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reiderwriter · 6 months

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🍷 Alcohol Free 🍷

Week 1 of my Playlist series! Inspired by Alcohol Free by TWICE.

Summary: You're the designated driver for half of your friends, and Spencer is the designated driver for the other half, so why do you feel so buzzed when you're around him? OR; taking every opportunity when you finally meet Spencer Reid for the first time ♡

Warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption, but reader and Spencer are both sober. A/N: Welcome to week 1 of the Playlist! I think we started with an absolute banger, and for such a fun, upbeat song with this, I had to make this a fluff (sorry to all my smut and angst enjoyed, please be patient 🫡). I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to send me more song recs, as I'll be writing one follower chosen song fic per month 🥳

Check out my masterlist here~

“How much have you had to drink exactly, Pen?” You laugh as you watch her wobble back and forth, at her table.

“We started with champagne and wine. And then there was the cocktail round, so, a few margaritas here and there. And a mojito. Maybe a mimosa. I think a guy bought me a pint colada at the bar earlier,” her words were so sharp you almost couldn't believe she'd drank anything at all, but the fact that she said all this while swaying gently from side to side had you giggling at her antics.

“Don't forget the tequila!” Penelope's friend Emily groaned from the other side of the table then were gathered at, face already flat on the surface as if her hangover had already hit.

You'd been friends with Penelope for over a year now, so you were acquainted with all of the girls there, and had agreed to come and meet them on one of their girls nights out. You were never a big drinker though, so you offered to be the designated driver for the half of the gang that were committed to Uber-ing home.

They'd been drinking since the mid afternoon, and by the time you'd gotten off work and cleaned up for the bar, it was obvious that they were going to be a handful.

“Y/N, YOU'RE REALLY PRETTY, YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT?” JJ shouted from her seat beside you.

“Thank you, JJ, you already said that three times tonight. Maybe we should get you some water?”

“And so kind too, my princess in shining armour,” Penelope giggled.

For most people, being the only sober person on a night out was hell, but you found yourself enjoying it more and more as the years went by. Drunk women were so much like kindergarteners when they reaches a certain blood alcohol level, and you loved seeing what your usually serious and cool girlfriends would come up with.

You also wanted to make sure they stayed safe, and with the impressive list of multiple alcohols they'd just ingested, you wondered if you should be carting them off to the emergency room then and there.

“I THINK YOU'D LIKE MY FRIEND SPENCER. HE'S NERDY. YOU'D MAKE CUTE BABIES.” JJ was still shouting all of her words, despite the bar being relatively quiet and you almost did a spit take with your water as she kept on.

“Stop trying to marry Spence off, Jennifer.” Penelope giggled, over pronouncing JJ's name as if it were her first time ever using the word.

You'd heard a lot about this Spencer Reid since you'd become close with the girls at the table, and honestly, you were happy that JJ deemed you good enough for their Spencer.

From the sounds of it, all three of them nagged at him like elder sisters who found him endearingly annoying, and were fiercely protective of him. It made you curious.

“Are you seeing anyone, Y/N?” Emily asked, finally lifting her head up slightly, but in a way that made it look like it weighed 500 lbs more than usual.

“I'm not.”

“Why? You're smoking. Half the men in here have been circling your like sharks for the hour you've been here.” You laughed at that and pushed a bottle of water in Emily's direction again, encouraging her to take small sips of water.

“I'm being serious! I may be drunk beyond belief but this is a sober thought.”

“Emily, I love you, but none of these men are interested in me. I'm practically a spinster. I'm 27, I have no money and no prospects, yada yada, already a burden to my parents.”

“That was something nerdy, I know that was something nerdy, my Spencie Senses are tingling,” she quipped.

And as if right on cue, a quiet voice popped up from behind you and all the hairs on your neck stood on edge as it happened.

“It's a quote from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice movie, so it's not really all that nerdy, Emily.” You turned, slightly startled in your seat as you finally met the elusive Doctor Spencer Reid.

“SPENCE!” JJ cheered, and the other girls similarly whooped at his entrance. They were overjoyed, but you were slightly overwhelmed, because not once in their descriptions of Spencer Reid had they ever told you that he was quite possibly one of the hottest men to ever grace this good Earth.

His hair was slightly curly, a mess of waves flopping into his eyes, but shorter on the sides, highlighting his sculpted jaw. He was tall, on the lean side and craning your neck to look up at him was a happy experience to say the least.

He greeted his friends and looked down to you, and you felt all the blood suddenly rush to your brain when your eyes locked. Dear God.

“Spencer, this is Y/N, my wonderful, gorgeous, single and attractive friend. Say hello, Spencer.”

“Hello,” he gladly followed the instructions Penelope gave him, and you practically giggled at the sound of his voice. Giggled.

“Hello. I'm the wonderful, gorgeous, attractive Y/N,” you waved at him slightly, but your brain wouldn't stop thumping around as you enjoyed the sight of the man.

“Penelope actually told me about you before. You're working at the indie bookstore near Café Density, right? Castle Books? I got a first edition of T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats there a few months ago.”

“You!” You gasped the word, as a garage of words fell from your mouth in a stream. “You bastard, I was saving for months to buy that thing, and three days before my paycheck I turn up and it was gone! Oh my god, how does it smell? Are the pages mustard yellow or still A little white? They never let me touch it because I almost burst into tears every time I got close.”

To your astonishment, he didn't recoil from your spitfire speech, but laughed happily.

“It's great, the illustrations are amazing. I didn't know someone else had their eye on it when I went in, I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologise for finding treasure. You'd be a horrible pirate if you did that.” You brain really wasn't connected with your mouth anymore and you resisted the urge to turn and bolt away from the discussion.

“Thank you? I'm not a pirate, but I think that was a compliment.”

“See, nerds made in heaven, JJ was right.” The panic built up again slightly and you were sure your brain was going to explode with all the heat that was flooding to your face.

“What's JJ right about?” Reid inquired, and you almost grasped your chest to stop your heart from beating out of it when he cocked his head to the side.

You hadn't had a lick of alcohol the entire night, and yet you're entire body was reacting like it was drunk on Spencer Reid.

“Oh just that you and Y/N here would make beautiful-”

“BEAUTIFUL CONVERSATIONS HAPPEN.” You quickly cut Penelope off, sending her a warning look that was less subtle than just straight up telling her to shut her mouth.

“Can we go now?” Emily dropped her head to the table again as she threw out the words, looking suddenly three shades greener than she was a moment before. “I think that last shot was the drink that broke the camel's liver, and I'm the camel.”

You passed her the water again and slowly started to help your friends gently gather their things, noticing that Spencer was doing the same.

No wonder these girls were so protective of him if this is how well he treats them. He was their coworker, but he would have absolutely been confused for a filial son for any of the three women as he helped them each.

“Where do you live, Y/N?” He asked casually as you both helped the women out of the bar and into the fresh air. “My car is a bit small, but we can throw these three in the back together and they'll mostly sleep until they get back to their homes.”

“Oh no, you don't have to do that, I can go by myself-”

“I can't let a drunk woman go home by herself, Penelope would give me hell in the morning.” This earned a few giggles from the women beside you. You thought you heard Emily mumbling “some profiler he is,” under her breath as well.

You hesitated. You should've been explaining that you hadn't had anything to drink yet, that you actually drove here yourself and that your car was likely parked right by his. You should've offered to take at least one woman off his hands for the night to share the burden of making sure your friends didn't die.

But it was true that each of the women was likely to completely pass out when they got into the car, like newborns being rocked to sleep by their mothers. And that left Spencer Reid free for conversation.

“Thank you, that would be really nice, actually,” you smiled and followed the man to his car, lugging your wonderfully buzzed friends behind you.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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sorrowsofsilence · 28 days

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Cymbal-ism • Folio

Pairing: Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: smut 18+ (unprotected pnv, pls wrap it b4 u tap it; male!recieving, slight degrading, rough!folio) enemies to lovers, arguing/bickering

Prompt: You're the new bad omens drum tech, and Nick Folio sure does get on your nerves. Is he a pain in the ass? Or is it the fact you two have some un-discussed sexual tension? Sent via anon

Author note: its hella late, ive had three margaritas, and this is not proofread lol

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

“You’re fucking insufferable,” you muttered under your breath as you brushed passed the short-haired brunette, shoulders knocking against him.

He scoffed, his golden brows narrowing as he hollered after you down the hallway, “Huh? What did you say?”

You glanced his way, flashing him the middle finger with a sarcastic smile while you opened the studio door, before slamming it loudly behind you in frustration.

Nick fucking Folio.

You two got off on the wrong foot the first day you met him two weeks ago. You had bought coffee for the team as a kind gesture, hoping to make a great first impression since you would be with them around Europe for two months.

However, shit hit the fan when you and Folio collided in the hallway as you got off the elevator, spilling the drinks all over him, and immediately giving him a childish vendetta.

To him, if his new drum tech was that clumsy, this tour would be the longest two months of his life. But to you, he was the one who entered the elevator looking down at his phone, not paying attention.

And even though you two barely knew each other, he already made your blood boil.

Perhaps it was the fact he was always trying to nit-pick every little thing you did or the way his attitude was always witty, having a sarcastic retort for everything you said.

It’s also possible it was the way Jolly, your childhood best friend and how you landed the job in the first place, was constantly teasing you about the sexual tension budding between you and Folio.

Or deep down, you thought that maybe it was the way Nick’s annoyingly perfect hair slicked back so effortlessly, or how flawless his ochre eyes were when he glared at you, the deep abyss titillating every time his brows furrowed in your direction.

Everything about him, and to do with him, pissed you off.

But it made you even more mad that you found him extremely attractive, his presence making your heart pound with anger and infatuation.

Nick stormed into the room, kicking the door closed with his foot, “If you’re going to insult me just do it to my face, you coward.”

“Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” you said, kneeling next to the drum kit, loosening bolts on the boom stand.

Folio hovered over you, analyzing your movements as you adjusted the cymbals, taking them down one by one to place them in their cases. There was less than an hour until sound check, and none of the drum gear was moved from the studio room to the stage- thanks to somebody.

Groaning, you stopped to look up at him in annoyance, “I’m glad you think I’m pretty Folio, but maybe you can take your eyes off me and help? Instead of ogling?”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he started sliding the copper off of the loosened bars, “I’m just making sure you’re not fucking up my set.”

“Sure buddy,” you said, standing up and starting to unscrew the kick drum.

The two of you worked in tense silence, the air thick as miffed glances were shared taking apart the kit.

You tried not to watch the way his arms would flex as he twisted the rack tom, tattoos glistening slightly as the room heated.

You averted your eyes for a final time when they met his once again, stacking the cases onto the trolly to wheel it out to the stage.

Folio pushed passed you to grab the handles, ready to cart it down the hall even though it was your job.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You asked as you trailed way too closely behind him, just to push his buttons. The smell of his faint cologne and slight musk of weed on his tanktop left your heart picking up pace.

“Of course I do,” He mumbled, about to walk past the stage entrance.

“To the left- the left-” you shook your head, staring at him with disdain, as he completely ignored you and continued walking, “Oh my god- Folio! it was left!”

You heard a chuckle behind you as Jolly and Ruffilo walked down the hall, stopping at the backstage door as they watched you humorously.

Rolling your head back you gave them an exasperated look, sighing audibly.

“You two ok?” Jolly smiled, folding his arms.

Shaking your head in frustration you bitterly laughed, “He is the biggest pain in my ass. I’m seriously debating quitting the industry as a whole.”

Ruffilo snickered, glancing at Jolly and then Folio, “He only does that because he thinks you’re cute.”

“Excuse me-” Nick interjected, shaking his head in disagreement, “I’d rather kiss a wall for five hours. At least it would be quiet.”

Shooting them a pointed look you walked passed the boys as they chuckled, letting Folio follow you onto the stage.

It only took about ten minutes to set the kit back up before you sat on the stool, practicing a few solos to test the position.

Nick watched in irritation from the side, but what you didn’t know was under all that show, was an immense amount of admiration. The brunette loved watching you play. He was always impressed with your coordination and keen ear, the ability for you to instantly stop playing and slightly adjust a drum before falling right back into a quick rhythm, breathtaking.

He’d never want to admit how good you are; but he would always be biting back a smile as he watched you test out his kit for him, making sure it was set and tuned to perfection.

You sighed once you finished your adjustments, before tossing Nick the sticks.

“All yours pretty boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” He huffed, before looking at the kit, “Also, your dumb ass forgot the hi-hat.”

Not believing him at first you glanced at the drums before swiftly swearing to yourself.

He was right.

Getting up you pushed past Nick, but he followed you back down to the studio, an annoyed murmuring coming from your mouth. As you entered through the door Folio closed it behind you, locking it.

“Nick seriously what-” You began, but were cut off by the brunette.

“God, do you ever shut that annoying fucking mouth of yours?” He said, standing close to you as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

“If it’s so annoying to you, make me,” You scoffed, tilting your head to the side.

The proximity of Nick subconsciously began to make your face warm as you backed up from him, but he was right on your trail.

You hit the soft padded wall of the studio, Folio’s body millimetres from pinning yours against the surface.

The tension grew as you both stared at each other with hatred.

“Fuck, you.” Nick spat, false venom dripping off his words.

Without hesitating you sneered, “You wouldn’t, pussy.”

It took all of two seconds before his auburn eyes flicked to your lips, a greedy hand reaching up and gripping your jaw as his mouth attached to yours.

It didn’t take long before you melted into Nick’s touch, angry at how good his tongue felt swiping against yours, the grip on your face tightening as his other hand reached to grip a fist full of your hair at the back of your head.

Fury, hatred, and lust fueled the fire between you two as your fingers gripped his belt loops, tugging his hips toward you as you began rutting against him.

You wanted nothing more than to claw down his skin, begging to dig your nails across the ivory and ink, embedding your mark. You wanted him to wince in a mix of pain and pleasure as your imprint but decided that grazing your teeth along his lips would have to do.

Nick moaned into you, quite literally ready to tear your shirt off, tempted to rip the cloth from its seam and destroy the fabric; but he withheld himself, aware that the two of you were hallways away from the exit to the tour bus.

The two of you pulled away panting, catching your breath.

“What the hell are we-”

Nick stared into your eyes, attempting to shift his desire into a glare as he leaned down to bite against your neck, nipping and kissing down the skin, “Just shut up, for five minutes. Please.”

A small whimper escaped you as his tongue grazed your collarbone, Folio’s fingers fiddling with the button on your jeans. You shimmed the fabric down your legs, kicking it off as you tugged at his tanktop, pulling it over his head.

His fingers gripped your hips, pulling them toward his own as he rubbed against your underwear, the bulge and stiffened desire evidence of how badly he wanted this. Reaching for the bottom of your shirt you tore it off your torso, exposing your chest.

Folio pushed your hips into the wall as his fingers danced along the hem of the thong you wore, threatening to dip lower to where you wanted him most.

“Please,” You whispered, desperation falling from your tone.

Folio shook his head, almost throwing his head back in humour, “We need to do something about your mouth.”

He pushed your shoulders, beckoning you to the ground before pulling his belt from the clasp. Freeing himself from his jeans, you watched hungrily as he gripped the back of your head, lining up his hardened desire to your lips.

“Open. Now.”

You obeyed, too turned on to fight back his commands. Wrapping around him you began to suck along the skin, closing your eyes as you relished in the feeling of how hard he was, all for this.

You reached up to stroke the base but he gripped your wrist, holding you in place as his hips thrust forward. He took complete control of how fast and how deep he went, using you to his desire.

“Your whore mouth exists for me to fuck,” Nick swore, his other hand holding the base of your neck as if feeling for himself through your skin, “All that backtalk can be shoved right down your pretty throat.”

Moaning at his words you closed your eyes, gagging on Nick’s thrusts as you took your free hand between your thighs, allowing yourself to slide past your panties to trace small circles against the skin.

Your arousal coated your fingers as your hips rutted against your hand, Nick’s fingers leaving your wrist to grip the back of your head. He pushed you down further on him, your eyes watering as he forced you to gag along his cock.

Air dissipated from your lungs, your body shuddering from the lack of oxygen momentarily before Nick pulled you away, causing you to cough.

“Fuck,” he groaned, almost chuckling.

You licked and sucked against him for a moment longer, before he pulled you up, gripping your hips. He kissed you desperately again for a few more minutes as his cock pressed against your thigh, before you pulled away, a hand against his chest.

“Are you going to just kiss me, or fuck me like you said you would?” You pushed, your hand gripping his erection, fingers dancing across his skin.

Nick moaned into your lips again before taking his hand between your thighs, slipping his fingers between your folds as he prepared your body for his, “Don’t make it a challenge, or you won’t be able to walk after.”

The brunette lifted your leg, gripping underneath your thigh as he hoisted it up to his hip, positioning himself against your arousal. It was a matter of seconds before he slid between you, your body taking him eagerly as your head fell back, mouth agape at the sensation.

He filled you fully, satiating the hunger you always had for the drummer as he began to thrust into your core, pounding senselessly. The angle gave him access to where you wanted him most, soft cries heaving from your chest as your brows furrowed.

Frustration dissipated into pleasure as Nick gave you everything, fucking you with complete adoration and need. Your nails gripped his shoulders, digging into the skin with haste as you rested your forehead against his neck.

“I hate how gorgeous I think you are,” Nick mumbled into your ear, soft groans escaping him.

Your laugh turned into a moan as his fingers trailed to stimulate you while he thrust, your body convulsing from the bliss, “I hate your perfect laugh, and how you have a lopsided smile.”

“I hate how talented you are.”

“I hate the way your eyes light up when you’re happy.”

“I hate how you walk with a skip when you’re excited.”

Your eyes lidded as Nick gripped the back of your head, forcing you to watch him as he spit on himself, lubricating your combined story as you pushed into him to meet his hips.

His thrusts began to waver as you clenched around him, the stimulation from his cock and fingers causing your legs to shake. Nick was close himself, trying to push you to the edge first before allowing himself release.

“I h-hate how-” You tried to get out your words as complete bliss took over, but Folio’s lips attached to yours once again, his pace never ceasing through your orgasm. Your walls engulfed him as Nick succumbed to you, his breathing staggered and haste as his chest vibrated in contentment.

His hips jerked into you as he allowed himself relief, taking over your body.

You watched him for a moment before his eyes met yours, lips agape in a pant.

The brunette shook his head as his fingers squeezed the skin along your torso, “We have two minutes till sound check.”

“Of course, you’re making us late,” you frowned.

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Tags: @sammyjoeee @spicywhenspeaking @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @foliosgirl @thatchickwiththecamera @blackveilomens @xserenax-13

#nick folio fic #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio smut #nick folio x reader #Nick folio #nick folio bad omens #bad omens smut #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #sorrows of silence #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers smut

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mistydeyes · 1 year

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have a drink

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summary: It's December and things have finally wrapped up. Laswell sends you and your squad on mandatory leave. Not having any plans, Alejandro invites you to his ranch in Mexico and you book the next flight there. You use this opportunity to put your bartending skills to use and prepare seven drinks to go along with dinner.

pairing: 141 x platonic!reader (codename: Brandy)

warnings: swearing, alcoholism

a/n: just a little psa but apparently mixing light and dark liquor is a myth! regardless, please still drink responsibly

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With Zyani assassinated and the bombs disarmed, Laswell decided that it was time for your squad to relax. Before you all could make any plans, Alejandro invited you back to Mexico for a relaxing leave. Not wanting to return to the cold and rainy London climate, everyone agreed on the offer.

As you walked off the airplane, you saw Alejandro and Rodolfo waiting for you with their car. "Bienvenido de nuevo!" Alejandro greeted you as you approached. Hugs and fist bumps were all in order before you piled into the vehicle.

"So what's for dinner?" Gaz asked as Alejandro drove to the countryside. "Carnitas tacos, I have the carnitas in a slow cooker now," he replied, "but Brandy has the drinks covered." With that, everyone's heads turned towards you in the backseat. "You bartend, Brandy?" Ghost asked. "I did actually, best bartender in all of London. When I joined the SAS a buddy gave me the name but now everyone just thinks of that Looking Glass song or the porn star," you joked. "Anyways, I got something special for y'all tonight!" you exclaimed to the cheers of the men.

You, Alejandro, and Ghost went to do some errands as Rudy entertained the rest of the 141 at the beach. You and Alejandro had some items to pick up and Ghost tagged along, saying something about how sunburn and a mask don't mix well. Regardless, you were happy to have someone hold your boxes of liquor. As you navigated the small store, you grabbed everything on your list. By the end of it, you had enough to kill a small town. "Think this is enough, Brandy?" Ghost asked as the cashier helped to box everything. "Definitely," you replied as you loaded the cart, "Scared you won't be able to handle it, Ghost? I've got 7 drinks all lined up." Ghost was excited at the prospect of having liquor after months but feared your capabilities.

When you returned to Alejandro's home, you saw it was a spacious ranch. He was kind enough to let you bartend behind his outside bar and led you outside. You admired the scenery as you looked to see a bar formed from clay along with a dining table and fire pit with many seating options. "I can see what a Colonel's salary can get you," you joked as he gave you a tour of the property. "Mi casa, tu casa," he replied and you went back inside to help him and Ghost with dinner.

As you heard your squad relax and enjoy some tapas, you went behind the bar and prepared for the night. You organized it as you remembered it in your civilian days and placed the liquor behind you, on display. "Oi is that tequila?" you heard Soap say as you brought out a bottle of Patron. "Trust me, MacTavish you'd never know once I'm done with it," you replied and left him grumbling that tequila tasted like dog piss. You finished setting up and lined seven margarita glasses on the counter.

alejandro: ranch water

"Alright, if you all would like to come over here, I'll show you how a real bartender does it," you exclaimed and the men came to gather in front of the bar. Alejandro joined moments later once he had checked on the carnitas in the slow cooker.

"For our lovely host, I will serve you 'ranch water'," you said and brought out the ingredients. "¿Qué?" Alejandro asked as he took off his apron. "Ale, we're on a ranch in Mexico, this drink is clearly for you," you joked. You rimmed the cups with Tajin before filling the seven cups with ice. Working quickly, you then filled your shaker with blanco tequila, Topo Chico, and fresh lime juice. You threw in some fun tricks like throwing the shaker over your shoulder, much to the amusement of your crowd. You finally garnished with a freshly squeezed lemon. "Se sirven bebidas," you said and let everyone grab a glass. "Tastes better than any water from this ranch," Alejandro joked and quickly finished his glass. To your annoyance, Soap still complained he could taste the tequila. "Not with this next one!" you said and prepared for Rudy's drink.

rudy: el diablo

For Rudy, you picked El Diablo and had a fun trick to wow the audience. As the men finished their beverages, you finished your ranch water and collected what you needed. In this went reposed tequila, creme de cassis, lime juice, and ginger beer. "What's this?" Gaz asked as he collected the glasses for you. "El Diablo," you said, and before you could explain the namesake, Ghost responded, "The Devil." You poured out the shaker into glasses as the men slowly went to take one. "Just wait," you said before adding the smallest bit of tequila on top of a candied lemon and pulling out a lighter. Everyone was surprised as you went about lighting each of the glasses one by one. As the flames danced on their faces you joked to Rudy, "Still can't believe Ale had to run and save you from that house fire." You all shared a good laugh as you enjoyed your drinks. "You are right, Brandy, this doesn't taste like dog piss," Soap joked and you gained an 'I told you so'.

price: smoked old fashion

Everyone was still going strong so while they finished, you prepared the drink you picked for Price. This required a different glass and Rudy delivered a lowball glass to the counter. This drink was a classic so you made it easily. A smoked old fashioned with water, bitters, and a sugar cube to start then followed by bourbon and a smoke top. As you let the sugar cube melt with the water and bitters, you found your seven smoke tops. No one knew where 1. you got those from and 2. why you had so many. The group crowded around you again as you filled six glasses with ice and poured the shaker into them. "Neat, am I right, Captain?" you asked glancing at him, you knew the answer. "Got me pinned, Sergeant," he replied and put his hands up defensively. Once all the drinks were poured, you touched some wood chips in the smoke top and let it settle for two minutes. You then gestured for the group to take their drinks and savor the smoky cocktail. As Price took a sip he made sure to send his compliments. "Better than any Old Fashioned I could get in London."

You saw everyone take a minute to drink the bourbon, except for Price and Ghost of course, so you were glad this was the last drink before dinner.

You sat sipping your old-fashioned as Alejandro emerged with the fixings for tacos. He unveiled a pot of slow-cooked carnitas and the aroma wafted in the late-night air. He sat down at the head of the table and lifted his glass. "To good company and good food!" he said and you all echoed your sentiments. You started with a tortilla and carnitas piled on with a side of Mexican rice. Then, the fixings were passed along. You made sure to pile guacamole, onions, salsa, sour cream, cilantro, and hot sauce onto the carnitas and tortillas. You passed the hot sauce to Gaz and Alejandro last as they were known to douse their food. Once everyone had prepared their plates, you all dug in. Needless to say, Alejandro was an amazing cook. You all got seconds as the food was delicious. In the middle of dinner, you prepared everyone another round of El Diablos and sat in lively conversation. You heard about how Gaz learned Laswell was married and Soap interjected with plans for a new tattoo. Just when Ghost was about to ask about El Sin Nombre, Price quieted him. "No work, talk here," he said and the conversation flowed on as everyone talked about their plans.

gaz: aviation (a/n i'm currently drinking this while writing lol)

After your delicious meal, you got up from the table to prepare the next drink. This was a classic and easily earned anyone's respect when they ordered it. You mixed gin, maraschino liqueur, creme de Violette, and lemon juice in your shaker as you gathered some coupe glasses. "What this now?" Rudy asked as he came to keep you company. "An Aviation for our favorite flight jumping Sergeant," you joked and Gaz eyed you. You filled the glasses with a gorgeous purple liquid and garnished some cherries soaked in brandy. Rudy helped you to bring the drinks to the table and you handed them out. "This is an Aviation, a drink made for Kyle and his habit of falling out of flying objects," you joked and raised your glass in a toast. "It was Nik's fault," Gaz replied defensively but enjoyed the drink immensely. You wouldn't be surprised by the end of this if they all had a new drink of choice.

soap: irish car bomb

You had now moved over to a campfire following dinner. Rudy's abuela had graciously gifted you all with some homemade flan and you were glad this paired with the next drink in line. Instead of grabbing glasses, you found seven-shot glasses. Alejandro was probably planning on having a big family based on the countless amounts of glasses and dinnerware he had. You beckoned Soap over to watch you make the shots. You could see his eyes light up when you first grabbed Guinness. "Now I know you're Scottish and there's apparently a big difference between you and the Irish but I promise you, you'll like this," you said and he laughed at the statement. As he followed your movements, you added Baileys and whiskey to the glasses, pouring slowly to form a distinct layer. You then topped it off with the Guinness. You gave the remainder of the bottle to Soap as you called everyone over. "Time for shots!" you yelled and everyone came to the bar. "Just drink it all in one," you said and prompted the men to try. Once done, everyone asked for seconds and you hesitantly poured seeing how Rudy and Gaz were getting slightly red and weren't walking straight. You made sure to portion the glasses accordingly and filled yours, Price's, and Ghost's to the brim.

ghost: dark n' stormy

You served Ghost's drink an hour after the shots as everyone was clearly inebriated. Alejandro had led everyone into an old Spanish campfire song and Rudy, Gaz, and Soap were singing the loudest. As you sat and enjoyed the show, you scooted over to Ghost who was watching to the side. "The things liquor can do," you mused as he sipped the rest of Soap's Guinness. "The things your bartending can do," he corrected and you could see Price getting a video of the singing men. "You feeling drunk, Lt.?" you joked and nudged his arm. "Not drunk enough" he replied and you got up to the bar. "Well let's change that."

You placed seven highball glasses in front of you and prepared Ghost's drink as he watched. You traded some holiday traditions as you poured rum and the rest of the lime juice and ginger beer into the cups. "My family always wanted something to drink with Christmas dinner so naturally I became their bartender in my teens," you told him as you garnished with a lime wheel. "Good to know you have a plan after retirement," he replied before interrupting yet another song and calling everyone over. You raised your glass when everyone gathered and delivered a quick toast. "To Lt, the dead man walking who saved Soap's ass," you said and everyone cheered in agreement. You watched happily as Ghost drank the cocktail slowly and prepared another. You made sure to make this a double as you wanted him to enjoy it.

brandy: super shot

Following the last round of drinks, you could tell everyone was feeling a little warmer. You and Price laughed wildly as Ghost and Rudy tried to impersonate someone driving a taxi. You all formed groups (Group 1 - you and Price, 2 - Ghost and Rudy, 3 - Alejandro, Soap, and Gaz) to play charades. "Beep, beep," Ghost kept saying as he mimicked driving, Rudy pretending to be a businessman in the back. Maybe it was the liquor but Alejandro's team was clearly not getting it. "Fuck me, we'll pass," Gaz said as the turn went to you and Price. "He's a bloody taxi driver," Price answered, and audible groans were heard from Soap and Gaz. "I think we won, Captain," you said and shared a high five. Before any more games could start, you prepared the next drink.

"Now before the finale, does anyone want refills?" you asked and everyone's hands shot up. You made sure to add a little more mixer to Rudy's, Soap's, and Gaz's before making everyone their appropriate cocktails and shots. After everyone had finished, you made a glass of an Aviation for yourself.

Now thoroughly drunk, the men anxiously waited to see your creation. "I call this a 'Brandy Special'," you said before placing a bottle of Bacardi, Hennessy, and Everclear on the counter. "FUCK NO" Gaz yelled drunkenly and Price and Rudy also shook their heads upon seeing the Everclear. That only left Alejandro, Ghost, Soap, and you. "Your loss," you said as you mixed the ingredients and pulled out four cleaned shot glasses. Price took a quick photo of you four before you all cheered your glasses.

Let's just say the Brandy Special is now banned from Alejandro's house. You and Ghost survived while Alejandro and Soap went to empty their stomaches in the yard.

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ciphykiss · 1 year

Text

incubus >

blade x f!reader; nsfw, mdni somnophilia (does it count if its in a dream idk), slight dubcon, light “claiming” elements

You’re going to resign tomorrow.

This is what you tell yourself when the siren of your cell blares Jingyuan’s ringtone at 3 AM on a weekend, a mere two hours following your last shift at the general’s personal slammer (you’d applied for an administrative assistant position, dammit; you were supposed to be serving the slick bastard tea and going on lotus cake runs, not wiping prisoner spit off your cheek). In the beginning, you’d attempted to balm the degrading lifestyle with girthy checks, cruising into salons like clockwork every Friday with your hair up and eyes cucumber’d, lovely Foxian ladies attending to your nails and worn muscle (you’d try to ignore their comments about how you’d aged fifty years in half of one but just end up crying), flirted with the latest designer dresses, and found yourself zombie-clicking add to cart whenever you were on the verge of your bi-weekly meltdown.

No amount of flashy makeup, a piled vanity, and three grand miniskirts are convincing enough for Tingyun, however, and the Foxian would only glance over in pity as you threw yourself at your weekend prize in attempts to forget whatever near-death experience you’d suffered from grooming Jingyuan’s latest charge before their trial.

Your holidays always ended in one of two ways: the ambassador consoling you by observing her nails while you threw your guts up on a clubside of the red light district, remarking on how you should’ve just worked under Yukong like she’d told you to (it wasn’t your fault you’d been seduced by the sleeping general enough to delude yourself into thinking you’d had a shot at a postgraduate office romance), victim to you screeching obscenities of “that bastard” while vomiting a day’s meals (five shots of espresso, a chicken wing, and offbrand Lexapro). Then, you’d spy grime under your nails from previous altercation and wail louder, because you were wasting your prime in fucking prison cells.

It was either that, or being rudely interrupted at approximately five-thirty the next day (a holiday, mind you) to a string of texts that had bypassed warnings of “do not disturb” in favor of bitching about how a true friend wouldn’t let you sleep with a negative four. The true miracle was you not ending up on Tingyun’s blocklist (she’d added you indefinitely once until you’d bombarded the Sky-Faring Commissions with love letters begging their amicassador for “one more chance pls :’(( </3”).

“Why don’t you just quit,” Tingyun had asked on an average Sunday afternoon while stirring her margarita; the Foxian looked a picture-perfect beauty next to your rat-haired, hoodie-clad figure, makeup from last night melting off your face.

You’d ceased licking hollandaise sauce off your upper lip to stare at her. And instead of arguing about how you’d likely never procure a salary as high as your current one (nothing was worth the cost of your youth and beauty), or how Jingyuan could, quite literally, ruin every one of your future job prospects if he deemed you necessary (you’d find a way to murder him; hell hath no fury like a woman scorned), you could only muster a single thought.

“Tingyun, you’re a genius.”

The paperwork (because he is the bastard, Jingyuan had purposefully orchestrated his resignation process to be thrice as lengthy as the average Luofunian businesses, complete with word-limit essays detailing the exact reason for departure and a five-year timeline on future posts) is stashed under a vase on your nightstand; you make a mental note to litter expletives along the margins to finalize the word count. With the shit he’d just pulled, the general would be in no position to even raise a brow.

“Where’s the newbie,” you grit, slamming your receiver and thumb print over the holographic lock of the Cloud Knight’s maximum security cells. Your companion, a Vidyadhara accountant-turned-night watch guard (because Jingyuan’s ever-growing penchant for tossing civil servants into the line of criminal apprehension remained steadfast even before your recruitment), sweats nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Miss [Name],” Danyin stresses, wincing at the sight of weeks-old inmates clawing at his fabrics for scraps of food, money, and flesh; you ignore him, walking onwards with an air of pissed-offery not even the most seasoned of inmates would dare inflame; your hair hangs behind you, perfumed and damp from its midnight shower, face void of the traditional rouged eyes and thick liner you’d adopted since entering Jingyuan’s court. “If I may speak—”

“You may not.”

“—the general was adamant you meet with him first before apprehension of our newest inmate. He seems… quite ruffled.”

“As he should be, because the next time I see him, I’ll rip him a ne—”

“It is evident that this criminal is naught like the others, [Name], and this is the first time we’ve had to quarter anyone in Cloudford’s maximum security ce—”

You whirl around to face Danyin, eyes ablaze. The guard withers under the brunt of your glower.

“I will see to it my duties are performed,” you say evenly, “and then, I will clock out, return to bed, and enjoy the rest of my weekend with my cell muted. You can let that scoundrel know I will be unavailable for the next 48 hours.”

And with that, you jerk the handlebar of the deepest cell in Jingyuan’s fort shut, your last sight that of Danyin with his mouth hanging open.

The maximum security cells of Jingyuan’s prison are surprisingly less unkempt than the bustle of the commons; it is dark and smells distinctly of a new, unused apartment complex. There are neither guards nor cellkeepers, no windows to speak of; only a dark, winding hallway leading to your destination.

It’s the first time you’d been allotted clearance; originally, you’d presumed the general lacked faith in both your combat abilities and the unwavering loyalty shared by his retinue (both are correct), but now, you realize it’s simply due to a lack of occupants.

(And rightfully so, because you’re having a terrible time imagining what dangers would have Jingyuan paranoid.)

You stop in front of a glass cell; it is tempered, element, bullet, sound, and magic proof; you glance down at your wristwatch and realize it has lost its signal. A neon red “O” flashes on top of the door.

Hesitantly (because despite your lack of sleep and the fact that you’re moving on sole hatred), you touch the glass, peering into the darkness for any sign of movement (any sign of life).

There are none.

Chewing your bottom lip, you decide to adopt the usual “fuck it” mentality you’d been ailed with after more than a few double-digit near death encounters in these halls and press the pads of your fingers over the lock.

It churns, once, twice, thrice, before responding in a robotic monotone; “high-risk individual detected; please exercise caution.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave your hand. “Just get it over with.”

A pause. “Searching database; clearance confirmed. Please confirm entry command.”

You click your tongue. “I do.”

A soft, buzzing sound. “High-risk individual detected; please reaffirm entry command.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, yes!”

The algorithm grows silent. The cogs behind the seemingly innocuous doorway bluster for at least ten seconds, winding open in a rigid, clumsy gait.

Inside, it is darker still. It smells of the preserved glaze used all over the Luofu to seal unused buildings, and a hint of dust; metallic odors assail your nose. Your eyes adjust to the blackness, and you peer long enough to spy the end of a conversation table.

“...uh, hello?”

No response. Annoyed, you search the walls for the lightswitch—your hands dart blindly until it finds the lever.

Dim, blue hues glint off the corridor, bathing the cell in an ominous, funeral-morning light. Your eyes train to the end of the table, and there he sits—still, unmoving, a mane of raven hair cascading down his back, a flesh-and-bone composition of some western Dracula. He is unlike any other inmate you’d laid eyes on before, something incorrigible, clandestine about him; it’s as if he’s frozen in the intersection of immortality and death, one foot through the door, never fully on either side. Distinctly, it reminds you of some late-stage cases of mara-struck individuals that would eventually be sent for termination (the grim fate of all Xianzhou natives).

He is as strong as he is imposing, and nearly as tall as the general himself; this, you can ascertain by the muted rise of his chest, the cling of Xianzhounian fabric over battle-hardened muscle, and knees that hit the bottom of the table.

He can kill you, you realize instantly; a part of you screams that he not only can, but will. It is a primitive fear, one you hadn’t thought you’d face in the closely-guarded Luofu ship, especially under the watchful eye of the Cloud Knight’s general; it’s enough for you to stop breathing, and render you frozen in your tracks.

You force yourself to exhale, dragging the chair on your end of the table back to situate yourself.

“Good evening,” you manage to utter, cringing at how it comes out a half-squeak; you bite your tongue, willing yourself to harden. A killer this man might’ve been (a professional one, if your screaming gut instinct had anything to say), you didn’t power through half a decade of amicassador training and Jingyuan’s bullshit to flail at the sight of a wanted criminal. “I’m [Name], associate-assistant of General Jingyuan of the Cloud Knights, acting director-in-command of Cloudford’s maximum security center; my duties include, but are not limited to, prerequisite questioning of inmates following admission, collection of bio-data, and basic care of inmates that are unable to groom oneself.” You spy the etherous shackles bound at the wrists of his gauze-covered hands. “Do you consent to the precursory collection of bio-data?”

No response. Not even the slightest tilt of a head, not a single hair moving out of place. A little paler, and you’d presume him dead. You chew the inside of your mouth.

“Would you be willing to provide your legal name? Planet of origin? Species?” Each question is followed by another inch of silence, widening the sea between you and the stranger; though you’re simply following protocol, you can’t help but shiver at the thought of offending Jingyuan’s newest specimen. “...that will conclude logistics. As per duty, and due to current physical restrictions, I am, by law, required to provide basic grooming; this will include a wipe-down of the face. You may vocalize any additional requests; if deemed appropriate by the Cloud Knight Codex, I will comply.”

Silence.

You decide you’d rather the world swallow you back into its womb and spit you back out so you might choose another path in life. Anything to prevent the development of that stupid crush on the scoundrel-general that had left you moon-eyed enough to brush off Tingyun’s recommendation of bannering under Yukong’s Sky-Faring Commission, where you’d entertain foreign investors and tryst with exotic artists instead of dancing with the stink of death every workday.

“...I’m going to touch you now,” you murmur, the scrape of your chair filling the cell. “Please excuse me.”

It’s like diving head-first into a guillotine; every live-wire nerve in you is shrilling for you to run, dignity and Jingyuan and the peace of the Luofu be damned. Leave the goddamn cell door open if you had to; anything to save your own skin. You don’t, of course; instead, you waver in front of the man, still a sitting statue, and tear open the sterile clothpack you’d pocketed.

Slowly, you kneel—and suddenly, you’re having to look up at him, all harsh lines and dark hair, and you thank the Aeons he’s blindfolded and you can’t see his eyes, because you know you wouldn’t have been able to perform any duty under the brunt of a killer’s stare.

He smells of incense and the bloodied scabbard of a sword. Specifically, the woodsmoke used in funerals. Hesitantly, you press the damp end of the satin to the stranger’s cheek.

The result is instantaneous, and you would’ve missed it had you hadn’t been seasoned by years of dealing with the most insidious of criminals; his mouth twitches, his nostrils flare; the actions are subtle, not at all assuming to the naked eye, and would, when performed by any other inmate, be brushed off as involuntary fidgeting;

But not this man, not death himself.

You nearly drop the cloth in alarm. But you don’t, and you try to look anywhere but him (because looking at him hurts as much as it would staring into the core of a non-artificial sun), climbing over the bridge of his nose, the flesh of his lips, the dip of his brows and the cuts of his hard, narrow jaw.

He is handsome.

The thought is both funny and terrifying; it helps you function, albeit more normally, though a part of you knows you shouldn’t find a national security threat anything more than appalling.

“Done,” you murmur, pulling back until you’re no longer drunk on the scent of orientals and woodsmoke. You pause, affirming just how pretty he is up close—a word you’d seldom use to describe men, and though he is absurdly handsome, there’s something flowery about the drape of his hair over his shoulder (another sign of danger, you now realize, as Xianzhounian warriors only cut their hair after defeat), the fullness of his mouth; like a carnivorous, night-flowering jasmine, you muse, blooming a scent so elusive it would only attract the most macabre of victims into its maw.

Aeons, the wanted criminal had you waxing poetry. Had your perpetual sleep deprivation toed its way to insanity?

“...do you require any further assistance?”

It shouldn’t shock you, it really shouldn’t; and yet, his response has the same effect as being struck with a killing blow from the general’s lightning lord itself;

“No,” he rasps, and the sound shoots right down to your core.

Fuck. Maybe you should’ve convinced your Foxian friend to take that old geezer up on his threeway offer last weekend, because it had clearly been too long since you’d gotten laid. For a wanted criminal you’d just laid eyes on to have such—

No. There’s no way. You make a mental note to ask Tingyun what self-care devices are trending and hide the pang in your nether regions with a shuffle of your thighs.

“Alright,” you squeak, scrambling to your feet—and protocol be damned, because there’s nothing in this godforsaken intergalactic universe that can stop you from crawl-dashing out the door as fast as your stupid work heels will carry you.

You need an intervention (an orgasm). Stat.

ꨄ︎

The Jingyuan that haunts you at dusk is as capable as the one you loathe during the day, thrice as inflamed, and so deliciously pliant. Your vision is obscured in the pewter-gray of his mane, teeth scraping the naked flesh of your shoulder, wet and warm and hard.

You dig your nails into the roots of his hair, as always, and yank. In response, he lets out a muffled groan—you imagine the sound reverberates under your skin like ripples along a lake, and feel his (your) hands dip below the hem of your dress. He would be careful, you think—considerate, despite his bastardry, barely bruising, just harsh enough to leave you wanting, just how you like it (or so you think).

“I hate you,” you gasp, to no one; Jingyuan chuckles, lips soft over the juncture of your throat.

“Me?”

“You,” you moan, the rake of your nails along his back coaxing him into littering a thousand kisses over your neck. “I hate you, I hate you—you and your stupid hair and lackadaisical, know-it-all attitude, and—fuck, I deserve a raise!”

“You don’t sound as though you hate me,” he hums. “In fact, you sound… rather pleased.”

Of course the Jingyuan in your hallucinogen-inspired wet dream is as cocky as the one in flesh; you scowl, landing a good one across his left cheek. He laughs, then, which spurs you to lock your legs around his hips and push him into the plush of the many pillows of your dreamscape.

“Shut up,” you order, “and put that mouth of yours to use for once.”

He doesn’t need any further instigation; dream-Jingyuan (somehow just as insufferable, despite being the byproduct of YOUR imagination) grabs you by the thighs and splits you open like his last meal. You gasp, hips moving of their own accord—reality blurs with the walls of your dreamworld, your own fingers replaced with the general’s calloused ones, and you sway to build the peak of your climax to your heart’s desire, lips coaxed open by his tongue, clit brushing against the bridge of his nose.

It’s all too much, really; you don’t remember the last time you’d had a dream so vivid, despite having remedied your insomnia quite often with visions of taming the sleeping general. There’s a strange sense of liminality; the thick fog separates to make way for cracks that closely resemble your bedroom wall, silk sheets fading into the strewn blankets you’d received as a New Year’s gift.

And then, Jingyuan does something completely unscripted—he slides you off his face, throws your leg over his hip, and grinds into your core.

You let out a whimper, something small in the back of your mind screaming that this isn’t normal—that a fabrication shouldn’t be chasing after his own pleasure, that the teeth along your neck feel harsher, more volatile;

But you can’t be bothered to care, whining for more—because suddenly, his mouth isn’t enough, and you need him, you need to be filled—had your vision been less blurry, and had you been even a smidgen less wanton, you wouldn’t noticed the shock of white hair fade into ink, the bare chest replace itself with dark fabric, and the fog of your dreamscape turn to overhead skies and a bed crowned in a million spider lilies.

And then,

“Jingyuan?” The forbidden, familiar baritone husks into your ear, and Aeons, you’d never crumbled faster—your eyes split open, still hazy, glittering with unshed tears—of frustration, of want, of hatred, everything in between and more, and you feel yourself getting even wetter. “Of all men, him?”

“What’re ‘ou doing here?” You babble, incoherent; your arms are still wrapped around his neck, and slowly, the inmate you’d been acquainted with mere hours before rises, shrouding your world in a curtain of black hair.

He smells the same—incense and blood and rain. Great. Now you’re hallucinating scents.

“That won’t do,” he says, lowering his face; the fabric of his blindfold touches your forehead, and you’re not sure why, but the fact that you can’t truly see him is even more erotic than any fantasy you’d ever conjured up before.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, the last shreds of decency slipping away to the cloudsmoke of his perfume and the flush of his hardened body against yours. “This isn’t—mmm!”

His mouth is on yours, and it is nothing like any mirage store-bought fantasia can conjure up; he is nothing like the men you pick up at clubs, nothing like the teasing Jingyuan in your dreams. He is taking you, commanding your lips to part to make way for him; his tongue searches yours, feverish and so ravaging that it should have you fleeing the planet.

Then, he moves, and you feel the brush of something hard against your mound, near corporeal; the threads of rationality snap, and you’re arching, using your hooked leg as leverage to melt into the dream-criminal’s body, because now, a dream isn’t enough—you want to feel him, warmth and muscle and the cage of his arms, and become one; a mouth isn’t enough. Suddenly, nothing is enough.

He pulls away to latch onto your neck, and you cry at the loss.

“No,” you wail, hooking your remaining leg over his waist. Slender, moreso than Jingyuan’s. “Kiss me more—gimme more—I need—”

“Take it yourself,” he says, working on the welts now littering your collarbone in what an absurd part of you assumes is an attempt to replace any remnants of the dream-general. “Do you really think yourself deserving?”

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes. “So—so mean,”

You lay there for a minute more, frustrated and so stupidly wet, aching for his touch while he seems content to deliver his punishments in the form of mouthing along every inch of your throat and breasts.

“You demon,” you accuse, fisting his shirtsleeve pathetically. Your lips twitch into a frown when he continues to ignore you.

Take it yourself, huh?

And then, because it’s a dream and you would rather die than be left unsatisfied in your own un-reality, you grab the stranger by the face, part your lips open, and finish what he so rudely began.

A part of you expects a nightmarish turn—one where he lashes out to skewer your gut, or worse; instead, he indulges you, fingers steadying your hips as they attempt to grind into a rhythm.

“You’re in my dream, aren’t you?” You whisper, scattering pecks along his cheek—he is, after all, so pretty, too pretty not to dote on. “Take responsibility. Jingyuan would.”

It’s like smelting a firecracker; his mouth bends into an almost-scowl, and the grip on your hips turns bruising.

Bandaged fingers curl into your heat, building atop an existing pressure—your reaction is visceral. A gasp, then an involuntary swivel of your spine with the heels of your feet digging into the bed; and just as you think he’s going to build a staccato, his ministrations halt.

It’s devastating, and it has you wailing into the crook of his pale, unforgiving, not-quite-embrace; frustrated, you knock your fists against his chest. If it were reality, it would hurt you more than it hurt him.

“You bastard.”

“I could ruin you,” he haunts, an echo in your ear. “I could make it burn. You would dream of me in the waking world, cry for me in the dreaming. A slave to passion, day and night; hardly sleeping, hardly eating, merely breathing, finding relief only when I move inside you.”

His lips graze over your own.

“But I won’t.”

It’s a strange, humiliating experience, coming undone from a mere kiss; your heat throbs, neglected, still sobbing to be touched, be soothed, put at rest; but the way he holds you can be mistaken as loving, and the curl of his mouth against yours is almost kind; it’s like grasping at the shadow of a man that never existed.

And then, you wake up.

Your walls are sepia and no longer skies, there are no lilies at your feet. Your cheeks are tear-stained, and there’s a hand under your skirt, the other cupping your breast in poor mimicry of your dream demon.

Something red catches the mirror on your nightstand.

There, splintered across the previously unmarred expanse of your throat, lies a canopy of bruise-colored kisses.

#blade x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #blade hsr #honkai star rail smut #blade smut #part of a series but im too lazy to format parts rn

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glorious-spoon · 1 month

Note

for the prompts: buddie 3 or 20

thank you! here's a bit of future fic, just after their first kiss!

Eddie is over by the grill talking to Bobby when Buck comes back out of the kitchen with their drinks. The party has settled and spread out across the Grant-Nash back yard, a cluster of the younger kids chasing each other with water guns and shrieking, a smaller cluster of teenagers pretending to be above it all. May is perched on a table with a Super Soaker across her knees while she talks to Harry, whose shirt is completely drenched. She aims it at Buck when he crosses in front of her, and he lifts both the glasses in his hands and gives her a plaintive look.

"Okay, you're safe. For now," she adds.

"Thanks," Buck says, setting his margarita and Eddie's beer down. "I don't think I'm ready for my drink to be watered down."

She snorts. "Better drink slow."

"I'm hoping you'll find another victim before I'm done."

She laughs and turns back to Harry, and Buck looks out across the lawn. Eddie's been roped into putting together the veggie kebobs, apparently; Buck watches him turn toward Bobby, laughing, as he hands over a couple of skewers, and Eddie turns like he knew Buck was looking and aims the full force of his brilliant smile at him.

Buck smiles back; he always does and always has, but this smile feels different. Two hours ago, Eddie touched his elbow in the grocery store parking lot—an utterly prosaic moment, Buck's hands full of reusable shopping bags, a cart bumped against his hip, heat waves rising up from the pavement—and said, "Hey, set those down for a second."

"Why?" Buck asked, but he did it.

"Don't want you to drop them," Eddie said, and then he cupped his palm over Buck's elbow and tilted up into his space to kiss him lightly on the mouth. An easy, familiar kiss, like it wasn't the first one but the thousandth between them. Buck kissed him back. Eddie's not the first guy he's ever kissed, now, but even if he was, Buck thinks he always would have kissed him back.

He's pretty sure he's the first guy Eddie's ever kissed. But Eddie smiled at him after, like it was easy, like nothing about it scared him at all.

"Yeah?" he asked, and Buck laughed breathlessly and leaned in to brush another kiss across his mouth, and now they're at Bobby and Athena's barbecue, last-minute groceries delivered, and Eddie is looking at him with the sun in his hair and a fond, secret smile on his face, and Buck really wants to kiss him again. He's pretty sure he'll be allowed to.

But for now, he settles for smiling back.

(blossoming romance writing prompts)

#911 #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #prompt fic #my fic

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ladylooch · 11 months

Note

Omg it’s okay!!! My request was a smut with Nico and she has a breeding kink after playing with timo and Emma’s kid. And he sucks her tits a LOT. 🫠 and while they’re fucking he dirty talks about having a baby

-🌸 anon

A/N: Message me when you see what I did ☠️ Everyone say thank you 🌸 for smutty Nico and Lexi making our baby, Lucie.

Word Count: 2.0k

From this lil AU.

I am not sure how much longer I can take this.

Our nephew, Lio, is in love with Nico today. He wants nothing to do with either of his parents. The result of Nico carting this baby everywhere is my fertile ovaries bouncing in my body. They ache for Nico until it spreads like consuming wildfire across my skin, burying deep into my bones. The only cure is getting railed.

I push out a heavy breath, catching Emma’s attention.

“You good? You seem like you’re anxious.”

“I- uh.. Yeah. Your brother with Lio is really cute.” Emma shields her eyes, looking to the pool where Nico and Timo supervise Lio’s swim time. He’s wearing little floaties and a floppy, fish bucket hat. Nico is holding him outwards, trolling him through the water as he laughs.

“Yeah that is precious.” Emma whines. “If I didn’t remember labor so distinctly, I might pull the plug and beg for another.” She shrugs, going back to her magazine.

Pulling the birth control plug would be so easy for me right now. I just wouldn’t start my new pack. We could dive right into bed together and he could… My mind gets lost in the fantasy of him and I working together for something so special in our fancy hotel room. Nico has been talking about babies more and more the last few weeks. We have been spending so much time with Timo, Emma, and Lio. The endless baby snuggles and giggles have turned into a craving for us both. Our apartment feels too quiet. Our life has something missing. But babies are a big change. And neither of us has had the courage to spit it out loud yet.

Lio’s crying pulls me out of my daydream. The three boys walk towards us. The upset baby reaches out for his mom with big, crocodile tears, trying to wiggle from Nico’s grasp.

“Oh sweet boy. Come here. Are you tired?” Emma pulls her son into her chest, stroking at his cheek as she gets him ready to nurse. Timo tosses a thin blanket onto the two of them and sits beside Emma on her chaise.

“He’s really tired. He keeps getting water in his eyes from rubbing his fists into them.”

“Yeah, we should go back to the room for a bit.”

“Honestly, I could use a nap too. This kid tired me out being his chauffeur all day.” Nico tells us, yawning at the end.

“He loves you so much.” Emma smiles at her little brother. “You’re daddy material for sure.” Her distinct wink at me has my lips pursing with a giggle.

We all head towards the bank of elevators. Nico asks if I want to grab a drink at the bar, but I shake my head. I am also sleepy from laying in the sun doing absolutely nothing, and laying with him in bed sounds like pure perfection. He is relieved when I say no. Inside our room, I run to the bed, jumping under the covers as Nico puts our pool stuff to the side. I snuggle in deep on his pillow. He chuckles, pushing me over so he can climb in.

“I wanna share this with you.” It’s a California King and fairly feasible. He settles on the other side, turned my way so we can look at each other. I think about telling him my desires from the pool, but his black lashes are battling sleep and it’s not the time.

Nico wakes me up an hour later with a gentle squeeze of my butt. Then, his lips begin to pepper kisses along my cheeks.

“Hey, Emma just called. They are ready to head back down. Do you want to go or stay here?”

“Let’s go.” I nod, stretching out. I feel recharged from my nap and ready for another margarita.

Nico heads to the bathroom then comes out, double checking the pool bags.

“Oh, Lio’s hat is with us.” He picks it up, showing me the floppy bucket hat that was responsible for the ovary bouncing. “I can’t wait to buy our kids cute stuff like this. I mean, come on.” He chuckles, tossing it to me. I catch it, tracing an orange fish with googly eyes. My eyes go back to his as he ruffles around in the bags some more, checking the sunscreen supply. He does a double take when he sees the look in my eyes.

“Lex?”

“Neeks, I want you to get me pregnant. I want your baby in me like now.” The words fly out of my mouth suddenly. I clasp my hand over my mouth in shock. Then force myself to continue because the words touched air and I have an ache that will not let me breathe if he doesn’t soothe it. “I want our babies to grow up with Em and Timo’s kids. Let’s just have a whole parade of them together.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m so serious. Drop the bags and put a baby in me.”

With no hesitation, Nico empties his hands. He rushes across the room to me, lifting me up into his arms as we aggressively grope at each other. Tongues lap at each other as Lio’s fish hat falls to the ground at our feet.

“Please. Please.” I beg him again. “Watching you with Lio. It’s… done something to me. My brain chemistry is fucked. I don’t know.”

“Damn, Lex.” He moans. “This is so hot.” He groans back as I rub against him, squeezing him over his swim suit. “Are you sure? I need you to be so sure.”

“I am, babe. Please.”

“God, say ‘please put a baby in me’.”

“Please.” I whine earnestly. “Put your baby in me. Wanna make you a daddy, Neeks.”

Nico grunts out in earnest, then puts me on the edge of the bed. He reaches for my bikini bottoms, pulling them off and tossing them behind him. They land on the corner of the TV. I laugh, then suck in a surprised gasp as Nico strokes a finger through my slick flesh.

“Soaked. Baby.” He moans. “Are you off the pill?”

“Um, well, I was supposed to start today but I haven’t taken it.”

“So this is… no birth control at all?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” He moans, then pulls himself out of his blue swim trunks. He is rigid, veins protruding against the taut skin. His fingers stroke his hard length, oozing pre-cum out of his head. I untie the white cover up for him. He leans down, stroking himself still while sucking on my nipple through my bikini top. His fingers brush my clit, rubbing gracious circles while I press against his hand.

“Want you inside of me.” I moan, tangling my fingers through his locks as he sucks my other nipple. His mouth opens wider, sucking so much of my flesh into his mouth until his teeth tighten into a gentle bite. My ohmygod is lost in the air of the room, stifled out by the lack of oxygen in my lungs from Nico’s touch. I reach my hand down, encircling his throbbing cock with him and stroking in rhythm together.

“Gonna cum on your stomach if we keep going.” He says, pulling away from my grasp to run his engorged head along my clit.

“We can’t have that. Need you to cum inside of me.”

“Lex, I did not think you had this in you.” He chuckles, poising at my entrance as he rests one hand on the bed by my head.

“Look what made me into, Nico Hischier.”

“I’m so lucky.” He says against my lips as he beings to move inside of me. The intensity of his entrance is dulled by the sweetness of his lips on mine. He consumes my moans. “Gonna have the best mama for my baby.” I reach for the hem of his shirt, shoving it up his abdomen and trying to get it off his head.

“Help.” I am desperate to touch his bare skin. He pauses inside of me, taking his shirt off and knocking his hat off too. I bite my lip as he comes down to kiss me again. His hand shoves my bikini top up my breasts to expose them.

“I love your tits. I hope they get bigger.”

“They will.” I moan. “And then you can’t have them.”

“Fuck. That’s gonna be tough.” He works himself deeper into me, watching my face for my head to do… that. It falls to the side as my face scrunches up in need. “Need your help to cum, sweets.”

“Don’t stop…” I whisper as my hand falls to my clit, rubbing in sync with his thrusting. “Nico.”

“I love you, baby. Come for me.”

His words make the ache explode into white hot heat in my core. My legs shake against his sides where he has my knees pressed back. His hands come up, shoving my thighs into my stomach as he fucks himself deep. I reach down, gripping his shaft and stroking forward as he releases cum inside of me. Nico squeeze my hand as we pull more out of him, bucking his hips with a wide open, gasping mouth. He exhales sharply, gently easing out, still dribbling a bit from his tip.

“I love you too.” I finally say, panting in unison with him as my hands grip both his forearms. His hands hold my hips in place as he works towards recover.

Nico crawls onto the bed with me, laying beside me as his right hand covers my belly. I hold his hand there, all three of them rising and falling with my fast breathing. We stare at the ceiling together. Nico’s thumb begins to trace over my skin. I feel emotional tears pinching at my eyes. Nico and I are trying. This is real. We are going to make a baby. Our baby.

“I want this with you so bad, Neeks. That wasn’t just talk.”

“I know. I do too.” He assures, rolling to his side and kissing my shoulder. I turn my face to him so he can kiss my lips. “We should do that a few more times.”

“Yeah. Like at least nine before we leave.” Nico grins.

“Let’s make it 12 for lucky 13 total.” I laugh as he strokes his fingers along my belly again. “I’m going to spoil you.”

“You already do.”

“Get ready. It’s going to be even more.”

Nico’s phone begins to ring in the pool bag. He tucks himself back into his shorts, then goes to grab it.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Timo’s voice comes through the speaker. Nico makes eye contact with me and we share a silent laugh.

“Sorry, we fell back asleep.”

“Hurry up, Lio is crabby because he wants Uncle Ni snuggles.”

“Okay. Five minutes. We’ll be back at the pool.”

He clicks the end button, stuffing his phone into his swim trunks.

“Uncle Ni gonna be Daddy Ni.” I grin, grabbing my swimsuit bottoms from the TV corner and sliding them on. Nico closes his eyes, shoulders drawn down while his hands go to cover his lap. “Did daddy get you?”

“Yeah.”

“Nico Hischier, my baby daddy.” I sing-song as I dance across the room to him. He pulls me into his arms as I go on my tip toes to kiss him. He helps me retie my bathing suit top on and close my cover up. His fingers splay out on my ribs as he looks down at me when we are done re-dressing together.

“Today is another moment in my life I couldn’t imagine not having you a part of.” I soften, melting into his body at his sweet words. “No one else I want to do this with but you.”

Life with Nico is an unbelievable dream. Nobody wake me.

#what my world spins around au #nico hischier fic #nhl fan fiction #hockey writing #my writing #hockey fan fiction #writing request

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ourstaturestouchtheskies · 3 months

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Historical Portraits of Children // The Truth is a Cave – The Oh Hellos

Four Children Making Music – attributed to the master of the Countess of Warwick, 1565 // Three Children with a Dog or Two Sisters and a Brother of the Artist – Sofonisba Anguissola, 1570-1590 // The Children of Philip III of Spain (Ferdinand, Alfonso, and Margarita) – Bartolomé González y Serrano, 1612 // Three Children with a Goat-Cart – Frans Hals, 1620 // The Balbi Children – Anthony van Dyck, 1625-1627 // The Three Eldest Children of Charles I – Anthony van Dyck, 1635-1636 // Five Eldest Children of Charles I – Anthony van Dyck, 1637 // Portrait of the Children of Habert de Montmor – Philippe de Champaigne, 1649 // Group Portrait of Charlotte Eleonora zu Dohna, Amalia Louisa zu Dohna, and Friedrich Christoph zu Dohna-Carwinden – Pieter Nason, 1667 // The Graham Children – William Hogarth, 1742 // Portrait of Sir Edward Walpole’s Children – Stephen Slaughter, 1747 // The Bateson Children – Strickland Lowry, 1762 // The Gower Family: The Five Youngest Children of the 2nd Earl Gower – George Romney, 1776-1777 // Marie-Antoinette de Lorraine-Habsbourg, Queen of France, and Her Children – Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, 1787 // The Marsham Children – Thomas Gainsborough, 1787 // The Oddie Children – William Beechey, 1789 // Three Siblings – Johann Nepomuk Mayer, 1846 // Happy Children – Paul Barthel, 1898 // My Children – Joaquín Sorolla, 1904 // The Truth is a Cave – The Oh Hellos

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thus-spoke-lo · 3 months

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Walking around the zoo this morning.

Family walks by, kid and dad start pulling the mom towards a food and drink cart.

Mom: Did you guys want something?

Kid: Pretzel!

Mom: Sure, let’s get a pretzel.

Dad: I want a White Claw!

Mom: What? No, it’s 10 in the morning!

Me walking past with my mostly-gone frozen margarita I got an hour ago:

#lo.txt

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cringefaillosersummit · 8 months

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Round 2 - Group 3A

Submission notes under cut. Some submissions had notes others did not:

Eleanor Shellstrop:

not really cringe more arizona trash bag

she got sent to Hell with a capital H because she just sucked in life. in Hell with a capital H she was tortured for i think a few centuries in Hell with a capital H time (jeremy bearimy baby) and wasn’t allowed to say fuck during any of it. specifically she was tortured in a simulation where she was in heaven but because she was such a bad person she knew she didn’t belong there. over the course of the show she gets less pathetic but is still incredibly cringe. also she canonically died in a grocery store parking lot because she dropped a bottle of margarita mix and a row of shopping carts sped towards her, and though she managed to hold onto the shopping carts, they then plowed into a truck advertising erectile disfunction pills. thats how she died. ultimate cringefail woman behavior.

Yaegashi Yasuko:

She is Reigen Mobpsycho but for women. She sends newbies on a suicide mission. She stuffed a whole ass cup of coffee into her pants. Her maid cafe is failing spectacularly and whatever she tries to get more customers, nothing works. She pisses off the maid cafe mafia everyday. THIS POLL WAS MADE FOR HER!

she is in so much debt and everything keeps fucking up so she gets in worse and worse debt. shes in a cycle of gang debt

Propaganda: [1]

#pathetic woman showdown #pws round 2 #tournament poll #the good place #eleanor shellstrop #akiba maid war #yaegashi yasuko

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disneytva · 11 months

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Disney Television Animation X Walt Disney Imagineering Collaboration "San Fransokyo Square" Sets Opening Date, Confirms Big Hero 6 The Series Easter Eggs

After being promised at the recent D23 Expo, we are now getting an update from Walt Disney Imagineering, revealing that San Fransokyo Square is arriving at Disney California Adventure, August 31, 2023 as part of the 100 Years of Wonder at the Disneyland Resort.

The area will have some elements debuting in the month and a half as a lead-up.

During a PR Preview provided by Laughing Place, it was confirmed that the area will be featured with easter eggs from the various iterations of the Big Hero 6 story, including the Disney Television Animation's Big Hero 6 : The Series and Walt Disney Animation Studios Baymax! provided by both studios.

Starting in mid-July, you’ll be able to sample new San Fransokyo selections at Lucky Fortune Cookery, and the Port of San Fransokyo Cervecería will officially open. In the weeks following, additional dining options, unique shopping and more will be introduced as the transformation of this thriving seaside plaza continues through its official debut on August 31st.

When the transformation is completed, locations across the area – from the Cappuccino Cart outside the San Fransokyo Gate Bridge to The Bakery Tour – will be decked out in street art and colorful banners celebrating the Big Hero 6 team after their victory over Yokai.

The diverse array of flavorful fare in San Fransokyo Square will include current favorites and new creations inspired by Asian cuisine, as well as the Big Hero 6 themselves. Aunt Cass Café, the second bakery café operated by Hiro’s loving aunt, will serve dishes, soups in freshly-baked Boudin sourdough bread bowls and more inspired by Japanese cuisine. On the outside of this quick service restaurant, you’ll find a mural of Aunt Cass’ lucky pet cat, Mochi.

An old fishing net tannery across from the café is being converted to Rita’s Turbine Blenders, a giant drink dispenser offering delicious margaritas and icy beverages. This refreshment stand is owned and named after the repair technician who maintains the floating wind turbine, resembling a giant koi fish, that sits atop the structure.

Guests will also be able to meet with Baymax, who will talk for the very first time!

"San Fransokyo Square" is the lastest Disney Television Animation X Walt Disney Imagineering collaboration between "Mickey And Minnie's Runaway Railway" at Disney's Hollywood Studios and Toontown, "Aqua-Mouse" at Disney Wish from Disney Cruise Line, Passholder Magnets for Disney Springs and Disneyland with animations from "The Wonderful World Of Mickey Mouse", redesings from Paul Rudish and Asia Ellington for "Orange Bird","Dumbo" and "Figment", "DuckTales World Showcase Adventure" and providing redesings and decoring for the "Toontown" refreshment with "Goofy’s How-To-Play Yard","Donald's Boat",Chip ‘n’ Dale’s GADGETcoaster,"The EngineEar Souvenirs Shop" featuring various Disney Afternoon characters and locations.

#San Fransokyo Square #Big Hero 6 #Big Hero 6 : The Series #Big Hero 6 The Series #Baymax #Baymax!#Disney TVA Rides #Walt Disney Imagineering #Walt Disney Animation Studios #Disney's California Adventure #Disneyland #Disney XD

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zodiacs-web · 2 years

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I never request from anyone so this is weird, but i am desperate bc theres nothing :'/

What about Qin Shi Huang with a fem!reader who kind of reminds him of his mother?

Smile/outfit/long hair (pls the long ass hair, i am a sucker for long asf hair😩)

But she is chaotic,careless,doesnt take anything seriously,laughs all the time, and flirts with everyone and everything.

(But not the submisive "blushes😳💅🏼" type, if he tries to flirt with her she'll be like "careful boy, i am ovulating😩" like a sly confident,'arrogant'(for humor purposes) strong beautiful woman who was also a fighter(¿???

Basically the: "the world could be ending, but i am going to spend my last minutes in bliss with this margarita" "he can be a psycho but he can also be really hot" "I think i just busted an ovary" "Omfg i am so hot" "Are you the EmpEror? NOBODY TOLD ME HE WAS THIS FINEEEE- CHINA TAKE ME WITH YOU"

But the similarities she has with his mother is that despite enjoying annoying people,having no morals and doing whatever she wants, her actions aren't actually damaging and she's honest and purely kind at nature(but you never get to see the kindness?)

I'm sorry, i am a very detail oriented person so i wanted to make sure i described it right, sorry if it's too much i kinda got carried away

I currently have my corrector in spanish so forgive my weird english

Have a wonderful day Queen👀❤

My Type of Queen

𖥔 Qin Shi Huang x F!Reader

𖥔 Synopsis: Chaotic reader

𖥔 What's in the web: swearing, dialogue from the ask, unedited

𖥔 A/n: I love the way you worded your request anon. You have a wonderful day as well!

𖥔 Reblogs are Appreciated!

Arrogant winds flown from the bottom of the mountain, a long day after keeping the guards grubby hands off a rich man. You spotted the nearest and familiar little cart that always housed you. Long hair swung from side to side as you finally made it to the area with your body in hazardous pain.

"What a fuckin' pain! Hey! Baldie, gimme your special!" You groaned as you sat on the flimsy wooden chair.

"Haha! (Y/n), always having a mouth against me. Anyways, how've ya been?"

"I've been doing well. But the man was loaded with riches, and YET, he tried to scam me by giving me half of what he offered. After all that help, and he does THIS!! Ugh."

"I bet he was a pain! No one can get past you with that attitude." He laughed as he passed a plate of peking roasted duck to the woman.

"Thanks, baldie!"

"You're never gonna drop that nickname, are ya?"

Giving him a signature smile, you grabbed the chopsticks and started prodding at the duck. The cut pieces shone as you moved them off the plate and into your mouth. A pleasure filled sigh left your lips as the flavors of the duck filled your senses. Suddenly, you remember something from the encounter again.

"Hey! Ya know, he also tried to flirt with me." The man before her nodded, amusing you in any way. "He got his panties in a twist when I did it back to him. Saying women shouldn't act like this. Shut up!"

The man laughed, knowing your arrogant nature was somewhat disbelieving, yet amusing. You then slowly chewed on your duck, feeling an unusual yet strong presence growing near. The sounds of those around you quickly caught your attention. They let out gasps from the sight before them.

You grabbed hold onto the shelf, that hung out of the cart, and leaned back. The view of people covering the street pissed you off like make some room, your view is more important. You leaned back into your original position and stared as the baldie prepared even more food.

That could either mean two things: 1) Somebody important was nearby or 2) there's a festival and he could get money from both. Doesn't matter. After all, his way of living was in the trash can. A giggle left your lips as you went back to feasting on your duck.

As you ate, the whispering and moaning of the crowd grew louder. Covered eyes stared in dread as your appearance quickly entered his view. You looked just like her, the hair, the outfit and smile all looked just like her.

Though some parts of you were much different yet, that didn't change anything. Of course, his curiosity got to him. Despite the fact that he was going to dine in another place that was much more rich and fancier for him, according to his advisors.

Silently, he sat down on one of the chairs next to you, eyes giving glances to you as the cover helped him hide it. Soldiers positioned themselves around him. You stared down at the duck while you saw him in your peripheral view. Slowly chewing on the soft skin before swallowing it to start a conversation.

"Who're you? And what're ya doin' causing a ruckus here?" You interrogated him all while grabbing a piece of duck and shoving it into your mouth.

"Me?" He grabbed a small menu from shelf in front of him, skimming it as he pondered. "I just wish to feast, why does my status matter?"

"You brought a town to us. Why doesn't your status matter?" You responded, body turning to face him.

You were serious, and you never got this serious so fast. There was just something about this guy who screamed, "Well, everything." But there was this curiosity too that made you want to know more about him.

"What are the soldiers here for?"

"Protection," He responded.

Your eyes glared at the man causing the soldiers to tense.

"Hey sir. I think I'd like Xiao longbao (soup dumplings)."

Baldie nodded before preparing the dumplings.

"How important are you that you need soldiers?"

"Well, as an emperor, I think all the protection I can get."

The emperor.

"You're the emperor!!!?? Ah~ I NEVER KNEW YOU WERE SO FINE~ HEY! HEY! TAKE ME WITH YOU!!!"

Your sudden outburst caught him off guard as well as his soldiers. You acted so different, that was he expecting just a few seconds ago. The serious type that turned out to be so chaotic, yet so lovable. He just loved the energy you gave. A smile decorated his face as he relished in it.

"What makes you think I'll take you?"

"I'm hot. Don't you see?"

Baldie laughed, the emperor taking a glance before looking back at you.

"Heh. That's true. Maybe I can take you in some ways."

He smirked, head turning to face you. A grin appearing on your face.

"Oh? Careful boy,...I'm ovulating."

Of course, he was taken aback, again, by your words, you were so out there that he couldn't believe it.

"Before we go on our way, can I perhaps have your name?"

"(Y/n) (l/n). And you, pretty boy?"

"Qin Shi Huang."

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sebastianstansqueen · 2 years

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Cheer Up Love 1

A/N: Here is the first part of this series, feedback is always appreciated, if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 1,384

Warnings: Angst, Smut, I think that is all actually

Chapter Name: All Of Us

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open // Spotify Playlist

Tags: @cherryblossomskye - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess -

Bucky, along with Steve, and Sam, sat on the plush couches in Y/n and Bucky’s house as Y/n, Peggy, and Natasha danced around all together with the music in the background played on the record player. Eventually, Natasha stumbled over and Y/n caught her in time but both women fell to the floor in a fit of giggles. Bucky got up off his spot on the couch and helped his wife up, kissing her as she stood up. “God I love you.” He mumbled against her lips.

“I love you too.” She said back.

“Oh we know that look boys it seems we all should be going.” Natasha said pointedly at her husband. Sam stood after she spoke, along with Steve the two other couples left after Y/n and Bucky waved them goodbye.

Bucky led Y/n to their shared bedroom of theirs, Bucky kissed her exposed neck. “God, why do you gotta be so beautiful.” He mumbled.

She smirked up at him. “Am I though.”

He grabbed her by the waist holding her up. “You better take that back your fucking gorguse.” He said pointedly like he was talking to a child learning a lesson. “I’ll show you how fucking gorguse you are.” He pulled down her panties she wore under the dress she was wearing.

He slowly fucked her making every moment worth it as he pushed in and out of her. “Oh god.” She moaned lowly, kissing and nipping at his arm.

Eventually, after both of them got ready for bed, the husband and wife fell asleep, Bucky holding her. She started to have an awful dream, waking up gasping and reaching out for something unknown. Y/n looked out at the dark room, Bucky’s arms still around her securely, eventually she fell back to sleep ignoring whatever it was.

The next morning Y/n cooked her breakfast and Bucky’s lunch, along with coffee for both of you, in the shirt Bucky wore the previous night at the get-together they held at their home, Bucky waited against the island in their kitchen in a suit ready for work. She packed up his lunch box. She smirked. “You know what I think you have a fever of like a 102° and you need to stay home baby.”

Bucky laughed. “Is that so?” He held her in both of his arms, kissing her. “Whoops, looks like you got what I got now.” He said going along with her joke. “I gotta go make that bank.” He laughed, heading out the door, Y/n followed after her husband, every other woman on her block watched as their husbands left for work, and drove away.

Natasha walked over to her best friend. “Now it's time for some of our fun.” The Red haired woman handed off a margarita to her friend.

Y/n laughed. “Nat you're so bad.”

The friend put her hands up in defense. “Hey, I only drink a little around the kids, just a smidge.” Natasha laughed, smoking her cigarette.

“I’ll see you later Nat.” Y/n said before she downed the margarita, and headed back to her house, to eat and then clean up a bit. She did all of her usual cleaning of the windows, the bathtub, toilet, laundry, and anything else, then she headed into town to get some groceries, everything from candy to meat had WV marked on it, she placed what she got into the cart she grabbed when entering, then once home she put all that she got into its corresponding place, whether it be the fridge or a cupboard.

Later that night when Bucky came home from work, he smiled when seeing Y/n in one of the many dresses he had bought for her in the past. Bucky smiled, pulling her close, forgetting the drink she had made for him, as he started making love to her on the table in their dining room, his tongue flicked against her clit as he showed her how much he loved her, working her to her edge of reality, her head felt light, as an orgasm rang through her body she gripped the edge of the dining table as he continued tasting the sweet river of life on his tongue. Y/n’s chest moved up and down in a rough pattern with sweat on her forehead.

That night going to bed Bucky turned to her. “Did you hear about the new couple in town?” Bucky asked as he undid the shirt he wore that day.

Y/n looked at him with furrowed brows and shook her head. “No?”

“Yeah um, they're having a get-together at the Stark’s home tomorrow to celebrate, um there names are Wanda and Vision.” Bucky explained to Y/n before he took his pants off.

“That’s an odd name.” Y/n stated.

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Yeah but uh we gotta just get used to him.”

The next day, she and Bucky headed to Tony and Pepper's house, Tony had created what Westview is known for a peaceful place for people to settle down together. Y/n, Peggy, Natasha, and Wanda, sat together. “So Wanda um is Vision a nickname or something?” Peggy asked.

“His parents were quite intelligent people but they weren’t great with names, I mean his mother was named Jocasta and his father was Jarvise, so yeah.” Wanda said with a shrug, the three other women nodded and hummed along with the explanation.

Tony and Pepper came out to talk to the large crowd of people. “Thank you all for coming here today, I know we don’t usually do this, but Wanda and Vision are our one hundredth couple to come to Westview.” Tony spoke to everyone.

“No!” Everyone's attention settled on Valkyrie, Carol’s wife, she laughed incredulously. “You trapped them here, all of us are trapped.” She said with panic, everyone started to whisper to one another.

“Not here, not now.” Carol hissed at her wife before rushing away with her.

Tony huffed out through his nostrils and hid his irritation with a serious but delightful smile. “We all know that hard times have fallen upon Val and Carol, but no worries, all will be well, they will be fine, no worries.” Tony declared.

Y/n turned to look for Bucky but he was missing. She went to go look for him, on her way she found Carol and Valkyrie, sitting in a side room, Valkyrie seemed to be crying. “Y/n, please, please believe me.” She sobbed, and Y/n felt a huge amount of empathy for her friend of hers.

Carol turned to Y/n. “She’s fine, ignore her.” The blond said passively, before closing a curtain around the two of them.

She shook her head as if to get what she just saw out of her head, she looked around for just a moment longer, and then she found her husband trying to fix his tie. “Hey what's wrong baby?” She asked, coming up from behind.

“Yeah, I just need to fix my tie, that's all.” He shrugged.

Y/n smiled. “Here let me help you.” As she started to fix the tie, he sat her up on a table and pushed up the skirt of the dress she wore that day. “No Bucky, no not now, there who knows how many people out there.”

He smiled down at Y/n as he slid down her panties and slowly slipped into Y/n, thrusting slowly and kissing her neck, she moved her head to the side to give Bucky more room, and as she looked over she spotted Tony in the corner, just watching almost, she tried to say something but I wouldn’t come out like something was stopping her, and Bucky continued unknowingly, just trying to show his love to his wife.

After cleaning herself up and Y/n fixing her hair, she turned to Bucky with a serious look on her face. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

Y/n looked at him with furrowed brows. “Did you not see Tony just watching us?”

Bucky looked at Y/n like she was crazy. “What no, Tony wouldn’t do that Y/n.” He huffed.

“I know what I saw Bucky.” Y/n huffed, Bucky just shrugged off, before he led her back outside.

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