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callsignspark · 9 months

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Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5.2

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, like soooo much flirting, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 3.6k

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note: happy Friday! I hope everyone had lovely holidays and 2024 is going well for you so far! I did have some issues tagging people so apologizes if you didn't notified! I really loved writing this chapter, especially since it's going to help set the stage for the rest of the story! (only 4 more parts to go! isn't that crazy??) please be safe if you have snow coming towards you this weekend, and enjoy these two pining and yearning for each other more than ever.

part 8.5.2 - rambling and rings

Friday, April 16, 2021

Mary waves at the obnoxiously large SUV as Slider honks and drives away. Leaning against the entryway table, she slips her heels off and wiggles her painted toes at the feeling of the soft runner beneath her feet. Shuffling over to the entertainment console, she hums as she connects her phone, choosing the song that was on in the car.

The dreamy guitar intro floats through the air, making her smile. And the last beams of golden sunshine disappear as she dances through the living room, enjoying the peaceful feeling that’s settled in her chest and closing the blinds in between twirls.

Good things are happening at work, rumbles that there’s a promotion coming on the horizon. The monthly call back home to her parents hadn’t ended in tears for the first time in months. Most of her evenings are spent in the company of at least one Dagger family member, helping Kris and Dani with their kids or enjoying the adult-only life with Aaron and Flora. Bradley is messaging her as often as he can, every email making her heart flutter, increasing her joy with every sentence he types.

Everything is coming together in ways she had never even dared to dream about.

An early dinner with Ron, Mav, and Penny was the cherry on top of a great week. The four of them laughing and telling stories the entire time, taking advantage of the warm spring weather at the patio table Pete had reserved for Slider’s birthday. As stories and photos were traded across the table, Mary felt like her heart could burst learning about baby Bradley. The only quiet moment of the evening was when their waiter brought an unordered round of drinks to the table, prompting the men to venture inside and thank the old Navy buddy that had spotted them through the window.

“Thank you, Matt; it was getting just a tiny bit too windy for us.”

“No problem, ma’am.” The young man smiles over his shoulder as he finishes turning the outdoor heater on. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”

“I think we’re good for now, thank you,” Penny answers, glancing at Mary, softening at the sight of the younger woman lost in thought as she stares out at the ocean with a content smile.

She watches as brown eyes drift from the water to the table, gentle fingers tracing over a copy of a photo that’s older than the girl studying it. Penny stays quiet, letting the sound of waves crashing on the sand accompany the slight furrow that creases Mary’s brow as she brings the photo closer to her face.

“He looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?”

“He does; he acts a lot like him, too, more than he realizes.”

“You knew him?” It’s not a surprised reaction, just curious.

Penny hums, “We weren’t close, but I knew him enough to see how much Bradley has turned out like him. He’s a good blend of both his parents.”

“Did you know Carole very well?”

“More than Nick, by default, but for the most part, we were at different stages in life. She was older than me by a few years. I was in college and she was a widow raising a toddler. But, as you know, the aviator community is pretty small, so we were friendly. I would even babysit Bradley sometimes when the guys were deployed.”

“He was a cute baby,” Mary says softly, eyes back on the last photo taken of the whole Bradshaw family.

“He was… turned out to be a handsome man, didn’t he?” Penny asks, taking advantage of the moment.

She smirks as the younger woman looks up at her through her lashes, a shy smile stretching her pink cheeks. “He did.”

“Can I ask you something while they’re still inside?”

“We’re not together. But we are going on a date the week after he gets back.” Now it’s Mary’s turn to smirk at how Penny’s eyebrows rocket up to her hairline. “That is what you were going to ask me, right?”

“It’s close enough. Are you excited?”

“I am. I really like him.”

It’s the first time she admitted it out loud to anyone other than her best friend. She revels in the encouraging energy and words Penny gives back, both of them still giggling like school girls when Pete and Ron return.

“What are you two laughing about?” Slider asks as he slips Mary’s wrap over her shoulders.

“Oh, nothing.” When Penny winks, she has the overwhelming urge to cry. The knowing look accompanying those two words is more affectionate and maternal than anything her mother has done in years.

Their hug goodbye lasts a few seconds longer than expected, and the gentle hands that smooth some stray hairs back make her throat tighten. Slider is quiet on the ride home; familiar with the many moods of Mary, he lets her work through her thoughts with the radio on low.

“Y’okay, kid?” He doesn’t speak until he pulls into her neighborhood, giving himself a five-block buffer to determine if a pit stop to the closest ice cream shop is required.

“Yeah. Just-” Mary pauses, trying to figure out how to best explain. “Just still getting used to it.”

“To what?”

“To how easy it is to just be me out here. Surrounded by people who have just folded me into their lives with zero hesitation, like I’ve always been here.”

“Mary, were you happy in Florida?”

“I was content. Getting to know you helped with that a lot, but let’s face it; if I was happy, I wouldn’t have been so excited to leave.”

“And you’re happy now?”

“I am. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

It's a cheesy line, but true. She knew that when she said it, accepting the light teasing that followed with a smile. One that hadn’t left her face as she said goodbye to her mentor, one that grows as the song starts again. She can’t help how big her grin gets. This song always reminds her of Bradley.

“I'm in love, I'm alive. I belong to the stars and sky.”

Letting the song stay on repeat, Mary stops in the kitchen for some water on her way to the bedroom. It’s still early - not even eight yet - but a full night’s sleep is calling her name, eyelids feeling heavy.

She slips her clothes off, folding the jeans for tomorrow and tossing her shirt in the laundry. A small groan of relief accompanies the unclasping of her bra before she slings it into the hamper. Turning the bedroom speakers down slightly as she enters the bathroom, a grimace instantly creases her face when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

“Jesus…” Her disbelief echoes in the room as gentle fingers rub over the harsh red lines where her clothes dug into her skin. It’s evident where the waistband of her jeans sat all day. And the tender spots under her arms lets her know it’s time to look for better-fitting bras, again. Mary tugs the leg of her panties up, relieved to see at least one piece of clothing hasn’t left its mark.

She’s massaging the sore spots on her chest, letting her warm hands diminish the pain, when her phone rings. Her eyebrows furrow deeper at the unknown number flashing across the screen.

Usually, at this time of night, she’d ignore an unknown number and let the other person leave a voicemail, but something in her gut tells her to pick up before it’s too late.

“Hello?” There’s a muffled response, and she scrambles to disconnect her phone from the speakers. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Hello, ma’am. Can I speak to Mariella Vertucci?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Lieutenant Corso in the communications bay on the USS Roosevelt. Can you confirm your identity with your full name, birthday, and the eight-digit code given to you by Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

Mary’s heart stops for a second. This is it. Bradley is calling. She’s going to get to talk to him after forty-eight days. Hear his voice. See his face.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry. Mariella Theresa Vertucci, born March 14, 1987. The code is 0125-2020.”

“Thank you, ma’am. One minute, please.” The soft clacking of a keyboard filters through the phone, the Lieutenant's tongue clicking as he types. “You’ve been verified. Does the phone you’re using have video chat capabilities.”

“It does, Lieutenant.”

“Excellent. Stay on the line, and in a few minutes, a video chat will come through with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. You have been allotted 30 minutes today. I am required to remind you that communication is not secure. This means, for security purposes, you cannot ask what time of day it is, what location, or how any missions have gone. Please confirm that you understand.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. I am also required to let you know that this video chat is conducted in a private area and will not be monitored. However, the audio will be recorded, so any lewd acts are discouraged but not forbidden.”

Mary can’t help the snort that escapes. “But not forbidden?”

“Uh- the uh-” She smothers a chuckle at how the kid trips over his words. “The Navy understands that loved ones are apart for long periods of time and can’t forbid any uh- urges that couples may wish to act upon during their chats. But we are legally required to inform everyone of the recording.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“No problem, ma’am. Please stay on the line, and your loved one will be joining shortly.” She giggles at how quickly the hold music starts, humming along to Anchors Aweigh as she clips her hair up, ready to take her makeup off. She’s about to wet a washcloth when the music cuts, and the video call comes through.

Taking a second to look herself over, Mary admires the tendrils that have escaped, perfectly framing her cheeks that are still flushed from the wine she had with dinner. The slightest bit still tipsy and a little frazzled about Bradley, she realizes just in time that she’s still only in her underwear, hitting the accept button and dropping the phone on the counter.

“One second! Just- oh, come on! Fuck!” She curses under her breath as she struggles to slip into her bathrobe. “Hang on, Bradley!”

Finally getting both arms in, she ties the robe, eyebrows raising in surprise at how it cinches her waist, before eagerly grabbing her phone.

“Hi, Mary.”

“Hi, Bradley.”

She greedily drinks him in. It’s been 48 days since she’s seen his handsome face or heard his warm voice - the longest since they met - and she’s missed him. Her heart clenches at how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever.

“Hi, honey.” The sweet name hits something deep inside, and she can’t help the tears that immediately form or the way her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, shit, Mary. Please don’t cry, honey.”

The emotional reaction surprises even her; she was expecting to be a bit overwhelmed, but nothing like this. It makes her feel a little ridiculous, crying about a man she’s barely even kissed. But you love him, her brain chimes in, sending more heat to her face.

“This is your uncle’s fault!” She laughs, swiping tears away and propping her phone against the mirror.

“Mav?”

She can’t help but giggle at his disbelieving tone as she reaches for a tissue. “No, Slider. He’s in town this week, and he may or may not - but definitely did - get me tipsy at dinner, like he always does!”

She trills on about dinner, telling him about the childhood stories that were shared and the baby photos that now live on her phone, not noticing the look on his face until he interrupts.

“You getting in the shower, Mary?”

The husky tone immediately grabs all of her attention, a shiver running down her spine at the smoldering look on Bradley’s face. She follows his eyes down, surprised to see how much her robe has come undone. The valley between her breasts is completely visible, and the fabric is threatening to expose her belly button - and more - if it’s not fixed.

“Oops…” She mumbles to herself, tightening the robe so much it pushes her cleavage together.

Normally, this is where her insecurities would ruin the moment - flooding her brain with terrible things. Make her spend the rest of the call analyzing how she looks in the tiny corner box, agonizing how prominent her double chin is from this angle. But the soft fuck that crackles through the phone squashes the anxieties before they can take root, shifting her attention to admire the man looking back at her.

And god, he is a man.

Bradley Bradshaw has always been gorgeous: tall, strong, and deliciously tan. But mid-deployment Bradley Bradshaw is a vicious attack to the senses. And the hormones.

His broad shoulders have gotten broader, filling the little privacy cubicle in the communications room so much that he’s brushing both sides of the walls. His curls are more golden than usual, clear evidence of time spent flying in the Pacific tropics. His tan is deeper, too, glowing even in the harsh florescent lighting, the bridge of his nose slightly sunburnt. His neatly trimmed mustache moves with his lush pink lips, warmth building in her core as her thoughts drift to the memory of how they felt pressed against hers.

“Mary?” She hums, eyes focusing back into the present and away from her favorite post-deployment reunion fantasy. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“You.”

It's clear he wasn’t expecting that answer from the way he drags a hand over his mouth to muffle a cruse, his eyes scrunching shut.

She wasn’t expecting it either; the effects of the wine have mostly worn off, leaving her with flushed cheeks and apparently a slightly looser tongue. She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about the overly honest answer. Communicating exclusively via email for the last month and a half has allowed Mary to gain confidence in Bradley’s feelings. It’s hard to wonder about his intentions when every email ends with him telling her how many days are left until he’s home.

“Your lips…” She continues, emboldened as the last remnants of wine soften the sharp edges of her insecurities and the pink working its way up his neck. She loves how easily Bradley blushes for her. Their few kisses have always ended with his cheeks a lovely, rosy shade. “How soft your hair is. Your mustache. How strong you are. How much I miss you…”

The words make them both pause. It’s not an uncommon phrase, every email containing some variation of the sentiment, but hearing the words out loud makes it real. Cementing the longing in their chests.

“I miss you, too.” The words are quiet, echoing against the tiled walls. She chuckles, throat thick with emotion, and Bradley can’t look away from her soft smile. His heart pounding at the emotion on her face, something he can’t quite place. He can’t stop staring as she picks the phone up and flicks the light off, “Where are we going?”

“Couch.”

He smiles as the familiar walls of her living room appear, grin going slack when she props him up on the side table, and the slit of her robe reveals a thigh that he’s dreamt about as she shuffles pillows. Bradley manages to pull his mind out of his post-deployment fantasy as she plops on her couch - that damn pink couch - and smiles at him over the arm, her eyes almost closing she grins so hard.

“I’m sorry I missed our call.”

“It’s okay, Bradley. I knew it was a possibility, and Mav let me know what was going on. I understand.”

“I want to hear about your birthday.”

“I told you about my birthday! We’ve discussed it extensively.”

“I still want to hear about it. I want to hear your voice.” He revels as she softly whines and smooshes her face into a pillow, thrilled to cause that reaction. “C’mon, please, Mary?”

“You’re not fighting fair.” The muffled complaint comes back, making him laugh, but she does as asked.

Bradley listens, humming along as she recounts her birthday for him and insisting for the hundredth time that it was his pleasure to give her presents. He lets her lead the conversation as it shifts to what’s happening in San Diego, content to watch her as she shares stories of what he’s missing at home. Happy to just admire her and occasionally ask questions.

It’s so easy to get lost looking at her. Dark hair swishing around her shoulders, just slightly shorter than it was in February. Her brown eyes look darker than usual, the low light in the room making them almost black instead of the warm brown he’s used to staring into. And despite resecuring the robe, it’s coming loose again, enough that the top curve of her breasts are visible; freckles dotted all over, disappearing beneath the baby blue fabric. Bradley thinks about what it would be like to connect the dots on her soft skin, tracing invisible lines with his fingers or lips. He imagines there’s more hiding behind the waffle material. He wonders if she’d let him find out.

The fantasy of how wonderful it would be to memorize every mark on her body is interrupted as red nail polish grabs his attention. He loves her hands, smaller than his but so strong when she’s working on a jet. Steady as she calls out instructions to her team, grease smeared up to her elbows and her nail color of the week shining through the black sludge. Mary insists that she doesn’t talk with her hands, that she managed to avoid that stereotypical Italian-American trait, but Bradley smirks as her hands swirl through the air. He’s about to interrupt the story she’s giggling through - something about the latest swear word that Danielle accidentally taught Annie - when something sparkly on her finger distracts him.

A ring.

A diamond ring.

A simple silver band lined with tiny diamonds.

On her ring finger.

On her left ring finger.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to study the never-before-seen piece of jewelry. Mary must notice his confusion because she cuts her story off and flashes her hand at the camera. “I bought this for myself when I got promoted for the first time. I went from EI to EII, which is entry-level engineer to associate engineer. It was $50 from this little shop that was on the same block as my first solo apartment in St. Louis.”

Relief sweeps through his body, thrilled that Mary hadn’t gotten engaged with him.

“That’s awesome. Have you done that every time you’ve moved up?”

“Kinda? I always buy myself some sort of gift - last time, I splurged and got that big blender we used at the Christmas party. But I’ve only done jewelry a few times. I think I’m going to get a necklace next time, something to match this.” She explains, wiggling her fingers so the gems shimmer in the camera.

“It’s very pretty.” Bradley compliments, feeling bold enough to go further. “You look good with a ring on that finger.”

“Jesus, Brad-”

She’s cut off by the two-minute alert popping up. They had been so distracted they weren’t paying attention to the countdown timer.

“Already?” Mary pouts, forehead crinkling as she frowns. “But I didn’t get to ask you about carrier food.

“It’s bad, honey. Yours is so much better.”

“Or how you’re sleeping.”

“Reuben’s snoring has somehow gotten even louder since last time we shared a bunkroom; Bob, Mickey, and I owe you for the extra earplugs you sent.”

“You’re sunburnt.”

“I’m wearing the sunscreen you gave me; the sun is just strong.”

“I knew I should have sent the SPF 75!” Bradley smiles as Mary throws her head back in faux despair. “Oh well, now I know for next time, I guess.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah. You didn’t think I’d only send you a care package one time, did you? I gotta make sure you have everything you need. I know I missed some stuff this time, but I’ll get better in the future! I promise.”

I love you.

He just barely holds the words in.

“God, I fucking miss you.” He stares at the screen, watching the prettiest brown eyes in the world fill with tears at his words. “Oh, honey, please don’t cry. I’ll be home so soon.”

“But twenty-four days is such a long time, and I miss you so much.”

“I know, but we’ve already done 48 days. Twenty-four will be a breeze to get through.” The timer starts blinking, the last 60 seconds counting down. “I gotta get going, Mary. But you keep sending me flirty emails so I have something to read and think about.”

He chuckles at the little surprised noise she makes. “You noticed that?”

“Did I notice that? Mariella, in the kindest way, you are not subtle.”

“Well- I-” She splutters. “Neither are you!”

“I’m not trying to be, baby doll,” Bradley revels in her reaction to the pet name - mouth dropping open as she blinks at him, cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen - one he didn’t even mean to use.

The flustered hand she waves at the camera while yelling at him makes him laugh. “Bradley!”

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Be safe. Only 24 days.”

“Only 24 days.”

“I miss you, handsome.”

Bradley's face feels hot, choked up at the look in her eyes, the softness of her words. “I miss you, too, baby doll.”

They don’t say goodbye, choosing to admire each other as the final seconds tick away.

5…

I can’t wait to see you in person.

4…

God, you’re so gorgeous.

3…

I don’t want to hang up.

2…

I miss you.

1…

I love you.

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#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #mar[r]y me fic #elle writes

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buckgasms · 2 years

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"More" - Bucky Barnes

Right... So this absolutely got out of hand as I wrote it. Definitely indulgent but I'm hoping you find something here you enjoy ❤️ also it's really long 🫢

Also just wanted to say thank you for all the love and reblogs for my other works. I love to hear from you guys and know what you think!

Ok take a breath cos here comes the warnings: p in v; oral (both); light bondage; daddy!dom Bucky; sex toys; overstim; light spanking; squirting; dirty talk; again every paragraph is utter filth

Enjoy ❤️

-------------------------------------------------

You knelt between Bucky's knees, your hands resting on his thick, suit clad thighs. You batted your lashes and smiled up as his fingers stroked at your cheeks.

"Tell me what you want Babygirl" he muttered, eyes roaming over you, making you blush under his possessive, loving gaze.

Your fingers danced over to his belt, and tugged at it. "Want you daddy...want you to make me come over and over.... please?" you whispered, lifting up to bring your face a little closer to his.

He chuckled darkly and pinched your chin between his fingers. "You sure sweetheart? You want daddy to use that pretty pussy until it can't take anymore?" You squeezed your thighs together and nodded enthusiastically.

He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling out his thick, semi-hard cock. "Put that mouth to use then baby, let me see you earn it." Your mouth watered and you were on him before he barely finished speaking. You pressed kisses to the leaking tip, before taking him into your mouth. His legs spread wider to allow you to go deeper. Taking the hint you pushed further your eyes beginning to water. He groaned as the tip brushed the back of your throat and he threaded his fingers through your hair, holding you in place.

"Fuck princess, that's a good girl." You hummed in happiness as you pulled away a little and began bobbing up and down, stopping a occasionally at the base and choking around him. You lifted your eyes to look at Bucky, a mixture of pride and lust on his features as tears leaked down your cheek.

He pulled you off him, your lips swollen and messy. He was dying to paint your face with come but decided to save it for later. "Get on the bed, hands and knees." Despite your fuzzy mind, your scrambled up and crawled onto bed. You felt him approach you, slip his fingers into the band of your pretty pink panties and suddenly he ripped them from you.

Thick fingers spread your soaking lips, exposing your intimate parts to him and you couldn't help but wiggle and moan under his actions. As he pushed his fingers in further he landed a firm slap to your ass. You squealed as he continued this process for what felt like a lifetime. Soon your ass was a pink as your ruined underwear and he seemed to be satisfied with his work.

Finally he thrust his fingers in and jerked until you were squirting around his fingers, your cries muffled into the bedspread. His hands wrapped into your hair, pulling you upwards, your screams filling the quiet bedroom. You were shaking when he let go, your body dropping to the bed. Before you could catch your breath you felt him grab your ankle and pull you to the edge.

"Not finished yet are we babygirl?" He mocked, squeezing your sore cheeks and spreading your ass. You squealed as his fat cock pushed into your throbbing cunt and your gripped the sheets. He pounded hard into you, balls slapping against you soft skin. His fingers dug into your hips as he chased his own release. "Daddy, it's so big.... So much..." You panted and moaned as his growls became louder. "So fucking tight princess, no matter how many times, always so tight for me." You nodded, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to tighten. His hand reached round and rubbed at your clit mercilessly. You tried to escape the onslaught but he held you tight as he pushed you over the edge. As you squeezed him you felt his load paint your walls and a string of curses left his lips.

As he pulled out, a sob left your lips, wanting more of him, yet feeling so wrecked already. "Roll over baby, wanna see your pretty face" he cooed and you obeyed, feeling empty and bare without him. His hands cupped your face and your lips latched on to his thumb, placating the need in you.

"Colour baby?"

It took you a moment but once you thought you whispered "Green" and he smiled at you. A look so adoring and direct you couldn't help but shiver at him. "You're so beautiful baby, gonna make you feel so good" he murmured, pushing his thumb further into your mouth. "Gonna make you come over and over just like you want, then I'm gonna paint that pretty face. You want that princess?"

You nodded again, letting his thumb slip out, "yes daddy, please" you mumbled and watched as he pulled out some of your favourite toys from the bedside cabinet.

First he tied you to the bed, legs spread wide and arms secured to the frame. Enough room to wiggle but not enough to hide yourself from his ministrations. He then pressed a vibrator straight on your already pulsing cunt, making your toes curl. You moaned and whined over and over, simultaneously chasing your release and desperate for relief. When you squealed as you came he planted a few spanks you your pussy, prolonging the pleasure and pain, tears welling in your eyes.

He stroked your thighs, soothing you but leaving lingering touches to your soaked folds which only made you crave him more. He teased your ass with a finger and then you felt the head of a thick dildo pressing at your pussy, not as thick as Bucky but enough to have you thrashing in your binds. "Daddy please" you cried, not really sure what you were begging for.

"I know baby, daddy will make it better, you can take it princess" he said softly as he fucked your aching pussy as his finger teased you. After torturing you that way until he was satisfied, Bucky returned the vibrator to your sensitive clit. No longer able to speak you whimpered as he leaned over to kiss you, licking the salty tears from your face. You were only slightly aware of him leaving hickeys and bites over your neck and chest, adding to the growing tension in your lower half.

"Show me your a good girl, don't hold out on me now" he mocked and you came again with a cry. "Daddy, need you please" you begged and who was he to deny such a pretty thing?

"Doing so well for me princess, not long now, just a couple more..." He said as he undid the ties around your legs. Moving between them, he pushed until your knees touched your chest, ankles by his shoulders and he sank into you with one smooth thrust, his previous load leaking out as he delivered a long, slow fuck. You were so sensitive, but heard yourself begging "more, more, more" in-between kisses, tugging at the binds at your wrists.

He sank is fingers into your open mouth, making you choke, your pussy clenching around his cock as he did it. He continued to fuck you and choke you, tears streaming down your cheeks as you drew closer and closer to another orgasm, not entirely sure you could manage more, knowing that wasn't really an option if Bucky was having his way.

You began to float, your focus solely on the fingers in your mouth and the cock in your pussy. The pleasure and the ache that was taking over you. Somewhere you heard him mumble sweet praises and dirty growls.

"Come, now." A firm voice cut through the haze and you could do nothing else, you legs squeezing around him. You arms had become unbound and your hands flew to Bucky, threading your fingers through his soft hair, tugging and pulling as your release continued on.

True to his word, he pulled out and he manoeuvred himself so he could cover your face and chest with his come, pumping his cock as he groaned. Being his good girl, you stuck out your tongue and used your free hands to stroke his balls, prolonging his own release.

When he was finished you fell back on the bed spread eagle, every muscle throbbing with satisfaction as your eyes fell shut. You felt Bucky hover over you and you opened your eyes, a smile gracing both your faces.

"How are you sweetheart?" He muttered taking in your glassy eyes, puffy lips and his own come on your perfect face. "So good, daddy" you whispered as you dragged your fingers across your face and took it into your mouth. You both moaned as you licked your fingers clean.

"Careful babydoll, don't be teasing now" he gently admonished. You grinned at him and stroked his chin, his scratchy beard feeling good against you soft fingers. He pressed some kisses to your fingertips and smiled at you. "Let's get you cleaned up princess and we can get all snuggly hmm?" You nodded and let him carry you to the bathroom.

You looked up at him, feeling so small and fragile in his arms. "Was I good?" You whispered, threading your fingers in his hair. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and squeezed you tighter. "Perfect sweetheart, my best girl, so proud of you."

You smiled and laid your head on his shoulder again. Content in his arms for the rest of the night, feeling safe and loved.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan #masterlist #dom!bucky #bucky x you

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thera-daydreams · 3 years

Text

KABILANG BUHAY

× A TRESE ONESHOT ×

[Crispin x Ghost!Reader]

📝 Summary: Your demigod husband remembers you—everything about you—and how much he absolutely loved you. He remembers everything, including the memory that hurt the most.

📌 Warning: Contains fluff, angst, character death, and mentions of violence (because an angry Crispin being the son of a wargod is bound to shed some blood somewhere). Masakit po talaga 'tong songfic na 'to, trust me. If you don't want to get hurt, scroll awaaaay. Pero if you want maximum 1000% ultra heavy pain, then listen to the song below on repeat while reading, too.

Song: Kabilang Buhay by Bandang Lapis

(word count: 5,642)

"Masasayang mga araw na kasama kita."

Warm. Crispin always remembered you to be so warm—every single part of you. The heat of your skin against his whenever he held you, that whimsical sparkle in your eyes whenever you saw the little joys in life, that sprightly curve of your lips whenever you two teased each other, and the radiance he saw from you whenever you were around the people you loved.

In his eyes, there was always a halo around your head or a beam of light following you around. Perhaps he was biased; perhaps he saw you through rose-tinted glasses, but it didn't matter to him. To the demigod, you were everything he ever wanted.

You were the one.

You were also one of the sweetest people he'd ever met. Every morning without a fail, there would always be a hot cup of kape and a plate of pandesal on the table—not only for him, but for everyone else in your little family, too. Alexandra, Hank, and of course, his younger brother Basilio. Even before you became his girlfriend, you'd treated them as your own loved ones.

That was the day he knew you were truly the one for him. The one who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The one he wanted to build a home with. The woman he wanted to marry and have children with, if you were okay with it (when that conversation came, you said you would be happy and honored to be his wife).

Crispin said it was the other way around. It was he who was fortunate and honored to be your husband. You'd laughed in response, kissing his cheek. There were no fancy rings or a formal, elaborate proposal involved, but that day—he remembered clearly that you had that conversation on a chilly December 1st, 9:24PM, right before you two went to bed—was an unspoken promise.

You two would be inseparable and together 'til death do you part.

Going back to that coffee and bread, he always wondered how you managed to keep it so fresh (you said it was a secret, but later on you spilled the beans to him after him pestering you). Even if he woke up at noon because of missions with his bossing and his brother, palaging mainit ang kape at pandesal. You must have had some sort of superpower you weren't telling him (you rolled your eyes, telling him that superpower came in the form of a microwave).

"Paglalambing at kulit mo na hindi nakakasawa."

He was by no means clingy or touch-starved, but whenever he was around you, he had the need to at least hold you in any way. Sometimes, it was the usual PDA (Basilio and Maliksi teased him about it, but he didn't care if it meant having some sort of contact with you; Alexandra just let it be because she knew how much you two loved each other). In public, you guys toned it down—settling with holding hands or you just linking your arm through his. If he was driving the car, his hand would either be innocently resting on your thigh or your hand which was on your lap. If you were the one driving the car, then it would be your hand on his thigh or his hand. He loved to draw circles on your skin whenever he was daydreaming or starting to doze off, too.

You as a couple often expressed your love for each other in different ways, and not just by saying it out loud. One thing Crispin adored the most about your relationship was the way you voicelessly said "I love you". If it wasn't clear enough that acts of service was one of your love languages, then he could understand that you loved him back through three taps.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

At first, he had no clue what it meant. You just kept doing it whenever you were near him, on whatever body part you could touch. If he was driving? Tap, tap, tap on his thigh. If he was the one cooking? You'd hug him from behind and then one of your fingers would go tap, tap, tap on his waist. If you were eating together? You'd take his palm then just... tap, tap, tap while chewing on whatever food it was you had in your mouth.

He recalled that afternoon you guys were eating at a simple Japanese place. While you slurped up some of the wheat noodles and the savory soup, you were excitedly doing a little happy dance as you ate—the one you did whenever you ate something you found yummy. Frankly, Crispin found it endearing. He, too, was guzzling down some of the ramen when you reached out for his hand then laid it on the table palm up.

With a mischievous smile and your puffed up cheeks looking like a chipmunk from the noodles you'd gobbled up, you gently tapped his palm with your index finger, that same glint in your eye whenever you did that gesture.

"... Anong ginagawa mo, mahal?" Crispin chuckled, a brow raised. He found it cute but he had no idea what it was supposed to stand for.

"Wala lang," you mysteriously answered in a muffled voice, swallowing.

"You know, you shouldn't talk when your mouth is full," he pointed out, amused. You snorted, gulping.

"Not my fault you asked a question, Crispin," you retorted, shoving in another bite of noodley goodness with your chopsticks. You did a mini-wiggle when the umami flavor exploded on your tongue (the ramen was bussin', bestie). Ratatouille would be impressed!

"But seriously, what does the tap stand for?" your boyfriend wondered. You did it again. Tap, tap, tap.

"Isn't it obvious?" you smiled. He then sweat-dropped.

"Wait, keep smiling," Crispin leaned over the table, removing a tiny bit of the dahon sibuyas stuck on one of your front teeth with his nail. He then popped that finger into his mouth, making you blink at the action.

"Ay, may naiwan pala. Hehehehehe." With how long you two have been dating, you were no longer embarrassed if you did get anything stuck in your teeth and he had to get it out (it's happened in more occasions than you could count). You did the same to him (and trust me, you were way past the stage of getting grossed out from the gross habits couples did). At least you two were a hundred percent comfortable and open to one another, right? Sanaol.

Crispin nodded, going back to eating his noodles, "Okay, back to the topic. What does this—" He tapped your palm the same way you did. "—even mean?"

Your grin just grew wider then you whispered into his ear, "I love you."

"... I love you, too," he answered automatically, still not understanding. "But what do the taps mean? You keep doing it and—"

You did it again on his hand.

"I." Tap.

"Love." Tap.

"You." Tap.

At long last, that look of realization came upon his features, "... Aaaaaaaaah."

You chuckled, all brightness and merriness from your revelation to the man you loved. "Gets mo na, mahal?"

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Oo, mahal. Hehe."

"... Can we order another bowl of ramen? Please?" With those puppy-dog eyes? Crispin could never resist. He'd rip the world apart for you and build it back up from scratch if you wanted him to.

That was how deep his love was for you. Kapag nagmamahal ang isang diyos, walang imposible... 'di ba?

He was already raising a hand to call for a waiter, "Sure. Basta maubos mo."

"... And if half lang maubos ko?"

He sighed, "... Edi ako kakain sa anong maiiwan." What was the saying whenever you found your soulmate? Oh, yes.

True love is getting fat together.

Maybe it was true for both of you.

When you two exited the ramen place, you patted your bloated tummy. "Haaaay, busog na busog si food baby," you sighed in happiness, adjusting the the top of your high-waisted skirt to loosen it up for more space. You elbowed him slightly, wiggling your eyebrows at him and mimicking Kylie Jenner, "Soooo, I'm thirty-four weeks today."

"'Luh, ang drama mo," Crispin snickered, poking your rounded side playfully and making you pout. "Nagdadalang tao ka pala, ha. Ako ang tatay pero hindi mo sinabi sa akin na buntis ka." He wouldn't lie, but thoughts of you being pregnant with a child warmed his entire being. Mini-yous and mini-hims running around.

What a dream.

"Nagdadalang tae lang po, manong," you stuck your tongue out at him, then stopped. He stopped walking, too, looking at you questioningly.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Mahal?" you paused. Gulugulugulugulu. Oh no. Mayday, mayday!

"Did you forget something at the restaurant?" he asked. You shook your head in response, telling him there was an emergency.

"... Mahal, natatae ako."

"Like, now?" You nodded at him with wide, doe-like irises. His eyes crinkled, finding the situation hilarious. "Really? Oh shit. Literally. Is this because we were talking about poop?"

Crispin could only cackle as you rummaged through your bag for some wet wipes (and the situation led to you two running around the mall like psychos looking for the nearest restroom—grabe ang cold sweat mo, sis; it was that type of pooping session).

As he waited outside the women's comfort room, he found himself smiling like a weirdo from your date today. Nagdadalang tae o nagdadalang tao, he wouldn't love you any other way.

"Punong-puno ng ligaya ang ating pagsasama."

He found himself unconsciously doing the tapping to you, as well. Tap. Tap. Tap. He only now realized how many times you've been saying "I love you" everyday. Usually, you'd only verbally say it out loud three times: in the morning waking up, whenever he left for a mission, or the times you went to sleep together (because of the nature of his work, it was uncommon, but if he was at home during the night, he'd make sure to say it to you). But now that he knew what the taps meant, he counted them for one week from Monday to Sunday.

You were sitting on the couch, on your stomach and sprawled vertically over his lap. He was watching a basketball game on television while you were on your phone, scrolling through Facebook. It was all quiet until he tapped his finger thrice on your calf. You beamed, rolling over to face him then gently tapping his cheek three times—not with your fingers, but with your hands, smooshing his cheeks then pecking his lips.

"Fwifee-hweif," he said. You tilted your head at him, letting go of his cheeks.

"What was that?" you curiously inquired.

"Fifty-eight," Crispin gave you his signature flirty grin. "You tapped me one hundred seventy-four times today. And one hundred seventy-four divided by three—because I love you has three syllables—is equal to fifty-eight." His affectionate gaze to you softened. "Mahal, you've told me I love you fifty-eight times today."

You just hugged him and hid your face in his neck, "I love you, too, manooooong."

"... Wanna watch a K-drama tonight?" he said, his voice rumbling through his chest as you laid your head on it.

"Mmhmm."

You guys ended up binging Scarlet Heart Ryeo and bawling your eyes out (Crispin cried louder than you, actually, and the box of tissues was passed back n' forth between you two).

"Punyeta, walang Season Two?" Crispin cursed, blowing his nose.

You hiccupped, shaking your head and scrolling through the categories, "W-Wala e-eh, m-mahal."

"Seryoso ka ba?" he gaped, wiping his tears after wiping yours. "That's how it ends?"

You nodded, sniffling, "Uh-huh."

The next morning, when all of you gathered in the kitchen for breakfast, Alexandra and the others could only stare, nagtataka kung bakit namamaga ang mga mata niyo (yeah, they were swollen as hell).

"... Anyare sa inyo?" Alexandra quizzed. Hank, while pouring everyone some juice, had a worried look on his face, too.

"Nag-away ba kayong dalawa, Kuya?" Basilio questioned. You both shook your head simultaneously.

"Hindi," Crispin shortly answered, exhausted from crying with you all night.

"Nanood lang kami ng K-drama," you supplied, as worn out as your boyfriend was.

"Aaaaaaah."

"Na parang wala nang sisira ng lahat."

The date always held some significance to him, not only because it meant only a few days before Christmas but also because it was the day you promised to one another that you'd be endgame.

December 1st.

It would repeat in his head over and over again until the day he died.

The two of you were lying in bed, the cold night air entering through the open windows. You were leaning on his chest in-between his lap, reading The Count of Monte Cristo. He noticed that your expression often shifted between being giddy to being angry or smug at what was happening to the main character.

"... Mahal?"

"Yeah?" you responded, not taking your eyes off the novel. You flipped another page.

"What kind of ring do you want? Para alam ko kung magkano ang iiponin ko?" he quietly asked, his thumb caressing your temple. Normally, men wanted this to be a surprise or didn't talk about this but he only wanted you to have something you'd cherish for the rest of your life. You tilted your head back to look up at him. "Do you want those with the big gems or the smaller and simpler ones?"

You gazed back at your novel, then sat up and closed it, turning to look at him. "Crispin." You took his hands in your own (he tapped it thrice, making a teeny smile creep up your lips). "Hindi ko kailangan ng singsing."

His eyes grew wide, "... Are you sure? You don't want to be formally married?"

You frantically shook your head, "Nooooooo, noooo! That's not what I meant, dummy. I just wanted to tell you that I don't need an expensive ring to be yours." You kissed him. "And to be your wife."

"Pero—"

"Mahal, if we ever do have kids, mahal ang gatas, diaper, at tuition," you childishly told him. "Kung magpapakasal tayo, I don't need a huge proposal or a big wedding. Let's put the funds away for a house and for the future, 'mkay?"

"... But you won't have a ring," he sulked.

Getting an idea, you hopped off the bed and open your cabinet, finding a piece of durable string on one of your shirts. With a strong tug, it came off. You walked back towards your boyfriend, flopping back down then looping it on your left ring finger. You held your hand up to him, "There. I have a ring now, see?"

Crispin had never ever loved anyone as much as he did right now. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his head, though. "... I feel like I've seen this in a movie before, mahal."

"Duuuuh. I got the idea from the Count of Monte Cristo. Mercedes promises herself to Dantes with a string ring! Sorry nalang if copyright infringement ang ginawa ko, hihi." You showed him the book you were reading, the smile not disappearing from your face. Feeling ecstatic, he kissed you passionately right on the spot.

"Ipapangako mo sa akin na magsasama tayo nang walang hanggan?" Crispin whispered against your lips. "Magpakailanman?"

You kissed him, rolling your eyes, "Oo na, Crispin. Corny mo talaga, manong. Such a hopeless romantic, like me!" Another kiss. "I'll stay with you forever and ever and eveeeeeer and grow old with you. We'll get that rest house in the mountains, travel the world together, win the lotto, and do anything we want!" you declared determinedly.

"Promise? Talaga?"

You grinned, wriggling your little finger, "Pinky promise."

He linked his pinky with yours, "Okay. Pinky promise, wifey."

"Okaaaaay, hubby," you quipped, settling down and snuggling into him.

9:24PM, he saw the digital clock display before he pulled the covers over you both, keeping you warm and safe in his arms.

"Bakit pa dumating ang oras na ito?"

"Mahaaaaal, pauwi na ako. Huwag kang mag-alala," you quietly told Crispin over the phone. He was on another investigation, but while their bossing was speaking to Captain Guerrero and Lieutenant Tapia about the case, he used the spare time he had to check up on you.

You had been buying groceries, but knowing you, Crispin had a feeling you had gone to do some other errands.

"Pauwi ka na? Meaning, you're driving home?" He sighed, "And why are you whispering?"

"... Ehehehe," you nervously giggled.

"Anong ehehehehe?" the demigod asked you, suspicious. "Mahal, saan ka na ba talaga?"

"Nasa banko pa ako. Oopsies," you admitted shamelessly. "But I just finished paying the bills. I'm actually walking away from the counter now and—"

You suddenly stopped talking. For a second, the son of the wargod thought that the signal had gone bad.

"Mahal?"

Your voice had gone distant, but it seemed like it was talking to someone else. He strained to hear what you were saying.

"Hey, hey... shhhh, little one, huwag kang umiyak," he heard you say. Your voice seemed so far away. You seemed like you were trying to shush a person. A kid.

"I want my mom!" a child wailed.

"... Langga, come here. At huwag kang masyadong maingay." If it weren't for his heritage as a god, he would have barely been able to hear what you said.

Were you comforting a kid? Awww. He was about to just end the call then text you instead when another much louder and crueler voice could be heard over the phone. No, there wasn't only one voice. There were more.

"Mamatay kayong lahat! Balang araw, hindi na mga tao ang mamumuno sa mundong ito!"

Then there was a sound that was unmistakably a gunshot.

"Nabalitaan ko na wala ka na."

Bang!

His blood went cold. Almost every day he handled firearms in his line of work, so of course he knew what it sounded like. The shrieks and terrified shouts came after the gunshots.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The last thing he heard were more gunshots, then the call ending.

He had never sprinted to Alexandra so fast before, frantically begging her to let him use the Dragon's Gate to teleport to wherever you were, even if it made him physically sick and nauseous.

Crispin didn't give a damn what happened to him, as long as nothing happened to you.

"Hindi ba't sabi mo hindi mo ko iiwan?"

It all happened so fast. One moment he was silently praying to Bathala for your safety while looking for you in the chaos. The next? He was scouring through the overwhelmed emergency room of the nearest hospital, where it was flooded with victims from the mall shooting.

It was a mess, with bleeding patients on the floor as nurses tried to assist. Others were seated on monobloc chairs that had been quickly put on the corridors. There was an overwhelming number of patients taken to the hospital either through ambulances or police cars themselves. It already began to stink of death, and Crispin hated it. His bloodlust as a wargod was creeping up his veins from the stench and his inner fury, but he held it in. He needed to find you first.

Behind him, Alexandra and Basilio were searching for you, too. When he told them what happened, they didn't hesitate to help and be transported to the mall as quick as possible. Captain Guerrero had already dispatched units after hearing what occurred (there was also an alarm that had blared in the station—a bank employee must have pressed an emergency button or something).

Surprisingly, in the midst of the havoc happening inside the hospital, he found himself walking towards the Trauma Bay of the hospital like a magnet. He had no idea where he was going, but he just kept going, and he stopped by a less crowded hallway. If he just went straight forward, he would be entering an operating room.

"Excuse me, coming through! Make some way!" It was a doctor who yelled from behind him. He turned around.

"Hindi papabayaan na ako'y mag-isa."

And as if time went by slower, he found you on a stretcher, being wheeled through the corridor as a nurse was on the bed with you, performing CPR. He saw the amount of blood gushing out of the bullet wounds on your body; one on your back, another on your stomach, and a third on your thigh.

Crispin couldn't help but run after them, asking one of the health professionals what was happening to you, "Nurse! Nurse, is she going to be okay!?"

"Are you her family?" they quickly interrogated. Alexandra and Basilio rounded the corner right as the nurse asked him that. Both held their breaths when they saw the tormenting state you were in, unconscious and on the brink of death.

The eldest demigod frenziedly nodded, "Yes, yes! I'm family!" He glanced at your bleeding form, and his heart clenched seeing the string ring on your finger, a bit of blood splattered over it. "I'm... I'm her husband! Asawa ko siya!"

You weren't formally or legally married yet, but to his eyes (and many of the others who knew you both), you were practically husband and wife.

"Good," the nurse said as they rushed you into the O.R., stopping Crispin from entering any further. "Sir, we need you to tell us your wife's name and her health details, please. She has to be operated on as soon as possible. We need her age, blood type, her comorbidities or allergies, if any..."

Crispin knew them all. He'd memorized them. And he told the nurses everything they needed for the operation. As long as it saved you, he'd say anything. Do anything.

"Hindi ba't sabi mo sabay tayong tatanda?"

It was a grueling operation, he could tell. Crispin had been pacing continuously in the waiting room, not even daring to sit from how anxious he was about you. Hank had come instantly to the hospital after hearing, and now there were three seated and extremely worried people watching him panic outside the operating room.

"God, please let her be okay," he continued to mumble to himself, fiddling with his fingers. "Please, please, please..."

"Kuya, umupo ka muna," Basilio tried to convince his brother.

"Oo nga," Hank frowned.

"You've been standing for five hours," Alexandra gave him a saddened look. "You should rest."

The older demigod shook his head, "I can't, bossing. Hindi pwede. Not until I know that she's okay."

As if on cue, the head surgeon came out of the operating room. Crispin nearly jolted and would have grabbed the man's collar had it not been for Alex and his brother holding him back, calming him down. No one could tell what he was about to say until he removed his surgical mask.

The four occupants waited for his response, antsy. The tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

"Doc? Is she okay? Is she gonna be alright?" Crispin asked, troubled out of his mind. Alex's grip on his arm tightened, and so did Basilio's hold on his shoulder. "Doc, please say somethi—"

"... I'm sorry," the surgeon shook his head, a somber look on his face.

It was like the universe stopped for the demigod. The two people holding him were the only ones to support him when his knees buckled.

"We did everything we could. She lost too much blood, and the bullets hit too many vital organs," the doctor explained forlornly. "We performed CPR and a cardiac massage on her for thirty minutes, but she did not make it through the rest of the operation."

The words just echoed emptily through Crispin's ears.

"Bakit bigla ka na lang nandiyan sa kabilang buhay?"

When he entered the morgue alone, he didn't know why but he was expecting you to be sitting up and smiling, almost hearing your teasing voice telling him it was all a cruel prank. At first, that was what he saw. He saw the love of his life, soft skin flushed and curled up lips filled with so much love directed at him. He saw you radiant—glowing; that familiar twinkle in your magnificent eyes. He reached out to hold your left hand, awaiting its warmth.

Awaiting the three taps.

The taps that would tell him "I love you" and "I'm okay".

Crispin even waited a minute. Maybe you were still there, hanging on. Maybe... just maybe... you were fighting.

"Mahal?" he croaked out, squeezing your hand.

"Paano na ang lahat? Paano na ako, tayo?"

Those three taps never came. One minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes.

Only then did he really see you. The illusion all came crashing down.

Now your skin was so cold. So lifeless. So... opposite from what you were when you were alive. You were pale. Your lips were tinted blue. You were so still. So deathly still. Not one movement.

It freaked him out.

He couldn't believe it was you on that metal table—it didn't look like you. Where was the halo he always saw around your head? Where was that beam of light following you around?

His rose-tinted glasses suddenly became grey and dull. Taking your left hand, Crispin felt his heart shatter even more when his hand brushed the string ring on your finger. They had cleaned you up and made sure there was no blood left on your body, but nothing could remove those tiny, miniscule splatters that stained the string.

Remnants of what happened today.

You never did remove it. Even when showering or swimming or washing the dishes, you'd joked to him.

"See? 'Di ko nga kailangan ng singsing. Mas maganda pa nga 'to, eh. I can wear it all the time! Matibay pa!"

Crispin could nearly hear you, but it was all just a memory in his mind. God, he didn't want to forget your voice. Your laughter. Your cries. You whispering to him how much you loved him. He couldn't. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did.

Both of you didn't even get to say "I love you" one last time. But reality was harsh, and this wasn't a movie where the leading characters could have a lengthy monologue confessing to each other as the dramatic scene was drawn out from seconds into minutes.

There were no camera angles, no music, no time left, and no happy endings. Everything was raw. Real.

"Hindi ba't sinabi mo sa akin na sabay tayong mangangarap?"

"Mahal," his voice trembled as he held your icy hand to his lips, kissing it. "Huwag mo akong iwan. What about us? Our dreams? Andami pa nating pangarap, 'di ba? Mga gustong gawin?"

No response.

"Tatatanda pa tayo, 'di ba? Bibili pa tayo ng bahay na nasa bundok... then we'll travel the world together, right? We've... We've saved up half of the funds! You... You can't leave now..."

Silence.

Crispin felt tears dripping down his face. He hadn't noticed he was crying. Only with you could he be a sniveling mess—around the others, he always had to be the kuya. The responsible one. The oldest one. The loyal bodyguard.

With you? He could be anything and you would never judge him.

Even when you were dead, he was still a sniveling mess in your arms.

"Sabi mo gusto mong manalo sa lotto," he choked out, cupping your cheeks. It was so strange to him; how colorless they were compared to how... spirited you were in life. "I'll do that... I'll make that happen. Just please... please come back to me. Gagawin ko ang lahat... bumalik ka sa akin, mahal. Mahal..."

Crispin told himself nothing was impossible when a god loved someone, yet now all this god could do was be paralyzed by his despair.

"Bakit bigla kang lumisan nang hindi man lang nagpaalam?"

They say there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. People don't talk enough about how they weren't actually stages. They were just five emotions and there was no particular order they came in. They would come and go, and that was how dealing with loss really was.

Today, as he was cradling his departed soulmate and the only woman he knew he'd ever love this much—reduced to tears while nursing his broken heart—he was feeling denial, bargaining, and depression all at once.

Only then did he allow himself to feel anger—just pure, unadulterated fury—when Alexandra let him and his brother unleash their bloodlust to the guilty aswang clan that had been the culprits of the mall shooting. The bank robbery.

He had his vengeance.

The son of the wargod nearly became a god of war that night, coming home soaked in the same crimson that dripped off his guns. He swore to himself he'd rip the world apart for you and build it back from scratch. Thus, Crispin was merciless to those who murdered you and all those other innocent humans.

He took his time watching the life dissipate out of their eyes, especially since he didn't see yours before you died. They were already closed when he got to the hospital too late.

Denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. He'd felt all that as time passed, on and off.

Acceptance? That last stage? That last emotion? Crispin never did really get to that point. Perhaps he would. Perhaps he wouldn't. Only more time would tell.

"Isang malamig na hangin ang yumakap sa akin."

The demigod sat under the tree that shaded your gravestone, a bouquet of white and red roses beside him while he relaxed on the grass. It was a classic symbol of true and everlasting love. That was the vow you'd made to one another, right?

December 1st.

It had been one year since your death. Wasn't it funny how the fates worked? Two years ago, on this very day, you two promised each other that you'd be together forever. He said that this day would be memorable to him until the day he died because technically, it was your engagement slash informal wedding anniversary.

Then one year ago, you had been shot trying to protect a child from those armed aswang. You saved the kid, alright. Crispin even made sure that the little boy, one of the lucky survivors of the shooting, wouldn't be targeted by the aswang. He ensured your sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. But what was supposed to be a marriage anniversary turned into your death anniversary.

December 1st.

The day would indeed be eternally ingrained into his mind.

But now, he could only dwell on nostalgia as he crouched and cleaned your gravestone, polishing it after removing all the grass and dirt. Engraved on it were the words beloved friend, sister, and wife.

Wife.

He really should have married you before you were declared dead. It didn't matter now; you would always be his wife, even in death.

On the left side of your gravestone was his mother's tombstone. He did the same, cleaning it and polishing it. When he was done, he tapped your gravestone thrice, "Una na ako, mahal. Paalam din, Ma. Baka hanapin pa ako ni bossing."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He jerked, swerving around and standing up. He swore someone just touched his shoulder and—

Whoosh!

"Parang isang pahiwatig na magpapaalam ka na."

A gentle breeze came from behind him, where the tree was. Once more, he turned around.

Crispin didn't know what to do.

He thought he was dreaming, but he wasn't. He knew he wasn't. Not with the way your hand rested on his cheek. Not with how warm you felt.

Despite seeming almost transparent, you looked absolutely radiant, more so than when you were in life. If he was biased before about you having a halo and a beam of light following you around, now he wasn't (because you really did have a golden circle on your head and a candescent glow behind you).

You didn't speak, but again, you tapped your index finger thrice on his cheek. He was too stunned to react to the featherlight touch you had. It was almost nothing, but it was there. A ghostly tap, tap, tap.

"... Mahal?" he whispered.

You joyfully beamed at him (God, did you look divine), then planted a fragile kiss on his lips. You settled down on the roots of the tree and patted the patch of grass beside it. He sat down slowly. When he did, he removed his black gloves while you intertwined your hand with his.

On his left ring finger was a string ring made from that old shirt of yours. The same one you improvised your string ring from. It was how Crispin always remembered you and how he brought your memory everywhere with him.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The triple tapping. Perhaps it was your way of wordlessly saying you loved him while simultaneously bidding him goodbye as a ghost. He didn't know. You couldn't speak (or he couldn't hear you), so you did what you could.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Just that gesture every once in a while as you quietly listened to him tell you about his day.

When he had to leave, he saw you there by the tree, sitting and waving at him. The next time he came to visit, you were there. Always there, waiting.

And when you weren't, after a couple of decades, Crispin knew that it was time for him to let you go.

To let himself move on.

But that didn't mean he stopped hurting or stopped loving you. He could never stop loving you. Never.

Kahit kailangan ka niyang bitawan upang makapagpatuloy ka sa kabilang buhay, habangbuhay kang minahal ng isang diyos ng digmaan.

× AUTHOR'S NOTE ×

Nasa mood kasi akong manakit ng tao (because ngayon ko lang pinanood ang mga pelikula ni Rico Yan & Claudine Barretto after his death; ang pait eh, right person but wrong time). Medyo sadista pala ako, haha. Ayun, pati ako umiiyak habang nagsusulat nito. Even when I was showering, I was still crying and blowing my nose out. Sana nagustuhan niyo kasi pati author niyo nasaktan sa ginawa niya. 🥲😅

And that tapping gesture was inspired by a random Reddit post I saw years ago. As someone whose love language ain't saying stuff out loud, that just really called out to me. Acts of service kasi akin, eh.

Anyways, I finished writing this at like, 12AM. I'll just edit the typos and errors tomorrow because I want to get this oneshot off my chest. Goodnight! 😂💤

Comments and constructive criticism are welcome! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, too! (Yes, you may also rant at me for this.) 💙

TAGLIST: @belladaises @binibiningbabaylan @4kodzuk3n @sparklingmallow @severuslovebot @holyshxtangel @marinac15 @space-flamingo @pippethealien @kashasenpai @disappointmentpastry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @seijohoe @monimiin @ibelievein2dmensupremacy @tinybonksharkcop @hannalogies @banisuoh @genshin-idiot @lemonnie-kimmie @haliya-mori

#trese #trese 2021 #trese netflix #crispin #crispin x reader #trese fic #x reader #trese x reader #thera.writes

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ardent-musings · 3 years

Text

“Strike Three?” A Neville Longbottom Smut

EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS OF LEGAL AGE AND CONSENTING

Warnings: NSFW 18+, sub!nev, dom!femreader, swearing, slapping (one hit), oral (f and m receiving), vaginal sex, teasing, slight degradation, unprotected sex. (WRAP IT UP YALL)

He wasn't happy anymore.

No matter how hard he tried to convince you he was happy being an Auror, his growing exhaustion and increased amount of nightmare alerted you to his unease. Your once happy and relaxed Neville would come home, only to be reminded of his time in the war. When he was recruited by the Ministry to work for them, he felt honored; for the first time he was really being recognized for his strength and bravery.

But that wasn't who he was. Neville wasn't made to hunt down dark wizards his whole life. He was made for something kinder. Something that wouldn't make him come home looking half alive.

Just like he did today.

"Hi, bubs," you sighed as you caught notice of his dark sullen under eyes.

"Hi, petal," he responded while dropping onto the couch with a huff. He started rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

He was hunched over and tense, the veins in his neck were popped from the strain his job put him under. Unable to see him suffer, you went behind him to rub and massage the sore spot near the base of his neck.

"Love," Neville groans at your skilled fingers working at the knots in his muscle. His deep throaty whine made your stomach twist.

"Does that help any, my love?" You hummed near his ear, massaging behind it to release the ache in his neck.

"It feels perfect," he replied quietly, mewling at the soft digs against his skin.

His head dipped back, exposing the expanse of his skin to your greedy eyes. Neville was always a cutie pie; however, the boy really grew up. Ever since he ran DA during his seventh year, Neville was a combination of gentle power and taunt muscle. He grew out of his baby fat, and sprung up into the attractive man you knew and fell in love with. You loved him however he looked; but his tight shoulder muscles looked beautiful under your fingertips.

Neville's eyes were closed, his mouth dropped open at the feel of your hands against his skin. But before he could enjoy it too much, you stopped massaging is neck and rounded the couch to face him.

He was tired and sore, but his eyes burned into yours with lust, but there was no signs of fire or fight in his olive brown irises.

You knelt down, sitting on your heels as you rubbed up and down the expanse of his work pants.

"I wanna play with you, love," you whispered to your tired boy.

He whined lowly, a sound that lit up the fire in your stomach and sent a chill down your spine. Neville was always so beautiful when he gave up all premonitions and embraced your control.

"I wanna play with you," you repeated while unbuckling the silver hardware of his belt. His eyes closed, brows furrowing, and chest heaving as you toyed with the waistband of his jeans.

"Love," he groaned, although, the words barely escaping his pouty pink lips, "God, please do whatever you want to me."

"Is that an order?" You cautioned. Neville was not going to be in control tonight; both of you knew it. But you needed him to be aware of the power dynamic this given night.

"No!" he cried. "No, no, that wasn't an order."

"Then what was it?"

He shifted in his seat, wiggling as you dragged the belt out of the looped holes and began making quick work of his zipper.

"What was it?" You asked with a bit more grit.

"A plead? Fuck!"

Neville's explanation was cut short, the feeling of your hand wrapped around his cock was already an overwhelming feeling and the most release he had gotten all day. You gripped onto his thigh with a firm grasp, nails digging lightly into the soft skin, making your boy groan at the light scratch marks that littered his leg.

"Wanna feel good, baby boy?" You teased. "Want me to play with your pretty cock until I get you off?"

"God, fuck yes," he whined, the words coming out in pieces as you flicked your wrist, pumping only the tip of his dick. You knew just how sensitive he was there.

Neville cried out at the slap you administered to her thigh, making him jump and groan in pleasure at the tingly sting. The pale skin already started turning red: a sign of your time together.

"Yes, what?" You teased as you kitten licked him all while you massaged his heavy balls in a single hand, the other one teased the inside of his thigh.

"Yes, ma'am," his brows furrowed in the middle, a mixture of both pain and pleasure etched across every inch of his cute face.

Having literally the situation in the palm of your hand, you wanted to fully take advantage of the strong man in front of you. Your speed increased, making Neville whine and moan out quiet whimpers at the feelings you were imposing on him.

His neck covered in a thin layer of sweat and goosebumps, every nerve and neuron was fired up at the feeling of your lips wrapped around him. You giggled and slapped him against your tongue, treating him like your little toy to play with.

"God fucking damnit," Neville pouted, threading his fingers into the hair at the base of your neck, bucking up into your warm mouth for even more friction. He just needed a few more pumps to get off.

But you wouldn't let him.

Strike one.

With a pop, you rose from your kneeled position, just to straddle his lap and grab him by his throat, pinning him to the back of the couch. Neville's eyes were blown wide from his delayed high, his mouth dropping in pleasure at the squeeze around his neck.

"Did I say you could touch me, sweet slut?"

"No," he groaned, his dick leaking desperately against his work shirt, "I'm sorry. Please, god, I'm sorry. Love, please make me cum."

"You wanna cum?" You mocked back to him in a sickeningly sweet voice, your grip tightening slightly around his neck. "Does my big boy wanna cum for me?"

Your boyfriend mumbled his wishes and desires, his thumb grazing the exposed skin at the hem of your shirt, just yearning for a touch of your skin.

Strike two.

"I said no touching, Nev," you chastised as you grabbed both of his wrists and pinning them to the couch cushions, leaving him laying down beneath you. "Shirt off. Now."

The sweet, sensitive boy responded immediately, his work shirt was gone in a second. He was now fully naked beneath you, his skin was littered with scars and healing bruises, and yet he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. And he was yours.

"Get to work, pretty baby," you instructed as you shuffled up his chest, hovering your clothed pussy over his chest. "Think you're up for the challenge?"

"Yes, yes, please, love. Sit on my face, petal. I'll make you feel so good."

Neville had totally disregarded his own release, the idea of getting you off gave him something to focus on. And you weren't going to ask a second time. So within seconds, you sat with knees around his shoulders, waiting for Nev's next move considering his wrists were still pinned above his head.

"Want me to sit down, honey? Think you can eat my pussy as good as you can fuck it?"

His head craned higher, trying to get a taste of you before he was even given permission. Your teasing was growing to be too much, his cock rested on his lower belly, dreadfully sensitive from being left on the edge.

Graciously, you lowered yourself to his face, grinding lightly against his crooked nose for the meantime. Neville groaned at your taste, his tongue dipping to trace along your panties and to suck against your clit. The one thing Neville was always fantastic at, was eating your out. But seeing his arms pinned above him, made you even wetter; it was always a sight to see when Neville grew so desperate to get you off.

"Keep your hands up," you ordered as you then brought your hands the his hair, tugging and dragging his face against your cunt, doing your best to get off before he ever could.

Reluctant moans left your lips, Neville was just too good with his mouth.

"Wanna get me off, toy?" You taunted, finding it filthy how all your boyfriend could do was moan in response against your panties. "Think you can even get me off like that? Only using your mouth to get me off, yeah?"

Once again, all your boy could do was groan against you, taking in every grind and hair pull with a smile and a twitch to his cock.

"Fuck, Neville, you're gonna make me cum. Get me there, honey. Get your girl to feel good."

And he did. It only took a few more swivels of your pussy against his hungry lips to make your back arch. You dug his hands into the couch beneath him, fully grinding his face as if it were a pillow. He made you cum incredibly hard, your legs shook around his head as you filled with the feeling of your high.

You released his hands and resituated your legs to cradle his hips, now straddling him. Neville's chin was glistening in your cum, making him lick his lips as if he had just eaten some delicious candy or butterbeer.

"Now's your time baby," You promised as you grabbed his cock and lined it up with you. "But you gotta work for it."

Neville's confused look amused you, you could see the gears turning in his head.

"I'm not gonna sink down onto your cock, pretty boy."

It took Neville a second to understand, but he got the memo. Without touching you, he began snapping his hips up into your soaked and sensitive cunt. His deepness was surprising, given the fact that you refused to put in the extra bit of work. But Neville was desperate beyond relief, his hips jutted off the couch to fuck you deep and fast even if you weren't meeting him halfway. You rubbed at your clit as Neville threw his head back at the squeeze of you against him.

"Gonna cum, pretty boy?" You asked while gripping onto his hair.

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck.." Neville groaned out loudly, his hips stuttering as he worked himself into a sweat. "Fuck, please let me cum. Let me cum. Love."

"Go on, love," you moaned above him, growing close to your second release. "Cum for me. "

Neville cried out loudly as you began bouncing furiously on top of him, giving him the friction he needed. He fully forgot the "no touching" rule, as he ran his hands up and down your smooth thighs as you both came in unison.

His cries and your demands were like a catalyst to the other, making your orgasms so incredibly intense. You fell on top of his bare chest, placing kisses against his collarbone and Adam's apple. A gentle blow of air against his neck made Neville groan, his body sensitive from all the teasing but so wonderfully taken care of all the same.

He twirled you hair between his fingers, finding comfort in your softest features.

"Thank you, petal. I needed that so much," he admitted with blushing cheeks.

"Of course my love, I just hate seeing you so stressed from work. You deserve to do something you adore, honey."

"I adore you."

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom smut #carmi writes smut

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puddingsoft · 4 years

Text

Pudding for my Pudding

You are greeted by your favourite soft strawberry lips, rosy cheeks, and round eyes that only grow wider as you place dessert on the table. “Eat up baby” you say as you plant a kiss on his cheek and perch in the seat opposite. He sighs in pleasure as the lemon oozes out of the meringue pie and into his mouth. Soon his tummy will be warm and full.

Nights like this are becoming the new normal for you two, and you are starting to see the effects on his middle. His flat torso was becoming softer and pressing into his shirt, cheeks growing rounder, and thighs blooming into the free space on the chair. When he’s finished he looks sleepy and content. But not too sleepy to return the favour.

He takes your hand and pulls you into his lap, kissing your lips and trailing more gentle kisses down your neck. “You didn’t have any dessert” he says softly. “It’s ok, I like making it for you” you reply as he pulls you closer. He makes quite a comfortable seat. You can feel his packed tummy pressing into you as you kiss. “Let me make it up to you” he whispers.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

You come home from work to find him snoozing on the couch in a fluffy white sweater. Weeks of over-indulgence have left him with an equally fluffy tummy nestled happily underneath the jumper. You can see it moving up and down with each quiet snore. Cute.

You move to the kitchen and start making dinner. As the smell wafts though the house, you feel something soft press into your back, then two fluffy arms snake around your front.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Mmmmm” he replies, half asleep.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

You wake to a huffing noise coming from the walk-in-robe in your bedroom. Quietly making your way out of bed, you peak your eyes around the corner.

He’s trying to wiggle into a pair of jeans he hasn't worn since you moved in together. He has managed to pull them over his plush behind, but is having trouble with the button. He sucks in his tummy and tries again, unsuccessfully, and makes a huffing noise. As he exhales his round tum bounces back to it’s former glory.

“Having trouble?” you say.

His cheeks grow pink when he realises he’s being watched.

“I think these are a little bit small” he says quietly.

You wrap your arms around him from behind and place your hands on the soft dome of his belly.

“You’ve just grown a little bit” you reply while softly patting the widest part of his tummy. He relaxes into your touch as you start to rub his sides.

“I’ve been so hungry” he whimpers quietly “I didn’t mean to get bigger”.

“I like my chunky baby” you reply softly and plant a kiss on his plush cheek. He giggles.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

He yawns, stretching his arms after the movie ends and you notice that his shirt can no longer contain his growing belly. He pulls it down but it springs back up, letting you keep your view of exposed tum. You reach over and give the visible flesh a gentle poke.

“Looks like it’s time to go shirt shopping” you tease.

He pulls down his shirt again and it springs back up. He's been stubborn about replacing his shirts “It’s only the jeans that need replacing” he had insisted. He looks a little worried so you climb onto his lap and press a gentle kiss onto his clothed tummy. He makes a pleasurable gasping noise so you pepper more kisses onto his soft middle.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

You’re making dinner a few weeks later when you feel that familiar softness squishing into your back. The same fluffy arms find your waist. You turn around to face him and realise the space between you has grown. The plush tummy in between you makes a rumbly noise and he blushes.

The bigger he gets, the needier he becomes. You’re trained to notice the blush in his full cheeks and go into pamper mode. He needs to know how pretty and soft he looks.

You crouch a little and place your ear against his middle and it rumbles softly. You pat it and reply.

“Thank you, I know I’m a wonderful cook.”

The belly grumbles back. You look up at him, from this angle it looks like he has a double chin as he meets your eye contact.

“Talkative today” you say and he smiles gently.

“What’s wrong baby?” you ask. Usually cooing at his growing midsection was enough to make him melt.

“I feel really fat today.”

“Fat? No way. Stand back and let me look at you.”

He moves back across the kitchen.

“Now do a spin.”

He rolls his eyes and spins around slowly.

“I think fat is the wrong word.”

Your eyes examine him hungrily. His cheeks were precious and full and his jawline had definitely softened. The obvious changes had occurred around his torso. The fluffy jumper that had once been oversized was now quite snug. You could see cute love handles forming over his sweatpants and the outline of his bellybutton. His thighs had thickened to support the rest of his body. He looked like a beautiful fluffy marshmallow.

“I think you look spoiled.”

He pouts at this but you can see he likes the description.

“Pampered?”

He blushes.

“A little bit greedy?”

His eyes widen at this. You hope you haven't overstepped.

“I like it when you treat me.” He replies softly. “I like getting softer with you”

The words ignite a fire in your own belly.

“But…”

Oh.

“What is it baby?”

“It’s not too much is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Am I too fat for you?”

You laugh and he looks like he might cry.

“I’m so sorry my love. I just thought I had made it pretty obvious how much I love this,” you say as you place your hands on his sides, gently framing his tummy.

He looks down nervously.

“You like that I’m bigger?”

“Oh baby. I love how chunky you are. You look delicious.”

“Is it ok if…”

He can’t look you in the eye.

“What is it sweet?”

“If I keep growing?”

You inhale sharply. Does he know how worked up you’re getting?

“It’s just that, I can’t seem to stop eating,” he continues “my tummy has a mind of it’s own” he says and rubs his middle. You feel like you might pass out from how cute he is.

“And I…I love feeling round, and soft, and…full”.

He looks up at you shyly, round eyes searching for approval under his long lashes. He looks alarmed when he notices your stunned expression.

“Sorry was that weird?”

“You know how good you feel when I make you dessert?” you ask. He nods, confused. You continue, “What you just said…makes me feel that good”.

He blushes and smiles. “So, you really like this?” he says, taking your hands and pressing them into his squishiest spot.

You grab onto his pudge and he squeaks excitedly.

“I don't know how much clearer I can make it. I’m very turned on by your body, yes.” You reply.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

You serve him a heavy slice of sticky date pudding and spoon some ice-cream on the side.

“Some pudding for my pudding” you say and rub his side before sitting down to start eating your own much smaller piece.

He makes happy noises while digging into his food and you watch contentedly. When he’s done, he takes your hand and pulls you onto his lap. There is a lot less space there for you lately, but he insists on having you close.

He kisses you and it tastes like caramel.

“Thank you for dessert,” he says while kissing down your neck. “How can I make it up to you?”

You look into his pretty round eyes, he wants to treat you.

“Can I rub your tummy?” you ask shyly. Now that he knows you're attracted to his growth, he's become more confident around you. In turn, you feel a little exposed every time you let your fingers flutter over his soft flesh.

“That’s all you want for dessert?” he asks incredulously. “Seems like another treat for me.”

“That’s all I want” you say as you slip a hand under his shirt.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

End.

#chubbyfic #soft feedism

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ragingpancake · 3 years

Text

Menace 2 Society

Set during any time period when Rodney and the gang are on Earth. Possible The Return era. John's away and Rodney finds out a life of crime really isn't for him even though he's really good at it. ~1600 words. Crack.

Author's Note: a repost from my old livejournal, written for @popkin16 allllllll the way back in 2011.

The alcohol stopped burning several shots ago. Now, it slides down as easily as a glass of water (hold the lemon) so he downs the cheap whiskey and motions for another. He thinks the bartender is smirking as he slides the glass across the counter, so Rodney salutes him sloppily with two fingers. "To," he hiccups and burps. Half the liquid sloshes out of the tiny glass as he raises it in thanks. "T'you. For keepin' the good stuff comin'," he says. Or at least that's what he tries to say but it's possible he's speaking Ancient. He swallows and drops the glass back to the smooth bar top and leans over, pressing his face against the cool wood. It feels good and he wants to close his eyes and just sleep. It's not like anyone would miss him anyway.

He sighs and rubs his cheek against it and then he sighs some more. This has turned out to be a spectacularly shitty day. "Ca'I get one more?" Rodney asks. He wiggles a single finger in the bartender's direction, but he will not be swayed. "Sorry buddy. I think you've had enough." It sounds familiar and Rodney remembers even though he came here to forget. "Says who?" He asks, drawing himself up to full height. It's most likely ineffective because he can feel himself swaying on his bar stool. He'll be lucky if he doesn't topple right over into the floor like Humpty Dumpty and that's enough to set him off in a fit of manly giggles. He mumbles the nursery rhyme under his breath--at least, he means to--as he stumbles to his feet and wrestles his wallet out of his back pocket. His fingers, normally so deft and skilled, feel fat and totally useless as he opens the flap and wrestles a wad of money out. It isn't easy but eventually he's successful. He tosses a couple tens down on the counter. "S'been real, m'man!" He calls to the bartender and sweeps his jacket gracefully off the back of the stool. Well, he thinks he sweeps it gracefully off the back of the stool except he's not graceful even under the best of circumstances and drunk out of his mind doesn't really count. He almost falls, but he compensates and manages to keep himself upright. He's the fucking man. "Smooth, McKay," he congratulates himself and saunters--stumbles--towards the exit. Rodney has one hand on the doorknob when the sound of raised voices catches his attention. He whirls around, but when he stops, the room keeps going and it takes a minute until it stops spinning until for him to see the cause of the argument. A guy who reminds him vaguely of Ronon save for the awesome hair, growling a woman who's smaller than Keller. Normally, he would back out quickly before the giant spots him because this is more John's forte than his, but fortified by several shots of cheap whiskey, Rodney puffs up his chest and opens his mouth before his brain catches up. "Hey!" The woman shrinks back, seemingly trying to disappear under the table as the guy turns, narrowing his eyes at Rodney. "The fuck is your problem?" The guy slurs. Rodney hasn't thought this far ahead but he tries for a defiant slouch and glares. "You're m'problem! Maybe you should jus'... jus' shut up and yell at someone your own size." Had John, Ronon, Teyla or even Zelenka been around, they would have reminded Rodney to take his own advice because how many times had he yelled at poor old Miko over the years? The guy laughs and rounds the table, but Rodney doesn't falter. If anything, he stands--tries to--a little straighter and rounds his broad shoulders. There's a very teeny tiny part of his brain, the part that's going to be pissed at him for potentially damaging valuable brain cells when he's not so drunk, that screams at him to run, but he just holds his ground. "You wanna say that to my face?" The guy asks, so close that Rodney can smell what he had for dinner. It's almost enough to make him throw up. "I said you should jus' shut up." The guy reaches out and shoves Rodney. The extra force is enough to knock him off his balance and he tumbles backwards into the coat rack. He's vaguely aware of the bartender yelling over to them, but he's annoyed now in a way that has nothing to do with idiot lab technicians. It's a struggle to get to his feet but he manages and this time when the guy swings, Rodney has enough foresight to duck. He'll thank Ronon later for teaching him to dodge the obvious blows and he'll thank Teyla for teaching him how to strike. His fist connects with the guy's nose and Rodney can feel the satisfying crunch under his fingers. "I did it!" He says, mildly surprised at actually landing a hit. The excitement doesn't last long though because he's only served to piss the guy off even more and this time when he swings, he doesn't miss. Rodney takes a couple of punches, but they're nothing compared to the beating he would have received before Atlantis, before Ronon

and Teyla, before John. They've taught him to use his bulk, his broad shoulders and big hands, to his advantage and while he doesn't escape completely unscathed, he's pleased to see that the other guy is no better off. Of course, he has exactly three point five seconds to celebrate before his arms are shoved behind his back roughly and held in place by the cool metal of handcuffs. A bar fight and an arrest all in one night? John would be so proud. And it's with that thought that Rodney doubles over and empties the contents of his stomach on the floor. --- There's nothing remotely exciting about being arrested, Rodney thinks mournfully as he shifts in the cracked plastic chair. He doesn't even get to go to real jail. Instead, he's being held in the processing room at the local police department, staring dumbly at the back of the officer's head. He's slouched down in a computer chair, playing Solitaire. Rodney wonders what it means about local law enforcement when they can't even win at that. He wisely keeps this thought to himself. "Don' I get a phone call?" He asks. His head is starting to ache and while he's sure he's already thrown up everything he's eaten in the last year and a half, he still feels like he's going to be sick. He really just wants Carter or hell, even Daniel Jackson to come get him so he can go home and sleep for a month. Or at least until John comes back. "Nope," the officer drawls and that's the end of that. Well okay then. He slumps miserably in his seat, handcuffs clinking the metal rail he's attached to. He really just wants to go home. Not home home but Atlantis home where everything was good and John wasn't being stupid and gallivanting off to another planet in the Milky Way with his brand new team. Without Rodney. Apparently, alcohol was counterproductive because while it was supposed to make him forget, it's all he can think about. He's pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a quiet click and when the door opens up, Rodney can hardly believe his eyes. "Hey buddy," John greets, smiling lazily like Rodney isn't handcuffed for a reason that doesn't involve kinky sex. "What are you doin' here?" "Bailing you out," John says easily. "And really? A bar fight? What were you thinking?" "I was amazing," Rodney says, smiling despite himself. He goes to stand and then remembers he can't exactly go anywhere, so he flops down into the chair and sighs loudly. "John?" "Yeah buddy?" "Can we go home now?" John just grins. --- By the time they make it to Rodney's apartment, Rodney's ready to seriously pass out. He's exhausted and his face is hurting from where that Neanderthal's fist connected with it, but mostly, he's just so happy John is back that he wants nothing more than to get upstairs, get naked and sleep for a month. This time with John. It's a chore to get out of the car and up the stairs, but when John finally shoves the apartment door open, Rodney stumbles in gratefully. "You left me," he accuses halfheartedly as he pulls his shirt over his head with clumsy hands, throwing it onto the back of the couch. "Big jerk. S'your fault, y'know." "It's my fault you got arrested?" "Yes," Rodney sighs. John doesn't argue; he grabs the shirt from the couch and then steers Rodney into the bedroom and Rodney is positive that he's stifling a laugh when he face plants onto the bed. "Turned me into a hardened crim'nal. S'all your fault," he mutters, muffled by the mattress. "A hardened criminal, huh?" "You make me crazy." "I feel the same way about you," John says fondly. The bed dips under John's weight and a second later, Rodney finds himself cuddled up against John's side. He presses his face against John's neck and breathes in his scent. "Don't go 'way anymore, 'kay?" "I'm not going anywhere," John promises. "Especially after this. Who knew a few hours apart would send you spiraling downward into a life of crime?" Rodney just nods solemnly and snuffles quietly against John's neck. "'M such a menace to society," Rodney mutters. John laughs his horrible donkey-laugh and

Rodney feels fond lips against the top of his head. "You're a menace alright. Get some sleep, McKay. I have a feeling you're gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning." Rodney's already fast asleep.

#sga fic #fandom: sga #mcshep #ship: mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #crack fic #this one always cracked me up

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

Trash Panda

Part... 5? Of my Shifter!verse. The one-shot I didn’t know I was going to write.

Prompted by my wifey @fontegagrilledcheese and the ever amazing @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher, both wanted Raccoonskier. So... here we go! The wonderful @hobbart-art just happens to have some raccoonskier art that served as inspiration... so check that out too.

Geraskier, 2.3k - Shapeshifter!Jaskier.

Warnings: Some minor mentions of previous abuse and starvation, but mostly this is good ole fluff.

______________________

Jaskier sighed loudly as he marked the papers in front of him. He enjoyed the teaching part of teaching but all the extra work was a slog. Still, after the generosity of the University following his thankfully brief visit to Lettenhove, he figured it was the best way to repay them. He agreed to two semesters teaching at Oxenfurt and then he would return with Geralt to Kaer Morhen for the winter months. Geralt had reluctantly returned to the path once Jaskier had physically recovered, but Jaskier had remained at the university. It was the first time they’d willingly parted since they’d met just over a year ago, but his heart ached and he longed to fly from the window until he found his love again.

But he really did owe the University a debt.

They’d supplied him with lodgings and food without question, but he really missed Geralt. He chuckled and ran his hands through his hair. He supposed it was probably a good thing to spend some time apart. They’d become far too reliant on each other over the last year. Still, he’d been stuck one place for so long and he’d been too tired after class to let loose. He hadn’t even shifted since Geralt had left a few weeks ago. He hadn’t felt safe enough, not without Geralt by his side, which was ridiculous seeing as he could turn into a plethora of carnivorous beasts. That hadn’t stopped his mother managing to capture him though… He shuddered at the thought.

The itch under his skin was getting worse and he’d started to wake up in a cold sweat. The sensation was bringing back all sorts of memories that he’d rather avoid so he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. Luckily he didn’t have another lecture planned for a few days now. It was the perfect moment to slip out into the city and run free.

And maybe, he if was lucky, he’d run into Geralt.

He pushed his papers aside and stripped off, neatly folding his clothes on his bed, opening his bedroom window so he could make his escape. He hummed happily as he let his magic loose, his skin rippling into dark ebony feathers. He cawed as he shook out his wings and flew from the window. The dreaded itch fading away as he took to the skies. He flapped his wings and did a lap of the university before landing on the cobbled streets. He tilted his head, hopping around to make sure there was no one watching before shifting again. The black feathers thickened to a dark grey fur, his tail grew black and white ringlets as he wiggled his bum. He was still carrying a little more weight than he was used to and his belly grazed the floor as he landed on four paws.

He squeaked and rubbed his face with his paws before sitting down and scratching his belly. It was all Geralt’s fault. Jaskier hadn’t quite been human enough to watch the amount he was eating, after weeks of starvation he’d gone a little over the top. He scratched behind his ears and sniffed, at least he was cuddly. The scent of roast chicken caught his attention and he followed it to a nearby tavern. Behind the door was a pile of old food and empty wine bottles. He squeaked happily and hopped up onto the pile only to be faced with a masked opponent, a rival raccoon.

Jaskier tilted his head, assessing the animal. Their eyes were dark brown like all other raccoons so it was very unlikely that it was another shifter. He knew he could just let the raccoon have the meal, he’d already eaten back at the university, but his instincts wouldn’t let him leave the free meal behind. He chattered at the raccoon in front of him, pawing at the old chicken bones. He managed to split the bird carcass roughly in half before handing one half to the other raccoon. The raccoon clawed at the scraps of meat with its paws, shoving a handful of chicken into its mouth. Jaskier happily chewed on his own meal, sitting on his bottom with his tail between his legs.

Once he was finished he ran through the streets to the outskirts of the city. If he could get through into the forest he could run free for a few hours. It was only once he’d reached the walls that he noticed the other raccoon was still following him. He tilted his head and watched them, not getting any warning before they pounced onto his back, biting playfully at his ears. Jaskier’s raccoon instincts kicked in and soon enough the two raccoons were tumbling around on the cobbled streets of Oxenfurt, chasing each other and biting at each other’s tails until Jaskier stopped and sniffed.

He could smell a litter of kits.

He scampered off down the street, the other raccoon hot on his tail until he found an old crate. He dug through the linen sheets, grabbing the dirty fabric in his paws. Three tiny heads popped up from the crate. His new raccoon friend screeched at him and Jaskier fell backwards back onto the ground, away from the kits, shifting into mouse. The raccoon stared at him, perplexed, and only once Jaskier was certain the raccoon wouldn’t attack him, he shifted back. Cautiously he approached the kits, they were so small and helpless, hidden away from the world. The raccoon he’d met must be their mother, judging by her reaction to his discovering the kits.

He almost felt bad for stealing her dinner now, almost.

He could bring them some food from the university. He squeaked and nuzzled the other raccoon’s cheek, before shifting into a raven and taking off into the sky. Once he was back in his rooms, he got dressed and went down to the kitchens to collect a bowlful of old gruel for his new little friends. The baby raccoons had been hungry, he knew that much, and he’d stolen precious food from their mother. He wrapped his arms round his stomach, pinching at the fat that now clung to his waist, he chuckled. He really hadn’t needed the second dinner but it was too late now. He was just extra cuddly, that was what Geralt kept telling him, and he was inclined to agree.

He returned to the small family of raccoons every night, bringing them food and fresh water. It was probably an odd sight to see a blue-eyed raccoon carrying a bowl of gruel through the streets of Oxenfurt each night, but he tried to keep to the shadows wherever possible. After a couple of days the mother stopped trying to attack him whenever he got too close to her kits. It wasn’t his pack at Kaer Morhen but the little raccoon family took the edge of the loneliness that plagued his heart. Raccoons were mischievous little creatures and Jaskier had had the best time, well as good as he could have without his real pack. He wondered what Lambert would say if he saw Jaskier cuddling up with a family of raccoons, the ass would probably be jealous. He’d been reluctant enough to share Jaskier’s wolfy cuddles with Aiden, and, from Jaskier had seen of the pair, Lambert was pretty fond of the cat witcher.

He’d been visiting the raccoons for just over a week when a new smell caught his attention. He squeaked and scarpered from the shitty crate where the raccoon family made their home. He couldn’t run fast enough through the streets and he launched himself at Geralt as soon as he was within reach. Luckily Geralt’s witcher refllexes meant that he caught Jaskier mid-air.

“Jask?”

Jaskier chattered and pawed at Geralt’s face, nuzzling into his neck. Geralt pulled him away from his face and Jaskier snapped his teeth, holding out his paws, clawing at Geralt’s armour.

Geralt scowled and looked into Jaskier’s eyes. “You stink, Jask.”

Jaskier snarled and hissed at his partner. He’d been bathing regularly in his rooms, partly because he’d been rolling around in rotten food most evenings, but he was a clean raccoon thank you very much!

“Come on, Jask. Let’s get you back to the university,” Geralt said, chuckling as he cradled Jaskier in his arms, but Jaskier clawed at his armour, he couldn’t just leave his raccoon friend and her kits, not without showing Geralt.

He scrambled free from Geralt’s arms and tilted his head, gesturing for Geralt to follow him. Geralt scowled and adjusted the straps going across his chest. “You want me to follow?”

Jaskier nodded and tugged at the cuffs of Geralt’s trousers.

“Alright, lead the way, but after you’re having a bath.”

Jaskier snarled quietly but ran off through the streets, looking behind him to check Geralt was still nearby, until they reached the old crate. The kits squeaked away as Jaskier pawed at the linen that kept them hidden from the world. Jaskier jumped into the crate and let the kits crawl over him.

Geralt knelt down and scratched Jaskier on the head. “Please tell me that these are not…”

Jaskier let out his best raccoon-y laugh at the look on Geralt’s face. He looked absolutely horrified. He opened his mouth a few times with no words coming out, stammering as he let the baby raccoons sniff his hand. Geralt was lucky their mother was busy foraging around the town. There was no way she would have let Geralt get so close to her babies. Jaskier eventually took pity on his witcher and held his paws out so that Geralt would pick him up. Geralt scooped him up in his arms and Jaskier shifted into a cat, nuzzling Geralt’s chest and letting out a low rumble in his chest.

“You have some explaining to do, Jask,” Geralt hummed as he stroked his fingers through Jaskier’s fur.

Jaskier meowed and rubbed his head under Geralt’s chin, just happy to be back in his darling’s arms again. When they reached Jaskier’s rooms at the university, having told the staff that Geralt was bringing Mister Fuzzball in to see Mr Pankratz, Jaskier shifted in Geralt arms. Geralt grunted under the sudden weight of a human in his arms, Jaskier chuckled and snuggled up against his lover’s chest.

“I missed you,” he murmured into Geralt’s armour.

Geralt carried him over to the bed and gently lowered Jaskier down. Jaskier whined, reluctant to let Geralt go. Geralt huffed a laugh and clambered onto the bed next to him. Jaskier grinned and reached up to kiss Geralt, it really had been so long, but the bastard covered his mouth with his hand.

“Hmmph!” Jaskier scowled, licking Geralt’s palm to try and wriggle free from the witcher’s grip.

“You still need a bath, I’m not kissing you until you do,” Geralt smirked at Jaskier, the bastard. “You stink.”

Jaskier finally managed to pull Geralt’s hand from him mouth, he narrowed his eyes. “Says the witcher, who only bathes when he covered in monster guts.”

“I’ve not been rolling round in rotting food.”

Jaskier snorted. “You’re just jealous that I found a surrogate pack whilst you were away.”

“Surrogate?”

“Yes! I’ve not been fathering baby raccoons whilst you’re out on monster hunts, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier wrinkled his nose. “I can’t believe you even thought that! I’m still human-ish. No, Geralt.”

“But…”

“No,” Jaskier stated emphatically. “Now call a bath. If you’re going to be fussy about it. You can help wash my hair, and then I am snogging you senseless and we are cuddling.”

Geralt laughed, stroking a thumb along Jaskier’s cheek. “Needy bastard.”

Jaskier grinned. “Obviously,” then his grin fell from his face as a thought hit him. “You did miss me?”

Geralt sighed, lying down and pulling Jaskier onto his chest. “Yeah, felt strange being alone on the path again. I didn’t realise how quiet it was before I met you. I never thought I needed anyone, and then you came along.”

Jaskier hummed and laced their fingers together. “I am very lovable.”

Geralt chuckled. “Wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oi!”

“Love you,” Geralt hummed, squeezing Jaskier’s hand.

Jaskier grinned, his free hand toying at Geralt’s armour. “I love you too, darling. Now, I think it is terribly unfair that I’m completely naked—”

“You’re always naked.”

“— And you are fully clothed,” he finished, ignoring Geralt’s rude interruption “so how about that bath?”

“Together?”

“Tub’s big enough for two,” Jaskier grinned and before Geralt could stop him captured his lips in a kiss. Geralt groaned but allowed Jaskier to kiss him, grimacing as he pulled away. “What?”

“What the fuck have you been eating?”

“Bit rich from Mr I’ll-Eat-Chicken-Sandwiches-From-A-Corpse,” he swatted Geralt’s arm. “Go, call for a bath, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Geralt hummed, shuffling off the bed. Jaskier watched him go with a fond smile, happily taking in the sight of Geralt’s arse in those delightfully tight trousers. It had been healthy to spend some time apart. He really had loved teaching, it had given him something to do instead of moping and feeling sorry for himself after his ordeal, especially with Geralt’s return to the path. Jaskier hadn’t been selfish enough to force Geralt to stay with him in Oxenfurt whilst he worked off his debt with the university but Gods he had really missed Geralt, and his criminally perfect bottom.

He sighed happily as he stretched out on the bed, burying under the sheets, sleep threatening to pull him under. He’d not slept much since he’s started his night time adventures around the city but with Geralt back by his side, he felt safe again, and he was ever so tired. A quick nap wouldn’t harm anyone whilst the staff got their bath ready. He hummed happily and shifted back into a raccoon, a habit from the last few days. He hid under the covers and wrapped his tail around him.

It was good to be home.

_____

Next Story!

#the witcher #geraskier #shapeshifter!jaskier #shifter!jaskier #raccoon!jaskier #wolfie's witcher writing

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angelguk · 4 years

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anon said secret pining and i had to deliver. jeongguk is a soccer player. oc is cute and wears glasses. jk might be in love with his best friend :3 cute and soft and cuddly yay! 1k words. listen to three small words by joolie

It’s with an unusual fondness that Jeongguk watches you kneel over his supine legs, glass frames gently shifting down the slope of your nose as your head tips forward. Your eyebrows are furrowed, gaze concentrated on the white gauze holding his broken foot in together. He’d shattered it during a soccer match; a stupid skid that resulted in a collision that could have been fatal. At first, he was distraught by the prospect of his future sports career crumbling into ruins, but the doctor that had plastered him back together assured Jeongguk the injury would heal relatively well enough for him to be sweating through Coach Bang’s drills within a couple of months. He hadn’t realised the silver lining of this unfortunate moment until now. Nothing mattered the moment you flitted into his room, a pretty picture of concern as you crowded his space. He would have minded it if anyone else was encroaching on him like. But this was you. And Jeongguk wanted you to be in his space all the time.

“Stop wiggling,” you murmur, the mild frustration colouring your delicate voice making his tummy turn inside out.

“I’m not,” he returns, purposefully shuffling upright on the bed of pillows he’d been perched upon returning home.

Your eyes snap up, glaring at him with a soft pout. “Jeongguk!”

He doesn’t know if he hates or likes how his heart flutters at the mention of his name on your lips. It’s a weird feeling that’s been steadily consuming him lately, always there, emotions teetering a dangerous line.

“Sorry.” He mumbles it out with a sheepish grin, hoping you don’t notice the flush in his cheeks. Or the perpetual erratic pounding of his heart. It bangs like a drum in his head, clamouring to be heard.

“Do you want this to be ugly or cute? Hmm?” You cock an eyebrow, the marker in your hand suspended over the cast.

He shrugs, indifferent. “Don’t really care.”

The rise of your hand is instinctive, but you draw it back before it grazes his skin, guilt bleeding through your gaze. He’s already sunk into a flinch position, the laugh on the tip of his tongue spilling deep from his belly.

“You’re mean,” you say, attention returning to the task at hand.

“I’m mean? You just tried to hit an injured man!”

“If you weren’t so annoying I wouldn’t have wanted to hit you. And it’s your fault you got injured not mine. Now shut it — I’m focusing here.”

“What are you even drawing,” he replies, inclining forward as much as his ailment would allow him. You swat him away, cupping your hands around the drawing. “Not a penis, please.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you retort, pink tongue sneaking out to wet your lips. Something dangerous lurches in his gut and Jeongguk swiftly returns to resting against his pillows, willing away the heat blossoming through his body.

“You would.”

You hum, light and airy. He can hear the smile in your voice. “I would.”

He shuffles his stagnant leg in retaliation.

“Jeongguk!”

“What?” He can’t help the laugh, an itch to touch you forming in his palm when you raise your head again in indignation. He wants to cup your cheeks so bad. They're so cute, round and soft like little chipmunk cheeks. He used to call you that in elementary school until you cried hard one day and told him to stop because you thought he was calling your face fat. Quite the opposite actually, Jeongguk was obsessed with your face. He could stare at you for hours if you’d let him. The curve of cupid’s bow in particular. Sometimes he wonders what it’d be like to trace your lips with his fingers, learn what they felt like underneath his skin. Sometimes he wondered what they would feel like on his own.

You pause, reflexively nudging your frames back up your nose bridge. The little action tugs the corner of his mouth upwards, chest tight with unspoken words. “Let me finish, Jeongguk. Or I’ll draw a dick on your broken leg.”

“Okay, okay. Go ahead, Picasso.”

He lets you finish in silence, memorising the little motions in your face as you sketch dark lines against the material; how you bite your lip when you’re contemplating, eyes squinting even with the lenses covering aiding your vision. You’re so cute it hurts.

“Voila!” You reveal your masterpiece with a happy little noise, hands no longer resting on his bound leg. It takes him a moment to decipher what’s etched onto his cast but when he gets it his heart swells so quick it threatens to burst. It’s two round bees, adorably doodled into the white plaster. One’s got large glasses over its eyes and they’re both surrounded by hearts and tiny flowers. The need to touch you hits him so quick he reels from it, head roaring with the pounding of his heart. “It’s cute, right? And if you twist your leg a little — not much don’t hurt yourself, you idiot. Look, right here.” And there it is, a miniature penis. Balls and all. Permanent on his leg. The laugh that floats his mouth resounds loud in his chest.

It’s compulsive, how he stretches out to sweep you into his arms, holding you tight even when you squirm in protest, your glass frames stabbing his chest relentlessly.

“Jeongguk! Your leg! I’m gonna hurt you!”

“You’re not,” he insists, loving the way you feel pressed against him, his heart dissolving into an infinite pool of ardour. “Thank you.”

“For the dick drawing?” You say, finally yielding into him. Two turned into one. Jeongguk thinks this is what love might feel like. He doesn't know if it is yet, but, if someone was to ask him what it was, he’d say this was it. You against him, his heart calm and wild within him.

“For everything,” he murmurs into the stillness of his room, hoping you discern what lies beneath his words of gratitude.

You scoff, hand moving to ruffle his brown curls. “You’re so corny it’s lame, Jeongguk.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook fic

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mndalorians · 4 years

Text

The parting of ways

The Mandalorian & the Child

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Spoilers for Chapter 13, please do not read if you don’t want to be spoiled, angst but with a semi-happy ending (it’s the end of the episode, you know what to expect)

A/n: So I watched the episode and had to write this down. This is the largest thing I’ve written in such a short space of time so any feedback would be really appreciated!

The inevitable weighed heavy on Din’s shoulders as he walked through the dead forest of Corvus; heavier than his armour had been the first time he donned it. He remembered the pauldrons that eclipsed his shoulders, the chestplate that dug into his underarms, and his helmet, big enough that a shake of his head could leave the visor off-kilter and him staring at the side of his helmet.

You’ll grow into it, Dekka said with a clap of his hand against Din’s back as he straightened it, the slight clang of beskar against leather an unfamiliar sound with the gesture, you’d need to be refitted next month otherwise.

Din had grown into a lot of things over the course of his life: his armour, his role as provider, his grief. It had consumed him as a child, crashed over him every time he was reminded of his parents and the day his entire world was upended, but he grew and the grief shrunk (or stayed the same size, it was hard to tell sometimes) until it could fit inside him, settle around his heart and only occasionally squeeze it to the point of aching.

But he was older now, didn’t exactly have any more growing to do, none that would consume and internalise the new bout of grief rising up ahead of him.

Every step seemed more reluctant than the last, his boots scuffing the dry earth as he moved closer to said grief and the loneliness he had once been so accustomed to. It was not a friend, but loneliness knew Din as well as he knew it, and he supposed that was the best he could ask for, to be known in some small part by something, through the sighs and quips he let out when no one else was around. The time they had spent apart left him fearing the lonesomeness would feel like isolation this time around, like something forced upon him rather than a supposed choice.

The sight of the Crest, something that had always brought relief before, left Din’s stomach hollow in that moment, emotion catching in his throat. His step stuttered as the ramp lowered and he stopped at its edge, closed his eyes against the sting of oncoming tears and let out a long exhale, tried to ready himself so that he might stand a chance of choking out a goodbye.

The jetpack detached easily enough as Din ascended the ramp and he pulled it round to his front, set it down on top of the crates sitting at the side of the hull. His eyes remained on the floor momentarily when he turned back towards his cot, the short distance separating him from it disappearing far too quickly. Din stopped, again, when his eyes lifted from the floor to his cot to the hammock and the kid – Grogu, he reminded himself, the name not yet so readily formed on his tongue as kid, though he supposed that wouldn’t matter soon enough. Nestled in the hammock, Grogu napped peacefully, unaware of Din’s turmoil.

Din started up again. He was caught between delaying as much as possible, stretching out their remaining time together, and getting it all over with as soon as he could, rip the blade out now, then tend to the wound later once he was back in hyperspace, no destination in mind.

Alone.

Din swallowed as he reached for the hammock and rocked it slightly. Grogu only sniffed in response.

‘Wake up, buddy,’ Din murmured, voice thick, ‘it’s— time to say goodbye.’

A few more rocks and Grogu’s eyes began to open, bleary and sleep ridden. He closed them again as the hammock continued to sway beneath Din’s hand, and it pained him to reach up and pull Grogu more thoroughly from his slumber.

Grogu blinked up at him with a slight wrinkling of his forehead, mouth parted. A small smile, laced with sadness, quirked the corners of Din’s lips up. Grogu always looked a little dazed when he woke up, and the smile was quick to slip from Din’s features when he realised that would be the last time he would see him somewhat dazed from a deep sleep.

It felt too soon to say goodbye, like they should have had more time together, even if Din had been the one to bring them to Corvus, their time together was too short.

They could have a few more minutes together, right?

There was no one to say otherwise, so Din lowered himself down to the edge of the cot and settled Grogu on his thigh. His eyes remained half closed as he shimmied into a more comfortable position against the thigh plate.

The wind howled outside, the only noise to be heard while they sat together – for much longer than a few minutes, though Din tried not to think about that or their eventual separation – and ran soothing circles over his side, watching Grogu come around, appreciating one last, small moment.

Slowly, as sleep cleared like a morning fog from Grogu’s mind, he became aware of the melancholy that dripped from Din, thick and blue. He cooed and placed a hand on top of Din’s wrist, looked up with searching eyes, as if he might find the reason for such strong emotion to be radiating from him in the visor that had offered up nothing before.

Din sighed. He knew they would need to move soon, but still he found himself clinging to the seconds slipping by and whatever allowed them to stay in that moment for just a little longer.

‘You’ll need to be good, okay?’ He reached for Grogu’s hand and rubbed it between two fingers. ‘Ahsoka will take care of you—’

Take care of this little one.

Or maybe, it’ll take care of you.

Din gasped and released a shuddering breath, fat tears welling up and blurring his vision. His gaze turned upwards as he tried to control his breathing, steady it so that he might contain the tears that threatened to spill over, but he blinked and they escaped, raced down his face in two tracks and became lost in the scruff covering his chin.

When he looked down, Grogu’s head was tilted in concern, ears high. Din gripped his sides and lifted him up to press his head against the forehead of his helmet, closed his eyes when he heard the clack of Grogu’s claws against its sides.

‘I could have done better, I’m sorry.’

Grogu’s ears lowered as Din pulled away, big eyes earnest even as he frowned. Maybe it was wishful thinking on Din’s part to believe he was disagreeing with him, or maybe Grogu had truly felt cared for with Din, for the first time in decades. Perhaps Din had not been perfect, but they had survived together, two beings so starved of affection, so accustomed to violence, that they had had to rediscover it all over again with each other. And Grogu had been safe with Din, knew he was protected whenever he was near. The anxiety that had thrummed through him ever since leaving the Jedi temple had quietened when he reached out to Din that first time, Din wiggling his finger to coax him from his pod, bounty droid still smoking at his feet. Din’s affection may have been tentative, but he offered him protection so readily that Grogu could not find fault in him.

Grogu whined and grabbed at air as he reached for Din again, still not fully cognizant of the reason behind the sadness that rolled off Din, but knowing that he had to be near him, to hold as much of him as he could with his small hands. Din obliged and brought him to his chest, tucking him beneath the ridge of his helmet and settling a hand over his back. Grogu cooed and nuzzled his face against the fabric covering Din’s neck, ears high, contented. Din watched him from the small sliver afforded by the visor, tears wetting his lashes as he blinked them back.

‘This is the way,’ he told himself.

It had never felt more hollow.

It was with a heavy heart that Din readied Grogu, feeding him some leftovers from their meal the previous night and cleaning his face (sure to be careful around his eyes). He tried not to think about how he did it all for the last time as he straightened out his robe, pulled the sleeves down to protect him from wind that continued to whistle around the Crest. When Din lifted him, Grogu finally seemed to understand the finality of his gestures and began to cry, all of a sudden worried. Din’s eyes remained on Grogu as he made his way towards the back of the ship, settling him into the crook of his arm and squeezing a little in an attempt to calm him. They still had some time before they would reach Calodan, they could—

‘You’re like a father to him.’

Din paused at those words, lifted his head to see Ahsoka standing at the bottom of the ramp, looking up at them.

You are as its father.

Din did not respond. Even if it were true, if he allowed himself to think that, what use was the acceptance of such a title when he was so close to giving Grogu away? He did not believe he deserved it. He stood for another moment before he continued down the ramp. The inevitable stood in front of him – he had already stretched time out to the point of breaking and he could hold it off no longer.

‘I cannot train him,’ Ahsoka said.

Din regarded her, a few paces away. ‘You made me a promise, and I held up my end.’

Ashoka closed the distance between them. Grogu cooed as his attention shifted towards her and she took his hand in hers, not unlike Din had done.

‘There is one possibility.’ Ahsoka lifted her gaze, though not so far as to meet the horizontal bar of Din’s visor. ‘Go to the planet Tython, there you will find the ancient ruins of a temple that has a strong connection to the Force. Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain.’

‘Then what?’

‘Then Grogu may choose his path. If he reaches out through the Force, there’s a chance a Jedi may sense his presence and come searching for him. Then again,’ Asoka let go of Grogu’s hand, crossed her arms as if to guard herself from her next words: ‘there aren’t many Jedi left.’

Sorrow pricked Din, Ahsoka’s tone hinted at tragedy, though he did not know enough to even begin an attempt at consolation. ‘Thank you’ was all he could manage.

Ahsoka uncrossed her arms, allowed for the sincerity of her words to be fully felt. ‘May the Force be with you.’

Din nodded in thanks and turned, retreating back up the ramp and into the hull. Relief overwhelmed him and he brought Grogu up to his shoulder as he had done so many times before. The dread and anticipation that had gripped his heart since he woke Grogu up eased off, and Din felt near weightless, if only for a singular, fleeting moment where the future did not exist beyond the few seconds ahead of him. He did not need to say goodbye to Grogu just yet – had escaped the event horizon this time – but he knew that one day a farewell would be impossible to avoid.

He only hoped he would be more prepared to face his grief when that day finally came.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian spoilers

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sweetwritertanya · 5 years

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Happy Valentine’s Day (Jungkook)

Summary: You thought this Valentine’s Day would be the last one with your boyfriend Jungkook, who had been distant the past month. However, as it turns out, it’s quite the opposite.

Warnings: SMUT! With a surprising amount of angst at the beginning that I didn’t really plan, I wanted to keep things fluffy and smutty, but somehow it turned out like this. Anyway, be aware of: erotic body touching, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (yet again, is anyone surprised), against wall sex.

Word Count: 3934

Since the beginning of the year, your worst fear had been coming true. Somehow you always suspected this would happen, that was how little confidence you had in this relationship. In yourself, really. The fact that you got to date Jungkook at all was just some cosmic mistake, surely.

He was just too good to be true. Not only was he the most handsome man you had the opportunity to lay your eyes on, with big brown eyes, a perfect button nose, kissable lips, strong jawline and a fit body to envy, but he was exceptionally caring and loving at the same time. All wrapped up in a shy but eager package of a man.

What he saw in you, you had no idea. You were beyond curvy, you had fat rolls down your sides, squishy arms, a soft jawline, large stomach and wiggling thighs. Not everyone always cared for a body like yours, something you knew since a long time. And you were certain that you were just not what Jungkook was looking for in a girlfriend. Until he asked you out.

For almost a year now, it felt like you had been living a dream. With fun dates, shaky hands holding yours in his, blushing cheeks and shy kisses. Tickles and laughing under the sheets. You honestly started to believe he actually loved you. And you had long fallen deep for him.

But since the first days of January, Jungkook had gone distant. He would spend most of his free time away from you, mostly on the gym. Whenever you asked him to come by your apartment and stay over like he usually did, he would find some excuse to not show up or leave early. Like he didn’t want to be there anymore.

So, when Valentine’s Day arrived, you didn’t even bother to ask him about it. In your mind, you were counting the days until he came by to break up with you. It made your stomach turn awfully and heart ache to even think about it.

You were watching some soppy romantic comedy on the TV, feeling worse about yourself as the beautiful main lead got the man of her dreams and her happy ending, when there was a knock on your door. You frowned, not expecting any one and checking on your phone that no one called to tell you they were coming.

“Who is it?” you asked from behind the close door.

“It’s me, Y/N” you recognized Jungkook’s voice.

You heart dropped. He wouldn’t be so cold hearted to break up on Valentine’s Day, right? You shook your head and brushed away such a thought from your mind. He was too much of a sweet person for that.

“Kook, what are you…” You lost your train of thought when you opened the door and saw him.

It felt like so long since you last saw him. He was wearing a black suit, with straight pants down to his shiny black shoes and a fitted blazer over the black turtle neck he had underneath. The silver buttons stood out against the dark outfit and matched his rings and piercings on his ears. Hair straightened and voluminous around his sculptured face.

He was holding a single red rose on his hands, enclosed in a clear wrapping paper with small baby-breaths around it. Coughing shyly, he held it with both hands towards you, a small smile on his pink lips.

“Happy Valentine’s day, baby” he wished.

A bit taken back, truly not expecting anything from him, you took it silently from his hands, unsure of what to do. Jungkook placed his hands on his pockets, fidgeting a bit in his place, apparently a bit nervous.

“Hum, can… Can I come in for a second?” he shyly asks, taking you out of your trance.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

You allow him in and close the door behind him, going to the kitchen next and finding a glass to fill with water and place the rose inside.

“So, I wanna take you somewhere with me today” he shared, leaning against the kitchen table.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me, I would have gotten ready beforehand!” you reproach, being clothed in some old leggings and a stained hoodie.

“We have all the time in the world if you want to go and change. Can I wait for you in here?”

“Of course. Okay, give me a few minutes. Is it somewhere very fancy?” you ask, already going towards your bedroom door.

“No, not at all. Dress however you like” he told you, crossing his arms and sitting on a chair at the kitchen table.

Somehow you doubted that, when he was so well dressed himself. Sighing, you got in your bedroom and thanked your past self for taking a shower earlier in the day, meaning you only had to style your hair a bit, since it was properly washed.

You stared at your wardrobe for a few minutes before deciding that, if this was your only Valentine’s Day with Jungkook, you wanted to look your best and make it memorable. So you picked out a royal blue dress you had never worn, with a deep sweetheart neckline and cold shoulder short sleeves, a thin sparkling belt at the smallest part of your waist and a skirt that fell to your knees in a straight line, your wide hips making it curvier. A bit of makeup, curled hair and a long coat on top, you got out of your bedroom with your nude heels already on.

Jungkook looked up from his phone to regard you when he heard the door open and choked. You looked absolutely exquisite, your voluptuous form filling out your dress amazingly, curvaceous legs on display for him to see and resist the temptation to brush his hands up the soft skin. When you bent down to pick your purse, his eyes were drawn to the deep cleavage and he marveled at the roundness of your breasts, hands itching.

“Ready. Should we go?” You innocently ask, completely unaware of the effect you had on the boy. He cleared his throat, looking away from your eyes in embarrassment, and got up from the chair he was still seating on.

“Y-Yeah, it’s a short drive” he informed, meeting you at the door of your apartment.

While in the car, Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how silent you were while he drove. Although you had your quiet moments, you were usually more conversational than this and it had him worried.

“Is… Is everything alright, Y/N?” he hesitantly asked.

You pressed your lips together nervously, playing with your fingers on your lap as you tried to decide if it was a good idea to get into it while on the car. You honestly just wanted to ignore everything that made you sad about his recent behavior, but you knew you could never have a good time by pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think you would show up today, that’s all” you confessed, eyes kept on your hands. “You haven’t been very present lately.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek, not quite ready to tell you why yet.

“Yeah, sorry about that. But I’ve been very busy. And I’ve been working out a lot at the gym.” It was the truth, although not the complete truth he wished he could tell you right then and there. But he had to be patient and await the right moment.

You breathed in shakily, feeling extremely uncomfortable with tears pooling on your eyes.

“Are… Are you going to break up with me, Jungkook?”

The wheels of the car screeched and the car behind yours beeped as Jungkook almost let the car break down. His heart was hammering against his chest and panic was getting in the way of his breathing. Thankfully he was almost at his destination.

“W-What? Why d-do you think that?!” He questions in stammers, brown eyes as large as saucers, trying to focus on the road.

“Sorry! Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’m sorry” you immediately apologize, beating yourself up for voicing your concerns like this.

Jungkook pulls up and parks the car at the edge of the road, taking his seatbelt and turning to you with a fearful expression. You couldn’t quite look him in the eyes.

“I don’t wanna break up! Far from it!” he stated with determination and a bit of panic behind his words.

“Then… then why have you been so distant? For the last month, you have barely come to see me, I thought you grew tired of me and wanted to break up” you finally voice your fears, looking at him with glassy eyes, tears threatening to fall.

“That…! I was…! Damn it” he stumbled with his own words, banging his fist on the car wheel when he couldn’t get the right words out. “Just come with me and I’ll explain everything.”

He got out of the car in a hurry, running to your side of the vehicle and helping you stand up. You noticed how the hand he intertwined with yours seemed to be shaking a bit. He pulled you to the other side of the road and you frowned in confusion when he guided you through the front yard of a two story house, stopping at the main door.

Turning towards you and taking a deep breath, he pulled something from his pocket and looked at you. For the first time, you noticed how red his eyes seemed to be as well, making your heart clench in pain at the thought of hurting him.

“The main reason I was so busy was because of this.” He showed you a key he had in his hand and, with it, opened the door for the house you were in. “I bought a house.”

You gasped.

“You got a house?” You were astonished. He never talked about wanting to move.

“Yeah, I’ve been looking at a bunch of houses with the help of my hyungs” he shared, leaving the door open and turning back to you. “That’s why I’ve been so busy after work. And it is true I’ve been to the gym a lot. Mainly, because I really wanted to do this.”

Suddenly, Jungkook leaned down and, with an arm on your back and the other at the back of your knees, lifted you up in his arms bridal style, much to your disbelief.

“Wha-! Jungkook, I’m heavy, put me down!” you yelled at him. He had never picked you up like this before, just maybe momentarily every once in a while.

He ignored you and, with you in his arms, carried you inside the house and closed the door with his foot. You would have paid more attention to the house itself if you weren’t still amazed at how easily he was holding you up.

“I’ve been working out so I could do this. I wanted to carry you like this throughout the whole house” he explained, twirling you both around and making you giggle as you cleaned the water at the corner of your eyes.

“You’ve been going to the gym so you can pick me up?” you repeat, still in disbelief.

“I could already pick you up. You’re not as heavy as you seem to think, Y/N. But I wanted to build up my strength so I don’t get tired as easily” he corrected, smiling shyly with tainted cheeks.

“Kook, you idiot… I thought you didn’t care for me anymore! I thought you were about to leave me!” you complained, tears coming back.

Jungkook put you down just so he could cradle your face close to his and clean your tears away, speaking softly with you as he did so.

“Far from it, so far from it, baby. I… Damn it, this is not how intended to ask this but… Y/N, will you move in with me? Live with me here, Y/N.”

Your bottom jaw falls in disbelief at his words, completely taken back and unable to understand what he just asked you. The tears he had cleaned up were suddenly replaced by a whole bunch of others, much to his concern.

“Y-Y/N? Wait, I’m sorry, if… if you don’t want to, it’s okay. I-It was a dumb idea, I’m s-” he was panicking at your tears.

“Yes” you interrupted him, a smile spreading on your lips as you looked up into his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll move in with you, Kook. I love you.”

Chuckling out of pure relief and happiness, all the sadness of the last month completely fading away at his explanation, you stand on your tippy toes and join your lips together with his. You felt him sigh in relief under your lips and a smile forming as the mouths move together in sync with each other, your arms surrounding his neck and his arms around your plushy waist. Jungkook tentatively skimmed his tongue across your lower lip and you opened your mouth to allow him access.

The kiss deepened and tongues slipped against each other, skin growing warmer and air becoming thicker around you two. Your mouths only separated when you gasped in surprise as Jungkook descended his arms from your waist to bellow your ample ass cheeks and pulled you up, your heavy legs automatically wrapping around his waist in the process.

“Jungkook! What are you doing?” you asked as he started moving with you straddling his waist, his mouth clinging to your neck.

“Taking you to the bedroom” he simply said against your skin.

You blushed at the same time you smiled, heart beating fondly against your ribcage.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, I can walk there” you stated.

“This is what I’ve been working for, let me have this” he asked of you, licking your earlobe to make you stop talking, knowing how sensitive it was.

“Ahh… You’re so stubborn.”

“No, I’m determined. I really enjoy having you in my arms like this, baby.”

Claiming your mouth so you wouldn’t talk back, Jungkook took you up the stairs, stopping every other step to push you to the wall and kiss you heavily, impatience starting to bubble up from the way your hands had already found themselves beneath his blazer and turtle neck, scratching at the skin of his muscular back and teasing the skin under the hem of his trousers.

Thankfully, the house was already fully furnished and there was a bed made for Jungkook to lay you in, moving away from your luscious body in order to get rid of his clothes. Your coat had already been left downstairs, all you had on was your dress.

You sat up in bed to watch your boyfriend strip, breath getting caught in your throat at every inch of him. He was so beautiful, his muscles even more defined after so much time at the gym, skin so radiant and smooth. You had no idea what you did to deserve him.

Coming back to kneel on the bed beside you clad in only his boxers, Jungkook held the back of your neck with one hand as he kisses your lips deeply again, the other hand finding the zipper of the dress and pulling it down. He had you on your back as he undressed your top, kisses following the skin his hands uncovered. His mouth pecked at your round shoulders, down your neck, to the dip between your breasts left in a black bra, down your pudgy stomach.

He started pulling at the skirt of the dress and you lifted your hips so he could take the dress all the way off, leaving you in your underwear.

You watched as Jungkook took you in head to toe, trembling a bit before returning your gaze.

“You look so good, Y/N. Can I have you like this every day? Can I wake up with you beside me all my mornings and kiss your pretty skin like this?” he asked with lust blown eyes and red cheeks, hovering above you in his forearms, hands brushing the skin of your face.

You held his face in between your hands, eyes looking between both of his, amazed at the love behind them.

“Yeah, Kookie. For as long as you want” you promised him.

He groaned and united your lips again for a searing kiss, goosebumps awakening up your spine and a wet discomfort becoming unbearable in between your legs, as his hands found your breasts and started to fondle with them over your bra. He left your mouth to start leaving wet kisses down your skin again, pulling the cup of your bra just slightly down and taking the nipple that stood out into his warm lips.

You squirmed as his tongue played with the little nub, your nails scratching at his strong shoulders as the electric shocks of pleasure it instigated. His tongue swirled around it and then his teeth pulled at the nipple, a wail escaping you at that.

Understanding how hot and bothered you were, Jungkook’s head traveled down your body until he was kissing your fleshy thighs, strong hands opening your legs so he could stand in between them.

“Ah, Jungkook… Please” you begged shamefully.

Hearing your request, he took off your drenched panties from your body, his face now mere inches from your hot center, dripping with want and need for him. Your body jolted and you saw sparkles at the first movement of his tongue, up and down your folds, tasting your sweetness like a starved men. You writhed and moaned under his demanding mouth, sucking and lapping at every right spot that had your muscles trembling with the need to let go.

At the sounds you were making, Jungkook felt himself growing painfully hard under his boxers and it made him want to move things along. He sucked on your clit harshly, licking it right after and repeating the process until you were completely drenched in your juices, about to reach your end. But he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ahh, ahhh… N-No, don’t stop!” It would have made you blush the whine in your voice as he lifted his head from between your legs, if you weren’t already completely flushed head to toe.

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t take it! Can’t wait anymore” he huffed in a painful voice, and you saw how he had pulled his boxers down and was stroking himself, his beautiful cock so incredibly flush and burning red, crown covered in his own overflowing juices already. Your insides clenched hard and you whined again.

“I want you so bad, Y/N!” Jungkook whimpered, his hand growing faster as he looked pleading at you.

“I want you too, Jungkook. Hurry, please, please!” you rushed him, opening your arms so he would take you.

However, instead of getting on top of you like you assumed he would, Jungkook pulled you by your extended arms and grabbed your wide hips, one hand on your back and another on your butt cheek as he stood up with you in his arms and pushed your back against the wall, hissing at the friction of his erection against your burning slit.

“Damn it…” he cursed under his breath. “A-Against the wall, like this. Can we do it like this?”

You would have complained, you would have worried about how heavy you were, about tiring him too much or risking you falling from his arms or he falling after carrying you for so long, but your brain was so completely clouded with need and he felt so damn good against your aching entrance that you would have agreed to absolutely anything at that point just to have him inside.

“Yeah! Yeah, Kook, yes, please-”

With wavering breaths, Jungkook lifts your hips just enough to position himself against your entrance and when you slide back down, back rubbing a bit against the wall, he is completely bottomed out inside of you. You moan so loud, arms tightening around his shoulder and neck, legs crossing at his lower back, feeling him so incredibly deep.

A cross between a grunt and a whimper escapes Jungkook lips too, his cock completely surrounded by your throbbing, hot and wet silk walls, pleasure running thorough his veins at the feeling. It feels so good he doesn’t even process the weight of you in his arms, all he feels is your body pressed against his and he automatically is thrusting up into your hole, you being completely at the mercy of his movements.

He starts yanking his hips, slowly at first, building up a pace that had you biting your lips. A deep tense pull of nerves starts forming on your lower belly and you yearn for more. Jungkook’s shaft is rubbing your walls just right, this new angle enticing new sensations you never felt, your back against the wall cooling your skin down only for his movements to heat it back up. But then he starts picking up speed, pounding into you so fast that the friction against the wall starts hurting a bit, but it only expands the feeling of pleasure somehow.

Jungkook feels incredible as he holds you like this, he feels so strong and manly. Through half-closed eyes he sees your face constricted in pleasure, he feels the reverberations of each of his thrusts on your flesh, jiggling so delectably on his hands. It almost undoes him.

The sound of skin slapping skin and the sounds of your wetness mixes in with your moans and his grunts, heavy breaths from both of you. Jungkook grabs your ass cheeks and moves you away from the wall, holding you close as his pelvis keeps slamming fast against yours and it’s stimulating your clit at the same time he rubs the spot inside, making you cry out as your stomach falls and your inner walls spasm uncontrollably around him, coating him with your juices as you cum violently.

“Ahh, Y/N! Y/N, Y/N!”

Jungkook cums in just a handful more of thrusts into your still throbbing tunnel, blood roaring against his ears and mind going blank as spikes of electricity rush through him, shaft twitching inside of you as he releases white strings against your walls.

Spent, Jungkook falls back and thankfully he lands with you on top at the bed, sweating and flushed but satisfied in every level. You are trying to control your heart and regain your breath on top of him, never in your life having considered it possible to have sex in such a position due to your weight.

“Jungkook?” you call, head on his chest hearing his heart beating loudly under his skin.

“Yeah?” he breathily responds.

“When you were going to the gym, you were envisioning doing this to me, weren’t you?”

He stays silent for a moment and then turns you over, so you are suddenly on your back. You whimper at the sudden loss of him against you, but have no time to focus on that when he is right in front of your face, large eyes staring at you with red cheeks and swollen lips.

“Shut up.”

He kisses you and you giggle into the kiss, knowing you were right and he just didn’t want to admit it. He pecks at your lips, then at the corners, then at your flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead.

“Let me go see if our shower is working.”

Your heart does a complete flip at the word ‘our’ and you know then and there that he was going to be your forever and always, the love of your life.

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shy-violet-soul · 4 years

Text

Puppy Love

Summary: When Uncle Dean takes his first solo niece-sitting gig, what could possibly go wrong? Characters: Dean Winchester, Castile, Sam Winchester x reader, & OC Erica from a story written by @kittenofdoomage titled “Rainbows in the Sun” Word Count: 2,600 Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I had the privilege and delight of reading @kittenofdoomage Supernatural series, “Rainbows in the Storm”, on Patreon. If you’re not a patron of hers, you are missing out! I quickly fell in love with this amazing story - her characterization and nail-biting cliffhangers kept me hooked the whole way through. But one little sentence in the Epilogue had me laughing, and my imagination ran away with me. This is for you, @kittenofdoomage !

Image found on https://wallpapersafari.com/w/kn7fwH

Dean Winchester didn’t brag about his assets often. But he had zero problem with his pride at the oft given praises his mouth had earned from the ladies. His lips had brought delight to many a babe. The current babe in his arms was no different.

The fact that she was four months old, and his niece, didn’t detract from his pride one iota.

Crossing his eyes, Dean happily blew raspberries continuously as he leaned down before smacking noisy kisses under her chin. Erica’s baby giggles burst forth as she waved her hands, and Dean had to do it again.

“Thhhhbbbffft,” he wagged his face side to side as he leaned down, letting his nose rub against her tiny chest tickingly before diving back under one round cheek and smacking more kisses. Dimples winked up at Uncle Dee, Erica’s still-baby-blue eyes gazing up at him with delight, and he fell a little more in love yet again.

“You’re adorable,” came his matter of fact observation. Erica grinned her agreement. “Good genes, darlin’. You got your mama’s nose, and I’m pretty sure your killer Winchester smile from your uncle, not your daddy.” With the ease of long practice, Dean swiped the burp cloth from his shoulder and dabbed at the drool on her tiny chin. “Do me a favor and smile a lot. Like me, not like Mr. Grumpy Pants Daddy.”

Delicate eyebrows knitted together as Erica cooed seriously. Dean nodded proudly. “That’s my girl. Now, your mama said not to worry about your bath. I think it’s because she doesn’t think I can handle it. You and I both know that’s crap, right?” Erica chewed intently on her fists in answer. “Right. So gimme one more giggle and then it’s ‘Rubber Ducky, You’re the One’. Here we go!”

One more time, Dean raspberried down, down to Erica’s sweet smiling face. Just as he started growling under her chin, her squeal changed into something weird. Several things crammed into Dean’s brain in about a millisecond.

One - Erica sounded like she yipped. Like, puppy yipped. But that couldn’t be. He was wrong.

Two - her soft, slightly drool-slimy chin was suddenly different soft. Like fluffy furry soft. Which also couldn't be. He had to be wrong.

Three - the chubby little fists she loved to chew on suddenly swiped claws against his face. Like, claws. Puppy claws. Which also so very much please couldn’t be.

Please, oh please, Dean wanted to be wrong.

Post millisecond, Dean yanked himself upright and felt his stomach drop straight to Rowena’s throne room.

A chubby, fluffy wolf pup - adorable, yes, but a freakin’ wolf pup - lay wriggling in his lap, snout wreathed in puppy smiles as it waved its paws up at him.

Dumbfounded, Dean sat frozen for a moment. He slowly stood up, holding the pup at arms length before gently setting it on the couch. Then, he frantically searched under the throw pillows at each end, under your blanket tossed over the back, even under the couch itself for his suddenly missing niece. No human baby surfaced.

His frantic gaze fell on the wolf pup. It lounged right where he’d laid it, studying him curiously. Erica’s cute lady-bug onesie and leggings stretched and gapped in equal measures around fluffy legs and paws, and the red barrette he’d painstakingly affixed into his human niece’s hair earlier sat holding a hank of creamy-brown fur straight up between its ears.

“Oh, crap”

At his whisper, the wolf pup smiled happily and launched itself at him. His reflexes kicked in and his arms scooped the little bundle against his chest, falling backwards to the floor. The pup wiggled its way up his chest and slopped a lick against his chin before gazing into his eyes lovingly.

Gazed with Erica’s still-baby-blue eyes.

“Son of a bitch!” Tucking pup-Erica under one arm, Dean dove for his cell phone. “Cas!” Pup-Erica playful clawed and nipped at his phone as he frantically tried to call Sam. No answer, straight to voicemail. Same thing for your phone. This was bad.

“CAS!”

“Hello, Dean.”

The hunter didn’t even hesitate, just thrust the pup at the angel.

“Fix this!” he bellowed, pup-Erica wiggling happily in his grasp at the sight of her other uncle. Castiel tilted his head as he stared at the pup.

“Hello, Erica. Are you enjoying your first shift?” She yipped as Castiel took her in his arms, slopping kiss after kiss on his face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Dean had braced his hands on his legs as he leaned down, head between his knees as he wheezed in air. Cas stared at him quizzically.

“Dean, are you alright?”

He raised a hand, wordlessly asking for a moment. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Or a stroke. Maybe an explosive ulcer,” he croaked out.

Nonplussed, Cas pressed two fingers against Dean’s forehead. “I detect none of these events occurring, Dean. Although your blood pressure is highly elevated, and you appear to be generating a migraine. I can’t heal that until your heart rate slows down. You should try to relax.”

Dean’s hands fisted onto Cas’s trench coat collars, pulling himself up to standing to glare maniacally into his friend’s placid gaze.

“My niece is a dog, Cas! I’m not going to relax! I’m going to be murdered when they get back! Sam’s gonna...” His grip loosened as his thoughts zoomed to your reaction. “She’s going to chew me to kibble.” Horror trembled in his whisper as he dragged his hands over his face.

Sad, tiny whining begged for attention as a tentative paw patted at his arm. Still dazed beyond comprehension, Dean blinked down at the blue eyes staring woefully up at him. By sheer habit, Dean tucked the little one into his arms, warmth filling his chest when she snuggled into his shoulder - just like human-Erica did. The high-pitched whine echoed from her chest into a full-fledged howl that Dean would later recall as ridiculously cute. But now, his niece was sad and needed her uncle.

“It’s alright, ladybug, it’s alright. Look, Uncle Dee’s ok. Uncle Cas and me are gonna take care of you, don’t you worry.” Instinctively, Dean moved to pat her back before switching gears to gently scritching her ears. “Cas, can you talk to her?”

“While I can speak to lycans in their wolf form, as a juvenile, she still has not learned words. She’s upset right now, but calming. However, she has forgotten in the urgency of the moment that she’s hungry.”

Dean’s eyes closed as this new challenge presented itself. When Erica whined again, cuddling closer, he snapped to attention.

“Alright. We’ve got a highly experienced hunter and an angel. We got this. We can take care of one baby wolfed-out lycan.”

Two destroyed bottle nipples and a spilled canister of powdered formula later, Dean wasn’t sure they had this at all. Cas currently sat at the kitchen table with Erica, dipping his fingers into a bowl of formula and letting her lick and suck to her heart’s content. However, the going was slow, so Dean was improvising plan B. He’d dug up one of his softest old tshirts and some of your hair ties. In moments, he had fashioned a teat that he hoped to kingdom come would work.

“Alight, Cas, give her here.” Frustrated and hungry, Erica growled as she tried to climb into the formula bowl, her nose and face liberally coated with the white liquid. Working in tandem, Cas started soaking the cloth teat in the formula while Dean wrapped his flannel shirt around the wriggling pup, using the sleeves to swaddle her still. Then, he cradled her in his elbow and mentally crossed his fingers. Erica nosed the soaked fabric curiously before giving a tentative lick, then a bit of a chomp. Two seconds later, she was sucking with gusto, tiny grunts of approval rumbling from her. When Dean pulled it away to resoak it, the pup was not impressed; demanding, squeaky barks let her uncles know to hurry it up! Both men chuckled as the feeding went on until Erica stopped sucking and just chewed.

“Good job, ladybug,” Dean praised as he unwound the flannel from about her. “Look at that fat little belly!” With a gentle touch, he tickled the soft pink skin, laughing again when she squirmed, panting happily. Dean handed her off to Cas while he snagged the bowl, carefully stepping over the drifts of powdered formula. “Gotta say, Cas, didn’t know you were so experienced with wolf baby care.”

“I once cared for a baby elephant who had been separated from his mother in the sub-Saharan plains. It’s pretty much the same thing.”

Water running as he washed the bowl, Dean sent a scoff over his shoulder at the angel.

“No, Cas. It really isn’t.” A pause as Dean fully turned to look at his friend. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

Dean’s eyes rolled so hard, they saw it from space. “The Duchess of Cambridge. Erica, you dumb ass!”

The angel looked down and glanced around him, his arms glaringly empty. “She’s not here.”

Dean’s left eyelid started twitching. Wasn’t that a symptom of a stroke? “I can see that. Why are you not holding her?”

“She wanted down.”

A faint cracking sound in his skull only faintly registered with Dean; probably a molar, but that was an issue for later. “She wanted down? That’s all you got? She wanted down?!” That migraine from earlier suddenly flared to life, and Dean nearly broke a bone in his scramble into the library.

“ERICA!!! Come to Uncle Dee, honey!” A cheerful yip and rhythmic claw clicking caught his ear, and Dean turned his head so quickly he gave himself a crick. Luck was on their side - Erica’s human baby clothes had hobbled wolf pup Erica, and her limping, lopping progress in their direction was pure cuteness. Dean hit his knees and swept her into his arms. “Ladybug, you can’t do that to your uncle! He’s an old man!” He pressed kiss after kiss to her wet nose, gratefully accepting her boisterous and slightly drooly puppy kisses. Even the one that went in his eyeball.

Sending Cas a glare of pure exasperation, he began wrestling the baby clothes off the wiggly bundle of fluff.

“Alright. We’ve survived two crises, I think the worst is behind us.”

All seriousness and brevity, Cas nodded as he straightened, scooping a small, leather-bound copy of A Hystori of Caledonian Monsters from the floor. The aged tome bore a surprising amount of chewing and puppy drool from the short amount of time of his niece’s unsupervised freedom.

“Agreed.”

- - - 2 hours later - - -

Sam grinned down at you dopily as you both trudged down the long hall from the garage. The long-overdue date hadn’t been what he’d originally planned. But when the waxing moon and wildflower-scented breeze had hit them both, candlelight and overpriced pasta didn’t seem near as appealing as sizzling sexy times in the back seat, burgers and fries and milkshakes from the drive through, and shifting to frolic in the tall, windswept grass of an open field.

The quiet of the bunker wasn’t terribly unsurprising; Uncle Dee was a veritable decibel defender when it came to his niece’s nap time. No baby girl of mine is growing up used to only four hours and calling that rest! he had scorned. The fact that the newborn was only sleeping four hours at a time anyway, and wasn’t his actual daughter, was resolutely ignored.

What was surprising was the carnage that greeted them. Library chairs laid on their sides in some type of corral. Erica’s baby toys rested in varying stages of repose or destruction. Burp clothes, towels, and receiving blankets were scattered, some whole, some slightly torn. An open bottle of baby shampoo slowly glugged its contents onto the table. Someone had attempted to hide some damaged lore books behind a lamp. And pillows - so many pillows - were everywhere, their feathery guts flung to every corner of the room.

Instantly on alert, Sam waved you to stay back as he drew his gun and began easing forward. Senses honed by years of battle didn’t pick up on any immediate threat, but the proof before him clearly spoke otherwise. When your hands fisted into his shirt, fingers trembling in sudden fear, he reached back to touch your back reassuringly.

“Dean?” he shouted questioningly. His voice echoed against the cavernous ceiling, but still no foe came at them. With a tentative touch, he nudged a tired pillow over, finding another damaged lore book beneath it. Sam gingerly grabbed it, lifting it up to squint at the mangled leather and paper.

“Are those…” you started haltingly, peering over his shoulder.

“They look like...tiny teeth marks.” You stared at Sam wordlessly before you both sprinted for the bedrooms. The nursery door banged against the wall loudly, and the occupants of the room flinched but didn’t stir beyond that.

One side of the crib was hanging haphazardly from its left-side screws, a blanket strangled in the slats. A stuffed tiger toy that you secretly hated lay with its head missing and cotton stuffing innards hanging out. No less than 11 diapers scattered across the floor with the tapes missing. Sleeper legs and flannel blankets dangled from open dresser drawers. Clouds of baby powder, liberally dusted into higgledee piggledee piles, still hazed the light glowing from the lamp near the upholstered rocking recliner in the corner. In the middle of the madness lay the hapless heroes.

They had somehow managed to winch Dean’s fancy memory foam mattress into the room, one corner of it caught and peeling up against the toy chest. Cas lay on one side, his trench coat hanging off one arm and his tie out from under his collar and wrinkled beyond belief. Dean looked no better; his grey tshirt showed dark swathes of damp that smelled like baby shampoo. His hair stood up in weird handfuls, as if he’d been gripping it in his fists in desperation. Shoeless, he only wore one sock. A handful of raggedy baby wipes poked out of his back pocket.

And between them both, tenderly snuggled into a nest of nearly every blanket in the bunker lay a precious creamy-brown wolf pup, sleeping contentedly without a care in the world.

Sam knew his jaw had hit the floor, and figured you were in the same boat.

“Is that...her?”

You took a couple of careful steps forward into the wreckage. Closing your eyes, you let your stronger lycan senses take over. The soft, sugary scent of honeysuckle comforted your mama heart as you smiled in disbelief.

“Yep, that’s her.”

“You mean she had her first shift and we missed it?!”

Chuckling softly, you picked your way through the baby item minefield. Only a Winchester would be more upset about missing a baby’s first shift than the absolute destruction of their home.

“It looks like.”

“What do we do? Does she know how to shift back?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, stilling them Erica twitched and squeaked in her sleep. “I don’t know. I’ll call my mom, maybe she can help us.”

Warm, long fingers curled around your hips to tug you back against him. You could sense his delight at the picture before them. Whatever had happened, his brother and friend had adapted and overcome. His daughter was so loved.

“I guess we should wake them up.”

You grinned as you dug out your phone. “Not until I get a picture.”

#dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #loved this series!#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

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Hot for teacher [3] > Bucky Barnes

PAIRING; Dark!Professor!Bucky Barnes x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 5,262

WARNINGS; Age difference, teacher/student dynamics, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation

SUMMARY; You’re finally getting what you want out of Mr. Barnes, but someone throws a wrench in your plans.

NOTE; Gif isn’t mine! Credit to @/emmaduerrewatson! I promised that reader is gonna stay difficult and not go soft, and it really shows in this part, lol. Rich brats will be rich brats! I hope you guys like it! Sorry for the wait, but I ended up taking a left turn with this that I honestly didn’t expect, lol, and have introduced a new rich brat to make things a little... well... difficult :)

☞ PART FOUR | ☞ SERIES MASTERLIST

You clear your throat as you move into Mr. Barnes classroom. He’s perched just like he usually is - legs stretched out, left ankle resting on the right, arms crossed over his chest. He’s dressed like a model today, a new look for him. A thin, cream colored sweater is covered by a brown suede jacket while black slacks frame his long legs. He tosses his eyes at you from his spot on his desk and smiles softly.

“I’m jealous at how nice your handwriting is,” he says as he reads over the chalkboard.

You close the door with your foot and saunter inside, an extra pep in your step this morning. You move around the side of his desk and plop next to him, squinting your eyes towards the board as you examine your handiwork. You feel his eyes on you as you nod your head slowly and raise your chin, drawing a laugh from him.

“My mother always told me that bad handwriting is a sign of an imperfect education. I took it to heart, obviously.”

You turn your heads towards him to find him already gazing at you. His big, blue eyes wander around your face before dipping to your lips, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes.”

He tilts his head a little, “Sleep well?”

“Hmm,” you hum, closing your left eye and tilting your head to the left as you ponder his question, pulling another laugh from him, “Not really.”

“Oh?” He asks cheekily, “Why is that?”

“I keep having naughty dreams about my Ethics teacher.” You say, smiling all the while.

He clicks his teeth and shakes his head, “Teasing you, is he?”

“Of course. He won’t give me what I want.”

He smiles again, bringing his index finger to just below your chin. He drags it slowly down your chest, right into your white button down shirt and down your cleavage, “What is it that you want?” He whispers.

You lick your lips and let out a deep breath before leaning in a little closer, “A kiss.”

He shoves his hand into your shirt, cupping your breast in his large palm. You thrust your chest forward and let him fondle you - squeezing and groping until he snakes those long fingers of his underneath your bra to flick at your alert nipple. You press your thighs together before wiggling your hips slightly, copping a feel of yourself as he rolls your nipple between his fingers.

He pushes away from the desk and pries your legs apart with his knees, settling between them. He pulls his hand from your flesh and starts undoing the buttons of your shirt, flipping his eyes up to yours every now and again. He pushes it open and drops his gaze to your full, round tits, licking his lips before humming to himself softly. He leans in and runs his tongue through your cleavage, pushing it all the way up to your chin.

You let your head fall back as your fingers grip the edge of his desk. You hiss softly when he sucks the side of your neck, rubbing the sensitive skin with his wet tongue. He bites down and you jump, gasping before letting out a soft, feminine moan. You wrap your leg around his hip and push him into you, feeling his crotch against yours. Your hand pushes into his hair as he nibbles on you - his hands still groping and kneading your breasts.

He pinches your nipple suddenly, sending a sharp pain through you, making your squeal. He pulls away and stares at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he places his index finger to his mouth, shaking his head slowly. You bite your lip at his warning and toss your eyes towards the clock that hangs over the chalkboard - you’ve still got a little time.

You grab his hand from his face and push it between your legs as you thrust your hips forward. You rub his fingers along your now soaking wet sex, your panties stuck to the hot flesh. You hear him moan and your ego hits the roof, “That’s all for you Mr. Barnes.” You whisper, “Whenever you want it.”

“I thought you said all you wanted was a kiss?”

“I do,” you shrug, “But I’ll take some dick too if you’re giving it out.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He says, his voice dangerously low. He pulls his fingers from your pussy and the pad of his index and thumb together, feeling the wetness you left behind. He then brings them to your mouth, rubbing them along your bottom lip, coaxing you to open up, “I can’t smell like pussy all day.”

You stare back at him, your eyes bouncing between both of his before you part your lips, allowing him access. He pushes his digits into your mouth and you suck them slowly, bobbing your head back and forth, keeping your eyes squarely on his.

He smiles back at you and reaches down to squeeze his cock, “I thought you said you were a virgin.”

You release his fingers with a pop, “I am.” You shrug innocently.

“You sure don’t fucking act like it.”

You throw your arms around his shoulders and push your chest into his, “I never said I haven’t had a dick in my mouth before Mr. Barnes. Just not one in my pussy. In the eyes of Jesus, I’m still a pure young lady.”

He crashes his lips to yours as soon as the words fall from your lips. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you into him as he shoves his warm tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as he kisses you deeply, his tongue massaging the roof of your mouth before it slides along yours. He pulls the air right from your lungs as he inhales before he releases you. He pecks your now hot, swollen lips once, twice, three more times before he finally pulls away.

He rests his forward to yours as you close your eyes, your chest heaving, “At least you can check that off your list for now. Take your seat please.”

You groan loudly, not wanting to let him go, not wanting to have to go an entire day all tense and worked up, feigning for an orgasm until you can see him this afternoon. He smiles at you and cups your face in his hands, rubbing your cheeks slowly, “You’re such a brat.”

You poke your bottom lip out and slump your shoulders, “I’m supposed to be the tease, remember?”

He leans into you, “Can’t give you too much too soon.” He kisses you quickly again, “Now move. The rest of the class will be here soon.”

He moves away from you and you push off of the desk, obliging his request. After all, if he gets fired, all your fun comes to a screeching halt.

You try your hardest to pay attention to his lecture but your mind is mush. You’re still high from his touch - from his mouth and his tongue. You rest your hand in your palm as you sway softly back and forth in your seat, replaying the quick session in your mind. You lick your lips, happy to still have the taste of him in your mouth as the new memories play out.

You clamp your thighs and rub them together, feeling the wetness of your pussy as the soft touch of his tongue between your tits rattles through you again. You let your eyes flutter gently as you remember his fingers on you, pushing along your slit, grazing at your sticky, throbbing clit. Fuck, you’d do anything to have those fingers inside of you - that fat cock… you moan at the thought.

A few quick glances from other students are sent your way and you clear your throat as you catch yourself - goddamn it. You sit up in your seat, rolling your shoulders before you throw your hair over your shoulder.

“Are you alright up there?” You hear seconds later, snapping your attention to him.

Bucky cocks his head as he blinks at you, raising his eyebrows after a few seconds go by without an answer from you.

You smile and clear your throat once more, “Of course, Mr. Barnes.”

“You sure? Do you need some water?” He asks.

You suck your teeth and lean back in your seat, uncrossing your legs and spreading them open for him to see your red, satin panties - wet spot and all, “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

He turns immediately from you and clears his throat before he continues on like he didn’t just get an eye full of you. You smile to yourself. Two can play that game, Mr. Barnes.

The bell rings almost twenty minutes later and the room is suddenly alive with movement and motion. You clutch your books to your chest as you move through the seats and head past his desk as the class files out.

“I’ll see you this afternoon?” He asks, watching you as you pass by, “I’ll have a ton for you to do today.”

“Of course. Three thirty five sharp.”

He smiles before turning his attention back to the rest of his students, wishing them a pleasant day. You push out into the hallway, but stop in your tracks as a mocking voice sounds behind you.

“Three thirty five sharp.“ it repeats in a high pitched tone, “God, you’re such a fucking suck up.”

You turn on your heel, coming face to face with one Cher Goodwin - your other arch nemesis since 9th grade. You’ve both hated each other from the minute you laid eyes on one another, constantly trying to one up the other. The competition between the two of you is intense and it’s really cute how hard she tries, but, you always come out on top. Every single time. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You smile back at the tall blonde, rolling your eyes before you tilt your head and frown at her, “Awww, somebody is still upset they didn’t get picked.”

She sneers back at you, “I’m sure your daddy pulled a few strings for you, as usual.”

“To be a teacher’s assistant?” You laugh, “You need better material, darling. Plus, you should be used to being number two… or three, or four...”

“You’re a fucking bitch.” She fires back.

“And you’re a constant disappointment, number two.”

She slams her hand against the lockers before pushing into your face, “I know what you’re doing. You think you’re slick, you whore.”

“Whore?” You ask, laughing loudly, “I’m the whore? I’m not the one that got caught fucking the substitute last year. I mean really? In the back seat of his Honda, Cher?”

“Shut up.” She hisses, her green eyes bouncing between yours, “You put on this little show like you’re so innocent and everybody just falls for it and kisses your ass. Not me, I see exactly who you are.”

“And who am I, Cher? Hmm?” You goad, “A stellar, 4.0 student, unlike yourself? Someone with a vacation home in the French Alps? Oh, I heard your family had to sell yours… I guess you all have fallen on hard times. So sad.”

“I’m gonna get him,” She whispers, as a sly smile covers her face, “You better watch your prissy ass.”

You smile again, chuckling as you wiggle your eyebrows, “Mr. Barnes has taste, Cher - a refined pallet, if you will. That’d be like him going from a five star restaurant, which few can afford, to a local pizza joint where just anybody is allowed in.” You raise your eyebrows, waiting a few seconds for a response, but find nothing but silence, “I’m sorry,” you laugh, “You probably didn’t understand me. You see, I just made a metaphor. A metaphor is -”

“Go fuck yourself.” She snarls as her cheeks start to flush red.

You spin back around on your heel, “You should just learn to enjoy second place, Cher. It suits you.”

You give her a wink and turn away, taking a few steps away from her before you wiggle your fingers, “Tootles.”

-----

You tap the eraser of your pencil against your world history book hard. You toss your eyes towards the clock, sighing loudly as you kick your foot wildly back and forth. Three twenty nine. This has been the longer minute of your life. You slam your book shut and shove it into your bag, standing quickly as you shrug it onto your back. You pass by a few seats and head for the door, completely ignoring Mrs. Carter as she calls to you.

“Class isn’t over yet.” She says, annoyed by both your general presence and your blatant disregard for her in this moment.

The bell rings loudly. You shrug, and keep walking, “It is now.”

You move out into the hallway and start a brisk pace towards Mr. Barnes’ room. The building is buzzing as kids pour out into the wide hallways, loud laughter and a constant chatter filling your ears as lockers open and slam shut. It’s all background noise at this point - your vision is tunneled towards Hall A - Jesus himself couldn’t stop you from getting there. You turn down the familiar hall and bob and weave your way through the dense crowd until you’re at his door. You stand just to the left of it, letting the last few of his students filter out before you push through the threshold. You close the door with your foot and lock it, before you let your backpack fall to the floor.

He looks up at you from over his laptop, pushing his glasses up his nose as he watches you move to the front of his desk. You climb on top of it and crawl towards him, shutting his laptop with a soft click. You pick it up and set it off to the side before you plop down in front of him. He leans back in his chair and rests his elbow on the arm as he watches you hike your skirt up around your waist. You pull your panties down your legs and toss them towards him, hitting him in the face with them.

You spread your legs, giving him a face full of your plump, ripe for the picking pussy and lean back, resting your weight on your palms that are flat on the wooden desk.

He cocks his eyebrow towards the ceiling and smirks at you, “Well hello to you as well.”

You take a breath, “Hello.”

“You have papers to grade.”

You nod, “Mmhmm, right after you make me come.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Yes.”

His smile grows. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk and linking his fingers together, “That’s awfully forward of you.”

“I thought you liked that about me.”

“I do, but what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I had to deal with a hard-on all day because of your little stunt this morning. What if I want to cum?”

You bite your bottom lip, “I didn’t give you specifics on how to make me come, Mr. Barnes.” You whisper, “You can fuck me right here, right now if you want.”

“Not yet, baby girl.”

You tilt your head and push your hips forward, “Why’s that?”

He smiles, “Can’t have you falling in love with me.”

“Who says I haven’t already?” You immediately counter, your voice quiet and low.

His smile grows wide and you just know he liked hearing it. He pushes away from his desk using his feet and reaches for the front of his pants. He pops the button and then undoes the zipper before reaching in. He pushes his boxes down a little before pulling his cock free and your pussy tightens immediately. He strokes it slowly, resting his head back on his chair as his eyes fall to your exposed cunt.

“You said you’ve had a dick in your mouth before.” He says after a moment.

“Yeah.” You answer, your voice thick.

He nods towards his dick, “Well? Get on it.”

You’re on your knees before he can finish the sentence. You rest your hands on his thighs before bending over and taking him into your mouth without so much as a second thought. You drag your tongue along his shaft before you suck on his tip and release him with a pop. He groans and reaches for your shirt, popping the buttons to free your breasts. You grab his cock, holding him still as you sink back down on him, bobbing your head up and down as you moan and slurp.

You start to play with yourself as you suck him off, rubbing quick circles against your clit. He starts to pump his hips, pushing his dick further into your mouth and down your throat. No gag reflex. You’ve had plenty of practice - much to his delight. You push two fingers into your dripping sex and pump them hard, imagining it was him fucking you instead of just being down your throat; but you’ll take what you can get.

You curl your fingers and stroke your insides as you shake your head back and forth while sucking his entire length in your mouth. You bury your nose into the course, dark hair that covers his lower half and push your hand up into his shirt, feeling his hard, toned muscles. You dig your nails into his skin before scraping them down his abs. You swirl your tongue over his slit and then sink back down on him again, massaging him with your warm, wet tongue.

“God,” he groans, shutting his eyes as he pushes his hips into your mouth, “You’re just a little pro, aren't you?”

You send your eyes back to him and nod slowly before releasing him. You grab him again and pump your hand up and down his cock, wet with cum and spit, and rub his slit with the tips of your fingers, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

He smiles lazily, grabbing your face and pulling you up to him, “Perfect,” he whispers, kissing you, “Just perfect.”

You smile as he strokes your ego once more, and you return the favor, ten fold. You use your hands and your mouth on him with a new tenacity. You bob your head up and down quickly, following your hand as you twist it along his cock, moaning and groaning as you go. Strings of your wetness hang from your soaking pussy, some clinging to your thighs, others falling to the floor beneath you.

He’s soon writhing underneath you, his hips jerky, his breath shallow and hard. He grips the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles have gone white. Curses fall from his lips as he fucks your face, hissing and groaning as you take every inch, every hard thrust like the champ that you absolutely are.

Your mouth goes slack around him as you moan loudly while you stroke your clit. Your fingers are fast as you tease it, rubbing and flicking - slapping at it as you rock your hips, letting the pressure grow and grow until it can’t do anything but spill over. He jerks his hips into your face once more and lets out a deep, gravely moan as he starts to come. His mouth goes slack as his octave raises and you groan, swallowing each of his hot spurts.

You come soon after, letting your mouth go slack around him again as you do. You squeal and slam your eyes shut as the waves of your orgasm wash through you. He continues to spill out onto your tongue, his dick jumping with each surge.

He slumps back into his chair after the last ribbon of his milky spunk spurts out of him. You fall back against the desk and lean against it as you both breathe hard and loud. Your chests heave as your bodies go limp. You are an absolute mess. Saliva and cum hangs from your bottom lip, dripping down onto your chest as your thighs are covered in your own sticky juices.

You open your eyes and watch him as he pushes focused breaths out of his mouth, his dick limp and resting against his stomach. He opens his eyes and smiles softly before beckoning your forward with his finger. He pulls you into his lap once you’re close enough and kisses the top of your head as he holds you, stroking your arm with his finger tips.

“You’re a good girl.”

You hum in happiness, “Thank you Mr. Barnes.”

“You might just earn this cock sooner than I expected you to.”

You lean back and smile as you bite down into your bottom lip, “Promise?”

He chuckles, pulling your face into his to kiss you deeply again, “That all depends on you, baby.” He kisses you again, and then again, and again before he helps you to your feet. He slaps you on your behind, making you squeal, “Clean yourself up, with haste please. I do have tests for you to grade.”

You button your top and shrug back into your panties before heading towards the door. You unlock it swiftly and throw your eyes back at him before grabbing your bag and jaunting down the now deserted hallway, a spring in each step. You move into the bathroom, locking the door before making a straight line to the sink and pull a few paper towels from the dispenser. You wet them and push them between your folds, removing the remnants of your cum. You clean your thighs and chest, before taking a few mouthfuls of the cool water and swishing it around before spitting it back out.

You throw some water onto your face before dabbing it away and digging into your backpack for your makeup bag. You spritz a little rose water over your face before pulling out your Fenty concealer and going to work, dabbing at your cheeks, the bridge of your nose and your forehead before smoothing it in. You pucker your lips and spread some sparkly gloss over them before pressing and rolling them together to even it out.

You step back and smooth your hair down, running your fingers through it before you throw it up into a ponytail. You can hear your mothers’ voice ringing through your head. Eighteen hundred dollars for this sew-in and a ponytail is all you can manage? You smile at yourself - if only mommy dearest could see you now.

You exit the bathroom almost ten minutes later, humming happily as your ponytail swishes behind you. You turn into his classroom and stop dead in your tracks as you spot Cher fucking Goodwin leaning over his desk. They both glance back at you with Cher throwing a sly smile before turning her attention back to Mr. Barnes.

“I just,” she starts, sending her eyes towards the ceiling as she clutches her books to her rather exposed chest, “I just don’t understand a lot of it. I don’t want to have to drop your class but,”

“No, no, no,” He starts, waving his hand, “Listen, I’m here to help. I’m here for you guys, okay? Sit, we can go over today’s notes.”

You suck your teeth and narrow your eyes at her as you move deeper into the room. She glances back at you and winks before turning her attention back towards Bucky, “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to disturb you two. I know you probably have a lot for her to do.”

“That’s okay, she’s just helping me grade some papers. We can talk.” He says, pushing the stack of tests towards you, “Can you sit at one of the desks today? So Cher can sit here with me?”

You set your jaw in a hard line, grinding your teeth, “She can’t pull up a chair?”

He eyes you cautiously, picking up on your sudden change of tone, “Well, I mean, she can but, I don’t want you to get distracted either.”

You cut your eyes towards her and she raises her eyebrows, a smug smirk on her face, “Fine.” You answer briskly, grabbing the stack of stapled papers roughly from his desk and turning on your heel.

You trudge towards the lower level of seats and slam the stack down, the sound echoing through the room. You fall into the seat angrily and dig through your bag, pulling out your red pen and rip off the cap with intensity. You glance towards the open windows, snarling your lip as the sun shines and birds chirp - what the fuck do they have to be so happy about?

You slam your back into the seat and start grading some random asshole’s paper, cutting your eyes back to Bucky and Cher as they mumble lightly. She’s tucked into his side, her arm brushing up against his as he points at something in the textbook. She nods slowly - fake as hell - as she rests her head against her fist, her blonde hair cascading over her face and shoulders. She tosses it lightly as she adjusts her position, smiling and laughing as she pretends to all of a sudden understand one of the concepts.

You could snap your pen in half - or better yet, her fucking neck.

You take a deep breath, and press a hard F into the corner of the paper and slam it over onto the desk next to you. Bucky and Cher both glance up at the noise but soon it’s just Cher staring at you as he goes back to explaining a new point. She lifts her hand subtly and flashes her middle finger before she brings her painted fingertips to the collar of her shirt to play with it gently. She runs her fingers up and down the collar, bringing attention to her cleavage and perky, tanned breasts.

You narrow your eyes when you catch him sneaking a quick peak. Now you want to snap his neck. You tweak your neck to the left, and then the right, popping it to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t help. You’re steaming. Your chest heaves with anger as your internal temperature reaches its boiling point. Laughter rings out and you snap your eyes towards the two of them again, nearly growling when you watch her fall into him, slapping his shoulder playfully, all the while letting her hands linger on his biceps. You watch as he eats it up, laughing with her, you’re sure feeling proud of himself that he’s made her laugh.

You press another hard F into the corner of the paper in front of you and toss it on the pile next to you.You finish the stack of bullshit slowly, just to drag it out to see how long Miss Cher intends on playing with you. She counters you beautifully, somehow continuing to come up with question after question, theory after theory just to keep him talking. Just like the man he is, he falls further and further into the game.

You finally finish and stand, collecting the papers and move to his desk, plopping them down with a thud. You feel his eyes on you as you move briskly towards the door and throw your backpack over your shoulder.

“See you tomorrow.” He calls, leaning over his desk slightly as you throw open the door.

You don’t answer.

-----

You toss and turn all night long, thoughts of Cher keeping your mind occupied. The bitch. You pop up at your usual time and try to correct your attitude, hoping for a better day. Your mood does shift towards the positive as you curl your hair in the mirror - at least you’ll get him all to yourself this morning. You’re still a notch up on that bleached blonde pinhead.

You switch towards his classroom as the clock strikes seven twenty five am. His door is open once again, the light filtering out into the hallway.

You smile and roll your eyes playfully as you move through the threshold, “I honestly didn’t expect you to -“

The words halt mid sentence as you’re brought face to face with Cher fucking Goodwin. She’s perched in the front row, her textbook and spiral notebook piled neatly on her desk.

She smirks at you, wiggling her fingers, “Good morning sunshine.”

“The fuck are you doing here?” You growl, your eyes zeroing in on her, “Where’s Mr. Barnes?”

“Right behind you,” he offers as he squeezes by you, “Morning.”

“Why is she here?” You ask curtly, taking him by surprise.

He turns towards you, his eyes wide and questioning. He opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off, “I thought your little bet was fun. Wanted to join in.”

You scoff, “Halfway through the semester? I’m surprised your tardies haven’t earned you a demerit or two by now.”

“I’m not tardy that often.”

“Seventeen times is not that often?” You spit back, referring to the notches in your notebook that you make every time she rolls into class after the bell has tolled, “Seems to me you should be showing up early to trigonometry, your counting skills need a little fine tuning.”

“Well I’m sorry,” she answers back quickly, leaning up in her seat, “I wasn’t aware that you were the attendance monitor.”

“Ladies,” Bucky cuts in as both of your voices start to cut a little harder, “Nobody is keeping track, okay? Cool it.”

You push a hot, forced breath through your nose, “May I speak to you?” You ask, turning towards Bucky, “In the hallway?”

You turn on your heel before he answers and stomp outside. You cross your arms over your chest and tap your foot, eyeing him as he steps into view, “I want her out of here. Now.”

“What is your problem?”

“I don’t want her here. Make her leave.”

He tilts his head and steps closer to you, his voice low and hushed, “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“She’s my student, she needs my help. I can’t just-“

“Oh bullshit!” You hiss, “That bitch is fucking with me by going through you.”

He tilts his head as he quirks his eyebrow and smiles gently, “Jealous are we?”

You could scratch his eyes out, “This isn’t funny.”

“Oh, it’s a little funny.” He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the wall, “Look at you all worked up. You’re incredibly cute when you’re mad.”

He glances down the hall and once the coast is clear, he loops his arm around your waist to pull you close. You swat him away, slapping at his fingers, drawing a hearty laugh from him, “Oooooh! You are jealous! This gonna be fun.”

You cock your head, “Is it now?”

He smiles at you and kisses you quickly on your lips, “Yes. A little competition is healthy.”

“Competition?” You repeat, insulted that he would even regard her as such.

He winks at you, drawing you in a little closer as he keeps his eyes down the hallway, “Sometimes you have to fight for the things you want.” He whispers.

“Hmm.” You nod slowly, a thought forming in your brain. You hum lightly, making your mind up right on the spot. You smile back at him sweetly before sauntering around him and heading back into his room, “If you say so, Mr. Barnes.” You sing.

This means war.

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