#black velvet boutique

[s0dium]

Victoria Secret

A/n: For all my Geto lovers, i made sure the fucking was extra juicy. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Your secret indulgence? Buying lingerie. You've managed to keep this "hobby" under wraps until your worst nightmare, Geto Suguru, discovers your secret. Unexpectedly, he proposes a deal: he'll keep your secret, in exchange you help set up his friend Gojo with your roommate, and after that he will even buy you ten sets of your favorite lingerie. There’s just one catch—you have to model them for him. What could go wrong?

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat. "Why? Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool. "Good girl."

Warnings: Teasing, praising, body worship, nipple play and sucking, soft-to-rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Word count: 5.5

Every Sunday, at precisely three in the afternoon, you sneak out of your apartment for what you call your "secret indulgence."

Your eyes gaze at the velvet-lined shelves, mentally dissecting the lace and silk items that sit on the red fabric. A familiar, gentle melody fills the boutique, playing overhead as soft light casts a warm glow on the meticulously displayed delicate fabrics. As you run your fingers over each fabric laid before you, you stop when you find one that feels like a whisper against your skin.

This one is perfect.

Carefully you hold the item up on either side, feeling the fabric between your index finger and thumb. Intricate floral patterns cover the lace material and you note the high-waisted cut and scalloped trim that would certainly flatter your figure. You hum in contentment. Yes, this piece of underwear will go perfectly with your collection.

Your "secret indulgence" you may ask? It is collecting lingerie.

Your indulgence was secret for a reason as well. Far too often people assumed that you collected lingerie for a boyfriend or even an audience, but it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was the opposite, you collected lingerie for you. It wasn't like you never thought about trying it on for someone though, you just never seemed to have an opportunity too. Unlike many of your peers, you're not a social butterfly, never one to attend college parties or gatherings. Even your best friend Shoko has to drag you out of your room every once in a while. Yet, ever since you can remember, there's something about lingerie that captivates you—perhaps it's the delicate lace, the intricate patterns, or how damn good you looked in it. You were simply in love with it.

And up until now, you were pretty damn sure your indulgence was perfectly secret as well.

"Y/n! Just the person I needed to see."

Oh what the fuck.

Your steps halt instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing you in place. You didn't want to look back, you didn't need to look back, you knew who was behind you. You purse your lips as a rush of thoughts floods your mind: Had he seen you leaving the boutique? He wasn't a fool; surely, he'd deduce that the two bags you were clutching came from somewhere significant nearby.

Shit shit shit. Fuck it.

With a nervous bite to the inside of your cheek, you slowly turned around, facing the tall man behind you.

"Geto." You dead pan. There’s a tightness around your mouth, the corners pulled down just enough to betray your displeasure. The usual spark in your eyes is conspicuously absent, replaced by a guarded, cool glare that clearly communicates your discomfort at this encounter.

Geto smiles and takes a few steps toward you. Your first instinct is to step back but you stay in place, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a black tank top today, one that clings to his well-defined muscles and shows off the tattoos covering his arms. He pairs this with casual grey sweatpants that hang loosely around his hips and of course, his long black hair is partially tied up in a man bun like it usually is, while the rest cascades down his back.

Of course he looks good.

Thin sharp black eyes scan you before landing on the two bags you are clutching. His smile grows. You know you're fucked. The last person you needed to uncover your secret.

"Enjoy your shopping?" He chuckles, nodding to the bags and you harshly bite your lip.

"Just some clothes for the summer" You respond dryly, making sure to be heard over the bustling people around you.

"Ah, you don't have to keep secrets from me." Geto chuckles and he gestures to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. "You know I work there right? I see you go into the little shop every Sunday."

No. No, you did not know that.

You pause before speaking again. "Can I help you with something Geto?"

"Actually, yes you can. I need a favor."

"Favor?" Your eyebrows raise and you scoff. "What could I possibly help you with."

Geto smiles and takes another step forward. "I know we aren't friends, but Shoko is your best friend and she is also mine so I thought maybe we could benefit each other a bit."

You dont respond this time and he continues.

"My best friend, Gojo, im sure you know him."

You have to fight to hide the disgust on your face upon hearing the white-haired man's name. Of course, you knew Gojo, every one on campus knew Gojo, you specifically for the amount of girls he has "toyed" with.

"Yes, I know who the fuck Gojo is." You roll your eyes and you notice Geto has taken another step forward, effectively closing the distance between you two.

"Well, he is head over heels for your room mate-"

"Head over heels or just want to fuck her." You sarcastically snap back, cutting Geto off.

"Is there any difference these days?" he replies, a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips, challenging the cynicism in your tone.

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Set her up with him? No way," you snap back, your voice rising slightly in indignation. "She's my friend, and I'm not some kind of matchmaker. Gojo can go screw himself."

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Geto quickly interjects, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just asking you to let her know that he's available, that he likes her. Just make him out to be an option, you know? Your roommate can do whatever she wants with that information."

"Still, why would I want to do that?" you question, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion and frustration. The warmth of the afternoon seems to intensify the tension between you as Geto steps closer, diminishing the gap until he's just inches away.

"Because in exchange, I'll buy you anything you want," he offers, his voice low and persuasive.

"Um, what?" Your response comes out more as a reflex than anything else.

"Let me rephrase that," he continues, nodding slightly towards the bag of lingerie you're holding, which causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. "I’ll buy you what you really want."

"No," you retort firmly, feeling the discomfort rise.

"No?" He echoes, his tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Yes, no. Besides, I'm not strapped for cash. I can buy what I want whenever I want—"

"Didn't I tell you you don't have to lie to me?" Geto cuts in, his voice lowering a bit. "Please, I know how expensive that store is, and I'm not offering just one thing. Say, how about 10 sets from that store you love?" he declares, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"10? Can you even afford that?" you retort skeptically, your eyebrows arching in disbelief. This game of his was becoming more intriguing and absurd by the minute.

He leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, and I have to go shopping with you and see you try it on," he adds, as if the deal wasn’t provocative enough.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" You feel the tips of your ears grow red and you scoff. The idea of Geto Suguru choosing lingerie for you sounds so personal sends a shiver down your spine.

"Because," he pauses, his gaze intense, "its not about buying you lingerie, Consider it… a test of trust, can't just give you hundred of my dollars and let you do whatever you want, I want to make sure you use the money the way our deal assures you will which is... buying lingerie."

You pause, absorbing his words, the heat of the afternoon sun pressing down on you, making the moment feel even more surreal. "Fine. We follow each other on Instagram, so I'll DM you when it's done. But like you said, it's up to her what she wants to do with that information."

"Alright by me. See you soon," he replies, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying note of finality.

As you turn away, walking down the busy street, your mind races with the absurdity of the conversation.

What the hell just happened?

Your fingers hesitated over the blue send button, poised to confirm the completion of your part of the unusual bargain.

Earlier, you had shared with your friend the prospect of a date with Gojo Satoru, carefully omitting the details of the deal behind it. As expected, she was ecstatic, thrilled by the idea despite Gojo's questionable reputation—a fact that gnawed at your conscience. But what could you do? The arrangement was already in motion. Now, it was time to let Geto know that you had held up your end of the agreement, and it was his turn to fulfill his promise.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pressed down on the screen, watching as the word "delivered" appeared beneath your message in the chat. Just as you were about to set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed, it pinged with a new message. It was from Geto Suguru. Your heart raced as you read the simple words.

When do you want to meet?

The sun blazes down as you approach your favorite boutique, the heat making the pavement shimmer like a mirage. Despite the sweltering temperature, you've donned a big, baggy sweater over your shorts—a choice more about comfort and less about fashion, especially since you didn’t want this meeting to scream 'date'. It’s your casual armor, albeit a warm one on a day like today.

As you near the boutique, you spot Geto Suguru waiting by the entrance. He leans casually against the wall, dressed in some graphic t-shirt and black jeans, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. This time his hair is completely up in a man bun that shows off his black gauge earrings and hints of a tattoo on his back. The moment he sees you, his lips curve into a knowing smile, as if he can read your thoughts about the outfit.

"Hey," he greets, pushing off from the wall to stand upright. His voice is smooth, a calm contrast to the bustling street around you. "I was starting to think you were gonna bail."

"And miss a chance at free money? I think not." you quip. "Hope Gojo enjoyed his date by the way." Sarcasm drips from your words and Suguru chuckles.

"Probably not as much as I'm gonna enjoy this." he counters smoothly. "Come on," he says, gesturing towards the boutique's door. "We got some shopping to do."

The moment you walk through the boutique doors, cool air hits you in refreshing waves, making you sigh with relief. The boutique interior sparkles with delicate lighting and the gentle clinking of hangers, an ambiance you know and love all too well. You notice that the store is unusually quiet today, with no other customers around—just the shop owner standing by the cashier, who flashes you a small, welcoming smile as you enter. As you step further, your eyes lock onto a stunning pink lingerie set draped elegantly on a mannequin right by the entrance. Its intricate lace and delicate details shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting, radiating an aura of both luxury and temptation. It's new, and most definitely pricy.

"You’re staring," Geto observes with a smirk, catching you in your admiring glance.

"I'm appreciating," you correct him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. The price tag hanging from the mannequin does nothing to deter you; it's clearly on the pricier side, but today, Geto’s wallet is on the line. "And since you’re offering, I think I’ll indulge."

Geto's laughter fills the air, playful and unbothered. "I should’ve known you'd go for the gold. Well, it’s your day. Let’s make my pockets weep then," he says, gesturing grandly towards the set.

Who were you to deny him?

You dive into the racks, your fingers grazing over silks and satins, selecting the most exquisite pieces you lay your eyes on. One by one, you gather a collection of lingerie sets—each more lavish than the last. There’s a daring scarlet set that promises to captivate, a royal blue ensemble that speaks of deep oceans, and a classic black lace number that's timeless in its elegance. By the time you're done, nine luxurious sets accompany the initial pink one on the counter.

Geto watches with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as the pile grows, his eyebrows raising slightly at each new addition. But he doesn’t protest; instead, he engages in light banter with the shop owner, who carefully folds each set into sleek boutique bags.

As the total rings up—a sum that makes even the shop owner blink twice—you don’t look away from Geto's face, watching for any sign of regret or hesitation. None comes. He simply pulls out his black card, the smirk never leaving his lips as he hands it over.

The transaction goes through with a soft beep, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of victory as he signs the receipt. You reach out to grab the bags and head toward the door, already planning where each piece will go in your wardrobe, when Geto’s voice stops you.

"Where do you think you’re going? We still have the other part of the deal, remember?" he says with no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice.

Geto's reminder hangs in the air, the playful edge in his voice more pronounced now. As realization dawns on you, you let out a low groan, remembering the full scope of the deal. "Oh," you say, hesitance hanging from your voice. "Right, the 'trying on' part."

"Exactly," he grins broadly. "Come on, my car is parked outside."

"HAH! You think I'm going to your house?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Why not? Or can we go to yours?" he counters quickly, his grin turning into a challenging smirk.

You bite the side of your cheek. Your place was an absolute mess right now and you don't think you can handle Geto Surguru in your room. "Fine, yours it is," you finally concede.

The drive to Geto's place unfolds in a tense silence, your gaze fixed on the cityscape sliding past the car window. Your heart pounds with a mix of dread and nerves, the quiet amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. There had to be a way to get out of this. The idea of layering your clothes under the lingerie flickers through your mind, but you dismiss it almost instantly—Geto would see right through that. The thought of making a daring escape through a bathroom window doesn't seem entirely out of the question, though it feels more like a scene from a comedy than a realistic plan.

As you mull over these scenarios, you wonder about Geto's intentions. Was this all just a game to him, a way to tease you? He'd watched you choose each piece with care, so there was no question of you running off with his money. Was this some weird way he got off?

Your so into your thoughts that you dont even realize your at Geto's door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says through a grin as he swings upon the door. Rolling your eyes at his grandeur, you step inside, instantly taken by the loft's undeniable charm. The space is open and airy, with high ceilings and large, sunlit windows that overlook the bustling city below. Exposed brick walls add a touch of urban cool, while modern art pieces dot the walls, giving the place a curated yet lived-in feel.

"The bathroom is over there," Geto points nonchalantly towards a sleek, sliding door on the far side of the room. His tone is casual, as if inviting you to try on clothes was an everyday occurrence. He saunters over to a plush couch, settling in comfortably. "You can start whenever you're ready."

Feeling a flutter of nerves, you clutch the bag of lingerie a bit tighter. "You want me to—to try on all of them?" Your voice barely hides your anxiety.

"Nah, just two or three," he responds, his voice calm and nonchalant as he picks up a magazine from the coffee table.

With your heart pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it, you make your way to the bathroom. The cool, modern aesthetics of the loft seem to blur as your mind races. Was this just a fucking joke to him?

As the door closes behind you, you set your bags down on the bathroom floor.

Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit.

You were going to die, this was it. You were going to die out of embarrassment because of god damn Geto Suguru. Your face burns a deep shade of red, heart racing as you lean against the cool, marble sink. Fuck, you're overwhelmed, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl, but you know you need to pull yourself together. Yes, the task is simple: pick two sets of lingerie, try them on, and get this ordeal over with. Just two sets, then you can leave. That's all.

Peeking through a slight crack in the bathroom door, you see Geto lounging effortlessly on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine as if he hasn't a care in the world. A quiet curse escapes your lips at his composure— god you hated him.

Turning back to the task at hand, you rummage through the bag containing the 10 pieces of lingerie. Each piece is stunningly beautiful, making the choice unexpectedly difficult. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like you where trying to impress him. After a moment's hesitation, your hands settle on a set of black lace lingerie—bold but the plainest out of all of them.

Slipping into the black lace, you feel the fabric glide smoothly over your skin. The lace is intricate, delicate yet firm, offering a sensation that is both luxurious and comforting. As it settles into place, you notice how perfectly it cups your breasts, enhancing your natural shape without discomfort. The fabric molds to your body, sculpting your curves in a way that boosts your confidence, even in such a vulnerable moment.

Turning to face the mirror, you take a moment to really look at yourself. The lingerie accentuates your figure beautifully—your waist appears slimmer, your hips more pronounced. Yes, this was exactly what you loved about lingerie, how it made you look and more importantly how it made you feel. Despite the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. It's a small victory, but in this moment, it's enough to steady your nerves.

Now was the hard part.

Slowly you step out of the bathroom, your heart pounds fiercely in your chest, echoing in your ears. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Geto's attention shifts from his magazine to you. He lays the magazine aside, his gaze instantly locking onto you. His eyes rake up and down your figure, taking in every detail of the black lace lingerie that clings to your curves.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Geto muses, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "If it isn't the bravest fashion model of our time."

"S-shut up," you stammer, trying to mask your discomfort with irritation. "Just remember, I'm only doing this because of the deal."

"Oh, and you're doing it magnificently, may I add. Who knew you hid such bold taste under that sweater."

"It's just underwear, don't read too much into it," you retort, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

"Turn for me," he commands softly. "I want to see the back."

"What?" you falter, caught off guard.

"Turn for me, I want to see behind," he repeats more firmly.

Fuck it.

Reluctantly, you turn, exposing the delicate lace detailing on the back.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the design.

"What?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly—unsure if you're more startled by the compliment or by the intimacy of his tone.

"Nothing, baby," he responds, his hand dismissively waving as he looks away, pretending to refocus on something else in the room. "Go try on the next one."

You dont say anything, instead slipping back into the bathroom and rummaging through the bag. Your heart still thumps audibly in your chest, but now there's an undercurrent of excitement mixed with the nerves. The flutter in your chest isn't just from anxiety though; it's also from a burgeoning sense of empowerment. You realize that you have control over how you present yourself, a certain power over Sugruru.

After discarding the set you were wearing, you reach into the bag and pull out the pink set you splurged on earlier. The fabric is luxurious, with a hint of sheerness to the bra that would no doubt show your nipples. The underwear is equally bold, designed as a thong with delicate straps that loop around each thigh, highlighting the curves of your hips and legs.

As you slip into the pink lingerie, the fabric settles against your skin like a whispered secret. The sheer material of the bra makes you acutely aware of your own body, and as you adjust the straps around your thighs, the ensemble frames your form in a way that feels almost artistically deliberate.

Yes, just after this you would be done. So why not go out with a bang?

As you step out of the bathroom, the transformation in your demeanor is palpable. The delicate pink lingerie accentuates your confidence, which resonates with each step you take towards Geto. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the moment they travel down to take in the full view, his expression shifts dramatically to one of... shock? His usual composure falters, and he lets out a low, incredulous whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out.

You shift in place, playing with the silk hem of your underwear.

After a moment, he composes himself slightly and gestures towards him with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice low and inviting.

You pause, the hesitation clear in your stance. The intensity in his gaze and the palpable tension in the air make your heart race even faster.

Seeing your reluctance, Geto's expression softens. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he adds, a hint of something more vulnerable in his tone this time.

The room seems to pulse with the silent energy between you as you take a tentative step forward, then another, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air thickens with a charged mix of anticipation and desire as you finally stop just a breath away from him.

He looks up at you, standing up from his seat, his gaze intense yet tender. "You look incredible," he murmurs. You flinch when you feel his hand his finger trace your jaw and his other hand play with the hem of your lace underwear. He bends down, his lips just grazing your cheek, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine, making your entire body quiver. "If you want me to stop, say it now," he whispers. When you remain silent, he brushes his mouth against the hollow of your temple. "Or now." He traces the curve of your cheekbone. "Or now." His lips meet yours.

For a moment your so shocked that he kissed you, you don't do anything. It feels like you are having an out-of-body experience like you can't believe this as actually happening to you. Then in a matter of seconds, his lips move against yours and you melt. Suguru is gentle at first, then unyieldingly hard. You feel yourself falling —not just physically, but emotionally too. You open for him and his tongue snakes its way inside your mouth. His hands move from your face to your lower back as he pulls you toward him, closing whatever space was left between you. He pushes you against him as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands remains on your hip, while the other travels to cup your breasts.

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He mumbles against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool.

"Good girl."

Without a warning, Geto sweeps you up in his arms with an ease that leaves you breathless, carrying you effortlessly across the room to his bed.

Geto stands over you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body splayed elegantly across his bed.

"Shit baby, you let anyone else see you like this?"

You thickly gulp and shake your head.

"Oh thank god." He murmurs, climbing over you to place light kisses along your neck, trailing down your chest. Each kiss is soft yet deliberate, sending a cascade of warmth through your entire body. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully immersed in the sensation.

"Your skin feels like silk," he murmurs.

"Did you steal that line from a hallmark card?" You crack.

"Nope just stating a fact." He skims the underside of your bra with his fingers. "Always watched you come out of the store, always wanted to see how you'd look in what you bought." He lifts his head to give you a wry look "You're so smooth and perfect you know that right?"

You let out a soft gasp when his lips find your nipple, pulling your lacy bra down so soft lips can evoke your nub.

"Oh god sugu-" He doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. His ears go hot at the sounds you’re making, all desperate and needy.

"So beautiful, fuck your tits are so beautiful" He groans into your skin like it was cocaine. He then switches to your other breast, sucking and licking until he knows you will be sore. Jesus, your breasts feel so good in his mouth, so soft and sweet, why didn't he do this sooner? How much longer did he think he could maintain this facade of being your 'enemy' when all he truly desired was to have you underneath him?

You are squirming underneath him now, the stimulation of his wet tongue on your nipple is becoming unbearable and so was the growing heat between your legs. Your tits feel so good in his mouth, supple, sweet, far better than his imagination could ever conjure

"God, sugu-"

"Love it when you say my name." Suguru breaths between licks and you feel your stomach twist with.

"Sugu please" you manage to gasp, "please touch me please anything please-"

"Fuck you?" Suguru coos, and the words make warmth blossom from your core.

"Please." You breath.

And who was he to deny you?

Without much of a word he pulls your lace panties down to your ankles, making you instinctively hide your bare cunt with your hands, but he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swats your fingers away. Then, as he stands over you, Suguru steps out of his black pants and pulls off his t-shirt. As you glimpse Suguru, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. His large, incredibly toned frame is a clear testament to rigorous workouts, and intricate tattoos weave across his skin, adding to the attraction.

You were no longer in the kiddie pool.

You are too immersed in his figure that you dont even notice he has lowered down his black boxers just enough so his long length springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

You thickly gulp.

"I dont think that will-" You stammer, the sheer size or his dick making your gut twist and turn. "I think it will hurt I dont think it will-" As you continue to stammer, searching for the right words, Geto cuts you off with a deep, consuming kiss that immediately shuts you up. When he finally pulls back, a confident smirk plays on his lips.

"It will, baby, it always does," he murmurs, his voice low and dark.

Geto positions himself atop you, his strong legs straddling either side of your body, anchoring him in place. He leans over you, the intensity of his gaze capturing yours as he methodically entwines his fingers with yours. With a firm but gentle grasp, he pins your hands down on either side of your body, his proximity reducing the world to the space between you. The warmth of his breath brushes against your face, his presence both overwhelming and exhilarating, as he holds you there under him, completely in control yet tender in his touch.

Before you can even get a word in, you gasp when you feel large pressure against your hole.

"Slowly baby," he hushes you before you can protest. "I'll go slowly."

Suguru's slow roll of hips hips into you is enough to make you scream. The way his dick parts your walls and fills every single inch of you makes your brain go hazy, especially when his tip smooshes against your cervix, sending blots of electricity throughout your body.

"Talk to me baby," Suguru murmurs, his voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt has on dick. "Want me to move?"

You're too lost in the hazy pleasure to form words, all you can do is nod, making Geto breathe out an air of what must be relief. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted.

You feel like you are going insane from the pleasure. Your cries came silent from your throat, eyes screwed shut in complete bliss. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Suguru coaxing you to relax as he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking and biting your sensitive skin. And as you adjusted, your hips began to buck against him at their own pace, beckoning him to move faster.

Of course, Suguru doesn't miss this, and without missing a beat he speads up his thrusts, the pap pap pap of his skin against your echoing in your ears

"Shit, you feel so good baby." Geto practically whines. You don't know it, but he's starting to lose his grip, the overwhelming pleasure beginning to unravel his usual composure.

The delicious friction of his dick scrapping your walls has your heart pounding in your ears and your breath close to hyperventilating. Everything is too much too good all at once. The proximity of Geto's body is overwhelming, his warm skin against yours, his ragged breath hot against your neck. When you gaze into his face, the sight nearly makes you faint—his eyes scrunched shut, lost in euphoria, beads of sweat lining his black hairline. His mouth is slightly open, panting, a sight that makes your cunt flutter from excitement.

"Su-Suguru, so good you're fucking me so good." you babble and he can only groan in response. Your toes curled and uncurled as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with the kisses he peppered on your neck and lips was all enough to end you to heaven.

He knows you're close. And you know it too. The way Suguru is fucking you is truly a primal display of affection; him rutting into your cunt like an animal in heat and you frantically scratching and clawing at his back.

Thats when an idea hits you, no, a need overcomes you, You need Suguru, you need all of him, all of him inside you filling you up and making you his.

"Sugu cum in me please," you beg through a hoarse voice. "Fill me up please please please."

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he practically whines at your words.

"Course baby, course I will."

As if on cue, you feel your seize up and your mind go blank. It feels like your body is free falling into a euphoric grave, electric arrows of pleasure coursing through your sin and directly to your core.

"Oh shit" Suguru curses at the way your cunt clamps down on him and it isnt to long before he follows you, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into your belly. In a fluid motion without leaving your insides once, he picks you up so you are straddling him, and his bare chest is pressed against yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs into your ear. And you can only sigh in response.

'I'll buy you 1000 more lingerie sets if we can do this again."

[thestylesplash]

Sparkle and Shine - December's Style Not Age

Sparkle and Shine – December’s Style Not Age

Happy Boxing Day! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas Day. What did Santa bring you? I got a fantastic new electric acoustic guitar, jewellery, gloves, hat, socks, slippers and some yummy vegan treats. After a delicious lunch (cooked by Pete) and a glass of fizz, I had to have an afternoon sleep! I’m trying to be more energetic today. I was quite tired after driving to Cambridgeshire and…

[buckets-and-trees]

Mob Bucky respects your own financial independence, but he also made sure you have access to his black card and use it when you need it. He doesn't care what you spend the money on, especially since the notification he gets those very rare times that you use his money is to buy something most practical or for your shared apartment.

However, he does not expect to see a notification for the purchase of some sex toys 😏

CHOCOLATE

Collection: DEVOUR Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!James Buchanan Barnes x Female!Chef!Reader Word Count: 5.6k Timeline: Takes place 1-2 weeks after mint, 2-3 weeks after heat.

Content & Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT - vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, creampie, food play, breeding kink. Feelings, so many feelings.

Author Notes: Surprise! At some points during the 2200 Followers Celebration poll, Devour Bucky and Chef were actually winning, so here's something I started months and months ago and brought out to finish for them. It's not quite everything from your ask, Eva, but I hope it's a satisfying scenario all the same...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You had known the exact moment your fiancé – mob boss, venture capitalist, or philanthropist depending on who you asked and what they knew – got the notification of your purchase.

James Buchanan Barnes had given you a black card weeks ago, before the engagement, but you hadn’t used it until this week. Bucky had gone to Chicago for business (and you were sure he was there for business as well), and instead of staying home and pining away for him, you decided to treat yourself. The notification must have pinged his phone during a meeting, because exactly 47 minutes later, your own phone lit up with his name.

"What's this Cartier expense I see?" his voice a dangerous mix of amusement and curiosity.

You swallowed hard, fingering the velvet box in your lap. "Just a little shopping therapy while you're away. Nothing to worry about."

"Mmm," he hummed, unconvinced. "And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to shower you with gifts."

"Well," you said, "maybe I wanted to surprise you for once."

There was a pause, and you could almost see him leaning back in his chair, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "I suppose I am a little surprised you finally used the card. But how about a challenge?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you see if you can shock me with a purchase?”

“Challenge accepted. What do I get?”

He chuckled. “You already know I’ll give you the world.”

Butterflies surged in your stomach. This man.

“You’re back Saturday afternoon?” you confirmed.

“Yes,” he growled. “There’s a round of golf I can’t seem to move or negotiate.”

You sighed softly. “It’s only three more days.”

“I like that you miss me.”

You huffed but couldn’t deny it.

“I’m missing you, too,” he said.

“James…” you breathed.

“Did you get the gift I sent?”

“I did.” A stunning, six-foot mirror with an ornate, gold-gilded frame had been delivered that morning to your apartment and placed in your bedroom.

“I was taken with how beautiful it was and you were my first thought.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too. I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

When you woke up Friday morning, you knew exactly how to shock him with the black card.

Or at least tease him.

The high-end, ridiculously expensive lingerie boutique you never thought you would enter in your lifetime - Boudoir.

The response to that expense notification was immediate, and you smirked when you read the text that came through.

JAMES: You have my interest piqued.

You thought for a moment, then typed out a reply.

YOU: Thought maybe I’d see if I can shock you and send some photos of what I got later tonight.

Three dots appeared straight away, and then

JAMES: Forget photos, I’ll fly out tonight straight away after my meeting with Levinson and come straight to you.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart swelling with adoration, anticipation, and maybe just a touch of nerves. You looked up the latest flights out of Chicago, and couldn’t help feeling a little forlorn. Even though the restaurant head chef life meant late nights for work, it would still be an ungodly hour when he landed.

YOU: I’ll try to stay up, but promise to wake me up if I’m asleep?

Again, you didn't have to wait long for his reply.

JAMES: I promise. Nothing could keep me from you tonight.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. You glanced at the clock - it was barely noon. The hours until his arrival stretched before you, filled with anticipation and nervous energy. You busied yourself with things before work, trying to focus on anything other than the ticking clock and the bag from Boudoir sitting in your closet.

At Devour your mind was engaged fully in your craft and working with your team.

But once you returned home after the Friday night dinner service, you found yourself pacing the apartment, unable to settle. Should you put on the lingerie now? Wait until you heard from him? You compromised by showering and doing your hair and makeup, then slipping into a silky robe.

Just as you were debating whether to pour yourself a glass of wine to calm your nerves, your phone pinged.

JAMES: Landed. On my way to you.

Far earlier than you expected him, but a good thing, too.

Your heart raced as you read his message. You quickly made your way to the bedroom, retrieving the Boudoir bag from the closet with trembling hands. The delicate lace and silk felt cool against your skin as you slipped into the lingerie, adjusting the straps and garters with care. You stood before the new mirror James had sent, admiring how the deep, rich color complemented your skin tone. The set hugged your curves in all the right places. Standing before the mirror James had gifted you, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence.

A text alert broke your reverie.

JAMES: Five minutes.

You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the silky fabric once more before draping the robe back over your shoulders. You dimmed the lights in the bedroom and lit a few candles, creating a soft, inviting ambiance.

The sound of a key in the lock made your pulse quicken. You perched on the edge of the bed, listening as Bucky’s footsteps approached.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and he stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His gaze was intense, a mix of hunger and adoration that made your breath catch in your throat. Would you ever get used to the way he looked at you?

"Well," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "this is certainly a welcome home."

You stood, your fingers toying with the tie of your robe. "I thought you might appreciate a little preview of my shopping spree."

He set a golden box on your dresser and then moved closer, his steps deliberate and predatory. He reached out, running his fingers along the edge of your robe. "May I?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he slowly undid the tie and pushed the silky fabric off your shoulders. The robe pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in the exquisite lingerie.

Bucky inhaled sharply, his eyes roaming over every inch of you. "Beautiful.” His hands settled on your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Show me how much you missed me," he growled.

You leaned into him, tilting your head up to meet his intense gaze. "I thought you were going to show me how much you missed me," you teased, running your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, I intend to," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "But first, I want to savor this moment. You've outdone yourself."

His hands roamed over the delicate lace and silk, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your breath hitch. You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the barely contained power in his muscles as he held you close.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here until much, much later,” you said, breathing in the scent of him, cologne mingled with his natural musk. “The flights I saw had landings after midnight.”

He snorted. “My private jet provides service according to my schedule, not anyone else’s.”

“Oh,” was your soft and surprised reaction, realizing you should not be at all surprised to learn he owned a private jet.

"Turn around, love," he commanded softly. "Let me see all of you."

You complied, slowly spinning to face the mirror. He stood behind you, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. His hands skimmed down your sides, fingertips tracing the lace edges of your lingerie. You shivered at his touch, watching as his expression darkened with desire.

"Do you see how stunning you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How every curve, every line of your body is a work of art?"

You leaned back against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him. "I see how you look at me," you whispered. "That's what makes me feel beautiful."

You watched in the mirror as his lips trailed up your neck, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin. Your breath quickened as one of his hands splayed across your stomach, pulling you back against him.

He growled low in his throat, his arms tightening around you. "You still have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice rough with need. His fingers traced the edge of the lace at your hip.

You turned in his arms, reaching up to cup his face. "Then show me," you challenged, your eyes locked on his.

Impossibly, his eyes darkened even more at your words, a predatory smile curving his lips. In one fluid motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss as he carried you to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness.

"You want me to show you?" he growled, hovering over you. His fingers traced the delicate straps of your lingerie, sending shivers across your skin. "I'll show you exactly what you do to me."

He began a torturous exploration of your body, his lips and hands mapping every inch of you. The exquisite lingerie became both a barrier and a tantalizing tease as Bucky lavished attention on the exposed skin while skimming over the lace and silk. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"James," you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair. "Please…"

He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love. I've been dreaming of you all week."

His talented fingers deftly unclasped the delicate hooks of your bra, slowly peeling the lace away to reveal your skin beneath. You gasped as the cool air hit your heated flesh, arching into his touch as he palmed your breasts.

"Beautiful," he murmured, lowering his head to trail kisses along your collarbone. "So fucking beautiful."

You tugged at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Too many clothes," you panted, fumbling with the buttons.

Bucky chuckled, sitting back on his heels to shrug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. Your eyes roamed hungrily over his sculpted torso as more of his skin was revealed. The dim candlelight cast shadows that accentuated every plane and angle of his muscular form.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Always," you breathed, reaching up to run your hands over his chest and shoulders.

He caught your wrists gently, pinning them above your head as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You melted into his kiss, your body arching up to meet his as he pressed you into the mattress. The weight of him, the heat of his skin against yours, was intoxicating. You tugged at his grip on your wrists, desperate to touch him, but he held firm.

"Ah ah," he murmured against your lips. "I'm not done admiring my gift yet."

His free hand skimmed down your side, fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. You whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you.

"James, please," you gasped, breaking away from the kiss.

He chuckled, a dark, velvety sound that sent shivers down your spine. "So impatient," he tsked, nipping at your lower lip. "But I suppose I have kept you waiting all week, haven't I?"

In one fluid motion, he released your wrists and moved down your body. His lips and tongue traced a burning path along your skin, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts before continuing lower.

With deft movements, he removed the rest of your lingerie, his eyes dark with hunger as he drank in the sight of you. You reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Bucky chuckled, gently moving your hands aside to finish undressing himself.

Finally skin to skin, you both sighed at the contact. Bucky's weight settled over you, comforting and electrifying all at once. His lips found yours again as he entered you slowly, savoring every inch. You gasped against his mouth, your body arching to take him deeper.

"God, I've missed you," Bucky growled, his forehead pressed against yours as he stilled for a moment.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "Show me," you breathed, nails raking down his back.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Bucky began to move, setting a rhythm that had you clinging to him, gasping his name. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there as his hips drove into yours.

You lost yourself in the sensations - the slide of his skin against yours, the delicious friction where your bodies joined, the heat of his breath on your neck. Your hands roamed his broad back, feeling the flex and ripple of his muscles as he moved above you.

"James," you moaned, feeling the familiar tension building low in your belly. "I'm close."

Bucky slowed his movements, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I'm not done with you."

With a low growl, he suddenly withdrew, leaving you gasping at the loss. Before you could protest, his strong hands grasped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach.

His palms glided down your sides, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine. You shivered at his touch, anticipation building as he gently urged your hips upward.

"On your knees for me, beautiful," he commanded softly, his palms smoothing over the swell of your backside.

You complied eagerly, pushing yourself up onto all fours. The cool air of the room kissed your heated skin, making you hyper-aware of every sensation. Bucky's hands continued their journey, kneading the flesh of your thighs and hips with intent appreciation.

You felt the bed shift as he positioned himself behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back. His fingers tangled in your hair, gently tugging your head back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke.

"You're a vision like this," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So perfect for me."

You whimpered, pressing back against him, desperate for more contact. Bucky chuckled, the sound vibrating through your body. Slowly, torturously, he dragged the tip of his length along your folds, teasing your clit with the blunt head of his cock.

You gasped at the sensation, your fingers curling into the sheets. "James, please," you whimpered, pushing back against him.

He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. "So eager for me," he murmured, positioning himself at your entrance. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you breathed, looking back over your shoulder to meet his intense gaze. "I want you, James. Please."

With a low growl, he pushed into you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. You both moaned at the sensation, savoring the feeling of being joined once again. Bucky stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against your back as he struggled to maintain control.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. "So tight, so wet, so warm and perfect for me."

He began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each thrust. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, desperate for something to anchor you as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky's hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"Look,” he said, and turned your head to take in the sight of you two in the mirror.

You locked your eyes on his through the reflection. “Need you to see how gorgeous you are when you come apart for me.”

You keened for him as he pulled you back on his cock with a particularly demanding thrust.

“When I breed you.”

You gasped.

He groaned and curled his body down over your back.

Because you also clenched powerfully around his cock.

“Mmm, you like that,” he murmured right into your ear, then licked the shell of it. “Want to be bred,” he continued, pace unyielding as he split you open with his cock. “Not as much as I want to fill you up with my seed,” another thrust, “until you’re growing with my child,” another thrust, “no question who you belong to,” thrust, “that you’re claimed,” thrust, “that you’re mine.”

You were utterly breathless for a moment, and he registered that, too, just as he registers every movement, every reaction.

He continued to thrust slowly in and out of your leaking cunt, but he noticed you were no longer fluid and pliant, but that you had tensed up. He stopped. “What’s going on in your beautiful head?”

You bit your lip, and your head dropped down, turning away from his direct gaze in the mirror.

He pulled out and laid on his side next to you.

“Talk to me,” he said, and you weren’t sure if this tone was commanding or pleading, but it was certainly serious.

You sat up, folded your hands in your lap and took a deep breath. As steadily as you could, you said, “You knew my measurements and had sent a perfect wardrobe of intimates to me withing twenty-four hours of our first encounter.”

He nodded, his lips quirking up at the corner.

“So, I assume you also know I have an IUD, and that you that knew before you fucked me in the kitchen that first night at the restaurant.”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“I’m nowhere near ready to think about children.”

He leaned up on one elbow and reached for your hands, smoothing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “We have as much time to think about that as you want.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes searched his. You could see he wasn’t merely trying to tell you what you wanted to hear - he never had.  

“I look forward to children with you one day, but I’m in no rush. When I imagined settling down with a wife,” he continued, “I didn’t think it would be for another five or six years, but once I found you, there was no question that I wanted you.”

"I want that future with you too, just... not quite yet."

Bucky sat up, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently as he looked into your eyes. "I'm sorry if I scared you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Sometimes I get carried away in the moment. You inspire that in me. But I never want you to feel uncomfortable or trapped.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, your body relaxing as you processed his words. "I'm sorry," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "I didn't mean to kill the mood."

Bucky shook his head, pulling you closer. "Don't apologize. Communication is important, especially about something like this." His fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin.

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth and affection for this man who could be so commanding and intense one moment, and so tender and understanding the next. "I love you," you said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Bucky responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you as he deepened the kiss. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. "I love you too," he murmured. "More than I ever thought possible."

His hands began to roam your body again, easily reigniting the need in both of your for each other.

You broke off the kiss briefly, "Just so we're clearly communicating, breeding kink? Yes. Children yet? No."

"Noted," he laughed, and returned to devouring your lips.

Bucky shifted his position from sitting to kneeling, settling back on his heels, then with one fluid motion he turned you and pulled you into his lap with your thighs falling on either side of his into a wide, kneeling position. He lifted your hips, then lined up his cock with your entrance, and brought you down again on his length. He guided your hips until you were impaled all the way down. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure through your body, drawing a low moan from your lips.

He banded his left arm around your torso, and his right hand smoothed up your sternum, between your breasts, coming to rest in a secure hold on your shoulder. You closed your eyes, focusing on nothing but the feel of him inside you, behind you, right at your back, every inch of your bodies pressed together. Your left hand traced over his forearm, then tangled with his fingers around your waist, your other hand moving back to anchor yourself on his hip. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, then began thrusting. Each thrust seemed to push a deep moan out of you for him, and you didn’t hold back.

"Open your eyes," he commanded softly, his breath hot against your ear. "Look at us."

You obeyed, your gaze meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. The sight before you was breathtaking. Bucky sat tall and powerful behind you, his muscular thighs flexed as he supported your weight. Your body was on full display, skin flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. His thick arm across your stomach, holding you close against his chest.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How perfectly you fit with me?"

You watched in the mirror as one of his hands slowly trailed up your body, cupping your breast and teasing the sensitive peak. Your back arched at his touch, pressing you further onto his cock.

Bucky groaned, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily. "That's it," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "Feel me inside you."

Entranced by his words and the intoxicating view in the mirror, you began to move. You rolled your hips, grinding down onto him in a slow, sensual rhythm. Bucky's hands guided your movements, his fingers digging into your flesh as he helped you ride him.

You watched in fascination as your bodies moved together, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath Bucky's skin and the way your own body responded to his touch. The sight of him disappearing inside you with each downward motion was almost too much to bear.

"James," you gasped, your head falling back onto his shoulder as the pleasure built. "Oh god, James..."

“No,” he growled, and his hand went up to your neck, taking you by the throat, not aggressive, but commanding, making it clear that he wanted you to keep looking in the mirror. “I won’t let you fucking miss this.”

It occurred to you then that this handsome, audacious bastard, the fiancé who you’d given your heart to, knew exactly what he wanted when he sent you this mirror and had it placed in the exact spot in front of you now.

He wanted this.

He wanted to see this and have you see this. The debauchery and the devotion while the two of you were intimate together.

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror, the intensity of his gaze pushing you even closer to the brink. You watched as his free hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. The dual stimulation of his cock inside you and his fingers on your most sensitive area becoming more frantic. Bucky's grip on your hips tightened, guiding you into a faster pace.

"That's it, love," he growled, his voice low and husky in your ear. "Let go for me. I want to see you come undone."

His words, combined with the intense sensations and the erotic sight in the mirror, and touch pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body tensing and shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky held you tightly against him, his hips still moving as he worked you through your orgasm.

"Beautiful," he murmured, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck. "So fucking beautiful."

As the aftershocks subsided, Bucky gently turned you in his lap so you were facing him. His hands cupped your face, drawing you in for a deep, passionate kiss. You could feel him still hard inside you, and you rocked your hips, drawing a groan from his lips.

"Your turn," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

With a growl, Bucky flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle as he began to thrust into you with renewed vigor.

You gasped at the deeper penetration, your hands clutching at his back as he sunk into you. The room filled with the sounds of your moans, heavy breaths, and the slap of skin on skin.

You reached up, pulling him down for a passionate kiss while he worked up to a relentless pace. He drove into you with powerful thrusts, each one pushing the air from your lungs. Your other leg wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper as you felt another orgasm building.

"James," you panted, your nails raking down his back, "I'm so close again."

He growled, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor. "My good girl, I’ll always give you what you need."

His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your oversensitive clit. The added stimulation was almost too much, pushing you right to the edge. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Bucky's rhythm faltered as your walls clenched around him. With a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his body shuddering as he found his own release. You felt the warmth of his seed spilling inside you, prolonging your own pleasure.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Bucky's weight was comforting on top of you, grounding you as you floated in post-orgasmic bliss. He pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, murmuring words of love and praise against your skin.

Eventually, he rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were tucked against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your breathing slowly returned to normal. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and feeling utterly content.

"I love you," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.

Bucky's hand stroked up and down your back, his touch soothing and gentle. "I love you too," he replied, his voice deep and warm. "More than I thought possible."

You hummed in agreement, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The room was quiet save for the sound of your breathing and the faint flicker of the candles.

After a few moments, Bucky spoke again, his voice soft. "I meant what I said earlier. About children, about our future. We have all the time in the world."

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "I know," you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Thank you for understanding."

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Always. We're partners in this, in everything."

You lay in comfortable silence again for a while, basking in the afterglow and each other's presence. Bucky's fingers idly traced patterns on your skin, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"I missed this," you said softly, breaking the silence. "Having you here, holding me." Everything with him was still relatively so new, but it felt like this was exactly how it always should be.

He hummed in agreement, tightening his arms around you. "Me too. Those nights in Chicago felt endless without you."

You tilted your head up to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Well, you're home now. And you brought me another present, didn’t you?”

“Oh, you noticed that golden box I brought in with me, did you?”

“Yes, can I have it, please?” you asked sweetly, your curiosity thrumming more with each second now that you had remembered it.

He chuckled at your eagerness, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reluctantly disentangling himself from your embrace. "Alright, love. Your wish is my command."

You watched appreciatively as he padded across the room, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin. He retrieved the golden box from the dresser and returned to the bed, settling beside you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Close your eyes," he instructed softly, and you complied, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

You heard the rustle of paper and the soft click of a box opening. A moment later, an intoxicating aroma filled the air - rich, complex, with notes of cocoa, vanilla, and something tantalizingly exotic.

"Open," Bucky murmured.

Parting your lips, you allowed him to place a morsel of chocolate in your mouth.

The chocolate melted slowly on your tongue, releasing layers of flavor that made you moan softly in delight. Rich, dark cocoa mingled with hints of caramel and a subtle spiciness that lingered pleasantly. As the last of it dissolved, you opened your eyes to find Bucky watching you intently, his gaze dark with renewed desire.

"Good?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, licking your lips. "Incredible. What is it?"

He smiled, holding up an elegantly crafted golden box. "Amedei Porcelana. Some of the rarest and most expensive chocolate in the world. I had it flown in from Tuscany."

Your eyes widened. "James, that must have cost a fortune."

He shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "What's the point of having money if I can't spoil my beautiful fiancée?" His fingers traced along your jawline. "Besides, watching you enjoy it is worth every penny."

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words and the intensity of his gaze. Bucky leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. The lingering taste of chocolate on your tongue mingled with his unique flavor, creating an intoxicating blend. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. "I think I might enjoy that chocolate even more when I taste it on your lips," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, reaching for the box. "Well, we have plenty more to sample. Maybe we should conduct a thorough taste test?"

Bucky's eyes darkened with desire, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I like the way you think, chef."

He took the box from your hands, selecting another piece of chocolate. This time, instead of feeding it to you, he placed it between his teeth, raising an eyebrow in challenge. You leaned in, capturing the other half of the chocolate with your lips, your mouths meeting in a sweet, decadent kiss.

As the night wore on, you continued your playful exploration, alternating between savoring the exquisite chocolate and indulging in each other. Bucky trailed pieces along your skin, following the path with his lips and tongue. You reciprocated, drawing patterns on his sculpted chest and abs with melted chocolate before licking it clean.

The room filled with soft sighs, quiet laughter, and murmured words of affection as you rediscovered each other's bodies. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over your intertwined forms, creating an intimate cocoon that seemed to exist outside of time.

As dawn approached, you lay tangled together, satiated and drowsy. Bucky's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

"I could get used to welcomes like this," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You hummed contentedly, nuzzling closer. "Maybe I should send you away more often if this is how you come back to me."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Don't you dare. I much prefer having you by my side every day."

You smiled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "Me too," you admitted softly. "Though I have to say, absence does make the heart grow fonder."

"And apparently inspires some very creative shopping," he teased, his hand skimming down your side to rest on your hip.

You laughed, a warm, carefree sound that filled the room. "Well, I had to make sure you'd remember me while you were away."

"Impossible," Bucky murmured, his voice taking on a more serious tone. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek, his touch feather-light but ardent. "You're etched into every part of me now, love."

The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. Even after hours of intimacy, he still had the power to make your heart race with just a look. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of your shared feelings.

As you parted, you noticed the first rays of dawn peeking in through the curtains of your window. You settled your head against his shoulder, and only just registered the press of his lips in a kiss to your forehead before you dropped off to sleep in his arms in the morning light, thoroughly exhausted and thoroughly in love with this man.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest Read more in the DEVOUR collection...

Some of this was content I cut from the final chapter of the original 4-parts of the series (heat) that once I got to the end of that chapter felt like it didn't fit anymore, but it was stuff I couldn't throw away, so I just kept it, knowing it would have a place at some point in their story later, so I'm glad I finally got to share it with you!

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 10

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

Word count: 3,765

A/N: I was debating whether or not to take this turn in the story but here we are… tell me what you think, what will happen next? 😊 sometimes I get ideas from your comments✨ thank you for following this series!!

Y/N felt like she was in a dream as she looked at herself in the mirror, she was wearing a gorgeous dress in a creamy tone, her hair glamorously curled and pinned up and very little make up, but everything looked so put together.

She felt like a princess.

With a huge baby bump. She giggled, until she got dressed she didn’t think the dress would fit, but surprisingly it did… and it had a beautiful line full of small crystals right under her breasts and over her bump. She had been half twirling just to catch the light, it was beautiful and delicate and it had costed a fortune, but Polly insisted it was appropriate for the occasion.

Never in her wildest dreams, she could’ve afforded something like that, but Polly basically forced her to get it, she didn’t leave the boutique until Y/N nodded.

It had been a few busy weeks, the Shelby Fundation Dinner planning kept her so busy lately, she had several meetings with vendors to make sure everything would be perfect. Y/N personally supervised the menu, music and flowers, the party held at Arrow House a couple of weeks ago would look small compared to this Gala for the Institution.

Her baby startled wriggling a lot, so Y/N decided to pace around the room in an attempt to settle down.

Meanwhile, downstairs something entirely different was happening. Mary just learned that Mr. Davis -Mr. Shelby’s driver-, had been sneaking from Arrow House with a basket of food and other goodies under that intruder instructions to the Shelby Institute to give it to an unknown person that was living there. But other than that he refused to speak more. She felt upset, that Y/N felt with authority enough to feed someone else off Mr. Shelby’s pocket, because given the fact that Mr. Davis was trying to keep a low profile, when she asked if Mr. Shelby knew about it, the man shook his head.

But she’d reveal the truth and let her master know.

Running her fingers over the table, she checked it looking for any trace of dust. Pleased she then arranged the curtain and finally smoothing her apron, she waited patiently as Mr. Shelby parked his car outside.

“Mary.” He acknowledged her.

“Mr. Shelby I’m so glad you arrived… there’s something I need to tell you.” She explained while hanging his coat.

“Not now Mary, I’ve to get ready for the Institution’s Dinner.” Tommy replied taking the stairs.

“Oh.” The maid smoothed her apron. “Can I help you to get ready then?”

But Tommy was already shaking his head, but as he reached the last step, he changed his mind. “Actually yes, come with me.”

Mary could hardly hide the smirk of satisfaction playing on her face. Would she help him getting into the bath? Or pass down his tuxedo while he got dressed?

Her answer would come shortly as Tommy emerged from his dressing room with a black velvet box. “Go and find Y/N, give her this necklace and help her with the final touches for the Dinner.”

Disappointment flashed through Mary’s face as she stared at the box. “But…”

“Go Mary.” Tommy ushered her outside his bedroom without another glance.

Mary stomped her feet quietly and pursed her lips into a tight line, she didn’t want to help that sinful woman, but she had to obey Mr. Shelby.

“Come in.” Y/N stated when she heard the knock on her door. “Oh, Mary… I thought it might be Tommy.”

“Mr. Shelby is busy.” She clasped her hands together. As much as she disliked, Y/N looked good, her hair perfectly styled and the dress fit like a glove. But she didn’t deserve a compliment.

“Right. Well… guess I’ll wait.” Y/N mumbled starting to feel uncomfortable under Mary’s stare.

“I was asked to hand you this.” The maid explained under her breath. “I hope you really take good care of it, since it’s so expensive.”

The blue stone shone under the room’s light, making Y/N catch her breath.

Mary was still wondering what made Y/N so special to deserve a gift like that, according to her, she didn’t deserve it nor all the benefits she also got for being under Mr. Shelby’s protection.

Y/N looked down at her lap after being reminded once more of her place in Tommy’s life.

The feeling of the cold sapphire against her skin made her come back to reality. Staring back at her reflection, she felt as if the jewel was mocking her, like shouting how ridiculous it looked on her and a shiver ran down her body.

“Who are you hiding?” Mary asked raising her chin in a cocky way. “I know you’ve been stealing food from the kitchen.”

“No one.” Y/N’s words came out shaky as she gave the maid a nervous look.

“I wonder if Mr. Shelby knows…”

Worry flashed over Y/N’s features, she hadn’t got the chance to talk to Tommy about Frances yet, because he had been either at a trip, busy with some business, solving a family affair or visiting a factory. He hadn’t been involved in the Institution event either, he only managed to hand her a list of the important guests he wanted to attend. That led her to be in charge of most of the things, including the decision to help Frances without his approval.

“I think Mr. Shelby shouldn’t have give you so many liberties, you come and go as you please, have your relatives staying over as guests and now you’re feeding another mouth out of his pocket, how ungrateful and opportunist.”

Leaving Y/N to deal with her own guilt, Mary walked out of the bedroom.

She was used to Tommy’s unlimited generosity, he went above and beyond for her and her baby, but the maid was right, there was a thin line and sometimes it felt as if she was stepping over it, her baby would need food, clothes, medicines, it would be expensive and even though Tommy had made clear he was more than able to provide for everything, it felt wrong, it wasn’t his responsibility.

Another knock on the door startled her pulling Y/N abruptly from her thoughts.

It was Claire, the maid who was kind to her. “Miss Y/N, just wanted to let you know the car is ready… oh you look so pretty!”

The unexpected compliment made Y/N smile momentarily.

“Is everything alright?”

Blinking to push her emotions away, Y/N gave her a nod. “Just trying to find a way to put on my shoes, this belly is on the way.”

“Let me help.” The young maid offered without hesitation. “I heard Mary’s furious for being asked to help you so I decided to see if you needed something.”

Kneeling in front of her, the maid took her feet and placed the shoe against her lap, then the other.

“You’re so kind to me.”

Claire thought Y/N didn’t deserve to be treated the way she did by some people, she knew the reason she was living there was because her parents didn’t support her. And she had experienced a similar situation when her cousin Amanda got kicked out of her house, she went to her house temporarily and then got married to the father of her baby, sadly she passed away during the birth and the child got placed into an orphanage. But she refused to share that story, Miss Y/N didn’t need those kind of thoughts.

“It’s going to be chilly, you’ll need to wear the stole.”

A sigh escaped Y/N’s lips. Ada had lent her the hair clip she was wearing, a lipstick and the fur stole. To her it all seemed like too much, even Polly insisted on getting her a nice perfume, she didn’t dare to ask how much it was, she preferred to save that money instead, but to the Shelby family it was important, part of the image they wanted to portray for society and after all they had done for her it was at least she could do.

Her heart was drumming as she stepped at the top of the stairs, it was like a dream. So surreal, this kind of event was like the ultimate ball, it was crucial for the kids to get enough donations to run the Institute.

At the loud sound of a thunder, Y/N gasped.

“Is just the bad weather.” Mr. Davis informed her from the front seat.

“Right… I’m just nervous.”

“Miss Y/LN?” He asked with a hint of doubt in his voice. “Do you think you can speak to Mr. Shelby for me? I’m afraid of what Mary might tell him and I really need the job.”

Mr. Davis only helped her deliver the groceries and food to Frances on her behalf, he wasn’t responsible, so she assured him she’d explain everything to Tommy as soon as she could.

Tommy hurried across the room to tuck in his shirt, zipping his pants he then started fixing the cummerbund. Hair fresh from the shower, he sprayed some lotion.

Staring at the mirror, he skillfully tied the bow.

“Fuck.” He breathed out as he took a look at the clock, he wanted to arrive to the venue early to greet the guests. Placing the cuffs in place he stood in front of the mirror for a second to make sure his hair was perfectly combed.

The speech he had prepared was safely guarded inside the pocket of his jacket, now he just needed to get his coat from the downstairs closet.

“Jesus, you scared me Mr. Shelby.” Mary stated as he stormed off his bedroom. “Before you go, I need to tell you something important.”

Tommy rolled his shoulders as he made it halfway the staircase.

“Later, I’ve to go Mary.”

“I must insist, just want you to know Miss Y/N has been taking food from the kitchen to give it to someone, and there are some sheets and towels missing too.”

Tommy stopped abruptly to look back at her.

Pondering in his maid’s words he tried to find a way out.

“Don’t worry Mary, I’m aware.” He stated and then, continued to rush downstairs.

But he didn’t know and confusion invaded his mind as he put on his coat. Why would Y/N do something like that? It didn’t make sense, but right now he could only think of the event, he needed it to be perfect.

On his way to the vehicle, he thought of finding a way to make Y/N understand she could take everything she wanted or needed and she didn’t need to hide. But he couldn’t help but wonder who was that person?

“Hey.” She greeted him as he made his way into the back seat next to her.

Her genuine smile welcomed Tommy, instinctively he passed an arm behind her head to make her feel comfortable.

“Hello,” then he instructed the driver to go.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it.”

“Yeah something came up and I wasted some time, but here we go… are you ready for the big event?”

“I can’t wait.”

“Looking good ey?” Tommy couldn’t help but notice the subtle make up she was wearing and that glow she carried everywhere made her features stand out. “So fancy.”

He couldn’t see it in the dim light, but Y/N blushed, his words made her feel confident.

Y/N adjusted the stole around her shoulders.

“Ada said this would keep me warm.” She wasn’t used to this kind of luxury. “And she also lent me this hair brooch.”

Turning her head around, she showed Tommy.

“Hmm.” He hummed, taking in the little details Y/N was showing him, she sounded like a kid in a candy store. “I remember that, gave it to her for her 21st birthday.”

“I know, she told me.” Y/N explained fixing her eyes on the man sitting next to her, he was so selflessly generous, there was no one else like him. And he looked so handsome.

Over the years she had heard people speak of him out of fear, out of anger and resentment, and every single time she had jumped right there and then to defend him, because she only knew this side of him.

“Do you’ve the pendant?” He asked wriggling his eyebrows and with a playful smile growing on his lips.

“I’m terrified to lose it.”

Unconsciously, Y/N touched the cold stone hanging from her neck.

Tommy asked her to show it to him so she let the stole fall from her shoulders and threw her head slightly back so Tommy could have a better look of the present he gave her.

For a couple of seconds she held her breath as his eyes fixed on the necklace.

Then his eyes slid lower, to her cleavage, the valley of her breasts captured all his attention and it was Tommy’s turn to hold his breath. He couldn’t help but notice the evident change in her frame apart from the obvious bump… quickly he cleared his throat and looked away feeling guilty for the sudden turn his thoughts took.

“It’s heavy.” Y/N stated oblivious of what just crossed his mind, when Tommy shifted on his seat, she looked at him. “Are you sure it isn’t too much?”

As soon as the car parked, Tommy rushed to walk around the car to help her down. “It’s perfect.” He admitted focusing now on the ground instead of her.

“There’s Polly.” Greeting her with enthusiasm, Y/N praised her look and beauty, she was stunning.

“Let’s get inside, shall we?” She urged Y/N and offered her hand for her to take the steps.

“What are we gushing about?”

Polly’s smile grew impossibly big. “There’s a man that wants to do my portrait.”

“The painter from the party?”

Polly nodded as someone approached to get their coats.

But their chat was soon interrupted by the impressive decoration at the venue.

“Wow this is breathtaking.” Polly stated holding Y/N’s hand.

It was eye catching, the chandeliers on the bases and flowers looked so elegant, it was the perfect way to greet people.

Y/N felt so proud of what she had achieved after working for so long in this event, choosing the best flowers, the best dishes, selecting the greatest band in the city. And it was all paying out. Hopefully they’ll get a lot of people donating for the Institution.

Tommy who had been stopped by the entrance couldn’t stop his eyes from following Y/N. There was something in her that put him in some kind of spell.

“Oh, this looks lovely my dear.” Y/N’s grandma finally arrived, linking her arm to her granddaughter, she smiled proudly. “And why are you so beautiful?”

“Because I look just like you.” Y/N kissed her cheek lovingly and returned the compliment as Tommy walked towards them.

“I hope you’re planning to dance all night, eh?” He winked at Y/N’s grandma.

“Oh Tommy I wish… but now I’m old and I don’t want to look like a fool.”

“Grandma, none of that.” Y/N chuckled. “I’ll be right back to welcome the guests.”

“Well, well Tommy Shelby knows how to throw a party.” Ada tilted her head, she wasn’t surprised by her brother’s wealth, but his need to let everybody know.

He cleared his throat, aching for a smoke. “Money can get you anything, Ada.”

“Oh yeah?” Those eyes of hers reminded him so much of his mother. “And what about love, Tom? Can you buy a wife too?”

The truth in her words felt like knife opening his chest in two.

No, he could always for sex yes, but not love. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, his eyes found Y/N in the back of the salon greeting a guest and taking the envelope with the donation they promised.

As more guests joined them, Tommy moved from group to group, not really listening to what they were saying but he had to pretend.

“Tommy.” Y/N touched his shoulder. “He’s the leader of the Birmingham City Council.”

“Hello Tommy.” They greeted each other.

“Danny.”

Until they started chatting, she realized they already knew each other, but as Danny was explaining their business, Tommy’s posture changed and he got tense. Following his eyes, she found the man that visited at the Institute once.

Y/N couldn’t understand what that priest was doing there, she couldn’t recall having him in the guest list specially after Tommy asked her to be extra cautious when it came to him. But she couldn’t interfere either so she let Tommy deal with him, she still had to greet lots of people anyways.

“Oh hi Esme!” Y/N stopped for a second in front of John’s wife. “Look at you.”

But Esme’s attention was fixed on the necklace, the sapphire hanging from Y/N’s neck. She felt something indescribable and an urgency to stand as far as possible from it invaded her.

“Who gave you that?” She asked Y/N bluntly.

It was dark, sinister and she didn’t like it at all. Esme could barely stand to look at the stone.

Confused, Y/N frowned. “Tommy, why? It’s a gift.”

Worry installed in her heart, Esme could feel her throat closing, the energy coming off the stone made her feel dizzy and she could only see black dots blurry her vision, as Y/N called for John to check on his wife.

There was nothing Y/N could do, she felt bad for Esme not feeling well but sadly she needed to attend the guests.

A woman approached her with a foreign accent.

“I’m the Duchess Tatiana Petrovna.”

Once Y/N left behind her initial shock, she wondered how did she end up in the same room with someone who was part of the royalty. She tried to do a small curtsy, just like she was taught.

Tatiana smirked and noticed the necklace.

“You know I’m used to wear jewels all the time, it must’ve fascinating for you to have the chance to have it loaned.”

Y/N had to bit her tongue hard to remain quiet and don’t fire back as the Duchess deserved.

“I wonder what you must’ve done for Mr. Shelby to give you that.” Her words and tone clearly meant to humiliate Y/N but she was used by now and she wasn’t in the mood.

It was either her mother, Mary, the rest of the people and now a woman who owned a royal title who wanted to make her feel like she didn’t deserve anything.

“You can ask him why, Duchess.”

Tatiana watched her with wide eyes. “Oh, my my… you’ve character.”

With a sigh, Tommy joined them, now they wanted him to take the Duchess to the factory, he didn’t trust Father Hughes and he didn’t trust the Russians either.

“You should’ve kissed my hand.” Tatiana flirted openly, directing her eyes towards Y/N, she wanted to show her she was in charge and even a man like Thomas Shelby obeyed her.

Observing the interaction between them, felt a sudden urge to stand in front of the Duchess to place some distance between her and Tommy. She couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation, she was blinded by jealousy by the mere thought of them together but…why?

As Tommy noticed Tatiana’s intentions he motioned Ada to take Y/N away.

“There’s a Lady that wants to talk about a donation to the Institution, Y/N come with me?” Ada was suddenly leading her in another direction.

Tatiana was definitely after Tommy. If they got together, what would happen to her? Would Tommy still support her and her baby?

“If you excuse me, I’ll go to the powder room.” Y/N gave the woman and Ada an apologetic look and excused herself, feeling grateful for having a minute to calm down at the internal turmoil she was dealing with.

Tommy was looking for Y/N hysterically, heart pounding inside his chest, worry showing across his forehead. “Have you seen Y/N?” He asked Arthur, who only raised his hands and shook his head.

That sapphire is cursed by a gypsy.- Tatiana’s words repeating over and over in his head.

He didn’t believe in God anymore, he didn’t believe in fate either. But he religiously believed in gypsy curses.

He needed that fucking necklace off Y/N. Why the hell did he have to give it to her?

She must mean something to you if you gave her such a pretty jewel.- she had stated before explaining about the curse.

Suddenly people moved and he spotted Y/N talking to someone.

“Come with me.” He ordered pulling her by the arm.

“Calm down, what’s happening?” She asked with a frown.

“Give me the necklace.” His words came out rushed, he was desperate.

“What? Why?”

“Give me the fucking necklace. Now.” He barked confusing Y/N more.

Feeling overwhelmed by the strange situation, Y/N felt bothered and sensible.

“Why would you give it to me then?” She asked but Tommy interrupted her, his hands on her shoulders shaking her slightly.

“I need you to be safe, Y/N.” But he refused to explain further.

Locking his eyes with her, she couldn’t understand what was crossing in his mind.

“Fuck this, fuck these people… we don’t need it.”

Words wouldn’t come out as he wanted, he needed to rip off the necklace from her.

“But Tommy…” what did he mean about fuck this? The event she had worked so hard on?

What did it had to do with the necklace?

“Y/N… please?”

His grip on her shoulders got tighter. This abrupt need to protect her from all evil that it was baffling, it made him feel uneasy but at the same time it was relieving as she grinned and moved her hand back to take the necklace off.

“Damn you Tommy Shelby”

In matter of seconds, everything changed… there was a shout and commotion. Before Tommy could react, he realized Y/N was a death weight against his chest.

There was blood. A lot.

“Y/N?!” He shouted.

Tommy heard himself call for an ambulance but he wasn’t sure anymore.

“You’re going to be alright. Take it easy.” Gently, he caressed her face. “Save your energy.”

“Tommy? It’s getting dark…” Y/N mumbled.

“Don’t close your eyes Y/N… stay with me!”

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney

@gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan

@stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts

@moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @narlytude @winchestergirl22

@zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144

@peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @lau219

@adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x

@everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest

@wannabeperfectionists-blog (can’t tag) @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @skydisneylover (can’t tag) @holacia3 @galactict3a @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @ietss @abaker74

@natalie--rushman @elliaze @justrainandcoffee @teawonderfultea-blog1

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bittersweet 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary: Your startup business catches the eye of a powerful rival.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

“So, the Green Bundle includes a Match truffle, chocolate mint smoothies, and green tea infused fudge,” you explain to the trio of women across from you. “The deluxe includes peppermint cocoa as well and comes in a this mug.” 

You present one of the few kits you have left in your inventory. As big a deal as getting a stall at the event was, you hadn’t expected the crowd. You’re overwhelmed, especially realising you’re the only stand with only a single body. 

“That’s so cute,” the taller brunette remarks, “what about the Pink kit? It says strawberry and creme?” 

“Ah, yes, that one sold out rather quickly today. I can offer a voucher for my online boutique or I can sell you a sampler box? It has the strawberry and creme as well as my more popular flavours.” 

“Do you do this all yourself?” The curly blonde asks as she eyes the chocolate dipped cherries. 

Another body crowds in, a tall men bending to peruse your hand-painted sign listing all your bundles and boxes. He pays you little mind as he eyes cling to the letters and he reaches to pluck up one of your cards. You return your attention to the blonde. 

“Yes, they’re all hand-crafted. The mugs as well but I don’t do those. I’ve a friend who makes those.” 

“The packaging is so pretty,” the first preens, “can I have a sampler then?” 

“Sure,” you answer, “I do the packaging as well. All the stickers, the bows I tie myself, and I decorate each box.” 

“Wow, that’s so cool,” the middle on remarks, “I’ll have a sampler as well and the green bundle.” 

“Sampler for me,” the third agrees. 

You go through the same process with each. You grab the product, put it in a bag, seal it with a sticker, and ring them through with a tap of their card. They all seem excited for their purchase and it’s contagious. It’s been a hectic day but you’re running low and you don’t think you’ll make it through to closing. Still, it’s good advertising. 

“Green tea fudge?” The tall man slithers towards the center of your counter, “an unusual combination.” 

“Yes, that one took a lot of experimenting.” 

“Mmm,” he still has your card in hand, bending it slightly as he flicks it with his thumb, “the red bundle. Cherry, red velvet, and...” he leans back to check the sign, “cayenne. Interesting.” 

“I try to make sure there’s variety in each,” you explain. 

“Yes, so it seems. I’ll take a red then.” 

“Sorry, sir, um, I’ve sold out of most. I still have the yellow, the black, and the green--” 

“Sold out?” He raises his wrist to give an emphatic glance at his watch, “either you’re very popular or ill-prepared.” 

You’re surprised by the accusation. He’s rather blunt. You’ve dealt with many different types today but they’ve all been relatively pleasant, after all, it’s hard to be in a bad mood at a Baking Show. 

“Fair, I wasn’t expecting so many buyers, sir. But you have my card, you’ll see my online boutique is listed--” 

“But I want to buy now,” he says as he tilts his head, dark brows rising just slightly. 

“I understand, I apologise for the inconvenience, but I just don’t have the red on-hand. I do have a sampler here--” You grab one of the variety boxes, “it would have the cayenne and the cherry.” 

“Do you think a one-person operation like this is sustainable?” He inquires sharply. 

You wince and shake your head, “sir? I’ve only just started. I’m sure with growth I’ll have to adjust.” 

“And do you have a business plan or is this some Etsy venture with no goals?” 

You nearly choke. You don’t know what you’ve done to offend him. 

“Well, sir, if you don’t want to buy, I do have free samples available. I don’t have any of the red flavours but I do have some banana peanut butter and salted caramel apple--” 

“I didn’t ask about samples,” he insists, “I’m asking about your business plan.” 

You bat your lashes and look around. Has he come to this event just to interrogate people over their bottom line? 

“I suppose it’s something I will have to review after today,” you contend. 

“I’d say,” he tucks your card into his jacket pocket, his hand lingering within as he pulls out a leather wallet, “if you have any questions...” 

He slides a card free and offers it. You take it hesitantly and read the gold font on matte black cardstock. Black Snake Chocolatier. You run your fingers over the embossed lettering and narrow your eyes. You peer over at the large banner over that business’ booth. He must be from over there but he’s not exactly dressed for the work. His suit is pressed and stainless. 

“I did sponsor that one,” he pulls your attention back, “but I’ve come down to take measure of my competition and possible... acquisitions.” 

You nod slowly as you meet his green eyes. Is this intimidation? 

“Loki Laufeyson,” he offers his hand as a glint of silver in his hair catches the light, “might I have your name?” 

You trade your name and a handshake. He squeezes enough for you to wince. He lets go and you slip his card in you apron pocket with all the others collected from your fellow vendors. 

“I’ll certainly take a sampler,” he says, “see if this little venture has any teeth.” 

His every word is like a bite. He speaks with the fangs of the very logo of his business. You put his purchase into your phone and offer the square for him to tap his payment. He processes it and swipes up the box before you can package it. 

“Do you want a bag?” You ask. 

“I can handle it,” he tucks the box under his arm. “Best of luck to you doing the same.” 

He glances around and slowly moves aside as a group of new customers set in. A family of five with three hollering children with grabby hands. Your eyes widen as you smile at them as best you can. This day has truly tested your social battery. 

[ataraxiaspainting]

Star.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Synopsis: Kafka is waiting for a supernova to appear.

Warnings: Yandere themes, implied future kidnapping, not SFW implications, and stalking.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lust for a Vampyr by I Monster

Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie

Merry-Go-Round of Life - from ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ by Joe Hisaishi

Stalker’s Tango by Autoheart

The Four Seasons - Winter in F Minor, RV. 296: I. Allegro non molto by Antonio Vivaldi

BLOODMONEY by Poppy

Fight of the Crows by Jhariah

Bernadette by IAMX

Smells Blood by Kensuke Ushio

Enemies to Lovers by Joshua Kyan Aalampour

“She's a Killer Queen; gunpowder, gelatin; dynamite with a laser beam; guaranteed to blow your mind (anytime).” – Queen, Killer Queen

*~*~*~*

“Hey, I like them!” You huff, grasping the bouquet of spider lilies closer to your chest, making the paper wrinkle up. At your response, Aina crosses her arms and sighs, looking at the other flower arrangements sitting on the shelves behind you.

“Those are too expensive.” Aina rebuts. She points, and you turn around to follow it, and in turn frown. 

Because of the low supply, the price of spider lily bouquets has increased to 700 credits per arrangement.

Kafka, pretending to look at the roses in the corner not facing the two of you, does not try to hide her smile and slight chuckle as you gasp at the sign’s words. “Cute…” 

Once more, you exhale with a mix of frustration and disappointment, forcefully planting your foot on the ground. Gradually, your stance transforms into that of a despondent balloon losing its air.

Utterly adorable.

“Why seven hundred? Flowers grow from the ground and they take hardly any effort to bundle up!” Aina puts her thumb and pointer finger on her temples, rubbing them like your question and exclamation just gave her the biggest headache in all of existence. She sighs.

You sigh too, grasping onto the spider lilies even harder.

“Spider lilies also represent bad luck.” She says, almost groaning. 

Neither of you know if you can be reasonable enough to let Aina be your impulse control as she always has been. “The red shade is really pretty and the tendrils are pretty too!”

“Please put them back, it is a bad financial investment.” You shake your head. “Please. [First]. [First], please. We still have to go and buy ingredients for dinner tonight. If it makes you feel better I can also help you bake dessert.”

Kafka already knows what you are going to make tonight. Pasta with bechamel sauce along with apple cake. 

“[First], at least choose a less expensive bouquet. That way we can afford everything. Plus we maybe can get something else small that is not on our grocery list.” Aina tries her best to put on a more gentle smile. “Please.”

Kafka moves to near the entrance of the food section of the store, waiting for this little trifle to be over with. She pretends to be looking at the meat aisle as that is the area closest to the flowers, ironically enough. 

“Sigh…” She purrs, imagining your hair loose and gently wrapped around her fingertips. “I wonder if you would prefer blush or velvet… maybe burgundy?” 

She imagines the way you will place your lips on hers and slowly but surely… move down.

She will do the same to you with her own.

“Maybe white.” She muses, thinking of different types of fabric to put on you. “Or perhaps black.”

Kafka wonders what you would choose if she brought you to a boutique rather than going by herself.

“Hm…” She murmurs, her mind going through many, many possibilities of the future ahead.

Then, she hears your triumphant laugh and then turns around to see you hugging Aina with the bouquet in tow. “I love you!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Aina mutters, crossing her arms and looking away from your happy face with a blush. “Just put them in the basket. We’ve used enough time here as it is.” You kiss her cheek, and her face only gets redder. “L-Let’s just go already.”

You only hug her tighter.

“Sir, yes, sir!” You exclaim, saluting, and Aina rolls her eyes.

Kafka’s smile falters.

“Tsk. Young love, I suppose.”

Of all the future possibilities, none of them will result in full success if Aina is still in the picture.

“Juliets.”

At the sight of you kissing Aina’s cheek again, Kafka resists the urge to bite her lip.

“But with great risk… comes great reward.”

She imagines how you would look under her.

Aina eventually manages to pry you off of her. “Alright, that’s enough, you’re praising me like I just saved your life or something.”

“You did!” You pout, almost cooing and still laughing joyfully. “This bouquet is the only medicine that can ever heal me of what ails me!”

Both Kafka and Aina sigh at the same time but for entirely different reasons.

But Kafka is the one who also licks her lips afterward. “I think perhaps a chemise would suit you best.”

“Let’s go to the fruits first!” You exclaim, pulling Aina along by the hand while she holds the basket.

“Which type of apple?” Aina asks, but Kafka already knows the answer. “Be sure to not get the very expensive ones this time.”

You two go past Kafka.

She takes out her phone for a split second and clicks the button.

It has been the closest you have ever been to her while you were conscious. But she hopes that soon, you will be even closer.

Wait, no. She knows that you will.

“Cute.” She whispers, booping the picture of you’s nose.

This has already become a favorite amongst the many, many photos she has of you.

Where you go, she follows. “Cute.” Surely, eventually, when you know of her, you will know that all too well. “So cute.”

She sees you pointing to the apples with a pinkish tint. Rose apples. Quite rare, if Kafka remembers correctly.

As Aina reads the sign next to them, she immediately shakes her head. “Way too expensive.”

Due to the cost of importation/exportation as well as the rarity of this species, the value of this type of product is quite high. One apple is worth 1600 credits.

You surprisingly show agreement this time, promptly diverting your attention to the assortment of apple varieties, accompanied by a hint of nervous laughter.

You end up choosing the Honeycrisps. They are good for baking cakes, you tell Aina as Kafka eavesdrops as she always does.

She imagines you baking for her and sitting on her lap.

It was only a matter of time because regardless of who is with you, one thing about you never changes; your naivety.

“All that is left is to be patient.”

[trendfilmsetter]

Apple Music’s ‘100 Best Albums of All Time’ list:

#1. Lauryn Hill — The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill

#2. Michael Jackson — Thriller

#3. The Beatles — Abbey Road

#4. Prince & The Revolution — Purple Rain

#5. Frank Ocean — Blonde

#6. Stevie Wonder — Songs in the Key of Life

#7. Kendrick Lamar — good kid, m.A.A.d city

#8. Amy Winehouse — Back to Black

#9. Nirvana — Nevermind

#10. Beyoncé — Lemonade

#11. Fleetwood Mac — Rumours

#12. Radiohead — OK Computer

#13. Jay-Z — The Blueprint

#14. Bob Dylan — Highway 61 Revisited

#15. Adele — 21

#16. Joni Mitchell — Blue

#17. Marvin Gaye — What’s Going On

#18. Taylor Swift — 1989 (Taylor’s Version)

#19. Dr. Dre — The Chronic

#20. The Beach Boys — Pet Sounds

#21. The Beatles — Revolver

#22. Bruce Springsteen — Born to Run

#23. Daft Punk — Discovery

#24. David Bowie — The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars

#25. Miles Davis — Kind of Blue

#26. Kanye West — My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

#27. Led Zeppelin — Led Zeppelin II

#28. Pink Floyd — The Dark Side of the Moon

#29. A Tribe Called Quest — The Low End Theory

#30. Billie Eilish — WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?

#31. Alanis Morissette — Jagged Little Pill

#32. The Notorious B.I.G. — Ready to Die

#33. Radiohead — Kid A

#34. Public Enemy — It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back

#35. The Clash — London Calling

#36. Beyoncé — BEYONCÉ

#37. Wu-Tang Clan — Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)

#38. Carole King — Tapestry

#39. Nas — Illmatic

#40. Aretha Franklin — I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You

#41. OutKast — Aquemini

#42. Janet Jackson — Control

#43. Talking Heads — Remain in Light

#44. Stevie Wonder — Innervisions

#45. Björk — Homogenic

#46. Bob Marley & The Wailers — Exodus

#47. Drake — Take Care

#48. Beastie Boys — Paul’s Boutique

#49. U2 — The Joshua Tree

#50. Kate Bush — Hounds of Love

#51. Prince — Sign O’ the Times

#52. Guns N' Roses — Appetite for Destruction

#53. The Rolling Stones — Exile on Main St.

#54. John Coltrane — A Love Supreme

#55. Rihanna — ANTI

#56. The Cure — Disintegration

#57. D’Angelo — Voodoo

#58. Oasis — (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?

#59. Arctic Monkeys — AM

#60. The Velvet Underground & Nico — The Velvet Underground and Nico

#61. Sade — Love Deluxe

#62. 2Pac — All Eyez on Me

#63. The Jimi Hendrix Experience — Are You Experienced?

#64. Erykah Badu — Baduizm

#65. De La Soul — 3 Feet High and Rising

#66. The Smiths — The Queen Is Dead

#67. Portishead — Dummy

#68. The Strokes — Is This It

#69. Metallica — Master of Puppets

#70. N.W.A — Straight Outta Compton

#71. Kraftwerk — Trans-Europe Express

#72. SZA — SOS

#73. Steely Dan — Aja

#74. Nine Inch Nails — The Downward Spiral

#75. Missy Elliott — Supa Dupa Fly

#76. Bad Bunny — Un Verano Sin Ti

#77. Madonna — Like a Prayer

#78. Elton John — Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

#79. Lana Del Rey — Norman F*****g Rockwell!

#80. Eminem — The Marshall Mathers LP

#81. Neil Young — After the Gold Rush

#82. 50 Cent — Get Rich or Die Tryin'

#83. Patti Smith — Horses

#84. Snoop Dogg — Doggystyle

#85. Kacey Musgraves — Golden Hour

#86. Mary J. Blige — My Life

#87. Massive Attack — Blue Lines

#88. Nina Simone — I Put a Spell on You

#89. Lady Gaga — The Fame Monster

#90. AC/DC — Back in Black

#91. George Michael — Listen Without Prejudice, Vol. 1

#92. Tyler, The Creator — Flower Boy

#93. Solange — A Seat at the Table

#94. Burial — Untrue

#95. Usher — Confessions

#96. Lorde — Pure Heroine

#97. Rage Against the Machine — Rage Against the Machine

#98. Travis Scott — ASTROWORLD

#99. Eagles — Hotel California

#100. Robyn — Body Talk

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 2 (this is a fluff fic - and Ruhn is babysitting Nesta in chapter 3)

The thrill of a day off with no commitments fell flat when Hunt spent most of his night worrying that he’d find a blonde female floating in the Istros – if the sobeks hadn’t eaten her first. When it was socially acceptable to be out, he was already flying the short distance to the hotel that Ruhn Danaan had paid for to check on her.

His knuckles felt too heavy on the door as he knocked.

After the day Nesta had, he’d not blame her if she was still asleep.

The door was pulled back and she stood perfectly put together with no traces of sleep remaining. Her gorgeous burnished-gold hair was pinned up, hiding her ears. Hunt looked twice at her clothes – his clothes. They hung loose on her frame, but there was no missing the generous breasts that the material clung to. Midgard suited her.

‘Oh, good. You’re here.’

Well, it made a change for somebody to look forward to the Umbra Mortis arriving at their door even if her tone didn’t imply that.

‘I’ve made a list of things I don’t understand. This for instance,’ she said, switching the light on and off. ‘How have you harnessed faelights into that glass orb?’

‘A lightbulb. It’s firstlight.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘Another thing for the list.’

‘When you make the Drop, you give part of your firstlight to the city. That’s how we power everything,’ he explained. ‘You don’t make the Drop?’

‘The only drop I know is a short drop from the gallows, so no, Hunt.’

A piece of paper with neatly-written notes covering it was thrust into his face while she beckoned him into the room. Nesta had cracked open the windows, pulled the sheets tight over the bed and her leathers were folded onto the chair.

‘I didn’t think to bring you fresh clothes today.’

Nesta shrugged a shoulder. ‘I’ve only just put these on.’

‘Did you sleep naked?’ The question shot out of his mouth before he could trap it.

She scowled, cheeks going pink. ‘I’m not answering that.’

That would be a yes.

When Nesta turned through the room, giving it a once-over, Hunt glimpsed a flash of black on her back through the slits of his top. A tattoo maybe. As she moved, it became evident to him that Nesta wore no bra. Hunt’s traitorous eyes kept gravitating towards the bounce of her breasts until he forced himself to give his undivided attention to the list.

‘Hey, let’s get you some clothes for the next few days plus breakfast and I’ll answer these questions.’

‘Fine,’ she replied.

‘And you have to answer some of my questions.’

‘Some of them.’

Lunathion began to wake with the commuters filling the paths. Those with wings flitted overhead to avoid the rush. Nesta had no concept of road safety; Hunt may as well have been walking alongside a toddler. Twice, she’d stepped into the road to clear space on the path without even looking. He’d had to haul her against him before a scooter mowed her down.

‘I can’t tell if people are staring at me or you,’ she said as a leopard shifted gasped and pulled out their cell to snap a photo of him.

‘Me,’ he replied flatly. ‘I’m the Um-’

Hunt cut himself off. Nesta did not know who he was. What he’d done. What he still did. For once, he could just be Hunt.

‘The Um?’ She teased. ‘Did you forget your name?’

‘I’m known in Lunathion for my work in the 33rd.’ He lay a hand on her shoulder, guiding Nesta across the road at a crossing towards a lingerie boutique – the kind of place the Umbra Mortis had never been caught dead in.

Everything was red. And velvet. With posters of females in push-up bras with the tagline “something extra special” or “for him”.

Nesta was just as bemused as he was. ‘Is this some kind of pleasure hall?’

‘Like a brothel? You have those in your world?’

Colour rose in her cheeks again – and damn if it wasn’t the prettiest thing.

‘I don’t frequent them.’

One of the workers, a deer shifter by the scent, offered a polite smile. ‘Do you need help?’

‘Uh,’ said Hunt, jerking his thumb towards Nesta. ‘She needs a bra.’

‘What’s a bra?’

Luna, help him.

The worker smiled again. ‘Do you know what size you are?’

‘All my clothes are tailormade,’ she replied.

‘I can do a fitting. This way.’

Nesta stared at him over her shoulder as she followed the female towards the fitting rooms. He tried not to pay much attention to the abundance of lace and satin and tassels. And definitely tried to steer his thoughts away from imagining that drop-dead gorgeous female wearing them.

After a while, the worker returned to the counter. Nesta popped her head out of the curtain.

‘Hunt,’ she hissed. ‘Hunt Athalar.’

Hunt shrugged at her.

‘Help me.’

Her bare back was offered at the gap in the heavy, velvet curtains. An eight-pointed star was tattooed in black ink across her spine. Did she have more?

‘How am I supposed to put this contraption on?’

Hunt reached for each end to pull them together. ‘My experience is usually in taking them off, not doing them up.’

‘I don’t wish to know about your conquests.’

The moment it was clasped, Nesta leapt away, drawing the curtain closed too – then her face emerged once more. ‘I presume you are paying to clothe me?’

‘I guess so,’ he grumbled.

He could always bill Ruhn Danaan and the bank of daddy.

‘Hunt?’

‘Nesta.’

‘I need underwear.’

For the blush that came again, Hunt would buy her whatever underwear she wanted. He held up a few across the store, her face growing redder each time. When he asked her if she was commando beneath his sweat pants, a confused look crossed her face.

‘Bareback,’ he clarified.

Nesta snatched the underwear – a black, lacy thong – from his hand and muttered something about males in every world being insufferable.

***

This city was vibrant and diverse in a way that Velaris wasn’t. Even if Hunt grew fed up of her pausing to admire their technology, he still let her grow roots on the spot so she could wonder how something worked before inevitably explaining it in a way she could understand. Every citizen was required to donate a portion of their magic to the city to ensure it continued working. It was a tithe of sorts.

It was difficult not to stare at the Vanir, as Hunt had called them, as they walked through the sunlit streets. Velaris had high fae. Other places she had visited had lesser fae. Here, Nesta saw people who could change at will into a variety of animals. Some, Hunt explained, were wolves and she was warned to steer clear of a Sabine and a Danika who patrolled the streets. Hunt’s species enforced the law set by the Asteri.

‘Supreme rulers whose word is law,’ he said.

Nesta snorted at that. ‘I’ve got one in my world. His name is Rhysand.’

‘He’s your king?’

‘Oh, he wishes. No. My sister’s mate. And a pain in my ass.’ Since this malakh had been so helpful in finding her underwear that constantly needed plucking from her backside, Nesta explained, ‘We have no kings. The land in which I live is divided into seven courts and each is ruled by a High Lord. Rhysand is the High Lord of the Night Court. Feyre is the High Lady.’

‘So, you’re fae royalty?’

‘Ha ha ha,’ she said, the sarcasm thick in her voice. ‘No. I am a problem. Nothing more.’

They took their drinks – black coffee for him and camomile tea for her – to a bench beside a park where children were running freely across the grass, throwing balls or playing games. There was such a freedom to Lunathion with species mixing readily.  

‘How did you wind up here – off the record?’

‘We have a Prison for foul creatures from nightmares. I was searching for an object and found the Harp. It trapped me. The damn thing promised to let me out if I plucked a string then I was falling.’ Nesta ran a finger around the rim of the cup. ‘They have no idea what happened to me.’

And she doubted that they’d care either. The loss of the Harp would be their biggest gripe.

‘Ruhn Danaan has paid for that hotel for a week, so once Vik’s ran her tests, you can drift back off into the stars.’

Nesta smiled at that. ‘I could end up somewhere completely different.’

‘Like Hel.’

The angel explained that they knew of another world – one named Hel – where cruel princes ruled and demons leaked through into Midgard. It was his responsibility to identify them and track them down.

‘Which came first, the name or the profession?’

Hunt gave a wry grin. ‘Everybody calls me it. My mother named me Orion.’

‘Orion,’ she repeated. ‘I like it. Does your mother live in the city?’

His face fractured slightly then he extended a hand to her, signalling that they were to walk. ‘No. She’s not alive anymore.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘Do you have other family or just a high lady sister?’

‘Two sisters. My mother died when I was young and my father died in the war.’

‘The war,’ he repeated. ‘When was it?’

It felt like an eternity and no time at all.

‘Just over a year ago.’

Hunt’s brows rose. ‘You fought in it?’

Not by choice, Nesta thought. Because the Cauldon cursed me with magic that made me into a weapon.

‘Yes. The king of Hybern used my father as a shield then killed him. My sister, Elain, stabbed the king.’

‘She killed him?’

‘No.’ But if it hadn’t been for Elain subduing him, Nesta and Cassian would both be dead. ‘I decapitated him.’

At that, Hunt grinned. ‘Bloodthirsty. What does your tattoo mean?’

Nesta blew out a long breath. She’d only seen snippets of it in the mirror at odd angles with her chin tucked onto her shoulder. ‘I wasn’t in a good place so my sister staged an intervention. Cassian – a friend – made a deal that if I trained then he’d give me a favour.’

‘That tattoo is magic?’

‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘Is yours?’

The urge to brush her fingers across the halo on his forehead was difficult to suppress. At the mention of it, Hunt touched it and winced.

‘It’s a slave brand. Witch ink.’ He lifted his hand to show her the letters stamped on his wrist. ‘The Asteri’s mark. I belong to them and Micah – an archangel.’

The words hung in the air between them turning the summer’s day cold. Hunt Athalar was a slave which explained why he spent his day off with her rather than friends or family. He had nobody else.

They walked alongside the river, the Istros, in silence.

‘If you want to be free, pluck the Harp. Come to Velaris.’

It was half an offer. From the bulk of his arms, Hunt could fight. Amren would rub her hands together at the sight of another weapon to be added to the Night Court’s arsenal. But maybe it offered a better life than slavery. Nesta didn’t know.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘No coffee there though.’

A furry creature wearing a yellow jacket scurried in front of them then leapt into the river. Its head bobbed above the current before the whole animal swooped below. Before Nesta could even ask, Hunt paused from his walking to point out another that was scrambling up the bank on the other side.

‘Messenger otters. They deliver letters to the mer.’

***

How long had it been since Hunt viewed the world with anything more than cynicism? It was hard not to fall into the same wonder as Nesta when she found delight in every little thing. Often, Hunt struggled to explain how things worked in a way that Nesta would understand because he’d never questioned it himself. It was a given that it worked. If there was time during the week, he’d take her to the library – and likely lose her in there.

After a day spent exploring every single avenue of Lunathion – except the Meat Market – they retreated back to her hotel room when a drizzle rolled in with the grey clouds. Even that didn’t stop her enthusiasm. Nesta made him coffee using the kettle in the room. She flipped the switches, waited in front of it as it began to boil then made a noise of triumph when the switch clicked itself off. She’d poured in three sachets of the crappy instant coffee that the hotel provided, but Hunt drank it because he couldn’t bear to take that joy from her expression.

Nesta had given him a lot to think about. For every eighteen questions he answered, Nesta would give up one of her own answers about her world. It sounded rudimentary in ways – their technology lacking massively – but their magic seemed more powerful. She remained coy about her own, claiming she had no magic. Nesta was hunting magical objects from a trove. If she was like him and could detect such things the way he could detect demons, Nesta Archeron was far from powerless.

His cell phone held all of her attention now.

While sprawled out on the firm hotel bed, he’d switched on the television. A crap chick-flick was on but it required no brain power to follow the plot. He’d surrendered his cell to her because there was nothing incriminating on it. Nesta lay beside him with the pillows wedged under her head. Her white tee rose up slightly exposing a strip of her stomach. The complaints about her tight jeans ebbed when she realised it was the fashion in Lunathion – but Hunt had no complaints whatsoever. The plain, dressed-down look suited her although none would dare call her plain.

‘You have no portraits,’ she commented.

‘Photos,’ he corrected.

‘Will you teach me how?’

Hunt leaned in towards her. ‘It’s tricky. See that button? Press it.’

The click of the capture button sounded and then she was off. Nesta strode around the room documenting everything, including him.

‘We must sit for hours in my world to have a portrait painted. How lovely that you can make a memory so easily.’

‘You sound ancient, Nesta.’

She knelt on the edge of the bed to take a close up of his face. ‘I’m twenty-five.’

Hunt groaned. ‘I’m older than you by a good two hundred years.’

‘Cassian is over five hundred years old.’

‘That’s twice you’ve mentioned that name.’

‘Keeping count?’

Hunt inclined his head, waiting for more. Nesta came to sit beside him again on her pile of pillows. She wiggled her toes which were in fluffy rabbit socks. ‘Cassian is… a somebody. We’re involved. Sometimes. I don’t know.’

‘Like a fae mate?’

Her nose wrinkled up. ‘No.’

‘A husband?’

‘Definitely not.’

‘A fuck buddy?’

Nesta raised her brows. ‘I don’t know what that is nor do I wish to know.’

‘You’re a smart girl, I think you can figure out.’

Nesta ignored him in favour of the phone. If she had a fae male waiting for her then Hunt probably shouldn’t be so close to her on the bed. Those fae pricks could be territorial when it came to females.

‘Hunt, it says there are busty fauns in my area who want to meet me.’

‘Don’t click!’ Hunt plucked the cell from her hands. In some ways, Nesta was like a toddler – in others, she was like a two-thousand-year-old enigma, especially when it came to technology.

The rain grew heavier, lashing against the window as they both watched the film. He’d asked her earlier what she did for fun in the Night Court and he’d received a sniped answer that her sort of fun had been taken from her then she’d amended her answer to reading and training. She definitely seemed to enjoy this – and he’d teased her about making heart-eyes at the male lead.

‘Ruhn will keep an eye on you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘The fae prince.’

‘The prince of pricks?’

Hunt couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Don’t call him that or Micah will have my balls. I have to work but I can try and swing by at the end of my shift.’

‘I’ll have another list of questions for you to answer.’

‘I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,’ he replied. Hunt glanced at his phone. ‘Get ready for some real magic.’

Nesta’s lips parted, about to ask a question then the door knocked. He gave an encouraging nod to her to open it.

A male in a Food Drop uniform held out a bag of takeout for her. Hesitantly, Nesta took the bag then turned towards him.

‘What is it?’

‘Magic,’ he said, grinning. ‘Open it.’

Slowly, she moved towards the bed whilst plucking open the bag. ‘I don’t know what this is. We don’t have this in Velaris.’

‘Nesta Archeron, your life is about to change.’

They finished the film then found a re-run of Fangs and Bangs while Nesta lay on the bed practically moaning at the food. He’d gone simple but classic; hot cookie dough with vanilla ice cream. From the sheer delight on her face, Nesta had won the lottery.

‘You use that device and food appears?’

‘I order it,’ he clarified. ‘There are tons of places to choose from. You choose what you want, pay for it, and it arrives at your door.’

‘If I wanted cake, I could use that cell phone and a cake would come here?’

‘Modern technology.’

Nesta finished her cookie dough then Hunt gave her the rest of his.

‘Hunt Athalar, I am never going home.’  

[lancermylove]

Date with Belphie (Scenario)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Belphie x gn!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Hi! This is my first request, idk if I over did with the million ideas 🐌 hope any of them are good enough! Fandom: Obey me! I'm thinking about an oneshot or scenario of taking belphie to a date with a rich GN!mc, something like clothes shopping for him - going to a theater with a dramatic story and mc crying with the end like: IF IT WERE US I WOULD HAVE SCAPED TO BE WITH YOU!! - going to a big masquerade but preferring the balcony to see the stars - them visiting a festival and belphie buying flowers for them from a walking seller that called them a cute married couple. Or maybe them taking ball dancing lessons together 🥺💕

A/N: Thank you for sending in the request! I am sorry for taking so long to finish it. 🙇🏻‍♀️ There are a lot of ideas for just one date, so I picked a few. Hope you like it!

Word Count: 916

———————————————

The city was alive with the hum of evening chatter, glowing streetlights, and the sweet scent of blooming flowers planted alongside the street. You smiled at Belphegor, who seemed curious and mildly annoyed as he tried on another coat. You had spent the past hour browsing through clothes racks, insisting on finding the perfect outfit for tonight. Belphie, while generally indifferent to fashion, appreciated your enthusiasm and played along.

"Do I really need to try on another one?" Belphie asked in a playful whine.

You grinned, taking a step closer to adjust the lapels of his coat. "Just one more. You'll see, it's worth it. Besides, you look amazing."

A faint blush colored his cheeks, but he rolled his eyes. "If you say so, but you're lucky that I am willing to forgo sleep for you."

The two of you stared at each other before laughing. While the laughter echoed softly in the quiet of the upscale boutique, no one bothered to look at either of you. After a few more minutes of indecisiveness, you finally settled on the midnight blue coat paired with a sleek black shirt. It was perfect for the evening you had planned—a night of theater and a festival under the stars.

As you entered the theater buzzing with anticipation, your arm looped through Belphie's. The venue's grandeur, with its gold trimmings and velvet curtains, only heightened your excitement. The play you had chosen was renowned for its intense storyline and emotional depth. You couldn't wait to see his reaction to the emotional rollercoaster and secretly hoped he wouldn't fall asleep in the middle of the play.

As the play progressed, you were drawn into the story—a tale of love, betrayal, and sacrifice. When the climax approached, you were on the edge of your seat while your heart pounded. By then, you forgot to steal glances at Belphie to see his reaction and ensure he wasn't asleep. The lead characters, caught in a forbidden romance, were forced to make an impossible choice. The tension built until the final act, where the lovers chose to stay bounded to their responsibility instead of escaping and living freely together.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you gripped Belphie's hand tightly. The passion in the characters' voices and the anguish in their expressions were overwhelming.

"If it were us," you whispered, barely audible over the dramatic crescendo of the music, "I would have escaped to be with you."

Belphie turned his head, his gaze softening as he looked at you. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing gesture. "I know you would. And I'd do the same for you."

The play ended in a whirlwind of applause, but you remained seated to compose yourself. However, Belphie gently tugged you to your feet, his smile warm and reassuring.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get some fresh air."

The night air was cool, and a gentle breeze carried the sounds of laughter and music from a nearby festival. The lively atmosphere was a welcome change from the heavy emotions you experienced in the theater. Colorful lights twinkled overhead, and the air was filled with the delicious aroma of street food. If Beel were with the two of you, he would have downed every last crumb available in the stall—the thought made you giggle. Belphie also seemed relaxed in the vibrant environment as he scanned the area with a soft smile.

You wandered through the stalls, sampling various treats and admiring the artistry of local vendors. The festival was a beautiful mosaic of cultures and traditions, each corner offering something new and exciting. When the two of you walked past an elderly flower seller, her eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Flowers for the lovely couple?" she asked, her gaze shifting between you and Belphie.

"Yes, please," your boyfriend smoothly said as he selected a small bouquet of white lilies. Handing them to you, he paid and thanked the seller, who was quietly studying your expression.

"Such a cute married couple," she murmured before returning to the other side of her stall. From the smile she gave you, it was evident that the woman was only teasing you, but your cheeks burned red. Belphie also picked up on the mischievous tone in her voice, but his focus was on you. Seeing your flushed face and attempts to hide behind your face behind the bouquet, he chuckled.

Belphie smirked and wrapped an arm around your shoulders before pulling you close to his side. "Should we explore more of the festival, my dear wife/husband?"

Despite your shyness, you laughed and nodded. "There's a lot more to see."

As the night drew on, you found a quiet spot away from the crowd and sat together on a bench beneath a canopy of stars. Belphie leaned back, gazing up at the sky with a content expression.

"Thank you," he said after a while. "For tonight. For everything."

You leaned against him while the lilies rested in your lap. "Thank you for coming with me. I had a wonderful time."

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the festival lights. "I'm glad. Because there's no one else I'd rather be with."

As your heart swelled at his words, you leaned closer to kiss his cheek softly. "Me neither, Belphie."

Under the vast, starry sky, you sat together, enjoying the peaceful silence between you and your boyfriend—a perfect ending to a perfect night.

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3][4] ➣ Main Masterlist

[shifting---patterns]

How Post-Punk Influenced Nowadays Fashion

It's been a long time since Malcolm McLaren opened his boutique "Sex" in the 1970s, and Vivienne Westwood equipped the Sex Pistols with their iconic outfits and sent them out onto King's Road. The approach back then was: "Being anti at all costs, against the establishment." Eventually, it turned into "Do It Yourself." It was fashionable because it tried not to be fashionable.

A few years later, members of Joy Division met at a Sex Pistols show in 1976 and started as a punk band. However, it soon evolved into something entirely different. When you listen to old Joy Division songs like "Warsaw" you can clearly hear the punk rock influences, but the band quickly started to deviate from the common motifs of the genre.

The music slowed down. The noisy guitar sound of punk was subdued to appear more intriguing, and Ian Curtis's existentialist lyrics, influenced by authors like Fyodor Dostoevsky, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Franz Kafka, focused not on chaos, rebellion, and hedonism but reflected his fears, physical sufferings, and the absurdity in the face of the zeitgeist and social influences of the 1970s and 1980s, marked by changes and political uncertainty, forced Joy Division to experiment.

They created not only something musically unique but also something aesthetic. For example, with their monochromatic designs on their album covers for "Unknown Pleasures," which is probably the third best-selling T-shirt in fast fashion stores, alongside Nirvana and the Ramones T-shirts. Joy Division ended in 1980 after Ian Curtis hung himself in his kitchen. They not only helped shape the sub-genre "Post-Punk" but were also the unofficial soundtrack of existentialism. The soundtrack that made Joy Division's music feel so genuine. Because it was genuine.

Of course, in the 1960s, there were artists who processed existential themes in their lyrics. A good example would be Lou Reed of The Velvet Underground, who, heavily influenced by literature, dealt with many serious topics in his lyrics. However, it wasn't just their music; it was also their appearance that defined Joy Division. On stage, in promo pictures, and in interviews.

Ill-fitting shirts from army surplus stores, old man's pants, a few pair of derbies, big raincoats. Everything that was atypical for the punk movement, and many other artists, including The Cure, The Smiths, Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees, Bauhaus, Alien Sex Friend or Sisters Of Mercy, went in the same direction: Through a dark, introspective, sometimes minimalist, but avant-garde aesthetic, they set themselves apart from punk and society, and looking at bands from the Post-Punk Revival from the 2000s like Interpol, Iceage, Molchat Doma, Boy Harsher, or Cold Cave, it quickly becomes apparent that this aesthetic has proven itself for almost 50 years.

This trend was, of course, not only an inspiration for musicians but also for artists, fashion designers, architects, and many more.

One designer that immediately comes to mind is Antwerp-Six member Ann Demeulemeester from Belgium, whose influences clearly evoke artists like Siouxsie Sioux or Patti Smith but also the playful goth look of the 1980s era by Rei Kawakubo (Comme Des Garcons) or Japan's goth father himself: Yohji Yamamoto.

Her story begins in Antwerp, where she initially studied at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts and quickly got to know the other Antwerp-Six members. She and the Antwerp Six presented their collections at Fashion Week and quickly became highly esteemed designers, now considered among the greatest designers of all time. Many of Ann's collections featured songs by Patti Smith, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, or The Velvet Underground.

This alone shows the influence of Post-Punk on Ann Demeulemeester's designs. Her asymmetrical cuts and draperies, her monochromatic, Kawakubo and Yamamoto-inspired, mainly black designs were groundbreaking, bringing avant-garde ideas in a consumable form to the people.

Another noteworthy designer from Antwerp is Raf Simons and his collections. Raf Simons grew up in the 1980s and was deeply rooted in the punk and goth subculture, whose influence can be traced in many of his collections or directly referenced by Raf himself. Notable are his A/W96 collection, which includes all-black looks with jet-black dyed hair and long black overcoats, his A/W99 collection with direct Joy Division references, black cloaks, and Gothic looks on the runway.

Raf's most famous collection A/W02-03 Riot Riot Riot! A coveted collection featuring cutoff and distressed hoodies, repurposed military garments, and loaded with punk references through patches. Among them, a bomber jacket with a patch depicting the self-harming Richey James Edwards of the Manic Street Preachers.

Obviously, his A/W03-04 Closer collection with a direct collaboration with Peter Saville, the graphic designer of Factory Records, featuring iconic graphics from Joy Division, New Order, and more.

These two examples of designers actively influenced by this culture are just a fraction. These designers were punks or goths themselves. People influenced by the postmodern identity of the time and post-Soviet tradition. Post-Punk fashion embodies the music of the time it emerged and aligns with deeper considerations. So, it didn't take long for the entire fashion world to embrace this style, partly because "Gothic" and "Punk" became more mainstream, and partly because its aesthetic components were easy to design due to their often penetrating monochromatic minimalism.

Not only goths or avant-garde designers like Ann Demeulemeester, Martin Margiela or Rick Owens, deeply connected to the style and subculture of that time, but also luxury designers like Prada, Balenciaga or Bottega Veneta are incorporating it.

The look is romantic, dark, longing for death, partly edgy, partly overloaded. All aspects that exude a constant attraction from the clothing, as people are often drawn to "the other," sometimes even "the forbidden." The look can also be easily detached from the actual Post-Punk/Goth culture - something postmodernity excels at. The style of the Gothic culture can be perfectly broken down into its individual parts and used as a kind of aesthetic sandbox. Here a thick heavy chain, there's a choker, here big long earrings, add a pair of black high combat boots, a slim-fitted mesh shirt, and preferably paint the nails, and you're done. All things that houses like Prada, Marni, Bottega Veneta, for example, have done right.

What we see today in the Post-Punk-influenced style and what we interpret as avant-garde should actually be considered a modern tradition. Post-Punk fashion embodies the music and the spirit of the time it emerged and aligns with deeper existential discourses. The design language and atmosphere of that time are now used by traditional fashion houses to incorporate young designers into their ranks and increase their relevance, merely fulfilling their quota to be considered part of the traditional fashion pipeline of LV, Dior, Gucci, and Balenciaga. The avant-garde cannot be seen as so established. The rapid growth these companies have undergone to make billions and the inheritance method of finding a designer to take over the house are enough to profile themselves as industry magnates.

In a world where fashion constantly reinvents itself, the enduring legacy of post-punk culture persists as a modern tradition. From the raw, rebellious sounds of bands like Joy Division to the avant-garde designs of Ann Demeulemeester and Raf Simons, the essence of post-punk continues to captivate hearts and minds. As luxury fashion houses seamlessly incorporate this style, it's vital to recognize the roots and the countercultural spirit that birthed it.

The romantic, dark allure, the edgy overtones – they all beckon, inviting us to explore "the other," even the forbidden. Yet, amidst the mainstream adoption, a call echoes for authenticity. True avant-gardists, whether musicians or designers, carve their paths, declaring, "This is our thing." The new avant-garde emerges not just from runways but from the pulsating hearts of those deeply rooted in their subcultures.

In a world dominated by industry magnates, the journey of post-punk fashion from the underground to luxury houses is a testament to its enduring power. As we witness the evolution, let us celebrate the genuine, the authentic, and the countercultural voices shaping the new avant-garde.

So, whether draped in asymmetrical cuts or sporting a rebellious attitude, the message is clear: The post-punk spirit lives on, and the next wave of avant-garde creators is ready to make their mark, confidently declaring, "This is our thing."

Davis Jahn

[blindmagdalena]

Homelander loves to take you shopping. He loves it even more when you let him see the things you try on, but he wouldn't be quiet about it if you picked out something he doesn't like.

Homelander makes himself very comfortable in the plush recliner outside your fitting room. He particularly enjoys taking you to these high-end boutiques, where he can ensure a private, pleasant experience. He never cared for shopping before, had no need of it, but ever since you entered his life, he's obtained a newfound appreciation for it.

Specifically, he appreciates how good you look in the things he buys you. There's something deeply satisfying about seeing you dressed by him, for him.

One more way to stake his claim.

Listening to you, he can hear the faint way you struggle under your breath. Curious, he rises from his seat just as you say, "I think I need a bigger size," from behind the curtains. "Mmm, let's see," he says, parting the curtains with a quick flick of his wrists. "Hey!" You startle, pulling the dress up to cover your chest. "Relax, it's just us," Homelander laughs while you peer around the curtain. "C'mon, show me." "It won't zip over my ass," you say, turning around. You're used to how hands-on he is during these fittings by now. He's always got an opinion, and as far as he's concerned, it's always the correct one.

Stepping in, Homelander appraises the garment. It's truly a stunning piece, the fabric a rich velvet navy that's so dark, it's nearly black. The shine catches the light nicely, creating a depth of color. It would photograph beautifully next to his suit. Pinching the fabric together, Homelander gives it a quick tug, zipping it up to where it ends at your lower back with little to no issue. "Nahhh, just needed a hand up over all this cushioning," he says slyly, cupping a generous handful of your rear.

You smack his hands away, throwing him a scandalized look over your shoulder, though he can see you fighting back a smile. "Would you stop that? We are in public." "Lemme finish," he says with a smirk, ignoring your protests altogether. The back of the dress is largely open, but features a crisscross pattern of laces to fill it in. He slips off his gloves for this part. While he could have done it fine enough with them on, he likes the way his bare fingers brush the skin of your back as he laces the dress. He likes even more the goosebumps it triggers.

Once the lace work is finished, he affixes the clasp at the top. Leaning in, he presses a warm kiss to your neck. He doesn't need to bend down to do it, which he's less a fan of. "The dress is perfect," he tells you, hands roaming down your curves, feeling the fit of it. You turn around in his grasp and slip your arms around his neck. "It still feels tight," you say, shifting side to side. "It's perfect," he insists again, giving your hips a squeeze. "Not a fan of the shoes, though" "Why?" You ask, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Because they make me taller than you?" Homelander's eyes narrow slightly, his smile thinning. "Mmmm, you're lucky you're pretty," he says, leaning in to kiss you. You hum into the kiss before pulling back. "I was about to say the same thing about you." "Ooh, funny girl," he purrs sardonically, giving you a sharp tug to close what little distance there was between your bodies. He kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. The velvet feels delectable under his hands, but it's the slopes of your body that really drive him wild. He knew the dress would fit because he has every inch of you committed to memory. Homelander wins in the end. The dress is perfect for the next gala you attend together, and he has even more fun getting you out of it than he did getting you into it.

[suiine]

consider: Din vs. Luke in a game of strip poker (or strip dejarik)

(Luke dreaming of winning and getting to see Din's face as Din strips off the last piece of covering from his nude body - his helmet.)

but alas. everyone knows Din will win because he is the street smart cowboy while Luke is just a moisture farming nerd, and Din has a million pieces to his armor. pauldrons, chestplate, vambraces, flight suit, bandolier, baby sling, countless utility pouches.

and it's true. Din keeps winning. but, no matter how many times Luke loses and has to strip, every piece of clothing he takes off just reveals more clothes, to Din's surprise. because Luke Master Skywalker's got the all-black cape, chanel boots, Armani shirt, leather pants, velvet tunic, Gucci belt, leather gloves, silk turtleneck, silk stockings, 4-piece intimates set exclusively by Naboo Luxury Boutique,

(and so even though Luke has lost so many rounds, due to the amount of designer haute fashion he is rocking, eventually Din is sitting there completely naked with just his helmet remaining )

[forthegothicheroine]

Best Fragrantica reviews of (some of) my favorite perfumes, Part II

First installment here

Maison Martin Margiela By the Fireplace

Careful not to be worn by this perfume instead of being you the wearer. Not that it is oh so powerful, but it may be too bold of a statement piece for, ahem, some. Wearing BTF when you don't look the part and don't give it sense will have you smelling borderline unhealthy. Like your organs inside have worn off and darkened (and burned out, I guess). Truly as weird as it sounds. The raw thing smells very exciting. I love it ashy. I don't see myself daring any soon, however. And I don't find that it worked for the men I know either, as they have (and I cringe to say) whiter auras and don't fit the "handling cognac by the fire" thing. So I've yet to see it really work, which I'm sure will be great. It's a lovely perfume.

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Bewitched

This is the smell of a witch's brew. She made a special tea for you to drink. You pass out. When you awaken you find yourself in her garden full of poisonous berries, patchouli, weeds, clary sage, and flowers whose petals have been plucked. This is an herbal scent, like walking inside a shop selling only herbs. It's medicinal and like a tea. Not always easy to take in...The smell of sage and musk give it a unisex/masculine quality. I would say that it's more of a guy's type of cologne than a woman's. I would wear it for Halloween with a witch costume or as Morticia Addams. It's really a very engaging scent but it's linear and simple. It's a little green tea and berry. It's got a bite but it's witchy and dark, but not a strong cologne either. For a niche indie frag, not bad.

TokyoMilk Gin & Rosewater

I was in a boutique that carries the Tokyo Milk Curiosite & Bon Bon lines, and I was entranced by this. Florals are not usually my thing, by the way, because I get monster headaches from most of them. Suddenly the salesgirl is RIGHT NEXT TO ME leaning in conspiratorially and says in an awed tone that 'Blake Lively LOVES this one'. OMFG, Blake Lively, you say??!? Like for serious, the real Blake Lively?? OMFG, do you have like, more in the back?!? I'm totally going to buy every bottle you can shove in my basket because BLAKE LIVELY would hang out with me if we ran into each other and then my life could end. Um, not. I almost DIDN'T buy it because of the salesgirls then going into a tizzy about how amazing Blake is. I could not care less, although I'm sure Lively is nice enough. But it did smell cool, so home with me it came, along with the matching lotion.

Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin

It’s an overwhelming fragrance that smells like the bottom of my grandma’s small square leather purse when we went to mass (her old dried up lipstick💄 the powder compact, the newspaper, the pack of strawberry-ish scented kleenex, the peppermints). It’s vintage, it’s a bit suffocating and I have it printed in my memory 4 ever.

Juliette Has a Gun Magnolia Bliss

Anastasia Steele, no longer a virgin. In her Audi A3, the smell of her new car, first edition books and a new life... That's what comes into mind with this perfume. The night Christian took her for the first time on his helicopter. I can imagine this is exactly what she smelled like that night. With Ellie Goulding's Love me like you do playing in the background. 

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540

I’m too embarrassed and ashamed to wear this in public just in case a fragrantica influencer comes out of a bush and starts pointing & laughing at me in front of everyone

Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille

what all the hot daddies in every lana del rey song smell like

Jo Malone Velvet Rose & Oud

If your family was religious, traditionally Asian, or both, you'll know this scent. This is the scent of a temple. This is the scent of an altar. Personally I can never wear this because smelling this brings back so many memories of burning incenses, visiting funerals, and saying prayers and wishes. My bottle is literally sitting on an altar.

Perfumer's Workshop Tea Rose

Speaking of the devil. This scent is the one with the Prada's shoes.

4160 Tuesdays Doe in the Snow

This is borne on a Christmas Eve, under the moonlight, a baby fawn just out of it's mother's womb. The moon is full light casting blue shadows snow lightly falling delicate flakes each one unique on the nose of the new born... Pure fresh Christmas morning air stillness not a sound blanketed with drifts of snow that is Doe In The Snow... pure white innocence...velvet petals so delicate under the driven snow...I have seen this in a dream... Another love... I get it...

[tavyliasin]

5 Songs, 3 Outfits

RULES: post 5 songs associated with your oc, followed by 3 outfits they would wear

Tagged by @twistedapple - thank you~ And tagging in: @miradelletarot @morb-untamed @littleprincepaladin @daiya-owoda and @firlionemoontav Also if anyone is reading this and hasn't been tagged and wants to join in, well I'm terrible at choosing and remembering usernames so consider me tagging you in~ Going to put all of this below the cut so it doesn't clog your feeds, but this will all be based on my favourite Tav from @atavsguide, (all chapters are on that side blog as well as AO3). She is my absolute disaster of an elf and a woman who knows so few limits I'm genuinely concerned for her safety. Split heritage leaves her with a pale tone to her skin and long dark hair that's more often tied back to keep most of the blood out. I don't often describe her much in the fic and honestly don't have any good screenshots that I'd say really embody who she is to me, so you'll have to live with outfits and vibes~ Anyway, Tav's outfits and music below the cut!

Formal Outfit

Tav...doesn't really do formal, but Raphael did make her a dress in her dream which was later brought into vivid reality. Hardly the finery suited to the upper classes of Baldur's Gate, the inspiration was arguably more about making her feel uncomfortable and acutely aware of the particular eyes on her form. Tav is far more at home in leathers that carry a lingering scent of blood and sweat, something she can fight and escape in, but even the seasoned rogue knows when a distracting disguise is useful.

Product image from La Belleza Boutique https://www.labellezaboutique.co.uk/product-page/red-silk-dress

Casual Outfit

Tav is fond of red and black, but half her outfits are scavenged and stolen. Lacing and corseting isn't for fashion, it's to make sure things fit in the first place. A jacket keeps out the cold, but a distracting top underneath can be useful for a variety of scenarios... Pair all this with a comfortable pair of boots that come halfway up her shin, nice flat soles and well worn leather, soft to running down the harsh streets but still tough enough to withstand planting a solid kick when necessary.

Corset top, Ebay https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/386162837704

Long Jacket, Violent Delights https://violentdelights.co.uk/products/devil-fashion-libertines-remorse-womens-gothic-aristocrat-dovetail-coat-red-black

Lace up leather trousers, Leather City https://www.theleathercity.com/product/womens-lace-up-flare-brown-leather-pant/

Lingerie

I struggled to find anything that matched what I'd see our favourite disaster in, so I went with something sturdy but sexy. Dark, alluring, she knows what she wants at the end of the day and that's clearly [explicit redacted] with whoever falls into her bed - "take pleasure where you can, you never know when this night might be your last".

Velvet and Lace Lingerie Set, Killstar https://www.succubus.com/products/killstar-sacred-spirits-velvet-bralet-black

---

The Music Of ATG's Tav

1. Empire of the Sun - Solence

An old favourite, playing on the shifting moods between longing and a need to find a way out of a loop that never seems to end. Warming up to the idea of love being for herself and not just what other people get to enjoy is not easy for Tav but that doesn't mean she doesn't desperately want to hold on to every moment of sunlight on her skin.

2. Break Me - Serenity

Lyrics of resilience wrapped in a sensual tune with a harder edge. Tav has this on repeat now and then. She's never sure if she feels strong or sad, but it's a song that resonates with a lifetime of troubles interspersed with whatever moments of bliss she can steal for herself.

3. Dawn - Echo Black

Listen this might be becoming a battle of "who needs therapy more, Lia or Tav" but I promise this is all her~

4. Masks - Aviators

I'm not saying that Tav has trust issues...but she definitely does. You don't survive for 2 centuries on your own without building up your defences and learning to see through the convenient lies and faces everyone hides behind in the street.

5. Fire Up The Night - New Medicine

When Tav cuts loose, she thoroughly enjoys herself. Lust is a chance encounter to indulge in, an opportunity to explore, and she's not letting a single one of those chances pass her by.

--- --- OK that'll do it! I spent way too long on this but it was fun~ Thanks for the tag! I'll have to get some more OCs in my head eventually, but not until Tav's found the end of her story~

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Little less than super, soldier

Part two because I like to split bits up

Previous / Next

Summary: You have to play the part while in Madripoor despite your discomfort with your situation. Zemo finds out a little more about Sam's companion.

Zemo X OC (but written an reader insert in-case you wanna play in the space. backstory linked in part one ✌)

Also forgot to mention but I've been substituting Sokovian for German, translation will be provided.

Warnings: Violence, eye trauma,

scheisse - fuck

Schatz - treasure (a pet name)

First stop was a fancy little boutique outside the city an old friend of Zemo's owned. If this was going to work you'd all have to dress the part. The dark wood and smokey smell was pleasant but your nerves were still fried from trying to keep peace on the plane.

You'd taken to allowing Zemo to try press you for information once he'd gotten bored of Sam and Bucky.

"So where'd you learn Sokovian?" he'd queried, leaning forward into your space.

"In Sokovia." You replied, narrowing eyes at his closer form.

"And you know Bucky and Sam from...?" He continued forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"The US." You answered, shifting lower in your seat. A bitter rush of anger flooded you again. You slouched even lower, kicking a foot up onto his arm rest. If he was going to invade your space like that you'd just give it right back. He didn't move only staring harder at you with a slight smile.

"Leave them be." Bucky warned, Zemo chuckling tipping back into his chair. You let your foot drop now, returning to your personal space.

"I'm only making conversation Sam" his voice was like velvet, feigning innocence. Out the corner of your eyes you saw his head tilt to you again but you were distracted looking out the window. The man in front briefly forgotten as you peered excitedly at the passing land bellow.

Now you were avoiding his eyes again, poking around the fancy clothing while trying to avoid Bucky too. After he'd stepped out in the soldier gear you'd had to take a turn about the room. It was distressing even with his new haircut. Too much like old memories.

"Okay so he's all set but what about us huh?" Sam questioned, eyebrow quirking at Zemo in his fancy coat.

"Ah well I have someone in mind for you, as for your charming companion..." His eyes drifted back to you. "They might have a little harder time passing as anyone."

"Y/n." You said finally willing yourself to speak more than a couple words to the guy. "And I'm not exactly new to this." You leaned round gowns, hoping that your forced confidence would work.

Sam disappeared behind the curtain with the shop keep, returning shortly after. He sulked out of a changing room in an amazing suit. You forgot yourself a moment hands hiding a wide grin stretching across your face.

"Don't Y/n... I look like a pimp." Sam frowned at you making you bark out a laugh. He shot Bucky a warning glance, as he just smiled at his friend.

"Only an American would assume a fashion forward black man looks like a pimp." Zemo rolled his eyes, glancing back to yourself. You dropped your smile, crossing the room to Sam.

You weren't keen on letting Zemo be alone with either of them in this city. So you'd have to go too. Which meant crowds and someone touching you. Steeling yourself mentally you slipped an arm in Sam's.

"So if I'm hard to place, surely I can be someones date?" You queried. Sam straightened, he'd have to work on that if you would pass as a couple.

"Ah unfortunately not Smiling Tiger here." He stepped between you both causing you to shift away to avoid him. "He's pretty known for his devotion to his partner." Zemo smirked down at you, a hand on Sam's shoulder.

You sensed a challenge in the air, forcing a smile back to your face. "And I suppose it's too much to expect your soldier to have one." You purred stepping in closer to him, letting a hand rest on his chest. It almost sickened you how quickly you could slip into the act.

You caught the way he froze a second, must not have expected that from you. Still he caught himself quickly, looking unimpressed. Your anger flared at him. He was belittling you? Maybe it was better he underestimated you but your pride was wounded.

"Y/n." Sam spoke softly. You let your gaze shift to him but remained in proximity to Zemo. Sam stared at you for a second till he confirmed your resolve. He rolled his eyes, sighing.

"You got something for them to wear then?" He asked, rubbing his brow.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zemo mind kept getting stuck on Sam and Bucky's companion. He'd had Oeznik look into you but he'd come up with nothing so far, though he'd be in contact with any news. Still there was a niggling feeling in his mind. Some kind of recognition he couldn't place.

You weren't Sokovian, your accent proved that much but you'd spent time there? Enough to have strong feelings on the matter. Maybe enough to share some sympathy? Get you more to his side, drive a wedge between you and them.

Then there was the way you tensed when James had stepped out in his winter soldier clothing. It wasn't subtle the way you practically jumped away to stare at a blank wall. So there was a history there? To think of it you'd stepped up when Barnes had threatened him too.

You didn't entirely trust him. So you were the weakest link in this team. If he wanted break the chain I'd be easiest to play you against Barnes.

Still your willingness to come here for Sam could pose some problems. Though even in that relationship you seemed closed off? Maybe a softer touch with you could work and a wedge to block Sam out. For now that's all he could use on you.

Helmut sat with these thoughts while he waited for the shop keep to finish with you. If he played this smart he could even get an ally in you. After all you'd come to his defense once before and it'd been amusing watching your reactions to him. How hard could it be to make you distrust James some more. He missed the curtain pulling only realizing you'd finished when he heard Sam.

"Wow Y/n you look...." Sam had began.

"Ridiculous, yes?" You quipped. Helmut heard heels clack as you approached, lifting his gaze to appraise the change. His jaw dropped, you were stunning. Sure he'd noticed your pleasant features before but you'd had a sort of disheveled look to you. Only sparkling in the little moments of wonder he'd witnessed on the plane. Now you shone, filling out the tight clothing just right.

"So this work?" You cocked a brow at him. Zemo tore his eyes from the maroon fabric matching his jumper. You looked like incredible and you looked like his, Selby might actually buy this.

"If you can act the part." He hummed, tilting his head. He slipped out of his chair and circled you. Your shoulders only tensed subtly when he took your hand, placing a bracelet around your wrist.

"Oh I can act the part, can you?" You challenged, jaw clenching and sliding in beside him. You linked an arm in his, resting a cheek against his bicep. He stifled a reaction to your sudden closeness. Cursing himself at loosing the upper hand again. You merely looked up at him through lashes and suddenly his nerves were alive.

"Don't think that'll be a problem." He smirked down at you. Your eyes widened slightly before your gaze shifted to Sam. Zemo preened at the flush rising to your cheeks. It was amusing watching you squirm but he really should try being kinder if he wanted your trust.

"Yeah maybe just don't talk." Sam grumbled though Zemo was miles away again.

All the way from the shop, to the escorted car, then to the club you kept up your part. Body pressing against his arm so close he could feel your heat through his coat. It'd been so long since he'd had someone close like this and he didn't realize how much he'd been missing it. Or any contact really.

He tried not to dwell on the exposed skin or the softer look you'd given him when he'd offered you a hand out the car. Nor the way the way he found himself wanting to pull you closer. To hide you away from the prying eyes around them.

Part of him wished he'd worn a thinner coat or skipped the gloves. To have been able to enjoy this moment unfettered. Though he couldn't allow his guard down now. He had a plan and you were a nuisance at best.

Zemo he relayed the plan to Sam, Barnes and yourself, keeping up an indifferent attitude. It was a simple plan but it should get him and Sam in front of Selby. Honestly if you entered the club alone looking like this, you'd probably get a private meeting with her in seconds. Though he doubted Sam would let that plan go ahead.

The Brass Monkey Saloon was busy this night, though they got in alright with the expensive look about the group. Even the leather he had James wear was designer.

Zemo led the group to the bar, dropping the title of winter soldier as they passed by groups. He kept a hand on your lower back as he led you through the crowd. With the low cut of the garment he could feel a slight shiver even through his gloves.

It was certainly a lot warmer inside. You were nervous. You showed no other sign of it but with that realization your actions were making more sense. You weren't just playing the part, you were clinging to him! Zemo pulled a seat out allowing you to sit as he stood close to your side. He kept his arm securely around your waist as he shot a look to a patron beside you.

He started talking business, enjoying the way Sam paled at the snake guts shot before a gruff looking guy appeared over your shoulder. He placed a hand on you and Zemo held back venom.

"Word from on high, your not welcome here. They can stay." The man commanded, his hand moving from your shoulder down your arm as his eyes traced your form. Zemo caught your eye for just a moment, the discomfort only flickered a second before he was giving the order.

James was on the man in a flash, wrenching him off you in a swift motion. You flinched back slightly into Zemo, your back remaining against his chest as Bucky beat the man down. Helmut tried to convince himself it was part of the act but truthfully he didn't like seeing you distressed like that. It wasn't like the way you flustered before. There was real fear behind your eyes and he couldn't stand it.

Another man approached from your side and Zemo pulled you closer to him, shoving the man back towards his soldier. He could feel your hand against his abdomen shake as your fear grew at the sight of James in action. He was right, you were afraid of the man. Why was a question for later, for now this was working in his favour.

Zemo quipped a comment about him to Sam too for good measure before guns were drawn. You seemed to snap out of your state, standing more firmly away from him and closer to Sam. He snaked his arm around your shoulders, before telling Bucky to stand down. It was strange to watch what frightened you. It would seemed you couldn't care less about the guns. Your wide eyes were still caught on Barnes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You could still feel the quake in your fingers. Some last trace of adrenaline coursing there. Still you strutted by Zemo's side, a cold leather clad hand on your exposed back.

It shouldn't feel as comforting as it did but you couldn't think about that now. You were deeper in the lions den now and you had to stay focused. There would be time to wallow in your pathetic thoughts later.

Selby wasn't quite what you'd expected, still she had that sense of power that came with territory. She was just chipper in a way that felt like she was talking down to everyone. Zemo made his way to sit in front of her, leading you closer to danger.

It was a ploy you soon realized as you watched her speak to him whilst her eyes traced up your legs. It disgusted you to use old tricks again but you couldn't hate their effect. Anything to keep the eyes off Sam for now. You sat on Zemo's armrest, his hand reaching to touch your thigh where Selby's eyes were.

Her gaze flicked back to him as she continued. You took the opportunity to look around the room as she spoke with Zemo and Sam. There were four armed guards around the room, blocking exits and keeping everything in sight.

You didn't like Sam being so far away, if things kicked off it'd be hard to take the hit from your position. Moving wouldn't be an option, you were supposed to be an obedient little ornament right now.

So you stayed seated as Zemo got up to show off his winter soldier, watching as Selby's attention drifted away from you to Bucky. You didn't like the predatory smile she wore looking at him. It'd been better when her focus was on you, at least Bucky hadn't looked so uncomfortable then. Though the act was good, too good. The stillness he'd adopted was still sending your heart thundering against its cage again.

Zemo returned to his seat, hand on your leg again, as you tried to maintain an almost bored smile. You found yourself calming somewhat before, though the realization was distressing in itself. Maybe it was the contact alone? You really hadn't been this near another person in some time. Not for any length of time anyway.

You tried to focus in on the conversation again, letting your eyes rest on Selby. The serum was here but she wasn't just going to tell you where it was, no matter how you rubbed your legs together.

"Your friend isn't distracting enough Baron, the bread crumbs are free but the bakery 'll cost you..." She began before a buzz from Smiling Tiger caught everyone's attention.

You stiffened as Sam was forced to take his call. Zemo's hand shifted on your thigh, squeezing it slightly. You looked down as he gently shook his head. He knew you wanted to go to him but he was right, you had to try maintain the cover.

"Sam?"

Oh shit. Before you could react Selby was shot and on the floor. The next second you were up and in front of Zemo. He grabbed your waist moving you away to attack one of the guards. Bucky and Sam had the other two it seemed. Leaving you the one setting his aim at Sam.

You tackled him, knocking him to the floor. You straddled him briefly before a boot slammed into him head. Zemo held a hand out to you, an incredulous smile on his tilted head. You took his hand, letting him pull you up. Though you let it go the second you stood, straightening your clothes.

Sam and Bucky regrouped, sure that this hit would be blamed on your group. Zemo tossed a gun taken off the guard aside, instructing Sam and Bucky to do the same.

"Follow my lead" Zemo almost whispered over your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine but it didn't feel like fear. As confidently as you could you all walked out of the bar, Zemo's hand in your own. You rubbed a thumb on the smooth leather, trying to relax yourself as you walked into the street. You focused on the imperfections, the seam under your thumb as your breathing eased.

Each quick step matched the hard thump of your heart. Phones went off all around you as the bounty must have been set. A cacophony of tones, buzzes and lights illuminating wicked grins. You kept pace with Zemo's stride praying you'd slip away before anyone made a move.

The prayers were dashed at the first gun shot. In a moment the night was alive with muzzle flash and gunfire. Zemo tugged you sharply along with him as he darted into an alleyway. Your heals splashed as he half dragged you after him.

"Wait! Sam and Bucky went that way." You yelled as you tried not to fall in your fancy shoes. Zemo didn't respond instead leading you through a winding path. He took a sharp corner suddenly spinning you against the wall.

It felt like the air had be knocked out of you as Zemo caged you in His long coat obscured you as you heard more footsteps splash past you both. Legs felt shaky as your heart remained thunderous. You stared up at his pale face, bathed in neons of the city, his dark eyes still watching for a movement. He paused looking back down at your wide eyed expression.

You were so close, his breath hot and fanning over your features. You could smell his expensive cologne, something smokey. The heaving in your breast settled bit by bit as you kept your eyes locked on his deep brown ones. He didn't back off a lazy smirk drifting onto his face.

For a second your eyes darted down to his lips before a pain shot through you. You doubled over, Zemo catching you before you fell. A growing heat blossomed out from the bullet wound you'd failed to register. The red stain seeped out further against the purple fabric.

"Oh, I actually quite liked this outfit." You joked, hand coming away shaky and red. It hadn't shot straight through, embedding somewhere in your gut.

Zemo's hand immediately came to cover the wound, applying pressure as he slung your arm over his shoulders. You let him half carry you out to where Sam and Bucky were, not caring much for whatever they were talking about.

No matter how many times you'd been shot, it never got easier. Without the adrenaline the pain was excruciating, almost blinding in it's intensity. With that and the groggy feeling blood loss gave you, you had no real reaction when Sharon turned up.

The talk was short, but soon you were in a car. Bucky hovered close, your head in Sam's lap as he tried to explain the situation to Sharon.

"Are you joking your friend is going to die!" Zemo protested against your slurred response, staring back from the front seat.

"Relax, she'll be fine let me just..." Bucky started before digging a digit into the wound. You screeched at the sudden rush of pain writhing as more shouting surrounded you. Then you went limp. There was the itching sensation of your skin reforming and silence in the car.

"What the hell..." Zemo began, eyes glued to the sight of your wound stitching itself back up. His eyes shot up to yours, somewhere between disbelief and something else.

"Guess you could say they've an invested reason to want the serum gone." Bucky spoke for you as you groaned sitting up and off of Sam. It was still painful, the internal still reworking itself but in a few minutes even the ache would be gone. You tried not to show how rough you felt. While the wound wasn't huge here was a lot of your blood soaking Sam and yourself.

You said no more until you were back at Sharon's. Still feeling too weak for the first few minutes and then ashamed by Zemo's silence. You showered and redressed in another fancy outfit at Sharon's. She had a party tonight and you'd all need to attend.

She'd almost given you an out when Bucky had said you were fine now. You cringed inside as you felt Zemo's eyes burning into you. Of course he'd hate you now and god knows what that meant for you going forward.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zemo watched you over his whisky. Sam, Bucky and Sharon seemed involved in a conversation he was not invited into. Seeing that he watched you pause, shifting awkwardly by the bar cart. His heart still pounded looking at you. Despite everything you were a vision, another less revealing outfit still accentuating your body.

His curiosity was peaked, far more than any anger at this having been kept a secret from him. Made sense they didn't share that detail with him of all people, still he'd like to know your intentions.

He caught your eye, raising his glass. You seemed to hesitate a moment longer before joining him. The whole walk over took seconds but in those moments Helmut realized where he recognized you from.

Something in the more timid expression brought to mind a photo he'd seen in Hydra's files. He'd have to get it soon, until then he'd keep you close. Figure out where you stood in all this.

You sat across from him, toying with bracelet from your previous outfit. Helmut thought to break the silence before you suddenly looked up.

"I didn't ask for this." You stated, meeting his gaze, brows knit. Zemo kept his face passive.

"Never said you did." He responded, coy smile returning.

"Good." you nodded, leaning back in your chair.

"Good." He stated. There others he'd found out about always had. The HYDRA soldiers, the flagsmashers and even Steve Rogers all chose it. Though you wouldn't be the first to have the choice taken from you. Perhaps that's where Bucky fit in for you.

"Do I have to worry about more of you?" He probed. If they'd experimented with yourself there was no reason they wouldn't have tried to make more.

"No... it's just me now." You continued, eyes casting down. They looked glassy in the low light, he'd struck a nerve there.

"I... it's not like with Steve or even Bucky okay. It's the healing, that's all." Zemo watched you squirm. Clearly you were fighting two needs here, your secrecy and a need to explain yourself to him. He hummed considering you for a moment. That's all? As if what you did wasn't incredible?

It confused him slightly why you were struggling so much to try explain yourself. Sure it could just be self preservation, he was most known for his hatred of the Avengers. Though with friends like Sam why you'd need to ingratiate yourself to him was odd. Unless you weren't with their team.

You'd need a clear out too when this was over and the less anyone had on you the better. So you'd risked yourself to come help Sam deal with this super soldier problem.

"Does that mean you can drink?" He smiled pouring you a glass.

"Yeah I can drink." You answered, taking the glass from his hand and returning his smile. He let his fingers graze against yours and watched for your reaction. There wasn't one he could see, so hopefully you were more comfortable with him now.

He'd gotten a message off moments earlier with the phone still hidden in his jacket. He'd have your file soon enough. Until then he could trust you weren't going to get in the way of his mission and clinked his glass to yours.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zemo couldn't lie to himself, he was enjoying your company greatly. Having cracked your shell a little he managed to get you talking about your time in Sokovia. You were light on details that brought you there but were delighted to reminisce on the city.

After heading out to Sharon's party he found himself glued to your side. Especially after Sam and Bucky left. Though it would seem they'd asked you to keep an eye on him as you followed him even onto the dance floor.

It was clear you hadn't had much opportunity to dance before but he couldn't judge, he was rather rusty himself. It was amusing to watch you twirling in this space. Despite an initial discomfort you were all open smiles and singing to yourself now. Clearly whatever happened before now had deprived you of lives many joys.

You spun and swayed for a time before the crowd in the area seemed to get too close. Zemo ushered you to follow him to another room, using an arm to block others from you.

Sam and Barnes where still no where to be seen. Though he had no plans of escaping until this serum problem was gone. Which meant he was free to enjoy your rather charming company in peace without their interruption.

The genuine dazzle returned to your eyes, the same one that made him pause his questioning on the plane. You stared up at a painting, a classic piece, oil and stretching across the entire wall of this room. Helmut smiled, stepping beside you again to tell you about it. You listened eagerly before turning your attention to the other art expectantly.

Zemo couldn't be sure he had an ally in you yet but it was pleasant none the less. He liked having you enjoy his company like this. Now all he needed to do was drive a wedge between you and the others and that file should help.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning came and you were off with Sharon to the ship yard. As always your ability to heal didn't seem to extend past poison not killing you. Your head pounded in the morning light.

You'd awoken feeling guilty about last night. Sam had asked you to keep an eye on Zemo and you suppose you did. Only your sure he didn't mean follow him onto the dance floor and drink with him. Still it wasn't like anything happened. You just didn't like the look Sam gave you before heading to bed.

"You should stay with Sharon." Bucky said. "Keep an eye out with her." You nodded a response, following after her. He and Sam both knew how you felt about the serum. You weren't exactly going to be easy on this guy. Probably best you didn't meet him face to face.

You followed after Sharon, her signaling you to go left while you kept a eye out around the containers. It was only a couple of minutes before the samey look got you lost. You cursed, wishing you'd taken note of the numbers on them or something.

There wasn't time to worry about that, gun shots echoed through the containers and you were sprinting towards the source. You rounded the corners at speed, coming to the container you'd split from Karen from. She was worse for wear, bruised but not hurt near a badly as the bodies behind her.

"God you're so cool." You smiled, her returning a pained one before you both rushed to get the boys. The chaos hadn't finished though, as you entered the lab Zemo shot the scientist.

Sam yelled out, him and Sharon rushing to un-arm him but it was done. You peered over the mans body but there was no helping him. Though you don't think you'd have found it in yourself to do so. There was no time to think anymore on the mater, the lab behind you exploded and you were sent hurtling back towards the others.

Your ears rang you could smell smoke billowing around as you tried to regain your bearings. You'd clipped an arm on something as you shot past, the bones bending out at odd angles. Still you struggled painfully to your feet, trying hard to ignore the biting pain as your arm snapped back into place.

You stumbled, crying out and trying to force your eyes to work but sharp pain scratched as you tried to blink. Glass... there was definitely glass in your eyes. God you shouldn't have turned to look at the explosion. You felt a strong hand grab your shoulder, pulling you back down the stairs to the shipyard.

"Sam?" You questioned, light filling your vision but not clearing it yet. You were stumbling after him, still blind but you felt a piece of glass fall to the ground.

"Not quiet." Zemo's voice lilted out before another explosion sounded off. You went to scream, to call out for the others but a gloved hand covered your mouth and you were pulled back against him.

You struggled a moment, thinking of biting his hand to let you go but stilled. With some sight returning you could see dark shapes passing by you. He didn't let go till they were round another corner and you stepped away.

"Let me see..." His hands returned to your face, you pulled away for a moment but relented as his grip remained firm. "scheisse, there's quite a big... should I remove it." You hissed, adrenaline gone and leaving you in a lot more pain than you'd expected.

"Please," you all but whimpered, gritting your teeth when you felt him tug. He was kind at least, one sharp tug and it was out. You bit your cheek, whining as your hand came up to stem the leaking blood.

"Stay back." He commanded, gripping your shoulders a moment before disappearing from your returning sight. God you hated eye stuff, eye stuff was so gross.

You slumped against the metal a moment before hearing Sam and Bucky's voices between gun shots. Without another thought you tried to follow pausing back from an approaching group.

Above them you saw Zemo, calmly he walked atop the containers before firing at a gas pipe. In a fireball the majority of the threat was gone, leaving only a few stragglers shooting blindly.

You watched him leap down, picking off the bounty hunters quickly. You shouldn't have been surprised, you knew his background but still it was impressive to watch.

Bucky and Sam were no where to be seen. You paused uncertain what to do at this point. If they were taking fire somewhere you should be with them. You searched around before you heard a shout.

"Schatz!" Zemo called over the fire, motioning you to follow. You sent a last glace around before you ran after him. Sam and Sharon had to be around here soon and you really should keep an eye on him right?

Zemo paused ahead of you at an open container. You followed, slowing your pace as you neared him. He shot you a grin before stepping inside, slowing you rounded the door to see a very fancy car. Zemo already at the open passengers door. He gave a wave of his arm.

"After you, schatz." He smirked and you rolled your eyes at the pet name. Still couldn't help but laugh as he tore out at speed. The wind was whipping against your face as he sped through the ship yard. You weren't sure you remembered ever sitting up front in a car before. Definitely never one with an open top, it was exhilarating.

He skidded round a corner, stopping sharply in front of Sam and the others. You grinned, feeling a little dazed from the passengers seat. Bucky awkwardly climbed into the back, Sam approaching round the corner with a harsh glare directed at Zemo.

Sheepishly you rose, climbing into the back as Sam took the seat up front. He tore his gaze from Zemo, turning a kinder look to you before shifting to Sharon outside the car.

"Your not coming?" You asked her, turning your face a little to wipe the viscera from it on your sleeve.

"I can't..." She turned to Sam "Just keep that deal alright." Then she was gone and you were speeding off again.

[bodyswappertransforming]

On a bright Saturday morning, Lucas strolled into a local boutique, eager to refresh his wardrobe. As the door chimed behind him, he was greeted by the stylish ambiance of the shop—rows of meticulously arranged clothing and a subtle scent of fresh linen.

“Good morning! How can I help you today?” asked the store clerk, a friendly woman in her mid-thirties named Amelia.

“I’m looking for something new,” Lucas replied with a smile. “I need a few outfits for different occasions.”

Amelia nodded enthusiastically and led Lucas to the fitting rooms, arms already brimming with selections.

**First Outfit: Casual Elegance**

Lucas emerged in a casual yet elegant ensemble perfect for a weekend brunch. He wore an oversized light blue linen shirt, its sleeves rolled up to the elbows, paired with high-waisted beige chinos. The outfit was completed with chunky white sneakers and a crossbody bag. The soft colors complemented his complexion, and the breathable fabrics made him feel effortlessly stylish.

“How does it feel?” Amelia asked.

“Perfect for a casual day out,” Lucas replied, admiring himself in the mirror.

**Second Outfit: Office Professional**

Next, Lucas stepped out in a more professional look suitable for his corporate job, yet with a Gen Z twist. He wore a charcoal grey suit with a subtle pinstripe pattern, tailored to perfection. A crisp white dress shirt was left untucked, and a skinny black tie was loosened at the collar. On his feet were polished black loafers with no-show socks. The outfit exuded confidence and professionalism while maintaining a laid-back, modern vibe.

“This is great for work,” Lucas commented, adjusting the lapels.

**Third Outfit: Evening Sophistication**

For a touch of evening sophistication, Amelia had selected a navy velvet blazer paired with black wide-leg trousers. Lucas wore a black mock neck top underneath, adding a modern twist to the classic look. Black leather Chelsea boots and a minimalistic silver chain completed the ensemble. The rich textures and dark hues gave Lucas an air of elegance and mystery, perfect for a night out or a formal event.

“This one’s a showstopper,” Lucas remarked, feeling the luxurious fabric of the blazer.

**Fourth Outfit: Summer Relaxation**

Lucas then tried on a relaxed summer outfit, ideal for vacations or beach outings. He wore a white oversized short-sleeved linen shirt with light blue seersucker shorts. Tan espadrilles and a bucket hat added a casual, breezy vibe. The light and airy clothing made Lucas feel ready for warm, sunny days and leisurely strolls along the shore.

“I can almost feel the ocean breeze,” Lucas joked, grinning at Amelia.

**Fifth Outfit: Weekend Adventure**

Finally, Lucas came out in a rugged, adventure-ready outfit. He wore a dark green utility jacket over a grey graphic tee, paired with distressed baggy jeans. Sturdy brown leather boots and a canvas backpack completed the look. This outfit was perfect for weekend hikes or exploring new cities, combining comfort with a touch of rugged charm.

“This is perfect for my weekend plans,” Lucas said, feeling ready for any adventure.

**Sixth Outfit: Gen Z Street Style**

Amelia had one last outfit in mind that was all about Gen Z street style. Lucas wore a cropped black hoodie with neon accents, paired with black cargo pants with multiple pockets and straps. On his feet were chunky dad sneakers, and he accessorized with a black beanie and silver hoop earrings. The look was bold, trendy, and perfect for making a statement on the streets.

“This is so cool,” Lucas said, feeling the edgy vibe of the outfit.

Amelia beamed, pleased with Lucas’s satisfaction. “I think we’ve found some winners today.”

Lucas agreed, happily purchasing each outfit. As he left the boutique, he felt a renewed sense of confidence and excitement, ready to tackle any occasion with style.