#i wanted to do a clothes-swap with all three (yall know who) but then i ran out of juice DFGHJD

[u3pxx]

chat i dont think i can explain this one

[void-bitten-ghost]

OKAY YALL KNEW THIS WAS COMING

OFMD WINTERSBERG AU IDEAS

Gentleman pirate Ethan who took to the seas with his daughter not for the adventure, but to keep her safe and away from the real threat. I dunno the crown or something? I'm thinking mold powers are still on in this AU so there's some weird bitches messing around with aliens and making them into bioweapons somewhere on land and Ethan gets *Gone*. Acting piracy on the seas to make ends meet may be no place for a child, but Ethan has little choice in the matter when his decision has been made.

Finding out his wife was a spy and willing minion for people who wanted to take their child kind of made it for him, tbh. The day she tried to secretly take blood from Rose was the day he had the plans for The Revenge sent off for construction. He thought it was a very pirate-y name. Would blend in well.

Problem was, he was the one that didn't blend in well.

Infamy was inevitable. A man with a young baby strapped to his front politely threatening goods out of people?? Yeah. That gets attention.

I don't know nearly enough about this part of history I just want to see the 4 lords as pirate captains please and thankyou. Alcina in rose floral silks and pearls with a huge hat and a collection of cutlass'. Her coat a similarly shimmering white and grey... her three daughters in the rigging when the sun is warm on their cheeks but down in the hold under blankets during storms. I feel like the boat name would be The Sanguis Virginis. Yaknow. For reasons

Sly Twink Moreau in a sleek, black, hooded coat. Terribly allergic to citrus and sea salt. Has a very bad time at sea. Might name his ship The Ailing Tempest or something I dunno. Maybe Miranda named it with spite

Donna with her legendary and prized doll collection she gained from plundering noble ships. No one has ever seen her face and there's a betting poll going around her crew about it. There's a small fortune on what the colour of her eyes is, but every soul that's ever seen them has never lived long enough to tell the tale. Ship name would have something to do with Memories I think.

Now Heisenberg... he's all about the panache of things. The flair. The showmanship. But recently he's just been so fucking tired of it all. Has considered the act of grace a grand total of twice when at the bottom of some paticularly potent bottles....

Then he catches wind of The Gentleman Pirate, and he's just smitten from the off. What kind of fucking idiot brings a baby out to sea??? What kind of feral lunatic manages to keep a baby alive as well as himself while out at sea?????

Yeah. Heisenberg has to meet this crazy bastard. He has to.

One of em gets stabbed. Maybe both if we're being honest. Maybe ethan is more severely hurt from turning to protect Rose. He wakes to a strange man holding his little girl and shushing her back to sleep with stern tellings off. Things like "now you see here missy. Your papa needs to rest. Yes I know. I know, mate. It's fine though, the sword missed all the important bits he'll be fine," under his breath and Ethan is having an out of body experience with how much adrenaline pumped through him when he realised he wasn't holding Rose

Cue Heis being like. Thank fuck you're up how do I make it stop??? With the noise??? These things are so fucking loud how do you stand it???

Cue romantic slow-burn with Heis insisting on holding Rose for Ethan while he recovers. Instead of the clothes swap it's Heis wearing the sling and Ethan wearing all of his guns and harnesses as insurance. Ethan needs survival tips. Heis wants to know more about the world that was denied to him. A home. A family. All those delicate and beautiful things he's never known...

Ahem. Someone take this from me please I beg

[rolandtowen]

three times Zuko comes into the Jasmine Dragon coffee shop, and one time Sokka leaves with him. Set in the Neurodiverse Zukka AU, but can read as a standalone.

*banging pots and pans together* "Come over here and get yall Neurodiverse Zukka!"

Read it on Ao3 or under the cut!

TW: discussions of skin picking and implied child abuse

i.

When Sokka pulls into the parking lot of the Jasmine Dragon, he is unsurprisingly the first car there. Being a freshman in town means getting the worst pick of shifts at local businesses. Sokka was hired on to work the opening shift, which means he wakes up at the ungodly hour of 5am to open the shop before the first round of sleep-deprived college students comes in. The pay isn't bad, Mr. Iroh is an incredibly fair man,

The bell on the door jingles on his way in, and he flips several light switches on, watching as the coffee shop slowly comes to life. He busies himself with getting the beans for the day grinding, pulling his first shot and dialing in the expresso. When he takes a sip, the espresso is spot on for the day, which is a relief. Having to make adjustments as customers start filing in is a nightmare.

Today's brew is floral and citrusy, so he decides to make himself and iced lavender latte - with oat milk, of course, because he's gotta do it for the gays - and he spends the next 20 minutes setting out pastries and fiddling with the display cases, making everything look perfect.

At 6am sharp, Sokka unlocks the front door and flips their sign to open, before retreating behind the bar to nurse his latte. Not even five minutes later, the door bell jingles, and Sokka sees a flash of dark hair, face obscured by a pile of textbooks and binders. The figure runs into one table, and then another, and Sokka is rushing out from behind the counter. He gets there just before textbooks go toppling everywhere, his hands taking a firm hold of the top bundle. As he pulls the books into his arms, he sees the face behind them.

Breathtaking golden eyes.

And.. a massive burn scar.

"Hi!" Sokka says, "I'm the barista on shift today - my name's Sokka." He would reach his hand for the other man to shake, but for the stack of textbooks in them.

Golden Eyes smiles.

"I'm Zuko, Zuko Sozin," he says, setting his remaining textbooks on the table by his side. Sokka follows suit.

"Hey, I think I've seen you before - are you taking Piandao's Intro to Biology class?"

"Uh, yeah - yeah! You sit a few rows in front of me." Zuko laughs. "Your doodles are uh, something alright."

Sokka knocks him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "I gotta keep my hands busy for my brain to focus." He looks down at the stack of books on the table. "What on earth are you studying, to have that many books?"

"Uh, Biology and Chemistry double-major, Pre-Med track." Sokka's eyes widen. "It's really not that much! I got a bunch of stuff out of the way with AP credits."

Sokka raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, it is a lot - but I'm really passionate about it. I want to be a doctor."

"Well, Dr. Sozin, what can I get started for you today?"

"Can I get a iced matcha, with a lot of honey?"

Sokka raises his other eyebrow. "A doctor with a sweet tooth?"

"Kind of?"

"Don't worry, I won't rat you out to your dentist. An iced matcha with extra honey?" Zuko nods and Sokka smiles. "You got it, doc."

ii.

Sokka falls into a routine at the Jasmine Dragon. He opens the shop every morning, and every morning of the fall semester so far, Zuko Sozin comes in at precisely 6:05am. Zuko will order an iced matcha with honey, and sits at a table by the window with his laptop and at least two textbooks open at all times. Then, at 11:50am - Sokka guess he has a class that starts at noon - Zuko leaves the shop, always making sure to throw his spare change into Sokka's tip jar.

He's so beautiful.

On a slow day, Sokka comes out from behind the safety of the counter and works up the courage to ask Zuko if he can study with him. Zuko looks shocked at first, but his lips quirk up in a smile as he gestures for Sokka to sit in the chair across from him, moving his textbooks to make room for Sokka's one book and laptop.

"What are you studying, Sokka?" Zuko appears to be genuinely interested.

"Oh, uh, social work, with a concentration in mental health." Sokka waits for Zuko to laugh at him. It never comes. He looks up at him over their laptops.

"That's really cool."

"You think so?"

"Yeah! I mean, some pre-med majors can be really pretentious, really dismissive of mental illness, but um - not me. I don't really have that luxury." Zuko laughs, as though at a joke with himself. "What's the Intro to Biology for, then?"

"Not all of us got our common core out of the way with AP credits, like some nerd I know." Zuko smiles at that, and looks back down at his laptop screen.

Sokka pulls his keys from his pocket and starts fidgeting with the stim toy he keeps on his keychain as he reads through his latest assignment for his Mental Illness and Society class. He bought it on Etsy, relieved to find a neurodivergent-owned shop after scrolling through a lot of stores that just seemed to be hopping on the 'trend' of selling fidget toys. He flips to the next page in his textbook, popping the buttons back and forth in a steady rhythm. He remembers Zuko's sitting across from him and stops abruptly.

"Is this annoying? Do you want me to stop?"

Zuko just cocks his head. "Why would I get a say in what you do? It's kind of your shop, right?"

"Um, to be polite?" Sokka laughs. "And you would be surprised how many customers I get who think they get to tell me what to do." His eyes settle on the half drunk latte in front of him. "It's not really my shop either, I just work the early morning shifts so Mr. Iroh can sleep in. If you ever get to stay past noon sometime, you'll see him come in. You can't miss him, short guy, talks in riddles. He's older, a war vet I think - I just get that impression from some of the stories he tells me. But anyway, did you want me to stop fidgeting?" Sokka looks back up to meet those golden eyes.

Zuko glitches for a second. "Oh! No, no, go for it - if it helps you to study, I'm all for it."

Sokka smiles, and looking at the way Zuko keeps picking at his cuticles gives him an idea. He digs into his backpack and pulls out another stim toy, an acupressure ring. ""Do you want to try this instead of maiming your hands?"

Zuko hesitantly holds out a hand and Sokka drops it into his palm. "You don't have to."

Sokka scoffs. "I know I don't have to - I want to. Come on, I wear it on my thumb sometimes -" and suddenly he's taking Zuko's hands into his and getting very close to Zuko's face. Zuko can smell espresso on his clothes and Sokka's hands are so warm against his. Calloused, sure, but warm. He holds Zuko's right hand gently, pressing the spiky ring onto his thumb. "And you can rub it back and forth with your pointer finger and it gives you that kind of prickly sensation that you get from skin picking, just without the skin picking." Sokka pulls his hands away and Zuko immediately misses them. "Give it a shot, tell me what you think."

Zuko tentatively rolls the ring over his thumb. Huh. The cute barista's right, the acupressure gives him that same prickly, scratchy feeling that picking at his nails and cuticles does. "Wow," he says, "I think you've converted me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then keep it, I've got a thousand more where that came from, ADHD perks."

Zuko instinctively opens his mouth to protest but the words die in his throat.

"You, you have ADHD?" He stops rolling the ring across his thumb.

"Yup." Sokka's lips popped on the 'p', and he turned to the next page in his textbook. "And I'm pretty sure you've got some spicy stuff happening your brain, too. But you don't have to tell me."

"How are you so open about it?"

Sokka's hand stills around the fidget. "My parents never treated me like I was deficient in any way - my brain just works differently, which means I have trouble with some 'normal' stuff. But I also strengths in areas that others don't have naturally. Accommodations aren't anything to be ashamed of."

"Sounds nice." All of the levity drops out of Zuko's voice.

Sokka levels a look at Zuko. He lets his eyes flit to the right side of Zuko's face and the scar there. He's seen it so many times, and the burns look so concentrated, almost... intentional. His stomach churns at the thought. The scar's old... and Zuko's at college now, he has to be safe - he has to be.

"Like I said, you don't have to tell me." Sokka's hand starts to fidget with the buttons again. "But I have it on good authority that I am a good listener."

"I'll... I'll keep that in mind." Zuko looks down at his hands, fingers rolling the ring back and forth against his thumb. "Thank you."

"Anytime, doc."

iii.

Somehow, fumbling through their collective social awkwardness, they manage to swap numbers.

At the end of the fall semester, Sokka texts Zuko for the first time.

S: hey, im gonna be a few minutes later. don't worry, im still coming.

Z: okay. thank you.

When Sokka finally pulls into the parking lot fifteen minutes late, he sees Zuko waiting outside the door, sitting on a bench, head buried in one of his chemistry textbooks.

"Hey," he puts his keys in the door. "You can just come in while I open, it won't take too long."

Zuko follows him inside, and he closes the door against the chill.

"You didn't have to text me," Zuko says, like it's a question.

"I wanted to," Sokka starts flipping on light switches. "I know you've got your routine, and I didn't want to stress you out when it got messed up."

"Why would that matter to you?"

"Um, I don't want you to be stressed? I kind of care about you."

"You... you care about me?" Zuko stands in the middle of the coffee shop, unmoving.

Sokka smiles. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Why?"

"I think we could be friends?"

"Oh." Zuko's face falls for a second - what Sokka has come to understand is his 'processing' face - and he looks back up a second later. "I think we could be friends too."

"Friendship with a barista has great perks, you know." Sokka laughs as he starts up the grinder. "Although the perks of a social worker friend aren't too bad either."

"How's that going? With your first semester ending?" Zuko sits on a stool at the bar and watches Sokka putter around behind it.

"Well, I'm going to pass Intro to Biology, not for lack of trying on Piandao's part - I swear he's trying to weed out all the humanities kids. It isn't even a weed out course!" He polishes an espresso glass furiously. "How are you doing?"

Zuko chokes. "Oh, I'm - I'm fine, you know it's a hard class and all -"

"You're getting an A, aren't you?" Sokka squints at him from behind a bag of coffee beans. "Curve breaker," he scoffs.

"Hey, it's not my fault that I'm, what did you call it? A 'burnt-out gifted kid with people pleasing tendencies'." Zuko crosses his arms and huffs at the memory of that conversation. Sokka had read him like a picture book. And it was not fair for one person to be that good at emotions.

"You are correct, I did indeed call you that." Sokka pulls the first shot of the morning. "And it looks like I was right."

"You know what you said the other week, about being a good listener?"

"Sure do," Sokka takes a sip of the espresso, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it out. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, if we're going to be... friends, I just think you'd want to know that - I'm autistic." Zuko stares at Sokka searching his face for any cues about what the next words out of his mouth will be, waiting for the facade of friendship to drop. He furiously rolls the acupressure ring up and down his thumb.

"Okay, that's great!"

"...what."

Zuko's hands freeze and he squeezes the ring against his skin, feeling the pressure increase.

"That's great, I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me that. I kind of guessed your parents weren't as accommodating as mine?"

Zuko laughs something sour. "No, no they were not." He looks up in surprise as Sokka puts an iced matcha, extra honey, in front of him. "You're right though, I do feel safe here. I feel safe with you." Zuko looks down at the acupressure ring on his thumb, softening his grip. "You could have totally ignored me, but you didn't. Or you could've been mean about my quirks - but you weren't. Why?"

"Well, for starters, you tip well." Sokka smiles and leans across the counter, bracketing Zuko's elbows in with his own. "But you're also a really great guy - you're passionate, you want to make people's lives better, and you're also like, really beautiful."

Zuko feels his cheeks flush. "You really think that?" His fingers still against the fidget again, but he doesn't feel the need to press it into his skin. He's captivated by Sokka's words. Surely, Sokka couldn't actually mean -

"Oh, yeah. Every bit." Sokka brushes his hand against one of Zuko's, the one with the fidget ring. "Can I hold your hand?"

"Yes, please, yes." After weeks, Sokka's hand is back in his, and Zuko thinks he's going to implode. "Can, can you hold both of my hands? With both of your hands?"

"Of course," Sokka's positively beaming, grabbing Zuko's hands and running his thumbs across his knuckles. "Now you're absolutely allowed to say no to my next question, and there are no hard feelings."

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Fuck yes."

The iced matcha is forgotten.

+ i

Sokka's feet hurt like hell. Mr. Iroh had called in him to work a double on Friday, and since he doesn't have any classes on Fridays, he foolishly agreed.

It won't seem so foolish once you see the paycheck, he reminds himself. He and Zuko have a deal. Zuko pays for his medical school with his job shelving books at the University library, and Sokka pays for their tiny apartment by caffeinating all of the other broke college kids in town. By some miracle, they seem to be able to make it work. Zuko graduated into the medical college a year early, which helps with tuition costs, and of course his brilliant boyfriend got all kinds of scholarships.

Sokka is indescribably proud of him.

The door bell jangles just as Sokka is wiping the crumbs off the last cafe table. "Hey, we're starting to close up for the night, so it'd better be a to-go order," he calls over his shoulder.

"Even for me?"

"Zuko!" Sokka drops his cloth immediately and spins around, pulling Zuko into a hug. Zuko taps the small of his back when he's ready to let go, and Sokka lets him go, beaming. "You came to visit me at work?"

"More like I picked up your favorite soup dumplings from Haru's across the street and thought we could walk home together?" Zuko shrugs, gesturing to the brown paper bag in his arms. "How's that sound to you?"

"Baby, that's just what I needed today." Sokka picks up his cleaning supplies. "Okay, I just need to put all of this away and then we can lock up and go home, how's that?"

"Great," Zuko smiles at him. "I may have also picked up some more Doctor Who DVDs from the library," he smirks.

"Oh, you trickster!" Sokka yells from the kitchen, before appearing again. "You used my one weakness, pork soup dumplings, against me in order to get your nerdy way."

"Oh, big talk coming from the guy who watches astronomy documentaries for fun," Zuko laughs as Sokka leads him out of the shop, switching off the lights and locking the door behind him. "If it were up to you, we'd be watching Cosmos all weekend, and I can only take so much of Neil deGrasse Tyson explaining the peculiarities of the moon."

"Hey, the moon is cool!"

"You are correct, the moon is very cool. It's freezing, because it's a rock. In space. With no atmosphere. Or life." Zuko deadpans, earning a light punch on the shoulder from Sokka.

"Fine, you get Doctor Who tonight, but Saturday is going to be all PBS Nova, baby. Brace yourself." Sokka takes Zuko's free hand into his as they start the walk home.

"Well, as long as you're there, I'm happy."

Notes:

fidgets in this work were inspired by those from shop StimBox

[forbiddenfantasies1]

J/B Smut Swap Fic Recs

There have been so many amazing fics posted in the @jb-smut-swap, but I wanted to share the ones that have really stuck out for me. The amount of talent this fandom has continues to be ridiculous so this is long but in no way comprehensive.

Shocker...I got wordy so it's under the cut. I limited this one to 5 just because I couldn't shut up about them. At least one more will be coming (that's what she said).

with those who know secret things for SimoneBlack, rated E. The premise for Brienne as a sex worker and Jaime, a client who is seeking freedom and trust, could so easily be mishandled. This was anything but. It is somehow simultaneously wonderfully dirty and so, so tender. I lost my mind reading this, and it was worth every throw of my pillow. I'm still trying to understand how it had so much heat with so much heart.

Lines that will live in my head forever: There are several, but I'm gonna go with:

“Do you like to be touched, Jaime?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

Her finger stopped just above his navel, and when she pulled her hand away he swayed towards her. “But you aren't touched often,” she said, warm as a lazy afternoon. He listened for mockery, but there was none, just a fact, stated with quiet empathy.

“No.”

Blue placed her palm – studded with smoothed-down calluses and cooler than he expected – over his heart. “Do you want me to touch you tonight?”

The answer is yes, by the way

what is dark in me illumine for @bussdowntarthiana, rated E. Yall. This fic ruined me for an hour solid. My note on it says "made me want to throw myself through a plate glass window, and then eat the glass" and it's true. Jaime is a bar owner (and an ethical, exiled demon). Brienne is an ethics professor. Their attraction feels so layered, and the vibes of consent, and honor, and acceptance are woven through the smuttiest smut perfectly.

Lines that will live in my head forever: Again, there are so many, BUT this and the scene directly after it will live in my head FOREVER.

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Her pupils are spreading, darkness over the ocean. "I like hard and fast and filthy," she says evenly. "But do you want to know what happens to me when I hear you talk about how you've chosen to make your way in this world?"

He does. Desperately. "What?"

She opens her mouth, then seems to change her mind. "Maybe in this case, a demonstration would be the better pedagogical tool."

That prim word with all those consonants bouncing around in her mouth makes him want to sink his teeth into her. "Please feel free, Doctor Tarth."

(I can't talk about what her demonstration was because it makes me want to break things).

Hush for TwoKnightsOneCup, rated E. This is another that fell in the "Fuck this fic and this writer" category for me. It's a 5+1 structured fic where Jaime is a chopper pilot and Brienne is a researcher in Antarctica, and they're trying to fuck quietly all over the place without getting caught. Stupidly hot with amazing scenery porn, and some singular lines that will have you wanting to throw hands at the author for burrowing into your brain.

Lines that will live in my head forever: I almost picked the part with the belt, but honestly it's so fucking horny on main and I'm trying to have some decorum here. So I'll go with this instead.

“I’m taking these off,” Jaime tells her, his voice a low growl, and Brienne flushes but she lets him peel her thermal tights and underwear down while she sprawls on the bedroll before him, and it feels like flying in low out of the clouds over the frozen coastline for the first time, seeing the glacier rolling down to the water’s edge: the impossible extent of it, the startled sense of wonder. There are fading bruises on her shins and the vivid bright rash of a scrape on her knee, and he marvels at all the colors that make up the endless landscape of her. But then he nudges her knees apart and sees her cunt wet and open for him, smells her, and he realizes she’s not like that pallid, uninhabitable scenery at all: she’s pink and red and alive, almost steaming in the cool air. His mouth waters, and he shoves his arms under her thighs and descends.

But seriously...the part with the belt? Whew.

Lines that will live in my head forever: When they eventually came up for air, he looked at her with a look she’d seen on him in the courtyard every time he was going to go on the offence. Here, she knew not what it meant, yet it still sent a similar sort of anticipation down her spine.

Thrust Exercises for greenmtwoman, rated E. God this damn fic. First of all, it's basically canon divergence with a young Jaime and Brienne. Jaime has been Master at Arms at Evenfall ever since Selwyn lugged his ass home after the Rebellion like the world's mouthiest souvenir. There are three things to know about this fic: 1) Jaime and Brienne are genuinely friends in this. Their history and affection are just so apparent. 2) Jaime plans (beforehand!) to introduce Brienne to strip sparring (!!!) before the bedding. And 3) Jaime is so horny for his wife, y'all. He wants her so bad and there's a moment where he realizes she wants him too that made my heart migrate to my eyes.

“It means, I want you.” Before she could ask, he said, “I told you before, didn't I? Your face is very loud.”

She frowned; he lifted himself on his toes and kissed the knot between her brows.

“I quite like it,” he said, “your very loud face.”

They just like each other so much. I can't stand it.

Light my fire for me, and rated E. I've already recced this one in a separate post, but it's my list and I can do what I want. And what I want is to tell people to read this fic because I loved it so much. Brienne and Jaime are coworkers at a ski lodge, and are celebrating the end of a season. Jaime, bless his thotty soul, is wearing a union suit under his ski wear, and if that isn't code for "wants his dick admired" well then I don't know what is. When their roommates hook up, Jaime and Brienne are forced to share a cabin and if it has so many of my favorite tropes in it, I can barely stand it. I was so, so happy with my gift, and I just want everyone to read it and be happy too.

Lines that will live in my head forever: They stand in front of the fireplace and Jaime backs up half a step, watching her from beneath hooded eyelids as he undoes more buttons of his union suit. He takes his time, and she lets her eyes devour every sliver of skin he slowly exposes – muscled chest with dark blond hair scattered across it, defined abs highlighted by the orange glow of the fire, the V of muscle at the bottom of his stomach that leads her eyes down to the hard jut of his cock outlined by the cloth. He stops unbuttoning just there, sliding the top of the union suit down off his shoulders and letting the arms hang at his sides.

This is literally why I prompted the union suit. All I wanted was Jaime in a union suit with Brienne admiring the shape of his cock through the thin fabric. That's it. The one paragraph hit every dream I had for it, but all the other paragraphs are good too.

[buckysmischief]

here comes trouble

Peter Parker x reader // Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: language, mentions of cheating, and kinda cheating.. but not really? It's up to you. kinda smutty??, so 18+ please

Summary: You were supposed to be dating Peter Parker. Then can someone explain why the hell Bucky is treating you better than your own boyfriend.

Masterlist

Another another amazing moodboard by @fangirlinsweden , thank you again 🥰🥰

“Hey Wanda, have you seen Peter anywhere? He said he was gonna be in the lab with Tony all day but they’re both nowhere to be found”

“Nope, haven’t seen anyone but you all day. Come sit with me though, I feel like you need to vent.” You and Wanda have been bestfriends since you moved into the tower, it wasn’t surprising she knew that something was bothering you.

“He’s just been.. weird lately. Like, he doesn’t come back from patrol until 6 am, unless he stays at May’s place. He doesn’t talk to me much anymore, and I hate admitting this but, we haven’t had sex in weeks. I’ve sent him seductive pictures, tried setting up romantic evenings, and still.. Nothing.” You had convinced yourself that Peter was just stressed, but finally saying it out loud made you feel more uneasy about the situation than before.

“That doesn’t sound like Peter, I’m sorry.” she wrapped you in her blanket and gave you a comforting hug. “How about we watch scary movies and drink wine until you feel better?”

“This is why you’re my best friend.”

You got the wine and snacks ready while Wanda got extra pillows and blankets and turned off the lights. There was a pile of movies stacked and ready to watch, Friday the 13th, IT, When a Stranger Calls, and A Nightmare on Elm Street.

“Where do we start?”

“When a Stranger Calls, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen that one.” you put the movie in the DVD player and lose yourself in the chills and thrills of it all.

~

Meanwhile, Bucky is in his room meditating, a habit he picked up in Wakanda, when he heard your voice in the other room. Normally he isn’t the type to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, but when it involves you, he tends to bend his own rules.

When Bucky moved into the tower a few months prior, he only spoke to Steve and Sam. But after a few mornings of you offering to make him breakfast, he finally caved and the two of you had been close friends ever since.

Friends. He was totally fine with that, at least that’s what he convinced himself. When he found out you and Peter had been dating for the past year, he had no other choice. He told himself he’d never come between you and your happiness, but apparently your boyfriend is doing that all on his own.

“It’s now or never,” he thought to himself, “I gotta at least see if there’s a chance. Especially if Peter’s up to what I think he’s up to.”

He waited until the movie was over to go into the common area. “Hey you two, what’s the occasion?”

“Yn is having Peter problems, he’s being weird. We're trying to get her mind off of it.” Wanda knew about Bucky’s little crush, and she wanted to see how long it would take for him to admit it.

“How’s that going?”

You stand up, walking to the kitchen to grab another bottle of wine, “It’s going great, but if he doesn’t come home tonight I won’t know what to do anymore. It’s aggravating, and I’m tired of bringing it up and him apologizing and then doing nothing to fix it.” Normally you wouldn’t talk to Bucky about Peter, the bad things at least. Your relationship was private, but you were spiraling.

“Hey, doll, it’s okay. S’not your fault your generation is lacking gentlemen.” He joked, picking you up from behind, “Besides, you shouldn’t have to beg someone to care about you, Yn. Not when you have us.” Bucky decided to start out subtle, he didn’t want to push you away if this didn’t end in his favor. This was delicate.

“I know, I feel conflicted about it all.. but less talking, more watching. Join us?” The three of you sat down and watched one more movie. Well, if you count both parts of IT one movie. Peter had patrol that night and you wanted to be in yalls room when he got home, if he got home.

-

Peter didn’t come back until the next morning, walking in while everyone was eating breakfast.

“For someone who was on patrol all night, you sure look well rested.” Bucky pointed out, not even looking up from his plate.

“It was a slow night, and when I got too tired I just stayed at Aunt May’s.” Peter avoided all eye contact while making his plate. You give Wanda a look, telling her that this is what you were talking about.

Once everyone is done eating, Peter gives you a quick kiss goodbye, saying he was going to the gym and then to Ned’s to work on a presentation with him and MJ.

“Hey doll, want some help?” It was your day to clean up the kitchen, but if Bucky was asking, you weren’t going to tell him no.

“I wash, you dry?” He smiles and nods, helping you grab the dishes from the table. You both work in a peaceful silence until you’re almost done washing the dishes, Bucky asks, “Can I give you my opinion?”

“Sure.” You were curious, Bucky having an opinion isn’t anything new. Him asking to express it is, though.

“I think you deserve better than what Peter is giving you, which doesn’t seem to be a whole lot lately.” So much for being subtle and taking it slow.

“And what do you know about my relationship with Peter?” you shut off the water and begin cleaning the stove and countertops. Bucky was supposed to be cleaning off the table more, but instead he’s suddenly pressed against your back, hands moving your hair behind your ear and whispers, “I know that if you were mine, you’d never go to bed alone. Does he even tell you when he’s not coming home?”

He found his answer in your silence. How could Peter treat you this way?

“Does he leave you to do everything yourself too?” you could tell what he was implying, and you began to wonder if Wanda told him what you confessed to her the day before. “That’s a shame. I hope you know that I’m always here to help out, you just gotta ask.”

“Bucky..” it came out hoarse and needy, and you’re sure he noticed.

“I can have you screaming that later if you’d like. But we don’t wanna hurt poor Peter’s feelings, do we?”

Before you could figure out a response, he was gone. Were you dreaming? Bucky only said things like that to you in your dreams. Sure, you have a tiny crush on the Super Soldier, but you would never act on it. Not while you were dating Peter.

But this was real, and you had to figure out this Peter situation before temptation struck again.

-

Over the next few weeks Bucky was relentless, and even though the both of you knew you weren’t going to cheat on Peter, it was an entertaining distraction. Thankfully when he decided to tease you in front of the team, he was subtle enough that no one thought anything of it. Except for Wanda, Wanda somehow knew about the dishes incident and you told her everything.

He started out simple, swapping out his usual black sweatpants for a pair of gray ones. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, just a shame he caught you staring. There were a few times he sat beside you at dinner when Peter wasn’t there and he didn’t even so much as talk to you, but the first time Peter was there since Bucky started whatever this was, he still sat beside you.

Everything was going normal, Steve was even telling a story about the 30’s, you were beginning to think Bucky would continue to let the dinner table be a safe zone. But then you felt the chill of his vibranium arm on your right leg. You tensed underneath his touch and looked around to see if anyone noticed only to find no one, not even Peter was paying attention to you. Bucky didn’t move his hand, save for his thumb that was rubbing small circles on his thigh. He just kept it like that until everyone got up to clean.

The first time you two were alone though, that was more intense.

Everyone was out doing their own thing since it was a Saturday, but since Peter bailed on your plans again, you decided it was a good day to catch up on your endless pile of laundry. You were almost done loading a washer full of the first batch of clothes when you heard him come in, he didn’t say anything, only coming up behind you and running his hands up your arms to your neck.

“I thought you were supposed to be going outta town this weekend.” You question if it’s a good idea to let him continue rubbing your shoulders, but you’ve been stressing yourself out about a relationship you seem to be the only one who remembers you’re in.

“Surprise, surprise. Peter bailed. Again.” you sigh, resting your head on Bucky’s chest. You’ve made the decision you were going to break up with Peter, and not because of Bucky, but because he’s such a bad boyfriend, every time you made plans to hang out (to break up with him, but he didn’t know that), he canceled with a lame ass excuse. The only reason you’re not single is because Peter won’t give you a solid minute of his time.

Bucky moves his hands back down your arms until he laces your fingers with his, “We both know if it were up to you, you’d have broken up with him already. So what’s the harm in pretending for like, five minutes he’s officially out of the picture so I can kiss you.”

You turn around, expecting to see some notion on his face to say he was kidding, but he wasn’t. He looked to be 100% serious. When you didn’t answer, he decided to test the waters and slowly bring your face closer to his. You wanted to tell him to stop, to wait until the situation was different, but he was so close that you could smell his shampoo, you could even feel his breath, and you were caving.

“Actually doll,” he puts his hands up and walks away from you, “you’re right. It’s probably best we wait. Wouldn’t wanna get in trouble now, would ya?”

Once again, he’s gone before you could figure out what the hell was going on.

-

A few days later everyone was eating breakfast when Peter walked in. He made his plate and sat next to you without saying a word. He was close enough that you could smell him though, and you had finally had it. This was the longest you had been with him in weeks, you knew this wasn’t the best time to do it but damn it, this had to be done. Now.

“Peter, I think we should break up.” everyone stops what they’re doing, giving their undivided attention to you and Peter.

“You really wanna do this now?” he wouldn’t even look at you, what had happened to the sweet and caring guy you once cared so deeply for?

But that didn’t matter, all that mattered was that you had finally felt free.

“I haven’t seen you properly in weeks, I didn’t want to let another day go by without saying it. And then you come in here smelling like her and I realized-” you were interrupted by a room full of wait, what’s, and oh my god who’s, and of course Bucky’s what a fucking idiot.

“MJ, you’ve been fucking MJ.. tell me I’m lying.” You’ve finally figured it out he wasn’t even trying to hide it.. he didn’t care. “Months. Months I’ve been feeling bad about Bucky-”

“What about Bucky!?” he stands, Sam pulling him back to his chair before he lunges at Bucky.

“Feeling bad about getting closer to Bucky while you were cheating on me, apparently. But that’s not my problem anymore.” You stood up and left, not really wanting to be around anyone anymore.

You stayed up so many nights thinking of all the reasons why Peter didn’t want to be with you anymore, because that was obvious, he just wasn’t man enough to admit it. But you never thought that him cheating on you, with MJ, was a possibility.

-

Before the day was over you had moved all your things into a new room, on a new floor, as far away from Peter as you could get. It wasn’t until later when you were almost asleep that you found out who your neighbor was. “Goodnight, trouble.”

No way. You got out of bed and threw on a hoodie, and went to the source of the voice, needing to make sure you weren’t hearing what you wanted to hear. Once you got to the door, you waited a second before knocking. What if it’s Sam and I’m going to wake him up? But you heard it again, Bucky’s voice. “Are you just gonna stand at the door all night or are you gonna come in here? Cause I gotta admit, I’m dyin to finally get my hands on you, doll.”

After quickly and quietly shutting his door, you ran to him and straddled his lap. Finally giving in to something the both of you have been thinking about for a very long time. The feeling of his lips on yours, on your shoulder and neck. His hands running up your sides, up your shirt, and your hips grinding down on his.

This is how you should have been spending your nights, not alone. But now you understood why, it was Bucky. You figure it’s always kinda been Bucky. He’s the one you were supposed to be with, and he already treats you better than Peter ever did. You were finally happy, almost happy enough to thank Peter for being a dumbass.. but not quite.

You’d worry about everything tomorrow, though, tonight you were going to see if those grey sweatpants were exaggerating his features.

They weren’t.

~~~~

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[scribbles-and-dribbles]

Somnium

This is my entry for @sherrybaby14 ‘s prompt challenge (requested via my @im-marie-poppins-yall​ account)  Thank you for letting me join. Your writing is amazing and I am so inspired by you. Also,so sorry I’m sending this so late!

  My prompt was: 

Geralt spending the night at an inn reader works at after killing a monster that had been terrorizing the town, and reader sneaks into his room at night to give him her own thanks but then gets frightened at how actually Violent and Strong he is and makes to leave, but he insists on following through

It’s been a long time since I’ve really sat down and written some good smut (It’s been a year!),so forgive me if I’m a bit rusty. But nonetheless I had so much fun! And this was what I needed to get back into writing again. (Also I apologize to the person who requested this, if this isn’t exactly what you had in mind!)

Warnings: 18+, Rough Sex, edging,No Archive Warnings

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The room was darkly lit, a single candle in the far left corner was barely a flicker behind the dusky glass. It cast shadows over your hips as they rolled against his. It washed a faint warm glow over the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to catch your moans before they woke the entire inn. 

He watched from below you, your eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss, and his nearly predatory gaze drinking in the sight of your shaking body. Your hips swayed to some unheard music as you lost yourself in the pleasure, his cock driving up into you, meeting your eager thrusts. He growled and his hand slid up your back, over your shoulder and into your hair, fisting it and pulling you down into a ravenous kiss. His other hand slid down to grip your hip, and before you knew it, in a whirl he had you flipped and pinned underneath you, pushing your leg up and picking up his pace, driving deep within you. 

Gods it felt amazing, his hips rolled into yours with expert ease, and his teeth grazed your soft neck, marking it giving not a single damn about how visible they were. You didn’t want him to stop. You could stay like this forever if you had your way. But the universe had other ideas.

-

You wake with a start, the sound of shattering glass and drunk squabbling shaking you out of your dream. You sit up, pressing a hand to your neck where those teeth had felt so real. Your skin is flushed and slick with sweat and you’re sure you look a sight. But you only have time to slip out of your nightgown and into far more suitable attire to deal with your awake and seemingly very drunk guests. 

A glance out the murky window and you’re disappointed, but not the least bit surprised to see that the sun has barely risen over the horizon. Smoke still hung low over the village, the last remnants of the winged beast that had terrorized your neighbors for the last four months. Never had you realized just how idiotic the people of your village were until they mistook a basilisk for a dragon, and attempted to lure it into the village square and kill it themselves. Suffice it to say that it didn’t end well. 

You’d finally been fed up with the pigheaded men refusing to ask for help. A half-melted town was terrible for business, and you weren’t having any of it. If they wouldn’t admit that they stood not a chance against the beast with their poorly thought out planning, then you were going to take matters into your own hands. 

You’d heard rumor of a Witcher roaming the surrounding area, slaying any beast- for a price. You were a small village, but you were one of the lasts villages before any weary travelers reached Cintra. Your inn was always bustling with new and strange characters. Stranger or not, they brought in enough coin to appease the Butcher, as your neighbors so...fondly referred to The Witcher. 

So when he stopped in your humble little town, on his way to Cintra no doubt, he was god-sent. He’d come into your inn, ready to pay for one night. You convinced him to stay for three, free of charge and with a hefty bag of coin if he made quick work of something your town’s strongest men had taken four months to fail at. He’d left last night and as you peered out the window, tying your apron around your waist, you caught sight of his unmistakable white mane trekking up the hill atop his gorgeous mare towards the inn, something large swinging from the saddle.

Your dreams were going to have to wait.

“I wager he doesn’t make it back before nightfall.” One of your patrons slurred, swirling his bandaged finger around the amber liquid you’d just poured into his stein. You swatted at his wrist and he reeled back with a yelp. 

“You keep stirring that bloody stump in your ale, you’ll not being getting another refill today Byron.” You quipped, tossing him a cloth to whip his hand. The dressing around his finger was already soaked through with blood and you could tell the alcohol was beginning to burn through. He’d been one of the ones to go out first and try to take the beast down. He’d lost his finger because he couldn’t shoot an arrow to save his life. Though that wasn’t the story he told anyone unfortunate enough to be in earshot. 

 He grumbled and took a long swig from the frothy liquid, grimacing at the acrid taste. You chuckled and swapped his drink. You leaned against the counter an inquiring eyebrow raised. 

“I’ll take a shot at that.”

 He frowned and took yet another large swig from his stein. “What? I don’t strike you as the betting type? You wound me, Byron, you should know me better than that.” You laugh, moving around the bar and intercepting Beth, and relieving her of two trays of piping hot gruel on her arms and another tray balancing precariously on her very pregnant stomach - she’d insisted upon working despite it being nearly the eve of her bairns birth. She wanted to catch a glimpse of The Witcher herself. 

“It’s not that. I just don’t want to have a sore loser on my hands.” Byron slurred after you, watching you whisk around the dining area, weaving expertly between patrons were beginning to rouse and make their way to help themselves to the seemingly bottomless kegs your father had installed years before he passed and left the inn to you.

“Alright then, since you’re so convinced that a man with far superior hunting skills is going to have worse luck than a drunk who can barely drink me under the table- you’re on.” You place the last bowl of gruel in front of Byron’s skeptical face and sidle back behind the counter. You lean towards him, resisting the urge to cringe at the stench wafting off of him. He’d been drinking longer than you’d originally thought. You were going to have to reconsider leaving the kegs out at all odd hours of the night.

“I wager he comes through that door in the next twenty minutes.” Byron scoffs. He thinks you’re ridiculous. “And what, pray tell girlie, will you be winning if he comes through that door on anything but a stretcher?” 

“Every round for the rest of the week is on you.” You chuckle at the scandalized look that crosses his face before he tosses his head back and has a good laugh before fixing you with an amused look.

“You’re on. And when I win, you’ll be clearing my tab and-”

Before he can finish the door to the inn swings open with a frame shattering thud and the Butcher of Blaviken stomps in reeking of acid and guts and covered in just that. Every head not hanging from a raging hangover turns to watch him stride over to the bar. His eyes catch yours, and you’re momentarily transported back to your dream this morning. You shake your head and raise an eyebrow at Byron who’s gone pale.

“Clearing your tab and...what?” He scoffs and glares at The Witcher as he stops at the bar. You cast a sidelong glance at him, trying to ignore the fact that you’d just been dreaming of him not even an hour earlier. You place a pint in front of him, he looks like he could use it. He offers a curt nod of thanks and knocks it back faster than you thought possible. 

“So, did you actually kill the beast?” Byron asks incredulously and you find yourself rolling your eyes. You wave a hand over the Witcher.

“What do you think? That he just rolled around in guts and called it a day?” Byron scowls at you and the sound of The Witcher chuckling underneath his breath catches you by surprise. You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking. “If he had,” you continue, directing it at your visitor. “He’d be sorry he ever stole money from me.” His eyes look almost amused as he stands. 

“If you’re so skeptical, you can ask your Lord of the Manor how he likes his new trophy.” Byron, looking thoroughly pissed, huffs and slips of the stool and wander over to the kegs, muttering something about being bested by a filthy mutant. 

You shake your head and wipe the counter down with one hand and refilling the Witcher’s stein. Guests have wondered out of their rooms to stare at him like he’s an amusing new animal, though they keep their distance. And you’re certain it has nothing to do with the state of his attire. You shake your head, ashamed of the people you’ve grown up calling friends and neighbors, listening to their barely concealed whispers about him. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard it all.” You say, casting a sidelong glance at him as you mark Byron’s tab down. “But I’m sorry the rest of my town isn’t as grateful as I know they should be.” 

He shrugs and takes another swig. He sets the cup down and even though you’re turned away refilling the glasses Beth had just brought to the bar, her eyes unabashedly drinking him in, you can feel his eyes on you. And when you shoo Beth away and turn back to him, he’s still watching you. Dried blood from the beast no doubt has darkened his hair a bit, and a small scar that he’s haphazardly treated is still bleeding a bit on his chin. Despite all of this, you still want him. And the way he’s staring at you, you’re certain he can tell.

“And are you?” He asks, his honey-colored eyes seem to darken a bit and although they’re incredibly intimidating, you refuse to look away. You stare him down, setting your rag down and leaning against the bar towards him. 

“Am I...what?” How does one man look so damn kissable covered in the blood of a slain beast? 

“Grateful.” He raises his eyebrows, looking genuinely curious, but you know why he’s asking. 

“What, the hefty bag of coin wasn’t enough to prove that?” You tease. He chuckles wryly. Twice you’ve amused him, and something tells you that that’s rare and you should relish it. He stands and places a coin on the bar for the pint. You wave it away.

“You single-handedly took the beast down in record time, consider it a thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Hmm...you know where to find me if you have anything else you’d like to say.”

You gape at him as he strides up the stairs. You laugh incredulously, heat flushing to your cheeks. 

“Not very subtle is he?” You nearly leap out of your skin at the sound of Beth’s voice right behind you.

“Good lord Beth-” You laugh, turning to her, watching her bustle about as if that large belly of hers is no hindrance to her. You shake your head, taking the Witcher’s stein off of the bar and wiping it down once more, trying not to think about the meaning behind his words. But Beth has other ideas.

“If you don’t take him up on his very generous offer- I will.” You swat at her with the rag laughing. 

“I’m sure he’d happily have you. But you’re near bursting at the seams, and I thought you were happily married.” She scoffs and casts a glance across the inn where her husband is beguiling the young boys with his tall tale of how he lost his finger. “Sometimes I wonder why I let that idiot convince me to be stuck with him until sweet death does us part.” Her words are teasing but you see the endearment in her eyes. 

You smile and pat her on her shoulder. “He’s just nervous about his first child. And sore that a Witcher bested him. He’ll be right as rain when he sobers up to see that beautiful baby of yours.” You reassure her. She nods and turns back to you, fixing you with a determined gaze.  

“Enough about me and mine. You haven’t been with someone in years girlie.” You flush and open your mouth to protest. “And I know, you’ve been too busy taking care of the inn after your father passed, bless his soul. But you need to take care of yourself, dear. And that includes your more primal needs.” She’s not that much older than you, but she reminds you of your mother the way she plants her hands on her hips and fixes you with that look. 

You sigh. “I appreciate the concern Beth, but I barely know the man. And he’s a Witcher, mind you. I don’t think sassy innkeeper girls are what he favors.” 

“Ha!” She snorts, shaking her head. “You’re as beautiful as you are blind. Did you not see the way he was looking at you? Not just today, but the day he arrived he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Now I’m not asking you to make the man fall in love with you,just...share something with him. He wants you and you most certainly want him.”

You flush. You can’t say she’s lying. It has been some time since you’ve been with anyone. Taking over the inn that had been in your father’s family for generations had made it a little hard to have flings. 

“Fine. But if he laughs in my face, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

~~

And now you were standing in front of the man’s door several hours later questioning once again how you let Beth convince you to do this. She’d sent you away hours ago but you’d stubbornly found some other thing that needed doing around the inn. Bedding for the other guests, refilling the kegs with your father’s special blend, cleaning god knows what because you kept the inn spick and span.

Finally, she’d practically swatted you up the stairs. You’d begun to look a bit worse for wear. The word that not only was the infamous Witcher was in town, but that he was fresh off of a hunt, had spread like wildfire. And you finally hadn’t needed an excuse for why you weren’t pursuing ‘your primal needs’ as Beth had so gracefully put it.

But by then your other barmaid had arrived looking like she was ready for a night on the town, and not to serve the hoard of weary travelers hoping to catch a glimpse of the man. 

“If you don’t get your ass upstairs and see that man, I have no doubt in my mind that Linda will do it for you.” 

--

Beth wasn’t exaggerating when she’d pointed out that you hadn’t done this in years. You’d felt like a silly school girl standing in front of the mirror trying to make yourself look less like an exhausted, albeit horny, innkeeper. But you did want him. She hadn’t been wrong about that. You could still feel the phantom touch of his hands on your hips, gripping them as he pulled you down onto him. It’d been a dream, and yet it had felt incredibly real. 

You sighed and reached up to knock on his door. You were unsure of what you were going to say. You didn’t want it to sound like a proposition. Though you supposed it was. You falter and realize that whatever you ask, it will never sound normal. What if Beth had mistaken a stare of indifference for a gaze of “unbridled lust in those golden eyes”? Maybe it was better to resign yourself to thinking of him as you soothe the ache that had started between your thighs the moment he walked back in this morning, on your own.

You drop your hand with a sigh and begin to turn away. The door swings open before you’ve even begun to walk back down the hall to your room. You give a start, steadying your hand on the door frame, and your instantly aware of just how...naked he is. He's clean of all the guts and blood that had previously clung to him like a second skin, and his hair gleams in the low lantern light that shines on his broad chest. The towel he has wrapped around his hips is barely hanging on. 

“Er, good evening.” You hear yourself say, and you internally cringe. God, you were off to a terrible start. You manage to glance away from his pectorals and meet his shining eyes, and you could have sworn that for a split second a smirk tugged at his delectable looking lips.

“Are you coming in, or are you going to stay out there for the rest of the night?” He chuckles, and you blush again scowling as you slip into the room. He barely moves and your arm brushes against his warm skin. It sends a spark of excitement through you. Had it been so long that the mere touch of a hot body was enough to set you off?

It doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and there’s no turning back. You want him, you just have to make sure he wants you too. You turn to him, your hands clasped before you as you open your mouth to speak. But before you can, his hands are on your waist and he’s tugged you against his chest and captured your lips in a hungry kiss. You let out a surprised squeak that slips into a soft moan. It feels so damn good to have someone’s lips against your own.

Your reach up to snake your arms around his neck and push yourself up to meet the kiss with as much vigor and desire as he does. His hands slide up your hips and over your bodice, his fingers make quick work of the laces and removing it and let it fall to the floor. Your breath catches in your throat when his hands run up over your chest, and dip into your dress. You pull away from the kiss to catch your breath and moan softly as his calloused fingers run over your nipples and tweak and tease them in the best way. 

You open your eyes a bit to look up at him and are a bit startled to see the color his eyes have taken. The bright golden has seemed to darken to almost deep amber, and they pierce your own with an almost predatory look. His hand's run-up to your shoulders and he pauses, casting a questioning look over you. You’re nervous, and this isn’t how you thought this would all transpire. But you were more than willing. You reach up yourself and watch him as you slip your dress down off of your shoulders and let it fall to pool around your ankles. 

He gives an appreciative growl and a smile quirks his lips. 

“I thought you’d be too scared to come.” He chuckled. The way he spoke, an underlying growl underneath every word, made you shiver. You watched his hands trail over your shoulders and down your back, his fingers pressing into your skin when he reaches your hips. He slips his arms behind your knees and to avoid falling against him, you hop into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck again.

“Fearful? What do you take me for? A scared little girl?” You laugh because honestly, you were a little fearful. You’d heard the other women tell tall tales about their night with a Witcher when they were young and childless. And how it was best to expect a broken bed by the end of the night. Even if they weren’t 100% truthful, you knew Witcher’s weren’t human, and they more than likely didn’t fuck like a human. “You asked me if I was grateful, and I’m here to prove that I am.” You whisper, your hand slipping into his hair and pulling him towards you for another kiss. Your lips slant against his and you run your tongue across his bottom lip, nipping at it playfully, and drawing a growl out of him.

He places you on his bed and crawls over you, one arm braced against the mattress and the other snaking down your body his fingers tracing over your breasts as they rise and fall with your labored breath. 

“Certainly not, if you’re so bold as to invite a Witcher you’ve only spoken to twice, to sleep with you.” You scoff, and then moan when he dips his head down to capture one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and nipping at it. 

“You’re..oh gods..you’re the one who kissed me, Witcher.” You retort, your fingers finding their way back into his pale locks, tugging at them as he alternates between tweaking and twisting one nipple with his fingers and sucking at the other with his expert tongue. He stops his generous teasing at your words and smirks at you.

“Are you saying you’d like me to stop, Innkeeper.” You laugh and fix him with a warning glare. He growls, amused at your determined look, and returns his left hand to your heaving chest while his other hand runs down your side. His fingers trail over your hip, sliding down the v of your body and trailing just above your cunt before stopping. 

“You’re certain you don’t want to run for the hills?” He asks, and at first, you think he’s joking, but he looks dead serious. And you open your mouth to answer but it’s cut off by a whine. His middle finger dips down to brush over you. It slides over your lower lips, collecting your juices on it and teasing the hell out of you. He just barely pushes it in, drawing a needy whine out of you. It’s been so long since anyone else has touched you in this way, and now that someone is, you remember just how sensitive you are. He continues teasing your opening, and it’s not nearly enough. The way he watches you, those enhanced eyes catching every flutter of your eyelids, reminds you of something beastly. 

And you remember that you’re in bed with a Witcher. Not a ‘normal’ human man. His stamina is far above your own, and your certain you’ll be a sore aching mess in the morning. And a small voice of reason in the back of your head mutters that you should probably leave, and let your dreams be dreams. But just when you’ve just about convinced yourself that you should take him up on his offer to leave, he slides that teasing finger inside you, curling upwards in just the right way. It’s almost too much and just enough to let you throw caution to the wind.

You pin him with a hungry gaze and buck your hips up against his hand moaning out when the movement pushes him deeper, and his palm brushes against your wanton clit. 

“If you stop, you’ll wish the Basilisk had eaten you.” You snip and growls amusedly. He sits up and removes his hand from you and you glare up at him incredulously. You push yourself up a bit and open your mouth to protest and demand that he finish what he started. But ever one to interrupt, he’s gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your belly before you can even get a single breath out.

You groan out and bury your face in the pillow when two of his fingers slip inside your now aching cunt from behind, diving into you at an absolutely delicious angle. He leans over you, his chest against your back as his fingers begin to piston in and out of you, the lewd sound mixing with your moans. You gasp softly when his hot breath hits your cheek.

“Be sure to remember that I gave you some warning.” He growls into your ear. 

His fingers don’t let up, and only pick up in pace, stroking your walls and stretching them to accommodate his fingers. He continues forcing them deeper inside you at a rapid pace. You groan out and you tighten around fingers, which only seems to make him want to drive into you harder.

You gasp when his tongue teases the shell of your ear, his breath hits your neck, and sends a shiver running up your spine. You feel like you’re being claimed by a beast, and you love it. He growls softly as his fingers start to grip your walls, scissoring at a rapid pace stretching you out. 

You open your mouth in a silent whine, and then you finally feel him. His cock brushes against your thigh. You lift your hips to meet his fingers, silently begging for him. He chuckles and only continues to drive his skilled fingers into you. He flexes them, pressing up against that sweet spot and then retreating before you can get too much pleasure out of it.

“Damn it, Witcher-” You snap, your words melting into a muddle of moans when he dips down to kiss your shoulder and lets his underhand slide between you and the bed and flutter his digits against your clit. “You know what I want.” You finish, gasping softly when he flips you onto your back. Your chest is flush and his eyes trailing over your heaving chest, and back up to your eyes only makes your entire body flush with heat as well.

“Then say it.” He murmurs, kissing down your neck and capturing a hardened nipple in his devilish mouth when you rise in response to his fingers thrusting into you at this angle. 

Looking back, you could only blush madly at the thought of your response. You weren’t one to be so brazen, even with other past lovers. But something about this man had you tossing bashfulness to the wind. You didn’t care that you didn’t know him, didn’t care that this was nothing more than two bodies fulfilling a need. 

Your hands slipped up to cup his chin, pulling his face up to look at you with those honey eyes. Your legs spread a bit more and you groaned softly when his thumb settled on circling your clit, just barely touching it.

“I want you to fuck me, Witcher.” You whispered, biting your lip and grinning at him. You were more than ready for him. He growled, satisfied with that answer. You watched him with bated breath. A needy moan escaped your lips when you caught sight of just how much larger than you he truly was.

His fingers retreated from your dripping sex, and you watched him drink your juices off of his fingers. He lifted one of your legs and ran his hand up your thigh positioning it over his shoulder, pinning your hands over your head and leaning over you. And before you could demand that he stop teasing you, he pushes into you, filling you up and stretching you out. 

“Gods yes.” You moan, grinning up at him and wrapping your legs around his waist. His hips roll against yours, just barely moving. Though he flexes his cock inside you, and it sends a delicious jolt running through you. He’s silent, save for his growls and somehow he’s still intimidating- in the best way.

His eyes never leave yours, and it only heightens the pleasure you’re feeling. He watches your mouth fall open into a small silent ‘o’ when he slides out of you slowly and slams back into you. You bite your lip and pin him with a challenging glare.

“I thought, fuck- I thought Witcher’s were known for being rough?” You teased. You’d blame it on being drunk with pleasure and need. It’d been so long since you’d lain with anyone, you might as well get the most out of it. He chuckled and you let out a quiet squeak when his arms wrapped around you and pulled you up to sit face to face with him. You moan and roll your hips in his lap. 

“You’ve been listening to too many bored wives.” He chided as his hands settled on your hips and began bouncing you on his cock. His hands run up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back and biting at the most delicate parts of your neck. With each nip, his thrusts seem to pick up speed until the entire bed is shaking and you’ve given up all hope of silencing your moans.

“Ha, sure, but am I wrong? How many times am I going to get the chance to bed a Witcher? I want the full experience~” Your hands run up his back and your nails dig into his shoulders while your hips bounce against him. You grind against him, your clit rubbing against his skin and burning a hot pleasure through your core. 

He growls in our ear, nipping at your shoulder. He pushes you back down onto the bed, raising your hips and bracing his hand on the wall. He grunts and dips his hips down to push into you, the head of his cock reaching the deepest parts of you and driving you wild. You can only hang on for dear life, and enjoy the ride. 

He fucks into you for what seems like hours, and every time he feels your cunt tightening around him and your moans turn desperate, he flips you toying with your clit but backing off every time you're ready to let go. By the time he’s edged you for the umpteenth time, you’re a spluttering needy mess. And he’s barely broken a sweat.

“I- Gods-” You can’t muster up a coherent response. He lifts you into his arms and stands walking you towards the wall until your back is flush against it, your shaking limbs clinging to him. His arms enclose your body on either side of your head as he presses on, his hips snapping against yours, the lewd sounds of his cock fucking into your sopping sex filling the room. And just when it feels as if you can’t take it anymore, he slides you down onto the floor, flips you onto all fours, and slides back into you.

“You wanted the full experience.” He teased, his tongue running across your shoulder. Your body is practically buzzing from the over-stimulation. You growl in response and arch your back bucking back against him. You want, and desperately need to cum. His arms lock underneath your shoulders and pulls your back up against his chest. He captures your lips in a hungry, almost possessive kiss that leaves you breathless.  With one arm still locked tightly around your body, his other hand trails down your side and his fingers trace tight little figure eight’s around your clip as his cock slams into you. 

His golden eyes stare into your own as he draws you closer to the climax you’ve been hungry for since he first stepped into your inn. His roguish smirk is the last thing you see before a pillow comes colliding with your face and wakes you. You sit up spluttering and swatting at the air. You blink into the bright sunlight streaming through your window and glare at your assailant. 

“It’s about time. You were giving your guests quite an earful.” Beth chortles, dropping the pillow in your lap. “Now come on, I hear The Witcher is going to be riding through town come nightfall.”

[sideoffiction]

Christmas Eve is Here

Relationship: Platonic LAMP, Platonic DLAMP

Warnings: Food mention

Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and the sides are together to celebrate.

Happy Holidays everyone. So, this is my first fic that I wrote with absolutely no outline or idea on what I was going to write, so bear with me. 

(The only onesies I had a reference for was Virgil’s and Patton's, cause I thought they were perfect (just pretend that Virgil’s is a onesie):

Virgil:  https://images-mm.s3.amazonaws.com/Nightmare_Before_Xmas_Ugly_Sweater_Black_Purple_POP.jpg

Patton: https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0747/5107/products/91lO5Wi9rML._UY879_300x300.jpg?v=1531638388   )

This is also posted on AO3, I’ll post the link in a reblog.

I hope yall enjoy!

It was a snowy Christmas Eve. Everywhere Thomas looked, he could see the shining Christmas lights through the soft flurries. Soft Christmas music floated through the air, and his mouth watered at the smell of food being prepared in the kitchen. Yes, Thomas felt quite content at this moment. He was calm and relaxed, and it felt as if nothing could ruin his mood.

Inside his head, however, was a different story.

“Roman, can you bring me the star please?”

“Why of course, Padr-AAA!” A loud crash can be heard throughout the mindscape.

“You ok, Princey?”

“Yeah, no thanks to you, Nightmare on 34th Street.”

“What, was I supposed to just teleport over there to help you stay on your own two feet?”

“...yes!” Roman stands up indignantly, wiping himself off of any accumulated dust or dirt.

“I do not understand why you all waited until today to decorate for the holidays. I stated numerous times that you should have put everything up ahead of time.” Logan speaks up from where he sits, reclined in a chair with a book in his hand.

“Thomas was busy, we didn’t have time.”

“What about the times where Thomas himself was decorating?”

“No can do, L. What if he had fallen and gotten hurt like Sir Trip-a-lot over here? Or worse. Burned the house down? Broke a bone? Etcetera etcetera.”

“I believe he would have been fine Virgil, however I do see your need to worry.”

“Still waiting for that star over here, kiddos.” Patton speaks up from next to the Christmas tree that stood tall in the common room.

“Oops, sorry about that Padre. Here it comes now.” Roman continues his trek over to the tree, watching as he walks so he doesn’t fall once more. He hands it over to Patton, who smiles brightly.

“You kiddos ready!”

They all make their way over to the tree, even Logan, despite his complaining.

“I do not see the need to make a spectacle of putting on the star.” He says every year, despite not giving any resistance to it.

“Ready?” Patton stands on his tippy toes and places the star on top of the tree. “Aaaand. There!” He lowers back onto the balls of his feet. “Its officially Christmas!”

“Preposterous, seeing as how we still have 5 hours until-”

“Logan, shut up and let Pat have his fun.” Logan shuts his mouth, pouting slightly while doing so (though if you asked him he was not pouting, not at all).

They all stand there and take in the tree. The most prominent ornaments throughout the tree are the balls of red, two different blues, purple, and even a few yellows. (None of them had seen when Deceit had placed them, but none of them had really complained or had taken them off). Scattered throughout the branches, there was also little homemade ornaments that Thomas had made when he was younger. The tree perfectly encompassed the five of them, as well as Thomas as a whole.

“Welp, it’s time to eat now!” Patton calls, as he bounces over to the kitchen. Inside, he had conjured a long table, expanding the room to make space for it. On the unnecessarily large table sat an even more unnecessarily large amount of food. Turkey, lasagna, garlic bread, ham, and so much more sits on the table, waiting to be eaten.

They all make their way over to the table and sit down. They are about to start digging in when Patton stops them.

“Hold on, kiddos, we’re missing someone.”

“You mean good old Sleigh Lie? I doubt he’d join us. And I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one here who doesn’t want him to join us.”

“Roman, I’m surprised at you!” Patton gives Roman his worst, and most effective, dad-look. “It is Christmas, and it is our first Christmas with Dee! I don’t care if you want him here or not, he is a part of our family, and he deserves to be treated as such.”

Roman, having already given up when Patton gave him the look, sighed. “Fiiiiine.” He raises his arm, and summons Deceit. Deceit pops in with a noticeably confused look.

“What don’t you want?”

“Dee, it's Christmas Eve! You shouldn’t be alone. Come and eat with us.”

“But what if I don’t want to be alone?”

“Trust me, Deceit, I tried that one last year.” Virgil speaks up. “It did not end well.” He shivers at the memories. This, of course, spikes Deceit’s interest.

“What didn’t happen?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“So are you going to join us or not, Christmas Lie is Here?” Roman speaks up, slightly irritated. “I don’t know if you noticed or not, but some of us are starving.”

Deceit thinks it over, humming to himself as he takes his time weighing his options. He watches as Roman gets more and more irritated. Just as Roman is about to lose it, he finally sits down at a seat next to Patton, and silently starts filling his plate. Everyone takes this as a sign to fill their own plates and dig in.

The meal goes quite well, with idle chatter fills the room. There are many compliments to Patton, as he was the one to make the food. When they all finish up, they sit at their sits and continue talking. Patton snaps away the remaining food, and brings in the desserts. The group is much slower in starting their desserts as they continue to let their stomachs digest the food they just ate.

“I’m just saying, Miracle on 34th street is a greatly underrated Christmas movie.”

“Ok, I hear you kiddo, but think of this: A Year Without a Santa Claus has the Miser Brothers.”

…

“Oh that’s his whole argument.”

“But the real question is: is Nightmare before Christmas a Christmas movie or a Halloween movie?”

“It’s obviously not a Halloween movie.”

“What do you know?”

“Might I suggest something to end your… unnecessary bickering?” Everyone looks over to Logan. “Why don’t you just watch all of these movies, and vote on which is the best, as well as the true holiday that Nightmare before Christmas was made for?”

“Logan, that is brilliant! I’ll go grab my laptop and DVDs and set it up on the TV.”

“Ooh ooh, I have something I have to go grab as well.” Roman and Patton both rush out of the kitchen, leaving the three calmest sides alone.

“You sure that was a good idea, L? Now we won’t be left alone for the rest of the night.”

“It’s as Patton had said, Virgil. Christmas is a time for family.”

They all make their way into the living room, where Roman is just setting up his laptop. Just then, Patton rushes in with a bag of presents.

“Patton, correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe we open presents on Christmas day, not Christmas Eve.”

“I know that, silly, but these presents are different. Open them, and you’ll see what I mean!”

He passes out presents to everyone, even Deceit gets one. They all open them to see Christmas onesies, each made different for each side.

Logan’s is simple. A black onesie, with little blue wreaths on it. However, if one looks closely, they can see that the wreaths are actually made of TARDISs from Doctor Who. The neck, hand, and feet holes of the onesie are accented with the same blue as the TARDISs.

Deceit’s is a medium gray, with a pattern of yellow snakes with Santa hats. His, however, has a hood, which is also a snake face, with it’s tongue out in a blep, with a little Santa hat. The neck, hand, and feet holes are accented with yellow.

Virgil’s is the most detailed of them. It’s mostly black with an ugly sweater design of Nightmare before Christmas, with a large picture of Jack Skellington on his hill on the chest. The neck, hand, and feet holes are accented with purple.

Roman’s onesie is nowhere near as dramatic and extra as one would expect. It is red with a white sash that is decorated with silver and blue snowflakes. The neck, hand, and feet holes are accented with white.

They all look at their onesies with surprise.

“Patton these are… extraordinary! But what about you? Why don’t you have one?”

“Don’t worry about me, kiddo.” He snaps and his normal clothes are swapped for a onesie. Patton’s onesie is light blue with a pattern of Santa riding on unicorns littered all over it. If he were to turn around, the others would notice a red buttflap that states “Don’t Stop Believing”. The neck, hand, and feet holes are accented with red.

Patton giggles when the others stare at his onesie.

“Pat, you look marvelous!” Roman goes over and pulls Patton into a hug, lifting him off of the ground and spinning him, causing Patton to giggle once more.

“If we are done.” Logan speaks up, causing the others to once more look over at him. “I believe it is time to put these on and play the movies.

And so they all disperse, each going to get their onesies on and grab stuff for the movies, including blankets, pillows, and even popcorn, despite them just eating. They all settle down on the couch next to each other, with Logan and Deceit on either end. Virgil is next to Logan, followed by Roman then Patton. They all cuddle up slightly and play the first movie, immediately being absorbed into it, even Logan. Before they know it, time flies by.

Logan takes his eyes off of the screen to look at the others. They are all passed out, leaning on each other in some uncomfortable looking positions. Logan glances at his watch, and stands up slowly, careful not to wake the others up. It is just before midnight. He quietly makes his way into his room and grabs a large bag that he had hidden in his closet. If one were to look closely, they would notice the plethora of presents inside the bag.

It’s time for Santa to arrive.

[ofzabini]

i like my coffee how i like myself: dark bitter and too hot for you

Well, if it isnt ELIZABETH ZABINI, the SLYTHERIN superstar. For those of you who dont know HER, you can spot them sitting with the other SIXTH years. Most people think that theyre CHARISMATIC and FOCUSED, but they can also seem pretty DECEITFUL and CUTTHROAT. Sometimes people call them the FEMME FATALE. Sure, theyre a PUREBLOOD, but that doesnt define them.

some inspo to start off the day: pinboard & stats page.,

& some trigger warnings before i start: ( child & spousal ) abuse, alcoholism. i give a heads up before they show up!

and omg im excite as hell to bring mrs zabini to yall’s dashes before she murders 7 men. love it.

history

elizabeth is born ready for a life of nannies, of pampering and being spoiled and getting everything she wants. for the first few years of her life, that’s exactly how it goes, too. her father’s a successful businessman, having connections all over the world, his business bringing in the money the zabini’s depend on, breathe on, sleep on. her first four years are spent on silk sheets and expensive clothes, in a massive penthouse apartment overseeing swansea.

it all falls to pieces when her father’s debts catch up on him and he goes bankrupt. there’s no money left. it’s a surprise to her mother, who thought business was booming and that there was nothing to worry about, but they have to move out either way, swap their massive place for a tiny flat that just fits three people. elizabeth is four years old and doesn’t understand what is going on.

[ spousal abuse tw, alcoholism tw, child abuse tw her father starts drinking. a lot. he goes job hunting every day, at least, that’s what he says, and comes home smelling of booze and stumbling every evening. at one point, he starts drinking at home, too, having lost any sense of pride. the zabinis have been knocked from their pedestal, so there’s no room to pretend at home. when he starts drinking at home, the fights between him and elizabeth’s mother increase. her mother screams and her father sits still until he’s done listening and ends the fight with a smack against a cheek or something more. his anger turns to beth at times, too, but not as much as it does to her mother, but it does, and that’s enough for her hate to start growing. end of tw ]

they are kicked out of their house for the first time when she’s ten. they couldn’t make rent for the second month in a row and their landlord is done. her parents play the blaming game and elizabeth cries in the dry sheets at the motel they stay in now. they itch and are cold and she just wants a place to call home.

hogwarts is an escape, a place for elizabeth to leave behind the endless fights and the new shitty flat and to focus on something else than keeping quiet and not becoming too bored. she’s sorted in slytherin, like her mum was ( her dad went to school in italy, never even saw inside hogwarts, and perhaps that made the place even better ) and flourishes. socially, academically: suddenly elizabeth grows into something more than what she was before, learns how to use her disadvantages as advantages.

she mixes with the pureblood crowd like she should have done years ago, tells lies as to why she wasn’t at many events ( things like my dad travels a lot so we were never in the uk much, to be honest ) and reconciles with people she went on playdates with before everything turned to shit. she gets into the slug club, grows ambitious when she finds out she has skills, proper skills, in potions.

her ambition becomes a drive, becomes a plan: she signs up for summer internships, for ways out of the live she has been living so far. she talks to slughorn ( who likes her, even if her dad’s a failure ) and searches for opportunities, chances, anything to become successful, to move on from this life that she has known. she wants the money and riches she tells others she has, wants the fur coats and the jewels and expensive bottles of wine. she wants it all.

ramble time !!

basically the ‘then perish’ meme tbh. when it comes down to it, she only cares about herself? very self preservative, very selfish and very focused.

really sociable and charming. she’s made a name for herself over the past few years, too, is growing more respected in pureblooded circles because of her beauty, of her lies, of her surname. she’s playing the game right, but she’s also just a charismatic being.

likes red wine and cider!!! a lot!!

Bitter Bitch at times, but mostly a Determined Bitch and a Beautiful Bitch.

responds to beth as well, but hates being called liza or liz. 

as for purist shiz: she sticks with it as well as the de’s bc it puts her in a position of power and well … power is everything? gotta love it. gotta have it. if her being a pureblood with a respectable last name puts her higher than others, she’ll gladly accept that. she’s not planning on fighting in this war, though, has plenty of other things to do, and she’s willing to lie about her purist stance if its necessary too. will just do Whatever to better her position

Aesthetic Goals

what the old people call promiscuous. has a lot of flings, one night stands and such just bc?? she likes it. she’s bisexual/demiromantic btw!

her skills in potions will later grand her the power to poison her future husbands. i have them all fleshed out too LOL.