping form on the bed that he was frozen in his place. The cat meowed loudly, drawing his attention to it, he gave it some treats he brought with him. Everything was planned. When the cat was out of the room and the door of your bedroom was locked, he walked to your bed. He was finally here. Right next to you as you slept beautifully. He swallowed thickly and sat on the bed. The bed made a squeaking noise with his weight.

You looked even more pretty this close. His gaze lingered on your face; his breath hitched when his gaze stopped on your lips. He reached out a hand and brushed the strands of hair off your face. He was so nervous that his hands were shaking when he touched your hair. It was as soft as he imagined it would be. He tucked your hair behind your ear; his fingers lingered on your jaw before stopping on your chin and tilting your head up just a little, just so he could see your face better. Your lips parted and a soft sigh escaped from your lips when he did; his heart skipped a beat.

You continued to sleep, without noticing the man's touch on your face, thanks to the cookies. His thumb caressed your lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and bit his lower lip. He was holding the urge to give into his feelings, to give in to his desires and take you just then, in that moment. But he had to be patient. He wanted your first time together to be special, like you deserved. But it was turning him on so much to see you in that vulnerable state. He just wanted to tore of your bra and see what’s underneath. Then move to your sleeping shorts and take them off along with your panties so he could eat you out until you cum or wake up. He wondered what your expression would look like.

But still… it was just his fantasies. It caused him pain physically. “Scheiße, Maus.” he mumbled with a sigh. He took of his mask with his still trembling hands and put it on your nightstand, then took of his boots placing them on the floor next to your bed. He was ready to curl up with you. He climbed next to you, close. So close that you felt his breath on your face. His heart was beating like crazy now. His hands found your waist. “Gott.” he hissed when he felt how soft your skin was. His arms snaked around your waist and drew you close until your body fit perfectly with his, lips only centimeters apart. “Mine.” he growled. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack because the proximity of your body. Your body was almost disappeared inside his arms. It only made him want to protect and posses you.

His fingers caressed your skin as he watched your face closely. To memorize everything about you. He even tried to count your eyelashes. It was stupid but he was just too lost in your beauty. One of his hands found yours and put it on his face. Like you was caressing his cheek. It was pathetic but he was too desperate for your affection. He left your hand on his cheek and his hand found your back. His fingers tracing up and down on your spine then eventually stopped on the clasp of your bra. “Nein, not now.” he scolded himself with his eyes frowned. His gaze found your lips again and softened. He wanted- no he craved to kiss you. Your lips looked delicious.

He swallowed and closed his eyes promising himself that he would stop after a taste. When he opened his eyes, he was determined to contain himself; to show restraint. So, his hand was on your chin again, tilting your head up to meet his lips. When his lips brushed against yours, he took in a sharp breath; like someone just hit him with a bat, kissing you felt like it. His hand on your waist pulled you closer, as close as he could. His kiss started slowly, with all of his love and affection; with all of his feelings. But the craving... the craving only grew. His whole body shook as he stole your breath. The determination of containing himself was no where to be found with his morals. He moaned into your mouth and his cock throbbed. His hands traveled down and big palms covered your hips. The kiss was sloppy and hungrier now. He was too lost into heaven. You were his heaven.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc<3

Stalker König has a special place in my heart. this is definitely my favorite work. also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

i’m so sleepless so i’m just gonna post this and post the rest tomorrow.

#konig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x y/n #konig cod #konig smut #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig #i know it’s könig #konig #konig mw2 #konig imagine #stalker #tw stalking #obsessive könig #stalker könig #silay

5K notes · View notes

ladadiida · 7 months

Text

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth. or, you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i swear i cannot escape a brainrot whenever i watch a new show. this automatically wrote itself, i don't even remember how i came up with this idea. anyway, i'm surprised there aren't many sanji fics that involves the unrequited love trope, seeing that it suits him. or maybe that's just me. this is only a SNEAK PEEK though.

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 full version now published here!

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite dessert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

again, this is only a sneak peek of the actual fic, i'm currently halfway in completing it. please let me know if you want to read it, because i might publish it next week. if not, i'll just drown in sorrow and self-pity.

#opla #opla x reader #opla x y/n #one piece #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji live action #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #opla sanji x reader #angst #one piece sanji x reader #ਏਓ ladadiida

4K notes · View notes

miserycanary · 19 days

Text

TAKE IT OR LEAVE HIM ᡣ𐭩

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & reader

synopsis: Ghost forgets your birthday

tag: slight slight angst

Hectic doesn’t begin to describe Ghost’s schedule, yet you accepted him with open arms. He needs to cut your dinner short because he’s needed back at the base? You nod with a smile full of understanding. He forgets a few chores and groceries because he’s piled up with tasks? You kiss his forehead and tell him it’s fine, and you just work around it and rush during your office breaks to do those tasks on your own. You’re exhausted from being held back at the office because the client changed their mind during the finalization, but you come home to a pile of dirty dishes and no dinner? You say you understand, washing up and going to bed while feeling your stomach grumble and waking up to wash the previous night’s dishes just to lessen Ghost’s worries.

You had no problem bending backwards just to accommodate him. You entered the relationship knowing about his schedule, so… were you really in any position to complain?

A few insignificant tasks and miniscule adjustments to your schedule were nothing; never once uttered a complaint because you understood. Why? Because Ghost always finds a way to make it up to you. Sending bouquets when you close a big deal, treating you to a fancy restaurant during your birthday (though he’s mostly never there to celebrate until the end), and gifting you branded things during your anniversaries… so, it was all okay….. ?

Yes, it’s fine if he never shows up for your dinner date because of work.

Yes, it’s fine that you spend most nights alone.

Yes, you can clean the house, shop for groceries, do the laundry, and cook for the both of you.

It was all okay. You were okay with it. You accepted it. You understood. You can do it. You’re fine. It’s all worth it. It’s not worth any trouble. It’s fine—

You snap back and all thoughts stop rushing into your head. Your phone blares an alarm with the words, ‘DATE NIGHT’, flashing on the screen. Right, it’s your birthday and Ghost promised he’d finally make it this time. So, you wore the prettiest dress, applied the most gorgeous (and time-consuming) makeup, and put on the cutest heels (your feet are getting blisters) because you wanted to spend this night with the man you love most on your Earth… who wasn’t by your side right now, but it’s fine.

The waiter approaches the table, asking you for what seems to be the 6th time that night if your company is coming because they’re about to close. Giving up, you offer an apologetic smile and gather your things. The walk out the restaurant was embarrassing to say the least. Harsh winter air greets your face, your legs and arms trembling as you try to seek warmth from the take-out bag. You didn’t bring a jacket because, well, you thought Ghost would be there with you, but it’s fine.

The apartment door clicks open and a dark hallway awaits you. ‘Ah, he’s not here yet,’ you think to yourself, a pang of disappointment piercing your heart that raised its hope for one night. With a wince and a pained gasp, your heels come undone. Muted footsteps along the wooden floorboards as you strip out your clothes and wash up. You resign the night with your lover nowhere to be found— once again, but it’s fine.

Morning dawn cracks through your curtains with a familiar arm around your waist and familiar dip on the mattress. You blink your sleepiness away, taking in every detail of your Simon’s face in the morning. Like he has a third sense, he wakes and stares back at you. First smiles of the day are shared between you two but you expected more. Nothing too grand. Maybe an apology and a greeting? Yet the day goes by with receiving neither, but it’s fine. Maybe the next day’s the charm?

Nothing.

Irritation towards your lover is a rare occurrence with your endless patience and never-ending understanding of his situation. You still held hopes that maybe he’d finally realize his slip-up, but what did you come home to? Dirty dishes. A pile of them.

“Ah, sweetheart. You’re home,” he kisses your cheek and presses your waist close to him like usual. The scent of whiskey and cigar lingers on his clothes— a scent you usually adore but now only fuels your anger. “Si, what’s this?” you ask, trying to keep your frustration at bay as you point to the sink. “What? Oh, noticed ‘ya didn’t make dinner so I ate what’s ever left,” he answers cooly like there’s nothing wrong.

“... do you mean you ate my lunch for tomorrow?”

“That yours? Sorry, baby. ‘Ya can jus’ make another one, and one for me.”

You pull away, slapping his face with tears rushing down your face. Ghost looks at you with shock and confusion which angers you further. How can he not realize why you’re mad?

“Woah, woah. What’s wrong, doll?”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT. Oh, my fucking God, Simon. You’re really asking me that?” you run your fingers through your hair, screaming at his face and throwing your purse at him. “What’s wrong?? You tell me! I slave away at this goddamn house. I go to bed with my bones feeling like weights because I keep cleaning after your mess, but it’s fine! Because you were busy, I understood.”

Tension builds in the air as everything you’ve held back poured out of you. “I never complained because I told you I was fine with your schedule when we first started dating. I fucking bend my body backwards and did everything for you LIKE A MAID. And you have the audacity to ask me what’s wrong? You don’t even ask me how my day went. Asking me to cook for you like I’m just a housekeeper? YOU DON’T EVEN DO ANYTHING FOR ME.” You stomp over to his face, glaring with hatred as you spat out your next words. “Just a fucking reminder that I am your girlfriend. I am not here to clean up after you.”

“Did I ask you to?” he snaps back, returning the same vile stare. “You’re whining about working around the house like I asked you to. Let’s be clear that I never forced you to do these shits around the house.”

“You didn’t have to! You just kept piling up dishes and clothes, leaving a messy trail behind you because you know you expect me to do it for you!”

“And did those come for free? I buy you everything you want on anniversaries and birthdays. You act as if you come for cheap,” he scoffs.

"WELL, GUESS WHAT? YOU FUCKING FORGOT IT THIS YEAR,” you finally confess through sobs. Realization dawns upon your lover, evident on the way his face drops. He tries to approach you but you step back.

“I waited for you like a fool because you promised. I-.. I.. had to tell the waiter 5 times that you were coming because they were on the verge of throwing me out. Did you know how embarrassing it was for me? I… I know I shouldn’t have kept my hopes up but I wanted to believe in you, but.. I’m tired.”

Silence blankets you both as every emotion rushes through your heart. Your throat felt raw and your head was getting heavy from all the crying.

“I’m done, Ghost. I’m tired," you whisper. Those words were simple but Ghost knew what lies underneath. You weren't tired of what you did for him. You were tired of him.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: woah, angst again? Anyone surprised? This request has been sitting on my inbox for a while but I have enough free time to answer them, so here we are. I will make a König version if this gets attention. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

2K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 7 months

Note

Hi, i hope youre doing well ☺️

Could i request another part to animagus cat reader where reader cuddles with Remus during winter instead of Sirius because its cold and he runs warmer?? Like he'll be in the common room reading in an arm chair while reader catnaps on his lap while being pet and Sirius tells him to stop stealing his gf and James is jealous/whiny that he doesnt get to have cat snuggles.

part 1 / part 2

Despite the two blankets layered in an inviting nest on Sirius's lap, Remus is the warmest person in the room. The fire crackes on its logs, offering scorching heat, but what you seek is gentle warmth, and you've found it between Remus's sweater and his undershirt. You're splayed over his chest much like a baby would be, your paws stretched out against his shoulders and your head pressed face-first into his chest. His sweater is tight enough that it holds you in place, and you don't have to worry about falling. It means that you're able to fully relax, and Sirius can hear your rampant purring from where he sits on the couch with a sour scowl on his face.

"If you just wore warmer clothes, you wouldn't be pissy right now," Remus muses, not bothering to grace the man with a glance away from his novel, "She only likes me 'cause my sweater is warm."

That's not entirely true. While Remus does tend to dress for comfort, and Sirius for style, Remus runs naturally hotter than your boyfriend. You don't have the heart to tell him that, though, so you mewl in agreement to Remus's statement.

"Sweaters are dumb," Sirius spits, and no one bothers to mention that he has a small collection of them for the snowy days on the grounds, "I look better in leather."

"Your loss," Remus shrugs, and to add insult to injury, reaches up to scratch a spot behind your ears that only makes your purring louder.

"This is bullshit," Sirius finally huffs, breaking his facade of gloomy indifference, "Prongs, get over here."

James, all too eager to help out his friend and soak up affection to boot, has no problem tipping over sideways to lay in Sirius's lap.

But the man lifts James's head out of his lap by his curls, "No, no, no, not James. Prongs."

"You want me to-?" James asks, but doesn't dare finish, because the prospect of transforming right in the common room sends a shiver of mischief down his spine that he'd be a fool to question, "On it."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," Sirius nods, sneering haughtily at Remus, "You're not the only one that's good for a cuddle, Moony. Look at this," He gushes, as James begins his transformation, skin giving way to tight, short fur and enormous antlers that nearly grate against the stone walls around you.

"Oh, he's a perfect fit." Remus nods resignedly, content to continue rubbing at your ears rather than chastise his friends for trying to fit a stag on a loveseat, "Yeah, that'll work nicely- ooh, careful Sirius, almost got stabbed there."

Sirius dodges a prong off of James's antlers, taking them in his hands and holding James's head steady as the oversized buck folds his knobbly knees into Sirius's lap. The back two can't make it, but James fits them clumsily onto the cushion, maintaining his balance out of dramatic willpower rather than the laws of physics.

You decide once they settle that they're no longer in need of your attention, so you turn your head back towards Remus and burrow your face back into his warm chest. You feel it shake with mirth beneath you, presumably at an overdramatized reaction from the two boys opposite you, but you can't bring yourself to care; sleep is at the forefront of your brain in this form.

"Yeah, get real cozy!" Sirius insists, calling so that you can hear him through Remus's thick sweater and beneath the weight of his hand on your ears, "Whatever! We're cozy over here, too, 'never been more comfortable- ah! Prongs, watch the hooves!"

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hc #sirius black hcs #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black dialogue #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fanfiction

4K notes · View notes

joonipertree · 5 months

Text

Sugar Daddy Boxer! Bakugo Katsuki x college student gn!reader

Tags: Age gap! Bakugo is 27, reader is 22. fluff, protective bakugo, attentive bakugo, he's a boxer because I said so <3

Bro i finished this with my wrist bandaged up. The things I'd do for my anime men.

Pt 2. Pt 3

Feel free to send in requests/prompts for this AU!

"Babydoll."

....

"Babydoll."

You finally hummed, unwrapping the woollen scarf that pillowed your face. It did an amazing job to keep you warm in the cold abyss of the early morning winter but was useless in your boyfriend's heated sports car.

You let yourself unfurl, letting the warmth melt you.

"Did you sleep properly?"

"Yeah." you said with a yawn, ready to turn your brain off again.

"I'm gonna ask you how many hours and you're telling me the truth."

You made eye contact with Katsuki, who still hadn't left the front of your building mind you, and reached out for your morning kisses.

"First, answer then kisses."

You whined and squirmed before huffing into stillness when you realised he was too mean to give into you.

"Six hours."

Katsuki's already furrowed eyebrows furrowed even more but he leaned forward to kiss your puckered lips. They were warm and firm and tasted like strawberry chapstick. And the hint of your cologne wafted through you, making you sigh into him.

Katsuki tugged your lower lip into his mouth, suckling on it before letting go and kissing the corner of your lips.

"We agreed on eight, baby."

"I was doing my homework, silly."

"Was this before or after your fanfiction reading time?"

You grinned, pawing at his chest as you leaned in for another chaste kiss.

"Look at you learning, old man. It was before."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, squeezing your thigh with his rough hand before finally deciding to start the car.

"Where do you wanna get breakfast from? You're not getting a coffee, by the way."

"Excuse m---"

"Nuh uh, little one." Katsuki looked at you with an eyebrow raise. "You didn't sleep as much as you should've and it already makes you jittery."

You crossed your arms and huffed, burying yourself deeper into the leather. And you knew that you'd just say something stupid and get yourself in even more trouble, so your mouth stayed shut. Katsuki didn't bother asking again, already knowing that there was a chocolate croissant and Acai bowl that had you hooked.

He made his way into the store quickly, your body not ready to get out to the fanged monster that the winter brought. And it meant you got the wonderful opportunity to see people actively stare at your boyfriend.

It didn't matter when he didn't even bother making eye contact, hands deep in his pockets and resting bitch face on. Two boys came up to him in an excited manner that wasn't fit for early morning. And while Bakugo scowled harder, he still had the courtesy to give them his autograph. You knew that if they weren't highschool students, he'd tell them to fuck off. Bakugo never became aggressive with kids.

Once the order was handed to him, he slipped the tip into the jar at the counter. And since the man never carried change, the barista's face had twisted into shell shock. But Bakugo didn't even acknowledge it and left the premises, making his way back to you.

You were handed the croissant and Acai bowl, nose filling with pleasant scents that warmed you even further into the seat. Katsuki took a sip of his black coffee before handing you your own cup.

"It's very much decaf but I know you like your caramel macchiato."

You squealed at the gesture, not surprised that he was soft for you, and leaned in to give a big wet smooch to his cheek. His smile was evident, even when he tried to keep it hidden.

"I need to stop spoiling you."

He never did.

By the time you'd finished your drink and croissant, your uni had come into view. And as always, some people eyed the Chevrolet Corvette that your boyfriend drove. black exterior glittering in the morning sun.

After a couple affectionate kisses littered across Bakugo's face and a very long kiss on the lips, you got out of your car in your sweats and puffer jacket.

Your friends were waiting by the entrance, having come at the same time, they greeted you while eyeing the car. They knew it belonged to your boyfriend but they never knew what your boyfriend even did to be sports car rich.

"Hello, my children," You muttered out, blinking slowly as you put your scarf over your nose.

"Hey, dude. How did your--" One of your friends began to talk to you while you all walked to class. But after a good fifteen steps, you heard someone call your name.

"Oi." The gruff voice filled your ears.

The three of you turned around and your friends had been left bamboozled.

Because lo and behold, Bakugo Katsuki had graced them with his presence.

The man just held up a green canvas bag, his finger being the only thing to hold the straps. You gasped and ran to grab it, making sure to check the contents as if afraid that you forgot to put your precious artwork before you left your apartment.

"Thank you thank you thank you, 'suki." You muttered, getting on your tippy toes to kiss his nose and mouth. You had to put your hand on rock hard muscle to stabilise yourself and the pressure didn't effect him one bit. He just cupped your face and deepened the kiss before placing one on your forehead.

"Stop being a dumbfuck and sleep on time. And show me what you made when I pick you up."

Bakugo started going back to his car, not caring for the stares your friends were throwing at him. They were chill, so he's heard. Katsuki was too anti social to get first hand experience.

"My guy."

When you turned, your guy friend had grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you vigorously.

"Your rich fucking boyfriend is a WBA fighter. Dude!"

"Yeah!! He's super cool right?"

"He's a fucking god but that's besides the point." Your friend looked more and more erratic.

"Yeah and that god is giving you a death glare. Better get your hands off them, bro. You've seen the amount of blood his opponents lose." Your other friend interjected, already pulling him off of you. He looked pale.

You turned and saw Katsuki stand like a statue, hands in his pockets and eyes hardened. His teeth were gritted which worried you since he already had a bad jaw. Students were swerving away like two rivers, his body like a jagged mountain in the middle.

Your double thumbs up and wide grin was the only thing that broke him out of his stance, shoulders relaxing and jaw releasing from its hold. Katsuki scanned the two men for a few more seconds before he turned and left with a wave of his hand.

"Fuck, I don't think I'll be able to breathe properly all day."

You turned with a skip in your step, happy to have seen your boyfriend for a few extra seconds in the morning.

"He's like a doberman. Such a cutie pie."

"I feel like that's an accurate description considering he would bite our heads off but only let you pet him."

"I see no cuteness in that man."

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katuski #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugou #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou

3K notes · View notes

hoshigray · 8 months

Text

MAPPA gave Nanami such beautiful hands that they never fail to make you feel things.

a/n: Bye, the trailer JUST came out, and I can't get over how good they made Nanami, so I'm writing out this to put myself together. @satoruhour pushed me on to write this so ty swee-T-pie, love u sm 💓 this is just like when they released that hidden inventory trailer and i drooled over Toji's hands help 💀 so yeah this is just me writing a short smthn for kento's hands, sorry not sorry. also tysm for 1.9k!!!

cw: Nanami x fem/afab! reader - first soft then smutty, so minors DNI - h@nd h0lding - soft dom! Nanami bc yes - fingering (f! receiving) - hand kink (ig?) - fingers in reader's mouth - pet names (angel, love, sweet girl) - praise - clitoral play - you and Nanami in a cute domestic relationship ♡

wc: 950

You love Kento Nanami's hands. It's no secret to yourself because it's the truth. But you can't blame yourself; you can't help it! There are so many moments with him where you can't help but admire the man's big hands, and honestly, it's embarrassing at this point. It's a guilty pleasure that makes you feel such pleasant emotions, makes you want him more and more.

Even before the two of you expressed courtship, there were days when you'd encounter and have idle chitchat with the stoic man, and those were days that were hard to go through when you had such a tremendous crush on the guy. So much so that you'd drift your gaze away from his feline mocha eyes masked by his eyepiece. Instead, you'd look at his hands, admiring how beautiful and big they are. Aside from his face, they were the only thing visible from his dapper suit. Not that you complained, though. The more you saw and talked with Nanami, the more you marveled at his hands in your thoughts.

And when you two finally started dating, things were going slow and steady. Just as the two of you wanted — no rush at all. But a memory you hold dear to your heart was when the two of you walked home in the cold winter. The chilly breeze sent shivers down your spine, and your nose found breathing tricky in the extreme temperature change. Not to mention you forgot your mittens at home. Just my luck...

However, it wasn't all that bad. After all, your boyfriend (it felt a little weird calling him that) offered to walk you to your place, sticking close to your side, which was a rarity back then. Heat finally found its way up to your cold cheeks when Nanami took the initiative to grab ahold of your hand with his, the size difference making it easy to exchange warmth. "Here," he said so nonchalantly it almost felt like a dream. "Don't want the wind to blow you off the sidewalk." It was such an airy gag from the usually silent man, yet you chuckled and held his hand tighter, the cold overlooked throughout the rest of the walk.

Even watching him doing the most ordinary things is a sight. Whether he's washing dishes, making the bed, or cutting vegetables for the next meal he was cooking for you two, your eyes would always find their way to his deft hands. Rugged palms moving swiftly and gracefully, veins that stem from the back trail upwards to his forearm, and thick fingers with scars so faded with time that you'd have to be very close to see them. You're so in love with him — with his hands. They make you feel safe and secure, warm and loved. Specifically in times when you two are close to each other. Whether it's you resting on his chest as he reads a book while rubbing circles on your back or holding hands with you two walking around the vicinity, it couldn't get any better.

...Well, perhaps now as you're lying on the bed with your back to his chest, succumbing to his touch as one hand cups your cheeks while the other burrows inside your panties — his fingers intruding between your folds and playing with your leaky entrance staining the underwear with your come.

"Ooooh, Kentooo..." You moan to his thick digits in your vulva, scraping your spongey walls that result in high wails. He rubs your cheeks and maneuvers your face to the side so he can lay kisses on your neck, and you melt under his lips with a blissful hum.

"Open your legs a bit more for me, angel." His command is hushed to your ears. You follow his instructions and spread your legs further apart, and he rewards you with another finger added to your chasm. Now both the fore and middle digits slide deep into you, and the brush of his thumb on your clit results in sudden wails. "Good, that's my sweet girl."

His fingers graze your insides expertly, having you writhe on him with how good he's making you feel with just his fingers alone. The speed of his digits increases by the second, and you can feel the wave start rising in your body. Your body jolts with every scrape of his fingertips, pornographic whines fly out your mouth, and your face gets hotter and hotter.

"Haaaah!! Mmnnn...Kento, I'm so close. 'S so close, I'm—Mmmph!?" You don't get to finish that sentence when Nanami stuffs his free fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately coating the two digits with your saliva.

"Go on, come on me, love." His sweet words were what it took for everything to come crashing down, the fingers in your cunt quicken in pace, and his thumb flicking on your clitoris — causing you to grab onto his forearm. Scratching the clothed limb and heavy pants drawing inward, your cunt clamps around on his fingers as your orgasm comes to pull you in for a euphoric release.

And Nanami lets your body experience the shocks on top of him, laying precious kisses on your temple and cheeks. He slowly removes his digits from your satisfied cunt with a whimper from your puffy lips. "Did so well like always, angel." In your daze, you still share a smile and welcome his lips on yours.

Like you said before — Nanami's hands are your guilty pleasure in more ways than one. And it feels so good to know he reciprocates those desires with mutual love. If such a gorgeous and attentive man can have you under him with just his sheer touch, then so be it.

3K notes · View notes

frogchiro · 3 months

Note

being pregnant with both bear nikolai and price would be a dream.

It’s late winter/early spring and you’re all starting to wake up and get back into routine after hibernation. Your pregnant belly is starting to show too :(((. Imagine rolling over and waking up in the morning, just to see them nosing and gently rubbing your small bump, definitely excited and fantasizing about when you finally start swelling with milk.

The weather starts getting warmer and you wake up to a literal pound of berries (each) that they brought you.

You thought you were done sleeping and eating and doing nothing now that winter is over? Nope. You’re staying in the den until those cubs are born and they think you’re ready to go out.

You probably have so many cubs too 😩. All of them big and chubby chunky babies who love being held by their momma 🥺. They also absolutely love to drink their momma’s milk, never getting enough of it.

And you never seem to run out of milk! Always enough to go around for the cubs (and your mates when they get jealous). Sorry I just AAAAA about them sossosososo much

Bear! Price and Bear! Nik would be the most attentive and lovesick daddies ever!! They were over the moon when they sniffed out a change in your scent, more of a milky sweet tone to it, so when it was confirmed that you are indeed pregnant with cubs they were ecstatic!!

And yes, they make not only many but also they make the biggest, chubbiest cubs ever! I mean look at them, they are huge, broad shouldered and bulky, it's only natural that your babies will inherit those traits!! But they are so good to both you and the little ones, always scenting them and keeping them close, when one is away to hunt the other is always with you inside the den, cuddling with you and the cubs, licking their new fluffy coats as they babble and giggle at their dad :((

But tbh you're the favorite parent! You're their momma and the cubs always make little pips in search for you, wanting both your comforting warmth and scent and for you to feed them since they eat so much, but they need it if they want to be as strong and healthy like their fathers ;;

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #nikolai x reader #john price #captain john price #nikolai mw2 #nikolai call of duty #cod nikolai #hybrid au #hybrids au

1K notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

harpieunion

Planetary Central

hatsunewaifu-blog

Hatsunesan

whatislife5

Oof

kkangpae-confessions

깡패 Confessions

starrtearrs

rumi