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forgeofthenine · 9 months

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The bachelors are bachelors no longer! How would they grow old with you? Secondarily, how would they respond to being grandparents?

Ironically I wrote this while staying at my Nans house. I'll be here for the holidays so the next few posts will also be written here, I just thought this was particularly thematic. Halsin was also a perfect fit for this prompt too, so I hope you don't mind me adding him in :)

How would the bachelors (+Halsin) grow old with you and respond to your growing family

Dammon

This blacksmith was sure he'd live the bachelor life for the rest of his days

Who'd want to marry a man so obsessed with his forge that he's basically personified it?

Apparently, he's found the one person out there that can appreciate all his quirks

As the two of you grow older I actually see him stepping back from his forge more

He's already taught your children how to handle the family blacksmithing business, giving over the running of it to your eldest daughter and son-in-law with one of your younger sons happily working there too

As much as it saddens him the aches and creaks in his joints make the work too hard on his aging body, and his hands aren't steady enough for the delicate detail work he used to do

You can't keep him out of the forge completely though, and he still visits regularly and helps with drawing the designs of new projects and commissions

When he isn't hovering over your children's work, he's with you and the grandkids

Dammon settled into a domestic life surprisingly well, and he's a very doting grandfather

He's the type to insist you buy extra treats because he knows a specific grandchild likes it and will be coming over to visit

He always volunteers you two for babysitting as well, the spare rooms in your house that were once your children's now belong to their kids

It's a life Dammon is content with, a large family surrounding him and you by his side, he really couldn't ask for more when he never expected to get this much

Zevlor

Zevlor is built to be a granddad, I'm saying it now

He loves you, his kids, and his grandkids more than anything

As an even older gentleman he's actually still very active

The type of old man to insist on going on long strolls after meals, and he quite happily runs your little hobby farm with the help of your kids

You have a smaller, close knit family

With children living just down the road, while your kids work or take care of the home you and Zevlor happily take the grandkids for entire days

He shows them the same things he showed his kids, things like how to tie shoelaces, to ride a horse, and to wield a sword

You'll see them all trudging back in for lunch, covered with dirt and grinning as they try and hide from you

Even in his older age he's very patient, happily listening to his grandbabies babbling as he feeds them

Speaking of food, Zevlor would want his main meal of the day to be at midday

Once he gets older he doesn't like the feeling of sleeping so soon after a big meal

He does start to take naps, however, and sometimes you'll see him passed out on a comfy chair with a grandchild sleeping on top of him

If no grandchildren are around he'll likely drag you into napping with him too, there's something special about napping with someone else

Zevlor lives a very charming life at the end of the day, and he couldn't be happier about it

Rolan

Rolan is the grumpiest old coot on the block

Absolutely the type to yell at kids to get off his lawn, if he actually had a lawn

Alas, he only has a tower and instead he teaches your only child the art of mastering the weave

As he grows older he somehow seems to grow grumpier and even more introverted

Without you there to drag him out of Ramaziths Tower people likely would've assumed him dead years ago

The only people that see his softer side are you, your child, and your grandchildren

And your grandchildren love coming to the tower, wanting to look at all the pretty things and see their granddad do magic

You know the magic shows that Rolan did for his siblings? He does them for his child and grandchildren too

Speaking of Cal and Lia, he's a doting uncle for their kids and grandkids

It ends up with all three of your families meeting up at the tower for all gatherings and holidays, despite Rolans prickly attitude

It's absolute chaos, and the wizard secretly loves watching everyone joking and having a good time

On a random note, he absolutely teaches your grandkids how to read and do arithmetic at a young age

He insists on reading them bedtime stories whenever possible too, and they love it because he does the voices

Rolan is the one that thought he'd be least likely to be a family man, but it turns out he fits that role quite well

Halsin

You and Halsin run an entire orphanage together, you end up with absolutely loads of kids

Only a handful are your biological kids and you also end up with a full-grown owl bear, but you love them all the same

Halsin is very long lived, even for an elf, and if you're equally long lived then you'll end up keeping the orphage going for literal hundreds of years

Over that time the two of you might see three or four generations of humans grow up, your former charges often coming back to visit with their own children and grandchildren

You end up being a pair of old, happy parents with an impossibly large family

Halsin revels in it, finding a true passion in raising kids into happy and functional adults

It's apparent in the way he grows into the role, happily spending decades retelling the same favourite bedtime stories about him and his companions saving the sword coast

He continues to dote on you too, no matter how old you both get

The elf always reminds you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you

Halsin adores his grandkids too, often having them come for sleepovers or to play with all the other kids

He loves nothing more than seeing everyone safe and content, an owl bear happily trodding along after him

You'll find he insists on running the orphanage for as long as possible too, almost on deaths door by time he finally passes it on to his children to take over

Halsin is a very passionate man, and his giant family is one of his greatest passions

#bri answers #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader #baldurs gate 3 halsin #bg3 halsin #halsin x reader

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swagatron9 · 2 years

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I feel like Art is a very touchy feely person but he can't stay still long enough to actually cuddle with anyone mans got too much energy

Cuddling With The Slashers

Pairings: Brahms Heelshire, Bo Sinclair, Art The Clown, Thomas Hewitt.

A/N: You'll just be trying to sleep, and Art is bouncing off the walls trying to drain all the energy that he built up in order to join you.

Brahms Heelshire:

When it comes to Brahms, best believe cuddling is a must so if your not someone who enjoys it, your gonna have to get used to it or get gone.

Brahms prefers to have his head resting on your chest, usually, so his ear is hovering right over your heart; he likes the soothing feeling he gets at hearing the beating sound in your chest.

The two of you would lay like that for hours, just talking about whatever random topics come up until eventually, one of you falls asleep. Brahms is definitely the kind of person to wake you up when you are about to fall asleep asking, "Are you still awake?"

Bo Sinclair:

We’ve all established that Bo’s ego would never allow for him to be the little spoon in any situation with that being said him being the big spoon always ends up in sex as he just can’t help himself when your ass is pressed against his front.

Instead, the two of you decide that you lay on his chest, one leg wrapped around his waist do that you may as well be laying completely on top of him.

His hand, of course, would be resting on your ass while he had the other one wrapped around your waist, making sure that you stay close to him. Although, when it gets hot in Ambrose, best believe Bo will be kicking you off him and shoving you to the side. "What the fuck, Bo?"

Art The Clown:

Art likes to be the little spoon. He enjoys the comforting sense that comes from your arms wrapped around his lanky frame. He doesn’t care of your smaller than him or what he just wants to be protected in your hold.

He would curl himself a ball to make himself fit against your body like the perfect puzzle piece. But eventually, Art would get tired of laying in that same position, so he would be tossing and turning in your arms, causing you to be kept awake as well. Art's energy seems to never deplete when it comes to going to sleep; after a while, he would have to get up and do something else in order to make himself get tired, but in the end, he just gets more energized.

Thomas Hewitt:

Thomas isn’t someone that is scared easily; while he does have his insecurities and problems in life, fear is not something common to him, but the second you step foot into his world, fear seems to be the main feeling he experiences.

With Thomas being unconscious, he was worried that someone might snatch you out of your sleep and he can’t protect you because he doesn’t know about this; due to this fear, Thomas insists on him spooning you.

Thomas being the big spoon meant that he knew for sure that you were safe and sound and that no one could get you when he had his arms wrapped around you. "Look at them!" Luda would coo while Hoyt is glaring at the two of you in disgust.

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mocha-gladiator · 9 months

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Release the info dump doc of Typhon and Rhoda pleaaaaaaase

ok but you have been warned this is literally just a jumble of Notes and Ideas this is not a story and it is not polished At All this was intended for my eyes only but here u go

(Continuation of comic, starting where the last one left off)

"Have you tried eating?"

"Yes, for fomal events. I purge it afterwards, though. It...feels strange to me. I can't use the goods the way you do."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of someone being sent here and living. Save for short missions."

"Well what did you do to upset your god? Maybe you can ask forgiveness."

"I...don't think that they will accept. I refused to attack during a guard assignment and one of my own was killed because of it. I'm a shield guy, not a warrior. I'd gotten by with it until then, but...I'm a pacifist. I'm useless to them."

Typhon gets weak after the third day and, thinking he's going to die, rhoda lays down beside him and holds him like a teddy bear, comforting him. The next morning he is nowhere to be seen and she assumes his kind will dissipate when dead, but he later wakes her with quite a fright, as he is now his full height and very excitable. This summons her bodyguard from outside her room.

Typhon's arms are on either side of the bed, on the floor, and yet he still hovers over her in an awkward position as the door opens.

The guard points his spear at typhon before rhoda can call him off. Typhon is more confused than anything at the threat. After things calm down, he takes the human's helmet off and pets his head.

"Lady Rhoda??"

"Typhon, stop. He doesn't like it."

"Oh."

Once he stops, he offers the helmet back, tiny in his massive palm.

Typhon sits on the bed and it creaks under the weight. The mattress flips up at either end, causing Rhoda to slide against his side making a wide-eyed expression. After a moment she notices how soft his feathers are. She explains who the guard is and gives his name. He is an attractive man without the helmet, which he has stowed under his arm for the moment. Typhon introduces himself.

"So we're in the same line of work," he says, much to everyone's confusion. He gives a strange salute. "Nice to meet you, [x]."

at this point, Rhoda can no longer stand it and reaches up to run her fingers through the soft down, causing typon to still and close his eyes. After a moment, he starts to emit a soft rumbling sound.

"YOU FUCKING PURR?"

Typhon's expression flashes surprise before responding. "I suppose so. Do you like it?"

"I...uhm...s-sure."

"Should I continue?"

"No."

"No matter where you are, I'll hear your call for me."

When there seems no other way out, rhoda asks typhon to attack, which he refuses at first. He finds a second way, to burn her binds. This looks like he is burning her too. It melts the binds and her clothes. his eyes and face are a frightening mask

after escape, he sits hunched on the grass, facing away from her. "My fire cannot hurt you," he says quietly, ashamed.

rhoda does not respond, instead asking for his cloak to clothe herself. Her words are emotionless after she puts it on, then commands him "Take me home." He does not show emotion save for a slightly crinkled brow as wetness streaks from his eyes and down his face as they fly.

later the next morning he is nowhere to be found. she goes outside and calls for him, knowing he can hear her. He arrives, but much smaller. A short human size.

is there a way to make typhon use his fire ? he would be mad if rhoda used it against his will, especially to attack.

After awhile, typhon will get stronger, horns grow, and potentially have blackish hands ? "I've been in this world too long." Worried about devilish appearance

would create a lot of tension if they had a big disagreement and were against each other for awhile. I don't know how Typhon would stay alive though. It would have to only be for a few days I guess.

Typhon could eventually break the need for care by becoming a god himself. Don't need to ask a god for care and forgiveness if you are one

his laurels grow from his head. they can be cut like hair.

#Typhon #Rhoda

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cbk1000 · 1 year

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Another preview for that veterinarian fic I’m working on, because it’s up to 60,000+ words, and they still haven’t fucked, and since I’m not going to post this till it’s finished, I’m just sitting here in clown makeup right now. Need to start writing about smarter characters.

Uther was returned once more, and so Merlin was condemned alone to those cold wet hills which in Arthur’s presence had felt, not necessarily smaller, but less vast: vast in the old, Brittonic sense of scale, the illimitable wilds, when the world was a few scattered lights in the fen. Now the hills were those dim lumpish creatures of folklore, lurking behind veils of rain, and looking to do mischief. He was colder, literally, because Arthur always remembered whatever miscellany of gear he had forgot, or ruined, and chucked it in his face before getting in the truck; but colder too in the metaphorical sense, when the absence of one particular human suddenly recalls the world to what are all the lone hollows of it, where the wind is shrieking into nothing. He was wrangling sheep by himself, and diagnosing white line disease by himself; and when he tripped over a stray bucket or smacked his head on a wooden beam, there was nothing but concern, rather than mocking. He fell over his own x-ray machine, and thought how much Arthur would have liked to see it, and when he had got the truck bogged down in a field, and had to push it out using only his own stubbornness, and some advice from a farmer, there was no one to say, “Just come from your natural habitat, then?” when he emerged from the ordeal as muddy as a pig, or bog creature.

He was turning over the matter of his bisexuality all the while. Because Gaius had told him not to, the natural urge was to fly immediately to the farm, and announce, in front of Uther and God, “By the way, I fuck men.” He had thought when Arthur was released back into the barns, he would make some casual mention of it, trotting it out, nonchalantly, when Arthur had made that heteronormative assumption of gender-exclusivity in mocking the taste of Merlin’s past and future partners: but for weeks he worked out in the paddocks and barns and hovered round the truck hopefully before hope was extinguished. He had not even seen him briefly whilst he was taking a client round the facilities, or glimpsed the blonde head through the rain whilst it was going from the lab to the office.

“He had a big fight with Uther,” Morgana told him whilst she was restraining a stallion, and Merlin was examining it. “Someone was going to purchase one of our mares who’s produced several stakes winners, and backed out because Arthur disclosed some information Uther didn’t want him disclosing.”

“What kind of information?” Merlin asked, straightening, and stretching out his back. “Just a little fungus, for him. We’ll just need to apply a hoof dressing.”

“That she’d produced multiple winners, but she’d had some difficult births, and her last was a stillborn. Uther thinks she’s still a few good breedings in her, but didn’t want to risk them himself.”

“How much did he lose out on?” Merlin asked.

“Nearly a million pounds.”

Merlin whistled.

“She’ll go to auction, but he’ll probably get less now than he was hoping for, and naturally that’s all Arthur’s fault.”

“Seems a bit, you know, ethical to disclose something like that to a potential buyer about to drop a million pounds.”

“Uther doesn’t like people being ethical if it costs him money. Anyway, there was a huge row. Uther said some very ugly things, in front of an audience; Arthur came down to the barns the other night after you’d already gone, and Uther went after him, and they had it out again, in front of the grooms. I wasn’t here, else I’d have clocked the old man, but I heard about it later. He got absolutely torn to pieces for being a failure. Brought his mother into it even. She died, all so Arthur could be a huge disappointment, etc.”

Merlin felt there was a little cold feeling of homicide in him. “He said what?”

“Oh, common theme here. You know she died of cancer shortly after she had him? She was diagnosed during her pregnancy, and delayed treatment because she was worried it would harm him. It mightn’t have saved her anyway, if she’d started it immediately; who knows. But she delayed it with plans to start after she gave birth, but it had metastasized and in the end she opted for comfort measures and passed away when he was only a few months old. Uther uses it to control him whenever he feels Arthur’s slipping through his fingers. If you can make your son feel that he killed his own mother, the great love of your life, it makes it far more difficult for him to tell you to piss off.” She stroked the horse’s nose. “He’s been trying to make up for that all his life.”

“That’s…fucking psychopathic to tell your child he killed his mother by being born.”

“Oh, he never says it outright; he lets implication and Arthur’s self-esteem do that for him.” She looked at him over the horse’s head, her face bracketed by the fine velvet ears, and said, very solemnly, “He’s very easily hurt. So don’t hurt him. I like you; I’d hate to add you to my list.”

“Ok?” Merlin said in confusion. There was nothing that could be done, so far as he could see, by a bisexual to the heterosexual on which he had a very small but inadvisable crush; but she was staring at him, and seemed a capable murderer: and so he said, “I wouldn’t. I like him. When he’s not being a complete testicle.”

She gave him a look which he felt was too knowledgeable for his comfort, scratching one of the flicking ears whilst he turned away to rummage about in his bag, under the guise of treating the hoof, so that she would not see his ears had gone hot, which he could not see, but expected had manifested as a kind of unseasonable strawberry on either side of his head. He had been careful not to make the ‘I like him’ anything more than an offhand comment on the passing acquaintance; there was nothing burning in it, but only a little observation that Arthur was a member of the human race whom Merlin, occasionally, did not completely abhor. But as he stood he saw that she was looking at him as if he had said, “I am on one knee; I am proposing to your brother; I am taking him away from his rubbish father”; not only an unfair imputation, but an inaccurate one. “Arthur’s fine. He’s ok. Sorry about his shit dad,” he said, in defence of himself, because his mouth had never met a situation on which he could have improved by simply not talking, and simply not bloody talked.

Morgana smirked at him; and he gave her the instructions for the dressing, and hurried away into the rain.

#merlin #merthur #fic #preview

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findopulencerp · 1 year

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𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖓 𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖑𝖎𝖊

she was born twenty-four years ago, she is a human who lives in bowden and is unemployed. she looks an awful lot like florence pugh.

“I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough.”

tw: alcohol, drunk, abuse, kidnapping, toxic relationship, delusion

Helen was born to the Reed family, a prosperous and big family, proud owners of a ranch near Turnersville, Texas… which she always thought was out in the middle of nowhere and a place she needed to escape. They were three kids, her the middle one, with a bigger sister and a smaller brother that all doted on as if he were made of gold. Since he was born, when Helen was five years old, she felt left out of most things, her sister being 6 years older and her mother and father constantly hovering over the sickly baby that made too much fuss. She couldn’t say she did not love her family, but she wishes she could escape them all and build a castle in which to live.

That was until she turned thirteen and she stopped believing in fairytales, turning to her schoolwork and hard labor around the ranch. She was homeschooled and her contact with the outside world was mostly through the internet and a few visits here and there where she could go with her father.

By the time she turned eighteen, she had a bag ready with things and left for Tennessee, hitchhiking and sleeping behind bars and using what little money she had saved up throughout the years for food. What would usually be a twelve-hour trip took her a week and a half and in the end, she found a job as a waitress at a local diner. The world outside of the ranch wasn’t as great as she had seen online, but it wasn’t also as dangerous as it had appeared. After living on the couch of a colleague for half a year she managed to save enough to put in for rent and changed jobs to a bar where she earned far more. By twenty-two she was just drifting through life, relying a bit too much on alcohol to get through the afternoons before work, hanging out after it with some folks she had gotten to know through the years. Her parents had told her to come home, but she thought that if she just got a bit more money, maybe she could travel again and go to New York and live a dream life, meet a handsome man, go to parties and experience something else than what she had so far.

One night at work her dream began coming to life, she thought. She met a handsome young man with dark hair and pale skin, very charming, a gentleman who always tipped and sometimes waited almost until closing hours to talk with her. At first, she thought he had wanted to play a game with her, get her to go home with him as many had done… but when she finally agreed to go to his apartment after a shift instead they talked for hours on end into the day, sitting in the shadows of the basement he had made into a home. Se didn’t remember much but a sting and feeling weak back then, but when she went to work she was tired and barely stood on her feet. A month later she had stopped communicating with everyone but him and spent her days in his basement, the nights wobbling around the bar and missing him. Until there was no reason to miss him because she found all her meagre belongings next to his bed in boxes and the key from his door gone from her picket when she woke up on a day off, middle of the night, the room cold and dark.

Now, she couldn’t really describe what she had gone through and what has been happening for two years. She knew that she had almost never left his apartment, work forgotten, her own apartment’s lease ended. She had a tattoo of his name on her arm now, holes in her neck where he kissed her and a constant desire to just sleep. She knew they had flown to Vegas and gotten married in a hotel chapel with Elvis next to them. She knew he wanted her to love him, but all she could feel was a longing for his presence, and a fear, and a desire to run away.

So when she woke up in the trunk of their car, feeling stronger than she had in a long time, his smile above her as he was opening it, she was confused. “We’re going to be freer here. You can make friends again and I will research if we can extend our family.” was what he had told her as he led her up the stairs of a new place, a small apartment with two rooms connected by a sliding door, the windows blackened. She had long since forgotten her mother existed and she had a family outside of him. All that had been on her mind was Alexander Leslie, a husband she wished would leave her alone, a possible impossible baby and the knowledge that at some point he wanted to make her like him.

Both Helen and Alexander think that it is indeed possible to have a baby together. Him because of the mental state he has been in since created as a vampire, her because he is the only vampire she has ever known and having no other supernatural contact.

“what power did she attain when settling in opulence?”

None.

this character is…taken

#supernatural rp #oc rp #mature rp #horror rp #town rp #taken #human #florence pugh fc

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oriocookie · 2 years

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dsmp fic list

as soon as this list gets too big, itll separate into smaller, more specific categories

masterlist

This Train Terminates At Stanmore by Anonymous

The first time Wilbur meets Tommy is at two am at the Waterloo train station. The two ride the train together and bond, spilling their souls to each other. When they arrive back at Waterloo, they go their separate ways, never to speak again.

A year later, Wilbur meets Tommy again.

figure skates and hockey blades by effervescentlies

George is a talented figure skater who moves from England to Canada on a scholarship.

Dream is the rowdy captain of the university hockey team. Unbeknownst to George, he’s also Clay, an exceptionally bright and mysterious English major.

But what George doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

i'm in love with (our) future by mellowanon

They’ve played their little game a billion times by now—Dream has given the same answers pretty much every time, unless he thought of something new and improved, which happened often, because of how often they talked about it and how often he thought about it.

Dream - 3:20am kiss you obviously

That was one that didn’t change. Neither did George’s response.

George - 3:22am In front of everyone? People will see you know, they’ll recognize us

Dream’s counter reply didn’t ever change, either.

Dream - 3:23am let them

Tying you to me by summerchai

After seeing fan made fibre art, Dream is determined to master the craft of knitting. As a result, George receives a closet's worth of blue items, and is feeling very normal about it.

OR Dream is into knitting. George is into Dream.

your love remains true by theclingyduo

Tubbo’s- Tubbo’s here, or at least a version of him is, and goddammit Tommy missed him so fucking much. He hovers his mouse over the stream, biting his lip nervously, before taking the leap and joining it.

And fuck, Tubbo looks so similar that Tommy thinks he might cry again.

He doesn’t have horns, doesn’t have the long hair that covers half his face, doesn’t have the fucking awful scars that Tommy still hates himself for having let happen – but it’s still unmistakably him. His smile’s the same, he laughs the same – if a little brighter and less reserved – he brushes his hair back the same way and furrows his brows in concentration the same way and groans lightly in frustration the same way and-

It’s not him, but it’s still Tubbo, and Tommy can find himself loving this version of him already.

(Or: Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo find themselves reincarnated into the bodies of their streamer selves, and learn to live in a world that, instead of being cruel, is kind to them.)

midnight meetings by karlnapity

Dream tried to get a good look at the other two in the light drifting over from the porch. One was taller than the rest and had swoopy brown hair. The last of them was Sapnap’s height and- Wow. He was really pretty. He had thick brown hair that was just barely flopping down in front of his deep brown eyes and a soft smile. He was just wearing a baby blue hoodie and black sweatpants, but Dream felt slightly self-conscious about his pajama pants anyway.

Because he doesn't drink, Dream basically acts as Sapnap's eternal designated driver. When he picks up him and his friends from a party, he meets someone new.

All is Fair in Love and Football by graciegirl2001

The first time George Vincent meets Dream, the latter is passed out on the grass outside a college apartment in nothing but his boxers, the beer can in his hand leaking into the dirt.

Charming.

In which George is the captain of the cheer team, Dream is an up and coming football star, and George spends a great deal of time avoiding said up and coming football star like the plague.

Wrong Number by Anonymous

Skeppy accidentally texts the wrong number. It's the start of something amazing.

Unspoken Rules by Anonymous

The first time it had happened had been when Skeppy had seen the man approaching the kitchen sink and felt a jolt of guilt-ridden remembrance lurch in his gut. Three steps away, he’d managed to cut Bad off and grabbed hold of the dirtied plate first, applying soap and scrubbing at it with almost comical force. Bad had laughed, rolled his eyes and leaned on tiptoe –

And kissed Skeppy's cheek.

Twitter Disaster by junipersand

Skeppy @Skeppy

I’ve been thinking about this a lot and i think it’s time to tell you guys that i’m bisexual and blessed with a lovely boyfriend ;)

90.5K Retweets 71.4K Quote Tweets 164K Likes

BadBoyHalo @BadBoyHalo Replying to @Skeppy

You are still the same Skeppy I know ❤ Love you Man! So, tell us about this “boyfriend” you have o.o

45.2K Retweets 21K Quote Tweets 106K Likes

SPIN OFF:

Escaping Reality

HEAVY DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT SHIP THE REAL PEOPLE NOR THEIR CHARACTERS. THIS IS MERELY FOR FUN AND FOR JOKES.

The Modern Dictionary for Ghosts, Written by a Dead Guy by Turtle_ier

Dream is dead, and has been for some time. People come and go, trees grow and fall, and as time gradually wears down even the most steadfast things, he forgets himself. Eventually, the appearance of the man who inherited the house he haunts means that he remembers some things, and learns a few others. But Dream remembers that face. It would be hard not to remember that face.

The Inherent Mystery of Twins by voidofwriting

He wasn’t sure really when he’d come up with the idea. Ranboo had always been good at impressions, and it wasn’t like an American accent was hard to fake. Sure, it probably would have been easier to just get his brother’s help with everything, but Tubbo was busy with the Dream SMP, and besides, he didn’t want to just grow from his clout. No, Ranboo wanted to earn some himself. ~~~ Or:

Tubbo and Ranboo are twins, and they may have forgotten to tell all of their friends. Oh well, it's not like its THAT big of a deal

studio 404 by quartzfia

With zero hesitation he pushed the door upon, eyes darting to the figure there as he realized it was very much not empty. George found himself completely enthralled with what he saw. He always had a thing for tappers, didn't he?

Or in which, George left everything behind him to pursue his dreams of dance in New York City, and meets two mysterious people he grows too attached to in too little time.

Reconciliation by Frog_kid

Wilbur and Tommy had been separated for two years. During that time Tommy began to hate the other man. But after a lucky placement by the system, the two end up in the same house

(I’m not good at descriptions but I promise it’s good aksjd)

Pathways by Cairo_Raiser545

There are four people who have known each-other their whole lives, and yet they’ve never met.

Four people aware of things they shouldn’t know and fearing things that don’t exist.

Four people craving a family they don’t have.

I’m obsessed with the idea of SBI being aware of their Minecraft Characters as if it’s a past life/alternate reality so I made it a fic

If I ever were to lose you, I'd surely lose myself by sircantus

They took his life, not just the air in his lungs but the love in his heart. They took away his ability to hold his children close, they took him away.

Phil wants the world to burn at his feet for daring to steal his world from his arms, but revenge honestly isn’t the priority here.

All he wants is for his sons to come home.

---

[Not Canon to the main Change fate storyline, this is basically a spin-off on the what-if idea of Phil being killed, then being brought back to life in the middle of Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur destroying the world in their grief.]

Heat Waves by tbhyourelame

Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather.

A breath of frustration escapes George’s lips. “I don’t do that.”

“You do. It’s okay,” Dream says. He feels pinpricks of warmth building in his chest. The words rise up faster than he can temper, laced with soft honey, “you’re so cute.”

The call falls silent.

They heard it. The affection in the tone of his voice, different than usual, no trace of humor. The way it came from the hearth below his heart, glowing with secrecy and shame—for George, and George only. They had to have heard it. -- inspired by the song "heat waves" by glass animals

Enough by piteouspeculiarity

What was it his dad had said, blood coating his knuckles? That he brought too much trouble to the family while giving nothing in return? That he should get out and stay out?

It was bullshit. He knew it was bullshit. Knew it in the way anger clenched his fists and quickened his breath. In the way that every now and then, money disappeared from his account with no explanation. He already paid for the Wi-Fi and the electricity, figuring that was fair since he used so much of it. He did his chores, even when the unfairness of them made him clench his jaw. So what if he got into the occasional fight?

There was a voice in his head telling him that being beaten up wasn't a fight; he was tall for his age, but skinny and spent his free time playing video games, his chances against one person was low, never mind four. The voice sounded suspiciously like Wilbur, so he ignored it.

It was bullshit. So he listened, and he left and he hadn't looked back once.

Tommy is alone, injured and so, so tired. He has one destination in mind: Brighton.

He just hopes Wilbur will be happy to see him.

Dangerous Living by Anonymous

“Is he dangerous?”

It’s not the first time Skeppy’s been asked that question. The query comes in many forms, many ways; sometimes it’s whispered, sometimes it’s shrieked. Sometimes it’s spat in challenge at his feet.

Other times, it’s honest. It’s quiet and timid, attempted in a polite tone yet still underlain with no small hint of concern. This is one of those times, as Skeppy glances down at the young girl standing beside him at waist-height.

Acts Of Love by overthejune

He leaned down and smiled sensually. "Your name would be nice.

The brunet seemed to consider this for a moment, then leaned forward until their faces were inches apart; a direct challenge. Clay could feel the boy's breath softly ghosting onto his face.

"George Davidson."

Clay's smile grew as he tallied himself a point. "Well, my name is Clay Dream. It's very nice to meet you, George."

George stared straight into his eyes, a light going off in them that signaled his intense disapproval of Clay's condescending tone. The boy leaned back in his seat but didn't relax. After a single moment, the dark eyes discarded him.

"Wish I could say the same."

-- Everyone loves Clay... everyone, that is, except for the sarcastic, edgy guy in the third row of Clay's English Language class.

Clay has always enjoyed a challenge, but he never thought that it would be so hard to get someone to notice him.

George has always enjoyed staying away from people like Clay, but he never thought that it would be so hard to ignore him.

It will be quite a battle of the wills (or pills), and it will change their lives forever.

#dream smp #dreamnotfound #skephalo

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the--helen · 1 year

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❝ I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough

Below the cut are both Helen and Alexander Leslie's (NPC) stories

Name: Helen Reed Leslie // Alexander Leslie Age: 25 // Looks 31 but is 140 Species: Human // Vampire Lives in: White oaks Occupation: none // dealer of illegal substances, items and blood Affiliation: none // none

Family:

Mother, father, older sister and brother

None alive

Powers: none // since coming to Greywood he has grown more in control of his mood swings Hobbies: reading, taking walks (she used to love horse riding when home with her parents and taking care of animals, as well as baking simple breads, also used to draw and play the guitar) // N/a

HELEN

tw: alcohol, drunk, abuse, kidnapping, toxic relationship, delusion

By the time she turned eighteen, she had a bag ready with things and left for Tennessee, hitchhiking and sleeping behind bars and using what little money she had saved up throughout the years for food. What would usually be a twelve-hour trip took her a week and a half and in the end, she found a job as a waitress at a local diner. The world outside of the ranch wasn’t as great as she had seen online, but it wasn’t also as dangerous as it had appeared. After living on the couch of a colleague for half a year she managed to save enough to put in for rent and changed jobs to a bar where she earned far more and getting the job after lying about her age. For the next year and a half as she was closing twenty one, she was just drifting through life, relying a bit too much on alcohol to get through the afternoons before work, hanging out after it with some folks she had gotten to know through the years. Her parents had told her to come home, but she thought that if she just got a bit more money, maybe she could travel again and go to New York and live a dream life, meet a handsome man, go to parties and experience something else than what she had so far.

Now, she couldn’t really describe what she had gone through and what has been happening for four years. She knew that she had almost never left his apartment, work forgotten, her own apartment’s lease ended. She had holes in her neck where he kissed her and a constant desire to just sleep. She knew they had flown to Vegas and gotten married in a hotel chapel with Elvis next to them. She knew he wanted her to love him, but all she could feel was a longing for his presence, and a fear, and a desire to run away.

ALEXANDER tw: kidnapping, torture, implied non-con, death, sickness , mention of suicide

Alexander Leslie was born in England in the early 1880s. His family were fishermen and they rarely wandered out of town, keeping traditions as much as possible. However, when he was 18 he asked his parents to go to London to study and perhaps bring back knowledge and more trade. He stayed there for 5 years, studying French, German and economics. But then he came home to a very sick father, his mother having died a few months back from a nasty virus, letters not having reached him as he had been travelling. After he said goodbye to both his parents' graves he left again, giving his younger brother all the land as he had married and was expecting a child. He stayed in London for three more years before traveling to France. When he got there he was 27. He fell in love with a widowed lady he met near the Louvre. They were to marry when she was killed. After her burial Alexander came home and found a strange woman in his dead fiancé's dress. This woman kidnapped him and took him to an estate outside of Paris where he was tortured and humiliated in all manners for what seemed like centuries. By the time he was turning 31 when he was turned he wasn't quite there. Created in a rather ugly way after being tortured he seemed to have developed a split personality to cope and continue. He can get super angry super fast if he’s in his dark periods but is otherwise quite charming and fun to be around. He fled to America to escape his creator and torturers as well as the war that was starting on the old continent. He started dealing with blood and stolen artefacts in order to make money as at first he lived in an abandoned hotel. He found out about Greywood and came and went throughout the last 50 years. When he’s here he has better control over his personality and while still not able to always think straight he doesn’t get as irrational as when outside the borders of the city. He has this inner desire from when he was a normal human to start a big family and has tried to keep a woman a few times but they usually kill themselves or leave him when he turns them if they reach that point. Helen is the only one who has managed to survive with him this long and he’s kind of managed to break fully to do his bidding. She looks a lot like his first fiancé and so he has decided she has been reincarnated and it is meant for them to live eternity together. Therefore despite his tendencies he is kinder to her than he had been to the others and plans to turn her into a vampire once they have a child - a thing he things ill be possible if he finds the correct witch to help him.

#tw: kidnapping #tw: alcohol #tw: abuse #tw: toxic relationships #tw: delusion #tw: torture #tw: death #tw: implied abuse #tw: implied noncon #tw: mentioned suicide #tw: sickness #the man is tyson ballou #&& You are the knife I turn inside myself;

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greywoodrpg · 1 year

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𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕟 𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕖

she was born twenty-four years ago, she is a human who lives in white oaks and is unemployed. she looks an awful lot like florence pugh.

“I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough."

tw: alcohol, drunk, abuse, kidnapping, toxic relationship, delusion

“what power did she attain when settling in greywood?”

None.

penned by... geri

#supernatural rp #oc rp #town rp #horror rp #literate rp #mature rp #florence pugh fc #human #taken #alcohol tw #abuse tw #kidnapping tw #toxic relationship tw #drinking tw #delusion tw

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kiwiships-dark · 2 years

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There's just something about a whumper mocking a whumpee with the line "poor little thing"

#whump #this is in relation to two seperate things I'm writing where I realized after rereading that the quote unquote whumpers use the same line #in quotes because its actually consentual #my si just wants to be roughed up sometimes #but just #a big man hovering over someone so much smaller than them #someone that they're about to drown in pain?#oh its so good

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husbandohunter · 3 years

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A Small Predicament [Baby Genshin x Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Cursed for a week, the boys either have to live with it or find a cure as soon as possible. You on the otherhand hoped otherwise.

(A/n): It only takes ONE glance for me to start having ideas. It was twelve in the morning yall, enjoy~

Oh here's part 2

--------

Scaramouche

• "Oh you shrank? I couldn't tell-"

• Threatens that he will murder you to pieces and burn your remains but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched (voice crack) that you couldn't help but burst into a tearful laughter.

• Its payback time Bully him, take his hat and hover it above his head. Truthfully, without his hat Scaramouche looks like a little schoolboy. Overall less intimidating.

• Tries glaring. Cute. He's really bratty as a kid, sitting on a high chair (which you had to help him get on) and demanding his servants to do his bidding. In reality, his personality never changed. You realized that even as a grown up he still acts like this (bratty kid in a grown man body).

• The curse made his week a living hell. Signora had the audacity to pull his ear when he misbehaves. Childe constantly messes with his hair while giving head pats and the WORST of all, pinching his cheeks. Scaramouche never wanted to commit arson so bad in his life.

• Eventually finds a cure so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore and orders everyone to never speak of it again. Though, he's plotting how he'll get revenge on everyone who made fun of him using the very same curse (You better run).

~~x~~

Diluc

• "Oh…Oh my! Diluc you're just so cute!"

• Diluc grimaces as you glomp him in this state. How can you help it? With his head so small it makes his hair all the more fluffier! His coat no longer fits him to the point the sleeves had made past his fingertips. He tried wielding his claymore again, only to lose balance and fall flat onto his bum

• (insert kid voice "Retribution!") Did I mention the babyface?

• Diluc tries to act as if everything was normal, acting like the Darknight hero and Mondstadt's Tycoon but fun-sized. He couldn't. There was no way people would take him seriously in business meetings. Same with fighting abyss mages, his smaller form was too much of a disadvantage. Thus you ended up doing most of his paperwork.

• One time you caught him sitting on the floor couldn't reach his office desk while reading away the various books for a cure. It was three in the morning. You told him it was way past his bedtime and he argues saying when did he ever have a curfew schedule. In the end you managed to convince him and he begrudgingly obliges.

• The type to NOT ask for help even when it's obvious that he really needs it. Before he was the one who helped you reach things from the top shelves, oh how the tables have turned. He avoids Kaeya like a plague unless he was in it for another round of funny remarks. When he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, you insisted on accompanying him. Worst mistake in his life. A travelling merchant bumps into you and commented that you had a very cute son. Diluc was mortified.

• The day ended up with him sulking in his room. Although it was tempting, you resisted from cooing over his adorable form after days of treating him like a child. It wasn't because you were teasing him, Diluc just works so hard that you wanted to spoil him a bit. At least he could still play a game of chess with you.

• When things went back to normal, Diluc ensures that you will NOT see him as your son.

~~x~~

Kaeya

• "Well look who it is, my little Prince Kaeya~"

• Tries really hard not be bothered by it at all. Kaeya still maintains his suave facade, throwing in a couple of flirting lines here and there (and forcing his voice to go a few octaves too low in which puberty has yet to occur HA). Though no matter what approach, he couldn't ignore the sparkling mischievious glint in your eye. You were obviously not taking him seriously.

• Things couldn't get any worse. He lost his masculine physique and boob window, he wasn't able to go to certain places without supervision. But the worst thing of all was that he was underaged. Kaeya hated the fact he couldn't drink anymore, he even insisted you to sneak him a few bottles (which you refused) and had to settle with plain beverages such as fruit juice (what an insult). He was never really grounded since his childhood days but he certainly felt like he was grounded now.

• Kaeya still kisses you on the lips whether you like it or not. If you ask him to sit on your lap, he will find a way to turn the position into his favour such as resting his face between your breasts. You're not gonna treat him like a kid, nuh-uh, he actively avoids it.

• Since his personality still remains, Kaeya is a naughty child. He will use his innocent appearance to sway people (even you) to get what he wants. That was how he was able to take a sip of the wine he stole somewhere (he wouldn't tell you). Diluc scolded him heavily and threatened to ban him from drinking from his Tavern for a week (they ended up arguing, Kaeya being the passive aggressive little shit he is).

• He was extremely relieved to return back to his normal form again. He has so much to catch up (specifically his bedtime activities with you *wink wonk*)

~~x~~

Child(e)

• "Hmmm to be honest, this actually suits you very much."

• Unlike the other boys, Childe was completely okay with it. Turns out that YOU were the one who was not going to be okay. If you thought taking care of Teucer was energy-draining then expect Childe to take that tenfold and beyond.

• You've officially became his full-time babysitter who is in desperate need of a raise (and rest). You can't take your eyes off of him and archons forbid that he will ever meet Klee. One point he'll be running ahead by your side and the next you'll find him getting himself in a 1vs7 situation with some shady looking treasure hoarders. Childe genuinely thinks he could take them on but the curse downgraded his abilities. You carried him and barely made out of it alive. (This made you ponder whether the best solution would be to strap him against a chair for the time being…)

• Childe being a child will eat all the candies and ice cream he pleases. You wonder if the curse also turned him a few years back or was it that he acts like this simply because he wanted to (it was the latter). He loves being spoiled, spoiled by you! Childe demands your full attention, spoon-feeding his meals, back rubs and head pats. Yep, he's definitely doing this on purpose.

• Did he just call you 'mommy'? (Childe has mommy kink confirmed). He has so much energy that it was exhausting, you literally had to drag him away from what ever he was doing in order to get him to bed. "No Childe, your sleeping time is 9p.m stop whining." He bargained that he'll sleep if you sleep beside him (you didn't get any sleep. You knew what he was planning. In the end, you tried to make sure he didn't sneak out behind your back.)

• Finally you were able to get out of that hell-hole. Childe promised to make it up to you, you deserve it after all~

~~x~~

Small (aka Xiao)

• "Did you know in the Liyuean language, Xiao translates to small?" You didn't say that out loud. Not when he's this angry (this angy)

• He just stands there, crossing his arms and grumbling. You were hesitant to touch him in case he might hiss at you. Xiao has always been short, maybe an inch taller than you, but seeing him like this made you think 'my almighty yaksha can't be this cute♡'

• He gets mad when you no longer call his name for help. How could you? He's just so precious~ Xiao makes it clear that no matter what form he takes, it doesn't make him weak ("Adepti and you mortals are nothing alike." Or so he says but you could tell he wasn't running as fast as he used to because…small legs). You may not comment on it aloud but he can tell just by the look on your face and it irritates him.

• Also the type to not ask for help but worse. Xiao is an agressive little kid, he seems as if he'll be willing to bite someone's finger off if they try to pet him (He gives strong cat vibes, so thats understandable). His spear was too big for him to wield so he often has to put it away or else he might knock someone over with it. Xiao hates being short so you'll be hearing him complain alot.

• Since he was an adepti, he didn't need to sleep however, the curse must have brought down his power by a significant amount to the point you DID catch him napping. You almost swooned out loud just by taking a glance upon his face. For once he didn't wear his signature grumpy look. Xiao appears like a normal child, one full of innocence. His snoring was soft and breathly but that just meant he was deep asleep. (You wished to take a picture).

• Of course, everything had to come to an end (much to your disappointment), he still complains about the incident to this day.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• How is it possible for a baby to still look so handsome? (Must be his godly abilities)

• Zhongli is unfazed by this 'curse' since his past lives have already taken many forms. Though for some reason whenever he walks down the streets of Liyue, young girls, mothers, ladies all come him was and start complimenting him and gushing over him (he was suffocating). They'd squeeze him tight or squish his cheeks, it only takes once glance before the little girls start blushing and hiding behind their moms.

• Needless to say, despite what form he is in, Zhongli is still able to get free stuff. He got some free candies and some free kites to play with. You had to help him carry his items. Zhongli ends up tripping too much because his tailcoat reached his feet (he decided to just take it off. You had to hold that too). Seems like he can have anyone do things for him in the end HA.

• He still got that drippy voice and you're just like ???? "What on Teyvat Zhongli, you're a kid." This is why you can't see him as one, its nearly impossible.

• Actively avoids Hu Tao and Childe. Once Hu Tao caught sight of him and chased him for hours, he couldn't stay in one spot knowing that she might just pop out of no where. Childe still spoils him, however Zhongli feels irritated by the fact the only things Childe buys him toys (its different when other people do it.)

• Everytime you guys go back strolling through Liyue, you had to hold his hand in case more women come swarming hin again. You swear that at this rate he might get kidnapped because hes just such a beautiful baby.

• Zhongli learned an important lesson after his curse was lifted: no matter how many years he lives throughout never take a form of a child.

~~x~~

Albedo

• You find him buried beneath a pile of books and had to dig him out before he suffocates.

• Albedo has the cutest eyes, they're big and round full of curiosity and they sparkle too (he has the prettiest eyes out of everyone tbh). He is the only person who is fascinated by this outcome and immediately goes in the wild to test out his new physique.

• He was always curious why Klee T-poses when she runs so he decided to try it out himself. She was thrilled to find out that she now has a little brother to play with. In the end, Albedo indulges in the games she always wanted to play but couldn't because he was too old: princess dress up tea parties.

• You felt many things when you saw Albedo wearing a frilly gown and a plastic tiara tucked on his head. Deep down you knew regardless of what gender Albedo was still pretty. Klee even had the guts to redo his hair and hardly anyone was able to recognize it was him at all. He has pigtails, PIGTAILS! You made sure to burn that image into the very depths of your mind forever.

• The only advantage was the he was ablw to fit through small spaces, other than that, being small was way too inconvenient. He knocked down a few of his potion bottles which damaged the floor (thankfully not him) because they were lethal (he wonders how Klee was able to not injure herself when using bombs). You carried him and lifted him to alot of places such as trudging through the snow because Albedo would surely fall on his face due to his small form.

• Enough was enough, he only lasted a day with this and decided to just make a potion and put an end to the curse once and for all.

#genshin impact #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact headcanons #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #tartagalia x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #nya writes #scaramouche x reader

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bittydragon · 3 years

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Alone in a Cramped Universe - 2

Previous - Next

Tommy sat on the floor of the spaceship, his nervousness returning tenfold compared to when he was just waiting for the ship. Philza, who was very insistent that Tommy not call him captain for whatever reason despite literally being the captain, told him he was grabbing the rest of the crew to meet him as they took off. Tommy figured someone else was doing liftoff before joining them, so he just waited.

He looked longingly at one of the chairs. They looked terribly comfortable but they were all a bit small for him. Philza said they were going to make a pit stop and get some furniture more suited to Tommy’s size, and the human couldn’t be more thankful. But at the same time, he was itching to have some furniture his own size again, it has been much too long since he’s had anything like that.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when a buzzing noise seemed to rapidly approach him until he was suddenly face to face with a small bee-like alien. Tommy hadn’t met this kind of alien before, he had only read about them while doing research on different alien species. Two sets of fragile looking wings buzzed behind the tiny alien and four arms fidgeted excitedly in front of them. Their pale yellow skin was even adorned with black tiger stripes. Tommy was in utter awe at how small they were, they were closer to the size of the hummingbird alien, so even smaller than Philza.

They suddenly thrust a hand out, keeping the others close to their body, obviously trying to contain their excitement and failing miserably.

“You must be Human Tommy! I’m Tubbo! I’m an Apian!” Tommy reached out and gently grabbed Tubbo’s hand, earning a relieved sigh. Tommy looked quizzically at the apian, earning him a guilty smile as he pulled his arm back. “In my research I found that humans shook hands as a greeting, but I wasn’t quite sure if it was right… glad it was!”

“Handshakes are a good greeting among strangers, you did good research.” Tommy grinned as the buzzing seemed to get louder as the apian’s smile grew. He watched their little antenna flicker as they flew a quick, excited circle in the air with an excited buzz before positioning himself right back in front of Tommy again.

“Among strangers? Oh, you humans have different types of greetings too! You have to teach me one of these days, ok?” Tubbo flipped himself over to be hovering upside down in front of Tommy, earning a chuckle and nod.

“Interesting. You’re… bigger than I thought you would be.”

“Hah! Who’s small now, bitch!”

Tommy froze as new voices sounded behind him and a loud smack sounded after the second voice stopped speaking. A glance at Tubbo showed the bee alien, who had already put himself in an upright position again, still smiling like this was normal, so Tommy stood up and turned towards them. Both aliens in front of him immediately shut up, and stared up at him in awe.

“Oh wait, why is he so tall? Phil said nothing about him being this big!” The strange lizard-like alien spoke up with some annoyance in his tone, earning himself a second smack from the bigger alien beside him.

“He can understand us you know, stop being rude.” The lizard alien grumbled and crossed his arms across his chest.

Studying the two new aliens, Tommy realized just how much bigger he was than everyone else on the ship. Phil had mentioned Tommy being nearly twice the height of the biggest alien on their ship, and he was fairly certain the boar-like alien was the closest in size to Tommy. He was covered in fluffy pink fur that looked like it was standing on end as he examined the human. Tommy swallowed nervously as the red eyes scanned over him, his own eyes landing on the cracked tusks on either side of his face. Tommy idly registered that there were two little horns on top of his head by his large, floppy ears.

If he didn’t look so terrifying and not covered in scars, Tommy would’ve tried cuddling with him in a heartbeat. But he’s barely spoken and Tommy is fairly certain that this man could kill him in a heartbeat.

“Don’t worry about the lizard brain over here, he doesn’t know how to be polite. I’m Technoblade, but uh, call me Techno.” Techno fidgeted with his hands for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Tommy was about to speak up until Tubbo stage whispered over.

“Stick out your hand and let him grab it!” Techno nodded and stiffly reached out towards Tommy, leaving a hooved hand in front of the human. Tommy smiled softly at Techno. He was only trying to properly greet him, maybe he wasn’t too bad. Still scary though.

Tommy reached out and grabbed the offered hand, shaking it slightly before pulling back. “It’s called a handshake by the way, a common greeting among human strangers or general acquaintances. Also a formal greeting.” The boar nodded, seeming to take mental note of what Tommy said. He gestured towards the lizard alien who was still very pointedly not looking at Tommy.

“This here is Wilbur, he’s not normally this grumpy. He’ll probably open up by tomorrow.” Tommy nodded, his grin faltering slightly.

Wilbur looked annoyed that Tommy was even here. He was definitely one of the crewmates that was against having Tommy join the crew. He wasn’t sure who the other was, but he was sort of happy he couldn’t tell.

He looked strange too. Wilbur seemed to have blue and slightly transparent skin, making Tommy wonder if he would be able to see his insides. That would be so cool. But if Wilbur’s obvious disgust for him and the metal looking plating covering his body said anything, he wouldn’t even have the chance to see. The large black markings under his eyes were fascinating though, hopefully Tommy would be able to ask what their purpose was since it looked like they were the only black markings on his body.

Finally, slitted and unblinking eyes glanced at him and Wilbur sneered. Tommy reeled back from the nasty look. That was unprovoked.

Techno growled at Wilbur and took a step towards him. “Wilbur, can’t you be polite for two seconds? He’s our-”

“I know. And frankly I don’t care. The only good thing about him being here is that someone is finally taller than you.” Wilbur looked Tommy dead in the eyes with a venomous glare. “I hope Phil gets sick of you quickly.”

That felt like a sword to his chest. Tommy looked to the ground, slight tears building up in his eyes. Normally it took longer for people to gain a disliking for him.

“WILBUR! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Wilbur stared at the angry Techno and Tubbo before shrugging and walking off. All Tommy did was stare at the floor and fiddle with his hands, trying hard to not cry. He didn’t fit in anywhere, he knew that. But being told that they were waiting for him to be dumped? That hurt.

Suddenly, a small weight pressed against his cheek and a buzzing filled his head. He glanced to where the pressure was and saw the small bee alien snuggling up close. Only a few seconds later and there was someone patting his thigh, and he glanced down to see Techno trying to pat him awkwardly, in what Tommy assumed was supposed to be a comforting touch.

Tommy sniffled and wiped his nose with a finger. “Thanks.” He only whispered the word but the two of them definitely heard him as Tubbo pressed closer and Techno leaned against him in what Tommy assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture among his own species.

The three of them stayed like that for a few minutes that honestly began feeling like an eternity until wingbeats approached the room. They all looked up to see a happy Phil chirping as he entered the room, only for his face to fall as he saw the sight before him.

Phil’s expression immediately filled with anger as he realized what may have just happened. He quickly changed to a sharp and sickly sweet smile. Tommy realized why Phil was captain. He might be small but this was the scariest person on this ship by far.

“Which one of you little shits did this?”

Silence followed for a moment. Tommy glanced at Tubbo and Techno, both of whom were also obviously terrified of Phil’s current anger.

“W-wil told Tommy he ho-hoped you would get sick of him quickly.” Phil’s angry grin grew.

“Oh, did he now?” Phil took a deep breath and turned to the corridor, his wingbeats seeming to pick up in his agitation. “I’ll be right back.”

Phil quickly flew out of the room and down the corridor that Wilbur left through. The three of them relaxed before immediately tensing up again as a sharp yell sounded through the hallway.

“WILBUR! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

#mcyt gt #tiny!tubbo #tiny!phil #tiny!wilbur #tiny!techno #giant!tommy #minigiant!tommy #tubbo #philza #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #alone in a cramped universe #bitty writes

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snowstark · 3 years

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counting to 100. 🍒

For @tonystarkbingo | Fill: Peter Parker/Spider-Man For @peterparkerbingo | Fill: Villain Redemption The one where the Superior Iron Man finds himself having a soft spot for Little!Peter who regresses after a stressful day as Spider-Man. READ ON AO3

The first time Peter saw him, it was when he was out on patrol.

He remembered hiding behind the line of hedges on the penthouse rooftop, stilling his breath like he was terrified that he could hear him. He remembered letting out a little gasp when the— the thing—armour?—wrapped around his body, enveloping him like a snake slithering up his torso, and remembered the way his blue gaze had snapped to his hiding spot. He’d known he’d given himself away that night.

But the Superior hadn’t done anything; his gaze lingered on Peter for a few moments before he disappeared, leaving behind a trail of dust as he shot off.

The second time Peter saw him, it was when he was sitting on the curbside of the empty playground, humming under his breath as he traced the alphabet into the sand. He’d had a rough day, and he could feel the familiar haze of warmth and safety and softness approaching him when he was interrupted by a set of sharp, clean black shoes at the corner of his vision. He jumped to his feet and stared with wide eyes. It was 4 in the morning; no one ever came to this area by now.

But this was the Superior, and he played by his own rules.

Peter’s chest tightened with fear and he stammered, “I— ‘m not—”

“You’re young,” the Superior noted, and Peter fell silent, wringing his mask in his hands.

Then, he looked down and gasped. His mask! He was— he wasn’t supposed to let anyone see— he tried to yank it back onto his face but a silver tendril shot out and wrapped around his wrist, making him choke on another gasp. “Please,” Peter whimpered.

“So fearful, little one. What scares you this way?”

And that— that was just a ridiculous question. The Superior was scaring Peter, and there was no way he didn’t know that. Peter knew who the Superior was, knew what he could do, but he was little right now, and fear only made him feel smaller by the second.

“I don’t—” A pitiful noise escaped Peter’s throat again, and the tendril retreated to hover over the letters scrawled into the sand. Peter followed the movement with his gaze. He’d stopped at ‘P.’

Then, the Superior wrote, slowly: ‘Q.’

Peter’s lips parted in surprise.

“What comes next, little one?”

Peter’s gaze jumped back to his face, and the armour melted away like a melting snowman. The Superior raised his eyebrows, and Peter bit his lip, then said softly, “R.”

The Superior’s lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s correct. Smart thing, aren’t you?”

Peter felt his cheeks tinting with warmth, and he ducked his head. The warm, fuzzy feeling was approaching his vision again, strong this time, even though deep down, somewhere in his brain, he knew he should be making an excuse, should be trying to put some distance between them, and get home safely.

But thoughts were hard. It was like trying to swim in mud. Fuzzy mud. And Peter wasn’t a caterpillar.

So, he looked down at the sand, bent down, and wrote ‘R.’ Then, he looked up at the Superior, who nodded, and he wrote ‘S,’ then ‘T’ and ‘U.’ He continued until he reached ‘Z,’ where he ended it off by drawing a little heart.

“‘m done,” he said softly, looking up at the Superior.

The man had his hands tucked into his pockets, and he gave Peter an impressed look, drawling, “Look how smart you are. Now can you count to 100?”

Peter blinked, and said uncertainly, “‘s— ‘s a big number.”

The Superior’s lips tugged into a smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit. “It is, isn’t it?” Then, he turned his head, like he was concentrating on something far away, and Peter got on his tip-toes to try to see too. Except he didn’t see anything but the dark, black sky.

Then, the Superior said, “Practice your numbers, little one,” before the armour covered him in a shimmering case of silver. He was gone within moments, leaving Peter standing there with nothing but the English alphabet etched into the sand.

--- --- ---

For some inexplicable reason, Peter found himself back at the playground again the next day. Someone had erased the alphabet, but he wasn’t upset. He could start again.

The weather was getting colder now. He’d have to bring a jacket or something to wear over his suit when he was done patrolling. He always got a little more chilly when he was slipping into that safe space too, like he was being poked by icicles.

He was sitting on the swings when the Superior arrived, as if they’d planned a rendezvous.

He looked up, surprised. The first day had been a coincidence, this was not.

The Superior was silent as the armour melted away, and Peter fidgeted nervously before squeaking out, “Hi.”

The Superior lifted a poised eyebrow. “You’re out late again.”

“Um, I patrol.” Peter lifted his mask up, blinking uncertainly up at him. “‘s my break time right now. And ‘m hungry.”

“Patrol, huh?” A coil of metal reached out to flick Peter under the chin, making him jump. “Brave boy, keeping this place safe.”

“Sometimes,” Peter said softly. “Because sometimes I see bad things on TV at school ‘n I have to go fix it.”

“Oh, do you? Is that why you can’t count to 100? Been skipping class too much, little dove?”

Peter’s lips formed a small pout before he could help himself. “I can count,” he protested, affronted. “‘s just a little bit hard, sometimes.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can always ask for help, can’t you?” The Superior approached him, watched his feet skitter nervously on the sand of the playground.

Peter nodded timidly, then asked, “What’s a dove?”

The Superior’s lips twitched. “You’re a dove.”

Peter looked down at himself, confused, then back up at him. “‘m not! ‘m just— ‘m just Peter.”

The Superior didn’t say anything, just watched him fidget some more on the swing before he murmured, “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

The Superior gave a slight nod.

“I like surprises,” Peter admitted softly.

“Well, then, you’re a lucky boy.” The Superior extended a silver tendril behind the bushes to draw something out.

Peter slid off the swing, eyes wide. Then, when the object was close enough for him to make out what it was, he gasped. “For me?”

The Superior nodded again, pressing the white teddy bear into his chest.

Peter grabbed it immediately, pressing his fingers into the fur. It was softer than anything else he’d ever touched; it didn’t feel like a cheap dollar-store purchase, but more like the type you would see on display at fancy clothing stores, sitting on the counter. He pressed his face to it, rubbing his cheek against it as he let out happy noises.

“What do you say?”

Peter’s gaze jerked up to meet the Superior’s expectant gaze. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “I love her.”

The Superior looked smug. “I knew you would.” Then, he turned around again, just like he’d done last night, staring at what only he could see, and Peter clutched the bear closer to him.

“Um— Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior didn’t turn his head.

“Can I— she’s mine?”

“She is.” With that, the silver armour began to ghost over his body again, and Peter almost watched with an air of desperation as his face disappeared from view.

“Mr. Superior?” he blurted out in a rush before he could leave.

The Superior waited.

“Um— thank you. Can I have 100 bears?” The words left without Peter realizing it and he gasped, mortified that he’d even asked such a thing. He sounded spoiled.

But the Superior just chuckled. “Maybe if you learn how to count, sure.”

“And um— will you— will you be here tomorrow, maybe?” Peter bit his cheeks, flushing.

The Superior tilted his head. “Do you want me to be?”

Peter ducked his head, shuffling his feet.

When he didn’t respond, the Superior told him, “I’ll be here,” before he turned and left the playground.

Peter watched him disappear, then looked down at the bear in his hands for a long time before heading home.

--- --- ---

The Superior met him every night after that, and that was just incomprehensible to Peter. He knew the man had better things to do. Maybe he was just interested in him because he knew he was Spider-Man.

But even that didn’t make sense, because the Superior never brought it up, nor did he try to hurt him. In fact, Peter found that the urge to go on patrol and be New York’s brave superhero was lessening in favour of being small with the Superior.

The Superior was nice to him. Nicer than anything he could’ve ever imagined. He always brought Peter nice gifts, like a snack, or a warm hoodie for him to wear, and even some hot chocolate.

He always said nice things to Peter too, like you’re a smart boy and such sweet manners, little one, I’m impressed.

But then, one night, for the first time, the Superior was upset with him.

Peter was terrified, and had nearly started sobbing as he collapsed into the swing, the meat of his palms pressed to his eyes.

“What did you say to me?” the Superior demanded, and Peter had never heard his voice like that before.

“I don’t— ‘m sorry—” he whimpered, breath quickening when he felt a tendril of metal wrap around his wrists, pulling them down from his face. “Just— just don’t wanna keep takin’ gifts, M-Mr. Superior, don’t want anymore—”

“Oh, no, no,” the Superior interrupted, his ice-cold gaze burning into Peter, and that didn’t make sense either, because ice was supposed to be cold, not hot. “That’s not your choice to make. It’s always the same thing with you little ants. Never happy, never grateful, only little brats.”

“‘m sorry!” Peter cried again, sniffling.

The Superior was quiet for a few moments, and all Peter could hear was the sound of the man’s harsh breathing in the space between them before it gradually deepened into its regular soothing rhythm. Then— “You’re a sweet boy.”

The words made Peter’s eyes fly open in confusion, and he asked tearfully, “I am?”

The Superior nodded. His gaze was more gentle now. Not soft like it usually was, but gentle. “And that’s why I keep bringing you gifts, little one. It’s rude to deny them when I’m being generous. I’m not always a generous man.”

“Just to me,” Peter sniffled.

“That’s right,” the Superior crooned. “Smart boy, always learning so fast. C’mere, little one, let your Superior teach you how to repent properly.”

Peter stumbled forward, scrunching his face as he mumbled, “I dunno what that word means, Mr. Superior.”

“It means you show me how sorry you are.” The Superior cupped his chin with a hand, tipping his face up. “Because you were rude, weren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter hiccuped. “‘m sorry.”

The Superior’s thumb stroked over his cheek. Then, he said, “No more tears, little one. I can tell how sorry you are. Had a bit of a scare, didn’t you, poor thing?”

And that was confusing too, because the Superior was comforting him like he’d just woken up from a nightmare when he was the nightmare. But Peter just pressed into the touch and mumbled again, “‘m sorry.”

“I know, little one. But you’re going to be so much more well-behaved now, I know it. You’re a good boy.”

Peter nodded timidly.

For the rest of the night, the Superior watched Peter struggle to complete the hopscotch he’d drawn for him in the sand before leaving.

--- --- ---

Peter was considerably meeker the next day, and he knew that the Superior knew. But he couldn’t help it; he just wanted to be good.

Eventually, the Superior said, “Want to do something fun, little one?”

“Fun?” Peter blinked, then asked softly, “What kinda fun?”

“Mmm.” The Superior tilted his head, eyes glinting. They almost looked like the moon in the sky, glimmering with light. Like a night-light, almost. “Do you want to fly, little one?”

“Fly?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “I— I can kind of fly.” He held his wrists out in demonstration of his web shooters.

The Superior chuckled, reaching out—with his hand, for once—to gently grip his wrist and tug it back down. “Oh, sweet thing, that’s not true flight. I can show you how to really fly. I promise it’ll be fun. A reward for being so good today.” He crouched down now, eye-level with Peter sitting on the ground. “Do you trust me?”

Peter stared at him, breath shallow in his chest. He wrapped a hand around the Superior’s finger, looked down at it, then back up at his face. “Yes,” he whispered.

The Superior reached out and picked him up, and Peter let him. “Good boy. Hang on tight.”

“Yes, Mr. Superior.” Peter did exactly as he was told, clinging to the Superior’s arms as they stood with his back to the Superior’s front. He could feel the familiar shift as the armour wreathed over the Superior’s body, but it didn’t cover him.

“Are you ready, little one?” The words were spoken in a low voice, quiet enough that Peter had to strain to listen to him.

“Uh-huh.” Peter tightened his grip, heart beginning to pound. He knew he’d be fine. The Superior hadn’t hurt him yet, and he wouldn’t now. And if he fell, well, he had his webs. He might be a little more clumsy with how small he was feeling, but he could do it.

Or maybe the Superior would be the one to catch him.

“Good.” With that, the Superior lifted off the ground, making Peter inhale sharply.

They went up, up, and up, until Peter was convinced that they could touch the sky. Then they were going forward, picking up speed, and Peter gradually found himself relaxing as fear left him, replaced by pure delight at the sight of the twinkling buildings illuminated against the night sky.

The wind was cold against his face as the Superior let them swoop down. Peter let out a thrilled yelp and let his arms fly out, the Superior’s grip on him the only thing keeping him held and safe.

There was a chuckle from above. “Little dove, flying through the air, hm? Daddy taught you how to fly?”

Peter grinned and twisted in his grip, and the Superior held tight. “‘m flying!” he shouted, feet kicking before he could help himself.

Another laugh, and the Superior didn’t say anything else.

Peter kept his arms extended as they shot through the sky, and the Superior even did a loop-de-loop when he begged him enough. Then, Peter pointed at a little apartment building that they zoomed by and squealed, “‘s where I live!”

“Is it?” the Superior murmured, sounding interested. “Do you want me to drop you off at home, little one? Is it bedtime for you yet?”

Peter shook his head adamantly, pouting. “Nooo, I wanna stay with you.” He glanced up, craning his neck, and found the Superior looking down at him.

“Always saying the right things, little dove.”

Peter smiled. He was being good, and now he got to fly with the Superior, and he’d ask if they could do the same thing tomorrow night, too. He was sure he’d get a yes in return.

He turned his attention back to the buildings they shot past, then gasped. “What’s that?” he pointed at the large tower standing tall and proud amongst all the other buildings.

“That’s my tower.”

“Yours?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “You live there? ‘s so big!”

The Superior nodded, speed picking up the slightest bit. “Do you want to see it?”

Peter didn’t hesitate. “Yes! Please!”

The Superior chuckled. “Well, only because you asked so nicely. I do have a weak spot for pretty words.” With that, he held onto Peter tighter before shooting off towards the tower.

Peter squealed, covering his face with his hands. “Can’t breathe!” he proclaimed dramatically, hearing the wind whip past his ears.

The Superior laughed above him. “Don’t be ridiculous, little one. You’re perfectly fine.”

Peter gave a little wriggle, but he didn’t voice any more protests as they neared the tower.

It was even more grand up close, with big fat letters that said “STARK” and windows that reflected the moonlight that shone down on them. Peter squirmed to get down, and when their feet landed on the platform, their shadows painted streaks across the floor.

“Wow,” Peter breathed, craning his neck to stare up at the sky. They were so close to the moon, he could feel it. He wondered what the moon would feel like in his hand. Cold and heavy, maybe. “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?”

“Can you get the moon for me?” Peter turned big, pleading eyes to the Superior.

The Superior chuckled. “Perhaps one day, little one.” He outstretched a hand, and Peter took it, obediently scampering by his heel like an excited puppy as they walked towards the open door.

The Superior led him inside, then let go of his hand. Peter immediately ran to the large windows and pressed his nose against it. “‘s so pretty.”

“Do you like the view?”

Peter nodded without turning to look at him.

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly to get his attention. Peter looked up and met a pair of pale blue eyes. “You see that, little one?” Peter followed the Superior’s finger to stare out of the window and at the sparkling city before him. “This is my world. This is my universe. I own it all. And if you’re good, I can give you some of it too.”

“For me?” Peter’s eyes widened. “But— but I dunno how to own it.” He could barely keep track of where he left his stuffies, never mind buildings.

The Superior chuckled. “Well, it’s why you have me. You can always ask for help.” He ran a soothing hand through Peter’s wind-tousled hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.” Peter blinked up pleadingly. “Pizza.”

The Superior rolled his eyes. “You always want pizza.”

“‘cause it’s good!” Peter pouted.

“Fine. But only one with veggies on it.”

Peter pulled a face, but he knew he’d already lost the fight. Maybe he could pick them off when the pizza came. He followed the Superior towards the kitchen, counting the number of windows they passed by. Then— “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior looked down at him.

“Can you— can you help me? Um, to count to 100?” Peter asked softly.

The Superior appraised him, then smiled. “Oh, little one, you most definitely asked the right person.”

Peter smiled, biting his bottom lip happily, then got up onto his tip-toes to plant a quick, shy kiss to the Superior’s cheek. “Thank you.”

He knew he could always ask the Superior for help.

part 2?? maybe?? tagging: @vaguekiwi @carelessannie @starkentrprises @thegreenmetblue @professional-benaddict

#starker #ironspider #sim!tony #peterparkerbingo2021 #tsbmv #little!peter #daddy!tony #my fics #please i did not mean to turn this into a 3k fic #idk if i’ll do a part 2 but maybe :0

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strawberry-lemonade-kisses · 3 years

Text

Surprise (M)

They talk about sex (minors kindly from the bottom of my heart, fuck off)

Living with not one Shinobi, but four had its perks. It also had many, many negatives to it. Privacy was never a thing, after being with them for so long, it didn’t bother you. But trying to plan a surprise for any of them was hell. Tengen had been catching on to your schemes and you knew he was. You could feel his gaze on you when you excused yourself after receiving a letter, or when you brought more than usual home from the market. He didn’t say anything to you, choosing to keep his mouth shut as you tried to shove the extra pouch of sugar into the already stuffed cabinets. Letting out an exhausted sigh you sat on the floor, a pout taking over your lips as you thought about another spot to put all these ingredients you had for a bountiful feast.

“Dollface, why are you sitting there?” Leaning against the doorframe, his built arms crossed over his chest, Tengen smiled at you. His maroon eyes wandered around the kitchen, looking at all of the extra ingredients you had brought home with you. You turned around, tears already built up in your eyes at the frustration you felt. His sudden interest in what you were doing told you that he knew about the surprise. The entire thing. He had been hovering since he figured it out, staying close by you and helping you with anything that seemed to keep you even the slightest bit tired. You knew that he had figured it out already, but most of you wanted it to be a surprise, something you could spend a night celebrating and talking about, hushed whispers in your bedroom as you both expressed your excitement.

"It's nothing Tengen" you shook your head, turning back to the open cabinets, stuffed to the brim with ingredients. You could hear him sigh behind you, the door frame creaking as he removed himself from it.

"Don't cry doll face, we can reorganize if you need to fit all of this" he planted himself next to you, an arm snaking around your waist as he pulled you close to him, a calloused hand wiping at the tears that had fallen. You wanted to push him away, yell at him for ruining it already. But that wasn't fair, he never expressed that he knew what you had been trying desperately to keep secret, to surprise him with. You had been growing more emotional though, finding yourself crying at the smallest inconvenience. It was only a matter of time before everyone found out.

"I have to use it all soon so there's no point" you huffed, trying to look away and avoid his curious gaze.

"Oh, you're going to use everything you dragged home? Are we having company?" The teasing tone in his voice made you want to laugh, maybe even cry some more. "The girls are gone so there couldn't possibly be a reason all of this is just for you and me" he hummed

"It is my love, I figured I would make you a good meal before you had to leave. I don't know when you will join the girls but I want to make sure you are well fed and have your strength" you smiled, a hopeful expression as you hoped to lead him away from any more questions you wouldn't be able to answer without spilling the secret.

"Ah, I see. Just you and I. No one else?" You nodded, not trusting your voice. He smirked, moving to stand before reaching down to help you up. He captured you in his embrace as you stood, pulling you close to him.

"Doll, don't push yourself for my sake. Just spend time with me" he mumbled the words into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his larger figure practically folded in half to hold your smaller one. Your hands ran through his hair, silver locks cascading over your fingers as you ran your nails over his scalp. You could feel him let out a content sigh, a pleased noise he always made when you did this.

"Tengen, sweetheart" he removed himself from your neck, Maroon eyes meeting yours as he smiled at you.

"I have something I want to tell you" his smile widened as he nodded enthusiastically, removing his arms from around you and grabbing your hand, leading you to one of the cushions in the room adjacent to you. You let out a dejected sigh. Upset with your utter failure of a surprise, knowing you had no choice but to just tell him before someone else did. He pulled you into his lap, muscled thighs cushioning you as he trapped you in his embrace once more.

"Go on doll"

"Tengen" you swallowed, sudden anxiety building in the pit of your stomach. "My love, I'm pregnant" seconds passed in silence as he just stared at you, his grip on your waist tightening as his smile widened, teeth on full display as he grinned at you.

"If you could get any more perfect I'm afraid I won't be able to keep up" he chuckled, leaning forward to connect his forehead with yours, another content sigh leaving his lips. "I've known doll face, but I'm beyond happy to hear you say it. I was beginning to worry that I would have to step up my game. But alas, a flamboyant man like me always performs at the highest quality" you giggled, bringing your hand to his cheek so you could pull him closer, catching your lips in his

It was only a matter of time before you ended up pregnant. Tengen had become increasingly less careful when you shared intimate moments, not that you minded much. With the other girls, you knew he was always careful, cautious, and protected before anyone did anything. They were Shinobi and he couldn't risk losing one of the people he fought alongside. The girls were the only people he trusted fully to fight with. He worked well with all three of them, he did since he was younger. With you though, it was a completely different story. You were never a fighter, solely someone he fell head over heels with after a mission and wanted nothing more than to start a family with, duty didn't come first with you. When Hinatsuru expressed the desire to retire after her current mission it was as if something in Tengen snapped. Caution was thrown to the wind that same night, after you all arrived home from your moonlit picnic.

"When did you figure it out?" When you broke away from his lips, allowing yourself a breath before you questioned him. He leaned back, eyes wandering as he pondered.

"I was suspicious when you were sobbing like that before I left with the girls. You had never acted like that when we left for previous missions. Then you seemed to be a lot more emotional so I was weary. But I confirmed my theory when we were making love last week. Your stomach is growing already, so are your breasts." He spoke so casually about such intimate detail. Your face instantly heated up in embarrassment at the thought of him inspecting your body for changes like that. He seemed to catch onto your embarrassment, quickly interrupting your thoughts "I have loved you and your body enough to know when something changes. your small stomach, going to get so big pretty soon here" he couldn't stop himself from grinning as he moved a hand to your stomach, his thumb drawing patterns over your kimono. "I'm ecstatic to start a family with you. The girls will be excited too. After this, we will live happily. Maybe get some siblings for this sweetheart, have a beautiful family, my dear. Thank you for everything. I promise you that this will be as easy as it can be for you if it's the last thing I do"

#tengen uzui #kny tengen #uzui tengen #tengen #tengen x reader #demon slayer scenarios #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #hashira #kimetsu no yaiba #kny uzui #nxy uzui tengen

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bakusquad-assemble · 3 years

Text

The Conference room

Genre: enemies to “lovers”, but they’re both emotionally stunted and don’t know how to express themselves.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x bratty fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, degradation, hate sex, Bakugou catching feelings

Word count: 4.7k

Description: Reader is a pro-hero tasked with working with her worst nightmare; Bakugou Katsuki. The two of them have never seen eye to eye, making it impossible to get anything accomplished. But when Bakugou jumps at her from across the table, things take an unexpected turn.

A/N: had an idea and ran with it! I’m a total sucker for enemies to lovers so I had to indulge! While this can be read as a one shot, I also wouldn’t be opposed to making it a series? Lemme know what you guys think! This is my first time writing anything like this, so please be kind.

“God, you’re insufferable, you know that?” You rolled your eyes, falling back into your chair with an exasperated huff. There were a few things that you didn’t enjoy about being a Pro hero, like the long hours and the lack of privacy, but this absolutely took the cake.

Bakugou Katsuki, or Dynamight as he was known to the public, sat in front of you clad in simple business attire with the nastiest scowl plastered on his dumb face. The two of your agencies had found themselves working together due to an influx in connected crime, and it had been the absolute worst thing you had ever experienced. The two of you had never seen eye to eye in the best of times, constantly teasing and bickering whenever you were in each other's presence, but having to work side by side with the explosive hero was like pulling teeth without any numbing agent. The two of you just didn’t mesh well together, constantly fighting for dominance of the situation, and it made for a very tense working environment for everyone involved. You were currently in the middle of coming up with an infiltration plan for a big villain hide-out, and Bakugou kept fighting you at every turn. He shot down every single one of your ideas, but had not yet made one himself. He was infuriating, and you wanted nothing more than to just walk out of the conference room and never speak to him again. You knew that was impossible though. People's lives were at stake and you weren’t selfish enough to let your discomfort affect your hero work.

Bakugou clicked his tongue at you, only adding to your frustration.

“You’re one to fucking talk!” He snarled in your direction, his hands balled into fists on top of the white marble table placed between you two.

“You haven’t come up with one usuable fucking plan all day!” His words were like venom, corroding your patience with every syllable. He had to be joking.

“Do you really have your head shoved so far up your own ass?” You started, the prominent look of detest written on your features.

“If my ideas are such shit, i'd like to see you come up with a better one! Or is that outside your levels of expertise? Does that brain of yours even have a rational mode or is it all just explosions and violence.” You could see his eyebrow twitching in anger at your words, and for some reason that excited you beyond belief. You loved getting under his skin, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It was cathartic in a way, watching him squirm.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He spat viciously from across the table, his fists banging on the surface like an overgrown toddler throwing a tantrum. This time it was you clicking your tongue.

“I rest my case. I should have known working with you was going to be nothing but hell. Some pro hero you are, can’t even make a simple infiltration plan without throwing a fit.” Bakugou growled loudly, and you couldn’t help but akin his behavior to that of a feral animal.

“Will you shut the fuck up!” He seethed, but you were unfazed. You simply leaned back in your seat with an excited grin, crossing your arms over your chest as you did so. You weren't sure why arguing with the explosive man gave you such a rush of adrenaline, but you needed more. It was as if his words of resentment were a highly addictive drug, and you were itching for your next fix.

“Aww what's wrong, can’t handle a little bit of criticism?” Your confidence rang through the air like gun fire, piercing and tearing at Bakugou's skin. He was heated, you could tell by the way his pale skin flushed and how the faint smell of caramel assaulted your senses as he let off a few pops of his quirk in his fists. If you hadn’t known the man in front of you, perhaps you would have been intimidated by his crude actions, but you knew Bakugou would never lay a hand on you. No matter how heated your arguments got.

This certainly wasn’t the first time you had argued like this, it happened to be a recurring theme for the both of you whenever you were in the same room, but today something felt different. The tension laid heavy between you two, tangible, but it was laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint; A warmth pooling in your stomach.

“I said shut the hell up!” He screamed, standing up from his chair in a huff. You had pushed him too far, letting your teasing nature get the better of you as it had been known to do. Yet, instead of dropping it, moving on with your work, you persisted. You poked the bear once more, but this time in a way that surprised even you. You locked eyes with his piercing crimson ones, rising from your chair with formidable authority. Your chin tilting up ever so slightly as you spoke, letting the warmth in your stomach take over.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me, Dynamight”

Bakugou froze, and you couldn’t help but smirk victoriously. You knew the teasing tone would be enough to fluster him, to shut him down and win the argument so you could get back to working in silence. What you weren’t expecting was the way his breath caught in his throat, or the fervent blush that crept up his neck and consumed his features. And you certainly were not expecting the way your face reciprocated immediately upon sight. The palpable tension consuming the two of you, and the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was not the feeling of complete and utter disdain that always lingered there, but instead something far worse. The warmth that had been bubbling in your lower abdomen was now yelling at you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that feeling had always been there, simply lurking under the guise of hatred. Your eyes took in his features with a new glazed expression, subconsciously nibbling at your lower lip as you did so. The way you could see his heart hammer in his chest made you question if he was feeling the same sensation you currently were.

Your mind didn’t have much time to process that thought however, because within an instant Bakugou was throwing himself at you from across the table. His mouth on yours in seconds and his hands gripped at the back of your head to hold you tightly into the kiss, as if trying to relish in a fleeting moment. It was like a shock wave of intensity took over you, throwing all caution to the wind, and you found yourself kissing back with unexpected heat before you even had time to think. He slammed your smaller frame against the cold concrete of the office wall and you couldn't control the small yelp that slipped into his mouth. He had no idea why he was doing this. Why did your words have such an impact on him? Whatever had possessed him in the moment seemed to have taken hold of you as well. He wasn’t expecting you to kiss back with such fervor, in fact, he was fully convinced he was going to earn himself a solid punch to the mouth. But that wasn’t the case, and it made him question if those flirtatious and subtle sexual nuances had always littered your vocabulary, or if it had been a heat of the moment thing for you as well. One thing he knew for certain was that he had always found you enticing. The way you quipped back at him with ease, moving through his words as if you were bullet proof. His insults never penetrating your perfect complexion. And the way you would smirk at him, it was intoxicating. The way you knew just how to get under his skin. He hated it, and even though he’d hate to admit it, he loved it so much more.

His rough and calloused hands kept a firm grip on you, finally getting a chance to enjoy that perfect frame up close and personal. Your hands tangled up in his ash blonde locks, pulling at them roughly and putting space between your mouths so that your lips were just barely hovering above his lower one. Even still he could feel the delicious grin that overtook your features at the involuntary whimper that escaped his lips from the lack of contact. It wasn’t long before he was pulling against you to initiate the kiss again, and you did nothing to stop him, allowing him to dive back in and devour those sweet and supple bruised lips of yours once more. God, how he had always wanted this. He let his pelvis grind into yours, his hand finding its home on your hip to pull you in closer, forcing a moan to creep its way out of your throat. He wasn’t sure what had come over him; repression, pent up sexual tension, pure feral instinct, but he just couldn’t control himself. Especially not when such a lewd and sweet sounding moan cascaded from your lips like that. He had to have you now.

The faint noise of the lock clicking behind him rang in his ears like one of his explosions, and he found his head whipping in this direction of the noise as if expecting to see someone witnessing something they weren’t supposed to. Instead he saw the faint golden glow of your quirk, and upon rounding his eyes back to you, saw everything that he needed to know written on your features. You had locked it over his shoulders using your psychokinetic quirk. He chuckled darkly above your lips, before swooping back in hungrily, taking your actions as a nonverbal cue to continue. You couldn’t get enough of his taste. The sickly-sweet sensation taking over your senses, and by the way he kissed you, you could only guess you were just as intoxicating to him. Your hips moved on their own accord, desperate to feel his hard cock rubbing against you through the slack of his pants, but you could feel the resistance from the blondes firm grip on your hips. You needed more of him, wanted to get rid of this disgusting heat inside of you. You knew he noticed how much you ached for him too, you could sense it in the way his ego grew in his chest with every movement. He was always so perceptive, and you hated that about him. How dare he be able to control you like this. Have this domineering hold around you that you most certainly did not allow in your daily life. You never took his shit. Never put up with his bitching. Yet here you were, horny and writhing in his grasp, desperate for his twitching cock to fill you up.

“What’s the matter, princess?” His husky voice cut through the room. The teasing nickname you detested grating at your senses and finding a new feeling bubbling up deep inside your abdomen. God, you fucking hated him.

“Don’t have anything else to fucking say?” He ground his hips against yours again, eliciting the same noise of wanting to come crashing around the two of you. You tried your best to suppress it this time, not wanting to give him the sheer satisfaction of knowing just how much he had you under his spell right now, but the noise forced its way out as a high pitched whimper. You felt the way his cock twitched against your heat, only adding to your sheer desire. Your head fell back against the wall as you bit harshly at your lip. How could you be so weak for this man that not even ten minutes ago you absolutely despised with everything in your being. He took that as an answer.

“Did I finally find a fucking way to shut you up, dumbass?” He whispered into your ear, the soft wetness overtaking your senses and filling you with pure adrenaline. His hand gripped at the hair on the back of your head like you had done to his only moments before, exposing your neck so that he could trail rough kisses down to your collarbone. Biting and nipping at the soft skin.

“If you want my cock so bad, beg for it. “ It was like a light switch had gone off in your brain at that very moment. You couldn’t let him win, Let him talk to you like this. No matter how much it made your juices pool in your panties like some kind of whore in heat, you couldn’t let him embarrass you like this.

“In your dreams, you fucking pervert.” you spat viciously, a salacious smile biting at your features. Bakugou's head rounded to meet your eyes, an interested smirk over taking his features.

“Huh? What did you say to me?” The venom was tangible, but it did nothing to deter you from spitting back again. This time the smirk on your lips growing into a confident one, even through your ragged pants of need.

“I said...in your fucking dreams. “ putting emphasis on each word He growled into your skin, vibrating your body with his raw and feral rage.

“You fuckin’ brat.”

You knew you had just signed your death warrant but you didn’t care, in fact, it only aroused you more. You needed to feel him inside of you. You needed the release. It was as if the room was spinning and the only thing that was keeping you grounded was the aching between your legs. The desperate need to feel something. You felt his grip grow tighter on you and before you knew it your face was pressed up against the cold wall in an instant. Bakugou's hand laid on the back of your head, gripping at your hair and pushing your face against the concrete, the other tightly locked on your hip, keeping your soaking cunt up against the hard bulge in his pants. You felt your body buck against it subconsciously, sending another shockwave of pleasure pulsing through your body, and his.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” He hissed into your ear. The hand that laid in your hair coiled itself around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly as he brought your head closer to his. You let out a slight gasp, but still a smirk laid ever present on your face.

“Good.”

His free hand made quick work of your soaking panties, pushing them to the side under the hem of your pencil skirt. One of his thick digits slipping against your wet folds before situating itself inside without much warning. Even with just his finger you felt so full. The warmth from his hand radiating inside of you and only aiding in your pleasure. Bakugou couldn’t help the noises that escaped his mouth as he worked your pussy with his fingers. The way your walls clamped around them and left them completely soaked only made his need for you grow.

“God, youre so fucking wet for me.” His breathing was erratic, greedy. He had been overcome with lust that he was barely registering what he was saying. Normally situations like this would absolutely fluster Bakugou, or just straight up never happen. Bakugou was always so focused on his hero work that hookups were few and far between, and certainly never quite this passionate. A quick fuck with no return call and that was it. There was just something about you that made his head spin. You were always a challenge, never backing down no matter how brutal his berating and instead firing back at him with such confidence that it caught him off guard more often than not. Sure, it was so infuriating, but he had a thing for strong women. So everytime you spit back with that ungodly sexy smirk of yours, the fire in Bakugou only grew. He never thought he’d see you like this though, never imagining that he would be able to make that pretty little mouth of yours moan out for him, but he had certainly spent countless nights alone with his hand gripped around himself at the very thought. He quickly added another finger as he pounded them into you, causing you to gasp out in pleasure.

“ Yeah, you like that? You little slut.” You shut your eyes tightly, feeling the embarrassment overtake you as your head nodded against his hand like the greedy slut you were. Normally you would never accept words like that to come out of a man's mouth toward you, but there was just something about the way Bakugou said them that had you reeling with anticipation.

He curled his fingers inside of you, toying with your sensitive spot ever so slightly. Did you really think a simple nod was going to satiate his need for praise? He was going to tease you until he got what he wanted.

“What was that?” He smirked against the skin of your neck, nibbling roughly at the sensitive skin. You felt your body jerk against him, sending his fingers deeper into you. You bit your lip hard to suppress the moan that overtook you.

“Just fuck me already, Katsuki! ” you whimpered, his first name feeling foreign in your mouth. You were growing impatient, and even though your words came out as a command, you knew deep down it was desperation. The embarrassment rampantly flooded through your body, turning you a deep shade of pink, but you pushed through it. You couldn’t keep letting him play with you like you were some toy, you had to take what you wanted any way you could. You needed to cum, and you certainly weren’t going to do it on his fingers, no matter how good they felt. You needed the real thing.

“I can’t take it anymore, just fuck me!” You reluctantly begged, trying to look anywhere but at the man behind you. You could feel the shock rush through Bakugou's body at your words, clearly taken aback for a second at your bluntness and hearing his name spill from your lips like that. A wave of determination flooded through his system. He was going to make you scream his name so everyone in the office could hear it, even from the confines of the soundproof meeting room. He quickly let go of you to fiddle with his belt buckle, but you didn’t dare move to look at him. Instead you found solace in rubbing your thighs together. The friction keeping you high, keeping you blind to what was really happening. To the fact that you had just begged Bakugou Katsuki, the biggest piece of shit you have ever met, to fuck you.

You felt the tip of his cock trace your sweet hole for a second, and you braced yourself for agony. You thought he was going to relentlessly tease you, break you, find some way to have you squirming in his grasp and begging again, but instead the feeling of him bottoming out in you quickly overtook all of your senses. He was surprised he had even lasted this long in the foreplay if he was honest. He needed you, needed to feel the way you felt around him. He had fantasized about this for years, what it would feel like to finally have you in such a compromising position, but he was in no way ready for the sheer bliss your walls brought him. You had him reeling. He grunted aggressively against your skin, not moving inside of you as if to take in this sensation. Who knew when it would happen again, or If it would happen again.

“Fuckkk” he whined, and somehow his words alone had you aching for more. If you thought his finger had you feeling full, it was no match for the size of his cock. You couldn’t help but rock back onto him, rotating your hips in a way that had the both of you moaning.

“Katsuki” His name dripped from your lips again like the words sweetest song. There was something about the way you said his first name that had him teetering on the edge. It was so sweet, like honey trickling down the curves of your lips, begging to be savoured, and like hell he was going to deny himself that sweetness. Even if he knew he would probably never get the chance to taste it again. He wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to pound you into oblivion. He pulled back for a second, his dick sliding out of your entrance and leaving you with a longing and empty feeling after being so full only a second ago. Your eyes widened, about to whimper out in distress at the loss, until the fullness came back to you forcefully. The roughness of his thrust sending your body bumping into the wall in front of you and causing a loud moan to escape your lips. Your hand quickly shot up to your mouth, covering it quickly in the hopes that no one had heard you. You felt Bakugou snicker in your ear, pulling your hand roughly away from its place over your mouth, his hot breath panting heavily onto your skin.

“Let them hear you. Let them hear so they know who you belong to.” He spat out in between thrusts, head clearly spinning from the pure ecstasy you brought him.

“You wish.” you hissed, sending your ass into him to meet his thrusts. Bakugou grit his teeth in pleasure, cursing out under his breath. You were definitely right about that. You were the one person Bakugou knew he would never be able to truly control, but honestly, he didn’t want to. You were a force to be reckoned with, and an absolute powerhouse of a Pro Hero, and he admired you. Just as you did him, in your own little way.

Bakugou brought his open palm down onto your exposed ass with a grin, the pain of his warm hand mixing with the pure ecstasy of his cock and eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, spinning from the sensation. Bakugou found himself groaning with every thrust, unable to force them down. You just felt too good, too addicting, and he needed more; needed to cum. His hand gripped at the back of your hair, pulling your head to the side so that his face was flush up against yours, his mouth inches from your ear. The sound of his erratic breathing and raw grunts of pleasure filled your senses immediately, making the warmth in your stomach bubble with excitement. You weren’t going to last much longer like this.

“Fuck” Your voice came out in a choked whimper, laced with blatant wanton lust.

“Like that, don’t stop.” You commanded, and Bakugou groaned in response. The grip on your hair tightened ever so slightly and you felt his teeth snarl against your ear, nipping at the exposed skin. He could tell you were close by the way your walls clamped around him, making it almost impossible to hold out any longer.

“Yeah” He panted in agreement, his thrusts becoming more unpredictable as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. It didn’t take much before you completely came undone around Bakugou. It was as if your body was floating weightlessly in space, a beautiful expanse of stars and colors blurring your vision, before gravity was quickly pulling you back down to earth abruptly, leaving your legs trembling from the impact.

Your hands subconsciously gripped Bakugou's, savoring in his warmth as you rode out your high around his thrusts, your head spinning with pure ecstasy and adrenaline. Bakugou buried his face into the crook of your neck, as if to hide the flush that had spread across his face from nonexistent eyes. Watching your body tense and shake around him had to be the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen in his life, and that was exactly what sent him over the edge.

“F-Fuck” His voice quivered against your skin and you felt his grip grow tighter on your hips, pulling you back into his pelvis to burry himself deeper within you. If you weren’t currently trembling from your own climax, perhaps you would’ve stopped Bakugou from coating your insides, but in the moment you didn’t seem to care. You felt your walls clamp down around him once more, desperately taking everything in without any fear of the consequences it might hold. Bakugou didn’t pull away from you, instead leaving his body flushed up against yours as the two of you attempted to regain your composure.

The room was silent, aside from the panting that still hung close to your ear. The primal lust that had just engulfed the two of you was quickly replaced with confusion, and the room was suddenly too silent. Bakugou pulled away from you at last, and his warmth that had enveloped you just two seconds ago now completely dissipated. You weren’t sure why, but you missed it immediately. It just felt so right, brought you so much comfort, and that very thought alone scared you. You quickly pulled yourself off the wall and rounded to look at the blonde man behind you as he fixed himself up. His face seemed to mimic yours, and you weren’t sure whether or not that was a good or a bad thing, but for the moment it brought you solace. You let out a shaky sigh before straightening the hem of your skirt against your reddened thighs. You could feel his eyes on you, like lasers burning your skin. You quirked an eyebrow up at him, trying your best to muster a smirk while your fingers worked tirelessly at untangling your hair that Bakugou had made a mess of.

Bakugou felt his voice rise in his throat as his eyes finally met with yours once more, he had so many questions; what was that all about? What does this mean for us? Can I take you out for dinner? but all of those questions died in his throat before they made it to his lips. The shake of your head deterring him from letting them out. You didn’t want him to say something he was going to regret, something stupid you say after the high of an orgasm. You weren’t sure what exactly that would’ve been, but you liked it better this way.

“Don’t, your stupid voice is what got us into this mess in the first place.” You tried your best to keep your voice even, calm, as if none of this had shaken you to your core. As if he wasn’t still lingering inside of you. As if you felt absolutely nothing from that encounter. Just another meaningless hook up, that was all. Or at least that was what you tried to tell yourself. You watched as Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, as they did whenever you spoke, but this time it felt off. Laced with something different. It would take you a while to pinpoint that exact feeling, but it would come to you nonetheless. When you were alone in your bed late at night, thinking about the way his eyes glistened, and his body tried to stay steady. Hurt.

You moved towards the tall blonde with a false sense of confidence, though to the unsuspecting eye you never faltered. Your delicate hand moving up to the tall blondes cheek and patting it roughly. The curves of your lips forming into that smirk that Bakugou loved detested so much.

“Leave the planning to me, I don’t really need your help anyway.” Your eyes locked with his for a moment, before you felt the need to break away. To slam the cover shut on those feelings that threatened to spill over the top of Pandora’s box. You sauntered past his form nonchalantly, your hips moving in a hypnotizing form that had Bakugou unable to peel his eyes away.

“Just remember...” You started, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder.

“Meetings in the conference room are confidential.” And with a wink, you quickly turned the handle of the door and made your exit, needing to get away as quickly as possibly so that you could breathe once again. Bakugou still stood at the center of the room, confused and finally at a loss for words. He had no idea how any of that had just happened, or why he felt a heavy pang in his chest as he watched you leave the room seemingly unfazed. But there was one thing he knew for certain, one thing he was determined to do now more than ever; he was going to make you his.

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader #mha imagines #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x oc #katsuki bakugou #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes #bucky x sarah #Sarah Wilson

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Text

A harem collab in which we go to a party with our v precious hero 18+ Smut boooiiii

Sitting across from him never did get easier. As much as you told yourself it would.

If anything it got harder and harder to share the same room as him, let alone air.

But you were lucky enough, or unlucky enough, to join the agency when you did and to be partnered with your big time crush FatGum. Although you idolized him you were sure he didn't remember you.

And how could he? He saved countless people a day so it should be no surprise that he had no idea who you were on your first day. Still, it stung.

And it shouldn't still sting or come to a surprise when he sets down a flyer on your desk. A huge smile on his chubby cheeks as he taps the sheet of paper.

"Can you believe it?! The agency is throwing a new year's eve party!" He practically gushes, lingering by your desk with his intoxicating smile. He rummages in his brown bag, setting breakfast onto your desk careful to avoid getting grease stains on the flyer as if you'd hang it up one day instead of shoving it into the trash.

"They have one every year." You shrug, thanking him for the breakfast but tossing the paper into the trash can. His smile never waivers as he pulls it from the fresh bin, returning it to the smooth wooden top.

"Yea but not at a fancy hotel and never an open bar! We should go!" His eyes crinkle in the corners and your heart hammers in your chest.

Little do you know he prays to the Gods you don't say no.

"I dont know, it's such short notice. Like next week ain't it?." At least it wasn't a no. He smiles, thinking of your competative behavior.

"Oh I see what it is." He takes the sheet from your desk, waltzing to his own, "You're scared."

"Tch, scared of what?" You hiss, snatching for the paper.

"Scared I'll out drink you!" He laughs at your cute scowl as you size him up. His metabolism was insane, and with him being in his larger state you might not be able to win.

But he didn't have to know that.

"You fucking wish you could out drink me! Remember the last party we went to? You showed your age and could barely stand!"

"Oi! I was much thinner then. I think luck is on my side this time." He slaps his belly and you smile. A genuine laugh fills the room causing Taishiro's heart to clench.

"Yea, yea." You wipe away a tear, "We'll see."

The day drags on and on, turning into a week of you glancing his way. Making sure he wasn't gaining any extra weight as he brought you your normal breakfast daily.

It wasn't until the day of the party did you gain the advantage, a fight almost turned wrong and Taishiro had to use majority of that stored fat for a deadly punch to stop the villain from terrorizing the city.

Still you'd never want this type of advantage just for a stupid drinking contest. Although he was not at his largest, he still had a considerable "dad bod" going on.

"I still can't believe they had a tux in this size so late!" Taishiro shouts into the locker room at the agency, adjusting his tie as he waits for you. Meanwhile nerves eat you alive as you stare into your reflection, wondering if this dress fit okay, smoothing the fabric over your stomach self consciously.

"You okay in there? We're gonna be late." He calls softly, hoping you aren't having second thoughts about going with someone like him.

"Coming!" You call back, glancing at your deep amber dress a final time before rushing into the hall.

"I was just thinking you were going to forfeit and then I-" Words die in his throat and he drinks you in. Beautifully complimented by the shape and color of your dress as he mouth hangs agape.

"Wow. You look…"

"Tai, I know, I look...different."

"Amazing, perfect, breathtaking." He gives you a pointed look, "Which is no different than how you normally look."

Heat creeps up the back of your neck and you're thankful he misses your flustered expression. The walk to the hotel and the brisk cold air gives you time to not only cool off but think.

Really reflect on the year, this horribly rotten, all bad luck year. Reminding you of all the times you had failed but also reminding you of all the opportunities you had missed. And not opportunities in the sense of promotions or saving people but opportunities to get closer with a certain somebody.

You glance up at him and he glances down at you, smiling in a way that sets your skin on fire and yet it makes you feel at ease.

Slowly you were coming to hate it.

"I'm excited that they decided to invite some smaller agencies. Means I can introduce you to some of the kids I interned. Well I guess they are adults now huh." He looks nostalgic, sad even as he stares into space. Opening the door to the large hotel and it the look sticks with him until he is just before the party doors.

"Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You huff as he places his hand on the small of your back, bringing you into the rented ballroom. Lights and sounds consume your sense as music dances around light conversation. You're beginning to wonder if a drinking contest was such a good idea that is before you see the CEO of your agency totally shit faced. You glanced down at your watch, it was only 8pm.

Taishiro guides you around the room with a "starter" drink, introducing you to old and new faces. Beaming with pride as he introduces you as his partner and not his sidekick like other heroes had done in the past. You hated how much your heart raced.

"And this is Kirishima! He was one of my best and most memorable! Kids got guts and heart in spades!" He slaps Kirishima on the back and the young man slumps forward with a sharp toothed smile.

"Aw come on, I wasn't that great…" He scratches the back of his head.

"I heard that's when you became 'unbreakable'! I think that's so cool!" You gush over the young hero complimenting him to no end.

"Stop. You'll give me a big head." He smiles, blushing furiously before his eyes wander to the closeness of the two of you and then they settle on your drinks, "You're not trying to out drink the infamous FatGum are you?"

You laugh loudly before leaning in close as if to share a secret.

"Oh, yes and I plan to kick his ass."

Kirishima returns your smile and stage whispers

"Taishiro-sama has lost a good bit of weight. I believe in you!" He winks before someone across the room calls for him, "Call me when you get really started!!"

Two hours pass and you find yourself sitting across from your partner with his sleeves rolled up. Showcasing those deadly forearms as he slams back another shot. Kirishima keeps tally on hotel stationary and announces the number of shots.

"You'll have to take five to be in the lead! You'll have two minutes to decide to forfeit or-" But before he can finish you're grabbing for one of the prefilled shot glasses.

"Kanpai!" You shout, slinging them down, ignoring how the room is spinning and how bright the light reflects off of the table full of empty shot glasses.

Kirishima's eyes widen as you down an extra shot for good measure, tallying the booze count with worry.

"Fat hero." He says, almost gritting his teeth, "You'll have to take seven to be in the lead."

The large hero leans on his forearms on the table, the alcohol he's had had mostly been processed and maybe your figured that out. That he was starting to lose his edge so he takes you up on the challenge knocking back the several shots as if they were water. You're eager to gulp down a few more praying it drowns out your feelings for the sexy man across from you, instead he lets his broad hand hover over the shot glasses. Silently giving you a reprieve and noticing just how much you're sweating, how blown your pupils are.

"Let's give it a minute shall we?" He smiles as you drown in his golden eyes. Biting at your lower lip and with a defiant grip you swallow down a final shot.

"Your turn." You focus hard to make sure your words didn't slur, not wanting this feeling or night to end. He snorts, shaking his head wishing you acted out any other time than this.

"I forfeit." He places his hands up and you glare at him as you wonder if he did it on purpose. Before you have the time to accuse the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer, the room lags as you try to place names with faces as they come close to congratulate you. As more and more people crowd you, the hotter the room feels. Politely you excuse yourself to an enclave balcony closing the doors tightly behind you as you gulp down air, desperate to cool off and douse the desire that burns hot in your belly seeping to your core.

"Fuck." You rake your nails through your hair as a hit of icy air skates along your skin leaving goose flesh in its wake. A steady warmth comes from behind you, voice deep as he speaks softly. You can tell he's using the same tone he uses on victims, trying not to startle them with his size.

Little did he know how much you loved how much bigger he was. A safe haven, protection embodied.

"Ready to go home?"

"No I'm fine! Perfectly fine." He sucks his teeth at your stubborn reply, leaning in close with his hands in the pockets of his tux.

"You look flushed...you seem out of it."

"I'm totally of sound mind!" A bark to which he laughs, giving in to the liquid courage as his large hand tilts your chin towards him. Flirting with a line he swore he'd never cross.

"Yea, if you're so sound of mind, would you let me do this?" He asks, leaning closer, lips almost brushing yours. Your breath mingles with his in little puffs of fog agaisnt the cool air and suddenly you're burning again.

From the inside out.

His lips touch yours, gently, passive at first and if he's trying to fight against his urges. Slowly he breaks away, amber eyes glued to your mouth before he sighs. Hoping he didn't just fuck everything up.

In an instant you're drawing him back to you, hands in his golden wheat hair and your fingers weave through the strands. Mouth opening and demanding more as his large hands grip onto your ribcage as if you'd float away.

And maybe you would, you felt like you could.

Frantically your hands demand more, exploring up his shirt, touching across his stomach and digging your nails down his back. His own hands follow suit, gripping at your ass and tits, memorizing every luscious curve until he is drunk off of you and you only. You moan into his mouth and with that he loses all restraint.

Shoving you against the harsh brick building, fisting your hair to tilt your head for better access, exploring your mouth with his well skilled wet muscle. Hands trailing beneath your dress to find your dress, squeezing at your thick thighs and when you moan in approval he moves higher and higher still until his fingers brush against the damp fabric. This time it is his turn to groan as he presses his hardened cock against you, your hips move to grind against his large fingers.

"Please Tai" It is soft, breathy, sending him into a frenzy as he gives you exactly what you want. Letting his fingers slip beneath the fabric to gather the slick between your folds, gently rubbing against your throbbing clit. You arch against his touch, exposing your neck to him, he leans over and bites. Placing kisses along your throat, making sure to be careful enough to avoid marks before his hazed brain causes him to speak.

To confess.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" He asks, plunging his fingers into your tight heat, stretching you as you mewl, "Ever since I first laid eyes on you. Kamisama you were perfect. And tonight. Fuck baby. Wearing my eye color for all to see. You want people to think you're mine?"

"Yes, Taishiro. I want people to think I'm yours." You moan, fucking yourself on his fingers before he takes over. Setting a quick pace before he curls his thick fingers just right, in an instant you're creaming against his digits. Crying out as he overstimulates you before he covers your mouth with his broad hand, reminding you just how much he dwarfs you.

It makes you cum again and again and he corners you against the wall. Cock twitching as he laps up your sinful faces with a gluttonous appetite.

"Please Tai, pleeeasse."

"What's wrong baby? My fingers not enough?" His cocky tone drives you mad and your hips buck against his touch before he withdraws from your heat. Panting he levels his gaze yo you.

"Is this what you want?" Peppering you with kisses as if you could deny him and his godly hands.

"Don't make me beg Tai…" You rasp, he gives a devilish smile.

"Then I won't." His hands slink up your dress, gathering it at your waist as on skillful finger pulls the overly damp underwear away from your soaking sex. He frees himself and you swallow, not realizing just how large he was, for a moment you worry you won't be able to take him.

"I'll be gentle." He coos, easing himself in an inch at a time as your stretch around his thick cock. Pussy fluttering as it adjusts to his size, he gathers your legs to his sides, squeezing your hips to keep from rutting into you roughly. He pistons his hips slowly, watching your face contort as he angles himself just right. Sensual thrusts have your legs and pussy squeezing him so deliciously tight. Still he worries he's going to hurt you.

"You okay?" Alcohol lingers on his breath and you swallow him whole with a kiss. Moaning into his mouth softly as he rocks you into one of your most intense orgasms to date. It's a slow build, undeniably intoxicating as his steady pace hits your spongy soft spot and his pelvis rubs against your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps and your body clamps onto the behemoth of a man tightly, stars dot your vision as he continues to fuck you through it.

"God you're so beautiful ya know? So responsive to my touch. Taking me so well baby." He purrs against your ear, "Makes me want to keep this pace all night."

He keeps true to his promise, bringing you to new heights at the steadiest of paces, causing you to lose count of how many times you've cum on his length. Pussy attempting to milk him dry as he palm swallows your screams. He looks at your features, your makeup running from delirious tears, mouth fallen opened in a propetial O as your hair clings to your skin.

"Kamisama you're like art." He kisses your quickened pulse, "Ready for me to fill you love? You're squeezing me so tight…"

He groans and all you can think of his him and the searing pleasure that courses through your veins to settle in your over sensitive heat. His cock twitches and you want nothing more than to be stuffed full of the Fat Hero's fat cock and his cum. But words are lost in your hoarse throat and all you can do is nod, moaning his name as if it were a prayer. It's all the encouragement he needs, quickening his pace as the crowd inside grows louder. Counting down from 10.

It's all lost to you and his hips snap against you, the brick scraping against your shoulders as his grip on you becomes so tight you're sure you'll bruise. Your body hyper aware of every little sensation as you drown in pleasure and warm amber sun, he groans, painting your walls in hot ropes of cum, your vision spots as your body arches to meet him as your spams a final time while his lips crash to yours.

All the while fireworks erupt over head, bringing in the new year on a literal high note.

He huffs, sweating as he looks at you, still buried to the hilt. Swiping his thumb over your cheek and running mascara before he breathes out so gently.

"Happy new year baby."

#fat gum x reader #fatgum x reader #fatgum smut #bnha x reader #bnha nye event

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