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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month

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please don't say you love me

in which fwb!spencer reid and fem!reader get into an argument about the nature of their relationship.

18+ (implied intimacy) warnings/tags: friends with benefits arrangement, it goes bad, reader is so clearly anxious avoidant, reader is so me-coded, self-loathing, difficulties with emotional intimacy, arguing, derek and penelope make an appearance woo, a little dramatic, no happy ending (a nereidprinc3ss first!) a/n: it happened guys I stopped writing for a few days and last night randomly was inspired to finish this fwb piece and it essentially turned into a vent and went a completely different direction than i thought it would but here we are!!! i hope you enjoy, I loved writing, ilysm

“Are you reading it? Did you get to the part yet?” You ask, buzzing as you peer around Spencer’s arm to see where he’s at in the book you’d handed him. Sometimes you think it takes him longer to flip the pages than to read them.

He doesn’t answer, but you see the flickering quirk of his lip like something is amusing him. It’s been a few minutes and he’s maybe halfway through. He has to have seen it by now.

You’re clinging to his arm, eyes darting pointlessly between the text and his face, searching for a reaction. It comes in the form of a furrowed brow, a disbelieving smile, and something between a barking laugh and an exclamation of, “what?”

“You read it?”

His eyes narrow and he flips back a page, taking a bit longer to reevaluate.

“Our moans and grunts drowned out the screams of the dead and dying only a few hundred feet away.”

You giggle furiously, clapping a hand to your mouth when you snort, and you feel Spencer’s focus shifting to you, even with your eyes screwed shut.

“And you read this whole series?”

At that you sober up some, still hiding the bottom half of your face and brows drawn sorrowfully as mirthful tears well. You’re slow to admit your guilt with a nod, and his expression is somewhere between horror and fascination.

Your cheeks heat and you cover your face, laughing again and shaking your head shamefully as he ridicules you.

“Why? Why would you do that to yourself? I don’t even know if I can be seen in public with you, that’s—” he’s haphazardly tossed the book back on its display table and grabbed your wrists, pulling gently and laughing too. “No, show me your face. This is—you need to explain yourself. This is unforgivable.”

“No! I swear it was a morbid curiosity, I didn’t like it, I’m sorry! I—”

“Reid?”

You both freeze.

It’s not the most dignified position, admittedly—hidden among the shelves in a bookstore, pressed too close to be friendly, his hands around your wrists.

So you don’t mind when he drops them like hot potatoes and gives you a few inches of breathing room.

“Hey! Uh—you’re—”

Spencer is looking between you and two other people at the end of the aisle—a quirky bespectacled blonde in a flouncy polka-dot dress and her taller companion, ripped and head shaved, sporting some impressive eyebrows. Right now they’re conspicuously raised—his eyes are also pinballing between you and Spencer.

For a moment, everyone is just sort of… looking at each other.

It’s a little bit… awful?

Finally Spencer clears his throat.

“Um, what are you guys doing here? Just… looking at books?”

Something is off, and you feel like shrinking or running, but you just stay glued to your spot.

In sync, they hold up copies of the same book—and it takes you not a second to place the author’s name, in imposing red font at the bottom like it’s important. Rossi.

The pieces click into place. These must be Spencer’s co-workers—Penelope and Derek, if his descriptions of the team have served you well. Part of you is starstruck. Part of you is embarrassed. They’re clearly shocked to see Spencer with a girl in the wild, so you know he hasn’t told them about you—and why should he, you think, why should he tell his friends about the girl he’s been sleeping with for months now?

Finally, the blonder half of the duo speaks.

“You’re—this is a girl. That’s. Who is that? Hi! Who are you?”

She’s literally pointing at you, eyes drifting between you and Spencer like it just doesn’t make any sense. Derek gives her a look and gently pushes her hand down.

“Hey. That’s enough.” Then he offers you a polite smile, though you sense a bit strained, and his eyes too keep wandering back to the man next to you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no! You’re not… interrupting…” Spencer trails off and you sense he’s looking at you and gauging a reaction but you’re just smiling idly at his friends and waiting for this to be over. He finally thinks to introduce you by name, and you offer a shy wave and a smile to your new acquaintances.

Penelope points (that damn finger again) but this time it’s less accusatory, and stays below chin level.

“Cool shirt. I love that band,” she offers genially. Your brows raise and you look down, trying to remember what shirt you’d tossed on before leaving Spencer’s apartment an hour ago.

“Oh! Thanks,” you smile, and you’re relieved to mean it this time.

Another frosty silence begins to descend, but Derek doesn’t let it settle so much this time, to everyone’s satisfaction.

“Alright, well. It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your date.”

There’s too much weight on the last sentence, and Derek gives Spencer a eyebrows-raised-meaningfully look you don’t understand. You’re just glad Spencer keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t immediately insist that it’s not a date, because it’s not, and that’s fine, but the vehement denial would bum you out.

The pair walk away in the kind of clenched silence that means they’ll start fervently whispering as soon as they are out of ear shot. You watch their retreating figures and chew your lip, sensing that the carefree and playful energy of five minutes ago will have evaporated by the time you turn back to face your companion.

“Strange,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, and you’re slightly jarred when Spencer replies from beside you.

“Which part?”

All of it.

Turning to face him, you smile, and it doesn’t reach your eyes but it doesn’t need to.

“Oh—nothing, sorry.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, only stares at a point somewhere above your head and narrows his eyes like he’s thinking unpleasant thoughts.

“Was I an asshole, to you, just now?”

It’s unexpected. You don’t have an answer prepared, so you say something that feels like a lie because you can’t prove that it’s not the truth.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just… I don’t know. I get weird around them, sometimes. I don’t always know what to say, like, when my personal life and my work life intersect, because for a long time I didn’t really have a personal life. And I think they still think I don’t know how to talk to girls, so…”

“You don’t know how to talk to girls,” you remind him. “Let’s go look at the puzzles.”

Maybe you spend too much time with Spencer Reid. Maybe that’s the problem—too long in his presence and he’s eating away at your neural tissue like you’ve got cysticercosis and he’s the T. solium (a terrible thing he had explained to you a few weeks ago.)

Maybe you need a break from him, to stop breathing his air and sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothing, because you’re forgetting that he’s not the entire world and that is a very bad thing to forget in a situation like yours. The entire world cannot be the size of his apartment.

But you also just like him so much. As a friend, of course. That goes without saying. You like his strange sense of humor, and the way he lights up when you ask him an obscure question. You like your legs across his lap while you watch his old shows. You also like being kissed by him, and hugged by him. You like being taken care of like no one has ever taken care of you, and you like the way he always touches you, soft and kind and so on purpose.

You never meant to like him so much.

This affection—it has grown, insidious and parasitic, and now that it’s been pointed out to you like a lump in your side, it’s impossible to ignore.

What you and Spencer have works precisely because you’ve kept things platonic and casual. That way, there’s no worrying about emotional baggage or arguing about feelings because there are none to be found and no precedent that any such things should or need to occur. You can’t hurt each other’s feelings if your feelings aren’t on the table.

So why can’t you stop thinking about earlier?

Why can’t you help caring that he’s been keeping you a secret from the people he loves most?

“So, essentially the book is his first deep dive into meta-fiction. It was pretty revolutionary at the time, and while not his most celebrated novel, I’d argue it was his most relevant and culturally pervasive. I’d actually love to hear your interpretation of the story—it’s truly different for everyone. It’s a little like… like a literary Rorschach test. Do you wanna borrow it?”

You’re a tangle on his bed—arms, legs, sheets—it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins. All you’re sure of is his hand, tracing his fingers in chaste lines, feather-light up and down your inner thigh in the way he knows you like. Usually it’s so soothing you melt and fall asleep within minutes. Right now it’s only stoking some sparking electrical fire in your chest—the buzzes and bursts from which have you on edge. Ready to cave in at any second. You wish you could relax. You’ve been trying.

Spencer is in no hurry for you to respond, and so doesn’t seem to mind when it takes you a long while to find your answer.

“I think I need to go home.”

It comes out too scratchy, as you haven’t really spoken for several hours. Not as casual as you were going for. He angles his head down toward you and his hand stops and you realize it’s actually worse like that.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Everything is fine, I just… I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight, I think.”

It’s late and you shouldn’t be making him drive you across town, but he’s always amenable to what you want. This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at his place, after all—a rare long weekend—and before that a few weeks had passed with no cases to speak of, during which time you’ve been staying with him more and more. Spencer seems to be completely content letting you eat his food and use his shower if it means you don’t leave.

“I know the feeling well,” he admits, and your heart twinges with the care he takes to not bump or bend you or pull your hair as he shifts. He’s already been out of bed, and so is more dressed than you. Really, most people on the planet are more dressed than you, and you pull his nice sheet higher up your chest as he sits on the edge of the mattress, looking down at you and with a sort of worry in his eyes. He finds your knee through the fabric. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Stop paying such close attention, you want to tell him. And in the same breath, please don’t ever look away.

“I’m… good.”

It is easily the least convincing performance of your life. Either you’re self sabotaging or you want him to push you further, and you don’t know which is worse.

When his brow ramps just the slightest bit, you know you’ve fumbled it.

“I don’t believe you.”

You shrug. “I don’t need you to.” And then you sit up, still holding the sheet to your chest. “Can you hand me a shirt?”

Enough clothing has accumulated around the room recently that he could pretty much reach out in any direction and find something for you to wear. He grabs a sweatshirt hanging from the bedpost and holds it out for you, and you pull it over your head, before dropping your feet onto the cool wooden floor and grabbing the first bottoms you see—a pair of floral pajama shorts. How have so many of your clothes ended up at his apartment?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

You scoop your bag up from a chair and flit around the room, haphazardly stuffing away discarded clothing to take back home. It’s true that it’ll be nice to get back to your stuff—your shower products and your closet and your silk pillow cases. You shouldn’t be spending so much time here. It’s not your space and you’ve been sacrificing your own needs to be closer to him, which is something you’d rather not do for any man.

“You can drive me home. I’ll send you gas money.”

“You don’t need to send me gas money,” he says, tacking your name on to the end of the sentence in a way that raises your hackles instantly.

“Yeah, I do. You drive me around constantly. I’ll pay you back and start taking the metro, or something.”

“I don’t want your money,” he scoffs.

“Fine. Then I’ll call a car.”

“That’s unnecessary. I’m happy to drive you.”

“Why?”

Silence hangs. Spencer has by this point stood up, and he’s watching you with a furrowed brow and slightly parted lips like he doesn’t understand where this animosity has come from. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure either. You didn’t realize you were harboring so much of it.

“Am I supposed to see you as an inconvenience?”

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“No. You’re not. We have a relationship and I don’t mind doing things for you.”

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but you sure as hell were thinking it.

It feels good to say, like stretching a sore muscle beyond its limits or pressing into a bruise until you get past the ache. Sometimes when things hurt, it’s best to feel the pain and move on.

He looks absolutely perplexed, the lines between his brows only ditching deeper.

“Is that what this is about?”

“Oh my god, Spencer, no, I don’t care—”

“Because earlier at the bookstore I asked you if I was being an asshole and—”

“I do not give a fuck about earlier at the fucking bookstore!”

It’s too late to be yelling, but he doesn’t scold you. He just sort of looks at you, like you’re something mildly unpleasant. It makes you feel worse.

A long moment goes by.

“Fine. I’ll take you home.”

You let him brush past you, nothing more than a breeze on your shoulders as he disappears from the darkened bedroom. For a moment, you can’t follow him. All you can do is stand there and try to contain that sour, stinging, crying feeling in your eyes and nose because there’s no reason for you to be crying right now.

From the living room, he calls, rather abrasively, “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” you huff, and it is as wavering as it is insolent, so obviously the only word holding back a full-fledged deluge of tears.

One minute. One minute to sniffle and take deep breaths and wipe abashedly under your eyes because you refuse to be dramatic about this. Refuse to get over-emotional. You will not let it matter this much to you.

When you decide you can show your face without making a scene, you march out of his bedroom and straight past where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, keys in hand, to the front door.

He doesn’t move. You burn smoking holes into the dark wood of the door with your eyes, and the two of you are apparently at an impasse.

“I’m ready,” you eventually snap, always the impatient one between the two of you, casting a sharp glance over your shoulder.

“I’m not.”

“You said you would—”

“I know what I said,” Spencer cuts you off and shuts you up, “and I changed my mind. I’d prefer to talk about it before I take you home.”

By the time he finishes the sentence you’re already wrestling your phone from the depths of your bag in search of a ride sharing app.

“Okay, well I’m done talking because I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, so—”

“No, you’re done talking because this is what you do. You can never admit it when you want something because that would mean acknowledging that you’re a human being with emotions, and that’s too scary for you.”

Surely you misheard him. You turn around, a deep frown contorting your features.

“Excuse me?”

He only looks at you in that expectant, knowing way of his.

“It’s too scary so you run away. You’d rather burn your relationships to the ground and rebuild them with a new person every time than actually let someone in.”

“You don’t know me!” You yell.

“Do you actually think that’s true?” Spencer says, pushing off his perch against the counter, voice shrilling and raised slightly as he gets visibly agitated. “You think I’ve spent hours upon hours with you and I don’t know you at all?”

“You have no idea what I’m like in a relationship because this isn’t one. You have no fucking idea what I want, so do not presume to,” you seethe.

“You want a relationship. You wanted my friends to know you and you didn’t tell me that because you’re fucking terrified of the fact that I do know you. You can’t stand the idea that regardless of how many times you tell yourself it’s just sex, you have been vulnerable with me, and you’ve told me things you’ve never told anyone before, like why your last three relationships really ended, and how you constantly self-sabotage when you’re on the verge of getting what you want because you think you don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up!”

“No. I’m not just going to let you walk away from me like you did everyone else who could’ve ever cared about you because I know once you walk out that door you’ll stop responding to my calls and texts and I’ll never see you again, which is a juvenile pattern and completely unsustainable if you don’t want to keep pushing people away for the rest of your life!”

“God, Spencer, stop!” You sob, staggering back like you’ve been stabbed.

The urgency, the raw, desperate scratch of your voice, stops him in his tracks.

Every place an arrow penetrated a chink in your armor aches, and it hurts so much worse because he knew exactly where they were. You don’t know when or how it happened, but he’s right. Despite your most valiant efforts, Spencer Reid knows you. Somehow he crept in and grew over every limb like ivy. It’s crawled over your feet and up your legs and it’s keeping you there, rooted in place in his apartment, sobbing silently into the crook of your arm because you feel utterly paralyzed with fear.

Just as he’d said.

It’s silent for a long stretch of time, unquantifiable the same way the distance between the beach and the horizon is unquantifiable. It’s sprawling and infinite and desolate. The only relief from the drowning quiet is the occasional gulp of air or gasp from you which furthers your humiliation.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer finally whispers, soft and unsure like rays of weak sunlight over staggered tides, in the grey morning after a raging storm. It’s an attempt. It’s earnest and afraid.

The energy radiating off of him is so tangible that you can sense his desire to come near. To hold you. But that would be your worst nightmare come to fruition. This—this warbling and crying in front of him in silence in his dark apartment is god-awful enough. But to be comforted? For him to bear witness up close and personal to your humility and your ugly, jagged pieces—that inspires true catatonia. That is everything he said you were afraid of, and he was right.

You resent your human nature, and the fact that you care how his friends look at you and that it stung when they did so with little more than apathy. You hate that you care that he hasn’t told them about you. You hate that you feel so unimportant—because more than anything, you want to be fine with being unimportant.

You want to be fine. Constantly.

You hate that you feel. You hate that you care.

But you always have. And so fucking deeply.

Somehow, Spencer Reid is the only one who has ever noticed.

Eventually, his self-restraint snaps and he surges forward at the same time as you take a shuddering inhale and step back.

“Please don’t touch me,” you whisper. Afraid that if he did, his fingers would only sink into your flesh like decaying fruit. That you would disintegrate in his hands, and he’d finally see you’d been rotten the whole time.

He speaks softly, holding his hands up to show you he’s not a threat.

“Okay. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I need to go home.”

“I’ll—”

“No. I don’t want a ride. I’ll get a car.” You speak quietly. Efficiently. There’s no point in pretending this doesn’t feel catastrophic anymore.

His brows furrow. Like a moth to flame, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he draws nearer again.

“I’m not comfortable with you on the street at this hour.”

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” you insist, pleading, a wounded animal, because he doesn’t seem to understand how every casual notion of kindness is a violence, how he’s ripping into you and making it so you’ll never be able to put yourself back together. He can’t be kind like you’re easy to be kind to.

If you’re easy to be kind to, you are just as easy to hurt. Accepting that kindness is a sort of vulnerability you feel you can’t afford right now.

Another moment of silence, of stillness, as if you’re both bolted to the ground where you stand.

When he speaks it’s a blow to the chest because you’ve made him cry too.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, quietly, and a venomous self-hatred drips down your throat. Because you’re doing it again.

Maybe this is all you will ever be.

You fail to stifle a sob and Spencer steps closer still, saying your name desperately and so quietly like it’s his last rite.

And you try. You try harder than you ever have to stay in one place, to get a hold of your vibrating and to swallow all those slithery feelings and ignore every alarm telling you to panic when he reaches out to touch your arm because it’s never safe to let people in. But when his hand finally brushes you, it’s like a cow prod. You jolt backward.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” you whisper all in one harrowed breath, and there’s so much you’d like to say—you’re right, about everything, you do know me, you know what I want, I tried, I’m ashamed—but none of it matters. None of it is enough. He’s backed you into a corner of your own making, and the only way out is by pushing him aside even if it hurts you both.

So you don’t say anything else. You leave him there, in the dark of his own apartment, and you disappear down the hall.

Maybe this is all you will ever be.

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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lyrefromthesea · 3 months

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HEYYY IIDK IFHOU TAKE REQUEST BUTTTT HOW WOULD THE HASHIRA REACT TO A HYPER ENERGETIC READER WHO IS ONE SECOND DOING 1 THINK THEN THE NEXT A NEW THING LIKE THEY COULD BE PAINTING AND THE NEXT SKY DIVING

I love your writing style hehe

Male pillars x Reader - the art of being too energetic

author's note: i hope this request is to your liking. truthfully, i had trouble writing it at some points.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

where were you now? he swore you had been standing next to him a few moments ago. he looked around the streets, trying to spot you.

did you see a demon and moved forward without him? no, he would've heard it. he looked around the dark streets, not taking long to figure out where you went.

his feet dragged him towards the festival down the street. the area was filled with lamps and people wearing the prettiest kimonos or yukatas.

yet none of them stole his attention away from what mattered. you. you were in the middle of the crowd of dancing people. you spun around in fluid motions, a smile plastered on your face.

if it hadn't been for your uniform, you would've fitted right in. he moved forward without thinking, his hand soon grasping yours.

"now what were you thinking? we've been walking through the empty streets just a few seconds ago!" he said, his lips tugging up into a smile.

"couldn't resist, the music drew me in!" you laughed, twirling around him. he followed, both of you now dancing in sync. you didn't care for the eyes staring at the two of you. "are you mad?"

"you're too flamboyant to be mad at."

Obanai:

Obanai had been sitting on a tree, lazily watching you train. he didn't have anything better to do and you enjoyed his presence. however, when he looked down, you weren't training next to his tree anymore.

he looked to the side, flinching when you sat right next to him. "[name]!" he called out, looking at you surpised. he gave you a questioning look, waiting for your explanation.

"i found this." you answered, showing him a small acorn - or rather the rest of it. he looked at the cupule, you held it up by it's stem.

"and..?" he asked, still confused. it wasn't surprising to see you change your mood so quickly, but he found himself confused every time. especially now when you looked at Kaburamaru.

"and this!" you said, offering the snake to slither onto your arm. Kaburamu listened and Obanai watched in anticipation. the snake trusted you, just like Obanai did.

the cupule you held in hand was carefully placed on Kaburamaru's head, slowly pulling away to not knock it down. you blinked a few times and then looked at Obanai.

"it's a little hat! what do ya think?" you asked enthusiastically.

Obanai's eyes wandered between you and Kaburamaru, then back at you. "it's great. you should find him a scarf too."

"you're right!"

Rengoku:

"little flame? darling?!" he called out your name, desperately trying to find you. he had been sitting in the living room when he noticed the odd smell of smoke.

he had been worried sick, trying to find the source. his eyes widened upon seeing the clouds of smoke leaving your shared kitchen. however, when he ran inside, he was even more confused.

"darling..?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you. he could barely see it through all the fug, but he figured you were standing next to the stove.

when he came closer, he saw you more clearly - you were holding a bucket in your hand. his eyes fixed on the stove, hearing it sizzle quietly. it was wet and still slightly hot. he couldn't make out what had been in the pan, but it was burnt now.

"oh, Kyojuro!" you gasped, looking at the man. you hadn't heard him before. your eyes followed his gaze, your face growing red when you looked at the stove.

"i wanted to cook something, but then i remembered this book from a few years ago. i'm sure i had it somewhere around-" you babbled, stopping when you looked at him again.

you had expected him to be mad for nearly burning the whole house down, but he didn't look angry in the slightest. he took the bucket out of your hands instead, placing it to the side.

"let's clean this up first, we can search for the book later." he simply said, his motivated stance not leaving. you agreed, cleaning the kitchen together.

you only stopped when he suddenly spoke again, leaving you baffled.

"you know, i once burned my family's house down when i was smaller."

Sanemi:

Sanemi looked at you, your eyes staring back into his. his gaze hardened, daring you to move further.

"don't do it." he grumbled, his hands ready to grab you in an instant. if someone would've walked into the room, they would've surely questioned your sanity.

"i'm going to do it." you answered, giving him a mischevious smirk. his eyes narrowed, his body tensing up.

you had found a new hobby a few days ago, which happened to involve him. now he gave you his undivided attention when you were acting strange or gave him a knowing look.

in the blink of an eye you turned around and jumped backwards, Sanemi reacting immediately. he made sure to catch you in his arms, stopping you from falling and hitting the ground.

he let out an annoyed sigh, having caught you. again. he didn't even remember how many times it had been this week. "stop doing that!"

"you know you love it" you chirped, giving him a triumphing smile. he rolled his eyes, letting go of you.

but you were right, he did love it.

Giyuu:

"i want wagashi." you said, tugging at Giyuu's sleeve. normally, your request would've been completely fine, but now he was looking at you in disbelief.

"what?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. you came to a halt next to him, repeating what you've just said. "i want to eat wagashi."

he was at a loss of words. you had asked for daifuku nearly ten minutes ago. he had been walking to your favourite shop with you since then, knowing it would make you the happiest.

"we would have to walk in the opposite direction." he remarked, giving you a questioning stare. you blinked at him a few times, as if you were waiting for his answer.

he would've said no to anyone else, but he was used to your impulsive behavior. he couldn't explain why you made decision the way you did, but he thought of it as refreshing. he sighed, turning around on his feet.

"let's buy you some wagashi."

Gyomei:

"can i move now?" he asked. he had been sitting under the waterfall for about thirty minutes now. you had asked him to paint a picture of the moment, which he found himself agreeing to.

however, he hadn't heard anything from you since over fifteen minutes, making him question what was going on. the cold water of the waterfall hitting his back overshadowed most of the other sounds around him, but he managed to hear you stand up.

"Gyomei, i'm so sorry!" you apologized profusely, running towards the waterfall. he heard the splashs over your body pushing the water around you away, eventually feeling your hand pull on his.

"i completely forget about the painting. there was a cat and-" you stopped when you felt his head turn towards yours. you looked at him, wondering what could've made him forget about your mistake.

"a cat?" he asked, feeling you change the direction you were pulling him. it wasn't your strength to keep attention on one thing, but he couldn't care less.

besides, he shared your fascination over cats.

#kny #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #tengen uzui #tengen x reader #obanai iguro #obanai x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x reader #gyomei himejima #gyomei x reader

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monzabee · 6 months

Text

partition - lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Lewis are stuck in traffic in Paris, and decide to make the most of the situation.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: smut!! sex in a car, unprotected sex (because when have i written something with condoms lol), pwp, cringey ass nickname (blame beyoncé), manhandling, took me a long time to write it so it doesn’t make sense most part, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this was a passion project for me and you have no idea how happy i am with the way it turned out. There’s only one slight issue and it is that i wanted lewis to call the reader something other than peaches, but it is in the song, therefore please if you don’t like it blame the mother, aka beyoncé. Also, i was very unsure of whether i wanted to drag it out, or leave it as it is, so any feedback is appreciated. i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It took you forty five minutes to get ready – Lewis knows this because he’s been keeping time on his phone since the moment you’ve went into the bedroom side of your hotel room to get ready for the party he’s taking you to. You’ve always like to joke that he takes longer getting ready whenever the two of you have to go somewhere, but now that he is staring the timer on his phone, maybe he should use it as an evidence that you’re, in fact, wrong the next time you tease him about it. Not that he actually would do that, he is a gentleman, after all.

He’s just about to call out to you to hurry up when you beat him to it, “Baby, I need help, please!”

The nickname manages to bring the smallest of smiles to his face as he, without shouting anything back in response, gets up from his place on the couch and makes his way towards the bedroom. And that’s when his eyes land on you, in front of the full-sized mirror struggling to zip up your dress. In just a few more steps he’s right behind you, his fingers itching to dance against the smooth skin of your back. “I thought you were going to wear the suit you brought, Peaches,” his voice comes off muffled as he presses a few kisses to the expose skin on your shoulder.

“I forgot to bring the shirt that goes with it,” your voice comes off shaky as you feel his lips drag on your skin, and you can hear his soft chuckle. Craning your neck to give him a small smile, you join in his laughter, “Zip me?” With a yielding kiss, Lewis wordlessly grabs the small zipper between his fingers, and when the moves the zipper, it makes you shriek out another laugh, “Up, Lewis, zip me up please!”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, pulling the zipper upward with a swift motion. The dress seamlessly hugs your figure, and he makes a show of checking you out from the mirror in front of you before meeting your eyes. “There you go, all zipped up,” Lewis announces triumphantly, ignoring your disapproving headshake, giving you a gentle pat on the back. You turn around, facing him with a grateful smile, and he can't resist leaning in for a sweet kiss. The connection between your lips is brief but warm.

“You like my dress?” You ask him and his enthusiastic nod makes your smile widen in satisfaction, “You don’t think it’s too short?”

Instead of answering your question with words, instead Lewis tsks, letting his dissatisfaction with your question known. He gently takes one of your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours and prompts you to spin around to give him a better look of your dress. He wraps his arms around your middle, his hand still firmly intertwined with yours, and presses a kiss on your shoulder right where the strap of your dress meets your skin. “Wear any dress you want, Peaches, Miles and I can handle anyone who gives you trouble for it.”

Chucking at his protective, yet playful, response, you pat his arm around your middle with your free hand, “Speaking of the devil, we should probably get going if we don’t want him to kill us both for being late.” Lewis makes a sound of contest, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pulls you closer to himself. “Lu,” you let out a faux-exasperated sigh, “there is being late, and fashionably late, and I’m afraid we are way past the latter.

“Oh, darling,” you hear his breathy voice whisper against your skin as he places a couple of open mouthed kisses onto your exposed skin, “maybe we should stay back, hm? I can show you just how much I like your dress.” With one of his hands splayed on your stomach and his lips greeting your skin ever so often, you gasp when his lips find that one sweet spot he knows that makes your knees week. “Imagine how much fun we can have on our own, here, in our room.”

Throwing your head back to rest on his chest, a breathy chuckle falls from your lips, but you give him a stern look. “As much as I would love to stay back with you, we promised all of our friends we’ll be there.” As you rise up to your toes to give him a soft peck on the lips, you manage to break free from his arms, leaving him with a perpetual pout on his face. “When we get back, Mister Hamilton, you can do whatever you want to me.”

With your offer, the look on his face changes from a pout to a smirk. “Is that a promise, Peaches?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, darling,” you emphasise the word with an exaggerated version of his accent. “It’s a fact,” you return his look with a small smirk on your own as you add, “sir.”

Needless to say, the walk down to the lobby to get into your car is full of tension between the two of you. It’s not like Lewis can’t hold himself back, because he can. He has proven under many circumstances that he can withhold sex from you if he decides to do that. The most recent incident was when he caught you lurking around the Red Bull garage during the last race you’ve attended, which ended with you quite literally having to beg him to fuck you after a week of Lewis not even touching you. The walk down to the lobby is filled with stolen touches and knowing glances, with him trying to get you to kiss him every minute, not caring whether the people around you can hear him or not.

You give him a sideway look when the receptionist tells you that your limo for the night is waiting for you. “A limo?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him for response.

He simply shrugs a shoulder, leaning down to mumble his response into your ear, “Miles was in charge of the car,” with his fingers giving your waist a firm squeeze, he manages to earn a silent shriek from you, “I’m sure we could do with the extra space, darling.”

“Behave, Lu.” You chastise him, but the corner of your mouth upturns nonetheless and you let Lewis guide you towards the car waiting for you.

Because he is the perfect gentleman he opens your door and helps you into the limo, pressing a lingering kiss on your hand before joining you. The inside of the limo is darker than you expected, but the city lights of Paris do a good enough job of illuminating the car. The condensation on the limo’s windows has your attention and Lewis watches and you trailing your finger along the glass, tracing the line a raindrop left behind. He contemplates, for a second, whether being jealous over a raindrop for commanding your attention could be considered weird or not, but he decides that he doesn’t really care.

He places a hand on your thigh, his touch is both reassuring and possessive, but when you turn your head towards him to look at him, the way he smiles at you and his thumb caresses your knee is incredibly sweet. He is a duality in himself, Lewis is. And you enjoy the way city lights illuminate his face, his smile soft as he leans over the middle of the seat to give you a sweet peck on your lips.

“What was that for?” you ask him, giggling as you place your hand over his on your thigh. He doesn’t answer, only shrugs his shoulders and grins as he pulls away from you, instantly making you seek him out again. You’re about to comment on his suddenly playful mood, when you realise the car is slowly coming to a stop, and you let out a breath of frustration when the driver informs you that you’ve hit traffic. And traffic in Paris on a Friday night? It’s safe to say that both of you know that you are not going anywhere fast.

The overall wait is not that bad, you think. Even though the traffic is crawling at a snail’s pace, you’re more than happy to be in the car where you can be with Lewis without the overwhelming sound of EDM music and sweaty bodies pushing you around in a crowded club. The same, however, cannot be said about your boyfriend.

As time passes and you’re, still, stuck in traffic, you can see Lewis getting more and more frustrated with the situation. You try not to comment on how annoyed he looks and let him have his silent moment of irritation. You gently squeeze his hand, offering a reassuring smile. “It's alright, Lewis. We'll get there eventually.”

He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. It's just... I hate being late.” He lets out another frustrated sigh as he gently pats the empty seat between the two of you. “Can you just come closer, please?”

“Why?” you ask, eyes narrowed down in suspicion as he somehow manages to pull you closer to himself, not that you would try to get out of the situation otherwise – with the amount of times you’ve found yourself suddenly sitting in Lewis’ lap, it’s almost as if you can’t get away from him when he’s next to you. “We can’t do anything,” you whisper in warning when you catch him giving you literal bedroom eyes.

Smirking at the anxious tone of your voice, he lets his hand wander down to your hip as he quickly manoeuvres you into his lap, despite all your warnings, and calls out to the driver loud enough for him to hear his voice, “Hey mate, can you pull up the partition, please?” You hear the sound of the partition going up as Lewis fiddles with the couple of the buttons on the door handle, and soon after you hear the faint sound of music playing in the car. He meets your eyes when you give him a funny look, silently asking him what he’s up to, but he responds with a faint smile as he rests his hand on your lower back.

Rolling your eyes at the antics of the driver sitting, literally, under you, you turn your attention back to the scenery outside the window. Going back to tracing the raindrops falling onto the glass window, you choose to focus on the outside view as best as you can, given the current position you’re in. Although you’ve warned him against it, Lewis’ hand on the lower of your back drawing circles into your skin gives you other ideas you would otherwise choose to ignore in a public setting.

“What are you up to, Lewis?” you ask, lips twitching in a need to smile as you do your best to supress it.

He grins, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark as he gives you an innocent shrug of his shoulder. “Just making the most of the situation, darling.”

Letting out a resigning sigh, you try to focus back on the rain outside, but with Lewis’ hand getting bolder on your lower back and the fact that you find yourself shuffling in your seat with every subtle movement of the car makes it almost impossible to focus on anything but him. Deciding to find out just how much you can get away with, you tilt your head back slightly, your lips hovering near his ear. “Are you trying to start a scandal, Mr. Hamilton?”

He chuckles, the vibrations from his laughter sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “I told you we'd make the most of it, didn't I?” Hid hand continues its teasing dance, eventually dipping lower and even under your dress, and you have to fight the urge to let out a moan at the feeling of his skin on yours. “We can make it into a challenge,” he offers, his voice low as he suggestively whispers on your skin, “see just how scandalous we can be in the back of a limo.”

“What if someone sees?” You mumble, biting the corner of your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

His lips graze the curve of your neck, sending another shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked being watched, Peaches.” You can feel his lips curling into a smirk and a gasp leaves your lips as his hand grabs your thigh, making you shuffle closer to him as a result. “Is that a yes?” Your eyes glance over at the closed up partition, but you nod your head nevertheless, though that doesn’t necessarily satisfy the man beside you. “Words, darling.”

“Yes, please.” The words escape your mouth and your hands slide down his body to work on the zipper of his dress pants. He gives you an amused look as you pull his zipper down, and kneel on the floor between his legs as elegantly as you can given the current situation you’re in. You hear him say your name in warning, giving you a way out, even though he was teasing you about your voyeuristic tendencies – and you might’ve considered taking it, if it weren’t for the fact that having him in your mouth is the only thing you can focus on at the moment. So, instead of pulling yourself up on Lewis’ lap and let him have his way with you, you carefully take his cock out, making sure to keep your eyes fixed on his during the whole process.

Giving him a few gentle strokes, you lean forward to lick the first few drops of precum that drips out of the head of his cock. The hiss he lets out when you take the head of his cock between your lips and suck on it gently makes you smirk, and so you swirl your tongue around the tip to get another reaction out of him. With the way his left hand grabs the door, you know Lewis is trying so hard not to just grab you by your hair and guide you the way he wants to. Humming at the taste of him, you widen your lips to fit more of him in your mouth and wrap both hands around his cock to pump the rest of his cock that you can’t fit into your mouth. As you slowly start bobbing your head up and down on his cock, the sounds leaving his mouth make you want to quicken up your pace, though you refrain from doing so. Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling so turned on by a mere sound of your boyfriend’s pleasure, but you can’t help yourself as you inadvertently rub your thigs together.

You continue the movements of your mouth, taking more of him every time you bob your head down, and Lewis gives in at some point, threading his hands through your hair and guiding you down until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. “Fuck, Peaches,” his low groan sends tingles down your spine, “just like that.” He looks so beautiful, you think, with his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Your hands work together with your mouth, picking up speed when you realise you have him at your mercy like this – it even makes you wetter, and you feel the wetness between your legs. Your eyes water as a sudden move from Lewis thrusting his hips causes your gag reflex to remind you both that it is there, causing you to pull back with a huff and send a glare his way. But he apologises by caressing the apple of your cheek and easing you back onto his cock.

Your power move, however, doesn’t last long, as Lewis lets out a groan, pulling your head off of him and leaning forward to lift you onto his lap. It’s not necessarily intentional when you grind yourself against his cock, causing both of you to moan simultaneously. Your head is thrown back when you feel his lips gliding on your feverish skin, and you even let out a breathy laugh when your head lulls to the side and you see the handprints he’s left in the mirror. “Lewis,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low, suddenly very aware of the driver sitting in the front of the car, “if you don’t fuck me now, I think I might explode.”

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, his hands on your hips lifting you up to position you over his cock. But you have other plans in mind. He lets out a breathy chuckle as you drag your lips over the skin of his neck, tracing his tattoos as you leave feverish kisses along the way. “What are you doing?” He asks, hands busying themselves to get you out of your underwear.

Nipping at his skin, which earns you Lewis squeezing your hip in warning in return, but you give him a pout as you pull back. “You didn’t let me finish you off, you impatient brute.”

“Brute?” He echoes, not able to stop himself from laughing at your choice of words, “Are you going to be a brat, hm?” He is more than happy to play along when you get into these moods, though he also knows how you can get when you don’t get something you want. So when you fix him with a glare of your own, he lets out a deep sigh as he wraps your hair around one of his hands and pull your head back to bare your neck to him. “And to think I thought you were going to be a good girl, I guess that’s my fault.”

The whine that leaves you would’ve been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that he has you in the in the palm of his hand. “It’s not fair,” another whine leaves you, and you attempt rolling your hips against his erection resting against you in between your legs, but before you can find a rhythm, he halts your movements by tugging on your hair again. Curling your fingers around his shirt, you huff a breath of annoyance, whining out his name. “I’ll be good,” you promise, and let out a relieved sigh when he lets go of your hair to give you more freedom to move; you thank him with a few kisses.

“I know you will.” Lewis mumbles, hands finding your underwear again, but he quickly becomes frustrated when he realises the position you’re in will make it hard for him to get you out of them. So, taking an executive decision, he decides to rip them off your body. He gives you a look when you whine at the loss of your favourite pair, and he tries to salve the situation with a promise of buying you another pair. When you feel him between your legs, without any barriers this time, he is not surprised to see your immediate reaction. Though Lewis enjoys when you take control, he is impatient as he raises your hips, despite all your protest, and positions you over his cock.

You only have a few moments to adjust when he eventually lowers you onto his cock, and the initial stretch has you gasping out his name. He gives you a few minutes to adjust before slowly starting to move your hips, each move making you take him deeper until he’s buried to the hilt in you. One of your hands is pressed to the window for support out of reflex, trying to keep still as he uses the grip he has on your hips to move you in the rhythm he wants. It matches the mood pretty well, you think, everything is rushed and the sounds of the traffic and the music playing surrounding you becomes muffled as the pleasure takes over your body. You have to physically stop yourself from screaming every time he slams you down on his cock, faster and harder each time, relentless as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

Trying your best to match his thrusts, you grind your clit on every down stroke, making him somehow go even deeper, and making you moan even louder. There is an arrogant smirk on his face that you would love to wipe off, but with the way he’s making you feel, you decide to get him away with it. Dragging your hands down his shirt, you suddenly feel offended by the fact that he is covering his chest, and decide to get him out of it. This plan would’ve worked better if it weren’t for the fact that you end up ripping the buttons rather than being gentler with it. Not that Lewis complains about it, since this is most definitely not the first time something like this has happened. Your hands work on their own as you glide them through the smooth skin, slightly damp due to the warm temperature of the car, but every contact with his skin seems to make you roll your hips faster and harder.

He has to close one of his hands over your mouth since the moans that leave you get considerably higher in volume with every waking second. His lips curl up in a smile as you silently beg him with your eyes, your movements becoming sloppier with every down stroke. “I’m going to remove my hand and help you come, but you’re going to be a good girl and keep quiet, okay?” His voice carries a warning tone, and you frantically nod, assuring him that you’ll follow his instructions.

Keeping true to his word Lewis takes away his hand, making you take a deep breath as he grabs your hips. His hold on your hips is bruising, and you’re certain you’ll have marks to remember tonight for a while – especially with the way he uses his hold to move you on his cock in a rhythm he wants to. It doesn’t take you a long time to feel the overwhelming pleasure starting to build up in your lower stomach. “Please,” you whine, nails biting into his skin as your other hand is splayed over the window for support, “I’m so close.”

“Come on,” Lewis encourages you, hands working you over his cock even faster to get you where you need to be, “give it to me, I got you.” And with him looking at you like that, using your body however he wants to? It doesn’t take long for you to feel yourself coming around him, head thrown back and lips parted in a silent scream. With a last thrust, you feel him also spill himself into you, the act being greatly intimate despite the current predicament you’re both in at that moment.

A sound of surprise leaves the back of your throat when he begins to move under you, positioning you to stand on all fours as he positions himself behind you. “Wha– What are you doing?” You ask, craning your neck to look at him with hazy eyes.

“Oh, Peaches,” he coos, one of his hands caressing your skin down your thighs and up towards your hip again, “did you think we were done? We still have a long way back to the hotel.”

“But, the club?” You find yourself asking, cheeks burning when he uses his finger to push the wetness dripping out of you back in.

“We were never going to make it to that club anyway,” Lewis drags his lips up your spine until he reaches your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck before whispering, “what do you think? Should we make the most out of the way back?”

Your eyes slide towards the handprints left on the window, the Paris lights shining through the streaks both of your handprints have left behind. Maybe under different circumstances you would’ve insisted you go to the club to meet with your friends. But at that moment? You instinctively push your hips back onto his, and feel his smile on your skin as he runs his hands through your body, ready for another round simply because you two can’t keep away from each other.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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goldenstring6123 · 2 months

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Lnds: Flowers for the man

Author's note: Requested by Anon! this was interesting to write as I have no idea how to make it different for each character, hehe. I did my best though and I hope you guys like it! Warning: Lengthy read! 5k words! reader is not the mc but works as a hunter (in Xavier's part)

ZAYNE: Blue roses Mystery, aspiration & admiration

The city park was as beautiful as ever, clean and quiet, with only a few people walking about and doing their business. It was Monday, after all, and most people were at work. Meanwhile, you were able to snag a day off, which was pretty rare.

It was too much of a nice day to spend alone, and luckily, a particular surgeon was also on his day off.

You took a little bit more time walking towards your designated meeting area, enjoying the cool spring breeze as it brushed your hair from your shoulders. Off into the distance, you could see that tall silhouette standing by, looking at his phone, before pressing it against his ear.

With a much quicker pace, you came closer.

"Yvonne, it's my day off." Zayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose shortly after. "Yes, do tell him I'd appreciate it if he respected my decision," he paused. "Yes, I informed him, and I finished all my paperwork before I left last night."

From the tone of his voice, it seemed like Zayne was slowly transitioning into a sour mood. You looked around, almost instinctively looking for something to cheer him up.

Maybe there's a stall somewhere offering some sweet treats?

There were none in the vicinity. Except for the quaint flower store. Can flowers cheer up Dr. Zayne? It can certainly keep him company in the office until it wilts. You looked for a flower that suited the doctor. Perched atop a wooden display of colorful flora, hyacinths, cacti, snake plants, and… blue roses? That's unique!

You made an effort to tiptoe to the inside of the store, keeping your eyes on Zayne, who failed to notice your presence and was still on his phone call, his sour mood amplifying his annoyance.

The bell by the door emitted a wonderful chime to your ears, and from the counter emerged a beautiful lady wearing a cherry-colored apron. She smiled at the sight of you approaching.

"Hello, ma'am, how much for the blue flower in front?" you asked. She named her price and took one out of the flower fridge, swiftly and professionally folding some colorful paper to wrap it around with. She finished off with the golden ribbon, tying the whole thing together.

You peek out through the front window. Perfect timing! Zayne was no longer on his phone. His back was turned towards you, and you couldn't help but admire the broadness of his shoulders and the slimness of his waist in his dress shirt.

In order to surprise him, you hurriedly ran to bury your face in the crook of his back. As expected, he flinched at the sensation before recognizing an arm that wrapped around his waist. "You're here." He was trying to turn around to look at you, but you stuck to his back like a mouse stuck to a glue trap.

"Close your eyes first, Zayne," you chirped. He stopped moving.

"Is this one of your pranks again?"

"Oh, just do it! C'mon, please?" You cooed at him and buried your nose against his back once more, taking a sniff at the faint detergent scent. You could see his elbows shift and his face rise, lightly covering his eyes. You let go and get on your knees as if you're proposing. With the singular blue rose raised up to him, you tell him to open his eyes. "You can look now, Dr. Zayne."

He slowly opened his eyes, seeing that you were not in his line of sight. He looked back and then forward again before looking down. Zayne's eyes were devoid of thought before slowly, a sheen of light coated his eyes, and the image of you kneeling and offering him a blue rose finally sank in.

At that moment, his heart stopped beating, and his mind conjured up only a single thought. This woman enamors me beyond human comprehension. The park was quiet, with no one in sight—only the two of you on the trail, sandwiched by beautiful pink and green trees. Faintly, he could hear church bells ringing in the distance.

"A blue rose for the coolest surgeon in Akso Hospital," you grinned. You got up and waited for him to take the rose; he did, but before you let him say anything, you pulled him by his collar and roughly placed a quick kiss before pulling an inch away and whispering, "And a devoted lover to the luckiest girl in Linkon City."

Everything became much more evident at that instant. Any doubts Zayne has on his mind, any insecurities, or any worries about the future. Everything dissipated like snow on a sunny day. Zayne's smile appeared as you pulled away. His gaze was turning softer, and his cheeks showed that tinted pinkish hue you always adored.

The sight of his annoyed face became a distant memory. "Thank you; I'll put this on the vase on my desk in the hospital." Zayne placed a kiss on your forehead.

"You're welcome! You do your best to make my day, so I want to do so as well." Your fingers intertwined as you and your partner began to walk to wherever you were going.

"You always make my day; I've told you that countless times."

"Yeah, but a while ago, you looked like you were having a bad time with that phone call."

Both of you stopped in your tracks, and you barely saw his face in surprise. "You saw that? I apologize, that was…"

"There's nothing wrong about it, Zayne."

He lets out a sigh before reaching out for your palm. Without a word exchanged between you, his hands made gestures atop your palm, encompassing it with a cool breeze and glowing blue hue. For a brief moment, your palm turned icy cold until it lifted slightly. The image of a small blue, icy ring appeared on your palm. It had a small, beautiful flower as its focal point, and you couldn't help but marvel at its beauty.

"This is my gift for the flower." He smiled, picking the ring up and sliding it onto your middle finger.

"Dr. Zayne, are you proposing to me?!" you jokingly asked, exaggerating your tone to not make him feel pressured.

He chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. "Not yet, but maybe in the near future," he mumbled. "You deserve a better ring than the one I made."

"Oh, so romantic, you're going to make me have heart problems."

"I certainly hope not." Zayne let out a hearty laugh at your joke.

XAVIER: Daisies Innocence, New beginnings and cheerfulness

"Xavier?" you called out in the forest. Only the birds responded to your call. "Xavier, Nero said he was sorry!" you added.

Still, there no response.

This wouldn't have happened had Nero been more careful.

It was summer, and unfortunately, the wanderers were at their peak, disturbing more provincial areas than usual. You and Xavier had to be dispatched on opposite sides of the city, reducing your time together. It had been exactly a month and a half since you and Xavier met face-to-face, and tomorrow should be the only time when you have matching leaves.

If only Nero didn't screw up the day-off schedule he submitted to Jenna.

Well, you can understand Xavier's frustrations, and quite honestly, you predicted that he would at least complain, but to see him walk out? It was something.

The forest you were in was no stranger to you. This was the small buffer space between the city and the field where you and Xavier liked to hang out. It was once a decrepit land devoid of flora and fauna, yet it developed and managed to change into a beautiful flower field over time. On the horizon, you can see that area; with it, you can see Xavier standing and staring at the blue sky.

Your heart ached at the sight. He looked lonely.

You took a step closer, stepping on the patches of grass that led to his spot. It had been a while since you visited the field, and you couldn't help but reminisce about the calm mornings you'd spent with him here. Xavier heard your footsteps and felt your presence but ultimately chose to stay in the same position, not sparing you a glance. After all, the look of silent anger still lingered on his face. Turning your back to him as well, you squat down to your knees, hugging them while fiddling with a white, singular daisy near your shoes.

"Nero says he's sorry," you stated matter-of-factly.

"Of course he would," Xavier replied. He let out a sigh, easing out the tension in his back and shoulders. "I just… I was looking forward to our day off." He can't help but rub the back of his neck, absorbing the fact that he walked out rudely on his co-worker.

"I was too, Xavier," you replied back. Silence.

"I missed you a lot." You picked the daisy flower and watched as one tiny petal fell onto the grass; it looked like a small cloud falling gently. "I know we call and text every day, but that isn't enough for me either, so I get why you're mad." Gentle, comforting words escaped your lips.

"I'm sorry you had to see me walk out," he whispered.

"There's nothing to be sorry about."

Another minute of silence; this time, something was yearning to be said, not by you but by Xavier.

"Things are dangerous for us hunters," Xavier began. "You never really know when you or someone else can die at the hands of wanderers." The image of the past flashed itself into his vision. A colleague is sitting up against a rock, bleeding and clutching the only picture he has of his wife and daughter. "And… it's frightening, even for me. I guess I'm lucky enough to work for the same company as you, but knowing what we need to go through daily, I just want to make the most of our time whenever possible." Because I don't want to regret not seeing you in case something happens. His words didn't need a reply from you. You twisted the flower's trunk, wrapping the stem's end towards the bottom of the flower. You weaved it together and slipped it on your finger. It nearly slid to the side because you made the loop too big. You took it off and knelt on the grass; hearing that crunch was satisfying. Xavier was still facing away from you even when you turned.

You tugged on the hem of his shirt, and finally, he turned to you, looking down as you knelt on the grass on one knee. No words were exchanged between you at that moment; only the chirping of birds filled the silence in the air. Your hand gently took his own, and he stared promptly.

The daisy looked even more beautiful the moment you slid it onto his ring finger. It looked bright and wonderful against his long and slender fingers. You kissed his hand gently, like kissing an infant. Your lips brushed against his knuckles like silk gliding against his skin.

You finally looked at him as well, and you could immediately catch the redness of his ears. "Cheer up, Xavier." You cooed at him. "There's no way of telling when we're going to last see each other, and hopefully we don't ever go through that."

Xavier helped you get on your feet and took a small step closer to you. "So, let's spend every moment we can together, even just 30 minutes during our lunch times. Besides, we're just busy because it's the summer. Any other season, we're good to go."

"Yeah, you're right," he replied, intertwining your fingers together with ease. He wrapped his other hand around you and nudged you for a hug, which you happily gave him. Unknowingly, he looked at the hand with the flower ring, a smile creeping up his face.

At that moment, all his anger had subsided, and the memory of you sliding on the ring was the only thought that occupied his head. Xavier likes giving you flowers, and you know he likes being given food, but this little, simple gift felt more special than anything else.

His heart thumped against his chest very loudly, and you could only chuckle, finally clinging to his neck. You kissed his jaw and buried your face at the crook of his neck, letting out a breath you unconsciously held in. It was nice to know that Xavier was no longer angry.

"I love you," you told the wind.

"I love you too." Xavier's embrace made your heart overflow with happiness, and even with that simple gesture, it was more than evident that you were captivated with each other in more ways than one.

RAFAYEL: Hydragreas Gratitude, understanding & heartfelt emotions

'Do me a favor, please,' Thomas pleaded. 'Rafayel has been in a foul mood since yesterday, and I don't know why, but he has an upcoming exhibition next Tuesday. He says he doesn't want to come. It's really important and could cost him his career and mine.'

Those were the poor words of Thomas, who called you yesterday at 12 in the morning. You can't remember exactly why Rafayel was in a bad mood, but you were certainly sure that you agreed to help everyone just so you could go back to sleep.

You can't help but let out a sigh. It was already hard enough to ask Rafayel on a date with his moodiness, but you managed to get him to meet you at the park. He was against it at first, making excuses like he was out on a trip or doing a painting, but with a bit more perseverance, you managed to let him say yes.

Now, the next problem is: How do you cheer up a grumpy boyfriend? A kiss wouldn't be enough, that's for sure. It's too early to coax him with special methods. He doesn't really like sweets, and he's super sensitive when he's mad; you can't make fun of him.

Your boots clacked rhythmically on the pavement, your eyes wandering about for inspiration or a clue on how you could brighten Rafayel's day. What's something that can make him blush? That's certainly one way of getting rid of his anger.

Something unexpected. Something you haven't really given to him yet.

Something fragrant.

Colorful

Something from the shop directly beside you. "Bloomscape" is the small wooden signage displayed. A beautiful, tall plant crept up the brick corners of the single-floor structure. A stair-like display rack carried baskets of different green grasses and arranged bouquets.

A light bulb popped over your head.

You made your way inside the quaint shop. You explored your options, admiring the wonderful displays of the plants. The colors were so vibrant and beautiful, similar to the paints that Rafayel would use in his works. There was one bouquet that caught your eye the most. It looked like an arrangement for a wedding, dawning a light blue hue mixed with white roses and round leaves. He would like this. You could imagine him smelling the thing.

"I'll take one of those," fingers pointed at the arrangement. The lady nodded and took the best one off of the display, placing it in a paper bag for you. You hummed as you left the little shop, eager to show the flowers to your boyfriend.

Rafayel sat on a lonesome bench hidden from the main pathway of the park. You've seen him once or twice there, so it wasn't really much of a surprise when he was there now. According to him, he liked that seat because it was under a tree and away from people. He could think and bask in silence at that particular spot.

You lowered your stance as you came to approach him. Carefully avoiding the sticks to not make a sound. You placed the paper bag down on the ground and carefully snaked both of your arms around his waist. He flinched at an unexpected sensation, wanting to turn his head, but you didn't let him by lowering your head to his shoulders.

"Hello!" you chided.

"Did you really have to sneak up on me like that?" Rafayel sounded a tad bit annoyed.

"I do," you replied back. "Close your eyes."

"Close my eyes? Why?" Rafayel raised an eyebrow. You can't help but intently stare at him. He stared back, the wrinkle on his eyebrows disappearing. "Alright, fine, but I'm leaving if there's anything that involves cats." Rafeyel closed his eyes.

"No peeking!" You hopped over the bench as you would over a barricade and took out the flower from the bag, immediately getting on your knees. You straightened your back and held the bouquet properly, stretching it closer to his face.

"Open," you ordered. He squinted and looked down at the blue and white glow of the flowers before letting his eyes go wide. He blinks once and then repeatedly. His hands wrapped around my own, and he finally held onto it, somewhat perplexed.

"Did you, did you just…" He scoffed, looking away before looking back at you with a betrayed face. "Did you just propose to me? Wasn't I the one who was supposed to do that? Are we switching gender roles now?" His expression was undoubtedly something, but you were 100% sure it was not anger.

Not when his ears were as red as a tomato. Rafayel was simply bluffing. I guess this guy has a hard time saying thank you when he's flustered.

"I would if I gave you a ring," you mumbled. You dusted off your knees and slipped both of your palms into his jaws, urging him to look up at me. Rafayel's eyes were bright underneath the dispersed light of the trees. "I heard from Thomas that you were in a bad mood, so I wanted to cheer you up."

"Thomas, that snitch." He pouted and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'll get back at him when I see him in his office!"

"You can't blame a guy who wants you happy." I squish his cheeks and plant a kiss on his puckered lips. "He knows you were in a bad mood; cut him some slack." Rafayel's frown quickly dissipated into nothingness, and he voluntarily turned his head to the side and then pressed it against my stomach.

Were you cheering him up? You honestly weren't so sure, but Rafayel looked like he needed that gift to brighten his day.

"I wanted to cheer you up in a new way, so I got you flowers. Do you like them? They're the prettiest in the whole shop."

"Yes, they're very pretty," Rafayel mumbled again, his ears turning slightly pinkish. You were caught off guard when he turned his head up to look at you, again frowning. "But I'm more pretty than these flowers, right?" His eyes were staring deep into yours, impatiently waiting for that sweet yes from those lips.

There it was—a perfect opportunity to coax him. "You can be if you give me a smile."

He looked at you like he was being deceived, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like he normally would. "So you're saying I'm ugly when I don't smile? That's a mean thing to say coming from my girlfriend!"

A breeze blew past you two, sweeping your soft hair to your cheeks. You laughed at your boyfriend's endearing childishness, recalling why you really love to poke fun at Rafayel sometimes. "You're the prettiest fish in the sea, Rafayel. The most wonderful flower in the garden, the cutest cat in Linkon City—"

"Cat?!"

You purposefully hook your index finger underneath his chin and say, "And the most handsome boyfriend of mine." Before letting him say anything, you took the opportunity to peck him on the lips to shut him up for the time being. You leaned back to study his oh-so-beautiful face. Off of a peck, he was already intoxicated. How adorable. "As of now, at least." You stuck your tongue out to mock him.

"I'll pretend that I didn't hear that." He wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you closer to his lap, finally kissing you deeper. "Thank you for the flowers; I appreciate it."

That's a job well done for you. You deserved a treat for making your boyfriend happy.

"Alright, now that you're no longer mad, let's go to a restaurant. They serve the best shrimp pasta and fermented wine." With an outstretched hand, you waited for him to take it. Rafayel chuckled and sniffed the bouquet, locking his fingers with yours and swaying it forward and backward.

SYLUS: Black Dahlias Sadness and betrayal or Grace beneath pressure

The warm evening breeze was a wonderful sensation against your chilly cheeks and nose. It had been a while since fall had started, and the city was basked in a warm hue of orange and yellow leaves.

You can't help but shiver in your scarf. Maybe you should've worn more layers.

It was rare for Sylus to ask you to meet in broad daylight. Knowing him, he'd usually be at work during the afternoons and evenings, and he frequently worked in the N109 zone rather than in Linkon City.

'I have some business in Linkon City today; let's meet in the afternoon.'

"Wow, so you won't even ask if I'm free?"

'I know your schedule is free, sweetie; our calendars are synced.'

'Plus, you owe me another date for sleeping in on me last time.'

'hehe, alright. I'll meet you at the park. By the fountain? '

'by the fountain.'

It was rare to see the park so empty. Usually, at a time like this, the park should be filled with children running about with their pets and families running amok in the dull grassy field.

There was a magazine stand at the corner where you and Sylus would meet. While you were a few meters away, you could see him reading a newspaper and conversing with the old stall owner, who was reading the same material. You can't hear their conversation, but Sylus was certainly not happy.

You could recognize that frown anywhere, especially those knitted eyebrows. Uh-oh.

It's been a while since you've last seen that face, and of all times, it's reappearing now. A moody syllable is someone who's a bit hard to cheer up, and you don't want to waste the evening trying to do so. What can you do to cheer him up?

A small wind chime caught your attention. You turned to your left and saw a cute but lonesome little flower shop and a couple exiting holding a bouquet of flowers. The arrangements were undoubtedly pretty, especially under the warm pixie lights, yet none of the flowers really suited Sylus. In fact, Sylus and Flowers really don't seem to belong with each other, but maybe that's why you were enticed to buy him one in the hopes of cheering up his mood.

You entered the store, and the lady greeted you with a hello.

"Good evening. Do you have a flower that looks—?" Your thoughts wandered for a split second, reveling at the fact that you were unprepared for this conversation. "—cool?"

"Cool?" The flower lady tilted her head in confusion, much like yourself. "Like a cold flower? Or a blue-colored plant?"

"Oh, no, no." You scratched the back of your head and went a little closer. "A flower that suits an image of a cool, mysterious person." Unsure of how helpful that would be, you stared at the lady in anticipation, hoping that she would get what you meant.

"Hm, we have peonies." She gestured to various peonies of different colors, ranging from pink to a dark maroon shade. The dark-colored flower is certainly pretty, but it doesn't look suitable for Sylus. You shook your head.

"Anything else?"

"How about…" She disappeared into the back room and brought out a small bucket full of beautiful black flowers. "These? Black Dhalias; they're freshly delivered." You can't help but stare at the flowers. The image of the flowers on his nightside table popped into your head. It looked just about right.

"I'll take four of these, please."

The lady arranged it for you beautifully and even gave you a discount. Before you left, she gave you a wave of goodbye. You were suddenly hit once more by the cold autumn air and the dimming lights of the sky. The lamps were now turned on, illuminating the park beautifully.

You sneaked around the corner and saw Sylus gone, yet he was sitting on a bench, reading a different magazine. A pink magazine hat looks uncanny in his grasp. You tiptoed to the back of the bench and squeezed the flowers in between your thighs. You gently covered his eyes.

"Hah, brave of you to attack me from behind, Sweetie." His voice let out a melodious chuckle at your actions.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting; I had to pick something up from nearby." You still kept your hands over his eyes. "It's my gift for you."

"Is it a gun? Did you manage to steal a gun from your company's armory and give it to me?"

"That would be a crime, Sylus, and no, it's not a gun; it's something you wouldn't receive from any other girl except for me. Take a guess."

Sylus was bemused by what you said. He's received many things in his life and is not short of a single object. His fingers closed the pink date spot magazine and chucked it to the side before crossing his legs.

"A kiss?"

"I give you that practically every day!"

"Is it another plushie?" "No..try again."

"Your Lingerie—"

"SYLUS!" you shrieked, stopping him from finishing his words. "You're bad at guessing; you know what? Just keep your eyes closed." You carefully peel your hands away from his eyes. Sylus didn't move an inch.

"Are they closed?"

"My eyes are perfectly closed. I can't see a thing, sweetie."

While he sat on the bench, you made your way around him and got on your knees. The bouquet rustled in your clasp, making Sylus shift slightly in his seat. You held the flowers up to him, and their wafting scent gave him a cue to open his eyes.

"I got you flowers. As an apology for being late and sleeping on our last date," you let out a goofy grin while waiting for Sylus to grab the gift from your palms. He grabbed it and placed it in his own arms.

For a minute, he stared at the flowers in disbelief. You were right: It was a gift he never received from any other girl. Sylus thought that the first and last time he would receive a flower was on his deathbed, which was practically never. Still, here he is, sitting in a park on a random evening, his lover overtaking him with a flower like she was about to ask for his hand in marriage.

A genuinely baffling sight, even for the leader of Onychinus.

He was certainly the type to dislike flowers, especially the vibrant ones, but the black dahlias you gave him suits him well. The scene was also beautiful and would most definitely fit on the vase he has in his office. Absent-mindedly, Sylus stood up, which caught you off guard. For the first time, you couldn't comprehend the expression on his face. He certainly wasn't angry, nor did he look disgusted, but he wasn't happy either.

"I'm giving you five seconds to run, sweetie," he said. You froze at his words, bewildered. Was he not happy with the flowers?! Did he not like them?!

"Five." He started counting.

It was like all hell broke loose at that instant. Before anything else could happen, you got up, disregarding the dirt on your knees, and ran towards the city. You dug your own grave when you gave him the flowers. With all the speed you can muster, you manage to get to the street where the city is. You crossed the road and turned back, seeing Sylus chasing you among the throngs of people.

What the heck is wrong with him?! He doesn't seem particularly mad, but what did he really work up over the flowers?

You turned into an alleyway in between two random shops. Your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, and you just needed to stop for a bit. The brick wall of the store pressed against your coat, and puffs of smoke escaped from your mouth as you wheezed in silence.

"Where is he?" you mumbled. You peeked out of the alley only to sense that ever-familiar, spine-chilling breeze when he teleported. In a blink of an eye, you were yanked deeper into the dim area, Sylus pushing you against the cold and damp wall.

"I caught you," he stated, blocking any way for you to exit.

You balled your fist and aimed for his gut, lightly jabbing it. "What the heck?!" Relief washed over you like a tide when you saw the gentle smile on his face. The fear of his wrath disappeared rather quickly, which made your muscles relax. "I thought you were going to kill me!"

He kept his lips shut. Under the dark shadow of the alleyway, you could still see the vibrant red glow of his eyes. Quietly, you leaned forward, letting your chest press against his own, and your feet raised you the highest they could. He was a tall man, and it was hard to reach his lips, so with one hand, you yanked his turtleneck, and with your other hand, you wrapped it around his neck.

He resisted first and let him laugh through his nose. Softly, your lips pressed against his own, and you patiently waited for him to return the gesture; he did, albeit rougher and hungrier. You didn't know how it happened, but the next moment, his tongue was inside your mouth, exploring every crevice and getting that sweet and flavorful taste like a deprived man.

Your body burned at the sensation; erotic sounds were escaping from both of your lips. His hand rested on the dip of your back, holding you closer to him. To Sylus, you weighed nothing more than a weighted blanket; moreover, you were warm to the touch, which he found soothing. "Why did you make me run?"

"Because I know you'll find a place to hide from me," Sylus said, tucking stray hair behind your ear. "And I get to kiss you out in public."

"You…know you could've just kissed me in the park, right?"

"So you want to let people see us all hot and bothered?" You could see his eyebrow arch.

"Fair point. Kiss me again," you demanded. "I need compensation for that flower."

Sylus let out a laugh. "What kind of person demands compensation for a gift? You're certainly the only one who does that, sweetie." Again, he pushed himself closer to your face and pulled on your back. "But I'll happily oblige."

Amidst the noise of the busy streets in autumn, hidden from the blaring lights of the vibrant city, you and Sylus remain hidden in your own little alleyway, holding each other like teenagers in love at the peak of their youth.

'What a beautiful season,' you thought.

Author footnotes: I'm trying to go back to a story-telling format. It's been a while since I've done that! Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

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godslino · 8 months

Text

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

#bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan fic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fic #skz fanfiction #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #bang chan #stray kids #skz #first date series

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signedkoko · 8 months

Text

Signed with Love - Overlords & Sins

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely readers! Its valentines/love letters from your favourites 🖤

Series Parts Hazbin Cast - Here! Helluva Cast - Here!

Dear to the dearest,

You've always got me running myself sappy, but I'd like to offer my hand to you this valentines.

You know how popular Ozzie's is on Valentines, so how about a nice spot for brunch and then we pick a song to perform together tonight? Just you and I on stage, surrounded by people who wish they had what we do~

Eagerly awaiting your reply,

Prince of Lust, and yours forever;

Asmodeus

Heya lovely!

I'm so fucking excited to be spending valentines with you this year, and I don't say it enough so here it is in writing!

Normally I throw a party but I don't know, I kinda rocked with the galentines dinner you suggested, I'm thinking we invite some of our closest and have a hell of a good night, yeah?

You're the only party that matters,

Your Queenie Bee🐝

Mi vida,

I think it's about time we get away from work and the girls, how about we take valentines off?

I've always wanted to show you some of the places I used to frequent, since you always ask it only seems fair. I'm sure you'll adore the cuisine, I miss it dearly.

I'll help you get ready before we leave,

C. Carmine

Sup hottie!

How about we ditch my valentines show and leave it to the performers to take care of shit? I much rather be with ya anyways.

Anything you want, just tell me. I'll take care of everything from there babe.

Love ya more than you know,

MAMMON

Sweetest darling,

I reckon its about time I follow my own advice and pursue the one I love this valentines.

We can take a break from everything and go sight seeing! I don't get away from the town much, but everything you tell me sounds exquisite. We can go somewhere with a nice tune and I can really show you how I used to swing!

What do you say?

Your Rosie

Querida cariño,

Theres no reason for me to ask what I already know, and I don't want to hear another valentines joke about my name.

I know work has kept me busy babe, but this Valentines its just you and I. We can laze around all you want or you can drag me wherever, I'll make sure we get in.

Like a moth to a flame, eh?

Val.

Heya gorgeous,

Ive got two outfits in our sizes that could use a little test drive around town this valentines.

Already booked the photographer, so I hope you'll come model with me for my end february magazine, yeah? If you do a good job we can do dinner and drinks after, though you've never disappointed me, dolly!

You know I love you, always have & will

Velvette

Hope you're doing well, angel

You always joke that I can't write for shit so heres proof. In fact, I'm here to ask you to be my valentine.

I already know its a yes anyway, so how about I let you in on the itinerary? I got breakfast at the local spot booked with live music, an afternoon just the two of us, and for dinner I have our main reservation and a backup in case you don't like it.

Romantic or what?

Owner & CEO of VoxTek, Beloved valentine of you, Vox

Greetings,

Tis with great pleasure that thou is still by thine side after such an overwhelming year.

We must beg thou has considered indulging such an old soul in an evening of romance. Perhaps thou would dare to consider looking upon their bed, for there lays a gift.

Yours affectionately and forevermore,

Authors Note - Who are you expecting a letter from? Who will you accept? I'd love to know! Heres to another part of the valentine sseries 🖤

1K notes · View notes

plasticferal · 8 months

Note

hiii girly!!! could u like write something where reader and matt have sex & get caught?? maybe by his brothers lmao, have a great day lovely :)

caught in the act | matt sturniolo.

authors note: thank you for your sweet words! love always. i hope you enjoy this quick little 1.9k words.

warnings: 18+ content. choking, dom!matt, fem!reader, explicit language, slight exhibitionism, getting caught of course. reader discretion is advised.

matt's big hand engulfs your neck, giving a squeeze with warning to cover up your loud moans as he sucks a purple mark below your ear. he's extra rough tonight, leaving your skin burning and stinging with the grip he has on you.

“your brothers are gonna hear us” you grasp at matt's tattooed shoulder blade, nails scratching into his skin as he eats away at your neck like a vampire, so desperately.

“don’t care” he speaks into your skin, making you roll upward into his naked body.

your head is almost hanging completely off the edge of his bed as he rolls his hips between your thighs, teasing your entrance with his hard cock but not thrusting into you just yet.

matt kisses and sucks at every inch of your skin, leaving bite marks, and trails of saliva. the room fills with the sound of your body sticking to his own, and the small groans he's muffling while trying to keep quiet himself knowing his brothers are in the house, somewhere, wide awake.

you two never usually fool around this early in the night, the sun has barely set, but when he sauntered into the bedroom fresh from a shower with a white towel hanging low on his hips, hair dripping wet, and drops of water dancing down his bare chest, he became so distressingly irresistible.

it wasn't take long before the towel dropped, and both of your clothes scatter the floor. he carries himself with such an unintentional dominance. the slightly sour look on his face, the serious manner he holds when he's lost in deep thought, it makes him so endearing.

you can still smell his body wash lingering in the air as your bodies rub and grind into each other. you nibble at matt's ear, and his throat shakes with pleasure as he tries to swallow the sound.

matt tightens his grip around your throat, looking down at you with a sharp glare before slamming a rough, almost painful kiss to your lips. if you weren't so focused on the feeling of his dick rubbing against your inner thigh near your soaked cunt, you're sure you'd wince or complain at the abrasiveness.

he pulls back, making you pout at the loss of contact. he lets out a huff of understanding, but gives you a look that tells you to be patient.

"turn around, ass toward me" he orders against your mouth, methodically grabbing your hips to guide you as turn over on your hands and knees.

"so you’re in that kind of mood tonight?” you tempt, lust dripping from your mouth as you oblige and delicately flip over, grabbing at the edge of his bed and gripping the sheets.

“when you look this good," matt's fingers trace up your spine.

"yeah.” before he grabs the back of your neck to keep himself stable, making you gasp at how tight he's squeezing your skin.

nerves pit in your stomach as you know how good he's about to make you feel, especially doggy style. he just knows how to hit every sweet spot from this angle. you know it's going to be near impossible to keep quiet.

matt uses his free hand to pull you to his crotch, and he pushes your chest down onto the mattress so you're arching up with your ass on full display to his desire.

"ready for me, darling?" matt asks, and you nod your head distictly.

you hear him spit into his hand before he presses it to your spread open cunt, lathering any part he can see with saliva. it's a thick, warm sensation, which is a contrast to the cold air hitting your exposed skin.

you can hear him as he strokes himself once or twice with the residue on his hand, before he tucks his cock between your thighs, making sure to angle it just right to he can slide easily into your entrance.

he pushes against your pussy, his tip slowly stretching you out. so slow you can feel every single inch make you feel more and more full. you squeeze the sheets in your palms, letting the silk fabric flow past your knuckles and your cheek presses into the mattress, a moan escaping your mouth the deeper matt gets.

matt's lips are pressed shut, but he's humming a low, closed-mouth moan, stretching out the sound as he pushes deeper, and deeper, until his thick long cock is fully immersed into your hole. you're trying not to shriek at the feeling but it's just so good, and makes you feel so complete.

"matt baby, please" you're trying to keep hush, biting your bottom lip with restraint as you wait for him to move.

you feel him slide out half way, still half filling you before he thrusts into you again, unhurriedly, but with enough force that you gasp. matt plants a hand at the soft curvature of your back, allowing him to ease his balance a little more.

“just arch a little, fuck yeah… just like that” matt exhales.

you involuntarily begin to move the lower half of your body, grinding your hips into his until your cunt swallows him whole over and over again, initiating the back and forth. matt groans.

“fuck, y/n. keep bouncing on my cock like that, baby. you want it that bad you couldn’t wait?” he scoffs.

you continue to grind into him, fluttering each time his thick cock hits your sensitive, plump area. he’s let his hard grip of neck hair go as he strokes your hair tenderly , fighting his urge to grab you by the hips and fuck you until you see stars. he loves watching you like this, so desperate for him.

"sooooo good baby, oh my god" you exhale through tight teeth, sounding a porn star with how high pitched your voice suddenly becomes.

"take me so fucking well" he praises.

you're shocked and let out almost a scream when matt slaps your ass hard, undoubtedly leaving a handprint. it stings, and your skin is genuinely left buzzing.

you actually jolt your body upward, snapping your neck to try and give him a look as your jaw drops, but matt forcibly pushes your head back down.

"matthew!" you practically yell, and you hear matt chuckle coarsely.

suddenly you feel matt reach back and grab a pillow from the head of the bed, bringing it to rest under your head. knotting his slender fingers into your hair at the base of your neck, he guides your face to press into the soft material.

"face in the pillow, since you can't shut the fuck up." matt speaks as he fucks into you from behind even harder than he was before.

your entire body is rocking and shaking as you bite the pillow beneath you, obeying his orders.

the pillow only drowns out so much as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, guttural groans emitting from his chest as he throws his head back and fucks into hard, rough and fast.

the slapping sounds of your skin bounce off the walls as he dives into your hips, making you howl desperately. you screams again at his cock roughly jerking to the depths of your cunt, amplifying the pleasure that warms your whole body.

you're so engrossed in the moment that you fully convince yourself the pitter patter sound of footsteps approaching matt's room are just in your head. you're starting to think maybe you're being too loud. you reassure yourself by thinking one of you have locked the door.

you press your head into the pillow, unable to withstand the pleasure that's accumulating in your belly, increasing with the speed of matt's movements. you feel like you're so close to tipping over, clenching your pussy around him if not to only bring you closer to an orgasm.

matt grips your love-handles, holding you from either side to slam into you over and over and over. with worry, your eyes dart toward his bedroom door, knowing you're so close to releasing. the growl in your lower stomach is a mix of sudden anxiety and pleasure.

the door pries open, four shoes in your direct line of vision as they trek slowly into the room, bodies not fully revealed just yet. at the same time, your stomach bubbles and you gasp at the inevitable fulfilment rising a lot faster than you anticipated.

a single stroke of his fingers is all it takes, and you come undone, clenching your muscles around his penis while your lips continuously utter his name like a mantra. your climax is reaching it's peak at the exact same moment chris's voice is heard, and nick's body follows into the room.

matt seems completely unbothered, focusing on fucking you through your orgasm as he knows he won't get it back to this extent if he stops, and you finishing is his number one priority.

"are you guys okay?" nick's voice starts, hiding behind his younger brother and the door.

"we heard y/n screami- OH fuck" chris's eyes almost pop out of his head and jaw hits the floor.

you make eye-contact with chris for a split and the image he receives is your body shaking and moaning his brothers name. when chris slams the door shut, you hear nick scream before quite literally running away. poor chris copped the brunt of it.

"holy shit i'm so sorry" chris begs for forgiveness, and you can only imagine the panic he's enduring on the other side. you could bet good money on him clenching his eyes shut and acting out the sign of the cross.

“had put on a little show for chris, didn’t you?” matt chuckles, reacting with another slap to your ass, keeping his cock inside you but slowing his pace.

"dirty girl." matt arches over to bite your shoulder blade.

your body is ready to collapse, and you almost do, if not for matt's strong hands catching your hips at the last moment. he, too, can't take much and lowers himself inside you, moaning loudly unintelligible words. finally, he lets you fall on the mattress, carefully sliding out of you and laying you down on the soft sheets.

"YOU CAN GO NOW" matt yells, knowing his brother is frozen on the other side before dropping next to you.

"LOCK YOUR DOOR NEXT TIME" chris scrambles his words, tone fading out with the distance that grows between him and the room.

"KNOCK NEXT TIME" you and matt both say in unison, making you bury your flushed face into his chest.

matt slides his arm around your body, hugging you close to his body and peppering kisses on your forehead.

“they got to see how good i fuck you, huh princess?” he mumbles against your skin. he leans over to find your shoulder, placing small kisses of love on it there too.

"i think we've traumatised your brother forever" you chuckle, slapping his chest playfully with the very little strength you have left.

"he'll be fine" he chortles, staring up the ceiling.

"i mean he'll never look you in the eye's again, but he'll be fine." matt teases.

"oh god" you laugh while sliding a hand down your face with sheer worry.

"you did so well, though" matt whispers to you, placing a kiss just below your ear, and then correcting your hair, which is now damp with sweat.

he always acknowledges you afterwards, especially when he's been a little more dominant, and you do take him so well. you can do nothing but send him a dreamy smile in response, too tired to verbally reply to his praise.

needless to say, you plan on double checking that the door is locked going forward, to not get caught in the act ever again.

taglist: @imwetforyourmom @fake-sturniolos @letstripsturniolo @kentahoe @recklessmatt @floofparker @teampurpleforlife

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo oneshot #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fanfic

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aemondapologistfrfr · 2 months

Text

His Princess - pt2

Pt 2 of His Princess

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Summary: Rhaenyra asks y/n to take her host to Harrenhal to speak to Daemon. Y/n rises to the challenge of Daemon and the River Lords watch on in shock and silence.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, political plotting, prob wine somewhere in a cup, bathing, thigh riding, face riding, p in v

Authors Note: soft moments w silverwing and ben, i believe this man would beg you teach him some high valyrian just so he could talk to silverwing and write it down and keep it in his pocket, idc if it’s unrealistic to pet a dragons belly it’s real to me!!, daemon needs to LEAVE harrenhal and step tf up like enough already

Word Count: 4.7k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Over the past week I’ve been in contact with Jace about the status of our growing host in the Riverlands. Rhaenyra has finally returned home and expresses her gratitude for the swords that I’ve raised for her. She takes over the correspondence from Jace as we begin to discuss who is on our side and best ways to bring the other Lords to our cause.

She confides to me concerning her worry about Daemon. She has asked that I meet Ser Alfred Broome in Harrenhal and see if Daemon can be brought to reason. She hopes that he will start to relax and hopefully return to Dragonstone upon seeing their host. We have been on the move ever since her request while slowly adding swords along the way.

“We should reach Harrenhal on the morrow.” Ben ducks into the tent as I lounge on the makeshift bed.

“Thank the Gods. I need a fucking bath.” I slide over so he can join me.

“You still look absolutely divine to me.” as he pulls me into him.

“Oh I’m sure,” I roll my eyes. “The dirt and grime are very comely.” I sigh looking at my nails.

“At Harrenhal I’ll make sure you get the largest and hottest bath available. Even if it means displacing its current Lord.” he promises.

“I’ll hold you to that.” I hum. “I have no idea what state Daemon is in.” I sigh, wiping my face.

“He should be happy you’ve raised a host.” Ben murmurs as he finger brushes through my hair.

“We can only hope.” I moan as his fingers scratch along my scalp as I turn so he can continue his movements.

“Let’s hope they have feed to spare for Silverwing. She’s been eyeing our host for some time now.” he chuckles as he begins to loosely braid my hair.

“Mm, speaking of, I should take her out to hunt.” I sigh stretching out as he completes the plait.

“Will you let me come with you this time?” his eyes light up as he pleads.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.” I chuckle as I begin to rise and stretch out.

I slowly put my riding armor back on as Ben quickly pulls his own armor on stumbling after me out of the tent. The host around us is now up to 5,000 swords and it’s easy to get lost in the chaos that surrounds us daily. We see the outline of Silverwing in the trees as we approach.

“Wait,” Ben pulls me to a stop. “It’s Hello my beast Silverwing?” a laugh bubbles out of my mouth as his face turns red.

“Y/n, my Princess, please.” he begs trying to hide his embarrassment.

“If you say that she will never allow you to ride with me.” I try to settle my giggles. “Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” I look to him and nod for him to repeat.

“Hello, my beautiful Silverwing?” his Riverland accent makes the sentence sound funny but he’s got the words down at least.

“Well let’s go see if I get to keep enjoying you or if her meal has delivered itself to her.” I pull him by his arm with a smile on my face. I nod at him to go greet my sleeping dragon as I stand nearby.

“Hello,” his voice slightly stumbles as she begins to stir. “Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” I hear the confidence in his voice as Silverwing begins to rise.

She looks over to me and then looks down at Ben and huffs. His hair is blown askew by her deep breath as she lowers her head to his height. He puts his hands up as I continue to give her a stern look. She gives a soft chirp before she pushes him with her snout.

“I didn’t learn any other words. Y/n says my accent is funny.” he speaks softly to Silverwing as he settles his hands on the side of her jaw.

She softly blinks at him and then looks to me as if I was so mean for stating the obvious to him. Ben slowly relaxes as he continues to offer her pats. She watches him intently as he begins to walk the length of her. She thuds back to the ground and rolls onto her side for him to pat her belly.

“Oh you big baby.” I chuckle lovingly as I approach them both. We continue to offer her pats and words of adoration until she grumbles and begins to turn back over. “He wants to come with us to hunt.” her eyes lock with mine and narrow. She closes her eyes and dips her wing down for us to climb up.

“Let’s see how this goes.” I breathe out as I gesture for him to start climbing.

“What do I grab on to?” he turns to me suddenly nervous.

“Whatever you can. I’ll be right behind you.” I nod reassuringly as he grabs on to her leg. Silverwing chuffs as we slowly climb on and settle into the saddle. I clip us in and his arms wrap around my waist tightly.

“It’s not too late to get down.” I turn my head and offer to him softly.

“No, it’ll be fun.” he nods as he tries to strengthen his resolve but his words come out a little breathy.

“Fly, Silverwing.” she rises to her full height and I feel Ben’s hands lock tightly together around me.

She launches us into the sky and I feel Ben press his head into my back. I chuckle wildly as she circles our host and gives them an eerie song. We coast along the breeze until we reach the river and she slowly begins to dip down. Ben slowly releases his hands and begins to look down at the land below us.

“What a fucking rush.” he chuckles with me as Silverwing dips into the river to collect fish.

She continues to collect more fish and spits them out on the nearby shore. Once she has a large pile she lands and scorches the fish in a burning pyre. She quickly chomps down on her meal as we stay firmly seated basking in her power.

“Should we get-“

Silverwing shoots us back into the clouds as Ben gasps, handing flying around my waist once more. I raise my hands from the reins and allow my fingertips to caress the clouds as we fly back to camp. With enough encouragement, Ben releases his hands from my waist and allows his fingers to dance in the clouds with us.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We begin marching out just before dawn. The men grumble but are looking forward to making it to Harrenhal finally. Silverwing is becoming restless the closer we get to the Crownlands as she can feel the tension pulsing through us.

We mainly ride the breeze only going in front of the host when we’re about an hour out from the castle. As I approach, Caraxes high pitched song pierces my ears. Silverwing gives out a greeting as we circle back to our host. Caraxes seems to have stayed at the castle much to my relief that Daemon isn’t feeling particularly reckless today.

I land outside the gates and await the host to break through the trees. Once Ben is at my side we begin to approach the gates as they grind open. Daemon swaggers out and looks to me with his hand on his sword pommel.

“Y/n.” he looks at me and the men behind me as if he’s unimpressed.

“Daemon.” I sigh and roll my eyes.

“I’ve claimed Harrenhal.” I squint my eyes at his words.

“And I’ve raised a host.” I shake my head at him confused.

“For who?” he tilts his head to me.

“What is wrong with you? What do you mean? For Rhaenyra.” I approach him studying him.

“It seems as if his knees are bent to you the way he hovers behind you.” he raises his chin to Ben who has indeed followed close behind me on approach.

“Get over yourself. Are we welcome or no. You wanted an army and I’ve brought you one.” my voice starts to rise as I tire of his antics and want the bath I was promised.

“Did she send you?” Daemons eyes squint.

“You’re going fucking mad, Daemon. We are staying. I’m taking the largest bathtub.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head with a chuckle. “His knees are bent to me and he’s mine. He’s not to be touched by anyone.” Daemon smirks at my words as he gestures with his arm for us to enter.

“Welcome,” Lord Simon says as the gates groan the rest of the way open. “Welcome to Harrenhal.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I almost sob looking at the massive bath made before me. I make quick work of my clothes and armor as servants whisk them away to clean them before leaving me alone. The second the seaming water engulfs me all of my muscles sigh in relief. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and I groan.

“What?” I grit out through my teeth.

“It’s me.” Ben peeks his head around the door.

“Then get in here and shut the door. I’m in the fucking bath, Ben.” I hiss at him and feel instantly bad as I know I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on him. “I’m sorry,” I sigh out. “What’s wrong?” I sink lower into the pool.

“You didn’t invite me and I felt left out.” his voice teasing. I grab his hand and begin to pull him in with me. He bats my hand away chucking as he takes his clothes off before slipping in the water next to me.

“Better?” I ask resting my head on his shoulder.

“Much.” he hums content. “What happened with Daemon earlier?” he asks softly before grabbing the soap next to us so we can begin our deep clean.

“He’s going insane. I have no idea what’s wrong with him.” I shake my head not knowing how I’m supposed to deal with this. Hopefully Ser Alfred will arrive soon and offer his support.

“What did he say?” he asks as helps me wash my hair once he’s finished his.

“He knows you’re loyal to me. I don’t think he trusts Rhaenyra. His words seemed off and paranoid. I’ll send a raven to Rhaenyra in the morning.” I know my tone is slightly clipped, I’m just done discussing pressing matters. I want to enjoy my bath while a handsome man dotes on me.

“Maybe it’s this old, haunted castle. They say it’ll turn the most sane man mad.” Ben thinks to himself as he rinses out my hair. I’m thankful we’re finally clean but I can’t handle this conversation any longer.

“Ben, I need you to be quiet and make me feel good or leave. I do not wish to discuss strategy or ghosts.” he chuckles as I turn and he takes in my scrunched brow.

“I’m sorry, my Princess. Is the war boring you?” he chuckles pulling me to straddle his thigh.

I sigh as he pulls me forward causing the most delicious friction. He continues sliding me across his thigh and my eyes shut. My hips begin to move on their own accord seeking the pleasure I’ve been needing all week. Whimpers fall from my mouth as Ben looks at me with a smirk.

“So you don’t want to discuss-“

“I will cut your fucking tongue out.” I reply breathlessly as his hands grind me down on to his thigh roughly.

“Then how will I be able to lick your-“

I crash my lips to his in hopes he’ll remain silent. He chuckles against my lips as his fingers dig into my sides. He begins to move my hips quicker as the water begins to splash around us. I begin to moan into his mouth as pleasure begins to explode through my body. His lips capture mine once more as he slowly continues to grind me against him to prolong my pleasure.

“Beautiful,” Ben whispers and my eyes snap open. “Fuck, please let me have said it right.” panic laces his words.

“You did,” my lips attach to his as my heart stumbles.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

I sit around the council table with the River Lords who look from me to Daemon. Ser Alfred has arrived this morning and hasn’t been able to form a coherent conversation with Daemon. My eyes stay planted on him as his head lulls as he grips his cup. When his eyes seem to uncloud he stares at Lord Simon’s child, Alys, I’m told.

“Pull yourself together.” I grit out to Daemon who is currently making a fool of himself.

“When did this meeting start?” his words borderline slurred as he looks to Alys who comes to his side.

I shake my head in confusion as she whispers into his ear. I look to Ben to make sure I’m not the only one seeing this and all of the Lords faces mirror mine. They turn me expectantly and I’m at a loss for what to do.

“That’s enough, Alys. Thank you.” I rise out of my chair dismissing her.

“Isn’t it strange we’re almost kin?” she whispers as she brushes past me. I turn quickly but she’s already out of the hall and I take my place again in my seat.

“Are you drunk?” I hiss to Daemon who has an amusing look on his face.

“Welcome River Lords,” Daemon rises, ignoring my question. “I’m thankful you’ve all deigned to join me in Harrenhal. I know how alluring it is to follow a Targaryen Princess.” he looks to me with a smirk.

“While you’ve been doing Gods know what, I’ve been rallying for Rhaenyra. Did she send you here to simply cut wood?” my anger very evident in my voice.

“I’ve secured the largest castle.” he looks down to me.

“Yes, the crumbling, empty castle. What a win Daemon. While you’ve been indulging yourself on wine and bastards we’ve all been doing our part to help Rhaenyra claim the throne.” I shake my head at a loss. I know we shouldn’t be speaking like this in front of the Lords but I can’t help it.

“I will not be belittled by you.” Daemon spits his words at me.

“You’ve done it yourself. Everyone at this table can see you’re going mad.” I look to him as he goes to look out the window.

Ser Alfred looks at me in warning not to push him too far. The other Lords are doing well to hide their terror as I verbally challenge Daemon in this hall. I’m hoping with the right kind of push and verbal berating he will get his head out of his ass and start to fight for Rhaenyra once more.

“Is that true?” he turns to the table of men with narrowed eyes. “Who thinks I’m going mad?” he approaches and leans his hands on the table assessing everyone.

“Go home, Daemon.” I rise from my chair to switch his focus to me and not our Lords. Ben’s hands slip to mine to try and have me sit back down but I can’t stand down from this fight, my mother needs me. “Rhaenyra needs you at her side.” I look to him with pleading eyes.

“Mm, is that what she told you?” he stalks over to me.

“If you bothered to read any of the ravens from either of us, you know it would be true. Must you always be reminded that you are The Daemon Targaryen? The Rogue Prince? You are a force to be reckoned with. Leave this crumbling castle to me and the Lords and return to Dragonstone. Clear your mind. Stand at her side so we may show a united front.” I can see my words process through his mind as he looks at me curiously.

“You want this castle for yourself.” he concludes much to my anger and frustration.

“Leave us.” I turn to the Lords who look at me slack jawed. They begin to shuffle out of the hall as Ben lingers behind. “Ben,” I warn with narrowed eyes.

“You think you can handle my daughter?” Daemon chuckles lowly as he looks to Ben. He hasn’t called me his daughter in years which is how I know something sinister is going on inside these walls. I walk to Ben and push him outside the door before I seal them.

“It’s saved you before.” Ben’s words are hushed as he places the bone knife into my palm. “Please don’t make me regret leaving this hall.” he looks down to me with pleading eyes as I shut the door separating us.

“Sit.” I nod my head to the table and slip the knife into an empty sheath at my thigh before I claim a seat across from him.

“Do you plan to kill me in this hall?” he chuckles as he takes a seat.

“I plan to make you see reason.” I study his movements which seem completely different from how this meeting started.

“Then by all means,” he raises his eyebrows gesturing with his hand for me to continue.

“You and Rhaenyra had a fight so now you sequester yourself into this ruin of a castle? To what end? Tell me your long term goal, Daemon. If I wouldn’t have arrived with a host you would still be splitting wood open, along with that bastard girls legs.” I look to him as he seems to find this amusing.

“To sit atop the Iron Throne. That is my only goal.” he hums.

“To place Rhaenyra on the throne?” I correct.

“She’s welcome to join me.” he nods his head as his thoughts seem to drift.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I don’t know if this was his plan all along or if these halls are truly haunted. We sit in silence and study each other waiting to see who will make the next move. I come up with a plan to get him outside of the castle in hopes he can clear his head and finally see his actions for what they are.

“When was the last time you’ve ridden Caraxes?” I change the subject hoping to bring him back to the present.

“It was only…” he trails off.

“Come, let’s go for ride.” I rise and look to him in question.

Surprisingly he follows me out of the hall. Ben is waiting on the other side of the door and he walks by my side. I instruct him to send a raven to Rhaenyra and say that I’m sending Daemon home and hopefully he should arrive tonight, I will escort him if needed. I also have him tell the servants to pack a small bag for Daemon for his travels home.

“Please return to me.” Ben kisses the side of my head and nods at my instructions.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

After a long flight our two dragons land in the abandoned countryside. I press my luck and dismount and turn to see that Daemon is doing the same. We meet between our two dragons as they sing a bone chilling song.

“I will go home.” he nods to me with a scrunched brow.

“You will?” I raise my eyebrow in surprise.

“Do not let that heinous woman inside your head. Don’t accept her tea.” he shakes his head as a shutter travels through him.

“Understood. Please send me a raven when you get to Dragonstone.” I reply curtly still not caring for him much at the moment.

“You’ve already sent her word of my return?” he asks over his shoulder as he begins to mount Caraxes.

“I have,” I nod my head up to him. “If you cause her trouble, I will come for you and show you why this growing host has bent its knees.” the threat is laced through my voice like a promise.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, daughter.” he says before him and his blood worm launch into the skies.

I mount Silverwing and sigh in relief that somehow everything worked out. I hug Sliverwings neck and offer her words of love and praise before she brings us up to the clouds.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

Ben rushes to me once I dismount Silverwing and assesses me head to toe. Once he’s satisfied I’m in one piece he turns to Silverwing and walks around her and makes sure she’s taken no damage as well. He offers her soft pats before he returns to me.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers before running back through the gates.

I lay down at Silverwings feet and curl into her. She wraps her head around me protectively as she sprawls on the ground. We hear motion from beyond the gates and we both raise our heads curiously. Ben walks through the gates trailing a couple cattle behind him.

“Thank you for keeping my Princess safe, my beautiful Silverwing.” he hums as he approaches her. I rise and come to his side as she begins to chirp him a song.

He leaves the cattle with her and he guides me back through the gates and into the castle. The Lords look at me expectantly as I call a short meeting in the council chambers. I tell them of Daemons hopeful return to Dragonstone and give Ser Alfred leave to follow after him and return to my mother. The Lords look to me in awe that I was able to rein Daemon in and send him back to Dragonstone. I end the meeting with promises of a more in depth discussion on the morrow.

“Let’s go to bed,” Ben hums softly as he offers me his hand.

We quickly make it back to our chambers and he seals the doors behind us. He cups my face and pulls me into a passionate kiss. He pulls apart resting his forehead on mine as we pant as I look up to him with low lids.

“I’m perfectly fine, you didn’t have to worry so much.” I breathlessly chuckle.

“I was worried for the King Consort, the look in your eyes in the council chamber was downright murderous.” he chuckles lowly before placing a quick kiss on my lips before he starts to remove my armor.

“Good he was being daft. Someone had to stand to him.” I roll my shoulders once he removes the plates there.

“Sometimes you fucking terrify me.” he whispers though his voice is full of devotion as he removes my last pieces.

“Mm, I’m honored.” I hum as I begin to remove my layers of clothing.

“Allow me, my Princess.” he whispers as he lifts my shirt above my head.

He slowly peels the rest of my clothes off. He removes his clothes with haste while pulling me over to the bed. He falls onto his back pulling me with on top of him. He kisses me softly and pulls back with a smirk.

“I think you should sit on my face.” he says lowly.

“What do you mean?” I shake my head chuckling.

“Put this,” his fingers reach down and slide through my wetness. “on my mouth.” his eyes are dark as they look to me.

I shiver as his fingers continue to ghost over my core. He begins to slowly pull me up his body until I finally rise and kneel on the bed to look down at him. He pats the side of my thigh trying to coax me to straddle his face. I let out a shaky breath and kneel above his face and look down at his eyes under me.

“Thank you, my Princess.” he says placing a soft kiss on each of my thighs.

His hands grab my waist and pull me flush against his mouth. His tongue begins to attack my clit and my head falls back. His name falls off my lips as he continues to swirl against my clit. I grind against his face and immediately stop. He grunts at my stillness and begins to move my hips himself as moans seep out of my mouth.

“Ben,” his name is the only thing I’m capable of saying.

This spurs him on and his tongue moves even more ferociously. My hips begin jerking on their own accord and he moans against me. The vibrations send me over the edge as I come against his face as he keeps lapping at me.

“Ben,” I whimper as he still holds me against his face.

His torturous tongue continues to circle my sensitive bud sending shock waves through my body. I’m a babbling mess above him as he starts to grind my hips against him again. A sob tears through me as I come against him once more. He lifts me off and I collapse face down on the bed next to him as he chuckles.

“You did so good for me.” he hums as I feel the bed dip behind me. “Aren’t you thankful you didn’t cut my tongue out.” his hands raise my hips until I’m resting on my knees. I turn my head and scowl at him until he starts swirling his tip around my wetness.

“Ben, please,” I whine breathlessly as he leans back.

“Hm?” his tone taunting. I try to push my hips back to find him once more but his hands on my hips keep me firmly in place.

“If you don’t fuck me surely I can find someone else who-“

He slams into me and a moan tears through me. He sets a brutal pace that has my face sliding against the sheets. All I can do is arch my back more as his hips repeatedly snap into mine. His trusts become slow and deep as his hands fall to the sides of my waist as he hovers above me.

“Who do you think can replace me?” he grunts in my ear while grinding his hips into mine.

“No one,” my words barely coherent as my hips chase the pleasure he’s offering.

“That’s what I thought.” he says arrogantly as he pulls me upright with him.

One of his hands stays at my waist to help steady me as he begins to hammer up into me. The other travels around my front teasing and pinching my nipples until it finds its way to my throat. His long fingers wrap around me while his hand from my waist sneaks down to my sensitive bud.

“I- Ben,” I whine as I come, clenching around him.

“Fuck Princess,” his hips slightly falter but he regains his composure quickly.

He pushes me forward back onto the bed while staying inside of me. His pace is crazed as his fingers dig deeply into my hips. I’m pushing back into him chasing all of the pleasure he wants to give me. My hands are fisted into the sheets while all I can do is whimper and breathe his name.

“One more time for me.” he growls while bringing his torturous hand between my thighs once more.

When his fingers reach my clit I see stars. I feel like pleasure is being torn from me in waves as I bury my head in the pillow. His hips shutter and warmth spreads throughout me before he slowly pulls out. He collapses on the bed next to me as we’re both panting and trying to catch our breath.

“I know I’m safe in Harrenhal because the only thing that could make me go mad is you.” he says breathily smoothing my hair.

“Back to your ghost stories already?” I huff as I turn to him and see him smiling down at me.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist

ps: i literally will write more of this if ppl want 🫣

Part 3

#benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #benji blackwood #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood smut #ben blackwood x reader #fancast bloody ben #bloody ben fluff #bloody ben smut #bloody ben x reader #bloody ben hotd #hotd smut #hotd fic #x reader #x reader smut #reader smut #smut #daemon targeryan

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eevees-hobbies · 3 months

Note

Hiya! Could I please request the wind breaker boys, bofurin & shishitoren reactions to the reader in a sexy Halloween costume at a party? (Possibly a sexy bunny girl, but any sexy costume really 💜)

Author’s Note: Anon, you’re wild for thinking about Halloween this early! But I get; I’m a spooky girlie, too. Or am I off base, and Halloween is just an excuse to dress like a bunny girl? Anyway, I enjoyed writing this! I might do a part 2 with more characters as we get closer to Halloween. Here are some reactions and scenarios to your costume!

Content Warning: Um, tis smutty. Thigh-fucking, making out, groping in public, sex in a residence that isn’t yours, nipple licking, mention of face-fucking, jealousy, cumshot, public humiliation, masturbation.

Word Count: 2.2K

Divider by Saradika. Story banner by me.

Haruka Sakura

You swore you told Sakura what you planned to wear at the Halloween party. Maybe you were a little non-descriptive when you said you were going to wear a bunny outfit, leaving out the fact that the neckline dipped so low that there was a potential of your breasts falling out of the top or how your “bottoms” consisted of only thigh high fishnet stockings.

When Sakura saw you from across the party, he stopped mid-conversation with Suo, who followed Sakura’s line of sight and let out a whistle when he saw you.

“Wow, Sakura. I had no idea you were so secure in your relationship that you’d let Y/N wear something so revealing. I don’t think I–oh,” Suo couldn’t finish his sentence because Sakura was shoving people in the crowd just to get to you.

As Suo watched his friend part a sea of people with his palms to their faces, he couldn’t help but smirk. “Maybe I instigated that a little.”

As you raise your hand to give a friend a wave, Sakura grips your wrist and pulls you into the nearest room. Your eyes can barely adjust to the darkness, but based on the smell of oil and what you believe to be an outline of the roof of a car, you realize that you’re in the homeowner's garage. The sound of the door locking echoes ominously behind you. If this were any other situation, you’d probably scream, but somewhere in the darkness is Sakura, and there’s nothing to worry about, right?

You reach out in an attempt to touch him–hoping to grab a hand or bicep–but you only feel a firm grip on your shoulders and being turned around, forcibly bent over with your face against the hood of the car.

“Why’d you have to wear something so fucking slutty?”

“W-wha?! Sakura?!” you try to move from underneath him, but his hand against your lower back is unwavering. You hear the sound of pants unzipping, “Kitten, there’s no way you're going to be able to put your dick in me. This thing is so tight against my crotch–”

“Who said I want your pussy,” he grumbles. You hear him spit into his palm before he places two thumbs against the exposed flesh of your thighs and spreads them. Sakura’s body tenses up as he slips his dick in between your inner thighs, his head practically swimming at how warm and soft they are.

You can’t help but place a hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh as your boyfriend ruts against your thighs, and you would have kept laughing if not for the feeling of his cock rubbing against the crotch of your outfit. The friction against your clit has you biting your lip and bouncing back against him because fuck, maybe he’s onto something?

Ren Kaji

“What are you supposed to be?” Kotoha asks you as she tilts her head, eyes sweeping over your not-so-halloween outfit. You’re wearing a gray hoodie, black skinny jeans, and your boyfriend's Bofurin jacket. Your hand reaches up instinctively to touch the headphones around your neck–a sudden habit you’ve developed during the night to make sure they're still snug and in place.

“I’m dressed as Ren. Can’t you tell?”

You had been wearing a bunny outfit earlier that night, but as you exited the bathroom in your home and did a twirl for Kaji, ears flopping up and down as you bounced, you quickly realized that you might need to consider a new outfit.

Kaji looked over you with unbridled lust and a hint of jealousy pooling in his eyes. He can mentally see how his friends will drink you in tonight. The idea of them lusting after you, thinking about fucking you, and even touching themselves to the thought of you has the sucker in his mouth breaking against clenched teeth.

He can see Tsugeura pretending to squeeze past you by putting his large, muscly hands on your curvy hips, his crotch so close to your ass you’d feel the bulge rubbing against your exposed cheeks.

He can see Kiryu sweetly asking to take a picture of your outfit, placing an arm around your shoulders, a hand leisurely placed in between the valley of your breasts, a finger brushing against the spot in your outfit where he knows your nipple is straining against the fabric.

“Give us a pretty smile for the gram, sweetie!” That very picture no doubt being used for nefarious activities that night.

“No.”

You wrap your arms across your chest, fully intending to stand your ground, “No?” You let out a breathy laugh but pause when his mouth doesn’t give way to a smile.

“Absolutely not. Go change.” His voice is smooth, as if there’s no room for argument, and with Kaji, there really isn’t.

He was serious!

“I don’t understand?”

“Let me show you what my friends will fantasize about doing to you when they see you dressed like that. Get on your knees.”

You bite your lip, briefly considering disobeying, but when Kaji gives an order, you better listen, or else you’ll end up with a sore ass. Without breaking eye contact–though your heart is stuttering in your chest–you do what a smart girl does and get on your knees for your boyfriend.

And Kaji didn’t feel an ounce of remorse when he slipped his dick past your pretty lips and rested heavily on your eager tongue.

He didn’t feel an ounce of remorse when his dick was so far down your throat that drool was dripping down and landing on your splayed-out thighs below you, splattering against the opening in your fishnets.

He certainly didn’t feel remorse when he gritted his teeth as his balls clenched violently, and he pulled your head back by those silly bunny ears and came on your chest and, in extension, your Halloween costume–effectively ruining it.

You gave him an earful for how petty and ridiculous he was, but he simply put a sucker in his mouth and stared at you with a glint of humor behind his blue eyes, pleased with himself.

As Kotoha nods and looks your “Ren Kaji” outfit up and down, you can feel eyes boring into the back of your head. You turn and catch Kaji's gaze from across the room; unsurprisingly, he still has that same pleased look.

Jo Togame

You squirm restlessly in the lap of Togame. Since you arrived at the party, he hasn’t let you out of his sight.

As soon as he laid emerald eyes on you, those eyes slowly appraising your body from head to toe, all his attention was on you and only you. “Do a little spin for me, beautiful?” he crooned while imitating the spinning gesture with a finger.

You were more than happy to oblige for him because good bunny girls listen! You spun around, enjoying the hungry look you were getting from him and his Shishitoren buddies.

“Yeaaaah, I need a closer look.” He points to his lap, a seat you’re all too familiar with. You must not have been moving fast enough as you approached him because he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his waiting lap.

Through the night, he continued to hold conversations with friends and sip at his bottle of ramune, all while your ass lives plastered against his crotch. As you squirm, his arm around your shoulders only pulls you in more, and he shoots you a smile.

“Hey, can you all give me a minute with my girl?”

You relish in his words as his friends shuffle off elsewhere and Togame turns his attention to you.

“I hope you know what this costume is doing to me.”

Of course, you know what the costume is doing to him. You’ve been sitting on something long, thick, and ridiculously hard all night.

You look at him through your eyelashes and bite your lip as he places a hand on your breast in front of partygoers and kisses you, all while keeping you in his lap. It feels sinful to be so publicly obscene, and you can hear mumbles and murmurs from around you as his tongue slides into your mouth and his hand squeezes the flesh of your breast, fingers dancing over the exposed tops of them that are being pushed out of the corset.

He pulls away and tilts his head towards the door, “Wanna get out of here? I have plans for this costume.”

And you can’t put a perfectly good bunny costume to waste, can you? No, you can’t.

Hajime Umemiya

I’m sorry for all you toxic-love enthusiasts out there, but Ume is as wholesome as they come. Every Halloween, you two take immense care and consideration in picking out matching outfits. You are the epitome of #couplegoals. And after weeks of sending back-and-forth links to costumes, you finally agreed upon the perfect ones.

Sugishita stares at the halo around Umemiya’s head and nods in complete agreement–yes, of course, he’s an angel. It fits perfectly, he thinks to himself.

“Water, Ume?” You walk up behind him, offering him a bottle of water. Umemiya is shirtless except for feathery white wings that are strapped around his chest. At the last minute, he decided to keep it simple with white pants and a black belt. You are dressed as his inverse, the angel to his devil with horns and a tail.

You take a minute to admire his shirtless figure, broad shoulders, and freshly healed scratches from the night before, which puts a bit of a dopey smile on your face. The muscles in his strong back shift as he turns to look at you with a grin upon hearing your voice.

“Baby girl! There you are! I was just telling Sugishita that you should have been the angel since I think it fits you more.

You shake your head, smiling, “I like playing the devil. Don’t you think that’s more fitting for me, Sugishita?”

Sugishita looks between you both, nodding furiously at his favorite person’s favorite person.

And as the night draws to a close and you’re both helping the homeowner clean up after the party, you can’t help but push Umemiya into the closet, closing the door behind you.

And you might be the one who instigates the first move, but he’s the one who pushes you against the wall in return, your body sinking into the clothes on the coat rack.

“Ume, you’ve looked like a snack all night.”

“Yeah? I wouldn’t mind you taking a bite out of me.” he shivers as your fingers trace his nipples. He’s always been sensitive there, and you’ve always been quick to take advantage of that.

“I think we should keep these outfits for a little roleplaying, no?” Your tongue darts out and traces the curvature of his nipple, earning you a whimper and “Oh, fuck” from Ume’s lips.

He looks down at you, already making quick work of removing the red corset around your midsection. “How much time do you think we have before they realize we’re in the closet?”

You smile and kiss his jaw, “Maybe 7 minutes if we’re quiet?”

“When have I ever allowed you to be quiet?”

Fuck, he has a point.

Hayato Suo

You had no idea what you were planning to wear to the costume party, so when Suo offered to help you find an outfit, you happily accepted.

You’re a glutton for punishment, I suppose.

Suo knew precisely what he was doing. With the deliberate actions of a sociopath, Suo ordered your costume early but chose not to say anything to you. It wasn’t until you glanced at the calendar that your eyes widened at the encroaching date circled in red marker.

“Suo! I still don’t have a costume, and the party is in two days!”

“Ooh,” he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I told you I’d handle everything. I already have something picked out specifically for you.”

You were overtaken with relief. Suo always had a plan; you knew he wouldn’t disappoint you. At least that’s how you felt before he brought out the most revealing bunny costume you’d ever seen.

And to be honest, you weren't even sure they sold this version of the costume in regular stores. But what were you going to do? The party was in two days, and if you wanted to go shopping for a costume, you’d have no option but to pick from the leftovers, and you’d end up dressed like the Kool-Aid man. No, thank you!

You took the costume, eyes drilling into the most revealing of spots. “What’s your costume, Suo?”

“I don’t do costumes, but if anyone asks, I’ll tell them I’m your handler, sweet bunny girl.”

Two days quickly come and go, and as you enter the party with Suo walking so close behind you, you can feel the heat from his body on your exposed back; eyes stop and stare at you, and Suo drinks every interaction in as though he’s using it as foreplay until he can finally get you alone and underneath him.

For now, he watches in delight as you make all of his friends so uncomfortable with your jiggly thighs, bouncy ass, and flushed cheeks.

709 notes · View notes

dandylovesturtles · 5 months

Note

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

#rottmnt #rise leo #agent bishop #cw: psychological torture #dandy fanfiction #I want it to be clear that any time Leo is hearing “Mind Raph”#that's just his own inner voice manifesting #please don't be mad at Raph himself lol

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hopelesslydevoted2paige · 4 months

Note

can you do a fic about going live with Emily Engstler? love you're writing btw bb!!! 🫶🏻

MY GIRL || EMILY ENGSTLER

summary — emily and reader go live and answer questions that lead to cute moments

pairings: emily engstler x gf!reader

word count: 443

warnings: none

authors note: my first request! thank you soo much i hope you like it 🫶

“Is this okay?” Emily leaned her phone against the water bottle.

Your face lit up. “Wait! I’ll get my phone holder. It should be somewhere in the bathroom-“ You slowly stand up but Emily was fast to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into her lap.

She shakes her head. “Want you here with me.” She clicked on the live button. “Oops, looks like I started it. Too late baby.” She kisses the side of your head.

You roll your eyes playfully and slide off her lap to sit in the vacant spot on the couch.

She frowns, hoping to make you feel bad. Knowing you wouldn’t budge, she decides to place her hand on your knee. Giving it gentle strokes from time to time.

“Hi guys!” You leaned forward to try and read some of the comments. “I finally convinced Em to go live for you guys.”

“Not that it took that much convincing.” She said under her breath.

You give her a playful glare before scrolling through the comments.

emilyshousewife1: YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE IM CRYING

username18: “thank you y/n” we all say in unison

ilovewnba28: show us ur tattoos!!

“Em, someone’s asking you to show your tattoos.” You face her.

“I guess I’ll just show them the new one I got recently.” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “What new one?”

She chuckles and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies fly around in your stomach.

She leans towards the camera and holds up the loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know if you guys can see that..”

You help her hold her hair up to get a better view of the tattoo. “It’s a.. kiss mark?”

She nods and makes eye contact with you, tucking the loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“I was supposed to show you this on our 1 year anniversary.” She smiles softly. “I know how much you love to kiss that area, especially after my games. I got it because I want to be able to feel like I’m with you, even when I’m not.” It was true. Whenever you hugged her, you’d gotten used to kissing the back of her ear instead of the top of her head. One of the reasons may also be the fact that she’s a bit too tall.

You leaned into her side, tears threatening to fall down your face. “I love you.”

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder. “I love you too baby. You realize we’re still on live, right?”

The next day, both of your notifications blew up with clips and edits of the two of you.

#emily engstler x reader #emily engstler #emily engstler fluff #wnba basketball #wnba #washington mystics #wlw #wcbb x reader #wcbb

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euphorajeon · 5 months

Note

For 1k celebration! How about my time and jungkook with it??

Also congratulations my love 💖

opposite of sun

— request: jeongguk + my time - bts

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, angst

— word count: 1.8k

— warnings/tags: idol!jk, college student!oc, mild angst (it's rly mild i promise!), they're best friends (i rly gotta stop writing this trope,,,)

— summary: jeongguk has a peculiar way of dealing with time difference.

— author's note: hello luv! thanks for requesting :) i really enjoyed writing this one eheh i hope you enjoy reading it too~

masterlist

There are a few things Jeon Jeongguk does not like about his life as a singer.

One, that constantly looms above his head, is how busy his schedule is. His days are filled to the brim with performing, song recording, photoshoots, video shoots, company meetings, and a long list of things in between. Some days, he could barely stay awake. Some days, he forgot the last time he ate. Some days don’t feel like days because all he saw was the inside of a building. Some days he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Two, the lack of privacy. There’s always someone watching his every move, waiting for him to fuck up. This extends to his closest people as well, his parents, his brother, even his non-famous best friend, you. Jeongguk could not forget the time he accidentally revealed he has a long-time girl best friend on a livestream. The media went crazy, trying to make headlines that would cause the most noise with wild rumors and assumptions. It took the PR team almost a month to divert the media attention to something else, along with a livestream ban for Jeongguk for three months.

Three, the one he’s facing right now, is time difference. As a singer, Jeongguk travels a lot to other time zones outside of KST, oftentimes resulting in jetlag. It’s not too troublesome when he visits another Asian country, the time difference only one to two hours, but when he’s on the other side of the world like now, it feels like his whole world is a jumbled mess.

Jeongguk plops down on the couch in his hotel room, glancing at the clock on his phone screen before tapping the FaceTime button. His reflection stares back at him as the call rings, the only thing visible on the screen just his eyes and sweaty strands of hair. He’s running his fingers through his damp hair when the call finally connects.

“Sorry, sorry! I— wow, eyes. And forehead,” you say in lieu of a proper greeting. Jeongguk grins, even though you can’t see it.

“Hi, Bun,” he greets. “Whatcha doin’?”

Jeongguk’s nickname for you is fairly new, only conjured up after his accidental slip on livestream, but it rolls off his tongue easily as if he’s been calling you Bun since you were both thirteen, when your friendship first started. It stems from his fear that anything has ears and if he says your name, someone somewhere could use it to dig up information about you. Although you’d rolled your eyes at him the first time, he knows you appreciate the thought.

Also, contrary to your friends’ beliefs, bun here stands for bread, not bunny. It’s known to the people who know you that you love bread. Steamed bun, milk bun, melon bbang, chocolate bread, cheese sticks, anything. But despite this knowledge and your protests, your friends still hoot in teasing whenever Jeongguk video calls you and drops the nickname. Jeongguk tries to prevent his grin from blossoming more when he sees you pretending to ignore your friends’ teasing.

“Studying,” you answer with a roll of your eyes, before a grin matching the one on Jeongguk’s face overtakes your feature. “What about you, superstar? Bet it’s more exciting than…” you glance at the paper in front of you, “the study of the economic impact of singer Jeon Jeongguk on South Korea.”

Jeongguk laughs. “You are not studying about my economic impact on SK.”

You hold up a finger, snatching the paper off the table to shove it into your phone camera. Then the pair of your eyes appear above said paper, hogging Jeongguk’s screen much like his eyes are hogging yours. “Read, Jeon Jeongguk. Read,” you say menacingly.

The words on your paper blur in his sight as he focuses more on the dark bags under your eyes. Even through a shitty video call connection, it’s apparent that you haven’t had a good rest for some time.

“Bun, have you been sleeping okay?”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you stare at him like he has three heads. “Jeon, I’m a college student. Asking me that at two AM is like asking you if you’re resting okay.”

Jeongguk sits up from his leaning back position on the couch, alarmed. “It’s two AM over there? It’s— fuck, it’s two AM. What are you doing still studying, Bun? You should be sleeping right now.”

All the exhaustion he felt from the flight, the jetlag, the rehearsal right after just evaporates the moment he realizes you’re still studying in the hour you should be sleeping. He should’ve been there with you, studying and reminding you to get some rest when the hours got late. He wishes he were there next to you.

“He’s a celebrity so he wouldn’t know what this feels like, huh?”

That was one of your friends, off camera. It sounds a bit distant but Jeongguk caught his words perfectly. Although he’s not wrong, Jeongguk could feel bitterness rising in his chest, one he fights so hard to suppress lest this causes a fight between you and him.

“Sorry, Jeon, he’s just stressed about the midterms. Don’t take it to heart, yeah?”

Jeongguk forces a smile on his lips, one tight pull of muscle that’s far from his grin earlier. “No, he’s right. I wouldn’t know how it feels like being stressed about the midterms just like he wouldn’t know how it feels rehearsing for a performance only an hour after you landed in New York. It’s okay.”

Ah, the bitterness still slips out. He’s tired. He feels guilt slowly replace the bitterness when he sees your downcast eyes. He shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Fuck.

“Sorry, Bun. Not your fault.” He sighs.

“It’s fine. We’re all tired.” You give him a small smile. “You said you were rehearsing for a performance? What performance?”

“Surprise performance, actually. It’ll be in Times Square later at six.”

There’s a gasp from your side of the call, before a short squeal is heard. You glance at someone behind your phone, letting out a chuckle. “You just spoiled a surprise performance to a very excited Yeseo,” you say.

“Since when do your friends listen to my songs?” Jeongguk laughs disbelievingly. He knows your college friends by name, and as far as he does, no one in your friend group actually listens to his songs enough to get excited at the prospect of a surprise performance.

“Last week. She heard ‘Yes or No’ when I was going through your album and hasn’t shut up about it since.”

“Thanks, Yeseo,” Jeongguk says. “It’s on the setlist for the performance later.”

A bang on the table. Then Yeseo’s excited shriek sounds, making your other friends on the table groan. Tell your boyfriend to shut up! one of them says. You stuck your tongue out at whoever it was before getting up from your seat, taking your phone with you. The image of you from a low angle as you walk away from your friends almost makes Jeongguk chuckle. He misses being able to see your double chin live in front of his eyes.

“Apologies for Yeseo. She’s very excited,” you say when you’ve settled down somewhere more quiet. “Are you excited for the performance later? Confident?”

“I will be if I know you’re watching,” Jeongguk hums. He fixes his best puppy dog look as he looks at you with so much hope in his eyes. “Will you? It’ll be on YouTube, six PM New York time.”

“That’s … hold on,” you tap around on your phone, the image of you on his screen shaking as you do. “That’s seven AM here in Korea. I’d probably be asleep, though. Midterm’s at nine.”

Jeongguk pouts. “Time difference sucks.”

“It does,” you agree. “But time zones aside, our times are already different. Like, if you have a recording for a music show in Korea at six AM KST, I still wouldn’t be able to attend. Because—“

“That’s why you never come? Because the recording is always early in the morning?”

“No, because they’re always on weekdays. And I have class. Or work. I’m not one of your rich fans, you know.”

“But you’re my best friend,” Jeongguk sulks, his frown deepening.

“Your college student best friend. Who has classes, essays to write, papers to do, midterms, finals…”

Jeongguk is quiet. There’s a pop up notification on his phone, telling him rest time is over in 15 minutes. His manager must’ve set this reminder when he was rehearsing, knowing very well about his tendency to lose track of time when given free time. Suddenly, all your differences flash before his eyes, and it feels like a gaping chasm in your friendship. Did you always feel this far away from him?

“I wish I were a college student too,” he whispers wistfully. “Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“You are, though?” you sound genuinely confused. He doesn’t know if you missed the longing tint in his voice or just decided to ignore it. “You’re still enrolled in Global Cyber University, right?”

“Yeah, but,” Jeongguk sucks in a breath, searching for words that say what he wants to convey without actually saying them. He comes up empty, though, with every combination of words sounding as desperate as the last. Eventually, he settles on: “It’s different.”

“Ey, it’s different to accomodate people like you. No one in their right mind would go to a regular college if they have a schedule as crazy as yours.” You shake your head while waving your hand around, misinterpreting what he means by different. “You know, your fans must be so proud of you. Attending college while performing all around the world.”

“Are you proud of me?” The words tumble out before Jeongguk’s brain can catch up. In hindsight, it’s a normal thing to ask your best friend. But maybe, in the tiny corner of his mind, sits something he doesn’t want to admit yet: maybe he wants more.

“I am,” comes your instant reply. “I always am, Jeongguk.”

In the darkness of the night, under a single lightbulb lighting up your face, Jeongguk sees 15-year-old you, hugging his lanky figure and saying you were proud of him for finally debuting. Your dreams! They have come true! you’d said. Your eyes were shining, hopeful, excited for what’s to come for him. Although you’ve lost the child-like enthusiasm, Jeongguk knows you’ll always support him in anything he does.

Now he’s the one who’s lost. In your eyes, dim with exhaustion but full of warmth still. You have your cheek in your hand, lips moving. The words you’re saying sound like a buzz in his ears, only catching a stray one that’s unusual for your vocabulary: melancholic.

You’re still talking. He doesn’t care.

“Do you want to come to New York?”

Time difference sucks. Jeongguk’s solution?

Get rid of it.

a/n: thank you for reading! requests are still open but pls note it will take time for me to write them all hehe

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #fanfic #fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts au #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #idol!jungkook #1k celebration

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xxchumanixx · 4 months

Text

Uno pt. 2

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, mdni!, smut, pure filth I'm sorry, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), fluff, a little angst Word count: 7.937 Authors Note: Oh my holy freaking goodness. I don't even know how the hell that happened. I promised smut, this is pure filth I fear. You can read it as a standalone, it'll definitely work. I'm sorry again, I'm gonna bury myself somewhere far away now. Also, I feel like this is a bit different than what I usually write when it comes to smut, I still hope you'll like it, though! And it's not fully proofread yet... I'm sorry - but I love you guys, just wanted to say it. Read part one here

Enjoy I guess?

"We should play Uno more often."

"You think so?" you asked, nibbling at his bottom lip.

At your question he simply smiled and closed the gap between you again. He crashed his lips onto yours, giving you no chance to escape. The kiss started out as a firm, claiming kiss, but it soon turned heated and hungry. His hand on your neck held you close, while his other hand gently rested against your hip, fingers lightly caressing the skin underneath.

You sighed into the kiss, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him, trying to feel more of him. Fingers brushing through his hair, you lightly tugged at the short strands. Your skin burned where he touched it, only fueling the fire inside of you.

A low groan escaped him as you tugged his hair, the sound muffled as he kept claiming your lips.

You tried to get even closer, chest pressing against his, as you tugged on his hair again, wanting to hear him make that beautiful sound again. Your hips started to move on their own accord, brushing against his growing erection repeatedly.

Bucky couldn’t help the groan escaping him, as you brushed against his erection. One hand moved from your waist back to your hips, his fingers gripping the flesh hard enough to leave marks in the morning, helping you to maintain the movement. A dark possessiveness took over the super soldier - you’re his now, no one else’s. He kissed you harder, hungrily, demanding all of your attention.

Your heart hammered, as your fingers danced over his neck, wandering further down, before they fumbled for his shirt, brushing underneath and over the muscles of his stomach. A dreamy sigh escaped your lips, always having dreamed about these muscles. You moaned at the way he gripped you, at the way his bulge brushed your most sensitive point.

"Like what you feel, doll?"

Your fingers continued to slide over the muscles of his toned body hungrily, not able to stop.

Biting your lip, you took a moment to admire. "Shut up, Barnes." you said, before pressing your lips to his again. Your hands roamed his broad chest, feeling the ridges of his muscles, his skin fluttering the slightest bit under the touch.

He chuckled at your words, but the laugh soon turned into a groan as your hands explored his chest and stomach further, his muscles reacting involuntarily to your touch. Your soft hands against his skin caused goosebumps on his body, and his breathing hitched. He pulled you impossibly closer and moved to kiss from your lips down to your neck, biting and licking his way down to your collarbone.

You shivered involuntarily, a sigh on the edge to a whimper leaving your lips parted. You couldn’t concentrate for a moment, hips stopping their movement as your mind got fuzzy with his lips on your neck.

He started grazing his teeth over your skin, before biting down, nipping at the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. His large, calloused hand moved to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up as his palm pressed against your side. His other hand held you close, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your side, as his thumb traced maddening circles over your hipbone.

You swallowed, trying to concentrate again. A whimper left your lips, as he bit into the skin, breath faltering. "James." you breathed out hungrily, preferring his first name to his nickname, because it sounded so much more intimate. "Please..."

He could hear the needy quality to your plea, and he almost growled in response, biting down a little harder on your sensitive skin. "I thought you’d never ask, doll." he replied, and his hand moved to your hair, tugging it softly until you exposed your neck to him. He pressed a gentle kiss against your skin, teasing you before biting down hard again.

You moaned rather loudly, trying to stifle it though, in embarrassment. You didn't want your neighbors to hear, not when the walls were so paper thin. Your hips started to move again, rubbing against his growing bulge, looking for some friction.

Bucky chuckled and bit down on your lower lip, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin before letting go again, a smug expression on his face. "Trying to keep quiet, doll?" he said with an undertone of teasing and grabbed your hips, his hands pressing into them, keeping you from moving as he wanted to make you desperate for it. He placed gentle kisses over your jaw and neck, trailing down to your upper chest, shirt tugged down.

You breathed heavily, whimpering at him stopping your movements. "Why do I get the feeling I won't be able to be quiet?" you asked breathlessly, looking down at where his face was buried in your chest.

Bucky pulled back just so he could look up at you, a teasing smile on his face. "Would you want to be quiet though, doll?" he asked, giving you room to answer truthfully. He wanted to hear you moan and whimper, to see you come undone for him, only him.

"No." you breathed out, cheeks turning pinkish, swallowing. "No I don't. Make me scream, make me shout your name, whatever you want, James. I'm yours for the taking."

A shiver ran through you, eyes fluttering closed at the prospect. You could feel the way your underwear got sticky, arousal doubling at his seductive words. And at his declaration that you’re his. "I'm yours." you confirmed, eyes opening to meet his again. His own were dark, pupils blown wide. Still, they were the most beautiful you had ever seen.

Bucky smirked as he heard your words, his eyes gleaming with possessiveness. The way you said his name was like a spell, but at your last comment he suddenly moved you around in his lap, grabbing you tight, as he stood up, holding you against him.

He walked over to the couch, placing you down on it. He moved to hover above you, his knees between your legs and arms propping him up. "You’re mine, doll," he said and leaned down, his breath hot on you as he whispered, his lips barely brushing yours. "I’d prefer to make you scream my name, though."

"Good." he replied, his voice a husky rumble against your skin. His hand moved to your face, cupping your cheek as his thumb slowly traced your mouth. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as you confirmed that you’re his. When his lips brushed over yours it was a gentle, almost teasing touch. "I’d love to see you scream and moan my name, doll." he murmured and his teeth slightly bit your lower lip, before he deepened the kiss.

You returned the kiss, only parting for a moment to breathe out "Than make me, James.", before you pressed your lips back to his. Your hands found his neck and hair, tugging him closer, as your legs tried to press him further against you, especially his lower half.

Bucky could feel your desperation and your need, your body pressing closer against him as his tongue slid between your lips. When your tongues met, it was all soft moans and whimpers, breaths quickly growing irregular and heavy. One hand grabbed your thigh, slowly pushing it against your body as he moved closer to you. It was all heated touches and hungry kisses.

You felt the way he tried to control himself. Your heart fluttered at how thoughtful and caring he was, but you needed him. "Don't hold back." you pleaded in-between kisses. "Please don't, James."

Bucky let out a shaky breath when you pleaded with him, unable to deny you anything, especially when you used his first name. There was this deep growl-like sound coming from his chest, as he dived back into the kiss, his hands and lips becoming hungrier and harder. He couldn’t help the possessiveness that surged through him as he pressed himself against you, leaving no space between his body and yours.

Moaning, your hips bucked into his, rubbing against his erection. His metal hand was a cool contrast to your heated skin, and you couldn't wait to feel it somewhere else. Your legs closed around his waist, heels digging into his back, as you tried to deepen the pressure of his erection against your most sensitive part, trying to tell him to do something.

Bucky groaned into the kiss as he felt your legs wrap around his waist, he was barely holding onto his control as you moaned and arched your back off the couch, needing him more than anything. His fingers dug into your thighs, his right hand moving towards your lower hip to keep you still as he lifted himself up a little more. "Doll," he managed to breathe out, his voice rough and filled with need "I don’t want to hurt you…"

"You won't." you said confidently, looking up into his beautiful eyes, as your fingers traced his muscular chest. "You couldn't, even if you wanted to."

He couldn’t help the shiver when your fingers traced his chest, and a deep sound escaped him, his head dropping down to press a kiss against your neck. All the while he pushed his hips closer against your still clothed core, his breathing growing more heavy and uneven. "So good to me…" - he mumbled against your skin, almost as if he was thinking out loud.

You shivered in anticipation and delight, tilting your head to grant him better access, as you inhaled shakily, only to moan when his hips met yours. "More, James." you breathed out. "I need more."

Bucky couldn’t resist your plea, he craved you just as much, if not even more. You were like a drug, one he couldn’t get enough of. He let out another deep groan, the sound vibrating against your skin, as his teeth found the sensitive spot on your neck and he bit you again, soothing the bite after with his tongue. At the same time, his left hand slipped between you, his fingers slowly finding your clothed core.

Your breathing faltered and you whimpered, bucking into him. You grew more impatient the more time he took for his fingers to finally please you, to finally meet you where you needed them the most.

Bucky could almost feel how impatient you became, your hips bucking against his and your breath hitching when he bit and soothed another spot on your sensitive neck. He let out an almost smug chuckle, as he lifted his head and looked down at you. "Getting impatient, doll?" he asked, his voice still raspy from all the teasing. His fingers finally touched your clothed clit, and rubbed light circles over it, his other hand holding your hip still.

You wanted to respond something smugly, but you were rendered speechless, as his fingers finally rubbed your clit, instead tearing a throaty moan from you. Your lips were parted, eyes locked onto his, as your chest rose and fell rapidly. Unable to respond anything, you gave him all the confirmation he needed.

Bucky let out a low chuckle, his teeth showing in a feral smile as he listened to your moans. He kept rubbing slow, light circles over your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves, but with not enough pressure to really satisfy you. His eyes were dark, pupils blown as he looked down at your flushed face, enjoying the way you looked right then. "Look so pretty like this, so needy…" he muttered, as he moved up to press a kiss against your lips again.

You whimpered at his words into the kiss, pressing yourself against his hand, trying to increase the pressure through your jeans. You needed him more than you needed the air to breathe.

Bucky chuckled lowly, enjoying your eagerness to feel more, especially when his name slipped past your lips, in an almost needy whine. He could feel his own need growing, just as evident through the rough fabric of his sweatpants, but he was determined to keep teasing you until you couldn’t keep begging him any longer. "Look at you," he muttered "so needy for my touch, for me…" His metal thumb pressed down, rubbing a little rougher, yet still too slow to really satisfy.

You gritted your teeth, trying not to show him just how desperate you were for him to finally take you, claim and mark you as his. But your body betrayed you, as you jolted into his hand, whimpering and moaning his name again. "Please, James."

Bucky could hear the desperation in your voice, and although it was a good sound he also didn’t want to make you wait too long. The super soldier leaned down until his head was hovering right next to your ear. "Please what? Tell me exactly what you want, doll." he teased huskily, teeth nipping your earlobe, before he started to trail kisses down your neck again.

Your breathing stuttered, his breath hot on your skin, goosebumps erupting. "Please," you managed to get past your lips, as you surrendered to him fully. "Please fuck me, James."

Bucky couldn’t help the low rumble that came from his chest, his body shivering at your words - you surrendered to him, fully, and he wanted to take care of you. His control was almost out of the window. He lifted his mouth back to yours, the kiss almost hard and punishing this time. "Good girl…" he muttered between kisses. "I’ll take good care of you."

"Please." you whined into the kiss, bucking into him needily, fingers tugging at his hair. "I want you so badly."

Bucky lifted his head just enough to look down at you, eyes dark with lust. "Then you’ll have me," he muttered. "And you’ll take all of me, won’t you?" He leaned back down to your neck, biting down on the same spot that he had bitten down on a few minutes ago. "I need to hear you say it." he whispered, and you could feel his teeth vibrate against your skin from his words.

You whimpered again. "I'll take all of you." you told him. "Whatever you give me, I'll take it like the good girl I am."

Bucky let out a low groan, his teeth and tongue soothing the new mark right where he left another, your name leaving his mouth in a low moan. "Oh, you’re too perfect…" he muttered. "You will take care of me, won’t you? No one else, doll." As if to emphasize his words he bit down on the other side too, sucking at the mark harder to make sure another bruise would form, so everyone knew who you belonged to.

"No one else, but me, James." you confirmed. "I will take care of you, but please, finally do something."

Bucky leaned back until he was looking down at your flushed face again, lips parted, and cheeks flushed with arousal and impatience. Just the sight of you was enough to make his breathing speed up. His hands moved towards the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath and caressing the skin on your sides. "Then let’s get this off of you first so I can leave my mark on more of your beautiful skin." He muttered and slowly started to pull the shirt up, giving you time to tell him to stop.

Instead of stopping him, though, you urged him on. "Rip it apart, if you need to." you told him. "Just get rid of it, already."

Bucky couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him at your words, the sound almost like a growl, his eyes fluttered with lust as you gave him permission. In one swift movement, he ripped the shirt apart, his fingers making quick work of it until it was lying in shreds. Once the ruined shirt was carelessly thrown to the side, he took a moment to look over your bare torso, the hunger in his eyes increasing.

You couldn't help but blush, suddenly feeling insecure. What if he didn't like what he saw? What if you weren’t enough? Biting your lip, you tried not to let your insecurities shine through.

Bucky could sense your growing insecurity, though, tilting his head a little as he watched you closely, so that his next words would be believed. "God, you are so beautiful…" he muttered, voice low and rough. "The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…" His fingers moved again, trailing along the skin on your body, his gaze following the movement carefully, as if trying to commit this picture forever into his memory.

You shivered involuntarily, cheeks reddening even more at his words. Your heart fluttered, and you swallowed. "I-" you started, cutting yourself off. "I can't express how beautiful you are, too, James." you then said, trying to return the compliment, as you watched his movements.

Bucky’s eyes flickered from your body to your eyes; he could hear the sincerity in your voice, and yet he couldn’t help the insecurity he was feeling, too. He was just as scared that you may not like what you see once he takes off his shirt and reveals the mess that was his body. For a moment he hesitated, unsure of what to do, but he wanted you to feel comfortable. "Is it okay if I take this off, doll?" he muttered, tugging a little at his shirt.

"Please!" you whimpered, growing more impatient. "Yes, take it off."

Bucky let out a breathless chuckle, your impatience showing, and your eagerness for him to just get rid of the shirt, was almost endearing. The super soldier lifted himself enough to quickly take off the shirt, tossing it to the side, before lowering himself back on top of you. Now his metal arm was on display, the various scars on his body too, but his eyes were focused on your face, observing your reaction carefully.

Your eyes trailed over his body, the various scars and his metal arm, and you couldn't help but be mesmerized by it. Your fingers traced over his chest, eyes following them. "See, you're beautiful." you said, watching his skin ripple under your touch.

Shaking your head, you looked back into his eyes. "No." you told him sincerely. "They're proof of how strong you are, of what you survived. You're a survivor, James. A strong and beautiful survivor."

Bucky shivered as your fingers trailed over his skin, goosebumps arising in their wake, and his breathing faltering from your touch. No one had ever looked at his body the way you were, so full of awe and appreciation, not even once had someone called him beautiful - until now. "All the scars… the arm…" he muttered lowly. "You don’t find them repulsive…?"

Bucky’s eyes flickered all over your face for a long moment, almost as if trying to find signs of lies there, but your gaze was nothing but sincere. He found it hard to believe you, it sounded foreign to hear you calling his scars - the very ones he was so ashamed of - beautiful.

"Doll…" he muttered quietly, before he lowered his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss once again. He could feel his need to have you grow more with each second, the hunger growing more and more consuming.

You returned the kiss, the hunger inside of you flaming up once again. You were proud that he trusted you so much, to be able to see him in all his glory, with his scars and imperfections. He was perfect the way he was. "You're perfect." you muttered in-between kisses, fingers brushing over his stomach to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging at the material. "And I'm sure what's underneath those is perfect as well."

Bucky groaned as you brushed your fingers over his lower stomach, so terribly close to where he needed you, yet you avoided the hard shape growing in the front. He could feel himself grow more needy, your words of him being perfect and your fingers so, so close yet not close enough, making him lose any restraint he had left. He pressed his mouth hard against yours in a possessive kiss, almost as if trying to shut you up from teasing him even more.

You chuckled into the kiss, before your hand cupped the bulge of his erection, silently in awe at how big it felt. You massaged him through the fabric, silently begging to hear his moans.

Bucky growled into the kiss, the sound coming from deep inside his chest, breaking the kiss as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, to hide his flushed face and control his breathing. He could feel his control slipping, his hips stuttering as you massaged his cock through the fabric and a low, almost desperate groan escaped his lips, muffled by the skin on your neck.

You massaged him harder, wanting to hear him again. His breath was hot on your neck, almost distracting you, but you kept going, before your hand slowly slipped into his boxer briefs, cupping his erection.

Bucky’s lips parted on a strangled groan as you moved into his boxers, his hips almost automatically jerking into the touch, seeking and craving the contact. His breathing was labored, as he pressed kisses against your neck, desperately trying to muffle the needy, breathy moans leaving his mouth with his teeth and tongue. His left hand pressed into the side of the couch to support his weight, as he gave in to the pleasure of your touch.

You chuckled lowly, proud at the way he reacted to your touch, but you wanted to hear him. "Don't hold back." you told him, tugging at his hair with a quiet moan of your own. "I want to hear you." Your fingers brushed over his erection and gathered his pre-cum, before gripping it tightly, starting with slow strokes.

Bucky groaned lowly, his entire body shivering involuntarily with the touch and your words, the way you tugged at his hair and stroked him just like those words he whispered to you earlier. "Doll…" he muttered, trying to control himself so that he didn’t go completely mad, but you were making it so damn difficult. His body was practically a live wire right then. "You’re making me desperate." he almost moaned.

"Good." you breathed out, stroking his cock faster. "Since you won't get feral on your own, I'll help you until you will. Don't hold back, James. Let go and do whatever you want with me - with my body."

Bucky growled lowly, your words and touch doing things to his mind. "You sure you want that, doll?" he murmured lowly, as his teeth clamped down on your neck in warning, his hips already snapping forwards into your touch before he could stop it. "Because I won’t hold back."

"Then don't."

Bucky’s teeth bit down harder on your neck for a moment, leaving another mark on the already abused skin, before he teared his mouth from your neck, the sound of ragged breaths leaving his lips. In one swift movement, he pushed himself off you, his hands grabbing the sides of your pants and pulling them off your legs, before tossing them away. As soon as they were gone, his head lowered again, his mouth sucking and biting his way down your body.

Your back arched in pleasure and anticipation, eyes following his movements, pupils blown wide. Your breathing fastened, chest rising rapidly.

Bucky’s mouth reached your core, his metal hand pressing on your hip to keep you down, as he lapped at your wet entrance, letting out a deep groan. He could smell your arousal, so deep that it was nearly enough to drive him mad. His tongue lapped at the slick that had already built up, his eyes looking up at your flushed face and parted lips, as you lay back.

You yelped quietly, hands gripping his hair tightly, moaning at the way his tongue pleased you. Your eyes found his, and your body shivered at the intimacy with lips parted, back arching.

Bucky moaned at your taste, his tongue exploring your depths, his breath hot and heavy as he breathed through his nose in an attempt to take all of you in. Your whines and moans were the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, your sweet taste made him nearly crazy with want and need. As his mouth took its fill on you, his eyes never left yours.

"Fuck!" you breathed out, already on the edge, but refusing to give in just yet. Your legs quivered, his name leaving your lips in a strangled moan. "Fuck, why are you so good at this?"

Bucky couldn’t help but groan lowly, the sound vibrating against your mound, as he continued his ministrations. His mouth and tongue took turns in pleasing you, his metal fingers dug into your skin to keep you in your place, but also to let his desire for you show. His name left your lips, the sound of it so full of moans and whines and pleasure, was almost enough to send him over the edge too.

"I need more." you breathed out, followed by a deep moan, as your back arched again, body pushing into him in search for more. "Please, James, I need your fingers. Please!"

Bucky let out a feral groan at your pleads, knowing he wouldn’t be able to deny you of it. Not when you sounded so pretty. Without hesitation he pushed his index finger in, stretching you out and curving it just right until he grazed over the spot that made you see stars. "There, doll?" he muttered, voice low and heavy with desire.

You cried out in pleasure, not able to hold off any longer, as you came all over his tongue and finger, breathing out his name like a mantra, whole body shivering and quivering. You weren't even able to answer his question properly, suddenly ashamed for coming so fast.

Bucky didn’t miss the shame in your eyes, he could sense it, and it made him pull his mouth from your core, looking at you for a moment, before crawling back up your body. His mouth claimed yours in a deep kiss, making sure you tasted yourself on his lips, before pulling back again and looking down at you with a look that was full of desire and affection. "That’s nothing to be ashamed of, doll." he muttered. "It shows me that I’m pleasing you."

"Fuck," you breathed out, trying to catch your breath. "And not too short." You couldn't help but agree with him on that. "I don't think I've ever come this fast before. You’re not only good at shuffling cards, Bucky."

Bucky let out a breathless chuckle, his eyes dancing over your flushed face and body, still feeling that same need for you as before, but now it was mixed with affection. "I am honored." he murmured, a smile on his face. "I could make you come again if you want?" His left hand traced the skin on your stomach, the cool metal of his fingers providing a stark contrast to your overheated skin.

"Yes!" you let out in a needy whine, eyes fluttering closed, as your body shivered. "But I want your cock, James. Please."

Bucky groaned as you pleaded for him like that, the sound turning feral, as the words left your mouth. "That's what you want?" he muttered.

"Yes!" you almost screamed, eyes meeting his, as your bottom lip quivered. "Yes, please!"

Bucky chuckled; his voice almost shaky as he tried to reign in his own self-control. "You're a needy one, doll." he muttered. "Let me have you."

You blushed the slightest bit, not able to deny his words. "Please James, take me. Do whatever you want to me." you told him breathlessly, fingers dancing over his heated skin. "Please, let go, stop holding back."

There was something about the way you pleaded, that made something inside Bucky snap. His hand gripped your hip, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave more bruises, as he turned you onto your stomach. "Like this, doll?"

You wanted to nod but couldn't in this position. "Yes!" you whimpered instead, lifting your ass up in his direction, trying to tease him. "Please."

Bucky pushed his mouth to your neck, biting down on the same spot as before, adding another mark to the already bruised skin. He pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, taking out his hard cock and giving it a few strokes.

Your body shivered in delight, anticipation making your skin tingle.

"Are you ready, doll? Are you ready for me to claim you?" he breathed lowly into your ear; his own breath heavy. His mouth pressed a trail of soft kisses along the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Yes, I am, James." you confirmed, pushing your ass more in his direction. "Claim me."

Bucky didn't hesitate even for a second, as you confirmed what he wanted to hear, slowly pushing his cock through your folds, gathering your arousal on it.

You wanted to turn, wanted to see him, but you held back, patiently waiting for him to finally enter you, claiming you as his.

The groan Bucky let out as he lined himself up with your entrance was guttural, as he pushed only the head inside, still a fucking tease.

You moaned in return, feeling his tip where you needed him the most. Just the feeling of him this close, made you shiver and your heart race.

Bucky moaned lowly in response, the sound sending vibrations through his body and straight into yours. His left hand reached up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers gently tangling in your hair, before pulling you into a deep kiss, his mouth claiming yours.

You moaned into the kiss, feeling him slowly push further inside. He was big, thick and felt so good. You arched into him, back brushing his stomach, trying to make him push deeper.

Bucky broke the kiss with a low groan, as you arched your back, the way your body fit against his perfectly made him unable to hold back. He pushed deeper, until he was buried completely inside of you. "You feel perfect, doll." he muttered breathlessly into your skin. "You feel perfect."

Your breathing faltered, as you felt him so deep inside of you. "You're so big." you moaned, already out of breath. "So big and perfect."

Bucky's breathing was heavy in your ear, as he held there for a moment, taking a moment to allow you to adjust to the size. "Doll…" he breathed out lowly, before his mouth claimed your neck, kissing, sucking and biting as he slowly started to move.

Hot pleasure shot through you, and you moaned his name, gripping his thigh as best as you could, trying to hold onto something. "James!" you breathed out. "Fuck, you feel so good!"

Bucky didn't reply, his mind already too cloudy with pleasure to even think, but his body responded by gripping you harder and setting a harder, deeper pace for his thrusts. His mouth never parted from your neck or shoulder, as he gave you the same treatment as before, leaving marks to claim you as his.

You moaned, your whole body tingling with the pleasure he brought you. You wanted to look at him, tried to turn your head to get a glimpse at him, and you moaned again, as he hit that sweet spot that turned your body to jelly.

Bucky groaned as you turned your head, his mouth trailing over your shoulder and back, as he pushed his face further into your skin. The new angle had him bury further into you, his hips stuttering as he hit that spot inside you, a low and needy groan leaving his lips as his eyes fluttered shut. "You feel so good, doll." he muttered. "So, so good."

"Fuck!" you breathed out, already on the verge of another orgasm, walls fluttering around him, as your body shook with each thrust. "You're fucking me so good, James. So good."

Bucky's grip on your body tightened, as he felt you tighten around him, the sound of your moans music to his ears. The next thrust landed directly on that spot again, his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder to hold himself back a little longer. "I’m making you feel good, doll?" he muttered, his voice almost needy as he breathed heavily into your skin.

"Fuck yes!" you whimpered, crying out his name, as he hit that spot again. "Yes, so good, James!" Tears burned in your eyes, tears of pure pleasure. "Fuck yes!"

Bucky moaned lowly, as your walls gripped him tighter, his left hand reaching up to gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, before gripping your hair. "You’re so pretty like this, doll." he muttered breathlessly. "Completely undone because of me. Such a pretty doll, aren’t you?"

"Yes, I am." you confirmed, moaning. "I won't last much longer, James. I- I'm about to come!" you warned him, crying out in pleasure, trying to hold back from coming again already.

Bucky didn’t slow down as his hips continued their pace, his moans getting more and more feral as he chased his own release. "Let go, doll." he muttered. "I want you to come undone on me again. I want to hear you say my name. I want to feel you."

Whimpering, the coil snapped at his words. You cried out his name, shouted it into the air, as you came, clenching down on him, your whole body shaking in pleasure. Your vision was blurry, mind foggy, as the pleasure continued to course through you.

Bucky groaned as your walls clenched down on him, his thrusts got harder and harder, as he was losing his rhythm. His breaths were coming out faster and more ragged now, and he was clearly getting close himself. "There you go, doll." he groaned. "You’re doing so well. I’m almost... I’m almost there-"

"Come for me, Bucky." you said, calling him by his nickname. "Come for me, paint my walls with your seed, please. I need it."

Bucky couldn’t stop the whimper that left his lips at your words, his body growing tense at them. Without another word his hips stilled, his mouth biting down hard on your shoulder as he came, his release painting your insides. "Doll-" he breathed out, his mind completely blanking out as the pleasure took over his senses.

You could feel him filling you up with his spend, the feeling erupting goosebumps all over your skin. "You feel so good." you murmured, still trying to come down from your high. "So good. I love you." Your body stiffened, as you realized what you just said. You confessed your feelings to him in your hazy state, only realizing when it was too late. You silently cursed yourself, desperately hoping he was too zoned out to hear you. What if he didn't return the feelings? What if he only wanted to fuck and nothing more? Even when he said you’re his, that didn't mean he had feelings for you, too, right?

Bucky didn’t pull out yet, still slumped over you, his breathing heavy in your ear. His mind was too dizzy with pleasure to even notice you’d confessed your feelings to him. His mouth continued its trail of kisses and bites, as he slowly started to come down from his high. "You’re so pretty." he murmured after a moment, his teeth grazing over the same spot on your shoulder that he’d bitten into before.

You swallowed, realizing he didn't hear you. Your heart pounded faster, as it slowly started to hurt. Did you want him to know? Did you really want to risk losing him, by confessing your feelings? You didn't react to him calling you pretty, too caught up in your confusing thoughts, as your body stayed still under him.

Bucky pulled back slightly, noticing the way your body was lying completely still. He looked down at you, the fog in his mind finally starting to clear a little. His breathing was still heavy, but just enough that he could speak without having to gasp for air. "Doll.. are you okay?" he wanted to know; his tone concerned as his eyes looked over your body. "What’s wrong?"

"I-" you started, but cut yourself off. "What does this mean to you?" you asked instead, swallowing as you stared at the wall with tears blurring your sight, the cards still littered on the table in front of it. "You said I'm yours, but what does this really mean to you? Did you just want to fuck and then go on like nothing happened? Because I can't go on after this and pretend it didn't happen."

Bucky could tell there was something wrong as soon as he heard your voice. The tone you used made him pull back a little more, his eyes searching your face as he was starting to realize, that something was upsetting you. He didn’t answer your question and instead asked one of his own. "Doll... Where’s this coming from? What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You swallowed, biting your lip. It was now or never. "I have feelings for you, Bucky." you confessed quietly, refusing to look at him. "And if this was a one-time thing, then I don't know what to do to forget it."

Bucky blinked, his eyes widening in surprise. He stared down at you for a long moment before slowly pulling out of you. He was still processing your confession, his mind starting to clear up a little more with the way your voice shook as you spoke. Once he was free, he gently flipped you to your back, forcing you to look at him, his expression almost nervous as he gazed down at you. "You… you what?"

You shrinked inwardly, trying to cover your naked body with your hands involuntarily, as you swallowed down the tears. "I have feelings for you, Bucky." you repeated shakily, fearing he'd reject you, regret what you just did.

Bucky’s expression shifted into one of disbelief, his eyes still wide from shock as he stared down at you. "Doll…" he breathed out, and for a moment he was speechless. He’d expected just about anything, but not this. Never had he even thought of the possibility that you might feel the same way about him. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest and a deep blush spread across his face, as he realized his feelings weren’t one-sided.

You noticed the way his cheeks flushed, and you were scared it was because he didn't know how to reject you, without breaking your heart. "It's okay, if you don't feel the same way." you said, biting your lip to stop the tears from falling.

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock yet again as you spoke, your words finally snapping him out of his reverie. "Wait- wait, doll, no." he stopped you, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. "You don’t understand at all. I’ve been... I’ve been in love with you for a long time now, doll. It just never occurred to me that you might feel the same way about me."

Your eyes widened in shock, almost matching the size of his. "What?" you breathed out, trying to process his words. When they finally hit, a tear managed to escape. "Why wouldn't I?" you asked him. "You're the most perfect being on planet earth, Bucky. I love you."

Bucky gently wiped the tear away with his thumb, his expression so soft it was nearly melting in front of your eyes. "Sweetheart…" he muttered tenderly. "I don’t deserve you. You don’t even know what I’ve done. I’m not a good man, doll. You should love someone like Steve instead."

You huffed, shaking your head. "I wouldn't want good boy Steve, I want you, Bucky. I don't care what you've done, I don't care what people might say about you. None of what you did was your fault. And I won't ever - do you hear me - ever, blame you for it. You're the man I want, and I don't care if you deem yourself a good man or not, because I certainly do."

Bucky swallowed, his own eyes getting a little misty as he stared down at you. You’d just spoken the words he’d needed to hear for him to feel at least a little less guilty about his past. You didn’t blame him for the things he did. You loved him despite of the fact that he’d been a cold-blooded killer. "Darling…" he murmurs again, overwhelmed. "I don’t... I don’t know what to do with all this love you’re giving me, doll."

"Inhale it and lock it in your heart." you told him, cupping his cheek with one hand, gently stroking it. "You deserve all the love one could give, and nothing less. Do you understand? And I'm willing to give you as much of that as you need."

Bucky closed his eyes as you caressed his cheek, leaning into the touch as he let out a shuddering breath. A moment later his arms carefully wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him until the two of you were pressed up tightly against each other. "And what if I don’t ever want to let you go?" he murmured against your clavicle, as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"Then don't." you told him, nuzzling your nose into his neck, inhaling his sweet scent. "Because, let's face it, you wouldn't be able to get rid of me anyways. And I need you to show me how to shuffle so expertly."

Bucky let out a small huff at your answer, a sound that quickly turned into a breathy chuckle. He pressed several gentle and tender kisses to the skin of your neck, his hands gently caressing your back. "My perfect and beautiful doll…" he muttered. "So willing to throw your love at me without even knowing what type of man I am. How did I get so lucky?"

You chuckled, kissing his neck, lightly sucking on the sweet skin, before answering his question. "By being yourself, Bucky. You got so lucky, because you're yourself. You don't try to be someone else for others, and I love that about you. You're so sweet and caring, even if your broody self won't always show it. Deep down you're the sweetest person on earth, ready to do everything to protect the people you love. That's why I love you, and that's why you deserve such luck."

Bucky’s mind went blank as your sweet words hit him with full force, leaving him dizzy for a few moments. His chest felt so full of love, it nearly threatened to burst with it. He didn’t even know how to reply to your words, but his body moved subconsciously, his fingers threading through your hair to gently tilt your head back. His lips immediately found yours, kissing you with such fervor it almost felt as if he was afraid, he might lose you.

Your other hand cupped his other cheek as well, tugging him even closer, as you tried to pour all your love for him into the kiss. Your fingers threaded through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp to show him how much you cared for him.

Bucky groaned lowly into the kiss, his hands reaching down to grip your hips, gently kneading at the flesh with his fingers, his own way of pouring his love into you as well. A shiver ran down his spine when you reached into his hair, causing his fingers to dig into your hips a little harder, and the kiss grew more heated.

"I love you." you murmured in-between kisses. "I love you so much."

Bucky groaned, your breathy voice making him shiver and pull you even closer to him, his body gently pressed flush against yours. "Darling…" he mumbled. "Darling, you have no idea how much I need to hear that. I love you, god, I love you more than anything."

You smiled, breaking the kiss to look up at him. "I will say it as often as you want to." you told him, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his forehead. "I love you, Bucky."

Bucky let out a small groan as you pushed his hair back gently, staring deeply into your eyes. "Say it whenever you want, darling." he mumbled, a lovesick smile on his face as he gazed down at you. "I don’t mind being reminded of your love for me every second of the day. I’ll keep reminding you of mine as well."

"Good, because I won't stop, even if you can't hear it anymore." You told him with a grin, eyes locked on his blue ones. "And beyond that. I will never stop telling you how much I love you. Because I do, with all of my heart."

Bucky chuckled a little, his gaze full of adoration as he looked down at you. "I wouldn’t want you to ever stop, doll. I need to hear these pretty words for the rest of my life." His hand came up to gently caress your cheek again, his smile softening at the feel of your warm skin under his touch. "Darling, you’re too good for me. You might’ve just given a dead man life again."

"You've never been dead, just old." you teased him lightly, hinting at him already being over a hundred years old. "Even though you still look like a damn God, more beautiful than anything else."

Bucky huffed in amusement at your words, a small but bright smile appearing on his face. He couldn’t deny the way his heart skipped a beat when you complimented him, his cheeks tinging a soft pink color at your words. "You’re too kind, doll." he hummed quietly. "I’m far from a ‘damn God’, as you put it. That title belongs to you and only you."

"Then we're both gods." you decided, returning his smile, secretly loving the dimples on his face.

Bucky smiled down at you, the dimples in his cheeks deepening and making his face look even more handsome. "Then I might as well be the God of Darkness and you can be my little Goddess of Light."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in amusement. "Then I'll bring you the light that you deserve in your life." you told him softly. "I'll lead you the way out of the darkness."

Bucky let out a low groan as you spoke, his chest filling up with so much love and adoration for you it felt as if it might burst. He didn’t ever want to go more than an hour without that sweet voice of yours murmuring pretty words like these into his ear. "Darling..." he muttered quietly; his eyes so soft as he gazed down at you. "You’re truly perfect to me. My precious little ray of light."

"I love you, James." you said softly, heart swelling at his words, unable to say more. His words meant the world to you, and you were glad he accepted the love you were giving him.

Bucky practically melted on top of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He’d never ever be going to get tired of you calling his name, never going to get enough of your affection and love. The way you said it was so tender, so warm and full of adoration, and Bucky loved it. "My heart... my entire soul is yours…" he breathed against your skin.

"Always and forever."

Tag List

@sapphirebarnes

To Ava:

Hello love, sadly I wasn't able to find you. You've put your name on my Tag List, but I don't know what's your tag (for example: xxchumanixx is my tag, even though it says C. F. Hale on my profile). I'd really like to tag you, but I simply can't find you. If you see this, please send me a message so I have your tag and can add you in the future!

Lots of love!

#bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #the winter soldier #winter solider x reader #winter soldier x reader

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